#this was meant to be like ''what happened after infinite's last fight''

[semi-sketchy]

Metropolis is one of the prettiest Sonic stages

[angelnthsnow]

All Too Well

pairing: joe burrow x fem!reader (+18)

summary: enemies since childhood, y/n and joe burrow meet again in LSU, joe to play for the university's team while studying consumer and family financial services and y/n to study mechanical engineering, while also being a cheerleader for the team. what happens when they encounter each other after a fateful night?

word count: 7.1k

warnings: cursing, implied smut, fratboy!joe, asshole!joe, reader skinpicks, angst, use of y/n, author not knowing how an american uni works.

author's note: first published fanfic! i hope you enjoy! keep in mind english isn't my first language, so i'm sorry in advance for any mistakes, also this wasn't proofread bc it's too long and i'm lazy lmaoo.

Sat in the airport, legs over your luggage, you started to question the decision you had made a month ago. It all started in June, when an old colleague from LSU reached out to you via email with a simple, yet — to you — terrifying invitation.

Your colleagues from university were planning a Fourth Of July party in Baton Rouge, the one place in earth you swore to never step foot on again. Well, it's not like the city itself had done anything to you, more like the college life did. Your college years were a part of your life you desperately wanted to forget, partly because going to LSU meant giving up on your dream of studying abroad, and partly, well, let's just say a certain blonde with a degree on consumer and family financial services was to blame.

With an acute voice echoing through the airport gates, you sighed, getting up to get on the plane.

As the aircraft was in the air, you get your playlist blasting on the headphones and not long after that, you drift off to sleep.

You wake up when there's 20 minutes left to land on the city, and as you get your phone to send a message to your friend, Emily, the device decides to make this trip a little harder than it should have ever been. On that bright screen, on a small box with "Years ago on this week.." written over it, was the picture.

It was night when you woke up, tangled on the white strawberry sheets of your own dorm bed. Opening your eyes quietly, you saw the one man that had put you on that position earlier. Sat with his back to you, there was Joe. He had only his sweatpants on, and you could see the reddish marks, the ones caused by you, were starting to fade on his skin. His hair was messy and he breathed slowly, seeming oddly calm giving what had just happened.

Joe and you had been, well.. enemies? since you could remember. It all started in school, you had a dream of becoming a world famous dancer, a cheerleader in college, and Joe just thought it was stupid, all of it. He was quite shy, but you knew he had a dream as well. Joe wanted to be a football star, but nobody knew that. He'd just let it slide once when you two were fighting on the school's playground. When you two got to the age in which people go to university, you thought you had finally seen the last of him. How foolish, truly. After two years of studying engineering at Louisiana State University and being in the cheerleading team, there he was, ready to make your life miserable for another few years.

That was, of course, until now. You'd never imagine you see him like this; half naked, messy hair and your cat on his lap as he caressed her head, whispering in a baby voice to her as she purred softly.

You smiled, because why wouldn't you? Shifting quietly on your bed, as if he was a scaredy animal you could scare away with any abrupt movements, you get your phone, taking a picture of him. It was dark, blurred, but you didn't mind, you could tell it was Joe, his big silhouette right in the center of the photograph. In your head, you knew you wouldn't need to keep this blurry memento, you were certain the amount of opportunities to take pictures of him now were infinite, or so you thought, drifting to sleep again.

The pilot's voice pulls you out of your little daydream, announcing the plane had arrived in Louisiana.

"I shouldn't have come." You chant in your head as you exit the plane, heading over to the landing area to wait for Emily.

You and Emily had met in LSU, and became inseparable since then. She was your roommate and, despite being highly introverted, you managed to develop your longest friendship ever with her.

When Anna, the colleague that invited you to the party, emailed you, Emily was the first person to text you, begging you to come and enjoy a night with the people you hadn't seen in so long. She also missed you a lot since both of you hadn't seen each other much after college, of course, you somehow managed to see each other every year and talk almost everyday, but it wasn't as close as you wished.

Emily lived in Louisiana with her husband, Dave, who had also gone to LSU with you, and of all the times you had seen each other, she had gone to your home, so you technically kind of owed this to her.

Waving in a frantic manner, there she was. Slightly different from last time, but still your best friend. You smile, walking towards her.

"I'm so glad you're here!" she says once she gets a hold of you, hugging you as if you could run away at any moment. You kind of wished you could, but she made everything better. She had that superpower.

"I'm glad I could come, Ems. I've missed you so much." You smile, looking at her as she helps you with your heavy bags.

The two of you start walking towards the exit to her car, catching up after a long time. Emily put you to date on what every single old colleague was up to now, and you laughed at the amount of gossip she was able to retain.

"Where's Dave?" You furrow your brows, just realizing someone was missing.

Emily opens the trunk and you help her put your bags on it. Panting after carrying so much weight, she replies "Home. He was working so he couldn't come, but he's super excited to see you." as you two get into the vehicle.

And with that, the engine starts and soon you're on the highway, on the way to her house.

The week in Emily and David's house had passed very quickly, and you throughly regretted ever wishing you hadn't came. She had shown you every bit of the city, and things had changed a lot. Now, you were in their guest room, getting ready to the reason that had you coming all the way from New York to Louisiana.

It was fourth of July, and you had heard fireworks all day around the neighborhood, even stopping to watch them for a bit before going for a shower.

"They're pretty, aren't they?" Emily said through the kitchen window as she saw you looking up outside.

"Very much." You turned around, smiling at her.

"Anna told me they're having fireworks tonight, I think you'll like it."

You got a bit excited, you've always loved fireworks, they were like drawings in the biggest canvas you could ever get, the sky.

"Looking forward to it!" You said, going up the stairs to get ready.

Looking in the mirror, you sigh. You wore an USA flag bodysuit and jean shorts. This whole patriotism seemed stupid, but Emily dragged you into it, alleging you were allergic to fun. Nonetheless, you looked good.

"Y/N! Let's go, we're gonna be late!"

Breathing in deeply, you close your eyes and stare at yourself one last time. You knew Joe would probably attend the party, he loved parties, and still, you came. You couldn't give up now, you couldn't get this stupid thing get to you. He probably doesn't even remembers everything that happened that day.

You shake your head, moving those thoughts away as you go downstairs, seeing Emily and Dave ready sitting on the couch.

"You look amazing! I told you you'd rock this fit." she gets up, hugging you.

"You too, Ems." you laugh, fixing your hair after she lets you go. "Shall we?"

"After you, Miss United States!" David jokes, signaling for you to get out of the house first. You laugh, rolling your eyes.

The three of you get in the car, and the drive to the party is filled with singing and more of Emily informing you of your colleague's current lives.

When Dave finally pulls over to the party, you can already hear the loud music in the car. Looking out the window, you see the last thing you'd expect to see today: Joe's parents house.

When Robin and Jim were away, Joe would always throw parties in his house instead of in the frat house. It made sense, giving the fact his house was a bit bigger. Snapping back to reality, you froze, but still had hopes of not seeing him tonight, after all, the amount of people that would come to the party was huge.

Entering the house, you were struck by fairy lights hanging on the roof, from a wall to another, and USA flags all over the house. There was a big wood table in a corner with punch and other drinks, but other than that, the place looked pretty much the same. It was weird coming back after all these years, but it still had a familiar air to it.

After almost 50 minutes, Emily was already drunk and fooling around somewhere with her fiancé. You were finally alone, and by now you had roamed the entire house, gladly not meeting Joe not even once. You thought about leaving, but not before going to your favorite spot in the house, the only one you hadn't explored today yet.

Joe's house had a small attic, which you adored. When he threw parties in high school and you couldn't get away from your friend's pleas to come, this was the place you found yourself in. So, after 6 years, there were you again. On that narrow wooden space that had a somewhat medium window with a view to the back of the house, where the party was most wild. You were surprised to see they hadn't moved a thing, it felt like you had time-traveled to your school years.

In front of the window, there was an old blue armchair, the one you would sometimes sleep on waiting for Emily and the others to want to go home. The rest of the attic was filled with boxes, some with trophies and pictures of Joe, with his family, his team, and his coach.

You sat on the armchair, arms hugging your knees as you looked at the window, the music that once made your head hurt because of the volume was long gone, sounding now like white noise.

Entering the football team frat house, you could see neon lights and hear music blasting through the speakers. Soon enough, all the other cheerleaders and Emily were dancing and having fun, after all the team had won the game, there was no reason not to celebrate. Except for you, because a win for LSU immediately meant running into Joe Burrow, or seeing his face all over the university for a week or so.

Sitting on a couch in the living room, you had a privileged view to the enormous door that swung open, revealing a sweaty but smiley Joe. He walks in as he normally does, exhaling an air of cockiness around him. He has a bottle of beer in hand, and already looks drunk as he laughs to his teammates. After being showered in praises and congratulations, he's free to walk a bit further, which is when he sees you. His eyes immediately glance at your jersey, and you immediately regret having done what you did.

Earlier that day, before you left for the party, it started to snow, and you realized you hadn't brought a single coat to the game. The girls were about to leave and they didn't want any delays, so you looked around for anything that could cover your body and protect you from freezing.

The only thing you could find was an old LSU football team jersey with the name "BURROW" stitched on the back. You sighed, but tried to confort yourself by thinking nobody would see it, after all, the lights at the party were pretty low.

All of it cumulated to this moment. This disgusting look he gives you as he looks down, glaring at his jersey. "What the hell are you wearing?”

Of course he would recognize it, it was his, after all. You cursed yourself mentally in all the languages you know, and prayed that Emily would come to you out of the blue to take you home. She didn't.

"Please, don't start, Joseph." You say, trying to ignore him. "I was cold and this was the only thing I could find."

“Yeah, right. Just say you were trying to piss me off, like always.” he scowls.

"Not everything is about you, QB." You get up, furrowing your brows at the audacity, annoyance dripping in your voice.

“Everything is most definitely not about you either, cheerleader.” he scoffs, and his teammates laugh. “You're still not even good at that.”

"And you're still not even good at your little games, idiot." I scoff. "Let me remind you, I'm the one going to the national competition while you're still playing football in college."

This time, his friends mutter a low "oooh".

He's stunned for a moment, then he scowls and gets closer to your face. “Watch your mouth. This is my last season here anyway, then i’m going straight to the NFL and everyone's gonna know my name, who knows what you’ll be doing.”

You just still didn't know he actually meant it.

"The NFL?" You laugh, hands on your chest. "You know, Joey.." You say, calling him by the nickname his friends had given him, in an attempt to piss him off. "To be on the NFL, you gotta be one of the greats." You stare at him, getting closer. "Something you.. are not."

He scowls, and his friends are surprised, the nickname really got to him. Before you can get another word in, he grabs you and pulls you close, his voice is low and cold. “Who the fuck are you calling Joey? You don’t get on the nickname level with me, Y/N."

Your squirm under his touch, trying to get off of him. A bit of fear seems to be creeping up in your eyes, and you try your best to not let it show.

"Don't fucking touch me!" You slap him, getting some inches away and staring at him in awe.

He recoils a bit, then glares. His lips are trembling, and you’ve never seen him angry like this, even his breath is shaky. He doesn't look like the Joe you once fed turtles in kindergarten with. He clenches his fist and looks around, he’s got the attention of everyone at the party “Are you seriously gonna slap the quarterback?”

"Fuck you! You're a horrible person that thinks that because you're a star you can do whatever the fuck you want, well, breaking news, YOU CAN'T." You scoff, angrier than ever, while removing the jersey off of you, throwing it at him, eyes swelling with tears.

"You're a fucking parasite, a manwhore who thinks everything's about you. I hope you never get to the NFL." This time it comes out lower, like a personal threat. You desperately crave to hurt him in a way he won't be able to laugh at or make jokes. Turning around, you walk out of the house, everything seemed to suffocate you.

He's stunned, no ones ever talked to him like that, specially you, the one person he was so used to getting shit from. He just stares at your back, the BURROW that was once hidden by your messy hair now gone, in his shaky hands. A range of emotions go through him. He's mad, but then there’s a sadness, he feels unwanted, as if the only reason people talk to him is because he is the quarterback. He doesn’t want you to leave like this, but he doesn’t know what to say, so he just yells “Where are you even gonna go?!”

"Somewhere you're not!" You scream, not even bothering to turn around to face it, crossing the door and walking through the garden in front of the house.

At this point, the party had gone back to what it once was, a loud, fun mess.

He sighs, then chases after you. When he catches up, he grabs your arm and forces you to turn around to face him. “Where the hell do you think you're going? You're not safe, there's a bunch of drunkards out there today."

"Like you give a fuck." You shrug, shaking your arm to get away from his grip. You turn around and start walking, the cold getting to you again. The snow fell mercilessly and all you had was the thin sweater that covered your cheerleading clothes.

He sighs, then realizes you’ll freeze outside. He puts his arm around you and pulls you in. You're so incredibly small compared to him you can feel his heart beating fast and his muscles tense from anger. “I do care. Just… come back inside, you're gonna freeze out here."

"Leave me alone! I fucking hate you!" The tears start falling as you punch his chest in a frantic way. It didn't hurt him, of course, but you didn't know that.

He scowls when you do so, gritting his teeth, then just watches you cry. He sighs and pulls you in tight, his body heats yours up. He rocks you like a baby, and whispers “Let me explain. I didn't meant for things to be like this.”

"Like what? Like living hell?" You away from his embrace, but part of you wishes you hadn't. Joe was so big and warm you didn't even needed a coat. "You hate me. Why are you even doing this?" you yell, the loud blasting music from the party muffling your screams. "Go back to your stupid party with your friends and your girls. I'm going home."

He grabs your arms and makes you turn to him. “I don’t.. hate you. I just get mad and take it out on you. I know that’s not right, i’m trying to fix it. Let me take you home.”

"Oh please." You scoff, tears still falling. "No need. I'll walk." You say, shivering due to the cold.

He sighs again. “You're not going home alone, it's not safe. I don’t care if you hate my guts, i’m not letting you walk alone.”

Joe's words and actions pierce you like a bullet. Never, in a million years, you had imagined you'd hear him talk to you like this. Of course, it was still rude, but there was a sweetness to it. You say nothing, as you couldn't bring yourself to. As he puts the jersey you once threw in his face back on your shoulders, the shivering reduces a bit, and your lips stop trembling, their reddish color that was once white from the cold, reappearing. His big hands stroking your back felt so gentle, and helped you get rid of the cold as he gently and quietly led you to his car. He opens the door to the passenger seat and waits for you to get in. You do so, surprisingly, and he closes it, turning around to get into the driver's seat.

He climbs in the drivers seat and starts the engine. The warm air that comes out of the vents warming you up as he looks over at you. You watch him drive, he seems so focused, and when he speaks, it’s in a quiet voice “I'll walk you to your door, then you should probably take a hot shower to warm up, your gonna get sick like this.”

"There's no need. I'll survive." you say, pulling the jersey closer and breathing in the warmth.

“I'm not gonna risk you getting sick just because you decided to be stubborn now.” You can’t help but notice how gentle his voice is, a nice contrast to how cold he seemed towards you at the party.

"Fine." You whisper, and after a few moments in silence, he finally pulls up to the dorms. You open the door of the car and get out, the cold getting to you again. You sigh.

Joe does the same and the two of you walk in silence towards the entrance of the building. Once you reach the door, you turn around, "You've done enough, Burrow. I mean it. Go back to your party, you have a win to celebrate." You say, grabbing your keys and unlocking the door.

“I wanna see you safe in your house before i go, I feel responsible for you getting cold out here.” he doesn’t want you to think he doesn’t care about you, when it’s clear from the way he’s acting he only thinks of you and your safety right now.

You nod, his gentle words feeling like daggers in your heart, making you almost regret the way went a few rounds with him earlier.

Getting into your aparment, you take off your shoes, holding the door for him to do the same, and when he does, you lock it again, before making your way to the small kitchen.

"Can I get you anything? Water, tea..?" You ask, trying to be a good host. You and Emily never expected no one to come to the apartment, so there was never many food or drink options.

He follows you to the kitchen, shrugs and looks around. The apartment is not very big, but it’s homely. From the kitchen, you can see the entire living room, including the door, and then there's a small hallway that leads to the rooms and bathroom.

He looks at you when you offer him something and smiles, it breaks his scowl, it looks good on him. He looks at you for a moment, then says “Can i get a glass of water?”

You nod and get on your tip toes to open the cabinet, getting a glass and then filling it with water, handing it to Joe as you take a seat on one of the stools in front of the kitchen's island.

He takes the glass and drinks from it, still holding on to his scowl, but it slowly drops off as he begins to relax. He sits down beside you, close enough that his knees are touching yours “Your apartment is so different from mine.”

You sigh, making small talk with him was the last thing on your list for today, but still, you gave it a shot.

"How so..?" You say, not even bothering to look at him. Instead, the cup of water you had poured to yourself in front of you was the one getting all of the attention. The fact that the only person in the entire campus that hated you was the one to bring you home was already embarrassing enough, so you were still to wrap your mind around the fact he was still here.

He watches you and looks around the kitchen, not sure how to explain it to you. For a few moments he just looks at you, trying to gather his thoughts. “I don’t know how to explain it, it’s just different from anything i’m used to.”

"Calling me poor now, are we, Burrow?" You shrug, letting a small laugh fall from your lips.

He glares, then realizes you were joking and laughs a little bit. You can notice he still smiles when he looks at you, which is surprising considering how he always scowled at you. “I'd never call you poor, especially not after seeing your outfit tonight.” he looks you up and down.

"Mr. Joseph Burrow's a fashionista?" You chuckle, this wasn't something you'd ever expect from him. There wasn't any monograms or brand names on the sweater you wore, but if you were a someone into good clothing, you'd recognize it.

He laughs and shakes his head, he can’t help but notice your curves and he looks down, trying not to stare. “I wouldn’t consider myself a fashion guy, i just know something looks nice when i see it.. and your outfit looks very nice on you."

"Yeah, sure.." You nod, standing up and grabbing both of the glasses. You take them to the sink, putting your hair up in a bun and washing them. "I'm okay now, Burrow, really. I don't know why you did what you did tonight, but thank you." The thank you comes out like a whisper, but you pray he does notice. "Come back to your party, enjoy your teammates and your girls. There's still time."

He shifts in his seat and watches you as you wash the glass, his mind is conflicted. Part of him wants to follow his teammates back to the party, the other part wants to stay with you, see how long the small talk can go before it turns into a fight again. His eyes watch you as his breathing starts to pick up a bit. When you thank him, he realizes you don’t want to talk about the fight or why he did what he did at all.

He shakes his head and stands up. “I guess I better get going then."

"Yeah.. of course." You flash him a shy smile, and the awkward silence sets in again.

He notices your smile and smiles back, not knowing how to express himself right now, although he doesn’t know how to leave either. He just awkwardly stands there, staring at you, his eyes are locked on yours, he can’t help but notice how beautiful they are. The two of you lost in your own thoughts, the silence filled with tension. Then he speaks “Can i ask something before I go?”

"Yes."

“Why'd you wear that jersey? You knew it would piss me off, so why’d you wear it?”

You sigh, you had already explained that, but Joe seemed so drunk you thought maybe he had forgotten. "I told you, I was cold and I had forgotten my hoodie." you point to the couch, where the green hoodie rested on. "I knew it would piss you off, and trust me when I say I wasn't going for that today, but it happened. I'm sorry for it, you can have it back now." You say, taking the jersey off for the second time that night, except this time you don't throw it on his face. Instead, you just gently hand it to him, like a peace offering.

He takes it, looking down at it in his hands, then he looks back up at you. He sighs and is suddenly filled with mixed feelings, anger, sadness, his emotions feel overwhelming. He doesn’t want to yell and argue with you again, but he also doesn’t want to leave. He can’t stop looking at you and your eyes, he can’t help but love how pretty they are. "Can I please keep this? Please..?" he whispers.

"Why are you asking me that? It's yours, it has your name on it." You say matter-of-factly, fidgeting with your hands, something you do when you're nervous.

You can tell he’s trying really hard not to smile at you, his voice is soft when he says “Yeah… but it’s got your sweat on it… your smell… I want something to remind me of you… even though, you know… we always seem to get each other mad.”

You don't understand, after all, you see each other every single day. The best "something to remind me of you" he could ever ask for was standing right in front of him everyday.

You furrow your eyebrows. Years of fighting, screaming and pissing each other off leading to this moment was something you couldn't wrap your mind around. "Do I need to remind you we hate each other? Until this morning, you'd get me suspended from LSU if you could."

He laughs, and you’ve never seen him in such a vulnerable and soft state. "We both know I don’t wanna get you suspended from LSU, I mean, come on.. just look at you.” he stares at you, you see his eyes roaming your body like he always does, but there’s a different look about them. "You deserve this scholarship more than I do, you've always have."

"Yeah.." You scoff, not believing a word, looking at the jersey on his hands and then at his eyes. His big, blue eyes that you got lost in countless times before.

He smiles at you, realizing the snarkiness he just heard. He doesn’t mind the teasing, in fact, he kinda likes it. He stares at you for a minute, then he looks back down at the jersey “I like how it fits tight on you.” he says without realizing it.

"Tight? You're big as hell, it looks huge on me." You laugh, remembering how the jersey looked on you when you put it on earlier today.

He laughs silently to himself, a big smirk appears on his face. He looks at your body, then smiles. “You're just too small, but I do like how it fits on you."

You feel goosebumps throughout your entire body and your cheeks heat up. You curse yourself mentally for letting it all show so easily.

He's still staring at you, but doesn’t realize just how much he’s making you blush. He continues to speak in a low voice "I can see your belly button when you dance for us on the field.." He pauses, but decides to go on, and it's like you can hear the engines turning in his head. "I can see your bra strap when you go so high in the sky I feel my hands covered in cold sweat in fear that you'll fall and I won't be there to catch you. I can see your collarbones when you get so close to me when we're fighting that I wish I would just lean in and shut you the fuck up. I can see how you blush when I sweep you off your feet and leave you speechless, like i'm doing now." He steps closer. "I can see all of you. Matter of fact, Y/N, I think you're all I have ever wanted to see." He states, like it's a fact, like he has always known that. You feel your eyes starting to water and you feel stupid. "Every inch of you looks amazing in that jersey, it fits you like nothing else i’ve ever seen."

You sigh, it's almost like you can feel your skin being touched by him just by the way he’s looking at you. You feel like a forest fire, and his voice tone doesn't help. "Stop.."

His voice is so low when he talks, you want him to keep speaking. You want to hear his voice go on and on, to get you worked up, but also to lull you into the most peaceful sleep you've had in years. He keeps staring at you as he speaks “Just look at your shoulders, the fabric wraps all around them so perfectly, they’re such beautiful curves, just like the rest of you. Just look at you.. Jesus." He sighs.

You squirm under his gaze, but in a split second you're reminded of everything that happened before this moment. Before being here, in your small dorm, talking to the man you earlier thought to be the meanest person you knew. "I won't fall for it. I'm not the girls you get after winning games."

He chuckles and looks away, clearing this throat before going on "Those girls are just something to make me feel good, they don’t even mean anything to me. But you.. even when you make me angry, I want nothing but to feel you in my arms. You make me feel so good, even when you piss me off.”

"You don't mean that." You mutter, trying to stay calm. You pick the skin on your arms while staring at him.

His eyes shift back to yours when you speak, he sighs and you can tell for a minute he’s conflicted on what to say. "I know you don’t believe I mean all those words, but honestly, I mean every word. You are the only girl who's ever made me feel something, even if we’re arguing, that means we at least have some emotion we want to put towards each other. I'd rather have you making me mad than have someone making me feel nothing at all."

A single tear slides down your cheek. "You're drunk, that's what it is. You're drunk and this.." You point to yourself, and then to him, "..must be a prank."

“I know that’s all we’ve known for years, but maybe the reason you make me so mad is because I have feelings for you. You are the only girl I have ever wanted to talk to like this. You're the only girl that makes me feel this way. I never want to stop talking to you, I just want to tell you how beautiful you are, even when you make me mad, or when you push me so far it makes me want to push you towards the wall and kiss you."

You stare at him like everything you've ever known has finally made sense. A few more tears drip from your eyes and you sigh. "You promise?" it comes out in a whisper.

He smiles and you can tell it's not a fake drunk smile. This is the smile he flashes at someone when he's letting down his guard and being completely honest and vulnerable. "I promise. I don't want anyone else, I want you. I wanna be the guy who makes you happy like no one else could. I want you to be there when I get into the NFL and I want to be able to look for you on every game, waving at you when I see you're wearing my jersey because you finally want to, because it means something."

You look up, melting over his voice, your eyes meeting his like never before. His eye color seemed different now, a more vivid blue. His eyes seemed more relaxed, a nice contrast to the ones full of rage that always came with a furrowed brow. "I want you, too." You whisper.

He smiles, a real and sweet smile. This time when his eyes roam your body, you feel like he isn't looking at you in a nasty way like always, he's just looking at you because he thinks he's the luckiest boy in the world.

You smile, "Do I need to call you some names to have you kissing me now?" It makes him laugh, and your eyes lock on his. There isn't any words, just feelings, and you can see it in him when the realization sets in that you want him too.

You get on your tip toes as Joe pulls you towards him, your lips finally touching each other. Your belly feels as if you just rode a rollercoaster, as if the LSU football team had won, as if there was fireworks inside of you like there's in the sky on the fourth of July. But instead it was all him, the same boy that you once hated so much, doing all of this to you without even trying.

Immersed in your thoughts, you didn't notice when someone opened the door and came in, what gave it away was the smell, and you wondered if it would ever change.

"Joseph..?" you froze, again, but still managed to turn around on the armchair, feet now touching the ground.

His eyes meet yours for the first time in.. well, years, since that fateful night. He looked.. the same. Although his hair was shorter now and he looked bigger than ever, his face was the same. The same mesmerizing ocean blue eyes, pointy nose, and rosy cheeks, which you always found funny, because it looked like he had blush on. He wore a threadbare white shirt, shorts, and a tennis shoe, but they weren't the same as years ago, and you thought to yourself how an outfit of his now would cost probably more than your monthly earnings. He also wore a USA flag headband, which you had seen earlier laying on the wood table for everyone to get one. You thought it looked.. funny.

"Y/N." He nods. It felt like forever since your name had left his lips for the last time.

"Sorry, I-" You start, getting up from the chair as you wrote a full apology in your head for being in a private part of his home. "I thought nobody would need the room, I'll leave now."

"Nobody does." He takes a sip of his drink, his hands looking huge as he holds the red cup. "Dave told me you came with him and Emily, had to see it for myself."

He says, getting closer and finally leaning onto the window, arms resting just above it. Another sip, and you find yourself sitting again.

"How'd you know I was here?" You furrow your eyebrows, not understanding a thing. His eyes don't wander from the view. You're stiff, and you think you've probably never felt so nervous.

"You always are."

If you thought your eyebrows couldn't furrow any more, you were wrong. As soon as the words fell from his lips, you were in complete shock. Does that mean he knew that, all this time, you spent the parties in his attic, alone, dying to go home? That he knew you slept here, not once, not twice, but several times before?

"What?" Is all you manage to say, embarrassment taking over you.

"I mean, when I threw parties in high school you were always here. I know you don't like parties but you would always come because of Emily, and somehow your nights always ended here."

Your eyes widened, and you swore that if your mom could see you now, she would say something along the lines of You look like you've seen a ghost.

You kind of felt like you had.

"I'm surprised you like the place, it's kinda small." He finally shifts, taking his arms off the window and setting his now empty cup on the small wood piece that rested under the window. You blush, after all this time.

When you woke up in the morning, Joe was no longer there. You didn't panic, just thought of it as typical him. Getting up from the bed, you saw Emily on her chair, watching something on her computer.

"Morning, sleeping beauty." she says as she hears you yawn.

"Morning, Ems." You smile, sitting up straight. "D'you have a good night?"

"Obviously, duh. Dave's a gentleman." she states, bragging, and you laugh. "He also told me you and Joe left together last night.. what was that about?"

You sigh, flashes from the night before coming back to haunt you. "We.. uh.." you start, but words can't really explain what went down in this apartment yesterday. "We kissed, and had sex.. and, uh.. he might've said he likes me.." you whisper, like it was a crime.

"WHAT?!" Emily jumps from the chair, startled. "Y/N.. Oh my God.." she gets closer to you, getting on her knees in front of you. "How was that? And, most importantly, how's that gonna work now?" she states, as if something had changed overnight.

"What do you mean?" you furrow your eyebrows, confused.

"Well, you know he's been drafted to the NFL, don't you?" she says as if it was something everyone knew, incluiding you.

You felt your heart sink.

So it was a prank, after all. The worst one he could ever pull on you.

He left, and he wasn't coming back.

You knew he meant every word he had said last night, but he also had really left. Joe had confessed his love to you the night before just to leave in the morning, leaving you mercilessly stranded.

You don't say anything, because how could you find the words to? Emily immediately understands and hugs you, but the only embrace you could possibly want at the time was miles away now.

You were surprised at his ability to pretend like nothing had happened, like the last few years hadn't been torture to you, wondering where did it go wrong. Years of blaming yourself, of recalling the night over and over and-

"No need to be ashamed, Y/N." he chuckles, the sound of it filling the quiet room.

"I'm not ashamed." you lie. Letting him see through you was the last thing you needed today. "Just thought nobody knew."

"Well, if it helps, I'm the only one who does." he finally sits on the ground, back glued to the wall where the window was. A beat, and then he was back with the personal questionnaire. "How are you?"

"I should be the one asking that question. Huge team, getting all the girls, abnormal paycheck.. Superbowl." your words dripping with disgust as you stare out the window, hoping for something, anything, anyone, a divine intervention to get you out of there.

"I don't really get that many girls," he says as he stares at you. One of the things about him that bothered you so much was his courage. You could never, ever, not a million years, bring yourself to stare at him the way he'd do to you. It was intimidating, raw, and worst of all, familiar. He'd always do this when the two of you fought in high school, that's how he'd always win the arguments, not by words, by having the courage to look you in the face and leaving you feeling vulnerable and naked under his gaze. That's also the same way he stared at you that night, after saying all those nice words that made you melt under his touch.

"Mhm.." You nod, not knowing what to say.

"Aren't you going to answer me?" he questions, again.

"I'm fine, finishing my doctorate now."

You don't know why you told him that, but it felt right.

He lets out a breath, "Fuck, Y/N.. That's huge." he congratulates you, and although he couldn't see it due to the poor lighting, it makes you blush. You had never seen it as that big of a deal, it was just the thirst for knowledge you always had, but it was nice knowing someone Joe thought about it as something nice.

"Thank you"

"Thank you coming today," he finally says, awkwardly, as he gets up, grabbing his cup as he does so. "tell your folks I said hi."

"Will do."

He opens the door and gets lost in the crowd, leaving quietly and sneakily like he did that night, and you let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding.

[amonsteronmaplestreet]

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[les-gnossiennes-fantomatiques]

Was going through my Scrivener files, and I found the original ending to The Fly Agaric, and omg it is sooooo corny and I’m not mad. While I am glad I wrote the ending that exists—a more melancholy-happy, weirder, infinitely more horny and slow-paced one—this is cute. It was meant to take place immediately after their second night doing shrooms together. It’s funny how stories can change so much between drafts.

—

Every day, Christine considered the offer Erik had laid at her feet: that she might write to the Vicomte and come to know him again. Converse with him as she had all those years ago, when they were hardly more than children kicking sand in each other’s faces. And every afternoon, somewhere between breakfast and laundry and snuffing out the parlor room hearth, she would pick up her pencil and attempt to put down her words. Words that were increasingly hard to come by.

My dear Vicomte, she had started. For he had once been and would always be dear to her, in the way that we learn to love all good things that come and go out of our lives. It brings me peace to know we are where we were meant to be. You with the sea. And me, with my music.

It seemed too flowery, too sentimental. Too untruthful. And yet the peace she proclaimed lay there, deeply burrowed into her heart. A line in black ink scratched its way across paper, nullifying the half-truth. Just as she lifted her pen to reconsider her words, Erik entered the room, the neck of his Torres guitar dangling in his large hand like a dead rabbit. As he moved to touch her hair, Christine noticed his eyes snap down to tabletop. A tight moment hovered between the two of them, before passing from the room like an errant wind.

Christine sighed and summoned her courage, shutting her eyes tightly. “Erik,” she said, willing herself to spit the words out. “I think tonight, I’d like to have some tea.” The guitar dropped from her husband’s hand, bouncing against the parlor rug, its strings exhaling a jarring chord. His brow furrowed, the corner of one distended lip wilting downwards.

“The Vicomte.”

“Yes,” she said simply. Christine did her best to keep her eyes locked onto her husband, his own now running up and down the length of paper before her. “The Vicomte.”

The seconds slowed into minutes—hours. The edge of a fight loomed.

“I’ll be in the garden,” her husband pronounced at length, his gaze still glued to his wife’s words. “If you need me.” For a moment, muscle memory controlled Christine. Made her tense for rough words and accusations. Made her think of all the unkind things she might have said to the interloping stranger peering into her strange life. All was shattered when, instead, Erik patted her shoulder and made his way into the adjacent kitchen, grabbing a clumsily-knit guernsey to pull over his starving frame. As she watched him leave, Christine resumed with her pen.

Shortly thereafter, she heard the sound of his ax, chopping through wood.

Know that I am well.

The music of wood cleaving, of splinters jutting up into existence, filled her ears. What sort of man chopped wood by nightfall, she wondered.

Erik did, the universe said.

Know that whatever else happens—

And here Christine lost herself, scratching out that last handful of words with an earnest ease.

Know that—

Know what?

Christine pondered this question at length, the already short daylight now abandoning to her to the halo of the hearth, the generosity of her lamps. The darkness was closing in on that little room, yet she felt no fear—only a calm acceptance. What was such darkness, compared to true loneliness—compared to the brick and molder of a home buried beneath the earth? What was such darkness, when made little by the embrace of warm and willing imperfection? What was there to know about anything in the world, besides that all three of them were alive?

“Christine—“

That voice called to her from the back of the house, as beautiful and kindly as the moment it first dared to brush against her existence, all those eons ago. Somehow, the sun had left her as she stewed in her thoughts. The parlor was now dark, save for the lamp, and yet it felt twice as comfortable as it had an hour ago.

“Christine, come look.”

Her husband wanted her to look. For once, in their long lives, he wanted her to share in some vision of his existence. And so Christine rose to her feet, throwing a blanket around her shoulders as she shuffled her way to the kitchen door.

When she threw it open, it was to see Erik in shadow, leaning against a wall, maskless face in wonder—of what, she could not imagine, for the moon was gone entirely from its ink vault and the forest was as still as she had ever known it; nonetheless, it pleased her to know that a man as singular as him was still rendered slack-jaw by something as simple as the sky. Stepping towards his side, the chill brick of their home biting against her skin, she looked out at the expanse of the garden, at what they had only just begun to build together, and sighed.

“Close you eyes,” Erik whispered, passing a hand above her gaze. Though she shut her eyes obediently, he did not pain himself to move. A minute—or two or three or five—passed, the nearness of his palm almost as lovely as his embrace, now that she knew it with some regularity.

“Look,” he said, his breath warm against Christine’s neck. When her eyes opened, unfocused, Erik tilted her jaw heavenwards.

“Oh—“

Above Christine stretched the firmament—the gilt deluge of the stars, the birthing and un-birthing of things greater than either of them could imagine. The rumbling and glowing chaos of both the unknown and observable, spread out before them like a wedding feast. Somewhere, in the back of her head, she remembered some long-ago lesson from her Papa, the two of them spread out along the Breton sand, gazing into that very same firmament.

“It’s beautiful,” that imitation of her had breathed. “But think of how much more beautiful it would be with a big fat moon. Like a painting.”

Her papa had laughed. “My girl,” he said. “It is only because of the moon’s absence that we can see the stars so well.”

The urge to weep came, like an old, familiar sickness. When the tears finally fell, Christine apologized through her fingers, through the tendrils of hair draping over face. “I’m sorry—I can’t help it. It’s—“

“It is getting cold,” Erik said simply, a thumb sweeping across the joint of her elbow. The tenderness in the gesture was somehow even more beautiful than heavens above them. “Let us go inside and take our tea.”

And so the two disappeared from the night’s dazzling pull and into the warmth of their home. Into the embrace of dishes and letters and laundry and whatever little fancy might shake them from comfortable boredom. Into the familiarity of tomorrow’s arguments and tiny rages. Into the existence of that puzzling another—an another that somehow found the courage to thrive and understand. Into that small and common mystery of that thing called friendship and understanding and honesty, or else marriage. However strange. However clumsy. However human.

The End.

[beer-anon]

Color-changing sword

A prologue of sorts for my future reader inserts in the Demon Slayer universe. This just reflects the inner workings of self-perception of the reader and is in no way a guide to how reader will act but it will shed some light on what I have in mind.

My first reader insert in KNY so yeah idk

@linpunny​ thanks for encouraging me, this is it *yeets it like a trash and runs*

✿ ✿ ✿

The sight kept haunting you, burned into your eyelids. You see it every time you close your eyes. Worse yet, the sounds were not leaving you in your waking nor sleeping hours either. Wet squelching, screams, and oh god the whimpers-

That mission was life changing for you. It made you re-evaluate your profession. It filled you with determination to preserve, to eradicate every demon who stepped in front of you. It was thanks to this mission you survived the other one.

What followed weeks after that was probably even worse - another life changing mission. However, this one made guilt creep up your spine whenever you saw your fellow demon slayers.

For a mortal, you have considerable skill… But where you lack is in awareness.

A slow drone of male voice spoke to you in moments of lost focus. It sharpened you into a trigger-happy blade the past few days. 

You will not last long in this world as you are… Yet, you must endure. You understand this. I know you do.

You endured through it. Perhaps it meant not looking your allies in the eyes ever again, but you would last. You wanted to walk out victorious. Perhaps he knew your intention as well. To squeeze every last bit of what he had to offer, and use it to turn the tides. Perhaps that was the way to gain redemption for your betrayal.

Compared to the standard human, you display a great power… unlike many young slayers I have encountered.

He terrified you. It had been your first encounter with such a strong demon. 

You had lost your Breath in his presence. Your sword used to be dark green - a pine forest in the mist - yet you walked out of the fight with a blank sword. It perplexed you, terrified you. It made your heart drop down to your stomach in a sudden lurch when you realized what had happened. It was like a mirage in a desert. Your survival hanged on your sword, as it hanged on water. 

Sit with me.

The faith in your abilities and strength had been shaken. Suddenly a newborn lamb, downgraded from a feared predator. Nevertheless, when in the presence of him, you cease to be any kind of predator. You were just prey. 

Your loss would be a… shame.

Life didn’t stop just because your mind crumbled like a house of cards. All you could do was pick up the pieces and put it back together as best you could. 

The need to re-focus brought you to the wildest and most punishing Hashira of them all. Shinazugawa gave you the beating, and training, of your life. Again and again, you stood up and dragged your jagged edges through his paces and spars with tunnel vision. 

Yet, your sword remained blank.

Possessing a rare type of blood offered you privileges in this life… It is why I offered to turn you in the first place… You are aware of your standing now… of the price that must be paid.

Your Marechi blood was a curse and a blessing. It was a quality you shared with the Wind Pillar. The revelation didn’t do you any good when faced with him again - this time, the meeting happened in your home, in your safe space. It suddenly didn’t feel so safe anymore.

What I demand is for you to listen… What you are owed is a proper chance to succeed… to survive as you are now… even as a human… No, specifically as a human.

Your spirit and confidence had been broken to be rebuilt again and again in a vicious cycle. He offered no days off. 

You stopped coming to Shinazugawa and your natural rhythm became that of a nocturnal being.

One day, you may be able to challenge me on equal footing… I will make sure of it… No, not for your sake… but for mine. An infinite life brings boredom… I will not be denied, not by you. 

Your closest friend died on a mission. 

He allowed no days off.

You felt a rage rise from the ashes of your heart. 

Strength is not given. It is earned. Allow me to nurture it then. So one day you may face me properly… 

Your teacher told you to train on your own from that point on. He had given you the necessary guidance, the recipe for perfection. It was now up to you to hone it into a fine point, sharp enough to stab one of his many eyes out.

With wrath fueling you and that newfound strength supporting you, you devoured missions like a starved being. Your demonic killing spree didn’t go unnoticed. In just a few short days, your rank in the Corps rose dangerously quickly. 

Excelling in your humanity is only the start, not the destination. You will one day face me as a powerful demon. 

The skill he gifted you tasted best when killing his kind. Training it however tasted sour. 

Shinazugawa cornered you into a spar with him once. Despite using bokken, you managed to land quite a few punishing hits on him. His lip bled, and the unconsciousness that swallowed you right after smelled like victory. Though he bested you, you came close, very close.

Shine bright like a cruel sun… that is an order.

That night, your blade finally changed color. A purple katana-shaped lie. It was the first time you cried yourself to sleep in a long time. You longed for your pine-colored Nichirin sword. You longed for the nightmares of that night to stop. You longed to have your friend back. You- 

You broke down at sunset, and picked up the pieces by dawn.

Become a being that strikes awe in me. Consider this the price of my mercy.

Using your purple sword felt like abandoning your humanity. Despite the many lives you saved, you didn’t forget just who taught you. He always lingered on your mind. 

“Allow me to introduce you to our newest Pillar, [Last Name][Name], the Moon Hashira.”

You carefully shuffled forward, not once meeting any of their eyes. Shinazugawa was the only one who even knew of you. He was probably glaring at you at the moment. You deserved it.

You bowed, and said: “It is nice to meet you. I’m in your care from this day onward.” 

No one damned you with their words, but your own somehow felt like an eulogy.

✿ ✿ ✿

Dedicated to / Inspired by Anigomi VA group on youtube (direct inspiration / voice lines from Koku: https://youtu.be/fxZALJzBpOc ) Will be cross-posted to AO3 later

[yoimix]

「 言って 」

[note: fem!reader]

ITTO's words might not always make sense. scratch that, his words might as well be up for interpretation by sumeru scholars specializing in human psychology. but he desperately needs to tell you that he is so, so in love with you.

when it comes to him, he’s always gone all out for everything, especially if they’re fun. the problem lies with you. you are fun, but you are also more than that. you’re pretty and you’re soft, you’re kind and you’ve got the nicest smile. itto’s confused beyond himself as to why he can’t just smash through with his words as usual. his gang gets what he’s saying, right? so why can’t you?

it’s probably because he can’t say a single word when you’re in front of him. the conversation goes haywire and itto forgets all about the date he was supposed to ask you on. besides, he can’t decide on where he’ll take you. but also, you have to agree on that date first. all of these thoughts are spinning around in his head, making a very bad bean soup. that’s how itto feels anyway.

“shinobu! this is not going to work,” itto whines, slumping forward on his desk. “we’ve already tried out all your plans a-z.”

shinobu sighs, her mask airing up. “it’s true that y/n-san can be a bit dense but this is all your fault. you start talking about something else altogether. did you really have to bring up your onikabuto matches last time? we were stuck collecting them for three hours.”

“but she fell asleep on my shoulder! and i got to carry her home.” itto brightens up at the memory.

“do you want to ask her on a date or stay in the... the friend zone forever?”

itto grumbles, slumping further. he’s not going to get his way like this. his thoughts are turning into a haze of dark clouds now.

“but,” shinobu interjects. “you can ask y/n-san for the summer festival. it’s indirect, it’s fun and you’ll get to see her in a pretty kimono. i bet you can win her stuff too! just- just don’t eat the snacks yourself.”

“of course not, shinobu! i know how dates work. besides, y/n eats everything before i’ve even seen what she’s holding. she’ll hit me if i take her stuff.”

shinobu shakes her head and itto’s about to point it out when she grabs his shoulders. “leader. i believe in you. you can ask y/n-san on a date without messing up this time.”

itto feels a bit of his confidence return to him. shinobu’s right. what’s the worst that could happen? he’s only failed twenty-six times. unlike the alphabet, there’s infinite possible numbers and that means plan one is now in motion.

“leader.”

kuki’s voice interrupts the plumage of numbers fluttering around in itto’s head as he tries to mark how many attempts it should take to ask a question.

“if i may ask, what makes you so interested in y/n-san?”

“oh. that’s easy. she jumped into the puddle with me.”

“huh?”

itto can’t explain it well enough. after all, it’s been years since then and his memory’s getting hazy. but the feeling of warmth when he saw you, in your hand-sewn yellow kimono, take a small step forward and a big splash into the puddle with the big and scary oni terrorizing the village; he knew he wanted you to be by his side forever. you were only eight, and he, a mere little demon of ten years old. he admits he was a bit of a menace, but he never meant harm. the village folk couldn’t understand.

but you did.

shinobu takes a sharp breath, snapping itto out of his reminiscence. 

“there she is! go!” shinobu gives him a hard shove, making him almost trip into the mud. “just say: let’s go on a date. four words! i know you can do this, boss.”

and just like that, he’s left alone with you, who’s noticed him by now and is grinning ear to ear as you make your way to him. oh no. itto’s feeling it again. like his heart’s about to sneeze but he just can’t get it out. is that a new hairpin on you? gosh, it’s cute.

itto loudly clears his throat, putting on a strange suave manner of speaking. he learned it from the blue fellow that comes to beetle fight with him. “hello there, (name).”

“why do you sound so strange?” you tilt your head.

caught in just three words?! how is supposed to make it through to asking you out?

“say, itto. i’ve been looking for you-”

“you have?” he didn’t mean to interrupt and he has to hold in a groan.

“y-yes.” you pause, a small smile adorning your pretty face as you look down. “yoimiya-san was saying...”

oh no, not that girl. itto can’t have her stealing you too now that she’s stolen the kids’ attentions. 

“you don’t have to hang out with her when i’m here!” he points at himself, an expression so serious you can’t help your burst of laughter.

“itto, of course i’ll hang out with you! but you’ve been acting strange these past few days... did i do something wrong?”

you hold in a sigh. you won’t say it out loud but you hate that he’s not talking to you like he used to anymore. you miss holding hands like when you were children too but that’s probably taking it too far. sweet, innocent itto could never know how you feel.

“fireworks,” he blurts.

you raise an eyebrow.

“you’re like fireworks- no my chest is like fireworks when you’re around!” itto’s shoulders tense up, trying his best to convey his feelings to you.

he clears his throat. this is no way for a man to act, and he’s better than all of them!

“wait, that’s not what i meant to say! i meant... fireworks... flowers... uh...”

“you wanna go to the summer festival together?” you ask, your face breaking into a wide smile. your eyes are sparkling. god, you’re so cute itto’s heart might just leap out of his chest with a wedding ring ready. “i heard yoimiya-san is working on her biggest project yet. isn’t that exciting? i wanna watch those fireworks with you...”

you cover your mouth, like you didn’t mean to blurt that out. maybe he’s rubbing off on you. itto tries not to feel that weird sense of pride.

“yes!” he straightens. “exactly! you get me. maybe we’re soulmates...”

he did not mean to say that out loud but the sound of your giggles is worth the slip of tongue.

“you’re so funny, itto. i’ve always known we are.”

[becauseplot]

Last night I finished Ordem Paranormal: Calamidade Episode 2! A five hour episode---lots of things to think about lots of things to talk about, hooooo boy.

Second set of characters! Second set of characters! More little guys for me to rotate!

Going into this season, I already knew that there was going to be another team of players/characters moving through the story, but this doesn't make it any less of a delight! So happy to see Luis, Triz, and João back in action, and now we have a couple new players, Mount and Zero. Exciting!

I suppose this is what Cellbit meant when he said at the beginning of the season that even he doesn't know how this story will end. Since we have our "good guys" team and "bad guys" team, the success of their respective order's missions is going to depend directly on the players' actions. The fate of the story has been almost entirely put in the hands of the players. And now whatever happens, happens.

This episode wasn't particularly plot-heavy: mostly just a bunch of fights one after the other. But that's not to say this episode wasn't without its moments. And it certainly didn't feel like it was lacking on the character-front, no sir. It was a pretty fun episode for me, because I love watching fights---not as much as I love watching character moments, but the fights are fun as well. And they can also lead to character moments!

Depicted: the Escripta crew demonstrates all five stages of grief simultaneously as T-Bag takes 38 damage in a single round from Signore Leone.

Alright let's go down the list.

Demir and Boris! Lumping them together because I. I'm sorry I don't have any major feelings about them right now. They exist! They seem to be twins! They had a brother whose name I can't quite remember but presumably died to something to do with the Devil, if I remember correctly. All the more reason to want to do away with the paranormal. Could they be the same brothers that the previous case was about? Probably not, but interesting that we have some characters with a direct history with the Devil. I just really think it's funny that this is the second time Luis has played a character with a "body double" if that makes sense. I don't quite know how to articulate it but out there exists some sort of Venn-Diagram between Damir and Luci/Fer with a non-zero middle part.

Anyway very interesting combat strategy they have, with Damir using rituals to buff Boris' weapon and defense for combat. They both care deeply about each other, as is obvious with the ways they try to stick close and protect each other. They're not just siblings, they're a functional duo! Also I believe it was Demir who said, when "the Devil" showed up, "This is not our fight." Something like that. Do I sense a hint of reluctance to fight for the Escriptas? To lay down your life for them? Why join in the first place? Is it better to cut your losses? Incheresting... (I could also be completely making this up, but I'm too lazy to go back and check.)

T-Bag! The rabid feral dog of the team! Auto subs hated whatever the hell he was saying about killing his dad but I'm convinced that 50% of what was coming out of his mouth was unhinged nonsense so it's...alright, I suppose. I find it infinitely hilarious that this guy has one of the largest sanity stats of the whole team. Yeah he might be crazy but he's not crazy, you know? His craziness is not a detriment to him, it's just how he is. Just a hungry little cannibal guy <3 Just looking for his next meal <3 Eating Artemis' possum for a snack to tide him over <3

Artemis! Firstly her personality is. So funny? Whenever shit is going down she always seems annoyed, like, "Man, now this is happening? Come on. 🙄" And meanwhile the "this" that is happening is a bunch of people are beating the shit out of each other and trying to murder her. When Gal (we'll get to him a second don't worry) sat down on that table in the front room to do his typical postering bullshit, Artemis just rolled her eyes and shoved him out of the way so that she could level her sniper on it. And that endeared me to her immediately <3 So sorry Triz's little possum friend got eaten two seconds into the season. 2 for 2 on dead animal friends, I'm afraid. Funny to think about how the Marcados are (theoretically) connected to each other by their players, and Triz's characters unfortunately inherited the link of "Animal friends who perch on your shoulder get their necks snapped." Sorry :T

Oh yeah and she's a cannibal too! Diversity win! There are two cannibals on the team and they are very different people who come from clearly very different walks of life and have a different style of cannibalism! That really caught me off guard. When she started to eat the dead body beside T-Bag I was shocked and absolutely delighted. Oh, she's a little fucked up too! And she can shape-shift, apparently! Artemis always kept me guessing this episode. Love her <3

Teammates <3

And of course, we now come to Gal. The bastard. The melodramatic sadistic motherfucker who's been here since the beginning of this shitshow. I've said this a billion times in the discord but GOD I love how João plays him. João's performative playstyle is absolutely perfect for a performative, arrogant character like Gal. Ever since his first appearance in OPD, João has put his heart and soul into making this character fucking rotten and wrong and sick, and it works. so. well. Like I said, you LOVE to hate this guy. Gal is a fantastic character, expertly crafted to be the perfect villain. Even on a meta level---João will sometimes go as far as to interrupt Cellbit just to keep being evil (cutting off the closing narration of OPD ep 6 to continue describing how Gal goads at Joui and co about Liz's death, to keep counting up his dice on the attack on the first Leone even after Cellbit has told him the guy is dead) and even goad the players (OPD finale, at Guaxi: "Might want to start thinking about a new character, eh?") to make sure that you hate this guy's putrid shriveled guts. No joke, when João showed up on the screen and Gal's little icon appeared on the tabletop, I just about foamed at the mouth.

My genuine reaction on discord.

GOD I love Gal. I want to rip his throat out with my bare hands. I would do unspeakable things to this character and I do NOT mean in the sexy way.

But! We got to see a little more of Gal as a person this session, which I really loved. Seeing him outside of combat and interacting with his subordinates was so much fun. He's fond of some of the Escriptas under his command (when they're not annoying him), especially his "son" Dagan. The way he treats Dagan is almost pet-like and sickly sweet, emphasis on the sickly. He ruffles his hair, brings him gifts, smiles fondly at the thought of Dagan having fun murdering a bunch of people in the rooms upstairs. Honestly it's kind of cute? In a fucked up way to be sure. Still cute though. That's Gal's little guy! Everyone needs a little guy!

I think at the heart of Gal's leadership style is that he has no patience for dealing with people who he thinks should know better. Otherwise, he's chill with you---or as chill as this sadistic bastard can be---and will even try to care for you.

POV: you have to explain to your stupid lackey for the second time that the evidence needs to be translated because you don't speak Italian.

Because on some level, he cares. It shows in how he treats Dagan, it shows on how gently he treated that one soft-spoken girl with the dyed hair (whereas Damir just snapped at her for not making eye-contact when she was talking to him, the dick), it shows in how he tried to do something stop Signore Leone from advancing when Signore Leone used his lionhead mace to throw Artemis against the wall, and it shows how when "the Devil" showed up, Gal looked to Kian and said, "Don't let them [the Escriptas upstairs] die." Even if he knows that all of them will have to die in the end to achieve Kian's goal of destroying the paranormal, some part of him still cares about his team. Sure, it could be that he just wants to make sure that they maintain enough man-power to see the job all the way through, but...no, it's not entirely that. There's something under the surface there, as twisted as he may be. He is not immune to giving a damn.

Kian. This guy. Fucking nerd. I don't dislike his character but I don't have any super strong feelings about him, probably because we haven't seen him as a character very much at this point. His reasoning behind destroying the paranormal is still some whack-ass shit. Over 4000 years to come up with a plan and THIS is what you arrive at? You're kidding. For a guy who """knows everything""" how could you POSSIBLY miss the detail that massacring thousands of people would, I dunno, CAUSE AGONY AND FEAR, which would, I dunno, WEAKEN THE MEMBRANE AND THUS MAKE THE PARANORMAL INFLUENCE IN THE WORLD WORSE. Chopping heads off hydras is what he's doing. Idiot.

It's talked about during Gal's conversation with Signora Leone in the office upstairs. Interesting for a character to understand and possibly even sympathize with the Escriptas' motivation. Signora Leone wants the paranormal to end too! She would do anything to rid the world of it---anything, that is, that doesn't require murdering thousands of innocent people. Gal tries to justify the mess downstairs as "it's the paranormal that's killing your family" like no bro I'm pretty sure that was you?? I get what he's saying, but if the paranormal no longer exists, or if the world was somehow reformed so that it's like the paranormal never existed, who's to say that the Leone family still wouldn't be involved in some sort of dangerous, non-paranormal dealings? It's such a subjective argument. Second grade level of critical thinking. Guess that's what happens when you get indoctrinated into a cult. "Kian sabe" oh please Kian doesn't "sabe" shit.

Anyway, that's about all I have about this episode. The NPCs were cool, watching Gal babysit his gaggle of weirdos was fun, and I liked the part where they nearly blew up T-Bag by firing a bazooka into a (closed) safe. They're so good at this.

Huh, feel like I'm...forgetting something...

OH WAIT.

JOUI IS BACK! MY BOY! MY BESTEST FAVORITEST BOY IS BACK AND HE IS PISSED.

Good lord. I actually screamed when this happened. I just. Okay how do I manage to take the chanting of jouijouijouijouijouijoui in my head and turn it into something intelligible by other human beings.

Let's start with the fact that I LITERALLY posted my Joui sword OPD rambles when I was less than an hour of episode away from this fight. I was over here angsting over the loss of Joui and missing him and talking about how fucked up it is that Mascara-Joui still has his sword, and then I get hit with this. I just. Okay! Sure! Why not!

To be clear: yes, I had seen Joui's OPC character miniature online before, both with and without the mask, and I knew from friends on the discord that Mascara-Joui had a stat sheet and he was STRONG. But, I figured that because Joui is still technically hanging around, it would make sense that maybe he could be like, a fight-assist NPC that would show up at some point to help the Ordem crew. Still an NPC, still emotionless, still masked, still not really Joui. So to see Luba return and play a version of Joui that CLEARLY retains his Joui-ness had me falling out of my chair. It was the last thing I expected. I really thought Joui's fate would be final, a no-going-back deal, since that's a pretty common theme with Ordem---permanent, inescapable consequences. I really thought that everything that made Joui Joui would be lost forever.

But no. Despite everything, Joui is still here, and he is not empty---he has his hate.

So many fucking questions. Most important of all: how is Joui here? He seems to have retained his memories from before he got masked (some of them, at least) but doesn't recognize who Kian is, mistaking him for Luci/Fer. I've got...one theory. Bear with me now. We know that the Devil is some sort of big-shot paranormal entity thing* who seems to thrive off of making pacts with humans. So, the Devil would not be too happy with people who are trying to stop the paranormal. This would include both the Order and the Escriptas, and especially the Escriptas since they're seeking to end the paranormal for good. So, perhaps the Devil used its power (made a pact with Joui somehow?) to restore Mascara-Joui and send him after the Escriptas. The Devil HAS to have something to do with this, considering the walls began to bleed when Joui showed up upstairs---something we know from ep 1 signals the arrival of the Devil---and the mention on the radio of someone claiming to see the Devil (perhaps it made a brief appearance before leaving Joui to it).

*A correction to the previous journal post: this is not the first time we have encountered a seemingly sentient paranormal entity! The God of Death from OSNF was clearly intelligent as well! I have other thoughts about this but they're kinda meta so I won't put them here.

Also, Joui is a very Death-coded character: his pensiveness and the fact that he often thinks back on what has happened when he meditates, the motif of death hanging over him since that night in the graveyard where his friends died, being frozen and helpless to the inevitable as Liz was killed in front of him, his dead-set motive to kill all of the Escriptas following said death, his fate being taken out of his hands and sealed when he made the deal with the Mascaras (more inevitability) and being in a downward spiral trying to kill himself in combat over and over leading up to the deadline. There's probably the more, but that's the gist. I do believe Joui's NEX is well beyond 50%, and he's got to be Death.

Here, though, I see both Death and Blood. Death is in his single-mindedness in this fight. He's like a force of nature, unstoppable, inescapable, inevitable. Given enough time in that fight, he would've killed them all, there's no doubt about it. Blood is in the hate, the sheer hate, he has for Gal and the Escriptas. It is potent. Death is often distinguished the absence of emotion and the inconsequentiality of the flesh, so the hate and violent rage Joui feels cannot be from Death. It has to be Blood, and the Devil I'm sure would be happy to help fill in those gaps. Joui's hate and anger brewed for a majority of OPD, so the Devil has plenty to work with. I love to see my boy cranked up to an 11.

And the fight. Needless to say, it was incredible. Every line out of Luba's mouth was a banger, every attack and action he did had me losing my mind. What I loved the most was how Cellbit, Luba, and João worked together to make Joui Jouki the scariest motherfucker ever. Both João and Luba can be pretty descriptive with their character's actions, so they complimented each other perfectly. João's RP skills really shone here, playing into the choices that Joui made and making it clear how affected Gal was by this fight. If you've got the guy who revels in pain fleeing from the fight, you know it's serious. When Joui cut off Gal's arm and Luba apologized to João ("sorry, friend") João just smiled, nodded, and respected it. God that is. PEAK RP right there. Genuine appreciation for other players' decisions, even if it's at the expense of your own character.

And actually---who says it's an expense? Gal has clearly been shaken up by this fight. Like João said, he's in shock. He lost his arm, the Escriptas are being slaughtered all around him, and Kian has seemingly abandoned him. There's plenty for João to work with here. I'm excited to see what he does with Gal, now that Gal's façade has finally cracked.

A final note about Joui... He really has changed, hasn't he? Yes, the anger is his. As I said, it's been brewing since OPD, but here, he is just out of control. No more of that self-discipline. He doesn't care anymore. He's angry. His hatred is beyond words. He has nothing but fury living inside him. Maybe that really is all he has left. I love the detail that his sword now heals people, but heals them wrong: a painful, twisted scar, leaving the flesh "rotten." That's what Joui kind of feels like now. A scar that healed wrong. A man restored but twisted by his pain and anger. And he will kill them all, one by one.

[FOLLOWING CONSTAINS SPOILERS FOR QUARANTENA]

And to finish it off: Joui tearing Hanna apart, limb from limb, furious, not reveling in it but dead-set on making her suffer just as he has before finally, finally killing her. Not really Nidere-core (Nidere definitely reveled in it fhdsk) but it is in my heart. Ouppy <3

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ch.182 thoughts

[Might as Well be Sittin' on the Sun]

(Contents: slight Fuuko analysis, power-scaling, speculation)

Okay, so maybe we won't be learning the Master Rules' names any time soon, but to be fair, I did kind of see that coming. After all, this was so clearly meant to be a parallel to the introduction to the Union in ch.8 and 9, and back then, we only learned three out of eight names (Tatiana, Billy and Nico), so it only seems fair that we only learn one new name here (Luck, in this case)

Speaking of parallels, Fuuko's dual rapid-firing to mirror Andy's Finger Bullets was sick, and I hope just a sample of the kind of things Fuuko can do as a gunner. Still waiting to see what the revolver Artifact's ability is, or its name for that matter!! Considering that we're introducing the (presumably) final team of antagonists and Fuuko has made it clear that the team isn't currently up to snuff to take them on, she's definitely going to need some kind of upgrade, and giving her a secondary ability seems like a great way to do that

Also, absolutely insane that Sick is the weakest of the Master Rules, and apparently by a wide margin given how everyone else was picking on him. Poor guy, falling asleep and slumping both forward and back because he's literally and permanently cut in half. That's kind of like what I end up doing while writing these posts late at night

Master Rule I questions Fuuko's motives, and we get to see another great, if subtle, Fuuko face: with a gentle smile and absolutely dead eyes, Fuuko claims that it would have been convenient for her if her bullets had reached the Master Rules, as they would have taken them all out instantly (I guess the 60-year range was one that Fuuko was really attached to, cus even 44 didn't actually kill UMA Heat). That look is simply unsettling, as I think it's the only time that Fuuko has ever said anything about intending to kill anyone or anything. She definitely isn't enjoying it, it's simply a matter-of-fact statement, but she also knows that it would mean an end to their struggles, so while it would be unfortunate in its own way, it would be the objectively best outcome

M.R. I immediately learns to appreciate Fuuko's best charm point, the fact that she's an actual lunatic behind her cute face, and offers one piece of information. Fuuko, of course, chooses to learn Andy's location, fearing the worst since he could only send a clone. We then learn that for hundreds of millions of years, Andy has been chilling on the surface of the sun, using his soul to trap the Master Rules inside

God damn, Tozuka, you told us that Victor was alone billions of years waiting for Juiz and then you said "well Andy's gotta do something more impressive!" Well you succeeded, sir, sitting in place on a ball of plasma that should completely atomize you for millions of years is definitely more intense than hanging around and fighting dinosaurs, or at least a more striking snapshot

I don't imagine I was alone in thinking that Andy and Ruin have been playing cat and mouse for the last 2 billion years, but the fact that at some point Andy found his way to the god damn SUN and just decided to park it really speaks to his willpower and commitment. I wonder if he checked out for it like Victor said he did when the Earth was just uninhabitable magma. I get the feeling that he didn't, since he was able to consciously launch a clone down to Earth, so...yeah, confirmed, I guess, Andy's been present the whole however many millions of years he's been there

Oh, and let's not forget the distance. 92 million miles, eight light minutes away, and Andy was able to accurately fire one of his fingers down to Iseult Hospital in France in the middle of the Sick fight. I don't know if his soul gives him some kind of clairvoyance like how Fuuko saw everything that happened to Andy while she was dead, but no matter how you look at it, that's some firing power!!! Sure, he's got infinite fuel by regenerating his blood repeatedly, but he's still gotta travel nearly 100 million miles with enough force to escape the gravitational pull of the GOD DAMN SUN!!! If Google is to be believed, Andy's finger bullet had to have been moving over a 1.38 million miles an hour just to reach escape velocity, though if he reached Earth in a matter of minutes, then I guess that's a pretty low bar to clear, huh?

I'm moving on from this topic, but I want it to be clear that aside from perhaps any given movement from Sun, this may well be the grandest display of power that we've ever seen in this series, and it's a surprisingly subtle one. No wonder Andy could only maintain the clone for a minute: the finger bullet was probably already around for at least ten. Hell, it definitely explains why this was "spreading his soul too thin"

Now that we've seen all of the Master Rules close-up, now I'm willing to speculate on what their identities might be

As with most people, I'm decently confident that 1 is Death, but with 2 "[reeking] of blood and guts" and being close to Luck, fans have taken to the possibility that 2 is Death to parallel with Andy and Fuuko's relationship. @your-zipper-is-down suggested that 1 might be Life or Humanity, which would definitely be interesting; for Death to be a Rule, that all living things must die, then logically there must be a preceding Rule that living things exist at all. That said, the existence of humanity might be independent of the Rules, but we'll find out sooner or later

If 2 isn't Death, then the most likely reason that she's so smelly is that she might be Pain, as alluded to by Ruin about 80 chapters ago. I think that would fit her religious visual theme pretty well, as self-flagellation and other forms of deliberate pain are commonly associated with religion. I'm also curious if those lizard-eye decals on her habit are actually her real eyes since she never seems to open the ones on her face

3 is Sex, I don't think anyone disagrees with that

We've established that 4 is Luck, which I imagine is because aside from Death, Luck is the concept most heavily associated with bringing death in the series (4 being a symbol of death). The real fun thing, though, is that Luck has a bandage on her right cheek, whereas Fuuko has one on her left! Does the bandage itself hold any significance? Does it simply serve as a visual indicator that she's Fuuko's opposite, or is there a deeper metaphysical connection between them that forces them to act as mirrors to each other? Unrelated, I imagine that Luck's halo is meant to represent the Wheel of Fortune, and likely plays into how she uses her powers

5 has a knight theme, and my best guess for that is either that it has something to do with defense/survival, like UMA Guard to represent survival instincts, or UMA Justice

6 is War. Guy looks like he uses napalm face wash, that's War.

I originally guessed that 7 would be Luck since he looks like a gambler, but now that we know this isn't the case, I'm assuming that the pocketwatch indicates that he's UMA Time. I've seen it suggested that he's UMA Past, but I really doubt that Juiz, a septuagenarian Nico and Phil were able to capture a Master Rule by themselves when Fuuko's Union couldn't beat number 10. Just doesn't seem right to me

8's design is really interesting, as she seems to be wearing a crown shaped like a ruined tower. This immediately makes me (and others like @bubhbuhlmao) think of the Tower of Babel, suggesting that she may be UMA Language, but again, could the Nico of Loop 100 really kill a Master Rule by himself? It's possible, but I don't buy it. She could be Knowledge, though that seems pretty similar to Information, so I don't know if Tozuka would want that much of an overlap. Intelligence? Wisdom? We'll see. However, given that she's wearing ruins, I do think it would be interesting if she's UMA Ruin and God just had really bad naming sense when creating our boy Unruin Ruin

9 is almost definitely Animal or Beast or something like that, but I stand by the extremely funny possibility that he's the real Clothes and Clothy is his Junior. That idea absolutely kills me

I do wonder if the Master Rule fights are going to be individual arcs like the Seasons or if it's going to be a team vs. team match like Union vs. Under, but either way, the introduction of a whole team of Master Rules definitely gives the impression that the end isn't as close as I thought. We still have a few more recruits to get, Ruin and Seal are definitely still going to be a problem, we have to clear the ten Master Rules, and only then can we fight Sun, and for all we know we still might have to fight Luna

In other words, I'm starting to think fouryearsandananime might have been a conservative estimate

[charcoalhawk]

Be still my beating heart

My second back up truce gift! This is for @timelessdp, so sorry this took so long!

I used this prompt: Phantom wasn’t Danny before the portal accident. He was Amity, younger Brother of Pariah Dark.

I had a ton of fun with this, and I hope to revisit this au at some point to explore more.

Warnings: brief description of injury

“Amity, it is ready.”

The faint sound of ticking alerts Amity to who entered his chambers before smoke whips out of frozen lungs.

“Thank you, Clockwork. With the sarcophagus finished we can finally look towards ending this.”

The Sarcophagus is their last chance, and even then its going to be a long shot. Amity’s brother is strong, but they have all the Ancients and Clockwork on their side.

“Are you sure it will actually work?”

Amity looks to one of his oldest friends, sees the anxiety they’re trying so hard to hide.

“It has to. Pariah has already caused so much destruction and misery across the infinite realms, if we don’t stop him now nothing will.”

Clockworks frown twists as he shifts rapidly between his three forms.

“I admire your confidence Amity, but-”

“I have full faith in your abilities, Timemaster, we will win.”

________________

They lose, badly.

Amity had known his brother was strong, Pariah Dark hadn’t gotten the moniker of ‘butcher’ when they had been alive for nothing. But this, several of the Ancients have been destroyed entirely, and Clockwork had been struck so horribly in the face that Amity thinks he might loose that eye.

Their attack had failed on every level. Pariah had clearly known they were coming, and once the fighting had started any sense of cohesion had left them, every ghost fighting only for itself.

The sword sinks deeper into Amity’s chest. The blade had nearly split his core in two, as is it’s held together by barely a thread.

“Kneel, brother.”

Pariah's voice is like thunder, demanding respect and attention from all.

“Never.”

His own voice quivers like a leaf in a storm even as he fights to look his brother in the eye.

This had been exactly why the plan had been to surprise and overwhelm Pariah, Amity had known in the depths of his core that they wouldn’t be able to beat his brother on an even playing field.

Pariah gestures with hand not wielding the sword, sweeping over the ruined battlefield.

“Look at what your foolishness had wrought, brother. Your ally’s lay decimated around you, and now you have forced me to expedite my plans.”

In an instant the sword is abruptly removed from Amity’s chest cavity, replaced by his brother's hand, using the gaping wound as a steady grip to heave Amity up.

“I should kill you here, traitor. But you will serve me much better by acting as an example.”

The next few seconds are a blur as Pariah strides past his decimated enemies, dragging Amity along like one would a reluctant dog.

It takes Amity a second too long to realize whats happening, but by then it is already too late.

Pariah shoves Amity’s broken body into the Sarcophagus, smile gleaming of the horrified shouts of Amity’s allies.

“I, Pariah Dark, conqueror of all the infinite realms, hereby banish you to earth. May you lay forever stranded as your core rots.”

Amity’s last sight before the door seals is his brother’s eyes, filled with hatred as he is shunted from his home.

He can feel when they pass the threshold and he hits earth-

His core screams, but he is trapped in the same sarcophagus he meant to damn his brother to. Trapped all alone on earth, far from the infinite realms.

His only hope is that the Ancients and clockwork are able to rally and capture Pariah before he destroys everything, but even as his core calls out, nothing answers.

___________________

The next few hundred years past in a disconnected haze.

History tells Amity after the first millennium totally isolated from the infinite reals he should have ceased to exist, but somehow his core has not completely destabilized. In fact, it had healed almost entirely from the grievous wound his brother had inflicted on him.

His only theory is that when Pariah tore a hole in the infinite realms to banish him to earth he had not been able to close the portal entirely behind him. So ectoplasm had been able to leak out in a high enough concentration to slowly heal him.

His body stays trapped, but he finds he is able to reach out with his core to take in the world around him.

It appears that while he had been slumbering humans had build an entire town up around where he is buried.

As more years pass he continues to observe this small town, which he is delighted to discover had somehow named itself Amity Park. he grows attached to the people, watching them grow and learn. And he welcomes every soul buried in his graveyard.

Occasionally a rouge ghost makes its way to earth, drawn to Amity’s home by the ectoplasm leaking from the portal remnants. Luckily as his core repaired itself Amity is able to establish this town as his domain, and even without his full power its laughably easy to scare off any ghosts looking to haunt his town.

Eventually he notices a curious development. Two of his people, so-called scientists who have a fascination with ghosts, begin to tinker extensively with the ambient ecto energy that permeates the town. The Fenton’s, they call themselves.

Amity leaves them to it, something he will come to regret for the rest of his afterlife.

It takes him too long to realize that the elder Fenton’s have built ome kind of machine directly over the tear until Amity’s word suddenly becomes alive.

In an instant he feels a spark alight him anew, fells the power from the infinite realms surge out, looking, begging for a response.

In all his excitement Amity almost misses it, but under the clamor of the realms he hears the faint cry.

At the epicenter of the rip in reality lies a human. The youngest Fenton, whos dreams of space remind Amity when he first explored the realms as a ghostling.

It seems whatever machine the elder fentons have created is attempting to re-tear a hole into the infinite realms, and this little one is in the epicenter. He can feel the buzz of ectoplasm all around and inside the boy, overwhelming his new infant core.

Amity reaches out with his own core to try and stabilize this new ghost, but the sheer power of the portal pulls him inward instead.

He is compressed, the fully developed core of a millenniums old ghost shoved into the body of an infant human child.

He screams. They scream. The infinite realms screams with them.

When he is next aware Amity is collapsed on a cold metal surface. But that isn't right.

The sarcophagus is designed to hold his core in suspension. Amity has not felt anything in millenniums.

“Danny?”

The voice is weak and distorted to Amity’s ears, but something deep inside him surges to life at the sound of that voice.

“I’m fi-ine Sam,” he says without thinking. But he shouldn’t know who this small human child is, shouldn’t recognize this lab and the equipment scattered haphazardly about.

His core yearns for the infinite realms, but under the familiar hum he feels something else. Utterly entwined with his core, is a human heart. Somehow the two organs work together seamlessly to pump both ectoplasm and blood through his veins.

Amity can think of a million curses, a thousand ways to damn the earth he is now trapped on, but all that comes out is a single, heart-and-core-felt,

“Fuck.”

[paradoxcase]

Chapter 17 of Harrow the Ninth

Was also originally going to put this one together with Chapter 16, but again, it got long. There's way more to think about, and way more that's being obscured in this book than in Gideon the Ninth

This is funny coming after them all being upset about forgetting Cytherea's House name

Does "our holy resurrections" refer to them becoming Lyctors? Like, presumably if Augustine and Mercy were the very first people in their Houses they might have actually been part of the original resurrection, but it sounds like Cytherea was probably just born the usual way long after that

You know, it's funny, I noted it in the Dramatis Personae, but I actually forgot until now that Mercy was the Eighth House Lyctor. It's funny that there were two Lyctors who were experts on spirit magic (Augustine and Cassiopeia, if I understand the last chapter correctly) and neither of them was from the House that specifically specializes in spirit magic. Meanwhile, the founding member of the Eighth House specializes in having a very exacting knowledge of physical anatomy

So, I guess by this scheme, Ianthe is like, the Saint of Duels or something, and Harrow thinks she is the Saint of Epic Poetry but is actually the Saint of Bad Jokes and Titty Mags

It's kind of funny that John was completely wrong about how Mercy and Augustine would react to being asked about Cristabel. I wonder if there was something more complicated going on with her, or if John just has a really bad memory, like on the order of my grandfather remembering that my mother had a special relationship with peanuts, but incorrectly thought it must have been that she loved peanuts instead of the reality that she was deathly allergic to peanuts, and therefore sent us a giant thing of peanut brittle every Christmas that had to be handled like it was nuclear waste

Although, on second look, Mercy's reaction sort of seems sort of like maybe Cristabel meant a lot to her and she's just unhappy about talking about her with Harrow because she doesn't like Harrow and doesn't think Harrow is worthy of being part of a discussion about her. And Augustine does say she was "a delight" but he also says

so possibly the first part was sarcastic, or this is just Augustine's general fake affect that was mentioned in the last chapter

Yes, not being able to cook is infinitely more disabling when you don't even know what pasta is. Is this Harrow's issue with cooking, then, that she just doesn't know anything about the food the most people eat in places that don't have constant food shortages?

This is very interesting. Has Mercy killed a Lyctor, or planned to kill a Lyctor, or this just Augustine opportunistically saying something nasty about Mercy?

She says this, even though literally everyone on the Mithraeum hates her to some degree except maybe John, they complain about having to associate with her or help her and talk about how she's broken, and they all think she is going to die and none of them care. I guess from her perspective this is not actually worse than being constantly told about how she is 200 dead children, not to mention being told by her parents to commit suicide

Dying to know why this is. I mean, I guess he might be weirded out that she calls him Ortus and not Gideon, but other than that, why would he want to kill her? So far the only thing he's done on screen was tell John about Number Seven and agree to stay and fight it based on John's decision. Does he think she will endanger them in the fight, or something?

I seem to recall that John and Mercy had some thought that Gideon the First would be interested in some recent happenings in the Nine Houses, or something that was part of the BOE war back on the shuttle. Along the same lines that the Body may have been worried that Mercy would connect Harrow with Gideon's mom, is the recent event that Gideon the First would be interested in actually Gideon Nav's mom crashlanding on Pluto? In which case, does he think that Harrow maybe had something to do with that? Only, I think whatever it is that Mercy and John were discussing, it sounds like they haven't actually shared that news with Gideon the First, or at least hadn't at the time they were on the shuttle

[legitalicat]

For the musical ask I shall choose...

3 & 6!

love you! <3

One of the songs is literally called "Cowboys Did Cocaine" so do with that what you will.

You had been on opposite schedules for weeks. He would get home from work just as you were preparing to leave. You would get off after he was already back on the clock. You tried to remind yourself that it was temporary, that there was no way this would last forever. Yet, you could not even begin to deny how desperately you missed Sihtric.

He called in on a Friday night, using some excuse about an emergency and bats being trapped in your home. His boss didn't question him. Bats being loose in a house, especially when he knew there was at least one domesticated animal in there, was a viable excuse.

"Yeah, man, I remember the first time that happened to me. Bit my dog and my wife blamed the dog," his boss chuckled into the phone.

"Yeah, I keep telling my woman to keep the door shut. You know how that is, though," Sihtric lied easily, laughing to really sell it. "Thanks for being understanding. I'll make sure to bring in a dozen of Dunkin tomorrow night."

When you got home, music greeted you when you opened the door. Sihtric's truck still in the driveway made you know it was only him, but it didn't help your confusion. Stepping into the house, you looked, seeing Sihtric setting up the table for a candlelight dinner. He was swaying around the room as he walked, singing with the song.

You're a diamond in a rhinestone room

Nothing shines, nothing shines like me on you

He looked up at the sound of the door shutting behind you. With a grin on his face, he set down the utensils before closing the distance. He pulled you close to him, moving his own body until you, too, were dancing with him. He serenaded you while you danced around the room.

"Baby, that's the real show. Yeah, I'm holding you closе," he sang quietly to you. Just for you.

You listened to Sihtric sing to you, danced with him, until the song was over.

Oh no, nothing shines, nothing shines like Neon you

With the closing notes, you looked up at him with what he could only describe as love filled eyes.

"I couldn't stand one more night without you," he whispered, answering the question you had yet to ask.

"I love you," you whispered. Before he could really respond, your attention was grabbed by the next song.

The Opry shook and God was good

When cowboys did cocaine

Without missing a beat, you both pulled apart and jumped on the couch, belting this most ridiculous song at the top of your lungs.

I need a long night to get my mind right

And a fight with the devil 'til the sunlight

Walkin' with Johnny on a white line

You had no idea how or when he first heard this song. But it was a song that made you both endlessly happy, that tickled the little bits of your souls that music was meant to. It was easy, ridiculous, but infinitely fun. And you couldn't imagine any other man to share it with.

><><><><><><><><

Taglist: @foxyanon @zaldritzosrose @thenameswinter99 @mysticalendings

[purpletyn]

Scott's Dying Thoughts

It's been literal years since I've written fanfiction but Lim Life drove me insane and I need to. So. Beneath the cut if you'd like to take a peak.

Scott should've expected this, he supposed.

As he and Impulse carefully unstrapped their armor, preparing for a final, brutal fight, Martyn had stood off to the side, deathly still. His hand had been bleached from the pale skin the last 8 hours of life cursed him with, but Scott knew he would have been white-knuckling the handle of his sword regardless.

And so, as lava scorched the grass around Scott's feet, all he could think is that he really should have expected a turn against him. And yet, he felt the sting of betrayal.

Because it was Martyn. Loyal to a fault, there to defend, the ever-steady ally Martyn. The one who had sprinted through an overgrown forest with him to stop attempts on Scott's then-yellow life, the one who Scott trusted to take this life so nobody else could take the time, the one who mere minutes before had been chased around by Pearl and waited for Scott to save him.

Scott felt at least a little justified in his surprise.

He felt the blade enter his back, too.

Martyn was yelling something over it all, but Scott more heard the blood rushing in his ears than anything. He craned his neck towards the sound as he collapsed, face first, into the dirt below.

And through the fire and the ember of the spreading lava, he saw not Martyn, but someone- something else entirely.

He looked like a man possessed; or, more accurately, a man who had seen too much, knew too much, and had finally broken from the weight of it all. Mortal men were not meant to be privy to whatever secrets his betrayer had learned.

His eyes were blown wide, crazed, and already darting towards Impulse. Scott noted, perhaps due to the delirium the paid blood loss induced, that he looked like a bucking horse. It was the wild and insane look of an animal that had once known its companion and lost it. What was once tame had become undone, and in its place was pure, raw, unguided emotion lashing out at whatever poor fool happened to be closest.

Which was, of course, Scott.

Time seemed to be slowing. The time between seconds seemed to get exponentially longer with every moment. All the dying man could do was wait for whichever second was going to be his last.

Martyn swung round. Scott assumed it was fast, as the sash he was wearing kicked up into the air and splayed out brilliantly, but for Scott's distorted state of mind the action felt like eternity, giving him plenty of time to drink in the details.

His eye naturally caught on the other's cloth belt, and if he could have laughed, he would have. It explained so much. What Scott had mistakenly thought was just a simple red accessory to complete a pirate aesthetic instead bore the unmistakable trio of triangles on the end hem that designated Dogwarts.

And Scott realized a few things.

Martyn is loyal to a fault, there to defend, and an ever-steady ally. But, after the fourth go of things, trends become known. The hand will always be there for his king, people would say. Stay away from that one, he will leave to be with Ren.

It was advice Scott took to heart. He wasn't that mad when his soulmate stole away to the nether instead of finding him; he worked with Pearl before, she was a fantastic ally the round before. But she had found a friend in Martyn. Martyn came with baggage.

But when that baggage wasn't there, as the players learned on day one when the cycle began anew, the calculus changed- or so Scott thought.

Even after all this time, even covered in coral from head to toe, even when the king was nowhere to be seen, he was only ever loyal to Dogwarts.

Scott turned his head back towards the clear blue sky and saw a bolt of lightning, originating from no cloud and seeming to stretch into the infinite above, slowly coming ever closer. It branched into five as it approached, giving the plasma the shape of a spindly, near-skeletal hand reaching for him.

His time was up.

He could see just off to the side, another fledgling streak of pure energy descending from the heavens to the humble, crated, bloodied dirt. Scott noted Martyn was still yelling despite it.

He had won. His own Mean Gill had won.

Scott closed his eyes and smiled. He wouldn't have it any other way.

[sonicasura]

Side Story- Malroth's Journey

* Quick Note, after bit more research Fuku would be closer to luck and happiness then Kei, so ya quick little change*

Year 1

When Ramia came to Malroth and told him about the Heavenly Council's plan to help young Psaro, Malroth was immediately on board with it, gotta help his fellow demons out ya know. All deities got everything set up for Malroth, documentation of his exsistence, a alias to go under, a home, tons of money and a roadmap of where to go and what too do when he got there.

1. Get acquainted with the world around him

2. Register for the Defense Force exams and pass

3. Gain a high enough rank where he could get information on Psaro when the time came

4. Make sure that when Psaro's exsistence got brought forth ( and it would happen, no way a behemoth sized monster with that kind of power would stay hidden forever) to the people and especially the Defense Force, that Malroth could convince the big-wigs that Psaro was not a threat to humanity and was on there side.

5. Celebrate a job well done, by yours truly Malroth.

It all seemed simple when layed out like that to Malroth, but he was now learning that this was easier said than done.

Malroth knew that Psaro was born just a couple weeks ago by the time he got transfered to this world, and Grinin' Cheeky Tiki this world did not dissapoint. The technology was a lot more advance in some areas compared to his world, gigantic beasts that Malroth couldn't wait to lay the smack down on and pretty good food. Though first and for most for Malroth was getting to know and get used to this world, and that started with remembering his new last name, " Fu-ku-a-ku-ma" the name was wholey unfamiliar to him, wondered what it meant?

Year 2

Alright moment of truth after a year of learning about Japan and the world, he was now ready to take the Defense Force exams. The preliminary was just a witten portion, which Malroth had no problem with. Malroth was then told by the letter to come too Chiba Costal Base where the real first part of his exams would take place. Malroth was estatic he couldn't wait to see what cool stuff they would have him- annnnd it's just a fitness test. Now Malroth didn't want to seem whiny but where was the A.C.T.I.O.N. Well hopefully the action was next, so Malroth did the fitness portion and ended up with the top spot of the 215 applicants. Ignoring the gaze of his fellow applicants, he moved on too the second part the fighting, after putting on the suit they gave him ( seriously why was 30% such a big deal) it was time too lay the smackdown. The test went by quick the Youju and the one Honju were easy for Malroth, especially after he ditched that wierd gun, he just wasn't feeling that weapon. So he switched up to something better, a piece of rebar he impaled through a big chunk of metal, too make a mace. Of course he helped out a few other contestants if they needed it and let them kill the Youju they were battling with. Afterwards a few days after the test he got his welcome letter to the Defense Force, though he was surprised about one thing.

Malroth: The Captain of the 4 Divison asked me to come too Matsumoto Base?

Year 3

Well it was certainly a new experience being part of a entire Division. Thankfully it wasn't difficult, they gave him a home at the Base, money, food, and most importantly a near infinite well of enemies to beat up. It was cool and getting compliments from his commrades felt pretty nice. Appearently his performance on and off the battle field had caputered Captain Ogata's attention, though Malroth was not aware of this fact, even when the Scientist gave Malroth his own personalized weapon, a club similar to what an Oni would wield.

Now this was what Malroth was talkin' about.

Year 4

Malroth honestly expected it would take longer, but his likability and strength had convinced Captain Ogata to give him a trial run at the Vice-Captain position. Well this is what Malroth wanted a chance at a high-position and he wasn't one too disappoint expectations. It only took a month for Malroth's work and personality to win Captain Ogata over, and give him the Title of Malroth Fukuakuma of the 4 Division

Alright now to wait, for everything to go to Hell great....

Year 5

The year went quite nicely for Malroth, not sigj of the things going to Hell yet so, it was just buisness as usual. Killing Kaiju, training, doing reports and going to meetings, all that stuff

OH

There was something new, well 2 things. The first thing was a title he learned he had gained throughout the Defense Force

" Malroth The Breaker"

Appearently Malroth's ability to break through Kaiju Hides like Balsa Wood, had gained him quite the reputation.

The second thing was his rivalry with the First Division Commander Gen Narumi

That Malroth had no idea was even a thing.

Appearently Malroth beat Narumi in a offical popularity poll or something and Narumi got pissed about and I quote " A wierd upstart that has goofy hair and a stupid weapon" Malroth realky didn't care but he did take offense to the Hair and Weapon thing

Year 6

Well this was it, the news of the incident that happened in Tachikawa spread quickly and Malroth knew that the hard part of his quest started now

WELP, no time like the present

Malroth was definitely thankful it took quite some time before Psaro would become known to the rest of the Defense Force. Also the rivalry with Narumi is a definite, lol. He's in the group of people that wouldn't give a shit about Malroth's true identity either. (Narumi definitely challenge him to a spar involving his more monstrous form.)

Also Malroth would be the third person to drop another info bomb on Kafka's group. The Monsters hadn't exactly figured it was the gods who gave Psaro his second chance. Malroth does inform the rest of the Third Division first for two reasons.

One is that everyone is very close to Psaro and Kafka. Two is they are about to get dragged into antics involving monsters anyway due to the Lower Echelon refugees alongside their older comrade potentially becoming Master of Monsterkind. It's going to take a larger group effort to manage everything than build a case for the inevitable butting heads with the Higher Ups.

The 3rd Division is about to slip into a brand new role: 'Monster Rangers'.

[pinkmoondoll9shihtzu]

l, i was wondering if u could give me some suggestions on an issue i am facing.. its been 6 months since me n ex broke up (on winter solstice nonetheless..) for very good reasons after 3 yrs, we really were doing some damage to each other for a while , triggering each others core wounds like Crazy. i reaally was in a bad place for the whole last yr of it and now really do feel so much better being out. however we lived together for yrs and they were who i was closest to for so long, n we were each others first love once before at 16/17. i felt just anger for months, but now its residing and i just feel soooo tied to them still… i do not want to get bacj w them, but so much of my time now is spent in deep nostalgia of the happy/quiet moments, wanting the good of those times back even tho logically i know its Impossible. wishing i could go back and do it again. wanting to reach out even tho i know it would only be detrimental. i was wondering if u have any tips on balancing this miss with continuing to move on, as i know i must finally do so fully — i feel the anger was keeping me moving forward, but now that its waning i fear getting stuck in this state. i feel as tho this is why we got back together to begin w. anyhow thank u as always fer ur infinite wisdoms x dog bless

hello <3 i understand... both of us had big endings at winter solstice lol what kind of assertive force was in the air back then i wonder ! here's my advice althoug it seems to me u already know what's right for you so it's sort of just reinforcement of your feelings ---

first thing i want to get out of the way is that if you and this person were meant to be together i believe the breakup never would/ve happened & there would've never been a single doubt in your mind about this partnership. I can say this after spending a few years living with slimbo, like, We endlessly grow closer, our bond is fully forged in stability and peace and understanding. There is not a single moment in the past few years of being in their presence that i've had a single doubt of our longevity. We do not make each other's life hell in even the slightest sense. if something comes up we work it out within that day and it never carries over to the next. And that rarely occurs.

Previously in life i did not know such harmony could exist, but now that i know, i look at all my old relationships like damn, i can't believe i ever thought that person could've been "the one" when we clashing so often. And i mean it's not like i could've known better because for most of us, we grow up in families that face much conflict, you just think Oh this is normal right? People fight and thats normal, there's tension and it's normal. Well now i know it is NOT normal and when you find someone who's really ready to meet you where you're at it creates harmony, true harmony, even if external conflict arises it brings you closer, you can solve any problem together, you're on the same level.

(Also i'm not sure how old you are but i think it's super rare to find this type of harmony until a little later in life because youth is confusing & people are still figuring themselves out, gaining the maturity it takes to be a reliable partner and whatnot).

But what i feel is happening for you and this person is that you went through all these formative experiences together, and maybe you're missing the rush of that more than you miss the actual person. Like maybe you're just bored xD that's not meant to sound harsh im just being real. boredom often leads to nostalgia. a little nostalgia here and there can be fun & transmuted into new experiences but being overly absorbed in nostalgia is not conducive to growth, only stagnation. do not fall victim to halo effect just because you're bored or lonely!!

If you were to get back with this person it would 1) block the way for someone who truly matches your frequency to come through, and 2) Likely your repressed anger and resentment towards that person would begin to infiltrate the relationship again pretty quickly. It's not fair to them, nor is it fair to yourself, it would only prolong the suffering.

So i think to move forward from this experience you could try a few things. Firstly i think you're being called to really go inwards, figure out why you feel bored right now, why you feel something is lacking in your life when you have to be alone? Learn how to fill your time with more things you enjoy, becoming stronger in your self concept through introspection, hobbies, leisure, just having fun by yourself. When you can do stuff like this it actually makes you very attractive & radiant in a way that magnetizes people who are also pretty solid in themselves. U just can't really have a good healthy relationship unless both of you are solid and Know Yourselves like thats just a universal truth.

And another thing i'd consider trying is like, meditations where you envision yourself cutting the chord that energetically binds you to this person from your past. That is if you want to get a little woowoo with it. But i really believe in the effectiveness of those exercises. Don't rush into it, just like, when you feel truly ready, let it go. You can still hold your memories and honor your experience with them without wanting them to be in your physicality again. There are exes who i haven't spoken to in yeeeears who i actually can look upon much more fondly now that i've let go. i forgive them and wish them well but it's nice to be distant.

don't be afraid of change~~~don't be afraid that a better match will never come along for you. I didn't foresee anything about the romance i have now before it happened. I knew i wanted to find a love that felt balanced and fulfilling but not All-Consuming. by a total random sequence of events, my vibe was met. You just never know whats around the corner ^^ The more open you are to change, the more change will find you. But you know going back to that person would just be a needless repeat of an old cycle. it's ok to still cherish them and keep moving forward. it's good you're able to feel less angry towards them now, that shows growth & maturity. But dont let it drag you back in !!

i hope this resonates and doesn't sound too preachy lol . Just hate to see someone fall back into Old HABITS. For your sake and the sake of your old partner. letting go is a crucial skill to learn in this life. Best of luck to you anon, you sound like a good person who wants to do their best & that will carry you far in life & love.

Sincerely

PMD9 <3

[sagemii]

Always a fighter, never a son.

The androids have won, and they can't help but think of their future, so hopeful and full of love.

Connor, however, can only think of the twitch in his fingers that creep closer and closer to the gun in his back pocket.

a/n: or a different approach at Connor "suicide or give up" ending, one where we have Hank's reaction. yipee :D no but seriously, heavy angst for that one, and I wrote it at one in the morning with absolutely zero memories of the actual scenes. so this might also be OOC.

open-ended so I might write a second part? also props to may_the_wellerman_come on tiktok for the idea. sorry for taking so long :')

characters: Connor, Hank, small mention of Cole and even smaller mention of Amanda (presence implied but not directly shown)

words: 963

TW: angst, major character death, suicide, small implication of drugs and alcohol, sort of flashback to what happened with Cole

additional notes: not proof-read, potentially OOC, tried to be poetic (I'm not)

They did it.

In the middle of the unforgiving cold, and in the dead of night, the androids had won. They had won a war without using violence. They had proven that they were alive.

And Connor felt alive. So alive. He felt like if he put his hand right here, over his chest, he could feel a heartbeat. Not a machine pumping blue blood. A beating, human heart. He felt like he could breathe in the fresh air, in a rushed and unregulated way that once felt so foreign to him. He felt alive.

So why didn't he feel happy?

Connor was supposed to be happy. He was free, after all. They all were. He could be whoever he wanted now. A friend, a son.

A son ?

The voice wasn't his. It was... No. No, it wasn't possible. He was supposed to be free, so why... Why was she still here?

I'm afraid you've misled yourself, Connor. You are nothing more than a machine.

Connor wanted to scream. To cry. To run. Whatever he could do to... Escape. He wanted to be free. He wanted to be someone.

You will be "someone" , Connor. You will be the machine that brought back our world to the way it used to be, to the way it should be.

He realized, in that moment, that he only had two options. And he wanted to laugh at that thought. He had two options. Not one. Maybe it was freedom, in a cruel way.

Give up.

Connor slowly took his gun out of his back pocket. It felt cold. So cold. He felt cold, too.

You're just a machine, Connor.

He slowly put the gun underneath his chin. In front of all of the androids he had saved moments ago. Why couldn't he be like them? Why couldn't he truly be free? He couldn't look at them. He'd see what he could've had.

Stop fighting. You will lose everything that you thought you had.

He knew the consequences. He knew how he would react. And Connor wanted anything but this. He wanted everything, and yet... Would he get nothing? Was this the end?

I can help you end your pain.

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. He wasn't in pain. He was... Yes, he was free. He chose to do this. It was his decision, his last choice. And such a tragically beautiful choice.

Save yourself.

Or save everyone else?

Connor finally let his gaze fall down to the seemingly infinite rows of androids standing before him. Maybe... Maybe he was never meant to have this.

Maybe this was planned from the very beginning.

Connor looked back towards the horizon, let out a simulated breath. Of anger, of sadness, of relief.

And he pulled the trigger.

He did it.

———

"Well, they finally did it..." Hank sighed with a small smile gracing his lips, sitting in his couch as he looked at the TV. Sumo was on the floor, also looking at the screen as if he was truly interested in what was happening.

"Sumo, watch. There he is..." He chuckled as Sumo barked at the screen, as if he recognized someone he now considered a friend, a family member.

Standing on a stage in front of such a crowd, Connor looked like an emperor. Or something like that.

Hank felt inexplicably proud of him. Well, not inexplicably. To think that not so long ago, Hank wanted nothing more than to punch this plastic face. And now, he was watching him on TV like a proud dad would with his son.

Son.

Hank hadn't thought about that word in a short while. Not in that way, at least. Not about someone other than...

Not about Connor.

"...Why's he just standing there like an idiot?" Hank sighed, dramatically waving his glass around. A glass of water, mind you. He was trying. It was hard, but now that he had an android pestering him 24/7 about how dangerous it is for humans to drink, and do drugs, and... eat junk food, It was somehow a good motivation to try and change for the better.

Hank was brought back to reality when Sumo barked again. He looked at the screen.

"What... the hell."

What was he even doing? He had no reason to take his gun out. Did he see someone in the crowd of androids who could be a threat? Maybe someone from Cyberlife managed to sneak in, maybe it's just someone a bit suspicious-looking, maybe...

No.

No, no, no.

Hank got up from his couch as quickly as he could. He hurried to put on his shoes and coat, and then started looking for his car keys.

"Fucking hell... I don't have time for this! Fuck, what is he even thinking? What is he even doing?"

Hank felt like he had just been thrown in iced water. His mind was in overdrive. He could hear Sumo barking, he could hear the news reporter getting somewhat curious and worried as she looked at Connor from the helicopter she was sitting in. He could feel his breath getting quicker. Everything was spinning.

Come on. Hurry up, faster. Only a few more minutes. Hang in there.

.

.

.

Oh.

A loud noise resonated in Hank's house. A loud and abrupt noise. In an instant... In an instant, Hank felt like he was back there.

He was back in the hospital hallway, sitting down as he painfully waited for someone to come and talk to him. To explain what was happening.

Would they even bring Connor to a hospital? A repair center? Would it be too late? Would they not care? Was he just an android to them? A machine, despite what he had achieved? Despite who he had become?

Would no one save his son?

[madaboutmunson]

Cryptic Cupid - Part 3 (Eddie's POV)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

This one is a bit angsty towards the end and it's roughly 4.8K words

Sequel to Raspberry Riddle

So this is set in a government-operated hospital after the events of season 4 but everyone is alive.

Each part has a different POV, Robin, Steve, or Eddie.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

So that just fucking happened. Steve Harrington just kissed Eddie on the forehead and thanked the gods he'd left when he did. Eddie looks under his covers for a second. That could have been infinitely more awkward, but good to know that it was all still in working order. He snorts out a quiet laugh to himself.

Eddie felt like he'd given Steve all the green lights, but it is entirely possible that Steve didn't feel that way anymore, or perhaps Eddie hadn't been as obvious as he thought.

Eddie sits up and picks up his little paper list again, only to lie down with it on his pillow, trace his finger over it, and read it in the moonlight. He had to wonder if Steve knew how he had entirely ensnared Eddie. Had he meant to, who knows? 

To be fair, Steve was never not an attractive specimen of human. He was handsome, he always looked well put together, and he had that non-neanderthal jock build. That's why all the girls liked him. He was just the right level of threat. Big and tough enough to take charge, but capable of romantic gestures and being invited for dinner with the parents without them sending out for an exorcist.

But honestly, for most of high school, Eddie had loathed him. No, that wasn't quite right. He had a distaste for him. Steve became a bit of an asshole. He wasn't a bully as such, just like someone flipped a switch on him, and he started making snarky comments for the reactions of his friends. On top of which, he had everything Eddie wanted. He never had to 

Worry about money. He was popular. Chicks loved him and his hair, gods, what Eddie wouldn't give for a good hair day like that, just once.

But in the last couple of years, something had changed in Steve again. He wasn't so much of a prick. He worked, he was dating a lot, but nothing stuck, and he was usually ferrying around some of the hellfire kids. Knowing what he knew now about that hell dimension and all the things that Dustin had told him about what Steve had been through with them made perfect sense. He really was a good dude.

Team that with their interaction last summer and how he'd taken care of him here. How could Eddie possibly put up a fight against any of that?

Eddie leans down and retrieves the sign language book the nurse gave him from his bedside cupboard. He opens it up where he left off by finding his bookmark. Steve's riddle was still written on the mini scroll Steve had made for him last summer.

When he'd heard Steve's hearing was worse, he'd asked if Steve was learning to sign, and the nurse had advised Steve wasn't interested and said he could hear well enough. But Eddie suspected differently. 

Just as Eddie had refused a walking frame because that was his struggle, Steve thought having something to rely on would hinder him from trying harder. Eddie didn't know Steve well enough to see if he was right, but he knew that this was a perfect time for them both to learn to sign before it became necessary. 

Eddie learns the signs for eat, drink, more, please, sorry, and sleep.

A wave of guilt creeps over Eddie. He felt like he was tricking Steve. More than just about making the sign language look like it was something Eddie needed. He knew that Steve wouldn't do something just for himself, but he might do it for someone else. He might learn it for Eddie, and he had, much to Eddie's delight. It was the other thing that was a lot more selfish. Yes, it might hurt a little, but Eddie had been able to sit himself up and lie down unaided since yesterday. He'd even been able to stand up for a while in his physio session. Today he'd taken a few steps. He was absolutely desperate for his body to catch up with his brain. Let him at least be able to take himself to the bathroom when he needs to.

These injuries were so weird. Structurally there was nothing wrong with Eddie other than the surface wounds. All his muscles and bones were fine. It was almost like they were taking their time waking up. Sure he was weaker because of being out for so long, but his progress was rapid. Eddie knew that wasn't because he was some wonder kid. 

He closes his book briefly and looks over at the bathroom door. It was pretty close. He could try, but if he fell and Steve found him first, he'd know Eddie had been faking the whole needing his help thing.

Begrudgingly Eddie resolves that he will admit he can do those things just fine without Steve's help tomorrow after physio, even though he would miss having the perfect excuse for getting Steve's arms wrapped around him several times a day.

 His head swam again with what just happened, how his heart was thundering in his chest, his lips an inch from Steve's, whose eyes had been shining like distant planets in the night sky, and how he felt under Eddie's touch was incredible.  All that working out was absolutely making a difference. Eddie had no idea whether it was better or not, but it felt good. What a fucking show, every morning, right through his doorway. Jesus Christ. 

He must know, right? He must know he's putting temptation in Eddie's way. 

That one day when Eddie's at full strength, he's gonna march straight over there, pick Steve off his fucking pull-up bar and close the door behind them for good. 

That goddamn pull-up bar. Hail fucking Satan and whichever of his minions had whispered in the ear of Steve or the people that work here that day when it got installed. 

The rest of the workout was partial viewing because he used the entire room. A glimpse of push-ups, sit-ups, tricep presses, or those goddamn squats. The people of Hawkins were sure Eddie was going to Hell for a fantasy game or the music he liked, but if he was going to hell for anything, it was because of what Steve was doing to his brain daily! The way sweat made his skin shimmer in the morning light. He'd never hear It's Raining Men the same way again. God bless Robin Buckley. At first, he had cursed this tape, but now it was the soundtrack to his favourite morning TV show—callisthenics with Steve Harrington.

Eddie throws himself back onto his pillow. Was this gonna happen? Was there a deity out there that could save him from his complete mess of thoughts? Would he ever stop thinking about Steve tearing the flesh off of one of those fucking bat creatures and beating it to death like it was his own personal memory peep show? Would it never happen between them, resulting in Eddie praying for a deity to turn up and end his misery? He screws up his face in frustration. He wishes he could be more patient, his thoughts more innocent, that he hadn't started down this path of deception with Steve. Wasn't going after a guy dangerous enough? Wayne had told him to be careful, and fucking hell Eddie had tried. Eddie had willpower, but his was built for sprints of resistance, not a marathon. Enough to get him out of harm's way and live to fight another day. But when Steve was around all the time, looking like that, taking care of him, flirting with him, and saying things he always wanted to hear from someone he liked, it was challenging to keep Steve solely under the category of friend. He wanted that and then some. No. So much more. He just couldn't get enough.

Still looking up to an imaginary council of gods of all denominations and mythologies, Eddie hopes that one of them can see how very good he's been and that they might bestow him with what he craves so profoundly.

Steve must know for sure after tonight. Eddie had done everything except explicitly ask for Steve to kiss him, and he guessed he did get a kiss, just not the one he had in mind, but it felt like magic nonetheless. Eddie puts his book away again and smiles as he lays back down. He probably should be grateful he'd got this far without getting outed, ridiculed or punched in the face. He didn't have forever. He had to do something, but carefully. Even though Steve was a guy, he deserved the same respect as any girl Eddie had pursued before, the same patience, the same gentleness, the same honesty, do not be pushy. That is for scumbags, be a gentleman. Starting tomorrow, Eddie was gonna tell the truth and be the best version of himself, not to bend Steve to his will, but to see if Steve actually liked him.

The following day, when Eddie opens his eyes, his door is already open, as usual, but he can't hear any music. Was he awake before Steve called him to wake him up? Eddie tries to see through the doorway without sitting up and catches a glimpse of a Steve he hasn't seen before. Pyjama-wearing, still-yawning, shuffling like a zombie with his hands clamped around a coffee mug, Steve. His hair is sticking up in many different directions. His eyes are barely open until he notices Eddie is awake. Then they ping open, and his mouth parts a little in surprise.

One hand is quickly peeled from the warmth of the coffee mug and goes straight into his hair, combing his fingers through it. Is he preening? Hmmm.

"Er….morning Eddie, you're up early," Steve says pleasantly with a hint of awkwardness. Eddie smiles and waves back, and Steve instantly looks more relaxed, "Do you want some coffee?" He offers, but Eddie shakes his head in happy decline. "Ok, well…um, I normally have breakfast and then come to wake you up, but you're already awake, so um…do you want me to help you sit up?"

The devil on Eddie's shoulder whispers a long hissing yes in his ear, but he manages to ignore it, and with a little effort, he manages to sit himself up, then reaches for the extra pillow and puts it behind him, and gives Steve a big smile and some jazz hands. For a second, Eddie thinks he sees disappointment flash across Steve's face, but rapidly it turns to celebration, and he's dumped his coffee and is already in Eddie's room. So far, so good, Eddie thinks to himself.

"Dude, that's amazing!! Have you been practising all night?? I know it's one step at a time, but did you try anything else?" Eddie feels the eagerness to impress Steve, too tasty a morsel to swim past, and soon he's taken the bait.

He shuffles himself forward as Steve's eyes scan him in awe like some kind of church miracle or futuristic gadget, then turns, so his legs hang over the edge of the bed. He begins untangling some of his wires, and Steve is right in front of him with the same look of amazement plastered all over his face.

"Have you tried to stand?!" Steve says so excitedly he's almost shouting.

Eddie nods.

"Can you walk?" Steve blurts out a follow-up question, and Eddie sticks up three fingers. "3 whole steps???!! That's incredible!!" Eddie feels himself blush because of Steve's enthusiasm over three tiny steps.

"You wanna try again now? With me?" Steve offers exuberantly. Eddie had yet to think this far ahead and felt a little unsure. "If anything goes wrong, I'll catch you. I'm fast. I won't let you fall" bit late for that, Eddie muses to himself, "I'll call the nurse straight away, promise". 

Eddie thinks about it. Maybe Steve could help him to the bathroom, so he wouldn't have to use that awful bedpan again. Eddie signs, help me and then points to the bathroom.

Steve helps Eddie detach the many wires from himself and then steps back, giving Eddie some room, "Just let me know if you need my help", Steve says finally, "You got this"

Eddie presses his lips together, holding back the groan that threatens to escape his mouth every time he attempts to stand up. Once he's standing, he's ok pain-wise. It must be the moving of the wounded skin or scars, where most of it comes from. He takes a deep breath, and when he looks over at Steve is biting the lips of his big smile together as his eyes are focused on Eddie's legs, and a few tears fall from them. He must feel Eddie staring at him. Without looking up, he manages, "Ignore me. Just didn't know when I'd see this again, is all. It's good. You're doing great, Eddie."

Eddie isn’t sure how it's even possible, but he feels stronger than he did moments ago, but there is something else. A swirling in his wounds, like he gets when Wayne or the band hug him too hard, a sort of mini headrush that forces him to blink the light spots from his eyes. He takes a step. Not sliding his foot forward. Not a shuffle. A whole step and Eddie can’t believe it himself. He laughs loudly with excitement and clenches his fists in victory. He looks up, and Steve is still holding the same position, “You got one more in ya?”

Eddie does the same again, this one not as strong as the first and a little less balanced, and he glances back to his safe place.

“Hey!” Steve barks for Eddie’s attention, “You’re further from the bed, but you're closer to me, ok? So you’ve got nothing to be scared of. I told you, I got you, man.”

Another wave of whatever that fucking was, this time, it stings a little in his sides and chest. Eddie hisses at its intensity.

“It's just a wall. Push past it!” Steve urges him on.

Eddie looks down and takes two more steps in succession. Four, he’s done one more. He raises his eyes to look at Steve again, who is the same distance away as when they started, but Eddie is definitely further from the bed. This sonofabitch has been moving away every time he moves forward.

Eddie points at Steve in annoyance, indicating with his hands the difference in distance.

Steve raises his head and looks at him curiously, “I thought the point of this was to get to the bathroom?” A self-assured grin creeps across Steve’s face, and Eddie immediately realises what he’s implied he’s aiming for was, in fact, not the bathroom. Eddie tries to remain annoyed, but he’s pretty sure he’s blushing at the very least because parts of his face are heating up. “You wanna move the goalposts, Munson?” Steve’s hands go to his hips, his chin tips up confidently, and Eddie’s heart races like it’s trying to mosh its way out of his body in response.

Steve lifts his arms and stretches them out towards Eddie with a confident smirk, “Well? I’m waiting.” Eddie has no idea how he stays upright because he’s sure one of his knees just threatened to buckle underneath him. Jesus fucking christ. He’s gonna have to go for it, isn’t he?

Eddie puts a finger out in front of him and indicates the distance between them again.

“I won't move a muscle,” Steve says, and Eddie isn't sure if the wording was intentional, but now he had a slideshow of doorway workouts flipping through his mind and was deeply regretting saying anything. He forces Mrs O’Donnell into his mind to ensure this situation doesn't get any more embarrassing than it already is.

Eddie looks back to his legs, willing them on. The next few steps were smaller and more painful, but he was doing it. He was walking. As he looks up, he takes his last step towards Steve, whose hands grip Eddie’s shoulders in excitement for a few seconds, and then he lessens his grip but doesn't remove his hands. Instead, they stay on Eddie, making small soothing circles.

Mrs O’Donnell, Mrs O’Donnell, Mrs O’Donnell, Mrs O’Fuckin-Donnell.

Eddie exhales and raises his head to see Steve gazing at him, “You did so good, Eddie!”

Steve physically turns Eddie around, putting his hands back on Eddie’s arms, but he’s behind him now, and he leans his chin on Eddie’s shoulder, pointing back at the bed, “Look how far you’ve come” Steve says in almost a whisper in his ear.

He isn't sure if it's the achievement, the words, how they are said, who they are said by, how close they were, but he feels a surge of boldness, that stab of now or never. Eddie turns his head towards Steve. He knows it's dangerous how close their lips will be to one another, but he doesn't care. He’s tired of fighting, and his willpower is sat, on the ground,  by the side of the track, coughing its lungs out, as Eddie has gone off-roading without it.

He rasps back gently, “I wonder how much further I could go.” He waits for Steve’s eyes to meet his, and then, just like last night, there is that paused moment, precariously balanced on the edge of a samurai blade. One false move, Eddie thinks to himself, keeps incredibly still and waits for Steve to make the next move. 

And boy, does he! Not the move Eddie was expecting, but he was pretty sure he would never forget it. 

The only sounds in the room were their breathing. Steve's eyes examined Eddie’s face as his hands moved slowly, softly down his arms from where they had rested on his shoulders until they found their way around his torso, encapsulating Eddie in an embrace from behind.

“That ok?” Steve asks shakily.

Eddie nods in reply. His mind is a complete whirlwind. Wasn't he only thinking last night he should offer Steve the same respect and space that he’d shown any of his female romantic interests before, and here he is, but it's Steve using his own line on him?

“Morning Eddie, any idea where Steve is?!” The nurse chirps, and Steve immediately releases Eddie from his arms before the nurse looks their way, “Oh, there you are! You getting some more practice in, Eddie?”

Eddie takes a small step forward away from Steve and nods.

“Practising so he can get to the bathroom on his own. I think he could make it”.

The nurse looks between the bed and the bathroom. Then between the bed and where Eddie is. “Eddie, you can’t go in there by yourself, ok? You've got the pan, or you can call one of us, and we’ll help. What if you fell in there?.”

“I was here. I wouldn't have let him fall.” Steve says firmly. To Eddie’s ear, he almost sounded a little insulted.

The nurse raises his hands submissively, “Hey now, I wasn't suggesting that. I was talking about if Eddie went in there alone. Besides, we’re medical professionals, and Eddie might be embarrassed about having you in there. So leave that to us. We all want what is best for Eddie.”

Steve is moving around Eddie now. He looks annoyed, “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s my friend. He’s got no reason to feel embarrassed around me. Eddie wonders if Steve is so angry because of what just happened or that he almost got caught or something?

The nurse approaches and offers his arm to Eddie. Eddie takes it to diffuse the rapidly unfolding in here and is guided back towards his bed, “Stay here, ok buddy? I’ll be right back to do your tests” then he lets go of Eddie and starts walking out of the room. “Steve, please. Can I speak to you for a second?” He waves Steve over towards the door to the hallway

Eddie hated this. The nurse and Steve continue to bicker over what is best for him, like he wasn't there,  over something so stupid and basic as him being able to use the bathroom alone. He can hear snippets when Steve raises his voice, “Yes, he can!” “After everything, this is trivial”, but the nurse’s voice is calm and quiet. He can’t make it out. Steve seems angry they are stunting Eddie’s progress. Until the nurse finally loses his cool, “IT’S NOT NOTHING TO HIM! He can’t take it, ok? Now listen to me,” it's back to quiet again. Steve isn't raising his voice any more.

Eddie eyes the doorway to the bathroom, and with a defiant grunt, he stands up and starts walking towards it. He could show them he could do this, and maybe they wouldn't coddle him so much. He gets there just fine, locks the door behind him and manages to lower himself to sit on the toilet just fine with the assistance of the handrail. Piece of cake. He actually had no idea how fucking blissful taking a piss by himself could be. Once done, he gets up to flush and can hear Steve and the nurse calling after him, and then he can hear one of them trying the door. He shakes his head as he makes his way to the sink and unlocks it.

“Eddie, everything ok?” The nurse says, out of breath, and he almost looks a little scared, as they grab Eddie’s arms and try to pull him away from the sink and back out of the bathroom.

Eddie feels totally confused and instinctively pulls his arms away from being grabbed. 

“Why don't you come and wash your hands out here, huh?” The nurse asks, and Eddie just feels even more confused and gestures at the sink right next to him and turns on the tap. What was wrong with this guy? It's a fucking sink. What does it matter? Eddie shoos him away with his hand. 

Eddie looked around the bathroom. There were no sharp objects in here. Sure, if he slipped, it could be a nasty fall, but he hadn’t slipped, and washing his hands wasn't going to increase his chances of slipping over. Eddie continues to wash his hands. There is no extra pain when he does, so it wasn't that. They must be worried about him going home before they've had a chance to conduct all their experiments or something.

“Eddie, come on, man, just listen to the nurse, ok? I was wrong. You shouldn't be in there by yourself yet.” Now Steve’s switched teams. What the fuck was going on. Eddie looks at him in confusion.

“Eddie, please listen.” The nurse tries again, softer this time.

Eddie looks between the two of them for a clue about this madness. Then he catches a glimpse of Steve’s eyes darting in the direction of above the sink for a split second. Eddie dries his hands, raises them with a smile, and shoos them away from the door as he walks towards it to leave. They both sigh with relief, and Eddie smiles at them as he quickly slams and locks the door to rush and look into the mirror above the sink.

At first, Eddie grins at his mischief, Smiling and shaking his head with a small laugh, but his playfulness is quickly ripped out of him as he turns to focus on his reflection. Finally, he lets out an exhale of disbelief.

Hand trembling, swallowing down the lump in his throat, he reaches his hand to his face. It’s only now occurred to him this is the first time he’s looked in a mirror since he woke up, and now he can see why. He’d never thought of himself as vain before, but as his fingertips danced over the new discoloured textures of his face, he felt the sadness wash over him.

He felt he looked like a disfigured horror movie villain. So was he to lurk in the shadows forever or wear a mask to avoid scaring the beautiful?

Eddie can hear muffled voices and pounding at the door, but it's all underwater noise. Nothing is shouting so loud as the wounds on his face and the voice in his head. FREAK. 

Eddie feels his knees buckle, and he slides to the floor. His tears are on the precipice of falling, but the shock holds them back until he blinks, and they tumble out with a sob. 

This is why Steve didn't kiss him last night, because he’s a hideous monstrosity, like the fucking elephant man. Oh my god, he’d been throwing himself at poor Steve, and he’d been kind in playing along because he didn't want to be an asshole. Eddie felt so unbelievably stupid. That's why someone always stands here if they let me use the bathroom. They didn't want him to see the deep crevasses forming on his face where surface flesh no longer existed, almost talking up a third of his face.

Why had no one told him? Surely the sooner to know, the better? Steve saw him every day, as did his Uncle. Not even Uncle Wayne thought to mention his face was destroyed? The band hadn't. None of the kids did. No one. What were they just hoping he’d never look in a mirror again for the rest of his life? Were they gonna push him out of the way of every reflective surface forever? What were they thinking? Why would they hide this from him? WHY?!

Eddie gets back to his feet and glances at the scarred side of his face. FREAK, he hears in his mind again. He roughly wipes the tears from his face and opens the door to Steve and the nurse, looking at him wide-eyed with bated breath.

Eddies top lip curls into a snarl as he says through gritted teeth lowly, “Get. Out.”

They both try to open their mouths to speak, and Eddie clenches his fists and feels the rage of betrayal drown him completely. “I said get out!” He says louder.

They try again, hands reaching for him this time. Eddie pulls himself away from them sharply, and the match of pain drops gently into the lake of Eddie’s gasoline-filled lake of a temper. “GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!” Eddie screams at them over and over again. The insides of his throat feel like they are being torn to shreds.

“Eddie, please calm down. I really need you to calm down. It will alert other people in here if you don't calm down, ok?” The nurse backs away from the door and into Eddie's room, hands out in front of him.

“CALM DOWN?! WHY SHOULD I FUCKING CALM DOWN?! YOU ASSHOLES AND ALL THE OTHER ASSHOLES THAT HAVE SEEN ME SAID NOTHING! NOT A THING” he notices Steve look away when he says that.

“Oh, that's right. You don't have to pretend anymore, pretty boy. Now I know I’m hard to look at. You don't have to, right? So you can stop your little secret meetings about how I look..” Eddie sneers at Steve.

Steve looks at Eddie, eyes full of hurt, but he deserves it. Eddie needed him to hurt, just like him. “It's not like that, Eddie, honestly! I swear! No one said anything because no one cared about it.”

“Oh, stop lying!!” Eddie’s words are doused in spite as he narrows his eyes at Steve, “That’s why they come in here to me and then trot on over to you, isn’t it? So you can have your fucking secret gossip session about the Phantom of the fucking opera across the way from you.” Eddie wraps an arm around himself for comfort, his other arm pointing accusingly at Steve, “And I don’t give a shit what you and all the other judas’ care about. I CARE ABOUT IT! I DO! And if this”, he strides up to Steve, so he’s inches away from him, face contorted in a fury, pointing at his scarred face with venom, “happened to you, you’d fucking care about it too! You fucking asshole! Now get the fuck out of my room, both of you!!”

Steve looks into his eyes, moving from one to the other. Eddie just knows he’s trying to pull that false crap again on him, “Please-” Steve starts, and Eddie cuts him off with a yell.

“NOW!”

Steve’s head drops, and he walks out of the room. Eddie walks to his bed and picks up his sign language book, “Probably won't be needing this shit anymore!” and turns his flaming glare to the nurse, thrusting the book towards them. “Get someone else. I don't wanna see your fucking face right now!” They take the book and leave, Eddie tries to slam the door after them, but it got one of those things at the top that stops it from shutting suddenly.

Eddie wants to put his fist through it, but it wouldn't change anything. 

He walks back to his bed and hides himself and his sobs under the covers.