#yes i’m being wildly fucking melodramatic

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

god fucking damnit

[tlexx]

Lost Heart - Prologue

Summary: Every story needs a happy ending, right? Jake fights to keep the family from falling apart.

AN: Even though it’s the prologue, it’s a must read for the series. So excited to be back with my favorite vampire babies. Updating every Thursday.

Warnings: Penetrative Sex, Oral M!Receiving, Blood, Death

“Baby it’s been three weeks! Three weeks since I’ve changed and you haven’t let me step foot out of this house. I’m going a little crazy.” You threw your hands up wildly in the air as you talked, much to the amusement of your husband and brother-in- law sitting on the maroon couch in front of you. You know who you looked like as you talked so animatedly, yet found it best to ignore that observation that was obvious to everyone else in the room.

Neither one of them have let you out of their sight, afraid that you wouldn’t be able to control the ‘uncontrollable thirst that becomes so painful your stomach turns inside out,’ as Sam explained to you once during one of his melodramatic soliloquies. He made it a point to have a daily lesson prepared for you each day, whether that be speed, flying, controlling your strength, or anything else he found imperative to your newborn vampirism.

Yet, there was one thing he was hesitant in sharing, but you think that had more to do with Jake than anything else. Compulsion, changing one’s memories and thoughts, was something that wasn’t exactly new to you, but it was not the same as what you could do with Jake.

With Jake, he could not defy you, with others their whole reality was shifted and changed. If you willed it, they wouldn’t even remember meeting you or being bitten. After hours of nagging, Sam explained that the family uses it only for feeding. Jake had forbidden any of them from using it for any other purpose, refusing to take anyone’s free will away. You could remember the ping of guilt deep in your gut when Sam told you this, knowing that you had many times taken away Jake’s right to decisions and autonomy. It was something you promised him and yourself that you would work on, asking and never demanding him to do anything. Being a better wife to Jake was of utmost importance to you now, and you hoped that the rocky history you two shared never repeated itself.

“Exactly, it’s only been three weeks. You’ll have plenty of time to get out there.” Jake was draped on his ‘throne’, a black button up shirt only secured to his body by a single gold button and tight black jeans hanging low on his hips, pointlessly wearing an open belt. You found yourself getting distracted by how sexy he looked when he didn’t even try, and you wanted to pounce on him.

That was something else he didn’t allow for the last three weeks, he just wouldn’t fuck you. Jake spent a lot of time with his face buried between your thighs, but hasn’t given you what you needed. You weren’t above begging, and you did. You went so far as getting on your knees a week after your transformation, which just ended up with Jake laughing at you and throwing you over his shoulder before pinning you against the shower wall and making sure you came not once but twice.

He explained that he still wasn’t sure that you could handle it, and you really wondered if it would be that overwhelming. However there were times, when you were mortal, that ended with you in tears because of the earth-shattering sensations that surged through your body after he was done with you. So, even with how annoying it was, you knew listening to him was in your best interest at this point.

“I wanna get out of here, please baby!” You spoke so whiny that it sent a smile to Sam’s face. He still flirted with you, but it was always in a joking innocent manner.

“No.” There was a slight smirk on the corner of Jake’s pretty lips, privy that he was taunting you. “I bring you more than enough to feed, you’re fine.”

“Oh yes, I love that you hypnotize all of these bikini clad girls to follow you to our home.”

“Hey! Sam picks them, I just get them here.”

You casted an evil eye towards the lanky boy, with a newly growing mustache, that you adored so much. His eyes grew wide as he put his hands up in defense, nervous that he was caught.

“You never thought about, I don’t know, bringing a guy back?”

“Tried it for a decade, didn’t stick.”

“And you-, wait what?” Sam looked at you like he said something so obvious to you. The two of you stared at each other with squinted eyes, waiting for the other to speak first, but after a few moments of tense silence you decided to drop it. “We will talk about this later, I have questions.”

“We both will need tequila for that.” You ignored him, turning back to your husband with your hands on your hips. “Can you just take me hunting?”

“Hunting? You want me to take you hunting?”

“Well, duh! Have you not been listening?” Jake’s smirk grew into a full grown devious smile, also resembling his twin.

“Not really. You look really hot when you’re angry.”

“Please!”

“No!”

“Please!”

“Stop begging.” He was sitting straight up now, leaning against his knees watching you through his long eyelashes. His low husky voice had an underlying sensual tone, he obviously didn’t care if Sam was in the room having shared you with him countless times before. Sometimes you did miss those times, but seeing Jake happier and calmer was well worth it.

“I will get on my knees and beg.”

“Oh, now I am begging to see that!”

“Shut up, Sam.” Jake never broke eye contact as he stalked over to you, eyes heavy and that teasing smile still pertinent on his lips. “Do you really think you can handle it?”

He walked behind you pulling all of your hair to one side of your neck, exposing your soft skin to him. You gulped then bit your lip when you felt his warm breath trickle up your skin. “Y-yes.”

“I’m not so sure, baby, you’ve never been the best at controlling yourself.” You wanted to give him a rebuttal, but were too distracted by his lips brushing against your earlobe to say anything. “I think you’d get too greedy, take more than you deserve.”

There was a double meaning to what he was saying, he wasn’t trying to hide it. Jake every once in a while reminded you that he still wasn’t the happiest with you, never obviously but with just small remarks and actions. He had every right to be, and you continued to work so things were better between the two of you.

“Jake, I want it.”

“Want what? To feed?” His index finger ghosted up your thigh, all the way up to the hemline of your very short skirt. “Or something else, baby girl?”

“T-to feed.” You pressed yourself back into him as he continued to explore every inch of skin that was at his disposal.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to lie to me anymore.” His rough laugh sent vibrations into your chest, catching your breath in your throat before you could speak. “Can you listen to me? Follow my directions?”

“Yes, sir.” It felt appropriate to call him that in this moment, and you knew he liked it by the way his hips pressed into your ass.

“Then we will get you everything you have been so cutely begging for.”

You rub your things together, already feeling the wetness that was growing from the gentle touches your husband was giving you. It didn’t take much for you to be turned on anymore, Jake could simply just walk into a room a certain way and you were ready to take him to bed. He explained to you that was a normal reaction to all of the heightened senses you were feeling, basically you were able to smell more of Jake’s pheromones. But you had a different theory, you thought maybe it had to do more with the fact that your soul’s were entirely intertwined now. Jake no longer shared his soul with anyone else, you both felt it. There was a moment when you were laying in bed and a warm rush flooded over you, after that the only thing on your mind was Jake. You could hear every thought, feel everything he felt, and see what he was seeing. After a few days those abilities subsided a little, yet you never have felt closer to him.

“Everything?”

“That’s what I said, baby. You need to start listening.”

“I will, I promise.”

Jake grasped both of your hips, pushing you off of him then turning you around to face him. He lowers his head slightly, so he could look you directly in the eye. “If anything becomes too much you remember what to say, right? Even when we are hunting.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Say it now.”

“Please don’t make me say it, Jake.”

“Say it. This proves that you will listen.” All seriousness of the situation diminished, he was back to strictly teasing you. He raised a single eyebrow and tilted his head while biting back his smile.

You let out a long sigh, throwing your head back while you did. “Twilight,’ you mumbled.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you that well.” Sam was snickering on the couch at the interaction

“Twilight.”

“There must be something in my ears cause I didn’t hear anything. Did you, Sam?”

“Nope, not a word.”

“TWILIGHT! Twilight, twilight, twilight!”

“Ah! There it is!” Jake held your hand between his hands, bringing you closer to him so he could kiss your pouty lips.”Now that you know the safe word, go get dressed baby. Wear something black.”

“You two are assholes, you know.” You start stomping your way towards the sectioned off room of the sunken hotel.

“We know.” The brothers said in unison. Jake tackled his younger brother to the couch, hitting him with light punches and noogies just to add to Sam’s irritation.

No matter how annoyed you got with Jake when he was like this, you had to admit it was your favorite. It took him so long to trust you enough to show that side of him, and you relished in every goofy, silly, or immature moment he gave you. You turn back to look at Jake, he looked so carefree play fighting with Sam, until you really looked at him. Past his smile was a lingering sadness that has been stuck on his features since Josh and Danny rode off that night. Jake was a family man, and would never truly be happy until his full family was under one roof.

‘I love you, Jacob.”

‘You know I love you, now go get dressed baby. No skirts.’

‘But-’

‘Am I gonna have to make you listen?’ You rolled your eyes one last time, even though he couldn't see it you knew he was aware of the action. ‘Oh, so that’s a yes.’

Before you could even turn around, Jake had you tossed over your shoulder, his hand snaking up the back of your skirt to grab at your ass.

“C’mon! We only have a few hours before sunrise!’

“She won’t last very long, don’t worry!”

Sam must have gotten a good view because you heard him let out a low whistle as Jake carried you to the bed tucked in the back corner of the sunken hotel. You heard Sam leave the cave, obviously not wanting to hear or see what was going to occur between you and Jake.

Jake didn’t place you on the bed, rather sat on it bringing you into his lap. Instantaneously, you rolled your hips against his letting out a deep moan from the tiniest amount of friction that you got.

“You let me know if anything hurts or becomes too much, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You brushed it off, thinking that Jake was being overly cautious, choosing instead to kiss and suck down his neck while grinding down on his growing bulge.

“No, seriously. Promise me.”

“Jake, is it going to be that bad?” Your stomach sank, you never wanted the passion and chemistry to diminish between the two of you.

“I don’t know. I just never want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You never have, you have always treated me so perfectly.”

His hands slid against the soft skin of the tops of your thighs. “I love you.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

The cold metal of Jake’s belt buckle scraped up your inner thigh, leaving raised red skin, but importantly caused your body to shudder into his. Goosebumps covered every inch of your body, your toes curled, and back arched as you whined out Jake’s name.

“I haven’t even touched you yet.” He kissed and nipped up your neck between words, smiling at your exaggerated expression.

Your eyebrows were tightly knit together while your fangs were pressing sharply into your lip, making two small droplets of blood fall down your chin.

Jake quickly licked it up, closing his eyes and groaning at the taste of you.

You pushed his chest back with an open palm so you could read his face when you asked his next question. “Will you still bite me?”

“I already planned on it.”

Swiftly, Jake lifted you and turned you so your back was laying on the soft mattress. He wasn’t hovering over you, rather standing on the edge of the bed with a hand on each knee so your legs were spread wide.

“Can you touch yourself for me, baby?” You have done this with him before, however, right now you wanted him so your impairentece was rapidly growing.

“Baby, please, I need you. Not my own fingers.”

“You sound so pathetic baby, it’s hot.” His grip on your knees tightened, and you were excited to see if bruises were going to form now with your new strength.

“Jake, it’s already too much teasing. Please.”

“No, I want you to do what I asked. I want you to listen.”

If Jake was going to make you wait to feel his cock inside of you, you were going to make him suffer. With a bratty huff, you pulled down your pink satin panties to your knees as you stared at him with an annoyed expression. Jake pulled them off the rest of the way, deviously chuckling as he did so.

You raised your eyebrows to ask Jake if he was being serious, in which he just nodded his head toward your exposed pussy for an obvious response.

There was no shyness as you swirled your index finger to gather wetness before bringing it to your clit. You knew your body, not as well as Jake, but you were still able to easily find the pattern and rhythm that you preferred. As soon as your fingers grazed your clit you gasped out, your body flying off the mattress from the speed an orgasm was building.

“Fuck, Jake.”

“Yeah? Tell me what you’re thinking about.” As he spoke, he lazily took off his clothes, keeping his focus on the work of your fingers.

“I’m thinking about you, fucking me.”

“More details, baby.” Once his boxers were thrown towards the hamper in the corner, his thick cock was in his hand. He slowly stroked it, encouraged by the visible wetness that was sliding down your inner thighs.

“You pinning me against the wall and fucking me harder than you ever have before. I can take it now, god, Jake, I fucking need it.”

Your own filthy words elicited you going faster and pressing harder on yourself.

“So needy, baby.” He picked up the speed on himself, matching your own so it was as if he was fucking you instead of his hand.

“I wanna cum, I feel it already.”

“Don’t.”

“But, Jake-“

“I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

“Fuck, baby, please let me.”

He placed his hand on yours, stopping your movements and causing another whine of protest to leave your lips. “Do you think you deserve that?”

“No.” You were honest, you knew you didn’t deserve this from Jake, but you wanted it more than you ever had wanted him before.

“At least you know.” Jake brought his face closer to yours after he made his way to the side of the bed. His free hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing hard enough to make you strain for a breath. “I’m going to fuck you for me, not for you. You’ve been so selfish, I’m sick of seeing my cum go to waste down the shower drain.”

“I-I’m sorry.” Your voice was raspy and so meek and quiet, not your normal self.

“Don’t tell me, show me, baby.”

Jake kissed you harshly, forcing his tongue into your mouth to rub against yours. You didn’t fight him in the kiss, allowing him to have complete control over your body at this point.

‘Take off your clothes and get on your knees.’

Something in you didn’t let you protest, maybe it was the pure lust or maybe it was something else, you were too distracted to really think about it.

The hardwood wasn’t the most comfortable against your knee caps as you knelt completely naked in front of your husband. Your hands were politely draped in your thighs as you looked up at him with wide innocent eyes.

“Don’t look at me like you’re a good girl.” He pushed his thumb past your lips, pressing the pad against your tongue. You instinctively began to suck and run your tongue along his finger. “We both know you aren’t.”

He pulled the hair on the back of your head, his thumb popping out of your mouth with a small sound. Jake’s nails scraped along the sides of your head, moving both hands to tangle in the hair above your ears.

His cock was directly in front of your mouth, begging you to take it. You happily obliged, wanting to make your man feel good.

Without the use of your hands it was harder to take Jake fully, but he slowly pushed into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. Luckily another benefit of being immortal, your gag reflex diminishes. Once Jake realized this, he fucked into your mouth. His hips collided with your chin with each fast and powerful thrust.

You admired him through the tears brimming your eyes. He looked gorgeous, of course, as he focused on the feeling of your soft lips wrapped around his dick. Jake’s lips were open slightly, allowing you to see his fangs as well. He was feral, finally able to have an outlet for the aggression over the last month.

“I’m so glad this mouth is mine.” You let him use you, like he said this was about him, even though it was your first time actually being fucked. Jake knew you were into this, or else he would have eased up a little bit. He had spent the last three weeks making you feel good, so he deserved this.

“I don’t want to cum on your face, I want to cum in you.”

Your mouth was still full, so you had to respond in your mind. ‘Then fucking do it.’

Jake snapped his hips back, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the top of his dick. He grabbed under your arms and lifted you up with ease.

“Let’s get you against that wall, shall we?”

The two of you smiled at one another, anticipation making the tension between the two of you grow more than you thought possible.

Your legs circled around his waist, arms crossed behind his head as he stepped closer towards the dusty wall.

“Ready?”

“Just fuck me, Jake.”

“I’m trying to- you know what. Fuck it.” He slammed you against the wall harder than you initially expected, growing frustrated by your bratty-ness.

Without warning, Jake thrusted up into your dripping cunt. Sliding in with ease from the weeks-long foreplay he made you suffer through.

Your hands flew to Jake’s shoulder blades, nails scratching into his tan skin hard enough to cut him open. You could feel his blood drip onto his hand, but neither of you seemed to mind as he fastly thrusted into you.

With you being slightly above him, Jake was able to hit deep within you, prodding your g-spot every time he entered you.

His mouth was latched onto your nipple, swirling his tongue around and over it, making it overly sensitive. One of his hands was pulling at the roots of your hair, the other anchoring you to the wall by your hip.

‘Baby, you take me so well.’

“Jake!” His name being called out couldn’t be described as anything other than a scream. Your vision was hazy at best, a white fog clouding your field of vision as your body began to tremble. You always were able to feel every part of him, but now you really felt like your bodies were one. Jake stretched you to the point that every vein on his cock felt like it pushed you a little too far. It seemed as if you could feel every part of Jake, even the parts that weren’t necessarily touching you.

You were breathing so heavy it was as if you just ran five miles, your chest pushing into Jake’s mouth with each breath. Your toes were curled, your heels digging into the small of Jake’s back while he held your sensitive body between him and the wall.

‘Told you you wouldn’t be able to last long.’

“Can you, please-“

You didn’t even get out the question before Jake bit down on your breast, a place he had never bitten you before. The searing pain was the catalyst you needed to allow your orgasm to crash through your body. You violently shook as white hot waves ran from your head to the tips of your toes. This wasn’t a typical orgasm. When you closed your eyes, every intimate moment you shared with Jake replayed in your head, you could feel every moment of pleasure he ever gifted you.

You never had felt closer to Jake, like the last barrier between the two of you crashed down, giving you full access to Jake and his soul.

“Jake!” You repeated his name over and over again, only being able to think and focus on him.

‘Good, baby.’ He praised you, yet Jake wasn’t stopping. He never faltered his pace when you throbbed against his cock. Jake was focused on his pleasure, your clenching pussy was just a tool to get him to his own pleasure.

Your moans were stringing together in a symphony of whines, curses, and his name. You had no opportunity to calm down before the tightness in your stomach began to rebuild.

Jake looked up to your eyes, your blood staining his lips a darker red. His pupils were blown out as he wildly smiled at you with stained teeth.

“Another? Already?” Jake didn’t let you respond, rather moving his hand from your hair to your neck, choking you again. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

“Mhm.” You were biting down on your lip, gasping for any air that he would allow you.

The two of you were covered in each other’s blood, however, that somehow seemed to make the two of you even closer to each other, something you didn’t even know was possible.

You debated using the safe word as the pleasure started to become painful until Jake’s thrust started slowing down. He was close as well, becoming sloppy and less meticulous with every passing push of his hips.

“I’m there, baby.”

You nodded your head to tell him you could cum at any moment, you never settled after the first one. The hand on your hip traveled between your bodies, performing the same tight circles you did on yourself earlier.

‘Baby, I can’t hold it.’

“Then don’t.”

His light hearted command and perfect fingers was all it took. You couldn’t breath as the waves returned, his own warmth filling you at the same time. His deep grunts and curses were music to your ears, loving that he was experiencing such a high sensation of pleasure as well.

Something you never experienced before happened. When Jake slid out of you slightly, you covered him with how excited you were.

“You just squirted.” He stated in awe. This reminded you that he may be hundreds of years old, but he was stuck in his early-twenties.

A blush spread over your cheeks as he carefully set your body on the ground. You hid your head in his chest, too embarrassed to look at him.

“Don’t be shy now, baby, that was…” he just scoffed as he was unable to finish his sentence.

“Yeah? I have never done that before.”

“I know, but it was really hot.”

Jake gave you a reassuring kiss to the top of your head, an act that was full of love and adoration. Just as fast as it arrived, your apprehension left you. You were left with love and exhaustion from what just happened.

“Let’s get cleaned up before Sam comes back.” Jake walked you to the bathroom all while still hugging you to his chest.

The hot water of the shower ran over your bodies, cleaning the two of you of blood and one another. It was relaxing, a good preparation for the rest of the planned events of the night.

While Jake was shampooing your hair, you found your voice again. “Are you sure I can’t wear a skirt?”

“No, skirts.”

***

You say high in a wide tree protectively between Jake and Sam. Sam was looking at something in the far distance, farther than a mortal could ever see. Jake was watching you watch his brother, tapping his thumb against your naked thigh. Your excitement was palpable, and you were observing every little detail so you could commit it to memory for next time.

“I told you not to wear a skirt.”

“This isn’t a skirt, it’s got shorts!”

Sam looked over at you with a look of judgment borderlining disgust. “You’re wearing a skort?”

“They are coming back! Plus, I think I look cute!”

“Mhm keep telling yourself that, princess.”

“Asshole.”

“Slut.” No one in the world, other than your best friend Sam, would get away with calling you that. It was almost a term of endearment between the two of you, something that took a long time to explain to Jake. He found it disrespectful and many times you had to keep him from ripping Sam’s head off due to the name. Even now, when Sam called you that, Jake’s fingers dug into your skin in annoyance. You soothingly run your fingers over the top of his hand, giving him a gentle loving smile.

‘You’re so beautiful .’

While Sam continued to scope the surroundings for any potential victims, Jake placed his hand under your chin to pull you close for a kiss.

Your lips melded with his, having memorized their shape from the countless kisses he has given you. He broke the kiss, then quickly placed another one on your forehead.

“Are you nervous, baby?”

“Not really,” you shrugged and relaxed against the big branch behind your back. “I’m with you, what could go wrong?”

“Ha! You two don’t have the best track record now do you!”

“Sam, I swea-“

He interrupted you, shushing you before perching himself up higher in the tree so he could stalk the prey that he noticed. You looked between Jake and Sam, waiting for some type of signal to let you know what to do next.

It was eerily quiet, leaves rustling gently in the wind mixing with soft waves crashing against the shoreline being the only sound to fill the midnight air. The moon was bright and full, a single dark cloud obstructing the right half of the only light in the sky.

Footsteps cut through the silence, you weren’t sure where they were coming from exactly yet, but you knew they were making their way closer to you. From the rhythm of the steps, you knew it was two people, one being bigger than the other. You could presume that one was a girl, from the sweet floral scent that found you.

Your mouth instantly started to water from the prospect of sinking your fangs into the skin of someone who had such a strong heartbeat. It echoed in your head, consuming your every thought.

Your vision disappeared, only blackness, as your fangs peaked their way past your full bottom lip. Your breathing increased as you continued to hyper focus on the helpless humans coming towards you.

Unbeknownst to you, Sam and Jake were watching your every move, trying to gauge your reaction to feeding before it even happened.

“Is she okay, Jake?”

“She will be fine…I think.” You could barely notice that Jake’s eyes were burning into the side of your head. He was inspecting you, never really seeing his brother’s react like this, never seeing anyone like this before.

White waves flooded your vision, bouncing off all of the rocks, trees, and logs that littered the sand. Even when you closed your eyes you could still see everything that surrounded you, even Jake. His face was blurred, you were unable to make out the details of his face, yet you knew exactly where he was.

With your eyes closed and head tipped back, you grasped onto Jake’s hand. You were searching for anything that would ground you as the anxiety of the new powers grew within you. You weren’t sure if you wanted this, the terrifying need to feed on someone, because now if you sank your fangs into the couple coming towards you, you don’t think you could stop yourself from taking it too far.

“Baby, are you okay?”

“Mhm, I am fine.” You lied straight through your teeth, too nervous to alarm your husband about the uncomfortable dread that was taking over your body.

“Do not lie to me. What is happening? I know you’re not okay?”

Your muscles vibrated as you fought the urge to jump from the tree. You had to hold on to Jake or else your body would act before your mind could catch up. He sounded a million miles away, the sound of insync heartbeats echoing in your head, drowning out the sweet concern of Jake’s deep voice.

“I, I um, I need.” There was no way you were going to be able to form coherent words as you started to sweat and lose control of all your senses.

“Baby, just focus on me. Focus on my voice.” You were no longer holding Jake, he was holding you. Not for comfort, but to keep you in place while you began to violently thrash against him.

It didn’t take Jake long to wrap his arms around you, keeping you squished to his chest. Sam watched you with concern, waiting patiently to see if Jake wanted or needed his help.

“Please, can you let go of me?” Your voice was strained and wispy, you didn’t even sound like yourself.

“Y/N, you’re going to be okay.”

“Jake, please.” It was slightly louder, yet still quiet enough to go unheard from the unlucky in love couple that was strolling past the tree now.

“We need to get her home, I knew it was too early!” Jake usually never panicked, though with you becoming a rabid shell of yourself, he was worrying for the safety of everyone around, except you.

“I said, let go of me!” Jake had no choice but to remove his hands from you, they flew off of you and folded behind his back.

“Sam, grab her!”

Sam wasn’t fast enough, you were already jumping out of the tree. The sand acted as a soft cushion, but even if you landed on concrete you wouldn’t be able to feel a thing.

The couple froze before you, making it easier to prey on them. You caught a glimpse of their eyes, wide and full of complete horror over the animal-like creature in front of them, before you pounced.

You moved faster than you ever knew possible. In a blink of an eye, you were in front of the shorter woman with shoulder length black hair and golden brown wet eyes. Tears from terror stained down her full cheeks, you could see her remembering her short life until you bit into the side of her neck with a loud squish. You could feel her bones crushing beneath your hands as you squeezed into her arms to keep her still. Her blood gushed into your mouth, tasting warm and sweet. You sucked and gulped, becoming intoxicated from the taste. Her boyfriend, who was still holding her hand, was screaming and pleading for you to stop. You paid him no mind, he wasn’t going to be able to stop you even if he tried at this point.

You could feel her blood surge through you, filling and electrifying your veins making you feel even more powerful. This was a feeling you could get used to, something you never wanted to stop. You felt like nothing could stop you, you could never be hurt again, no one would ever have any power over you.

“Y/N!” Jake’s voice rang in your ears, yet that still didn’t stop you. Sam pulled on one arm, while Jake pulled on the other. There was “Y/N! Fucking stop it right now.”

Suddenly, like a puppet of yourself, you stepped away from the woman. She fell limp on the ground, no longer breathing at all. You had no choice but to listen to Jake, no autonomy at all. With your souls finally becoming one, Jake was able to control you for the first time in your relationship.

Without Josh, you truly were Jake’s truly prophesied soulmate. He was now able to force your actions, like you controlled him so many years before.

Sam focused on the trembling man, compelling him to forget this night, and forget the girl he seemed so in love with. He blankly blinked at Sam then turned and left, completely void of any emotion.

Realizing what you did, that you killed an innocent soul, you fell to your knees with a wail. You were disgusted with yourself, with your ability to take a life so easily.

“Jake?”

“Shh, baby, you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

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...and the unironic joys of better living through chemistry

How do I love Venom: The Hunger, let me count the ways…

It’s by far the shippiest Venom/Eddie story to come out of the character’s heyday. It’s the only story of the era to treat Venom’s violent wild-animal instincts not as an immutable fact, but as something that can be managed. It pulls off an aesthetic like nothing else that was being done at the time.

And then there’s the way it says, Does the world around you seem sinister and foreboding? Do you lie awake at night contemplating metaphorical oceans of despair? Well shit, son – have you considered you may be suffering from a mundane neurochemical imbalance, and a round of the right meds could clear that right up for you?

It does all this without breaking the atmosphere, without a whiff that our story has been interrupted for a Very Special Message about mental health.

In the near-decade since I was first prescribed anti-depressants, I don’t think I’ve read another story that lands the message “Sometimes, it’s not you, it’s just your brain chemistry,” so well.

Fair warning: if you have not read The Hunger, I am about to spoil every major plot point. If you have, well, maybe I can still give you a new appreciation for a few details you might have missed.

It’s a strange book, whatever else you take from it. It’s almost the only thing either author or artist contributed to the Venom canon, and it’s so different stylistically and tonally from the 90′s Venom norm that it feels like a tale from some noir-elseworlds setting instead of 616 canon. When you take risks that big with a property, you leave yourself precious little landing space between 'unmitigated triumph’ and ‘abject failure’: if this book hadn’t absolutely nailed it, I’d be dismissing it as edgy, OOC dreck. Fortunately, if The Hunger is nothing else, it is a story that $&#@ing commits – to basically everything it does.

Now, I'm not going to tell you Venom: The Hunger is a story about overcoming depression, because I don't know whether author Len Kaminski even thought about it that way while working on it. There's always space for other readings, and this one take is not gospel. That said: holy shit is this thing unsubtle with its metaphors. And with that in mind, let’s start by talking a little about Kaminski’s take on Eddie himself.

As I may have mentioned before, I like to divide 90′s Eddie into two broad personas: the Meathead, and the Hobo.

Kaminski’s Eddie nominally belongs in the angsty, long-haired Hobo incarnation, but that’s a bit of a simplification: this version certainly has plenty of angst and plenty of hair to his name – but nowhere, not even at his lowest ebb, does he doubt that he and his Other are meant for each other, which is usually Hobo!Eddie’s primary existential quandary.

He’s also taken up narrating his own life like a hardboiled PI.

So that’s... novel.

The only other time Eddie’s sounded like this is, er, in that one other Venom one-shot Kaminski penned (Seed of Darkness, a prequel that sadly isn’t in The Hunger’s league), so I think we can safely file it under authorial ticks.

Then again, Hobo!Eddie’s always been one melodramatic SOB, so maybe this is just how he’d sound after learning to channel his angst into his poetry. You can’t argue it fits the aesthetic, anyway.

We’d also be remiss not to mention Ed Halsted’s art, which I can only describe as gothic-meets-noir-meets-H.R.-Giger. Never before or since has the alien symbiote looked this alien: twisted with Xenompoph-like ridges and veins.

But Halsted doesn’t treat Venom to all that extra detail in every panel. Instead, the distortion tends to appear when the symbiote is separated from Eddie or out of control – and I doubt you need me to walk you through the symbolic importance of that creative decision. More importantly, Halsted’s art provides exactly the class of visuals that Kaminski’s story needs.

Did I mention this is a horror story? You might be surprised how few Venom stories really fit that genre, but if all those adjectives about Halsted’s style above didn’t clue you in, this is one of them.

Anyway, with that much context covered, let’s get into the main narrative of this thing.

As our first issue opens, Eddie’s world has become a dark and foreboding place. He’s not sleeping, though he mostly brushes this off. (Fun fact: trouble sleeping is one of those under-appreciated symptoms of depression. Additional fun fact: the first doctor ever to suggest I might be suffering from depression was actually a sleep specialist. You can guess how that appointment was going.)

Just to set our scene, here’s all of page 1.

Eddie’s narration has plenty of (ha) venom for his surroundings, but the visuals are here to back him up: panels from Eddie’s POV are edged in twisted, fleshy borders and drained of colour, the people rendered as creepy, goblin-like creatures. A couple of later scenes go even further to contrast Eddie-vision with what everyone else is seeing:

As depictions of depression go this is a little on the nose, but then, you don’t read a comic about a brain-eating alien parasite looking for subtlety, do you?

Eddie  doesn’t see himself as depressed, of course. As far as he’s concerned, he’s seeing the world’s true face: it’s everyone else who’s deluding themselves. He’s still got his symbiote, so he’s happy. He’s yet to hit that all-important breaking point where something he can’t brush off goes irrevocably wrong.

But he’s also starting to experience these weird... cravings.

He just can’t put a name to exactly what he’s craving until a routine bar fight with a couple of thugs takes a turn for the horrific.

(I include this panel partly to point out even in The Hunger, the goriest of all 90′s Venom titles, you’re still not going to see brains getting eaten in any graphic detail. We don’t need to to get the horror of the moment across. The 90′s were a more innocent time.)

Eddie himself is horrified when he comes back to himself and realises what he’s done.

Or rather, what his symbiote’s just made him do.

Kaminski doesn’t keep us in suspense about why, though. Eddie may have just done something horrific, but there’s a reason, and it’s as mundane as a vitamin deficiency. He’s bonded to an alien creature, after all, and his symbiote is craving a nutrient which just happens to be found in human brains. And if Eddie can’t or won’t help it meet that need, it’ll do so alone. 

Now, giving us that explanation so quickly is an interesting creative decision: this is a horror story, and horror lives in what we don’t know. Wouldn’t it be all the more horrifying had the symbiote been unable to explain what’s going on, leaving Eddie without the first real clue as to where this monstrous new hunger had come from?

The Hunger doesn’t take that route though, and I love it. Eddie isn’t a monster, this isn’t his fault: he has a fucking condition, and wallowing in his own moral failings is going to get him nowhere. You might as well try to cure scurvy or rickets with positive thinking. Just like depression can make you feel like an utter failure at the most basic parts of being human, and all the affirmations in the world won’t fix it when it’s fundamentally your brain chemistry that’s the problem. Or like addicts aren’t weak-willed for struggling not to relapse, they’re dealing with genuine chemical dependency – or even like how someone who’s trans isn’t at fault for being unable to reconcile themselves to the bodies and the hormones they were born with by pure force of trying. Free will is more than an illusion, but we’re all messy, biological organisms underneath, and your own brain and biochemistry can and will fuck you over in a hundred wildly different ways for as many wildly different reasons and it’s not your fault.

We aren’t monsters. But if we do, sometimes, find ourselves identifying with the monster, there might be a reason for that.

(Ahem)

I’m just saying, that’s fucking powerful, and we need more stories that say it.

Anyway, in case you missed it during that tangent, issue #1 closes with the symbiote having torn Eddie’s heart in two itself free to go hunting brains without him.

I’m trying not to get too sidetracked at this point talking about Kaminski’s take on the symbiote itself. Suffice to say there are broadly two schools of thought on how it ought to function while separated from its host: the traditional ambulatory-slime-puddle version, and the more recently popular alternative where anything-you-can-do-with-a-host-you-can-also-do-without-one. I’m not much of a fan of the latter, personally: if your symbiote doesn’t actually need a host, I feel you’ve sort of missed the point. (The movie takes the route of saying symbiotes can’t even process Earth’s atmosphere without a host, which is a great new idea that appears nowhere in the comics, and I love it. Hosts or GTFO, baby!)

Kaminski has his own take, and I can only wish it had caught on. Without Eddie, the symbiote becomes an ever-shifting insectoid-tentacle-snake-monstrosity, driven by an animalistic hunger. It’s many things, but it’s never humanoid.

If you absolutely must have your symbiote operating minus a host, I feel this is the way to do it: semi-feral, shapeless and completely alien (uncontrollable violence and cravings for brains to be added to taste).

Issue #2 comes to us primarily through the perspective of the mild-mannered Dr. Thaddeus Paine of the Innsmouth Hills Sanitarium (yes, really).

Yeah, he’s not fooling anyone. Meet our official villain! He joins our story after Eddie is picked up by the police and handed off to the nearest available institution, on account of how completely sane and rational he’s been acting.

Naturally, Dr. Paine soon has copious notes on Eddie’s ‘crazy’ story about his psychic link to a brain-eating alien monster. Fortunately for Eddie, Paine also runs some tests and makes an interesting discovery. 

Congratulations, Venom: the ‘vitamin’ you were missing officially has a name!

Finding the right meds isn’t always this easy. I got lucky – the first ones my psych put me on worked pretty well – but I have plenty of friends who weren't so lucky. In fact, the treatment for Eddie's problems is so straightforward it arguably has more in common with, say, endocrine disorders like thyroid conditions or Addison’s disease, which differ from clinical depression but present many similar symptoms (but can sadly be just as much of a bitch to get correctly diagnosed – please do read author Maggie Stiefvater’s account of the latter when you get the chance, because forget Venom, that is a horror story).

‘True’ depression remains much less well understood by medicine, either in its causes or how to effectively treat it. But simply having a name for what was wrong with me made so much difference, and that’s an experience I imagine anyone who’s dealt with any long undiagnosed medical condition could relate to. It put my life in context in a way nothing else had in years.

(I can’t speak to the accuracy of the way phenethylamine is portrayed in this comic – a quick google suggests there may be some real debate that phenethylamine deficiencies have been overlooked as a contributor to clinical depression, but having no medical background, that one’s well beyond me. Either way, scientific accuracy really doesn’t matter in this context – it’s how it works in-universe for story purposes that we should pay attention to.)

Since this issue is mostly from Paine’s POV, we don’t get Eddie’s reaction to having a healthy amount of phenethylamine sloshing around in his brain again, just the assurance that treatment appears to be ‘completely successful’.

He’s still a paranoid, hostile bastard though. Meds can turn your life around, but they won’t make you not you.

But even if Eddie’s feeling better, he’s still psychically linked to someone who isn’t. Symbiote-vision still comes through drained of colour and edged in viscera.

That’s the thing about meds: they won’t solve all your problems overnight. If you’ve been depressed for a while, there are good odds you have problems stacking up. But working meds can be a godsend when it comes to getting you into a space where you can deal with your problems again, whether said problems are doing-your-laundry or all the way into not-giving-up-completely-and-just-accepting-you’ll-die-alone-on-the-street.

For Eddie, ‘dealing with his problems’ begins with stealing a keycard and busting out of the asylum.

Of course, that’s the easy part. How do you solve a problem like a feral symbiote? Like any good 90′s comic book protagonist, Eddie tackles it by putting on his big-boy camouflage pants and kitting himself out with weapons and pouches while quoting “If you live something, set it free. If it doesn’t come back, hunt it down.”

We can add this to the list of things I love about this comic. Even if The Hunger is a weirdly-stylistic tract about depression at heart, it’s also still a goddamn 90′s Venom comic, and not ashamed to be.

We’re into issue #3 now, and back to hearing the story from Eddie’s POV.

Eddie is very much aware that his symbiote has murdered innocent people while they’ve been separated. Even if this is the result of extreme circumstances, there’s a good case to be made that the symbiote is too dangerous to be allowed to live. Plenty of heroes would treat it like a rabid dog at this point.

But Eddie isn’t a hero, he’s a mess of a character and an anti-hero at best, so we don’t have to hold him to the same standard. He’s well aware his symbiote may be too far gone to save, that he may have to put it down – but that’s only his backup plan. He wants to help it. He wants it back. He’s down in that sewer with screamers and a flamethrower because he knows all his symbiote’s weaknesses, but he’s also carrying a large jar of black-market synthesised phenethylamine, because if he can just get close enough...

Depression can’t make you a literal monster, but it can make you an asshole. Miserable to be around, lacking even the energy to care who else you’re hurting. The depression doesn’t excuse that, but it makes everything harder, and it’s that much easier to sink back into your spiral when everyone around you has given up. It can make you think everyone around has given up even if that isn’t true.

So to have Eddie here say, in effect, I don’t care how many people you’ve eaten, I know it wasn’t your fault. I still love you. You’re still worth fighting for – god, does that get me right in the id.

There’s still a whole issue left at this point – we’ve still got to deal with our real villain, Dr. Paine, who we’ve just learned is into eating brains himself and torturing his patients recreationally, and who wants to capture the symbiote for his own purposes. There’s the scene where Eddie and his symbiote finally bond again, and Venom beats up all Paine’s goons while singing David Bowie because like I said, this is still a 90′s superhero comic and this is what Venom does.

But for our purposes, I'm going to skip to the penultimate page of the story, because the way it mirrors our opening page is really lovely.

Remember that shot of Eddie dealing with a beggar back at the beginning of the story, thinking about how these people would 'get their despair all over you'? Here he is again, cheerfully forking over the last dollar in his pocket to the next man to ask him for change. For all the gothic atmosphere and gore, it’s moments like this that make The Hunger easily one of the most positive, uplifting Venom stories ever written. Funny, that. (I could probably write a whole other essay on sympathy for the homeless as a recurring motif in Venom stories, but that... well, whole other essay and all that.)

What’s Eddie learned from this experience? Don’t take your symbiote for granted. Is ‘symbiote’ a metaphor for mental health here, is paying attention to its needs an allegory for paying attention to your own? I still don’t know how literally Kaminski meant us to take this, but it’s a lovely note to end on no matter how you parse it.

At the end of the day, The Hunger isn’t flawless. The conflict with Paine ends on a thematic but slightly unsatisfying note. Eddie makes much of his symbiote's loneliness and desire for union, but when the two of them are finally reunited, the only reaction comes from Eddie's side. In fact, the symbiote seems to have no response to being able to return to Eddie at all, and that’s an omission that bugs me.

But Kaminski is more interested than any other writer of the era in the truly alien nature of the symbiote, in its relationship with Eddie from Eddie’s side, and though plenty of others talk about the symbiote's love/hate relationship with Spider-man, no-one else had the guts to portray their relationship this much like a romance.

And Venom: The Hunger is no less interesting in the context of Len Kaminski’s other work. You don't have to look far into his Marvel and DC credits to pick up that the guy has a real thing for monsters. (“All of my favourite characters are outlaws, misfits, anti-heroes,” he says, in one of the very few interviews I could find with him, “I wouldn't know what to do with Superman.”) He's written for vampires, werewolves, victims of mad science, and all of three at once, littering his work with biochemistry-themed technobabble, melodramatic monologues, gratuitous pop-culture references, and protagonists who must learn to embrace their inner demons. So The Hunger represents more than a few of his favourite running themes.

For our context, his more notable other work includes Children of the Beast, in which a werewolf must make peace between his human and animalistic sides, and The Creeper, in which a journalist must make peace with the crazy super-powered alter-ego sharing his body. In fact, The Creeper and The Hunger share so much DNA (including an evil doctor posing as a respected psychiatrist who uses hypnosis on our hero while he's trapped in a mental institution) that it’s quite the achievement that they still feel like such very distinct entities beyond that point.

The human alter-egos of both werewolf and Creeper even use prescription meds while wrestling with their respective dark sides. The difference, in both cases, is that these are stories where meds play their traditional fictional role – and that's a role that could be as easily filled by illegal drugs or alcohol without making any substantive difference. You see, if a protagonist is using them, it's a sign of unwillingness to tackle their 'real' problems. Even among work by the same author in the same genre, The Hunger represents an outlier. And that's just a little disappointing – at least to me.

In real life, of course, prescription meds are no magical cure-all elixir. Depression meds that work for one person may not work for another, or may not keep working in the longer term. Everyone has heard stories about quack doctors who prescribe them to the wrong patients for the wrong reasons, about lives ruined by addictions to prescription painkillers, or the supposedly-damning statistics about how poorly SSRI's perform in rigorous clinical trials. The proper way to treat depression is obviously with lifestyle and therapy. People will still airily dismiss medications that we all know previous generations got along just fine without, or suggest that figures like Van Gogh would never have created great art if they hadn't been mad enough to slice off an ear. I mean, the fact you think you need those bogus mediations is probably the best possible sign of just how broken you are, right? Who do you think you’re kidding?

Our popular fiction loves stories about manly men who bury their trauma under a gruff, anti-social exterior and come back swinging at the world that broke them, bravely refusing even painkillers that might dull their manly reflexes. Other genres make space for broken people confronting their demons in grand moments of catharsis, finally breaking down into tears when someone gets through to make them face their problems. "I could barely make it out of bed in the mornings until I found a doctor who started me on this new prescription" is not only wildly counter to the accepted social narrative, it's a hard thing to know how to dramatise.

 Even other Venom comics have been guilty of this.

Believe me, I recognise all of this, and just how much progress we've made in the last few decades. But I haven't the slightest doubt that for so many vulnerable people, the stigma against prescription medications does infinitely more harm than those same meds could ever do. And just having the right to externalise my problems into it's not you, it's your brain chemistry, may have helped me more than the meds themselves.

(And again, no, being prescribed SSRI's didn't fix me overnight, but I honestly don't know if all the talk therapy and tearful conversations with family members in the world could've got me as far as I've come without them.)

I love Venom: The Hunger. It's no-one's idea of high art, but it doesn’t need to be. There is a whole other post’s worth of things I love about it that I’ve already cut out this one as pointless tangents, and that may actually be it’s biggest drawback as a go-to example: I fully recognise that I would not be making this post if The Hunger hadn't also also grabbed me as a great bit of Venom canon, being the massive fan and shipper that I am. Other people who are just as desperate as me for more stories with the same core theme, but not into weird 90's comics about needy goo aliens, probably won't get nearly as much out of it as I have.

But if it sounds anything like your jam, maybe you'll enjoy it as much as I did.

If nothing else, it proves that you can make a viscerally satisfying story out of a message that shockingly unconventional. And you may even have people still discovering it and falling in love with it 25 years after the fact.

[mythrilhusk]

Korosensei Never Dies - Chapter 6

Words - 1967 Ao3 Version Chapter 5 (last) Chapter 7 (Next)

AN: Just wanted to note (although it’s already in tags) that there are no ships in this story. The characters may be affectionate with each other, but it’s all platonic. 

====

Exams are the worst part of school, but the end of the first term approaches fast. Tommy determines he will not fail. Philza has promised to teach them how to fight, and by the ever-loving stars, Tommy wants to show off his mad skillz. 

He's so intent on getting fighting lessons that he's dragged his friends into group study sessions. Wilbur insists on leading said sessions, and somehow the schoolwork gets entwined with role-playing battles with fiercesome monsters. 

"The answer is forty-two!! I pull out a bazooka and blast everything to smithereens!" Tubbo cackles. "Nothing shall stand in the way of world domination." 

"Tubbo," Wilbur sighs for the fortieth time. "That would kill all of your teammates." 

"Do I care?" Tubbo grins innocently. "Less competition, big man!" 

"I lay down and die." Ranboo says drily, leaning against the wall with his arm around Tubbo's shoulders. 

"Not you, Ranboo, you're going to be my puppet queen. Every world-dominating super-villain needs a puppet queen." Tubbo says, quite matter-of-fact.

Tommy scrawls messily on his workbook, determined to complete the next answer first and get a turn. "Ha! Fucking x equals twenty-nine!" He crows. "I shoot my nets at Tubbo and capture him!!" 

"Stand-off." Wilbur says with a grin. "Who wrote Frankenstein?" 

"Some woman with a boring name." Tommy retorts. 

"Anne Rice!" Tubbo cries. 

"Tommy, you got the closer answer. It was Mary Shelley." 

"Alright, I win, and I say 'Hahaha, you fucking imbecile, you are no match for me!' and then I drag them to jail." 

"I completed my worksheet, Wilbur." Eret pipes up. Wilbur takes it, then nods for Eret to complete his bonus action. "I stab Tommy and release Tubbo, saying, 'The world is yours for the taking, but allow me to oversee a portion of it.' and then I kneel and plant my sword in the dust." 

"Oh! Oh!" Tubbo waves his worksheet in the air. "Ranboo, stab him for me!" 

"As you wish." Ranboo sighs with a wicked grin. Eret protests weakly in the background. 

"Ranboo, you need to answer a question correctly, first." Wilbur steeples his fingers. "Or else there will be penalties." 

"I, uh, I think I got this one correct." Ranboo shows his study sheet to Wilbur, who nods curtly. 

"Fine, go ahead." 

Ranboo turns to Eret and says in a dark tone, "You betrayed your friend. I can't trust you, Eret." Then he turns to Wilbur, "I run him through with my dagger." 

"Eret, you're now a ghost." Wilbur shuffles through his game notes. 

"Aw, man. Can I haunt anyone?" 

"Yes."

"I haunt Ranboo to remind him of his crimes." 

"Aw, dang, another voice." Ranboo groans playfully. 

"Whaddya mean, another??" Tubbo cries. "Am I being replaced, Ranboo??" 

"You- you are the voice." Ranboo laughs nervously. "Even when you're dead, I'll still hear you, shouting at me to not kill the bees." 

"You better not. I worked hard to cultivate our apiary." 

"I won't, I won't." 

Tommy finishes his worksheet, ignoring the chatter of the others. "Ha!" He turns it into a paper plane and throws it to Wilbur. "I want twelve actions now!" 

"Okay, Tommy." Wilbur replies with a sly smile. The others protest, but Tommy has Wilbur wrapped around his little finger, so they won't be winning this battle. 

"But! I want to split them up between us, because I'm a fucking nice person who loves women." 

"Go ahead." 

"My first action as King de facto of the world is to declare peace between the Moon and Mars." 

"Wait, wait, you're king?? Eret, you didn't even kill him properly!!" Tubbo throws up his hands. "Ranboo, kill Tommy for me." 

"Hypothetically, what if I didn't?" 

"Ranboo. Are you betraying me??" 

"No, no, I said hypothetically." 

"Then, hypothetically, I would nuke your entire homeland and make you watch as I killed your family before your very eyes." 

"Oh! Oh, no." 

"And then I would torture you to death." 

"Oh, man. That would not be good." 

"So are you going to betray me?" 

"Apparently not." 

"Aw, man. I wanted to torture somebody." Tubbo sighs. 

Ranboo gives Tommy a look that says 'help me'. 

"You both lost your turns for talking too long." Wilbur decides. "Tommy and Eret, you both have an extra turn." 

"I turn corporeal using necromancy, and I use Tubbo's soul as the energy source, draining him of life." Eret says, his cheerful eyes belying his dark tone. 

"No! Ranboo, avenge meeeee!!" Tubbo cries melodramatically to the heavens. 

"Oh no! I'll avenge you!!" 

"I kill Ranboo." Tommy cackles at the horrified look on Ranboo's face. 

"Oh, that's not good." 

"How do you kill him, Tommy?" Wilbur asks. 

"I stab the bastard through the fucking eyes." 

"Oh. Man. That sounds painful." Ranboo winces.

"It is. You're screaming like a fucking bitch." 

"Am I? Oh dang, that's not fun. Am I a ghost now?" 

"Ghostboo." Tubbo laughs. "You're now Ghostboo." 

"You're Toast, you don't get to mock my name." 

Tommy frowns. "What's my ghost name?"

"Ghommy." Ranboo laughs. "Eret is Gheret." 

"Tommy, you think we're ready for the exams?" Wilbur gathers the papers scattered across the floor.  

"Fuck yeah, we are. We'll crush those bastards to dust. We'll get the highest grades of anybody in the entire school!"

++++

"What do you mean, you can't transfer me?? My grades are the worst they've ever been in years!!" Jack cries, stomping his foot on the polished wood floor of the principal's office. 

"I'm sorry, duckie, but I can't let anyone transfer between classes this year." Puffy-- rumored to be a pirate in a past life and therefore always called Captain-- frowns as she flicks through Jack's portfolio. "Why did you want to be transferred, anyway?" 

"No reason." Jack grumbles, then stomps out of the office, slamming the door behind himself. 

"How'd it go?" Niki hops down from one of the pillars. 

"Terribly. Those bastards in 3-E must've told Captain Puffy to not let anyone in. They're probably planning to take over the world now, using Techno as bait!" Jack cries, his eyes burning with furious tears. 

"That's awful!" Niki wails. "What will we do?" 

"What do heroes do to villains? We bomb them." 

"Bomb them?" 

"I don't know how yet." Jack grins, filled with burning rage. "But we'll think of something." 

"I know a man." Niki says decisively. "He'll get us supplies. If they really are planning to end the world, we need to stop them." 

++++

Exams roll around, and 3-E joins the the main school buildings for the tests. Quackity and Sapnap both leap on and hug Karl Jacobs. Tommy strides through the testing auditorium like he owns the place, with Wilbur glaring at everyone and Tubbo whetting his dagger with a placid smile. 

Fundy watches the chaos from the sidelines, chewing on caramel taffy and bubblegum at the same time. He doesn't recognize the quiet boy huddled in a corner and writing. Before he can creep over and look at the boy's words, Eret accosts him. "Hey, man." 

"Oh, hey!" Fundy grins and hugs his friend. "What've you been up to?" 

"Oh, just trying to stop the world from ending and make a profit in the process, you know, the usual." 

"Right, right. What's up with that, anyway? This guy, Technoblade? He must be really hard to kill if nobody's done it yet." 

"We have till the year ends." Eret says gravely. 

"Right. But why hasn't anybody, I don't know, tried to get in on the action?" 

"The government is supposed to be keeping his location a secret." Eret adjusts his sunglasses. 

"Weird." Fundy pops a bubble between his lips. 

"Indeed. I know there must be a weakness. But I'm not sure what it is."

"Maybe it's something like technical immortality! Maybe he can only be killed if he lets it happen!" Fundy theorizes, chewing more intensely. 

Eret grimaces. "Perhaps. Threatening his friend, Philza, directly is out of the question. But perhaps we can get the kill switch from the president." 

"Woah, woah, back up!" Fundy laughs. "There's already a kill switch in his friend and the prezz hasn't thought to use that??" 

"Well, he's a hostage, but- oh." 

"Exactly!! If the prezz actually wanted him dead, all they'd have to do is threaten to kill this Philza dude if Techno doesn't let himself be killed!" Fundy blows another bubble and pops it with his teeth. "Damn, I'm good." 

"That's assuming Technoblade would die if he allowed it. What if he can't?" Eret muses. 

"He has to have some weakness. How was he even created??" 

"I- I don't know." 

"The only way a mutant like that could be created is through Human intervention, aka a laboratory and scientists!!" Fundy claps his hands together excitedly. "But why would scientists create a creature who can destroy the world?? Unless he can't, and this is all just a damn test." 

"Hmm." Eret doesn't sound convinced. 

"So, they're trying to develop immortality, and they're testing it on Technoblade-"

"Why him?" Eret asks. "And if it is a test, why here, with a bunch of students?"

"He got loose before the tests could be finalized, and they're trying to contain him again!" Fundy starts pacing. "He was a terrorist, yeah? I remember him in the news. The Acolyte." 

"Blood for the blood god." Eret reminisces, paling. "That's right." 

"He only ever went after important government figures! But, five years ago, he disappeared, and nobody ever heard from him again. Until now..." Fundy grins wildly. "This is amazing, I can't believe I get front row seats to a conspiracy!" 

"Wait." Eret groans. "He had a partner." 

"Oh! He did?" 

"Technoblade was the Acolyte. But his partner was the Angel. What if that was-" 

"Philza!!" Fundy cries. "Oh god, we have both of the most deadly international terrorists in my school!! Why couldn't I have worn better clothes??" 

"I don't think that should be our main concern." Eret steeples his fingers. "I think we should worry more about what they're planning to do." 

"I'm going to talk to Captain Puffy." Fundy decides. "Come with me?" 

"I'll pass. Good luck." 

"I've got the best luck in the world." Fundy crows and skips off. He glances back once, briefly, only to see Eret watching him with an unreadable expression. 

++++

Tipsy, Schlatt lounges on one of the pristine metal tables. In the background, HBomb sweeps up the shards of a broken whiskey bottle, the remnants of a drunken tantrum. 

"Heyyy." Schlatt greets the mercenary waiting in the doorway. "Come on in." 

"How much do I get paid for my trouble?" The mercenary asks, slouching in a too-large purple hoodie and baggy pants. 

"Fifteen billion, take it or leave it." Schlatt grins. 

"I'll take it. But this is the last time." 

"Sure, honey." 

"How'd you lose him again?" 

"Bitch killed half my fucking scientists." Schlatt shrugs genially, hiding his irritation. "But we've got a neutralizing agent, now." He tosses a capsule to the mercenary, who catches it and inspects it. "Inject that and he'll be as harmless as a two-ton hippo." 

"That's hardly what I'd call harmless." 

"Eh, semantics. He won't be immortal." 

"Hmm." The mercenary pockets the neutralizer. "I'll do it. But you'd better pay me exactly what you promised, or he dies." 

"C'mon, darling, what do you take me for? A scam artist?? Nah, that's not my fucking style. Return him safe and sound, and everything will be just fine." Schlatt lights a cigar, takes a deep drag, then lets it all out in a slow plume. "Do as I say and nobody gets hurt." 

++++

Eret opens his buzzing phone and answers, "Hey." 

"Crocodiles don't cry often." The familiar voice says coldly into their ear. 

"Crocodile tears are worthless." Eret replies. 

Purpled laughs on the other end. "What do you say, partner? Ready to make some dough?" 

Eret grins, baring her teeth. "Always." 

Chapter 7 (Next)

[goldie-claws]

Rose, marigold and sunflower?? :3

lmao i tried to stop myself but these questions are too perfect for Ghirahim so I’m going with my main man once more.

rose - how many brain cells would you estimate there are between you and your f/o? - None. Zero. The braincell either goes to the Dracolich or Izanagi because you cannot trust Charlie or Ghirahim with it if you value your life. They’re stubborn idiots your honour.

marigold - what is your favorite picture, video, and/or moment of your f/o? - All of his cutscenes are pure gold, be it for studying his character or just because he’s hilarious to watch, but my personal favourite continues to be the Fire Sanctuary cutscene before his second boss fight.

I feel like it captures his character best: A powerful and deadly person who is slowly starting to lose it from having Link repeatedly interrupt his goal of capturing Zelda. Whilst Skyview Temple (eg. his first appearance) is still good in its own right with revealing his sadistic side under his prim and proper facade, as well as showing that he has a severe temper problem (also present in the Earth Temple pre-boss cutscene!) I love how you can really see that mask start to slip away as he vents out his annoyance at how Zelda slipped from his grasp. He’s dropped the ‘nice guy’ act and perhaps even feels more comfortable showing his full true colours to Link now that they’ve ‘gotten to know each other’ throughout the game’s story. I mean, he even reveals part of his true forme by removing his gloves so there’s that lmao.

Plus I love just how stupidly melodramatic he is in this cutscene in particular. It does show what he’s really like underneath the whole Demon Lord persona he has going on., but it won’t stop me from memeing the hell out of it with shit like this because of the way he’s acting in said cutscene lmao. Please leave the poor child alone sir.

sunflower - do you make fun of or tease your f/o a lot, or can you not bring yourself to be lovingly mean to them? - GOD YES I will meme on, tease, make fun od and bully this man ‘til the day i die (his nicknames mainly being: sword bro, Graham, Garyhams, Sword Lord Graham to name a few) because he switches so fucking WILDLY between threatening to disembowel Link or torture him:

to doing stupid shit like blowing a kiss to the camera (I mean maybe it isn’t but it sure does look like it! And yes it’s from the Fire Sanctuary cutscene ghfjg)

Or dancing around Zelda’s body when he finally catches her and all I can do is shout ‘GO WHITE BOY GO’ because it makes me want to (lovingly) punch him for being so obnoxious.

If you looked up the word ‘mood whiplash’ in the dictionary, you would find a picture of Ghirahim because holy shit dude why are you like this but also please dont stop ilu you stupid fuckin idiot <3

[eldri-sv]

11 - Aizawa

Kaori Shinsou has always been fascinated by people's minds. She is one of the best students in her Criminal Psychology course at U.A. and - being the lucky girl she is - her professor is not only one handsome dude, but is also working on the case of the serial killer Stain - a case that has been going on for years. As she is about to become Professor Aizawa's TA during the next term, a lot of other interesting cases start popping up all over the country... AU, OC x Aizawa

Trigger warnings: nothing really?

(possibly incomplete, if you’d like something added, please let me know)

The city's ours until the fall

(Halsey - New Americana)

Shouta Aizawa did not enjoy having lunch in the cafeteria. The place was loud, there were always a bunch of annoying kids around and people would just randomly approach him and talk to him, when all he wanted was some peace and quiet. But with all his injuries right now, he didn't really have the energy to prepare some lunch at home, before he left in the morning. And the lunch in the cafeteria was insanely good, so that somewhat made up for everything else.

He was sitting on a table with a bunch of other teachers, not because he wanted to, but because there was no table available where he could sit on his own. And sitting with one of his students would just be plain weird.

At the moment Yamada and Kayama were having a heated debate about whether Kombucha tasted good or not and whether it was worth trying for the health benefit. Kayama was absolutely in favour of it and was showing off her home-made Kombucha that she had brought to school. Yamada had never tried it and was convinced it couldn't be healthy AND good.

At the moment Kayama was forcefully trying to get Yamada to try some of her Kombucha. Yamada protested wildly, which was unfortunate for Aizawa, as he was sitting right next to him. He was keeping a close eye on him, just so he could dodge any accidental attacks from Yamada.

"Oh, come on! At least try it! One tiny sip?" Kayama asked. Aizawa gulped down some orange juice. He had to switch to that from coffee. The doctors told him to stay away from alcohol, caffeine, nicotine and anything else for at least two weeks. Which wasn't too bad, because in two weeks they would have the U.A. Sports Festival, which was a big thing within the national police force.

A lot of people from different divisions across the country came to see it and to scout out people for internships later on. Of course anyone who was not in basic training (or really athletic and in some other course like Criminology) would have a rough time trying to intern with the actual police force. A lot of the other people just turned to forensic laboratories, prisons, courts and so on to get their internships done.

Aizawa had done his one-week internship at a prison during his first year. Thankfully he had been able to kick ass during his second year and had started working with the local Naruhata police department. That's where he and his best friend Shirakumo had been spending most of their days away from university. Aizawa smiled a little, as he remembered his friend, but the smile quickly faded.

"What do YOU think, Shouta? Should he try it or not?" Kayama asked, taking him out of his thoughts. Aizawa glanced at Yamada who was shaking his head dramatically while grimacing.

"I don't really care, Nemuri. Why do you need him to drink it so badly?" he replied with a shrug.

"I made it myself and I'm proud of it! Plus, he's never even tried it and keeps saying that it'll taste bad. I just want him to try, before he'll start judging." Kayama said and sighed melodramatically.

"Why don't you try it then, Yamada? It hasn't killed Nemuri so far, it most likely won't kill you." Aizawa suggested, hoping to be left alone. He wasn't going to be so lucky. Yamada was shaking his head violently.

"Nuh uh. She's a toxicologist, dude, she could be telling me anything while trying to poison me. And she'd be getting away with it, too!"

"I can't believe you're accusing me of trying to poison you! Yamada, we've been friends for how long now?"

"Maybe you're just playing the long game, who knows..."

Aizawa sighed. His head had started hurting again and he really couldn't deal with the two of them arguing about petty shit like that right now. He grabbed the bottle out of Kayama's hands, opened it and took a big sip. He gulped it all down, as he put the bottle back down on the table.

It was nasty. It smelled foul and a bit like vinegar. And it tasted just the same, with a slight hint of sweetness. It took everything out of Aizawa not to make a weird face. And all that just because he wanted Yamada to suffer just as much as he did. If he drank the stuff, Yamada would have to, as well.

"How... how is it?" Yamada asked, giving him a worried look, as if Kayama had actually been poisoning it. Aizawa shrugged again.

"It's alright. You should try it, I think you might like it." he replied, knowing full well that Yamada would trust his judgment without questioning. Aizawa seriously didn't know why Yamada would still trust him, but maybe he was just one of those people that simply didn't learn.

Yamada grabbed the bottle, still eyeing it suspiciously, but finally getting over himself and taking a sip of it. It took a while to hit him, but then he quickly put the bottle down and pushed it away from himself.

"This tastes like ass! What the fuck, Shou?" he exclaimed. Aizawa grinned a little. Sure, Yamada was his friend, but it made him kind of happy to see him suffer right now. He was coughing and drinking loads of water to get the taste out of his mouth.

"Yeah, I know. It's really not my thing, Nemuri, and I think that one has been standing for too long. Now, if you'll all excuse me, I'm going to get some more orange juice, because that was truly disgusting." Aizawa said, as he got up with the glass in his hand. Kayama was shaking her head.

"You all just don't have taste..." she mumbled and packed away her Kombucha again. Yamada looked disappointed.

"I can't believe you've done me dirty like this, Shou." he said. Aizawa shrugged and gave him a wide grin.

"Again, I have no idea why you still trust me, Zashi. Anyway, I'm off to get something to drink and then I'll probably take a nap before my next lesson, so I'll see you all later." he replied and walked off.

I passed a few tables with students, some of them I knew. There was one table with a group of first years in basic training, their names were Todoroki, Midoriya, Uraraka, Iida and Asui. It was incredibly obvious that Uraraka was crushing hard on Midoriya. How he didn't realize it was completely beyond me.

At another table there was Nishiyama and her entourage. She always had a crowd of people around her and most of them kept changing all the time. Nishiyama was probably the true drama queen of this university. Most people who weren't stuck in high school anymore were not paying much attention to her, thankfully. She was a pain in the ass, but Aizawa had to admit that she usually had very good grades, although that was probably due to her learning all the notes by heart just before the exams.

The last table he passed was literally right beside the place where all the drinks were. Aizawa recognized Kaori Shinsou and her brother. Kaori was picking at her food, as if she wasn't hungry. She probably felt sick due to the painkillers. Aizawa felt a little pang in his heart, seeing her with the bandages around her forehead, knowing that it was his fault, because she was trying to save him.

Her brother looked like he had just seen a ghost and was whispering to her. I could see Kaori raise an eyebrow and give her brother an amused smile.

"What, you mean Pikachu?" she said loudly. Her brother looked around in a panic and then quickly gestured for her to be quiet.

Aizawa who had been watching this exchange was wondering who they were talking about. There was only one person he knew and he would describe as Pikachu and that was Denki Kaminari. He somewhat doubted that Hitoshi Shinsou knew Kaminari. From what he knew they had little in common, except that they were both first years. Well, it wasn't really his business anyway.

He poured himself a glass of orange juice and squinted at it. There seemed to be a few tiny bits in it, probably because someone had been swirling the jug and not letting it settle properly. Shouta Aizawa absolutely hated bits in his orange juice. Or any juice, to be fair. Things he was drinking or eating should be one consistent texture. Anyone who said otherwise was a potential psychopath.

"Well, forget about your crush on coffee boy for a second and let's talk about the plan for this evening. I've had this desire to watch Aristocats all day, are you with me?" he heard Kaori ask. Aizawa stopped squinting at his orange juice and froze. He loved that movie. It was one of his favourite childhood movies. It was his guilty pleasure whenever he felt stressed out or sad or overwhelmed by life and work and everything else. And no one - no one - could ever know about it.

"Yes! Absolutely! We haven't watched that movie in ages!" Hitoshi Shinsou exclaimed. Kaori laughed.

"I know, right? We should just get all wrapped up in blankets, get some nice, fancy ice cream and watch that movie. It's even raining outside, it's the perfect day for that. Plus, you can take your mind off the Sports Festival for once."

"Let's do it."

Shouta Aizawa decided he had been creepy listening in on his students' conversation for long enough. He took his orange juice and made his way back to the table with his colleagues. It looked like he hadn't missed much, since Yamada still seemed to be complaining about the Kombucha. What a fucking nerd.

[moonlightchess]

All right, I haven’t had anything to do outside of work in quarantine so I’ve been writing nonstop and it occurred to me today that I’m creeping up on actually having written a whole-ass novel, it’s over 100 pages by now. Would anyone be interested in reading it if I finally created a writeblr blog to post it in installments? I’d also be posting playlists, moodboards, and if it gets popular enough, fun stuff like “AMAs” with the characters. Here’s a quick rundown:

• Dark urban fantasy - angels, demons, a hidden underground research and infiltration network of paranormal researchers and occultists, etc. Heavier and darker than say, Vampire Academy, more gore and swearing and general nihilism at first, which evolves into a lot of character development.

• Character study is in fact, as much of a focus of this as the fantasy/horror aspect. It’s about a young artist named Julian with a depression and a cocaine habit, living in Boston in 1993 (and yes this whole thing is SO 90s). The novel focuses equally on his complicated relationship with his father, his long-lost half-sister Sara, and the man who has recently come into his life and is quickly turning it inside out.

• By the way, it’s gay as fuck. Everyone’s gay. Except Hassan, who is straight and that’s okay, they guess. 

• There’s a murder cult worshiping an ancient demon whose endgame is overthrowing the prince of the demonic layer of the afterlife, lots of lore and angst and Julian’s dad being an absolute legend in the 60s.

• Everyone’s gay. Literally everyone.

• No gratuitous deaths for the sake of killing off LGBT+ characters, I promise. No torturing them for the amusement of an audience that secretly loves it. I don’t want those kind of people reading this anyway. The gays are the heroes of this story, and things will be rough for them sometimes but you all have my word that their journey will be validated and just. Fuck the kill your gays trope.

• I swing wildly back and forth between outright slapstick comedy and dark, bloody horror/urban fantasy. I have no idea what I’m doing.

• The queen of angels is black, divine, unspeakably powerful, and probably a lesbian. Definitely.

• There’s some gay sex. Nothing ambiguous, no subtext, just legit gay people having sex. 

• The demon worshiping murder cult has taken over an apartment building in Boston for like, reasons probably. Considering that two of our main characters, Julian and Sara, live there, they should get around to looking into that.

• You want a melodramatic, ridiculous, empathetic, talented, incredibly emotionally strong and fearless leader of an underground paranormal research network who totally doesn’t have a sugar daddy thing about blowing tons of money and lavishing adoration on Julian nonstop? Boy howdy, do I have one of those for you.

• VHS tapes and CDs. Those are still a thing in this. 

• I DON’T KNOW MAN THIS THING IS GETTING SO LONG IS ANYONE FEELING THIS?

[purghhappenings]

Hey hey hey!

This is technically my third time trying to post these but they won’t post and if it gives me problems again, I’m gonna go postal.

Down below I am going to give you snippets of the Strawhats daily life and what they do during quarantine, as always my HC’s are bullet points but somehow also little stories. I don’t know how I work either. It will also be mostly an AU Modern life just cause on the sea I don’t know how it would really effect them? Other than in fights and everyone would have to debate do you get six feet away and try to duke it out or do you fight like normal and just really sanitize afterwards

During this quarantine I am home 24/7 and would be more than happy to talk, I’m figuring out now how to steal episodes of different shows so that i can make AMV’s so stay tuned for that,

Lets seriously start a discord 

Or come talk to me on twitter!!! <3 

Luffy: Is really glad to not have to work or do anything really, they live with most of their friends and the ones they don’t live with, well they never claimed they wouldn’t go out so its not a promise broken really. He doesn’t know much about the virus except what everyone else tells him but he does misunderstand the “high risk=old” thing and fights anyone for an entire day who tries to go near his grandpa, and while Garp and everyone else want to correct him it’s kind of cute so they let it slide and send all the newbies to talk to Garp(okay Aokiji sends Akainu but nobody stopped him so they all go down with that secret)

Zoro: “the bars are whAT?!” is not fucking happy. He expresses this every day and let me tell you when the liquor stores closed down for not being essential it took several hours to calm him down and for Sanji to be like “i know a guy” and everyone was immediately like ?? Usually Luffy says that??? and by knowing a guy, Sanji meant Judge has several cellars dedicated to alcohol so yes, they did acquire some alcohol. And thankfully Judge can’t even leave his house to track anyone down so was it really even stolen to begin with?

Nami: Has so many side hustles she isn’t even worried about money, what she is worried about is people who don’t have supplies or food, so with Sanji they go around just making sure their neighborhood/relatives(that they like)/friends have everything they need and let me tell you when they saw people hoarding and over buying? Since police can’t go out for every little thing, you really can’t prove if they beat the shit out of you and left you only with necessities. Nor will you because once the other guys find out?? Oh its on, do not panic buy around these kids, they’ll fuck you up like it’s their job.

Usopp: Swings wildly from believing they have COVID19 and that it doesn’t even exist and somehow its all a way to control the masses(their hysteria knows no bounds) Usopp doesn’t go out much and cleans the crap out of everything every 3-4 hours just to make sure, they are considered essential at their job being an engineer so they 100% go out in a hazmat suit, works in a completely sterile environment and does not touch anything in the suit until they have taken a shower and removed their clothes from the day. Are they overreacting? Yes. Do they care? Absolutely not. Because if they get sick there's a 100000000% chance everyone in the household will get sick and that’s on Usopp, but they do make funny videos when their home with Zoro and Luffy about how the virus is affecting them. 

Sanji: As previously stated he’s okay on money(they all are with how Nami runs their finances) and has taken up cooking meals for the elderly(making sure his dad(Zeff) stays healthy) and also beating the shit out of the people hoarding and trying to upsell supplies. Its one thing to joke, and hey Sanji can take a joke, but he can’t handle anyone going without because of stinginess. Sanji also, because he’s literally the purest child starts posting videos on how to make something delicious and also nutritious taste good on a budget, or with a picky eater who doesn’t like vegetables *cough cough* Luffy *cough cough*. He helps Zeff with the restaurant but makes people tip the servers at least 20%, 

Chopper: Is stressed the fuck out, at every turn theres something new with the virus, he’s got one more exam to pass and “they’ve changed it from being in class to online which changes the rules and if he fails or has questions theres nobody there to help him-” and god save the queen Law comes in like a knight in shining armor and is like “I’ll be there to help you answer some questions you have a difficult time on” and choppers like “wut no that’s cheating” and Law and Robin are both like “yo it’s not like in the field you won’t be able to consult other doctors so it’s not” and choppers now suddenly fine with the not-cheating. While he’s not freaking out about exams, he’s freaking out about his essential friends, and that’s almost worse. Law’s thinking of writing him an anxiety prescription until all this is over(Law is also in panic mode 25/7).

Robin: calm, cool and collected, has a contingency plan for her original contingency plan. No peanut butter? She can make it. No fresh meat? Frozen will do just fine. Somebody is buying more than what they need and trying to mark it up? “Franky.” and like that the problems were handled. 100% helps Usopp and Law and Chopper with their anxiety about this, while she is concerned she also goes about her relatively normal daily business, like reading outside on a sunny day, going to the park with Luffy(they just walk, they don’t touch anything) practicing social distancing, washing her hands a bit more. (honestly everyone be like robin)

Franky: Is fine up until the store runs out of cola and now it’s fucking war. Him and Zoro are devising a plan to topple the world and Luffy will join in only because he is a child of chaos. While he’s not being melodramatic, he’s doing house repairs for the low and yard work(with Zoro and Luffy's nonessential asses) for older people who can’t get outside and do it and are too old, or for new moms and dad, single parent households, the whole shabang. If you don’t have money they take I.O.U’s because one day, they’ll need a favor that’s just their destiny. 

Brook: Was immediately placed on lockdown for being the oldest of the group(mostly as a joke but the younger ones do go to the store for him, even Usopp) but he spends his time making music and funny videos so people can have a laugh. He’ll do concerts online and remake songs about the coronavirus, and even review some other songs(kind of like Mr. Rogers and Bob Ross, he’s so affectionate) he puts up halloween decorations mixed with Christmas decorations and the entire neighborhood follows suit and one morning he and the gang walk around in renaissance gear and scream “bring out yer dead!” and while the neighborhood thinks it's funny, the police do not(but they aren’t fast enough to catch the heathens).

Jimbei: Doesn’t see his people as much as he’d like but, thankfully they social distance and walk in the park to hold him over. He also spends a lot of his time helping the elderly, and also other people in need. And if a few people who try to upsell things are suddenly hospitalized, Law’s not going to inquire about the increase in assault victims and if he doesn’t inquire and the people don’t file a claim with the police, did it even happen? Jimbei works with Franky sometimes but mostly handles his own neighborhood and stopping punks from doing dumb shit(see Eustass for example) and if the gang sneaks over at night to hang out with Jimbei well he thinks its sweet and also dumb but he loves it.

Thanks for reading! Let’s be active and talk rn!!!!!!!!

[unpack-my-heart]

Above, Beneath, Betwixt, Between - Chapter 8

@eds-trashmouth @constantreaderfool @violetreddie @xandertheundead @tinyarmedtrex @moonlightrichie @deadliten @burymestanding @annoyingtozier

 Read on AO3 HERE

Richie doesn’t tell Eddie about the letter. He debates throwing it in the bin, tearing it into a thousand tiny pieces so that the words are no longer readable, so that Eddie will never discover the secret that gnaws at Richie’s gut. He’s leaving. It’s an inevitability. The sort of inevitability that feels distant but immediate all at once. When he leaves, part of him will wither away, the part of him that exists when he’s with Eddie, the part of him that’s soft around the edges, the part of him that has been nurtured by cold Scottish air and Eddie’s laughter. But he’s leaving. It’s out of Richie’s control, and no matter how much he feels for Eddie, no matter how much wants to squash his inhibitions deep down into a box labelled never open again, he knows there’s no point.  

He’s leaving. In less than three months, he’ll be walking through the airport concourse, bag in hand, and Eddie won’t be with him. He’s leaving. He’ll be climbing the metal staircase, boarding the plane, collapsing into his assigned seat, asking the hostess to bring him three of those miniature bottles of whiskey that are no bigger than his thumb, because he’s leaving. The thought that all of this was temporary, an ephemeral ripple in the ocean of his life, turned the cornflakes Richie was eating into razor blades. The spiky edges of the cereal clawed at Richie’s throat, leaving it raw. Eddie sits opposite him, wearing one of Richie’s fleeces, far too big on his smaller frame, and he blurts it out before he can stop himself.

“You need new clothes”

The because I’m leaving, and soon you won’t be able to borrow mine goes unsaid.

Eddie blinks, hand frozen in place half way between his bowl and his mouth, and Richie watches the milk slosh off his spoon in slow motion.

“Clothes?”

“New clothes. Clothes of your own, so you’re not always borrowing mine,” Richie says, and it’s robotic, a cool and metallic sound that feels foreign in his mouth.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – I didn’t realise that you minded. Of course, we’ll get me my own clothes. I don’t have any money though…”

Richie feels like an ass. Eddie’s completely abandoned his bowl now, cereal condemned to become soggy and forgotten. Richie shoves his own bowl to the side, and leans forward across the dining table, desperate to push himself into Eddie’s space.

“No, I just thought you’d be more comfortable in clothes that feel more … you”

“I suppose you’re right,” Eddie replies, his voice brusque, and before Richie can say anything else he’s pushing away from the table.

“The money problem still stands, though. I haven’t got any to pay for these new clothes so--”

“I’m paying, obviously. I’ll pay. I want to pay, Eds. I’ll drive us to Edinburgh and we’ll pick you out a fancy new wardrobe and you’ll look …”

The sentence gets stuck between Richie’s teeth. Eddie looks at him strangely, head cocked to the side, a dog who has misunderstood a command, and Richie just shrugs at him.

“You’ll look like you”

“Do I not already look like me?” Eddie says, but he’s laughing now. Not laughing exactly, but his eyes are crinkled at the edges, an indication that Richie has learnt means that any second now, Eddie Kaspbrak is going to bare his teeth and dazzle the world with a smile that looks like sunshine on a winter morning. The smile comes, and Richie basks.

“You look just like you”

“You’re being weird, Richie”

“I know” Richie mutters, but it’s muffled by the top of Eddie’s head.

They come together like magnets. An invisible force that tugs them together, that neither can see but both can feel. On the couch in the evenings, sprawled across each other, in the kitchen, dancing around each other, hands on waists, in the garden, watching the lake glitter in the moonlight, with hands clasped and eyes closed. Now, in the dining room, Richie’s standing over Eddie, arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Eddie pulls away, just barely, and looks up at him and Richie’s stomach flips, oh God, oh God, oh God, he’s going to do it, he’s going to lean up, he’s going to –

But of course, Eddie doesn’t kiss him, he just smiles again, but that’s practically the same thing.  

– X –

The drive to Edinburgh goes less than well. Eddie panics when they hit the motorway, hands gripping his knees, knuckles white and straining against his skin. Richie reaches out to grasp his hand, an attempt at comfort, but Eddie screeches at Richie to keep both hands on the wheel in such a melodramatic way that Richie erupts into snorting laughter. Eddie glares at him, but, out of the corner of his eye, Richie notices that Eddie’ knuckles have shifted from white to pink.

They park up in a small town on the outskirts of Edinburgh town center, and get the tram. Sitting together, close enough that their knees knock and their thighs blend into one, Eddie whispers into Richie’s ear of times gone by, about how he used to get the electric tram with his mother when they’d travel into town, and about how they’d sit on the top deck and Eddie would watch the world spin by. Richie closes his eyes, letting the dulcet tones of Eddie’s voice pull him back, back to Eddie’s first life, and wonders whether, if they’d met back then, in a world so different, so hostile, if Eddie would still look at Richie with stars in his eyes.

It doesn’t take long for Eddie to discover that he loves jeans. Richie watches him walk amongst the aisles of clothing, fingers brushing the different fabrics and textures, before he disappears into the dressing room, clutching a bundle of clothing to his chest. He emerges, dressed in slim fit black jeans and a tight bottle green sweater and Richie chokes.

“I feel rather like a movie star, Rich,” Eddie says, looking at himself in the mirror, smoothing a hand over his front.

“You look like one, holy fucking hell, Eddie,” Richie breathes, and it’s too much,  of course it’s too much, and he expects Eddie to flinch away from his reverent compliment but he doesn’t. He smiles.

– X –

They’re wandering around Old Town when it happens. Eddie’s practically bouncing along the street, waving his arms wildly, regaling Richie with tales of his youth when Eddie’s eyes lock onto a large memorial at the top of one of Edinburgh’s many hills.

A MONUMENT TO THE FALLEN.

A huge piece of stone juts from the earth like a limb, engraved with hundreds of names. Wordlessly, Eddie drops the bags he was carrying neatly to the floor, and then he’s gone, half-walking half-running towards the monument. Richie watches him slam into the stone, body ricocheting off like a bullet. Richie watches Eddie drop to his knees, finger scanning the names like a toddler learning to read, and then Richie watches Eddie’s face collapse into sorrow.

Richie doesn’t need to ask, when he sidles up behind him, what Eddie has found.

BRIGADIER RUPERT BRODIE.

The name is tiny, a small scratch on the side of the monument. But Richie knows that, for Eddie, the wound is Promethean, a brutal gash across his stomach, open, bleeding, oozing. Never healing. Never closing.

“Is this your Rupert, Eds?”

“My Rupert,” Eddie wails in agreement, a siren call to Richie’s bleeding heart. Richie crouches, pulls Eddie’s head against his chest.

“I thought maybe they’d lied to me,” Eddie hiccups, “that he hadn’t died, that they’d just found out about us, or something. That he’d survived and moved on, but that he’d lived. I didn’t – he’s dead, Rich. He died”

“I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so fucking sorry”

Eddie disappears into introspection for several days after that. He floats around the house, looking so much like his spectre self that Richie finds himself touching Eddie more than usual, grabbing his hands or scrubbing a hand through his hair, to check that Eddie hasn’t drowned in sorrow in his room.

The day after they get back from Edinburgh Eddie doesn’t smile at all. The day after that he laughs quietly when Richie falls into the lake by accident, the day after that he smiles in sleepy thanks when Richie brings him mug after mug of tea, and the day after that he hugs Richie first.

“Thank you for being patient with me”

“Aw, shucks, Eddie Spaghetti, you’re all mushy”

Eddie swots at Richie’s shoulder but he doesn’t move.

– X –

“Have you ordered the slate yet?”

Richie blinks.

“The slate?”

He can practically feel his father roll his eyes.

“Yes, the slate. The slate you were supposed to order last week, that I’m coming over to help fit in 6 days? We talked about this when we were on skype a few weeks ago and you had to show me how to make the camera work”

“Oh… Oh fuck. Yes, the slate. I have ordered the slate. The slate is a thing that is coming, I rang the man and spoke to the man and --”

“You didn’t order the slate, did you.”

“I did not order the slate.”

“Are you okay? You’re even more sieve brained than usual. Has something gone wrong with the house? Have you hurt yourself? Are you sick?”

“Jeez, dad, I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m just … tired. It’s a lot of work”

His father seems to believe him, probably because it’s not entirely a lie. They agree that Richie will meet his father at the airport and drive him back to the house, before they say their goodbyes and Richie hangs up.

“Who was that?” Eddie asks, walking into the kitchen.

“Oh, uh, my dad”

“Your dad? Your dad’s coming to visit?”

“Yeah, I sort of … forgot? We agreed that he’d come help me do the roof and … Yeah. He’s coming in six days”

“Oh. Should I go and stay with Mike?” Eddie asks nonchalantly, but he’s scrubbing at a dish with so much force that Richie fears it’ll shatter in his hands.

“Mike’s? Why would you go to Mike’s?”

“To give you space with your father. You probably don’t want me rattling around your house when he’s here”

Our house. it’s our house, Eddie. Mine and yours, Richie wants to say, what’s mine is yours. You could take my still beating heart just because you said that you wanted it, and I’d let you, but he doesn’t say any of that. He just says, “Oh.”

Eddie turns around, abused dish discarded in the sink, leans against the counter, arms crossed against his chest, and stares at Richie. It’s a challenge. Richie knows that, he knows that Eddie’s waiting for him to move first, a cat who bats a mouse, not interested in the kill but enjoying the game. Your move. Richie knows that he should tell Eddie to stay, that he should grab Eddie’s hand, and admit …

Admit the thing that he’s been sure of since Eddie stumbled out of the house, alive, alive, alive.

(I love you.)

But he doesn’t.

“Do you want to ring Mike or should I?”

Eddie huffs, and Richie knows he’s lost.

– X –

The crickets are chirping, the sheep on the hills are bleating their midnight songs, the spring rain falls into the lake, a tinkly sound that echoes around the valley, but it’s still too quiet. Eddie’s been at Mike’s house since six that evening. Six long hours ago, Mike’s truck rattled down the driveway, and rattled away again, Eddie in the front, twisting in his seat, waving at Richie frantically, as if for the last time.

One day it would be.

The hours had passed slowly, like black molasses, thick and bitter. The house stands cold and quiet behind him like an empty skeleton, entirely bereft of any life. Three coffees down, and Richie’s sat on the porch, feet kicked up on the wooden railings. Fireflies dance in the moonlight, tiny flecks of luminescence copying the stars. Without warning, Two larger bulbs of light appear at the end of the track. Richie squints, watching the lights get closer and closer and closer until he realises it’s Mike. Mike’s truck trundles down the driveway, and before it comes to a stop, Richie’s up, striding over to the truck, banging on the driver-side window.

“Mike! Has something happened? Is Eddie hurt? What’s going on? What did you do to him?”

Mike kills the ignition, and winds his window down.

“What did ah do to hem? More like what did he do to me! I have an entire bathroom to fit tomorrow and he kept pokin’ me in my sleep askin’ if ah thought ye were lonely or scared or missing hem. He smashed seventeen of mah mugs, Richie. Seventeen mugs,” Mike grumbles, raising an eyebrow.

“Mike, don’t exaggerate,” Eddie says defensively, “two of them were bowls”

Richie turns to Eddie, who has now climbed out of Mike’s van and is standing in the moonlight in his tartan pyjamas with his arms crossed protectively over his chest.

“Are you okay?” Richie asks, voice soft, “what happened? Were you scared?”

“I think I was just a bit homesick,” Eddie says and Richie can feel his heart preparing to catapult itself out of his chest and into Eddie’s hands.

“I’m bringing him home. I can’t bear seeing the wee sod wandering around looking so lost. Ye’ll just have to invent some story to yer dad about who he es. Goodnight Eddie,” Mike says, and then he’s gone, truck bouncing down the path, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

“I feel like such an idiot,” Eddie says, shattering the silence that had descended around them.

“You’re not an idiot”

Neither of them speak as they take long, slow steps up towards the house. The house that had looked ghoulish mere seconds ago, the house that now welcomed them in with open arms, and a I’m so glad you’re home. Eddie wanders into the living room, and perches on the sofa demurely, like he hadn’t spent the last few days sprawled across it, legs up on the arm rest, hands restlessly running fingers through Richie’s hair, scratching at his scalp, as he shouted at some dumb quiz show on the television.

“What time are you picking your father up?”

Richie checks his watch, “I’ve gotta leave in about three hours”

Eddie nods. “What are we going to tell him about me?”

“We’ll just say that … you’re my lodger. A lodger in this … unfinished house. That makes sense. Total sense. It’s sort of not even a lie”

“Is that what I am? Your lodger?” Eddie shoots back, sharp as a tack.

“Well, what do you think you are?”

“Dead,” Eddie deadpans, before snorting at his own joke.

“Not anymore, my love. Not anymore”

The pet-names had become routine, words that came as easily from Richie’s mouth as Eddie’s name. A ‘baby’ here, a ‘my love’ there, once a ‘sweetheart’ but Eddie had recoiled so viscerally Richie hadn’t dared to use that one again.

One in the morning comes and goes, and Richie knows that he should sleep. But he doesn’t. Instead, he drags his duvet down the stairs and constructs a blanket nest on the couch, patting the empty space next to him, an invitation. Eddie flops down into the empty spot, and tucks his legs up underneath him. They talk in hushed tones, until the gaps between Eddie’s replies grow longer and longer and then Eddie’s snoring softly in Richie’s ear.

The phrase ‘commitment-phobe’ had been thrown around a lot in his last relationship, but that wasn’t it. Before now, Richie would have readily admitted that he’d never known contentment. He was plagued by a constant restless itch at the soles of his feet, an inability to be still, to stay safe in the same place for too long. But now, with Eddie’s head resting heavy on his shoulder, puffs of breath tickling his neck, Richie was sure that he finally knew contentment.

Eventually, Richie must have fallen asleep, because he wakes up to the beeping of his alarm, with a crick in his neck and a dead arm. Eddie’s curled himself around Richie in his sleep, head practically in Richie’s lap. He notices that Eddie’s snores had become purrs during the night, small vibrations of pleasure rumbling through both of their bodies.

“Huh? Rich? Wha’ time’zzit?”

“It’s really early, Eds, go back to sleep,” Richie whispers, trying to manoeuvre out of Eddie’s grasp, but Eddie just holds on tighter.

“Stay here with me”

“I can’t, Eds, I’ve gotta go pick up the old man. I don’t wanna leave you, though. I’m scared for my mugs,” Richie says, aiming for jovial but ends up sailing right past and landing on affectionate.

“I’m gonna come with you,” Eddie slurs, voice thick and croaky with sleep.

“You’re too tired, stay here,” Richie tries, but Eddie shakes his head.

“Don’t wanna stay. Don’t wanna be alone in this house, it reminds me … well, being alone here, without you, it feels like all the life gets sucked out of the house and I’m … I don’t want to feel dead again, Richie”

“… Shit”

Eddie pauses, obviously embarrassed. Richie doesn’t know how to chase the embarrassment away, but before he can try, Eddie speaks first.

“I’m gonna go get dressed,” Eddie says over his shoulder, already half way out of the room.

– X –

As soon as they hit the motorway, Eddie’s asleep. Richie keeps his eyes on the winding roads, twisting and turning through the Scottish landscape, like old faded scars. When they’re an hour away from the airport, Eddie sits up with a jolt.

“What’s this song called?”

Richie blinks.

“Uh, I think it’s called smooth? Turn it up if you wanna”

Eddie reaches out towards the radio hesitantly, like he’s waiting for a spark of electricity to jump from the radio to his outstretched finger like it had before. The look of apprehension on Eddie’s face so painfully reminded Richie of how he’d looked before, how his see-through-but-not-really face had twisted in something that looked like pain every time he was jolted by electricity. Richie reaches out, grabs Eddie’s hand, and guides it towards the volume button. They press it together and their hands fall down, still connected, and Eddie gives Richie’s hand a squeeze before he lets go.

The music swells, filling the car, and Richie sings along dramatically, fudging most of the lyrics, but it makes Eddie laugh anyway.

“D’ya think you could swing dance to this then, Eds? Break out some of that fancy footwork?”

“Oh, no. Not to this song, I think this song needs … a different kind of dancing”

Richie shoots a quizzical look at Eddie, and is delighted to discover that Eddie’s face has become a deep flushed red.

“Oh? What kind of dancing would that be?”

Eddie coughs, “Um… well, it’d have to be a bit … saucier”

Richie barks out a laugh, “Saucier? Jesus, Eds. I always forget you’re practically 105”

Eddie scowls at him, and Richie shimmies his shoulders in response. Just as they’re pulling into the car park of the airport, Eddie starts to panic.

“Rich, I think we made a mistake. Maybe I shouldn’t have come, this is all very … intimate”

“Intimate?” Richie questions, hopping out of the car. He walks around to the passenger side, opening the door for Eddie.

“Yeah, I … I’m going to meet your parents, Richie. That’s … wow,” Eddie says, climbing out of the car.

“Well, parent, singular. You’re only meeting the old man”

Eddie avoids Richie’s eyes as they walk towards the arrivals entrance.

“I never met Rupert’s parents”

Oh. The realisation slams into Richie like a freight train. Eddie never had that awkward first meeting with his boyfriends parents, never had to be on his best behaviour in front of two sets of judgemental eyes, never had to go out to dinner at a restaurant no-one liked and play nice. Not until now. But is it the same? Does meeting Richie’s dad strike that very particular anxiety deep into Eddie’s gut? They’re dancing around it, whatever it is that they have. They’re purposefully, pointedly, not naming it. It’s everything and nothing at the same time, it exists and it doesn’t. It’s unnecessarily long eye contact and hand squeezes. It’s coffee in the morning and walks in the hills in the afternoons. It’s watching reality TV on a Saturday evening and getting ice-cream in Portree on a Sunday. It’s everything, it’s almost real bit not quite. Schrödinger’s love.

A cacophonous voice wrenches Richie out of his introspection.

“THERE’S MY BAMBINO!”

“Oh holy Christ”

Richie watches as his father runs over to him, arms outstretched. “Eddie, brace yourself”

Wentworth Tozier collides with his son at the speed of light, sending them both staggering backwards.

“Gerr’off you brute!” Richie protests, but his arms snake around his father’s midsection.

Went presses several smacking kisses to the side of his face, and Richie rolls his eyes playfully, sending an exasperated look at Eddie, who laughs.

“You’re never too old to love your father, kid”  

“Stop showing off for Eddie”

Went releases his vice-grip immediately, spinning on his heels.

“Eddie, ey? Who is this strapping young lad?”

Eddie sticks out his hand, and smiles shakily.

“Edward Kaspbrak, Sir. A Pleasure to make your acquaintance”

Went ignores Eddie’s outstretched hand, and pulls him into a hug. “Well aren’t you a fancy one! You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend, Rich, and a very polite one at that!”

Eddie pulls away immediately, face red.

“No, no, we’re not – I’m not – it’s not like that, sir. We are … I’m …”

At Eddie’s fumbled protestations, Went shoots Richie a puzzled look, that Richie can only return as a shrug. Luckily, his father is distracted by the need to collect his luggage, and he trots off to the baggage reclaim carrousel. As soon as Went is out of earshot, Eddie corners Richie.

“You told your father that you’re … that you like men?” Eddie hisses, quiet enough that Richie has to strain over the noise of the airport concourse to hear.

“Uh, I mean, I didn’t so much as tell him as he found out organically when me and one of my ‘study buddies’ were caught doing a little bit of extracurricular activity, if you catch my drift”

Eddie’s face stays blank, and Richie rolls his eyes, pulling Eddie closer to whisper in his ear.

“My father walked in on us when my ‘study buddy’ had his cock inside me”

Eddie snorts, and shoves at Richie’s shoulder.

“Oh my gosh! That must have been mortifying”

Richie shrugs, “Well, it taught the old bugger to knock before just waltzing in”

“I imagine it did. Oh, I could have just about died when he asked whether … if I was … if we were …” Eddie trails off, gesticulating uselessly.

“If you were my boyfriend? So go on, am I your boyfriend?” Richie jokes, knocking Eddie’s shoulder with his own, trying to coax a laugh out of him but Eddie’s shoulder stays stiff, and he doesn’t laugh.

“Richie, you know I –”

Before Eddie can finish his sentence, and give Richie the answer he so desperately craves, Went comes bounding back over, tugging a ridiculously oversized suitcase behind him. Richie has never been so disappointed to see his father.

– X –

“So you’re a doctor? Oh, isn’t that just brilliant. It’s every parent in laws dream isn’t it, my son and the doctor!” Went gushes, twisted around in his seat to face Eddie, who was currently cowering in the back of Richie’s car.

“Father, if you do not stop harassing Eddie I’m going to throw you out of the car”

Quiet settles over the car. Richie knows that Eddie isn’t really asleep, because his breathing isn’t deep enough, and that he’s probably got his eyes closed as a self defence mechanism. Went babbles on in the front, quizzing Richie about the Scottish landscape, how many hikes he’s been on, whether he’s tried haggis yet, and whether he owns a kilt. Nearly five hours later, Richie pulls down the dusty track that leads to his little house on the moor. As if by magic, Eddie chooses that moment to sit up.

“Are we home already?” Eddie yawns, cracking the bones in his neck. Richie shudders. It’s a habit Eddie got into almost immediately after he became physical again, absentmindedly cracking his joints at random points throughout the day.

Richie kills the engine and they all pile out of the car. Richie pops the boot and hauls his father’s suitcase out, “did you bring the fuckin’ bath tub with you? Jesus this thing’s heavy”

His father isn’t listening, though, having immediately sprung into architect mode.

“Oh, oh, Rich, she’s gorgeous”

“I know, right?” Richie says, puffing his chest slightly, “she’s a real peach”

Richie follows Went into the kitchen, watching with amusement as his father flits around the room, providing a running commentary about how he’d replastered all the walls, torn down the old ceiling beams and installed new ones, and how Eddie had spilt paint everywhere. After twenty minutes of enthused chatter from his father, Richie can feel his eyelids grow heavy, and he’s now yawning more than talking.

“This plumbing work is seamless! Who’s your plumber? This work is immaculate, how much do you think I’d have to pay them to move to the states to work for me?”

“Mike Hanlon, and I think you’d have to give him your entire company and your first born son to get him to move. Look, Dad, you’re welcome to carry on snooping but Eddie and I are knackered, we’re gonna go to bed”

“Oo-er!”

“I swear to god, Dad, I will drown you in the lake”

“Oh! I forgot about the lake!”

“It’s out there,” Richie says, pointing out towards where the lake glistens in the afternoon sun, “I’m going to bed now”

Went captures Richie in a hug before he can escape, pressing a kiss to the side of his face.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, kid”

– X –

The evening sun bathes Richie’s bedroom in soft light that pools on the floor, and he groans as he turns over, shielding his eyes. The alarm clock on the bedside table reads 7:04pm. With aching bones, he hauls himself out of bed, throwing his ratty old dressing gown over his shoulders, before padding over to Eddie’s room. The door is open, revealing a perfectly made bed.

“RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF AISLE SEVEN!”

His father’s booming voice filters up from the kitchen, striking fear into Richie’s soul. He can hear Eddie’s hooting laughter rising through the house like smoke, and Richie catches himself smiling dopily at it, before he remembers the cause of that laughter and he sprints downstairs, socks sliding on the wooden floors.

“Please tells me you’re not telling Edward about the time I urinated in aisle seven of Walmart when I was one?”

“Of course not!” Went says, eyes shining, “I’m telling Edward about the time you pissed in aisle seven of Walmart when you were four”

Eddie’s cackling now, great gasps of laughter that erupt like lava from his body. It’s infectious, and Richie can’t stop himself from laughing too, and before long all three of them have dissolved into hysterics.

After they’d come down from their laughing high, Went immediately demanded that they start fixing the roof. Climbing onto the roof was terrifying enough – having to balance precariously on a ladder leant against the side of the house wasn’t Richie’s idea of a good time – without Eddie fretting and wringing his hands, occasionally yelling with fright when the ladder wobbled under Richie’s weight.

“Eds, I’m fine, honest! I’ve climbed ladders taller than this and I’ve only fallen off maybe six times in my life”

“That doesn’t make me feel better, Richard!”

Went is a speedy, efficient worker, and gets through his pile of slate shingles at double speed, leaving Richie in the dust. They talk quietly as they work, drinking the endless cups of tea that Eddie brings them, climbing the ladder one handed, two cups balanced on a small tray, face scrunched in determination.

“You’ve got a good egg there, bambino,” Went says when they’re taking a break, drinking their fifth cup of tea.

“For the last fucking time, he’s not my egg”

Went sends his son a questioning look. “Do you want him to be your egg?”

“More than you’ll ever fuckin’ know. It’s … complicated, though”

“Try me”

“Well, he died in 1940, and I hired an exorcist wizard person to bring him back to life after he haunted me for three months and we slow danced with oven mitts and I fell hopelessly in love with him”

They stare at each other, until Went makes a face, a are you shitting me? kind of face and Richie smirks.

“C’mon, what’s really going on?” Went asks, poking his son with the handle of his hammer, but Eddie interrupts them.

“Would either of you like another cup of tea?”

“Oh, I like you, Edward. I like you a lot. I could go for another. The tea here really does taste better, who knew”

– X –

They’re sat at the dining table when it goes wrong.

They’re eating the dinner that Eddie had cooked, tea towel flung over his shoulder, sleeves of his maroon button-up rolled up to the elbow. Richie had drooled at the sight of both him and the hot pot that he’d spent hours slow cooking.

“So, Eds,” Went says around a mouthful of carrot, “are you thinking of buying the house when she’s finished?”

“Um, buying it? I thought it was Richie’s house?”

“Well yeah, I mean when he flips it, puts it on the market, y’know, when he moves back home”

“Home?” Eddie says, and Richie swears that his heart explodes right there. “What do you mean home? I thought this was his home?”

Thankfully, Went realises that something isn’t right, and makes his excuses.

“I’m just going to take the rest of my dinner outside, y’know, al fresco. Leave you boys to … talk,” and then he’s gone. The kitchen door swings shut behind him, and they’re alone.

“What the fuck’s happening, Richie? Wh – what’s going on?” Eddie asks, voice calm but evidently scared.

“Look, there’s something I haven’t told you. When I moved here, it was never going to be a forever thing. This is sort of what I do, buy dilapidated old houses, do them up, flip ‘em, and move on”

“Sort of what you do?” Eddie parrots, “what does that even mean?”

“I’m a property developer. I do this for a job, I make money from selling houses I’ve done up. This one,” Richie gestures around, cringing when Eddie flinches, “this one’s no different. Or, it was supposed to be no different”

“What’s different about this house then? Not good enough to flip?” Eddie spits. Richie shakes his head vehemently.

“You. You’re different, all the other houses, they didn’t have you. I’ve – I got a letter a few days ago. A week ago, maybe. It was from the immigration office”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I have to leave in just over two months”

Eddie gags at that, before he scrambles out of his chair, runs to the sink, and vomits. Richie springs up, and runs over to Eddie, with the intention of rubbing his back, but Eddie swats him away.

“So you’ve known all this time that you’re leaving me. You let me go through all that shit with Stan, all this … all this with you and you’re just leaving”

“Eddie” Richie sobs, clutching at his chest as if to stop his heart from shattering, “I didn’t mean to fall – I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t do it on purpose, I just …”

“You just what?” Eddie challenges, wiping at his mouth roughly with the back of his hand before turning to face Richie, “you just what?”

“I didn’t mean to end up caring this much about you,” Richie whispers, because it’s now or never, it’s time to open old wounds, time to wrench open his chest and see if Eddie will pluck his heart from his ribs.

“You care about me?” Eddie says, so innocently, so ridiculously, that it makes Richie laugh.

“Care about you? Are you blind, Eddie? Are you honestly telling me right now that you didn’t know? That you’ve been entirely blind to how much I – how much I –”

The sentence dies in Richie’s throat like a flame, extinguished by fear.

“Richie,” Eddie cautions, voice low, “Richie, if this is because you’re feeling guilty, you’ve got to tell me, if this is all a big ruse that you’re going to regret when you –”

Richie charges forward, propelled by a force he can’t control, and collides into Eddie. Their mouths lock instantly in a messy, off-kilter kiss that is simultaneously too hard, too bruising but not hard or bruising enough. They come together, in the middle of the kitchen, like magnets.

[tearlessrain]

it’s been over a fuckin year, but I’m finally going to finish watching Dracula: The Dark Prince.

I believe when we left off, Lucien the Wildly Unlikable Roving Misogynist was the chosen one, Xena 3.0 whose real name was Alena, aka the most profoundly useless female lead in history and yes that includes Bella Swan, was secretly the reincatnation of Dracula’s dead wife and is being held prisoner by an army of harp-playing lesbians in Timely Thunderclap Castle, and the only two likable characters were staying behind in Murder Hobo Village while everyone else went off to keep running around making horrible choices. also, Remsfield is silently suffering from his tragic unrequited crush on the only straight vampire that ever lived.

watch me suffer through the last part of possibly the worst editing job in cinema history under the cut.

HAVE FUN STORMIN’ THE CASTLE

god what times we live in when the vampire is the only straight character in the movie

oh good I think they’re probably going to thunderclap castle too, so at least watching the rest of this won’t be a 100% painful experience.

oh god the power ranger villain survived and he’s having... a weird emotional moment with dracula. I didn’t think this would exceed my already high expectations for weird filmmaking choices so quickly.

tonight on a very special episode of Zorc and Pals:

I know this was meant to be dramatic but with the helmet and the batman voice it’s just... a lot. how’d he even get back to the castle so quickly.

I guess they’ve realized Lucio is the descendent of Cain so dracula bit his own arm and shoved it into the power ranger villain’s wound to “give you what you need to defend him.” I assume the line was actually “defeat him” and nobody gave enough fucks to notice or correct him. maybe assuming they had editors at all is too presumptuous. they did have someone repeat the exact same line twice in a scene earlier in the movie.

“you never hold me tenderly in your arms”

meanwhile alena is having the obligatory artfully lit, sexy troubled sleep. the only way to sleep in a vampire castle.

dracula’s decided to honor the timeless badly-written vampire tradition of watching women sleep, but like, uncomfortably close

oh no. oh god no he’s not just watching I hate it. stop playing floaty romantic music this is creepy as shit.

STOP HAVING WEIRD SEMI-DREAM SEX WITH SLEEPING PEOPLE THAT’S NOT A ROMANTIC THING TO DO

wait was he ever actually there or is this more terrible editing, I think this might just be her dreaming

either way this has gone on SO much longer than it needed to, it might be semi-tolerable if this particular dracula was remotely sexy but between the wig and his general weird-ass personality this ain’t it fam

oh thank god her mediocre dream sex was interrupted by a vision of dracula’s wife, who she probably was, being murdered

“think I remember” she says to a completely empty room over the split-screen montage of scenes from the life of dracula’s dead wife, just in case we, the audience, hadn’t caught the hint. like seriously that’s the only thing in this movie that HAS been clear.

OH wow dracula’s suddenly actually here. and he wants to show her the stars.

yeah I’m pretty sure you just pulled all that anecdote about plato right out of your ass.

I need you all to know that this is dracula’s romantic face:

do you know how much effort it takes to make a vampire this wildly unsexy.

ah good we’re back to blue-filter forest, where the scooby gang is watching the power ranger villain’s horse have a melodramatic hissy fit for no reason other than that it is very evil I guess.

I guess that scene of leaving andros and leonardo behind didn’t actually mean anything because they’re just back with esme and lucio as if it never happened. not that I’m complaining.

“I thought he was dead” “dracula... has powers” thanks for clarifying, leonardo.

oh “beyond our imagining.” he just took a really long dramatic pause. still explains nothing but now it fits with the “generic stock movie lines we just threw together and hoped it would make a plot” theme we’ve had so far.

okay well that scene established almost nothing except the fact that all those characters still exist

aaand a montage of alena dancing and frolicking around the castle in a stupid-looking dress with dracula, who she’s almost immediately fallen in love with, which would be weird for anyone else but we’ve already proven that she’ll fall for literally anyone. 

meanwhile with the scooby gang: “the castle would have to be in a defensible position... on a mountain?” my dude I watched the first 2/3rds of this movie a year ago and I still remember that you already said the castle was in that mountain range. how did the people making the movie forget.

oh good the magical murder scythe of biblical bastardization has a compass that doesn’t point north attached to it, I wOnDeR wHeRe ThAt CoUlD lEaD

“prepared in the traditional hungarian style, just as you like it” okay ignoring how weird a thing that is to say to someone you met three days ago, that is a pile of fruit and what looks like a roast chicken from costco.

so basically dracula has the exact same motivation as anakin skywalker except his wife is already dead. no mention of bringing her back to life or anything, he just apparently wants to stop anyone from dying ever. because. alena, despite her incredibly vague religious reservations about all this, seems pretty willing to just go along with it.

remsfield: professional third wheel

also notice how the only plate on the entire table is at the opposite end from anyone who would reasonably be using it. masterful set design in this movie.

oh good she suddenly remembered lucien the roving misogynist, her other true love, exists. despite the fact that he’s somehow even less appealing than platinum card dracula, this has given her Internal Conflict.

I think those lesbians from earlier were just trying to save alena from herself.

dracula’s facial expressions never match up remotely with anything he’s saying and sometimes change drastically like five or six times in a single sentence, like I know luke roberts’s first language is english and that he can act, but he constantly looks like he’s completely unaware of what words are coming out of his mouth and just trying to wildly guess. 

“not NOW, ambient lesbian, can’t you see my grocery store fruit platter and I are brooding?”

the scooby gang is marching through a bbc quarry retrofitted with a fog machine in a really shitty version of any given establishing shot from return of the king

THEY’RE TAKING THE HOBBITS TO know what forget it this movie doesn’t deserve it

okay so we’ve finally found some actual mountains, but ooo where’s the castle

oh of course the swiss army scythe has another convenient magical power: the castle-revealing anti-invisibility beam, which seems to work kind of like the stamp tool.

stop trying to make lucien likable, movie, we’re well beyond the point of no return on that front.

“the smell of death” says andros, but in a tone one would normally use to say “oh I love the design he chose for the wall sconces”

“maybe the smell will keep the vampires away” you... you realize you’re IN the vampire castle, right? the place where all the vampires live? you realize the vampires are probably the cause of the smell, right?

oh good split the party that will end well.

andros and leonardo are so unbelievably married. I still want a movie that’s just about them and their monster hunting adventures. but like. written by actual writers.

how long am I gonna have to watch lucien climb this styrofoam rock

uh oh, leonardo has found uh... either Roth or Wrath, who I could have sworn was previously called the Scourge (also by Leonardo). either way, I guess they’re old enemies with a grudge now.

this fight will be shown entirely via their shadows and the implication of a sword being flung across the floor from offscreen. truly riveting stuff.

IT IS HEAVILY IMPLIED THAT YOU’RE BEATING THE EVERLOVING CRAP OUT OF ME

can you ever tell just from an establishing shot that a scene is going to be nauseating

god why does everyone want to get all up in her space while she’s sleeping

“I thought I’d never see you again!” and I hoped, but this movie continues to find new ways to disappoint me. also are we just gonna ignore that a few scenes ago she was head over heals for dracula because he offered her some traditional hungarian chicken fruit salad, it’s not like she’s been fucking suffering. she literally forgot lucien existed.

to be clear I’m not rooting for lucien at all, he can go eat a dick, I just think this whole scene is stupid.

wait they didn’t even show us a conclusion to that heavily built up leonardo vs power ranger villain fight, he’s just in chains now and dracula’s here to talk at him.

seriously I’m not exaggerating when I say the lesbians are just there in the background of EVERY GODDAMN SHOT whether there’s a logical reason for them to be anywhere nearby or not

“Have you considered that maybe this god you turn your back on does exist and if you take this girl you will never be able to forgive yourself?” I. I mean those are both almost valid points in the context of this movie but they’re also entirely unrelated to each other and have no reason to be in the same sentence. if anything they almost cancel each other out from a poignancy standpoint.

god why does dracula keep making these weird fucking faces

“could it be any darker down here?”

I mean, yes. as underground catacombs go it’s pretty well lit.

remfield: “where are your companions?” leonardo: “he is coming.” remfield: “good! that’s where we will all be.” DID THEY JUST HAVE EVERYONE READ THEIR LINES IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER LIKE AN ELDER SCROLLS GAME AND TOSS THEM INTO A HAT. WAS THIS MOVIE WRITTEN BY CLEVERBOT. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN.

uh oh the lesbians got leonardo. which is interesting since dracula literally just said to let him live but it’s not like any of the dialogue means anything.

it is heavily implied that they have attacked him and andros is Big Mad that someone hurt his husband.

oh it’s uh. demetria. andros’s sister. except it’s not it’s another lesbian. this would be more meaningful if we’d ever even passingly heard of demetria before this moment.

okay no he’s recovered from that completely pointless scene and it’s just a big vampire fight now. even the token twinks are getting in on this.

oh power ranger villain is back

or not, I guess that was just a random shot of him.

“I love you all, and your father would be proud of you” literally who is he even talking to?? nobody’s father was ever mentioned??? he’s not looking at anyone in parcticular and they’re just rapidfire switching beween shots of esme, lucien, andros, and the gay vampire army.

and there’s leonardo’s heroic sacrifice, so passes the only tolerable character. 90% of his dialogue made no sense, but at least he was just a chill dude.

oh THERE’S the power ranger villain. I guess he’s just lumbering toward them very, very slowly.

this is the most confusing and weirdly paced scene, they’ve shown the same sped-up stock footage of the sun setting like four times in the last thirty seconds. it seems like they’re trying to get to the window, but it’s taking a long time to get across this small room, and the power ranger villain is trying to catch them, but he’s been actively midway through breaking through the door this whole time, and the sun just keeps rapidly setting across the same patch of sky.

okay there they go out the window.

finally the sun actually made it to the horizon. which I guess means dracula is awake.

oh he’s not gonna be happy with remsfield for letting leonardo get killed. he’s also very not happy that alena left, as shown by his weirdly edited screaming montage. apparently he doesn’t actually care about leonardo and we’re just dropping that plot thread now.

oh remsfield my guy this is NOT the time to make a move. it’s never gonna happen.

meanwhile back in Murder Hobo Village, lucien, who absolutely does not deserve to be in charge, plans the attack on the castle.

“but this time we’ll have the element of surprise!” ... except no? you had that last time, when you snuck into the castle. charging in with an army when he knows you’re all planning to attack him is not what the element of surprise is. fortunately this will have no impact on what actually happens, since the dialogue doesn’t matter.

“you don’t understand him like I do! he’s a beast only because he’s been treated like one” alena shut the hell your mouth. that’s the wrong movie. it’s also not even vaguely true in any way nobody’s done anything to him since his wife got assassinated.

ah yes. so attractive. so intimidating. truly this is the mightiest of all vampires.

not shown: the element of surprise (for context they’re all bellowing “TO THE DRAWBRIDGE” at the top of their murder hobo lungs and there was just a montage of the sound carrying through the entire castle)

I don’t know how they’re gonna breach this gate you guys, it’s made of solid styrofoam.

yep he sure looks surprised and not at all like he’s been waiting for them to get there for at least half an hour.

okay so they barge into the throne room, dracula roars at them and uh... flings some dust in their general direction I guess, and now it’s just a general big fight with vague hooded figures who came out of the shadows where you can’t feel the stakes because there’s no clear goal other than “kill each other,” and also lucien is fighting dracula but neither of them is doing it well.

oh dracula has stopped one of the hooded figures from killing the woman he’s trying to abduct, clearly this proves that he has a heart and not just that he’s protecting the only investment in this situation that he has.

uh oh remsfield has the scytheguffin. and it kinda looks like he bit lucio so I guess he was also a vampire this whole time?

wait where did everyone go did the editors forget there was a battle, now it’s just dracula and alena and I guess lucien and remsfield in the room. everyone else is literally just gone.

Gay Wrath Month continues

oh no. remsfield has stabbed dracula with the scythe. what an unexpected twist. who could have foreseen this. I guess the scythe didn’t need a chosen one for the whole “making the living dead” function to work, which is reasonable given what usually happens when you hit someone with a scythe.

“remfield why?” “because you gave her dominion over your heart! a mere concubine! your love was a disease! I will bring this country back to the glory it once knew!” HE’S NOT INTO YOU REMSFIELD IT’S NEVER GONNA HAPPEN LEARN TO TAKE REJECTION.

in all seriousness though it’s implied that remsfield killed dracula’s wife to try and make him a better vampire not bogged down by love or something, which is odd because I don’t think dracula WAS a vampire when that happened. not that anyone has cared about continuity before this, I don’t know what I expected.

I love that the movie is treating this like some massive twist as if any part of this movie has been coherent enough for a twist to work.

oh nice, esme finally did something. and she and andros are back in the room. nobody else is though.

dracula is dying. suddenly this is a tragic turn of events.

okay yes we get it you loved him. for some reason.

what does “I’ll be waiting for you” even mean in this context? is she just gonna chill by his coffin indefinitely? like that’s normally the thing that’s supposed to be said by the immortal or the dying person in the relationship for it to make any sense.

well if it isn’t zombie alexa, back to send us off. which means the movie is almost over. thank GOD.

“burdened with the curse of a broken heart, lucien vanished into the wilderness like his forefather before him.” the whomst? where did that come from? dude even if she apparently decided to loiter by a coffin forever I’m sure you’ll get over it just get a new band of roving misogynists and go back to the woods or something. NOBODY in this movie knows how to handle rejection. they were barely on screen together and he spent most of that time being an absolute prick. he did not have even slightly enough character development for this dramatic of a sendoff. I think we got like one shot of him looking sad when alena decided to try and stop dracula from dying but that’s pretty much it. he didn’t even kill dracula, remsfield knocked him over, stole his scythe, and did it for him.

I guess esme and andros just wandered off to be monster hunters together, that’s probably what that vague shot of them walking away into a greenscreen landscape meant.

the castle is in ruins for some reason I guess. this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t built it out of cardboard. also, no mention of what happened to the gay vampire army. or either of the other two armies involved for that matter.

oh zombie alexa was alena this whole time. and I guess dracula is still alive and she’s gonna wait for him to wake up again because he’s her one true love. which I guess when your only basis for comparison is lucien...

“heroes die, death is eternal, but real love is forever” so uh. do you know what eternal means or nah. also, again, weird thing to say in the context of this movie since lucien didn’t die and dracula apparently isn’t staying dead. oh and all of the vague biblical allusions and references to god never paid off, I think it was just another thing the editors forgot about.

anyway glad to finally be done with that, 10/10 absolutely mind-boggling experience, you could not pay me to watch it again.

[incarnateirony]

S15 Spec/Discussion

So when the SPHT came out we all got to talking and I had some Thoughts(tm). Some of it is wildly speculatory but potential and interesting. I love the thinkie beans in my server. 

I love our little roundtable of speculation and meta that routinely crops up, sometimes I feel like we should record it and make a podcast.

Charlie BreadbutteryYesterday at 9:34 PM

IM YELLING SO MUCH YELLING “you cant do this to the fans!” “i can do anything. im a writer.” FUCKING CHILLS

Leaf is a kittyYesterday at 9:36 PM

Jared's evil smirk has murdered me

Charlie BreadbutteryYesterday at 9:38 PM

yesssss

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:38 PM

So we have Sam in a white suit MoC

Charlie BreadbutteryYesterday at 9:38 PM

btw chucks lame ending is hilarious

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:38 PM

The colt

CastielYesterday at 9:39 PM

THAT WAS A THIng

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:39 PM

G L O R I F I E D F A N B O Y

CastielYesterday at 9:39 PM

I came out of aladdin to that

Charlie BreadbutteryYesterday at 9:39 PM

IM SCREAMING

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:39 PM

Adam and most likely Michael taking in a diner Talking

CastielYesterday at 9:39 PM

Psfuck what anybody says the new aladdin is amazing

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:39 PM

Scruffy endverse Dean

CastielYesterday at 9:40 PM

I jave never Ever Seen such masterful seaming of cartoonverse cgi To real actorsHoly fuck me

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:40 PM

DO YOU REALLY WANT TO TALK ABOUT ALADDIN RIGHT NOW

Leaf is a kittyYesterday at 9:40 PM

LMAO

CastielYesterday at 9:40 PM

I CAN DO BOTH LOOK

Leaf is a kittyYesterday at 9:40 PM

I AGREE ABOUT ALADDIN

CastielYesterday at 9:40 PM

YOU DONT UNDERSTAND I WISH I WENT TO THAT SHIT HIGH

Leaf is a kittyYesterday at 9:41 PM

but JARED SMIRK IS MURDERING MEI CAN'T STOP LOOKING BACK AT THE VIDEO FOR IT

CastielYesterday at 9:41 PM

Yeah i intend to watch on pc when i canIm mobile rn

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:41 PM

And of course the crypt door being held shut with a screwdriver As direct14.10 parallel

CastielYesterday at 9:41 PM

Like we literally just left aladdin hence the yelling Yes yes Ive got him Im the cage Etc

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:42 PM

GlorifiedFanboy Is that not what I said friggin months ago?!

CastielYesterday at 9:42 PM

On brand a+ dean from whoever wrote that Ill guess Bobo or buckner For glorified fanboy line

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:43 PM

What? Do they read our tweets?

Charlie BreadbutteryYesterday at 9:43 PM

lol

CastielYesterday at 9:43 PM

Bobo reads mine a lot?

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:43 PM

I stg I heard that line and almost screamed

CastielYesterday at 9:43 PM

I never did upload his nerdy video to me in hindsight

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:44 PM

Interesting that they didn't use a single shot of Alex

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:44 PM

No AlexAt all

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:44 PM

So it's not gonna be just a hallucination with burnt out eyes No Billie either

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:45 PM

No empty

CastielYesterday at 9:45 PM

No its full on chuck villain framing its my sound of war vid with s15 footage dhdhdhd

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:46 PM

Yeah well it all blended into inky black at the end But that's hardly conclusive

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:46 PM

True

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:46 PM

Since that happens a lot in trailers

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:46 PM

Maybe that’s for later in the season Or Maybe it’s a big secret

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:46 PM

10 bucks says they abandoned the Cas deal And that's the hill I die on

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:47 PM

Bc that’s how they fight Chuck? They can’t abandon that already It’s too fresh

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:48 PM

To me it read as a gateway to the Empty getting Jack

CastielYesterday at 9:48 PM

Placing bets now. Ep 1-3 is deancas tension over mary and jack and feeling distanced from the winchesters leaves eps 4 and 5. We know he works with sam at least briefly in 6. Deancas reunion in 7 midseason scheduled for 8 or 9. Deancas resolution then

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:48 PM

Before they knew for sure

CastielYesterday at 9:48 PM

Midseason finale whatever theyre keeping in the door

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:48 PM

That it was their final season To possibly stretch the plot accordeon

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:49 PM

Maybe final battle is with the empty and not chuck

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:49 PM

But now they've lost the need for a middle man ie Cas Nah

CastielYesterday at 9:49 PM

Id need more than a promo trailer to figure out if resolving cas is midseason or endgame

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:49 PM

Is amara coming back?

CastielYesterday at 9:49 PM

Yes

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:50 PM

Dabb confirmed it's early

CastielYesterday at 9:50 PM

And deans weird old friend

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:50 PM

She wasn’t there either

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:50 PM

Yeah 15.02 I think Or 04? Very early

CastielYesterday at 9:50 PM

Its as much a mood piece as a trailer

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:50 PM

Was that Becky talking to Chuck?

CastielYesterday at 9:51 PM

Yes

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:51 PM

I think so

CastielYesterday at 9:51 PM

You cant do this to the fans

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:51 PM

ITS GLORIOUS

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:51 PM

It sounded like her

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:51 PM

It’s her

CastielYesterday at 9:51 PM

We knew she was coming back Well

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:51 PM

Yea

CastielYesterday at 9:51 PM

Speculated educatedly

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:51 PM

I’m so mad! I was just about to go to bed!

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:51 PM

When even the crazed fangirl looks sane by comparison

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:52 PM

And they dropped this

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:52 PM

Yeah I’ll never sleep now

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:52 PM

I HAVE TO

CastielYesterday at 9:52 PM

Like

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:52 PM

Nah I'll head to bed in a few

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:52 PM

No. No sleep

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:52 PM

I’ve gotten no sleep the past three days

CastielYesterday at 9:52 PM

Points if they still frame it for a swipe at the bronlies like all the other becky jokes

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:52 PM

I find the fixation on the fan angle a bit weird

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:52 PM

Yaaaaassssss

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:53 PM

It seemed framed that way to me Min

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:53 PM

All the bronly jokes pls

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:53 PM

But maybe I’m just reading it with my own bias

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:53 PM

But it's only 2 pieces of Chuck dialogue so

CastielYesterday at 9:53 PM

Yeah

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:54 PM

And he’s a melodramatic fuck

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:54 PM

I’ll forever want to refer to him as “glorified fanboy” Put it on a shirt

CastielYesterday at 9:55 PM

God imagine chuck bringing back kevin as his prophet to take down his word as the gospel of winchester is designed to end only in being felled, and only by the glory of god. He cant finish off his own book to print the new gospel

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:56 PM

Here to say fuck you chuck

CastielYesterday at 9:57 PM

What if we big bounce and he dubs adam the new michael since we saw jack. Can convert humans to angels

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:57 PM

Megalomaniacal Michael?

CastielYesterday at 9:58 PM

Kicking down the castles in his own sandbox as revelations told before, before men found the new gospel of the glory of god. Revelations might not be a prophecy. It may be history.

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:59 PM

Interesting

CastielYesterday at 9:59 PM

Wildly speculatory and just playing but

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:00 PM

Oh the adam Michael idea

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:01 PM

I'm very glad about Chuck being in early episodes Adam is 100% gonna be Michael Cause all the summaries made it sound Like they weren't utilizing him

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:03 PM

It does sound like OG Michael is gonna be a real issue and it makes sense for it to be Adam

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:03 PM

CastielYesterday at 10:09 PM

WHICH THEY MYSTERIOUSLY PLUGGED AT THE END OF THE SEASON

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:10 PM

Yeah but he'd still be Adam and not Michael Just

CastielYesterday at 10:10 PM

if michael is useless to chuck as is, which he may or may not have been lying about MAKEA NEW

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:10 PM

Archangel Adam

CastielYesterday at 10:10 PM

MICHAEL YES

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:10 PM

Oh Doesn't fit with the pic above tho

CastielYesterday at 10:10 PM

Find another Eve. Oh look universal big bounce and I have a new mythology jazz hands Or better a Lilith Also this is literally unstoppable force immovable object logic if chuck can't destroy the human soulzapping the winchesters to death is just a stall game of exhausting futility they've proven they will inevitably doorkick down every afterlife or wherever they're cycled to what if there's like a hilariously extreme mystery spot where you see mini adventures out of whatever afterlife but eventually justtruncated to ridiculous extremes Chuck: -_-

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:18 PM

Like that's a given with all the scattered bits. Either Lucifer Sam and MoC Dean etc become big plot points Or they're part of Redux Mystery Spot

CastielYesterday at 10:18 PM

side eyes hidden mytharc uh

CastielYesterday at 10:18 PM

I really hope we didn't get the MOC Dean thing too close rip

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:19 PM

Why did you have to connect those two promo subplots for meW h y

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:20 PM

Also Cas next to that burnt up body I hope it isn't just Victim Of The Week

CastielYesterday at 10:20 PM

I'm wondering about the "arrogant betrayal" promo line on ep... 3 is it?

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:21 PM

Yeah

CastielYesterday at 10:21 PM

Is it gonna be meaningful or is this like

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:21 PM

Nah

CastielYesterday at 10:21 PM

bringing back Sergei

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:21 PM

PR vagueblog

CastielYesterday at 10:21 PM

from his Byzantium bullshit

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:21 PM

The BL ep is 15.02 tho

CastielYesterday at 10:22 PM

authors sometimes soak up impact of -- oh no

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:22 PM

What

CastielYesterday at 10:23 PM

okay so let's pretend say, bobo or whoever wanted to finish up buckleming's plot point, or at least partially since it's the tie up season, but they knew they had to write misha out for a few episodes and with deancas tensions driving Cas away already, throwing out a Going For Revenge That Will Backfire spin before storming out for a few eps

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:24 PM

But then it would be Dean not being able to forgive the "betrayal"It's gotta be something else Watch it be like

CastielYesterday at 10:24 PM

the betrayal vague blog is about sergei in that thing

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:24 PM

Kevin working for Chuck

CastielYesterday at 10:24 PM

it's the phrasing "arrogant" that catches me

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:25 PM

Most vague summaries hardly fit the actual plot points anyway It's just to sound mysterious

CastielYesterday at 10:25 PM

no but it would be easier to simply not apply an adjective "Castiel deals with a betrayal" is still vague

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:25 PM

Yeah but adjectives give oomph

CastielYesterday at 10:26 PM

arrogant is an odd idea for even the vague bloggiest vague blogger to tilt towards after skimming the content so I really doubt it's like kevin being forced to betray them or something like thatso unless it's about chuck himself, unlikely just too early for that level of RAAA

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:28 PM

Oh right didn't Misha say Cas struggles with this new Chuck reveal

CastielYesterday at 10:28 PM

well yeah thats kinda a duh

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:28 PM

I think the arrogant betrayal is in reference to Chuck

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:29 PM

So maybe it's just oddly phrasing that Yea

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:29 PM

It’s a kinda weird phrasing imo

CastielYesterday at 10:29 PM

like on the one hand cas knows Chuck isn't father of the year so I think on a personal level it's not surprising, it's more the existential level for him previously chuck was a shit dad that was just trying his best in a world far too easy to do his worst, even as god, thinking he was generally trying to be inherently good

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:30 PM

I hope Megatron comes back :)

CastielYesterday at 10:30 PM

that last scrap of faith is also kind of critically attached to his very existance because if god is evil and part of this cruel design what has his entire pre-winchester existence been, and even waxing and waning through it in his time with them

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:31 PM

Yeah I think deep down part of his core sense of self is the idea that he comes from the side of good

CastielYesterday at 10:31 PM

the fundamental loss of "god is good" is kinda quantifiably huger to him, whereas the humans more will have to grapple with "What is free will, did we ever have it"

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:31 PM

And this rips that away

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:32 PM

Unrelated but the promo sorta Nulls the early human Cas idea

CastielYesterday at 10:32 PM

yeah I noticed that, but it was odd

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:33 PM

Yeah I agree

CastielYesterday at 10:33 PM

i'm putting down at least foreshadowing then

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:33 PM

Unless they pulled all of the Misha footage From like ep 1 and 2

CastielYesterday at 10:33 PM

or chuck playing with the light switch for shits and giggles

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:33 PM

He does still have that shotgun

CastielYesterday at 10:33 PM

we know cas has his coat back in like

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:33 PM

Watch Cas come back from his sabbatical

CastielYesterday at 10:33 PM

idkwe've seen him with it back

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:33 PM

With his grace ripped out

CastielYesterday at 10:34 PM

put it in a karambit i mean what

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:34 PM

Snort

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:34 PM

NOT SURE MISHA CAN HANDLE THAT Like on a pure choreography level

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:34 PM

Are you suggesting Misha isnt grace itself?For shame

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:35 PM

Not at all COUGH He has a cat-like agility

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:35 PM

LIKE A CAT

CastielYesterday at 10:38 PM

KSJDFksjdf I think younger misha could have but knowing he's always at risk of blowing out his hip probably not so much now like I feel that limitation in my soul

GarthToday at 6:17 AM

Okay so I don't think Amara is a made up character. I think she is Chuck's sister for real (or whatever they claim as siblings) but he used his story to trap her. Help fuel his plot.

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:17 AM

Like to me personally the option of Amara being made up has the best potential for an IC Chuck plot twist Esp since I still hold the idea that he lied about the universe going splat with his death"Writers lie"/"I'm a writer, I can do anything"

GarthToday at 6:18 AM

Well he did admit he's a liar rubs hands together This is gonna be so much fun

Charlie BreadbutteryToday at 6:19 AM

GOD THAT LINE THO

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:19 AM

And that would be a Dabb level retroactive canon ramification Which is sorta his thing

GarthToday at 6:19 AM

Mwahahahaha and he said said to Becky while she went on about "you can't do this to the fans!"

Charlie BreadbutteryToday at 6:19 AM

they make sense at least

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:20 AM

But I'm not sure they wanna go the route of Stripping a female character of her entire agency for male pleasure But I don't see a whole lot of options on how they take Amara out of the playing field Unless Chuck deadass eats her for the joint Godhead

GarthToday at 6:21 AM

Honestly he just might

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:22 AM

But that's like DBZ power level bullshit

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:26 AM

AU!Dean who's a baddy pls

GarthToday at 6:26 AM

Damn trailer successfully tripping us up

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:27 AM

Deadass just have pull the jackass from the 5.04 reality Maybe that's why Lucifer Sam is tied to a chair as well Like Chuck just put him in white clothes to paint a big target for endverse!Dean And it's actually just Sam

Charlie BreadbutteryToday at 6:28 AM

yeah that was my thought too

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:28 AM

BUT THAT IS THE SORTA SPECC THAT'S USUALLY TOO VAGUE FOR ME ALREADY And was that Singer Salvage?

GarthToday at 6:28 AM

We're just throwing things out there and laughing It looked like it might be

Charlie BreadbutteryToday at 6:29 AM

BEN JUST LET LOOSE BUD ITS OK

GarthToday at 6:29 AM

But the new building is throwing it off

Charlie BreadbutteryToday at 6:29 AM

THE CRACKIEST SPEC THE BETTER

GarthToday at 6:29 AM

Something else could have been built thoIt's been yrs

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:29 AM

LOOK MY WHOLE THING IS DOING ANALYSES BY GATHERING EVIDENCE THAT SUPPORTS MY ARGUMENT IT'S SEARED INTO MY BRAIN More cage imagery

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Pavlov’s Dog

anonymous said: I see you are a fellow Brian girl hehehehehehe. I would like to request a Brian x psychologist!reader who just fucks around with her “magical psychology Jedi mind tricks” (but in actuality this is absolutely not a skill or a thing real psych peeps have!). Kinda based the question on the fic you did with the weird reader. Loved it btw!

“But it smells so good,” Roger complained, staring longingly back at the food cart that was standing on the corner of the sidewalk near the library. “Besides, I haven’t got to study. I’ll pass.”

You raised an eyebrow, clinging your books to your chest with one arm while dragging Roger along with the other. “You promised we’d meet one of your friends for a little study triple date, and you just ate with me not even two hours ago, you lard.”

“Lard! That’s rich of you, Y/N - you’re the one who had two plates!” Roger protested, stumbling after you and begrudgingly walking up the stairs to the door. With one sad glance back at the food he was missing out on, he started to walk in slowly while you held the door open for him. As he passed you, he gave you a dirty look and sniffled, clearly upset that he wasn’t getting his way for once. You’d learned to ignore his little moods, however, and you had no problem ushering him inside while blocking out his muttered protests.

You found a quiet corner with the least people in it, but still in view of the door, and sat down so you were facing away from the door. You didn’t need any more distractions than Roger already was, and he was proving difficult enough as he sat as far away from you at the 4 person table as possible. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” you sneered, spreading your books out and pulling out a small tin of mints, tossing him one. “Suck on that.”

“I’m so upset that ‘suck on that’ wasn’t even funny to me.” Roger pouted as he slumped down in the chair, still opting to suck on the mint instead of starving to death. He only got a moment to feel sorry for himself, though, because a tall, gangly looking man approached the table, catching Roger’s attention.

“You alright, Rog?” the man asked. You assumed this was his friend, so you watched the two and waited to be introduced to the man behind the curly mass of hair. Roger looked up at him, crossing his arms, then looked back at you.

“I’m being held against my will, in fact,” Roger lamented, scooting in his chair so his friend could shuffle behind him and sit in the chair across from you. As the stranger sat, he held out his hand to you.

“Brian May,” he offered, shaking your hand when you reciprocated the action.

You smiled affably and shook his hand in return. “Y/N. Sorry Roger doesn’t have manners today, I seem to have hit a nerve.”

“Oh, that’s far too easy to do. Roger’s a bundle of nerves waiting to be struck,” Brian joked, letting go of your hand and starting to get out his things. Roger made a noise of protest, but quieted when someone on the other side of a stack of books shushed him. He made a face instead and flicked you off before begrudgingly opening his textbook.

You all began to study after a bit of small talk, but you found yourself bored with your work after a couple hours, so you sat back for a mental break, looking around idly and playing with your hair. Roger was already asleep in his book, long past bored, and Brian was beginning to slow down on his incessant writing and diagramming. You looked over at his books, noticing all kinds of mumbo jumbo about the cosmos. It was too confusing for you, which made your face go slightly screwy as you pursed your lips and tried to make sense of whatever he was doing.

“What major are you?” Brian asked suddenly, aware that you were staring at his book. You jumped a bit, which made him laugh, but he just repeated the question after a few seconds of you looking at him like a deer in the headlights.

Shaking your head, you ran a hand back through your hair and took a deep breath, then sat forward a bit. “I’m a psychology major. Hoping to go into I/O psych, just want to keep my options open right now.”

Brian made a noise of appreciation at this, setting his pencil down and resting his head on one arm that was currently propped up on the table. “Psychology, cool stuff. So you’re telling me you can do fancy mind tricks and the likes?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but you smiled nonetheless. “You know, psychology doesn’t always mean that I’m able to manipulate your mind. I just study it. Not everything’s a mind game, silly.”

“The key words there are ‘doesn’t always’.” You had to admit, he made a fair point. And he knew it too, which gave him a smug little grin that did nothing but poke and prod at the slight annoyance he’d already instilled in you. “Don’t be shy, show me a mind trick or two,” he added, egging you on.

You mulled over the ludicrous idea of it all, but you did remember a few little tricks that your primary school teacher had shown you years ago. After a few more seconds, you sighed melodramatically and scooted forward in your chair a bit, nodding. “I guess I can let you in on a few secrets. After all, you’re….. what major are you again?”

He chuckled, sitting up and holding up one of his books. “Astrophysics. I’m getting my PhD.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re studying the great unknown of space… and you want me to show you a dumb mind trick?”

He shrugged in response, scooting forward in his chair a bit. You almost rolled your eyes again, sitting back in your chair and pushing your hair behind your ears. Reaching into your coat pocket, you pulled out the tin of mints and offered him one, which he accepted.

“So how did you meet Roger?” you asked, letting him go off on a small tangent about how they met through Smile earlier that year. A few times throughout the story, you’d sit back and push your hair behind your ears again, then offer him a mint soon after. He always accepted, and when he finished up talking about some new songs they’d been working on, he asked you how you met Roger.

“Oh, I met him through a friend of mine who went on and off with him. We don’t really speak to her anymore, but I thought he was funny and a good time so I ended up spending more time with him than she did. I suppose that’s probably what ticked her off so much she cut off the friendship.” You thought about it for a second, then pushed your hair behind your ears again as you sat back. “Want another mint?” you asked, noticing he almost held out his hand before you said it, which was what you’d been going for this whole time. Next time, you’d hold back. You gave him the mint this time, though, then questioned him about Smile some more.

About 5 minutes later, you sat back and pushed your hair behind your ears again, but you didn’t offer a mint. However, his hand went out as he continued speaking, and it took about 10 seconds of you staring at his hand with a blank expression before he realized what happened. A slow grin crept up on his face as his sentence faltered. “You sly dog,” he murmured after a moment, retreating his hand back to his side of the table. “And you said you don’t have any mind tricks.”

You giggled softly, tossing him the last of your mints and putting the tin in the front of your bag. “That isn’t a mind trick, it’s classical conditioning. Elementary psychology, Pavlov’s dog.”

“Sneaky girl,” he restated, shaking his head and sitting back. “I want to see another trick.”

You decided you’d just try and trigger his defense mechanism next, so you held out both of your hands for a match of rock paper scissors. “Best 2 out of 3?”

Brian’s eyebrow’s furrowed. “What does the winner get?”

You knew you’d most likely be the winner, so you decided to throw out something tempting. “A free meal from the loser. And I make a mean… okay, I’ll just take you somewhere you like, I really can’t cook much besides pasta.” Less tempting than you’d planned, but he’d already made up his mind, taking the challenge.

“Alright, it’s 1, 2, 3, shoot, and you go on shoot, okay? I’ll let you count, so you have the advantage.” He agreed to your terms, and you both got ready. As he began counting, you spoke, “Roger said you were vegetarian?” On shoot, he threw down a scissors, as you expected. At the same time, you threw down rock. Unaware of the defense mechanism you’d just triggered, he cursed quietly under his breath and looked at you.

“Yes, I’m vegetarian. I also don’t smoke, unlike Roger here.” He shook his head, mumbling, “2 out of 3. You got this next one, Bri.”

You held back a grin, and got ready again. As he began counting again, you interrupted again, this time closer to three. “What restaurant are you taking me to?” you asked cheekily, getting a frustrated groan from Brian as he realized he’d used scissors again, and once again lost to your rock.

“Does that even count as psychology?” he whined, pouting a bit as he sat back in his chair, defeated.

“Not really, or at least not advanced, anyways,” you replied, shrugging and grinning a bit. “Just something my teacher showed me. People always use scissors when their defense mechanism is triggered, even by small questions. But you never answered my last one?”

Brian couldn’t help but smile a bit as he picked up on the subtle flirting, and despite his sorrow over losing a bet, he sighed and sat forward again. “I suppose we’ll just have to see what you’re in the mood for?” You pursed your lips, thinking, but you were interrupted by a loud snore from Roger, who was almost falling out of his chair at this point. The sight made you giggle and shake your head.

“You want one last trick? I’m assuming we’re not going to get any more studying done, not with our vocalist over here.” Brian chuckled at that one, then nodded and shut his books.

“Blow me away.” You stacked your books to the side, then turned to face him again.

“How old are you, Brian?” you asked, wildly off topic, which threw him off a bit.

“Well,” he said, crossing his arms and smiling slightly. “Is this part of the trick. I’m 21, thank you for asking. Is it appropriate for me to ask how old you are?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Besides the point. Anyways, I bet you a pint that I can make you say your age, 21.”

“Easy money, I just have to avoid saying it, right?”

“Yes, that’s it.” You cleared your throat, then said, “What’s 2 + 2?”

Brian made a face, then said four.

“Alright, add 1.” He said five. “Now multiply that by 2.” Of course, he says ten. “And add 3 to that.” Thirteen. “Add 5.” Eighteen. “Subtract 2.” Sixteen. “Add 6.”

“Twenty-two. What are we getting at here?”

“What are you talking about? Add 4.”

“Twenty-six. Seriously, what are you trying to do?”

“Subtract 6. I don’t know what you’re talking about, Brian.”

He was getting mildly frustrated. Good. “Twenty! I don’t understand this game. You’ve gone loopy, psychology major.”

“Add 3,” you said, looking at him pointedly.

“Twenty-fucking-three! Are you mad? Are we just going round in circles here!”

“Ha!” You pointed at him, grinning widely. “I got you to say it. You weren’t supposed to say 23!”

“That’s rubbish and you know it!” he said defiantly, leaning over the table. “I wasn’t supposed to say 21, not 23.” As soon as he said it, his face dropped. You started laughing as he groaned and sank back in his chair, covering his face.

“Are we going for a bite and a pint tonight, or do you want to take a rain check on that?” you teased, standing up and pulling your bag over your shoulder, gathering up your books. You walked around the table as Brian wallowed in embarrassment, stopping to give Roger a gentle shake.

“What?” Roger groaned as he slowly woke from his slumber, unable to raise his head off the book. “Five more minutes, please.”

“Brian and I are going to go out for a bite, we’ll meet you at the pub later.” Roger waved his hand lazily in acknowledgement, and Brian stared dumbfoundedly for a moment before gathering his things and following you out onto the sidewalk. You stopped at the bottom of the steps and turned to face him. He had an amused look on his face, and he turned to face you as well, speaking first.

“So, Mind Commandant, where to now?”

-

hi it’s me

happy holidays i didnt get brian may for christmas but it was OKAY i guess

okay now that this is finished taco bell or kfc :| im hongry

-w

[chuckling-chemist]

Seventh Fall

((One of two pieces I wrote for the @fantrollszine! if you like what you read here, consider buying me a coffee or checking out my AO3!))

It’s your seventh sweep. Moonlight seeps from your window and onto your mattress pad, illuminating your respiteblock and casting dark shadows of the bright red, fragrant flowers sitting on the window sill. An early present from your pirate patron, a thank you for helping him. You’re not sure how he found out your wiggling day, nor are you especially sure you want to know how, but the thought he actually decided to celebrate it is nice. It isn’t common you meet trolls so eager to celebrate a holiday like yourself or Sekier.

You groan as you roll out of your mattress pad, mindful of the tall horns affixed to your head. Normally, you’d celebrate your wiggling day. And of all days, the day of your seventh sweep should be a big one. The day you can get off this godforsaken planet to hopefully get paid to research without the fear that a subjuggalator arbitrarily deciding your research was heretical.

But you made the mistake of pissing off the Heiress. And while she didn’t cull you on the spot, you’d rather be dead than stuck here to eventually starve, as melodramatic as that sounds.

Look on the bright side. You don’t have to be anywhere tonight.

It’s not exactly a comfort, but it keeps the rage at the whole situation from boiling over well enough you stumble over to your clothes chest and mirror to your halfmoon glasses.

You blink harshly as your glasses slide up your nose as you adjust to the sudden clarity, and despite yourself you can’t help but glance in the mirror. If you don't have anywhere to be today, you may as well take advantage of an opportunity to use yourself as a test subject and determine if you were adhering to the usual growth patterns of trolls. They always told you - and still do, if you think about it - how the ordeals work because they are the last step a troll takes towards maturation. Everything else - emotionally, mentally and physically - you should be the physically mature adult, ready to take on the stars.

Yet, as you stared in the mirror, you look no different. Your oculars are a splotchy teal around the pupil, but they’ve looked like that for weeks. Your horns still disproportionately tall to your skinny frame and small body. And while you’ve grown, even Aisral’s taller than you. There’s a semblance of a bust - at least if your last fitting with Aisral indicated anything - but you certainly can’t see it now. Your gray skin is no darker. And feeling different? You felt the same way you did yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. Unless being an adult is supposed to feel identical to being a kid, even though you’ve been led it’s a completely different experience. Despite the day, you were just...you. Judgmental, inquisitive, and more stubborn than trolls preferred but still you.

Maybe you were an anomaly? Some runt of the grub litter who got lucky and escaped before the jades or drones could nab you? You were destined to look and feel like you did at 6.9 sweeps for the rest of your life?

But then again, you don’t remember Mayola going through any sudden drastic change. She didn’t just walk in one day with pink eyes and a mature outlook on life to both literally and metaphorically hold over you with her sudden height. She was just...Mayola. Brash, impulsive, energetic...Mayola. You don’t remember any sort of dramatic change between the 6th and 7th sweep with her.

The longer you think, the more you realize just how, within your small circle of acquaintances, you don’t remember any drastic changes. No sudden growth. No darker skin. No more amount of wisdom and experience than they ever had any other day in their life on Alternia. (Well, maybe Glacin experienced drastic change, but with every inch of his body covered, you weren’t going to ever know).

We’ve been lied to.

A sigh, far more irritated than you anticipate, leaves your throat. It’s not the nice answer, but as you ponder how horribly wrong everything they’ve said is, it’s the only answer you can come to. Hell, it hasn’t even been the first time you’ve come to that answer. Every time you perform a reportedly popular experiment that “confirmed” long-time held suspicions, you always find the experiment wildly inaccurate at best and actively biased and malicious at worst. You simply don’t like how it managed to stain the already horribly tarnished reputation of the Empire, worsening an already low opinion each time you came to such a conclusion.

You should study this. If not with yourself, you still have a couple more friends who haven’t turned seven yet. Maybe study them? But the study itself may be biased, if you work only with people you know. As your thoughts race, you scramble over to your cluttered desk to grab at your teal notebook, flipping open to a random page to jot them down before they scatter away at your newest idea: all the possible forms of study, the questions to ask, the castes available for investigation, who you’ll need to ask for help, how much money it could cost, the most effective way to obtain participants, the pros and cons of just using corpses again--

Creak.

Your mental train crashes right there in mid sentence and you scowl for a brief second. It’s easy to forgot how loud your door gets when you’re focusing on better things. You give a quick turn on your bare heel towards the sound and find a distinctly familiar looking purpleblood with long hair that partially obscures the horns that curl around his ears and even longer black coat, standing awkwardly in your doorway. Your vision does a quick once-over to ensure he doesn’t look particularly injured - this specific purpleblood has that problem.

“Pallia,” he starts pleasantly, “happy wiggling day.”

“Not much of a wiggling day if I can’t actually do anything about it,” you mutter darkly. “But thanks anyway.”

He grins. “Ah yes, I heard about your little run-in with the Heiress.” You open your mouth to retort, but he’s already continuing. “Don’t worry, it’s not spread in the cove. Much.”

You cross your arms. Memories of what Careen did come rushing back, and the familiar pain stings your gut. “You say that like it’s supposed to be comforting.”

“It is.” He snatches something out of his pocket and tosses it, letting it fall on the floor near your feet. You pick it up and run it between your fingers. It’s just a wooden coin, engraved with some odd symbol that looks vaguely like a neuron on one side and what looks like a crescent moon on the other. “It’s spread just enough that convincing the council to let you be the new lawkeeper was easy.”

Lawkeeper. Just like every other teal. You grimace, pushing the anger down. “Uh...thanks Vodnik. But I’m not sure you want me to be some kind of keeper of something that important.”

“Your display of telling the Heiress to fuck off indicates you’re exactly the troll we need,” he says, voice unusually serious for once in his life. “We need someone who can stick to their ideas and keep the murder hobos away from the port while bringing some semblance of order to a bunch of anarchists. Not some wishy-washy legislacerator who bends the knee at the nearest seadweller.”

“You’re forcing me to skimp my research,” you point out.

“We’re pirates,” Vodnik drawls. “We’re not going to force you to do dick if you’re helping us.”

“I have been helping you. It’s only pirates that come here, you know. Pirates and anyone Mayola knows.”

“Help us more frequently then.” He shrugs and starts to pace the length of your respiteblock, what little there is to truly pace. “Just once a perigee and when we have emergencies. And of course, you’ll get paid. It’s just another cove job. Think of it as... funding your research?”

You nod, letting the coin pass between your slim fingers. It’s not what you want, but at the same time, you don’t really want to research for the Empress any more than you want to do law work. You just hoped for the opportunity to go off planet. But now, you could continue your research - away from the Empress, or her bitch of an Heiress. You just might have to occasionally dip away for “official” business.

Eventually, you’re not sure how long you stand there, you look up to him with a smirk. “It’s a deal,” you say.

Your name is Pallia Alkali. It’s your seventh sweep. And despite Careen’s best intentions, you’re still here to spite the very lying, sack of shit Empire she represents.

[talesofnecromancy]

January 2018 #292

(Continuation from #291. I’m still ill but apparently infinitely better after being given ghostly laudanum. Yes that sounds stupid, and yeah, I worry about my brain too.)

Me: Are you gonna be armed?

H: I… I had not quite decided.

Me: I think any weapon you have will be taken and returned when you leave. But I am curious what would happen if you took the bloodblade...

H: My intention is not to antagonise… How are you feeling darlin’?

Me: Better than I was? Why?

H: ...I am concerned.

Me: About what?

H: (shaking his head) … I should have gone earlier.

Me: I don’t think that would have stopped me from catching the mega-cold that’s been going round landing people in bed for four days!

H: (sharply) You haven’t kept to your bed.

Me: No?

H: Why the hell not?

Me: Because it was just a normal cold until this afternoon when it decided to try to severely fuck me up and melt my head to soup and then this evening you gave me laudanum and now apparently everything’s aces... What?

H: And you scold me for being irresponsible with my person!

Me: For good reason! Firstly, you actually have TB, and secondly - well…

H: (dryly) This is not looking to be complimentary...

Me: No. Slightly mean too which is why I decided not to say it. (coughing and realising I am exhausted) …Just talk to me. Please.

H: And tell you what?

Me: Anything.

H: (with mock annoyance) It would serve you right if I wrote to E.

Me: And said what?

H: If I told her how you appeared in the dead of night, in a nightdress and wrap, shaking with cold and fever. Hair in disarray, clutching your forehead, speaking in tongues-

Me: I beg your fucking pardon?!

H: Very well - speaking by turns wildly and in distraction. Unable to stand-

Me: (exasperated) Could you possibly be any more melodramatic?

H: (coolly) You did wish to be a heroine in a gothic novel.

Me: (wincing) Mm, maybe don’t write to your sister?

H: Forgive me - I make light of it and bait, but… Believe me... I felt no such levity as it was occurring.

Me: (trying to laugh and coughing instead) Darlin’, you make it sound all very Leroux-

H: (darkly) I feared it was Shelley.

Me: I’m not that ill!

H: I know you laugh at my concern for your health. (bitterly) We neither of us want the devil we know to take us or our kin...

Me: You promised!

(We have many promises and agreements between us. This one is that H will give me his death if I ever get Alzheimers. H thinks TB is a terrible way to go. I think Alzheimers is infinitely worse.)

H: Yes. And I keep my word. I am not required to rejoice in it however. …..Girl?

(I see him for a snapshot-second and he’s closer than I expect, looking down his nose at me and frowning with worry. Then the image is gone, but there is a distinct pressure of arms around me and a warmth - as there would be with a living person - and there can’t be anyone there but I can feel his collarbone and the weave of his shirt under my cheek as I turn my head against his shoulder. He presses his arms tighter for an instant and I feel that too, along with his breath behind his ribs in a hitched sort of sigh. It doesn’t last; a second or so more and it’s gone.)

Me: ...You’re welcome to do that any time. ... Since I can’t talk to you for the next three nights then-

H: Three?

Me: There isn’t any point you staying in Bedlam after the medical... Is that bad?

H: (grimly amused) No. When one is on a losing streak, to hear it’s only fifty and not five thousand is no bad thing… Come sit with me… Don’t hunch over like that. Dear god girl, come here...

(The more I cough the more my posture suffers. Suddenly I feel a palm press sideways across my sternum, pushing me and my shoulders up and back a bit.)

H: (quietly) Force your shoulders back. I know it is not comfortable, but it will facilitate your need to breathe. …Stop fidgeting!

Me: What? Why?

H: You’re on my lap. You keep still and one of the kits may sit in yours... Tip your head back darlin’ - my shoulder’s right there...

(And I did - and fell asleep. I woke up maybe twenty minutes later, only because my hand slipped and the ring skittered off the board.)

Spell To Put Someone In Bedlam

Bedlam Aesthetic I

Bedlam Aesthetic II

Next Conversation

[darcyfirth]

Hartwin fic recs (2/?)

[Long post]

These are lovingly saved in my laptop's Kindle and I love them dearly. It's umbrellas this time, glasses if I made part 3.

Authors' tagged tropes are included and I tried my best not to include spoilers. As usual my comments are in italics.  

☂️ Sparking - LapisLazuli. E, 2k. Traped in a closet trope. 

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while,” Harry whispers, calm as you please, as if Eggsy’s face isn’t pressed directly into the little hollow between his neck and his shoulder, as if Eggsy isn’t drowning in the fucking scent of his cologne, as if the fabric of his bespoke suit isn’t caressing Eggsy’s cheek like a goddamn lover.

☂️ Red Striped Ties - violentcheese. G, 1k. Red string of fate AU.

"Eggsy is the ragamuffin kid who refuses to stop hanging the Kingsman Tailor shop because he has a crush on Harry Hart, the owner."

Eggsy follows his string patiently. Harry ignores his.

☂️ You Get Up With Fleas - evil_brainmate. T, 74k. Corgi/prince!Eggsy. My first time prompting someone (with my old url) and the result is so much more than I expected.

Eggsy is a fairy prince, trapped in the human world and cursed to transform each day into a corgi. Harry Hart is a gentleman spy, and mortal, who picks him up thinking he's a stray. The two of them must work together to find a way to break the curse.

☂️ Paint With all the Colours of the Wind - Della19. G, 1k. Soulmates AU. 

Harry x Eggsy soulmate au where you only see colour once you meet your soulmate (so you don’t know them until you see them).

And it goes away when they die.

☂️ our vintage misery - fideliant. E, 23k. Pining, slow burn. 

hey young blood, doesn't it feel like our time is running out?

On a difficulty scale of one to saving the world, love shouldn't be this far off the charts.

☂️ into the wails of your windfight - fideliant. E, 8k. Pining. 

It takes a mission gone wrong for Eggsy to find out that even in real life, the dead don't always stay dead. Sometimes the movies get that part right, it would seem.

☂️ Class Of Conduct - fideliant. E, 13k. Slow burn. 

Or, Six Things Eggsy Has Learned About Being A Gentleman

“Lesson number one,” Harry says. “Manners matter.”

☂️ Random Access Memories - fideliant. E, 20k. Memory loss.

Having a supercomputer in your head isn't all that much to be cracked up about.

☂️ down dark tides the glory slides - fideliant. E, 23k. Pining, memory loss. 

You only ever truly hurt the ones you love.

☂️ Or Else - breakdancingfish. M, 4k.

Before they’re allowed to go out on their own, Eggsy and Roxy form a four person team with Harry and Merlin, completing several missions together. Oh, and Harry is the world’s biggest tease. Of course.

☂️ We Are Faking It - lokidiabolus. T, 62k. Fake relationship, slow burn.

For Eggsy it was a thing - he was taking from Harry enough, now was the time he should give something back. Even if it meant playing his lover to get the mission going and catch the culprit. Who would it be if not him, right? Right.

☂️ 57 Degrees. Precisely. - Galahard. M, 6k. Marine!Eggsy, texing, coffee shop AU.

In an alternate world Eggsy goes into the Marines, and stays in the Marines. This is a take on that au, though please forgive my lack of actual Marine knowledge. Also included: finicky coffee drinkers, texting addictions, and baristas with ulterior motives.

☂️ A Not So Lazy Evening - Galahard. E, 3k. Bottom!Harry, PWP. Really good read.

☂️ Vermillion - Galahard. E, 14k. Shy!Harry, slow burn.

He didn't know what to do with that. He didn't blush. He wasn't some teenager to be so affected by anything Eggsy did. Though really, he couldn't remember the last time he'd looked at someone and not pictured them in his bed but rather his dining room, chowing down on too sugary cereal while loudly revealing his plans for the day.

☂️ Soulmates - Galahard. 1k. Soulmates AU. How much do I adore this? A lot.

For Harry Hart's 16th birthday he not only gets his soul mark.

He gets a complete sentence.

☂️ Withdrawal - Saucery. T, 1k. Pining, finger kink.

Eggsy goes into withdrawal without Harry’s touch.

☂️ The Language of Flowers - Saucery. M, 1k. Flower shop AU, florist!Eggsy, lawyer!Harry, meet-cute, mutual pining.

Eggsy is a florist with an attitude. Harry is a lawyer with a conscience. Flowers bring them together.

☂️ The King’s Thief - twentyfourblackbirds. T, 8k.

"Harry," Eggsy said one day, while Harry was deep in a report about weapons smuggling in Ukraine. "I really fancy you." "Mmm-hmm," Harry responded, flipping to another chapter about airline safety standards in Indonesia. "If I had to say it," Eggsy mused, slightly put out, "I would, in fact, say that I am deeply, wildly, and madly in love with you." "That's very good, Eggsy," Harry said absentmindedly, scrawling his signature at the bottom of the paper. Eggsy sighed. "Sometimes, I might think you don't listen to a word I say."

☂️ Patience and Sheer Determinaiton - blacktofade. E, 47k. Fake relationship, prostitute!Eggsy.

Harry goes undercover to infiltrate the circle of a corrupt overlord and is given Eggsy, a young prostitute, as a token of goodwill. Harry has to live with Eggsy and keep him safe, while maintaining his cover.

☂️ Care and Custody - esama. T, 50k.

Eggsy takes out the medal in slightly worse circumstances, asking for a miracle.

☂️ How Eggsy Met Harry, As Told Through A Series of Soul Marks - thayde. 91k. Soulmates AU, WIP. I would warn you that this hasn't been updated for a long time now but if you have a brave heart then march on soldier.

Eggsy stares at the Mark on his chest sometimes, and wonders if his soulmate would ever settle for street trash like him.

☂️ Boyfriend Material - Deepdarkwaters. E, 3k. Mutual pining, oblivious!Eggsy.

"Are you a cigarette? Cos you're smoking hot and I wanna put your butt in my mouth."

☂️ Pig Latin - aerospaces. E, 10k. Fluff.

In Kenya, Eggsy falls off a flight of stairs. Or: lessons in cohabitation.

Eggsy discovers the joys of a home-cooked meal among many other things.

☂️ Considerably Less Cannibalism - LizaPod. E, 6k. Shaving, barebacking. This  one is the myth, the legend, the fic.

It is a real, physical struggle to not stare like a dogger while Harry shrugs off his jacket and undoes his collar, sets his signet ring aside. He has detailed, minutely detailed, fantasies about unbuttoning that fucking collar. At least he’s not wearing the holster right now, or Eggsy’d be sprung already. “It’s time you learned the fine art of the straight razor shave.”

Eggsy gives him his best you havin’ a fucking giggle, mate eyebrows. “Like Sweeney Todd?”

Harry’s sigh is just bordering on melodramatic, but he’s also got that odd— Roxy calls it enigmatic—smile he gets when Eggsy trots out some unexpected bit of culture. "Yes, Eggsy, like Sweeney Todd."

☂️ Kiss Me Now (before I can run) - persephoneggsy. M, 37k. Soulmates AU.

It wasn’t unusual, Eggsy told himself. There were plenty of people- just a little under half of the world’s population, really- that weren’t with their soulmates. Some of them just hadn’t met yet; others had died beforehand; and then there were the people in Eggsy’s situation. Sometimes people genuinely didn’t want their soulmates. Either they were in love with someone else, or they just didn’t like what they got stuck with, and Eggsy imagined the latter was very much the case with him and Harry. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must have felt like for him, the world’s prime example of a posh bloke, to have his soulmate be some beaten-up kid. He would have rejected him too.

Or: soulmate AU where you know your soulmate from the moment you touch them, and when you do, their name gets written over your heart like a brand. But that's not always a guarantee.

☂️ “It suits you, you should keep it” - eggsystolemyhart. G, 600-ish.

"What...?"

"Pardon, Eggsy."

"What...?"

"Did you not hear me previously? I said it suits you, you should keep it."

"What...?"

☂️ Five Stars, Would Shag Again - EmmyAngua. E, 6k. Seduction.

This time, the penultimate task isn’t to seduce an heiress, it’s to seduce an agent. Merlin assures the final three that the agent is chosen entirely at random.

So of *course* it’s Harry.

☂️ are we human, or are we dynamite - randomhorse. M, 13k. Pacific Rim AU. 

It’s been seventeen years since Harry has lost his co-pilot Lee Unwin in the drift, and still the world won’t stop ending.

In the Hong Kong Shatterdome, Merlin is launching a new line of Kingsman Jaegers fit to fight Category 4 Kaijus emerging from the Breach.

In the suburbs of London, Eggsy Unwin gets the draft for Jaeger Academy.

☂️ who got the keys to my bimmer - hartwinning. M, 69k. Mutual pining, mechanic!Eggsy, UST, slow burn.

"What's the difference between a BMW and a porcupine?"

Harry gives him a slightly bewildered look and furrows his brow.

"A porcupine has the pricks on the outside," Eggsy finishes.

☂️ hold courage to your chest - Fahye. E, 46k. I adore this.

Eggsy slumps against the wall, feeling every bruise like it's new, and tells the truth.

"You want to make sure I jump when I'm told?" he demands. "It'd better be you doing the telling, Harry."

☂️ Bang to Rights - concernedlily. E, 17k. Police AU.

Constable Unwin never met a tailor before, but he knows this bloke who keeps turning up at his crime scenes ain't one.

☂️ Breakeven - theshizniiit (orphan_account). E, 85k. Omega!Harry, mpreg.

When Harry walked inside the church (and then out of it, and right into Valentine's bullet) he didn't know he was pregnant.

And now he's back from the dead. This time, with an extra passenger and quite a few problems.

☂️ The New Age - DivineProjectZero. Soulmates AU.

It starts with being cursed.

No, scratch that. It starts with a garden and a serpent. And no, it goes a little differently from what you’d think.

☂️ You Are Beautiful - Sheepie. G, 8k. Coffee shop AU.

Eggsy Unwin works as a barista at the Suited Bean. He's been in love with regular customer Harry Hart for a long time, but he never said anything. Who would want to date someone his size? But Harry sees nothing wrong with the way Eggsy looks.

☂️ Couple of (Couples) Mugs - ilokheimsins. T, 2k. Fluff. 

Harry and Eggsy absolutely do not have couples mugs that proclaim their love for one another. Harry is about 70 percent sure of this.

☂️ Gimme All Your Love - midnightsurge. M, 11k. Fireman!Eggsy, rimming.

“Sorry,” a soothing, male voice started hesitantly, “but… didn’ I pull you out of a burnin’ building a few weeks ago?”

Harry nearly choked on his drink as the question registered in his mind, his brown eyes flicking to the side to confirm that, yes indeed, it was Eggsy standing there with wide eyes.

“Fuck, sorry!” Eggsy apologised profusely as he held his hands up, wanting to help but unsure how to do so. “Ain’t meant to startle you!”

Or

Eggsy is a fireman. He saves Harry's life when a mission goes awry. A few weeks later, they meet again.

☂️ Rules of Insanity - inthepapers3times. E, 54k. Dark!Eggsy. 

The worst mistake of Harry Hart’s life started like many of the minor mistakes he had made: with a one night stand. If only he had taken the taxi all the way to his house. Maybe then he wouldn't have met this particular young man, and he wouldn't have taken him home. Maybe then all of this could have been avoided.

Harry gets pulled into a dangerous game with Gary, a disturbed man he barely knows, and has no choice but to play along.

Gary is in control completely. He makes the rules. Harry is just forced to follow them.

☂️ dig in your fingers - kirkaut. E, 42k. First time, body worship.

The lack of a silver suppository has set Eggsy upon a certain path. The way that Eggsy looks, dripping wet and half naked, sets Harry on another.

(Or: Total Canon Re-Write, aka The One Where Harry's Libido Saves His Life)

☂️ sins without tragedies - kingstier. T, 11k. 5 + 1. Fake marriage.

"Harry, are we married?"

"Aren't we?"

Or, the five times they're practically married and the one time they're not (yet).

☂️ 5 Knots Harry made + 1 Knot Eggsy tied - therune. T, 2k. 5 + 1. I love this immensely!

Whenever Eggsy gets dressed in his suit he purposefully skips a button or struggles with his tie so that Harry is forced to step into his personal space and fix it for him.

☂️ Like Real People Do - coloursflyaway. T, 3k. 5 + 1. Undercover, first kiss.

Five times Eggsy called Harry a pet name, and one time Harry called Eggsy one.

[blankspaces]

Some Rolling Stones podcast thoughts cont. Gratuitous caps lock abuse ahead again. 

SIDE NOTE: WHEN IS SOMEONE GOING TO HIRE ME TO BE A TAYLOR SWIFT/POP MUSIC SCHOLAR. I will write for next to nothing because I love it and it will be better than this hasty scribble. 

16. I think retaining that child-like sense of wonder and excitement about things is important to Taylor and one of the endearing things about her. It’s what redeems WTNY and I like how they related it to McCartney and how when they get excited about something, it’s like they’ve invented it. How many times do you think someone that talks to Taylor has heard some variation of the phrase, “omg, I just found the best new thing!?” come out of her mouth. 

17. How many times has WTNY been used in a film montage? That song is practically made for the montage of ‘small town person goes to the Big Apple and is wandering around the streets, wide-eyed and the music stops when they step out into the road and almost get run over by a taxi’ cliche. I can only recall it being used in that movie Rebel Wilson was in, but maybe more? 

18. I LOVE MELODRAMATIC SELF_DRAMATISING TAYLOR. Her life is her own self-written play and so much of 1989, in particular, is structured like a play. I love how sometimes Taylor calls attention to the fact that she is the writer of her own ‘fiction’, see literally the entirety of Story of Us. 

19. PEOPLE DO FORGET ABOUT EYES OPEN. WHYYYYYYYY

20. TBH I feel like in some ways Speak Now has some very distinctive rock elements to it musically that never get mentioned ever. There’s a lot of heavy guitar on some of those songs (Sparks Fly etc.) that are different from the (to my ear, cleaner sounding) stadium rock on Red. 

21. TBH x2 I ALSO REALLY HAD MY HEART SET ON TS6 BEING ROCK BUT MOSTLY BECAUSE TAYLOR GOT MY HOPES UP WITH THE ROCK VERSIONS OF SONGS ON TOUR. THE WANGBT ROCK VERSION ON THE 1989 TOUR INCREDIBLE. It is so fucking good and it makes the song sound angry and dramatic rather than silly. Taylor, you tease. 

22. This wasn’t in the podcast but I like how the list had 22 at number 22 and 15 at 15. I feel like that is the kind of quirk that Taylor would do/like. 

23. I WILL 100% BUILD AN ALTAR AND PRAY ON MY KNEES EVERY DAY FOR ROCK TAYLOR. I DON’T CARE WHAT I HAVE TO DO. I WILL START A CULT. I WILL MAKE A BLOOD SACRIFICE IF THAT’S WHAT IS REQUIRED. 

24. The Lucky One is another one of Taylor’s songs that sound upbeat but is kind of sad. I wonder if the verse, “And they still tell the legend of how you disappeared/ took your money and your dignity and got the hell out / they say you brought a bunch of land somewhere / chose the rose garden over Madison Square” is prophetic. Yikes. 

25. The Best Day - “another song that is broader than people want to imagine”. It’s so painfully obvious how people want to believe that all Taylor writes about is being wronged/dumped by boys and dumb celebrity feuds because it’s an easy and cheap way to dismiss her (her songwriting, her talent, her experiences) when if you actually listened to her discography you would know that’s not true. 

26. “NOPE THIS IS SAD AND TRAGIC”. HAHAHA SUCH A TAYLOR MOVE, I LOVE IT. THE WRITER IN ME WOULD HAVE AGONISED FOR DAYS OVER WHETHER USING BOTH TRAGIC AND SAD WAS TOO WILDLY SELF INDULGENT BUT TAYLOR DOES NOT GIVE A FUCK. 

27. Someone write a thesis on Morrissey / Taylor. I would but I’m already writing a thesis and it’s killing me. Probably why I wrote this instead of doing actual work. 

28. ‘Our song is a slamming screendoor’ IS A KILLER HOOK!!! IT’S SO EVOCATIVE. WE STAN AN AMAZING SONGWRITER. 

29. YES I LOVE HOW THEY MENTION HOW LONG THE SONGS ON SPEAK NOW ARE AND HOW THEY GET TO A WHOLE OTHER LEVEL AROUND THE 4MIN MARK. I love how this is something that distinguishes Speak Now and solo written Taylor songs mostly, you can bet the label might have tried to cut some of these or how an editor with a strong hand would’ve demanded she chop time off of these. The only thing that makes me believe in the 10 min All Too Well version is that, it’s exactly the kind of thing Taylor would do before someone like Liz Rose would rein her in a bit or help her edit. 

30. FINALLY SOME LONG LIVE LOVE. TAYLOR SHOULD NEVER STOP PLAYING LONG LIVE AS THE FINAL SONG OF THE WHOLE TOUR. CRIES FOREVER. 

31. EVERYONE AGREES NEW ROMANTICS SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE ALBUM OPENER OF THE MAIN ALBUM AND THE TOUR OPENER. AND GOTTEN A PROPER VIDEO. WHY DID TAYLOR DISRESPECT NEW ROMANTICS LIKE THIS??!!?

32. I have nothing to say about All Too Well being top. It’s a no-brainer.