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naffeclipse · 4 months

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Finished your latest chapter, and I was at rge ended if my seat from beginning to end. Amazing!

And at the end of the chapter I thought of an inquiry:

What if y/n is a hunter/fisherman instead of a photographer? How would they have met, and what would the dynamics be like? Would they bring each other kills to give to the other to show off? Or in Eclipse's case, courting gifts? Still would figure y/n wouldn't realize what Eclipse is actually doing.

Oh, man, I just flashbacked to Fisher Y/N from Deep Waves but for an AP fisher? They'd be a bit disgruntled and grumpy. Very hard working, set on the task and won't stop until it's done. They've got a shell that rivals crabs. Very gruff but has a heart hidden somewhere under all those brusque layers.

Of course, you're spooked when Eclipse pops his head up (he's a lot more terrifying, not trusting humans on their boats with their harpoons.) Still, once he sees that you're alone and also, well, pretty, he tones it back a bit to actually talk to you while still dangling you halfway off your boat above the icy cold of the sea. You manage to yell at the siren to put you back. While Eclipse does so, he promises to bring you fine fish, the best of the best. You wave him off like "Yeah, yeah, as long as you don't ruin my nets and don't kill me."

The next day, he's got a fat catch. You thought you got rid of him, but like a stray cat that's been fed once, he's back. If he can chat, he can help you push the nets onto your boat so the fish don't flop out and get away. You might pick one cod out (the best one but you would rather die before admitting so) and toss it to Eclipse for his lunch, as thanks, or something like that. Eclipse would beam at the exchange of gifts so soon but you're too busy trying to not slip on the half-frozen, half-wet deck to notice.

You know sirens are bad news, but you have the mindset of 'Eclipse hasn't killed me yet, and there's work to be done, so I better hop to it.' That kind of attitude, however, is what gets you into Eclipse's mandated cuddle sessions as he decides you've been working too long and require a break. Guess who is getting yanked across the deck, forcibly cradled, and persuaded to take a twenty-minute break by a large, touchy siren? You, of course!

It's unusual to endure this kind of attention (and maybe you thought no one would touch you like this, make you feel like you're not just a ghost on the sea.) You put your shoulder to the wheel and get the catch while navigating Eclipse's hands of avarice.

You learn quickly that there's no use trying to get out of his arms once he has you. You also learn that he likes seals, but you try to catch squid and even, once or twice, small sharks for him to snatch on. He returns the favor with a bounty of fish and even guides you to better fishing spots. He's always eager to hand you the fish he catches to you personally. You don't think too much of it when you take it in your gloved hands and his grin widens. (You think he looks infatuated whenever you stumble upon an old seashell or half-plucked feathers or shiny, chipped scales and figure he might think it's pretty, but you don't take it to heart—he probably just likes trinkets.)

One day, when the sea is calm and the fish are nowhere to be found, Eclipse decides you are due for a break. You both lounge on the deck of your smelly boat. You don't even push away Eclipse's hands while precious work minutes slip by, resting your head on his chest to his great pleasure. Eclipse manages to coax a few confesses from your lips with a few slippery musical notes in his voice. You really don't know why you start rambling like this, like a fool. You tell him you don't have anybody, but nobody has you. Sometimes, you don't feel like a person because the only time you talk to another human being is when business over the fish is conducted. You're so used to not having anyone to talk to that when you talk to Eclipse, your voice becomes hoarse and dry, but you don't mind. You don't mind at all, lately.

He tells you in that way of his that is as true as the sun and moon that he has you. You don't believe him, but you pull out a little... gift you've been quietly crafting for the past while you've known him.

Now is as good as ever to give him a simple piece of jewelry you made with a cord and yet another seashell that's so old and pale pink that no one will notice or care for it, but he takes it from you with awe. He ties it around his wrist and shows you how pretty it looks against his black and white markings. He says you need to strengthen your voice. You need to talk to him more. He will listen, and he will listen when you sing, too. The mere thought of you singing of all things jars you enough to finally pull you out of this fancy and get you back on your feet, scouring the sea for fish to catch.

Eclipse is still wearing the seashell when he drops back into the water, and he doesn't let you out of his sights on the sea. You're left to wonder if you're a fool for giving a siren a gift or for feeling pleased that he wears it so proudly.

#y/n: i have to work so don't get in my way #eclipse when he decides it's break time: sorry i can't hear you over me grabbing you for cuddles and rest :) stop fighting #he'd call them fishie instead of birdie #also y/n giving him anything and strictly rationalizing it as junk or needing to repay him but maybe eclipse will find it nice #eclipse getting anything from y/n: oh! our courtship is going swimmingly #apex polarity #amymaleneart #y/n gives him the seashell necklace and internally barfs at their own audacity and expression of feelings #eclipse is swooning because they're now engaged #they are not the same

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probably-writing-x · 1 year

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Another?

Summary: Rafe was known for how much his body could handle. Everyone knew it. The boy had no limits. So what happens when you try to keep up?

Warnings: Alcohol and substance use, cursing

Author’s Note: Thanks for all of the love recently, I’m glad you’re all liking my writing again !! Now prepare for Rafe being a douche and making your life hell :)

You had known the Cameron’s since you were little, having grown up as their neighbours. You’d spent nearly every day with them, Thanksgivings, July 4th’s, Christmases - they were like a second family. You and Sarah were inseparable, growing up like the twin sisters you’d never had. And Rafe? He’d always found a way to get under your skin. He drove you insane, the one person it seemed that you could argue with for hours on end. But he had the other side too. He’d punched your first boyfriend in middle school when they’d split up with you, and he went with you to prom before anybody else could ask you to be their date, he bought you Christmas presents and gave them to you when nobody else was around. Rafe cared for you in a way he didn’t seem to care for anybody else. Everyone could see it, it was like he had a whole new heart just for you, different from the one he showed to everyone else.

Another thing about Rafe - he always hosted the biggest parties. And tonight was no different. There were people here you’d never seen before, and all of the regular offenders.

“Hey (Y/N),” Topper grins when he sees you, two red solo cups in his hand, “I’ve been told to give you this.”

You smile and take the cup from him, “Thanks Top. Quick question though, who the hell are half of these people?”

He laughs, “Rafe invited a bunch of the holidayers, don’t ask me why.”

You roll your eyes, “Because god forbid his house isn’t overflowing.”

Topper laughs and leans back against the counter in the kitchen where you stood. You two had always stayed friends, past whatever had happened with him and Sarah. He was too sweet for his own good, as much as that was his worst trait sometimes.

“Have you seen him? He’s on it tonight,” He gestures towards where Rafe was snorting another line from the kitchen island.

He’s in a white tee with an open button down shirt, looking handsome despite his habits. His hair is fixed in the curtains around his head that he would constantly complain about, telling you that he should just shave it all off. So far, you’d been able to convince him not to. There’s a beer bottle in his hand but he takes a shot glass from the table and overflows it with tequila, tipping it back like it’s just water to his waiting liver.

“No different than normal, right?” Topper nudges you when you don’t respond, like drawing your attention back to reality.

But you weren’t so sure. He doesn’t seem like the boy you knew. There was something darker about him recently, like the drink and the drugs were more of a coping mechanism than a release. He needed it more than he wanted it recently, and it terrified you.

“(Y/N)!” The familiar low rumble of his voice calls out to you, and you look up to see him stumbling a little in his beeline in your direction.

“Rafe,” You reply, “Having fun?”

“You two are being boring,” He gestures between you and Topper, “You can’t just stand around all night.”

“I think we’re fine, Rafe,” Topper states, taking a swig of his beer.

“No, no, no,” Rafe shakes his head, swinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side, he lifts the hand with the bottle in the direction of Topper, his words slurring into, “I’ve told you before to stay away from her bro.”

“What are you talking about Rafe?” Topper clenches his jaw, looking at you as if he needs you to back him up already.

“Go for my sister, I don’t care. But if she doesn’t want you, that doesn’t mean you get (Y/N).”

“Fuck you,” Topper spits, downing the rest of his drink and walking out of the room, even the mention of Sarah fuelling the anger inside of him that it used to be rare to see.

You turn around and step out of Rafe’s grip, “Well, you can apologise for that in the morning.”

“I’m not apologising to him, I see the way he looks at you,” Rafe shakes his head, sniffing as if his body is already longing for its next hit.

“Rafe,” You’re slow in your words, forcing him to listen, “Me and Topper are friends, same as always. And, even if there was something there, it’s not your place to tell me who I can speak to.”

He takes a big gulp of his drink, not even the slightest hint of distaste on his features, his jaw clenches and unclenches before he speaks, “So you do like him?”

“You’re too drunk and high, and too far gone on whatever is in your body, for this conversation. I’m going home, and I’m going to bed. And I suggest you do too,” You grab your jacket from the counter and tug it over your shoulders, walking away before he has the chance to stop you.

“(Y/N)!” He shouts out, but it drowns out amongst the pulsing of the party.

~~~

Rafe had sent you a string of drunk texts last night after you’d left but none of them made enough sense to understand - just a lot of letters jumbled together. You could still hear the party going on late into the night from your house and part of you feared just how drunk Rafe would be the next day. No. It wasn’t your responsibility.

It’s midday when you walk past their house, taking a quick glance up like you normally would. And you spot him. On the porch, surrounded by bottles and cups and cans, sat on the couch as if not at all phased by it all.

You can’t help but be drawn towards him.

“Hey,” You speak quietly when you reach the top of the steps to the porch.

He looks at you through blurred eyes, picking up a beer bottle from the table and swigging it.

“You’re still drinking?” You raise your brows, the worry settling over your face.

“Shame for it to go to waste, right?” He shrugs, finishing the rest of the bottle and throwing it to the pile.

There were the remainders of various drugs spread across the table and you were almost completely certain that they were all his. The sight made your stomach turn.

But there was something in you when it came to Rafe, an urgency to help him as if you were the only person that could.

“Okay, I’ll have one too,” You set your bag down onto the table and take one of the full bottles, cracking it open and chugging at least half of the bottle.

“What are you doing (Y/N)?”

His hair is in disarray like it normally was in the mornings and he’d changed his clothes, so you knew he’d gone to sleep and woken up. If anything, that made things worse. This wasn’t the continuation of a late night, it was him waking up and realising he wanted to drown out another day before it had even started - the likelihood being that he had hoped he hadn’t had to wake up. It brought a lump to your throat and a tear in your heart.

He opens another bottle and so you finish yours and open another too, the beer already bubbling uncomfortably in your stomach.

“Cut it out,” He rolls his eyes, “I don’t want to deal with this today.”

“Clearly,” You state simply, sipping when he sips.

It continues like that until he’s finished another bottle, grabbing for the bottle of vodka next. You take the tequila, fighting back a wince as you mirror him sipping it down.

“Just fuck off (Y/N),” He says coldly, a kind of tone he rarely ever directed at you.

With that, he reaches for one of the small plastic bags of infamous white powder and tips out enough for a line.

“What? Are you doing this too?” He raises his brows.

You shrug, “Whatever you do, I do.”

Rafe laughs bitterly, setting out another line of equal size just next to his. He does his without flinching, as if it’s practically air to his immune body. You swallow the lump in your throat and pull your hair away from your face.

“You can’t be serious, (Y/N)…” His voice trails off and for a second you know that he’s nervous.

You don’t speak, bending down towards the table, your nose just inches above the wood.

Within a second, a blow of air comes from beside you, Rafe spraying the powder as far from you as he can get it, looking at you with an anger in his eyes.

“What the fuck is this? You think I’m just going to let you start doing drugs in front of me?” He scoffs, his voice raising just a little.

“How do you think I feel, Rafe? I’m watching you practically dig your own grave!”

“That’s not the same thing, okay?”

“I’m tired of acting like I shouldn’t care about this stuff, Rafe! I care about you, and I’m watching you destroy yourself, and you won’t talk to me, you won’t do anything, and you’re acting like I should just sit around and watch you become something and someone that I know you’re not. And of all your yes-men friends, who else is going to be honest with you?”

“I didn’t ask you to do this (Y/N),” He comments, regretting it almost as soon as the words come out.

“You know what? Go fuck yourself,” You grab your bag and stand up, storming back down the path away from his house as quickly as you can, your limbs trembling.

You’re not sure if you hear him, or perhaps it’s just that your hopes had been answered, but his hand grabs you and it feels like both of you are grounded in that moment. It’s a harsh contact, his long fingers wrapping around your wrist, but the sting is one of relief; of knowing he was there.

“Please don’t go.”

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fatale-distraction · 3 months

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If Barcus were an Origin companion/just a companion do you think he'd have any special interactions with any of the other companions?

Okay this one got the fuck away from me so I might have to do a series?????? Idk, let’s see how I feel this weekend.

For the time being, I hope this will suffice! Here’s how the companions would interact with Barcus after certain Act 3 events! (Minus Minthara, because I feel like he is probably so terrified of her that he’s just deadass faint if she acknowledged his existence.)

The companions offering to beat up Wulbren:

Gale: I could always set him on fire...?

B: No, that's alright.

G: Poison his food?

B: No.

G: Freeze his undergarments to his arse?

B: Really, it's—...Actually... ~

Astarion: I'd offer to exsanguinate him, but he probably tastes awful.

Barcus: I…appreciate the sentiment. I think.

Astarion: You’re QUITE welcome. Of course, turning him inside out might also be fun…

B: Please don’t turn ANYBODY inside out.

A: Even Wulbren?

B: Even Wulbren.

A: TSK. You’re no fun at ALL.

Shart: ...I know how to make people disappear. Just say the word, and Wulbren will find himself in Shar's embrace.

B: ...Are you a cleric or an assassin...?

S: Don’t worry about it. Just blink twice for yes.

B: No.

Lae’zel: Have you decided on a punishment for Wulbren?

B: A what???

Lae’zel: He has betrayed and insulted you. Such behavior must not be tolerated. Might I suggest a beheading?

B: N-no!! I don’t want him DEAD!

Lae’zel: ….A beating, then?

Wyll: I understand things are over between you and Wulbren? I am sorry to hear it. I had hoped for a better outcome for you.

B: It’s…well, not alright, but…I appreciate it. Thank you, Wyll.

Wyll: And should you ever feel the need to take Lae’zel up on her offer…well, The Blade stands ready.

B: not you, too…

Karlach: so…you’re SURE you don’t want me to punt him into the next century?

B: Quite sure.

Karlach: …damn. That would’ve been fun. Let me know if you change your mind. I’ve got a wicked good leg.

B: I don’t doubt it at all. Thank you, Karlach.

Halsin:

Barcus:

B: Please don’t offer to turn into a bear and eat Wulbren.

H: I wasn’t going to.

B: oh…well. Thank goodness for that.

H: -was absolutely going to-

Jaheira: I understand you probably don’t want to talk about Wulbren.

B: -SIGHS-

Jaheira: All I’m saying is that there have been some truly absurd suggestions being made.

B: Thank the stones. I completely agree, Jaheira, thank you for being so—

J: Obviously the best punishment would be to lash him to a windmill. It’s only fair that he should suffer as you once did!

B: -SIIIIIIIIIIGHS-

Minsc: Boo would like to offer his services in the getting of revenge upon Wulbren.

B: No. I already have everyone else offering, I don’t need help from a hamster.

M: Are you sure? He has suggested that the most suitable punishment would be to have a teeny tiny hole chewed in the toe of all of his left socks.

B: It’s not nece—actually…That’s not half bad. Of course the most sensible suggestion in this group of weirdos came from the hamster…

#barcus wroot #bg3 barcus #bg3 #party banter #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #lae'zel #wyll ravengard #gale dekarios #shadowheart #jaheira #minsc and boo #halsin #karlach #writing down fatalities

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fallout4treasures · 1 month

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Do you take reaction requests? May I request a distraught, crying Sole telling Deacon that they let Dr. Chambers kill Amelia (The synth you can either kill or save in the covenant quest) and that they feel awful and worthless because it goes against everything they stand for, and that its okay if deacon hates them, ect ect. Basically just a panicking, crying Sole thats terrified of losing deacon because they made the wrong choice. His response???

"I'm sorry Deacon. I'm so sorry. I was- I-" Sole choked on their sobs, staring down at their feet. They couldn't find the courage to look up at Deacon. Imagining his face twisted in fury was already too much for them to handle.

"Why?" Deacon finally asked, just above a whisper. Finally Sole looked at him and instead of anger there was hurt. Confusion. It tore their heart apart.

“I was scared, I was confused.” Sole barely got out their half-hearted excuses. In truth, they didn't know why. There was no explanation they could give that would offer either of them and solace.

“I've seen you in action. You don't get scared. You don't get confused.” He said coldly. Sole couldn't tell where his gaze was behind his sunglasses, but it strangely felt like he was boring into them.

“I failed everyone. I failed you.” Sole’s legs had been slowly going numb beneath them and they were finally giving out. They slinked against the wall, finding no comfort on the cold concrete floor. “I'm kicked out, aren't I?” They asked, trying to ignore their heart feeling like it was going to burst out of their chest while waiting on his answer.

Deacon rubbed his eyes, sighing painfully as he sorted out his thoughts.

“Technically you should be.” He groaned. They did something terrible. They didn't deserve to be comforted. And yet… his heart broke for them. Sole had been stomping around, treading the line for months now. They seemed so angry all of the time, and refused to talk about with anyone. Deacon knew it was going to come to a head eventually. Just not like this. He would have taken almost anything but this.

He sat himself next to Sole, and fought against every cell in his body that wanted to comfort them. Instead, after what seemed like eternity, he finally spoke again.

“I'm not going to tell anybody.” He told them calmly.

“You're not?” Sole’s head popped up and their red and swollen eyes stared at him in shock.

“I don't think I could even begin to count the amount of synths I killed before I found the Railroad. Or even just people in general.”

“Deacon-”

“This is your one free pass. Your one get out of jail free card.” He interrupted them. “And we don't talk about this ever again.” All Sole could do was nod in response, speechless by his mercy. A silence fell over them, with only Sole’s sniffling and small cries breaking the quiet. Once they were finally calm again, they somehow got the courage to ask to the one question they weren't sure they wanted the answer to.

“Do you hate me?” Deacon stared at them, unsure of how to answer. He knew he should hate them, and that he should have kicked them out of hq yelling and throwing things after they essentially committed cold blooded murder.

“I don't think I could ever hate you.” He answered, shocking both himself and Sole.

“You should.” Sole looked to the ground. With another sigh Deacon wrapped a loose arm around their shoulders, allowing them to lean into him and relax their tense muscles.

“Yeah, I know." He tightened his hold on them, bringing them in for a warm hug.

---

I hope this is what you were looking for! Thank you!

#i couldnt be bothered to proof read so apologies #answered ask #fo4 companions #companions react #deacon reacts #fo4 #fallout 4 #deacon fo4 #fo4 deacon #deacon

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ironychan · 1 day

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Scary Monsters

@dysphoria-sweatshirt @30spiders @sweatersexual @angrylittlesliceofpizza @writer652

Part 1/? - Rocco’s Closet

Part 2/? - School for Monsters

Part 3/? - The Waternoose Family

Part 4/? - The Terrifying Humans

Part 5/? - Hiding Places

Part 6/? - Nobody’s Fault

Part 7/? - Edge of Disaster

Part 8/? - Caged Monsters

Part 9/? - The Journey Home

Part 10/? - Portorosso

Part 11/? - A New Family

Part 12/? - More Obstacles

The rest of the day passed far too slowly. The kids finished their grape-picking and presented the results to Signora Visconti. She was delighted and effusive in her praise of their hard work, and gave them an extra bottle of wine, along with their pay, to take back to the Pescheria. Once they reached home, they gathered up the things they thought they'd need to capture Harry and then re-enter the Monster World - and after that, there was nothing to be done but wait.

Waiting with nothing to fill the time was always terrible, and this seemed worse than usual. Luca, Alberto, and Giulia sat in the yard behind the shop and played card games while the hours ticked by, slower and slower and slower. Luca at one point went in to check the time, thinking it must be suppertime by now, but found it was only half five. He returned to the table with his shoulders slumped, feeling like he was going to curl up in a ball and cry.

Then, just to make things even worse, his parents arrived.

Helena opened the gate for them, and Daniela and Lorenzo walked in with very serious expressions on their faces. Luca knew he couldn't groan out loud, but he certainly did inwardly.

"Luca," Daniela said. "Your father and I have been talking."

Luca felt sick to his stomach. "I have to do this!" he protested.

"Honey." Daniela reached to touch his cheek, but he twitched away. "Please just listen to us."

Luca scowled, but he sat down on the picnic table bench. He hardly needed to listen, he thought. He knew exactly what was coming next.

Daniela pulled another chair over to sit facing him. Lorenzo stood behind her with one supportive hand on her shoulder.

"Luca," Daniela repeated. "We know you want to help. You're very brave, and very responsible, and we are so proud of you. But from what you've said, this world sounds incredibly dangerous, ten times more dangerous than the land, and it really seems like Louise, Curtis, and Mr. Sullivan all decided themselves that they were going to take this risk."

"Sullivan didn't," said Luca. "He was just there, and he had to help because he was in trouble anyway!"

"We've already planned everything and earned all the money," Alberto pointed out.

"And Harry needs to go back to the Monster World," Giulia agreed. "We can't quit now!"

"See? They're going to help, and if you come with me we'll have a grownup and everything," Luca said. "I can't just sit at home when I don't know what's happening to them."

"From your description of these monsters..." Daniela began.

"You're scarier than any of them!" Alberto interrupted.

"You really are!" Luca said. "Even Mr. Waternoose wouldn't want to fight you!"

"I don't plan on fighting anybody," Daniela told them. "I'm sorry, Luca, I hate having to put my foot down like this, and I definitely don't want you to believe we're punishing you because we are definitely not. But the longer we think about this, the more sure we are that we have to say no. We can't let you. I'm sorry."

She wasn't angry, but she was firm, and Luca knew in his gut that was it. He hung his head.

"What about Harry?" Giulia asked. "We promised Ercole we'd get rid of him."

"Ercole will just have to get used to him," said Daniela. "That isn't your problem, either. You can't save the whole world all by yourself, Luca," she added, to her son.

Luca's shoulders sagged further. "Dad..." he began.

"Sorry, son, but I have to agree with your mother on this," said Lorenzo. He came and put an arm around Luca's shoulders, and helped him to stand up. "Let's head home."

There was no arguing with that. Luca kept his head down, and did not speak as his parents led him out of the yard and down the steps to the water. Alberto and Giulia, too, sat in silence as Helena closed the gate behind them.

"I'm sorry," she said to the children. "I know you were all eager to do this, but... I think the Paguros are probably right. Do you want me to stay a few more days, Passerota?" she asked her daughter. "I don't have to go back tonight."

"No, that's fine," said Giulia. "Not if you don't want to."

Helena brushed Giulia's hair back to kiss her forehead, and then went indoors.

For a few minutes, Alberto and Giulia sat there in silence. Alberto leaned his head back, looking at the first few stars winking into view above. To be honest, he didn't like the idea of going back to the Monster World very much earlier. Nobody there had liked them, it was much harder to stay wet there than it was to stay dry in Portorosso, and the food hadn't been very good. They'd barely escaped the first time and there was no guarantee they'd be able to do it again. But as he'd pointed out, they'd made that whole plan and earned all that money - and more importantly, Luca really really wanted to.

Alberto himself wanted a lot of things, like a Vespa and comic books and a bell for his bicycle, but if he didn't get something right away he usually lost interest in a couple of weeks and moved on to something else. Luca was different. When Luca wanted something, he wanted it with every cell in his body and he didn't get to distracted. Alberto had come to realize that if Luca hadn't been allowed to go to school in Genova, he would have spent the entire winter moping about it, and now he was going to do the same about this.

"Right, then." Alberto stood and rolled up his sleeves. "We need a new plan."

"New plan for what?" asked Giulia morosely, leaning on her knees. She was contemplating a summer with both Ercole and Harry doing their best to make her miserable. She wasn't sure if they'd cooperate or if they'd make it a competition and she couldn't decide which would be worse.

"For how we're gonna kidnap Luca after we kidnap Harry," said Alberto.

Giulia sat up, brightening momentarily, but then she frowned again. "His mom will kill us."

"She'll have to wait until we get back from Monster World," Alberto said. "Come on. What would you have done if Luca's parents had said he wasn't allowed to go to school with you?"

"I'd've been down about it," Giulia replied, "but I wouldn't have done anything."

"Well, I would," Alberto declared. "I would have take him there on our Vespa myself. Are you gonna help, or not?"

Giulia got to her feet. She, too, knew that when Luca wanted something he wanted it intensely, and this was clearly something that meant a lot to him. "I'm coming," she decided.

"Great!" Alberto nodded. "I've already got an idea."

She snickered. "Uh-oh."

Twenty minutes later, the two of them were standing outside the Visconti house, throwing pebbles at a particular bedroom window. After a couple of hits, the window opened, and Harry looked down at them.

"I'm not leaving," he informed them, and started to close the shutters again.

"Wait!" Giulia said. "We need your help!"

Harry hesitated, then leaned out again. "With what?"

"You know how Luca wants to go back and help Louise?" Alberto said. "His parents dont' want to let him do it. They're keeping him at home, so we need to help him escape."

"That means we need a boat," Giulia added, "but my dad will definitely notice if we take his. Ercole's got one. Can you guys help us?"

"If you do," Alberto said, "we'll owe you a favour, big time."

That was something Harry understood. "What kind of favour?"

"Whatever you need," said Giulia. "We're desperate!" She crossed her fingers behind her back.

"Let me see if my new brother is still awake," Harry said.

Ercole had been expecting them, but not for Harry to be the one letting him know they'd arrived. He was in his pajamas with his hair mussed as if he'd already been in bed, and yawning as Harry dragged him out the back door to meet their guests. His expression was suspicious. This wasn't the original plan, and for a moment Giulia was afraid he was about to ask why they hadn't brought the net with them and how they were planning on kidnapping Harry without it.

Luckily, he was smarter than that. Ercole's first question was, "where did the other one go?"

"That's why we're here," said Alberto, and explained the situation.

Ercole listened with crossed arms and an annoyed expression, not sure why any of this was his problem. He jabbed a thumb in the direction of Harry.

"What about him?" he asked.

"We need a lookout," said Giulia innocently. She gave a quick wink.

Ercole must have understood. "Right, right," he said. "Let me get some real clothes on."

"We'll wait," Giulia promised.

"My new mom has called a tailor all the way from La Spezia to make me new clothes," said Harry proudly. "She told him it's a very special job."

"It's the same fellow she gets to make little jackets for her dogs," Ercole said, and went back indoors to change.

He returned a few minutes later, still running a comb through his hair, now carefully oiled into place. Alberto and Giulia urged him and Harry to stay quiet as they made their way back down to the piazza. There, a bit more caution was necessary - even aside from the whole kidnapping plot, it was too late in the evening for young people to be wandering around unaccompanied, and anybody who saw them was likely to insist they go straight home. They kept to the shadows as they crept out onto the pier and climbed into Ercole's boat.

Ercole went to start the motor, but Alberto put out an oar to block him.

"Too loud," Giulia said, shaking her head.

"Are you suggesting we paddle the entire way?" Ercole asked.

"No." She rolled her eyes. "Just far enough that nobody will hear the noise."

"Well, I'm not paddling." Ercole crossed his arms and stuck his large nose up in the air.

"Neither am I," said Harry, mimicking the gesture.

"You two wouldn't be any good at it anyway, with your noodly arms," Alberto sneered.

Ercole's eyes narrowed. "Are you calling me weak?"

"Yes," said Alberto.

"He sure is," said Harry, happy to cause chaos.

"I row the boat all the time for Massimo," Alberto said. "I'll get us there way faster than somebody who never even carries anything heavier than a basket of grapes."

"All right." Ercole reached for the oar. "Give me that."

"I thought you didn't want to." Alberto held it away.

"I said give it to me!"

"Basta, both of you!" hissed Giulia, brandishing her own oar threateningly. "You're going to make noise and then we'll get caught!" She sat down and put the oar in the lock. "Somebody better help me or we'll just go in circles."

Ercole snatched the oar from Alberto and sat down beside her. "I'm bigger than you," he told Alberto. "I can pull a stroke further." He turned around to start doing so.

Alberto smiled and sat back, hands behind his head.

They rowed out of the harbour into the gathering dark, and once they'd made it to where Giulia thought they'd be safe, she lit a lantern and let Ercole start the motor. Alberto pointed him in the direction of Luca's house. They rumbled off.

"You know, this is how Il Papa got Michelangelo to paint La Capella Sistina," Giulia told the boys. "He asked and asked and Michelangelo wouldn't do it, so the Popel said, fine, I hear you're no good at fresco anyway. Then Michelangelo had to do it, just to show him up."

"See?" Ercole asked Alberto. "It is a mark of greatness."

Alberto sneered at him, then sat up and pointed at the bottom of the boat. "Here! Right here! Stop here!"

Ercole turned the motor off and threw the anchor over. The boat came quickly to the end of the chain and dragged it a couple of metres, then began drifting in a circle over where the weight had landed. Giulia took charge.

"Okay, ragazzi," she said, cracking her knuckles. "Ercole, you get ready to start the engine and go the moment we're ready. Harry, you watch out for other boats. I'll look after Alberto." She turned to her foster-brother. "Go get Luca!"

"This was my plan," Alberto reminded her. "I know what I'm doing." He took his hat off and dived into the dark sea.

Giulia watched him vanish into the water, and kept a grip on the anchor chain, ready to pull it up fast. Hopefully they could get this done in a hurry, before Harry realized that they didn't really need both him and Ercole for the task. Ercole's hand was on the motor, ready to start it, and Harry himself peered towards the town, waiting and watching.

Alberto knew where Luca's house was. Sea monsters had an innate sense of the right direction to get to anywhere they'd been before - Luca and Giulia thought it had something to do with the earth being a giant magnet, but Alberto didn't care as long as it told him which way to swim. He soon saw the gentle pink glow of the bioluminescent jellyfish the sea monsters used to light their homes, and headed towards it.

He went around behind the barn so as not to disturb the goatfish, which might make a racket if they thought a predator was close. From there he darted to the base of the little tower where the family stored crops and tools, and rounded it to the place where it joined the body of the house. There was Luca's bedroom window. Alberto pulled himself up to the sill, and peered in.

Luca wasn't there.

Alberto's heart beat a little faster. Time, in the human sense of hours and schedules, was a concept he still had some trouble with but he knew they didn't have much of it. If they didn't make it to the last train to Genova tonight, they would have to go home, and then they'd be caught and everything would be ruined. He glanced back at the boat bobbing on the surface, silhouetted against the moonlit sky, then slithered in through the window like an eel.

Once inside, he could hear the voices. People in the next room were having an argument.

"We've been through this, Luca!" Daniela was saying. "The answer is no!"

"It doesn't sound like a safe place for children," Lorenzo agreed, resolute.

"Fine," said Luca, "but can I at least sleep in my own room, then?"

"No," said Daniela.

"You don't trust me!" Luca complained.

"Not when you're obviously trying to sneak away again, no, we don't!" Daniela informed him.

Luca didn't reply, and Alberto knew why - he couldn't argue with that. He'd slipped out of the house to run away to Portorosso last summer, and now he was planning on doing it again. Alberto wouldn't be able to do anything if Luca was forced to sleep in his parents' room, so he had to do something now.

He slipped back out the window and backed off a little ways. It was important that he be out of breath when he arrived .

Alberto aimed himself at the door, and swam as hard as he could. He came bursting in, trailing a current that knocked things off shelves and startled Lorenzo Paguro's show crabs, which began running around in a panic. Alberto himself tried to stop but plowed right into Daniela, who shrieked in surprise and dismay as they both crashed against the kitchen wall, knocking down the bundles of herbs she had tied to the ceiling.

"Alberto!" she exclaimed. "What under the waves..."

Alberto extracted himself from the tangle of limbs, tails, and seaweed, panting. His heart was hammering, not only because of the exertion but because of what he now needed to do. This wouldn't be the first time he'd lied and there was no way it would be the last, but it was going to have to be the greatest performance of his life. "Luca!" he called out. "Giulia's hurt!"

"What?" Luca asked. He grabbed Alberto's arm to pull him out of the mess.

"What?" echoed Daniela, gathering up the drifting herbs. "What happened?"

"We were up in the treehouse after you left, and one of the boards broke and she fell!" Alberto panted, hanging on tight to Luca's shirt. "Massimo's called the doctor and everything, come on!" He swam for the door, dragging his friend behind him.

"My crabs!" Lorenzo exclaimed, trying to herd them up.

"Wait for me!" Daniela protested as the boys fled. For a moment Alberto's stomach sank, thinking she would be right behind them, but then she yelped in pain as one of the crabs grabbed her tail fin. "Lorenzo! Control your crustaceans!"

"I'm trying!"

"Swim for your life!" Alberto whispered to Luca. He dashed ahead to tug the anchor chain, signalling to Giulia to reel it in before Luca's parents could see it. Seconds later, he burst out of the water with a splash that soaked both Ercole and Harry, and set the boat rocking violently as he landed inside.

"Porca paletta! Was that necessary?" asked Ercole, grabbing a mirror to check his hair.

Alberto didn't even bother to answer. He reached in the water to pull Luca up after him.

"Start the motor!" Giulia said. "Start the motor!" But Ercole was still looking at his reflection. Giulia pushed him out of the way and yanked on the chain herself.

The motor stalled.

"Come on! Come on!" Alberto urged. If Luca's parents caught up they were never going to get away.

On the second try, the motor coughed to like. Ercole snatched the throttle back from Giulia and turned them towards their agreed getaway location on shore. This was not the harbour where they'd come from, but another little quay directly below the train station. The boat sped along, skipping in and out of the water as it went.

Luca was only just starting to catch his breath. "Thanks, guys," he panted.

"Hey, I helped you run away from home once," said Alberto with a dismissive wave. "What's one more time?"

"It was my idea!" said Harry.

They pulled the boat up below the train station, and Luca, Alberto, and Giulia climbed out. Giulia counted the money to make sure they had all of it, and then the three of them turned to face Ercole and Harry.

"Thank you, Ercole," said Giulia, as if the words tasted bad.

"You might not be totally terrible," Alberto agreed, equally grudging.

Ercole sniffed - and then it was time. "Oh," he said, "I almost forgot." And he reached under the boat's seat and pulled out a net to throw over Harry. Alberto and Giulia jumped on him to tie him up. Harry yelped and struggled, but his many legs quickly got tangled, and Alberto stuffed a gag in his mouth. Ercole pulled out the second item he'd stashed in the boat ahead of time, a suitcase, and they stuffed Harry insite.

"So we are even, then," said Ercole cautiously, as the kids zipped the suitcase closed around the struggling monster. "I helped you kidnap Luca, you take that little bug away, and nobody owes anybody else anything, ever."

"Correct," said Giulia. "Nobody is allowed to call this in as a favour later. You two are our witnesses," she told the boys.

Luca and Alberto nodded seriously.

Ercole extended a hand. Giulia shook it.

"Now we go back to hating each other, Spewlia," said Ercole.

"Correto, Catfish."

Ercole started the engine and puttered off again, and Giulia and the boys set to work dragging the suitcase up the stairs. Harry was heavier than he looked and had to be tugged up each step individually, making a muffled yelp of protest with each bounce. The kids ignored this as best they could, and hoped the gag would hold. If he worked it free enough to shout, they would have a real problem.

At the top, they approached the ticket office. Alberto, the tallest, strutted up to the window and flashed a confident grin as he presented the man with their money. "Three children for Genova!" he said.

The clerk peered over his half-moon glasses at them. "Are you three travelling alone?"

"Yes," said Alberto.

The clerk was clearly skeptical. "Where are your parents?"

"They said we're old enough to do this ourselves," Alberto replied. Behind him, Luca and Giulia nodded eagerly.

"Do you mind if I call them?" the clerk asked. Like almost everybody else in Portorosso, he knew that Luca, Alberto, and Giulia were a unit - and that while well-meaning, they were good at getting into trouble.

"You know there's no phone at the Pescheria," Alberto told him.

"Don't worry. I'm right here," said Helena Marcovaldo.

The kids spun around. She'd been sitting in the waiting room with her own small bag, and they, intent on their own mission, had entirely missed her. The kids grouped closer together, but they knew it was no good. They were caught now and would be dragged back home. Luca would have to face the wrath of his parents, and heaven knew what everyone would think when they found out Harry was in the suitcase.

Helena came closer and leaned in to talk to them. "Did your parents change their minds, Luca?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he whispered, but could not meet her eyes while he did so.

"I thought so," said Helena with a resigned nod. "This is extremely important to you, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Luca repeated.

Helena straightened up. "They're with me," she told the clerk. "They wanted to pay their own way, but if it's a problem, I'm here."

"It's no problem," the clerk said, relieved. "I just wanted to be sure they weren't up to any mischief." He took the money, and handed each of them a ticket. "Have a pleasant trip."

Luca breathed such a sigh that Alberto and Giulia grabbed his arms, afraid he would pass out from sheer relief.

The train pulled up a few minutes later, and the four of them boarded. Helena's suitcase went in the luggage rack above the window, and Harry's was pushed neatly under the seats. It thumped against the floorboards a couple of times as he struggled inside, earning a strange look from the conductor until Alberto started swinging his legs as if kicking in boredom. That seemed to be enough of an explanation, and the man moved on.

"I don't suppose your mother is ever going to forgive me," Helena remarked.

"Probably not," Luca agreed. "She's probably never going to forgive me, either. Maybe they'll even send me to the Deep after all." He shivered.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," Giulia said.

"No, I gotta do this," Luca replied, determined. "Even if I do end up in the Deep. It's not fair to Louise. She got in so much trouble trying to help us."

"You know, a lot of things aren't fair," Helena told Luca.

"That's what Mom says," Luca said. "I say it's not fair and she goes, the world isn't fair, Luca. But just because the world's not fair doesn't mean I have to be."

Helena chuckled. "Your mother's lucky you're so quiet, Luca. If you wanted to be rebellious you'd be an absolute terror."

The train they'd caught had been the last to leave Portorosso that day, and it was very dark by the time they arrived, yawning, in Genova. There was no chance of sneaking into the museum tonight - their plan required them to start in daylight. Instead, they collected their things and went back to Helena's apartment

At some point during the train ride, Harry's suitcase had stopped twitching, as if the prisoner inside had fallen asleep. Luca was slightly worried that he might have suffocated, but when they dragged him down the steps to the platform, the bumping woke him up, and he began to make noise again. They hurried home and unzipped the suitcase on Helena's kitchen floor.

Immediately, Harry spat the gag out, and began yelling.

"This is unacceptable!" he declared. "When my father he... I mean, when my new mom hears about this... when either of them hears about this! They're gonna..."

"We don't care," said Alberto.

"You will care!" vowed Harry. "My father with ruin your lives! You'll never have work anywhere in Monstropolis! You'll never work anywhere! He'll buy that stupid fish shop out from under you and shut it down!"

"We don't live in Monstropolis," said Giulia.

"And Massimo wouldn't sell the Pescheria no matter how much money you gave him," Alberto said.

Harry sputtered and looked around for the nearest adult to back him up. "Are you condoning this behaviour?" he demanded of Helena.

"Apparently I am," she said. "If I weren't, I would have gotten them off the train or called their parents. Which reminds me." She looked at Giulia. "You, young lady, are not going through any closet doors. Luca and Alberto can hide in that world. You can't."

"I know, Mom," said Giulia.

"You can't stop her from coming! Not after you helped me and Luca!" Alberto protested.

"No, Mamma's right," Giulia told him. "Anyway, I gotta go back to Portorosso and find another kid with a monster in his closet, so we can give you a quick way back home. We'll catch the monster and prop the door open." She looked proud of this plan.

"Thanks, Giulia," said Luca. "That's a great idea."

"If I'm going to be a hostage, can I at least have something to eat?" Harry asked, annoyed.

"I think we all need a snack and a good night's sleep," Helena said. "Let's see what we've got."

She made them all sandwiches and cocoa, and then got out extra bedding so that Harry and Alberto would have places to sleep.

"I don't want to hear anybody screaming in the middle of the night," she added. "We don't need any more chaos. That goes for all little monsters, including the human ones." Helena looked straight at her daughter.

"Yes, Mamma," said Giulia dutifully.

"Si, Signora Marcovaldo," Luca and Alberto chorused.

Harry said nothing.

There was very little conversation as they settled down for bed. There was an unspoken agreement among Giulia and the boys that they would all lie down and shut their eyes right away, because they knew Harry would try something the moment he thought they were asleep. They wanted to catch him in the act.

Sure enough, the lights had been out only about twenty minutes when they heard the floorboards creek. Giulia reached over and turned on a lamp, and all three sat up to see Harry creeping towards the door.

"I am going to the bathroom," Harry said indignanly.

"We'd better show you where it is," Giulia said.

"I've been here before," Harry reminded her.

"Just in case," she said, glaring at him. Harry glared back with all five eyes.

Since Giulia was a girl, it was Luca and Alberto who had to get up and stumble down the hall with Harry to the bathroom. He shut and locked the door, and they waited outside through the sound of running water, followed by a series of thumps and mutterings.

"Is there a window in there?" asked Alberto.

"Yeah." Luca rubbed his eyes. "It doesn't open, though. The lock's been stuck for years."

Alberto nodded.

A few more minutes went by, then Harry opened the door again, annoyed but defeated. He did not speak to Luca or Alberto as they escorted him back to bed.

There was relative quiet after that. The three kids did their best to stay at least partially awake, one ear always listening for anything suspicious. They were all tired, though, and eventually they dropped off one by one. Alberto was first, and started snoring. Giulia pulled a pillow over her head to block him out, and was asleep shortly thereafter. Luca tried the hardest to keep his eyes open, but at last he, too, had to close them.

All three were abruptly awakened by the sound of shattering glass.

They sat up, blinking in the darkness. The kitchen clocked chimed for three in the morning, and floorboards creaked in the hall.

"Is everybody okay?" Helena asked, cracking the bedroom door open.

Giulia felt around for the lamp and turned it on, and looked around the room. Luca was in the other bed, rubbing his eyes. Alberto was sitting on the mattress they'd put on the floor for him. Harry was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly wide awake, Giulia scrambled out of bed and past her mother to try the bathroom door. The boys, who'd come to the same conclusion a split second later, were right behind her, and all three cried out in dismay when they found the door was locked.

"Harry!" Giulia banged on it. "What are you doing?"

There was no reply. Giulia rattled the knob.

"Calm down. Here's the key." Helena reached up to take it down from the ledge above the door frame. She got it open, and the kids crowded around her to see what was going on in the bathroom.

The room was empty. The lights were out. The window was broken.

#fanfic #pixar luca #luca 2021 #monsters inc #monsters university #luca paguro #alberto scorfano #giulia marcovaldo #ercole visconti #scary monsters

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andorerso · 1 year

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Rebelcaptain Trees for @pfirsichspritzer: College AU

Jyn’s late. Of course she is.

All semester, she’s been trying to be a good little student, showing up to class on time, turning in her homework when it was due, finishing her required reading even if it meant staying up until two in the morning, studying for tests and pop quizzes and presentations, and this is what she gets.

Her stupid alarm didn’t go off, today of all days, and because it was the midterm exam, she couldn’t even say screw it and skip class. Half her grade depends on this stupid test.

Why have the gods forsaken her?

After rushing across campus at breakneck speed, out of breath and wheezing, Jyn finally reaches the classroom, wrenches open the door and —

It’s locked.

What?

“Class’s canceled,” comes a voice from behind her, and Jyn jumps half a foot in the air before wheeling around to stare incredulously at Cassian Andor.

Who’s sitting on the bench next to the door, phone in hand, looking at her with an inscrutably blank expression.

She hadn’t noticed him, but that’s not surprising considering her single-minded focus on just getting to class. Normally, she always notices him. Even when he seems determined to not be perceived. Her eyes always stray to him somehow.

“What?” she says, her voice a little higher, her heart still pounding.

“Draven sent an email. Class’s canceled. Midterm’s next week.”

You gotta be fucking —

Jyn fishes out her phone from her pocket, an annoyed groan on her lips when she sees the email he’s talking about.

“Fucking Draven,” she hisses as she slips her phone back into her pants, too angry to stop herself from bashing their professor. She never really liked the guy anyway, but now it’s personal. Even if it’s technically her fault for not checking her mail.

Is this what she risked almost getting hit by a bus for?!

“He sent it in the morning,” Cassian answers, though it doesn’t seem like he’s defending the man. If anything, he sounds a bit annoyed as well. At least behind that emotionless mask he usually wears.

“I didn’t have the time to check my emails, I was already late. What’s your excuse?”

He holds up his phone, shaking it with a wry little smile. “It went to my spam folder.”

Hah. Technology, right?

“Oh. Sucks.” Though that didn’t explain one thing. “So what are you still doing here?”

“I have a class after this. Just not worth it to go home.”

Jyn hesitates as she looks at him, worrying her lip between her teeth.

Now that she’s no longer terrified to fail the exam (because Draven is absolutely the type of teacher to fail her for being late), her heart rate’s returning to normal, and she realizes she doesn’t really have anything else to do until late afternoon. And here’s Cassian Andor, the guy she’s lowkey liked since the start of the semester, sitting in front of her. Alone.

A golden opportunity, if she’s ever seen one, just falling into her lap.

He probably doesn’t want company. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen Cassian hang out with anybody besides the tall, blonde, square-faced guy who always looks annoyed at everybody (and yes, she’s been paying attention). But maybe she can be one of the exceptions then.

“I can wait with you,” Jyn says, managing to keep her tone neutral. Just a simple offer.

From a girl he hasn’t spoken to more than twice.

This was a mistake, she thinks as soon as the words are out.

Maybe he wants to be alone, maybe he has homework, maybe he wants to read a book —

“Okay,” Cassian agrees, interrupting her spiraling thoughts, and Jyn’s eyes almost go wide in surprise before she reigns herself in. Wait, really?

“Okay,” she echoes because she’s still overwhelmed with shock, and she doesn’t know what else to say.

Cassian stares at her expectantly as she stands there, rooted to the spot and feeling more awkward by the second.

“Are you gonna sit?” he asks eventually, and oh, right. Fuck, she’s an idiot.

“Yeah,” she says, hoping her cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. She slips her backpack off her shoulders to place it on the bench but pauses as another idea hits her. “Or we could go grab a coffee. I know a great place not five minutes from here.”

“The Rogue?” Cassian’s eyebrows lift in surprise, and Jyn feels her mouth curl into a delighted smile.

“Yeah! You know it too?” It’s a small, cozy coffeeshop that many people tend to overlook. Most college students prefer the bigger, trendier places, but Jyn’s always like the Rogue because they serve way better coffee than Starbucks, and their prices don’t make you broke.

Plus the owners, Chirrut and Baze, are good friends of hers.

“Yeah, they have great coffee. Although Chirrut keeps trying to set me up with this girl he swears I’d like.”

“Hah,” Jyn snorts, “that’s just Chirrut. He does the same to me. He’s been trying to get me to meet this guy since…” She trails off, and their eyes meet as realization dawns on them at the same time.

A small bark of laughter escapes her before she can help it because it’s just so ridiculous.

Chirrut.

Of course he’d been trying to set her up with the guy she’s been crushing on since the first day of school.

“Huh,” Cassian says, a barely there smile playing on his lips. “Lesson learned then. Always listen to Chirrut.”

#rebelcaptain #dailyrebelcaptain #rebelcaptaintrees #pfirsichspritzer #therebelcaptainnetwork #rogue one #my fics #*rebelcaptain #*graphics #i went with a different edit this time than my usual moodboards hope you like it!!

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breakaway71 · 6 months

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I know about a lot of your WIPs, obviously, but for the WIP titles game, tell me about The Song you Sing in the Shadows because I don't think I know that one?

You might know it without realizing you know it LOL, although I haven't talked about it in some time. This was what I tentatively titled my Vampire!Reggie fic, which was basically... The boys died from vamps instead of hot dogs, Reggie got turned instead of killed, has to spend the next 25 years adjusting and trying to forget his best friends. When Julie finds their old demo album and accidentally summons Luke and Alex as ghosts, Reggie is not prepared. I still go back and poke at this one sometimes, but it turned into something really daunting and kind of got backburnered. (I also started a different vampire Reggie fics in the meantime, wondering if I should just scrap this one as Too Much, but in the end, I couldn't do it, so I keep hoping I'll go back and really give it the time and attention it deserves one of these days!) snippet:

He hears the approaching footsteps, the sound of a steady heartbeat, like something out of a dream. It drags him out of the darkness he's trying to drown himself in, makes the torrent of tears slow, then stop. Reggie has the half-hearted idea that he should move, he should run, because anybody who finds him like this is going to think he's homeless or dangerous (he guesses maybe he's both, now), but he doesn't want to move.

Let them come, he thinks. What's the worst they can do?

"Reggie?" he hears, and it startles him enough that he looks up, blinks through wavery vision to see the young woman coming towards him until she's close enough to kneel beside him. "It's Reggie, right? Your name?" Her voice is soft. Accented. He recognizes it, but it takes him a long, addled moment to place her.

"Rose?"

"Dios mío," she breathes. "I heard what happened to your friends, but you weren't with them when the ambulance came, everyone said it was just two from the band, and I feared… So I came looking." She places a hand on his arm. He blinks down at it, confused, thoughts moving too slow for whatever is happening right now. "Come, we need to leave the streets. I can help you."

Reggie doesn't know how anyone can help him now, but she's been the single bright spot since this nightmare began and at this point, he thinks he'd be willing to follow her anywhere, if only to have some sort of direction.

"I can hear your heartbeat," he tells her, very quietly, as they walk.

There is the slightest hitch in her step, something Reggie isn't even sure he would have noticed if his senses weren't dialed up as much as they are. It's easier to focus on her movements than the blinding streetlights or the blazing club signs or the cars…so many cars and they're all so loud. "I know," Rose finally says.

Reggie stares at her, the clench of her jaw and the tightness around her eyes and the purposeful way she's walking. But it's her heartbeat he notes above all, the way it remains entirely steady. "Why aren't you scared?" Because he's still oscillating between numb and terrified out of his mind, and it might be nice to have some company there.

She darts a glance at him, frowning. "You're not hungry yet, are you?"

Hungry. God, in all the time since he woke up and realized what happened, what had been done to him, he somehow never stopped to consider the connotations hungry would have for him now.

"No…not really." The street dog dinner he'd been looking forward to feels a million years away from this moment, and the only thing he's feeling in his stomach is gut-roiling nausea.

"Then I've got nothing to fear," Rose says.

#julie and the phantoms #ask meme #snippet

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birthdaycakeplate · 2 years

Text

The very overdone ‘sparring turns into excessive kissing’ trope, plus Megop✨

Some sort of ceasefire AU with combined factions. As always...

I refuse to proof read this anytime soon, I don’t want to see what humiliation I’ve conjured for myself.

Warnings are in the tags💕

————————-

“If you’re going to live amongst arrogant bots thousands of tonnes bigger than you are, you’ll have to learn how to defend yourself.” Megatron said seriously, but the irony, of course, left a tickle in his throat.

Obviously Optimus could hold his own against mechs 3 times his size and then some, or Megatron wouldn’t have been forced into this ceasefire in the first place by the little Prime’s bare fists and a shoddy axe.

Which speaking of, he really needed to repay the smaller mech for shattering it during their artillery training. It really had been an accident. Though he suspected Optimus was going to hit during this sparring match with a lot less forgiveness than he’d assured him with at the time.

“Oh, so you admit that your soldiers are rude, thuggish brutes half the time there’s an Autobot in the control room?” Optimus asked, readying his stance on the square of padded floor. He would never stop being amazed that the Decepticons had entertained such a luxury -that is, until he’d learnt that Starscream had been the one to complain about being thrown to her delicate wings on the cold, hard floor one too many times.

That Megatron had been the only one the self-obsessed seeker leveled to spar with meant that Megatron had agreed solely on the promise that he’d be able to continue doing so.

Megatron sized up the brazen thing before him and smiled. In regards to his question, Decepticons were like that more than just half the time.

“Yes, I confess. Though I also admit I’m often guilty of the same arrogance myself.” Because if he weren’t, he wouldn’t have thought so little of one lowly Prime once upon a time, and would have otherwise dominated an entire foreign planet in deca-cycles. Perhaps that was the arrogance talking again.

But Optimus had indeed bested him, and thank goodness it’d happened sooner than later before Megatron had let himself go completely.

He’d found his footing since then and was moving with a ferocity he hadn’t in ages. He hadn’t even known he was slipping until he was shaping his wayward Decepticons, thousands of years out of practice, up in one single, terrifying rant about the disobedience he’d noticed in his absence. He hadn’t even needed to threaten them. It felt so good to be back.

And he believed he had this brave mech here to thank for that. Which unfortunately meant that Optimus really did have a merciless force of nature to worry about now in a way he hadn’t before.

Well... only a little bit ‘merciless’.

Optimus returned his smile then, though it was far more genuine. Megatron tried not to let it sway him off his pedes and focused on the lesson.

“Now,” He began, distributing his weight through spread pedes and opening his palms, making for a more intimidating foe. It would have worked on anybody else.

“Ready yourself, little Prime.”

“I’m ready.” Optimus murmured, big optics trained on the other, and innocent little smile starting to look a tinge wicked.

Megatron liked the fire in this one, possibly too much, as he often tried to rile it out of him.

To test his claim, Megatron offered no further warning and lunged.

Optimus was easily taken to the floor with a surprised little ‘oof’.

“Decepticons don’t play fair.” Megatron purred. His gentle reminder overshadowed by the crush of his chest into Optimus’. He could hear him struggle to vent and had to repress a snicker.

A knee thrusting up just above his pelvic plating, forcing the air from his vents, turned that snicker into a wheeze.

“I can see that.” Optimus hissed, already adapting to the change of pace.

Dumbstruck, Optimus was able to roll Megatron off of him and pin him to the mat by his shoulders.

Megatron considered reaching up and digging his claws into his forearms and tearing, just to reiterate what he’d said about playing fair -and he would have, if it wasn’t Optimus.

A simple buck of the hips was enough to throw the other off his balance and push him away.

Feeling generous, Megatron even allowed him to scramble to his pedes.

“You’ll have to be on your guard at all times.” Megatron said, infrared pupils dissolving into slits. Assessing.

That time the lesson stuck, and Optimus was quick to dodge another lunge.

But predictably was unlikely a thing in the wild. Decepticons were conniving and unfair. They’d had to be to resist Autobot forces, who were supplied by better resources and more fuel.

What a difference nearly a year had made between their factions and their coming together. How long before natural instincts such as those became obsolete and written from their code?

Megatron made to lunge again and deftly fell to the floor on palms and knee to sweep a pede out and right from underneath a parrying Optimus. He fell hard and had to bite back a curse when the other was moving to cage him there, giant black servos encasing his again. Crushing him into the mat.

Knocked to his back twice in half as much time...

Megatron didn’t let up this time and tensed his abdominal plates for any impending kicks. What would Optimus do when he ran into the less honorable sorts? He’d have to find a way out of this without Megatron’s goodwill.

Optimus pulled and writhed and made to kick something that’d have some affect, but all he could do was scramble against slick, gunmetal grey armor and the servos clutching him.

“Are you going to keep me down here?” He growled.

“Or are you going to teach me how to fight?”

Megatron snorted. Warm breath ghosting over a finial and making it twitch.

“Are you trying to talk your way out of this?”

When plenty of the ‘Con population could hardly be bothered to articulate beyond grunts?

Optimus had stopped trying to wriggle his way out then, so clearly he thought a bit of psychology was the logical way to go here. Most mechs weren’t Megatron, unfortunately, and couldn’t withstand a legitimate conversation, though.

“It worked on you.” Optimus pointed out. Which wasn’t saying too much these days.

Megatron remembered how’d he’d gotten here with nothing but Optimus trying to talk his way around everything like a hopeful, insistent fool -around violence and conflicting agendas of mass destruction. And the fact that that had eventually done him in somehow was.... well....

Regardless, it had worked. Partly. Though another part of Optimus’ success at establishing this ceasefire was due to his impressive display of tactical resourcefulness during their Earthly encounters- and, admittedly, a bit of his brute strength. He was worthy, Megatron had come to find, and only then had he learnt to listen.

Decepticons weren’t going to spare him much time to prove himself. They couldn’t afford to in the wars prior.

But... Megatron was just fine to let him try.

Talking to Optimus was it’s own reward, and it was easy to forget he was supposed to be teaching him an important lesson when he’d managed to get him like this.

“Go on and try to get yourself out of this, then, if you’re so sure.” Megatron’s grip tightened painfully on his wrists to remind him this was supposed to be an example of some nameless thug getting the upper hand on him.

Optimus swallowed, and Megatron watched with terrifying interest the way his throat tubing moved.

Miraculously, he pushed the tremor from his voice when he next spoke.

“You’re supposed to be teaching me to fight, aren’t you? You can’t do that from here.”

On the contrary...

But Megatron wanted to see where this was going.

“Yes, I am, but these imaginary foes who have only the wish to harm you will have no other reason to release you. Your enemy, Decepticon or not, is going to need a reason to let you out of this. If you’re so intent to talk your way out still.”

Megatron secured Optimus’ wrists into one massive servo and bared down.

Optimus went deathly still, carefully distant stare betraying any fear that might be thumping around his spark chamber, threatening to burst through.

Megatron couldn’t help but grin at his cornered prey. Optimus’ poker face was was truly a commendable thing, but there was little that could sway Megatron from his goals once he was determined.

“So...” He whispered, dipping his helm into the small space of Optimus’ throat cabling and his servo raised above and pinned. Mouth angled towards his audial.

“You’ll have to give me an incentive to let you up~”

He was impressed by how limp the other had gone, rather than tensing and squirming in every direction to break free. When he slowly pulled away to get a look at that pretty blue face, Megatron had expected to see the same disinterested gaze the other always wore when he was trying -and failing- to intimidate him.

But there was Optimus, practically thrumming below him as the gears turned and his processor span. Thinking much too hard about.... something....

Optimus stared up at him for so long with those wide blue optics that Megatron worried he’d broken him. Either by being too suggestive or too outright forward. He could never tell how civil frames perceived the things war types casually said -and Strika was always threatening him to act with some amount of manners towards the little mech, so he must be coming off too strong in most cases.

He decided he’d gone and crossed a line this time, too, when-

“Let me up... and I’ll thank you.” Optimus whispered, barely able to withhold an embarrassing stutter.

Megatron was compelled to challenge him how that would incentivize a foe to do anything, if only to further the lesson and keep them on track. But he’d had the mech off his pedes for long enough to make his point.

....And he really wanted whatever this ‘thank you’ was.

It’d be his own fault if the ‘thank you’ was a swift punch to the nasal ridge, and he hoped honestly it was just that. Optimus would certainly prove he had the necessary skills to handle his opponents that way.

Megatron was on his stabilizers in two short moves and helping Optimus up with the assistance of those manners Strika had insisted he locate from deep within his hard drive.

Oddly enough, manners had never been a chore when extended to any other bot. Optimus made him forget how to act half the time.

But on his feet again, Optimus looked considerably less annoyed to be thrown about as freely as he had been than he should.

Megatron wondered if that was because he had been the bot doing all the throwing. Optimus had shown himself rather tolerant of his touch on prior occasions since peacetime. And he’d been no stranger to it before peacetime either, unfortunately.

When he didn’t back away to put some more appropriate distance between them, it became clear he was anything but ‘annoyed’ with the treatment.

“Better?” Megatron couldn’t help but tease, something warm licking below his tanks. Optimus, breathless and flushed, was a sight. Better than with his battle mask sheathing his face, and an axe poised and ready to split Megatron’s helm with.

Which he really did owe him a new one. One made from durabyllium-steel so that he might shave the arm off any attacker who might come his way and avoid all this talking nonsense in the first place.

“Yeah.” Optimus said then. His voice pinched, clearly struggling to voice his real concerns.

“Allow me to thank you.” He added, after a tense moment.

Megatron’s glossa worked faster than his brain module could.

“That’s not necessary.”

Maybe those manners weren’t so far out of reach, actually...

Optimus’ finials did that infuriating thing when he was nervous where the dipped down upon his helm, making Megatron physically have to restrain himself from reaching to touch them, and shifted his stance on restless pedes. Trying to quiet the urge.

“Well, it was part of the deal.” Optimus murmured, voice gone soft, optics growing heavy. Megatron unconsciously leaned into him.

“I am a mech of my word, after all.”

Which was how Megatron had known he could come to trust him as he had. But still-

‘I am a mech of standards.’ Megatron had wanted to say -to insist it wasn’t necessary. Instead, a less coherent gasp of some indecipherable thing escaped the tip of his glossa, as a firm blue palm planted itself high up on his chest plates.

There was a brief pause, and then someone’s engine rumbled at the contact. Warmth began to flood their cheek plates, a vibrant color bleeding through. Suddenly keeping optic contact was too great a feat for either of them.

“Here.” Optimus maneuvered them closer, and Megatron was moved without the barest hint of resistance. Vaguely aware he was being moved from helm to toe-pede by two little palms cupping his cheeks.

So be it.

He leaned over the shorter bot just enough to reach him better. Face level and drawn in a line to Optimus’ full lip plates like he was being pulled forward by a string.

Which was good, as that was exactly where the smaller mech had blessedly wanted him.

Their lips nudged and parted until they were properly slotted together.

Megatron swallowed the sound the other made into his open mouth. Little servos fell away from striped cheek plates to run themselves down and over layers of thick chassis, beginning a curious search to map the other out.

Megatron was happy to let him. The distraction gave him an opportunity to deepen the kiss with a tilt of his helm.

Optimus jumped, seeming to just realize he was stood there, locking lips with a once fearsome warlord and finding it unbearably dizzying. In an absolutely delicious way.

Megatron lavished the inside of his mouth with tame little licks, purely to incite some warmth and comfort in the other.

Encouraging intimacy, encouraging Optimus to trust Megatron with the more private, delicate parts of himself. Encouraging those hands to linger longer.

Optimus hummed something like the start of his name into his mouth and something blistering hot shot through Megatron’s spinal strut and down to his pedes.

Proving he could manage some ounce of control of himself, the bigger mech somehow refrained from wrapping a servo around Optimus’ middle and lifting him up into a kiss more fierce and inescapable.

He curled thick digits easily around the other’s arms instead. Pulling him close, forcing their chests to bump, knocking a noise loose from Optimus’ throat.

The little truck settled an open palm over a hip seam and stroked, and Megatron did well enough not to smotherhim back into the floor right there and-

“Ze mat is for sparring.”

Optimus pulled away with a squeal not unlike that of a trapped glitch-mouse in a Cyber cat’s claws. Megatron grinned like an incorrigible cur, elated to have left the other in such a bothered state.

He looked down at the plush of those dermamesh cheeks, turning the same color as his daydreams. Soft, gentle hues of pink and red. Megatron could kiss at them until the end of time, let the world and empire he’d built for himself crumble around them.

But there he’d gone and been appallingly romantic again.

“I’m sorry, Commander Strika.” Optimus said looking somewhere between brave for the sake of due respect and melting through Megatron’s servos and into the floor.

Megatron looked considerably less apologetic. He looked downright proud of himself, even.

“Well, we were sparring, if you ask me.” He chuckled, delighting in his mate’s affronted gasp.

Strika was quick to defend Optimus’ honor, intent on Megatron keeping this intelligent, responsible mech in his life for as long as she was able to see to such. If that meant acting her age while her Lord was acting half it, very well.

She was only a party mech on her off shifts, anyway.

“You outdated, carnal-wired circuit board. Take zis somevhere you aren’t parading your prize for every optic to see.”

Optimus blushed deeper at being called a ‘prize’. And by his temporary commander, no less.

“You don’t want just anybot ogling your precious little Prime vhen he’s like zis, do you?”

That did it.

Megatron bristled. Optimus could feel his plates tighten and lock, finding the decency to compose himself finally. His hands on Optimus’ low back -when had they gotten there?- flattened, as if to shield as much of him as he could from the world outside their little sparring mat.

“You are the only one taking audience.” He snarled at the tank.

Optimus always admired how Strika never buckled like most mechs did under his ferocious gaze. Like how he did when it was Ultra Magnus talking to him.

“I’m making sure jou don’t do anyving inadvisable and unbefitting out here in public.” Vacant room, or not.

“Don’t be stupid.” Her leader chided, and Strika looked closer to punching him now, than ensuring he had a future with this darling, little idiot firetruck.

But Megatron stood firm.

“It wasn’t going in.... that... direction, obviously.” He carefully explained. Honestly unsure how the civil frame would feel about such a thing. He certainly didn’t want to imply he would have done so without his agreeing to such.

But Optimus blinked in surprise at this.

“It wasn’t?” He asked before his better sense could tell him to bite his glossa and think first.

The two war mechs startled and looked him over, then shared a look amongst themselves. In the next blink, Megatron was back to looking his wolffish and clever self again. Eyeing Optimus up and down shamelessly, despite their livid chaperone.

“I was trying to be a gentle mech-“

“Not hardly, my ‘Lord’.”

“And keep my intentions to myself, until they’d been discussed properly. Gracious, little Prime. Were you hoping for something more?”

“Megatron!” Strika had forgone formalities. They’d agreed using his title while she was beating him into stasis did feel condescending, honestly.

Optimus was torn how to answer, because yes. He definitely had been thinking it was.. headed... that.... ‘direction’.....

Oh, Spark.

Optimus stared down at his pedes like they’d done him a great disservice not choosing to run at full speed in the opposite direction. Full lips pulled into a scowl that looked rather venomous.

Megatron basked in the sight of those glowing red cheeks on his favorite mech in the infinite universe, standing there flustered and fuming at having been so free with his affections.

Well, Megatron would gladly be the first to assure him they hadn’t been misplaced, nor were they unappreciated.

“The room is yours.” He told Strika, not sparing a glance away from the pretty Prime who’d occupied much of his processing power -including the parts once dedicated to the important matters of being a faction wide leader.

He’d given up getting through a field report without staring at sleek, silver pedes walking about in the corner of his optic. Imagining them strutting over his way and offering him to come take a break from ‘working so hard’ with their company. Crossed at the knee, sat atop the edge of his desk.

“I don’t vant it.” Strika sighed, exhausted, though waiting until Megatron had carried off his ‘prize’ and found someplace secure before abandoning the misused room.

Comforted only by the memory of what she’d had Lugnut do to her on the very mat they’d gotten themselves familiar on.

Megatron, as she’d imagined, couldn’t resist a spark deep calling within himself to sling an indignant Optimus over his shoulder and march off towards his quarters like a gladiator peacocking his beaten opponent in the pits.

Optimus put up a well enough attempt at looking scandalized by it. All up until Megatron dropped him down into his awaiting arms and carried him off with a tentative palm rubbing under both his knees and back. He forgot he was supposed to be offended after that.

—————

Just wanted to write Megop kissing, y’all, I’m dying.

#Heavy- heavy -very heavy kissing #Boys getting touchy feely with their words and hands #Optimus is a cute little sass machine #Megatron is both the worst and good at kissing #Slight mention of cultural differences #Strong language #Detailed kissing scene #Sfw though this is tumblr unfortunately #And sparring #apparently #That gets neglected pretty fast #Megop #Tfa Megop #Tfa Megatron #Tfa Optimus #Optimus Prime #Tfa Strika #Transformers Animated

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intergalacticaquarium · 2 years

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more terrible no good headcanons for eddie disaster dreamboat munson

I said that if anybody made him too cool I'd have to add more and that's exactly what I'm gonna do babes because I had to scroll for way to long to find him making spagetti-os

(posting again bc it wasn't showing in the tag)

(first post)

-genuinely doesn't know what those stains are. Didn't even know it was stained bc he's had the same fitted sheet on it with one corner tugged off for 8 months and forgot about them since last time

-throws away Tupperware if the stuff in it is too gross

-he's pretty sure that green sour candy counts as a vegetable so he does eat at least 3 a day.

-just. Doesn't ever throw things away. Stupid shit like the backs of band aids and paper straw wrappers and napkins and hooooo boy this has turned into a callout post about myself

-sometimes horseflies fly into his hair and get stuck and he can hear them buzzing around and doesn't necessarily so anything about it right away until it stops

-no room for legs in the front seat of his car that space is reserved for old fast food bags

-buys new underwear instead of doing laundry

-hey why do I keep writing genuinely embarrassing things that I literally do irl. Is this really worth putting myself and the 4 huge bags of laundry I have in my tiny car and all my band aid wrappers on blast. Next I'm gonna write that every surface in eddies house is covered in stacks of hobbies and papers that feel like a goddamn archeological dig every time I clean

-psych he does that too

- ok things that I don't also do so that I don't start having a crisis that makes me a tidier person:

-feeds a family of raccoons that live in an abandoned hunting cabin in the woods

-one time he let one live in his closet for a bit and hoped Wayne wouldn't notice (this may explain some of the stains)

-this boy spills. Everything. He's a hand talker and it doesn't matter if he's holding something.

-the hand talking is also terrifying when in a car he is driving

-never drinks water ever and it stresses ppl out

-every single time he sees somebody he knows in public he will try and sneak up on them to scare them

-wears shoes inside bc he broke glass on the carpet months ago and he doesn't want to vacuum.

-the only place he has to actually sit and do anything I his room is his bed because everything else is covered in stuff

-everything is covered in stuff but every drawer he has is empty

-theres one category of things he owns that is organized absolutely meticulously and idk what it is but he's very proud of it and when he says he's "cleaning his room" it means organizing like band tees alphabetically or sorting minifig painting supplies and everything else stays trashed

-it's a perm and he did it himself in his bathroom 100%

-hair dye stains all over the bathroom from an ill advised look a while back. and maybe a few more times

-doesnt have a compulsive habit to bite his nails he does it bc he can never find the damn fingernail clippers

-notes and doodles. All over his arms

- yknow how when u were in school by the last day you'd have like one pencil and nothing else and u kept a hold of it bc you couldn't find any others?

- eddies been at that point since about half way thru his first senior year. He has one pencil and it is a stub (it is a d.a.r.e. pencil and he does find it funny) with no eraser and it's not sharp and it had a million bite marks on it

-has little stoner burn holes in all his clothes all his sheets his matress his sheets and the seats on his car bc he needs to be more careful and is gonna end up starting a fire someday

-wait that last one was a me thing

-maybe this is how I can embrace my flaws. make eddie do em too. it's cute when he's disgusting

-I no longer have improve myself at all

-puts random food in his pockets for later even though it will get linty. Gonna go ahead and say that I don't do this.

-isn't actually that good at guitar it turns out

-I gotta stop myself now because I know they'll just keep comin but add any you can think of or dm me because every time he gets worse he gets more of my love so like 2 give him a hug reblog 2 spray him with a hose

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie tag

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kitty-thinks-stuff · 18 days

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MURDER DRONES RAMBLE ‼️spoilers for eps 1-5‼️

i have GOT to talk about this show bc i have soo many thoughts. a lot of this is gonna be rambling about my pet peeves and plot holes and what i wished happen though (keep in mind this is with the knowledge up to episode 5, i havent watched farther than that)

feel free to discuss these points with me!! id love to hear other perspectives on it!! (please dont give me spoilers past episode 5 though!!!)

ALSO! i am in no way saying this is a bad show. its amazing and i cant wait to see more, plus obviously its an indie show and its got a small budget and all that stuff

so far my biggest pet peeves are the fact that the show doesnt seem to take itself seriously enough, and the way uzi is written

the whole "not taking itself seriously" thing REALLY shows in episode 4. the whole time all this super crazy stuff is happening and the jokes just ruin it. take the moment where Rebecca is crawling back to the campfire, LITERALLY CUT IN HALF

this is a BIG moment, scary, suspenseful, all that jazz. and imagine how terrifying and traumatizing it would be to see your friend crawl back to you, NOT IN ONE PIECE

but the moment gets really ruined by the "forgot name. not popular" joke. it makes what couldve been a creepy horror moment into a lame, kind of awkward joke.

then you have the scene where uzi is chasing all the campers. HUGE, RIGHT? i mean shes become this mutated, bird like eldritch horror creature, and shes "lost control of herself", murdering the people she knows (obviously shes not super close with these people but. murder is big no matter what)

this should be TERRIFYING!! its huge dude, uzi is running rampant, murdering and eating robots, scaling the trees!!!

and it just gets. kind of smushed by the jokes.

i will admit, they did a *little* better with this scene. so props to that! but still. ouch.

now onto uzis character

she could be SO complex. i mean imagine living your life hating the murder drones, only to end up becoming friends with one, and then realizing ur actually really similar to them (needing to eat people blah blah), to finding out you have powers, you have to eat robots, all that stuff

and so much of her big character moments are small and shrugged off really quick.

take her powers for example. she learned to use them like. right after she found out she had them

i could get it maybe if they just alluded to maybe her learning? or at least made it to where it was a situation where she HAD to use her powers (a fight scene, maybe a scene where n was gonna get hurt?)

but it was all stuff she could do herself, like picking up papers and opening doors

so i think its safe to say we couldve kept a whole "idk how to use these brand new powers" thing going for an episode or two.

"but they needed her to use her powers so it triggered the over heating" i hear u and that makes sense. however, they couldve kept this!!

so she breaks the mirror, fixes the bug. fixing the bug couldve been an "experimental" moment with her powers (thanks reeses for that idea) instead of smth she just. knew how to do. all of this couldve triggered the over heat. dont forget, shes new to these powers! she might not have built up the "stamina" for it yet, so using it these couple of times might be too much for her

she has the moment with v, blah blah, leave the powers out until the arrow scene. then her powers trigger again! she was about to get hurt, it would make sense. then boom, overheat again (remember, considering shes brand new to these powers, this is a lot!)

she runs away, maybe opens the door with her powers (though its kinda unnecessary, i could kinda see it considering shes got all the adrenaline going)

then we have the murder scene, which ive already talked about

then afterwards, its all resolved REALLY quickly.

murdering people you know, even if you didnt like them/know them, is never easy on anybody. literally the whole reason she hated the murder drones was because they killed her people. and the whole reason she excepted them now, was because they decided to STOP killing people.

but its just kind of a whole "oh well!" situation and it! bothered me!!!

i mean, they couldve gone SOOO many routes with the murder scene.

maybe a scene where n comforts her and helps her through the trauma of killing someone? maybe where the people around her struggle to except her again bc shes changed?

my personal favorite is where n attempts to comfort her because shes killed someone, and she makes a comment along the lines of "im not like you!" (but yk. more hurtful and angsty and close to home for n)

this could further her isolation, which could build on how she might see this new version of herself

it could also open the doors for an uzi/doll interaction where doll tries to reach out and help uzi, making uzi conflicted on what side she should actually be on.

but, i digress

now lets get onto the smaller stuff that doesnt really matter (its really just personal peeves)

i wish we got more on the murder drones being excepted into the worker drone society. this kinda falls under "the show doesnt take itself seriously"

i mean, these drones killed their family and friends but, "oh yeah, they said they wont and now we love them!"

this couldve been really good development for v and n but they just move on so quickly. also they brushed past all those missing campers super quick

i wish we got to see more of lizzy and dolls relationship. why were they close? did lizzy feel conflicted about working with uzi and the others instead of doll? (idk maybe im biased cuz i think doll and lizzy should kiss but thats besides the point)

i think that might be everything!!! ill probably make a more positive post too bc I DID LIKE THIS SHOW!!! its soo silly and im really liking it

#this was very long SORRY LMAO #i lovveee analyzing things #kitty thinks #murder drones #md uzi #n murder drones #murder drones uzi

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becomingpart2 · 23 days

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okay @thekimspoblog I wasn't gonna respond to this because we're not really going to get anywhere, we have different views about the characters and shows, but I figure I want to say a few more things before being done with this convo for good. I'm gonna do it here because I don't want to keep clogging OP's notifications with a discussion they didn't ask for.

I mean the fact that Vacuum Repair Guy wasn't involved in Kim's disappearance was a bit disappointing; that's at least partially what I'm getting at. That the two of them got embroiled in something so dangerous and yet when she up and left her witness-protection act was so shoddy. We seem to at least be in agreement that the ending was kind of rushed and weird, and that's leading to a lot of confusion about what the show was even trying to say.

Yes, I agree that the ending was not all that good. I'm not sure if rushed is the word I'd pick, maybe for kim's development? But that's not necessarily about the ending, more like the last two seasons. But I don't have a lot of doubt about what the show wanted to say.

I get the frustration about the vacuum cleaner guy not being involved in her disappearance but again I think that could be chalked up to doylist reasons -- I think the writers simply didn't want to use that plotline again. It'd be too repetitive and feel lazy. I mentioned him because, imo, if Jimmy wanted to save from Gus at any point after she left, he had that option but he never even tries.

I understand that her just going away and living peacefully in Florida might seem like a loose end but also, again, I don't believe that she posed such a threat to Gus. He had a lot more power over her than she had over him and he knew she couldn't count on the police or the law without airing out her own involvement. It would be her alone against his men and his empire. Plus she didn't work for him, they weren't close.

Also, it's not exactly like she could just show up at his door at any moment and try to kill him again, he saw how terrified and traumatized she was the first time around and she didn't even have to kill anybody. Kim's not Walt, she's more like a Jesse or even s1 walt -- they could kill out of desperation but not as a calculated move. She was not there yet. Maybe she could become more vicious with killing eventually, maybe that would be another miscalculation on Gus' part, but at that point when he knew her, she wasn't that person. The only person she'd do it for is Jimmy and she left him to supposedly fend for himself so.

Anyway, I acknowledge that seems like a loose end, I even agree to some extent that should've been better explained in the text, especially when you compare it to how Gus treated everyone else that knew about him.

I guess I'd need an example of one other time Jimmy's hurt feelings took precedent over letting Kim do whatever she wanted. Because I'd need both hands to count the times she did something which wounded his pride, and even if he complained he quickly chose to stuff it down and smile. That's not healthy either, but it shows how much of an exception for her he makes with his pettiness.

I didn't mean that he took his feelings out on her, or wanted "revenge" over her hurting his feelings. I meant that he could be so caught up on his own feelings and personal dramas that he overlooked her interests and how his shenanigans and personal vendettas against Howard, Chuck, HHM or whoever else, could negatively impact her or her career. Or just interfere with her plans in general, like in S5 when he goes against what she wants and sabotages her deal with her clients.

I get what you're saying, that Jimmy also avoids facing his problems. And you need to understand that even if I'm trying to paint Jimmy as a white knight, that's not a good thing. I just think that if we're talking about things Saul tells himself to be able to sleep at night, "Everyone already thinks the worst of me so why not prove them right" is only half the equation and "Everyone else hates me but they're all hypocrites and they're wrong about me because actually I'm a hopeless romantic and I'm doing the mature thing by handling the dirty work" is the other half. That's what was comfortable

Okay I get it, that's fair. But I think it's worth mentioning that what he tells himself is different from the truth. Just because he thinks (or lies to himself) he's doing the noble self-sacrificing thing, it doesn't mean that's the whole reason for why he does what he does. Additionally, I don't think "everyone thinks I'm the worst so I'm gonna prove them right" is true either, not entirely; it isn't just a self-destructive act for him, he actually enjoys what he does, "winning" over people and making a fool out of them, not only proving they were right about thinking the worst of him but also proving them wrong for underestimating his potential and how good he can be at what he does. That's also a very significant part of his character.

He likes it; him and Kim like making a fool out of people and winning, not just for a "good cause", not just against those who "deserve it". They like it for petty reasons too, they like it for shit and giggles and feeling good about themselves. That's their tragedy and a big part of their arc.

But I reiterate: "dealing with his problems" in this context would have meant unburdening himself of this terrible secret of what happened to his colleague and rejoining the "right" side of the legal field by cooperating with Eriksen. And even in a parallel universe where he wanted to do that, he couldn't have. So this secret had to just sort of weigh on his mind and continue to warp his perception of morality.

I disagree. I think what happened with Howard is just the tip of the iceberg. Jimmy's problems go way deeper than that. To reinterate, he could deal with his problems without having to confess to what happened with Howard, because his problems were never really about that. Howard was just a consequence.

A lot of this comes down to the fact that ironically we still never SAW an average day in the law offices of Saul Goodman. In BCS we get to see this devastating chain of events that lead up to him launching his practice, and in BrBa, we saw him interact with ONE client who was such a pain in the ass to work for that it eventually torpedoed his career. But we still aren't given key details like... what percentage of his clients were cartel and who were just regular poor people, whether Jimmy breaking the law to serve the interests of his clients was a regular thing, how often Mike offered him "jobs" and what kind, whether Jimmy ever rejected those job offers, or what his relationship to Gus was leading up to him recommending him to Walter.

I get what you're saying but I also want to ask, why? Why do we need to see all that? Why do we need to see saul's day to day? Why do we need to know his other clients and what were his true connections to Gus or the cartel? I don't see how knowing the answers to those questions would change the story in a significant way. The only thing it would change is the extent to which one might be willing to "absolve" saul or not. And that's what I take issue with.

Jimmysaul doesn't need absolving, we don't need to see how many old ladies he helped crossing the street to get a better understanding of his character. Everything's already there in both shows, "the good, the bad and the ugly". That would not change anything. Jimmy was Saul and Saul was Jimmy. Saul was always there in him and vice versa (and differently from walt and his heisenberg, we actually see Jimmy being Saul prior to Kim leaving: chuck dying is the catalyst but he was Saul even before that as well. So it's not really about "transformation" like Walt's story supposedly was). You seem to want an "acceptable" reason to reconcile the Jimmy you like with the Jimmy you don't like in your mind, but there isn't a clean-cut one.

To further use brba as an example, we also don't know many things about those characters and their lives prior to the pilot. We don't know who Walt was prior to his diagnosis, we don't even know exactly what happened between him and Elliot, Gretchen and grey matter, and that's a pretty important part of the story that's mostly left for the viewers to fill-in the blanks however they like it. The Walt we see in the few flashbacks we get is very different from the Walt from the pilot. How did he get to that point? How good of a husband and father he was prior to his diagnosis? Judging by how skyler and walt jr react in the first season, I'd say he was an okay-to-good one.

We also don't know much about Jesse and his parents' relationship prior to the point we see, when they've already given up on him. We don't know much about Skyler and Marie's background and home life, why their relationship was strained and sometimes difficult, why Skyler has an unhealthy need to keep up the appearance of a happy family to her kids even to the detriment of herself or their own safety.

And we don't need to see all that, all those details, because we can piece it together with what we were given. That's the style of these writers and I actually appreciate it more often than not, because it's not didactic and it doesn't give fans an easy excuse to woobify the characters (which is why I was mad over the flashbacks in BCS that do that) Because at the end of the day, it would not change a thing. It would not change what happened and what they did.

Anyways I went off on a tangent but yeah I think the narrative they were able to tell with BCS and BrBa were enough to give us a glimpse of who jimmysaulgene is and just like you said I assumed you were trying to paint him as morally good, you seem to assume that I'm trying to paint him as morally bad but that's not the case either. I'm just at peace with the parts that make him "unlikeable" to some viewers. (Because let's face it, even if we acknowledge that doing 'immoral' things out of love is selfish and Wrong, we're still conditioned and socialized to think of it as a "less of" evil, one that's not only understandable but even forgivable. It's the other less "pretty and romantic" selfish reasons were more reluctant to accept).

Because ultimately that's what the shows were about. The circumstances that drove those characters to do what they did and become what they became are important (and I think you're not entirely wrong in questioning how well the writers were able fit them in the story) butt at the end of the day, both shows were always character studies, so no matter how trapped the characters might've felt in their situations, the point is that they ended where they did mostly by their own hands, because they did what they wanted, because they followed their "worst impulses".

It was about them and their own flaws. I could come up with a bunch of reasons for why walt did a lot of the things he did; I understand why he didn't take elliott's money and I think it makes sense, I don't hate him for it, I can even sympathize with where he's coming from. But just because I can understand and sympathize doesn't mean that I think he couldn't or shouldn't have done differently. Circumstances are important but ultimately the characters are trapped in a prison of their own making. Mike chose to continue as a corrupt cop even when he wasn't a cop anymore, he just had a different boss. Nacho and Jesse are probably the closest we had of characters that were trapped by other people but even then, they had their chances to get out. Jesse even more so than Nacho.

I'm not trying to say jimmy had "complete free will". I acknowledge that the line separating what is free will and what isn't might seem blurry in this show and I think that's done intentionally. I understand jimmy might have felt like there was no going back for him, like Mike did (although I think the fact Kim was able to leave makes a pretty strong case against that, highlighting how him continuing down that road was his choice more so than anything else). I even acknowledge that getting out wasn't an easy feat but the point is that: 1) he had that option; and 2) he didn't even try.

I see BCS as a show about people rather than fate, so I think not accounting for their choices or trying to soften the role they played in their own tragedy works against the goal of analyzing them as people. Jimmy ultimately did what he wanted; maybe he wasn't happy, maybe he wanted to be with Kim more, but attributing his Saul trajectory solely to Kim and him not being with her is not accurate reading of the character and the show, imo. He was more than that and he had more reasons to be the way he was than her. His ideal world was to have his cake and eat it too, having her by his side. She was the one that didn't want it. Being with Kim wouldn't solve Jimmy's problems and it didn't, we saw that.

So Jimmy might have believed what he wanted about himself, it was comfortable for him to believe he had no choice (because then he wouldn't have to take responsibility over his choices, something he always avoided), it was comfortable for him to believe that he was doing it all for Kim (even if we don't have any evidence that's what he thought). It was more comfortable for him to be Saul Goodman than being Jimmy McGill because Jimmy McGill came with a lot of baggage.

That's how I view it anyway. That's my interpretation of the show and I think it was supported by the text in the end. But you're free to have a different view of it.

#bcs #long post

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darkkitty1208 · 1 year

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Have you noticed Stephen's beard is crooked in infinity war? The part below the lips. I can't unsee it. And since then I've been wondering if it was on purpose to show us Stephen's handicapped or if they simply botched it.

Christ, anon. No, I didn't notice that, and I dunno if I should be terrified or impressed by your attention to detail. O.o

So I looked it up because I was curious--

--and apparently you were right! It's not exactly very clear but if you see closely -- I had to zoom in several times because I'm practically blind -- there's an uneven patch on the underside of his chin (centre to left) and a bit of (very, very slight) crookedness to the part under his bottom lip. If the picture above isn't clear try this:

Probably not a better picture but. It's visible enough, yeah? I couldn't find any other suitable ones lmao.

Which reminds me, we were given this wonderful shirtless scene in DS 2016 where Stephen is shaving his goatee:

(Damn. I feel happy he even gave an affirmative nod at himself after that shave. Insecure Stephen is my jam but seeing him glowing and happy with his body/priding in himself at how far he's changed from the dishevelled homeless man he was like this is... something else.)

...and I have to say, even if we were only given a side-view, it looked pretty good. And then we were given the scene where he showed up walking through the Kamar Taj courtyard as a new man (I couldn't find it???) and went to the library saying this iconic line:

Yeah, there's the other side of his shaved goatee. (Thank god for GIF makers bcs the original lighting in that scene was horrible.) And it looks pretty even and neat on both sides, I think? Which concludes that he can, in fact, still shave his beard properly with his hands. Also this was much, much earlier on than IW so he was possibly still slowly adapting to his hands' condition and being able to do this must've been a feat compared to when he had already adjusted himself to the pain in his hands much later. (I'm not actually disabled so I dunno if anyone could ever be 'adjusted' to a disability... But this is Doctor Stephen "Pain's an Old Friend" Strange we're talking about. Nevertheless, I could definitely be wrong and I really don't mean to offend anybody.)

So I'm just gonna make a guess that the slight unevenness of his beard in IW is either caused by him having a Bad Hand Day or simply because he couldn't see the underside of his face clearly while shaving because bathroom lighting can suck sometimes. XD But it's very slight anon, Jesus Christ.

But seriously. Maybe we just need to give this man a damn break because he is trying his best, nonny. Leave the poor guy alone 😭

(Also me: *continues to scrutinise his goatee for the next half hour*)

BUT ALSO it grew scruffier in MoM so he probably grew it out for a while.

I have to be honest here. I don't like how his beard looks in MoM it looks like it was painted on him. ;-;

It could be that it grew thicker bcs:

He was too busy dealing with sorcerer stuff to be focusing on his goatee

He would only shave when his hands are more cooperative bcs he refuses to ask for help

Or he used this shit:

I feel bad for finding that last one funny.

#ask #anon #I FEEL SO BAD FOR JUDGING HIS GOATEE LIKE THIS IM SORRY STEPHEN #MY BELOVED MY SUNSHINE MY DEAR LOVE MY BLORBO AND MY SKRUNGLY WET KITTEN IM SORRY MY POOR LITTLE BOY #he is trying his best and we should all appreciate it ;-;#stephen strange #does this count as headcanons? i dunno #headcanon

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lessluck · 1 month

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@luminarot // " i don't really care what they think. i'm not letting you go alone. "

It'd always been a risk he took, whenever he spent the night with a man. He wanted to think things weren't as bad as they'd been when he was a kid, but the fact was, not much had changed. In fact, in some ways, things had gotten worse.

There was a lyric in his mind that hadn't grown into a song yet, about how sometimes time didn't go forward the way you might want it to. Sometimes, progress slipped backwards. Sometimes it fell off a cliff.

The rumors had got bad enough that they'd made it back home. Of course, his parents hadn't said anything. It was his brother who called and told him he's tearing them apart again. Why are you so goddamn selfish, Ray? Don't you know what it's like for those of us who stayed home? What you do reflects on all of us. Mom's terrified you're going to get sick.

He'd been doing all right at letting it roll off his back until now. Even after that guy he'd spent some time with in Georgia did that interview with the gossip rag, and Ray couldn't say anything about it because it was true... He'd found a way to laugh it off whenever it came up. People come up with the damnedest things, don't they? Anybody who knows me knows I like women to a fault. Because that wasn't quite a lie.

It's something he's thought about, too, that he might lose Wesley over this. He doesn't really know how he feels about all that, but regardless, being around somebody with these kinds of rumors? It can rub off on you. He's already had some friends back off, but none of them were all that close to begin with. Wesley's different.

In any case, he can't answer right away, because it means something. It means more than he could put into words, in no small part because he's never let himself really talk about this before. Not with anyone. He'd tried to say something to Clint early on, but Clint had told him, if he cared about his career, he'd never say anything about it to anybody. Not even someone he trusts with his life.

"But you should... I don't want you getting a reputation because of me. If my parents know about this, uh, rumor. That means everybody's heard something, because they don't pay attention to all that." He's tried to hide it around Wesley, but he's sure he already knew. He's found him in his hotel room with half dressed men before. He never said anything about it, but he didn't say anything about the women either. "Nobody else oughta have to deal with all this. It's my own damn fault. I've always been such an idiot when it comes to-- Just, no sense at all. I oughta know better."

#luminarot #luminarot // wesley #t // raymond #can't seem to write anything two days straight then write a full novel idek

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koruga · 1 year

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I'm just thinking about like...Greek myth again. And Disney's version of Beauty and the Beast, and how that comes from Psyche and Eros and now I'm using it for Patroclus and Achilles -- mixed in with a bit of Little Mermaid, some Sleeping Beauty, a bit of a lot of things.

I know. I know. but bear with me.

Set in an even-more-fantasy version of Greece, mostly decoupled from the Epic Cycle's canon, the marriage of Peleus and Thetis ended a bit differently (and also happened earlier okay shh). Instead of fomenting chaos with an apple, Eris took out her frustrations more directly, and cursed the marriage she was banned from.

They don't expect much, everything seems fine, but seven years after their son is born, a terrible storm ravages Phthia -- ravages much of the peninsula, really. (This storm may or may not be the result of even more Eris Bullshit.) Much of the land is drowned, and soon what once was the Achaean mainland is more like the Cyclades -- a bunch of islands in a vast ocean.

Peleus dies. Most people die, in fact. Thetis, as a Nereid, survives, but her son is drowning and she has no time to make him a god, so she uses a dangerous magic to allow him to live in the sea, merging him with a shark and granting him something like eternal life.

She's a goddess, and her divine power does let Achilles live. But this boy, this child, is forever transformed, and in his terror and rage attacks his mother, and anyone who comes near him. Thetis is pulled away by her sisters, and Achilles is abandoned, alone, and scared.

It's a vicious curse he has. Craving flesh and companionship equally, unable to fully get comfortable on land or in sea. Thetis, from afar, eventually builds her son a half-submerged palace on the island that once was Mount Pelion, with companionship in the wise centaur Chiron, one of the few who survived the flood.

Chiron has to be gentle with his new associate. He teaches Achilles how to fish and prepare food, and how to hunt what game survives on the island without allowing any species to die out. Achilles matures somewhat, from a terrified child into a petulant teenager into something resembling a young man, but he's not a young man. He's a monster, and his mind is irrevocably changed.

Fast forward a few generations.

Society is rebuilding itself, slowly. The waters have hardly receded, but humanity has survived, albeit without the glorious kingdoms of the past. The island chain of Pindos cradles several communities, and a culture has emerged of 'divers,' explorers who go down into the depths below to try and reclaim what was lost. It's a dangerous job, considering the monsters that lurk beneath the depths -- the Pyrisous is the most dangerous one of all, an enormous man-like monster who devours foolish mortals whole.

Patroclus is not one of these divers. He's the son of a local chief, kept around despite his temper and the murder he committed as a child because it's hard to afford losing anybody, even a liability like him. He's big and strong, and put to work with building and fishing, anything that keeps him from talking to people for too long.

He chafes at the loneliness, but he can't say it's unwarranted. His father's influence is the only reason he wasn't sent out on a raft to die, and he knows it. He keeps his temper reined in and tries not to be too much trouble, but he wants to be loved. He wants to be cared for, and appreciated.

So it goes that when a small fleet of ships from across the ocean come, people from Troy offering their assistance in whatever matters, Patroclus throws himself into one-upping them. He fishes harder to get his people food, he erects entire buildings by himself, and when the leader of the party, Hector, floats the idea of sending people out to try and deal with the Pyrisous, Patroclus takes a ship and sets sail himself, armed with a harpoon and some rations.

It doesn't go well. His ship wrecks in a storm, and Patroclus barely survives long enough to wash up on the shore of Pelion. He's scraggly and sopping wet, and Achilles would just eat him, but Chiron's been rather sad lately, and perhaps the company would be good for the centaur. (He tries not to eat people if he can help it. Chiron's always so disappointed when he does that.)

Patroclus is deeply confused when he wakes up in a limestone palace, a centaur off to the side of him firmly reprimanding what looks like a man...or a shark...or something, who's half submerged in a pool that seems to stretch along half the room. His first intention is to flee, to run away instantly, but his ankle is twisted and there's nowhere he can go, really, not without a boat.

He doesn't know how to build a boat.

Back at home, Menoetius is freaking out about losing his son. It's his son, after all -- they didn't always see eye to eye, and of course there was resentment, but despite the seeming opinion of much of the island, he didn't want his child to die! Hector and the Trojan contingent overhear, and offer to go looking for him. They need to head out soon anyway, in order to hunt some of the monsters killing the people of the islands.

The relationship between Achilles and Patroclus is deeply contentious at first. Of course it is -- why wouldn't it be? Each one wanted to kill the other at one point, and they're both extremely bad at hiding that fact. Chiron is practically the only thing that can keep them in the same room. On the other hand, Achilles is obsessed with Patroclus's appearance, his deep human-ness after decades and decades of being away from humanity, and Patroclus guiltily enjoys the company of someone who doesn't judge him for his past actions, who doesn't know his history.

I don't know how long they're together for, learning about each other, discovering things about themselves. Achilles is reticent to share stories about his past, and what Patroclus offers is highly sanitised, but they come to understand more about each other than they've ever understood themselves.

And then the Trojan contingent comes, heavy with spears and weaponry to defend the people. And Patroclus very quickly needs to make a decision about what he believes in, and who he trusts.

#DC talks #DC writes #Patroclus #Achilles #Patrochilles #just to be clear #Hector is a good guy in this #he is making a reasonable assessment of the situation based on the information he has available #and he's not wrong!#achilles is kind of a monster in this!#he's cut down on his cannibalism a lot since when he was younger #but he's still kind of a monster #he doesn't cause the storms though

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eternal-armin · 2 years

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human.

you're the therapist friend. but after the events of season four's big battle, you are the one in desperate need of support. reader: neutral. cw: mentions of hospitalizations, very high stress levels in the reader, mentions of near-death experiences (obviously)

if you can find the mitski reference in this oneshot i will marry you

you wrung your hands in your lap. there were very few times you'd ever felt quite this stressed, to the point where you were overflowing and unable to sleep, but the most concerning part was that it lasted for days. for five, almost six days, you'd had no reprieve from the constant dread of everything around you.

is this really what a near-death experience was like? it's not like you'd ever had one before, but neither had you heard stories about them. was it normal to be this horribly stressed and afraid, and for so long? was it normal for nothing to help? for a very long time, you'd been the strongest person, mentally, in the group of older teens. now it felt like you were completely shattered and you couldn't even get help without being labeled a lunatic.

at the very least, nobody else had that problem. because lucky for you, you were essentially the therapist friend. so here you sat, flashes of what happened plaguing your vision and erupting your body into another intense state of fear. your hands were clammy. the clothing on your body felt like sandpaper. you couldn't stop bouncing your leg.

the world was just closing in on you. you'd expect to be used to it by now, right?

"i still can't get the feeling out of my head. all day i'm fine, i'm happy, whatever, y'know?"

no. you didn't know.

you nodded.

"but the second the sun goes down, all i can think about is those fucking bats, them just... dddigging into my skin. i have to smoke damn near, like, half my supply just to get to bed at night! and that shit- it's not exactly cheap!" eddie wasn't sitting down beside you, instead pacing around in front of you. it was like he forgot you were ever down there, that you too had been a snack to those things, that you had almost given your life to protect his. had he even looked at you in the past forty minutes? if so, he certainly would've seen your horrified state. "i don't even dream anymore. i mean, maybe that's a good thing, because god knows what i would dream about."

he said a few more things that you didn't quite catch. he didn't dream? lucky bastard. if you could barely sleep already, you would stay up to try and escape the nightmares that did play in your head during those few hours you got. for a second, you felt bad. eddie was suffering, too. you were supposed to be able to listen to him and comfort him. but you had no words left.

"eddie," you began. your voice was a lot hoarser than you expected. to be fair, you hadn't really been using it. "can- can we talk about, uhm, something else?"

you weren't loud enough.

"i dunno. maybe i'd dream about those- those weird fuckin' veins on the ground that would alert the big bad to our location, something like that. like, jesus, y'know? the entire world down there felt like it was breathing. i'm surprised there weren't more eyes!" maybe this was his way of coping. or one of his ways. making jokes about 'it could've been worse' when it was literally hell.

you hesitated to tell him to stop. you hesitated to tell him to stop talking about the shit that had terrified you non-stop for almost a fucking week. because who the hell were you if not the person they vented to? what value did you have if not to help literally everybody and anybody other than yourself? your advice was seasoned with experience. your patience outweighed the sun. you were level-headed when the world was about to end. you were kind to the people who treated you worst.

just once you wished you had the strength to ask for those in return.

sometimes you were strong. but you weren't strong enough for this, not alone.

"eddie. i can't keep talking about this." the conviction in your voice, which remained somewhat quiet, stopped eddie in his tracks.

he looked at you. strangely. you didn't need to see the look on his face. you didn't want to. neither of you talked for a few seconds.

"...oh. shit. uh, sorry. fuck, are- are you doing okay?" it was like he had only just realized you were there. it was a kneejerk reaction, but when you made eye contact, the red flags finally went up in his mind. "okay. for real. what's up." he didn't say it. he didn't need to say it. but he had never seen you like this before. when the pillar of tranquility breaks, it's like the world they support crumbles.

eddie asked you if you were okay and still, you hesitated to say anything. was it even your place

"nothing. not- nothing's up. i just... it's stressing me out a bit to keep talking about it. i'm fine." you scratched your neck. it wasn't itchy.

"so that's a total lie." eddie sat down beside you. his posture was almost relaxed. especially compared to how tense yours was. "seriously- seriously, what's going on." he was just finally realizing that nobody had asked you how you were doing in the six days since the damn traumathon.

your jaw was clenched. you kept bouncing your leg. and your knuckles were almost white with how tightly you were clutching your hands.

"i don't wanna... keep talking about it. that's all." your voice was suddenly void of the conviction he had heard. "it- it's all everyone's been talking about. i miss our old conversations." that was only one part of it. but it was still a part of it, so you weren't exactly lying.

"that's the problem, you definitely need to talk about it."

"no, no i don't. i-i'm fine. i just want to hang out."

"i'm not dumb, you can't pull the wool over my eyes."

"eddie, seriously, i'm-"

"you nearly died, too, [y/n], and you haven't talked to anyone! that's not healthy!"

the beaker overflowed a little too much.

"oh, it's about time someone acknowledges that!" you raised your voice. it almost hurt.

"i was there the entire time. i did nearly die trying to keep you alive, and it took six days for you to fucking acknowledge it! i can't sleep, i can't eat, i can barely get out of bed in the morning, i'm terrified of everything and i'm still the one everybody vents to because apparently that's my goddamn job! i don't wanna keep living through it, man! i can't even talk to my family or get a fucking therapist to talk about how it felt without being sent to an insane asylum for cenesthopathic schizophrenia!

"my life is already over, eddie. i can't handle this anymore! i never thought i would say it because i thought i could do anything for my friends. but i regret getting involved in this. i wish i could take it all back, because i can't live like this."

you had never yelled before. eddie stared at you in subtle, morbid amazement.

your shoulders relaxed a bit for the first time in a while. you took a deep breath, just as shaky as the ones before it, putting your head in your hands. a few seconds of silence passed before you began to cry, lacking the energy and the strength to try and keep the tears away.

seeing you like that was the perfect reminder that some things would never be the same post-battle. eddie's insistence on your assistance cost you yourself. in some messed up way, he was the death of you.

and you still nearly died again so that he could keep living.

he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into a hug. it made you cry harder. you felt selfish. you regretted saving the world because of how it made you feel. but, just for once, could you mourn the fact that you were hurt? wasn't that okay?

"i won't talk about it anymore with you. i'll tell everyone else to watch it, too." did eddie feel partially responsible for the hell you were going through? more than certainly. was that the only reason he would keep everyone from making this worse for you? absolutely not.

you tried to take a deep breath, barely succeeding. "you don't have to do that, eddie."

"i know, bud." he rubbed your back with one hand. the pacifying gesture felt like the world to you. "i'm sorry for never asking about you, uh, before. dickhead move, i know." eddie liked you more than life itself and maybe that's why he was clinging to this idea that maybe, magically, you were okay. it had never been a good idea to do that. even if you were okay, you still had the right to talk about it.

eddie had managed to hurt you more by hoping. he took responsibility for that.

you loyally responded with a quiet "it's okay."

"well, it's not, actually. it is very far from okay. it's probably the worst thing i could ever do. or... not do, i guess." there was a lot of time he had to make up for. would he ever fully get you back, probably not. but people change based off of what happens to them, that's inevitable, and the least he could do was try and help you cope and get through it a little easier. "do you wanna stay over tonight? we could hang out. like we used to." subconsciously, he began running his fingers over your hair.

a smile ghosted your lips. "bad movies and junk food?"

"you know me so well."

both of you shared a little chuckle. eddie realized how much he missed that. "and, if you're at all up for it, i could try and get you some sleep meds."

"i can't tell if you're talking about actual sleep medication or weed."

"i'mmm... pretty sure they're the same thing. besides, indica can help you gain an appetite. you said yourself you can't bring yourself to eat. even if it's junk food, it's still food, right?"

you felt human again. or, at least, a little more human than you had ten minutes ago. maybe the world would feel okay again when you finally did get decent sleep and eat... something. but even if it didn't, it would still feel more okay than yesterday. vulnerability had always scared you, hence why you shielded others' with your own, if falsified, strength and tranquility. now it was the only thing that saved you.

"thank you for this, eddie."

"don't thank me for something i should've done anyway."

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