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sunlightmurdock · 4 months

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The Odyssey | 1.3 | Bradley Bradshaw x reader

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the pain of not knowing is weighing heavily on you as you arrive to your next destination. The people around you prove themselves.

warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), swearing, infidelity, the italics at the very beginning indicate a scene involving brief attempt at sexual assault. The chapter deals heavily with themes of SA, and its aftermath. Pls take your own triggers into account while reading and feel free to message me for further info 🫶

…

“C‘mon, man, not so much as a test drive?”

Malcolm’s not in his right mind. Finals week pushed him to the brink and beyond. He’s been killing himself proving to his father that he’s worth being taken on at the firm. College is coming to an end and it’s almost time to be a man — as it grows closer, there seem to be more and more voices in his ear telling him what that entails.

Sex. Money. Power. Everything in the world is about sex, but sex is about power. Or whatever Oscar Wilde had said — he had only enrolled in that class for the credits and the added study time with you.

“Don’t talk about her like that.” He brushes the comment off with a wrinkle of his nose, bringing the bottle of whiskey to his mouth, tipping his head and pouring it back.

You’re not a possession — he’s in good enough mind to know that much. His buddy’s test drive metaphor leaves more than a sour taste in his mouth. It also leaves a sickness in his stomach and a venom twisting through his nerves.

The mention of this is already grinding at him, his blood growing hot and his feet growing restless, tapping against the aged wood below them.

“Because she’s such an angel that she won’t even let you lay a finger on her? — Yeah, she sounds like a real prize, Ashworth.” Another guy snorts. Malcolm’s head whips around to face him, his eyes narrowed.

“Has she even let you get to second base or are her tits off limits too?”

“Damn shame that she’s got that pretty mouth and you don’t have a clue what to do with it.”

“She scared that it’s going to hurt or something? — You packing a big one, Mac?”

He pushes himself swiftly up from that stiff leather armchair despite its creaks of complaint. Damn thing is older than he is. The dark liquid swishes in the bottle as he staggers away from his so-called friends. He’s heard enough.

He knows where to find you, pushing through the sea of already drunk co-eds and wrapping an arm securely around your waist, slotting himself into your gossip session with a friend.

You’re so excited to see him, greeting him with a polite kiss to the cheek and leaning into his touch. You’re always so kind to him. He has to lean in close to whisper in your ear, his voice sullen and serious, “Could I talk to you for a minute? — In private.”

It isn’t until he closes the door to one of the guys’ rooms, that he notices exactly how drunk you are. You gasp and wobble and drop down onto the bed, bursting out laughing.

He doesn’t laugh with you. Instead, he brings the bottle of whiskey to his lips and takes a long drink. Lurking in the doorway, watching you.

As the bottle drops back to his side, Malcolm just remembers watching you. He doesn’t remember walking any closer until he’s sat beside you and holding your face in his hands.

“God, Mac — how much have,” You have to pause to hiccup, covering your mouth with your hand, unaware that you’re slurring your words too. “How much have you had to drink? — You reek!”

“Just a bit.” He mumbles, the bottle heavy in his hand as he leans forwards and kisses you. You comply happily at first. Well, you seem happy enough to him, even if he does smell kind of like a distillery.

Maybe the two of you talk more, maybe you don’t. The only thing Malcolm knows is that he has securely rounded the corner into second base before you start to fuss at him. You’ve let him get this far before, what’s the big deal now?

The dress you’re wearing is a flimsy blue satin thing, not particularly festive for the holiday party, patterned with expensive looking shimmering detailing. One of them has slipped off of your shoulder to make room for his hand to slip under the velvet fabric and cup at your breast.

“Stop it — what if someone comes in?” But you’re still kind of giggling with him, grabbing at his shoulders. If you wanted him off of you, you’d say so. You have before.

You’re not that kind of girl. Malcolm scoffs to himself at the idea. Your neck is soft against his lips and your perfume drives him crazy.

“It’s just sex, it’s not a big deal.” He mutters into the crook of your jaw, and the mood flips. He feels you pushing weakly at him, all it does is bunch his sport coat and make it fall back off of his shoulders.

“Sex? — Here?” You’re not making much sense, losing your composure and your ability to form a real sentence at once. Not so classy now.

As Malcolm sits back to shrug his jacket off and looks down at you, your chest halfway exposed and your eyes struggling to track him, he feels a pang of guilt strike him. Slowing himself, his heartbeat is in his ears as he fixes your dress to cover you once more and leans down to kiss at your lips.

“I’ll marry you,” He whispers against your mouth, pleading. “I have a ring. I was going to ask you anyway. Your father loves me, you know he does. You believe me, right, honey?”

You had said yes once before. You were going to let him. After prom night, your senior year; you were going to the same college and your families liked each other. He’d gotten too drunk and screwed it. Couldn’t even get it hard. It seemed to freak you out, after that you’ve barely let him close. Now, you’re seniors again. He just needs you to say yes once more.

“Not here.” Your face wrinkles and turns away from him, maybe it’s just the smell of whiskey but the rejection damn near makes him see white. He remembers how uncoordinated your efforts to shove at his hands were.

The next thing he remembers is Catherine stumbling in looking for you, and you trying to bolt. He had caught you the first time.

You were screaming at him, shoving him, calling him a pig. He was arguing right back at you. He’s always known exactly what to say to make your argument feel paper-thin.

The second time you had run, he had let you go, picking up his half-finished whiskey and pouring it into his mouth. He knew you wouldn’t say a word to your parents, you would be too ashamed.

The last thing that you remember from that night is being downstairs, laughing with your friends, with his arm around your waist.

The drive down to the farmhouse is a little over an hour from Florence, one of the shorter journeys of your trip. No need for stops or bathroom breaks. You had settled into your seat, covered your ears, and turned the volume on the Walkman as loud as it would go.

When you were packing tapes for the trip, you hadn’t once considered to bring Christmas music. Now, you’re wracking your brain trying to remember the song that had been playing. Remember any part of that night at all.

Once she had realized what she had said, Catherine had grown defensive and apologetic. She wouldn’t tell you much. Like she was covering something.

You’ve been staring unseeingly at the Tuscan countryside as it passes you by, Kate Bush as your soundtrack. I should be crying but I just can't let it show.

He wouldn’t hurt you. This is the same man who took you out to his mother’s rose garden and gave you the most stunning Tiffany necklace you’ve ever seen as a gift. The man who hugs you so close against him, and sits through your chick-flicks with you.

Your parents adore him, and it’s their job to protect you. Your father is a wonderful judge of character, and Malcolm won his seal of approval years ago.

All these miles of land whizzing by, outside of this ugly little minivan, are starting to make you sick. You close your eyes and listen to Kate.

Oh, darling, make it go

Make it go away

Your eyes burn under your eyelids, prickling with tears. Even worse, it makes your face burn with furious heat to think of any one of these people seeing you cry. Your stomach is trembling with unease, a static feeling in your fingers and toes is the only thing reminding you that you can feel them at all.

Breathing in shakily, you squeeze your eyes more tightly closed, gritting your teeth to will the tears away.

You just need to remember. You can’t go accusing him of something awful. He’s always been so good to you. He’s your future. You just need to get your bearings, and figure it out. Maybe you had led him on. Given him the wrong idea.

It’s such a short drive, and for once, there doesn’t seem to be any drama that requires his attention. Bradley has let himself get so behind on his work that he spends the duration of the drive with his papers sprawled out across the bench, making annotations and edits.

“Whoa, look at this place!” Zoe gasps, leaning over the seats to get a look at the sprawling driveway, lined with green trees and shrubs, marking the way toward the farmhouse. It’s an incredible building, sprawling and stone, dotted with climbing plants along the walls and planted flowers in the window boxes.

Bradley closes his notebook and looks up finally, then looks across at Pasquale with a small smile.

“Did I ever tell you guys that this is where Pasquale and I met?” Bradley announces to the group, turning around in his seat to face them.

“All the way out here?”

“Yeah. We worked here together one fall.”

Bradley had heard of Alessandro’s work early into his studies. It was Natasha who got him the job here. He arrived in September and left in December, this place gets cold as the months go on. Now, it’s warm and everything is in bloom. It smells sweet and citrusy. Sandro had always sworn that the apricots grown here were the best in the country.

“Then, when Mr. Bradshaw had been accepted for his summer work here with the university, I was the first person he called to be your tour guide.” Pasquale adds with a grin as he pulls up in front of the old house. Bradley hums. Pasquale has always been a good friend to him.

As soon as the engine stops, the heavy wooden front door is thrown open and a tall man with long, dark curls comes jogging out, grinning.

“Bradley Bradshaw!” His accent is thick, but mixed. Not entirely Italian. His cheeks dimple as his grin stretches across his olive toned skin, watching Bradley tear out of the minivan and head for him.

“Sandro,” Bradley grins, grabbing hold of the slightly shorter man by his shoulders and dragging him in for a hug before leaning in close and shaking the man a bit as he chuckles out something in Italian that makes them both laugh. You miss it, barely pulling your headphones off of your ears as you step out of the van.

“I don’t know what that means but I know it was a swear word.” Abigail announces, making Bradley laugh as he turns to her again. She’s not wrong, he had happily just called Alessandro something not too dissimilar to a son of a bitch. Endearingly.

He hooks an arm around Alessandro’s shoulders and turns him coolly towards the group. “Guys, this is Alessandro Gabris. Not quite the man of the house but a hell of a storyteller.”

Alessandro turns his head and whispers something back that can only be as filthy as whatever Bradley had said to him, because it makes them both double over laughing. Their inside joke makes Pasquale laugh along with them. That autumn had been such good fun, the three of them.

Alessandro glances behind him as an older man walks out of the building, wheeling an elderly woman in a wheelchair. He smiles as he gestures to her.

“And this is my mother, Teodora Gabris.”

“Oh, I remember,” Bradley’s lips stretch into a warm grin as he breaks the haphazard formation of the group, unwraps himself from Sandro and steps towards her, crouching in front of her wheelchair, slipping his sunglasses off. The woman’s face changes, brightening with recognition. “Don’t break my heart, Dorie, you remember me too, huh?”

The crinkles beside her eyes deepen as she lifts her hand and rests it against his cheek, tilting her head to examine his face.

“The artist.” She remembers, making Bradley laugh fondly. He’s familiar with her in a way that makes both of their grins broaden as he leans in. He’s far from an artist, and she knows it. But, he has a way with words and a way with women, and that had amused her all of those years ago.

In her youth, Teodora traveled from the Kefalonian countryside to the centre of Paris, where she had trained with oil paints. She’s the real artist.

“How have you been?” He asks.

She just looks around her, gesturing to her little slice of Tuscany, blooming into the July heat, and back to him finally. Bradley nods his head, unable to shake that smile from his face. She has her little slice of heaven already, how could she not be happy?

“You haven’t aged a day.” He tells her, his large hand resting softly against her now frail wrist.

You stare between the two of them. The affection they have for each other, and the joy on her face as she remembers the boy he was. His hand sitting so gently on her skin.

“You have.” She teases, pinching his sunwarmed red cheeks. He laughs, sharing her gaze for a beat before he stands upright once again.

Of the six places that you have visited so far on this trip, Bradley has been greeted warmly by someone who once knew him in every single one of them. Even Natasha, who hates him for his betrayal, finds it in herself to revel in the safety of still being near him.

You don’t remember your interaction with him that night either. He could have done anything. He could have left you there. You can only imagine the look your mother would have given him when he took you home. You weren’t ever even particularly nice to him, you’d talked through his class all through first semester. He took you home and made sure you were safe anyway.

“Hey, are you okay?” Suddenly there’s a hand on your wrist and it feels like scalding water. You pull swiftly away from it and whip your head around to find Abigail leaning towards you, her features creased with concern.

Your cheeks are hot, and wet. Fuck, they’re wet. Quickly, you bring both hands to your face and start wiping hurriedly at your tears. You can’t bring yourself to do anything but blink dumbly at her, your shoes dragging across the dirt below you as you stumble a step back.

As he hears the question, Bradley turns and shoots a glance over his shoulder. His face falls, turning completely to do a double take as he notices your teary face.

“Hey, hey — what’s the matter?” Bradley’s size thirteen converse tennis blancs trample across the dirt and stones, long strides and heavy footfalls. Your stomach churns at the thought of those heavy hands on your skin, of his frame up close and looming over you, of getting stuck between him and the minivan behind you.

He slows as your foot slips back and fumbles for purchase in the dirt, muddying your white sneakers.

Everyone behind him is looking at you now. You’re painfully aware of the twisted up look on your face but it’s the only thing keeping you from sobbing.

Humiliation stings. All of them looking at you like you’re ridiculous. Not being able to remember. Simultaneously wanting to throw yourself into Bradley’s chest and beg him not to touch you.

Bradley lowers his voice just slightly, also well-aware of all of the eyes on you suddenly. “Look at me. What’s the matter?”

Your lip trembles, trying not to look at anyone around you. Your eyes steady on his, your throat thick and your heartbeat thundering.

“Can I talk to you about something?” You croak out.

There’s a study downstairs, just off of the living room. Bradley clicks the door shut behind him, his brows drawing together as your pace away from him.

“Honey…” He says softly, like he’s trying to soothe a cornered animal. You round on him like one, eyes wide. He’s never seen you so spooked. “Talk to me. What happened? — I can’t fix it if—“

“You can’t fix it.” Your voice cracks and gravity grows stronger, forcing you to the ground. Crumpling like a piece of paper, you curl your knees up to your chest, a sob wracking your body.

“Okay, alright,” Bradley breathes out, clicking the lock on the door and following you to the ground. You flinch as his heavy hand comes to rest against the back of your neck, stroking softly over the top of your styled hair. “Let me hear it, it’s no good keeping it to yourself.”

“Please don’t touch me,” You whisper into your knees, squeezing your eyes tightly shut. Your skin crawls, trying to picture Malcolm on top of you, wondering how you couldn’t remember. “Could you… could you just please not.” You decide finally, wiping hurriedly at the damp spots under your eyes.

He doesn’t follow. It was just last night that you were so comfortable in his arms, staring up at him with that electric, trusting look on your face. But he gently takes his hand off of you anyway.

“Is this about that phone call?” Bradley asks gently, suddenly unsure of where to put his hands. His instinct is to hold you.

Light pours in from the tall, wide window to your side. It’s far too warm, and too sunny in here for you to be feeling this awful. It feels like the ground is going to swallow you whole, if the weight in your chest doesn’t take you out first.

“Talk to me, honey. Tell me what happened.” Bradley encourages, bracing his elbows on his knees and lowering his head to try to meet your gaze.

“I think Malcolm — that night that you found me in December, I think— I think that he—“

Bradley’s eyes go round, the concerned frown on his face falling all of a sudden. He stares at you as you sob into your hands. He remembers that night so clearly. From waking up face down in a textbook chapter about Pre-raphaelite attitudes towards monogamy, to squinting to figure out what that figure in the snow was. Seeing you there, barely conscious. Practically deadweight in his arms as he had lifted you.

A muscle in his jaw ticks.

You lift your head to look at him, the colour drained from your skin, eyes pleading.

“Did he tell you this?” Bradley asks you softly.

“No. Catherine said — she said something about finding— fuck, she said something about finding him… on top of me.” Your throat is hoarse and your words are barely coming out as you try to hold back floods of tears. If you let yourself keep crying, it feels like you might not ever stop.

Bradley lifts his hand and pinches at the bridge of his nose. He inhales for six, exhales for seven. Then, he reaches out slowly and rests the tips of his fingers against the outside of your ankle.

“I don’t remember.” You choke out. He looks across at you, thinking of how proudly you had been showing off your engagement ring. No clue what an animal your fiancé was. Your lip trembles. “I don’t remember it.”

His gaze flickers immediately to your hands covering your face as the midday sun catches the rock on your ring finger, glistening in the light. You never would have said yes if you had known.

“I’m sorry, honey, I’m so sorry,” He whispers, curling his fingers softly around your ankle. It takes everything not to wrap himself around you and shield you from everything outside of these four walls. This dusty old office, sunlight shining across ever single chip and dent in these old floor boards, just you and him.

“If I wasn’t such a mess, then—“

“Hey,” His fingers squeeze softly at your ankle, prompting you to look up at him, hot tears spilling down your cheeks. He gives a soft shake of your head. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A few seconds pass between the two of you. His fingers don’t dare inch from the safety of your ankle, if that’s as much of you as he is allowed to touch, then that’s what he’ll take.

He can’t imagine the fear in not knowing.

You swallow softly and push onto your knees, crawling closer and pushing yourself into his chest. Bradley tucks one arm around your waist, doing his best not to cage you against him as you bury your face into his neck. You can feel him giving you room to retreat.

It’s such a strange thing, not wanting him to touch you but at the same time wanting to be held by him until the rest of the world stops. The thought of his hands on your skin makes you sick, but you want nothing more than to bury your face in the crook of his neck and pretend that none of this is happening. Like he’s not a separate man, not something to fear — just an extension of self, almost.

“It’s not your fault.” He tells you again, running his hand along your back, finally letting his eyes fall shut. Your breathing is jagged and gasping with the sobs, coming out quickly against the skin of his neck. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

“I should remember. I — I thought I’d know, or… feel… and I don’t remember any of it.”

His stomach knots, his palm resting between your shoulder blades as he cradles you against him.

It wasn’t that long ago that he couldn’t stand the thought of you. He had taken what he had seen of you in his classroom and come to the decision that you were selfish, and spoiled, lazy. He had no idea.

Since then, he has grown to know that you’re none of those things. You’re defensive, sure, he can be too. You’re a product of your upbringing, to an extent. But you’re witty, and smart, and you’re far from selfish. Bradley has seen your curiosity up close for weeks now. Your potential weighs on his mind, it keeps him up at night thinking of the future you’d have if you just had someone tell you that you could.

He hugs you against his chest and turns his face into the crook of your neck.

“You’re gonna be okay.” He promises. There’s no way around it, or over it. He couldn’t have stopped it from happening. This isn’t about him or the way that he feels for you. He holds you close, rubbing firm circles across the length of your back for as long as you’ll let him.

“I’m sorry.” You choke out, your face buried into the warmth and familiarity of his neck. “You — You should be out there with everyone. I just need a minute.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Bradley whispers.

And he doesn’t. He sits there and holds you until he feels your breathing start to get slower and longer against him. Then, he strokes a strand of hair gently off of your face. “You feeling tired?”

“Exhausted.” You whisper.

He nods softly and kisses the top of your head. If he could, he would happily have carried you upstairs and put you to bed himself. Instead, under the watchful eye of the rest of your class, he has to point your directions from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’ll be upstairs to check on you in a bit. Get some rest.”

And he does come up a bit later. You’re not sure exactly how much later, but it’s dark when the first knock wakes you up.

See, the first knock doesn’t warrant pulling yourself out of this unfamiliar bed. The pillowcase is damp but for now, you seem to have run out of tears. The second knock is more tempting, if only to make the sound stop.

Bradley doesn’t knock a third time. Instead, he takes a quick glance at the empty hall around him and leans in close, “It’s me. Can I come in?”

You already knew it was him, there’s no real need for him to announce himself. Still, you grace him with a tired sound of acknowledgment and force yourself out of the fetal position. The old doorknob creaks and clicks, then the door itself creaks as it opens. It would be pretty difficult to sneak around in a big old house like this one.

“Hey.” Bradley greets you softly, cautiously. You offer him a tight-lipped smile. He brings a hand from behind his back and shows you a plate with roasted potatoes and vegetables — something else that you can’t quite see, a starchy baked dish.

Through no fault of his own, he doesn’t get much of a reaction from you at all. You make no effort to reach for the plate. He crosses the room and sets it down on top of the dresser.

“Brought you some dinner, and uh…” Bradley hasn’t felt sheepish since his second day of basic training, and yet, his eyes are on the floor as he pulls his other hand from behind his back. “I brought you this.”

You watch as he sets the blue fabric in front of you, folded neatly.

“Your shirt?”

He scratches at the back of his neck, walking right on by you to sit against the window ledge. Cool air bristles his nape and makes him sit up a little straighter, letting you catch his eye.

“I don’t know, I thought…” He stares at the blue fabric in your hands and gives his head a soft shake. “I don’t know what I thought, but keep it for tonight.”

He knows what his thought process was, he just can’t bring himself to say it out loud. It sounds selfish now. I thought that since I can’t be with you, maybe a piece of me might help. How ridiculous of him to make himself so important in all of this.

“Here,” He remembers, pushing himself away from the window and taking the plate in his hand again, “Come on, you should eat something, while it’s still hot. It’s good.”

You pull your knees to your chest as he perches himself on the bed beside you, setting the plate down. You settle down, crossing your legs and lifting the plate into your lap, picking up the fork.

He watches, chewing at the inside of his lip as you push the vegetables around the plate.

“How’re you feeling now?”

“Stupid for bawling my eyes out like that.” You answer him meekly, spearing the fork through a grilled red pepper, pushing it through some of the juice from the baked dish.

His eyes search across your features.

Neither one of you says anything for a moment as you shake the pepper from your fork and stab it instead through a piece of eggplant.

“You’re not stupid.” He tells you, his brows drawing together as he watches you periodically wound the food on the plate.

“He was clearly unhappy, and I didn’t even notice. My own boyfriend and I didn’t have a clue,” You jam the fork into a particularly stubborn chunk of zucchini and letting the fork clatter to the plate. Bradley stares back at you. “If he was happy then—“

”Don’t defend him to me.” Bradley interrupts you, his voice calm but grave. In a roundabout way, he understands how your thought process has led you here, but he can’t listen.

”No, I’m — I’m not. But it’s my responsibility as his partner—“

”Stop it.” Bradley deadpans. He lowers his head and meets your gaze. His tone suggests that he is growing frustrated but his eyes are another story, soft and warm, honeyed as they search across your face. “You were blacked out drunk. Whatever you think you owe him, it wasn’t his in that moment. You get that, right?”

He’s trying to help. You know that he’s trying to make it better, but it isn’t. Your nape feels hot and your throat feels sore. If he’s right, if that’s really true — if it was never your fault — then where do you go from here?

Your wedding is eighteen days after you fly home. The dress, the centre-pieces, the bridesmaids and the venue — everything is already all set up.

You suck in a soft breath and bury your face in your hands. Bradley lifts his palm and smooths a hand softly over the nape of your neck.

“Look, I just—“

“Can you go?” You breathe out shakily, dropping your hands from your face and meeting his gaze. His mouth hangs open, and you just know that he’s going to keep on talking. “Just go. Please. I want to be alone.”

Finally, he closes his mouth and gives a solemn nod.

“Okay,” He gives your shoulder a soft squeeze before standing up from the bed. “I’ll come see you tomorrow morning.”

With him gone, the quiet is worse this time. Out here in the country, there’s nothing but you wracking your brain for answers that just won’t come. At some point, you make yourself eat some of the now cold food Bradley had brought you just to settle the rumbling in your stomach.

Then, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. It’s a tall thing with a wooden frame, angled to face the bed. Your fingers reach down and curl into the hem of your nightgown, thinking of the blue Dior dress sitting in your closet at home now. It’s around this length, one of your shorter articles of clothing. You had been so excited to find that dress.

Standing in it that day in the floor, you had felt like Cinderella, right out of the pages of a storybook. Ridiculous.

Quickly, you grab at the hem and tear it off of your body. Almost naked, you examine yourself in the reflection. Something makes you walk forwards and your eyes squint, scrutinizing the flesh before you. Wondering how much of it Malcolm has seen, really.

You wonder which parts of it come to mind, when the two men who have seen your body think about it. The softness of your stomach? The way your breasts sit? — Something different entirely, maybe. Your self-examination is short-lived and exhausting all at once.

Turning back around, you spot Bradley’s shirt sitting on the edge of the bed. It’s a soft, heavy cotton, and it smells wholly of him. It slips easily over your shoulders, your fingers working nimbly to fasten the buttons.

You tilt your head, observing the way you look wrapped in his clothes. Then, you look around the room. Without Bradley to occupy your evening, the sudden lack of television or alternate entertainment strikes you.

Stuck with little other option, you grab your walkman from the dresser and head over to your suitcase. Armed with the cassette, wrapped in Bradley’s shirt, you cross the room and settle back into this unfamiliar bed, setting the headphones over your ears. You click open the cartridge and look down at the new tape in your hand.

Written across the front of the plastic in red marker, calligraphy: Our Wedding Tape 1986. It was a parting gift. Something from your future husband to lift your spirits when you were feeling low over here.

You lay back against the pillows, closing your eyes and hitting play. Slowly, the opening chords of The Commodores’ Three Times a Lady start to play in your ears. Your stomach flips, but you inhale, squeeze your eyes tighter and it’s almost better.

It’s soft, and slow — almost like a lullaby. But, your blood is coursing so hot and fast through your veins, it feels more like you’re running a marathon. Hot tears burn behind your eyes once again, reminding you that you haven’t actually run out of them. That they might never really stop.

To touch you, to hold you, to feel you, to need you.

There’s nothing to keep us apart.

You’re once, twice, three times a lady, and I love you. I love you.

As the lyrics pause and piano chords once again fill your ears, you realize that you’re gritting your teeth. You inhale sharply and snatch the headset off of your head, tossing it harshly onto the floor and causing the walkman to bust open. The cassette falls to the floor, but at least the music stops.

You’re breathing like you’re being chased. You wipe hurriedly, wanting the tears off of you, kicking back the covers, wanting everything off of you. As you wipe the salty tears from your jaw, you remember the metal on your finger.

As with the Walkman, you tear it off and throw it. It lands atop the dresser, the light catching the diamond, it sparkles back at you like a wink.

You had been so ridiculously happy on the day that Malcolm had proposed. Surrounded by your friends and family, wearing a beautiful dress, the centre of attention. Ridiculous.

You sink back down and turn onto your side, facing away from the dresser and the winking reminder that sits atop it. Sleep comes for you quickly, taking place of the crying-induced headache and drowning out the faint Commodores chorus lurking in your mind.

You’re awoken by a soft knock on the heavy wooden door. Sunlight is already pouring in through the curtains and something tells you that you missed breakfast. This will be Bradley. You let him knock again. Then, a third time. Eyes still closed, you groan softly and press your face into the pillow as a fourth and fifth knock ring out.

Stubborn asshole. You tear the covers the rest of the way back and push up from the bed, padding across the hardwood floor and pulling the door swiftly open.

Abigail and Zoe stand outside, dressed in tank tops and shorts with bathing suit strings peaking out. Your mouth falls slack as you try to close the door to cover yourself a bit.

“Oh—“ Your eyes widen, lips parting. It’s obvious to the both of them instantly that they aren’t who you were expecting to see. “Sorry, I thought you were Bradley.”

Zoe glances at Abigail, Abigail glances at Zoe, they both look down at the slightly wrinkled blue button up that falls down to your mid thighs. Bradley wore something really similar in Venice.

“We, uh — well, we’re just heading down to the lake. We were going to swim, and get some work done. Sandro gave us some snacks and some lemonade,” Zoe has a real talent for cramming as much information into as short a breath as she can, showing you the contents of the little cotton bag on her shoulder at the same time. She stops finally, allowing herself to smile in her pause. “If you… maybe wanted to come with us.”

You neither retreat or reply. For a second too long, you just look between the two of them, completely wordless.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Abigail answers quickly, she looks at Zoe and they both quickly offer you nods of agreement. “Don’t feel like you have to—“

“No— I-I— yeah. Thanks. That would be cool.” You shift your weight from foot to foot, balancing one one, toeing at the aged floorboards under you. It feels strange, wanting so badly to go with them.

Up until you reached this threshold, you were so certain that you didn’t give a damn about the way they felt about you. Maybe you don’t, really. You sure wouldn’t if you were back home. But here, the feeling of finally being invited is something weightless.

“Cool.” Zoe smiles awkwardly back at you. You wonder if your smile looks half as apologetic as hers does.

Abigail bristles to attention, shrugging her tote closer to her body and reaching down to take Zoe’s hand. “Well, we’ll wait for you downstairs? We can all head out there together.”

They’re wearing swimsuits. You should dig your swimsuit out of your case. Maybe they’ll be upset if you make them wait too long.

“Thanks, I’ll be quick.”

And then you’re walking around the left side of the house and heading across the fields, they’re explaining how wonderful Teodora is, how she told them about a wild swimming spot just over the hill.

They’re curious about you. You were so angry in the beginning, so restless and unhappy. That seems to have faded away now. They still don’t know a single thing about you really, not as much as they would like to.

“Are you feeling better? — Bradley said you weren’t feeling well.” Abigail is tall and dark-skinned, with round glasses and her curly hair usually in two French braids. Today, she’s wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt that belonged to her father, and a pair of denim cut-offs.

“It’s not contagious, right?” Zoe adds as she trails alongside you. She’s shorter than Abigail, with dark hair and green eyes. She’s the only sophomore on the trip — you wonder what she had done to impress Bradley enough to let her come.

You shrug your shoulder bag closer to your body and make yourself smile. “Much better. I think I just didn’t drink enough water and I was tired. Just… out of sorts, I guess.”

“It’s good that Bradley was so kind to you about it,” Zoe hums absently, adjusting her thick-rimmed sunglasses. Red runner shorts and complimentary red and white striped adidas sneakers, and long tanned legs. She looks right out of a commercial — but one of the well done ones. Not cheesy or anything. “Called his office once to tell him that I couldn’t take an exam because I was super sick, that fucker didn’t believe me until I dragged myself in there and puked on those old Nikes he used to wear.”

You hum out an amused sound. That makes two of you who have puked on his shoes.

“He feels bad for me because my fiancé’s a jackass.” Maybe it’s a lie, maybe it’s the truth. You believe both sides of it, in part. Bradley does feel bad for you. But he would have held you in his arms yesterday even if he didn’t.

To them, it makes sense. There has been plenty of gossip about you over the last five weeks. Some of it, admittedly, they had engaged in. Everyone is pretty curious about why you’re getting married so young, and equally curious about all the time you’ve been spending with their cool, cocky professor.

Watching you stumble away from the group sobbing yesterday, there had been a few whispered rumours about the cause. Maybe Bradley dumped her because she wouldn’t put out. That one was especially cruel.

To Abigail, someone that heartbroken didn’t deserve to be made fun of. It had looked like your heart had been clean ripped out of your chest. She had whispered to Zoe about it last night in the darkness of their room, from the top bunk, and the two of them had decided to approach you today.

”How long have you two been together?” Abigail toes the line between prying and learning enough about you to potentially calling herself your friend. You probably should mind, but this is standard practice back home — girls who don’t care wanting information they don’t deserve. Something tells you she’s not like that.

”Since high school.” You tell her.

She slows slightly and turns her head to look back at you over her shoulder. You’re looking down at the dirt and grass and wildflowers, setting one white shoe in front of the other, denim shorts and a green blouse, that sad look on your face again. It’s different than the kind of sadness she saw in you yesterday — but it’s a look she has seen on you before.

A kind of acceptance to it, like you’re at peace with the sadness you’ve known.

”People grow a lot after high school.” It’s wonderful that you have managed to stay together. It’s probably time to call it quits. Her sentence seems unfinished and leaves you guessing, but it doesn’t condemn you to her own decision on the matter the way that Bradley’s black and white had.

You look up from the ground and meet her gaze. You smile and nod. People sure do.

Bradley gets caught up in the kitchen with Teodora as he is fixing you a plate of breakfast, guessing at your favourite morning foods. He only really dines with you in the evening.

“Is that for the girl?”

Bradley hums and nods, frowning at the cooked mushrooms. He can’t remember if you love them or hate them. After five dates, he should probably know that. He shouldn’t have been on any dates with you. They’re just mushrooms—

“She left already.” Dorie shrugs without looking up from the morning paper. Bradley’s fingers curl tighter around the plate. He turns slowly, to face her.

“She what?”

”Yes, the girl with the tattoo and the girl with the long legs,” Dorie tells him, glancing up and taking note of the panicked expression on his face. Abi and Zoe. He swallows a bit. They’ll be good to you. “They all went out by the lake to work. They’ll be back in the afternoon.”

The last time he had been here, Bradley had been hopelessly in love with another. He kept a picture of her in his wallet. Pretty little thing with her middle finger pointed right at the lense as she sunbathed topless on a beach in the south.

Teodora won’t pry, but she suspects there might be a new picture in Bradley’s wallet now.

“Oh. Right,” He sets the plate down and stares at it, unsure of what to do with the extra food now. “I… I guess I’ll get started with some work. I’ll be in the sitting room.”

She nods politely at him, he sets the plate in the fridge and leaves to gather his work things. God, he hopes they’ll be good to you. He had been so afraid that Dorie was going to tell him you had jumped on a flight back to the States. He has more time.

He was up practically all night, thinking of that loser’s hands on you. It makes him sick to remember how limp you had been in his arms when he had first picked you up from the snow.

The sitting room in the Gabris estate is sprawling — it’s a real space to entertain. There were a lot of parties here back in the day. Now, there’s a dust sheet over the piano and the nude portrait of Teodora’s lover is gone from above the mantle.

Bradley settles down into an armchair and pulls together his notes, sun pouring through the windows, a fog settling across his thoughts. 3pm. Three PM. That’s when he hears the eruption of laughter, bubbling up and spilling through the house. After that, comes the sound of wet shoes squeaking on the hardwood.

His chin propped against his fist, he cranes his neck as Zoe appears first in the hallway. She spots him and stops like a caught kid, her mouth falling open. Then, you. Then, Abi. All three of you are soaked head to toe, dripping water onto the floors.

You stare back at him dwarfing the patterned armchair, surrounded by papers, peering at you over the top of his reading glasses. He doesn’t say a thing, taking his time in looking the three of you over. Finally, his lips twitch.

”We went swimming.” Zoe breathes out, laughing.

Bradley hums against his hand, his eyes visibly flicker from your bare feet to the soaked clothes clinging to your body, and finally at your face. From behind his fist, a smirk toys at his lips.

He’s so grateful to see you look so mischievous. Anything but the way you were looking at him yesterday.

”I can see that,” He agrees, amusement dripping from his voice. Your smile turns sheepish as you cross your arms in front of your hips and shift your weight from left to right, and back again. “Did you get those pages that I asked you for all done.

”Most of ‘em.” Zoe nods. Eighty-percent still counts as most. Besides, you know that Bradley will listen if you plead your case. He hums again, a sound of understanding this time, and inches his knees further apart as he sits upright.

”Well, I take it that you’ll be a bit late to our study session.” He’s looking right at you with that devilishly handsome smile on his face, and a softness to his eyes that makes you want to pour yourself right into his lap.

“Shit,” You snap out of it, whipping your head around to look for a clock. Bradley glances down at his watch, already fully aware that you’re forty minutes late. He looks back to you, smiling. “I’ll get changed.”

”I’ll be here.” He tells you, looking back down to his work.

You glance down at the puddle you’re leaving on the floor, and then back up at the girls. They watch you blink like you’re remembering that they’re there.

“We’ll come up with you.” Abigail nods for you to go ahead and Zoe slips her palms into yours.

Bradley glances at the exchange over the top of his workbook, her hand in yours. The smile on your face as you peer back at them and head for the stairs. He bites the inside of his cheek and finally exhales.

His next breath in feels a little bit easier.

“So, how long do you usually have to spend with Bradley every afternoon?” Zoe asks, padding up the wooden stairs behind you. They creak with every step, but not enough for you to pretend not to have heard her question.

You shrug your shoulders, trying to at cool about it. Bradley would at cool about it. He doesn’t seem ashamed at all.

“It depends. He gives me different tasks to do. Sometimes we get through them quickly, other times he decides to be an ass about it.” That feels about right.

“Like class work?”

“Yeah,” You glance back over your shoulder as you reach the landing. “I’m not much use to him as a research assistant if I still don’t understand the class material. You know?”

“Right.” Abigail nods along with you.

“Well, I’d better go get dry…” You remember, gesturing to your door. They both nod along, but you don’t move. You hug your shoes and your bag to your chest and try to smile. “Thanks for inviting me today. I appreciate it.”

“Any time. You’re a good time.” Zoe grins, lifting her arm and draping it casually around Abigail’s shoulders.

Your goodbye is a brief nod and a pleased smile, before you turn and head back to your room. You strip out of your clothes and leave them to dry against the open window, then throw on something dry.

Bradley hears your shoes racing down the stairs and closes his book. You grab the archway and swing around the corner into the sitting room.

“Okay — ready.”

He braces his elbows against his knees and gives a small shake of his head, lips quirked. “Not here.”

The two of you walk along the dirt path in the opposite direction to the lake. Up ahead of you is a mile long stretch of trees, behind you is the Gabris’ courtyard. Bradley’s two paces in front with a cigarette dangling from his lips and his books tucked under his arm.

His shorts make his legs look even longer, up high on his thighs and stretched around the muscle. His sneakers still aren’t something a college professor would wear, but you’ve grown to like them. They’re very… him.

His oversized shirts and his white sneakers, and the gold pendant that sits between his collarbones are all parts of him that you have grown to adore. The curls at the nape of his neck and the way his broad shoulders slope down into his waist.

There are plenty of things that you could name.

The smell of tobacco that follows him isn’t one of those things.

“That’s a filthy habit.” You call ahead to him.

Bradley turns his head and looks at you over the top of his gold-rimmed sunglasses, grinning amusedly, “Yeah, I’ve got a couple of those. You might be familiar with a few.”

Your mouth twitches. You almost smile at him, briefly considering that downright awful habit he’s got of delving between your thighs. Then, your face twists into a strictly unamused scowl.

“Did you pick it up when you were in the Navy?” You ask, jogging to keep up with him.

“Kinda.” He answers you, looking down at you briefly before he checks ahead again. It’s not important to mention the cigarettes behind the science building in high school; that was more an act of defiance than an addiction.

“Have you ever tried to quit?”

“Is this you asking me to?” He replies, crossing over into the tree line, shade pouring over the two of you. You watch as he takes the cigarette between his fingers and flicks ash onto the floor, branches crunching under his feet.

You follow alongside him. “Would you, if I asked you to?”

“Would you put up with me being a lot grumpier?” He asks in return.

“Probably not.”

He huffs out a dry chuckle. Finally, he stubs the cigarette out. You follow him through the woods like his shadow until you reach a clearing. It’s a pleasant mix of sun and shade, a nice place to wait out the glaring afternoon heat. This is routine by now, you sit down beside each other and he tells you what you’re doing, then you each get to it.

He’s working on his book. His face gets real serious when he’s working on his book. Makes him look older, more mature. Almost makes you forget how deviously handsome he looks when he’s grinning at you, when he looks so handsome like this.

You’re translating prose. Poetry about lust and temptation. He would have switched out the curriculum but resources are limited out here, and you don’t say a word about disliking the work he has given you. He’s afraid to ask.

To burst this bubble of blissful ignorance you’ve got going, like yesterday never happened.

”So, Zoe and Abi — did you guys have fun today?” He asks without looking up from his work. That feels like a safe enough question. You’re laying on your stomach and don’t bother to stop working to look at him either.

”Mhm. Zoe’s clothes fell off the branch and got soaked, so we figured we’d all just jump in dressed. Cooled us off on the way home.”

He glances up, smiling softly. “Look at you — walking on the wild side.”

”I know, right?” You scoff.

He looks back down to his work, examining the artwork on the left page.

“So… how are you feeling today?” He asks cautiously. About Malcolm, of course. Bradley has noticed that you aren’t wearing your ring. You’d barely remembered taking it off. It doesn’t feel any different without it. It’s not exactly life-altering. It’s just jewellery.

”Mixed up,” You owe him honesty at least, considering your complicated relationship. You shrug your shoulders weakly and frown at the page. “Confused. Angry.”

He just nods.

She turns her head to look at him. Laying on his side, pretending to organise his notes, his sunglasses masking his expression.

”I don’t want it to change things.”

”How?” Bradley answers a little too quickly for a man pretending to be otherwise occupied. His brows draw together as he meets your gaze through those darkened lenses.

“Between us,” You tell him, resting your cheek against your hand and tilting your head just slightly. Laying in the grass, about a foot away from him. Close enough for him to reach out and trail his fingers from the centre of your back to the nape of your neck, and back again. You smile softly. “I like you, you know?”

…

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @cassiemitchele @himbos-on-ice @wkndwlff @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @cherrycola27@ahoyyharrington @kmc1989 @sugarcoated-lame @mshistorylover

#could be fixed???#will be running into the void if it isn’t #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #top gun smut #professor bradley #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x you

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wormdebut · 6 months

Note

13 for the wrapped game, also, you're wonderful and talented. as if spotify wrapped itself wasn't already great, now we get new worm words from it, hell Y E A H

Oh BOY LEX. Do I have a MESS of a Blurb for YOU. #13 on my Spotify Wrapped is Barbie & Ken by Scene Queen and Set It Off. Enjoy whatever this is.

——

"Eddie!" Chrissy squeals over the radio bluetooth and Eddie can't help the smile that break across his face.

"Hey Chris! How's my best girl?" Eddie hadn't seen his best friend in months. She had gone off to IU and Eddie had stayed in Chicago working on a tattoo apprenticeship.

They had both been so busy, Eddie with his work and Chrissy was busy with college and--well Chrissy had apparently went a gotten herself involved with a metal band? Eddie was very confused about the specifics, but he had finally gotten some time off and Chrissy's band had a gig in Indianapolis tonight so, they were making a vacation of it.

"I'm so excited you're coming tonight! The band is so excited to meet you! Even though they've seen pictures, they are convinced I made you up!" Chrissy giggles and Eddie laughs with her.

"Yeah, I'm sure they think I'm a garbage best friend, but I'm gonna be the loudest motherfucker there, I swear to god. First round after the shows on me!"

Chrissy keeps laughing. "I'm glad you said it, cause Stevie was already telling everybody that my imaginary best friend had the honors of first round anyway."

Chrissy had told Eddie about Stevie. Going on, and on about her. 'Stevie is a fucking musical genius.' 'You won't believe what Stevie came up with today.' 'God, I can't wait for you and Stevie to meet, you guys are gonna hit it off immediately.' He was glad that Chrissy had found a girlfriend, she deserves the best, but Eddie would have to lay it on think when he met this Stevie chick. Make sure that she takes care of his girl.

Chrissy was a raging lesbian and Eddie was Kinsey six gay, but they were platonic soulmates until death and Stevie is gonna have to know that Eddie will kill for Chrissy Cunningham.

The bar was fucking packed. Christ. Eddie should be jealous. Before he had started tattooing he had always wanted to play music, but, shit. He was just fucking proud of Chrissy.

After he had kicked back of few shots of whiskey he was able to push his way up to the front of the crowd just as the stage lights started going haywire. The crowd was yelling and Eddie lost his shit when Chrissy came strutting out in a hot pink skater dress and chunk black doc martens. Her hair was pulled into ridiculously perky pigtails. How this was going to be a metal performance Eddie was very unsure, but he was excited as fuck to see her in anyway.

"Hiya Indy!" Chrissy yells. Eddie yells back with the audience and Chrissy squeals in the mic when she sees Eddie cheering for her. "Hi Eds!" She runs up grabbing his hand and Eddie laughs, squeezing her hand quickly, before she pulls away. "I'm Chrissy Cunningham and me and my band Versailles are super excited to be back here. Well, without further ado my boys are gonna come out here and we'll get this party started huh?"

The crowd goes wild and Eddie watches as three men come running out. There's a drummer, a bassist, and a guitarist. Eddie is stoked as hell. Watching as Chrissy hypes up the band. He hears someone in the crowd yell "Where's Steve?"

Chirssy ears perk up. "Stevie? Oh I'm sure Stevie's around here somewhere let me just--" She pulls out a hot pink flip phone. Eddie lets out a loud laugh as he recognizes the damn thing as Chrissy's first phone, from seventh grade. His laughter is cut short as a dial tone starts playing over the speakers

It's a bit.

"Hi Stevie! I--I mean Ken…Um…Are you free right now? I have a song that I need you on. Like now?" Chrissy speaks into the microphone, and the crowd zeroes in on Chrissy as she 'calls' for Stevie. Eddie is so busy being impressed with his best friends stage presence he almost misses the smoke show that comes running out from stage right.

He's pretty sure he should pick his fucking jaw up from the floor. The man has on the tightest jeans Eddie has ever seen tucked into clunky combat boots, framing his ass…quite nicely. His hair is styled far too perfect for a metal show, but Eddie is not complaining. The kicker though, is the hot pink tactical vest he has on over his shirtless, very hairy--fuck--chest. Is this a concert or is this one of Eddie's fucked up sexual fantasies?

Eddie snaps his mouth shut, eyes wide as he stares at Chrissy and…Stevie.

Oh Shit.

Eddie watches as Stevie--Steve--the source of Eddie's very confused boner right now--whatever the hell his name is--pulls the flip phone out of her hand and leans into the mic.

They both smile right at Eddie. He swears he sees Chrissy wink.

"Let's Party."

Eddie is both entertained and internally tormented throughout the rest of the show. Chrissy knew exactly what she was doing, forgetting to mention that Stevie was a) A man and b) exactly Eddie's fucking type.

Eddie liked pretty boys, and apparently this pretty boy knew how to scream, which--that was--that was doing for Eddie.

Throughout the show Eddie picked up that Chrissy did a fair amount of clean vocals and Steve did a mix between cleans and screaming. Versailles as a whole was actually pretty good, but Eddie was going to have to apologize to Chrissy, because he only had eyes for Steve.

Should he be embarrassed for popping a boner at his apparently metalheaded best friends show? Probably, but--he was not. Steve was fucking hot.

He was also a fucking menace. He kept running up to Eddie, grabbing at his hands, leaning down to scream in his fucking face, and Chrissy, when she caught him doing it, just smirked.

Eddie was gonna kill her.

Eddie leaned against the bar, waiting as the crowd around Versailles died down and spread out. He caught Chrissy's eye as she hopped off the stage running up to Eddie at full speed. She jumped into his arms, "Eddieee!"

Eddie huffed out a laugh. "You have so much explaining to do." He whispered into her ear.

Chrissy just laughed as Eddie set her down, smiling from ear to ear. "Yeah, and I think you owe a pretty boy a drink."

#steddie #steddie blurb #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #wingwoman LEGEND chrissy #They fucknasty in the bathroom like an hour after this #worm brain #Worm Spotify Series #thefreakandthehair #steddie au #also the end word count for this was 1069 #😎

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lowkeyrobin · 3 months

Note

mcyt with an s/o that's insanely good at driving?? like in the video with Schlatt and he was just doing donuts and that stuff but it's reader? almost like it's stuff from a freaking action movie with how they drive lmao

OH FUCK YEAH LMFAOOOO yes this is how my mom drives but she's a serious road rager too 💀💀💀💀 this is more like "You're a good shitty driver but yeah 👍"

MCYT ; insane driving skills

includes ; tommyinnit, tubbo, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, quackity, & foolish gamers

warnings ; language, talk about car accidents, talk about death due to car accidents

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

genuinley refuses to sit in a car when you're driving

yk the vlog where he, jack, tubbo and becky go see the alien rocks? you offered to drive and he screamed no

honestly you understood, your a bit of a road rager

and that one vlog you guys made together where you show off your NASCAR level driving really doubted his trust in you

it's half jokes half serious tho

has genuinley said you should become an F1 driver 💀

he's just afraid of you yelling at other shit drivers LMFAO

will genuinley scream when you do donuts in an empty field

"I wish we had rollercoasters closer to us"

"we've got one right here"

the fact you haven't crashed and killed both of you is astounding to him

literally how'd you get your license

TUBBO

he doesn't like driving so when he can't get a ride anywhere else, he's left to call you

you're literally the last person he'll ask for a ride /lh /hj

you're responsible, just fast

it's the way he grips the console and the door, and pushes his feet down on the floor when he's a little afraid 💀

"hang on, since this asshole wanted to cut me off and do 20 in a 50"

"y/n/n pleas-"

you'll go out in a field to do donuts and shit and he's strapped up with a helmet and two seat belts

he'll be screaming in fear and excitement bc let's be honest it's kinda fun

the fuckin 360 u-turns??? christ man calm down we're not in a rush 😭

you almost got ran off a bridge one time with him in the car with you. 2 minutes later you see your phone light up with a notification from Twitter

it's tubbo. "y/n almost got ran off the road on a bridge. I am afraid. please send help"

he knows you drive way worse when he's not around so he's trying to go with you more so you don't accidently kill yourself

he quotes that one scene from the Haunting Of Hill House or whatever that show was where the dude gets in a car accident and dies because he was like hanged from his seat belt

"I don't wanna be that old woman! I don't want your ghost haunting me with your death!"

"well, for one, we aren't in a TV show-"

RANBOO

loves going out in fields with you to do donuts and be a little dangerous

"more donuts!"

"how are you not about to puke!?"

you rented a golf cart one a vacation to a little beach town for the Misfits Gaming channel and holy shit

the amount of wheelies?? he's surprised you didn't get arrested

you drive like you're driving a monster truck like please calm down

he genuinley compares you to schlatt when driving and you're just like "Yeah because we're cool. cool people are insanely good at driving"

they blink and stare before saying "I don't think good is the word I'd use"

you'll deadass slam on the breaks going at max 10mph just to piss him off

they're actually confused as to how you aren't on your fifth car already, you drive like a sicko

you do a racing vlog with some friends and safe to say you won

"You should be an F1 driver or something"

"What"

FREDDIE BADLINU

you terrify him a bit

"y/n, do you know how to do wheelies?"

"get in the golf cart"

"holy shit!"

thinks it's pretty badass that you know a bunch of tricks and stuff

he doesn't endorse bad driving on the road though

you do your best to behave around him because you don't wanna get yelled at 🤞

"oh my god why are these fucking semis in the passing lane?? I don't wanna get Final Destination-ed!"

"this is surprising for me to say but same"

"please, i just wanna eatttt, go faster and actually pass someone!"

but when you're purposefully fucking around yourselves he'll literally smile and laugh when you go over bumps and do donuts lmao

he'll probably record it and send videos to Tommy, Jack, Bill & Harry

tweets like "my partner is a crazy driver pls help" and "YEAHHH LETS CRASH THE CAR TODAY" are to be expected

also jokes about you being a NASCAR driver because the way you swerve through traffic 💀💀💀

NIKI NIHACHU

look, she loves you but calm down

she will admit that she likes doing donuts and tricks in an empty area but lord

the swerving through traffic? the usual 70-80 mph? no thanks

you do try and drive like a normal person when she's with you tho

one of her favorite memories is you driving one of those kiddie cars, with both of you in it, and doing very muddy donuts with it 💀

yk how moistcritikals dad hotwired a kiddie car to make it go faster? yeah that's the explanation to how it even happened

you guys were soaked in mud after LMFAO

she likes when you rev your engine in tunnels, the way it echoes is so cool to her

like she giggles and shit and like 🫶🫶

"I love when I fly down the highway to see my gf"

"OMG SLOW DOWN WHAT?"

"ppl r complaining about me on Facebook so I think I will.."

"Y/N OH MY GOD"

ALEX QUACKITY

again, kiddie car wheelies 🔛🔝

he loves doing fucking donuts and shit with you LMAO

if you, him, schlatt and charlie r meeting up irl, you guys make a whole vlog out of it

you rent two sports cars and literally make a mini action movie (obviously with comedy) (basically a better fast & furious) (quackity is better than vin diesel)

when I tell you that shit got 16 MILLION VIEWS. the edits after that were astronomical

so many clips of the cars in tunnels, on bridges, speeding down the highway, etc

you're respectful for others around you but you have a need for speed

although if you're doing it on a golf cart or anything open, he's wearing a helmet

he's running a whole business, he can't risk dying to your shit driving atm LMAO

makes some merch, basically a racer jacket that's black and your favorite color or black and dark blue (variants)

they say 'quackity racing team' or 'y/u/n racing team' with some sewn in patches, like the quackity poker chip and whatever goes best with your brand

they're cool as hell too LMAO

FOOLISH GAMERS

he does the little giggle and shit it's adorable

loves doing dumb shit with you

you obv don't do it with a bunch of people around or anything but yk

you, him, karl, punz and tina met up and you had all of them piled in the car while you did donuts and shit

foolish had a vlog cam set up on the dash and the amount of screaming and the reactions 😭😭 /pos

genuinley confused how you've never wrecked your car before

and no the one time you backed into a mailbox doesn't count

revving the engine through tunnels>>>>

he always smiles at it even if he's tired or kinda miserable

will pretend he's in an action movie if you're swerving around people a bit or going really fast

he'll load up the finger guns and get ready to aim LMFAO

gta irl with him basically

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #tommyinnit x reader #quackity x reader #ranboo x reader #badlinu x reader #tubbo x reader #niki nihachu x reader #nihachu x reader #freddie badlinu x reader #alex quackity x reader #foolish gamers x reader #they/them reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader

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jeffsinnbythesea · 5 months

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A post by @queerly-autistic got me thinking (thinking, thinking and drinking) about the main symbols representing the various personas Ed adopts in seasons 1 and 2. The way Ed yo-yos back and forth between rejecting and embracing things like the eponymous black beard, the leathers, etc. tells us a lot about Ed's relationship with his own identity at a given point in time, and more broadly, how his views on what people generally can and can't do, and who they can and can't be evolves over time, in fits and starts.

We get the sense early on that Ed's worldview is that people don't change and their path in life is more or less set. His mother tells him early on, "Well, it's not up to us, is it? It's up to God. He decides who gets what. We're just not those kind of people. We never will be." He learns about the Gentleman Pirate, a total oxymoron, and he's immediately fascinated. It knocks his socks off, it shakes his worldview, in which he is Blackbeard - just look at his black beard, and his leather getup, and his gun, etc.

Ed's very first act on the Revenge is to ditch those clothes and parade around in Stede's instead. The very next episode he's wearing Stede's clothes again but now he's Jeff The Accountant. However, each and every time he does this, he gets rebuffed. By Izzy, who tells him to knock it off, get real, and then by the French, who gas him up initially only to ridicule him in the end. Each time he resets back to his Blackbeard persona, back in the leathers, even though we know explicitly that he's totally over this routine. He wants to pack it all in, retire. And it isn't just because he's bored, though that is part of it. When he chooses the scariest story he can think of, he tells the Blackbeard origin story of killing his own dad. He knows Blackbeard isn't a Good Guy. But he already adores Stede - just ask Izzy. How could Stede like him, a murderer, a Bad Guy? But Stede says, actually I quite like you as you are, and you aren't a bad person. Ed feels seen and accepted in a way he probably never has in his life, or at least since becoming Blackbeard.

Calico Jack shows up as this interloper on the Revenge and Jack and Stede's characters clash so much that Ed figures, hey, this little adventure sure has been fun, but it turns out at the end of the day: "This is who I am, Stede. Can you see me now? You were always gonna realize what I am." That whole scene with the tub, and everything since, must have been a fluke. He thought he was being seen and accepted beyond the persona - the good and the bad all at once - but evidently not.

Fast forward to the Act of Grace. Unequivocally Ed makes this sacrifice for Stede, but outwardly at least, he takes everything in stride, especially compared to Stede. I'm not sure you can say that he shaves the beard for Stede.He says, "Now, it's time to accept our fate. Besides, kind of comforting, really, once you get your mind around it." He's folding socks, he's excited about soap! I think this is a man who is deeply relieved to be "forced" into doing the thing that he actually wants to do. Jumping forward, is that not what was going on with the whole end of s2e2 suicide-by-mutiny thing? The show has been telling us all season that Ed doesn't care about Being Blackbeard, he actively wants to stop being Blackbeard, but fundamentally doesn't believe there are alternatives, a belief reinforced because both times he dropped the Blackbeard persona for something else (haha, jokingly, but were they really?), it ended poorly.

Stede hasn't picked up on this and these factors come together and create this tragic scenario where Stede is mourning the end of the beard (the extremely obvious symbol for Blackbeard) because he thinks Ed has lost something integral to who he is, that he's in fact been ruined by Stede, while Ed comes to think that Stede is mourning the end of Blackbeard the myth, the legend, the celebrity, and perhaps he never wanted Edward at all, as pointed out by @queerly-autistic. I'm reminded of the Rita Hayworth quote that gets to that same feeling Ed probably has here: "Men go to bed with Gilda but wake up with me."

Ed goes back to the Revenge alone, heart shattered, but he doesn't immediately go "Well, Blackbeard's back! Business as usual!" Like Erin says, he escapes it briefly. He's got his hair down, he's wearing the robe, he's probably getting into a skincare routine. He says, "Actually, I do want to be called Edward from now on" and "Why are we even being pirates?" The scene with Izzy confronting him in the cabin after this is supposed to be horrible and uncomfortable to watch. It is violent and cutting and things spiral from this point through the end of s2e2. Ed has tried to shed or replace the Blackbeard persona numerous times over the season and each and every time he is rebuked by Izzy and his crew, by the rich jerks, and even by Stede. This final attempt to just be Ed rather than Blackbeard even comes with a threat on his life.

Backed into a corner, still in immense emotional pain from Stede's rejection, and having his deterministic worldview confirmed again and again, is it any wonder Ed reverts to this worst iteration of Blackbeard, the Kraken? Why would he try something different when all of his experiences thus far tell him that it's futile? If Ed feels that way in his middle age, who knows how many times over the course of his life he might have tried and failed, or more likely, saw others try and fail for a different life, a better life? He tells us in both seasons that they're pirates - most of them are dead. As her post says, the Kraken armour is about survival, physically and emotionally, and it's about despair. He can try again and again to break free but it always. Comes back. To this. The only real escape is death. S1e10 is the beginning of the spiral that has a, I'm not sure goal is the right word, but all these acts of violence and destruction against himself and others are leading to his death and he knows this.

Jumping to the end of Fun and Games, Ed sums up his worldview very succinctly, in that resigned tone: "Buttons, people don't change, not into birds or otherwise."

And then Buttons changes! Dramatically! Ed changes, clothing at least. I think this was a really interesting choice by the show - to indirectly convey how the crew is feeling towards Ed by targeting the thing most symbolic of Blackbeard-turned-Kraken now that the black beard isn't really an option to take out of the picture and his face is washed clean. As for the cat bell, well we don't have time to delve into that. I can't help but observe that once again this is "forced" against his will, but is it? Ed probably certainly wouldn't choose to wear the Contrition Era sack, if nothing else it looks itchy, but I don't think he's moaning about not having the leathers.When they let him out of the sack, he puts on Buttons old clothes, not his own.

S2 is one big identity crisis for Ed. The guy essentially died. There's no going back to Blackbeard. That persona was one he was miserably tired of, but now it's well and truly poisoned by its evolution into the Kraken. Not to mention the trauma he feels from it, trauma from decades of piracy, from the violence done to him and by him. With the leathers put aside for now, other vestiges of the Kraken era are dealt with. The Guilt/Gilt Room is transformed into a celebration for the crew, a sort of apology and an opportunity to show the crew and Ed reconcile. Ned Low comes back as the final nasty nail in the coffin that he resolves to leave it all behind. The leathers are dumped overboard and Ed says good riddance to them, and good riddance to Blackbeard, and good riddance to that life. Burdened with the old trauma, and now the fresh trauma of Ed and Stede almost getting killed by this lifestyle again, Ed sticks to his guns and commits to leaving. Yes, it is impulsive and a bit cowardly, but the motivations behind it make sense. He and Stede haven't graduated to Communication University yet and are still working out the kinks there.

A lot has been said about Ed later diving in to retrieve those leathers and going on a bit of a rampage against the navy dudes. "The music, the costume, he clearly regressed back into the Kraken!" "The show is saying that being Blackbeard and piracy is the only thing he's good at!" On the surface, it might seem like yet again the universe is confirming Ed's original deterministic worldview that people don't change, that he's chained to this life. I choose to interpret this differently. For one, there is extremely little airtime given to the Ed scenes between dumping the leathers and retrieving them and I think the storytelling would have benefited from more, obvs. Bear with me on this part, but I think this is where the show says, you know what? Symbols-schmymbols. The beard, the leathers, the name, none of those things are what make Blackbeard Blackbeard, or the Kraken the Kraken. As people, we are not the clothing we wear. We are our actions. Ed can put on the leathers or the sack or a tutu for all I care but his actions are what define who he is.

"If you were ever good at anything, go and do that." Ed doesn't take this to mean go back to the worst version of yourself that you hate, it means loving and protecting Stede and the crew. Going with the moral system established in the show's universe, killing bad people might saddle you with trauma but it doesn't make you a monster, particularly when it's in service of the ones you love. Stede's parting words to him were that he's a coward. He is choosing to not be a coward. And that means not running away from Stede, or away from the British, or off to China, or from himself anymore. You can't run away from yourself. Wherever You Go, There You Are, right?

Essentially, he goes from:

I can't change. Nobody can change.

to:

Maybe I can change...but only if Blackbeard dies and all his symbols are dumped overboard. But subtract Blackbeard from Ed, and what's even left? And who would care about that guy?

to:

I am Edward and Blackbeard and the Kraken and the sum of all my past selves, and they all did good things and they all did bad things. That doesn't mean that I'm not capable of loving others or myself, or that I'm not lovable. Sometimes the things you hate about yourself can be spun into something good - poison into positivity

What you end up with is a complex and even contradictory person, but a whole person. He can reclaim his clothes, he can sport a beard, albeit much shorter and salt and pepper-y, and he can reclaim, or at least he's now free to create a sense of self, secure in the knowledge that he isn't alone. There are people waiting for him, and they're not having second thoughts.

"They love you, Ed. Just be Ed."

#I can't say what direction they will go with hair costume or anything else next #yes im saying will instead of would have idc #but I'm sure it will be a fascinating continuation of the established connection it all has with Ed's identity #I'd love them to blend new and old elements not to mention his and stedes closets #jfc i never have ANYTHING to say but when i do its seventy billion words long #im sure all of this has been well discussed already but its fine #ofmd meta #our flag means death

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evenmyhivemindisempty · 2 months

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for the ask game: 001 favorite character (sandman), character you felt the writers screwed up (any media), 002 gabby/pierce, calliope/corinthian [eyes emoji]

Oooh for favorite Sandman character, definitely the Corinthian! He’s just - he’s everything! He’s queer, he’s a fuck up, he’s weird, he’s *trying*, he’s constantly looking to partner up with other people to help him overthrow his boss, he’s manipulative but not necessarily *good* at it. I love that he loves life, and loves humanity in his own way. He’s a nightmare, so his love is nightmarish and monstrous, but he’s so capable of having fun and there is something tragic about him being punished for being true to his nature. I’m not sure he’s really capable of being any way other than what he is, and I adore that for him.

I especially love him contrasted against the collectors - they’re all so full of resentment and spite, they’ve all invented narratives where they’re justified in killing their victims, and the Corinthian doesn’t need that at all! He doesn’t hate his victims! He’s a monster, he doesn’t need to justify what he’s doing. His speech to them was kind of hilarious in that it sort of missed the mark about why *they* kill - most of them aren’t really killing to kill at all! And when they speculate on the reasons for his name, and he kinda demurs?? Because it’s just his name! It’s not some badass moniker he came up with for himself like the rest of them. It is literally just his name.

Character I felt the writers screwed up… urgh, not to drag myself back into the OFMD fandom (yikes), but as someone who binged season 1 and was hella excited where season 2 would take the story… I gotta say Ed Teach. I won’t get too far down this rabbit hole, but needless to say, if you choose to write your co-protagonist and romantic lead as an abusive monster, that’s fine, but please actually follow-through, don’t just hand-wave it all away when it starts to headbutt against the “sunshine friendship&romance” plot you wanna tell

Gabby/Pierce

when or if I started shipping it: Not until I saw that deleted scene a few months ago!! God, I’m still feral over it. That he calls her by a nickname - that there was clearly a friendship between them, if not more – and it makes so much sense with how hyped up he’s acting right after her death, like he’s keeping himself going on willpower and Ritalin, and the way he looks so solemn when he’s telling Caliban people don’t change?? GAH. It’s a ship I didn’t think about for YEARS but has grabbed me right by the throat.

my thoughts: That I love it. That I want it. That there’s an entire movie about Gabby and Pierce’s relationship we only catch glimpses of the tail-end of, and I’ll never stop screaming about that.

What makes me happy about them: That they were friends!! She’s a nurse and he was the Reaver commander, but he *knew* her well enough to know that she loved comic books (like him!) They’re very different people – she doesn’t strike me as someone that would be drawn in to his posturing, and he’s hinted at being kinda nerdy and quiet at points in the movie where he’s not fronting, and I love the implication that she saw a side of him he doesn’t normally show to people.

What makes me sad about them: y’know it’s a tough call, but probably the part where she gets killed either by him or his Reavers on his command 😭 although it does add a deliciously tragic edge to it too

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: that there’s not more of it!

Things I look for in fanfic: assuming there was more fanfic of the two of them, I’d probably look for fanfics that explored Pierce being… maybe not *softer*, but more vulnerable with Gabby, but without making him OOC (I like my boy with his off-putting, nasty streak!) Them being drawn in to the aspects of each other that they don’t feel as comfortable showing is *chef’s kiss*

My kinks: ooh definitely femdom, CNC (i can see them switching roles for that one), pegging, and MFM threesomes with a “forced bi” roleplay element, light bondage

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: Probably Logan!

My happily ever after for them: Gabby was just faking being dead and digs Pierce out of the ground 😭😭 Always in love with endings where Pierce gets to be her extra good guard dog

Calliope/Corinthian

when or if I started shipping it: A while back (maybe a year ago now?) a friend of mine in a server drew a gorgeous piece of Calliope/Corinthian art (the one I attached to the tumblr post linking to my story, with their permission), and I was hooked after that!

my thoughts: Corinthian deserves a better master than Dream tbh, and I love him with an actual goddess who understands some part of his whole personhood situation. Someone who respects him as an individual, but also understands that if he doesn’t have someone holding his own leash pretty tightly (and giving him plenty of enrichment and affection), he’s gonna go off and do *sooo* many murders because that’s just who he is. And I love Calliope getting to indulge in some messy sex after her ordeal, with someone that just adores her for *her* and not that she’s a muse

What makes me happy about them: that their needs have the capability to balance out pretty well!! That I can see Calliope as someone who can survive and thrive with the Corinthian, and I think the Corinthian would be better off under her, too.

What makes me sad about them: when i remember they probably have met before, in happier times when Orpheus was still alive, and we’ll likely never see it 😭 did Calliope like Dream’s favorite nightmare?? Did she pamper him like a treasured pet? Was he jealous of her for her closeness to Dream? Did he adore having someone around that treated him with a softer touch?

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: again, that there’s just not really fanfic for them! 😭

Things I look for in fanfic: (assuming there was more to choose from!) really anything exploring the power dynamics between a nightmare with daddy issues and a goddess that’s spent the last 70 years imprisoned. I don’t think they could ever be regular boyfriend/girlfriend, free of power imbalance, but that’s what I adore about it

My kinks: femdom, Calliope as a masochistic dom, CNC with Calliope as the “victim” (specifically love her reclaiming herself and her sexuality & reconciling some of her trauma through some CNC), gentle domme, primal play, orgasm control/denial

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: honestly, I just love giving Call the Corinthian. I’m not sure I really ship her with anyone else - although Calliope/Destruction tickles something in my brain too. And for Corinthian, definitely Rose

My happily ever after for them: she gets to keep the Corinthian and he’s her pampered and very enriched monster 😌😌

#ask game!#thanks for the ask!!!#Gabby/Pierce my beloved

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smolgirlowo · 1 year

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semi-live blogging riverdale with my friends [S7xE3]

'she claims that the milk man killed her parents' god we are so back

alice and hal fighting about adopting the girl who's parent's just died, normal husband and wife behaviour

oh shit new establishing shot for blossom manor

'mother i am far too busy for boys' 'doing what? painting naked ladies?' 'MOTHER!' *walks away*, love how gay cheryl just is. she is also eating a vagina shaped fruit in this scene.

get dumped ronnie. archie can do better than you

'pta approved sexual reproduction lecture' yeah that's what I want after i witness a murder

i fucking hate julian man. unfortunate for him that archie doesn't know what sex is

'i had a feeling it might razz your berries' i hate the 1950s

playing 'i wish i didn't love you so' over a scene of two gay men flirting, iconic

cheryl can't even pretend to be interested in archie.

MEAT GRINDER MOMENT

'i was mad at my parents for not letting me see The Tingler' [INCREADIBLY LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER]. thought you could put a 1959 reference in 1955 and get it past me, writers? probably, but not this one.

black character: 'a very clear and direct poem about america being racist' white character: 'it's art, it doesn't have to mean anything.' god really hope these kids aren't on a divine mission to solve racism cause the don't see very qualified to do it

HOLY SHIT DOES CHERYL WANT TO FUCK TONI SO BAD

oh no cheryl don't try kissing a boy it won't make you straight, oh god no she's crying

CHAPTER 6: AROUSAL

BETTY IN THE FUCK DIMENSION. EVERYONE IN THE FUCK DIMENSION.

"what the fuck, what am I watching?" "METAPHOR" love my friends

WHY IS CHERYL IN THE BACKGROUND OF VERONICA'S SEX DREAM???

"it's art, betty, it doesn't have to make sense."

kevin has almost learned what racism is, betty is horny beyond belief. glad to see they both had productive nights

"this show is so fucking nothing. it's everything. it's poetry in motion."

me when teaching sex ed with the common American flower.

I am a 6 on the Kingsley scale, apparently.

'i am going to host a make-out party' 'what's that, an orgy' gay men cannot be trusted with language

STOP WITH THE FLOWERS AND BEES METAPHORS

'you wanna have gay sex?' 'i have a boyfriend!' *leaves* I love cheryl so much

iconic jughead behaviour: 'you are an odd duck jughead, aren't you? a loner.' 'I'M NOT WEIRD! I'M NOT A WEIRDO! I'M GOING TO A MAKE-OUT PARTY!'

boner music. boner music. love the boner music.

'hey betty, you know that um... sex book.' i don't think the writers know what the kinsey reports are.

betty and archie already doing role play on date -1

ARCHIE GOT A BONER!!!! BONER CANNON!!!

FANGS DON'T YOU DARE KISS CHERYL! THAT'S YOUR BEST FRIENDS/ex-wife in another timeline's SOUL MATE!

kevin does not know what a kiss is. JUG KISS, JUG DOING A KISS! BUGHEAD MOMENT! THEY HAVEN'T MET BEFORE???

'i think i got you're gum' 'keep it' i would never talk to ronnie every again.

TONI DON'T YOU DARE KISS JULIAN! THAT'S YOUR SOUL MATES TWIN BROTHER! THAT'S NOT HOW YOU MAKE A GIRL JEALOUS!

jughead and veronica moment! they do not know how to speak to each other! it's adorable.

>we have started talking about the tickle porn arc, it has nothing to do with what's going beyond the fact that we are insane and the show is insane<

oh shit ronnie and jughead? are we setting up ronnie and jughead for some reason? they have the same favourite horror movie, how cute.

kevin is scared to even touch a girl, i love him so much.

'you're not excited' *looks at flaccid dick*. god, kevin, stop trying to pretend you're straight, you're really bad at it.

oh god cheryl. OH GOD. oh god, you are much better at faking being straight.

"archie got hot" "archie got hot" "archie got hot"

jesus cheryl. I can't even tell if you're torturing your mom or if you actually had sex with archie.

oh no, betty gave kevin the guide to human sexuality. oh no he's going to learn he's gay. I mean good for him, but i'm so sorry betty.

more ronnie and jughead setup? OH NO, jughead is going to jail for murder.

#riverdale my beloved

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yjwhatif · 2 years

Text

YJ EPISODE 25 SPOILER NOTES… there’s only ONE freaking episode left 😫

→ Lor sounds so happy to be in front of his parents again

→ "From the will comes strength, from strength comes the will”.... catchy

→ "Of course he's our son, Dru... he has your eyes" - Such a surprisingly Motherly response... it honestly catches me off guard everytime Ursa and Dru are soft and loving.. it makes them more that simply one dimensional villains

→ Uh oh... Cue titles

→ Go Forager GO!

→ Ooh looks like tensions may be brewing between M’comm and Lor

→ Zod definitely has a loyalty for his followers

→ Has Zod got himself a soft spot for Conner? Lor’s definitely not gonna like that!

→ So he didn't take Bart with him after all

→ Nothing good ever happens in the North pole! In my fact — its a rather bad omen for the OGs- Death always takes one of them… we’ll supposedly

→ Aww-supermans shrine is Pretty Cute

→ Lor, listen to your father!

→"My Son, do you challenge the word of ZOD?” He has definitely heard his mother use this line as a way to ensure he complied with theirs ways of doing things.

→"Mother of Goat"… I have gotten so used to this phrase that when I heard someone actually say "mother of god" - My brain went No, its "Goat"... and then I remembered

→ A heroes work is never done - they're always battling someone.

→ I wonder if we will actually see this Kryptonian army before the seasons end?

→ Well at least sups seems to show some care for Bart! Maybe he's been feeling guilty since he didn't help Dick and Z?

→ Can we all agree that Bart is definaty NOT alright!

→ "BRB!" it is always nice to hear him being perky though - and I do love his little seedy sound effect that is definitely just him making his own sound effect - it’s very Bart!

→ No! Orion lost his mother Box!

→ Of Course Bart decides to make an entrance by surfing in on Bio ship

→ "You Shall NOT PASS!" "I bet he's always wanted to Say that” “I've always wanted to say that!" - Oh Dick Grayson, You are such a Nerd and we Love you for it!

→ It's so cool seeing forager do green lantern things!

→ Barts super speed talking returns. Now, I know he sounds happy/excited -but there's definitely something off about him - he's too perky - then there his face - there's a way of telling if someone is genuinely smiling in an image - if you cover the smile and their face still look happy, then they are genuinely smiling - if they don't, then it is not genuine… Now whether that theory translates as much in animation - that depends, but if you cover the smile Bart’s wearing in this scene - then he look really sad! I'm not sure if we will see him crack by the end of all this - but he definitely will soon… hopefully.

→ M’gann reconnecting with Bioship is super Sweet! PLEASE DON’T KILL BIOSHIP!

→ Reunion of the Legion... but they're still insisting on keeping secrets - don’t let black lightning catch you doing that!

→ I love all the little quiet conversations - showing the emotional aftermath of both positive reunions and negative ones - it's nice to see Jeff check in with sups after everything he's just learnt - it shows he practices what he preaches - he genuinely cares about those he watches over (which was never in question - but its still nice to see it in his behaviour.)

→ I also love everything we’re getting with Superman this Season - Portraying he's not invulnerable to emotions and the pain that comes with loss and grief - we’ve really seen another side to Superman in the few episode we've seen him and they've developed him a lot as a person - more than just the Superhero... NOW, Please Don't kill Him off!

→ Bailing on the main fight to go do something else - that is such a Dick Grayson thing to do

→ Genuinely though Dick had Successfully Killed Dru and Ursa - that would have definitely been a strange turn of events!

→ Oh no! Oh no! oh no! Oh no! Oh no!

→ Did Dick just get MOM!Maria Rambeau-ed?!

→ That is a lot of blood!

→ This is not good!

→ This is very moded! very very moded! Very not crash at all!

→ No! the Zods are alright!

→ DICK.IS.DEAD!? WTF!?

→ Are we all in a agreement that he is definitely not staying dead!? Though I gotta say, while I know he's a quick thinker with a knack for faking deaths - I really don't think he was planning on having A MASSIVE BALL OF ICE land directly on his head from a significant Height! A small bit of ice hurts - that was Huge! and he's only got a regular human head - he doesn’t even wear any head protection. While I don't think he's staying dead, I don't think he's faking things to deceive the Zods... So maybe time travels gonna come back up to fix everything that's happened this episode? or a really random thought is - what if something with the Lazarus pit happens to tie back to Jason and Ra's from Artemis's arc - Since that's the only arc not to have been brought up again in some way since it happened... I'm doubtful that would ever happen but its an idea

→ Call back to faking Artemis's death in s2 with listening to the heart beat stop

→ Ursa's having another tantrum - I'm telling you - She's the one to watch out for - and now she's got a major power up - I think she could be capable of destroying even zods plans! She’s power hungry and a little bit insane!

→ The build your rage tactic is a really good one but all the grunting is funny!

→ Interesting - the boom tube has solid walls - that explain how bart got out of that one in 316.

→ She has got a point - the Kryptonian I don't remember the name of - its not exactly fair for them to be left in hell indefinitely because the ones who imprisoned them were killed - and the Zone is truly hellish so you can understand who they are all so desperate to get out as well... I wonder if we will see the league paroling the kryptorians at some point - the way Kaldur brought it up again feels like a set up for future development.

→ UH-OH... Devourer says Nom, nom, nom.

→ Yeah I still don't get what the evil eye is - only that its not good

→ I've gotta say this but extra evil Ursa kinda looks like a mix of Hela from Marvel and Granny Goodness and I can't unsee it!

→ Zod may approve of Ursa's power up now… but give it time and I think that power will go to her head and she may just find zod isn't moving fast enough for her liking anymore... there may definitely be trouble ahead for the couple!

→ Yeah guys - I really think he's dead!

→ More friction between lor and M'comm

→ Bart's laugh sounds So much like the Robin laugh.

→ Hooray! the boy finally eats something!

→ Rockets bubbles to the rescue… Well, that is until lor has to ruin things as always!

→ Oh no Rocket! Guess were gonna find out what happens when a boom tube closes and your still inside

→ Bart always at the front of the action... Will that be his downfall

→ I wonder if Saturn Girl got her message across?

→ Did that eye thing just Murder Bishop!

→ Did that eye thing just Murder Everyone!

→ what if SG's warning was "Play dead" and she's shielding them from actually being seen/hiding their heartbeats - since Conner can’t be hearing any heart beats (or at least M’ganns) to be convinced he's killed her/them?

→ Superman - always the last one standing

→ Zod is really interesting as he is able to over look his hate for the El's by offering Superman a place in his ranks - a hatred that he would teach to lor - which then pushed him to try kill Superboy despite never knowing any of the El’s. Zod sees the bigger picture and is able to separate himself from his emotions.

→ "Kneel before Zod" NO!

→ Oh look at that, the Kryptonite did come up again... yeah, that's not good... he's like a reverse Hulk - he gets wearer when he's green

→"I can’t help him... because you're already dead”…Conner really sucks at the minute

→ its interesting that the eyebrow scratch doesn't seem to have healed at all since its only small and Conners on earth again

→ Lor is definitely jealous of all the attention his fathers giving Conner!

→ That road looks insane!

→ Is one of the billboards for 'The Mysteries of Udolpho: THE MOVIE'?! What is it with this book reference? is this gonna turn in to another Magic school bus situation?!

→ We haven't seen any reference to G. Gordon in a while - I was beginning to think he'd left with Granny

→ Ursa blew up the Planet!

→ DON'T DO IT CONNER!!

→ Amistads toy cars!!! 😭

OH GOD - what the hell is gonna happen in the last episode!? Conners either gonna do it and we’ll get some last minute time shenanigans, or the outsiders will come just in time to save Sups... or something else entire - because honesty anything can happen with this Show! AND CANNOT WAIT!

BRING IT ON!

#my random thoughts #yj s4 spoilers #yj spoilers #young justice #yj #young justice phantoms #bart allen #superboy #superman #dick grayson #lor zod #losh #long post #general zod #conner kent

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blackbeards-bonnet · 1 year

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I posted 5,166 times in 2022

That's 5,166 more posts than 2021!

47 posts created (1%)

5,119 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@impalationship

@snake-snack-stede

@forpiratereasons

@ofmd-alsaurus

@honeypieblackbeard

I tagged 675 of my posts in 2022

#ofmd - 461 posts

#our flag means death - 441 posts

#edward teach - 161 posts

#stede bonnet - 152 posts

#blackbonnet - 148 posts

#blackbeard - 143 posts

#ofmd spoilers - 82 posts

#taika waititi - 78 posts

#ofmdedit - 52 posts

#gentlebeard - 49 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#it’s about not living up to the stabdards of others and being disappointed by the one person who you thought would always have your back

My Top Posts in 2022:

Can I serve you guys some sleep-deprived Ed? How about an angsty reunion? I know it's not Accountant, but pls read it anyway, I worked very hard on it

24 notes - Posted July 13, 2022

I know people have made posts like this before but I just want to reiterate… Please don’t seek out creator or actor attention on twitter, especially to fanart. You can definitely post your art and be proud of it (please do!) and you can be excited if they do interact with it (I know I would be!). But that doesn’t mean that you should tag them or pester them or expect attention from them in any way. They’re people, and they have the right to choose what they see/interact with just like everyone else. Please just be respectful!

39 notes - Posted April 7, 2022

If they don’t get a happy ending, I will personally fight taika waititi and god

47 notes - Posted April 1, 2022

Lucius’s reaction to Ed, Blackbeard, and the Kraken in the next season will be fascinating to me.

On one hand, we’ve seen that he and Ed have some rapport, if only in regard to Stede and romantic feelings. There is (or was) some understanding there. For an episode or two, they were on the same page. And we’ve seen that Lucius was never really afraid of Blackbeard or his crew (mocking Izzy, building a friendship with Fang, etc).

On the other hand, Blackbeard literally tried to kill him. That’s a really hard thing to forgive and forget. Lucius strikes me as a very petty person (the break-up scene alone shows that) so I don’t think he’ll be the forgiving sort, but we also have to take Stede’s feelings and actions into account. Lucius obviously cares for Stede very much and seeing his captain and friend so distraught over the loss of his boyfriend might tip the scales in favor of getting Edward back, despite Lucius’s hatred of him. I’m conflicted on whether it’ll be enough, though

Of all of the relationships to explore in season 2, I think Lucius and Edward’s is the one I’m most excited for, especially because there are so many different directions they could go in. I really hope they don’t brush off Edward’s actions for the sake of comedy and instead dig into the nitty gritty of the interactions between these two highly complex, motivated, and emotional characters

86 notes - Posted April 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Is anyone gonna write a fic where Ed is a stripper with the stripper name The Kraken who catches the eye of a recently-divorced Stede or do I have to do everything myself around here?

123 notes - Posted April 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #fitting that my most popular post was the one that sparked my longest fic to date #also that typo in my longest tag is EMBARRASSING

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tippett-in-a-robe · 2 years

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Alright, so me and my sisters just got done watching Stranger things season 4 vol 2 and we are depressed now…

I normally don’t post my own commentary on here, but I feel like talking about vol 2 right now, and about my own thoughts on it.

*SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT*

Personally, I really loved this season. I loved all the seasons, though this one just might be my fav. And I know a lot of people have mixed opinions on this, and that’s totally fine. I respect your opinions, and I understand.

The action scenes were amazing, and I was on the edge of my seat the whole time! But let’s talk about what everyone else is talking about, shall we?

Yes, that is Eddie’s death, and Max’s near death.

Let’s talk about Max first:

Needless to say, we were freaking the f*ck out! God, when I saw her bones cracking, my heart dropped to my feet. And when she actually “died” I thought she was really gone for good. Thank god El was able to somehow bring her back. But, even though Max is alive, she’s still in horrible shape and is in a coma. Then El tried to get into her mind once again towards the end, but she didn’t see Max anywhere. Idk what that means, but I just hope she doesn’t die, and that she’ll make a recovery in the 5th season. I’d feel awful for her if she is permanently blind tho.

Though, I do wonder if she is missing from the void because her soul still belongs to Vecna or something. Because he needed 4 kills in order to open a crack for the upside down to come to the right side up. And, of course, it happened after Max “died.”

I also wonder if she’ll still be in the coma for season 5. Because I know there will be a time jump to better match the actors’ ages in real life.

Now for Eddie…

Like everyone else, I wish he didn’t die. That was the saddest shit I’ve seen in a long time, and that’s still affecting me now.

I know those demobats probably would have come into the right side up (our realm) through the gate if Eddie didn’t sacrifice himself being a distraction, but considering that soon after that, the demobats died because the hive mind was in pain, then they would have died anyway and no one probably would have been hurt. I mean, I guess the bats still could have killed Eddie in our realm (and probably Dustin too) but that was just sad, man.

And though Eddie still COULD have made it back safe, and proved his innocence, there would always be people out there who would think of him as a killer. It would follow him everywhere he went no matter what he did. That probably would have been the alternative death for him.

So, in some way or another, it probably couldn’t have happened any other way for him. He would never have been able to live his life normally if he had survived.

Not to say that I would’ve preferred him to die. Trust me, I wish he lived. :,(

Anyway, it was sad watching those two characters die and/or be in such pain. I really relate(ed) to those characters, the Duffers did such a good job portraying them and their issues.

And I’m excited to see how this all plays out in season 5 with the upside down coming to the right side up n stuff. (Hopefully we won’t have to wait another 3 years, because my heart can’t handle it.)

#stranger things 4 #stranger things #st 4 #st 4 vol 2 #st 4 vol 1 #my commentary #max mayfield #eddie munson #steve harrington

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izzy-b-hands · 1 year

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Remember that Bob's Burgers scene with Tina driving the car for the first time?

I thought of another dad and pirate captain who would probably make that mistake.

Then I realised it's even dumber and funnier if you make it Steddyhands so she has three guardians watching over her and effectively doing nothing to help (Buttons is also there, but he's just Observing. For fun, for study? Probably both.)

"Okay," Stede claps his hands. "First time at the helm! Exciting, isn't it? You know, Mr. Buttons only lets me up here with his supervision, but you...well, for now you have all of us supervising you, but not for long!"

Alma nods, hands on the ornate ship's wheel.

"Now, we're in a lovely open area, so there's the crew with the sails and...there we go!"

The wheel turns one way, then back the other. Then back again. And again.

"Little bit more steady. There's only one other ship near us after all!"

Alma lets out a stressed mumble.

"What's that?"

"Here," Ed kneels down by her. "So what you want to do now is steer away from that ship."

"That's what I'm trying to do!"

"Well, right now we're sort of headed directly towards it," Stede remarks. "Not trying to be judgy, just noting a fact."

"Mr. Buttons," Izzy, leaning against the upper deck rail, calls out. "Would you like to help with this?"

Buttons shakes his head. "The three of you are right there. Shouldn't need me."

"He's sort of right," Ed says. "Izzy, maybe-"

"Don't let these two get in your head," Izzy jogs over and pats her shoulder. "Just turn...no, one direction or the other. Either is fine, but stick with one or...no, that's turning it the other way again... Bonnet?"

"I already told her!"

"You told her she was getting close to it, not that she should keep the wheel one way or the other!"

"Well aren't we Mr. Particular today-"

Ed sighs and stands. "Can you two save this for later pl-"

"Ow!"

Alma smashes headfirst into the wheel as they crash into the back of the other ship.

"We're okay," Ed says quickly. "Should we go see Roach? Get some snacks and put some ice on that bump on your forehead?"

She lifts her hand to it. "Is it bad?"

There's a pause as they watch the purple bruise and bump raise up more.

"You're okay," Izzy says, vaguely convincingly.

"By the time we get you back home," Stede smiles. "It'll hardly be noticeable!"

"Who did we hit anyway?" Ed peers out to the other ship. "Oh fuck-"

"Who the shit-" Calico Jack bounds down to the main deck from the helm of the other ship. "Hey! So...this is awkward, huh?"

Stede's eyes squeeze shut, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Oh my god."

"Who's that?" Alma asks. "I like his outfit; is he a pirate?"

"Oh my god," Stede groans again. "He's...Mr. Buttons? Could you take the helm?"

Buttons shrugs. "Not much point as we can't move right now, but I can."

"Alma, dear, you and Izzy go find Roach," Stede continues. "And Ed and I...will deal with Jack."

"We can't kill him just to get out of this," Ed says. "Plus, a cannonball didn't do it, so what else would?"

Izzy opens his mouth, then closes it. "Not best to say with a child present."

"I...I don't even want to know," Stede mutters. "It had to be him. Of course."

#text post #long post #i ended it just as the end of the scene bc oh my god #i rewrote like seven different longer ends for this and none of them work well to me so #the ficlet/scene thing here won aksjfkgn

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flusteredloser · 3 years

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sugar sweet

richie tozier x fem reader

category: fluff, fluff, literally just fluff

word count: 3,3k

content warnings: swearing, stealing, slight nsfw (sexual innuendos... bc it’s richie tozier), a driving scene written by a bitch who can't drive, overbearing fluff, sonia

a/n: hello here’s a lil soft fic i wrote in a hyper state today <3 i had ‘beverly’ by ben wallfisch from the it 2017 soundtrack stuck in my head while i wrote the ending so !! enjoy

🎡

"sweetheart, if you don't put your head back in, i'm afraid i'm gonna have to marie antoinette you."

you laughed dismissively at his empty threat, feeling a grin take over. you let the wind crash against your face and through your hair, the scent of sea salt softly filling your nose. if richie thought that you were going to give this feeling up, oh, was he wrong.

despite what he was saying, the sight of morning sunlight streaking through your flying hair and your torso poking out the passengers' window was one richie wished he could get used to. despite his nagging for the past half hour, ranting about the dangers of vehicular manslaughter and mishaps, he couldn't help but beam at your laughter.

he almost hit himself in the head for getting all worked up about safety like eddie always did, but it was something he found himself doing often with you. keeping you safe and sound was one of the few things that kept him from staying up all night. besides, you guys were going to see eddie and the rest of the losers in a bit anyways. the designated role of the pedantic worrier would soon be shrugged off richie's shoulders.

keeping one hand on the wheel, richie’s free hand never left the edge of your knee, not once in the hour-long drive. no matter how far you reached your body out his car's window, his fingers stayed glued around you. you never said anything about the gesture apart from placing your hand over his. being his was something you never got used to, but you were far from complaining.

"richierichierichie i think we're here!" you exclaim, ducking your head back inside the car.

"you sure, dummy? the massive ferris wheel and circus tent means we're close to the carnival?"

your hand leaves his to go shove his temple, "fuck off, rich."

"i know i know, you're really excited," he taps your knee, "so am i."

he pulls into the parking lot, expertly navigating his way through the crowded area before finding a space. an empty space which was coincidentally beside a sketchy beat-up minivan painted with "URIS," in fat letters.

richie laughs, "what are the fucking odds.”

his hand moves from the skin on your knee to the back of your seat, his body shifting to face the rear. you subtly eye your boyfriend sitting in the driver's seat and tried not to physically express any of the thoughts firing in your mind right then. dear god, did he look good today. you end up shamelessly staring at him as he strains his neck to squeeze his way through tight space. his knuckles turn to this ghostly shade of white when he flexed them against the wheel, his rings glinting under the sunlight.

once he finally put the car in park and shifted his weight back to you, he catches your gaze. throwing a wink, he pulls out the keys and stuffs his belongings into his jean pockets.

you’re sure he has zero clue about the effect any of this had on you. sure, he was your boyfriend but sometimes you found yourself feeling scared at how much you liked him. this boy has you wrapped around his finger and he barely knows half of it.

you reach over and run your fingers through his unruly hair a couple more times, enjoying the way the curls bounce back. “you look so good, rich.”

he rolls his eyes at your remark, but you don’t miss the way a small blush reaches tips of his ears. “enjoy it while it lasts, i can’t let the guards recognise me again.”

“i still can’t believe you got fired and banned on the same day, rich. that’s genuinely so impressive, you know that?"

richie rolls his eyes but you see the hint of a grin on his face, “you going soft on me, sweets?”

“could never.” you ruffle his hair, letting your nails glide along his scalp and you laugh at the way his head naturally tips back. richie had no clue why the feeling of your hands in his hair that made him short-circuit, but he wasn’t complaining.

“do we really have to go see them...” richie groans, grabbing your hand and placing it back onto his head when you pulled away.

“richard tozier. i did not pester you to drive us an hour away just so you could fold at me playing with your hair.”

he side-eyes you. “why did i agree to this again?”

“because every day for the last month you wouldn’t shut up about ‘taking eddie’s slushee v-”

“ed’s slushee virginity, riiiight,” he breaks out in a smile, “jesus, can you believe sonia never let him near one in his entire life?”

you tug his fringe towards you and the rest of his head followed, “well, now that he’s all alone there, someone’s got to be there to guide him through his first time, right?”

he faux-pouts back at you, the mischievous glint in his eye sparkling brighter. “fine.”

finally, you let go of his hair and he pecks a kiss against your cheek before putting on his sunglasses and tipping his cap further down his face. opening his car door, you sit there dumbfounded as you watch the 6'2 disguised dork clamber out of his side with your tote bag on his shoulder.

he glances back, offering a hand as if you were going to climb out on his side as well, “c’mon, we don’t have all day.” and richie made sure you knew that by dragging you through the park, evading the guards left and right in under a minute. it was only so long before you spotted a group of idiots wandering aimlessly. bev’s bright red hair was the instant identifier, and watching this bill’s lanky frame grab a fistful of stan’s curls to yank it about sealed the deal.

“stanley, darling,” richie yelled through the crowd, “if you wanted someone to pull your hair that badly you could’ve asked me nicely.” “shut the fuck up, trashmouth!” stan yelled back. “wait. rich?”

you walk over and sling your arm around bev, “you guys haven’t been waiting long, have you?” she grins at the sight of you, “no, but if i have to hear mike argue one more time that the high striker is apparently ‘broken’ i’m going to kill somebody.”

“do me a favour and kill me, bev!” stan’s voice cuts through, followed by a shriek when richie too grabs a handful of his hair.

bev’s hand leaves yours to go smack both boys upside the head. “y’all better stop acting like children before i get fucking fired. i’m not going out like dumbass richie here did.” she eyes the rest of them, who all halt in their tracks.

“yes, ma’am,” the chorus sighed.

🎡

"ed's, i swear on your mother's smokin’ bod that blue is the. best. flavour. there's literally nothing wrong with it."

"you just called blue a flavour, richie-”

"because it can be. it doesn’t matter if blue and red colouring are the same, you can feel the difference.”

"no, i really can't. i don't understand how the colour blue could possibly be-"

richie groans, "fine, eat your mommy's packed lunch like the big boy you are." he teasingly starts to wave his cup in front of eddie's eyes.

"quit it, rich. if eddie doesn’t want toxins in his body, leave him be." ben interjects before sipping his own neon drink.

the boys huddled together around a picnic table they had managed to snatch before the carnival’s lunch rush swept over. richie and bev used to work in the carnival last summer, the two-week period spent with one another supposedly being “worse than the devil’s asscrack.” the comment itself earned richie five slaps, one each from the boys, and a high-five from bev. that was until richie got permanently banned (which you still don’t know how) and now bev carried on by herself whenever they roll back into derry.

currently, you and bev were on your way back from the concession stands, attempting not to spill anything. you each held at least four bags of carnival foods and drinks in your arms, bev also balancing the few candy bars she stashed under her shirt. teeter-tottering your way back to the boys, richie burst out in laughter at the sight of you struggling.

“as graceful as a job you’re doing with that, sweets, do you want some help?” he smirks, already swinging his leg over the chair.

“nope, nothing to see here,” you groan at richie’s smug grin. “rich, i swear to god if you come near me i am going to-”

“hurt me, hit me, murder me, mmhm. i’m sure you’ll do a whole lot of damage.” he winks, swiping the bags from your arms.

“freaky.” stan muttered, churning his slushee with the straw. you grumble at richie’s endearing irritating act of heroism and plop yourself next to stan empty-handed.

“here, you want some?” stan raises an eyebrow, offering his blue slushee towards you.

“thanks stan, but he’s got my...” you glance towards richie, half-expecting to see him distributing the snacks, only to see him aggressively nudge the slushees in eddie’s face. “you know what, i’ll take it.”

stan scoffed, “what, you thought i was offering this from the depths of my generous heart? i thought you knew me better-"

the sound of plastic crinkling and eddie’s yelp cut through stan’s sentence.

you look back at the sight of richie threatening to pour the ice into eddie’s hair, eddie shrieking and wildly missing punches at richie. dear god, your boyfriend was such a menace. richie and eddie never spent a day where they weren’t at eachother’s throats though, but anyone with a pair of eyes could see that they deeply loved one another. rich had that effect on people, you think. he was rarely overtly loving, but it’s not like he needed to be. you guys just knew.

ben smiles sweetly between you and your gaze on richie. “you’re staring again, y/n.”

you immediately snap out of it and go to slug ben in the shoulder. “was not.”

“was too.”

"was. not."

"was too!"

you narrow your eyes at ben who sheepishly smiles in innocence. he reaches over to grab a couple onion rings from your bag to which you lightly slap the back of his hand. he groans, trying again from another angle, “just because i pointed out your goo-goo eyes at trashmouth?”

bev snatched a couple rings from across you and threw them at ben. he chuckles gleefully at the perfect catch. “you know, he’s not wrong,” she points out.

“for the last time, i wasn’t staring,” you groan.

“not about that, genius. the way you’re absolutely whipped for that dick.” she smiles. “i mean,” you barely conceal your smirk, “the dick is pretty g-”

"not what i meant," bev sighs while the rest of them groan at your words.

“seriously though,” bill asks with genuine curiosity, “how did you even end up together? how do you even like someone that much?” bev tuts from the other side, “tread lightly there, denbrough.”

“shut up, you know what i mean. it’s trashmouth we’re talking ’bout here.” bill grins, “it’s a mystery how someone can shut him up so quick.”

you laugh to yourself, thinking about the few times you get to see richie completely speechless. “it’s not that hard, you know?” you shrug softly at the way the losers nod. you may all pretend to hate the life out of him but he always had a special place in each of your hearts. “he cares with everything he’s got, no matter what. he’s always there for you even if you don’t want him to be. i just...i don’t think he’s been anything less than...”

“-if you say ‘perfect’, i’m going to hit you.” stan says.

you roll your eyes at stan, “fuck off, but... but yeah. it’s so easy to love him and i honestly owe you guys an apology for being so annoyingly whipped for that dork,” you joke.

aside from the distant bickering coming from richie and eddie in their own little world, a silence hung over the six of you. it was too quiet. wondering if you said something wrong, you scan over them, only to be met with six variations of a smirk. more than confused, you chuckle nervously. “i was joking about the apology thing but if you really want-”

“you said ‘love.’” bev laughed.

“what?”

“you said ‘love,’” she repeated. “that you loved him.”

“i... of course i love him, he’s..” not trusting any more of the words coming out of your mouth, you cut yourself off and gather your thoughts.

of course you loved richie. each and every one of you loved your resident trashmouth, he was one of your best friends. the two of you were the closest of friends, an insufferable duo for years before you began dating. it might have only been a few weeks since he asked you out, but it’s not like too much changed from when you were friends.

there was only more love, more affection, only slightly more sexual innuendos (majority of them were solely just to piss off stan).

so of course you loved him. more than you did when you were friends. which he’s gotta know... right?

“fuck, maybe i do owe you guys an apology.” you joke.

“don’t think twice about it, this is nothing compared to him. if i took a shot for every time he went on some sort of love ramble about you, i’d be fucking dead.” bev replies, “and then he would carry on.”

you laugh, shaking your head in denial, “c’mon, he does not do that.”

“are you blind?” mike speaks up. “you’ve had him since the first day you joined us at the barrens. i can still see fourteen-year-old richie ogling you clear as day.”

you stammered at your response, tripping over your words. “mike, i think you broke her. she’s become bill,” stan teases.

you go to shove stan again and sorely miss. “anyways, my point is...”

you avoid their eye contact and go back to churning stan’s slushee. “he has my heart, fuck, he’s got all of our hearts. like, is he an asshole? sure. does he get on my nerves every other day? definitely. will he be the death of me? probably. but i l-”

“i sure hope you’re winding up to something there, sweets.”

you snap your head up from your dreamy rambling to see richie smirking next to you and eddie squeezing himself next to bill. you feel yourself go bright red at the realisation that he had been listening.

“i- no. that was it.”

“you sure? you going off about me... ‘but’...” richie pushes, quoting your words.

“richie, if you genuinely think you have redeeming qualities, i suggest some self-reflection.” stan quipped. “yeah, i was just pointing how much you bother us. no ifs, no buts,” you jokingly agree.

“mean,” richie rolls his eyes, shifting back in his seat next to you.

he’s gotta know... right?

you wink and stick your tongue out playfully, to which richie raises an eyebrow at. he glances between the blue drink in your hand and your tongue, his gaze on your lips making you nervous.

“now, what?” you sigh, wiping the ice from your mouth and pretending that you weren’t dying to know what was churning in that brain of his.

“nothing,” richie shrugs smugly, “just that i’ve always wanted to know how my cock looked blue.”

the comment took you off guard, your instant blush only fuelling richie’s grin. without hesitation, you lean over with a faux-pout, an act that has richie’s eyes wide. “careful there, trashmouth,” you tease loudly. “you keep this up and you’ll see how stan’s looks blue.”

bev immediately gasps with her hand over her mouth, followed by mike’s stifled cackle as he slapped richie’s back. the rest of the group looks frankly stunned, and stan’s face is on a whole different level of red.

richie doesn’t even look the least bit angry. his jaw is dropped slightly and he runs his hand over his jaw, trying to stop the chuckle that leaves his throat. if anything he looks proud.

shaking his head with a smile, he slings his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer. “that’s my girl,” he grins.

“yeah, that for sure is tozier’s,” bill says.

there’s no way any of you miss the way richie’s face goes red under that comment and your heart skips a beat when he squeezes your side. when no one’s looking, you lean up and kiss by his ear, absolutely delighted by the deeper shade of red on his face.

“darl, if you don’t stop that i’m going to go as red as stan,” he whispers into your hair. the both of you look back at the boy who’s trying to concentrate on his slushee and not the blush that’s continued to creep to his neck. “i’m actually getting concerned.”

you giggle, “shh, he’s fine.”

“no really, i give it a couple seconds before eddie pulls out his medical fanny pack,” richie says.

you look up at him as you’re tucked into his side, his arm still slung around your shoulder. his dark hair and eyelashes caught the sunlight, his blue eyes glinting as he glanced back. his lips were tipped into their signature cheeky smile, almost like a cue that he was going to say something out of hand. you felt the swell of your heart grow as he raised his eyebrows, prompting what he knew you were going to say.

“you know, earlier...” you whisper, looking down to his hand intertwining with yours. “i just... i wanted to say that i... you know... that i-”

“i feel like i should be offended at how hard it is for you to tell me you love me, sweets,” he whispers back, clearly trying to keep a straight face. fuck. “oh god please, you know i-” richie shushes you, kissing the crown of your head. “it’s okay, i know.” you can feel the curve of his lips against your hair. “i love you too.”

trying to tame the aggressive blush and stupid smile that reached your face, you follow his gaze over to eddie. just like richie joked, he had this fanny pack laid on the table in front of stan. you weren’t listening to anything they were saying, but you watched the way stan was squirming from eddie, insisting he did not have heatstroke. mike stood right behind stan, pinching his cheeks and periodically wrapping his strong arms around stan to stop him from squirming. bev was leaning across ben and bill’s laps, joining in and poking her fun at eddie and you notice how bill’s hands traces figures along bev’s side. ben gazes at the group of them, chiming in every so often when stan’s quips got too violent.

it was one of those moments you wish you could freeze.

after a while, richie whispers into your ear. “do you think they’d even notice if we left for the ferris wheel?”

you break your eye contact from the group to gaze up at him. “nope, not at all. you think you can sneak us some tickets?”

“please, you think i got kicked out of here for nothing?” he scoffs.

“is this how you’re going to get banned again?” you grin, poking his side, “stealing tickets for your girl?”

with a soft smile, he takes your hand to subtly stand and back away from the group. with stifled giggles, the both of you manage to make it at least twenty feet without the losers even noticing. the second you two were out of earshot, richie wraps his hand around yours and begins to run, “i wouldn't want it any other way."

🎡

520 notes · View notes

flame-cat · 2 years

Text

so during my initial liveblog of ofmd i did some rambling, and i think i should post some. starting with the scene where stede first wakes up after ed saves him:

i still find it so funny how ed immediately has it down bad for this. french toast strip of a man

ok i rewatched the Scene and im

god

when stede wakes up, see this... guy? this big burly leather-clad Guy? with this. big soft eyes and this messy salt-and-pepper hair. and hes like. what the fuck happened, and ed starts explaining and stede Remembers (this same dude was the one who had Heard Of Him, who came and rescued him from the brink of death, was the first and last thing he saw just now) and immediately tries to get up because even though the last thing he remembers of his crew is being told hes the worst pirate ever and conceding that he deserves that, he still cares about them and wants them to be ok, so he tries to get up and nOPE STILL STABBED OW but this Guy just. gently. very gently pushes him down. very softly shushes him, tells him he needs to rest. and ed his like, feeling ways about this already, because wow he really is different, and the next words out of stede's mouth are "do you work for blackbeard?" and ed's whole FUCKING WORLD gets flipped on its axis because he expected to hear are you blackbeard but in stede's mind theres no way this puppy-eyed soft man sitting on his bedside and touching him so gently could POSSIBLY be blackbeard, so maybe he just works for him, and meanwhile ed's having a whole fucking Moment over here like. yeah. he does in a way work for blackbeard, because blackbeard isnt him is it? so he says yes, and introduces himself for the first time in so long as. just ed. and they shake hands

and thats how it starts, of course it is, because in order for this to ever have happened theyd have had to know each other as stede and ed first

the way that ed at first is obviously head-over-heels already for stede, right, because YOU DONT CHASE A PERSON ACROSS THE OCEAN AND SAVE THEIR LIFE when youre NOT feeling a Way about them. and the best part is? ed knows NOTHING about stede. he just knows hes clever, and silly, and trying to be a pirate, and very very lucky to be alive. and ed is. FASCINATED. hes bemused, hes EXCITED and INTRIGUED for the first time in so long. and then he Meets him (sort of) and he of course makes sure hes ok, sits vigil at his bedside. just looking at him. listening to him mumble about mary (whos mary? who the fuck is mary????) and being so gentle with him even though he doesnt even FUCKING know him yet? but he looks at his ship and his crew and his little model ship that mary hated so much and he ADORES IT. all of it. all the parts of stede people either hate or mock or overlook, ed loves it. is so enamoured by this Guy. and to top it all off, the first thing stede says to him is to ask if he WORKS FOR blackbeard. not if he IS blackbeard, if he WORKS FOR HIM. and ed is like. yeah. blackbeard isnt really me, is he?

i love how its framed too. in the narrative at first youre like, lead to believe blackbeard wants to kill stede, and then you meet him in episode 4 and ed is just. a total fucking goofball? and he was OBVIOUSLY chasing stede because he just GENUINELY wanted to meet this guy. even after "suck eggs in hell" ed is just. SO INSANE over this dude. like oh my god

the way you look at these two characters and ur first thought is that stede would pine after ed when its THE OPPOSITE is so funny and so so good

ed is pining after stede before even MEETING HIM and meanwhile stede doesnt even realize hes actually in love with ed untilSO MUCH LATER

in conclusion ed is morosexual

#in the life #long post #ofmd #stede bonnet #edward teach #blackbonnet

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crossroadsserpent · 2 years

Text

Not fair

Dano!Riddler x GN! Reader.

Summary: the reader proposes to Edward before Edward gets to propose to them. Edward gets all flustered but is upset that reader didn't let him propose so they agree that he can also propose :)

(A/n: I know this is really silly but I thought it was cute so I wrote it! Also! Just a reminder that my requests are open! I'll make a masterlist soon)

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

You and Edward were sat on the couch watching your favorite Disney movie, the shared popcorn bowl sat on your lap, Ed's arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. You let out a soft giggle as your favorite scene came on, you loved this scene a lot, you couldn't explain why but it made you so happy. Eddie loved that it made you happy, he wondered if any moments in your relationship made you happy like that scene did.

To your dismay, the scene ended, causing you to settle back down for the remainder of the movie.

It was pretty late when the movie ended, Eddie got up first and took the popcorn bowl to the kitchen. As soon as he was out of sight you quickly ran to your room to pull something out of a hiding spot

Now is a good time, I just hope he doesn't get mad.

You thought to yourself as you closed the hidden drawer in your desk before making your way back into the living room where Edward was waiting for you on the couch. He gave you a sweet smile "Hey Baby! Whered you go? I came back and you were gone..."

You plopped down beside him on the couch "I had to pee." You chuckled softly "but I'm here now and um... I've got a question for you."

Edward nodded, focusing his full attention on you, which honestly made you more nervous. You fidgeted with your hands as you tried to think of the best way to ask him. "U-Um..."

Edward gently caressed your cheek "hey, it's okay, you can ask me anything."

You were still shaking with nerves, what if he said no? Sure he was obsessed with you and would quite literally kill someone for you if you told him to, but what if he didn't want to move further? What if he was happy just being your boyfriend?

You gathered all of your courage, running your thumb over the smooth leather of the ring box hidden in your hands

Now or never Y/N.

You took a deep breath before beginning to speak "Well... um... I've been thinking for a while now.. a-about us I mean, and I-"

"You're breaking up with me?" Ed cut you off, his voice sounding like a mix between a puppy that had just been kicked and a child who lost his favorite toy, tears were already welled up in his eyes.

You quickly pulled him into a tight hug "No! God, no Eddie! Q-Quite the opposite actually..." you pulled back enough to show him the ring box that held a plain silver band. You knew he didn't like to stand out so you didn't get anything flashy. Edward's eyes went wide and his jaw dripped, cheeks turning a nice shade of red. The sight made you chuckle softly "I was going to ask if you'd marry me, sorry I scared you, I should have worded it differently."

It took a few seconds for the shock to wear off but when it did Ed's arms were wrapped around your waist tightly, his face buried into your shoulder.

"No fair Y/n, I was supposed to propose to you" he whined softly, holding you closer to him. "Who says it has to just be one person that proposes?" You gently rub his back, feeling him smile against your shoulder. "You're right... so that means I get to propose to you later?" He looks up at you, his cheeks still burning red.

"Yes it does." You smile, placing a kiss on his forehead. He let out an excited giggle "okay, good." He pulls you into a long, passionate kiss, pulling away after a minute with a huge grin on his face "Yes, Yes Y/N, I will marry you."

(A/n: sorry if this was bad!)

#edward nashton #the batman #edward nashton x reader #paul dano x reader #riddler 2022 #the batman riddler

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sadistgalore · 3 years

Text

Chapter 15: Luther's Brilliant Fucking Plan

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Taglist: @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams, @whumptakesthecake

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the taglist.

CW: dehumanization, pet whump, lady whump, captivity whump, referenced torture (branding and burning), hair pulling/grabbing, referenced noncon, blackmailing, death threats, multiple whumpers, multiple whumpees, manhandling, shock collars, infidelity, creepy/intimate/delusional/sadistic/possessive whumper(s), noncon touching, noncon kissing, stabbing, implied torture/noncon

“So, how was she?” Dark asked as he sat down in the chair opposite Luther on the couch, both of their pets kneeling next to them.

He had returned from Maryland not even five minutes ago, giving a short greeting to his friend and a heartfelt kiss to his housewife.

“Oh, she was wonderful, Ed. You trained her well,” Luther said with a shit eating grin.

Dark chuckled, pleased that his defiant pet behaved so well for his best friend. Her hands were twisting and pulling the fabric of her dress, but he couldn’t care less at the visible discomfort on her face.

“I’ve noticed she has a few more scars than when I left her, including a brand,” he said in a low voice, face in a scowl once he stared at the designed burn on her right arm.

Luther didn’t look the least bit threatened at his friend’s dangerous tone. “Believe me, it was justified. She made a new friend,” he said in a mocking tone before harshly pulling at his pet’s hair.

Killian gasped as his scalp was pulled, every instinct telling him to sit still, though. His arms had healed fairly well, but the burns on his face would be deeply scarred for a while, if not forever.

“I see he had his own share of punishment as well,” Dark added, looking at the boy’s scarred face and arms.

“Your girl tried to feed him against my permission, then her defiance rubbed off on him. But I had them under my control soon enough,” Harper forced down a whimper as she recalled the horrific week of rape and torture she had spent with the man, who wasn’t sharing even a fraction as he should have with her captor. But she knew better than to say anything.

She then felt hands gripping her chin, taking her out of her thoughts. “Harper, did he touch you at all like the way I do?”

The girl swallowed as she stared at the familiar and possessive look on her captors face, before fearfully glancing over at the man on the couch. Luther’s face was emotionless, but she knew his mind was threatening her if she dared to tell the truth.

The kitty had finally stopped crying, knees tucked up to her chest on the bed. She and the dog, who was still tied to the chair, were staring at each other, regret in the dog’s and anger in the other.

“I’m gonna tell him, as soon as he gets back,” the kitty promised, throat scratchy and raw by the night they had shared together.

The man finished zipping his pants and rolled his eyes, not bothered to talk as he reached down to grab his shirt off the floor.

Kitty painfully sat up, pissed that he wasn’t paying attention to her. “I’m serious. He’s the only one allowed to rape me, he told you-”

Doggy screamed as his shock collar was set off yet again. Master grabbed his hair painfully, forcing him to look at Kitty.

“He. Is. Mine. Like you are Edward’s. Ed can do whatever the fuck he wants to do with you when I’m gone, just like I can do whatever the fuck I want to do with him. No one will care if I kill him, understand? If I even suspect that Edward knows what happened here tonight, and what will continue to happen, your precious little Ian is going to have a long and painful death. Understand?”

Kitty didn’t respond, just let out a small sob and rolled back over on the bed. The man smiled as he let go of the dog’s hair, walking out of the bedroom leaving two broken pets behind.

Harper breathed out, trying to not give away the emotion on her face, for Killian’s sake. “No, just the brand and a few beatings, Master. I was good for him just like you told me to.” It was forced, she knows, but best not to make him angry when he just got back.

Dark smiled, patting her head. “Very good girl. Sorry for the accusation, Lou, you know how I get about my pets.”

Luther laughed. “No worries, Ed. Besides, I would never dream of touching her.”

Killian’s heart dropped as he stared at the girl, watching her try so hard to keep a straight face and not tell what really happened.

All for him.

Dark changed the subject matter quickly. “Anyways, did you hear the news? Helene’s going away to Philadelphia for three weeks.”

Harper looked up confused. Helene? As in Congresswoman Helene McKinley? Beth’s boss?

“Really?” Luther questioned. “She never leaves DC.”

“Had to take care of a personal matter. She ensured the subject will be one of ours soon.”

“Very good. What does that leave you then?”

“I was thinking of taking Harper back to my base again,” Dark started, fingers flowing through his pet's raven hair to keep himself calm. “Possibly my manor, but you know how my gang loves to talk. And with how often Noah comes around, he’ll be sure to share my new pet with Noami. I’m afraid it’s too much of a risk to my marriage to take her anywhere but here.”

Luther chuckled. “Noami will never stop running her mouth to Helene if she finds out. ‘Helene did you hear? Your Edward found himself another slut to fuck behind your back! If you don’t murder his ass right now, I will do it for you!’” He finished the imitation with a smile, but Harper couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not when she stared at him.

Dark laughed at the scene, but continued. “Unfortunately, coming here to Delaware constantly prevents me from running my base in DC. I can’t let her be another one of my one-offs, she’s,” the man stopped to grasp her chin again, thumb running over her lip, “Special.”

Luther sat in silence for a moment, then spoke up as if a lightbulb had just casted a light over his head. “How about taking her to my building? The top floor is a private penthouse that I only have access to, with tons of rooms and space for you two to live. You’ll be easily able to travel between your base and there, and I could watch her while you’re gone!”

Watch her while you’re gone. Harper wished she had the nerves to scream her protests against the idea. But in reality, which one is the lesser of two evils? A sadistic man who sees her as nothing but a kitty, or a delusional man who sees her as a housewife that he can kill at any moment?

Dark scratched her chin, pondering the idea. Killian stared blankly ahead, a distant part of him hoping his Master’s idea would work; maybe he could see Harper more.

“You know, Lou, I think I’ll take your deal,” Edward said after a moment of silence. “Are you sure it’s not a problem for you?”

Luther waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. I barely use it anyways. You can even use it after Helene comes back or for as long as you need.”

“Thank you, Luther,” Dark said with a genuine smile, not the creepy one he always uses on Harper. “I owe you one.”

Luther nodded, scratching his pet's hair one last time before getting up. “Well, I should be getting back. Give me a call when you’re coming, and I’ll be sure to sneak you in.”

Dark got up as well, going out to shake his friend's hand. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Luther. We’ll be there by tomorrow evening.”

You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Beth.

Luther shook back with a smile. “Oh, I know. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you.”

I know, Harp. Now come on, we gotta catch the bus to get back home.

How do I get back home to you, Beth?

“Come on, Kill.” Killian rushed to get up, back hunched as he stood next to his master. As Dark walked towards the door to open it for him, Luther quickly turned around towards Harper, his dangerous gaze vastly different from his friendly one just a minute ago.

“If you say anything, I’ll kill him,” Luther whispered, hand gripping Killian’s neck as he raised an eyebrow at Harper.

Harper gave a slight nod, staring at Killian before mouthing, Goodbye, Ian.

The boy swallowed against the tight hold. Goodbye, Harper.

Luther rolled his eyes and pushed the boy towards the door, giving Dark one final goodbye before leaving. The said man closed and locked the door, loosening his tie as he walked back to his pet.

Harper’s instincts were screaming at her to run away from his predatory walk, but she stayed kneeling before her hair was harshly grabbed and she was pulled to her feet. “Oh, darling,” Dark said with a sick smile. ”It’s been so long since I’ve heard you scream.”

The pain on her scalp was relieved just before she was thrown across the room, back hitting the couch before falling to the floor. She shakingly looked up, expecting anger from her captor, but all she saw was lust. The extreme lust to hurt her.

Harper whimpered, lips trembling as she moved back until she hit the TV stand behind her. Why did this have to be her life? She was a good person- she was a detective for God’s sake. She devoted her life to searching for her brother who everyone said was dead. She worked to expose the most dangerous and corrupt people in her city with her best friend. And now she was a fucking pet for one of them, the same man that ruined her life seven years ago.

The girl heaved in before she broke down sobbing, her fight leaving as her reality came crashing down. The previous discussion was two sick men talking about moving her, so no one will know where she is. Or even alive. And if she wasn’t useful to him anymore, she would die.

Dark cooed as he kneeled down, fingers brushing the hair out of her face. “Oh, sweetheart, I know. You’re just so excited to see me. Don’t worry, I’ll make up for all the time we missed.”

Harper couldn’t even plead for mercy before her vision partially blacked out. Her head erupted in pain as it was slammed into the stand behind her. Through the fog that formed in her vision, she felt herself be laid down on the ground, and a heavy weight be placed on her waist.

She heard a murmur from above her. “Daddy missed his toy.” Dark’s face leaned down, lips trailing her neck. She felt his breath on her face that smelled of tobacco. Then she was forced to listen to her shirt being ripped open.

The man kissed her lips, passionately and with emotion that shouldn’t come from a man like him. His tongue slid in, trailing her gums and teeth and making sure to consume every part of her. Harper suddenly screamed when a knife was plunged into her shoulder, shrills and pleas being drowned out by the kiss as the knife dug deeper into her skin.

Dark pulled back, stomach filling with joy as he saw the tears cover her face, his finger going to trace the wound in blood. He made sure to coat himself in it before touching her face again, smearing her own blood there. He smiled maniacally as Harper’s scream almost shook the room when his thumb dug into the wound, every movement causing her face to contort in unbearable pain.

She’s never looked so beautiful.

“I love you, Evie,” he said before hungrily kissing the girl on the floor again, screams never stopping as she writhed under the man who would never let her go.

---

Nic almost fell off his chair as he heard a knock on his front door. His hair was a mess, eyes sunken and colored due to many sleepless nights, and clothes that had not been changed since five days ago. He scrambled to open it, seeing the familiar blonde and curly hair of the secretary.

“Beth,” Nic said in almost disbelief. From their falling out yesterday, he had figured she wouldn’t want to see him at all. But the girl looked at him with a sudden determination he had not seen the previous day.

“Let’s find Harper and expose these fucking bastards.”

Nic smiled and stepped back to let her in. “After you, Mrs. Carrien.”

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red-hood-vigilante · 3 years

Text

more hbo spn rambles, thoughts, drabbles etc. long long post.

part 1 here

there’s some things i’ve omitted here bc others have already posted about those things, certain headcanons and characterizations and stuff. those posts are in my likes somewhere (and i’ll reblog them someday), and there’s some posts i’ve read but not liked, which i now can only vaguely remember, which is why some ideas/thoughts are similar

ALSO most of these follow the model i talked about in part one: how s1-5 will stay more or less how they are but s6-10 is changed (some things are cut out entirely, some things are tweaked and some characters + arcs are more fleshed out. more focus on sam’s trauma and post-cage adaptation to the real world as well as dean letting his rage and control issues consume him and how he’d recover and redeem himself)

as i typed these paragraphs, i realized i really have 10 seasons mapped out and ready to go. hbo hire me!!

alright go:

sam and dean get wearier as the show progresses (second half), and eventually they stop putting so much care and thought in the people they save. like...hm how do i say this, like as long as a victim/victims are saved, they don’t care about how that happens or how those people suffer potential consequences, like if the victims lose a limb or have their homes burned down because of the monster, then sam and dean don’t really care. they saved your life, now they’ll leave you with your life in potential shambles and not care because all that matters is that they saved your life, not how it is afterwards. they still care about saving that one person, but eventually it pales a little in comparison to a war between heaven and hell, being the vessels etc. ---> saving people becomes less about making sure they’re actually alright and healing from horrific events and more about just making sure they have a pulse before they move on

when angels lose their wings they are either burned off in the actual fall or ripped off of them in their vessels, which leaves pretty nasty scars on the vessel

ed and harry are so young and bright eyed about the whole hunting thing; sam and dean as kids, idolizing it, finding it exciting and intriguing when they shouldn’t. sam and dean try to get them out of the business before they too are too traumatized and desensitized to do anything but hunt. neither sam or dean will say it but they are jealous of ed and harry and their freedom to leave, and hate them for choosing this voluntarily instead of being dragged into it by tragedy

hbo spn is a slow burn. there’s a lot more shots of sam and dean in silence just sitting together after a hunt, exhausted and too tired to move yet. they’re covered in blood and guts on the side of the road after killing or covered with dirt in a graveyard after burning bones, sitting next to the fire, just watching it. the times they park the car and watch the stars? we get to see it.

dean wears rings and the amulet all the time in the beginning, for the first five seasons. the rings vary; first they’re some of john’s old ones and stuff he finds in thrift stores. then later on he begins wearing rings from people they’ve saved/haven’t saved as a keepsakes etc. when he begins his descent to the holy murderer in s6-10 he wears less and less rings. they don’t matter anymore -> symbolically shedding who he was and what mattered to him

the only accessories sam has is a rosary/cross around his neck. he has jess’ engagement ring in his pocket/wallet. after the cage he vaguely remembers why the ring was there and who jessica was (more on this further down)

the four horsemen are manifestations of different aspects of human nature at its most grotesque and strongest, can’t be killed as long as humans live. war is conflict, famine is desire, pestilence is physical and mental illnesses.

(the seven sins are like the horsemen, tulpas of human nature instead of demons)

death isn’t a concentration of an existing aspect of humans as much as it is the end of life, the antithesis of life. death the oldest of the horsemen and has existed since the beginning of any life, organism, cell and atom. the opposite of life and light, the other half of god (as i’m typing this i’m confused as to why amara was the opposite of god instead of death). death isn’t evil or good, remains 100% objective. doesn’t care for sam or dean at all, but has a begrudging respect for their stubbornness and entertainment they provide due to their flat out refusal to do as they’re told by celestial bodies when anyone else would crumble

by including death i feel like it very naturally begs questions of who decides when someone dies, when someone lives, why would death follow these guides instead of reaping whomever whenever, what happens if a life isn’t reaped at the right time etc. the reader in me adore the idea of death having a library with books and records of everyone who has ever lived and died and how they died - but then, who writes these books and why? do they decide, and if in that case, how? these questions are above my paygrade but you know what i mean? like there has to be some sort of system right, god created everything, death executes to maintain order, some third party deity writes the laws and the books. the three branches of government. ok but it’s hbo so again, i think we shouldn’t dive this deep into things, like as much as these topics intrigue me i don’t want to stray too much from the dirt road trip aesthetic

shapeshifters are extremely rare because they don’t require any kind of human blood or organs/sacrifice to live

i want more exploration of how magic is like science, like it just needs the right ingredients and right conditions. sam thinks of magic as an obscure branch of science; it just requires research and knowledge and clear intentions because science can be controlled and do a lot of good when used responsibly. dean doesn’t like it. he doesn’t trust the unpredictable elements and he’s seen enough to know it never goes well. magic is a force that can’t be controlled by anyone.

sam and dean have full on fist fights regularly. to practice and keeping each other sharp, but also because they’re siblings. they’re feral, insane and unhinged with each other and they get on each other’s nerves A LOT. it’s petty and childish and sometimes it can get a lil ugly but it becomes their way of family therapy. after a fight the next scene cuts to sam and dean with ruffled clothes, nosebleeds and swollen lips at a diner eating silently after beating each other up. either they sit in silence because they’re tired or both are harping on the other’s openings and weaknesses

sometimes they’ll fight a little dirty but they do so in different ways; dean will pull the old ‘look!’ and point to something and then tackle sam when he turns to look while sam will just cry out in fake pain which makes dean stop dead in his tracks before sam headbutts him or kicks him in the groin

we, the audience get used to these fights, they’re sometimes funny and for comic relief, sometimes for narrative purposes (like tricking a monster they’re fighting each other when they’re really not) BUT. then comes the times when sam and dean are actually fighting without holding back and we see how much they are capable of hurting each other or how heartbreaking and difficult it can be to watch when of them are incapable of fighting back/doesn’t defend himself -> swan song when dean doesn’t fight back against possessed sam, or when dean beats soulless sam unconscious

sam and dean also just verbally bully each other constantly but they do have their odd ways of expressing affection and care. they get the other person their fave snack whenever they go grocery shopping without being asked to and are the only other one they truly trust to have their back in hunts. have a cup of coffee ready before the other asks for one. brothers and each other’s best friend. nightmare duo but in a sweet way. the cooperation of ‘the usual suspects’ when they’re in different interrogation rooms but still has the cover story down to a t. code words and code names and cover stories, they know it all

when sam and dean fight together against a common enemy they’re a damn nightmare - because they know each others weaknesses and habits, they cover each other perfectly and in complete silence. they’ve been at it together since they were kids and read each other’s nonverbal cues like a picture book

to build off of what i said in part 1; the winchesters are pretty hated in the hunter’s community. even the people sam and dean frequently work with (bobby, ellen, jo, ash, rufus, bela, kevin, charlie, castiel etc) roasts them all the time and don’t hesitate with calling them out on their self-pitying crap when it get’s too much (spn was just objectively better when characters weren’t afraid of dragging sam and dean through the mud for being selfish and stupid) and this WILL persist in hbo spn. the only reason people continue working with sam and dean is because they know deep down a lot of the things that happens aren’t sam and dean’s fault - but they still blame them for it. doesn’t make it easier how sam or dean sometimes start crap on purpose to save the other

the winchesters are terrifying and people for sure tell stories about them, but not like ‘they’re heroes’, more like ‘they’re insane and dangerous. stay the fuck away from them’. some stories are true, like how they’ve worked with demons, but some are just game of telephone. (dean has apparently a ghost he is frequently possessed by while sam is actually a mutant vampire). hunters hate and are scared of the winchesters. sam and dean are never invited to hunter stuff (burials, memorials etc) but crash them nonetheless even though the hunters do NOT want them there.

you know what drives me insane when i think about it? how some characters in spn already are their hbo spn counterparts; john. mary. adam. maybe kevin?

other things that already are their hbo spn counterparts: dean throwing away the amulet right in front of sam. eyes burning when angels are seen. how ghosts are just tragedies, stuck in a loop they can’t leave. how a lot of the monsters they meet are just victims or their circumstances or the first victim of a curse. the impala being sam and dean’s home. dean not knowing how to comfort sam when he’s upset other than trying to do things for sam that usually brings dean comfort (driving the impala, listening to rock music etc). the roadhouse. heaven being an eternal version of the memories that made you the happiest even though it’s not real. sam wanting independence and freedom but never fully having it. dean fearing being alone more than anything else and that’s where he always ends up. sam has an eating disorder after the demon blood and dean has an alcohol problem he refuses to see as a problem. dean saying “i’d do it again” without an ounce of regret and pouring himself a drink when sam tells him it was fucked up to lie to him about gadreel

the demon/angel hybrid: THIS could be sooo interesting to explore. an angel and demon hybrid are you kidding me?? not to toot my own horn too much but i’m so clever. i should write this story myself. SO. does this creature have parents who fucked in their vessels or was this an experiment by god (yes i love the ‘mad scientist’ idea, that really should’ve been played up way more) or did a pre-existing creature (human or otherwise) drink demon blood and angel grace at the same time so that it created itself? so much potential for some really intriguing storytelling and character exploration - not only the creature itself and what they would be like, but also for the people around; sam, dean, castiel, jack etc. how would they react to this thing that is the very definition of defying heaven and hell and all the natural laws? does it exist before the show starts or will we see its birth?

the powers of the demon/angel hybrid would be tricky; a mix of holy and defiant, grotesque and beautiful. unconsciously forces people to tell the truth when talking to them. poisons whatever they touch. eyes of a demon, wings of an angel. can smite but skin will burn when touching iron. can do deals but will require a sacrifice in return, not a soul, usually a body part taken then and there (the hybrid eats it. it favours eyeballs and the liver - angels like raw meat). lights always flicker. makes things explode when angry (esp people and cars). can manipulate feelings, thoughts and memories. can travel to both heaven and hell, not welcome in either places. + standard stuff like telekinesis, teleportation, mind reading, super strength etc.

sam and dean’s wardrobe are pretty much the same; whatever’s cheap and not covered in blood. however, they do have stylistic differences. sam thinks graphic tees are funny, dean uses whatever’s black combined with john’s leather jacket. their wardrobe melds as they stop thinking of themselves as individuals and more of “me and my brother,”. their clothes are tattered and torn to shreds all the time. hand me downs, hand me ups. when they stray off their “path” and do things that are the crux of a storyline/character arc, this would reflect in their clothes. when sam is with ruby and becomes more and more “evil” he wears more and more red, a colour he has stated in the past he doesn’t really like. when dean is dead, sam starts to wear his rings and john’s and dean’s leather jacket. when dean decides he’s going to say yes to michael he dresses in white, when sam is dead dean takes off every piece of jewelry except the amulet. he holds it clenched in his fists when he’s whispering what comes close to a prayer

logically the amulet should have a backstory but you know what? i love that it’s hinted to be just a piece of cheap jewelry sam found in a thrift store he decided to give to dean. but narratively it should be explained so... idk. what could be logical solution as to why it would react to GOD himself? maybe god wore it once cuz he thought it was neat but he sold it for three dollars because he wanted coffee and then sam found it a week later

i would prefer it if god didn’t show up at all (absent father number one) but if he DID he’s not all powerful just a true neutral (like death, 100% objective) who created a thing that just took a life of its own, much like a parent and a child - the parent helps the child but can’t control it. the times he did intervene or tried to do something it didn’t really have any real long lasting effect so he gave up on trying a while ago.

@spneveryseason talked about this, how the storyline of sam being possessed by gadreel would be horrifying if we saw everything from sam’s perspective instead of dean’s (her fic is wonderful). in the ‘dean slowly descends into a righteous murderer to become holy’ idea i have this tracks so damn well because again, if dean believes something is right, it is right, no questions about it. everyone around him is like “that’s really fucked up and you should make amends” but dean doesn’t see any reasons for why - sam is alive isn’t he? and seeing it from sam’s pov would really underline how horrifying, dehumanizing and belittling that experience was

john and mary are adam and eve. sam and dean are cain and abel are michael and lucifer. time is a flat circle. history never stops repeating itself.

sam is the villain of s4. he is manipulated and key information is withheld from him but in the end... would it made a difference? it crossed his mind, that he could be tricked because ruby is a demon after all, but maybe he likes the power, the feeling of freedom, that he wasn’t just the baby, the one who always needs permission to do things. if he has to drain possessed people to get that power... so be it. and it’s for a good purpose, until it isn’t. he’s hungry for more, to be feared and respected. he’s enticed by lucifer’s sweet words, the potential of all that power and the idea of ruling two out of three realms. dean manages to pull him back from the brink because sam decides he doesn’t want to be what john thought he was and fail dean and himself like that.

dean is the villain in s9. he is controlling, the mark of cain without the mark. what he says goes - it’s not a democracy, it’s a dictatorship. he doesn’t see how much pain, doubt and fear he causes the people around him. if some victims or civilians die on his watch that doesn’t matter - just some collateral damage. sam can’t make dean listen to him because dean is the older one, the one who’s always called the shots. dean is the angelic one, heaven’s chosen warrior, he is untouchable and unkillable. he’s is an excellent killer, filling the void with blood and rage which is better than the crippling fear of loneliness carved into his bones. 'i butcher for love, to protect,’ he tells himself. ‘why shouldn’t i exterminate, regardless of the cost? i’ve followed the rules, i’ve always sacrificed. now i call the shots. it’s my right.’

sam’s hell trauma is never magically removed. he’s stuck with the memories and the nightmares and the occasional hallucinations. castiel can’t do anything but offers to wipe his memory completely, but sam says no, he is still doing penance.

after dean comes back from hell he starts calling himself old man and jokes a lot about he’s 40 years older now (after he’s more comfortable about speaking about hell)

when sam comes back he feels ancient (he’s over 900 years old at least but he lost count), weary, tired and so so so out of place in this world. he’s forgotten how to put gas in a car, how to drive, how to use a credit card, all the song lyrics he and dean used to yell together, the faces of people he knew before he fell, the softness of a bed, the schools he went to, most of the hunts he and dean, how john died, who mary is, the initials carved into the impala, the taste of food that isn’t raw meat. it’s so much he’s forgotten that he has to relearn. he prefers figuring things out with castiel instead of dean because castiel doesn’t silently resent him for everything he’s forgotten

sam doesn’t laugh anymore. despite dean’s many and castiel’s few awkward attempts, it’s more like quick smile and a quiet “hmm”. on some days he recoils when he sees blood and guts, on other days he’s so apathetic it’s unnerving

sam sympathizes with the brought back mary and castiel more than ever. dean tries to get sam to remember things he’s forgotten from his childhood but sam can’t connect with it anymore. he stopped being that sam a long time ago. dean doesn’t know what else to do than try to force this connection to be revitalized and he fails. sam isn’t that person anymore and this wedge in their relationship becomes a central factor in dean’s s6-10 desperation and isolation. sam is here and safe but it’s not really sam, not the sam dean grew up with

while sam has forgotten how to make coffee, he now knows everything about angels, effective torture tricks, a bunch of lore + biblical history, how to navigate hell, the most powerful and influential demons, rare and powerful spells as well as perfect enochian (he will speak enochian without realizing and it feels more natural than english). lucifer and michael were surprisingly talkative (raging about the unfairness) when taking their anger and hatred out on sam and adam and each other. sam had access to all of lucifer’s memories and knowledge for the time he was the one in control. walking library and encyclopedia of biblical lore.

he still has some muscle memory from hunting and sparring, but sam is ghostly thin and very rusty. even though he’s an expert on lore, he’s not fit to go on hunts anymore and he knows it.

sam remembers adam and swears he’ll try to get him out, but he can’t. just thinking about the cage makes him vomit. he can’t talk about it, much less go near it. after a while sam thinks it might be better to let adam stay down there than let him come back up and feel this crushing emptiness and loss of direction

sam’s trials take place in s9 instead of 8; coinciding with dean’s villain arc. for sam the trials are a chance to redeem himself again, this time for good by closing hellgates forever. they’re scrubbing him clean of the demon blood and his sins and they give him a sense of purpose again now that he can’t join hunts anymore. it doesn’t matter if he dies because of it. it would be nice with a permanent and peaceful death that did something good. dean is taken aback by sam’s devotion to repent for something that happened years ago and for something sam has already paid for a thousand times over. dean realizes how messed up he himself has become and how he’s helped put sam here, on the cusp of self sacrifice again because of sickening guilt and self hatred. dean begs sam to not complete the trials at the cost of his own life and swears he’ll better himself, be a friend and a brother, not a jailer, dictator or a murderer. ‘if you won’t give yourself or life another chance, please give me one.’ ---> s10 pacifist dean learning to let go of the control, the violent tendencies and the rage

oh wait what if gadreel still possessed sam after the trials to heal him but sam is the one who invites the angel in? he’ll keep his promise to dean about staying alive, as well as heal from the inside and have breaks from the world when he doesn’t want to be present, like he and gadreel will alternate being the one in control. he keeps it a secret from dean and helps gadreel imitate him so dean won’t notice. it’s not so bad, being possessed by this angel - sam can say no anytime and gadreel is a nice guy. since they alternate on who’s present they can access each other’s memories, which is terrifying and embarrassing at first, but since gadreel and sam have been tricked and used by lucifer and been punished for it for far too long, they understand each other. now another creature knows their trauma and terrors without the need for verbal explanation. also having an angel residing in his body makes sam feel like he can hunt properly again because gadreel can heal him and take over in situations sam’s overpowered. this could show how messed up sam has come to view himself and his body.

dean is conflicted when he finds out; sam lied but gadreel does help sam heal, sam’s traumatized and his self-worth is fucked up and dean has contributed to that. dean convinces sam to push gadreel out, that sam is still valuable, loved and a good person who shouldn’t be in a place where he views his body and mind like a property to be occupied. sam’s faith begins to come back bit by bit, not in god, but in himself, his brother, in the good things in life. they build their little family; sam, dean, castiel, the hybrids, whomever of their allies that are alive at this point.

castiel can heal sam and dean’s wounds but they are never completely gone; they leave scars and phantom pains. the brothers have SO many scars over the years. dean flaunts them to impress people because he likes the questions and the fearful admiration, the attention and the nods of approval. sam hides them.

when dean is in a bad mood or needs to get his mind off of things, sam just drops something like ‘i don’t get the deal with led zeppelin. one of the most overrated bands of all time’ and dean will go OFF every single time about the entire led zeppelin history, their discography and how they’ve shaped rock music. this will go on for hours and sam will zone out after 1 minute. but dean rants nonsensically the entire drive and it does get him to think about something else for a little bit. they stop at a motel and dean is STILL ranting while brushing his teeth. stops when going to sleep but without fail picks up where he left off the morning after and is so into it he doesn’t notice sam not paying attention at all. we could see this once in s1 when they’re searching for john, another in s3 when dean is anxious about his deal coming to an end and then again in a later season, when sam doesn’t remember to ask/doesn’t have the patience or mental capability, so they’ll sit there in tense silence, showing how much they’ve changed.

---> i can see this SO clearly in my head, how they’ll get in the car and we, the audience, will recognize the camera angle, the same lines and dean’s grumpy mood, and we’ll anticipate what comes next. but sam isn’t that kid anymore and he’s not peeking at dean to gauge what his mood is and how much of a shit eating grin he should wear when being an annoying little brother to cheer dean up. now he’s looking out the window, leaned back, they’re not looking at each other. this shot is a minute or two long, uninterrupted. dean turns on music but neither are singing along or doing anything to lighten the mood.

s1-5: sam gets hooked on demon blood, dean has an alcohol problem. when sam goes through withdrawals, dean decides to quit drinking and joins him because he wants to be supportive, and he realizes that when he drinks two beers for breakfast there’s a problem

s6-10: sam takes painkillers, anti depressants and anti psyhosis meds to numb himself from the phantom pains and reduce post-cage effects. dean started drinking again after sam jumped and still does, but started smoking in addition because he still drives a lot and doesn’t want to die in something as pathetic as a car crash.

there a scene in an episode in the first half of s8, when sam has decided to stay with dean instead of amelia, and dean has rejected benny in favor of sam, and then the brothers sit in a couch watching tv while drinking beer and neither of them look particularly happy about it - that’s how their relationship is a lot of the time. they know they’re fucked up and neither of them will ever be truly happy when the other’s around, but they owe each other so much and they don’t have to explain themselves to each other the way they do to others. they know each other so well, each other’s traumas and the things they’ve done, it feels fake and exhausting to try to be something other than the veteran hunters they are. misery loves company; they are miserable together but would be far more miserable apart and living a normal life. they do love each other, but neither of them are particularly happy as the show progresses. family is hell and so is the lack of it.

OK OK i mentioned it in part one, how i had my own very specific idea about how jack should come to be and here it is. long winded but (might just write a damn fic):

after lucifer was cast back into the cage, he is stronger than he has been in a long time (being in his true vessel helped him stretched muscles he forgot he had. and fresh air.) sam is pulled out of the cage and it leaves a rift in the magic and chains - the binding is weaker and lucifer must act fast to get out before it heals. the cage is still strong enough to hold two archangels, so lucifer has to become weaker somehow to slip out through the cracks. he can’t get out of the cage, but souls can come in. demons bring themselves and human souls as tools for lucifer to use. there’s not much he can do here - consuming them, eating them, touching them, dissecting them doesn’t give him what he wants

eventually lucifer realizes he must do like azazel and create something new of two halves, like when he created demons. he begins melding his archangel grace with a human soul. he tries with demons, but his archangel grace automatically purifies them and leaves them too weak. he must try with a human soul who is good. he finds the soul of kelly kline, who sold her soul to save a loved one. with her, the merging, works.

he has another self, a twin, a son, who’s half human and half archangel. half lucifer. the old lucifer will die but that’s ok, his desires, presence and self will live on in his new creation. the new lucifer barely makes it out of the cage, only able to due to its human side. on earth it creates a body for itself and takes shape, no longer a form of pure power and energy akin to the sun itself but now a person, reminiscent of kelly kline on earth and lucifer in heaven. they name themselves jack. jack searches for familiarity and finds it in sam, their old self’s perfect tool and another hybrid. jack finds a mentor in castiel, a younger brother and fellow angel with human elements. they do not find anything in dean, the key to his former self’s doom.

jack’s powers: their powers are like and unlike the angels because he is half archangel. jack has wings but sometimes they don’t work, or they’ll end up somewhere else entirely. their body is their own, not a vessel, so jack can’t possess people. doesn’t talk but people “know” what they’re saying or want because jack emits their emotions and thoughts to people they’re talking to like a radio tower. jack can also have this empathic connection and communication with animals. his mood affects the weather. immortal. reads minds. can remove a soul from a body and send it to heaven/hell by touching it, with practice they don’t need to touch a body.

other stuff about jack: the human/archangel nature means jack only need sleep and food once a week or so. eats only nougat and raw meat. because jack is a kid they nap a lot. levitates when sleeping. never blinks, stares intensely at everything. their eye colour changes based on their mood. eyes glow in the dark. normal humans who look at jack for too long experience memory loss, fainting spells or migraines and eye contact for more than 10 seconds give vivid hallucinations of their worst nightmares. always barefoot, often floats like 10 cm off the ground because they find it more enjoyable than walking. wears the wildest clothes they can find, nothing matches and nothing is weather appropriate

i have a very specific image of jack in my mind; they look like delirium from the sandman comics with the hair that looks like it’s underwater and the fishes floating around their head, here and here are examples. in live action this would look not good or maybe even ridiculous for sure but in animation... endless potential for angels and monsters to have super interesting designs sigh

castiel’s arc should end with him going from blind soldier, to the unwilling ruler of heaven, finding a place on earth with sam and dean, becoming closer with humanity and eventually a father of three (the hybrids).

#hbo spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #supernatural #iben spoke #ok i'm tired of looking at this now #i just needed to get these thoughts out of my head to get some peace and quiet #more character centric than part 1 #and it turned into such a long post.... jesus #i should make a separate post for post cage sam headcanons #ana if you see this i'm so sorry to drag you into this mess but i wanted to give credit where credit is due

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