#like it was all just so NATURAL i'm in fucking shambles
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FFFFFFF THE LAST 3 MIN OF THE CHERRY MAGIC MOVIE WAS JUST THEM WALKING THROUGH THE PARK HOLDING HANDS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
#i'm. not ok#how am i supposed to move on after something like this#this series has PROVED WITHOUT A DOUBT that BL series can be this natural and beautiful#like it was all just so NATURAL i'm in fucking shambles#AND NOBODY AROUND THEM EVEN BATTED AN EYE#BECAUSE IT DOESN'T MATTER IN THAT MOMENT#anyways#10/10 great movie#i need to get back to my cherry maho fics ngl#cherry magic#cherry magic the movie#30歳まで童貞だと魔法使いになれるらしい
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1/3 Is your perception of yourself similar or the same to how others perceive you?
this is inaccurate no one perceives me
#hardly if at all#and if it is then that’s limited to... very specific people? i feel like the friends i consider closest#are the ones who have the least differentiation in perception#given of course they still have their own outside pov of me. i think i’d go insane if talking to people was like being in my own head 24/7#i guess that means i have a hard time considering anyone close but i can’t exactly blame other people when im the one affecting my attitude#or rather not even affecting but just... exaggerating#every time someone’s like ‘oh lol you seem so chill about everything’ i’m like ‘thanks i’m constantly so tired i want to cry’#or ‘i wish i had your confidence’ and im in my mind going ‘bitch what. bitch what. sorry could you say that again. that makes no fucking se#‘you’re so loud and crazy’ the camera cuts to me standing in a grocery store dead inside fending off madness as california girls plays#i mean i joke but it’s genuinely bizarre to me how 15 years of repressing rage turned into being fun at parties#if it makes people like me then like ? ? sure i’m flattered but god i just wanna fucking Lie Down. the turmoil of the unexpressed#i don’t even talk to people the same way i talk to myself it takes me kicking and clawing to get out my natural syntax if ever i can#hell i couldn’t even write THIS ask in it#(and i’m not sure what others opinions on me are but my vibe internally is just not all lowercase. like at all)#feel like most people i meet are like oh zach is this wacky dude!! and i'm like YEAH you're not wrong but#*insert the hAEUEGEHH inhale from the 'i lie to myself' skit*#least i’m pretty sure everyone has moments like those these days. the vibe is in shambles but we’re all a lil bit in shambles together#on this funked up planet earth there’s a ‘the rot consumes us all’ shrugging stock emoji in every one of us
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When private equity destroys your hospital
I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TOMORROW in PHOENIX (Changing Hands, Feb 29) then Tucson (Mar 9-10), San Francisco (Mar 13), and more!
As someone who writes a lot of fiction about corporate crime, I naturally end up spending a lot of time being angry about corporate crime. It's pretty goddamned enraging. But the fiction writer in me is especially upset at how cartoonishly evil the perps are – routinely doing things that I couldn't ever get away with putting in a novel.
Beyond a doubt, the most cartoonishly evil characters are the private equity looters. And the most cartoonishly evil private equity looters are the ones who get involved in health care.
(Buckle up.)
Writing for The American Prospect, Maureen Tcacik details a national scandal: the collapse of PE-backed hospital chain Steward Health, a company that bought and looted hospitals up and down the country, starving them of everything from heart valves to prescription paper, ripping off suppliers, doctors and nurses, and callously exposing patients to deadly risk:
https://prospect.org/health/2024-02-27-scenes-from-bat-cave-steward-health-florida/
Steward occupies a very special place in the private equity looting cycle. Private equity companies arrange themselves on a continuum of indiscriminate depravity. At the start of the continuum are PE funds that buy productive and useful firms (everything from hospitals to car-washes) using "leveraged buyouts." That means that they borrow money to buy the company and use the company itself as collateral: it's like you getting a bank-loan to buy your neighbor's mortgage out from under them, and using your neighbor's house as collateral for that loan.
Once the buyout is done, the PE fund pays itself a "special dividend" (stealing money the business needs to survive) and then starts charging the business a "management fee" for the PE fund's expertise. To pay for all this, the PE bosses start to hack away at the company. Quality declines. So do wages. Prices go up. The company changes suppliers, opting for cheaper alternatives, often stiffing the old company. There are mass layoffs. The remaining employees end up doing three peoples' jobs, for lower wages, with fewer materials of lower quality.
Eventually, that top-feeding PE company finds a more desperate, more ham-fisted PE company to unload the business onto. That middle-feeding company also does a leveraged buyout, pays itself another special dividend, cuts wages, staffing and quality even further. They switch to even worse suppliers and stiff the last batch. Prices go up even higher.
Then – you guessed it – the middle-feeding PE company finds an even more awful PE bottom-feeder to unload the company onto. That bottom feeder does it all again, without even pretending to leave the business in condition to do its job. The company is a shambling zombie at this point, often producing literal garbage in place of the products that made its reputation. Employees' paychecks bounce, or don't show up at all. The company stops bothering to pay the lawyers that have been fending off its creditors. Those lawyers sue the company, too.
That's the kind of PE company Steward Health was, and, as the name suggests, Steward Health is in the business of stripping away the very last residue of value from community hospitals. As you might imagine, this gets pretty fucking ugly.
Steward owns 32 hospitals up and down the country, though its holdings are dwindling as the company walks away from its debt-burdened holdings, after years of neglect that have rendered them unfit for use as health facilities – or for any other purpose. Tcacik's piece offers a snapshot of one such hospital: Florida's Rockledge Regional Medical Center, just eight miles from Cape Canaveral.
Rockledge is a disaster. The fifth floor was, at one point, home to 5,000 bats.
Five.
Thousand.
Bats.
(Rockledge stiffed the exterminators.)
The bats were just the beginning. One of the internal sewage pipes ruptured. Whole sections of the hospital were literally full of shit, oozing out of the walls and ceiling, slopping over medical equipment.
That's an urgent situation for any hospital, but for Rockledge, it's catastrophic, because Rockledge is a hospital without any hospital supplies. Steward has stiffed the companies that supply "heart valves, urology lasers, Impella catheters, cardiac catheterization balloons, slings for lifting heavier patients, blood and urine test reagents, and most recently, prescription paper." Key medical equipment has been repossessed. So have the Pepsi machines. The hospital cafeteria had its supply of cold cuts repossessed:
https://www.reddit.com/r/massachusetts/comments/1agc1j4/comment/kolicqo/
It's not just Steward's nonpayments that reek of impending doom. Its payments also bear the hallmarks of a scam artist on the brink of blowing off the con. The company recently paid off a vendor with five separate checks for $1m, each drawn on "a random hospital in Utah" (Steward recently walked away from its Utah hospitals; its partners there are suing it for stealing $18m on their way out the door).
This company – which owns 32 hospitals! – has resorted to gambits like sending photos of fake checks to doctors it hasn't paid in months as "proof" that the money was coming (the checks arrived 22 days later).
Steward owes so much money to its employees – $1.66m to just one doctors' group. But the medical staff keep doing their jobs, and are reluctant to speak on the record, thanks to Steward's reputation for vicious retaliation. Those health workers keep showing up to take care of patients, even as the hospital crumbles around them. One clinician told Tcacik: "I watched a bed collapse underneath a [patient] who had just undergone hip surgery."
Rockledge has nine elevators, but only five of them work – the other four have been broken for a year. The hospital's fourth floor has been converted to "a graveyard of broken beds." The sinks are clogged, or filled with foul gunk. There's black mold. Nurses have noted on the maintenance tags that the repair service refuses to attend the hospital until their overdue bills are paid. The fifteen-person on-site maintenance team was cut to just two workers.
Steward is just the latest looting owner of Rockledge. After the Great Financial Crisis, private equity consultants helped sell it to Health Management Associates. The hospital's CEO took home a $10m bonus for that sale and exited; Health Management Associates then quickly became embroiled in a Medicare fraud and kickback scandal. Soon after, Rockledge was passed on to Community Health Systems, who then sold it on to Rockledge.
Steward, meanwhile, was at that time owned by an even bigger private equity giant, Cerberus, which then sold Steward off. That deal was performatively complex and hid all kinds of mischief. Prior to Cerberus's sell-off of Steward, they sold off Steward's real-estate. The buyer was Medical Properties Trust, who gave Cerberus $1.25b for the real-estate: three hospitals in Florida and three more in Ohio. Steward then contracted to operate these hospitals on MPT's behalf, and pay MPT rent for the real-estate.
This complex arrangement was key to siphoning value out of the hospital and to keeping angry creditors at bay – if you can't figure out who owes you money, it's a lot harder to collect on the debt. The scheme was masterminded by Steward founder/CEO Ralph de la Torre. De la Torre is notorious for taking a massive dividend out of the company while it owed $1.4b to its creditors. He bought a $40m yacht with the money.
De la Torre was once feted as a business genius who would "disrupt" healthcare. But as Steward's private jet hops around "Corfu, Santorini, St. Maarten and Antigua"
as its hospitals literally crumble, he's becoming less popular. In Massachusetts, politicians have railed against Steward and de la Torre (Governor Healey wants the company to leave the state "as soon as possible").
Florida, by contrast, is much more friendly to Steward. The state Health and Human Services Committee chair Randy Fine is an ardent admirer of hospital privatization and is currently campaigning to sell off the last community hospital in Brevard County. The state inspectors are likewise remarkably tolerant of Steward's little peccadillos. The quasi-governmental agency that inspects hospitals has awarded this shit-and-bat-filled, elevator-free, understaffed rotting hulk "A" grades for quality.
These inspectors jointly represent a mismatched assortment of private and public agencies, dominated by a nonprofit called Leapfrog, the brainchild of Harvard public-health prof Lucian Leape, who founded it in 2000. Leapfrog likes to tout its "transparent" assessment criteria, and Steward are experts at hitting those criteria, spending the exact minimum to tick every box that Leapfrog inspectors use as proxies for overall quality and safety.
This is a pretty great example of Goodhart's Law: "every measurement eventually becomes a target, whereupon it ceases to be a good measurement":
https://xkcd.com/2899/
But despite Steward's increasingly furious creditors and its decaying facilities, the company remains bullish on its ability to continue operations. Medical Properties Trust – the real estate investment trust that is nominally a separate company from Steward – recently hosted a conference call to reassure Wall Street investors that it would be a going concern. When a Bank of America analyst asked MPT's CFO how this could possibly be, given the facility's dire condition and Steward's degraded state, the CFO blithely assured him that the company would get bailouts: "We own hospitals no one wants to see closed."
That's the thing about PE and health-care. The looters who buy out every health-care facility in a region understand that this makes them too big to fail: no matter how dangerous the companies they drain become, local governments will continue to prop them up. Look at dialysis, a market that's been cornered by private equity rollups. Today, if you need this lifesaving therapy, there's a good chance that every accessible facility is owned by a private equity fund that has fired all its qualified staff and ceased sterilizing its needles. Otherwise healthy people who visit these clinics sometimes die due to operator error. But they chug along, because no dialysis clinics is worse that "dialysis clinics where unqualified sadists sometimes kill you with dirty needles":
https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/the-dirty-business-of-clean-blood
The bad news is that private equity has thoroughly colonized the entire medical system. They took hospitals, fired the doctors, then took over the doctors' groups that provided outsource staff to the hospital:
https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/04/a-mind-forever-voyaging/#prop-bets
It's illegal for private equity companies to own doctors' practices (doctors have to own these), but they obfuscated the crime with a paper-thin pretext that they got away with despite its obvious bullshittery:
https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/21/profitable-butchers/#looted
The financier who decides whether you live or die depends on an algorithm that literally sets a tolerable level of preventable deaths for the patients trapped in the practice:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/05/any-metric-becomes-a-target/#hca
Private equity also took over emergency rooms and boobytrapped them with "surprise billing" – junk fees that ran to thousands of dollars that you had to pay even if the hospital was in network with your insurer. They made billions from this, and spent a many millions from that booty keeping the scam alive with scare ads:
https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/21/all-in-it-together/#doctor-patient-unity
The whole health stack is colonized by private equity-backed monopolies. Even your hospital bed!
https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/05/hillrom/#baxter-international
Then there's residential care. Private equity cornered many regional markets on nursing homes and turned them into slaughterhouses, places where you go to die, not live:
https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/23/acceptable-losses/#disposable-olds
The palliative care sector is also captured by private equity. PE bosses hire vast teams of fast-talking salespeople who con vulnerable older people into entering an end-of-life system before they are ready to die. Thanks to loose regulation, the nation is filled with fake hospices that can rake in millions from Medicare while denying all care to their patients (hospice patients don't get life-extending medication or procedures, by definition):
https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/26/death-panels/#what-the-heck-is-going-on-with-CMS
If you survive this long enough, Medicare eventually tells the hospice that you're clearly not dying and you get kicked off their rolls. Now you have to go through the lengthy bureaucratic nightmare of convincing the system – which was previously informed that you were at death's door – that you are actually viable and need to start getting care again (good luck with that).
If that kills you, guess what? Private equity has rolled up funeral homes up and down the country, and they will scam your survivors just as hard as the medical system that killed you did:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/09/high-cost-of-dying/#memento-mori
The PE sector spent more than a trillion dollars over the past decade buying up healthcare companies, and it has trillions more in "dry powder" allocated for further medical acquisitions. Why not? As the CFO of Medical Properties Trust told that Bank of America analyst last week, when you "own hospitals no one wants to see closed." you literally can't fail, no matter how many people you murder.
The PE sector is a reminder that the crimes people commit for money far outstrip the crimes they commit for ideology. Even the most ideological killers are horrified by the murders their profit-motivated colleagues commit.
Last year, Tkacic wrote about the history of IG Farben, the German company that built Monowitz, a private slave-labor camp up the road from Auschwitz to make the materiel it was gouging Hitler's Wehrmacht on:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/02/plunderers/#farben
Farben bought the cheapest possible slaves from Auschwitz, preferentially sourcing women and children. These slaves were worked to death at a rate that put Auschwitz's wholesale murder in the shade. Farben's slaves died an average of just three months after starting work at Monowitz. The situation was so abominable, so unconscionable, that the SS officers who provided outsource guard-labor to Monowitz actually wrote to Berlin to complain about the cruelty.
The Nuremberg trials are famous for the Nazi officers who insisted that they were "just following order" but were nonetheless executed for their crimes. 24 Farben executives were also tried at Nuremberg, where they offered a very different defense: "We had a fiduciary duty to our shareholders to maximize our profits." 19 of the 24 were acquitted on that basis.
PE is committed to an ideology that is far worse than any form of racial animus or other bias. As a sector, it is committed to profit above all other values. As a result, its brutality knows no bounds, no decency, no compassion. Even the worst crimes we commit for hate are nothing compared to the crimes we commit for greed.
If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/28/5000-bats/retaliation#charnel-house
#pluralistic#Rockledge Regional Medical Center#private equity#looting#Steward Health#ponzis#maureen tcacik#Medical Properties Trust#Ralph de la Torre#Massachusetts#florida#Cerberus#too big to fail#pe#guillotine watch
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It's definitely a refusal to engage with or truly understand politics. I'm 24, I was in middle school during Obama's second term and 17 in 2016, and I feel like a lot of my peers just continue to be appalled at how bad things have gotten with the Republicans and why Democrats can't do anything to stop it. What's missing from their understanding is how long it took for the Republicans to get here. It didn't start in 2016. They worked for decades to do all the nightmarish shit they're doing now, and Democrats just haven't been able to do the same (because people refuse to vote consistently and give them the power to do those things). I feel like that's where the "both sides are the same" bullshit comes from - the idea that if the Dems wanted to stop the GOP, they would. It's a fundamental misunderstanding of how anything works, and often relies on downplaying how bad the Republicans actually are in order to support their 'Dems are just as bad' stance.
Things did get catastrophically worse when Trump was elected, and he broke things way more than they ever had been, but he doesn't exist in a vacuum and it took the Republicans a lot of fucking work for him to do what he did. The only way the Dems can counteract that is by having a party of people willing to put in a similar level of work, and that requires understanding our structures and how things work (executive orders are only temporary fixes and actual legislation takes time, compromise, and work), and a lot of these people just aren't willing to do it.
The thing is, yes, I absolutely do get the feeling that everything is terrible and we are doomed. I went through it when GWB was re-elected in 2004 and then again in 2008, worrying about whether Obama would get elected and end that particular run of Republican-induced misery (when John McCain looks like a fucking saint compared to the GOP candidates we are being offered now), and obviously plumbed the depths of despair in 2016 with Trump. But I don't remember ever thinking that I should just give up trying, stop voting, or any of that, and I don't think it was because I was some kind of special person who was just so tenacious. I obviously have not been a teenager in the present era and yes, that means I have different views on things from the next generation, but also: this has always happened. Moments of total political despair and feeling that everything is fucked are also not a new thing. We are going through it with Trumpism, the previous generation went through it with Reagan/Thatcher, the previous previous generation went through it with Nixon/Vietnam, the previous etc generation went through it with the Cold War, the previous etc. etc. generation went through it with World War II -- and so forth. There has never been any one point when everything was great and there was no work left to be done, because, y'know. That is not how either history or human nature works.
Hence, that is why I'm trying to figure out what in the fuck is going on right now, and whether it's just social media that have made things so bad (entirely possible). Critical thinking is a shambles, yes, but that's not necessarily something young people have chosen for themselves. The current world is a late-stage capitalist dystopia run by four or five trillionaire oligarch cartels and corporations, and obviously public education, basic civic responsibility, the teaching of any "controversial" history, and everything else that might threaten that setup has been systematically and methodically dismantled, politicized, or so infiltrated with false information that it's basically useless. That in itself is not young people's fault. They have genuinely been dealt a terrible hand in many ways, and I don't blame them for being angry about it. I too am angry about it! I do question, however, when the overwhelming sentiment became "well we should just give up and let the bad guys win, either because it's too much work to change it or because that will spark the Great Revolution and that's the only way to fix things ever, and doing anything else at all in the meantime is wrong."
Once again: I do not blame young people for being angry at the shitty situation they are currently facing. I do not blame young people for being disillusioned with the system and thinking that it can't solve everything at once. But yet again: there has never been any government, country, or organization in the history of ever anything everywhere that was able to do that, and the ones that tried, or insisted that they could do it, were infamously murderous bloodbaths, because breaking society (even with all its flaws) into a thousand pieces and thinking this will make My Preferred Ideological Utopia Now Appear is probably the deadliest belief in all of time and space. The world is flawed and has been for all time because humans are flawed and probably will be for all time. Being a grownup requires coming to an understanding of that fact and seeing what you can do in spite of that. People in every era have had gaps and biases and blind spots and other things that hobbled their understanding or made their efforts for change less perfect or complete than they would have wanted in an ideal world, and they have had to move past those anyway. The current generation is no different. Not to sound like a boomer, but even despite the mess they've been faced with, they need to figure out how to engage with it anyway and not just completely absolve responsibility because they can't fix it all at once. Which I don't think most young people do! There are plenty of them who really do get it and are engaged and idealistic and working for good change, and that's great! It's just the other part that worries me, and which is not as small as we would like to think.
And yes, part of this is just flat-out bad information and the stubborn lack of any desire to change it if it conflicts with pre-existing beliefs. (This is by no means exclusive to young people of this current generation, as it's another bad habit of humanity, but yes.) In the aforementioned "you're driving young leftists away :(" ask I got yesterday, there were also plenty of dubious and just-flat-wrong claims, such as that Democrats keep moving to the right "especially economically." That is just not true. In the last four years, the Democrats have moved the most economically leftward in all of American history and have finally and flatly rejected the Great Reagonomics Myth. Just because Clinton did Reagonomics-lite in the '90s (when most of the current generation of Online Leftists weren't even born), that is thirty years ago and in wildly different circumstances. These things are not difficult to look up. Do it. Try to educate yourself, even if the system doesn't want to do it. You can't just throw up your hands and insist that nobody taught you, so how could you know??? Put that "instant access to all of human history and knowledge" to use, even just a little. It'll be good for you!
Likewise, there was also the anon's befuddling insistence that I was "patronizing" or "shaming" anyone "further left than Biden," which reflects their apparent feeling that telling people to vote for Biden is a "personal attack" on their cherished beliefs, or whatever. I'm unsure how many times we have to keep repeating that voting for a candidate does not mean you are canonizing all their beliefs exactly as your own, and that it's just one tool to do the bare minimum to not live in a fucking fascist theocratic dictatorship, but yeah. I can guarantee you that I personally am well left of Biden. I can guarantee you that most people on Tumblr voting for Biden are probably well left of him as well. That does not negate the fact that Biden is the most progressive president America has ever had, regardless of how much Online Leftists shriek otherwise. It also does not negate the fact that this is by no means true of America as a whole (witness the large faction that still thinks Biden is a godless far-left evil socialist). It does not negate the many complex historical, political, social, cultural, religious, racial, etc reasons that have collided to produce the America where this is the case. Therefore, if I do not want to live in a society ruled by Trump and his orange Nazi minions, which is the case due to how badly the last 10 years have been fucked up, I will use the tool of voting for Biden! He can be successfully pressured to create positive change in the direction that I would like! Trump cannot and will not under any circumstances, regardless of the wild fantasies that suddenly he will transform into a perfect progressive on Gaza or whatever other issue! THIS IS NOT THAT FUCKING DIFFICULT!!!!!!!
Anyway. All of this is obviously complicated. Obviously things are bad and frightening and we want a solution that fixes all of it at once, instead of slowly, badly, and piecemeal. But as I said: that has never, not once, been the case in all of history, and we know what happens when people and/or governments with delusions of psychopathic grandeur try to do it. We do not want the "Final Solution" (which is infamous as what Hitler literally called the Holocaust). We do, in fact, want the careful step by step, we want things to get better and not just explode in a mountain of nihilistic doom, and that does take work, from everyone. So unfortunately, there is no real choice except to do it.
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Devilish Intentions
➛ Pairing: Incubus!Leon S. Kennedy x Female! Reader
➛ Warning: Just pure smut and demon shit meaning- minors back off
➛ Note: I've been dead on here for so long and I'm really sorry about that so hopefully this little treat I had saved in my W.I.P.'s makes up for it! Everyone please stay safe and Happy Halloween! 🎃
"Mmh, Leon!~"
Another breathy whimper emits, earning you a low dangerous chuckle from the demon towering over you, before his claws dig deeper into the sweet, supple flesh of your hips and slides into you again. Hitting that sensitive spot inside you once more.
The gasp that escapes you is sudden as your hands frantically latch onto his blackened arms in a feeble attempt to keep yourself grounded, and shyly peek up at the beast.
In all his breathtaking glory.
The thin layer of sweat covering his beautifully toned body that moves with enigmatic vigor. Casting him in a light shimmer that mirrors the subtle shine of the ebony horns resting atop his head, abound with locks of sand blonde fringes that softly flutter with every little groan and huff that utters from soft pale rose lips. Hellfire red irises hold your gaze from the depths of night filled eyes. Clearly proud by what he sees.
Don't be shy.
Please keep looking at him.
He loves your eyes.
They confess so much to him. How good he's doing, how badly you need him. Your moans, your wails, and all your sweet melodies in between keep him alive. However, eye contact satiates his hunger the most. And he's starving for more.
Leon's eyes travel downward to take in the view of your breasts bouncing with every steady thrust he sends into your weeping hole. Unable to stop from pulling his bottom lip between his fangs in a smirk at how prominent his marks stain your skin. Evidence of his possessive nature. He doesn't care though, the different pink, purple, and red hues look so stunning on you. A gorgeous painting of his own design.
But the real masterpiece is what he sees when he looks down…
There.
The points where you both connect with a rhythmic slap. Where your shared arousals splatter every time his throbbing cock disappears back into your soft pink slit. Amplifying just how truly wet your cunt sounds. That's what gets him to moan with delight, what sends his demonic wings trembling with glee. You wrap so nice and tight around him. Almost too small for him in fact, given how a slight bulge appears in your lower belly every time he sinks back inside you.
Leon's eyes light up even brighter at the sight, almost deranged with excitement. Because holy fuck that's hot.
You're in shambles.
A perfect mess.
All for him.
He praises you for that, by leaning down to place his lips upon the hollow of your throat. Teeth like his close to such a vital area should scare you. Yet it only sends a blissful shiver down your spine and makes you let go of another airy moan. Leon hums at that, feeling your sound vibrate against his lips.
"Louder my little dove." He utters sweetly into your heated flesh before his lips work their way up to yours, so close to kiss you yet still so far away, and releases a hoarse whisper. He can't hold himself back any longer, and he knows your coil is close to snapping as well.
"Let Heaven and Hell know how good I make you feel."
Who are you to deny such a request? Especially when he's not exactly giving you a choice. Leon's large hands creep down from your hips to cup your ass, then lifts you a few inches off the bed. And abruptly pounds your dripping pussy harder. Driven with animalistic need as he heavily pants into your ear.
The new angle and speed hits so many spots inside you with such precision it pulls the most euphoric scream from your shuddering frame that clings to him for dear life. The demon doesn't mind one bit. That sound is what he'll commit to memory as he squishes you close to his body.
Leon never let's go, even when you cum. And you cum hard around his heavy cock, gushing all over him and onto the sheets beneath you. A growl rumbles within his chest at your walls clamping down on him so tightly. He can't stop himself from burying his face in the crook of your neck with another harsh bite while he brutally fucks you through your orgasm. Promptly earning him a squeal at your release being drawn out. "Ah!~ Oh F-uck Leon!"
You sound so cute like that.
Leon practically purrs into your skin when his own high is finally reached, making him go still and lightly shudder. Your quiet whimper tells him all he needs to know. You're completely stuffed. So full to the point his cum will ooze out of your visibly pumping cunt once he pulls out. He smirks rather proudly at that, knowing that'll be such a pretty sight to behold.
But he doesn't move yet, not wanting to disturb the way your smaller frame embraces him, like he's your favorite teddy bear. Leon can't help but smile at that and softly bump his nose against yours, "Did I break you, sweetheart?" His sultry tone rumbles out rather teasingly. Letting his smile burst into a sharp toothed grin at the sound of your tired little breathless giggle, "Maybe a little."
The warm sound of a chuckle resonates from Leon as he rewards you with a small but loving kiss, allowing his wings to furl around you while he holds you close, fending off the autumn chill that sweeps through this blissful Halloween night. With his hunger now greatly satiated, all he wants to do now is hide his treasure from the world.
Hell will not have you, and Heaven doesn't deserve you.
#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#resident evil#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon s kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x you#leon kennedy smut#demon leon kennedy#demon leon s kennedy#happy halloween!#halloween
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Ragatha: Do you want to explain the text you sent me last night?
Pomni: It was autocorrect.
Ragatha: Autocorrect wrote "You're so hot. Please step on me."?
Pomni: Yes.
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Ragatha: Look at me straight in the eyes and tell me the truth, Pomni!
Pomni: You can’t expect me to look into your eyes and be straight.
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Ragatha: I feel like doing something stupid.
Pomni: I’m stupid, do me.
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Ragatha: Bro-
Pomni: No, no, hold up, rewind.
Pomni: My tongue was down in your throat just a second ago and now you're calling me bro??
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Ragatha: Smart is attractive. Educate me on something I don't know!
Pomni: The mouth of a jellyfish is also an anus.
Ragatha: Stop.
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Pomni: We should get you to a doctor for a check up immediately. What if it happens again, and there isn’t anyone around to help you? What if it’s congenital? Oh my God! Was it me? Did I hurt you?
Ragatha: …You realize any other person that made their partner pass out on bed would simply feel really proud of themselves, right?
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Ragatha: Talk dirty to me~
Pomni: Inflation is a serious problem and lumber prices are at a high.
Ragatha: Wha-
Pomni: The economy is in shambles.
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Ragatha: What are you in the mood for?
Pomni: World domination.
Ragatha: That's a bit ambitious.
Pomni: You are my world.
Ragatha: Aww...
Pomni:
Ragatha:
Pomni:
Ragatha: OH.
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Pomni: Are you an F5 key? Because that ass is refreshing.
Ragatha: Are you a software update? because not right now.
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Ragatha: Wow, Pomni, you want to hold my hand before marriage? How awfully lewd of you.
Pomni: We literally slept together yesterday.
Ragatha: That's NOTHING compared to the lewdness of holding hands.
-
Pomni: Wait, what's going on? Are we all talking about how hot Ragatha is? Because Ragatha is a straight up sexual fox riding a red-hot nuclear bombshell right toward the yowza plaza in the heart of Babe City, Assachusetts, U S A. The last A just stands for more ass.
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Ragatha: My future partner must be brave, strong, intelligent, successful and organized.
Pomni: *steps on a caterpillar and proceeds to drop to their knees and sob while apologizing profusely*
Ragatha: That one. I want that one.
-
Ragatha: Hey, I’m getting in the shower. Wanna help me out?
Pomni: ...Have you never taken a shower before?
-
Ragatha: Hey, Pomni, what do you think it would be like if we had kids?
Pomni: What would it be like? Inconvenient, mostly.
Ragatha: No, I mean, what would they be like, the kids? You ever think about it?
Pomni: Can't really say I have.
Ragatha: You know, for someone as eccentric as yourself, you can be boring as fuck sometimes.
Pomni: Sorry, Ragatha. For what it's worth, I'm picturing them now. A boy and a girl. Two perfect little freaks of nature raised by people who've clearly got no business bringin' up anybody.
-
Pomni, sweating: Ragatha, there’s something I need to ask you-
Ragatha: Finally! You’re proposing!
Pomni: How’d you know?
Ragatha: Pomni, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.
Ragatha: I even picked it up once.
Seeing how the first quotes I made were good, here is ButtonBlossom now!
#pomni x ragatha#buttonblossom#ragapom#the amazing digital circus#tadc quotes#tadc pomni#tadc ragatha
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Not sure if this counts, but how do you explain the ninjas ages? How are they teachers but also like 16? I always love hearing people's thoughts on this
For a while now I've been entertaining a headcanon that I think would perfectly explain this in a way that makes sense. Note that this is just a circumstantial theory with no explicit basis in canon, so feel free to take it or leave it as you see fit.
Okay, so. To understand the teacher situation (as well as my theories for why Ninjago's education system is fucked to hell and back), we first have to talk about the Serpentine War for a sec. Bare with me, I promise this will make sense.
This seems like a no-brainer, but a war requires people to actually, yknow, fight in it. Which means large demographics of people have to leave their homes, families, jobs, and communities. Naturally, this forces the ones they've left behind to compensate for the economic deficit caused by their absence. Anyone familiar with American history could tell you that this happened to the US during WWII - as swathes of men shipped off overseas to fight in the war, women back home had to take charge of the economy and participate more actively in the workforce.
I think it goes without saying that this kind of situation probably happened to Ninjago during the Serpentine War. But the thing is, we know women fought in the war stood at the front lines alongside the men - we've seen them. So if that's the case, then who stepped up to help run the economy while Mommy and Daddy were away?
I think you can guess where I'm going with this.
That's right. With so many people leaving to fight in the War (and also dying from Serpentine raids), I don't think it's unreasonable to conclude that some subset of kids and teens had to step up to the plate and take up some of the vacancies their parents had left behind. Obviously I'm not saying all the adults were gone, but it was enough to warrant kids entering the workforce prematurely.
And of course, if kids are getting jobs at younger ages, then I think it's valid to extrapolate that to teacher positions as well.
As you can imagine, this shift created a few new social precedents: 1) expectations for kids, especially teens, to get jobs and become mature at younger ages was normalized; and 2) requirements for certain careers, including education, became much more lenient.
This labor expectation imposed on older kids and teens would actually explain a lot more than just the s3 teacher situation, when you think about it.
Not only are unqualified teens allowed to become teachers, but also undead skeleton warriors from the Underworld (see s1ep4). I'm sorry, but you can't convince me that Kruncha and Nuckal are licensed educators.
The existence of Darkley's, and how it was able to exist for so long without any kind of administrative intervention. The education system is in shambles, and it's because Ninjago's infrastructure never fully recovered from the Serpentine War.
Disparities and gaps in people's historical/world knowledge. No one knows shit about anything. Because again, the education system in in shambles. (If you doubt the validity of this point, let me just remind you I'm from the US. I once met a college student who didn't know what 'north' was.)
The existence of the Paper Boys - how they can devote what seem to be entire workdays to an extremely dangerous job, with minimal adult oversight (if any).
The entirety of Ninjago society seems totally chill with the fact that their saviors are a bunch of kids. To them this isn't cause for concern or even distrust in the ninjas' capability, it's just the norm!
In s15, Lloyd was able to get a job, presumably without a high school diploma or GED of some kind. Or, yknow, any formal education past grade 3 (although we know from supplemental material that he did get some kind of tutoring from the ninja, so this point is debatable).
If some kind of in-universe CPS equivalent exists, then they certainly don't do anything. No one has ever reported or raised issue with Lloyd being homeless, Cole also being homeless for a while, the ninja not being in school, Kai and Nya being parent-free since the ages of ~6 and 3 respectively, and other such things that would ordinarily be cause for alarm.
While there is canon evidence that Kai and Nya received some degree of aid from their community, especially when they were younger, this seems to be completely absent by the time the series begins. Perhaps the community's assistance began to withdraw over time as the siblings faced increasing expectations to become self-sufficient despite still being children. Like, "you're 10 years old now, Kai, it's time for you to start pulling your weight and taking care of the shop by yourself. You need to grow up."
If we approach Ninjago's worldbuilding from this context, suddenly the teacher arc becomes less of a plothole and more...depressing, tbh.
And in a weird way, this interpretation actually fits in nicely with Ninjago's themes of generational trauma. Think about it. Society was damaged by the Serpentine War. And because they never really healed from what happened, the kids of future generations continue to face the normalization of their childhoods gradually being ripped away from them before they're ready. Kinda like kids in a broken home taking on adult responsibilities to cover the slack. Kinda like Cole handling house chores while his father grieved away from home. Kina like Kai and Nya running the shop while their parents were gone.
And everyone is just...used to it. The only times in all 15 seasons that anyone stakes a complaint about this system are in seasons 1-2 when Lloyd was a little child, in season 8 when Harumi was ridiculing the ninja, and in season 15 when Wu refused to lead the Paper Boys into battle.
(I do think it's worth noting that young children are still regarded as kids, of course, as seen with how the ninja were treated when they got de-aged. But this isn't really a refutation of my argument, as much as it is a clue to help us identify society's cutoff for childhood innocence.)
Again, it's more of a circumstantial theory than anything based in fact. So you're free to dispute it as you like. But you have to admit it would explain a lot, wouldn't it?
Anyway, that was...a lot longer than I was expecting it to be. Damn. I'm beginning to think that's gonna be a running theme with these theory posts.
Thanks for the ask! <3
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all the love (under a mistletoe) . benedict bridgerton
pairing ; benedict bridgerton x female!reader
synopsis ; modern!au. you have been in love with your best friend's older brother for years. on Christmas eve, things finally come to a head.
wc ; 6k
warnings ; explicit lanugage, some allusions to reader having a shitty family, christmas angst, pining, one mention of margaret thatcher
note: i'm not british (english isn't even my first language) so pls excuse any inaccuracies in any slang etc etc... also this was supposed to be a smutty thing and no instead it's exclusively tooth-rotting fluff so I'd like to apologize.... merry Christmas??? if anybody does want a steamy part two... well, hit me up I guess!
i stole the title from britney spears' my only wish (this year)!
You never thought something like Christmas at Aubrey Hall could exist outside the hour-and-a-half runtime of Hallmark movies. They've got it all - the stockings above the merrily crackling fireplace, the Christmas crackers twinkling on a long table, the boughs of holly climbing up doorways. It's like a Selfridges on the 21st of December just vomited all over the place.
"Seriously," you say, blinking in a mixture of awe and fear, "how big is this thing?"
Eloise, much more accustomed to her family's display of wealth and Bridgerton harmony, shrugs without looking away from her phone screen. "No idea. Benedict is like 6 feet, and that thing is twice his size, so, like… 12 feet? I don't know, it's Christmas. You do the math."
She turns away, still glued to an Instagram page plastered with pink graphics informing about various social issues in carefully-designed typography, and leaves you standing alone in the entrance hall. If you didn't like the Bridgertons so much, you'd be the first to say their Christmas tree is obnoxious. It's a ridiculous thing, wide enough to commandeer half the room. It's covered top to bottom in tinsel, dark blue ornaments dangling from every branch and reflecting the light until the thing looks less than a tree and more like a hallucination one might have two hours into an LSD trip.
The London townhouse you've crashed at more than once after a night on the town gone to shambles is impressive enough, but the Brdigerton's ancestral home in the countryside is a whole other beast. From the sprawling gardens to the sheer endless rooms, from the stucco ceilings to the servant stairs, from the life-size portraits of nineteenth-century family members to the white marble busts, you half expect a tourist group to round the corner at any moment. You're pretty sure you saw a hedge maze on your way in.
Sure, you've known your college best friend Eloise Bridgerton was loaded, but you didn't expect this. Then again, her sister is married to a Duke and shows up on the Sun's front page semi-regularly, so maybe this one was on you.
"So what do we think? Sufficiently Christmas-y or too much?"
You sink your teeth into the tail-end of a scream, letting out a strangled sound instead. Benedict Bridgerton really is six foot tall, and fuck him for that. Couldn't he at least have been some sensible height? Five reasonable feet and seven nice inches? Has he got to be perfect? Has he got to be the six feet you've been dreaming about for the past four years in increasingly more frenzied fashions?
He stands with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, with his hair tousled and his face relaxed into the same friendly, good-natured smile he always gives you.
"Uh… What?" Immediately, you curse your lack of eloquence. And earlier on the ride over, you'd sworn to yourself that, for once, you wouldn't act like an actual idiot in front of him.
Benedict, grinning, points forward. "The tree."
"Oh." You crane your neck back to look at the star mounted to the top, floating somewhere above the marble railing hugging the walkway to the second floor. "Well. It's very… big."
Benedict chuckles. "Yeah, I agree. I did tell Mom it was excessive, but she insisted. I'm pretty sure Hyacinth would mutiny if she ordered anything under ten feet."
You hum, faintly wondering what it must feel like to get a tree, let alone one big enough to get put up in front of the Rockefeller center. "Hyacinth can be pretty persuasive," you acquiesce, thinking with a shudder of the time the prepubescent girl stared you down until you gave her your brand-new Charlotte Tillbury lipstick. Sort of like being bullied out of your lunch money.
"You can say that again."
Benedict falls silent, and for a moment, you just stand there, side by side, staring up at the tree. Dean Martin drifts over from the dining room. Your stomach is on the most terrifying rollercoaster ride of its life.
Then, out of nowhere, Benedict says, "You're wet, by the way."
"I…" You splutter. "What?"
He nods down toward the floor. "Your shoes, I mean. You're soaking the rug."
You follow the line of his eyes down to your boots, still caked in the snow and sludge you drudged up on the way up the ten-mile-long driveway. A grey puddle has accumulated around you.
"Bugger," you mutter. "Eloise did say I could leave the shoes on…."
A conspiratorial grin crosses Benedict's face. He says, "Remember when you and El caught me smoking that joint in the study? I won't tell if you won't."
This is the thing: Worse than Benedict's six feet, worse than his messy hair and blue eyes and dimples, worse than all of that, is that he's actually nice. A genuinely good guy who talks to you like you're more than just his little sister's best friend, more than the annoying girl that gets invited to family holidays because her home life isn't the best, who moons over him at every turn. That's the thing that keeps you hoping, stubbornly, stupidly.
"Maybe you should go change for dinner," he suggests. "I'll take your suitcase up for you."
"You don't have to!" you protest, even as he's already bending over to retrieve it, even as you're secretly glad you won't have to try and lug that thing up all those stairs yourself.
"It's fine." Benedict waves you away, then tests the weight of the suitcase. "Jesus. I thought you were only staying for three days. What the hell did you pack in here?"
The sight of your bedroom floor at home, every inch covered with discarded clothes and toiletries and last-minute Christmas present purchases, overcomes you like a war flashback. "Uh… Books," you say, falling into step beside him as you climb the stairs together. "I brought a lot of books."
If Benedict knows you're one of the worst liars in England, he doesn't let it on. Instead, he hums Wham! 's greatest hit while ascending the stairs two steps at a time. You try your best not to stare at his butt when he overtakes you and focus instead on the plush velvet carpet and the actual footsteps you leave on it, cringing.
You follow him down a long corridor, past decorative Chinese-style vases filled with out-of-season greenhouse flowers. "This is your room," Benedict says, pushing the door at the end of the hall, somewhat separate from the others, open with his hip. "Eloise is just down the hall."
Like everything else in Aubrey Hall, the room is so tasteful you're scared to touch anything. Held exclusively in shades of pastels, in the softest blues, pinks, and creams, a huge four-poster bed is pushed to one wall, flanked on both sides by nightstands. The opposite side of the room is covered in floor-to-ceiling French windows that offer a spectacular view of the grounds, powdered with snow. Somebody lit a fire in here too, and above the mantle…
"Oh, God," you squeak, staring at a huge oil painting depicting perhaps the most miserable-looking man you have ever seen. Margaret Thatcher and her iron lady posturings have nothing on this bloke.
"Right, that's Uncle Barnaby." Benedict deposits your suitcase on a stuffed armchair. "Us kids just call him Uncle Fester."
"Yeah," you say slowly. "That checks out."
Benedict laughs. "Sorry, you got stuck in this one. All the other guest rooms are in the West wing, and Mom figured you'd be more comfortable not being that far away from everybody else."
The West wing. You get the sudden, spectacular image of yourself in an ankle-length lace nightgown wandering down stone hallways with nothing to light the way but a single, flickering candle. If you can fantasize about Gothic romances set in your own home, you decide, you should start thinking about downsizing.
"Right." Benedict runs a hand through his hair, and you track the movement, watching the muscles rippling in his forearm. He's wearing a grey cashmere sweater, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sight could make a stronger woman swoon. "I'll let you get settled in."
You don't want him to leave. All your time spent with Benedict is stolen, clipped, bookended by family dinners, or movie nights with his sister. The closest you've ever gotten to him was when you all crowded into the back of a cab on your way to a club, his thigh pressed against your own and his arm awkwardly angled somewhere behind your neck. Just half an inch of space between you, but your ribcage cracked open like somebody wedged a crowbar in there.
"Where are you sleeping?" It's a desperate attempt to prolong the moment, to keep him in this room alone with you for just a little longer, and you regret the question the moment it's out. Either he now thinks you're a stalker or, even worse, that you're secretly trying to draw up a layout plan of the estate to prepare for your inevitable heist. You wouldn't be surprised if there were several million pounds in cash stashed in a vault somewhere in Aubrey Hall, and rent in London has reached astronomic heights. Who could blame you for indulging?
But Benedict doesn't look concerned. Instead, he pauses just a step or two from you, close enough that his shoulder brushes yours, and answers, "I'm right next door. Just knock if you need help with anything."
For a split second, Benedict's hand finds the curve of your spine, fingertips pressing through the thick knit sweater and painting a shiver down your back. It goes through you like a bolt of lightning.
Then he draws back as if nothing happened, gives you a crooked, curling smile, and leaves, pulling the door shut behind him.
You drop down onto the mattress with a groan, bury your face in the 400-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, and pretend you're not actively trying to strangle yourself.
"Well," you mumble, voice muffled by the pillowcase, "Happy Christmas to me."
+
Christmas dinner with the Bridgertons is a bizarre experience. Everybody talks over each other, Hyacinth and Gregory chuck spoonfuls of peas at each other, Colin spills a whole ladle of gravy across the tablecloth, Anthony and his wife Kate spend half the meal whispering to each other and the other half stealing kisses, Eloise starts debating politics with Simon (who isn't half as stuffy as you expected a duke to be) at the top of her lungs, and Benedict drinks at least five glasses of sparkling wine before his mother takes the bottle from him.
You watch the whole thing with a feeling in your stomach like a bullet wound.
After a dessert of indefinable mush Hyacinth swore up and down was her homemade plum pudding, you move to a large sitting room. There is a second tree in here, this one a little less obnoxious and covered in homemade ornaments, the exploits of eight children and countless pre-Christmas arts and crafts sessions. The crackling fire paints flushes into the family's cheeks and gives the whole room a homey, rustic atmosphere that seems at odds with the overall elegance of the house.
Everybody is allowed to open one present. You think you see the instantaneous regret on Violet Bridgerton's face when her youngest son unpacks his new portable speakers with a whoop of joy loud enough to bust several eardrums. Watching the pandemonium unfold before you, you sit squished into a corner of the sofa beside Eloise, your hands trapped under your thighs, and try not to feel out of place.
Maybe this was a mistake, you think to yourself. Maybe you shouldn't have intruded on a family holiday as you are, regardless of Eloise's invitation. It must have been a pity thing anyway, what with you saying you were just going to stay in London for Christmas, in your shitty flat with the broken radiator and the leaking pipes. You pretty much guilt-tripped her into that by mentioning the frozen curry you were planning to get from the Tesco frozen section, now that you think about it, and God, you were definitely forcing yourself on them, weren't you, and they were all just way too nice to mention it and…
"Here," Violet's voice tears you from the downward rollercoaster ride about to plunge neck-deep into the pond of anxiety. "Merry Christmas."
She places a flat present in your lap, wrapped in deer-print paper.
"Oh," you say softly, and your chest feels tight like somebody is pulling a cord taut around it, "you didn't have to…."
"It's just a little thing." Violet has the kind of smile so warm you suspect it could melt ice cubes within seconds. "We're so happy to have you for Christmas."
You feel self-conscious as you unwrap the present, aware of all eyes on you. The paper reveals a picture frame, simple yet tasteful dark wood that feels smooth and supple against your skin. Behind the glass is a watercolor painting, a study of a tulip. The pink petals seem almost life-like in their detail as if a drop of dew should drip off the edge and roll down the picture any moment. You can practically feel it, wet and cold against your fingertip.
"Eloise said you're very fond of flowers. I thought you might find a place for it in your room."
For a head-spinning, gut-wrenching moment, you think you're going to cry. "I… thank you," you choke out. "It's… lovely."
Violet smiles and pats your hand. "It wouldn't be Christmas without a present. You didn't think we'd forget you, did you?"
They move on to Colin, who tears at his wrapping paper with such eagerness he gets a papercut, but you feel stuck. There is a lump in your throat, and you clutch the picture too tightly. Somehow, you realize, you did think they'd forget you. Only that's not really right. To forget you, they'd have to think about you first, and you can't imagine any of the Bridgertons wasting a single thought on you, apart maybe from Eloise. Sure, you spend more time at their house than in your own flat, but that doesn't mean anything, does it? It's not like your own family misses you much this Christmas. You've gotten more than used to being invisible.
"I want this one," Benedict says and, to your horror, lifts one of the presents you left there earlier. "I like the sustainable vibe."
Feeling obliged to get presents for everyone, you'd spent yesterday running through a department store for at least three hours. Mostly it's boxes of chocolates and a book for Eloise, stuff that diminished your already meager savings more acutely than you'd planned for. And then it had come time to choose something for Benedict, and you'd spent an embarrassing amount of time agonizing over possible presents. By the time you'd made it home, only to realize you'd forgotten to get wrapping paper, all the stores were closed. So you'd wrapped everything in the newspaper the ancient couple living next door hadn't picked up off their welcome mat yet. They're in Cardiff visiting her sister for the holiday, and you're supposed to be watering their plants while they're gone. Which is a task that might be a bit hard to accomplish, seeing as you're currently several hours outside of London.
"Oh, that's… that's mine," you pipe up, then immediately clear your throat. You've somehow managed to sound like a cartoon mouse. An especially squeaky, pathetic cartoon mouse.
Benedict glances at you, gives you a smile he most certainly inherited from his mother, and says, "Perfect."
Whatever that's supposed to mean.
He has a similar approach to unwrapping presents as his younger brother, but at least he doesn't injure himself in the process. As you watch him, your heart beats somewhere in your throat. Suddenly you're right back where Violet picked you up, on the verge of anxiety about to perform one of history's most spectacular dives.
It might be dramatic to say that your whole life depends on whether your best friend's older brother likes the gift you picked out for him, but apparently, that's where you are now. In the most pathetic turn of events of all time, you're pretty sure the trajectory of your future hinges on this moment.
The improvised wrapping paper floats to the carpet like that plastic bag Katy Perry immortalized in her magnum opus Firework. For a moment, Benedict says nothing, staring at the gift in his hand.
"I can… If you don't like it, I can just return it," you say, even as you start frantically searching your memory for where in the world you put that receipt. Your heart is pumping blood through your veins at a pace that makes you dizzy. "It's not a big deal. It's fine, it was…."
Benedict holds the box of watercolours in front of his chest like some sacred artefact. He opens the lid and peers inside, examining the different shades wordlessly. Then he closes it, looks up, and right at you. A beat passes with him just looking at you, with your heart fluttering its feathery wings against the cage of your teeth, with you squirming in the spot. And then Benedict smiles, wide and bright and honest. "I love it," he says, "thank you. It's fantastic."
Your chest caves in.
"Oh," you whisper, half deaf over the rushing of blood in your ears. "Okay. Cool."
For a second, it looks like Benedict will say something else, like there are words forming on the tip of his tongue, and you feel like you're clinging to a cliff's edge by the tips of your nails. But then Hyacinth pulls the box from his hands to look at the paint, to run her fingers over the shades, and the moment passes.
If somebody asked you later, you wouldn't be able to tell them how the rest of the unwrapping goes. It's all a blur, a mirage of different exclamation and laughter and more or less well-thought-out presents that passes in front of you like a supercut, all of it accompanied by a playlist consisting mainly of Mariah Carey and Michael Bublé. You stay in your spot on the couch, still sitting on your hands, trying not to think about the way Benedict looked at you. Trying not to dream.
When the younger kids rope Colin and Anthony into a game of charades that requires an exorbitant amount of physical movement, you help the others clean up the abandoned shambles of the dinner table. Benedict is doing the dishes in the kitchen when you enter carrying a pale of plates so high you see nothing but the dried gravy Jackson Pollock sprinkled all across the edges.
"Careful." Benedict's fingers brush yours as he takes the plates from you and places them gingerly on the countertop.
"Thanks," you mutter, then spend just one second staring at the broad expanse of his back, holding your hands uselessly in front of you, before turning back toward the dining room, intent on finding something else to occupy yourself with.
Benedict's voice stops you. "Do you want to help me?"
You whirl on your heel embarrassingly fast, clearing your throat when you find him smiling at you. "Uhm. Sure."
He nods toward a dish towel on a rack and asks, "I wash, you dry?"
"Yeah. Sounds amazing." For a second, you genuinely consider slamming your head into one of the kitchen cabinets. Since when has drying dishes ever sounded amazing?
Benedict gives no indication that he thinks you might be the weirdest girl he's ever met, though, so you take that as consolation. He's rolled up the sleeves of his dark blue button-down again, his arms elbow-deep in the sudsy water of the sink, and you pretend not to notice the droplets running down his skin. Outside the window, snow falls in thick ribbons, covering more of the grounds. The faint sound of the Bridgertons enjoying themselves drifts into the kitchen's silence.
You accept the pan he was washing and start running your towel over it. A wet stain soaks into your dress where you press the Teflon-coated edge to your stomach.
"We can put the plates in the dishwasher later," Benedict says, filling the silence gaping like a canyon. "But I think the big stuff we should do by hand. Pots and pans and all that."
Unsure how to answer, you nod. Your mind is whirling, reeling, somersaulting. For so long, you've wanted to be alone with Benedict, have imagined it, dreamed it, conjured it up in your mind. And now here you are, and you can't seem to open your mouth. And it's not even like you have nothing to say, quite the opposite. You have so much to say you don't know where to start.
Like: You look great in that shirt. I hope you like my present. I think you're a great artist. If the Torys keep passing that PM cap around instead of letting us vote, I'm going to scream. I think capybaras are criminally underrated, and I'm glad they're having their moment on social media. How do you feel about turnips? I might have been half in love with you since the first time I met you.
Benedict, putting an end to your spiral, says, "It can be a lot, right?"
"Sorry?"
"The whole thing." He jerks his head in the direction of the dining room, an indulgent smile on his face that tells you all you need to know about Benedict's feelings for his family. "The whole Bridgerton Christmas chaos."
You shrug, lowering your head so he can't see your face, can't see whatever emotion might betray you. "I like it."
"Even Hyacinth's plum pudding? I think that could pass for a murder weapon."
"Yeah," you say, and find that your voice is much too sincere. "Even that. It's not… I've never had this." You cut yourself off immediately, not even sure why you said it in the first place. It's much too easy to be honest with Benedict, and it scares you in ways you can't describe.
"What do you mean?"
It feels like an impossible task to look at him, so you don't. You're too afraid of what you'll find - pity, maybe, or incomprehension. How could someone like Benedict possibly ever understand?
If you turn on a TV around Christmas time and watch a commercial or a movie, if you walk down a shopping street and look at the advertisements playing on screens or smiling from posters, if you pick up a holiday-themed novel, there is a certain feeling being sold to you: of warmth and joy and community. Of smiling grandparents and colorful sweaters. Of presents heaping like molehills beneath gleaming trees. Of roasts and mashed potatoes and peas and carrots and Christmas puddings and beaming families devouring them in perfect harmony. It's the same feeling you encountered right here in this house, in the perfect rooms populated with perfect Bridgertons. In those images, people are always happy.
Christmas, to you, has always been terrifying.
"It's not…." You hesitate. "In my family," you say finally, and hope your voice sounds steadier than it feels, "it's never been good. It was just a lot of yelling, and… I've never had this. The laughing together and enjoying each other's company and all that stuff. The love. And I… I look at it, and I can tell, you see? That it's just so normal to you guys, I think maybe you don't even notice it. But I do. And it just… it doesn't really seem fair."
You don't wait for an answer, instead turning away from him in a way you hope makes it clear that this is not an avenue of conversation you want to pursue. It's like you've just stripped yourself bare in front of him, exposed yourself to his ridicule and his gaze under the unforgiving kitchen lights. It's like you have handed him a map to the innermost parts of yourself. All those ugly, pathetic parts you've spent your life hiding.
Benedict seems to understand because the next thing he says is, "Thank you again for the present."
For a beat, you close your eyes. There, you think. You've got what you wanted. He's ignoring it. He's looking away.
You chance a glance at his side profile, at the furrow between his brows as he scrubs at a particularly stubborn bit of charred carrot sticking to the pot. "You're welcome," you answer. "I'm glad you didn't think it was shitty."
"Why would I think that? It's perfect." When you chuckle, shrug, when the self-deprecating note sneaks into the sound, Benedict ceases his scrubbing to look at you. "I mean it. It's really special."
"It's not even…." You hesitate, wondering if maybe you're fishing for compliments here. Whatever, the validation feels nice, and Benedict seems willing to give it to you, even if he probably finds you annoying. "It's not even a very creative gift. All things considered, you know?"
Everybody knows Benedict likes painting, even though there was some botched stint with the Academy a few years back. He eventually dropped out, but you don't think his aspirations changed.
He shrugs and turns back to the pot. "It is to me. My family all seem to think I'm not serious about the whole art thing, so it's nice to be acknowledged. It doesn't happen that often."
You pause to glance at him. Thrown into relief by the golden spill of the light, bracketed on one side by the winter night, for a moment, he's so pretty you feel your stomach clench.
"But you're so…" You break off, swallowing. Your mouth is so dry your tongue sticks to the roof. "Everybody sees you."
"What do you mean?" Benedict looks at you with real confusion scrunching up his face, and you feel almost stupid.
Helplessly, you shrug, dry the last drops of water off the pan, and put it down on the counter. "Just… People always notice you, you know? When you enter a room or when you go somewhere. I just thought… I thought you must feel really acknowledged. Like all of the time. I don't know."
Your heart is beating so furiously that you wonder if he can hear it. Embarrassment leaves a bitter taste on your tongue as the words escape you. Now he really should file a restraining order, you think. It would be perfectly justified, with you exposing just how much attention you've been paying to everything he does. God, you're a freak, aren't you?
When he smiles at you, there's something sad to the expression. "I've noticed," he says, forming the words carefully, "that what most people acknowledge about me is my family. But that's not the same as acknowledging me. That's not the same as seeing me."
For a moment, you imagine what it must be like. There was such warmth in that room earlier, such joy and love, but there were so many people, too. All of them loud and charming and lovely. All of them wonderful. All of them captivating in their own way. How easy must it be to get swallowed up by the sheer force of all of them? How easy must it be to feel passed over as the second of eight children, always surpassed by somebody else? Always somebody cleverer or funnier or more lovable? Sometimes, you think, it must be a lonely thing to never be alone. Sometimes, you think, he must feel invisible.
"I do," you say, and your face feels hot, your voice sounds far away, your palms are sweaty. "I see you."
Something in Benedict's gaze changes, something transforms, and then he whispers your name, holds it in his mouth like something precious. "I think you…." He swallows, and his eyes rake over your face as if he's searching for something, as if he's hoping for something, and finally, he pushes on, his voice as uncertain as you feel, "I think there's so much more here than you realize. Because I do, too. I see you. And I know you're lonely, and I know you're scared, maybe even as scared as I am, but I think... I think maybe you don't have to be."
It's like being on a frozen lake, right in the middle, side by side, moving step by step, nothing solid in the world but his hand in yours.
He takes a step closer to you at the same time that you move forward, his hip bumping yours, his gaze on your mouth, his knuckles knocking against yours, your breaths hitched, your hands shaking, your head spinning…
"I've got more dishes," Kate chirps, stepping into the kitchen. Immediately, you and Benedict jump apart. You busy yourself with drying the pot furiously as he accepts the new pile of tableware, eyes on anything but you. Then, completely ignoring her brother-in-law, Kate wraps an arm around your shoulder and leads you away. "I'm supposed to tell you guests don't have to do dishes. And that's coming from the hostess herself."
If Kate noticed anything off between you two, she doesn't comment. But you could swear you see her casting a long, searching look at you when she deposits you on the couch.
You spend a little longer enjoying the overall Christmas charm of the night. You and Eloise pull apart a cracker together, put the paper crowns on each other's heads, and sit on the rug by the fireplace for hours, chatting, ignoring the general mess around you. When Violet starts making people sing Christmas songs whether they want to or not, you excuse yourself. You've been hiding yawns in the crook of your elbow for the past half hour anyway.
On his way back in from the bathroom, Benedict almost bumps into you in the doorway.
"Oh," he says, steadying you with a hand on your shoulder, and then you both say sorry simultaneously. By now, the eggnog and the absolute shame of whatever passed between you in the kitchen have caught up to you and you giggle like a school girl, staring at the bit of skin exposed where his shirt is unbuttoned.
"Off to bed?" Benedict asks. His voice is gentle enough that, for a moment, the yearning resonates somewhere in your bones.
You nod. "I'm tired."
"Okay." It might be wishful thinking, but he sounds almost disappointed to your ears. "Sleep well, yeah?"
It's definitely wishful thinking. Right?
"Hey, Ben!" You glance over your shoulder to find Hyacinth grinning at the two of you with something in her eyes you can only describe as the glint of the devil. A dawning sense of horror sends a shiver down your spine. "You're, like, right under the mistletoe, you realize that, yeah?"
Following the line pointed out by her finger with your eyes, you feel the dread pooling in your stomach. And lo and behold, above your eyes, fixed to the doorway, is an unassuming twig of mistletoe.
Have you mentioned that you feel like you're in a Hallmark movie? One with an exceptionally uncreative screenwriter?
When you finally tear your wide eyes away from the mistletoe, feeling helpless, you find Benedict already looking at you. "Ignore her," he says, smiling the smile of the long-suffering. "Hyacinth just wants to stir up trouble. It's fine, nobody's going to make us…."
"Well." From her perch on the arm of Anthony's chair, a saint-like expression on her face, Kate looks once from you to Benedict. "It is tradition."
And then, to your horror, she winks at you. Your stomach plummets down to your feet.
Benedict stares at Kate like she just told him she thinks the moon landing was faked. "I… I don't think…."
Anthony, after exchanging some private glance probably only decipherable to spouses, shrugs and leans back in his chair. "I agree," he says. "It is tradition."
"And a very nice tradition, too," Daphne affirms, crossing her legs and taking a dainty sip from her wine glass. No wonder not even the gossip columns ever have anything bad to say about her. She's perfect. "It would be a shame to let that opportunity go to waste."
With a look on his face you can describe only as aghast, Benedict turns to you. “I… uhm… Is it… okay?"
If you lived in the nineteenth century, you'd be asking a servant to bring you your smelling salts by now. Slowly, you nod, even though you're so dizzy, you're not sure you don't completely mess up the movement. "It… it's fine, yeah," you agree.
Benedict's hand finds the side of your face. You're so aware of all the eyes on you that, for a moment, you think you might be sick all over Benedict's shoes. He's so close you can feel his breath on your face and smell his cologne. Your toes are going numb.
"You sure?" he mumbles, leaning even closer, only an inch separating you. He has very kind eyes. If you said no now, you know he wouldn't even be mad.
Beyond words, beyond any thought past oh god I can't believe this is really happening oh dear god he's about to kiss me, you just nod.
"Oh, for god's sake!" That's Simon. "Just kiss the girl and be done with it, Benedict."
So he does. It's little more than a quick press of dry mouth to dry mouth, but your heart almost beats out of your chest. You feel his fingers tighten against the side of your face, feel his slightly-chapped lips, taste the eggnog and the chocolate and the wine. Then, when he pulls away, just for a beat, he lingers, his exhale a gasp, and for that instant, it's like you're the last two people on the planet, like he's the only thing that matters, like nothing existed before you and nothing will after you're gone. Suspended in time.
"Great!" Eloise calls, throwing her hands into the air. "First, Colin starts going out with Penelope, and now Benedict is snogging you. Will you people ever leave my friends alone?"
A collective burst of laughter travels through the room, and then the chattering returns, the paused music resumes, and you stand there, unsure what to do with yourself, unsure how to continue on when it feels like the whole world just shifted an inch to the left and nothing is where it's supposed to be anymore.
Benedict's hand is solid against the small of your back. "Will you… will you stay a little longer?" he asks, his voice hesitant.
It doesn't sound like he just means tonight. You don't think he just means tonight.
You swallow, exhale a shaky breath. And then you say, keeping your eyes on nothing but him, "Yeah. I'll stay."
Benedict beams. It's a sight that lights up his whole face, rivaling that ridiculous Christmas tree out in the Bridgerton's entrance hall. "Lovely," he says. For a beat, his eyes flicker back to your mouth, but then he just grins. "Merry Christmas."
You can't help it - you laugh. There's relief in the sound, the kind you haven't felt in a long, long time. Here, with the fire crackling and Gregory and Francesca delivering what could perhaps be the worst rendition of All I Want for Christmas Is You the world has ever known, it feels a little like maybe, just maybe, being seen isn't half as scary as you thought it was.
"Yeah," you agree and slide your fingers into the spaces between his. "Merry Christmas, Benedict."
You never thought something like Christmas at Aubrey Hall could exist outside the hour-and-a-half runtime of Hallmark movies. But, God, are you happy you were wrong.
#bridgerton#benedict bridgerton#bridgerton imagine#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton imagine#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton fluff#christmas#mine#f:atl
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Seeking Paradise- Part 1
"Fuck, it's so damn hot in here."
Yeah, 'cause you're right here.
Jason flushed red as Leo turned around, squinting. "What was that, Grace?"
They were standing in his workshop, in the forge at Camp Half-Blood. It was nighttime, and they were the only ones here. Everyone else, like the sensible demigods they were, had gone to sleep. It was just them, the oppressive heat, and Leo's scraggly invention that laid limply on the table.
"Nothing," said Jason hurriedly. He hadn't even realized he had spoken aloud. Shit. Over the past few weeks, he'd been having some strange thoughts around Leo...but he'd always kept them to himself, and tried not to think too hard about it. His life was already complicated enough; he didn't need any more problems.
Leo looked at him suspiciously. "You're not still pining over Piper, are you?" he asked shrewdly.
Jason winced. "No," he lied. "I'm not...It's okay, really. I'm not still mooning after her."
Leo snorted. "Sure."
It had been 8 months and 4 days since Piper and Jason had broken up (not that he was counting). Jason preferred to speak of it as a mutual thing, but truly, it was Piper who had dumped his ass. We just aren't a good match, she had explained. I love you, I really do, but I can't be in a relationship that was orchestrated by a goddess.
It wasn't that much of a surprise, really. Piper was a free spirit, who was passionate about her own choices and freedom and decisions. All things that were foreign to Jason, but maybe that was why he had been drawn to her in the first place. She had been almost an act of rebellion for him; a way to defy the natural order of the demigod world, to break the rule of Roman and Greek enmity.
He should've known better. Nothing good ever lasted for long. That was something he understood quite well; experience was a painfully thorough teacher. But it did nothing to remove his constant, almost obsessive thoughts about Piper.
And maybe Leo knew it too. Maybe it was much too visible on his face, because the curly-haired boy narrowed his eyes and announced, "We're going on a trip!"
"A- what?"
"A trip," Leo repeated. He grinned, tapping his finger on his chin, his face turning thoughtful. "Yeah, you've moped over Beauty Queen long enough to get off your ass and move on with your life. Time to get back out there, man. Maybe date some new girls- plenty of fish out there in the sea, right?"
Jason swallowed. Against his will, his eyes drifted to a stray curl hanging in Leo's face. Yes, there certainly is.
He looked away immediately. Snap out of it, Grace, he chided himself. You're the son of Jupiter, not a pathetic lover boy. He shouldn't even be looking at Leo like that. It was weird.
"I dunno," he said. "I mean, I still have to finish building all those temples for the minor gods- you know how many of them there are-"
It wasn't necessarily a lie. Even with all the progress he'd made lately, with late nights immersed in his work and days spent checking over papers, Jason had barely made a dent in his work. But still- that didn't bother him as much as the thought of going out and about, facing the real world. Ever since the break up, he'd thrown himself into his work; it had worked before, on other occasions, like when he was mourning his friends' deaths after the slaughter on Mount Othrys. Or trying to rid his mind of the monstrous Scythian Dracanae that had wiped out nearly half the legion.
"You're such a workaholic," Leo rolled his eyes. He reached over and plucked a single screw out of his invention; the whole thing collapsed into pieces within seconds, spilling across the table in shambles. It didn't seem to faze Leo in the slightest. "Sometimes you gotta let go, man. Like this. See? I let go. It was a project doomed from the start."
"Piper and I weren't doomed from the start," Jason said instantly, his voice defensive. Maybe Hera had set them up together, but his feelings for her had always been real. He was sure about that, if nothing else.
Leo cocked an eyebrow. "Who said anything about Piper?"
Shit. Jason deflated. He was an idiot, walking into that trap. "I hate your mind tricks. You're an ass. Seriously."
"No idea what you're talking about!" Leo said cheerfully, throwing an arm around Jason. He smelled heavily of grease and oil, but Jason was used to that. "Point is, Superman, you need to get out there. It's not healthy to do that much work. It makes you look kind of pathetic, like the pining wimp who can't get over his ex."
Jason scoffed. "Says the guy who spends half his days down here, tinkering with a new random-ass invention."
Leo wagged a finger at him. "Nuh-uh, Grace! You don't get to deflect your way out of this one. Don't follow Solace's bad example. He's hella addicted to work, and look how the kid is right now! I mean, have you seen him lately?"
"That's true," admitted Jason grudgingly. He wasn't anything more than acquaintances with Will, but even he had to admit the toll of working so much in the infirmary was obvious. Heavy eyebags, skipped breakfast, irregular sleep schedule...
Oh shit, was that what he was like right now?
Yikes. Leo was right. That was kind of pathetic of him.
"Fine," he said, after a few moments. "We'll go...on a trip. But we need to get Chiron's permission," he added hastily as Leo's face lit up. "You know we can't go running off without warning."
"Of course," the mechanic promised. "You know me, Jason. I always follow the rules."
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Leo did not, in fact, follow the rules, and Jason loved hated him for that.
"Valdez," he growled through gritted teeth. "I am going to kill you."
They were on the streets of New York, on a small motorbike that Leo had built weeks prior. Leo was in the front, manning the motorbike, while Jason clung to his best friend for dear life and dreamed of all the possibilities of homicide.
"If we die, I will kill you," he said again.
Leo's response was a maniacal cackle as they rounded the corner in a quick, sharp arc that nearly hurled Jason into the sidewalk. He clenched Leo's waist tighter and scooted closer. His palms grew sweaty at the contact. Only because he was nearly about to die via motorcycle, he assured himself. There would be no other reason for such feelings.
"I fucking love motorcycles!" Leo screamed as they whizzed past an old lady and her cat; she shot them a dirty look, which went unnoticed by Leo, being the fucking madman he was. He slowed down as they approached a steady onslaught of traffic. He twisted around to grin at Jason, his cheeks flushed and eyes bright. He looked quite windswept, but happy. Maybe time out of camp was doing wonders for him too. "What say you, Jason?"
"Chiron is going to kill us," Jason deadpanned, but his lips were twitching.
Leo waved him off, looking unworried. "Don't worry, I had Connor Stoll feed him some bullshit story about us making an emergency trip to Camp Jupiter via pegasus. He won't suspect a thing, trust me. Connor's the expert at lying- I paid him five drachmas."
"What happened to following the rules?" asked Jason drily, but this time, he couldn't help it. The smile stretched across his face.
"That's your fault," Leo replied airily. He swiveled back around. "You should've known that was a load of crap- you're too naive for your own good."
Jason laughed, relaxing enough to lean into Leo's back. "So, where're we going, then?" he said.
Leo shrugged as the motorcycle geared up; the traffic light had flashed green. "Your trip, your choice. I don't make the rules here, Grace."
Your choice. The words were a bit unnerving. Most of the time, Jason didn't have to pick. His path was already chosen, decided by other people. The gods, mostly. Juno.
Not to mention, he had never been to New York City before. No, correction- he had never been to New York City before for purely recreational purposes. What did kids his age do for fun around here? Last he'd checked, this generation was mostly just obsessed with cell phones and computers and things like TikTok and Instagram (which confused the hell out of Jason, because what was a TikTok and why was it so..noisy?) Nothing that he could engage in anyway, since technology was as fatal as a knife to demigods.
"Er, I dunno," Jason said. "I guess...coffee?" He had heard Percy mention a Starbucks once, so he decided to go with that, since Percy was probably the most modern demigod he knew. "Yeah, coffee. At Starbucks."
"Aye aye, captain!" Leo said gleefully as the motorcycle began to weave between cars, rearing forward. Jason cringed, tightening his grip on Leo. Gods, this would be a long drive.
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"So," said Jason as they strolled into Starbucks. "Have you ever been here before?"
"What- to Starbucks?" Leo glanced at him, amused. "'Course I have. Everyone's been to Starbucks at least once in their life."
Not everyone. Not me. New Rome had coffee shops, sure, but they didn't have a Starbucks.
But Jason didn't say this. Instead, he tilted his face up to look up at the menu; there were a whole bunch of words scribbled in messy cursive. He could read them, sure; he was one of the few demigods who didn't have dyslexia. But his literacy skills had never exactly been honed in on as a child (fighting was always more important, and in a place full of dyslexic demigods, what use was that anyway?), and as he squinted at the board, he wondered if his skills were regressing, from disuse. "Iced caramel machiato?" he asked, glancing at Leo. "Am I reading that right?"
"Hell if I know," Leo answered pleasantly. "Dyslexic, remember? Can't read shit." He shrugged, reaching into his pockets. His hand emerged with a wad of cash- his savings, maybe? "I always just order the Triple Shot Mocha, since they have it everywhere."
"Alright- I guess I'll just have that, then," said Jason tentatively. They joined the line of people in front of the counter. There was a lot, he noted. Starbucks seemed to be popular among mortals.
After they'd ordered and gone to grab a table in a secluded corner of the shop, Leo clasped his hands together and looked at Jason expectantly. "So, where to after this, Superman?"
Jason just shrugged. It wasn't that he was disinterested in this trip, but he genuinely had no ideas on what to do. He'd never been on a vacation before. Maybe if he had, this would be easier. Yet another policy to change in New Rome- lack of vacations. He made a mental note to bring it up in the next Senate meeting.
"You want to visit Percy?" Leo suggested. "He lives around here, somewhere...we could pop in, say hey to his mom and stepdad. I hear his stepsister's cute as shit."
"Thought you didn't like babies."
"I don't like kids," Leo corrected. "They're annoying little shits who talk too much and have the emotional capacity of a Cyclops. But babies are cute. They haven't developed their taste of independence yet, you see. They're still respectful."
"You mean they have no personality," Jason pointed out.
"Tomato, tomato." Leo made a psh noise. "Look, dude, our drinks are ready- I'll go get them. Make up your mind when I come back, okay?"
"Sure," Jason said uncertainly as Leo stood from his seat and strolled across the room casually. He almost admired his swagger, until his curly-haired boy nearly tripped over a chair. Then he had to turn away to hide his laugh.
He pondered, for a few moments, drumming his fingers against the table. Going to Percy's sounded like a decent idea..Jason had yet to meet the famous Sally Jackson, amazing mother and excellent baker, but he figured Percy didn't want any reminder of his demigod life at the moment. Jason wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he had some idea on how to read people. He could see how much Percy despised his demigod status, even if he did love Camp Half-Blood like a second home and would give his life to defend it. Normalcy was a gift to him, and who was Jason to intrude on it?
His eyes wandered around, taking in his surroundings. What had Reyna said to him, once? Use your surroundings, you never know when it'll be useful. It was battle advice, but it could still be used in this scenario. In any scenario, really. Her advice was always universal.
He missed her and her words of wisdom. Their relationship had never been completely the same since that quest to Charleston, and he loathed to admit that he'd never tried to repair it, even after the Giant War. Maybe someday, when their paths crossed again, he would make it up to her.
For now, though, he was content to use her words. He observed the old, balding man who sat a table away, flipping through a newspaper, his drink completely forgotten beside him. He raised it in front of his face, peering intently.
Jason's stomach dropped.
There was a huge photo on top of the front page, of a lovely-looking young woman. She had rosy cheeks and laughing eyes and gorgeous blond curls, teased high in a pile on her head. Her lips were stretched into a wide grin- an all too familiar one. Jason knew that grin, because he had spent hours practicing it in the mirror back when he was younger, trying to master the perfect jovial hero facade. The grin was a little too big to be true, showing too much teeth. Teeth that were strikingly similar to Thalia's.
Mom?
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EEEE ok so i've always wanted to write a jason grace angst fic so yeah here it is, it'll be broken down into multiple parts lmao. yes this is a character study of him, yes this is a slow-burn valgrace fanfic, and yes this is an au where trials of apollo didn't happen and my lovely boy didn't die.
I added in the Starbucks bit for fun lmao I always wondered how Jason would react in modern-day Starbucks haha
#percy jackson#pjo#hoo#pjo fandom#percy jackson fandom#hoo fandom#heroes of olympus#heroes of olympus fandom#jason grace#leo valdez#valgrace#valgrace fic#jason grace fic#jason grace centric fic#jason grace angst
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The new leaks are just so interesting!!! I kinda like how he did their backstories, it makes sense for All for One to be the way he is... I don't believe he was just born evil, since we've seen that he is capable of some sort of love or care, example being his reaction to his brother's death.
I think the reason he seems so dark, and evil is because that's how you survived back then. I always thought the fall of society was when the two were teenagers, maybe even adults. But the idea that they were born into a society in shambles without parental love or guidance, makes sense why the bastard man was a feral child coveting the feeling of unconditional love, killing the glowing baby because he, from what I can gather, was the only truly accepted one by society while the rest were seen as monsters needing extermination. He had to fend for himself, he had to teach himself to read and speak normally, he never had a parent tell him no. And in a time like that, I'm sure people weren't keen on being kind and gentle towards each other, I believe at best they were ignored because they were children. But no one picked them up or treated them gently out of fear they may possess meta-abilities, it was almost a 'kill or be killed' mentality. He reacts like a normal child in a situation with no guidance at all.... He acts feral because that's how the adults around him have taught him to react. He's still not a good person for a multitude of reasons. But ugh, I am just so curious about how he became the person he is now, from a small feral child to a calculating, manipulative adult. He knows how to twist and turn people to his whims.
The spoilers also show a little bit of his possessiveness, he views things he loves as possessions.... Which isn't shocking.... I've heard a lot of people mention this debunking the DFO theory... First off, how? If you observe the details of the chapter, you can easily deduce that AFO cares for Yoichi. He kicks him, but I really think that's just a result of having no parental figure, if you think about it. Children often hit other children when they feel strong negative emotions, they start off with little to no emotional regulation or intelligence, because they're children. That's what good parents are for, we don't just adopt moral codes on our own. It's our parents and society in general that teaches what's appropriate and inappropriate. And we obviously know that AFO and Yoichi didn't have a parental figure, or at least a stable one (if they were picked up along the way after their mothers' death.) The only thing teaching these children, particularly AFO, how to act is what's going on in society. What the adults around them are doing, and we can obviously tell there's a lot of mistrust, judgement, and violence being exhibited. Baby AFO is bound to catch on and adapt to survive... Our natural instincts are to survive, which explain why baby AFO was sucking his mother's breast, which is very normal, considering its our natural instincts to survive. Some people are saying that he was born evil because of this... No, it's a newborn, a fucking newborn trying to survive. Which during those early ages, that's all we really think of is our pleasure complex and survival instinct. Mother's normally feed their children within the first hour of childbirth, that's what's recommended from the American Academy of Pediatrics, so instinctually it makes sense for the baby to try to find that nutrients on its own if it's not provided.
#This is such a ramble#I have more thoughts about him just killing people without remorse as such a small child#Oh oh and hows he's illustrated in the chapter as looking like a monster.#Which this is supposed to me AFO's point of view...#Like come on that's so interesting#DFO#dad for one#izuku midoriya#all for one#bnha#bnha all for one#Sorry for any grammatical errors I was so excited and I didn't care if it made any sense
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📒?
:D!
inspired by this post and fleshed out in @majestictortoise's DMs, but warehouse AU where Kim and Chay don't quite clear the warehouse before Tawan blows it. maybe Kim was sticking close to the edge of the building for cover, maybe he wasn't ready to hand Chay over to his father's men, maybe Tawan blew the building early--idk, not important! all that matters is: Kim and Chay are far enough away they don't get hurt by the blast itself, but close enough a chunk of the building or debris can fall over their head.
naturally, Kim shields Chay. gets hurt.
and THAT's when Chay wakes up.
naturally.
now, they don't stay trapped for long. they're the first two people Porsche and Kinn look for after they brush off the clothes embers, and their brothers are FRANTIC to find them. they find them quickly, but not before Kim gets Chay frantically patting him down to check if he's alright (he's not) and asking him a thousand questions (what he's actually worried about). the only questions answered are "where are we?" and Chay's "do you hearing ringing? my ears are still ringing" (cue Kim frantically checking his head, which Chay very much likes but also P'Kim, you're bleeding, P'Kim!). there are 998 unanswered and unresolved questions still waiting when their brothers uncovered them, then Chay's scooped up into Porsche's arms and Kim's scooped up into Kinn's, and Kim's OVERWHELMED by brother's affection but also pretty pissed Kinn's bullshit hurt Chay and he just told Kinn that instead of thank you for coming like he'd meant to say but he doesn't know how to tell him that NOW--
listen, Kim's house of cards lies in shambles, he's dealing with approximately 300x his usual gamut of emotions, Kinn manages to wrangle him into the hospital and knows not to leave him alone until the nurses have finished stitching him up, but then Kim sneaks out in the time it takes Kinn to turn his head long enough to thank the nurses (the nerve of that boy!).
meanwhile, the rest of them are putting out literal fires and cleaning up rubble and trying to figure out how the fuck they're going to bury this bullshit, but all of that is secondary because Chay Has Questions. some of which Porsche genuinely can't answer ("WIK is MAFIA?!") and most of which Porsche doesn't want to answer ("why are YOU mafia hia!!"). Porsche is very uncomfortable, up until Chay learns Kim is missing from the hospital and he gets distracted worrying over him.
which. Kim running away when Chay has firm proof he cares and knows where he lives? genius plan Kim.
and Kim thinks his brothers are going to leave him alone after a building fell on him?
Kim. kid. kiddo. baby boy. you are supposed to be smarter than this.
upcoming in an order i haven't bothered to figure out yet:
Khun bangs up a storm on Kim's front door. Kim's so startled he lets him in, then Kinn sneaks in behind him holding a medical kit.
Kim starting at it dumbly: the nurses already stitched me up dumbass
Kinn, clutching the kit tighter: but-
Kim: i'm fi--
Khun: WE WANT TO TAKE CARE OF YOU
Kim:
Kim: *bluescreens*
Kim is in fact so startled by BROTHERS he doesn't realize his conspiracy board's still out in the open in full view of Khun's nosiness while he's trapped under Kinn changing his wound's dressing
Kim: DON'T LOOK AT THAT
Khun: >:TTT FINE >:TTT
Khun is nosy around the rest of Kim's apartment
(*important note: Chay has hidden his polaroids around Kim's apartment, Kim hasn't found them yet)
Khun, screeching after he uncovers one of the polaroids: KIM who's the cutie writing you cute messages on sweet pictures!! :D!!!!
Kim: SO ABOUT MY CONSPIRACY BOARD--
Kinn, as Khun shows him the polaroid: Hey That's Chay
Kinn, squinting at Kim: are you two...close?
Kim:
Kim: *tears welling*
look. he's in a lot of pain and hasn't slept and everything's ruined and he's trying not to think about how much Chay must hate him now and it's all his fault Chay was kidnapped and he's scared and he doesn't know what to feel about brothers showing up caring and--
it's been a long two days basically, it's time for Kim to cry on his brothers' shoulders where it's safe. there are tears. there is snot. there is CLUTCHING and CLINGING. Porsche and Chay show up idk, eventually, and there is even MORE crying and clutching and clinging. all roads lead to patricide so that happens too eventually, but i am not writing this so who knows how that happens. Korn can be a footnote in this anyways, the important thing here is Kim and Chay getting trapped bleeding feelings, Kim and Chay getting scooped up by brothers before anything's resolved, and finally Kim crying with snot on brothers while brothers conspire to kill their father because seriously, fuck this bullshit.
bonus:
Kim: wait so why was Vegas working with some crony that looked like your stupid ex
Kinn: well. uh.
Kim: WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT WAS HIM?!?
tortoise:
Kim: you should've let me kill him the first time
Kinn: you were fifteen!!!
Kim: at least i wouldn't have missed
me:
Kim: i call dibs on him next time
Kinn: he's dead
Kim: HE WAS LAST TIME TOO
[[ ask me about fic im not writing ]]
#kinnporsche#kimchay#i have so many warehouse AUs it's such a fun playground#ask game: fics im not writing
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Fuck It I’m Not Done
Biker headcanons for the AC Women that torment my brain
@kassandras-one-braincell you’ve broken me with this tbh I'm in shambles (affectionate) OG post here also NSFW warning this is a no minors post (or at the very least stop at the warning gdi)
Soma is sophisticated and expensive. Not gonna say too much here since I went into more detail previously but~ Imagine vintage restored bikes that are shiny and perfect all lined up in a pristine garage space with polished tool boxes that are filled with all her necessities to work on them and keep them gleaming. Professionally photographed, framed posters of you posed with her bikes adorn the walls of the space. She even picked lingerie to match each bike!
She only really rides one or two of her collection regularly, the majority are mostly for show. I imagine she’d have a cruiser with a good passenger seat on the back so she can take you on long scenic rides to beautiful locations, and you can bet your ass she’d have it shipped overseas on your vacations so she can take you all over the world on it. Soma is all class and polish, so her riding gear would definitely reflect that. High quality leather and helmets with coms will keep the two of you safe, comfortable and connected on your rides. She would probably have matching riding suits custom made for the two of you. I could just see her doing that.
Kassandra as the cocky performance rider. She’d have pick up lines for days, all the innuendo about taking you for a ride and how she knows how to handle curves. She’d chat you up good, and land a date for that same weekend.
She’d show up with an extra helmet and jacket for you, and she’d make sure it was all properly adjusted. In the og post about this concept, it says that you kiss her right when the helmets come off. I agree, and I’d say that you want to kiss her the moment she slides the helmet onto you and starts doing up the chin straps. For anyone who’s never worn a motorcycle helmet, they don’t have a clip like one for a bicycle would, it’s a strap that gets looped through two d-rings, and it’s kinda tricky at first. So, imagine: gazing up at her while she’s looking all intently at you with those gorgeous dark eyes, her fingertips working the thin strap quickly and efficiently on muscle memory. When she’s done she puts her hands on either side of it to check that it’s snug on your head and looks into your eyes for a moment longer than necessary. It’s electric.
When you arrive and she takes hers off, you’re still kind of fumbling with the unfamiliar clasp. She notices and hooks a finger through the loop, giving it a quick tug to undo it and free you of the helmet, whole time she's got that sexy little smile on her face. She takes it off of you and sets it on the seat behind you, arms reaching around your body to do so. At that moment you’re looking up at her and she’s so close. You can’t stop yourself from leaning in and up on your toes to steal a kiss. She’s a little surprised but doesn’t falter about kissing you back. Her hands rest so naturally on your waist. It’s short and sweet and leaves you both giddy with butterflies.
Your first date with her would be something sweet and romantic like taking you to a fancy park or perhaps a botanical garden. You’d walk around holding hands for hours and she’d be all chuffed that you gave her a kiss upon arrival to the date location. It would make her feel so confident and bold, wrapping her arms around you and allowing the affection to flow naturally. I think she would feel nervous about it being too much too soon but you just lean into it and look at her with stars in your eyes and it shuts that doubt right up. Very much a uhaul lesbian relationship in this case you would just fall so completely for each other and be comfortable together immediately. First date lasting three days kind of love story.
Eivor does motocross competitively and is a big name in the game. She also does trail riding but it’s more for fun so not her focus. She’s definitely the most reckless rider of the bunch but takes protective precautions seriously, bc she knows that she loves to go fast, push limits and pull stunts. However, if anyone else is on the bike with her she’s much more cautious and safe with her driving. She'd def pop some wheelies with you on the back if you were ok with it.
In this au I think she’d have a modest but comfortable house pretty far out of town on a decent chunk of land. She’d have a practice track built in her backyard with a trail looping around the edge and through the woods of her property. She’d do laps every day to stay at the top of her game, and just to enjoy the ride.
Her garage would be well organized but not shiny and fancy like Soma’s. Hers is functional and well used, in a separate building from the main house. Very Dad's Garage vibes in there I think. She’d love working on her own bikes, but I think she’d leave her competition bike’s maintenance to her trusted pro mechanic Gunnar.
Now I mentioned in my last reblog how I imagine they’d all have pics of you on their motorcycles, and that they’d have very different vibes.
Soma and Kassandra would display them like a trophy. Not publicly, but up on the walls of their own spaces. Eivor? She’s possessive. She wouldn’t want to have a photographer ruining the intimacy of your photos no matter who it was.
(here's where it gets nsfw)
Eivor would ride the two of you out to a nice secluded part of her property. A wooded area where she has a picnic table set up. You’d be all wrapped up in her riding jacket and pants, underneath them would be a pretty little number she picked for you, something simple and sexy like a matching bra and panty set with some lace. (I think Eivor is a bit too simple minded to prefer elaborate lingerie. Just show her something hot that she knows how to remove without finding a thousand clasps please and thank you)
She’d prop the bike up on its stand and use a Polaroid camera to take the pictures. The first ones you’re in the matching set with her jacket and your boots still on, straddling the bike with your hands on the bars as if you’re driving. She gets multiple angles, from the side so she can appreciate your legs, from the front so she can admire your breasts peeking out from the opening of her jacket.
The whole time she’d praise you saying “that’s a good girl, posing so pretty for me, now lean back let me see you- ah just like that, gods you’re perfect” she’s such a sexy photographer. By the time she’s done you’re about ready to hump the seat til you cum and she’s so horny she’s breathing manually. She knew that would happen, of course, and wore a strap under her jeans for the occasion.
After your photo shoot, she takes the dildo out of her harness and slides it back inside you, then helps you put her clothes back on over your underwear. She has you ride back with her to the house while you’re stuffed full like that. Every bump and jolt makes you whimper and dig your fingers into her. It’s not a long ride but you’re ready to rip every shred of her clothes off by the time you’re back
The pictures are kept in a cabinet by her work bench, there’s a few on the inside of the door held up with magnets, mostly the first few from the session, where you’re still partially clothed and gazing at the camera with your pretty, sultry eyes. The rest are tucked away in a small black photo album for her eyes only, the last few depict you laid back on the seat, bra gone, one of her strong hands cupping your breast. You’re holding your panties to the side, wet cunt stuffed full of her strap, your kissed bruised lips are parted in a moan. She keeps that one very secret, and takes it with her whenever she has to travel without you.
anyway now that you know I'm a total whore for this concept
This is my first time posting a full on hc set like this lemme know what you think and read the og post if you haven't yet! It sent me spiraling into madness <3
#eivor x reader#kassandra of sparta x reader#soma x reader#ac headcannons#biker au#I don't write much be nice pls#this is meant to be written in a very casual tone and style#im trying really hard to not be a horrendous perfectionist
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SUCCESS #2 - November
Success #2 -- Everything I manifested in November
November is when I started this blog, and also ACTUALLY started applying all of the things I learned started taking affirming and thinking in my favor seriously instead of just sporadically manifesting random things here and there because I was too lazy to put in the work. I never had issues w wavering, but I was just inconsistent as fuck (Hell, I'm still inconsistent with posting on my own damn blog, yall can't possibly think I'm consistent with affirming!) So here's everything I manifested…
Manifested back my old bestfriend/ex-gf after 4 years no contact
She came back, apologized for mistreating me and told me basically everything I affirmed for LMAO. and that's one of the things that gave me faith in the law because ik this girl would rather die than ever apologize to someone. Now that she's back I'm manifesting away her friends and leaving her broke down and in shambles because I'm evil and believe in revenge. yall dont know the type of bullsh*t this woman put me through. Idc if everyone is you pushed out, some people don't deserve forgiveness 🤓
My mom is walking again
I successfully revised her shattered ankle without the weeks of recovery time the doctors "thought" she needed. She's literally walking around just fine now and doesn't need to wear her cast or whatever that big bulky thing was.
Manifested my brother out of jail on a time crunch
Now I'm not sharing my family's whole drama online but… yea. he's out.
No more social anxiety, cured one of my mental health issues
I don't wanna trauma dump or go into too much detail about my life but, yes. for anyone also working on mental health, it can be done and you won't regret trying. Life actually feels like it has meaning now and for once in all my years of life, I can actually say that I'm happy. 💗
Stopped nail biting COMPLETELY!
I used to struggle with nail biting for YEARSSS whether it was out of stress, anxiety, whatever the fuck. but now it's completely gone. my nails are no longer STUBS, like theyre actually long and healthy. I didn't even affirm for this so I kinda think it came with improving my mental health since I didn't really have the issues that *triggered* nail biting anymore yk?. I'm actually the happiest about this result like yall don't understand how long I've wanted the natural french tips look 💀
[TW: Discussion of binging, discussion of food]
6. WL + Maintained weight loss!
I literally changed my entire way of viewing food, and subsequently fixed my lose->gain->lose-> gain again cycle. Ever since learning LOAss If I binged I would be like: I just have a fast metabolism so that's why I'm so hungry my body is burning everything I eat so fast! and I would also tell myself calories don't matter because food is only energy. Basically, reminding myself of what Abdullah told Neville: "If you ate as I did, you would be poisoned because of your belief." (heavily paraphrased because my memory is terrible.. yes I'm working on it 😭) and it keeps me from feeling guilty abt eating. I ate SOOO MUCH food yesterday and I mean SO MUCH. I ate an entire box of cheese sticks, two large chicken sandwiches, 2 pb & j sandwiches total throughout the day, and half a tub of icecream for dessert… Yeah I was going crazy.. to the point I looked 5 months pregnant at the end of the night. Fast forward to today, my stomach is back to flat and back to normal as if it never happened. Food literally will not effect you if you believe it doesn't! This was my main focus too so I'm very proud of myself :)
Moral of the story is, never give up.
YOU decide what happens in your reality and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. There were times when I didn't want to affirm, so I didn't. If I felt lazy then I didn't consciously affirm or listen to subliminals, I just relaxed and went on about my day. I never made affirming feel like a chore. There were times when I had doubts too or thought it wouldn't work. I especially thought it wouldn't work for my mental health but I just affirmed anyway. When you're having resistance literally just know there's nothing bad that can possibly happen from believing in yourself and thinking in your favor. Just DO IT. Persist no matter what and you WILL get what you want!
I'll try to do better with posting my successes (but only ones that actually meant something big to me tbh. I don't see a point in sharing every little thing unless it was me overcoming some type of struggle) and answering messages but I refuse to download the tumblr app so yall just gotta see and hear from me whenever I feel like loading up this website. I'm just enjoying & living my life rn girl I used to dream about times like this and now I finally have them 😭
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Idk if your requests are open but if they are, could you do headcanons with [Yuu] just with the overblot people and then for [whatever reason], they scold or make fun of them and they just reply with "Says the one who got beaten by a [12 - 14] year old." (Cuz I think you have to be like 15/16 to be a freshman/first year? Idk, correct me if I'm wrong)
I thought their faces would be funny when the realization of the fact a child stopped their blot
(I did get this from when I was reading your bitey child! [Yuu] and I love the bitey child cuz I was that kid <3)
Riddle, Leona, Azul, and Jamil reaction to a cocky little Yuu
Warning(s): cussing, violence towards yuu
A/N: yeah you got the ages right, all the first years are 16. Btw I have a character limit of 4, so I just did the first 4 overblot guys.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Riddle
Poor boys pride is already so wounded
give him a break.
Ok, what happened to lead up to this,
you, Grim, and the Adeuce duo were messing around in the heartslabyul gardens when you probably broke something or messed up a rose bush in front of Riddle
and those assholes ended up running away when he confronted you guys
leaving you to face Riddles scolding.
You got p annoyed.
So when the scolding was finally over, you just oh so quietly mumbled,
" says the brat who got his ass kicked by a 13 year old... "
"wHAT DID YOU JUST SAY-"
His face was so fucking red, it rivaled his overblot face.
an let's just say you nearly had your head cut off
and I'm not talking about his unique magic.
You got a hole 'nother few hours of scolding
and quite a tight collar that stayed on for a few days.
Ace and Grim got a good kick out of this btw
Deuce was very apologetic and even tried to help smooth things over with Riddle for you
it didn't work.
Leona
HA!
yes keep insulting the manchild >:D
*cough*
Anyway,
this starts the like most other interactions with him do
you interrupting his nap in some way or another
you can pick which way you did this time.
Now, he was having a p rough day
Ruggie wouldn't let him sleep through classes
so he was extra pissed when he got woken up and put what little energy he had left into threatening you with death or smth
and when there was finally a break in his ranting you snarked back at him,
"HA! like you ever could, your ass got wiped by a magicless kid in less than like 30 minutes!"
....
silence....
man was too stunned to speak.
I don't think I can express enough the absolute WRATH that was radiating from off him
you rly started to regret what you said
especially since he looked like he was going to actually kill you
and he was.
You got really lucky when Jack was able to catch his hand mid air
yeah...
this fucker was literally going strangle you if it wasn't for Jack having been looking for you.
Jack wasted no time dragging you out of there and far away from Leona
and for a long time it's going to be rly fuckin tense between you and Leona...
You also got one hell of a scolding from Jack.
Azul
Same thing I said in Riddle's
his pride is already in shambles
and you and the tweels are not helping one bit.
So on to what happened,
you were bored so you decided to check out the clubs after school
and your first stop was the board game club.
eh? eh? get it? wink wink nudge nudge??
ok ill stop..
Idia basically scurried to the corner of the room to play on his phone when you came in and Azul was more than happy to possibly teach a brat underclassmen.
As you know, Azul can get pretty cocky sometimes
and this was one of those times,
he was talking smack
blabbering on and on about how easy this is for him and how he should prob go as easy on you as he could if he wanted you to have any chance of winning
also kinda giving some hints at giving you lessons for using Ramshackle on the weekends
so naturally you,
being the lil sassy bitch you are <3, snapped back,
"Mhm, sure, says the fish that was outwitted and beaten up by a tween and their rat bastard band of friends!"
there was a moment of silence,,,
that was quickly broken by Idia bursting into a short laugh at Azul.
The poor octopus wasn't expecting such a clap back
epically not one regarding his overblot
he may or may not have teared up a little bit...
He was also p upset obv
so he just grabbed his phone and made a call
"Hey Floyd-"
and you booked it out of there.
Floyd did chase you a little later on at the request of Azul.
Jamil
Jeez-
he's doing best man 😔.
You were going to meet up with Ace and Deuce after their clubs and Ace's was usually finished before Deuce's so you went to go wait for him and then get Deuce together
but you accidentally got there early
and you know that means
more waiting!!
yay!
I hope you can tell this is complete sarcasm
so you were just waiting on the bleachers watching the basketball club members practice when the ball hit you straight in the face
causing you to get a nosebleed...
ouch,,
Ace and Floyd were on the ground laughing their ass's off
Jamil went to go get the ball and make sure your nose wasn't broken
dw I googled it, a nose can bleed without being broken
and even tho he is trying to be a better person he was still a very sassy person
so ofc he made a joking snide remark about you being a little brat or smth
and you ofc snapped back with,
"Well, in case you forgot, this 'little brat' kicked your snake butt with three fish and a cat!"
and he just walked away
you were very stunned, you expected him to at least glare at you
but I guess you really can't compla-
*SMACK*
oop-
spoke too soon I guess....
Now you definitely have a broken nose...
he hit you as hard as he could with the ball btw.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
#all these guys are 100%on team f them kids cause of you#if they weren't already#rip yuu#twst#twst yuu#twst jack#twst ace#twst deuce#twst hc#twst riddle#twst leona#twst azul#twst jamil#twst leech twins#twst meme#twst headcanons#twst mc#twisted wonderland#twst hcs#twst child yuu
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Don't You (Forget About Me)
prompt: after the gruesome events in the Upside Down, our heroes try to settle into "normal life" again; and Eddie confronts his mother to bargain for custody of his little brother.
pairing: Eddie Munson x female reader
fandom masterlist: Stranger Things
note: big brother!Eddie has me in a small chokehold right now. and repost because i'm back in the tags, bay-bay!
word count: 8.9k
warnings: AU where Eddie lives (as he should've but whatever), cursing, toxic family dynamics, abusive and destructive behavior, confrontation of a shitty fucking parent, mild violence, mild drug use, angst with comfort, not edited, reposted because Tumblr's lessening our beef [sorry to those who are seeing this again].
✅ no spoilers
The mornings were the most peaceful. The sun was just breaching the horizon, birds chirping incessantly, and the sun's heat hasn't had a chance to really fry the Earth's surface yet. Summer provided many comforts; for one, the fact that there were hardly any responsibilities after graduation.
After you all had gone to war with Vecna and the Upside Down, Eddie was severely wounded, and it was a chore just to get him to a hospital; giving him a fighting chance. Naturally, the staff had heard rumors of the Munson Murderer, but their duty was to provide medical assistance to anyone in need - even a "serial killer".
The severity of his injuries left Eddie in a medically induced coma, and in that time, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, or the FBI, released a press conference that cited "confounding evidence" that Edward Munson was not the Hawkins serial killer. They offered no other explanation other than to clear Eddie's name, and when he woke up, he was a free man.
There were months of rehab, physical therapy, and occupational therapy, but you were right there through it all. Your hand in his, tissues at the ready to wipe his tears, encouraging him to keep going, and of course, lying in bed with him, hand in his hair, reading The Hobbit out loud for the nights he needed soft comforting.
When he was released from the hospital, the government had offered a substantial amount of "hush money" that left both you and Eddie more than well-off, per the contingency of never speaking the truth of the Upside Down. It left financial room for you both to buy a small house with three bedrooms, a full basement, walkable attic, and a kitchen that made your heart stop.
It left money for you and Eddie to buy a rundown garage, and update it to the point of function for Eddie to work out of; and for you to think about your next move into college to prepare yourself to become a grade schoolteacher.
The master bedroom was yours and Eddie's room. It was possibly bigger than the entire floorspace of his trailer and Eddie was briefly confounded over what to even do with the space.
After Gate One left his trailer in shambles, there were only a few things he and his uncle were to salvage; more personal affects and memorabilia decorating your room. You wanted him to feel as if this was his home, too; so, you often took Eddie to the thrift store or Goodwill to do some extra shopping. Soon, your house felt more like a home.
The second bedroom was for Wayne. Located on the main landing, it was spacious for the aging man to settle in, and the money you and Eddie had meant he didn't need to work any longer. He still wanted to but didn't need to worry about the financial standpoint. Instead, Eddie pushed him into doing something Wayne's apparently always been interested by gardening. Yeah, so, Wayne Munson picked up a job at the local botanical nursery and honestly? He just looked brighter and healthier (and younger) doing a job he genuinely loved.
Occasionally, he'd help out in Munson's Garage, but he was much more content with his hands in dirt than in grease and oil.
The third room was up for discussion. Originally, it was to be a guest room for any party members that came to visit. But Eddie thought the basement was a better fit, so, you spent time renovating it to make it as cozy as possible. This meant the third bedroom was up for grabs, and Eddie had an idea for it.
As previously stated, mornings were peaceful, and that morning in particular started out earlier than normal. You felt Eddie tossing and turning all night; trying to settle him by cuddling close and letting him be the little spoon but the boy couldn't lay still. You eventually shuffled to your side of the bed in the hopes of even an hour's rest, leaving Eddie to stressful worry.
Cracking your eyes open, you noted the bedside alarm clock glaring red numbers at you: 4:54 am.
"Eddie," you groaned, turning over and sinking your head to his chest, where you could feel his heartbeat thumping erratically. "Please, baby, just try to relax. Still got another few hours."
"I can't, peaches, I'm trying..." he whispers, one arm moving around your waist tightly. "I'm sorry for waking you," he pecked your forehead gently.
You sighed, "You didn't. I could practically hear you overthinking." It was quiet for a beat, your voice clearing of sleep just a decimal, "You wanna talk about it, angel?"
The silent morning stretched around you, sun not yet peaking, and the wildlife just starting to wake up. Eddie sighed deeply and let his fingers dance across your bare ribs, "Just nervous."
"Understandably," You nodded against his skin, turning your head to peck his neck and then snuggle back into his vice embrace. "But we're not leaving for another few hours, baby, just try and get some rest. Hmm?"
"I can't stop thinking, peaches."
You nodded, "Wanna tell me what you're thinking about?"
The silence prolonged as you waited; gingerly letting your fingernail trace patterns over his tattooed chest. "What if... What if she says no?"
You knew this could be a very real possibility, but you both still had to try. Well, all three of you - since Wayne insisted on being in attendance. "Then we'll just keep showing her the facts, my love," you tried to assure, but truthfully, you were just as nervous as your hand slid up to caress his cheek and rest against his jaw. Eddie hadn't seen his mother in fucking years, nor his brother in the past 2, and he was going to ask her to relinquish custody of Teddy to him.
Now that Eddie was over 18, he prayed it shouldn't be much of an issue. And with your combined financials, you both decided you could afford to care for Teddy and get him out of Thelma's guardianship. If the stories were true, and based on both Eddie's and Wayne's recollections, they were, then the woman should see no issue in giving her youngest a chance at a better life.
However, you knew what drugs did to a person's mind. It warped your father's mind when you were growing up, and after meeting Eddie when you were 14, you realized that kind of behavior wasn't normal. So, when Eddie confessed in the hospital that he wanted to get Teddy out of Thelma's grasp, you easily agreed. You prayed there was time to show Teddy that life wasn't all about a drug-addicted parent you had to take care of - and who better to show the rambunctious youngin' the ropes of life than his equally rambunctious older brother?
Teddy was around the same age Eddie had been when Thelma first ran off, disappearing for years, before resurfacing with a new baby on her hip. She was in and out from that moment on, but Eddie made it a priority to see his little brother as often as he could.
When Thelma's addiction reached a new height, it was harder to see the child.
Now that everything with Vecna and the Upside Down had finally ended and Eddie was stronger, working out of the garage four days a week, he figured there was no better time than the present.
Eddie was unusually quiet, choosing to let his fingers drift over your bare skin as his thoughts became consuming. "All right," you sighed finally, sitting up in the new mattress you'd bought. "C'mon, baby, let's go."
"Go where?" he sighed, watching you stretch your arms above your head and trying not to flinch when your shoulders popped. You smiled when you turned to look back at him: shirtless, laid on bright, soft sheets, hair spread around him like a frizzy halo.
"To make breakfast," you encouraged, turning at the waist to lean down and peck his lips. "C'mon, cooking usually distracts you - let's go make Wayne a big ol' meal."
"Or we could lay here?"
"You've been laying here all night, angel, and it's not doing you any good. C'mon," you encouraged again, pressing a longer kiss to his lips, "it'll help pass the time. Maybe I'll let you smoke a joint in the kitchen, hmm?"
He smirked lightly, "Oh, pullin' all the stops out, are you? Never let me smoke in the house."
"Mhm, I know, I'm spoiling you," you teased with a small giggle. Your feet found purchase on the mattress as you stood above him, leaning down to seize his wrists and yank backward, groaning, "C'mooonnnn! Fuck, why're you so heavy!?"
It made Eddie chuckle before steeling his arms and yanking you down on top of him with a yelp. Your knees planted on either side of his hips, resting on his lap as his hands laid on your bare thighs. His smile was lazy and light, your hands smoothing up his chest before resting around his neck, so your chest was pressed to his.
"You know you're the best thing that's happened to me, right?" he asked quietly, letting his hands drag up to rest on your back.
The sentiment made your heart lighten, smiling at him, "Mhm, I do know. So long as you know you're my favorite thing in this life."
"Yeah, so you've mentioned," he teased lightly.
"It's gonna work out, angel," you spoke seriously. "Hear me? We're gonna work this all out."
He nodded slowly, "You're so sure."
"I have enough faith for us both," you spoke softly, stretching slightly to peck his lips again. You sighed and deflated against him; face pressed into his neck to inhale his scent. "My precious boy."
He chuckled, "Know I don't like that nickname."
"Yeah, but it makes you blush," you grinned devilishly, hand blindly raising to poke his cheek. "Are you gonna get up and have a nice morning with me, or do you wanna lay in bed, anxious, and overthinking everything?"
He groaned, "Why you gotta word it like that?"
"Because you're stubborn," you winked, lifting off him again. Eddie grunted from behind you as you turned for the closet, opening the doors to tug a soft robe on over your shoulders. As the belt was tied, Eddie's hands slid around your waist to press against your back; resting there for a moment as you lifted a hand back to pet over his cheek. "It's gonna be okay, baby, I promise," you whispered, other hand pressing against his arm around your waist to squeeze.
"Yeah," Eddie breathed, "so long as I've got you, I can't lose."
"Hm," you breathed, "you'll never be without me, baby."
"Yeah," he sighed, leaning in to kiss your neck. "All right," he whispered with a sigh, leaning back to let you tug your hair from under the tied-off robe that protected your negligee-clad body from the coolness of the morning. "You feelin' waffles or pancakes this morning?"
"Wayne likes French toast," you smiled, half-watching him tug a pair of black-and-red plaid pajama bottoms up and remaining shirtless.
"Always spoiling him," Eddie teased, grabbing an old Altoid tin that housed his joints and a metal Zippos lighter from the desk.
"Well, he raised my most favorite human," you hummed with a smile, both exiting the bedroom to head for the kitchen. "Least I can do is give the man whatever meals he wants."
Eddie chuckled and planted himself against the kitchen counter as you busied yourself getting everything together. Here's a well-kept Hawkins secret: Edward Munson was sinful in the kitchen. The years of neglect made him resourceful, and the boy knew his way around ingredients. He stopped cooking as much because Wayne worked nights, meaning there was no real reason to whip up any meals.
So, he resorted to take-out and drive thru's until he met you - and then his passion was reignited. So, he watched you pull ingredients out while getting the joint lit at the end; turning to unlock and open the kitchen window as you turned the fan on to help vent the smoke out. "All right, peaches," Eddie spoke softly, handing you the joint. "Step back a sec," he smiled, letting his hands press to your hips and tug you out of the way.
He helped push you up onto the counter before taking over the entire kitchen; radio switched on to play a few tunes in the background. You watched him move, scars from the fight in the Upside Down flexing from the strain of reaching for certain utensils. The heat in the kitchen crept higher but the cooling breeze from the open window and circulating fan blades helped keep things temperate, but the moment Eddie turned to you with a few bites of his scrambled eggs on fork prongs, you realized it wasn't the stove making you sweat.
Your legs opened a little more to let Eddie slot between them, leading the fork to your mouth as you took the bite and crossed your ankles behind his thighs. You hummed in appreciation, nodding as your eyes fluttered dramatically, "It's so good, baby, wow."
"Yeah?" he chuckled, watching you chew as he set the fork to the side. "Does it need more salt?"
"Hm, no," you assured, swallowing. "It's perfect."
"Liar." You perked a brow, him grinning, "I know you like more cheese on your eggs."
"Maybe we spend too much time together, you know me a little too well."
"'Cause I know how you like your eggs?"
"Mhm," you winked, letting your arms straighten to rest along his shoulders; hands tangling into the hair at the base of his neck. "You look like you're feeling better."
"Cooking helps," he whispered, sighing slightly as he leaned into you enough to make your arms bend. "What time do we have to leave?"
You glanced at the clock, bringing Eddie in closer to rest your cheek on his forehead. You sighed lightly, "In about an hour and a half."
Eddie whined lowly in his throat, allowing you to pull him all the closer to he was resting on your shoulder. Your hand rose to gently pet over the back of his head, soothing in your motions as he shifted on his feet to pull you over the counter; forcing you as close as possible. When you heard a muffled sniffle, your heart shattered.
"We've gotta get him back," Eddie whispered.
"We're not leaving unless Teddy's with us," you promised, pulling Eddie back to stare into his eyes. "Hear me? We're not giving up on him, and we're gonna get Teddy - he's gonna be safe with us, okay?"
You didn't know Wayne hesitated before the kitchen doorway, listening as Eddie sniffled again and agreed, "Yeah. Yeah, uh... Totally."
"Angel, this is all gonna work out, okay?"
"Okay."
"You don't sound convinced but that's okay," you assured softly with a knowing smile. "'Cause I got enough faith for us both, you hear me? So, you just... You just focus on what you're gonna say, and the rest is gonna be handled. You're not going at this alone, Eddie, you're with Wayne and I - and you know we're not gonna let anything happen to you, okay?" He nodded, more tears swelling. You whispered with your forehead resting on his, "She can't hurt you anymore, Eddie, and we're going to make sure she can't hurt Teddy either, okay?"
"Yeah," he wept, pulling away to wipe his tears with a feverous nod. "Okay, y-yeah."
"Okay, good," you chirped. "Now, I'm gonna set the table if you wanna wake Wayne up?"
"C-Can we just," Eddie paused, whispering, "can we just pause? For a second, just... Just you and me for one more minute?"
"Whatever you need, baby, I'll give to you," you whispered, pulling him in for a tight hug as your own emotion was clawing at your chest and throat. "We're gonna be okay. I promise..."
You knew Eddie hated that phrase because next to never did anyone ever keep their promises to him. But then you happened, and Eddie knew you'd rather break your back than ever not fulfill your promises; knowing that if you promised it'd be okay, then it would be okay.
Wayne cleared his throat after taking a few steps back; allowing the two young adults to get their emotions in check by the time he was entering the large kitchen. "Morning, all," he greeted, smiling lightly at you as Eddie had turned to start dishing everything from the stove. "How'd, uh... How'd you sleep, honey?"
You smiled, "Pretty okay. How was your night, Wayne?"
He nodded, glancing at Eddie's back before answering, "Uh, you know, long. Just couldn't sleep that well, real nervous."
You nodded in understanding, "Ed's pretty nervous, too."
"Yeah?" Wayne nodded, clapping his nephew on his shoulder. "It's gonna work out, son, I know it will."
"Yeah," Eddie whispered.
Breakfast was dished up and you three sat together, Wayne and you doing most of the talking to save Eddie from stuttering over his own words. His nerves were growing the longer time went, bouncing his knee and picking at his fingernails while you cleaned up the kitchen. When the time ticked closer, you encouraged everyone to get ready and with your hand wrapped around Eddie's, you fell into a rhythm in your room.
Eddie had all too easily tugged his pants off before jumping into a pair of black, ripped jeans; a simple black tee shirt tossed on over his torso. He laced up his trusted, white Reeboks before opening one of the windows and lighting another joint.
You watched him from your ensuite bathroom stressfully smoke. His knee bounced rapidly, and his eyes stared unblinkingly to the wall as his fingers trembled.
Once ready, you laced on your Converse before approaching his side; sliding your hand across his shoulder blades and all but basically pressing a button that opened him up. Eddie didn't even glance up at you, he just leaned back and opened his arms to let you sit across his lap and take the joint from his fingers.
"You know, this kills," you mentioned, pulling smoke into your lungs before exhaling through the opened window.
"We wouldn't be so lucky," he teased, sighing as his arm anchored around your waist. "It's time?"
"Yeah, but if you need another minute or two, that's okay, angel."
Eddie nodded and tugged you closer, pressing a kiss to your neck as you slumped against his chest. After taking another hit, you handed the roach back to him and just waited. With the added weight of your body, he couldn't shake his leg like he was; opting to cracking a few fingers before sighing, stubbing out the roach, and wrapping both arms around you.
"It's gonna work out, right?" he muttered.
"Course it is," you assured, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
You all three piled into your car; knowing the two men with you were far too distracted to genuinely focus on driving and while you loved them, and you trusted them with your life, but maybe not in this case. So, you drove, and Wayne rode shotgun after Eddie assured he should before taking the back seat.
He nervously fiddled with an old stuffie, a faded-green dragon that Eddie won for Teddy at a carnival. He had tears in his eyes as he gently pet the toy, trying to distract himself by staring at the passing landscape.
Thelma Munson had moved to a suburb outside of Indianapolis, marking this a bit of a car ride but for Wayne and Eddie, it was borderline torture. You tried to keep the music low, but it was obvious neither of the men could hear the words; both lost in their own minds and leaving you to go over what you knew in your mind.
Thelma was an aggressive drug addict and all three of you knew it wasn't going to be easy to get her to listen. You knew she didn't have a single bone in her body that loved her children more than she loved drugs and alcohol. You knew she was the cause of some burn marks on Eddie's skin. You knew she was part of the reason that Eddie's father, Gregory Munson, was incarcerated - yet never understood how she didn't go down with him.
You knew she abandoned Eddie at home for a full week when he was 10 until he found a way to climb up onto an old desk and find the phone number for his Uncle Wayne.
You knew Thelma never called or checked on him after that.
You knew that Eddie actually had a bit of a better relationship with his father, Greg, then he did with his mother. And the man was in prison, for God's sake! You knew he was arrested years ago, and months after that, Thelma was showing up again with Teddy in her arms. Nobody ever knew if Greg was the father, and you knew she'd never tell the full truth.
You knew it confused and hurt Eddie, and you knew you'd do anything to prevent him from suffering further.
By the time you pulled up to a more... Run-down trailer park, you could feel the tension in the car brew to a new height. There was debris in the yard; an old, broken-down Chevy left in the grass, yard looking like it hadn't been mowed in months. Beer cans littered the front porch, and much to your heartbreak, there was a blow-up kiddie pool to the side, sputtering hose leaking browned-water into the plastic, and a wild-haired 9-year-old child sitting in the middle of it, playing with a plastic dinosaur toy.
"Teddy," Eddie breathed in shock, the end of the summer heat forcing the child to seek refuge in the sludge water.
"Hang on," you halted him from running for his brother. "Hang on, baby, we've gotta do this cautiously. Look, why don't you two go talk to Thelma and I'll get Teddy cleaned up?"
Wayne nodded, slapping a hand to Eddie's shoulder, "C'mon, son. She's got this."
You nodded in encouragement to your boyfriend when his sad eyes met yours. "Thank you," he whispered, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. "We won't be long."
You nodded, "I'll get him dried off and then inside to change, okay?"
He nodded, breathing out, "Yeah... Yeah, um... W-Wayne and I can handle Thelma."
"Baby, do you want me to go instead?" You offered in worry. "I-I'm sure Wayne can grab Teddy, right?"
Wayne nodded, "Anything that works, we can do that."
"No, uh... No, it's okay, it might be better with Wayne and I at first," Eddie cleared his throat. "You'll tell him why we're here, right?"
You shared a look with Wayne, "I-Is that such a good idea?"
"Kid deserves to know," Wayne assured, nodding. "I didn't have to twist Thelma's arm for Eddie, but I'm not gonna leave Teddy here alone. He's coming with us," Wayne nodded at Eddie, who smiled with relief.
"Then I'll get him ready," you nodded, leaning in close to Eddie. "Hey," you hand tightened in his, "it's gonna be okay. Just remember we're doing this for Teddy, okay?"
"I know," he sighed.
"But if you feel the need to rip her a new one for what she did to you, we'd all understand," you tried to smile but the harsh gulp assured you he was thinking about it. "Do what you need to, baby."
He nodded, whispering, "Thanks, peaches."
Wayne nodded at you and steered Eddie towards the trailer's door. You took a deep breath and watched them knock, waiting a moment as the door wrenched open and revealed a thin woman with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. Her eyes, the very same as Eddie's, widened in shock.
"Edward?" she asked.
"Hi, Thelma," Eddie nodded back, hands shoving into his front pockets. "Got a sec?"
"For you, my boy? Of course, yeah, yeah - " She choked herself when her eyes cut over to Wayne. "Hmm... Wayne."
"Thelma," he gruffly greeted, opening the screen door and letting Eddie pass into the 'home' first.
Shaking off your nerves, you ventured around the trailer towards the kiddie pool. "Hi, Teddy," you greeted gently, smiling at the little boy.
He gasped your name and shot out from the water, rocketing straight into your arms after catching himself from slipping in the muddy lawn. "You're here!" Teddy beamed up at you. "Mommy said she had a surprise for me for my birthday, but I thought..."
"Whatcha think, honey boy?" you smiled, lowering yourself into a squat; reaching over to a lone, overturned chair and pulling the towel off it.
"Well, I-I thought... I just thought she forgot, like usual," Teddy frowned, letting you dry his skin of murky water. "But now you're here and I know she didn't."
Your heart shattered, and you explained, "Well, um, actually, honey boy, I'm here with your Uncle Wayne and big brother."
"Eddie's here?" The kid's face glowed in excitement.
"Mhm, he's inside talking to your Mom."
"Why?"
"What do you mean?"
"He doesn't talk to her," Teddy frowned. "He doesn't like talking to her."
"No, but that's okay," you nodded, ruffling his stringy hair. "Because he's in there talking to your Mom, and wanna know what they're talking about?"
"What?"
"You coming to live with us," you nodded, blinking slowly. "Does that sound like something you'd like?"
"I-I'd get to come live with you and Eddie?"
"And Uncle Wayne, mhm," you nodded, booping the end of his nose.
"Wow," he grinned. "Sounds like a sleepover! Is it for my birthday?"
"Well, it'd be for longer than your birthday," you nodded. "It'd be permanent, buddy. You'd come live with me, Eddie, and Wayne; you wouldn't live here with your Mom anymore."
"But who would take care of Mommy?"
"Well, your Mommy's been really good at taking care of herself," you nodded.
"But she forgets to make dinner a lot," he argued.
Your heart split down the middle, "Do you cook?"
"Mhm."
"Well, if you come live with us, you wouldn't have to worry about that. Your big brother and I would take care of you."
"But Mommy would be alone."
"Is she alone now?"
"No," Teddy frowned, toeing the mud beneath us. "S-She has friends that come over a lot..."
"Are they nice friends?"
"No," he admitted, "they like to yell at me... Sometimes they lock me out."
"They lock you out?"
"Uh-huh," he nodded again.
"And you sleep out here?"
"Uh-huh, Mommy says it's okay. She says it's like camping."
"So, you cook for Mommy, and she lets your friends lock you out?"
"Yeah, but not always," he nodded. "Sometimes they let me sleep in Mommy's room, but I can't get out."
"Oh, sweetheart," you sighed, finishing drying him off and wrapping the towel around him tightly. "Well, I'll tell you that if you don't wanna go, we can't force you, but we're here to take you home, buddy. I understand not wanting to leave your Mommy, but if you want to, you can come with us."
"But where would Mommy go?"
"I don't know, baby, but she's more than welcome to come visit," you assured. "Your big brother just wants to make sure you're safe and taken care of. You're way too young to take care of yourself and your Mommy."
"So... I could really come live with you?"
"And see your brother every single day," you smiled. "Wanna go see him now?"
"Yeah," Teddy grinned, keeping the towel bundled around him to take your hand. You lead him inside the trailer slowly, looking around cautiously as you noted the defensive positions taken.
Wayne was in the kitchen, glaring at the woman who was standing in front of her eldest son, who's head was bowed from his seat on the couch.
"EDDIE!" Teddy beamed, rushing forward as his towel dropped and sending himself into Eddie's chest.
"Woah!" Eddie grunted when the boy launched into his arms. He chuckled, a genuine smile on his lips, "Hey, buddy! Man! You've gotten so big! Look at you!"
"I grew!"
"I can see!" Eddie chuckled, pulling back and looking at Teddy. His eyes scanned over the skinny arms and legs, heart plummeting to his feet. "Not growin' anywhere else, are you?" He frowned.
"He's fine," Thelma snapped in anger.
"He's malnourished!" Eddie snapped back, glaring up at her. "I thought with me, it was a fluke, and you just weren't ready. But with him? It's a fucking pattern, Thelma!"
"Hey, hey," you tried to step in, Teddy turning to grip your legs in fear of the elevated voices. "Let's not do this in front of him - "
"Oh, and this is your little bitch you want to mother my son instead!?" Thelma roared, gesturing at you as you pulled the boy closer.
Eddie shot up from his seat, "Don't you dare say a word about her!"
"She's a child - like you are, Edward! Neither of you can take care of another child!"
"Yeah? Think we'd do a helluva lot better job than you!" Eddie argued.
"C'mon, kid," Wayne muttered, trying to direct you from the trailer.
"No, hang on, take Teddy," you turned to push the kid into Wayne's embrace. "We'll pack for him, just stay out there."
"You're not taking my kid!" Thelma raged when Wayne stepped out of the trailer.
"You're not keeping him!" Eddie snapped. "You've run out of time, Thelma, it's done! You never wanted to be a mother but couldn't keep out of trouble, and you know who suffered? I did! I suffered for your mistakes, and your incompetence!"
"I'm doing better with Teddy!"
You scoffed, earning the attention, repeating, "Better? I can literally see a heroin needle from here."
"What?" Eddie paled, looking at you in shock - and suddenly, you wish you never said something. "Where? Peaches, where?" You gulped and pointed to the end table across the room, Eddie charging up to it and spilling contents to the ground as his shaking hands tried to grab the needle. Thelma rushed after him, pounding on his back as Eddie revealed a syringe in his hand. You shifted nervously as Eddie turned his murderous gaze to the woman behind him, who was stumbling back a few steps.
A moment later, he was pulling a little baggie of dark brown powder from a metal tin and letting his tears fall.
"Eddie, i-it's not what - I swear it's not what it looks like!"
"No, hey," you snapped, stepping forward and preventing the woman from approaching Eddie again, "you're close enough, back the hell off."
"You little bitch - "
"You're using again?" Eddie asked rhetorically, turning with the evidence in his hands. His eyes were red and full of tears, but they weren't falling - not over her, anymore. "You're putting him through what you put me through?"
"It's not as bad - "
"Is that why you lock him out of his own home, so you can get high with your other junkie friends?" You sneered, cocking your head.
"This is family business - you're not - "
"She's more family than you ever were," Eddie snapped. "You don't get to talk to her that way - she's gonna be my wife, and you don't have the right!" He glared for a second longer before sighing and looking at you, "Now, peaches, what're you talking about?"
"Teddy told me," you spoke to the woman, aware of the man behind you, "that you have friends come over, and he's locked outside all night."
"I didn't know - "
"Really? Lie again, and we're not hesitating to call the police," you sneered. "Your son told me you're fine with it since it's like camping - or at least, that's what you tell him. But what do you tell him when he's locked in your bedroom? When he can't get out? Do you tell him why you forget his birthdays?"
"Wait - wait - wait. You lock him up? In a room?" Eddie seethed, dropping the needle and baggie to the table.
"He cooks for her, too," you added on, ignoring the pathetic crocodile tears that fell from her red-rimmed, sunken eyes. "I can't imagine what else we'll find out when we have longer than 5 minutes to talk."
Eddie took a sobering breath before speaking scarily calmly, "I'm gonna take my girl, and we're gonna pack up Teddy's room. You can go say goodbye, but only with Wayne there. We can work out a visitation schedule, but you're done here. You hear me? You're done. I'm leaving with my little brother, and if you try to stop us, we will be calling the police - and should you need the extra threat, we're friends with the Chief of Police of Hawkins and he'll make sure you're put away. Do I make myself clear?"
Thelma let the tears dry and just glared, nodding slowly, "Think you're a man now, huh? Just like your Daddy - thinkin' too big for your britches."
"As far as I'm concerned, it was you who taught me my most valuable life lesson," Eddie nodded, letting his hand rest around your waist. "That you never abandon family - you come back for them."
"So, this is how you wanna end things?" Thelma sneered. "This is how you wanna do it? Gonna take my boy and run? Like your Daddy always did? Always running?"
"Yeah," Eddie refused to entertain her anymore. "This is how I want it to end. You're welcome to visit Teddy, but you better call first; because other than him, there's no reason for any of us to interact." A quiet moment, then Eddie spoke softer, "Peaches, you mind telling Wayne the update?"
"Yeah," you nodded at him, glancing nervously between him and his mother. "S-Should I grab Teddy something to change into?"
"No, it's okay," he assured, rubbing your waist subtly, "we'll take him to a real pool, with clean water." You nodded in agreement, pulling away slowly because you weren't sure about leaving him alone. He picked up on your hesitance, assuring, "'S all right, peaches, just come back when you're done."
You didn't want to, but you turned for the front door and pushed out of it. Wayne and Teddy were waiting by the car, the boy sat on the hood as his uncle showed him a card trick.
"Hey," you smiled at the pair as you approached. "Um, Eddie's just wrapping things up, but then your Mommy's gonna come out and say goodbye, okay?" You nodded at Teddy. "Eddie and I are gonna pack some of your things up."
"Mommy's letting me leave?"
You gulped, "Yeah, buddy, she just wants you to have a better chance. But how about, when we get back, we go for a real swim - hm?"
"Okay," Teddy beamed.
"Hang tight, buddy, for just one second," you held a finger up to the boy and patted Wayne's shoulder; stepping away a few feet.
"What's really going on?" Wayne muttered.
"Eddie and I found some drugs, so, she's using again. Eddie didn't give her a choice, told her we're taking Teddy and if she wants to visit, she can - but she has to call first."
Wayne nodded sadly, "He's had to grow up too much."
"He's handling it as well as he can," you sighed. "But he doesn't want her and Teddy alone, so, when she comes out to say goodbye, don't leave them alone, okay?"
"I'm on it, honey," he assured, nodding at you.
After thanking Wayne and ruffling Teddy's hair, you made for the trailer again. But you wished you hadn't left them at all, as Eddie was pressed painfully against the kitchen counter, both hands restraining his mother's wrists.
Your eyes caught the flash of a blade and you lunged, wrapping your arms around the woman and yanking her to the floor. You yelped when the blade caught the skin of your forearm, dropping the woman's weight and stumbling back a step.
"Shit," you hissed, pressing your hand to the wound, and hating the feeling of blood bubbling under your fingers.
"Holy fuck," Eddie seethed, grabbing a tea towel, and wrapping it around the wound. "Oh, my God, are you okay? Shit, baby, no, I'm so sorry - th-this wasn't supposed to happen."
"Hey, hey, it's okay," you assured, shooting a glare at the woman still on the floor; knife pushed away from her. "Better me than you, right? Was she - Jesus Christ, was she trying to stab you?"
"Think so," he breathed, pulling you to his chest. "She's angry."
"No excuse," you snapped, glaring at the woman. "Gonna fuck off and let us work now?"
"I'm not letting you take my son," she sneered, pathetically sprawled on the dirty linoleum floor. "You took Eddie - fine! You can keep him! But you're not taking Theodore!"
"Teddy's obviously not safe here!"
"Hang on," Eddie muttered, reaching for the wall phone. He silently punched in a number you knew well, hearing his mother's breathing pick up.
"W-Who is he calling!?"
But nobody answered as Eddie was listening to the dial tone, and then, "Hi, Mary. Is Chief Hopper in? It's, uh, it's Eddie Munson... Yes, ma'am, yeah, stayin' outta trouble, but this was kinda unavoidable. Is he in? Yeah... Mhm... Okay, thanks, yeah, I'll wait." Thelma's eyes widened as she realized who Eddie was speaking to, and a moment later, he was continuing, "Hey, Jim, sorry for calling out of the blue. But uh... We've got a bit of a situation here."
You listened to him explain the rescue mission gone wrong; how drugs were found, and how his mother attacked you with a knife after trying to stab him. Hopper assured he'd be there soon, and Eddie hung up.
"Hopper's gonna be here soon, so, why don't we all just wait for him, hmm?" He offered Thelma, pulling you back into his embrace.
It took several long minutes to push Thelma out of the door, but even then, she just glared at you three surrounding Teddy at the car. When Hopper pulled up, she refused to utter a single word. Hopper checked out your arm and made sure Eddie was okay, before turning to the strung-out woman.
It was incredible the way the cop car sent all trailer park residents scattering into their homes; curtains pulled back to peer out of dingy windows as Jim Hopper menacingly stared Thelma Munson down.
She eventually caved and let you and Eddie into her home to pack up Teddy's room. And Eddie cried while you both worked because the boy barely had anything; just two duffels worth of clothes and shoes and a backpack full of school supplies, and memorabilia.
Outside, Thelma outright refused to look at anyone. Her arms were crossed as Hopper wrapped your forearm and made sure everyone was okay before getting in his car. He waited for you guys as Teddy was sobbing for him Mommy - begging her to look at him - to hug him - to say goodbye.
But she refused to move. Refused to look at him.
"C'mon, buddy, it's okay," Eddie sighed, stooping low to pull his brother into his arms and stand. "It's okay, it's okay... She didn't say goodbye to me either. It's okay, I got you. Hey, I'm here now, I got you. Never leaving, buddy, I'm here for you."
Hopper led you all back home to Hawkins; Wayne driving your car as you took the passenger seat, listening to Eddie comfort his brother in the backseat. The child was a wreck, confused and hurt by his own mother, gasping for breath before thanking Eddie for "coming back and rescuing" him.
Wayne wiped a few subtle tears and when you got home, you left the Munson's to get Teddy settled as you made a phone call. When Teddy was unpacked (which took all of 30 minutes), the three slowly trickled out to finish giving Teddy a tour of the house.
The poor boy was in one of Eddie's tee shirts to combat the cold, but you grinned at them when they filtered into the kitchen.
"Uh oh," Eddie teased, nudging his brother, "she's got that look, bud. Think we're in for it now."
You playfully rolled your eyes, "Well, I was just thinking, we promised Teddy a dip in a real pool."
His eyes lit up, "You have a pool!?"
"Not here, honey, but I know someone," you grinned. "Wanna go?"
"Can we?" Teddy looked up at Eddie for permission, who nodded in return.
"Sure, buddy, I'll grab you a towel. Go ahead," he nodded, nudging his brother towards you. "Wayne?"
"Oh, I'd love to, kids, but uh, I'm a little tired. Think I'll just sit this one out, if that's okay."
"Course it's okay," you nodded. "We won't be long; we'll be home for dinner."
Wayne nodded and pet over Teddy's hair - telling him to be kind and respectful for you and Eddie before turning for his room. Eddie jogged out of the basement, three towels in his arms, smiling at you both. "We ready?"
"Are you gonna swim, too?" Teddy worried slightly, looking at you with wide eyes.
"Yeah, we are, bud," you beamed, patting the tote bag on your shoulder. "Got our suits in here."
"Wait, we're all going swimming?" Eddie asked cautiously.
"Mhm," you smiled.
Eddie offered a confused look as you ushered the boys back to your car. On the drive, you peaked back to spy Teddy fiddling with the same faded-green dragon stuffie Eddie had given him earlier; petting over the head carefully as he looked concentrated on keeping his emotion in check.
When you pulled up to your destination, you turned in your seat, "You okay, honey?"
Eddie turned too, spying his brother's frown and feeling panic swell in his chest. "Hey, what's going on? Thought you loved swimming?"
"I do," he nodded, blinking rapidly before timidly meeting your eyes. "I-Is Mommy gonna be okay without me? Is she...? Is she mad at me?"
Eddie sighed deeply, "No, buddy, she's not mad at you. She just thought you'd be happier, and healthier, staying with us. She's gonna take care of herself, I promise."
"But she..." The little boy started to weep, "She didn't say bye!"
"Shit," Eddie muttered, quickly yanking the safety belt from around him before climbing over your center console to get in the backseat. You frowned when he plopped down, and Teddy was instantly crawling into his lap and holding onto his shirt with desperate fists.
You quietly removed yourself from the car to leave them some privacy, grabbing your bag and leaning on the hood of the car. No more than 10 minutes later, the door was opening again, and Eddie was helping Teddy out.
You smiled at the pair and watched Eddie keep his hand around Teddy's shoulders as you approached the front door of the home you were parked out front of.
"Hey!" Steve Harrington beamed when he opened the door. "You made it - everyone's out back. C'mon," he smiled, catching sight of Teddy, and pausing. "Oh, hello," he slowly lowered himself into a squat, "what's your name?"
Teddy shyly turned his face into Eddie's thigh, looking up at him with wide eyes. Eddie nodded, "It's okay, buddy, he's a friend of ours."
He nodded slowly, glancing at Steve, "I-I'm Teddy."
"Teddy?" Steve repeated with a softer smile, the child nodding. "It's very nice to meet you, my name's Steve. I hear you really like swimming. And dinosaurs."
"I do," he nodded. "My big brother calls me a fish."
"He's always in water," Eddie smiled, rubbing Teddy's back comfortingly.
"Well, Teddy, would you like to come take a swim in the pool?"
"You have a pool?" Teddy gasped, looking at you and Eddie with shock and awe.
"Yeah!" Steve grinned. "Wanna check it out with me?"
"Yeah! Uh-huh!" Teddy nodded, pulling away from Eddie's leg a bit before pausing. "Um, Eddie?" He looked up, "C-Can I go?"
"Yeah, bud, we're right behind you. We're just gonna change really quick."
"Stick by Steve until we're back, okay?" You nodded, watching the little boy nod rapidly before reaching for Steve's hand.
"All right, let's go, buddy," Steve smiled, letting the little boy take his hand before dropping a wink at you and Eddie. "You know where the bathrooms are, right?"
"Yeah, we'll be right out," you assured, leading Eddie into Steve's house. Teddy was gawking at everything, completely shocked that people could live here; listening as Steve pointed out different things while making their way to the backyard.
You felt Eddie slide his hand into yours, tugging you so your back met his chest. "Thank you," Eddie whispered, letting you lead you both up to Steve's room.
When the door shut, you answered, "Don't have to thank me, baby, I just thought he'd be overwhelmed, and a neutral space was best for right now. Then he can settle in at home."
Eddie nodded, peeking out from behind Steve's curtains to the pool yard below. "He's already talking with Dustin," he chuckled lightly.
"He's gonna be okay, Eddie," you assured, stepping towards him to peer around him. You could see Nancy and Robin giggling on the side of the pool, and how Steve and Dustin were talking with animation to Teddy. "He's safe."
"Thanks to you," Eddie whispered, the tick to his tone assuring you he was suppressing emotion.
"Hey," you whispered, turning Eddie to face you, "I didn't do anything, that was all you, angel. You saved Teddy; I just drove the car."
"You did so much more than that," he promised, caressing your left cheek. "I just can't thank you enough."
You grinned, "I'm happy to help, angel. But you've gotta answer a question for me."
"Anything, peaches."
"Were you being serious? Back there, um... W-With your mom? When you said you wanted me to be your wife?"
Eddie smiled down at you, bringing both hands to your cheeks; leaning down to press his lips to yours. It was simple enough to lose yourself in the motion, always finding Eddie's lips mesmerizing to the point where your mind went blank.
When he pulled back, you both needed to take a long breath in; resulting in light panting as Eddie smirked, "I was being very serious, peaches. I'm sorry if it was abrupt, I-I know we've only talked about it once before, but after today, there's no doubt in my mind that you're gonna be my wife. Soon."
"Soon?"
"Real soon," he teased, leaning down to kiss you again. "As soon as we can," he chuckled.
"Hm, you're gonna need to propose first," you teased. "Gotta get a ring, too."
"I have one," he assured.
"You do?"
"Course I do. I uh... I bought it about a year ago."
"But..." you blinked a few times, "W-We broke up a year ago?"
"I know," he sighed. "After our fight, I just couldn't think straight. The next morning, I went and bought a ring because I knew I couldn't be without you. Our breakup taught me that life without you isn't really living, it's just existing. So, I went and made sure that when I got you back, I'd never risk losing you again."
"And when we got back together?"
"I didn't want to startle you," he nodded. "We were broken up three months, and it fucking sucked, princess, that I didn't want you to get scared and run away from us. But when we got back together, God, I was just grateful to have you back - so, I didn't want to risk losing you again, and if that meant waiting, I'd wait forever."
You nodded, feeling tears surface, "It was hard for me, too."
"But we got through it."
"We did," you nodded, sniffling. "And we're gonna get through this, too. Together."
"Always together," he breathed, pressing his lips to your forehead. The sounds of laughter and screaming and splashing interrupted you, both peaking back out to see Teddy on Steve's shoulders as Mike was on Lucas' and there was a game of chicken going on.
You and Eddie both laughed when Mike comically flailed from Lucas' shoulders; Teddy grinning and cheering with Steve in victory. Nancy and Robin posed as cheerleaders from the sidelines, howling in pride when the little boy looked around, soaking in the praise he's never had in his life.
"C'mon," you smiled up at Eddie, "we're missing all the fun out there."
Getting changed was simple enough and you both made it down to the back patio, greeting the other party members and their significant others. "Eddie! Eddie! Watch me!" Teddy called, waving wildly from Steve's shoulders still.
"I'm watching, buddy!" Eddie grinned back, pulling you to sit on the side of the pool with him.
"C'mon! Get in!" Teddy giggled, letting Steve wrangle him from his shoulders. "C'mon, Eddie!"
"Yeah, Eddie, c'mon," you mocked with a grin, winking at him before shoving him into the water. Teddy laughed wildly with the others as Eddie resurfaced, hair drenched down his face as he sputtered to get it out of his mouth.
"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" He asked you, hand sloppily pushing hair away from his sight.
"Very," you giggled before cutting off abruptly, screaming when Eddie latched onto your ankles and pulled you into the water, too.
The party members laughed merrily as you gasped for breath, laughing a little yourself as you flipped your hair from your face. "It's a look, baby, really metal," Eddie giggled.
"That was betrayal if I ever knew it," you teased. "Get him, Teddy!"
"AH!" the boy shouted from the side of the pool, leaping to the water, and landing on Eddie's back - forcing the older boy to dunk under the surface.
"Woah, hey! Hey!" Eddie laughed when he popped back up, swiftly grabbing Teddy around the waist so he didn't have to doggie paddle in his floaties too hard. "That wasn't nice, bud! Thought brothers stuck together!"
"You dunked sissy; I dunk you!" Teddy grunted, trying to wrangle from his brother's grip.
Eddie gasped comically, looking at you with wide eyes, "Et tu, sweetheart?"
You only shrugged, "Should know better than to dunk a lady in the pool, Eddie. Now, you've gotta reap the consequences."
"Nobody touches sissy!" Teddy assured, flexing his little arms and Eddie let him dunk him under water again.
The rest of the afternoon was spent together, laughing and joking with everyone, the younger members of the party entertaining Teddy sweetly. Steve was a very gracious host and made sure everyone had what they wanted or needed; and Teddy was having the time of his freaking life letting Robin braid his hair. Steve handed you a towel for Teddy when it was time to head home for dinner, moving off to speak with Eddie before everyone was ready and packed up.
Teddy snuggled back into Eddie's shirt and took your hand softly, making Eddie carry your bag and towels as the little boy told you about all the fun he had. He never knew a pool could be so big.
In the car, Eddie made sure Teddy was strapped in and that his dragon stuffie was close to him; the boy strangling it in his grip against his chest as he happily hummed to the song on the radio. When the boy's eyes started to droop a little, you smiled in the rearview mirror before looking at Eddie and reaching for his hand.
"What did Steve say to you?"
Eddie smirked, "That we're welcome to use the pool whenever we want. Said he was happy to see someone enjoy it, so, whenever Teddy wants, he'd be happy to host."
"That's really nice of him."
"And he offered to babysit whenever we need," Eddie smirked.
"Always the Goddamn babysitter!" You laughed lightly with Eddie, his hand tightening in yours.
"Hey," he spoke seriously, earning a glance from you before your attention was back on the road, "I uh... I just wanted to thank you. This hasn't been easy, but uh... You make it worth it. And I'm glad to do this with you."
"Do what, baby?"
"Life."
You pulled up to the red light before your house, leaning over to pull Eddie in for a harsh kiss. He chuckled against your lips, humming lightly when your tongue swept into his mouth dominantly. His hand rose to your jaw, sweeping his thumb across it when you pulled back, whispering, "I'm really glad to do life with you, too, angel."
"You and me, right?"
You smiled, nodding, "You, me, and Teddy."
"The way it should be, should've always been," Eddie sighed, deflating back into his seat with a knowing smile. His hand remained tight in yours the rest of the drive, and when you got home, Wayne was already grilling outside and waving at you while Eddie grabbed a sleepy Teddy from the backseat.
While you both made your way inside with Teddy slowly waking up on Eddie's shoulder, Wayne chuckled to himself and took another swig of beer, "I give 'em a year before they have a kid of their own, those crazy kids. God love 'em."
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson fluff#stranger things#stranger things 4#stranger things imagine#stranger things x reader
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I think the thing that's fucking with my brain the most is the separation of fact and fiction because it's like... we spent years being told that Bray was this unkillable character that would always come back no matter what, and now it's just like...I have to remind myself that in reality he was just a normal guy, it's weird.
It's..... yeah.
Okay - I'm gonna get real wordy and wax poetically and I'm so sorry I'm incapable of just talking and crying like a normal person.
It's like a big old layered burrito of denial on all fronts, right?
Because on the surface, we have a guy who was so young, and that seems so hard to get past in itself. We also have the fact that he was prone to injury at points and disappearing for... months at a time. He had been released and came back, what, a year later? In the meantime there were always a billion headlines with his name, speculating the worst, and it never had any accuracy or mattered. We were always *looking forward* to him returning and he always inevitably did because he had half his career ahead of him still and it always seemed like the best was to come.
And we have all these stories of what a beautiful person he was, a side we roughly knew of but never got to really experience ourselves as an audience.
But the person we saw was, as you said, this unkillable character. Literally unkillable. He told us from day one he could never die and would persist 5000 years from now when *we* were all gone. Because he was this personification of all the darkest bits of humanity and American society come to force us to face our sins. We watched him, silly as it was, get burned alive and come back a shambling heap of melting flesh and be completely restored. He was forever, he was a god, you could always find him and you could never, ever kill it.
And like, as fans, we kindle that kid in us that wants to believe in superheros and villains and we grow over the years with them. We go to events, and we sing his songs, and we thrust ourselves into that role ourselves of characters in a way. Like we were always *his*. Even if you didn't love him, you played into that for his entrance at the very least because it was such an undeniable experience. He talked and you, and every babyface, listened - whether you wanted to or not.
I'll never forget that one match on Raw, still early on, when the whole crowd was first singing "He's got the whole world in his hands" and just swaying, and then turning around and chanting "Bray is gonna kill you." Like, I remember Big E was in that match, and I'm pretty sure he was on the receiving end of that chant. He was over. He was beloved. And the whole crowd was singing hymns and calling for his demise for this literal cult leader that would speak in tongues and Exorcist walk across the ring, holding his heart and smiling with some masked sinister joy at it.
It's really really hard to reconcile he's not actually some biblical force of nature looming over everything and everyone even though we know better. And like, that fan in me that's that eternal kid in a way, is just stomping my feet screaming "but he CAN'T die!"
The end of Smackdown did, and still is, really fucking me up because I kept waiting for the lantern to go out. And like, I couldn't decide if I wanted that. Because on one hand, there's a symbolism there, and a kind of sad beauty, in the light going out. He was with us, and he's gone now, and he can rest (ahahaha I'm going to start crying again). The light fades. But ultimately I'm so glad it didn't go out because A.) I don't think I could've fucking handled it and was already bawling, and B.) It shouldn't go out. Or fade. His spirit of everything he brought to that world should stay with us and with every single performer who goes out there every night and throws their hearts into playing these characters.
And like... maybe, even though it's so hard now, maybe eventually there's comfort to be found in the idea that even though the vessel is gone - *He* will, somehow, always be there haunting us. Because "I have a thousand faces and a million names." We might not see him, but we can choose to believe every time a hero is forced to face their fears that he's there behind it - silently whispering into our ears, willing us on to indulge in every second of it.
#this is dumb maybe#i guess on a less dramatic note anon#i cant remember where it was - probably jo's instagram#there was a pic of them together and he was wearing those stupid glasses he wore in that last segment for the bobby feud#the ones with the gold side frames that look like he stole them from someones mom#like no homie really had those glasses#and i had this moment of like 'oh god he's such a fucking dad for real'#i dont think anything ever threw me through a loop more than that lmao#like 'no i need to repress this imagery immediately i can't believe the eater of worlds looks like someones quirky uncle at the bbq'#now its like im glad for that stuff and the stories and pics and videos etc because it makes me smile seeing that side of him and how he#touched so many people and made people so happy to be around#but it doesnt help the confusion of it all or make it make any more sense#and i have this awful feeling a year from now im still going to be waiting for him to pop up#feeling lonely because no one else is talking about him anymore#oh it got dramatic again im a dumbass im shutting up now
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