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#okay well it doesn't say that exactly but it does have a link to the TOS so it's like... that but subtle. anyways

melbatron5000 · 16 days

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The Big Damn Kiss

Buckle up, my fellow Good Omens Ineffable Mystery Puzzlers, Crackpotters, and Assorted Brainrotters, because I learned something HUGE yesterday.

This will be a bit of a long post, because I want to show you exactly how I got where I am. I want you to understand. I want to put all the naysayers to bed (ha! But I'm still gonna try), and settle this once and for all.

I know (almost) exactly what Crowley gave to Aziraphale during the kiss.

DO NOT TAKE ANY OF MY THEORIES TO NEIL! PLEASE!

Okay? Okay. Thanks. Shall we begin?

Ahem.

Firstly, whether you believe me or not, I am 100% certain that Crowley did, indeed, give something to Aziraphale in his mouth during The Kiss. I've covered that in the link previous. Okay? Okay.

I did not know what it was. I've now heard theories that it was a bullet (nope), a ball bearing (nope), hellfire (nope), and no one, NO ONE has suggested what I see. (If you have, hello! Talk to me!)

Here's our first foreshadowing Clue:

And here's our next foreshadowing Clue:

And the next:

And our last Clue:

With me so far? Well, that first GIF is a bit off, I couldn't find one of Crowley actually spitting out the flies. But he does. When Beelzebub first drags him to Hell, he actually goes "Pleaugh!" and spits out four or five flies. Edit: Found it!

Moving right along, we come to Crowley in Heaven with Muriel, looking at the trial. We learn two important things here:

One, Gabriel doesn't have a desk.

Two, Muriel does. Where they keep the records. And it's a bit lonely. Every few hundred years, someone comes and asks for something. Muriel can't access the sensitive ones, you have to be pretty high up. A throne, dominion, or higher. Like, maybe Supreme Archangel?

So if Gabriel doesn't have a desk, whose desk is he at when he's getting ready to leave Heaven? Of course I can't find a damn picture of Gabriel at the desk, but it's Muriel's. Where they keep the RECORDS.

Gabriel puts his memory into the fly, then gets on the elevator to go to Earth.

Now, when Gabriel opens the fly with his memories inside, we find out that it's a container. Bigger on the inside. You can put thing(S) in it. The bit we see of him remembering is shot in two parts, one where he's flying down a red tunnel, one where he's flying down a blue. If you slow this scene down and watch, you can see that he is NOT looking at just his own memories. There is more going on here, more that he was not present for. @embracing-the-ineffable put up a great meta about that here. Go look!

Now I figured Gabriel must have taken something else. Something important. Something useful. Something he meant to give to Aziraphale, except he forgot.

I also figured he must have left whatever it was in the fly when he took his memories out. Crowley must have realized while watching the trial footage that Gabriel also grabbed something else. I don't know when Crowley grabs the fly, but he does. And that is what he gives to Aziraphale in the kiss. Why? Well.

I had no idea what Gabriel took until I started working on the chiastic structure of season 2. I'm not done with that analysis yet, but let me show you one thing that I have found so far:

(The numbers are just to try and help me navigate the story and its events without time stamps)

My note #357 of what happens isn't quite right, but when I saw the only two times Aziraphale says "I forgive you" are towards the beginning of Season 2 and towards the end, I realized I had something.

Rephrase line 357: Crowley's kiss is forgiven IN EXCHANGE FOR RECORDS.

(Not that I think Crowley's kiss needs to be forgiven. It's just what Aziraphale says, and had to say at that moment, because the Metatron was listening in.)

What does Heaven in Good Omens remind us of most of all?

A big corporate entity. And what do powerful people do when they get fired from a big corporate entity? They download all their emails while they're cleaning out their desks. Damning emails. Emails that can be used to black mail or even destroy big corporate entities. Or, ya know, maybe they swipe some sensitive RECORDS?

Oh yes.

Records that Gabriel meant to give to Aziraphale, but he forgot. Records that Crowley realized Gabriel had put in the fly. The fly that Crowley grabbed once Gabriel had his memory out. The fly that he gave to Aziraphale when he kissed him. The fly that no longer held Gabriel's memory, but did still contain those damning records.

Here's Aziraphale reading the records:

Here's Aziraphale being horrified and outraged by what he's reading:

And here's Aziraphale realizing he has got some GOOD DIRT on Heaven. Maybe enough to bring them down:

That's it folks. I have no idea what the records actually say, and maybe we're not meant to know until season 3, but whatever it is, it's GOOD.

That's my story, and by God Herself, I'm sticking to it.

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #good omens meta #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens analysis #good omens fan theory #ineffable mystery #aziraphale elevator #corporate heaven #the big damn kiss #the kiss #good omens muriel #good omens gabriel #good omens beelzebub

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urfavskzlvr · 5 months

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whoopsies?

SMUT UNDER THE CUT

MINORS DNI

Bangchan x GNreader 😻

you really didn't mean to. it was an accident. you didn't mean to find your best friends Onlyfans.

You were just on your couch on Twitter scrolling through. You came across a small clip of a guy teasing if he would take his shirt off. you could see his large bulge through his black sweats. you couldn't see his face but you still found it hot. you watch the video twice and you're turned on. fuck. it wouldn't hurt, would it? you click the link in the caption and it brings you to his onlyfans. $45?! Who does this guy think he is? well, he is really sexy... and you are horny... and you got paid yesterday... what's the worst that can happen?

you put in all the information and hit confirm. it unlocks a whole world of jack-off videos, whimper audios, and a plethora of boyfriend roleplays. holy shit. the fucking jackpot. which one do you choose first? you scroll aimlessly until something catches your eye. "Jack off instructions" goddamnit, it's perfect.

you click the video and it starts. you slip your hand into your pants.

"Hey love." you shut off your phone. what the fuck? it can't be. why did that guy sound like Chan? God no. you're just mistaken. you have to be. you open your phone again and press play again.

"here's a new gift for you. I know sometimes you need a little hel-" You shut it off again. it's him. it sounds exactly like him. his accent, his tone, it has to be him. what are you supposed to do? you just spent $45 on your best friend's Onlyfans.

just ignore it until it goes away, that works. But you are still really horny. no you wouldn't. but you just paid $45, might as well put it to good use. HE'S YOUR BEST FRIEND THAT'S WEIRD. but he's so sexy. what if he finds out? but what if he doesn't? what he doesn't know can't hurt him. fuck it. you open your phone and continue to watch the video.

"I'm only here to help you feel some relief. if you're not already, go ahead and start touching yourself, slowly. you can listen, right?" shit. you feel your face starting to get hot. this is your best friend and you are currently jerking off to his voice, on his Onlyfans.

"you're doing so well. such a pretty look for you. do you want a little more? go ahead, go a little faster." why are you listening? why are you doing this? you feel so gross, but so incredibly good.

"you want to cum? hm? go faster, baby" you let out a small groan as he says baby. you listen and go faster. fuck. it's so good. you feel yourself being embarrassingly close.

"you can hold out for me, can't you, love? or maybe you can't. such a greedy baby." holy shit. your body shakes as you inch closer and closer. "i guess you've been good enough to cum. go ahead. cum for me, baby" your body jolts forward as you finally go over the edge. your legs shake wildly and you feel like your heart is about to jump out of your chest.

"you did so good, baby. look at you. so needy for me." he chuckles. you lay there looking up at the ceiling while trying to catch your breath. you can feel your arousal in your underwear. how the fuck did you just cum that hard? you feel embarrassed and ashamed. you just came the most you have to your best friend's voice. you want him to come and lick it up. WHAT? don't be thinking such things.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

heyyyyyy

sorry if it seems short or unfinished. i hope you liked it either way <3

Pt. 2? 👀👀

reblogs, comments, and ASKS highly appreciated <3 (please leave me asks i love doing them so much)

Okay. love you bye <33

#skz hard thoughts #stray kids smut #stray kids hard hours #skz smut #stray kids #skz #bangchan smut #bang chan #bang chan smut #bangchan hard hours #christopher bang #bangchan x reader #bangchan x gnreader #bangchan skz

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alastorslittledoe · 2 months

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Stay With Me

|| Vox smut ||

You have returned after a few days at the Hazbin Hotel, gathering information for the Vee’s. Vox is incredibly pent up from the wait.

|| This is an exert from my Alastor x Reader (contrary to the smut w/ Vox lmfao) fic on wattpad! ||

|| Link if you wanna read: https://www.wattpad.com/story/364068325?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details&wp_uname=pastelkitty69 ||

Tags: daddy kink, Vox being rough, blowjob, dom Vox, fem reader

***

"So, dollface, tell me" Vox taps his claws against his desk, leaning back to look at you "what have you learned from that shithole?"

"Vox" you roll your eyes "I haven't even been there two days, and I spent last night drunk off my ass" you decided to leave out the parts that involved the Radio Demon.

"Well that's not really a fucking help, is it?" He snaps "God, I sent you there to be fucking useful, Y/N, not get all pally with the shitheads"

You smirk "I wouldn't let Val hear you say that, it was with Angel"

"I don't give a SHIT who you were with" he takes a long stride to you, grabbing your jaw harshly and tilting your face up to him "I need information"

"Okay! Okay" You attempt to swat his hand away. It doesn't work.

"Fine" You breathe heavily "I'm roomed next to Alastor. If he does anything, I'll be the first to know, V"

He stares at you for a long moment before releasing you, your head twists to the side from the force. You rub your jaw, eyeing him.

"That's...good...we can work with that" He nods thoughtfully, a small loading circle in the corner of his screen "yeah, that's really fuckin good"

You smile. You hated that his praise meant so much to you.

"Yeah, Voxy, I got you" You wink "Don't be so stressy" you saunter over to him and gently place your hands on his shoulders, starting to massage them cautiously.

He lets out a quiet sigh and leans back into your touch.

Gotcha.

You slowly lean forward, leaving a pepper trail of kisses down his neck, mumbling between kisses "Were you worried I was leaving you for them?"

He stiffens slightly. Maybe you'd pushed it too far. But then he says, quietly "Perhaps"

That you didn't expect. Vox never showed any appreciation for you, except for in bed.

"Well" you swallow, about to tell the biggest lie you'd told during your stay in hell thus far "I'd never leave you, I promise"

A carnal growl escapes him and he whips around to face you, quickly capturing your lips on his. You always think it best...not to think about the technicalities of kissing Vox. There was no possible way to explain how his lips felt so real behind that screen. And he was incredible at it.

He leads you backward between kisses until you reach his bed.

"You're mine" he growls, shoving you down.

You bounce as you hit the soft surface, smirking up at him "Prove it"

He crawls onto the bed and pushes your legs apart, slotting himself between and staring down at you with those glowing red eyes.

He grabs the neckline of your top with both hands and rips it in half, chucking the stray fabric aside.

"Did I ever tell you...your tits are so fucking gorgeous, dollface" He murmurs, leaning down and nipping harshly at one of your buds. You gasp, back arching into him. You could already feel his pants straining against you.

"Fuck...Vox" You mumble needily

He smirks against your breast. He loved when you said his name. It was akin to a drug for him. Which is exactly why he couldn't have you moaning it too often. Vox had no idea why he liked you, and he tried his best to not like you, actually. Considering you technically belonged to Val. But by god, did he enjoy the moments where you were sprawled out bare for him.

He pulls back and stares down at you, your perked nipples and flushed face. Fuck it. He didn't need to be inside you yet. But he did need his cock inside that pretty mouth of yours.

Vox grabs your hips and yanks you backward as he zips into a nearby camera, you fall onto the floor clumsily, gasping and looking around nervously. Vox appears a moment later across the room, shirtless, strolling over and slowly unbuckling his belt, chuckling

"My apologies, doll, did that hurt?"

"No, sir" your bright eyes blink up at him, mouth almost drooling as slowly unzips his pants. He meets you, standing over you with a smirk. You knew calling him that drove him insane.

"Well?" he drawls "Get my cock out. And suck"

You feel the slick between your thighs and close them tightly as you move to your haunches, fiddling somewhat clumsily with his zipper. He would never admit it to anyone, but he found it oddly alluring that he knew you were extremely skilled in the bedroom and yet, when it came to the real thing, it was almost innocent.

You finally lowered his pants enough for his cock to spring out. You weren't ashamed to admit you had been pleasantly surprised the first time. You had expected, well...average. Surely a man with such a large ego didn't deserve a massive dick too, right? Wrong. You were so. Fucking. Wrong.

You took his cock in your hand and gave it a few cautious pumps, watching the pre-cum leak from the tip, you giggle playfully, batting your eyes at him and giving it a small kiss.

He groans "Doll..."

A warning.

He grabs your jaw and traces your bottom lip with a blue claw, then slowly, gently, presses it into your mouth. You suck it eagerly. When you open your mouth as he drags it back out, he takes the opportunity and rams his cock deep into your throat. You gag immediately, tears springing into your eyes.

"Good girl" he smirks, cooing "that's it, take daddy's cock"

Now that was new.

You adjust and begin to bob your head, going at a steady pace. Vox groans, you never go quite deep enough to satiate him. He grabs a fistful of your hair, a makeshift ponytail in his hand

"Enough of that, doll" He shoves you down onto his cock once more, ready to cum at the moan that erupts from you around his dick. He lets himself engulf in the pleasure of your throat, wet, and all his. He waits until you grab at his thigh, clawing for air, before releasing you.

You gasp for air and fall back as he lets you go, a few stray tears slipping down your face. Oh fuck, was he turned on by that sight.

He grabs you and easily throws you back onto the bed, quickly ridding himself of his pants completely and making quick work of tearing your skirt to shreds.

You gulp as he positions himself between your thighs once more "You owe me a new outfit, Vox" you joke breathlessly.

He pauses "What" his screen glitches, eyes turning hypnotic "did you call me, doll?"

You bite your lip "Sorry, daddy"

He nods, pleased, then grabs your hips, yanking you towards him, roughly slamming his cock into you, not even giving you a moments notice. You gasp, a strangled moan escaping as you throw your head back into the sheets.

"Jesus...fuck"

After his initial entrance he continues at an agonisingly slow pace.

"Mmf" You grit your teeth, attempting to move onto your elbows "Vo-" he cuts you off with another sharp thrust. Now you were getting antsy, gritting your teeth "faster"

He raises an eyebrow, chuckling "sorry, doll, who told you YOU were in charge here? If you want me to go faster" He pauses, a painfully slow thrust "beg.”

You clamp your mouth shut.

He takes this as a challenge and presses a claw gently onto your clit, moving in slow circles. Your position on your elbows doesn't last long and you collapse once more, panting in need.

"For fucks sake" you breathe "fucking please, PLEASE, fuck me, I'm begging"

"That's a good little slut" He grins, showing a row of sharp teeth on his screen and grabs an ankle and places it onto his shoulder. He gives you a last, devastating look before speeding up his pace.

"Oh- f...nugh...too much-" You choke out

"You" he grunts "chose this."

He was right, of course.

Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as he resumes the assault on your clit with his claws. The coil in your stomach builds until Vox can feel you, so tightly pressed against his dick he can barely slide in and out of you.

"That's it, dollface" he growls "cum for me"

You cry out as a wave of pleasure rakes through you, your vision temporarily going black as your body convulses against him. Vox groans, an animalistic sound ripping through him as his own orgasm barrels through him, screen glitching in his euphoria. His hips stutter against you as he fills you.

Your leg falls from his shoulder and he collapses onto you, panting hotly.

"Good job, doll" he murmurs against your skin, planting a kiss on one of your breasts before slowly regaining his composure and rising from the bed. You attempt to catch your breath, slowly sitting up.

This was the part you hated, the insecurity that washed over you in sickening waves after being with Vox. Most of the time, he rejected your advances, but then there were times like this that you could count on one hand. The times where he accepted and ruined you so fucking well.

He clears his throat, grabbing his pants from the floor and quickly slipping them on "I'll let Val know you won't be shooting today"

The one blessing whenever Vox took you, he at least had the decency to delay your next set.

You nod, attempting to smile prettily with your fucked out eyes "Thanks, Voxy"

He nods "Oh, doll?"

"Hm?"

"Don't take too long in that shitty hotel. When you're back I want you here"

You tilt your head "I'm always here?"

He glances back at you before he reaches his door "I want you here. In this room. With me"

And with that he left you alone. Uncomfortable and feeling used, as per usual. But staying here, with him? That was new. You had no doubt there was an ulterior motive.

Two days ago that would've set your heart so painfully aflutter it would be physically unbearable. And yet, you couldn't help your mind drifting to the demon you decidedly hated. The one that made your skin crawl and bones ache with your few encounters.

You shake your head.

Well, at least Vox had fucked the hangover away.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel vox smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin vaggie #hazbin lucifer #hazbin smut #hazbin spoilers #hazbin husk #hazbin charlie #smut #vox smut #alastor x reader #vox x reader

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alpaca-clouds · 10 months

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What "Communism never works" misses

Okay, let me keep up the topic for the week and let me talk about one thing that will undoubtedly be thrown at anyone, who says something along the lines of: "Welp, the system is failing us. Maybe we should try communism." And that is: "Communism never works. It has never worked before!"

As someone, who had that argument thrown at them so many times before, I already know that for the most part it is useless to talk to someone who comes up with that argument. Because, well... here is the thing. The argument basically is a result of what amounts to brainwashing. The person will usually not know what communism is or how and why it has failed before. They will not know anything about communist parties or countries. And they usually do not want to know.

Usually they do not know, that communism was never tried before. Yes, several countries have tried to establish communism, but never got further than socialism. Nor do they know exactly, what the difference between all those different communist ideas are. And of course they do not know anything about the history of the USA (and other western countries) doing their best to suppress communism by any means necessary.

Which is the first thing that everyone, who uses the argument, misses. Basically...

If communism can never work, why does the USA try everything to stop anyone trying to establish it?

If it cannot work and will never work, they would not need to worry about it. It will just develop and then fail. Easy. No need to stage a coup d'etat against a democratically elected government. No need to snuggle up to fascist dictators. Just let the thing run its course and then maybe send some help, once communism has self-destroyed. Something that they say is inevitable.

But obviously they don't. So: Why?

It cannot be about saving some sort of democracy, because otherwise they would not help undemocratic forces to take over the country and allow them to hold it.

But there is another thing that the argument misses. And even bigger thing. Another question:

But does capitalism work?

Which is the thing that kinda gets left out of the discussion. Because even if we assume that communism could not work (doubtable)... There is the fact that capitalism does not work. Otherwise fascism would not again and again be established from capitalism. Otherwise capitalism would not have destroyed the planet. Otherwise capitalism would not kill millions of people per year.

See, people will always go big about the entire "Black book of communism" thing and eat it up, even though the book has so many issues in what it counts as "death from communism" - and that is even without going in the entire "communism was never established" thing. But even if we took the numbers at face-value... According to the book, communism has killed 100 million people.

Well, guess what. That is about the same number of people that capitalism kills in a decade. And while the black book of communism counts all those people killed by politics not necessarily linked to communism... Those 10 million dying of capitalism each year die of capitalism. They die because they have not money for medicine, they need to survive. They die, because they starve, while so much food is thrown away. They die of exposure to the elements, because they cannot afford a home. They die from the fallout of climate change.

So, yeah. First of all: Let's try out communism, before we argue that it cannot work.

But also: Realize, that capitalism does not work. Because it doesn't.

#capitalism #anti capitalism #communism #socialism #politics #anti colonialism #solarpunk #anarchy #anarchism

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esamastation · 6 months

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Part forty-three of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two,

"No, it was more like this? Legs bent more, and feet like this, yeah? I remember it because he corrected me on it, I had my foot aimed inside too much, and I wasn't in balance."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, he corrected me on that too…"

Kunsel looks between the two SOLDIERs, Second Class Keyes and Third Class Alme, both holding the same pose. "Okay, that's good, hold like that for a moment."

It had taken all his savings to buy a camera on short notice, especially one of the instant cameras, but it was well worth it. With it he managed to capture most of the Training Session second hand, photographing the other SOLDIERs doing what Sephiroth had taught them in that frantic session.

While the pictures develop, Kunsel takes out his notebook. "Okay, what did he say to you, exactly?"

The notebook is already full of quotes and lines from Sephiroth, some of them verified by other SOLDIERs word for word, others contested. The information and the pictures would soon be gathered into one easily distributable leaflet - already, most everyone he'd talked to wanted copies.

"When do you think it will be ready?" Alme asks eagerly.

"I think I got around to everyone - just James and Zadrian left," Kunsel says, adding final notes to the quotes. "They're out on a mission. I'll throw together a mock-up once I've gotten around to them."

"Let me know when, I'll proofread it for you."

"Will do," Kunsel says.

"Heads up," Keyes says. "It's the last batch."

Kunsel looks up to see the three SOLDIERs, the most recent ones to have been called into the labs, heading towards the lounge area. "Hey guys. Everything good?"

"I failed my affinity test," the youngest says while the others shrug uncomfortably. "I don't know if that's good or bad."

"Yeah," another one of them says, looking worried. "Does this mean we can't become Seconds?"

"No, no, the tests are for something else," Kunsel says reassuringly. "Some new thing they're trying. Everyone's going through them, and I don't think they will affect regular injections."

"Sunder passed the test, and he's having a time," Alme comments. "So I think you maybe got lucky."

"Oh, okay," the other Third looks a bit uneasy. "Um. I'm going to head out, I really need a shower. I'll see you guys later."

"Yeah," the quiet one agrees, and they head off together. The Third Class that spoke first waves them off but sticks around, looking worried.

Kunsel hums and glances at Alme. "What's going on with Sunder?"

"I don't know, but they've barely let him out of the labs," Alme says, a bit uncomfortable. "There are all these injections, and they want to keep him under observation for every one. Raiton and Decker are in there too."

"And a bunch of cadets," Keyes adds.

They're all quiet for a moment, uncomfortably aware of the fact that a lot of cadets are way below the usual recruitment age, because the SOLDIER program doesn't have a recruitment age, and trying for SOLDIER is an easy way to get to Infantry early.

"I guess whatever they're looking for, it's easier to get before SOLDIER Mako injections?" Keyes mutters.

"Or they just have a bigger pool of candidates," Kunsel agrees.

The youngest SOLDIER in their little circle looks confused. "Shouldn't that be a good thing? Aren't they coming up with, like, improvements to the program? Maybe the cadets will get better injections than we will."

There's another uncomfortable silence. "Maybe," Kunsel says slowly.

The rumours of Sephiroth going all glowy before the Incident have been going through the SOLDIER floors, and it's not exactly a secret that it was something new and incredible. The fact that the Science Department is taking bigger interest in the SOLDIER program all of a sudden is without question related.

And there's the rumour of Sephiroth having been given an extra large dose of Mako just before the Incident. Everyone knows Sephiroth's Mako injections are the highest in the program. For anyone else, they'd just give them Mako Poisoning. If the Science Department is trying to recreate what happened to Sephiroth…

That's not something you can just talk about though.

"Genesis isn't happy about it," Keyes points out.

"The Crimson Commander?" the young SOLDIER asks excitedly. "Why not?"

"Well. Because. Uh." Keyes throws a helpless look at Kunsel.

"He's just worried the Science Department is getting a bit…" presumptuous and careless and injection-happy, never a good thing for the SOLDIER program, "... overzealous with their… improvements."

"Aren't improvements a good thing, though?"

Clearly the kid has never heard of the early days - when some SOLDIERs developed Mako stones in their insides. Or the ones that had to be put down. "We just hope they take some caution," Kunsel says awkwardly in face of the kid's confusion. "Mako isn't something you should throw around willy-nilly."

"... But isn't that what Shinra is all about?"

Kunsel laughs, and he's not the only one. "Ain't that the truth," Keyes says and claps the kid on the shoulder. "I gotta go get some sleep - I've got a night mission coming up. You got everything you needed, Kunsel?"

"Yeah, thanks. Good luck on your mission."

The SOLDIERs disperse, aside from the youngest, who stands there, still confused, scratching at the back of his head.

"I don't get it," the young Third Class says. "Did I say something funny?"

"Kinda," Kunsel admits with a smile. "Don't worry about it. You're pretty new, huh? Part of the last group that passed the candidate process?"

"Yeah! My name's Zack," the kid says and offers his hand. "Zack Fair. Nice to meetcha, sir!"

"Just call me Kunsel." They shake hands. "Are you getting the hang of everything alright?"

"It's been a bit weird lately, but yeah," the new Third Class says. "Mostly me and the others have been running around in the slums, taking out monsters."

That's what most Thirds do, yeah. "And how is that going?"

"Eh, I guess it's fine?" Zack shrugs. "I mean, we were given swords and stuff, and it's not like the beasties down there are much of a challenge. I come from Gongaga, and lemme tell you - after Touch Mes, everything else is easy."

Kunsel blinks at that declaration and then snorts. "Touch Mes - you mean the… frogs?"

Zack gives him a disgruntled look. "You don't know what they do, do you?"

"Well, I've heard about them…"

"They put you to sleep and then you wake up as a frog," Zack says. "They are a menace and the worst thing you will ever fight."

Kunsel laughs. "I guess you're well prepared for SOLDIER then, having already gone through the worst."

Zack grins and then gives him a curious look. "So, uh, why were you taking pictures before? Was it for some kind of magazine?"

Kunsel looks down at his notebook. The pictures have finished developing, showing Alme and Keyes striking poses. "Kinda - it's for a tutorial I'm putting together. You wanna take a look?"

Ducklings and a puppy

#Fanfiction #ffviir #ff7 #svsss #kunsel

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ask-the-prose · 1 year

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The Gun In This Guide Does Not Go Off

Hi yall, sorry for the late post this week! I'm running this blog by myself, so if you are interested in helping mod this blog or write guides, please fill out the mod form linked in the pinned post! If you have anything you want to see covered or specific questions answered, please don't hesitate to send an ask! Anon is on.

Onto the guide!

This week I want to talk about foreshadowing, what it is, why incorporate it, and how!

What is foreshadowing?

Foreshadowing is an event, line, dialogue, or other element of a story that alludes to or predicts a future event. Foreshadowing can be overt or covert, and it can appear in many different elements depending on your writing style, story needs, or reader interest.

Overt or concrete foreshadowing is directly and clearly stating a prediction or allusion to an event in the future. This can be a line of dialogue ("Winter is coming" from Game of Thrones or the musical number "Be Prepared" in The Lion King), an event or image (Korra's anxiety dreams about losing her bending in season one of Legend of Korra), even the title of the work can be foreshadowing (The Fall of the House of Usher by Edgar Allen Poe).

Covert foreshadowing is a little more subtle. An example includes bad weather in Great Expectations to allude to Pip's future angst. Symbols, setting, and throwaway comments can be utilized as covert foreshadowing as well.

Why would I want to spoil the twist?

Foreshadowing doesn't necessarily mean spoiling the twist or ending of your story. However, spoilers can be utilized to your advantage if you do so purposefully (John Dies at the End started out as a web novel serial. In every update, readers tuned in to see if this was the chapter in which John dies, as spoiled by the title). The key word here is "purposefully." Foreshadowing is not accidental, and it can do a lot of heavy lifting with the emotions and feelings you want your reader to experience while reading.

Your reader is smart and will pick up the hints you lay down. You can use this to your advantage to create tension, dread, excitement, or simply a desire to discover what happens next.

How do I incorporate foreshadowing?

Foreshadowing usually happens at the beginning of the story. If you're a pantser like I am, foreshadowing may be difficult to incorporate in your first draft when you don't know where it's heading. That's okay! Foreshadowing can be added in later drafts when you know what exactly happens in the story.

For the plotters out there, consider foreshadowing during your outlining. When you know what happens next, how do you hint at those events early on? There are so many different ways to incorporate foreshadowing into your story. Your imagination really is the limit.

A few notes about what foreshadowing is NOT

Foreshadowing is not a flashforward. A flashforward is a moment in the story in which the narration moves forward in time. The narrative shows the reader explicitly what will happen in the future by depicting those events. Foreshadowing is an allusion or hint at events but not the depiction of those events as they happen.

Foreshadowing is not Chekhov’s Gun. Chekhov’s Gun is a method employed by storytellers as a rule. Anton Chekhov said in his famous quote that if a gun is described hanging on the wall in chapter one, it must go off in chapter two or three. This is to say, every element in a story is there for a reason. The gun is only described because the gun will be used later. If the gun does not go off, it should not be mentioned in the narrative.

The difference between Chekhov’s Gun and foreshadowing is that foreshadowing is an element of the story, whereas Chekhov’s Gun is about the storytelling process. Chekhov’s Gun is not a real rule, so much as a suggestion that if you are to create tension in the story, it must pay off. Foreshadowing is the act of creating tension.

Foreshadowing is not a red herring. Building off of Chekhov’s Gun, if the gun is described but never goes off, following Chekhov’s rule would indicate the gun is a red herring. A red herring is a hint or allusion to something that never comes to fruition, such as describing a gun to create tension that it will fire and then never firing it.

Conclusion

Foreshadowing is an interesting and, frankly, fun storytelling element to incorporate into your writing. Readers often love rereading books to see all the hints they missed at the beginning! That’s foreshadowing.

Foreshadowing can exist in many methods and elements, and it is up to you how you want to approach foreshadowing. Keep in mind how you want to utilize tension in your story, and you’ll find the foreshadowing falls into place to create an interesting and engaging story your readers will love and love again.

– Indy

** Edit: 6/8/23 fixed an error regarding one of the examples in the first section.

#writing advice #writing tips #writing resources #writing #creative writing #writeblr #amwriting #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #on writing #writing help #writing guide #foreshadowing

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undertheorangetree · 6 months

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The Aftermath

Summary- Near death experiences have a habit of changing relationships.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. DUBCON due to persuasion. Female reader. Arguments. Bigotry/Islamophobia. Discussions of near death experiences/trauma. Dark-ish/toxic Billy. Fingering. P in V sex.

Author's Note- Okay so I've never actually seen the show in its entirety because it's not available in my country so I'm working off the wikia and what I've seen in scenes. Please forgive any mistakes/misinformation, he looked too sad and pathetic not to write for. Full link below :)

She doesn't bother to knock when she arrives at Billy's flat, storming inside with little regard for his privacy. He had given her a key not long after he moved in, promising that she could come over whenever she wanted, though she isn't sure this is what he had in mind at the time.

She makes her way passed the trash building up at the front door, forcing her way inside and finding him exactly where she expects to, lounging on the couch with some football game playing on the TV. He sits up when he spots her in the doorway, the smile that graces his face when he sees her slowly fading when he catches sight of her expression. She is sure it is a storm, her anger obvious, but she doesn't give him a chance to speak first.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

He looks at her blankly for a moment before a realization seems to come over him. "Lana told you then?"

"Yeah, Lana told me. What the hell were you thinking?"

He rolls his eyes, pushing forward to grab the beer bottle sitting on the coffee table and taking a swig. Her eyes catch the cuts on his knuckles, the opposite hand covered with a bloodied bandage, and watches the skin between his brows crease when the abused skin stretches. "Why does it matter to you? It's not like anyone was there anyway, was there? And you can't tell me they didn't deserve it."

"Why does it- Billy, you're not this stupid."

In all the years she's known him, she has never known him to be cruel. Quiet and insecure, surely, but never vicious. She almost hadn't believed Lana when she had called her, informing her of the one man attack he had pulled at the butcher's. It seemed so entirely out of character from the friend she had always known it nearly scared her, hearing about how he had destroyed the storefront for the crime of being owned by a Muslim family. But more than fear, it made her skin crawl, a disgust for him she had never felt toiling in her gut.

She isn't an idiot. She knows how he has been struggling lately. From his breakup with Becky to his consistent unemployment to his family ragging on him to make something of himself. Nothing has been easy for him as of late but she never would have expected him to let his rage out like this.

"If you only came here to bite my head off about it, save us both the trouble, yeah? Lana already beat you to it."

"So you don't regret it at all? Any of it?"

She wants him to say yes. And not just for the criminal record he has now contracted for it but for the guilt of screwing over innocent people. She wants him to prove that he is still her friend, to believe that he hasn't fallen down this path without so much as a blink.

He does little to assuage her fears. "What do I have to regret about it?"

Her disgust increases tenfold with that- she is grateful for it, as it manages to cover the pain of his confession- and she feels her face contort. "Why would you do it? What was the point?"

"They're the reason the world has gone to shit. It's 'cause of people like them, their whole fucked up religion. They're the animals here, not me."

She physically recoils at that, not bothering to hide her repulsion now. "Jesus Christ, Billy."

"Well I don't expect you to understand it. You're too nice, got a fucking bleeding heart for every poor bastard that walks past ya. It's 'cause of people like you that Nick and I-"

That catches her attention. "Nick? Was someone else with you when you went to the butcher?"

His face drops as if he realizes he has said something wrong but he still shakes his head as nonchalantly as he can manage. It isn't indifferent in the slightest. "Nah. Just my friend."

Read the rest here

#billy Washington x reader #billy Washington x fem!reader #billy Washington x you #billy Washington smut #billy washington trigger point #billy washington #trigger point #trigger point 2022 #billy Washington fanfic #billy Washington fanfiction

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saunne · 5 months

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HSR THEORY - PENACONY AND THE FAMILY

Okay so when I saw Penacony, it made me awfully think of something but I couldn't pinpoint exactly what. Until this morning.

For a bit of context, let's review quickly what we know.

The introduction to Penacony is as follow :

Penacony, also known as the Planet of Festivities, is a planet currently inhabited by the Family in the Asdana star system.

It is said that it was once a prison planet owned by the IPC, until a Stellaron corrosion broke out, a bit like what happened on Jarilo VI. When it happened, Penacony took refuge under The Family and Xipe's patronage.

This prison used to work for the Garden of Recollection to retrieve Memory Bubbles and since it's Fuli domain, linked to memory and all that is unconscious/subconscious, Penacony gradually became a "dream-planet" cutted off from reality, with people's consciousness linked in dreams.

It was the over-present theme of dreams/memory and dream nation that made me go 🤨 the first time but nothing clicked until I went to check who the fuck was The Family. And soon enough, things started to feel strange.

In the vision of the Harmony, the diverse civilizations throughout the universe will eventually become as close as siblings, singing in unison the hymn of unity and joy.

They come from different worlds, belong to different civilizations, and have different identities, but they are, at the same time, the closest family members there are. There is never noisy disputes or even contradictions among its members, only eternal love and smiles — there is no more harmonious family in the universe than them.

Yeah. It sounds good, right ? Who doesn't want interstellar peace and happiness (except Nanook and their followers) ?

But at the same time, the tone of all that, it sounds a bit like a sect doesn’t it ? It seems a bit too good to be true, to be honest.

And it's when I got the Eureka moment of "what does it make me think of" if I may say so.

LOTOPHAGOI.

Also more commonly known as : Lotus-eaters.

In Greek Mythology, in Homer's Odyssey, the Lotus-eaters were a race of people known for their consumption of lotus seeds, a powerful narcotic that made them live in a peaceful apathy.

"Peaceful apathy" hm ? Interesting.

It is believed that this lotus could have been Nymphea caerula, also known as the "blue lotus" of the Nile, used by Egyptian to produce a soporific with psychotropic properties.

Soporific as in "dream inducing". Penacopy being a dream-nation, it's when I started getting suspicious. But then, psychotropic : a psychotropic drug is one that affects mood, thoughts, perception and behavior.

"There is never noisy disputes or even contradictions among its members, only eternal love and smiles". Yeah, well I personally believe they're high as fucking kites.

One of the most interesting things however is what happened after consuming the lotus : "After they ate the lotus, they would forget their home and loved ones and long only to stay with their fellow lotus-eaters. Those who ate the plant never cared to report or return." (x)

What did it say about the Family, hmmmm ?

And it gets even worse !

People are also curious whether any members of the Family had grown tired of the one and voluntarily abandoned the Path of Harmony? In the face of such a question, the Family smiles and replies “Never."

Yeah. I don't really feels like it's a good idea to go on Penacony anymore ?

Because an old prison-planet ? Cut off from reality and heavily linked to dream-state ? Under the full control of The Family ?

"The Family at Penacony issued formal invitations to many galactic factions for the first time in history."

And they invited a whole lot of important people too, how curious !

Addendum:

The universe will become a harmonious whole, with no discordant notes to disrupt the beautiful chords and no fools worrying about their own short-sighted futures.

Do you all know Percy Jackson? Well guess what Rick Riordan did of the Lotophagoi ? A fancy Hotel-Casino in which you got trapped and lost sense of time, without ever wanting to leave !

Planet of Festivities ? Casino ? Anyone ?

Yeah.

Well if they propose to you any suspicious flower-looking food or seeds or anything, same rule as in the Underworld : Do not fucking eat it.

#honkai star rail #honkai: star rail #honkai star rail theory #hsr theory #penacony #hsr xipe #hsr the family

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maochira · 9 months

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Synopsis: Left alone without parents, Snuffy decided to take you in. But he knows he will never be able to replace your father.

Tags: gn!Mick's child!reader, reader is 3 years old, angst, mentions of suicide

How do you tell a child their father has died?

That's the battle Snuffy had to face a few weeks ago. And while he was mourning his best friend's death, he was also struggling to take care of you.

Your mother has never been present in your life. It was always just you, your father Mick, and Snuffy. And now your father is gone.

Luckily, you didn't see anything of the gruesome scene of your father's suicide. He had locked you in your room after he brought you to bed, before ...it happened.

Not only is the image - and the feeling - of Mick's dead body burnt into Snuffy's mind, but his thoughts also keeps replaying the moment he told you about it.

"You're going to have to stay with me from now on, okay?" He had started saying, knowing he'd have to explain the reason a moment later. "Your father... he's not with us anymore. He..."

No, he couldn't just say it like that. Not when you were looking at him like that. You can't just tell a child their only parent has died, can you?

"...He fell asleep, and he won't wake up again."

Snuffy couldn't manage to say the word "dead" right in front you. But still, what he said was just enough for you to barely understand what he was telling you.

It must have been hours that Snuffy tried to comfort you, hopelessly trying to stop your tears. But everything only resulted in Snuffy crying with you. Your tears only stopped when your fell asleep from exhaustion.

That was weeks ago. To be more specific, exactly a month has passed by. By now, Snuffy has legally become your guardian and he's somehow managing everything. But he's aleays on the edge of his mental capacities.

He has no other choice than to fight through this. For you, for your father, and for himself.

But especially for you.

Snuffy knows he can't replace Mick. But you're the one who started calling him "dad", and as much guilt as it causes in him, Snuffy doesn't have the heart to tell you to stop. You already lost your biological father, he can't just deny you to see him as your dad now.

In your little child brain it makes sense. Mick used to be around you all the time and took care of you, so he was your dad. Now Snuffy is the one who does all of that, so in your view he's your dad as well.

That doesn't mean you love or miss your father any less. In fact, it only gets worse every day for you. The longer you're without him, the more you miss him.

For Snuffy, there's nothing more painful than to see you cry and ask for your father over and over. It hurts, because he knows he can't do anything to bring him back.

So now, he has to be your father - because you decided that's what Snuffy is to you. And he's always going to try his best for you.

Taglist (sign-up link): @kaineedstherapy12 @luvcalico @truegoist @vanitasbrainrot @deerangle3 @toruden @acacIa @futuristicxie @bluelock4life @https-archangel @userwithlotsoftime @0rah-s

#i will probably expand more on this ithe future #this idea has actually been in my brain for a while #💟 maochira writes #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #marc snuffy #marc snuffy x reader #marc snuffy x you

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anfie-in-the-box · 11 months

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Turns, twists, and paradoxes

Navigation

First | Previous

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Notes

It's been finished for a while, just didn't feel like uploading anything. It really takes effort to get the post done, with all the links, the credits, proofreading, etc.

Also yeah, it's the second x-tra! Since @zu-is-here insists on drawing illustrations for this fic, readers get more x-tra scenes!

Enjoy!

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X-tra 2

Horror hopes he knows where to shortcut to find Murder. He doesn't want him alone after a fight; never again.

Murder isn't in his room, but that's okay. Horror has a few other places to check. He can't feel the other's emotions like Nightmare can, but he knows Murder better than anyone, so of course he'll find him.

Just let him not be too late. Murder needs him.

Horror shortcuts and shortcuts. The castle is silent and empty — it's weird not to hear a single soul, no spars on the yard, no smells of cooking — someone is, was, always awake here. The castle was alive despite overwhelming, suffocating negativity, and now it's dead. For good, once Horror and Murder leave as well. It feels strange to even consider leaving the place behind, yet it's only logical — nothing stops them anymore. They can have a try at a happy ending of their own.

Horror finds Murder in one of the balconies where he sits right on the floor, breathing deeply. He's meditating, Horror knows, so he doesn't interrupt. Instead he sits quietly in front of Murder and watches his deceivingly calm features, looking for a sign of distress. Murder is particularly vulnerable before and after gaining EXP, and while Horror couldn't really help before — Nightmare would never let them comfort each other when their negative emotions were high, only after they calmed down by themselves — he can now. So he's here. It's new, so he's not sure what exactly to do, but being around people always seemed to ground Murder, if only a little, so Horror will keep him company. They worked together for so long they grew attached despite their differences and their past. Horror was at odds with most of others, mostly because unlike them, he cared about his brother and his people and couldn't even imagine killing them. In a sense, he was lucky, never once living through what they call a Genocide timeline; but he had a hell of his own.

Nightmare only picked up toys long broken, after all. Those he could bend and twist into loyalty. Some managed to escape his grasp — Cross wasn't the first traitor, not at all, although he's the only one who joined Dream and therefore put a target much bigger than usual on his back. Nightmare does not forget, and he does not forgive.

Or at least that's how it used to be. Nightmare did bow and thank them for help, after all. And earlier, he did let them go without a word.

They're not free yet, though. Maybe will never be. But now they can make a first step. Together with Murder, Horror hopes. He doesn't want to leave his partner alone.

Murder opens his sockets, mismatched eye-lights focusing on Horror.

Neither talks until Murder twitches, "Did you want something?"

"Just make sure you're alright," Horror responds. "Well, as much as possible," he corrects.

Murder hugs his knees, curling into himself. "Papyrus didn't make an appearance, if that's what you'd like to know. I don't know if it's meditation or he just doesn't feel like it."

"That's okay," Horror assures. "There's no rush anymore."

Murder lowers his gaze. "Are we really leaving?" he asks. Something in his tone breaks Horror's heart. He's come to care so much about his partner.

"I don't know," he answers honestly. "I have to ask Farmer if he's okay with it. But I don't think he'll refuse, especially if we promise to help."

"We're both unstable," Murder says. "And they're peaceful. Would it work?"

Horror knows what he's really asking. What if I snap? What if you snap? Horror doesn't know how to answer that. What he knows for sure is, "We won't be alone anymore."

Murder grins. "Don't know about you, but I was never alone in the first place. Not since you…" He quiets and whispers, smile smaller but more genuine: "Thank you."

"Thank you, too," Horror grumbles. It's not easy to be so open after years of hiding, even before Nightmare came for him, but for Murder, he can do it.

They fall silent, sitting on the cool floor, looking at each other. They're both roughed up, though not injured too seriously. Some food and a bath will heal them in a moment. Maybe good sleep, too, though they won't be sleeping any time soon. Or at least Horror won't.

"Why do you think Nightmare returned?" Murder asks, uncertain and vulnerable. He looks Horror in the eye, waiting for his response nervously.

"I think," Horror says, "Nightmare needs something he left here. Probably those precious books of his. And besides, we knew it would happen sooner or later, didn't we? We were ready as we'd ever be."

Murder nods thoughtfully, reaching out. Horror lets him touch and caress his hands. Intimacy is difficult, but Murder deserves comfort, and Horror is ready to provide.

"It's so weird seeing him like this," Murder murmurs softly. He must be scared to share his thoughts so openly, and so is Horror, but they will manage for sure. There's nothing stopping them anymore. They don't have to hurt anymore. They can heal.

"It is," Horror agrees. "Whatever happened that got rid of his corruption changed him drastically, huh?"

Murder doesn't answer — there's no need to talk anymore.

So they sit together, despite the odds, against the ever-present oppressing air of an AU with hopes and dreams long gone. They're not quite ready for whatever will come next, but Horror wants to face the future by Murder's side.

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Credits

Undertale © Toby Fox

Horror!Sans © horrortalecomic

Murder!Sans © ask-dusttale

Read it on ao3

Read Russian version on ficbook or fanficus

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Notes

I told you Murder and Horror would show up again, but did you expect it to be so soon? Even I didn't, but it really wanted to be written, so I couldn't ignore it.

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Navigation

#anfie writes #x-tra dark cream #horrordust #platonic or romantic? you decide!#horror!sans #murder!sans #utmv

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eldritch-spouse · 7 months

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Piggybacking off that one anon:

What happens if we say to each of the TCE staff "you make me so dry"

This is said as Admin

"You make me so dry."

Morell is taken aback, and low-key a bit wounded, but he doesn't let it show too much. He's fucking desolate though. Huh, maybe you're not into shrooms. Doesn't matter, that can change eventually... With enough work.

Gallon snorts. He's a little bit cocky, in the sense that slimes are enjoyed by many people sexually due to their extreme flexibility and molding abilities. Even if you despise him on a personal level, he thinks you're full of shit because he knows he could make you cum your eyes out of your skull without that much effort.

Vinnel wheezes. Okay okay, that one's creative, applause where applause is due. He's quick to start hitting where it hurts however. He makes you dry because he doesn't control every aspect of your life and knead your little brains, right? It's not his fault you've been broken into extremely niche and freakish god-sex drives, go cry him a river over there.

Santi is genuinely fucking offended. But it's also a shit point. Were it not for Krulu's power within you, Santi could have you wet enough you'd slip in your own fucking slick like the slut you are, human. Watch that tongue, he can't hurt you but he will make your life harder if he deems it fair.

Grimbly is also vastly offended. Oh yeah?? Well you make him soft!!! You make him really soft, fuck you- *Sobbing*

Belo doesn't really get it at first. Dry? Are you dehydrated? How come he makes you get dehydrated, that isn't normal- Have you consulted Lord Krulu about this? When he realizes what you meant, he just sort of sulks quietly for a while.

Sybastian squints at you. Why do you feel the need to tell him this? You sound insecure about something. Does it make you feel big? Do you think he's going to throw a tantrum? He also knows it's surprisingly easy to get cute little humans like you wet and open, so if you insist he'll just give you a smug kind of "Oh yeah?" glance.

Patches just kind of goes "Yeah". He knows he doesn't exactly radiate virility. The interaction gives him a degradation boner and he sits in misery, wondering why he is the way that he is while he jerks off to the mental image of your disgusted face.

Nebul is very quick to get in your head about it. What an odd thing to say. Are you hoping he'll erupt into tears? Do you think he needs your validation to feel sexually sure of himself? This is the exact language a brat would throw at him. Really Admin, if you crave a rougher hand, all you had to do was get on your knees for the shopkeeper and ask for it. He thinks it's quite pathetic of your station to resort to petty remarks. Very amusing though.

Fank-e makes a sad face. He then starts flipping through a myriad of attachment catalogues and sharing various links with you. Select some of the components that you believe would make you wet! Then you can try those. <:] It's a bit weird you're saying that without even letting him play with you first, but the robot is willing to let you pick the best parts for the most effective results.

Krulu gives you a blazing look that suggests he could make your entire body catch fire in a millisecond if he so desired. Instead of deigning your blatant disrespect worthy of a reaction, he makes it so your body is forced to orgasm whenever you so much as glance his way, hear him, or think of him for long enough. This goes on until you beg for forgiveness.

#Morell oc #Gallon oc #Patches oc #Santi oc #Grimbly oc #Belo oc #Sybastian oc #Fank-e oc #Nebul oc #Vinnel oc #Krulu oc

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crossdressingdeath · 7 months

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Kyvir: You travelled with Bhaalspawn before, didn't you? What do you know of them? Minsc: Ahh, Boo has an inkling that this is not the question you mean to ask. I saw some hint of things when our minds mushed together - but Jaheira confirmed it for me. Minsc: You are of the same blood as our old friend: a Bhaalspawn, and as close to Minsc as if they were his own kin. Minsc: That makes Minsc your uncle. Kyvir: That's all you have to say? You're not worried what my blood might turn me into? Minsc: A curious question. Are a child and his father always alike? Minsc: Take Minsc! He does not have a clear memory of the face of his father, but he does remember tugging on the thick, red whiskers that sprang from his chin. Minsc: A beard for the ages! Boo could have nested there happily through even the harshest of Rashemen winters. Minsc: Now - look closely at Minsc, and what do you see? Kyvir: You don't have a beard. Minsc: Correct! There are more whiskers on Boo's tiny face than on the mighty chin of Minsc! Minsc: If Minsc did not inherit the flaming red hair of his mother, or the bushy red beard of his father, why would the spawn of Bhaal inherit his wickedness? Kyvir: Thank you. It's nice not having to justify myself for once. Minsc: Minsc is not here to judge - that is a thing for hamsters and hathrans alone.

Oh, this is very sweet. Especially with how Durge's first response to learning that Jaheira wants them to track down Minsc and realizing that he's an enemy of Bhaal can be "Minsc of Rashemen, the guy who hunts Bhaalspawn?" Being able to establish that worry in their mind only to meet Minsc and have him immediately say "No, your father doesn't decide who you are and I'm not going to judge you on the grounds of your blood" when the topic comes up is fantastic. I also love how Jaheira clearly wasn't worried about Minsc taking it badly for a second, since old friend or no I think that if she expected him to respond poorly she wouldn't have told him, at least not without talking to Durge first. It's also nice to know that the mind link from the tadpoles does give away them being Bhaalspawn, at least to someone who'd know what signs to watch out for; I did wonder if that would be the case.

Also! I love how Durge initially tries to sidestep around what they want to ask only for Minsc to immediately grasp what their actual point is, both for how tidily it establishes Durge being nervous about raising the subject with him (when if you choose to tell the earlier party members about it you just tell them outright that you're Bhaalspawn and don't dance around it at all) and how neatly Minsc cuts to the chase in order to assure them that he's not going to judge them for it. It's a bit strange that he says his connection to Gorion's Ward makes him Durge's uncle, since that would imply a connection to Bhaal rather than one of Durge's half-siblings, but that immediate insistence that they were Minsc's family and that makes Durge Minsc's family is incredibly sweet. Both because of the way he doesn't hesitate for a second to say it and because of how he clearly still thinks the world of Gorion's Ward (although that second one will probably be more effective when I've played the first two games). Minsc's metaphor also isn't really the greatest (divine blood coursing through your veins and pushing you to kill isn't exactly the same thing as your dad's beard inheritance-wise), but it's so clearly well-intentioned that it still works.

And it's also very fun how Durge can thank him for not making them justify themselves at all. While the rest of the group's concerns do come from a place of genuine care and worry for Durge and it's very fair that they all feel the need to say "You have to fight Bhaal" since that is a very pressing issue at the point in the story where it comes up, I can definitely see Durge being relieved to have one person learn they're Bhaalspawn and respond with essentially "That's okay." Minsc doesn't need to be reassured that they're going to fight Bhaal's influence, because a) he has plenty of experience with Bhaalspawn doing just that and so isn't as worried as people without that experience would be and b) Jaheira presumably wouldn't be travelling with them if she didn't trust them to make the right choice. Minsc also connects them to Gorion's Ward first, which is a fun touch; instead of saying they've got the blood of an evil god, he's saying that Durge has the same blood as a hero. It's just so good, I love him.

#bg3 #bg3 durge #bg3 spoilers #minsc

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periwinklekryptonite · 1 month

Note

hey hi how does travis parallel common feminine tropes? i need to hear from the travis expert

Okay, so the "Problem" is that there's a preface and conclusion that's, like, way longer than just my bit about Travis's funny little parodies and then genuine relationship with femininity. While answering this ask, I realized just how big it is and I don't want to unload all of it here because I am just. Too tired all of the time to have all of it done in one swipe, and my attempt to do so ended up frustrating me more than anything LMAO

I write this with the promise that I'll expand on it and actually get to the meat of your question. I have a lot of it written, already!

The preface is easy: what's up with Travis and his relationship with gender?

Travis is trying to present as a very masculine, powerful character. It's an easy defense mechanism when he's alone in a crowded room. The thing many people fail to consider is that he doesn't know any of these people, and he probably dislikes most (if not all) of them on principal. The girls have a bond that existed in the before times, and Travis doesn't. He's an outsider. He's trying to grasp for some semblance of control by playing a sort of parody of the stoic, macho man... and it doesn't work.

Because of how he does this, a lot of people into the show are not into Travis. He's one of the only characters that are overtly and loudly misogynistic. It makes sense that people don't want to look past that when he acts so nasty. This means many write him off as exactly what Travis wants people to think he is.

Kevin Alves says it best in his Boys by Girls interview. I suggest reading the whole thing, it says a lot of what I'm saying and more.

So, even though he's pushing this masculine agenda when he's in the wreck with all the girls, my assumption in him has always been that he's never been the most big or the most masculine of guys at school. This is him really trying to pretend to be someone that he is not, this is not him.

This dramatized, fictional version of him is how he thinks he'll find a place within the group. The alternative is getting Coach Ben-ed and slowly being ousted from the group. Sitting in the back room and rotting in complete solitude just seems like a downer.

(Here he is looking sad for emphasis)

Travis was never the top dog. The girls do not take him seriously when he acts like this, and he probably wasn't taken very seriously in school. His insecurities lead to a lot of failures in his relationship with Javi and Nat, and no relationship with anyone else. If it continued any further than it did, he would've died for this. Like with Jackie, he'd be frozen out.

What Travis learns, and we learn as well, is that to be part of the in-group, you must also be a part of the dominant culture in the cabin and Wilderness itself. For Travis to be a part of the Yellowjackets, Travis must also be one of the girls.

Travis's story, the link between season 1 and season 2, is one of transition.

Some interpret this as a social transition, but I believe it to be literal.

The surviving group is not "the Yellowjackets and also Travis." By the end of season 2, (actually by the end of Qui,) Travis is indistinguishable from the rest. He's eaten Jackie with them, he's given blood to Shauna, he's taken blood from Lottie, he has led the group in their second act of cannibalism. Travis is a Yellowjacket.

Credit where credit is due:

@monstrousgourmandizingcats really helped me grind out these ideas and has a lot of cool YJ takes in general, and most of the screenies were given to me by @nicothecowboy.

Now, for YJ Fic Writer's Weekend I should hopefully have the part of this that you asked about ready. Until then, I have some interviews, and I cannot recommend the PaleyFest panel more. It has a lot about Travis in S2 and his relationship with Nat and Lottie.

youtube

#yellowjackets #travis martinez #the travtag

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sixofpomegranates · 2 years

Text

☠︎ Tutor ☠︎

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Carver!Fem!Reader

Word count: 13K (it's a long one | That's what she said.)

Summary: Trading tutoring for guitar lessons, Reader’s hopeless crush on the towns freak doesn't seem so hopeless after all.

☞ Picture does not describe the looks of the reader!

A/N: !Body & Skin color Neutral! Reader! IMPORTANT: Jason is also still alive. Reader is Jason's cousin and grew up with Robin as her best friend. They worked together with Steve at Scoops Ahoy.

CW: Smut, Fluff, Angst 18+| Eddie (Bullying/Self-Deprecation/Feeling of not being good enough) It is implied that Eddie has ADHD or is at least in the spectrum, [y/n] (Rich Parents not supporting your dreams/Shady family wealth-white supremacists) Mentions of Vecna/Chrissy/S4/Near-death experience/Scars/Nightmares, Pining, Drugs & use of (Weed), Making-out, Fingering, Penetrative Sex (Virginity/Loss of virginity, Unprotected, Creampie)

Pinning my tutoring flyer on the board in school, I sigh. Another year of tutoring to have more than this couple of peanuts my parents consider my pocket money, I guess.

Fun fact, it's called pocket money because it's little enough to fit in your pockets, even if Dad gives it to you in pennies.

But okay, I want something, I'm eighteen, and I am able to earn the money for it. Sure, my uncle and aunt just bought Jason a new car because our family name's soaked in wealth, and apparently, we think that the price of a dead girlfriend is exactly the same as for an Audi 5000CS Turbo Quattro; but okay...

If anyone in my family would know that the disaster that was March and the giant earthquake were actually a real-life boogie man coming to collect teens; and that there was something the kids I tutored over the last years called 'The Upside Down', I'd get my guitar lessons paid within the blink of an eye...

But Robin, Steve, and Nancy were very clear about why I've got to keep it to myself.

So no hero status or guitar lessons for me, only tutoring either a child that Steve will adopt the second it comes into his five-mile radius or a stupid jock that will try flirting with me every session and stare at my cleavage instead of his books.

Simply not fair.

As somebody reaches past me to grab my flyer, I jump so severely that my headphones fall off my ears, and the smell of marihuana fills my nose.

"Jesus," I mutter, turning to the person behind me and meeting the face of Hawkins's most hated man. Eddie Munson.

March has fucked up everyone; me being particularly jumpy and having my walkman on all the time is actually one of the better outcomes.

Eddie is now hated by most. They couldn't link him to a satanic cult (Just officially named him a freak and loser that likes dungeons and dragons, which seems to be a gateway drug to demon worshipping now...) and with the government and Chief Hopper's help, they also stopped trying to convict him of Chrissy's murder, but the town hates him.

They still believe he has something to do with it, whether proven innocent or not.

How he still makes it through the day, a big smile on his lips, truly baffles me.

"So, you're tutoring?" he asks, not looking up from my flyer. I nod. "Yeah, need the money."

"You only tutor the freshmen or..." "Everyone's welcome," I smile, turning off my music. "Even the full-on, nonconformist metalheads."

Cocking his head, he raises his eyebrows. "You really think you could help me pass chemistry with Kaminsky?"

"Depends." "On what?" I grin. "If you pay for your lessons."

Faking a heartbroken reaction, he giggles. "And that after I saved you from being demobat food. I'm a hero, y'know?"

Shrugging, I pin another flyer on the board. "Well, Munson, what can I say? We are living in a material world, and I am a material girl."

Eddie pulls a face as though he is about to vomit. "Gross, don't Madonna me."

"I Madonna as much as I like to," I laugh, punching his chest gently. "So, chemistry, anything else you'd need help with?"

That is when the bell announces lunch. I watch the metalhead tense up before me but still trying to play it cool.

"Uhm, we can talk about it while having lunch," I offer, but he shakes his head. "Nah, I- They throw stuff at me when I enter the cafeteria, so I'll just relax outside a little," he tells me, still smiling, but his eyes can't hide anything.

He's afraid.

"Yeah, sure," I smile back. "After school?"

The hallway starts to fill with students, and Eddie becomes visibly uneasy. He already begins removing himself from the conversation, turning around only to lift his flyer. "After school," he calls over to me and vanishes in the crowd.

*****

After school, I wait outside for Eddie, having him see me and smile from afar, ditching Dusting and Mike while they're still talking to him and running up to me.

"Hey, Carver," he says teasingly, making me smile. "Hey, Edward."

He nods, knowing he deserves the comeback. "You shall be forgiven."

"Okay, business talk. What classes do you need help with?" I ask, looking around. My parents insist on my cousin driving me home for safety, and I really want to avoid Jason seeing me with Eddie.

"Well, chemistry is currently the biggest problem. Have you heard of Kaminsky's All-or-Nothing Test?" I nod. "That's the one you have to take if you screwed up every other test-" Realization washes over me. "Oh, Eddie."

He smiles at me apologetically, cheeks turning a little pink.

"Why didn't you say something earlier? I- We could've studied together."

He shrugs. "To be fair, I know we were in the Upside Down together and stuff, but I didn't think we'd know each other enough to ask."

True, we don't. I'd only ever seen Eddie from afar in school or at the mall. And before all hell broke loose with Chrissy's death and those bat-things nearly killing him, I'd actually been massively intimidated by him.

He is loud, handsome, and definitely a little crazy; that had been enough to keep me away.

But since the Upside Down... That place and all that comes with it – let's just say it helps you forget your social status and makes you become allies even with the handsomely crazy ones.

"I- I still would've helped you if you'd asked. You have to graduate this year, or else-" He interrupts me. "I know. I just didn't want to be a burden. Like, 'Oh, you killed a bat for me, now I have to study with you.'"

"You're not a burden, Munson," I tell him, looking into his warm, brown eyes.

"Heard different things before, and you only say that because you haven't tried studying with me yet," he grins. "So, how much per lesson?"

"How bout a deal?" I ask him back before all bravery can leave me. Eddie's lips split into a gorgeous but mischievous smile. "Oh, I'm good at dealing."

"I swear if you pull out your lunch-" Before I can end my sentence, he's already pulled out the black metal box containing his drugs.

"Eddie, you're not paying me with drugs," I tell him sternly, forcing him to put the lunchbox back into his backpack.

"It's good stuff," he tries to assure me, but I shake my head, hardly able to bite back a grin. "And I still don't want it."

After a final try at handing me the metal box, he shrugs, putting it away.

"You play guitar, right?" I ask him as if I haven't been part of the most metal concert the Upside Down has ever experienced. "How bought instead of paying me, you teach me? I wanted to take classes with that money anyway."

He blinks at me a couple of times before letting out a loud, excited laugh. "Y-Yeah. Totally. I- I taught it myself, so if I can learn it, you can learn it."

"Cool," I answer. He scratches the back of his head, echoing me, "Cool."

We stare at each other for a moment, somehow not knowing what to say. God, this is awkward, isn't it? Am I making it awkward?

Quickly clearing my throat, I announce, "I'm babysitting Mike and Holly tonight, and the Wheelers always allow me to bring company. So, bring your books, and we'll see how bad the situation actually is."

Eddie smiles, as he almost always does. It is actually quite distracting. "Okay. Uhm, then I meet you there at...?"

"Six," I blurt out, then giggle a little anxious. "Six. Great," he chuckles in reply.

Before either of us can say another word, our attention is drawn to a small group of jocks, Jason being their leader, on their way to us and their cars.

"I'm gonna drive the kids home," Eddie tells me, still smiling as if he could hide the real reason he wants to leave. I grant him the illusion of having fooled me, smiling, "Okay. See you tonight."

I watch him hurry away, get Mike, Lucas, and Dustin – including their bikes – into his van, and drive off. Jason rushes now closer, having seen us from afar. He lays his arm around my shoulder, pulling me uncomfortably close.

Maybe I'd felt safe being protected by him when I was five, but now I only see the always returning, dangerous paranoia in him. The way he brutally beat Lucas, saying he protected Max but left them both behind as the Upside Down ripped through the old Creel house... He isn't the same person he was before Chrissy died anymore.

"Hey, was the freak bothering you?" I struggle out of Jason's hold, walking to his car. "No, he wasn't, and don't call him that."

He opens the car, throwing his backpack into the backseat. "Come one, [y/n]. You know this guy's a satanic cult leader and murderer. Think of what he did to Chrissy."

It always spins back to this. It always becomes religious. Religion, whichever you pick, can be beautiful, but unstable people will always find a way to turn it into a weapon for their insane reasoning.

"He didn't do a thing to Chrissy, and you know it," I tell Jason, hating that I can't just explain everything to him. I honestly don't even think he would believe me. He's too far gone.

"I know what I saw," he insists as we sit in the car, harshly gripping my wrist. "Around him, things happen. Strange things, evil things."

His fixation on Eddie never eased, even after he was proven innocent. Jason believes in everything being the fault of the sweet metalhead, simply because he was in the wrong place, with the wrong person, at the wrong time.

"You need some serious therapy before this whole town joins your bullshit again, and we have a second Salem witch trial on our hands," I snarl at my cousin, ripping my wrist from his grasp.

The more delusional he becomes, the more violent even his slightest actions become.

"I'm just watching out for you," Jason tries to explain, driving out of the school's parking lot. "Do me a favor and don't," I ask of him, looking out of the window.

My conversation-ending tone, however, isn't enough for him. As if he could frighten me with his tough-guy act, he threatens, "Stay away from Munson, or I'm telling your parents."

I nod. "Well, in that case, I'm telling Aunt Iris and Uncle Frank of how you faked a house break-in to hide the aftermath of your School's Out Party '84."

The discussion finally dies. Jason turns on the radio, listening to the religious station he's recently so obsessed with, and I continue staring out the window, watching cars pass us by.

*****

After getting Holly to say goodbye to her parents, I tuck her in and walk into Nancy's bedroom. I sit beside Robin on the bed while Nancy does her makeup at her vanity.

"Hey, Nance? You think you could borrow me your notes for Kaminsky's class?" I ask as she is done putting on mascara.

"Yeah, here," she smiles, handing me her pink folder. "So you're really tutoring tonight instead of going out with us?"

I roll my eyes, laughing. "And I am babysitting, so you can go out."

"And we're very thankful for that," Robin snickers, styling the mane of the little plush zebra on Nancy's bed. "So, who's the poor soul fucking up chemistry?"

"Eddie," I answer, looking at the folder to avoid meeting their eyes.

"Oh, so it's that kind of a study date," Nancy says, and I meet her grin through the mirror.

"What? No. He needs help with Kaminsky's All-or-Nothing Test, and in exchange, he'll teach me how to play guitar," I begin explaining myself, but Robin nudges my arm, rolling on her back.

"Funny, 'cause when Steve needed tutoring, you were very clear about not being into trades, even when he offered you free ice cream."

"She's right," Nancy giggles, agreeing with Robin.

"No, she's not. I worked at Scoops myself, so I didn't need free ice cream. Eddie plays guitar exceptionally well, and I wanted to pay for classes with the money I would've earned. Two birds with one stone."

"And it has nothing to do with you having the hots for Munson?" Robin asks me deadpanned, and I fall silent. I feel my face heat up and shake my head.

Rolling back onto her stomach, Robin smacks my arm. "Oh, come on. [y/n], we grew up together. Journey, Led Zepplin, Dio, Black Sabbath... The phase when we were thirteen, and you were dead set on marrying Eddie Van Halen? How you drooled every time Munson passed Scoops when we were working?"

Nancy laughs loudly, and I shrug, regretting always telling Robin everything, although I know she can't keep secrets for longer than thirty minutes.

"So... I may have a type. That doesn't mean I have the hots for Eddie," I blatantly lie, Robin raising her eyebrows and grinning at me. "Which Eddie? Ours or Van Halen?"

"Fuck you," I cuss, making her only hug me and laugh at the fact that I never really curse.

Knocking on the door, Steve comes in, scanning Nancy up and down. "Hey, are you ready to leave? Mike is talking to El on the phone, and I'm getting really bored alone downstairs."

She nods, and so we all make our way downstairs. I send Mike to his room, telling him to call Eleven from the phone upstairs and walk to the front door with my friends.

Steve opens the door, almost bumping into Eddie, who was about to knock. "Munson," Steve says, surprised. "Harrington," Eddie replies, also greeting the other two. "Robin, Nancy."

His eyes fall on me, and I smile, "Hey. You got your books?" He nods, lifting his black backpack. I step aside, letting him in, "The living room's to the left. I'll be there in a second."

As Eddie can't hear us anymore, Robin grins, wiggling her eyebrows.

I ignore her. "Bye, guys. Have fun." "You too. Do nothing I wouldn't do," she cackles. I raise a brow as she hugs me. "Do I need to remind you that you're gay?"

Sticking her tongue out at me, she drags Steve to the car, Nancy already warming it up.

"Isn't Eddie coming with us?" he asks, confused, Robin wiggling her eyebrows again. "He and [y/n] are having a study date."

Steve's mom-mode kicks in the second he hears that. "Should we stay and help them study?" "Go to the movies," I insist. "Please, I can't work with you eyeing us down."

"You're staying in the living room and do nothing any of us would do. Except for Nancy. You can do what Nancy does," Steve tells me sternly.

I raise my eyebrows. "So, I'm allowed to have a shotgun and shoot Vecna?"

"No?" he asked me as though I'm completely nuts. "You can study. Nothing else."

"Yeah, no dirty couch sex," Robing calls over, making Nancy look mortified. "Robin," she exclaims, then looks at me with a pleading gaze, "Please don't have sex on my couch."

"I hate all three of you," I tell them, closing the front door just in time to hear Robin call after me, "Nah, you love us."

Shaking my head, I return to the living room, where Eddie is busy walking and looking around.

As he notices me, he grins. "I like this place." I smile back. "Yeah, the Wheelers have good taste."

Stretching his arms out, he spins slowly in the living room. "It's so big. I mean, look at this. All of this is the living room, and nobody sleeps here."

"Your uncle sleeps on the couch?" I ask without thinking, quickly regretting my question.

Eddie's cheeks become red, and he stops what he's doing. "Folding bed, but it's a good one..." he tries assuring me, voice falling flat with embarrassment.

I smile at him, sitting down on the carpet and unpacking my study materials on the coffee table. Grabbing his hand, I make Eddie sit beside me and hand him Nancy's pink folder.

"Y-You have a pretty handwriting," he compliments me while flipping through it. "Oh, those are Nancy's notes. She's so anal about them," I tell him, handing him some of my notes for comparison. "That's mine. Not that clean."

After staring at them for a few seconds, he looks at me. "Huh. Like yours better."

"Charmer," I say, my face becoming hot again. To distract, I hand Eddie my chemistry book. "Here."

"What are we doing?" Eddie asks as I hand him a bunch of sticky notes.

"We're transferring my notes into your book. I like to use those to write down simplifications, extra notes, and explanations, and then I stick them on my pages. I also color-coordinate the highlighter I use with the color of my sticky notes. I believe it's more comfortable to learn if it's easier on the eyes..."

Feeling Eddie stare at me, I stop talking, look back at him, and ask, "What?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "Nothing, just... thanks."

*****

"Wrong again. Maybe we should focus on-" After hours, I finally feel my patience running thin. "Eddie?"

"Huh?" He asks as though he hasn't been staring at me for the last five minutes.

Fuck, am I so boring that he starts zoning out?

"I was talking to you. I- Can you please try to concentrate?" I ask him, smiling, trying not to sound offended.

He nods, stretching a little before leaning over our books again. "Totally. Yeah. Sure. Sorry."

As he answers the question wrong again, a deep frown appears on his face. I sigh, putting my pen down. "Okay. How bout a break? I'll need to get Mike to go to bed anyway."

He nods, almost relieved, and I make my way upstairs. After some debating and a non-verbal threat, I take the phone out of Mike's room, and it's lights out as his parents requested. I know he'll still stay up some hours reading his comics, but I'm willing to let that slip.

When I come back into the living room, Eddie's gone. Instead, he sits outside on the porch, smoking.

"Hey, is that marihuana?" Of course, it is. He smiles at me charmingly. "It's just a little pot to help me concentrate," he says as if I wasn't about to jump his throat.

A wave of anger rushes over me. "Are you even taking the whole thing seriously? I mean, I've been sitting in there for three and a half hours, trying to teach you something, and the first chance you get, you run outside to get high."

I walk back inside, starting to pack my stuff. I apparently thought too highly of Eddie due to my years of crushing on him. I should've known he wasn't taking it seriously, but I just made a fool out of myself.

I hear fast footsteps behind me. "Hey, hey, [y/n]. Look, I'm sorry. I really just smoked some to concentrate." I turn around, and Eddie steps closer, pleading, "[y/n], please. I have no reason to lie to you. I promise I want to learn."

"Didn't seem like it," I murmur, and he nods.

"I- I know. It's- I struggle to focus, always have. If something isn't interesting enough, my brain just shuts off and then does silly little things it finds more interesting – like counting the little daisies on your top."

We both look down on my shirt and then at each other.

"Please, let's try it again. I swear, no more drugs, and you get me on my best behavior," he asks of me, giving me this distracting big smile again while he cups my cheeks.

"Okay," I nod, without even thinking twice. "Okay?" I nod again. "Okay, Munson. Sit down."

We sit back down, and for the next minutes, I could swear he tries really hard. But as we start working on a practicing sheet with many questions on it, his concentration seems to crumble again.

"I- I'm sorry. I think I mixed the questions up," Eddie mumbles, angry at himself.

"You always keep looking down on the next question while solving the one above," I observe, and he nods. I hand him an empty piece of paper. "Here, try that."

He holds it up, confused. "A piece of paper?" I take it, laying it over his worksheet. "As a divider. We cover the next questions, so you can't look at them."

From here on out, it actually seems to work. Yet, I yawn, exhausted from the hours of work before.

"I'm hopeless, aren't I?" Eddie asks, grinning at me. "No. I'm just tired," I answer. "You're actually doing well."

His grin becomes wider. "I so do not believe you." He gives me a gentle shove, making me giggle, "I'm serious. Especially now that we stopped you from mixing up the questions."

"Do you think I'll pass the test?" This time Eddie seems more serious; there is no smile on his face that would indicate that he has any hopes for it. "If you study enough... I mean, Kaminsky's tests are super hard, but like, I'll help you as much as you need me to."

"Nice way to say that I'm fucked, Sweetheart," he coos, hand moving up to my face again. His cold rings burn on my hot cheeks. "You have to study for your own finals. I can't have you hold my hand through my own mess."

"Eddie, I have my studies down and don't mind helping you," I tell him, although I'd rather whine as he removes his hand. I wish he would've left it there.

"Hey, you know what my mom made me do whenever I wanted to achieve something?" I ask him, taking one of Holly's green sheets of crafting paper and folding it in half. "Goal cards. Write down the reason you want to graduate."

"The reason? I'd say because I'm twenty and can't repeat class again?" He deadpans, making me shake my head.

"Not like that. I meant the hopes you have." Licking my lips, I admit, "Like, when I was thirteen, I made one, saying I wanted to learn how to play guitar. Inside I wrote that I was doing it to become a famous musician and marry Eddie Van Halen. Even glued a picture of him in it."

Eddie is quiet for a moment, then bursts into laughter. I shove him. "Stop laughing. I'm trying to help you here."

He nods, whipping away some tears, "Uh-huh." "Fuck you," I tell him in fake appall.

Eddie collects himself, shoving me back and mocking me, "Oh, such big words from such a proper little lady."

As calmness returns to the room, he grabs his pen and the card, opening it. He stares at it for a while, pen ever so often pushing onto the paper, but no words come out.

"Do I have to write it down?" he asks me, a little defeated, this time without a smile. "If you want, you can tell me, and I'll write it down for you," I offer, and he hands it over to me.

Eddie is silent for a while, caught in deep thoughts. Suddenly he says, "I- I want to graduate, so I'm not ending up like my dad."

I look up at him, not yet writing. He continues to explain himself, "He dropped out, married his high school sweetheart, and just barely got by with petty crimes or – you know – selling drugs and stealing cars. Then mom died, and he just spiraled, became violent..."

As his voice loses its strength, I ask, "Where's he now?"

Eddie shrugs. "Does it matter? Prison? Maybe dead?" he says. "Uncle Wayne took me in after CPS contacted him about my dad breaking my arm when he was high... He told his younger brother to fuck off, and we haven't heard from him since."

We're quiet. I don't know what to say. I can't even remember his parents. I only know the version of Eddie that he is now.

"I changed my mind," he then says, tapping on his goal card. "Write that I wanna be a better nephew to Wayne... Don't wanna be a burden anymore, a fuck-up."

I shake my head. "Eddie, you're not a burden. Your uncle loves you."

He nods. "And I only disappoint him. I can't even fucking finish high school. I sit in my room all day, preparing for my D&D campaigns or playing guitar. I sell drugs to assholes that love beating the crap out of me for being a freak, and now I am also a satanic cult leader with demonic powers that murdered Chrissy and two other guys I didn't even know... Yeah, [y/n]. I totally don't sound like a burden."

I'm shocked at how low Eddie seems to actually think of himself. Behind this always smiling and joking façade, there seem to hide years of self-hatred and a, probably trained by his father and the school system, thought of being a worthless burden.

"You took in freshmen, nerdy little kids that don't fit in. You let them be part of your club so they wouldn't have to be alone or get bullied," I argue, having him shrug. "Somebody had to. People can be real assholes."

"You saved Hawkins." "Not like I can tell anyone about it."

I smile a little, "Well, you also saved me from those bats, almost getting killed while trying." "Matter, of course. Everyone would've done that."

I shake my head, "No, they wouldn't, and you know it. Jason didn't care for Lucas or Max, even though he claimed to have beaten Lucas to protect her. He just pissed himself, ran away, and saved his own ass."

Eddie gives me a half-hearted smile and lays his hand on mine, patting it several times. I close the cart and hand it to him. "How about you keep your goal card and write something inside it once it feels right, okay?"

He nods, putting it between the pages of his book where I think it will get forgotten. Then he opens the book on one of the other chapters, pointing at something.

"Can we go over that E cell stuff again?" He asks, clearly wanting to change the subject. I nod. He's been open enough for one evening. "Sure."

After learning for another hour, I fall asleep, face on the coffee table. When I wake up, Eddie is gone, only his leather jacket draped over me like a blanket. In my book, I find a small note asking me to study with him at his place on Friday.

*****

"You call me, and I'll pick you up; my number's on the back," Jason lectures me as he holds his car in front of the Munson trailer, handing me one of the phones from his duffle bag. "I'm meeting with friends, but should you need anything-"

"Don't sell your soul to the devil, and please call me. Yeah, I know," I interrupt him, eying the mobile phone in my hand. "Those things are starting to become really small, or am I crazy?"

He sighs, hating that I am going to spend the day in the trailer his girlfriend died in, with the guy who was the last to have seen her alive.

"Seriously, [y/n]. The minute he tries something, or you realize you're in a circle of blood with strange symbols drawn around it-" "Yeah, because that happens so casually often," I interrupt my cousin again.

"This is about your safety," he tells me as though I am unreasonable. "No, this is about you being paranoid and needing therapy," I answer, grabbing my bag and getting out of the car. "Thanks for driving me. See ya later."

I walk over to the trailer, knocking a couple of times. After a few seconds, Wayne Munson, Eddie's uncle, opens the door.

"Yeah?" he asks, holding a baseball bat behind his back. A safety precaution, I understand but disklike that he has to have.

"Hi, Mr. Munson. I'm here to see Eddie." He eyes me up and down, and I add, "I'm his friend. I help him study."

He looks over my shoulder, nodding to Jason's car with his chin. "And your friend in the car? That's Jason Carver, that little bastard," he says, highly suspicious of me.

"He's my cousin. My parents want him to drive me around since the earthquake," I explain, and his face becomes softer. "I'm sorry, Kid. I-"

I interrupt him with a smile. I understand why he has to be protective of Eddie after all that happened. "No, don't worry. I'm not crazy about that mental case either," I say. "Uhm, can I come in? I'm afraid he might get out of the car if we stay out here for too long."

Wayne lets me in, closing and locking the door behind me. From Eddie's room comes the sound of an acoustic guitar playing 'Sweet Leaf', one of my favorite songs.

"Eddie, your friend is here," he calls down the small hallway. I join him, calling, "Hi, Eddie."

We hear some rummaging and cussing, then Eddie practically rushes out of his room, only wearing his boxers.

"Hey, [y/n]," he greets me as I instantly look the other way, feeling my face burn like fire.

"Son, put some damn close on. You're in the presents of a lady, for God's sake," his uncle scolds him, and after a millisecond, Eddie cusses like a sailor.

"Shit, fuck. Sorry, I just woke up. I- It'll only be a second," he tells me, and from the bumping sound, I figure he almost ran into his bedroom door.

"Uh-huh. Take your time," I tell him, finally looking in his direction again as the door closes.

"Now, [y/n], can I offer you something to drink?" Wayne asks me, and I shake my head. "No, thanks. I'm good," I tell him, looking around the living area I know pretty well in both this dimension and whatever the Upside Down is.

It is scary to think that the portal simply closed, not leaving an ounce of trace that it ever even existed.

My eyes fall to the folding bed, open in the middle of the room. Eddie's uncle rushes over, taking the blanket and pillow and putting them inside the couch's storage department.

"Sorry, he didn't tell me he'd expected someone," he explains, embarrassed, folding away his bed. I smile at him, shaking my head. "Don't worry. Really."

The awkward silence is broken by Eddie coming out dressed in black, ripped jeans and a washed-out band shirt.

"Hey, hi," he greets me again. "Hi," I answer.

"I- I made the study cards you told me to," he explains proudly, and I grin. "Do they work?" "I think so. C'mon."

With his hand on my back, he escorts me to his room, signaling me to sit down on his bed. I, instead, only put my bag there and look around his room. In bright daylight and without the risk of dying or Robin screaming that we need music to save Nancy, it's actually nice in here.

It helps that it's also cleaner than last time and smells like air freshener and fresh linen.

"Edward, the door stays open," Wayne calls into the room, just as I pass a pile of clothes next to his closet, to look at the small, hand-painted figures that I think belong to his dungeons and dragons game.

I turn around, looking at Eddie. "So, the door stays open," I tease him jokingly, and he nods, becoming red while scratching the back of his curly head.

"Yeah. When something happens again, Wayne can give me an alibi saying he saw you the whole time during your visit and that you were okay."

My smile instantly vanishes, and I begin to apologize, "Oh, right. Sorry, I didn't think of that. I thought it was because-" "Because I'm having a pretty girl in my room?" he asks, tilting his head and stepping closer.

My breath hitches as he backs me up closer to the wall; I bump into the dresser behind me. "Naughty girl," he whispers with a mischievous grin as he cages me between his arms and his dresser.

I shake my head, becoming dizzy, "I- I- I didn't-" He chuckles, "I'm just teasing you, Carver. Calm down."

I am almost disappointed as he steps away, truly having only teased me. I turn my back to him before he can see the look on my face, but my gaze meets a mirror, showing me my pout.

Silly. It's silly that I'm sad he wasn't actually flirting with me. I focus on the guitar hanging in front of the mirror. Sweetheart, that's what Eddie calls the guitar. I begin chewing on my bottom lip, telling myself that I don't need this metalhead to like me back.

It would be too difficult anyway. Especially in fucked up times like these, where we don't know when Vecna returns.

Doesn't make me want Eddie any less, though...

"You like her?" Eddie asks behind me. I nod, suddenly feeling his hand on my shoulder, moving me back to the bed. "Well, not gonna let you touch her just yet. You need to learn acoustic first."

As I sit down on his bed, Eddie takes the black acoustic guitar full of band stickers that was leaning next to it and kneels down in front of me, showing it to me.

"This is Honey. She was my first guitar, first love, if you will," he chuckles. "She's pretty," I whisper. Eddie nods, "Glad you think so, 'cause she's yours now."

"What?" I exclaim, making him laugh. "Don't look so shocked," he says. "You need a guitar to practice on."

"But she's yours." He nods again, laying the guitar on my lap. "And she's been painfully neglected for years now, especially since I bought Sweetheart. Now take her and be good to her."

"Thank you," I whisper, following the outline of an old Metallica sticker.

As I look up, mine and Eddie's eyes meet. He'd been watching me closely. We grin at each other a little stupidly, and I feel my heart race like it's trying to win a marathon.

"I made you something," he says suddenly, jumping up and grabbing a bunch of small cards from one of his drawers. "Those are the different chords and where you have to put your fingers."

On the cards are drawn guitars necks, dots on the exact spots where my fingers need to be. "These are awesome, Eddie. And you really made those cards for me?"

He nods, cheeks turning pink, "We have a deal, after all. And if I teach you how to play guitar, I damn well will make sure you're becoming a real star at it."

I put the guitar aside and take his jacket out of my backpack, awkwardly and completely flustered, handing it to him. "You forgot your jacket at the Wheelers' home a couple of days ago."

"I didn't want you to freeze," he says, throwing it aside. "Why did you leave?"

"Because I know the reaction people have when they see me. I didn't want Mike's parents to think I was there to sacrifice their kids or have them be mad at you for letting me in."

I bite my lips again. "I wish you would've stayed. We could've gone home together." "I could've driven you home..." he smiles for a second before it vanishes again. "But people know my van, can't have you be seen with me."

Before I can stop myself, I say, "I don't mind being seen with you, Eddie."

He stares at me, touched, chocolate brown eyes becoming glassy, "T-That's a C. You think you can play it?" he quickly asks, swallowing hard and handing me one of the cards as a distraction.

I take the guitar but struggle with my finger placement. Eddie notices it and crawls behind me on the neatly made bed.

Hands on my waist, he makes me sit between his legs and helps me hold the guitar correctly. "Is that okay?" he asks, looking at me over my shoulder.

I nod, and he takes my fingers, placing them on the strings. As they are placed, he hands me a pick and helps me play that note. It sounds correct, and I smile at him. Eddie smiles back at me as though I just performed a concert for him.

"There you go, rockstar," he chuckles, placing my fingers differently again.

For a while, we play the chords, and I become more and more comfortable with his arms around me. It feels nice. Safe and calm.

We're both ripped from the moment as Wayne knocks on the open bedroom door. "Hey, you two. I'm going to work. Can I leave you both alone?"

Eddie nods, barely acknowledging his uncle. "Uh-huh."

"Eddie, are you sure-"

This time he looks up, interrupting his uncle, "Yes, Wayne. We're just playing guitar and studying a little. I promise nothing shady will happen." Eddie looks at me, "Right?"

I nod, assuring his uncle, "Oh, yeah. Absolutely not. I'm also getting picked up later."

The man nods, hand running over his head. "Okay. I- I'm just worried."

"I know," Eddie tells him, this time seeming to accept and understand his uncle's worries. They share a serious look that shows concern and affection.

Then Eddie smiles again, pointing at the polaroid camera on his dresser, "Hey, can you take a picture of us?" He asks, having his uncle nod. "Sure, son."

"That's okay for you, is it?" Eddie whispers into my ear, making goosebumps appear on my skin. I grin, nodding lovesick.

After taking a picture of us, me seated between Eddie's legs, the guitar in our hands, Wayne hands the picture to his nephew, wishing us goodbye, "It was nice to meet you, [y/n]. See you in the morning, kid."

"Oh, I'm gonna keep that one," Eddie whispers delightedly, looking at the picture.

I put the guitar aside, trying to look at the polaroid. "Why?"

"No reason," he tells me, standing up. I follow him, "Why, Eddie?"

"Because you look cute in it," he says, but this isn't enough for me.

I try to grab the picture, but he holds it up. Therefore, I stand as close to him as possible, standing on the tip of my toes to reach it.

Eddie wraps an arm around my waist, starting to spin us around. "Care for a dance, milady?

"You're so weird," I giggle, unable to reach the picture, but holding on to his wrist.

"Oh, Sweetheart, I'm completely insane," he tells me, stopping our spinning. "Now sit down and tutor me."

He softly pushes me back on the bed, and I make myself comfortable, looking at my own study cards while Eddie sits down next to me, going through his own. I have no idea where the polaroid picture went, but I sure hope I don't look ridiculous in it.

After two hours of learning together, Eddie lies back, staring at the ceiling. "I need a break."

I put the guitar aside and join him. "Same. My fingers are killing me."

"Yeah... Takes some time till you build up calluses," he chuckles, taking my hand into his, gently kissing my sore fingertips and stealing my breath. "Pretty soon, your pretty lil fingers will look like mine."

I don't know how he does it, but Eddie makes my heart beat so fast I feel like becoming dizzy; he always had me wrapped around his finger in that way, even as I only knew him from afar.

He's everything that my parents taught me to avoid, but I want to admire him forever.

"So you think I'll pass the test?" He asks me with a crooked smile, luring me back into reality. "Hm... I'd say I'm 99.9% sure," I smile, making him nod bothered as he lets go of my hand.

"Yeah, still room for me to fail." I prob myself up on my elbows, assuring him, "Well, I believe you'll make it."

A grin creeps over his features, making me certain that mischief is brewing together a plan under his curly mop of hair. "Would you be mad at me if I'd smoke one as a reward?"

I shake my head, and he sits up, grabbing a pre-rolled joint from his cluttered nightstand. "Do you want to...?" He offers, lighting it and taking a hit.

I shrug, uncertain since I've never done something like it before. "Uh... I- I don't know."

He looks at me with a serious face. "Hey, I'm not somebody that's pressuring others into things. I just thought... Would you want to try it? Now would be your chance, and it's safest to get high for the first time when there's somebody with you who has experience and watches over you."

I sit up as well, nodding. It isn't like I never wanted to try it.

"You sure?" He asks sternly, trying to avoid a reaction of mine that is solely based on the need to impress him.

I nod again. "Yes. Please."

Eddie leans over, holding the joint's butt to me. I lean forward, lips on the joint, taking my first pull; his eyes are on me, face as close as possible to inspect me.

"There you go. Small hits, baby," he coos his instructions. "Hold it, and now let go," I do as he says, coughing a little due to the smoke in my lungs. "Burns a little, I know."

It is hard not to stare as we lock eyes, his chocolate brown ones metaphorically bringing me to my knees. He has me smoke half of the joint, and as stupid as I feel for thinking like that, it feels intimate.

The way his big hands bring the joint back and forth between us, the gentle way he coos and praises me, and his eyes, his eyes are on me, so fascinated and intrigued as though I am one of the dirty magazines he unsuccessfully tried to hide under the bed.

I love that gaze of his and want to find a way to make it stay, although I probably just over-romanticize it because of the pot and my crush on Eddie.

As he puts the joint's end into the ashtray on his nightstands, I let myself fall back onto his mattress. "This feels nice," I say, feeling wholly carefree and peaceful for the first time since Vecna.

Eddie lies down beside me, explaining, "Yeah, it's the good stuff. Knocks us out for a while, perfect for relaxing."

We lay on our sides, facing each other. As he reaches out and brushes his knuckles over my cheek, I notice some ink on the back of his hand. I take it and read, 'Clean bedroom. [y/n].' on it.

I like my name on his skin; a weird thing to feel, but it fills me with a bit of pride.

"You forgot that," I tease him, pointing at the to-do list on the back of his hands. He chuckles, "Baby, I wasn't in school so that I could clean up."

I sit up, looking around. Then I giggle. "Okay..." "Hey," Eddie warns me in fake appall. "I even changed the sheets today."

I'd noticed the sweet, floral smell of the linen under me earlier, so I nod. "I appreciate the effort," I tell him, laying back down and kicking off my shoes.

"Where will life take you after graduation, Carver?" He asked as I make myself comfortable on his mismatched set of pillows.

"Where will it take you?" I ask back, but he quickly dismisses my question. "We both know I'll stay trailer trash, now answer me."

I sigh, saying my secret plan out loud for the first time, "I'll take the trust fund I'll gain access to once I have my diploma and run."

He furrows his brows. "So you'll leave us?"

"I meant that metaphorically," I say, making him look confused. "My family had different funds set up for me when I was born. One for high school graduation, one for college, one for marrying, and one for when I have children – a son, to be specific..." I explain.

"That sounds like a very thought-through version of manipulation," Eddie concludes, angered, seeming disgusted by my family's forced conforming.

"It is. I grew up thinking that I have to achieve all these set goals, but now..." Another sigh escapes me. "We don't know when Vecna will return, and every fight becomes more dangerous. I don't want to go to college and become a rich, famous, whatever. I don't want to play happy housewife for an upper-class jock my parents pick for me.

"If I die, I want to be able to look back and know I chose my happiness instead of social obligation."

My whole life, I'd been the perfect, preppy, old-money daughter my family had wanted. I exceeded in school, never went to parties, and stayed away from 'bad apples'. But I'd almost died, and as the weeks had passed, I came to realize that I would've left a life of unfulfilled dreams behind. One I'd only lived to make my parents proud.

"You thought about that a lot, huh?" I nod. "Ever since the bats attacked us."

My hand wanders over Eddie's stomach, resting on a spot I know is now holding a serious scar. He'd gotten it while protecting me from the bats as I'd tried to lure them from the trailer.

"Does it still hurt?" "Only sometimes. At least I have some very metal scars now," he jokes, hand coming up to my thigh.

Under my clothes, I hide some scars as well. It's not like I am ashamed of them. Why should I be? But they need to heal and fade enough to stop looking like bites first – as my family believes they come from an accident caused by the earthquake.

"What about yours?" Eddie asks, and I nod. "Same here. Do you sometimes dream of the Upside Down?"

"Aren't we all?" he chuckles, pushing down the trauma we all experienced. "It took me a while to even realize that all that actually happened, and when the wounds stopped hurting..."

"It'll get easier," I assure him as his arm moves up to my waist—another spot where a scar rests. I'm surprised he still remembers all of the spots.

"Right, wasn't your first rodeo," he remembers. "So, what are you doing with the money? Your trust fund, I mean."

I grin, biting my bottom lip, "You know the retail park between Hawkins and Derry?" "Who doesn't?" he laughs. "I wanna rent a space there and have my own music store. Sell instruments, cassette tapes, records... All of it."

Eddie's eyes become wide, sparkly. I seem to have piqued his interest. "Sounds amazing." "You think?" I ask, and he nods. "Totally. We'll always have music, so you'll always have a job there."

Either his reaction, his touch, or the pot – maybe all three of the things combined – have me smile. I prop myself on my elbow, hand dancing over the letters of his old Black Sabbath shirt.

"If you're not too set on becoming trailer trash..." I start, feeling his heartbeat under my fingers. "I could always use a good business partner who loves music."

"Be careful with those words, Sweetheart," Eddie warns me, propping himself up as well. "'Cause if you mean them, you'll never, never, ever get rid of me."

As he begins towering over me, I whisper, "Sounds good to me."

And just like that, his lips collide with mine. I feel like bursting into flames, like I am losing my mind, and as though I only imagine this moment. I let myself fall back into the pillows, taking Eddie with me as he crawls on top of me.

The kiss is heated and longing. Eddie's hand cradles my face, wanders upwards, and his fingers tangle themselves into my hair. I gasp into the kiss as he tugs on my hair, my hips jolting up due to the literal electricity he created within me.

Suddenly the kiss stops. Eddie sits back up on his heels and looks as though he just violated me. "I- I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you. That wasn't okay. You're high, you're-"

I sit up as well, embarrassment almost making me dizzy as I admit, "That had nothing to do with me being high. Did- Did you just do it because...?"

He shakes his head so harshly that I fear he'd give himself whiplash. "Was looking for a chance to do that for a while now."

I can't believe his words, asking, "Really?"

Eddie nods, looking me up and down as he licks his lips, "Jesus, you're so fucking pretty. Makes me dizzy."

We giggle and smile at each other childishly. I'd never thought he'd be interested in someone like me. I'm not an innocent, happy-go-lucky, preppy cheerleader like Chrissy was. I'm not a cool, not caring what people think of me – metalhead like him.

I am basic, normal. I go to school and do my homework, I listen to all types of music, mostly not even caring for genres since I mix through them all the time anyway, and I dress uncoordinated, solely based on what makes me happy that morning.

I've always thought I was invisible, one of the nice girls you see for five minutes in a movie and have totally forgotten about by the time the credits come on. This had given me some advantages as we saved Hawkins but socially made me feel out of place...

Eddie leans closer again, making me back onto the pillows, his knee between my legs. "That okay?" he asks softly, and I nod.

He towers over me, making my heart beat irrationally. He's so beautiful, and the fact that he wants me has me forget everything, even my name. I push myself up, cupping his cheeks; our eyes lock as he looks just as surprised and overwhelmed about all this as I am.

This time, I kiss him. His lips are soft and gentle as he kisses me back, hands carefully roaming my body as though I'm made of glass. I kissed a few guys before, but none of them had ever made me feel like this.

It feels so right. Like I was made to be in Eddie's arms, being accepted although coming with nothing else to offer than myself.

As our kiss becomes messy, something I've never experienced before, our hands become greedy and inquisitive. As my nails dig into his upper arms, Eddie's hand cups my clothed breast, groping it harshly.

As I moan into the kiss, he chuckles, kissing down my neck and plastering its skin with hickeys and soft love bites.

I moan again, hips jolting up and causing me to whimper as I accidentally rub my most sensitive area against his thigh. "Fuck," I softly cry, repeating the motion once more.

Pecking my lips softly, Eddie places himself now entirely between my legs. I can feel his erection through our clothes, right where I want him most.

"Nice, huh?" he asks teasingly, rolling his hips against me and enjoying how my eyes roll back.

Our lips find each other again, and while we sloppily begin making out again, our bodies move in unison, friction having us moan and gasp into our kisses.

As his hand sneaks under my shirt, cool rings kissing the warmth of my body, I stop Eddie. Propping myself up a little, I stammer, embarrassed, "Can we just- I don't- I never..."

I've never done anything like this before. Before today, I never kissed somebody with this much passion, never let one touch me like this. I've never felt this need, lighting my body on fire, before... And it scares me. I am not sure if I want to go any further than this.

Eddie smiles and softly chuckles. He leans down, kissing my cheek. "No worries. Rule one of being high is not to make big decisions when high. Have two tattoos proofing that point."

Somehow, I expected him to be mad at me.

"So you're okay with just kissing?" I ask, concerned, but he drops onto his elbows, forehead against mine. "I could do that for a lifetime."

Turning on some music, which plays softly in the background, we fall into another kiss, and another, and another. At one point, Eddie even has me sitting in his lap, hands groping my ass as he bucks his hips against me.

Only as our lips are sore, we cuddle on his bed, lips still coming together for little kisses from time to time.

I fall asleep in his arms, feeling safe and happy; I dream of this moment lasting forever.

*****

The next time I open my eyes, it is dark around me. I hate being in the dark, I become nervous and scared. Time has shown me over and over again why I should stay away from the darkness, but Eddie's chest, slowly rising underneath me and his arm around me, have me calm.

Closing my eyes again, I try to go back to sleep.

"She was supposed to be home hours ago, old man!" An angry voice yells outside the trailer.

"Listen, I am sure there is an explanation-" an older voice tries to communicate calmly but is interrupted.

"I don't give a shit about your excuses. You and that satanic scumbag-"

The older raises his voice warningly, "Hey, be careful what you're saying."

Eddie moves underneath me, laying on his side and pulling me into a hug. Suddenly he jumps up, turning on the lights. "Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit."

"What is it?" I ask sleep-drunkenly. "We fell asleep, Sweetheart. It's 5 a.m.," he explains loud but softly.

I jump out of bed the second my brain processes his words. "No!" I exclaim, looking at the radio alarm on Eddie's nightstand. I pull on my shoes, Eddie throwing over his jacket.

"[y/n]! [y/n], are you in there?" The angry voice from before yells, and I have a realization. "Fuck, that's Jason," I tell Eddie, who nods, handing me my backpack.

We rush outside and see Jason and his friends in front of the trailer. Wayne stands there on the steps, a baseball bat in his hand. They're all looking at Eddie and me.

I look back and forth between Wayne and Jason. "I- I'm so sorry. We fell asleep, I-" "I called you a hundred times," Jason interrupts.

I push past Wayne, walking down the steps. Eddie's uncle keeps him in the trailer, not letting him out.

"I just told you I fell asleep," I answer my cousin as he walks closer, looking at my disheveled appearance, then at Eddie's.

"What have you done to her, Munson?" Jason growls, and I step between him and the stairs. "He did nothing. What's wrong with you?"

He's clearly drunk and out for confrontation with his favorite victim.

"Fuck, you smell like a distillery," I mutter, having to look away to catch a huff of fresh air.

"We're leaving. Wait till Aunt-" my cousin tries to threaten me, grabbing my arm and walking us to the car. I shake my head, interrupting him. "You're drunk. I'm not letting you drive me."

As I try to pull my arm from his grasp, he hardens his grip. "[y/n]," he warns, trying to drag me to the car. "No," I exclaim, trying to stop walking, but Jason becomes rougher. "Ow."

"Hey, don't grab her like that," Eddie calls over, forcing himself past his uncle.

"Or what, Freak? What satanic monster from hell do you want to summon here in front of everyone?" Jason asks, irritated, fumbling his keys out of his pocket, a little cross keychain on it.

By now, half of the trailer park residents have noticed what is happening. All looking, nobody intervening.

"Man, just- just let go of her arm," Eddie tries to reason with Jason. "Please, you're hurting her."

As he takes a couple of steps closer, my cousin raises his keychain. "Don't come near us."

"Eddie, it's okay," I tell the sweet metalhead, then look to his uncle, who has his baseball bat equipped. "It's okay."

"Are you sure, girl?" Wayne asks me, concerned, but I nod.

"Yeah. I..." I finally can escape Jason's grasp and look at him and his friends. "Is anyone of you guys sober?" None are, so I sigh, "Kay. Give me your keys and get into the car."

Jason obliges since me driving the car means he gets what he wants, and I leave with him. I have the drunken jocks get back into the car, noticing that one had held a wheel-wrench the entire time.

I buckle Jason in the passenger's seat, make sure his friends buckle in as well and grab the wrench. Shaking my head, I look over at Eddie and his uncle, waving at them and trying to force a smile on my lips as I got into the driver's seat.

Leaving the trailer park, the drunks in the back fall promptly asleep, while Jason seems to calm down, experiencing an adrenaline crash. He tells me the addresses of his friends, and I drive everyone home.

"I was worried," he explains, head heavily resting on the headrest of his seat.

"I know," I sigh, having just dropped off the last one of his friends.

"I miss Chrissy," he mumbles, and I watch him take out the little velvet box he carries around everywhere. "I thought we would be together forever."

Jason had planned on proposing to his high school sweetheart after graduation. Chrissy was dead for months now, but he still carried the ring around.

I look at the broken shell of a man beside me. Jason had lost his mind when he'd lost his girlfriend. Our family believes he just needs time, but he desperately needs therapy.

He wasn't always like this; he was a good guy; we grew up like siblings – Yeah, sure, he was a little douchey sometimes, but he was the guy nice to mostly everyone—a preppy, old-money boy.

His moral compass hadn't been broken before he came into contact with Vecna's darkness.

"Eddie didn't hurt Chrissy," I tell him, but he looks at me with tears in his eyes. "I know what I saw."

I can't tell him about the Upside Down, which makes me helpless. I have to sit between the chairs, see Eddie being hated, and watch my cousin lose his sanity, and there is nothing I can do about it.

"Look," I start, carefully thinking of how to phrase my sentences, "I know what you saw. I know how it looked like and how much it scared you, but Eddie was solely at the wrong time in the wrong place when... when Chrissy and Patrick were attacked."

Jason looks at me in disbelief, his eyes wandering down to my neck, where he notices the marks left by Eddie.

"So that's how it is," he says disgustedly, sitting back in his seat and refusing to look at me again. "You let the freak fuck you, and now you're excusing him and his actions. You're choosing him instead of your own family and friends and completely disregard his victims."

"That's not what I'm doing, Jason," I say. "If- If you really think there is something evil and satanic going on... Maybe the monster hunted Chrissy and Patrick, and when it attacked, Eddie just happened to be there."

He shakes his head. "Munson is a vessel. I don't know when he became one, but I know what got him there... This satanic game and the music he listens to."

"Jason, Dungeons & Dragons is a fantasy game. It's like being the main character in The Hobbit. You know we loved that book when we were younger. It's harmless, and Eddie is basically a sweet nerd with rough edges. And his taste in music...

"It's just metal. You know it doesn't make you a murderer. You secretly bought me my first Black Sabbath cassette tape when Mom and Dad forbid me to have it."

He ignores me, angry tears in his eyes while he continues to fidget with the velvet box in his hand. I start the car and drive us to my place. I am too tired and frustrated to drive any more than that.

*****

"[y/n], do you have any idea how worried we were?" my father yells angrily, Mom agreeing. "You stay out all night, and your cousin has to pick you up from a trailer park."

I sigh, pressing my palms onto the cold kitchen table. "Come on. He was drunk as hell. I had to drive him and his friends home. You can barely say he picked me up."

Jason had used the hurt he felt from losing Chrissy and our talk in the car to unload all his paranoia of the night on my parents, then went to bed in our guest bedroom, leaving me to pick up the mess.

"Still, your behavior-" I interrupt my Dad, "I know. I made a mistake, and I am sorry. Can I now please go to my room?"

"No. I don't want you to see that boy anymore." "What?" I ask loudly.

"This Munson kid has caused enough harm. I will be damned if I let you end up like Chrissy Cunningham," Dad yells determent, making me shake my head.

"Eddie had nothing to do with Chrissy's death."

"We don't know that for sure," Mom says, trying to be the calm voice of reason as my father becomes angrier by the second.

"Yes, we do," I argue. "Jason has been spinning out of control for months now. Why isn't anybody in this fucking town questioning his bullshit accusations?"

Mom hands my father his coffee, and he takes it to the living room. Simply leaving the discussion like he always does. Then she sits down beside me, trying to hold my hand.

"People wouldn't find it so easy to believe if the Munson boy hadn't given them so many reasons to."

I let out a sarcastic laugh, then scoff, "Funny, 'cause when people tried to – very rightfully so – suspect that our family's wealth comes from decades of slavery and human trafficking, you both told me that foolish people are willing to believe everything just to run their mouths."

"[y/n]..."

I shake my head, so angry at my family's hypocrisy, "You're not treating Eddie fair. You're judging him and his character through his upbringing, social status, and nonsensical rumors from an unstable family member."

"Hun, I know you like that boy, and dating a bad boy sounds exciting for girls your age – I know, I've been there – But boys like that have the power of ruining your life."

"You don't know him, Mom," I tell her, tears in my eyes. The Upside Down had thoroughly messed up my relationship with my family. "When the earthquake hit Hawkins, I was with Eddie and our friends. If he hadn't been there, I would be dead now. He saved me."

Mom looks at me, shocked. I've refused to talk about the accident until now since I still haven't thought out a perfect lie. I see the pain in my mother's eyes, I know she loves me, and after so many died due to the earthquake, it terrifies her that I could've been one of them.

"Mom, Eddie's a little weird, sometimes completely bonkers, loud, and obnoxious, but he is neither dangerous nor bad for me."

She presses her lips together, trying not to mess up her perfectly applied lipstick. Then she nods. "Go to bed. We'll talk once you have had some sleep."

I go to my room, locking the door behind me. Dressing in some fresh underwear and an oversized band t-shirt my mother hates, I lay down on my bed.

It's already light outside, soon, my dad will go to work, and my mom will pop some uppers and drive around town, spending some money on things we don't need and thinking about what to serve for dinner.

I wonder if I would've ever noticed how dysfunctional our family is, even with all our money, wouldn't I've gotten involved with Will's vanishing?

Would I've ever known how much more important my happiness is than following my family's plans and traditions?

Knocking on my bedroom window pulls me from my thoughts. On the tree branch in front of my window stands Eddie.

"What are you doing here?" I ask as I open it, letting him in.

"I wanted to see if you're okay... And I brought your guitar," he smiles, turning the strep across his chest and putting Honey into my view. I'd forgotten the guitar in my hurry.

"I'm sorry, [y/n]. He grabbed you really hard. I- I should've defended you," Eddie says, hands running up and down my arm, causing goosebumps to appear.

"Jason was drunk and with his friends. They were only looking for a reason to hurt you," I tell him as he hands me the guitar, and I place it on the floor next to my vanity.

I turn on some music, not too loud to annoy anybody, but loud enough to hide that I wasn't alone. Eddie, meanwhile, starts snooping around, almost reminding me of a puppy being in its new home for the first time.

"Now that's a preppy room. I've never seen a preppy room, but this one..." he chuckles, his big button eyes filled with amusement. "I know. Mom decorated it."

He looks further around while I sit down on my bed. As he opens my closet door, a poster of Eddie Van Halen has him crack up before he goes on a deep dive to see all the things I hide in there from my parents.

"Now, that's more like you," Eddie exclaims, pulling out my old working uniform. "You know, I always walked by Scoops Ahoy when I was at the mall... Always hoped to see you."

With butterflies in my stomach, I watch him hang the uniform back into the closet. "I saw you walking by a couple of times. Why didn't you talk to me?"

He shrugs, walking to the end of my bed. "I chickened out. I mean, would you've actually talked to Eddie 'The Freak' Munson, or would you've called for Harrington to protect you?"

"I would've loved having you talk to me," I assure him, and he begins to grin. "Careful; I might start believing you had a crush on me, Sweetheart."

I crawl to the end of my bed, pulling Eddie down by his jacket. His grin becomes bigger before his lips press down on mine. I shuffle back to my pillows, pushing his jacket over his shoulder and throwing it aside. We kiss again as he makes himself comfortable between my legs.

Eddie breaks the kiss, whispering, "I need to leave before your parents come in and find us like that."

His knuckles brush over my cheeks, a soft smile on his lips, and I realize that I don't want him to leave—the quite opposite, actually. I want him to be even closer to me.

"My door's locked," I tell him with a cheeky grin. "They think I'm sleeping."

His softness quickly begins harboring an aura of mischief. "Naughty little thing," he whispers, pressing his lips against mine.

The kiss becomes rough and demanding as Eddie growls into it, starting to explore my mouth with his tongue. After hours of doing nothing else last night, his hands on my body and lips on my own feel natural. My fingers glide into his curly mane while I start rocking my hips against him, searching for friction.

An excited whimper leaves me, and I reach for his belt. "N-No, Sweetheart," Eddie stops me gently. "We have no condoms."

"Pill," I exclaim, needier than planned. "I'm on the pill." He raises his brows for a second, and I add, "I started taking it as part of a feminism phase Robin and I had."

Eddie props himself up, looking at me, insecure. "And you're sure you actually want that? I'm not really the upper-class jock your parents want for you."

I'm looking up at this intimidatingly looking metalhead, smiling. Looks can be so deceiving. "I know, and I like you better that way," I tell him, watching his self-doubt melt away and replace with a contented smile.

Pulling his shirt over his head, he tosses it somewhere in my room. I goggle at his naked chest, the tattoos, the scars, the happy trail. I'm close to tears, and I don't know why; my body feels like I'm being lit on fire; all I can think of is how badly I want him.

"I want you," I whine, hips moving up against nothing. "Please..."

Eddie leans down, pecking my lips for a moment, "I know, baby. I want you too." As he moves back up, he grabs the hem of my shirt, waiting. I lift my back enough so he can take it off me. He tosses it over his shoulder, eyes locking with my breasts.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath, eyes wandering across the room for a moment. As he looks at me again, he licks his lips. "You're so beautiful."

He drops onto his elbows, kissing me again. Eddie's hands roam my body; thighs, stomach, breasts; there is no place he doesn't explore. So at one point, his fingers glide over my clothes pussy.

I try to move into his touch. Eddie chuckles, pulling my panties aside and letting his fingers run through my folds. He grunts into the kiss, moving up a little, "Holy fuck, Sweetheart. You're so wet."

I nod, embarrassed, swallowing a loud moaning the second he touches my swollen clit. He shushes me gently, pecking my lips, then moves his fingers to his mouth. They glisten in the morning sun, and as he licks my wetness from them, I become dizzy for a second.

Eddie grins at me, fully aware of the effect he just had on me. He comes closer again, kissing me and letting me taste myself on his tongue. Then he kisses my neck, wandering down and stopping at my breast, gently sucking on my left nipple while playing with my right one.

I struggle to stay quiet, hating the thought of having to wait any longer. "Eddie, please," I whine, hips jolting up and meeting with his clothed erection.

He grabs the waistband of my panties, making me lift my hips to help him remove them. They are quickly thrown aside, my hands on his belt again. This time I'm triumphant; Eddie climbs off the bed, taking off his jeans, underwear, and shoes.

I bite into the pillowy part of my bottom lip as I'm met with the view of his hard, veiny cock, making him chuckle and kiss me playfully all over the face as he climbs back on top of me.

Guiding his cock up and down my pussy, he coats himself with my arousal, using it like a natural lubricant. "Ready?" he asks, and I nod, grinning excitedly.

Lining up with me, he pushes in slowly until he fully bottoms out inside me. My eyes press shut, and a whimper leaves my lips at the stinging. My nails dig into the skin of his upper arms. Eddie doesn't move anymore, giving me time to get used to the new, stretching sensation.

"Doing so good, baby," he whispers, kissing my cheek, the corner of my lips, and then me fully. I melt into his gentle touches, hands stroking up and down my sides.

"So beautiful," he grins. "And all mine." I nod. "All yours."

Eddie begins to move, making me feel so full, that I think I'm about to break in two, but instead, every thrust of his makes me feel alive.

I want more, figuring out how to meet his thrusts, moving against him. Our breathing becomes louder, moans and praises are spoken with hushed voices.

Eddie doesn't pick up the speed, my bed already threatening to give us away. Instead, he becomes harsher, administrating long and deep thrusts that make my eyes roll into the back of my head.

I moan loudly, arching my back. In an instant, his hand covers my mouth. "We need to be quiet, baby," he reminds me quietly but doesn't stop pounding into me for even a second.

I moan into his palm, holding onto his wrist, so his hand doesn't move from my mouth. "I know. I know, don't worry. I'll make sure they don't hear you," he promises with a low grunt as he rolls his hips into mine.

Our eyes lock, his gaze full of lust and admiration. Sweat makes his hair stick to his forehead. His thrust become more demanding, and I hear my own wetness every time he rocks against me.

As control seems to escape us, Eddie's deep, husky moans become louder. The secrecy of having raw sex that I was taught would get me to hell before marriage feels so filthy, yet it is heaven.

My nails dig into the flesh of his back, and his lips press kisses against my shoulder and collarbone, occasionally biting into it. Tightening around Eddie, I am on the edge of my orgasm.

"Fuck," he moans. Our eyes meet again, his hand still over my mouth. I lift my hand as he curses again, clasping it over his mouth.

His hips stagger at this before a moan vibrates in my palm. I come right then. I fall apart into millions of pieces and am put back together a new person—a free one that doesn't care about any social status anymore.

If this is wrong, if this is sin, I want to be amiss for the rest of my life.

A deep growl is muffled in my palm as Eddie comes, both of us silencing the other's moans as we ride out our high.

As his hips still, our hands retreat. Stupid, exhausted grins on our lips; he kisses me and pulls out. I whimper at the sudden emptiness, having him chuckle and lie beside me.

Eddie pulls me into a tight embrace, and we just lay there, wrapped around each other for a few minutes, listening to nothing but our breathing.

My head rests on his chest, fingers circling his tattoos and dark pink scars. We're both sweaty, but neither of us cares. This moment is perfect.

"[y/n]?" Eddie whispers into the silence, hand locked around my waist to ensure I stay put.

"Hm?" I hum, looking up at him. "Your parents want you to stay away from me, right?" He asks, insecurity, sighing deeply as I nod. "Figured."

"Eddie..." I whisper as he sits up, grabbing his boxers. He shakes his head, pulling them up. "No, they're right. You'll find better, deserve better."

I stop the curly-headed metalhead before he can dress any further. Hand on his arm, I lean close. "Don't say that. I- It's only until we're graduating. Once I get my money, I'll move out, and we can be together... If you still want that."

He looks at me for a second, then whispers, "Your family will be furious with you." I nod. "Yeah, but they'll calm down once they see how happy I am... I hope."

I don't have much faith in it, but I refuse to live the miserable life my parents approve of. Eddie's tongue swipes over his lips while he is thinking; I can visibly see the cogs turn behind his chocolate eyes.

"So, that would make one month where I don't get to hold, kiss, or even talk to you," he says emotionless.

"Is that okay?" I ask, unsure. We are rushing; the decisions are way too extreme for the little time we spent like this.

But like I said, Vecna could return at any moment. We could die faster than we seem to be rushing. I have to go all in and live.

Eddie turns to me, the knuckles of his ringed fingers brushing offer my cheek. "Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens," he hums a familiar quote, proving him to be a soft nerd under all his leather and chains.

"I have been head over heels for you since I was seventeen, and until everyone thought I was a murderer, I never even dared to look at you for too long. I can handle loving you from afar for a month."

My heart skips a beat as I echo, "Loving me?"

Pressing a kiss on my lips, he chuckled, "Seriously, if you haven't picked up on that by now, you're the one who needs a tutor."

He pushes me back into the pillows, climbing on top of me. Insecure all my life, I absolutely don't mind being completely naked in front of Eddie. He makes me feel safe and like it doesn't matter what I look like.

"Shit," I cuss, remembering his test. "How are we going to study for your test?" Kissing the tip of my nose, he smiles, "We don't. I can handle my studying, [y/n]. I'm a big boy. You just keep practicing with Honey, so I can have a jam session with my girlfriend soon, okay?"

Girlfriend. I am Eddie 'The Freak' Munson's girlfriend.

My life has been full of titles until now, the cheerleader, teacher's pet, Jason Carver's cousin, golden child, tutor, babysitter... But this is the first one that I feel proud of, the first one that feels authentic.

➤ Here is Part 2: Girlfriend

#eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader

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esamastation · 7 months

Text

Part thirty-two of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one

The first few hours in the forward camp go by quickly, for Angeal. Mostly in putting down brushfires and smoothing down ruffled feathers.

"That was Sephiroth, right - Sephiroth is in our camp!"

"Where is he then? I want to meet him!"

"Think he would shake my hand?"

"Does anyone have a camera - I want to send a picture to my Ma!"

Most of the troopers are excited - and they have every reason to be. More SOLDIER means less dangerous work for them while the SOLDIER members take care of the more dangerous missions.

But you can't please everyone.

"Well?" the infantry Colonel in charge of the town demands when Angeal presents himself to the man. "Isn't he even going to come to introduce himself?"

"I'm very sorry, sir," Angeal says awkwardly, with the Turks' warnings still in his ear. No one is to know that Sephiroth isn't at hundred percent right now. And Angeal agreed. "It was a very busy time in Midgar just before we left, and the plane wasn't exactly comfortable - he's resting before we start tackling missions tomorrow."

"Couldn't he sleep on the plane? Isn't he supposed to be a veteran - doesn't he know you're supposed to catch all the sleep you can get, when you can get it?" The Colonel huffs, offended and superior. He's an older man, in his fifties, and though Angeal doesn't know him, he recognizes the type.

A lot of older military types didn't really… believe that SOLDIERs were worth the hype.

"What if we were in an emergency situation here and the camp was under attack?" The Colonel asks. "Would he have sauntered off then, just willy-nilly?"

"I'm sure in that case Sephiroth would've fought, but as that wasn't the case," Angeal says slowly, "I'm sorry sir, in favour of the missions ahead, he's getting all the rest he can, now."

It takes more than that to placate the camp commander, and Sephiroth would need to present himself first thing in the morning, but at least Angeal manages to keep people from trying to bother Sephiroth. Who… really didn't look too good, before.

Angeal had got him two folding screens and a table from the loot storage - he'd even found a nice tea set, and some tea in a tin - and if he didn't know better, he would've said Sephiroth almost… cried.

He's never seen the man look so lost.

Which sends him here, to the mess hall set up by the infantry in one of the larger buildings of the town. It's impossible to miss, and he had to wonder how the pompous Colonel didn't claim the building for the command - it's easily the grandest in the village, with spacious interiors and the inner courtyard with a mossy garden.

All the plastic folding tables probably would have made Sephiroth sick, though.

Angeal approaches the field kitchen with his proverbial hat in hand, asking, "Hey, do you have any chocolate here?"

"We do - for a price," the cook says, apologetically. "Sorry, sir, it's protocol - the company provides you grub and meds, but all luxury goods are Gil only."

And the prices are, of course, through the roof.

"... And if it's for Sephiroth?" Angeal asks hopefully, because the poor kid in him can't stomach paying fifty Gil for a candy bar.

The cook hesitates and then narrows his eyes. "... Sephiroth eats chocolate?"

"It's his favourite," Angeal lies shamelessly.

There's a moment of painful hesitation between protocol and idol worship. "... Fine, but just this once, okay?" the cook mutters and quickly shoves two bars towards him. "I can get away marking these out as damaged in transit, but after that they'll start taking it out of my pay! And don't go spreading this around either, sir, or else everyone will be begging for charity!"

"I won't tell a soul," Angeal promises and adds two chocolate bars to his tray. "Thank you so much."

He fills the tray with enough food for him and Sephiroth and offers an apologetic smile to the group of SOLDIER Seconds before heading out.

He doesn't quite make it to his and Sephiroth's quarters.

"So, the big guy is not doing so hot, after all."

It's Reno, accosting him along the way, lounging back against a bit of painted wall. He's not quite hidden - except that coming from the direction he did, Angeal couldn't see him.

"Mood seems to go up and down; he's practically swinging from side to side, that man," Reno continues, watching the street idly. "You got it handled?"

Angeal stops and takes a steadying breath, staring down the street. It's getting late and dark, and the green-tinted electrical lights by the Shinra troops clash with the red paint of the buildings. "Sephiroth is meditating."

"Yeah, because that's totally something he does," the Turk snorts, folding his arms. "I've read his file, man. A homebody he is not. If this was your usual mission, he'd already be out there, fighting."

Angeal hesitates, looking down at the tray. "He's going to be fine," he says. "Now excuse me, the food will get cold -"

"Hey, man, I'm on your side here," the Turk says. "I'm just asking. We just want the best for him!"

Sure. "The Turks are very invested in this," Angeal comments pointedly and gives the redhead a look. They are - hell, they'd sent not just one, but two Turks to the front lines! That's more than investment.

The camp had been excited to see Sephiroth and Angeal there - they'd been less excited to find out that they came with Turk company. Turks don't generally take part in anything to do with Wutai, the war front isn't exactly their area of expertise, and that's how the military likes it. Though they're technically all part of the same department, there's no love lost there. The Turks very much aren't welcome.

That's probably why Reno is here - in the shadows, out of view. The Turks hadn't been seen much since their landing, really. And probably for a good reason.

"We're invested in damage control," Reno says, peering up at the sky lazily, leaning against the wall with all the grace of a cat. "Whatever's going on with Sephiroth isn't normal, and it's in the company's best interest that it doesn't come to head in Midgar."

"Right. Far better if he loses his cool here," Angeal mutters, watching as a curious firefly investigates a flood light. "Less collateral damage."

"That's it," Reno agrees lazily. "Personally, I'd prefer that whatever is going on with him is resolved quickly, so that we can all go home. But we will be here as long as it takes. As long as he needs."

Great, that's just wonderful. But… that also means that they're not in a hurry. Even the dozen or so missions pressing in on them aren't that high priority. They don't have the forces or the resources to make another try at Fort Tamblin, and most of the fighting out there has been fought into a standstill.

The war is essentially in a stalemate until further notice. The point of Sephiroth being here - before his incident, anyway - is more about morale than anything else. It always looks good when they send in the big guns, after all.

"As long as he needs," Angeal repeats. "Really?"

"The President approved it and everything," Reno agrees and looks at him. "Whatever Sephiroth needs."

Well. He knows that's probably bullshit, but in case it isn't… "Sephiroth needs time," Angeal says after a while, following the firefly with his eyes as it flies away. "And I think more than anything he needs privacy."

Reno narrows his eyes. Then his expression clears. "Alright, privacy we can arrange," he says flippantly. "Never much cared for military camps anyway. Right then. Good night, Hewley."

Angeal watches him go suspiciously, but it appears that was that. "Right," he mutters and hopes it wouldn't come back to bite them in the ass later.

Shaking his head, he returns to the house, to find that Sephiroth had finished rearranging the furniture to his liking - he's also made tea, and is holding a steaming cup in his hand as he stares into nothing.

His hands, Angeal notes with relief, are no longer shaking.

"Here, food," he calls. "Also found you something special."

Sephiroth blinks and looks up as Angeal puts the tray down, handing him both of the chocolate bars. "Oh," he says. He looks guilty. "Angeal, I…"

"Special gift from the commissary, free of charge - next one we will have to pay for, and they charge through the nose here," Angeal says cheerfully and sits across from him, divvying up the plates and utensils. "So you better enjoy it."

"... I will. Thank you," Sephiroth murmurs, closing his long fingers delicately over the treat.

"Good. Now come on, let's eat," Angeal says, pushing the plates closer to him. "We have a lot of work tomorrow. Better stock up."

"... Monster hunting, right?"

"Yes," Angeal agrees. "Just you and me and a bunch of wild beasts. It should be great."

Sephiroth looks at him for a long moment and then, finally, nods slowly. "Alright."

They eat, and the tightly wound coil of anxiety in Angeal's gut unwinds, if only a little.

#Fanfiction #ff7 #ffvii #svsss #angeal hewley #reno of the turks #sephiroth #shen qingqiu #shen yuan

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