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#I just wrote this for fun
fruityfroggy · 7 months
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Some over analysis of the poses in this TS promotional art, because I can (I think)
(Also, this turned out sooo damn long, so be warned)
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Okay, so I had this thought about their hand positionings alluding to a general idea of their (initial) intentions.
There seems to be a pattern with the general placements of the Lis hands that splits pretty evenly. Said placements are: holding out their hand (Ais and Kuras), having their hand on the side of their face/head region (Vere and Leander), and hands that aren't really doing much (Mhin).
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Holding out your hand tends to have a more welcoming and helpful association and feeling to it. So, Ais and Kuras holding out a hand could signify an actual sense of wanting to help MC find a cure. This makes a lot of sense for the two of them since they do seem like the least toxic ones from what we’ve been able to get from the demo (of course, Mhin doesn’t seem very toxic either, but their situation is a little different). Also, I did take into consideration that Kuras is kinda…suspicious in a way, but I think that that could be conveyed by his hand not being held out directly toward the viewer. This might mean that he isn’t necessarily as genuine about it as Ais in some way, but he is for the most part.
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Putting your hand(s) on the side of your face/head when posing tends to bring more attention to your face. You’re bringing interest to that area by having your hand do something that could enhances how your face region looks. So Vere and Leander on the other hand (pun intended), having a hand placed in said area could represent how they’re planning on “helping you” in a way that prioritizes benefiting them. Vere wants to be free from his magic-bound leash, and he sees that MC is very determined to get involved with the Senobium. He thinks that if he plays his cards right, then MC’s empathy could bring them to help him break free. Promising guidance for MC’s mission is the first step to playing his cards right. Leander’s route though, is clearly going to end in betrayal that would cause some sort of benefit for him. It’s just not as clear when it comes to what it is exactly.
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With Mhin’s pose, there’s a clear difference from the others. They’re not doing anything extra with their hands. They’re not posing in a way that purposefully tries to grab your attention, which could represent how they don’t have any particular intentions toward MC at this point in the game. Mhin doesn’t want help, and they don’t want anything from MC either. I don’t even think that they know about MC’s curse yet (unless I’m forgetting something), Mhin truly doesn’t have much of a reason to interact with them again unless MC approaches them first. Mhin could likely not be the one who starts an interaction between the two for a good while in their route. MC is the one that has to try and get Mhin's attention if they want to romance them, not the other way around like the other Lis. MC has to convince Mhin to come with them, as there's no willingness from them (yet).
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Another thing I've noticed is that Mhin's pose is compact compared to the rest of the group (all shoulders back, one arm up in one way or another). Of course, it's a fairly casual compactness. They're not completely hugging their knees to their chest or anything. But looking at the image altogether, Mhin does seem to be an outlier of sorts. I mean, they're the only one sitting, they're the most compact, they're the only one who's not being attention seeking to any degree. All of this conveys their closed-off personality very well, yes (it's like they didn't wanna be there and just wanted to quickly get it over with), but maybe this says something about their route too. Like I mentioned before, MC will have to try extra hard for Mhin to gain a sense of fondness toward them. So, the lack of fondness and desire to be around MC at the start could also be a reason that they barely fit in with the pre-established posing conventions (is that a phrase?). No other Li has shown signs of this except for Mhin, possibly making a big difference in how you play their route (as opposed to the rest).
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I feel like this is most likely the only actual intentional symbolism that I mentioned so far, but I do want to point out that the mini Eridia at the bottom is heavily scooched to the left so that it barely touches Mhin. I just like this little detail because it's quite a clever way to sneakily remind you that they're an outsider too (if that was intentional). But the fact that we needed to be reminded of that, especially in such a sneaky way. It's almost as if it's emphasizing the fact. I haven't thought of a possible reason for it, but I feel like there could be something in there.
Okay, this was all that I could find and think of. If anything else comes to me, I may do another part. But I think this is enough hidden stuff for an image of Lis to promote a visual novel.....right?
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thekitteninlove · 2 years
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Here's part 2. In this part Amon will be rescued from the mirror world. There's some sneaking around and some magical fight with the soldiers. I've always wanted to carry Amon bridal style, so there's some of that in this too.
I've realized that the way i see him isn't the same as he is in the game, so yeah, this is Amon ver. 2.0.
Since they somehow managed to get Levie on their side we were trying to make a quick change of plans. Dalim didn’t tell his lord that I was working for them again because he has been trying to protect me. That made me happy, but it also made me feel useless since this meant that I hadn’t been able to help him as much as I wanted. Therefore, I decided to change this situation and tried to persuade him to let me get his lord on the night of the new moon, when the portal to the other world beyond the mirror opens.
Dalim was obviously worried about me and I couldn’t blame him. “Princess, that’s too risky. Wouldn’t it be better for you to just sit and wait in a safe place while I go and get him?” he was trying to persuade me, but that still didn’t stop me because I had a good reason for this.
“If I can get on his good side maybe I can make him change for the better at least a little bit” I thought that people were more easily influenced by the ones they liked, that’s why I thought this plan could work. I also had another reason for wanting to go for his rescue, but I wasn’t ready to tell anyone that.
It was hard to convince him, but I finally did it by telling him that it was better for me to go after him since everyone thinks I’m innocent and won’t suspect me as much as Dalim even if they see me around that mirror.
Soon enough, on the day of the new moon, Dalim came with me until near the Civic Center, where we parted ways for the time being. The sun has just set and the portal was about to open any minute now, so I had to hurry. As I entered the Civic Center I saw several soldiers heading towards the mirror room to search for the escaped criminal, Amon. I was dressed in a Black Army uniform so as to not catch their attention and go into the mirror world without a hitch. The only time I worked for this army was when I spied for them, so now I wasn’t part of it and had to be careful not to get caught. They were probably too worried about finding that guy since no one asked me anything and I was able to go into that world. Now I was on my way to the location Dalim told me he would be and was hoping no one would get there before me.
This world was quite similar to the one I came from, so it was easy to find that place. Everything looked like the Apocalypse just came here since the only citizen of this world was Levie and no one was maintaining these buildings. After I exited that world’s Civic Center and went through some alleyways, I arrived in front of a small 4 storey building. Since there were no lights anywhere I used a Magic Crystal to see where I was going. This darkness must make it harder for the other soldiers to find him, which was good. I then quickly went through the door and up the stairs to the second floor, where I went in one of the rooms I knew he would be in. There I saw him lying on the floor probably because his energy was steadily being taken away by this world. Only a magic user or Alice could survive in here. He tilted his face towards me as he heard me coming in and seemed to recognize me.
“What’re you doing here?” he sounded confused most likely because of the uniform I was wearing. He was probably trying to figure out if I was an enemy or an ally
 I approached him and crouched down beside him. He seemed like he was trying to concoct a plan that would get him out of here. “Become my bodyguard. I need your power” I knew he’d say that. I was a wizard, so he obviously needed that. “What do you want in exchange for your help?” he seemed like he was ready to do anything to save himself and I wanted a favor from him, so I didn’t tell him I came here to save him. I wished I could ask him for his heart, but humans can’t willingly give their hearts. Does he even have one? I put my hand over his heart and felt it beat slowly. This made him frown in confusion. Either way, it wasn’t his physical heart that I wanted. I was going to get that one way or another, but now I asked him for that other favor I had in my mind. “I want you to not hurt Dalim ever again”. This request seemed to take him by surprise “You’re willing to become my shield for that whore’s sake?”
“Yes, what’s the problem?” I really hoped he’d agree with it. I don’t think I was asking for too much.
It might have been just my imagination, but I thought he seemed upset before he turned his head away. A moment of silence passed between us, while I was wondering what has gotten into him. Should I have told him that I at first wanted to do it to get his heart? Before I had a chance to say anything he agreed to this deal and told me to get him out of there. Since he didn’t have enough strength to walk I took him into my arms and proceeded to carry him bridal style out of the mirror world. I’ve always wanted to carry him like this and now I took advantage of this situation to do just this. I also took advantage of the darkness to sneak around undetected to the portal. Even in the awful state he was in at the moment he still was as beautiful as ever and I couldn’t restrain myself from stealing a few glances at him from time to time.
There were some guards around the mirror, but I caught them with their guard down and cast a sleeping spell on them. It was strange that I couldn’t see Levie anywhere, but there was no time to dwell on that because I had to deal with the guards on the other side of the portal, in Cradle. Once they figured out I wasn’t going to hand this awful man over to them, they were about to launch some magic spells towards me when a familiar man clad in a black cloak blocked their attacks with his magical powers. He was now with his back towards me, facing our enemies. There was no need to look at his face to know that must’ve been Dalim. I was quite glad that he was there now because it’d have been difficult to protect myself with this man in my arms. As their spells crashed against each other gusts of wind formed that blew around the room and making a mess of it and my hair. I could hear them calling for reinforcements and I began to worry that we might not escape from here. I looked up at Dalim. He was indeed quite a powerful wizard, which was good, but the problem was that he was getting sick often because of this. I needed to be careful and immediately prepare to attack if he begins to get sick in the middle of the fight.
Finally, he defeated them, but soon after that we heard some noise in the Civic Center and we knew this meant that the reinforcements were coming. Dalim turned towards us and said that the best choice at the moment was to teleport using magic. I didn’t like the idea of him using so much magic at once, but we didn’t have a choice. He certainly wouldn’t let me use mine and i didn’t have time to persuade him to let me do it, so Daim teleported us all near our hiding place. We were now in the Forbidden Forest and it was still dark outside, so Dalim took out a Magic Crystal to illuminate our way.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to carry Lord Amon?” Dalim asked me, but I declined his offer. My arms were hurting a bit, but I liked to carry him like this.
The forest looked quite eerie at night, but I felt safer now that I was with Dalim. I was also glad Dalim didn’t collapse from all the magic he’s used to bring us here. If that happened I’d have had to carry two men and I’m not so sure I could do that.
After walking for a few minutes, Dalim stopped and kneeled down. At first I was confused, but then I saw him open a door on the ground, under a layer of grass and moss, that most likely led to an underground dwelling. After going down a set of stairs we arrived in what seemed like the living room. There were a sofa, two armchairs and a coffee table. There was also a large desk in a corner of the room with lots of papers on it.
“We need to let Lord Amon rest until he gets better, so we’ll put him in this room” I heard Dalim say in a voice that sounded like he also needed to rest
We went through another door, this time a normal one, into a bedroom.
“I think you can put him down on that bed and leave him be, my lady”
I was about to do what Dalim told me to, when I heard Amon say “Stay with me”. This made me look down at him confused and saw him looking right back at me. It was hard to read the expression he had now on his face. “You’re my bodyguard, so you should stay with me 24/7” he added, which drew out a sound of surprise from Dalim.
“His bodyguard!?” Dalim sounded shocked, which was understandable since I didn’t have the time to tell him about what happened in the mirror world
“It’s fine, Dalim, I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. Right now I just want to sleep” I tried to smile reassuringly at him, but it might not have had the desired effect
He seemed quite troubled as he asked me “Are you really okay with that, Princess?”
“Yes, I’ve also got you nearby if anything happens, so I don’t see the problem”
I kept trying to reassure Dalim that I’d be fine and seeing that I wasn’t going to yield he said “Alright, if that’s what you want, my lady… but don’t forget that you’ve got Cradle’s most dangerous man in your arms”
“There’s no way I’d forget that”
“I’ll be right in that room next to yours, so shout if you need help” with that Dalim left me alone with Amon.
I didn’t want to let go of him, so I sat on the bed and leaned on a pillow placed in front of the bed headboard. I hoped that Amon wouldn’t push me away or have the strength to do that because I wanted to keep him in my arms all night long. I let him rest his head on my chest as I began to caress his back. He was so weak at that moment I could’ve ravished him and he wouldn’t be able to stop me. Well, the plan was to get on his good side, so I wasn’t going to do anything like that. I was also too tired for that.
“Do you enjoy the way I’m touching you, my nutty nutty almond?” I wouldn’t call him this under normal circumstances, but now even if he’s angry he can’t do anything
“Don’t call me that” I heard his annoyed voice, which is what I expected. “Why’re you touching me like this?” he asked the question I hoped he wouldn’t ask. I was afraid he’d say something I wouldn’t like to hear if I expressed my true feelings now, so I just said “I think this will calm you down and help you fall asleep faster, but if you want me to stop I’ll stop”
“No, keep going” I was surprised to hear that he was enjoying this, but I didn’t say anything anymore. Instead, I did the most reckless thing I ever did in my life; I fell asleep with Amon in my arms.
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anglerflsh · 1 year
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"people didn't get canceled before these sjw" Dante put all the people he disliked in literal hell
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mylittleredgirl · 5 days
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thinking about the poll about canon vs non-canon ships that didn't define terms, and the current fandom focus on things "going canon," so i made up a scale.
this is NOT a question about whether canon matters to what you ship (or matters at all), just how to define the phrase "canon ship."
many ships start low on the scale and slow burn their way up, so vote for the point when you would have called them "canon." i agonized over the order (especially #4-6) for a day and a half, but i went with the order in which i think joe random with a nielsen ratings box and no tumblr account would notice/call something a romantic relationship.
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localapparently · 4 months
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/ orv epilogue + sp identity spoilers , cw blood
!! Please do NOT reupload my comics / works anywhere !!
(Read right to left)
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solarmorrigan · 9 months
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I've seen fics and headcanons with Dustin being annoyed by Steve trying to/succeeding in flirting with Eddie, but never really the other way around. So how about instead of being frustrated by Steve "Flirts With Everything That Moves" Harrington trying to hit on his cool new older male friend, Dustin is exasperated by Eddie "Gay Disaster" Munson trying to get with his original older male friend
Dustin: Can you not??
Dustin: He's basically my brother
Dustin: I'm pretty sure this is against some kind of guy code
Eddie: All guy codes go out the window when the person in question is that hot
Dustin: Ew. Also that is incredibly disloyal
Dustin: Also you suck
Eddie: I mean, if I'm lucky-
Dustin: DON'T YOU DARE FINISH THAT SENTENCE
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arthursfuckinghat · 1 month
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The sun is your halo, for it is always above you.
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Arthur and Weetabix 𑁦𐂂𑁦 Scarlett Meadows
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flickering-nightfall · 9 months
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wolfiesmoon · 2 months
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Who is who again?
Riddle, Vil, Idia (seperately) x gn!reader
i was thinking and thinking and then i remembered that basic overdone fanfiction tropes do in fact exist, so here's a silly lil bodyswap fic for the soul
yuu is a little silly prankster goofster who likes messing around and trolling people in this fic, just saying in advance that i did inject a bit of personality in them
also i apologise if the fanfic becomes confusing to read at any point, it's kind of hard writing the reader's actions while in someone else's body, especially when interacting with the person you're swapped with haha
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‧₊˚✩彡 Riddle Rosehearts
"Okay, so you're tellin' me that you're Riddle, and you're the Prefect?" Cater pointed to each of you respectively, still trying to grasp the situation. Trey, Ace and Deuce seemed equaly stumped.
"Yep. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but I'm in Riddle's body now." you replied, shrugging casually. "You shouldn't have told them so early on, Riddle, I wanted to mess around a bit."
"Oh, now I'm very glad I told them so early. Knowing you, you'd cause far too much trouble for me to be able to uphold my reputation." Riddle shuddered, imagining the silly pranks you'd pull on everyone while in his body. Well, I suppose they wouldn't be very silly to him.
"Wait. If I'm in your body, does that..."
You quickly took out Riddle's magical pen and pointed it towards Ace, yelling out "Off with your head!"
To your surprise, it actually worked and Ace had a collar around his neck. So you can use magic now.
"HEY! Why did you do that!?" Ace called you out.
"It's revenge for stealing the bit of food I was saving for last on Friday. And also, I needed someone to test out whether I can use magic now." you smirked mischeviously at his annoyance. Now this is fun.
"This still feels unreal. I cannot believe I'm looking at myself talking to someone else. And fooling around like an idiot, too." Riddle did not seem amused.
"Listen, okay, I finally have magic now and I'm gonna take advantage of that. Which means you better run, Cater." you rubbed your hands together evilly.
"What?! Why me?!" Cater was not prepared for this attack.
"Too much magicam. Not enough reality. Collar needed." you explain like a robot overlord and point Riddle's magical pen at Cater.
"Now, now, let's not do that, okay?" Trey gently wrapped his hand around the magical pen in your outstretched hand, smiling at you.
You were about to shake his hand off and proceed with your collaring plan, but you got a better idea.
"No, no, you're right." you shook your head, lowering your hand. Cater breathed a sigh of relief.
"Since I'm Riddle and all, I have to uphold a perfect test score on every test." everyone looked at you, wondering where you were going with this.
"This might be an awkward time to mention that I haven't studied for tommorow's test at all."
"Oh, no. Absolutely not. You are coming with me." Riddle was not about to let his grades slip by such a wide margin. He'll make you memorise things until atleast a 90% is guaranteed, as much as he would hate to get one.
Originally, he was going to try and figure out how to switch you back as soon as possible but that'll have to wait after tommorow it seems.
"WAIT, CAN YOU LIKE, ATLEAST REMOVE THIS COLLAR BEFORE YOU LEAVE?!" Ace yelled behind you but you just whistled innocently, not paying attention to his despair.
.
"That's how the Queen's succesor managed to- are you even listening?"
"You know, it looks kind of funny when I'm being scolded by myself." you yawned, placing your chin on your arms which were currently crossed on the table.
"This is NO laughing matter. My grades are at stake here." Riddle scolded you some more. You nodded sleepily and he took that as a sign to continue.
"So as I was saying- What are you doing now?" Riddle followed your line of sight, his gaze falling on the mirror inside his room. You were looking at him?
"Woah... You're, like, actually pretty cute." you turned back to him, excited at your discovery.
"...What are you blabbering on about? This is NO time to be fooling around, as I have been telling you for the past- Wow, you really are hopeless." Riddle sighed, watching you examine his face in his mirror and still not listening to the magical history lesson.
It does not help at all that you made him lose composure with that "cute" comment.
"Your eyelashes are nice." You comment, smiling at your own reflection.
"What an oddly specific compliment." Still, Riddle felt all weird inside when you said that. This is not fair. Now he can't focus on teaching you anymore.
"It's not oddly specific, really. Guys have really great eyelashes sometimes." You batted your lashes at the mirror and then at him, trying to showcase his charm.
"That is... very strange. Please stop that." Riddle still felt weird about seeing his own face make such silly expressions.
"Hey, if I were in my own body right now I would be swooning over you. Just for your information." You rolled your eyes playfully, entirely insistant on getting out of studying by flustering the hell out of poor Riddle.
"Wha- That's it, off with your-" Riddle reached for the magical pen which would normally be in one's pocket, only to realise that you don't even own one. Of course.
"Oh, Riddle. You silly goose. I'm the one in power here." You intertwined your fingers like a supervillain.
"Please, let's just get back to studying." If Riddle were in his own body right now, his face would be red all over from embarrasment.
"If you insist." You sighed in feigned defeat, your mind already cooking up more plans to embarrass Riddle while you're in his body.
How very fun indeed.
"Why are you smiling at me like that? That kind of smile does not suit my face." Riddle seemed concerned about his body's fate.
"Hmmm, I wonder how many drinks I can order at the Mostro lounge in one sitting." You wondered aloud on purpose.
"What?!"
"What? I didn't even say anything this time." you faked your innocence.
This is going to be a nightmare for Riddle, isn't it?
‧₊˚✩彡 Vil Schoenheit
"Oh. My. God." you lightly slapped your cheeks while looking at yourself in the mirror to make sure this is reality.
Well, you suppose they aren't exactly your cheeks. You're currently inside Vil freaking Schoenheit's body and you have no idea how it happened.
You do suppose all logic kind of gets thrown out the window in a world where magic exists, so swapping bodies with someone might not be that outlandish. Now you wonder if you're the only one who this happened to, and what your body is up to.
Speaking of being Vil Schoenheit now, does that mean you have to uphold his insanely strict daily routine now?
Nah, who are you kidding? You're going to cause as much trouble as you can for this pretty boy. He wakes up much earlier than you thought, so you don't know what to do right now. You walk around his room, inspecting every corner for some prank ammunition.
Rook knocked on the door all of a sudden, telling Vil that he's worried since he's taking longer than usual. You let him into the room.
You decided that you're not going to tell anyone that you're actually not Vil and and act as him for as long as you possibly can.
"Oh, I was just... thinking about something." you grinned evilly at the mirror, before turning back to face Rook.
"Oh my, it seems you were so lost in thought that you've completely forgone doing your hair and makeup. Quite the unpleasant surprise. What troubles you so?" Rook seemed utterly hearbroken.
Wow, he's blunt sometimes. Not that you care about that right now.
"I was just thinking that I'll probably skip all that today. You know, going for a natural look." You twirled a piece of Vil's hair in your hand.
Rook tried convincing you otherwise but you shooed him out, not wanting to hear anything about how 'a natural look also involves doing subtle, light makeup'. You're on a mission here.
Speaking of, you just got a great idea.
You opened his Magicam after getting dressed, briefly gawking at the follower count before clicking on the 'new post' button.
You placed Vil's phone horizontally against your chest, taking an unflattering chin photo and posting it to magicam with the caption "#chinningtime😍😍😍😍", giggling like an idiot all the while.
Within a minute, your post has already gained about 2 thousand likes and loads of very confused (and amused) comments.
What great encouragement to post another one.
You placed the selfie camera of his phone close to your forehead, taking a forehead touch perspective pic. You added the caption "what my kitten sees😈💯🔥" and posted it.
You were laughing your ass off at all the comments when someone knocked at the door. "Roi du Poison, this is an intervention. I am very concerned about you."
Hahahaha, of course he would be one of the first people to worry about you.
Rook joined you once again in your room, explaining how concerned he is about your behavior this morning and how it's very unlike you. I mean, jeez, is Vil allergic to fun or something?
However, Rook wasn't the only one that had concerns with you, it seems.
"Would you care to explain what these are?" you were surprised to hear your own voice, turning your gaze back to the door where you were standing with a very displeased face, holding up your phone with the two selfies you took earlier. It feels dystopian to see yourself standing right in front of you. Out of body experience, for real.
"Wait. Before anything, just who are you?" you wanted to know just who was in your body, though you were already about 90% sure of it.
"Ah, Trickster. What brings you into Pomefiore?" Rook questioned internally how Vil doesn't recognise you.
"For your information, I am Vil. That other person next to you is not Vil. I'd assume you're the prefect, then?" he looked you with authority, leaving no room for stalling or avoiding his question.
"Yeah, yeah. You got me. But like, it's funny, right?" you shrugged, smiling goofily.
Vil dragged you off to the headmage's office, promising to explain things to Rook later and giving a firm scolding to you.
.
"Now that everything is finally sorted and we're excused from class for the day, would care to delete those... unflattering posts, please?" once the two of you were back in Vil's room, he immediately brought up that topic.
By now, they had to have gathered about 70k likes, right? Hehehehe.
"Do not smile at me like that. Or I will take back my phone and delete those horrid photos myself. Do you even realise what a PR nightmare this could be?" he placed his hands on his hips. You feel like you look completely different now that Vil's mannerisms are reflected on your own body. Body language really makes a man, huh?
"Oh, come onnnn, your fans love it. Everyone's laughing and saying how surprising it is to see you post something like this. See, they even got the hashtag #chinningtime trending!" you showed him pictures of his fans taking the same unflattering chin photos.
"What joy does someone derive from selfies as horrible as that? You made me look utterly horrible with those angles." You watched your own face contort with cringe. It's amusing how funny you look.
"People love silly things from time to time. For a celebrity as serious and professional as you, occasional silliness makes you look more relatable to your fans. A celebrity with a good sense of humor is the best kind in my opinion." you gave him a happy thumbs up. It was also for your own amusement, but you really don't feel like getting scolded even more than you have on your way back to the dorm.
"That is... the smartest thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth." He sighed, "I suppose it would cause people to talk about it even more if I deleted them now. But I am still not happy about them."
You ignored the jab at your intelligence, turning around to look at yourself in the mirror. "You know, Vil, you can let loose from time to time. Smile and goof around without worrying what someone might think." your eyes travelled down the sculpted jawline of your new reflection.
"In a way, you're right for suggesting that. But I'm not someone who enjoys your sense of humor or relaxed philosophy to begin with." he was right. He only jokes on occasion and his jokes aren't very goofy.
"You're right..." now that you technically are him, you can see first hand how much he cares about his body. His skin is soft and gleaming, his hair is healthy and shiny and his body is nice to move around in.
"You seem lost in thought. It's unlike you." you looked back at him through the mirror.
"I just thought about how admirable you are. Like, damn, I could nevaaa." Vil inferred you were talking about his strict daily routine. You seem different now. More quiet and thoughtful than usual. And he definitely didn't miss the pink dusting his cheeks on his own face through the mirror's reflection.
"Thank you." 'admirable' is a compliment slightly rarer than the usual ones talking about his beauty.
"By the way, your smile is beautiful. Not the one in all the movies, the one you don't consciously make." you closed your eyes, recalling that exact face of his. Too pretty for his own good, that man.
"Thank... you. You seem in a great mood to compliment me. Surely you don't think this will be enough to make up for the selfies, because it is not." at this point, even Vil didn't know what to think. The smile he doesn't consciously make, huh...
"Nah, those were just random ones I wanted to get off my mind. Oh, by the way, I don't know how to do your makeup look. Care to do it for me, pookie bear?" you sprung up from the chair at the vanity table, already getting excited about messing him up on purpose by opening your eyes when he tells you not to or moving your lips away from the lipstick, making it smudge.
You got way too sentimental for a moment there. And you're sure he noticed.
"Back to your regular self, I see. Fine, I will make myself look beautiful, as always." he smiled confidently. Though he himself has become curious about that side of you now.
Do you really think of him as a victim of your little pranks like everyone else, or are you hiding something else behind your silly smile?
‧₊˚✩彡 Idia Shroud
You were surprised to find a different voice calling out to you in the morning and telling you to wake up, one that sounded more cheerful, peppy, childlike.
And sure enough, it was Ortho's face that greeted you instead of your usual furry friend Grim.
As it turns out, you woke up in Idia's body this morning. What a lovely surprise.
You mean that both sarcastically and in the regular sense.
While you were explaining what was happening to a confused and worried Ortho, Idia's phone started buzzing somewhere in the bed. This dude sleeps with his phone inside his bed? Well, you suppose you have no time for judgement when the phone call might be important.
You rummage through his bed and eventually extract his phone. It was your number calling him.
When you pick up, you hear your own panicked voice on the other end. "U-Um, is this- Are you- How do..."
"Yes, I'm the Prefect. Looks like we switched bodies overnight." you inferred that he wanted to know who exactly just picked up the phone.
"How exactly do you think that happened? I mean, that's NOT normal." your voice on the other end seemed much calmer now.
"Hm, I have no clue, but I do know that I'm going to have loads of fun..." you grinned widely, catching a glimpse of yourself on Idia's dark phone screen and flinching slightly. You're definitely not going to get used to looking like someone else for a while. Especially if your new appearance is as unique as Idia's.
"What do you mean by that? Seriously, wha-" you ended the call before your voice could finish the sentence.
"Hehehehe... I bet he's panicking so hard right now." you giggled to yourself, still feeling a little weird about the fact that it's Idia's voice coming out of your mouth instead of your own.
"Brothe- No, Prefect. Who was that?" it was adorable how worried Ortho was over his brother. Or you, you suppose.
"Oh, don't worry your pretty little head about it..." you patted Ortho's head, hand moving over his flames with interest. "Go ahead and have fun, I'll be here if you need me." you gently shooed Ortho out of Idia's room to execute your master trolling plan.
You sat behind Idia's computer, booting it up. His computer works really fast, which isn't all that surprising considering his skills. He probably built the whole PC from scratch.
Surely, Idia won't mind if you play his games for a bit. You just want to see how far he's gotten. How many items he's saved up.
Hehehe.
You opened up one of the games you've been dabbling in yourself a bit, giggling to yourself about the random anime girl backround.
"Jeez, he's basically pro at this point." you went through his obtained characters and all the stats on most characters were maxed out.
But, since he still hasn't obtained the new character AND he has loads of gems in his inventory, he surely won't mind if you do the work for him, right?
You started pulling for characters in the gacha, waiting for the little indicator that you got a rare character. The flames of your hair flickered more and more with each pull, knowing you were getting closer.
Just when you got the pull animation you were looking for, the door to his room burst open and you saw yourself, all panicked and panting. Took him long enough, jeez.
"Oh, hi, me! I was just pulling for this character on your behalf, and-" you glance at the monitor "Looks like I won the fifty/fifty, hehe~" you acted cute and innocent.
"W-W-WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! I didn't- I didn't want this character! I was saving up for the re-run, and- Agh!" Idia pushed you away from his keyboard, and he stared at the screen with pure horror in his eyes. You wonder what color his hair would be if he were in his body right now. But as it stands, his flames are flickering happily above your head at a succesful trolling attempt.
"Just buy more gems, bae. Money solves all your problems." you pat his head, kinda cringed out by the way your face can contort when it's making faces candidly. You really look like that when in despair, huh?
Idia ignored the way the casual pet name made him feel. He's supposed to be furious at you right now, not flustered.
"Noooooooo, this is the worst day of my life...." he hid his face in his hands.
"You know what, though? Look at the bright side! I get to figure out how your hair looks when it's wet. I doubt you'd do it yourself and I've been morbidly curious for a while." you patted his shoulder in an overly cheerful manner.
"Wha- Abso-freaking-lutely not. You're a weirdo of the third degree." he crossed his arms, still feeling a bit heartbroken over his videogames being tampered with.
"Is it that weird that I find your hair pretty?" you run your hand through his hair for the thousandth time this morning. It just feels so strange, yet nice under your fingers.
"Finding out if I become bald when my hair gets wet doesn't seem like something a hair admirer would do, but IDK, maybe my definition is different from yours." Idia shrugs, scowl still as big as ever.
"But really, I am an admirer. I kept looking at myself or, well, you in your phone camera this morning because your hair is just so pretty. Watching your hair fluctuate with your emotions is always a fun sight, too. Like damn, your hair is literally on fire, how cool is that?" you explain your thoughts, twirling a piece of his hair in your hand and smiling at it.
"If only I could cuddle up to you and use you like a heater. Too bad your hair's just a normal temperature." Idia's heart almost exploded at the mental image that formed in his head when you said that. And it was even worse because it was coming out of his own mouth.
"T-This is not okay... You can't do this to me...!" he mumbled, not meeting your eyes.
You don't get it, you just dealt 99999 damage to his falling-in-love-resistance shield. Just how do you manage to do that?
"Actually, now that I can look at it up close as much as I want, your face is like, really well proportioned too. Like..." you bit your lip as a joke, wanting to look overly flirty. "That's all I'm gonna say."
Okay, now you've done it. He might just pass out, right now.
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doodlewizardry · 10 months
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Have you ever wanted to find your old Ao3 comments? Easily keep track of which (and how many) fics you've commented on? Rediscover a fic that you left a time capsule of a gushing essay on?
Well, you can! And it's simple! (* Note: it only works for comments written after you turn this on.)
Go to your Preferences:
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There's a checkbox labelled "Turn off copies of your own comments". This is selected by default. If you deselect it (and save your preferences) then you receive an email for every comment you leave.
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But I don't want to get my inbox flooded by Ao3!
Understandable! Luckily, most email clients allow you to set up rules for incoming mail depending on their sender and contents. For instance (using Gmail), I've made it so that these emails skip the inbox, are marked as read, and moved to a label I call my "Comment Collection".
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The result? A complete, organised and fully-searchable repository of any comments you leave from this point onwards! Search by fic name, author, date, that one sentence you vividly remember leaving!
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I've set up other rules, too, like starring emails that are replies to my comments - I'm always excited to receive them!
I love this system, and I think it's motivated me to leave more comments. I hope that others find it useful too. Happy commenting!
Original preferences trick from this Reddit thread. Tagging @justleaveacommentfest, which motivated me to write this post!
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Hello may 31th anon! Look at that, another year behind us and a new one to come. Have a nice day! ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡
#may 31th anon#hello friends!! (。’▽’。)♡ how are you!! I missed you so much!#I'm sorry that once again i have not been posting but I did that thing again where I got scared of posting#I do not know why but it is the same with physical paper diarys#I have 3 diarys and they all have 1 entry#I think one just says 'I am ten'#what have you been up to!! did you do something fun? is it summer too where you live? c:#my tumblr messages seem to be broken! I'm sorry if you wrote something :C it just says 'no new messages' despite also saying new messages#not a lot has happened here! I got a tomato plant and then I got very invested into the tomato plant and I have eaten three tomatos so far (#my roses are also doing well!! I just got a new yellow rose and since she got here she only made orange flowers#I do not know the meaning of that#but I am very thankful! ( ˊᵕˋ )♡ I love it when things are orange!!#I've been trying to buy an orange shirt for the past 2 weeks but they always sell out before I get to them#I'm also thinking about buying a jean jacket#I have not worn a jean jacket for at least 15 years because one time in 7th grade  tthe girl behind me said#that I was wearing a cool jean jacket and I just assumed that this was bullying for no actual reason#but maybe she just thought that it was an acutal cool jean jacket#we'll soon have out 10 year school reunion#maybe I should ask her#is anyone else going to a secret Sherlock phase again#I just want to see that silly little hat again#would sherlock holmes wear a jean jacket#have a nice day everyone!!#see you soon hopefully!!#♡^▽^♡
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foxprints · 8 months
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Self indulgent drawing of Murderbot <3 It and ART are cruising through space, just the two of them, and Murderbot is relaxed and comfortable. ART has more than a few feelings about this and saves an image to its archive -- unfortunately Murderbot is aware of ART watching it and it flips off one of the drones.
(it doesn't dislike the attention ART is giving it... it just makes it a bit flustered!)
See some bonus images (including ones without text) below the cut, along with an explanation of some of the design choices!
I am 100% in the camp of Murderbot having a much more expressive face than it realizes, especially when it's alone and/or comfortable.
All text in the images with a color block behind it is essentially metadata that ART has attached to any tag it makes for Murderbot.
The blue inorganics are purely because @hazelek found a post with early 2000s vibrant, semi-transparent tech and we were joking around about MB getting aesthetic upgrades lmao.
About half the tags in the last image are courtesy of @scificrows alkdjfl;kj thank you dearly for those additions!
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thesunisatangerine · 7 months
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prometeme (promise me)
alexia putellas x streamer!reader
warning/s: nothing, just fluff
a/n in the tags
*first emoji set: grinning face with big eyes and a thumbs up
*second emoji: a thumbs up
You put the controller down, hands shaking, letting out a victorious sigh of relief. 
“Woah, that boss was something else. Jeez, I’m literally shaking, guys. I can’t believe I survived that last hit!” You chuckled, still a little breathless from the adrenaline pumping through you as you looked at the camera. “We nearly died but we pulled through! I’m just going to take a small break ‘cause that was intense!”
You stretched your arms before you grabbed your tumbler of water next to you, allowing your eyes to flit over the windows on your three monitors, ensuring that everything functioned properly for the stream. 
Then as you sipped your water, you spied a rather big influx of comments on one of your chats from the corner of your eyes. It was your Instagram chat that seemed to be in danger of exploding–that fact in and of itself was weird because most of your audience were on Twitch and YouTube. So you frowned, squinting your eyes slightly to see what was happening.
‘why is alexia putellas here?’
‘So…. are we not going to talk about how Alexia Putellas is watching this?’
‘omgggg HI ALEXIAAaA!!!’
‘wait alexia who??’
‘ALEXIA?!!1?!?’
‘FORÇA BARÇA!!!!!!!!’
‘yoooo alexia is here?!?’
‘yall who tf is this alexia???’
Your eyes nearly bugged out of your sockets and you just as nearly spat out the water in your mouth. And sure enough when you scrolled up as subtly as you could, there it was: alexiaputellas joined. What the fuck is she doing?! And as if it wasn’t already bad enough, you saw her comment. 
alexiaputellas: nice 😃👍*
That did nothing but add fuel to the fire because more comments started flooding in, most of them freaked out and confused.
‘guys she just commented!!!!’
‘eyooo look at your chat alexia wants to talk to you!!1!’
‘do you two know each other??’
‘HI ALEXIA!!
‘can somne pls tell me who alexia issss’
‘alexia aren’t you supposed to be training why are you here lol
‘this is so random wtffff’
‘ikr i didnt even know she likes stuff likes this’
And then you spotted the question you dreaded to see: 
‘wait, are you guys dating??!!?!?’ 
Oh, you were so going to kill her for this. But first, you needed to find a way to calm this situation down without arousing further suspicion because if you ignored it, it would definitely just come back to bite the both of you. 
Most of your followers knew that you liked football. You’d mentioned on a number of occasions that Alexia was one of your favorite players so you knew you couldn’t act too dumb but you couldn’t act too familiar, either. You needed to act just excited enough to know that one of your favorite footballers was watching you but not overtly so that it would look unconvincing. Yet still, that wouldn’t answer the question of why Alexia Putellas would be watching a videogame livestream especially when said livestreamer wasn’t someone she followed. Not to mention that the time at where Alexia was supposed to be was–you looked at the clock widget on your monitor that displayed your time and Spain’s–was currently 3 am!
Alexia, you little shit.
Thankfully, you caught sight of a comment on your Twitch chat that gave you a good segue to start addressing this.
“‘Hey, look at your Insta chat,’” you read out before adding, “why? What are you guys up to on there?”
You made a show of moving your mouse. 
“Woah! Okay, why are y’all freaking out?” You squinted your eyes slightly, trying to seem like you were trying to figure out what was happening. Immediately, you were bombarded with responses telling you that Alexia was there.
“‘Alexia Putellas is watching’. Ha, very funny. There’s no way, y’all are just playing me.”
Then another good response popped up for what you said and you read it out loud. “‘She commented something.’ Where?”
You scrolled your mouse profusely, furrowing your brows for effect. Once you found it, you held your breath, widened your eyes slightly and covered your mouth with your hand.
“Holy sh–no, there’s no way… Uh–I don’t know what to–Hi, Alexia! And, thank you?” You put your face in your hands as you let out an embarrassed sound–half-real and partly an act. It wasn’t difficult to imitate a fan when you were one yourself and just because you were dating Alexia that didn’t stop you from fanning over her when she’s on the pitch. 
The chat seemed to calm down and you were thankful that that little play worked. 
Then you added, addressing the chat but you hoped that Alexia would get the clue to not do anything else or better, to leave the live. “This is so weird! I don’t know why she’s on here but Alexia, I hope you enjoy the show!”
To your mortification, Alexia replied in the chat again.
alexiaputellas: don’t worry, i will 👍*
Groaning internally, you watched as the chat exploded again. What did you expect really? You had to admit you played yourself there, you should had known that Alexia would do that. You tried to do damage control but at this point, you just hoped that your followers wouldn’t look into this too much. You made a mental note to talk to Alexia about her not joining any of your streams with her official account. 
“Okay, so I guess we should get this show back on the road, huh?” With that, you picked up the controller and started again. You had about an hour of streaming left and you started counting down the seconds. You only hoped Alexia wouldn’t try anything again.
———
“Thank you to everyone who tuned in tonight! I enjoyed it very much and I hope you did, too! Have a good night–or a good day depending on what time you’re watching this–and I’ll see you guys again in the next stream!”
You waved and directed one last smile at the camera before you disconnected the stream from all your platforms. Then you spent some time tidying up some loose ends before finally shutting everything down. You stretched as you got out of the chair, opened the door of your stream room, and made your way to the living room.
“Did you have fun?” You asked drily, throwing Alexia a dirty look as you crossed your arms and leaned against the doorframe of the living room. Alexia laid comfortably down on the couch, a matching pair of grey sweats and shirt on, feet propped up on one end and one arm under her head on the other. She placed her phone down on the coffee table when she heard your voice, looking at you with an innocent look though the cheeky quirk at the corner of her lips said anything but.
“Well, since you asked, I did.” She added, grinning, “you looked so cute flustered like that.”
“You’re unbelievable!” You grumbled as you threw your hands up in exasperation but there was no sting to it. And what did you get in response? The sound of cheerful laughter. It was contagious and the mask on your face cracked, making way for a smile that left your cheeks hurting from how wide it was.
You walked towards the couch and Alexia scooched over, making space for you as she held her hand out the moment you got close enough. 
“Come here. I missed you.” Alexia said in a soft voice, her hazel eyes just as gentle in the low light. She pulled you down so you’d lay against her side, your head on her chest and you sighed contentedly, immediately melting in her tender warmth, her arms strong and steady wrapped around your waist. 
“It’s ony been three hours.”
“That was three hours worth of not having you next to me.” She kissed the top of your head as she muttered the words and you felt your chest ache as if your heart wanted to burst out to reach for hers. Being this close to her, it was the best place in the world. 
You hummed in response, nuzzling your nose against the column of her neck and breathed her in. “You’re such a sweet-talker.”
“Not if it’s true, my love.” Alexia countered without a second thought. Your cheeks and ears warmed and you hid your face in the crook of her neck.
“Alexia, stop!” 
You felt the vibration of her laughter against your cheek. “What? I’m not doing anything!”
“Yes, you are. You’re doing everything right that sometimes it scares me,” you admitted in a whisper. Alexia brought a hand over your cheek and brushed the skin there with her thumb in a soothing manner.
“Who’s the sweet-talker now?” Alexia said teasingly.
“God, you’re so annoying. I don’t know why I love you.”
At that, she laughed again. “You like it when I’m like this. And I love you, too.”
A moment of comfortable silence filled what little space between you. You listened to the steady rhythm of Alexia’s heartbeat beneath your ear as she played with your hair. 
Then you spoke, “just promise me one thing, darling?"
“What?” Alexia hummed.
“Warn me before you do that again.”
She turned to catch your gaze, brilliant mischief twinkled in those hazel eyes, her dimples showed as she said, “that I can’t do.”
“Alexia!”
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steddieas-shegoes · 7 months
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98. “if we weren’t in public right now i’d have my head between your legs” 👀
READICUS. Okay. Alright. I've caught the context disease from you though.
Rated M | tags: language, flirting, dirty talk, so much discussion about sex they might as well be having it, getting together, FWB to lovers
😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉
It was just grocery shopping.
They were in a grocery store.
Eddie should not be getting hard watching Steve pick out the ripest bananas.
Like, genuinely, even he knew this was as ridiculous as it could get.
It's just that they'd been casually fucking for the last few weeks, letting off steam, just dudes helping dudes through their synchronous dry spells, and watching Steve pay so much attention to a fucking banana was a lot for Eddie to wrap his mind around.
Casually fucking might not even be the right term.
It was more like...fucking like rabbits.
Eddie spent more time at Steve's house than he spent at his own, and most of that time was spent either naked or trying to be.
He spent the night last night, and only agreed to come shopping with Steve after a very convincing blowjob against the kitchen counter.
It was working for them.
Except for how much Eddie loved Steve. Not like a friend, or a brother, or the way he loved his Hellfire minions. He loved Steve in the "would marry you in Vegas and have tons of babies with you if you wanted" way.
So embarrassing.
Especially taking into consideration that there was no way Steve saw their arrangement as anything more than convenient.
He watched as Steve finally settled on the perfect bunch of bananas and shuffled back to the cart that Eddie was leaning on.
Eddie leaned forward as Steve leaned over the cart, his lips brushing against his ear.
"If we weren't in public right now, I'd have my head between your legs," he whispered.
Which was bold of him considering the grocery store was packed with weekend shoppers.
Steve tensed, his body freezing completely as Eddie backed away, smiling and waving at an old lady glaring at him.
"What the fuck, Eds."
Steve's cheeks were fire engine red, his hands gripping the edge of the cart like it was the only thing holding him up.
"What? I just thought you should know how bad I want you," Eddie shrugged.
They flirted with each other all the time, that's what led to their situation in the first place: the flirting went a bit too far and Steve ended up on his lap, rocking his hips back and forth until he came in his jeans.
No big deal.
Just another day.
But never in public, barely even around someone they trusted.
"Here? Now?" Steve squeaked out, eyes widening comically.
"Why not? You're hot," Eddie's hand grazed his lower back, just enough of a touch to tease, not enough to really be noticed by anyone else.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Steve hissed. "You want people to see?"
"No, 'course not," Eddie smirked. "I just want you to feel."
Watching Steve struggle to find words, struggle to flirt, was possibly the biggest win in Eddie's book. If he could pat himself on the back for it, he would.
"We're in public."
"Stevie, I hate to say it, but being in public doesn't really stop me from wanting to get on my knees and suck your dick."
Steve's face got impossibly darker, only spurring Eddie on more.
"If I wasn't so worried about being walked in on, I'd drag you to the bathroom right now. Maybe fuck you in a stall. You'd probably like that, huh? You liked when I fucked you against the shower wall the other day," Eddie let his fingers trace along Steve's arm, subtle, easy to pull away if someone got too close to them.
"Eddie-"
"Or maybe you'd wanna fuck me. I know how much you like throwing me around and showing off sometimes. Think that would work for you?"
Eddie watched as Steve shivered, biting his lip and doing his best to hold back a whine.
"But we won't do that, right? Because only I get to see you like that. The way you fuck me, the way I fuck you, that's just for us, isn't it?"
Steve nodded.
Eddie looked around, confirmed no one was close enough to see, and settled a hand on the front of Steve's jeans.
"This is just for me."
"Yeah, just for you," Steve choked out, his hand grasping at Eddie's wrist to either pull it away or hold it in place. "Eds-"
"I know, Stevie. But we gotta shop. That's what you said when you were on your knees in the kitchen this morning."
"I can shop later," Steve gasped as Eddie's hand squeezed once before pulling away.
They were in public and there was only so much Eddie was willing to try to get away with, but Steve's reaction was everything.
He looked away, focusing on the apples in front of him as if he cared at all about apples when Steve Harrington was hard right next to him.
He froze.
He thought about everything he'd just said, how possessive he'd sounded, how he'd never quite crossed that line before.
How into it Steve was.
He looked back at Steve, who was still staring at him, face almost back to a normal shade, but lips bitten red and eyes glassy.
"Steve?"
"Hm?"
"Do you want that to be just for me?" Eddie should not be having this discussion in the grocery store.
"Do I what?"
"Do you want to be mine? Like, more than just...fucking?" Eddie should not be having this discussion in the grocery store.
"Is that...an option?" Steve was letting him have this discussion in the grocery store.
"If you want it to be."
Every once in a while, Eddie saw this look in Steve's eye, only ever when he was looking at Eddie doing something stupid or funny or when he was messing around with the kids.
He never let himself think that it was anything more than just Steve getting distracted while looking at him.
He could see it now, though, and he couldn't ignore what that look actually was.
"I want it. I want you."
Eddie was fucked. In more ways than one, it seemed.
"You do?"
"Why is that so hard to believe? You've practically been living with me for weeks, dude."
Eddie's lips curled down, disgusted.
"Don't call me dude, oh my God."
Steve laughed.
"I'll make it up to you when we get home," he winked, turning around and pretending that he didn't just make Eddie's brain short circuit.
"I- what-" Eddie sputtered.
"What? Can't handle my mouth? You handle it fine earlier."
God, Eddie loved this man.
"Stevie, how fast can you finish shopping?" Eddie started pushing the cart away, not even sure if he was going in the right direction.
"If you stop distracting me, ten minutes."
"I'll be in the car, then."
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solarmorrigan · 4 months
Text
I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!
[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]
-
Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.
“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.
“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.
“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.
He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.
“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”
Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”
Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.
“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.
This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”
Steve snorts. Is he okay?
Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”
Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.
Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.
And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”
It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.
He couldn’t.
He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.
So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.
But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.
“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”
Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.
“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.
Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.
“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”
Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”
“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.
“I guess,” Steve mutters.
“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”
Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.
Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.
Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.
“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”
At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.
“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”
But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.
“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”
“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”
“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”
Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”
In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”
Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”
Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”
“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.
“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.
And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?
(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)
(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)
“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.
“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”
Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”
“Sort of?” Munson presses.
“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.
“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”
“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).
“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”
Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”
“Ah,” Munson says.
“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”
“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.
Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”
“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.
“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”
“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”
Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”
“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.
“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”
The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”
“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”
Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.
“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.
He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.
“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”
That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).
“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.
“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”
“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.
“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”
Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.
“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”
“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?
“What?” Steve asks.
“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”
“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”
And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”
“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”
“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.
Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”
“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”
Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”
Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”
Steve blinks at him. “What?”
“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.
It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.
On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.
“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.
Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.
“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.
“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.
“Hm.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”
It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.
“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.
Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.
He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?
Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.
He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.
The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.
After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.
“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.
“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.
When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.
“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”
Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”
“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.”
Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.
(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)
“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.
If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.
He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.
“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”
Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”
“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”
“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”
Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”
“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”
“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.
Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”
“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.
His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”
“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.
“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.
“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”
Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.
“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”
Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”
Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.
Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”
Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.
“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.
“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”
Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”
And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.
And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.
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jetcorax · 12 days
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