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streetsweepershenanigans · 3 months

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Out of all the '86 flyboys who became like uncles to little Bradley, it wasn't Mav, it wasn't Slider, it wasn't even Wolf or Wood- who taught him his first swear word, it was Ice He'd done it with his nieces and nephews and little cousins before, so why would Bradley be any different? Of course, he figured one of the others would have beat him to it, but the shocked and speechless look on Maverick's face told him otherwise.

When no one had been looking, he'd quietly beckoned Bradley over with a "Hey, baby Goose, com'ere." When Bradley's little voice had proudly chirped "fuck" over the dinner table, Maverick had immediately choked on his food and dropped his fork while Carole immediately burst out in laughter so contagious, Ice couldn't help but catch on. Mav's pale face and shocked expression only making the situation funnier.

"Carol, I swear- I didn't- I never-" Maverick rushed to defend himself.

"Oh honey, I know. And I know I didn't, which means," Carol turned on Ice then, and damn. He didn't think of that. He figured Maverick would've already pulled the stunt. "Mr. Goody two-shoes, Thomas 'Iceman' Kazansky, is the first person to teach my son a swear word." Carol cackled while pointing and accusing finger at him.

"Ice-" Maverick implored in disbelief.

"Well, I figured-" Ice gestured over to Maverick while struggling to conceal his grin.

The conversation turned from their to all three adult coaching little Bradley on how, yes- that is a word, and no, it's not a very nice one that should ever be used, all while desperately trying to suppress their laughter.

However it was Ice who would suffer the unforseen consequences of his little prank, as over the years, neither Maverick nor Bradley- now proudly Rooster, would ever let him forget that it was Admiral Thomas "Iceman" Kazansky, Commander of the Pacific Fleet who had taught him his first swear word.

#icemav #top gun #maverick #iceman #top gun 1986 #top gun maverick #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #bradley rooster bradshaw #baby bradley #carol bradshaw #minific

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madaboutmunson · 1 year

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Corroded Coffin are rehearsing a new, extremely thrashy, purely instrumental song.

Eddie said it didn't need words. They wouldn't do it justice. This was a song that should "Punch you through your chest, grab your spine and tear your skull right out," or at least that's what Eddie said it should do.

Eddie has already nailed the lead, and rhythm guitar parts, essentially thunderous, chugging, down-picked power chords, and a face-melting, ear-splitting solo that sounds like the guitar is howling in pain, screaming.

Gareth and Jeff try their best to replicate the beat Eddie is tapping out and the sounds he's making, and they match it precisely every time.

That's just what you had to get good at real fast when playing with Eddie. He might write down ideas and lyrics, but the music itself...forget about it.

"No. No. No!" Eddie throws himself backward over the empty beer crate in frustration. "Guys, I know it's not you. It's not right. I can't convey what is in my head. I just..." Eddie looks thoughtfully out of the garage, frowning slightly, trying to figure it out.

"How about me and Gareth put our thinking caps on and try to come up with a few things similar to what we already played," Jeff suggests brightly, turning back to Gareth on the kit, who already looks close to exhausted. They had been going at the song all afternoon.

Eddie leaps out of his seat, "What time is it?" he says with urgency looking intensely at Gareth.

"Time you gotta-" Gareth starts before getting cut off by Eddie running around and grabbing his wrist.

"Ok, ok!" Eddie runs into the house.

The band listens at the door.

"Henderson?...*mumbling*...Uh-huh...I just want your opinion on it...oh, I see...noooo, sorry my dude, I can't...oh, he can?...I guess...ok, cool, later" Even though Eddie had made the call to Dustin, his tone was like he was trying to sound as disinterested as possible.

The jangling of chains indicates Eddie is running back to the garage and everyone scrambles back to their original, casual positions.

Eddie bursts back through the door, a wicked grin on his face, "The answer is on the way. Just follow my lead. I need you to say absolutely nothing about it. Just listen and play, alright?"

The band nods. Everyone in Corroded Coffin had their turn to present songs to the band, and each had displayed their fair share of theatrics in rehearsal, so this kind of display wasn't unusual. But this was an Eddie epiphany, and these tended to be the most dramatic. Jeff and Gareth smile at one another knowingly. He had been working on his song since the hospital. He said it was inspired by something he saw when he was on the run.

"How about we take a break, huh?" Eddie says, producing a grocery bag of drinks and snacks for the band, "Take a short rest to max out HP before round 2, yeah?" Eddie unleashes his most charming smile, and of course, the band agrees, even though the practice had already overrun by about an hour.

Twenty minutes later, the familiar BMW rolls up on the driveway.

Dustin stumbles out of the car in his hurry and rushes towards the band, "So let's hear it!" He's totally hyped about being chosen for an opinion on a Corroded Coffin song.

"Yeah, in a minute..." Eddie says, watching the car.

Steve Harrington emerges, nods a greeting at everyone, and the look on his face reads whatever it was, he was over it. He leans back on the hood of his car, arms folded, and waits, occasionally checking his nails or looking around with a bored expression.

Eddie puts down his guitar and walks into the house.

Dustin stands gobsmacked, gesturing with his hands at the spot Eddie was just standing in and turning around, looking completely lost, to the other band members for answers, but they only have shrugs.

Moments later, Eddie re-emerges, but he's sneaking up behind the car. Something in his hands. Some kind of rubber bat or something. He pulls back his arm and throws it at Steve with all his might.

Steve almost leaves his body for a second when this thing makes contact with the side of his face. He hurriedly grabs it and rips it apart. Eddie is standing there, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly agape.

Then, Steve looks into his hands and turns to Eddie, looking less than impressed. Eddie is snickering, no, he's giggling, and walking backwards into the garage as Steve berates him, hand on hip, accusing finger pointing at a grinning Eddie.

Eddie circles around the drum kit, Steve still pacing after him, and he grabs Gareth's hand and puts it to his chest.

Gareth smiles, "Oooooh, I'm gonna need the double kick pedal for this one" Jeff raises his eyebrows and rushes to get it for him, and sets it up while Gareth can't move.

Eddie is still grinning wildly as Steve lectures him on the dangers of scaring someone who has nearly died on numerous occasions.

Dustin still looks absolutely bewildered until Gareth's sticks smack the skins of his drums, and the double kick pedals against the bass drum start to drown Steve out, even though he's still trying to make himself heard.

"Oh fuck yeah!!" Eddie shouts, "That's fucking it" Jeff follows the rhythm on the bass and starts to move around the notes for the scale in the designated key.

"This is heavy as fuck!!" Dustin shouts, causing Steve to focus on him and his foul language, leaving Eddie free to grab his guitar.

As Eddie swings his sweetheart around into position, he drops into a low rock stance, dragging his plectrum along the strings as he and the rhythm guitar play their parts over the new bass and drums.

The whole band is headbanging in unison, as is Dustin, and Steve gives up, shakes his head, and goes back to leaning against his car, tapping his watch at Dustin.

As Eddie launches into the solo, he runs up to the BMW and leaps onto the hood of it, and makes the guitar squeal. Steve is absolutely not ok with this in any way, he's yelling and waving his arms around, but all it does is make Eddie point his guitar at him as he plays and sticks his tongue out of his mouth like a demon.

Eddie jumps back down once the solo is over, leaving Steve to frantically search his car for something to clean the hood with.

Dustin, a little dazed from all the headbanging, is jumping up and down with the band as the song comes to a close.

"That beast is going in the set list, my dudes!" Gareth gets up from his kit and makes his way over to the wall set list, "Er…what's it called, Eddie?"

Eddie looks a little nervous, "Oh…er…I don't know…I hadn't thought of one yet" Dustin sees him sneakily try to slide a notepad off the crate and onto the floor. Dustin grins and intercepts it, and runs out of Eddie's reach before he can grab it

Dustin raises his eyebrows at the pad and giggles, "No title, huh? What about this right here at the top of all your notes? Looks like a title to me" Dustin pokes at the pad with a big smile on his face.

"Er…well…that's just when I've been doodling when I'm thinking," Eddie says, trying his best to look unbothered, but he is edging his way towards Dustin and the notepad.

Dustin laughs again, "So are you saying you were just deep in thought, wistfully looking into the distance, absentmindedly doodling, and this is what was on your mind?" Dustin takes a few steps away again, noticing Eddie's subtle approach.

"No, absolutely not that, I just meant…er…it's a working title…yeah, that's it. Yep." Eddie tries again, but the stress is starting to show on his face. His mouth is tense, and his eye twitches a little, "So, if you'd kindly give it back, Dustin!"

Realising there is a joke happening he isn't the butt of, Steve peers over Dustin's shoulder to read the pad. All he says is, "Huh." He shakes his head, puts a hand on his hip, and approaches Eddie.

Eddie looks like a deer in headlights as Steve reaches for the pen sticking out of his mass of hair and returns to Dustin and the pad.

Steve smiles big and laughs, shaking his head, and glances up at Eddie. as he puts pen to pad, Steve says, "Sleeve has two e's in the middle, you silly goose!"

Steve looks proud. Eddie has never looked more relieved, and everyone else is looking at Steve in shock.

"What? It's an easy spelling mistake to make. Anyway, I've fixed it now. You're welcome." Steve says, looking around the garage with wide eyes because not one of these little shits said thank you.

Eddie walks over and smiles smugly at Dustin, taking back his pad, "Yes, thank you very much, Harrington. None of these goons spotted it"

"Anytime, Munson," Steve claps his hands together at Dustin, "Henderson, come on, the game is gonna start soon."

As Dustin gets into the car, Eddie gives them a little dainty finger wave, the smug grin still on his face.

He's never been more grateful to have forgotten to cross a t in his life.

This song when Corroded Coffin make it big

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lizardlicks · 4 months

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Momo surprise

“I’m a little worried about Momo,” Aang said to his friends as they gathered around the morning campfire and started preparing for their day. “He’s been acting kind of off lately.”

The lemur in question was fussily nosing around Aang's abandoned bedroll in tight circles. As the group of teens watched, he laid down in a curl, chirped unhappily then got up and resumed tugging and scratching at the bedding. “How can you tell?” Sokka asked. He was by no means a lemur behavior expert. To him all of Momo’s actions were strange. It was possible that Aang's Avatar-ness gave him some kind of spirit connection to flying lemurs. Unlikely, but still possible.

“He doesn’t have as much energy, even though he’s sleeping more.” Aang explained, frowning. “You don’t think he’s sick, do you?”

“Maybe it’s the climate?” Katara offered helpfully. She wasn’t a lemur expert either, but she and Sokka had struggled the first few weeks with adjusting to the Earth Kingdom’s warmer weather. As far as she or anybody else knew, Momo has lived his entire life in the towering, windswept peaks around the Southern Air Temple, so maybe the sudden change had affected him too, she reasoned.

“It’s because you’ve been giving him too many treats,” Sokka told Aang matter-of-factly. Lemurs were outside of his wheelhouse, but he'd helped the older boys with conditioning the polar dogs for sled pulling every fall. Spoiled pups turned lazy and fat, a hard lesson to learn for the littler children who only wanted to express their love.

“You think so?” Aang looked contrite.

“Yup,” Sokka said as he reached to snag a piece of star berry off the board Katara was using to prepare their breakfast. He snatched his hand back with a squawk when she smacked him.

“He is looking a little pudgy, Aang,” Katara said without taking her eyes off the food. Poaching brothers were too wily to be given that kind of an opening.

“Monkey feathers. I just can’t resist him when he gives me The Eyes.”

“I know,” Katara agreed. “He’s weaponized his cuteness.” “You’re going to have to.” Sokka nimbly dodged a sister elbow, but he still didn’t quite manage to snag any tidbits from Katara’s pile of fruit. “It’s for his own good.”

Momo, apparently noticing he was being talked about, finally abandoned the bedding to perch on Katara’s knee. “No, bad lemur!” She snatched her cutting board up and held it over her head. “No more extras for you!”

Sokka whooped in victory as he snagged a slice of moon peach and popped it into his mouth before Katara could adjust her defenses. “You’re on a diet, mister,” he informed the lemur as he sucked the juice from his fingers.

Momo chittered and pinned his ears back.

“Sorry, buddy,” Aang said regretfully as he scooped Momo up and tucked him into the crook of his elbow. “I already gave you a big handful of lychee nuts when you woke me up, you’re gonna have to wait until lunch time for more food.”

Aang could never quite tell just how much human speech Momo understood, but the lemur appeared to grasp something about the situation. He curled his tail around and grasped it anxiously, cooing at Aang with all the force of The Eyes that one tiny flying mammal could muster.

Aang held strong. For all of three seconds. “Okay... well. Maybe a couple berries wouldn’t hurt?”

--------

“AAAAAANG!”

The young monk bolted upright in his bedroll at the sound of his name, startled out of a sound sleep. Sokka was loud. Loud and very upset.

“What!? What is it?” He blinked several times, then rubbed at his face, trying to get his eyes to focus on anything distinct before he realized the reason he couldn't see anything was because dawn was still hours away. The moon hung in the sky, a crescent barely thicker than a thumbnail, with no light to offer. Hedgegoosebumps broke out across his arms. Aang hugged himself as the night pressed in, suddenly no longer a sheltering veil, but full of hidden threat from enemies he couldn’t see.

The sleeping lump to his right rustled and shifted as Katara sat up in her bed roll. “Sokka-haaah,” her voice stuttered, breaking off with a yawn. “What's wrong?”

“What's wrong? What’s wrong!?” Sokka was rapidly climbing in pitch with each repetition. “Why don’t you look at this situation and tell me, huh?”

“Uhh.” Aang squinted into the dark and tried to make sense of their camp. Appa was still peacefully snoring several yards away, completely oblivious to the sudden chaos. Katara was wiggling and shuffling her way out of her sleeping bag, growling unflattering things at Sokka under her breath, and Sokka. Sokka was standing in the middle of their sleeping circle. He looked like he was holding something, but Aang could not for the life of him see what it was.

“We can't see anything without light, Sokka,” Katara groused. She finally won her struggle with her sleeping roll and started patting around for her bag. “You couldn't have lit a fire before you started yelling loud enough to alert the Fire Lord himself?”

“Oh, gee, why didn't I think of that! Could it possibly be because I'm dealing with Aang's mess over here!?”

Aang didn't remember leaving a mess. In fact he'd been careful to pack up everything before turning in for the night just in case they had to make a quick getaway. A few too many lost supplies had trained him quickly.

“What are you talking about?” He asked while stretching, less alarmed now that he knew Sokka was just. Well, being Sokka. They weren't being attacked, there was no life or death situation he had to fight through in the pitch dark.

Katara, having retrieved some kindling from her pack, scooted over to their banked campfire and began to poke the coals awake. She had apparently given up any hope of going back to sleep until her brother was sorted out. Even Appa was starting to rumble awake with the commotion.

“You said Momo was a boy!” Sokka hissed.

Aang. Blinked. “Yeah?” he said, uncertainty clouding his mind. He must still be dreaming, why would Sokka wake up the whole camp to debate their pet’s gender?

“Then explain this!” Sokka shoved his cupped hands out, away from the protective shield of his body, just as the fire flared with a pop and Katara's satisfied grunt.

Cradled in between his palms, fur still sodden and sticking, was the teeniest, tiniest lemur Aang had ever seen.

#sokka #aang #katara #momo #the gaang #minific #atla fanfic #atla #avatar the last airbender #lizard writes stupid things

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lihhelsing · 4 months

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“Can I ask you a question?”

Stiles tried to keep a neutral face but the annoyance blooming on Derek’s expression was enough to make him pop a grin.

“I hate you,” Derek said even though he didn’t mean it. Or at least Stiles hoped he didn’t mean it otherwise the fact that they were dating for almost a year now would be very weird.

“But can I?”

Derek huffed, “yes.”

“Do you think I’m cute?”

Derek rolled his eyes and walked away before Stiles could stop him.

“Can I ask you a question?”

There was no smiling this time. No mischievous laughter alongside the question. The question so he could ask a question. The infinite loop of everything that scared Stiles.

Derek wouldn’t meet his eyes. Stiles knew why. Knew Derek’s girlfriend was close by, standing by the cheese table chatting with a friend as Stiles watched his heart beat outside of his body in the shape of a grumpy man.

Stiles didn’t mean to bump into Derek like that. He had no idea Derek and whatshername would be there at the party. But looking back at it, he should’ve known. He should’ve felt the dread filling up his body as he made his way into the party hearing the telltale laugh of the man whose heart he’d broken.

“Yes,” Derek said, eyes glued on the floor.

“Are you happy?”

Derek walked away, the silence of Stiles’ unanswered question almost too much to bear.

“Can I-“

“Shut up,” Derek was looking ahead, hands wrapped around Stiles’ waist as if it was nothing.

“But Derek I-“

“You’re drunk so you should keep your mouth shut.”

Stiles had never in his life kept his mouth shut. Asking permission to ask a question, any question, was just an excuse to talk even more. To see the false annoyance on Derek’s face and know it was nothing more than pure affection. At least it was.

“I still have questions,” Stiles huffed. Maybe he really was drunk.

“Of course you do.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“Of course I can’t,” Derek replied, sounding more resigned than annoyed.

Derek stopped moving and he propped Stiles’ body against a wall. The party was still in full swing outside this dark room and Stiles was feeling brave, especially with Derek’s hands around him.

“Do you love her?”

Derek didn’t reply but it was like Stiles could feel him rolling his eyes.

“Stiles…”

“Derek.”

Derek sighed. “The answer is not what you think it is.”

Stiles frowned, confused.

“Do you still wanna be with her?”

“Fuck me.”

Stiles felt Derek’s grip tightening around his waist. Felt Derek take an impossible step closer until his chest was pressed against his.

“Derek, can I-“

“Just ask the right question, Stiles.”

Stiles’ head was spinning. He was definitely drunk and he didn’t even know there was a right question to be asked. He was just being annoying. Just trying to get Derek’s attention away from that girl and back to him. He had been scared, back then. Of how intense their relationship was. Of how his silly high school crush had become the man of his dreams right before his eyes. Of how everyone was always saying Derek and Stiles were a bad idea up until the moment Derek and Stiles started to seem like a good idea. A perfect one.

Stiles had been scared of how serious everything felt all of a sudden.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Stiles wasn’t sure why that was the question that popped into his head. He wasn’t sure he was the right one and for a second he thought he was too drunk for this. He felt Derek’s hands leaving his waist and thought that was it. He was done for.

But then Derek’s hands were cupping his face instead and Derek was close. Too close.

“What do you think?” Derek asked.

“Thought I was the one asking questions,” Stiles replied, delighted to see the roll of Derek’s eyes. That meant Derek had come back from his indifference to the affectionate annoyance.

“She’s my cousin, Stiles.”

Stiles’ world tilted. Then went back to its rightful place.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes.”

“Will you kiss me, then?”

Derek huffed but he was smiling. He was pleased. He leaned in and pressed his lips against Stiles’. It was soft and chaste but it was enough to send a jolt of electricity everywhere on his body. Stiles let his hands wrap around Derek so he could pull him close.

There were still too many questions he wanted to ask, but for now, he would keep his mouth busy with what really mattered.

Written for the Spotify Wrapped challenge with the song Question...? by Taylor Swift for @bleedingoptimism (ily)

You can submit yours too!

#sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sterek fic #minific #spotify wrapped challenge #writing challenge

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thebiscuiteternal · 19 days

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Happy NHS thought: Imagine he rescues and adopts the chonkiest and surliest pigeon known to man and names it Da Ge. Because the “ge” in the Chinese word for pigeon is the same sound as “ge” in big brother

So it turns out most pigeon species that have appropriately-Nie coloring live too far south... but an unfamiliar pigeon where it shouldn't be would so catch his attention pretty effectively, SO.

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

"What. Is that?" Nie Mingjue asked when he saw what his little brother was holding.

"He's a pigeon! I think."

It didn't look much like any pigeon Mingjue had ever seen. Most of it was the iridescent black-green of a crow, with a few areas that shone closer to purple and others that were entirely pitch black. There were also some patches where it was missing feathers, as if it were scarred from a fight. And finally, it was huge for a pigeon, its feathery bulk taking both hands for Nie Huaisang to hold.

The only things that looked remotely-pigeon-like about it were the shape of its beak and its blank-eyed stare as it turned its head this way and that to get a look at the room they were in.

And then it looked at him, and he felt a little chill crawl down his spine.

He'd swear that thing was glaring at him.

"Where did you find it?" he asked, pretending not to have noticed.

"On the way home from town. He must've gotten in a fight, because was sitting at the bottom of a tree because he couldn't fly, see?"

The pigeon allowed Huaisang to stretch out its left wing without so much as an attempt to bite, showing off that it had some feathers missing there, too, including a gap in the flight feathers.

"Hrr." The pigeon's attempt at cooing was just as rusty and damaged as its wing, which did absolutely nothing to make Mingjue less uneasy about it.

"What are you going to do with it?"

"Well, some of his injuries are too old for the feathers to grow back, but this I can fix," Huaisang said, pointing to the missing flight feathers. "And then he can decide where he wants to go."

Mingjue rather hoped that meant it would leave. While it seemed to have no issues being poked and prodded by his brother, he didn't like the looks it kept giving him.

"C'mon, Da-ge, let's get you something to eat and a better look at that wing," Huaisang said cheerfully as he turned to head for the aviary.

"Don't call it that," Mingjue muttered before he could catch himself.

Huaisang grinned at him over his shoulder and turned to hold up the bird. "Aw, c'mon. Doesn't he look like a Da-ge? He's got your grumpy face and everything!"

"It does not."

Huaisang laughed before turning to leave again, and he would swear the noise the pigeon made meant it was laughing at him too.

#mdzs #nie bros #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #and a weird bird #fanfic #minific

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thatweirdguyinthebushes · 9 months

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"Why do you trust him?" Jean finally asks.

"He... he saved my life," Kim responds. There is more, there is always more, board games and dancing and good shots, but it's the only thing he knows how to say.

"He's saved a lot of lives," Jean says heavily, tone implying that his own life was one of them. "When you're backed in a corner, when you're dying? Best partner you'll ever have."

He takes a long drag from his cigarette, then stubs it out. Kim feels almost offended by how much he leaves above the filter. He smokes his down to the stub.

Jean's face is not angry, not like it was. It is instead very deeply sad. He looks like a man in mourning.

"It's when you're not dying that's the problem. Harry's a fucking ace at dying. It's trying to live with him that'll kill you."

He doesn't give Kim time to respond. Before he can even open his mouth, Jean is gone.

#my writing #disco elysium #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #jean vicquemare #kimharry #writing #minific #drabble

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noyzinerd · 1 year

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What if this wasn't just because the show was adhering to censorship guidelines?

I like to think that this is just Derek.

As in, he doesn't swear.

I imagine that Stiles inadvertantly learns from Peter that Derek had always been an exceptionally good boy as a kid. He had good grades and was always polite, with good manners. He always listened to his mother, did all his chores, never drank or did drugs, always made curfew, and loved to smile.

As Stiles pays closer attention the following days, he realizes that that sweet golden boy is still there under that hard exterior. After the fire, after Kate, all that innocent kid did was put on the scariest face he could manage to seem tough in a cruel world he wasn't prepared for. It was like when a mormon missionary went out into the real world for the first time or when an Amish teenager got set loose in the city for Rumspringa. Derek was still a good boy at heart under the "gives no fucks" persona he had made for himself. He always made sure to throw his recyclables in the correct bin, he neatly folded his clothes, he held open doors for people, he addressed the sheriff as Sir or Sheriff, he washed his plate immediately after he finished eating, even if he was a guest, and he didn't cuss.

Whenever it seemed like Derek was going to swear, he'd bite his lower lip to catch himself before smoothly transitioning into a more appropriate word at the last second. It seemed to be more like a habit he never grew out of as a teen rather than an uncomfortableness around the words, though. He never seemed to have a problem when Stiles swore. In a way, it was as if a small part of Derek never really grasped that he was all grown up now, that he wasn't still that same helpless pup pretending to know what he was doing.

After this realization, Stiles tries to encourage Derek to cuss more. Not all the time. Just whenever the urge hit.

"Don't try to stifle it. It's not the end of the world if you say fuck."

And slowly, but surely, Derek eases up on the self-censorship and gets a little more used to saying the occasional swear. He definitely doesn't do it very often, but at least he's stopped using cuss-substitutes.

But something interesting happens when Derek is arguing with a rival werewolf over a territorial dispute, both fully beta-shifted with their claws out. See, most people, when they cuss someone out, there's a type of logic behind what they say. However, when Derek gets mad enough, since he's so new to cursing, he instead just rapid-fire throws out every curse he knows in a lawless ambush of words.

So when the other guy calls Derek a "fucking pussy," Derek shoots back with a:

"YoU dAMn bitCh FUCK! YOuR MOthEr shiT piSseS yoUr wHORe cOcK in asS heLL, yOu FUCKASS fUCkiN' hOLe SLuT!"

Meanwhile, Stiles is in the back like:

#sterek #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #mieczysław stiles stilinski #tyler hoechlin #dylan o'brien #minific #The other werewolf: did he just call me a hole slut?#Stiles is so proud and supportive of him

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actual-bill-potts · 10 months

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"We are nearly there," said Finarfin. He pulled Findaráto - Finrod, he reminded himself, I must remember, Finrod - into a one-armed hug. He could not stop sneaking glances at his son. His son, his grown son! His returned son!

Finrod was quieter within himself than of old, and his smile was a little lopsided; but he was bright and tall, and gentle, and he raised one eyebrow whenever he had a question in the quizzical manner that was Eärwen’s, and sometimes as they walked he tapped one finger upon his cheekbone absent-mindedly in just the way he had done as a child, and Finarfin’s heart ached with loss and joy both.

He opened the little gate and led the way down the familiar winding path. He and Eärwen had decided, long ago, that it was necessary to have a little space from the palace on occasion - both palaces - and so they kept a small house a little outside Tirion. It was to the door of this house that he led Finrod. He and Eärwen had not wanted to have the duties of rule interfering with this first reunion with their son; nor had they thought that the bustle of palace life would be good for one so newly returned. So it was just them, and Hueleni, who were there awaiting Finrod.

They had found, for the Returned, that too many crowds too early could be painful, even alarming. Finarfin had thought with a pang of his gregarious, kind firstborn, and hoped he would not be lonely. Now, feeling his son lean on him, hesitating before the door, he was glad of the decision.

He fumbled for the keys. Behind the door, Hueleni barked.

"Ah!" Finarfin said, smiling. He remembered Finrod’s tiny sticky hands entangled in the ears of their little dog Aranel, an Age and a half past; then Findaráto, tall and princely, abandoning dignity to chase Aranel down the beach of Alqualondë. "Our new dog, Hueleni. You will like her, I am sure -"

He paused. The warm weight of Finrod upon his shoulder had frozen; and when he turned about his son’s face was bone-white.

"Are you alright?" asked Finarfin in alarm. "Is it too hot? We can go inside -"

"No," said Finrod breathlessly. He was backing away, shaking his head. "No, not - inside -"

"What is wrong -" Finarfin began to ask. Then he knew. He remembered the whispers that had spread throughout the refugee camps, the ragged recruits who had come to join the armies of the Valar: the Lord Felagund’s father; what kind of Elda must he be, to have raised such a king; and no wonder he has gone to war, for his son died so terribly - the wolves -

He had been so stupid. So terribly, irredeemably - foolish -

He reached out. Uselessly, stupidly; his son had not taken his hand on that terrible dark day so many years ago, and he would not take it now -

In the next breath his hand was left hanging uselessly; Finrod’s arms were flung about his neck, his son’s head buried in his shoulder, and Finarfin returned the embrace as fiercely as if by doing so he could tear Finrod from chains that had been broken long ago.

#silm fic #minific #finarfin #finrod #my writing #queuenta silmarillion

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mstrickster · 2 months

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This was fun. I might continue this later. Idk I am really shaky on writing Damian and Jon I think. Anyways, enjoy! @korallion

“Why must I do this again?” Damian groaned as Jason prepared the warp pad. Dick and Tim were preparing their supplies.

“You are Batman now,” Dick explained, “You need to meet the league.”

“I know the league,” Damian stated bluntly.

“This isn’t dad’s Justice League,” Jason replied, “Stop bitching, Batman doesn’t complain.”

Tim laughed softly, “I guess he does now.”

“Silence, Drake,” Damian glared, “Father has a full description of every member of the league, pleasantries are unneeded.”

“Dami, please,” Dick said as he finished getting dress, “This is what Bruce wants.”

Damian scowled, “Fine, are we ready to go?”

“The pad is calibrated,” Jason informed them stepping back from the computer. He grabbed his helmet and secured it on his head.

“We’re ready,” Dick said. Tim nodded in agreement.

“It shouldn’t be a long meeting,” Tim noted, “Steph, Cass, Harper and Duke are on patrol.”

Damian sighed, “Very well, let us go.”

Dick smiled and slapped Damian on the back. This was the first time Damian was taking on the role of the Bat. It made sense, considering he was the youngest at 21. However, his older brothers still worried about the impact of the title on him. He wished they would stop babying him. He is an adult and unlike the others he had no outside family to hold him back. He just had his immediate family and his pets. Which was honestly fine by Damian, he didn’t see the point in having children or a significant other. That’s why he insisted on taking on his current role when his father had decided it was time to step down. He was best fit for the bat.

Damian watched as each of his brothers stepped onto the warp pad and vanished. Finally, it was Damian’s turn. He pushed back his shoulder and stood tall as he stepped through the portal. In seconds Damian reappeared on the landing pad aboard the Watchtower. Dick, Jason, and Tim were waiting for him. He checked himself over quickly and nodded to the others. His brothers stepped aside and let him lead them to the meeting area.

“Welcome Batman, welcome Nightwing, Welcome Red Hood, Welcome Red Robin,” The doors greeted as they stepped through. Damian was grateful his title had been successfully updated.

“Welcome all, thank you for joining us,” Wonder Woman addressed the group, “I hope your travel was painless.”

“Thank you,” Dick smiled. He was the most personable out of them, so he usually took the lead in conversations.

“Of course,” She gestured for them to table, “Are introductions needed?”

“No, I am well aware of who everyone is,” Damian gruffed, “We should start the meeting.”

“Well, we are waiting on one more person,” Diana noted, “Superman ran into some aliens I am afraid.”

“I hope we aren’t waiting long then,” Damian scowled taking a seat at the front of the table.

“No, he is on his way now,” Diana replied. As if on cue there was the sound of the transportation pod and shortly after the door whooshed open.

“Welcome Superman,” The computer greeted.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Jon apologized, “Have you been waiting long.”

“No, we- “Dick started.

“Tardiness is sloppy,” Damian cut in.

Jon rose a brow, “I will tell the aliens I have plans next time.”

“TT,” Damian replied.

“Welcome Superman, we have a new member joining us today,” Diana explained, “Batman.”

Damian stood and moved to stand in front of Jon.

“Batman?” Jon said looking him over, “I thought you’d be taller.”

Damian glared under his cowl. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

“Superman?” Damian questioned, “For a man of steel, you seem to lack any muscle mass.”

Jon’s expression changed to one of annoyance. “I am plenty powerful.”

“Power is nothing without intelligence.” Damian replied swiftly.

“We should sit,” Dick interrupted, “Start the meeting.”

Damian glared but nodded taking his seat, “Let’s get this over with, Gotham needs me.”

Jon rolled his eyes. This guy almost made him regret accepting the Superman title. Almost.

#batfam #minific #sar writes #jondami #damian wayne #jonathan samuel kent #bat bros #they would not get along right away in any verse #but they grow attached to each other

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phoen1xr0se · 5 months

Text

Good Holiday Omens Day 3

Artist Credit: @nathengyn

"Thankssss for the gift Angel... wait, why are you shivering? You have about a thousand layers of clothing on! You couldn't wear any more clothes if you tried! How can you possibly be cold?"

"I don't know, Crowley, perhaps it has something to do with the blizzard outside?"

"Oh. That. Don't feel it so much when I'm... y'know... like this."

"Maybe if I stoke the fire a little..."

"Hang on. I have an idea."

"Wait - Crowley, what are you...!"

"'S this okay?"

"..."

"Angel? This okay? Because I can slither off..."

"No!"

"No?"

"No. I - I mean, yes. This is okay."

"Ah. Good."

"...Thank you, Crowley."

"'S'no problem, Angel."

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roosterbox · 5 months

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Hey, want another of my so-called thinky thoughts? This one was inspired by something on the discord. This one also goes under a cut because my hand slipped and I accidentally wrote too much, lol. But anyway.

Alternate universe. Steve and Eddie have been dating for a while, and it's not a secret. All their friends and family know and are supportive. Nancy works as a server in a fancy restaurant. An uneventful job, until she sees Eddie there, seemingly on a very romantic date with... a mystery woman?

What? She's not their server, and hasn't seen the woman's face yet (which will be important later, of course), but WHAT???

She's confused at first, but that confusion quickly gives way to anger. Anger mostly on Steve's behalf. Because she may have broken up with Steve when they were young, but he's still her friend, damnit, and he doesn't deserve this. And the longer the anger stews, the more furious Nancy becomes.

Finally, after one sappy unbroken romantic gaze and delicate hand kiss too many, Nancy storms over. Risking her job to defend the honor of her friend.

"What the actual hell, Munson?!"

Eddie startles, but doesn't let go of his date's hand.

"Oh hey Wheeler! Didn't know you were working tonight." The asshole doesn't seem nervous or worried about being caught. He even smiles at her. The prick.

"Don't you 'hey Wheeler' me, you cheating jerk!"

That finally gets Eddie's attention. His face turns serious, though a bit confused. "What? I'd never cheat on Stevie! Why would you even think that?"

There's a faint chuckling from the other side of the table. Nancy ignores her for now, focusing on Eddie.

"I oughtta punch you in the balls for that, Munson. For lying right to my face. And for what you're doing to Steve."

Eddie's confusion seems to evaporate as he realizes something. "Ah, well. You see Wheeler, the thing is-"

The quiet laughter of Eddie's date becomes too hard to ignore. Nancy spins on her heel, ready to confront this giggling floozy.

"Listen here, you little slut-"

She immediately stops short.

Eddie's date. It's... Steve. But also... not Steve?

"Ah," Eddie says again, a bit sheepish. He's still holding Steve's (?) hand. "You haven't been to one of our group get-togethers in a while.” He clears his throat before continuing. “Nancy, I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Stevie."

With her flowing chestnut locks, subtle makeup, and sparkling red dress, Stevie Harrington is absolutely stunning. And she looks more at ease and comfortable in her own skin than ‘Steve’ Harrington ever did. Nancy is entirely taken aback. Stevie's still smiling, but her smile falters a bit at Nancy's silence.

"Nance? You, uh, you okay?" She asks.

Eddie recognizes the fearful undertones of Stevie's question, and gently squeezes her hand. Letting her know that, whatever Nancy's eventual reaction is, he's here for her, always.

Nancy finally blinks, brain having restarted from one of the biggest surprises of her life. "Wuh?"

Oh yeah, real intelligent there, Nancy.

"Buh?"

Oh come on, this is just embarrassing.

She gathers her thoughts, wrestling with them as one might while trying to fold a fitted sheet, keenly aware of the look on Stevie's face. Her friend was growing more and more nervous, and seemed to be bracing herself for something. After a moment, Nancy realizes why this is, and pulls herself together.

"I really haven't been around enough, have I?" She lets her lips curve into a small smile. Stevie relaxes a bit, but still seems guarded.

Nancy's expression softens completely. "It's nice to meet you, Stevie. The real you."

Stevie's smile is so big it must hurt her cheeks, and she looks as if she might cry. "You too, Nancy."

Nancy's expression shifts, turning to shock and embarrassment. "Oh God, I called you a- Jesus, Stevie, I'm so- You're not-" She babbles, face turning red. "Oh god," she says again, hiding her face in her hands. The soft laughter of her friends is simultaneously nice and yet mortifying. Truly this is one of the most embarrassing days of her life.

Gentle hands encircle her wrists. They don't pull, or force her face out into the open. Instead, they just hold, rubbing against her skin. The soothing motion coaxes her into lowering them, and opening her eyes. Stevie's eyes are still watery, but kind. So kind. She's holding Nancy's hands in both of hers.

"It's okay, Nance. Really. You didn't know."

"Still-"

"'Still' nothing. You didn't know. You've been busy. It's not like I couldn't have called you myself, right? That street goes both ways. Besides," She smirks, "the fact that you were so willing and ready to go to bat for me speaks volumes."

"I was two seconds away from punching your boyfriend right in the dick," Nancy reminds her.

"Balls, actually," Eddie mutters, remembering all too well. He shifts his legs under the table. Stevie throws back her head in laughter, drawing a few looks from other patrons. The few that weren't watching the dramatic encounter already, at least. The three friends pay the onlookers no mind.

"I should get back to-"

"Oh!" She lets go. Nancy misses the warmth immediately. "Oh, I'm sorry. We'll let you get back to w-"

Nancy bends and hugs Stevie, who's still sitting at her table. The positioning is awkward, but even so the other woman doesn't hesitate to return the embrace. "We'll talk later, okay?"

Stevie sniffs, holding back her tears valiantly. "Okay."

"And I am NOT missing another family party ever again. Who knows what might happen next time? For all I know, Mike and Will will have hooked up by then."

Her friend giggles in her arms, and she misses the knowing look that passes between Stevie and her boyfriend. Eddie hides his smile with a lock of hair.

She pulls back. Stevie smiles at her, makeup holding strong despite the lone tear that manages to escape. Nancy reaches over and wipes it away. "You look beautiful tonight, Stevie."

She blushes. "Thank you."

"But I really do have to get back. I'll see you two soon. Have fun on your date!" With one final wave, and a smile, she heads back into the kitchen. Every so often, she glances back, seeing them exchange flirty looks, gentle touches, and once, a kiss across the table. It's lovely, and everything she knows Stevie deserves.

On one of these glances, Stevie actually looks her way. She smiles. Nancy smiles back. And wonders, for the dozenth time that evening, what other big developments she might have missed happening in her little group of friends.

#stranger things #minific #inspired by discord #Steddie #nancy wheeler #transfemme Steve Harrington #Nancy as a restaurant server AU #implied cheating #though it’s only a misunderstanding #with implied offscreen Byler #and some subtly lingering Stancy tension?#perhaps?#i didn’t expect that #lol #I should give these their own tag #call ‘em ‘rooster’s thinky thoughts’#or something more dignified

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big-boah-2 · 11 months

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He'd wear 38"x32" Levi's, the dark blue 514 ones. White tees and flannel and work boots. He'd work in construction or park rangering or something, and when he comes home at the end of the day, and you hug him, your fingertips barely touch behind his back. It's those kind of hugs where you do a squish and you can feel like soft yet firm comfort between your arms. Warmth. He would grumble about how he stinks and needs a shower, but he always smells good for some reason. Like him and the outdoors, balanced perfectly. And once you've held him long enough, he kisses your forehead and tells you how much he appreciates everything you do, even though he's out there doing hard labor. You'd kiss him back, savoring the feeling of his full lips between yours, then you'd shower together. Just like every night, you enjoy a damn good meal and dessert, doing whatever makes you happy and relaxed after, until you both hit the hay that night. Because he's just a good, honest, hard-working guy. And you're an amazing, beautiful, and caring companion.

#rdr2 #rdr2 imagines #is this x reader?#yeah #arthur morgan x reader #minific #red dead redemption 2 #red dead #rdr2 posting #big boah arthur morgan #arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #gn!reader #writing #idk where this came from #chubby arthur morgan #rdr2 modern au #rdr2 drabble #drabble fic

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revletter · 3 months

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How does Geno sleep?

GASP. An inbox ask about something I already can't shut up about? AND an excuse to glow-up some more old art?! 🤩

In my headcanon:

Badassery notwithstanding, Geno often just sleeps like a sweet little doll. It feels natural and comfortable - after all, long before he ever borrowed it, it spent almost every night sitting like this.

Also, lying down felt a bit too vulnerable for a while. Especially at the beginning of his adventure. In fact, he got a TERRIBLE first impression of anything resembling unconsciousness - so terrible that for his entire first week on the planet, he didn't sleep at all.

And then he discovered sleep is actually… lovely.

Here's a little bullet point story about that! 😊 [oops, it actually got pretty long, haha... hope you enjoy it!]

Geno Versus Sleep

During that first big fight, Bowyer sent a wall of electricity crashing toward ♡♪!? and the two people who had shown up out of the blue to fight by his side. Before it even hit, he knew it would be too much. He heard Mario's shout, Bowyer's mocking laugh, then dimly felt the impact of his borrowed form against the ground.

The next instant, he found himself alone in a blank, dark, starless void. This was new. And… not good. ♡♪!?'s mind was still very much aware, but he couldn't see, hear, feel, perceive anything. All he knew was that he was still in the doll's body.

Then a harrowing realization dawned on him. With almost all of his magic tethered to a body that wasn't working, he didn't have enough left to escape it…

[Continued under the cut]

Seconds later, there came a feeling almost as jarring: a sudden, wild, violent propulsion back into his senses. The first sense to return was a gaggingly sour taste. Then the unmistakable pain of his injuries knitting back together. Then a voice saying "Good morning! You okay?" - then the blurry sight of Mallow's face. Geno was just as disoriented as he had been when he'd first commandeered the doll.

He quickly learned this feeling was a Pick-Me-Up.

Cool.

He inwardly decided to avoid all of that mess involved in being less than conscious - at least when he had a choice in it.

His first full night on the planet, he kept watch all night long. And the second, and the third. Mario and Mallow became increasingly concerned, which Geno only found endearing. Patiently, repeatedly, he put them at ease about his lack of need for sleep.

(He did not mention any other reasons he might be avoiding it. These people had saved him and his mission; no way was he going to get picky about their methods. Besides, even the child could clearly handle these things without complaint. He resolved to do the same.)

He did, however, often feel a specific exhaustion: being low on magic left him dim inside, almost too depleted to maintain his hard-won motor control over his feet and fingers. On any normal day, the Star Road would restore him directly and abundantly, but now he felt this exhaustion more than he ever had. And it was work and expense to use physical consumables to keep himself going.

When he mentioned this inner conflict in passing - masked as appreciation for how much they spent on him - he was quite surprised to learn that for Mario and Mallow, sleep restored their magic. Intriguing.

Resolving to try and save his friends some resources, he finally decided to give sleep a shot on purpose.

Mario and Mallow were both amused to see Geno flop to the floor between their beds like a toy. After several days of watching the serious, otherworldly warrior wreck things ten times his size on the battlefield, it was easy to forget that part - but his limp doll slump against the wall was a clear reminder that his form was still every bit the silly oversized plaything.

"You sure you don't want to lie down?" asked Mallow.

"It's alright. I don't think it makes a difference to this body," said Geno. "Besides… if something happens, I can be on my feet faster."

In his own bed, Mario rolled onto his side toward him and offered a reassuring smile. "If anything happens, we're right here. We'll be in it together."

They turned out the lamp, and Geno tried to relax. He could do this. Piece of cake. He'd been here a week; he'd been able to tolerate feeling trapped in an unconscious body several times. If he had to face that for several hours in one go… well, he'd experienced worse things.

Hadn't he?

What? Yes, of course he had. Stars, what a silly thought. People down here did this every night. Surely he was blowing this way out of proportion. Surely it couldn't possibly be such a -

Geno felt something fluffy brush against him. It was Mallow's hand, wrapping around his. "S'gonna be okay," the kid said, sounding already half in a dream.

Of course. Mallow seemed to have a sixth sense for these things. Geno chuckled softly into the dark, feeling equal parts sheepish and glad for a friend like this. "That's what I'm here to make sure of, my little friend," he redirected anyway, but Mallow was already asleep.

On his other side, he heard his other friend shift. Mario looked quite awake, the shine of his eyes just visible in the starlight through the window. Mario didn't always pick up on Mallow's reactions and what they meant. Had he this time?

Confirming his suspicions, Mario quietly slipped out of his bed and sat next to Geno on the floor.

"Let me guess," Mario whispered conspiratorially, "where you're from, there's always someone alert and guarding, yeah?"

"Yeah," Geno whispered back. "It's what I do."

"Well, who does it for you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Up there, who guards you when you need it?"

Geno was quiet. Mario clearly didn't know his real source of trepidation, but… he'd never specifically considered this question. His unspoken answer was, of course, 'Still me.'

Mario seemed to take his silence as an answer. "Hey, you know what? I'll sit watch tonight."

Geno blinked. "Mario, you really don't have to do that."

"I'm gonna."

"But... you need nightly sleep."

Mario leaned closer to whisper in his ear. "Wanna know how little rest I got when it was just'a me and Mallow? And how much I've gotten for the past week with another actual adult around? It's like having my brother here, but you actually stay awake all night, like - I dunno, almost like you're some kinda star watching over us or something."

Mario's eyes were glistening with humor in the dark. Geno couldn't help a soft chuckle in return, and stopped trying to dissuade his determined friend from his new side mission.

"I can handle one all-nighter. Get some rest… stella dalla testa dura," Mario added under his breath as he got up, a good-natured tease he probably didn't realize Geno understood just fine.

Nice projection there, hard-headed human, Geno thought with affection as his friend sat in the same chair he would have chosen himself, the one next to the window and in full view of the door. He knew it was far from the first time Mario had done any of this… including the unnecessary and probably futile gesture of support at his own expense.

But he was surprised at how much it helped.

Before he even asked it to again, Geno felt his body relax. His eyes drifted closed; his head and shoulders drooped more deeply. The ever-present restlessness in his feet and fingers departed as he realized that, for tonight, he could at least withdraw from the most complicated joints and actually give himself a bit of a break.

Through the wood of his eyelids and chest, ♡♪!? could still see a dreamy, unfocused version of the room. He still had all of his senses. He could still feel Mallow's fluffy hand. The little guy had pulled Geno's entire forearm close to him in his sleep, as if his arm were a doll itself.

Some time later, he heard Mario softly snoring. Geno noticed that he was slumped backward in his chair, his neck at an angle even he recognized as uncomfortable. He sorted himself back into his body. As he got up, Mallow made a little sound and clutched his arm more tightly; Geno carefully detached it at the elbow.

By this point he knew that, if woken, Mario would only be embarrassed and more doggedly committed to staying awake. So instead, he tucked a pillow behind his friend's head, and covered him with his bed's left-behind blanket. Then he quietly sank to the floor next to Mallow again, plugging his arm back into his socket so the little guy wouldn't get a scare when he next awoke.

He relaxed his head and limbs again, letting the sounds of his sleeping companions soothe him, until… finally… he felt it. The magic of this world, barely perceptible. It was always there in the living things, the trees and flowers and mushrooms and people, so strong in his friends, and now it was slowly suffusing every part of him that he'd allowed to relax.

He knew that at its deepest root it was the same old, deep source of magic as that of the stars. But down here it was slower, gentler; less of a fiery focused precision, more of a flowing peace just out of sight.

Feeling at ease at last, he surrendered control, for the first time head to toe, purposefully, completely. The gentle flow of magic coursed like water through his cooling chest… pleasantly ran through the starlight fringe of his spirit like a caring hand through hair.

What a gift of an experience sleep is... he thought contentedly. Yes, I think I'll be able to handle this indeed.

Bonus headcanons:

With his action figure joints, Geno can technically lock his knees and sleep standing up like some kind of weird horse. He doesn't, though. That would freak people out.

At some point in their adventure, Geno somehow acquires the ability to snore. It sounds like creaking. Because it IS creaking. Geno somehow cannot hear himself do this, and genuinely thinks they're all making a joke he doesn't quite get. Finally, Mario, with his assortment of handyman skills that include carpentry, does the rest of the party a favor and gets some graphite and wax into Old Man Geno's joints.

The first time Princess Peach uses star magic (Come Back) to revive Geno, he's absolutely awestruck. He wonders if she has the slightest idea how much sheer potential she has. Here's a big long headcanon of mine about that, with some art!

#minific #geno #geno smrpg #smrpg #super mario rpg #supermariorpg #fanart #fanfic #writing #smrpg fanfic #glowed-up art #my art #mario #mallow #mallow smrpg #my writing

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