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starrystevie · 1 year

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eddie and his uncle own a pool cleaning business on the side during the hot indiana summers for the maybe 3 houses who actually have pools in hawkins. the munsons have been taking care of the harrington's pool every summer since eddie came to live with wayne when he was 12, with wayne grumbling about how hard work would help eddie and eddie grumbling back about how much he hates hard work.

that is until eddie sees steve, still kind of scrawny as he works through the first bits of puberty, in his red swim trunks and dark black sunglasses, and eddie decides that he loves hard work.

so over the years, they dance around being friends. because eddie's a weirdo that steve doesn't know if he should hang out with, but he's nice when he and his uncle are over in the summers and he makes steve laugh big belly laughs. and at the same time, eddie's dancing around his growing feelings for steve because he's a jock and he can't be seen talking to a prep at school, but he makes him smile real smiles when they dip their legs in the freshly cleaned pool to talk and it makes his heart flip in his chest.

but then wayne starts working overnights at the factory once eddie turns 19, old enough to run the business by himself for the maybe 3 houses in their area. and steve's parents are traveling more and more which means he's in that big empty house by himself. so eddie's on his own and steve's on his own, but they're not alone because eddie comes by to check on the pool and steve opens the door with a grin every time.

steve sunbathes without a shirt and eddie averts his eyes while they talk about the weather and about who king steve is taking out that weekend and about how eddie's campaign is going and about how steve wants to come to eddie's practice one night if jeff will let him and about how eddie likes guys and about how steve might, too.

it's summer, it's hot and they're boys who grew up with the summer as their best friend, so they swim for the first time one hot june night as a way to say thanks to the pool for bringing them together. nothing but boxers and bare feet and cheeky grins to keep them company under the moon, with legs tangled in the cool water. fingers tangled in hair. hearts tangled in some lumpy mess when the stars give them courage to press chlorine kisses wherever they can reach.

#OOPS this got long and rambley but oh well #it was also gonna be pwp when i first had the idea but i decided against that #ignore the way these sentences don't flow together please and just think of the imagery #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie headcanon #my writing #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet

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flowercrowngods · 4 months

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j.r. harrington's christmas carol

in prose. being a ghost story of christmas. a modern au.

stave i

Three things in John Richard Harrington‘s life come with absolute certainty: tax returns, unsweetened black coffee three times a day, and the permanent headache once December inevitably rolls around, over time wandering from his temples to just behind his eyes, worsening his already sour mood.

“Idiocy, all of this,” he mutters under his breath as he pushes open the door to his office, leaving behind his stammering secretary and the ungodly blare of Christmas songs he cannot seem to escape this year. It’s grating on his nerves, and he hangs his hat on the coat-tree, damp with water because it never snows anymore.

All the better for traffic, at least, because not a day passes that he has nowhere to be. Snow tends to thwart these plans.

“Absolute humbug,” he grumbles once more, shucking his coat and smoothing a hand over the lapels, keeping them immaculate despite the rain.

There is a stack of documents on his desk, and it is a blessed vision, that. None of that dilly-dallying that the rest of the world seems so adamant on indulging this time of year, no. Not for John Richard Harrington, real estate magnate and financier by trade. The world of Money is not about to stop just because workers all across the globe are wont to forget about their employment for a few days of illusion and play-pretend.

“Bah!” He sits down and finds note upon note from long-standing business partners and loyal clients, wishing him a Merry Christmas and expressing gratification and happiness towards their business this year.

While Harrington does appreciate the loyalty and the premise of future business, he does not need their Merry Christmasses nor their Good Tidings. What he needs is responsible, determined employees who do purposeful work regardless of the holidays.

But all he gets is a bunch of ungrateful, aimless good-for-nothings who, instead of working as they are expected to, spend all of December beseeching him to grant them just two days of Christmas vacation — and every year they get the same answer: “Stay home for Christmas and find yourselves unemployed.”

And every year they make the decision to come into work, restoring Harrington’s faith and goodwill that at times has been known to go so far as to sending them home a half hour early — paid! He is not a monster, after all; no matter what they say. He is a realist. A capitalist. A wise investor and a driven businessman. And business, he knows, at times necessitates a compromise.

He will, however, not compromise a whole year’s work for a meaningless holiday that is in dire need of a better soundtrack. How people do not grow tired of listening to always the same songs on repeat each and every year is past him, and he won’t even try to understand it. So long as they keep their miguided cheer far away from him, he does not care if the first noël is born or if the midwinter is indeed bleak.

A knock sounds against the heavy wooden door and he frowns, already anticipating the person behind the door even as he keeps sorting the stack on his desk, sorting mail into dedicated piles of business, sentimentality, and Steven. The latter has been empty for years now, but that is just as well.

Another knock, and the old Harrington growls, his eyes flitting to the door as though he were capable of making the person behind it disappear by sheer willpower alone. Although he has to concede that making Cratchit disappear would be a poor move, as the man is one of his most efficient. Their acquaintance could be excellent if only Cratchit weren’t so adamant on experiencing the Christmas cheer each year without pause.

John Richard sighs and leans back in his chair, still frowning at the door as he bids him inside.

“Cratchit.”

“Merry Christmas, sir!” Cratchit says, a glint of tease beneath the unfortunately entirely genuine sentiment that ricochets right off of Harrington’s scowl and returns to its sender, only brightening the man’s smile.

“Tell me what you want and then get back to work, Cratchit. I don’t pay you for… lallygagging.”

Cratchit’s smile falters a little, and he clears his throat. “Well, you see, sir, my son. He has flown in from overseas, arrived this morning, in fact. Has come home for Christmas for the first time in three years, you see. He will stay over the holidays, and so I was wondering if, perhaps, you would make an exception this year and show a little heart—“

“Heart!” Harrington exclaims, effectively shutting up his stammering employee. “Compassion! And where will that get me, Cratchit? Let’s say I concede this year, you lot will expect it every year from now on. Add to that a vacation for New Year’s Day, and maybe a few days give or take until work ethic declines and you will only work from one holiday to another. Isn’t that what will happen, hm?” He scoffs, shaking his head in derision. “Compassion… I expected better from you, Cratchit.”

The man withers, and normally Harrington wouldn’t mind that, would study his misery and hold it against him in future debates. But something about it, something about that grin disappearing, and with it that glint of something so youthful even though the man is only a few years his junior cracks at something inside him. Something that feels a lot like that empty stack of mail on his desk.

“Please,” Cratchit says. “Please, sir, just… Just half the day tomorrow. It’s—“

It’s Christmas. It's humbug!

Anger rises inside him and barely contains himself as it coils and bubbles inside him. “Get out, Cratchit, before I’ll have you escorted outside.”

“But sir—“

“Get out!” he shouts, watching as Cratchit flinches, entirely too soft for this world. Marley wouldn’t have hesitated to fire him thrice over for even trying to bargain over this.

But Marley is dead seven years now, and Harrington is the only hard-headed man in charge of these good-for-nothings. And maybe it’s that; a tiny, misguided shred of mourning his business partner; or maybe it’s his hand reaching for the non-existent stack on his desk and finding his hand empty. Maybe it’s heart, as Cratchit put it, even though John Richard is known not to have one, and he is not inclined to disagree.

Whatever the reason may be, Harrington calls, before Cratchit can hastily pull the door shut behind him, “And when you come back after Christmas, I expect to see you at your best performance, Cratchit. Understood?”

The man blinks, his eyes wide as saucers as he regards Harrington, his mouth falling open as he loses whatver composure he might have possessed before this. Five seconds pass and Harrington is inclined to take back his words when Cratchit shake shimself out of his stupor and falls into a tirade of gratitude and disbelief that Harrington really has no time for, calling for his assistant to escort Cratchit back downstairs. They have work to do after all.

When the door falls shut once more, leaving the grand office in silence, he allows himself a moment to breathe and regret his moment of softness, hearing Marley’s grouching insistence that softness and compassion in a capitalist’s world will only lead to ruin and bitterness.

But bitterness is there in Harrington’s life regardless, especially around this time of year.

***

There is another certainty in John Richard Harrington’s life: He does not get nightmares. There are no terrors haunting him, no ghosts of future or past relationships to linger in the back corners of his mind, waiting to come out at night when he lets his guard down.

That, however, does very little to explain this nightmare of Jacob Marley warning him of an eternity of sorrow and chains if he does not see the error in his ways, if he does not better himself and reconnect with the heart tapping a steady but withering beat in his chest.

“I don’t undestand!” he calls into the void as the world spins around him, light becoming darkness and darkness turning into light, blinding and disorienting him as he feels colder by the second.

“I wear the chain I forged in life,” Marley’s apparition says as Harrington falls, scrambling away from the Ghost, feeling real fear for the first time in his life. “You will be haunted,” resumed the Ghost, “by Three Spirits. Please them and yours will not be the same fate as mine. Expect the first one tonight, when the clock strikes One. The second will find you the night after that at the same hour. And the third will come when Christmas Eve turns into Christmas Day.”

He shakes his head, refusing to believe this Ghost, ready to bargain that she should meet all these Spirits at once if they were real, that they should reveal themselves and absolve him of what crimes they think him to be guilty of. But Marley holds up his hand, forbidding John Richard to speak, and he does hold his tongue — more out of fear than real obedience.

Before he knows it, the room fills with horrible wails of lamentation and regret, self-accusatory and begging for absolution so sorrowful that Harrington feels a cold shiver travelling down his back, a sensation he is not at all familiar with.

And then, as quickly as it started, the spectre is gone and silence returns, the show is over. There is no time to collect himself, because he gasps awake the next moment, feeling no different than just seconds before and wondering if it really was a dream or if he was hallucinating. Unfortunately, a hallucination is just as impossible as a nightmare.

The alarm clock on is bedside table shows 12:19 a.m.

And for some reason, fear still coursing through his veins, John Richard Harrington decides to stay awake. Pretending not to count down the minutes until the clock stikes One and be assured to still exist in a world where ghosts aren’t real.

#stranger things #stranger things fanfic #will feature:#steddie #and stobin hehehe #and parental redemption #a christmas carol #have a whacky take at a christmas carol with harrington sr as scrooge #i fully don't expect this to get any notes but i wanted a fun little challenge and i kinda like the idea and i have Plans #(i also have no time for these plans but Oh Well™️)#stranger things christmas carol #dio words #this is whacky the words aint flowing i am only just regaining them after months of horribleness my brain is like rebooting sorry

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cold1dead1eyes · 1 year

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16. bad caretaker

“don’t leave…” whumpee whimpers from their knees. they reach out to grab caretaker’s ankle and caretaker turns around in a flurry, fury evident on their face.

“i told you, whumpee…” caretaker grits out. they shake their foot but whumpee holds on tight, lip trembling with desperation.

“caretaker! please, don’t leave, don’t leave—” tears wet whumpee’s cheeks as they dig their nails into caretaker’s pant leg. caretaker rolls their eyes. they pull out their gun and whumpee jerks back.

“you are a pain in my fucking ass, you know that?” caretaker’s voice is thick with vitriol. a wave of guilt goes through whumpee. they didn’t mean to bother caretaker. they just thought— caretaker had rescued them, let them stay, taken care of them when they were sick and hurting and bloody. whumpee thought—

“i don’t give a crap what whumper did you, whumpee. you’re only here because you’re useful.” a hurt sound grinds past whumpee’s throat without their control. they didn’t mean to bother caretaker. they just wanted to be good, to show caretaker that they appreciated their kindness. they just want to be safe, like they were promised.

caretaker takes the safety off their gun, cocking it before pointing it right at whumpee’s forehead. whumpee freezes. they stare up at caretaker with wide, terrified eyes, trying to make sense of the situation.

“now back off, or i’ll make you.” caretaker growls, their eyebrows knitted together in a threat. whumpee swallows hard. they slide back on the hardwood floor, leaning back against their bed. whumper never gave them a bed. whumper never fed them. but caretaker does, caretaker always makes sure they're clean, well-fed, healthy. whumpee should be more thankful. whumpee should apologize—

"goddamn punching bag, making my life hell." caretaker mutters as they click the safety back on their gun and stow it away in their belt. they sigh and give whumpee a look before they leave.

"be good while i'm gone." they order, and then they walk out. whumpee doesn't move. they barely breathe. they make sure they're good for their caretaker until they come home again, because after everything caretaker does for whumpee, obedience is really the least they can give them.

prompt by @whumpay

#bad caretaker #whump #whump writing #whump drabble #whump prompt #nameless whump #carewhumper #conditioned whumpee #recovery whump #fear of abandonment #agh i really struggled with this one :/#idk why #the idea just didn't flow...#oh well #i think it turned out ok #whumpay2023 #whumpay

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themthistles · 1 year

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i think that while micro labels can seem useful and affirming ultimately they're isolating and kind of an obstacle to your understanding of self. that's because you can never find a word specific enough. there will never be a label or two labels or even ten, twenty of them to perfectly capture and describe all of your thoughts, feelings, experiences, preferences, needs, interests, identities, etc. because you learn more and more about yourself every day and then you change and your wants and needs change with you. having to hop between labels, fearing that you don't 'fit' into a label anymore (both in your own and others eyes), worrying how soon your current label will wear out, questioning if you'll ever fully fit a single one. all that causes a lot of uncertainty and anxiety which could be avoided by just picking a more general thing and molding it according to what it means to YOU. because words will always mean different things to different people, you will never be understood immediately and maybe never completely by anyone but yourself and that's fine

#another thing is that micro labels often feel like they fracture the community unnecessarily #idk how many times i've seen fighting over hyperspecific ace labels and what they mean and if people described in them even belong #and honestly i think this discourse wouldn't be so vile and neverending if people accepted the idea of falling under general umbrella #and accepted that you can't describe complicated weird and wonderful act of human existence with a couple of words #you don't need to explain yourself to anyone #i know in our present pronouns/sexuality/gender in bio carrd era it feels like you have to but you really don't #people aren't entitled to a short summary of your inner world and you can't speed run connection #also feel the need to say: i have nothing against people who use micro labels #if you feel like your micro label describes you perfectly? i'm really glad and happy for you #i'm just expressing my own thoughts and feelings that come from personal experience with exploring these things #at some point i started doubting if i could call myself a lesbian #i thought oh i'm not exactly what a lot of people generally think of when they hear that word #oh they'll misunderstand and i'm not being my 'true self' i'll find a word that fits me exactly if i just keep looking #and then i found out being aroace is a thing and boy did that add a lot of anxiety and confusion to the pot #i didn't feel like i fit in with both communities wasn't lesbian enough wasn't aroace enough #but at some point i just got tired of trying to justify myself to others and to myself #identities aren't houses you live in they're more like seas or rivers flowing into one another #and spaces where they intersect are vague and hard to define and they shift and change and this metaphor is getting away from me #basically #words are complicated #but they're the only direct way we humans can communicate #it is what it is #so make art #a lot of it #oh also unrelated but if you ever tell older queer folks that they're using wrong words to describe themselves i am going to jump you

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saviourkingslut · 1 month

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not to be about opera again but to be about opera again. as an art form it has the reputation of being super stuffy and something for snobs who don't know how to have fun only but honestly this was one of, perhaps even THE main theatrical entertainment for centuries. i wish people knew how hard these things can go and how engaging they can be. like characters kill and die and fight wars and (almost) commit human sacrifice left and right. characters fall in love they mourn they're ecstatic they cry they're furious it's an extremely dramatic and emotional art form! and i understand that opera does not appear approachable bc of the general conventions of the art form but i promise old works can be fun and engaging if you go watch them with some preparation beforehand (reading the libretto helps) - not to mention not all operas are old bc there are so many modern operas which engage with topical events! also the music slaps.

#le triomphe de trajan (1807) out here calling for a man's execution with this banger:#point de grace pour ce perfide; que tout sons sang coule sur un autel #(no grace for this treacherous man; let all his blood flow on an altar)#this is also annoying to me when people write historical fic and the characters treat the opera as this elitist thing #that they don't know anything about.#you know when they go to the opera reluctantly and then they have no idea what's going on on stage or who the composer is.#which is. very unlikely for anyone with the money to attend an opera in certain opera houses in the 19th c. tbqh #like im more of an expert on paris and vienna idk what it was like in london #but if you were decently (upper) middle class or nobility (esp in paris) you went regularly. this was like a whole social space too #i recently read a fanfic and one of the characters was like 'oh it's in italian. i don't know that' and the other character went like #'it's by a man called donizetti what did you expect'#(this was situated in 19th century london)#like first of all. donizetti was NOT a librettist he was a composer he did not write the text #and second of all. he worked on french operas ?? so did rossini. and spontini.#opera was an incredibly international art form. also bc productions would be performed in different countries all the time #(sometimes changed and/or translated but not necessarily)#and again like i said. this was one of THE main forms of entertainment. people were familiar with its conventions! it was well-liked!#ofc bc of the seating prices it was not very accessible to lower classes most of the time #but lbr most characters that get written into an opera scene in fiction are at the very least decently bourgeois lol #i wish people knew how to properly historicise forms of entertainment whose reputation has changed in the modern era #from what it was a century or more ago #very adjacent to people 'cancelling' old lit bc of 'bad takes' like idk how to tell you this but people thought different back then #completely different world view from what we have today. that does not make lit from that era irredeemable it is just from a diff. time #acknowledging that and reading the text critically but also still enjoying it are things that go tgt here #ok rant over (it is never over)#curry rambles

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pokimoko · 1 year

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I was reminded recently of how much I loved the Moon Knight SG Poster series and so I thought I’d take a crack at the style and make some posters for my own MK fanfic series, Eternal Sunshine of the Absent Mind. Consider these the official posters of my very official fic series ;).

[Image ID: First Image: A silhouette-style monochrome minimalistic style poster inspired by Pokimoko's Moon Knight fanfic 'The Absence Of Fear', the first fic in the ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Absent Mind’ series. The poster depicts a black background with white at the bottom; at the centre nearing the top there is a circle which has been made to represent a simple shield; the shield is cracked in the top right corner, and at its centre are two silhouettes, one of Steven who is facing us and is dark grey, and one of Marc, who is facing away but looking back over his shoulder, and is a lighter grey. Steven has a black line over his eyes, and there are more black lines across the shield, imitating black out poetry. Above the shield are stars and constellations (Cassiopeia, Pegasus, Ursa Minor, Pisces and Cygnus). Under the shield is a white pigeon to the left and a pile of books to the right. At the bottom of the poster, the title of the fic is written. Second Image: A silhouette-style monochrome minimalistic style poster inspired by Pokimoko's Moon Knight fanfic 'In the Absent Place' , the second fic in the ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Absent Mind’ series . The poster depicts a black background with white at the bottom; at the centre there is a white house that merges with the white at the bottom of the poster. Inside the house sits the black silhouette Steven at his computer, the light of which beams out behind him and lights up the edges of Jake's white silhouette which merges into the house. He is reaching out to Steven, and behind him Khonshu—who is a black silhouette and merges with the black background—has a hand on Jake's shoulder, with the tendrils of his costumes also reaching out to Steven. Above all of them is the dial and display of a old time radio. Above the house is a grey circle that has rain cometing through it. The roof of the house is shaped like a pyramid, and there is a sword going into it, which has a handle that is in the shape of Khonshu's ushabti. Around the circle is a scattering of Scrabble letter which spell out 'DON'T GO INTO THE BASEMENT STEVEN'. At the bottom of the poster, the title of the fic is written. Third image: A silhouette-style monochrome minimalistic style poster inspired by Pokimoko's Moon Knight fanfic 'In Your Absence', the third fic in the ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Absent Mind’ series. The poster depicts a black background with white at the bottom; at the centre of the poster there is a white round fishbowl that merges with the white at the bottom of the poster. Inside the fishbowl is a layer of sand, upon which is a black sarcophagus; a poppy grows out from its stomach. Standing to the right of the sarcophagus is Steven, who is looking over to the distant silhouette of the house, which is the same shape as the one shown in the Absent Place poster. Inside the house are four doors at different heights, one of which is open. Above the fishbowl are two white goldfish swimming through a scattering of forget-me-not flowers. Below the poster is a black goldfish swimming in the opposite direction of the other fish and who is followed by a trail of black shards. At the bottom of the poster, the title of the fic is written. Note: The white at the bottom of all these images flow together to create a seamless flow between the posters. /. End ID]

#moon knight #marvel #moon knight art #mk art #fanart #(well uh fanart for the show not fanart for the fic trilogy because I uh am the creator of it so I don't think that counts?)#(but the fics are fanworks of the original series which I didn't create so uhh? i dunno man it's art i'm a fan of it let's stick with that)#my art #art #sometimes I remember oh yeah I'm not just a writer I can do art too #and even rarer i remember i can make art for my own fanfics #because why not be self-indulgent y'know?#fanfic stuff #my fanfic #mk fanfic #moon knight fanfic #shoutout to tiptapricot for basically being the catalyst for me deciding to create this #who by reminding me of the sg posters sparked this art brain rot #essentially the thought process was 'oh yeah i love how the posters flow i wish i had an idea that could work on three or--HOLY SHIT'#time to trick everyone into thinking my fanfic series is canon hehe #esotam series #eternal sunshine of the absent mind #the absence of fear (and other lies we tell ourselves)#in the absent place (listening to silence on the radio)#in your absence (rebuilding the memory of goldfish dreams)#(yeah you can see why I didn't put their full names in the posters now)#taof #itap #iya #the absent series

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hunny-bxscuit · 2 years

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Ok but imagine... Macaque and SWK are on a call. SWK redeems enough bits to ask him to play a game (HIS game ofc) and Macaque complains about being forced to play it the whole time but a pop-up appears at the bottom of the screen every time he takes a screenshot. Eventually he looks at chat and doesn't understand why everyone's going "so who's gonna tell him?", "Monkey caught simping in 4K", etc.

(Based on a personal experience while streaming my screen to a friend. I didn't know Steam did that...)

HOLD ON, STEAM DOES THAT??? HOLY SHIT 😭😭😭

Macaque having stacked up notification bars of him taking screenshots that he doesn't notice whenever Sun Wukong cutscenes/dialogues are on screen and he's TRYING to suppress a smile every time he does 💀

When he finally realizes it he just,,, blue screens like;

And ends the stream right then and there LMAO. Wukong and Macaque are SO gonna have awkward interactions after that AHAHHAHDHS

#lmk #shadowpeach #btw this is a good idea anon i hope you don't mind if i turn it into a small crack comic sometime in the future 👀#bc I'm still tryina make/figure out the next parts of the gamer au 😭#i never really had a plot for it i just go along with the flow LMAO #oh my god i love these idiots sm #hunny answers

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sysig · 2 months

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Roleswap(?) (Patreon)

#Doodles #SCII #ZEX #The Captain #As easy as this would be for a Setup - y'know lol - this idea actually came from an angst perspective #I mean - initially it would be fun and fine! ZEX gets his wish of a human! Doesn't have those 20 years of waiting and pining #Building up the idea in his head until he becomes So desperate that anything short of perfection is- Well hmm ♪#I just keep getting stuck on the idea of that common trope of ''What made you like this?'' :/#Or worse yet ''Did someone do something to you to make you like this?''#An older human taking advantage of a brilliant young VUX! Are there no depths to which they won't sink!#Nevermind that no one would listen and he becomes a martyr yet again but this time not the scapegoat #''Oh poor traumatized ZEX he really never was the same after that'' ''It's so unfortunate but you can't blame him too much''#As if any of them actually knew him at all huah #Until he speaks just a little too loudly about how he Wanted this he Reciprocated and it becomes too much of a nuisance to sympathize #The angst I'm telling you #He's in a very unfair situation no matter what! Either way he's being looked down on #Anything to spin things to be humans' fault! Anything to sweep deviation under the rug!#I wonder if he'd even be able to fight humans if this was the flow of things - would he be emotionally detached enough?#Would he even be allowed to? Worry of instability or defection? Is it worse to be disinvolved in the War with a mind like his?#So many moving pieces that would shake out so differently from just one chance encounter at a different time!#He's so integral to so many things having happened the way they did hehe <3 He's very important!#I also like to imagine that even being younger he'd still err on the eloquent side hehe ♪ VUX upbringing! Fanciful ♫#His usual speech but just a little more hurried and nervous hehe <3 Complimenting his human's hair ♪

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nuwildcat · 1 year

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WIP Wednesday Silvered Perceptions Chapter 11

It’s finally time for me to return back to SP — my beloved I’ve missed you — so I thought I would share some of the next chapter with you all. I’ve got this outlined through the next story arc pretty well and a loose one to the end. It’s looking like it’s going to be longer than I planned. *sobbing in writer problems*

Here’s a little sneak peak for you guys!

Porsche sits, sprawled in his chair, a cold bottle of beer in his hand dripping condensation onto his leg as Jom and Tem chatter away about some idiot in Tem’s biology class. The guy had tried to hit on a girl only to find out that her partner, seated right next to her, didn’t appreciate his attention. The tale is amusing if slightly childish compared to the stories Kim had shared about the family earlier today. Porsche is still turning over the competitive dynamic between the major and minor family in his head.

Jom catches him wrapped up in his thoughts and brings his bottle over to Porsche’s, slamming the bottom of his bottle against the top of Porsche’s. “Fuck, fuck Jom!” Porsche yells as his beer rapidly starts forming foam. Jom cackles in glee as Tem looks on shaking his head. Porsche is too busy trying to drink the beer before he’s wearing it to properly reach Jom as he’s smacking him. “You fucking asshole,” Porsche curses as he finishes the last of his beer.

“Got your head out of the clouds, didn’t it?” Jom says, leaning back and keeping his bottle out of reach. Maybe he isn’t as dumb as Porsche thinks he is.

Tem leans forward on the table. “Since you’ve decided to join the conversation again, you can tell us how it’s going with that alpha of yours. You still haven’t introduced us,” Tem complains, giving Porsche a look like he’s offended his ancestors with these actions. Porsche has ridiculous friends.

“There hasn’t been the time. He’s,” Porsche pauses here because there are a lot of things he could say about Kinn, “busy.”

Jom and Tem share a loaded look and Porsche glares, these two have been scheming. They round on him and Porsche is ready for the peppering of questions he’s going to get. Tem starts it off. “What’s he do?”

“He’s in investments, real estate and hotels.” And drugs and guns, Porsche finishes in his head. He’s not going to say that out loud in a busy restaurant.

Jom gives him the stink eye like he knows that wasn’t the whole truth. Porsche flips him off, still pissed about his beer. “What’s he look like?”

Ha, Porsche can answer this one. He pulls up a picture of Kinn on his phone, the alpha sprawled back in a chair and sipping a glass of whiskey. Kinn is staring off into the skyline, contemplating, and Porsche had snuck the picture when he wasn’t paying attention. He’s quite proud of how it came out.

Porsche turns his phone so the two demons he calls friends can see it and Jom attempts to inhale his beer as Tem’s jaw drops. Porsche sits smugly grinning at the other two.

Tem splutters for a moment before saying, “Yeah, okay I get why he would sweep you off your feet.”

“Fucking hell, Porsche. I mean you’re good looking but fuck. Where did you even find him?” Jom is reaching for his phone and Porsche snatches it away. Like hell, he’s trusting Jom with that again. He’d changed the language to Russian the last time he had his hands on it and it had required Porsche to go to a shop to get it switched back.

“In the alley behind Hum Bar,” Porsche says. He rolls his head on his neck, the tension in his shoulders bleeding into a small headache. It’s odd because he isn’t prone to those.

In case you need to catch up or want to reread you can find the fic here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44397949/chapters/111665977

#my fic #silvered perceptions #omegaverse #omega porsche #alpha kinn #kinn theerapanyakul #porsche kittisawasd #kinnporsche #kimchay #kinn/porsche #kim/chay #kinnporsche the series #kinnporsche fanfic #kp fanfic #oh my gosh it's been so long #but the break was such a good idea #the juices are flowing on this bad boy #it'll be back soon!

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unexpectedbrickattack · 1 year

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#chattin #it is silly; nothin bad here #i am thinking of a peppino mod for sts heehee #bc u know #sts is climbing the spire to slay the heart #and pizza tower is literally Climb the tower and defeat the Boss #i have no idea how to program so it will never happen #but it is fun to think about; esp the art that goes w each card #im stuck on what playstyle hed be; like would it be more ironclad adjacent or watcher adjacent 🤔#bc ironclad is very heavy hitting and very tanky and i feel like the fact peppino Cannot die mimics that #also the feed card lmao #BUT #he is so delicate; u let him get hurt and ur entire flow is fucked #so i feel like stance changes; specifically wrath; is very close to peppinos blind rage in boss fights #oh and the ability to vault (skip turns) to mimic peppino ZOOMIN through stages #primarily i am thinking of a frontload heavy deck with access to turn skipping and insanely high dps #so a glass cannon of sorts #🤔🤔#also sts is like. weird as a game. it is kind of serious but also enemies make little to no sense #theres an elite thats literally a book that summons a hand w a knife and it stabs u until u die #events are like ‘heres a fountain to cleanse ur curses�� but you got that curse from an earlier event #that had a gremlin make u spin a wheel and u got unlucky #so you can literally like. mod whatever u want into the game bc its not serious enough to make it ‘cringey’ or whatever #also peppino constantly bumping into events that are so mean to him feels in character #i am also trying to think of a form card for him; like what is The Thing that would be on brand for him and also Very Strong for a price #probably something similar to the packmaster; once per turn when u get down to two cards in hand; gain energy and draw a card #its reminscent of unceasing top and i think it works well in the ‘keep doing things very fast until the enemy dies’ playstyle for peppino #i will think on it ….🤔🤔🤔#okay woag if u read this ur a sweetie; i am just having fun with my interests :)!

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futurefind · 5 months

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🍾 + what would make you happy? for sasume!!

Send 🍾 + a question for my muse to answer your question while drunk. / Accepting! // @tvrningout

A sound erupts from her throat, clattering back and forth as it spills out. It could almost be called laughter, if she was still the sort of person for that. Instead it rattles out, past the bars of her teeth.

"Used to think it was, you know," she flips her hand around vaguely, as if gesturing to a broad idea and dismissing it as minuscule all at once. "Marriage. Romance."

Another laugh rips out, as hollow as her empty chance. "But it has to be possible in order for it to be able to make me happy, right?"

She could try for it, sure, but to actually get it? If she was really, really lucky, she could get a political-esque marriage where she was just another high-value body to warm the bed of someone who could be a half-decent friend as they found actual love in an affair. More realistically, she'd just wind up a neglected trophy wife who was supposed to speak less than an actual trophy when she wasn't be neglected.

And to be actually realistic? She wouldn't get any romance at all, nevermind anything close to marriage. Maybe she'd get left at the altar.

"Or kids, I guess," she grows somber instead of bitter, face falling. She'd always loved the idea of having kids, being a mother. Knows she could do it herself if needed, but... Children were too important to have just because she wanted to, least of all when their only parent had such a (technically) dangerous job. "But that wouldn't be fair."

No one deserved to have her as a mother, or even just a wife.

And as far as what she deserves...

Her eyes water over again, filling with tears. She finishes off her drink and buries her face in folded arms, struggling to even find the words. To even find the idea.

She doesn't even deserve to live. To ask for anything more than that...? To think of even getting anything more than that...?

Her throat grows hot and she bites on the inside of lips to try and keep from crying.

"I just want to be loved," she blurts out, vision blurring as the tears pour down her face. "I just—"

She chokes on it, on the pipe dream, on the want.

And she cries.

"I want a home."

#tvrningout #prompt responses //#ic // sasume #about // sasume #asks //#asks // sasume #oh :))) haha :)))))#tfw sa avoids SubstancesTM bc she doesnt trust herself and . shes not entirely wrong sdghsdghsghsgh #alcohol //#ask to tag //#either it makes it turbo puppy or turbo teary if not Both so um .#smth smth and the difference btwn Being love and FEELING loved #and smth smth how if she doesnt even think to hope for smth than that means 'less' disappointment ???????????#lays on the floor abt her.#i did not include it in the post bc of prose flow or w/e but:#a HOME not just a house :'))) somewhere where she has support and love and community and not just knows it but FEELS it yk #somewhere she can return to thats Hers and not just someplace where shes just a guest #(pay no attention to how she has an egregiously impossible time even considering the idea of her NOT un-belonging somewhere)#(nevermind in an as permanent n 'important' role as Home/Family Member yk........ :')) )

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todayisafridaynight · 9 months

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me when i ship zhaohan 😔 there's next to no content unless i'm just not looking in the right spots

be the change you want to see in the world my man.... if i can trick people into thinking masadai is real then i know you can rally the troupes with them lovable goobers......

#snap chats #zhao and yeonsu ARE cute to me tho thats the thing. theyre so sillay #i dont have many ideas with them but i love drawing them together when i get the motivation #i love drawing zhao and joon-gi honestly since Like Ichi i draw them kinda differently from everyone else #/kinda differently/ zhao's a foot tall motherfucker #BUT NO with joon-gi i want him to be a bishounen protag... so it's fun giving him all those sparklies and anime energy...#tho it'd be more appropriate to go for a manhwa art style huh #something to practice me thinks...#REGARDLESS i believe in you anon..... get that propaganda flowing you'll gather a small group in no time...#if you're sick enough in the head <- me #oh but if you arnet confident or know what to do yet !!!! pixiv and twitter generally has a good amount of art for them #i know i happen upon zhao and joon-gi art when i scroll through twitter sometimes #of course you have to follow eastern artists but they ALWAYS have The Best And Most Delicious Shit #they never miss they're the only artists i follow on twitter im p sure LMAO #if you don't know what artists to follow on twitter though pixiv's your best friend #some people are scared of her but not me...... i'm too numb to everything... plus she does have a LOT of good stuff there #'趙ハン' is the zhaohan tag on there. there's 101 works but i know not every thing is tagged sometimes #like a lot of arakawa fam stuff isn't tagged 'arakawa family' or even 'arakawa'- just generally 'yakuza' or 'rgg' and stuff like that #just gotta do a lil digging my friend ! best of luck to you ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶

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theheadlessgroom · 2 months

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@beatingheart-bride

"I do have that one," Randall contended, as he pulled the small pan of soda bread out of the oven to cool on the counter, adding, "The Phantom was one of the first ones I bought-I'm saving up for the Red Death one, though, he's a bit more pricey than some of the others." Hence his snapping up some of the other model kits where he could get them; thus, he was very appreciative of her gifting him with the Mummy-he'd have to bring down the ones he did have from his room later to show her.

"Ah, soda bread and lamb stew's pretty easy to make!" he added with a smile, as he took out the bowls and little plates for their dinner and set them out, as well as pulling out a Coke for himself, saying, "The crockpot does most of the work in terms of the stew, and soda bread was one of the first things my folks taught me to bake. They were both very hands-on in teaching me the ins and outs of the kitchen from a pretty early age."

It was something of a necessity, as Randall grew up as a bit of a latchkey kid, oftentimes coming home from school before either parent got off work, so it was comforting for June and Wilhelm to know their boy wasn't going hungry in their absence. It was very common for Randall to make himself a little something to snack on while he worked on his homework (or, in some cases, he'd put off his homework in favor of watching the movie channels...).

#((oh i LOVE the idea of randall confessing his feelings about emily to his new little bat friend!))#((like he's just letting his feelings flow out; no one is around but this little bat))#((and so he finds himself pouring his heart out; all of his thoughts and feelings))#((about how drawn he feels to her; how much he cares about her in the short span of time he known her))#((maybe even how he's still trying to place where he knows her from?))#((that's gonna be so wild for emily to hear; listening to his unfiltered thoughts about her))#((and how much he loves her-i think that's really gonna touch her!))#((and i feel like once emily tells him she can turn into a bat he'll put two and two together))#((and be IMMEDIATELY flustered by the notion that he unwittingly confessed all of his feelings))#((about the girl he loves...right TO the girl he loves; even though he didn't know it was her!))#outofhatboxes #beatingheart-bride #V:Dark Shadows

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