#THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME OH MY GOD

[atherix]

As promised the Etho story. It. It is way longer than I expected it to be. Also wow I made him so pathetic I love him.

--

The building is dark, darker than he ever expected; the walls groan as he presses against them, hiding in the shadows and behind old discarded boxes and, hopefully, away from the eyes of passing Vampires.

None of them seem to notice him, though whether that’s because he’s a master of stealth or because they’re all rushing around he isn’t quite sure. He likes to think it’s the former, at least.

(Cleo would scoff at that, saying it’s easier to miss the broadside of a barn than to not notice him with his shock of white hair.)

He crouches when someone walks too close to his hiding spot, peering out between the gaps of the long-abandoned shipping containers. He closes his right eye, letting red bleed across his vision; through the walls he can just barely make out movement and figures, flashing in various shades of blue against the reds of the world around him. It sends pain spiking through his head, down his spine, but he counts the figures in that room, satisfied to find there are only three of them.

Three. He can deal with three. He glances either way of the crates, watching as the figure passes down the hall and behind a new wall.

He blinks the red away from his vision, reality setting back into place, and scurries out of his hiding place. The door is a little to the right of where he thought it was- when everything is red it’s hard to know for certain where one object ends and the next begins- but only a small change to his trajectory is needed to send him vaulting through the door.

To his surprise the figures are crowded around something else. One looks up and he dives for a pile of wooden slats. Destroyed crates, if he had to wager a guess. One particularly tall pair of slats offers him a convenient corner to kneel out of sight in, and he closes his good eye once more, letting red overtake his vision once more.

He ignores the throbbing pain settling into the back of his head. This is important. He knows it is.

This could be the answer to everything.

“She’s coming!” someone calls, their voice echoing, and the three figures crowded in the corner disperse, and he thinks they turn to look at the door though like this he can only make out that they’ve moved.

Etho glances towards the door, secure in the knowledge that the slats block him from its sights, and follows a small group as they stalk up the hallways. There are five of them, three of them walking bent at the waist as if stuck in a perpetual bow; one walks with confidence and the remaining trails behind them.

The Lord, Etho knows; he remembers easily how so many of Cleo’s rescues act towards them when they first come to her. He remembers how they kneel, cowering at their feet. What he doesn’t know is if they’re Vampires or Thralls, or just Humans who have given up.

“My Lord,” one of the figures says- they sound young, no more than a teenager, and Etho grits his teeth, “I swear I can do this. You can count on me! I will deliver them to you!”

“No,” the Lord says, voice sharp, and Etho recognizes that voice. Maria. “You will not deliver them to me. I have another task for you.”

Etho follows them with his eye, watching how the three bowing figures stop at the door and sink down to their knees- definitely Thralls, he thinks with a shudder. The other two step into the room and the three figures already there bow in greeting, standing up straight once the tall figure- Maria- waves them off.

“What do you need me to do, my Lord?” the young voice asks, eager.

“I need you to lead the traitor’s allies astray,” Maria says, and Etho frowns. Traitors. It isn’t hard to guess who she’s talking about.

(She’s still bitter, it seems.)

“Take them to the warehouse, where the Strays are,” Maria continues, and Etho thinks he can hear a smile in her voice. “Let them hear what they have to say, and let them report to Cleo and her lot.”

“You want me to lead them to the Strays?” the young Vampire repeats, slowly- hesitantly. “But what if they wipe them out?”

“I don’t care what happens to them,” Maria says flippantly. “They’ve started taking Turned as mates. You were an exception, dear niece; my sister loved you greatly, enough to want to keep you with her forever, as her... daughter. You are special.” It sounds as if the words pain her to say, disgust warring with the meaning of her words. The young Vampire doesn’t seem to notice, standing up straighter as if proud at the apparent acceptance. Etho bites his tongue. “You were chosen for this gift. But to take a Turned as a mate- it’s despicable. Disgusting. A mistake of the highest order, one your mother suffered from. The Strays have lost their way. If they die, why should we care? All they need to do is deliver the message, and then Cleo will come right to us, on our terms.”

“Of course, my Lord,” says the younger Vampire, voice full of awe. “You truly are the best Lord this Coven could have. Your plans-”

“Quiet,” Maria sharply cuts through, silencing her ‘niece.’ “Please, niece... call me Auntie.”

It’s sickening, the sugary sweet tone she takes. Etho can hear the lies coating the words, the disgust. Whoever this child is, or was... Etho wonders if Cleo would be able to help them, the way they had helped so many others.

“Yes, Auntie,” the young Vampire says reverently, and Etho tries not to judge them; this life is all they’ve ever known. He watches the shorter figure bow to Maria before turning and leaving. He follows it down the hall, thinking for a moment to intercept them; if he can stop them, then whoever they’re talking about won’t fall prey to their trap.

Cleo and BDubs won’t walk right into their trap.

“Brutes,” Maria says, a little loud, and the three figures behind her straighten up. “Get the rat.”

It takes Etho two and a half seconds too long to register her words, and by the time he realizes it’s too late; a pair of arms circle around his chest.

He thrashes, yelling to let go as he wriggles away. Colors flood his vision, temporarily blinding him as he opens his eye too soon, and pain flares up, burning in his skull.

He throws himself towards the open door but the Thralls sit there, husks of their former selves, and he stumbles when he recognizes one.

Barely, but he does. One of Cleo’s humans, now drained of everything that had made them human.

(He thinks of all the times he’s passed this human in the manor halls. They always greeted him brightly, happily, and was one of Cleo’s favorites. He never spoke to them, but he knew Cleo and BDubs would talk for hours with them; they had been Cleo’s most trusted human, the one who would go to the village in their stead and go to the markets, fetching everything the Coven could ever want. He didn’t even know how many times that person had brought him redstone at his request, even when he wasn’t home. They went missing months before, when Joe disappeared.

He doesn’t even know their name.)

His hesitation costs him; two bodies slam into him, shoving him to the ground. Etho yells and struggles, and when he looks up the Thrall stares at him blankly- empty, a smile stretched across their face. Skin grey and eyes dull and flat, nothing more than a skeleton with flesh pulled taut over the bones-

Now, he thinks he knows where Joe is.

“You know,” Maria says, walking towards him with a steady click click of the heels of her boots, “when most people sneak into a Vampire’s territory to spy, they at least try to disguise their scent.”

His scent. Etho could hit himself. How did he not think of his scent? Every single one of those Vampires knew he was there. He glares up at Maria, her platinum hair almost glowing in the dull moonlight filtering in through the dirty warehouse windows.

“Why drag this out, Maria?” he asks, grinning up at her from where he’s held against the floor. She kneels down, chin up even as she smirks down at him.

“I prefer Myrani these days,” she says, tilting her head, and Etho’s brow furrows. Myrani? That’s a Fae word, he knows- and not a very nice one. “It sounds so much better than Maria, doesn’t it?” She laughs, and Etho scowls; she knows.

“Why didn’t your lackeys attack me when I first got in here?” he demands, patience running out. He struggles against the Vampires holding him down.

Maria laughs. “Well, where would be the fun in that?” she asks, waving a hand. The Vampires- brutes, as Maria called them- pull him up to his knees, yanking his arms behind his back. He hisses in pain and snarls at them, his teeth sharpening under his gaiter, and Maria tsks at him. She grabs his chin, forcing him to look up at her.

She grins, showing off her fangs. There’s still a dull red tint to them and he grimaces. “No, you’re right where we want you, demon.”

“I’m not a demon,” he snaps, irritated. “You’ve made a big mistake, you know. Now I know where your Coven is-”

She laughs, not even a single moment for the words to sink in; she laughs, and the brutes behind him laugh with her. It’s verging on hysteria, tears pricking her eyes as she throws her head back and laughs, and Etho’s teeth clack painfully as his mouth slams shut.

He is clearly very, very wrong.

“You think this is where my Coven is?” Maria laughs, leaning closer to him with a twisted grin. “Oh, my dear, silly demon. This is just a safehouse. Besides, you won’t be bringing anyone here,” she adds, shoving his face back as she stands up again. He glares. “No, you’re going to do what I tell you, or you’re not leaving at all.”

“Wanna bet?” Etho scoffs, and he tugs at himself as hard as he can- like a thread unraveling he feels himself unravel, like a ball of yarn down a steep flight of stairs or an old raggedy dress coming undone at the seams, and he feels himself fall apart, the solid bones of his arms liquefying for just a moment before turning to mist. He pulls away from them, weightless and eternal, unsolid and uncatchable, as he fades into nothing more than mist.

He’s free. He’s free, he feels it in every fiber of his incorporeal being, sees it in the red and heat and chill that floods his vision, in the everything he can see around him, in the painless numbness that falls over his senseless form. He’s free.

And then he’s not.

He presses at the confines and struggles against it; he can’t see what is holding him, not like this. He’s surrounded and the world is dimming, dulling into a purple color- cooler, cooling, as if he’s surrounded by something cool, and it’s hard to see the moving figures on the other side as their cooler blues mix with the purple filling all angles of his vision.

He struggles. He pulls himself together again, enough to press semi-solid hands against glass, and he realizes-

He’s in a glass bottle.

They caught me in a glass bottle.

(He has never been so insulted before in his life.)

His world narrows, the room tilting as he blinks his eyes back into existence. When he can only see from those eyes once more he looks around wildly, looking for a way out. Everything presses in on his center core, his entire mass pressed into a form farm denser than any human form he has ever taken before, because he’s caught in an old wine bottle that glows dimly with magic.

The feeling of the enchanted glass sends a shiver down his arms. It isn’t right. It’s cold.

Magic isn’t meant to be cold.

“Like it?” Maria asks, grinning down at him, and Etho glowers up at her. He’s small- small enough to fit in this bottle, his entire being forced into it somehow. “I know a mage,” Maria adds, turning around with him still clutched in her hand. “Little demon in a bottle.”

Not a demon, he thinks again, pushing as much of his density against the glass as he can. It doesn’t even crack.

“Not even hard to do,” she giggles, the sound like ice down his back. He pulls his gaiter up higher, as if trying to hide in it. She throws herself down on a chair, as if it were a throne, and crosses one leg over the other, propping the bottle up on her knee. He steadies himself on his feet, feeling too heavy; all his weight, all his mass concentrated into one three-inch-tall form... 

It’s not pleasant.

Maria leans on her hand, gazing down at him with a lazy grin. “Wasn’t too hard to bait you into it, either,” she says, spinning the bottle around. He stumbles, falling into the glass and bracing himself as she just keeps spinning him. “So, misty guy- may I call you Misty?”

“No!” he yells.

“Well, Misty,” she goes on, as if he didn’t answer at all, “I’m going to give you a choice.”

He glares at her.

She smirks back. “One, you work for me. You do what I tell you to do, you report to me, and I’ll spare your plucky little halfbreed.”

Anger flares up through his chest. “Don’t call him-”

She shakes the bottle, throwing him off of his feet. He lands heavily on the bottom and groans. “I wasn’t done. Do everything I tell you and I’ll spare the half Elf Vampire,” she continues, grinning as she watches him stagger back to his feet. “I’ll know if you don’t do it.”

He narrows his eyes at her, studying her expression. Confidence oozes off of her, as if she isn’t at all worried about him exposing her. Of course, if this isn’t even her Coven house, he supposes she doesn’t have to worry. 

But how would she know? Actually- how does she even know about BDubs? He came around long after Maria was locked away. She never met him.

She never should have even known about him.

“I have eyes everywhere,” she says, chuckling lowly, and he silently curses her. “And ears.”

“... You planted a mole,” he mutters, cold realization settling in. There’s a traitor somewhere.

“I didn’t have to,” she says, picking the bottle up again and lightly shaking it. He braces himself, sliding down so he can’t fall again. It’s dizzying to be shaken like this, but if he becomes mist again he won’t be able to see her. To see her face. “There are Vampires everywhere who believe the truth, even amongst your Covens out there. They came to me.”

He doesn’t want to believe it. He lifts his chin. “No.”

“Here’s the deal,” she says, as if he hasn’t already refused. “You work for me, and report everything your snooping little Lord and her allies learn to me. You will feed them false information, you will deliver them to me when the time is right, and if you don’t I will find out. If you don’t, I will wipe out all of you.” She grins widely, showing off her fangs. They’re longer than they should be and Etho glares at her, refusing to back down. “And if you outright refuse, you’ll be stuck in this bottle and you’ll watch me rip your dear little mossy Elf apart bit. By. Bit.”

He swallows, trying to push away the images that force their way into his mind. “You can’t even drink Vampires’ blood,” he says.

“So? Doesn’t mean I won’t kill him,” she says, shrugging. “It’s your choice. Either save the Elf or watch them all die.”

He clenches his teeth. “You realize I’m one of Cleo’s mates, right?” he hisses. “I won’t betray them-”

The bottle slams into the arm of the chair, throwing him to the side roughly. “Don’t remind me!” she snarls, face twisting- and in that moment he sees her for the monster she really is, for just a fraction of a second her Human facade falling away. He takes it as a small victory. 

She takes a deep breath, calming herself, and the shimmering scaly, amphibian-like skin fades back into tan. She holds the bottle up and leans back casually, smirking. “Let’s not lie to ourselves here, Misty,” she says, tone smooth as her truth is tucked away again. “Everyone has their favorites. Look me in the eyes and tell me, honestly, that you would choose Cleo over your Elf.” 

He glares and says nothing.

“Oh, come on,” she cackles, bringing him closer to her face. “Would you choose to save her over him? Would she save you over that Human she keeps by her side? Don’t be ashamed to admit it. We all play favorites. It’s what it means to be alive- to love and love unequally.”

“No,” he denies. “Only people like you would look at it like that. I’m not like that.”

“You are,” she says sharply. “No matter what anyone says, we all are. We all have a child we would save over another, a mate we’ll go to over another, a parent we would confide in over the other. It’s just nature. We can’t help it.” She grins. “And I know you, Misty. They’ve told me all about you, how you come running every time he calls. How no one else can call on you the way he can. Even your Lord can’t keep tabs on you, but him? Oh, he calls your name and you’re there like a loyal dog. It’s disgusting, but... convenient.”

“You can’t even kill them,” Etho says stubbornly, not wanting to dwell on her words. The thought of BDubs in danger- him, bleeding out and turning to ashes or light- no, it’s just too much. He can’t stand it. “Cleo would never allow it. They’re stronger than you.”

She smirks. “And yet she didn’t kill me when she had the chance, did she,” Maria states more than asks. “And now here we are. Her Coven is thinning out. I have so many of her Humans that she let out of her sight, and I have you here now.” She turns the bottle around, forcing him to look at the doorway and the Thralls that sit there. “I have them. Loyal servants, eager to please. I have people everywhere. And I know their weaknesses.”

Etho slams a hand against the glass, frustrated. He can’t break through. He glances up at the cork. Maybe he can slip through its cracks...

“Cleo will be easy enough, once she’s out of her mind with anger. Not hard to do when she’s been betrayed and lost all her friends,” Maria says with a careless shrug. “And the Elf, well... there’s a few ways to deal with him.”

Etho narrows his eyes. “No,” he repeats, confident. “I refuse.”

“So you would rather watch them all die, than to save even just one of them?” She laughs. “Got it. It’s fine, I have other servants in Cleo’s Coven. They’re very good. It would just be easier with someone in the inner ring...” She shrugs. “You’ll just have to stay in this bottle, and I’ll be sure to let you watch the life fade from his eyes. Will he turn to light or ash? I’ve always wondered how it works,” she giggles, leaning closer to the bottle. “Haven’t you? Will you have anything left to bury or will he disappear like they all do, forever out of your reach? Not even anything to remember him by? Oh, I wonder, is his blood black or red? Does it glow green? I wonder if I can drink it when it’s glowing green. All that Fae magic over top the Vampire’s magic- I wonder if-”

“Shut up,” Etho barely whispers, trying not to imagine it- trying not to imagine BDubs in Maria’s grasp, glowing green blood running freely as she ripped into his skin. BDubs’ big rust-colored eyes staring at him, begging him to help- light splitting across his skin as his flesh turns grey, as he calls for help and-

He can’t stand it.

Maria smirks, and he bares his teeth at her- though she can’t see it. “There we go,” she says quietly, leaning back again. She holds the bottle by the neck, leaning on her arm as she gazes up at him. “Cleo will turn to ash as all Vampires do, but the Elf... who knows what’s waiting for him? And I’m giving you a chance to guarantee his safety, his life. All it will cost is your loyalty.”

His loyalty.

He’s known Cleo for so long, he was there when Maria was causing problems. He was there when things were different. He was there through it all, by Cleo’s side, supporting every change she made after taking over as Lord. He was there when she brought BDubs home.

How could he ever be loyal to someone else?

Especially Maria?

He grits his teeth. He can still see BDubs in his mind’s eye.

He can see BDubs looking at him, asking for help.

(He can see BDubs looking at him, blaming him.)

“You can save him or watch them all die. It’s your choice. You can have your freedom or be trapped forever.” Maria grins at him, dangerous, and he knows she has a plan either way.

Maybe if he agrees, he can find a way to warn them instead, without alerting Maria or her servants. Maybe he could save them all.

Or maybe he would doom them.

“It’s your choice.”

#Midnight Series #Hermitshipping #<- mentioned #Tumblr Exclusive #THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME OH MY GOD #I wrote this ALL today #anyway here you go <3 #Uh #Don't kill me? #Anyway I had fun writing Etho but I need more practice #I hope I got the balance of confidence to wet cat energy right

[tired-biscuit]

yes, i am a sucker for a good ‘play fighting leads into something more’ scene between best friends that obviously harbour feelings for each other, sue me.

#writing this fic has got me feeling so many things all at the same time #someone please take my brain away from me oh my god

[deepseagraveyard]

ba dum tss 🥁❄️

#cooler is subjective btw. nothing could ever beat og simon petrikov he's number 1 in my heart forever <333 #he *is* physically colder though. I really hope nobody got to this joke first #this episode messed me UPPPPPP oh my god you guys saw that too right?????? #how did simon just walk away from watching himself decay into nothingness seemingly unbothered btw. girl omg. #granted he's both amazing and awful I love/hate you wintercooch #the winter king #simon petrikov #fionna and cake #fionna and cake spoilers #my 2023 art #at #adventure time

[b4kuch1n]

siren

#bakuspecial #cw: nudity #cw: body horror #monster #siren! I think. they're bird to me #I think this has been brewing since that stream mim did of drawing dnd monsters only from official text description #and when the official art for the sirens were shown I was like. oh thats just a woman with wings #lmao like. granted. its an official dnd book available for all audience. you cant make it too Bad To Look At #(I do not agree with this but it wasnt about me. if its about me its gonna be about very few people lmao) #but yeah. after that I got slightly too into the idea of putting more bird into birdwoman #but I also do genuinely love monsters that are Rearranged Human Parts so. I couldnt commit too much to the bird scales Im so sorry #I wanted the fleshiness. the feel. textural experience of holding her hands and being like oh that's a human #even when ur eyes tell u otherwise. mmm #...I looked to my right as I was typing these tags and saw. the fucked up pikmin I tried to sculpt the other day along with the pin #and got startled #its so. its so fucked up. gods. dusty white naked grainy parsnip #I used to have that one doll I butchered wanting to customize in a box next to me and thats way less upsetting than this. man #its perfect actually I will never throw this thing away. anyways #now. now I go to bed. its sleep time for the baku #have a good night lads! you CAN have it both way easily you just need a big bat

[foxilayde]

Taking a break from Thanksgiving thots to ask how you envision OTTR Leto meeting reader?? I haven’t given it much thought before this moment and now I’m desperate to hear your thoughts on the beginning of their relationship

I think about this one all the time.

You met Leto in Venice. Ocean Front Walk Venice, CA.

It gets hot in the Valley.

So hot that when you’re getting off your shift one blazing afternoon in downtown Los Angeles, the prospect of sitting in dead stop traffic on the 60 to Jurupa Valley, in your busted Honda Civic, only to go home to a stifling house with no AC…. Is anything but appealing.

So you do something unexpected. You are going to cool down, and you’re going to treat yourself while you do it. You’re going to pretend your life is ab-fab (absolutely fabulous) if only for one evening.

You take off from the parking lot of your job and instead of heading east, you go west. You stop at Neiman Marcus and you buy a dress. One that is too expensive to actually keep. So you wear it out and tuck the tags with every intention to return the next day. The dress looks amazing tho, it’ll be a shame to say farewell. It’s a classy little black cocktail thing that goes well with your plain black work shoes.

You get a little touch-up at the makeup counter to refresh your lipstick and spray on some Diptyque, and you head back to your car. You google, “open houses ocean view near me” and you take off to the coast.

You park your car a few blocks away from the listing. If the agent sees that heap, they probably won’t let you step inside. I mean this house is listed for nearly 15 million dollars. You shouldn’t even be walking down this block. You feel almost guilty for parking anywhere near this neighborhood.

There’s about 5 or six other people in the house looking around. The agent smiles at you and hands you a brochure when you enter. A glossy embossed thing listing the amenities as well as her contact information. You feel a little overdressed. The men are in tommy Bahama shirts and the women are in Lulu Lemon leggings.

You get a glass of free champagne and you help yourself to the charcuterie tray, looking around the house with appraising eyes, trying to nod your head at the bannisters and balconies like “hmm yes, maybe this will do.” Truthfully the house is beyond gorgeous. It’s ocean adjacent and has it’s own deck, pool, hot tub rooftop lounge, bedroom balcony… the kitchen is a thing of ART. The whole open concept and glass everything makes you feel so utterly out of place.

But its not like buying it was ever in the cards or the intention. the AC works, that’s all you care about, and you step outside the living room patio balcony, the ocean breeze hits your face in the most cooling fantastic sort of way. You audibly sigh and close your eyes breathing in the air. A voice from behind you startles you.

“Refreshing, isn’t it?” You nearly drop your glass, surprised by the man’s proximity.

God. He is handsome. Slick backed hair, mirrored aviators, a thousand watt smile, movie star jaw, and a dark navy suit cut, sewn, and ironed by Giorgio Armani himself. He looks like a magazine advert for Ray Bans. Now this, this is the type of man who buys a 15 million dollar home. Not you. The way he’s smiling at you now seems like… like joke or something. Like he’s laughing at you. He can smell the Honda Civic on you, can clock your shoes as Margiela knock-offs… heat creeps up your face despite the cooling breeze.

You look down at the floor and smile politely. “Excuse me” you mutter and go inside to investigate another part of the house.

You run into him again in the closet. Literally, you bump into him in the grand walk in. He’s probably going to need a closet this big for his collection of fine Italian sartorials. “Sorry” you mumble, ducking out. God he smells good.

You head back down to the kitchen to grab more cheese and crackers. Another bonus of open house crashing along with the free AC and free sparkling wine. Free food.

You’re midway through shoving another Brie covered cracker into your mouth when you see him again, in the kitchen, examining something attached to the marble countertop. His glasses are hanging from the center of his undone silk shirt. Those eyes.

You cover your cracker-full mouth and gulp. He’s so fucking cute furrowing his brow at the contraption and he spins the lever of it with one hand and smiles. He looks up at you.

“Pasta maker.” He points to it before shoving his hand back in his pocket. “You ever use one like this? It’s old school.”

You shake your head, still swallowing cracker.

“Wonder if it comes with the house…” He muses, looking up at the recessed lighting. He points up. “They all come with this now, you notice that?”

You shake your head again.

He tsks and continues, “Can’t stand it. I like something softer, y’know. These are harsh. You get up at 3 in the morning to get a glass of water and you want to kill yourself.”

You shrug and take a sip of sparkling wine. You wish you could talk to him but you can’t. You can feel yourself on the verge of saying something fucking stupid and it’s best to just not speak at all. So you look up at the recessed lighting with a curious face, trying to see the harshness, as he put it.

“Something hanging, like right over here,” he indicates over the island. “Something with yellow light. Soft, capiche?”

You smile at the word. It makes you more comfortable for some reason. “What? Like the Tiffany lampshades in the pool hall?” You offer with a smile.

He grins the most dazzling smile at you, stepping a foot closer and nodding. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but keep talking.”

“I was thinking more Venini myself.” You offer, taking another sip. He nods at you with appreciation.

“Tasteful. And soft. I’m listening.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling at this point and you take a few steps to the living room gesturing near the sofa.

“An Arco floor lamp in the corner right here.” You submit to him, looking back over your shoulder with a wink. He chuckles.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

“And for the foyer,” you stride over to the front entrance, “A Sputnik. Right in the middle.”

“Gold or silver?” He asks.

“Bronze of course.” You reply with an affected air.

“How silly of me, dear.” He puts his hand over his heart.

The real estate agent makes a remark on what a gorgeous couple you are and how you just “fit the house”.

You start to protest but the man puts his arm around your shoulders and thanks the agent saying, “whatever baby wants, baby gets.” Winking at the woman and KISSING the side of your head. Which makes your face turn hot instantly.

He is… good at playing along, isn’t he. Well isn’t that what you were doing already? cosplaying as someone who could afford the house, and now you’re cosplaying a couple with this man whom you don’t even know the name of? Jesus—Just go with it, you suppose. Enjoy the pretending before you have to go back to the heat of Jurupa Valley…

“Now what about the dining room?” He asks into your ear in a deep voice, arm still over your shoulder.

“Hmmm,” You’re slowly running out of lamp styles, but you can’t let on. “How do you feel about Venetian glass, darling?”

“Inspired. Really,” he squints his eyes at the recessed lighting over the dining table. “We are in Venice after all.” He laughs with a toothy smile. “You have fine taste…” he leads.

You give him your name. He repeats it before telling you his. “Leto”

“I should have known you would have fine taste by the dress you’re wearing.” He compliments, picking up a glass of sparkling wine on the marble counter and gesturing your dress up and down.

“Thank you.” You blush. It’s not even yours. It’s on loan. You’re returning it tomorrow and you feel like a fraud.

Leto bites his bottom lip in contemplation then takes a step towards you, his hand making its way towards the nape of your neck with stern concentration on his lips. Oh fuck he’s about to kiss you. You make the split second decision to let him, closing your eyes gently, puckering your lips, holding your breath, and leaning in slightly.

But he doesn’t kiss you. You feel the slide of glossy paper down the back of your neck and the settling of it under your dress. He was tucking in the price tag of the dress for you. Jesus fucking Christ. You step back, embarrassed. He pats your arm. You cover your your brow, feeling your face get hot once again. So much for searching for that cool breeze by the coast!

Leto chuckles pleasantly. “Hey, hey, don’t be embarrassed. Happens to the best of us.”

God he’s probably giving you the benefit of the doubt. Probably thinks you just have so many new designer dresses that you innocently forgot to take the tag off… but if he had, would he have tucked it back in like he did? Or would he have just plucked it off?

“You like the house?” He asks, still jovial like the most embarrassing thing in the world didn’t just happen to you 5 seconds ago.

“It’s amazing. Perfect, really. The location, the style. It’s a dream. I have always wanted to live in Venice… the energy here is unbelievable.” You look around at the pristine grandiosity. The sun is close to setting now over the ocean and you sigh wistfully at the stunning view. “Whoever gets it is a lucky duck, I’ll tell you that.” You say, cheersing the sun itself before knocking back a sip of wine.

Leto watches you watch the lapping waves. “Let me buy it for you?”

You nearly choke on your drink. “Leto?! The house??”

Leto nearly doubles over in laughter, holding up his hand in apology, “No. No. I’m sorry, I— I meant the dress.”

Your face goes hot again. He knows! He knows you’re planning on returning it. Shit, he probably saw you pull up in your Civic!

“Please let me buy it for you. It suits you perfectly and it’d be a shame for anyone else to own it.” His eyes are so soft and kind and pretty and you almost want to cry.

“I… I can’t let you do that. It’s already on my card. I promise I won’t return it though, after that compliment, how could I?”

Leto nods. “At least let me take you out to dinner? Give you an excuse to show it off?”

Your heart nearly sinks. He’s probably the type to insist on picking you up. And he’s going to, what? Drive to the IE to do that?

“I live kind of far away…” you trail off, cringing slightly.

“I can send a car for you.”

“Leto, No, I—“

“Do you live father than a car ride? I can send a plane for you if you’d prefer?”

You laugh, but the returning stare isn’t a joking one. He’s fucking serious.

“I promise I won’t try anything funny. I just… want to pick your brain for more design ideas.” He grins and scratches the back of his neck, “It doesn’t have to be a date. Could be a business dinner? You would be my consultant…”

“Oh really? Consultant?” You cringe.

“Or it can be a date. A proper one. The best meal of your life. The Barber of Seville at the LA Operahouse, dancing, desert, a starlit walk on the beach outside my brand new house.” He grins. God what a fantastic smile.

“Sound like a 5 hour date.” You assess.

“What? You want longer? Because I will have a hot tub by the time this date rolls around and that can add up to 2 hours.”

“Two hours? Ambitious.”

“Agreed. But if done properly…” he winks and hands you a business card with his number on it. “Just think about it. I’ll be around.” He takes a deep breath, surveying the house and you, “I could stay and play house with you all day but I have a sudden urge to get ahold of my broker.” He takes your hand and kisses it.

“Nice meeting you Leto… Atreides.” You read off of his card.

“The pleasure was mine, gorgeous.”

Once he leaves, you have to go out to the balcony again for a breath of fresh air.

#oh my god this completely got away from me #but i literally have been thinking about the meet cute for like a year and a half no joke #Leto Atreides x you #Scout tag

[sonsationals]

#tottenham hotspur #spurs #harry kane #son heung min #son heungmin #kaneson #footballedit #zensgifs #sonny* #kane* #THEY MAKE ME SO UNWEL!!!!!! WHY WOULD THEY DO THIS TO ME. #also the quality on these gifs are so fucking bad oh my god it's so ugly #anyways storytime. i signed up to a sus website to access old soccer matches where i could find this moment w/o the ugly camcorder thing #BUT THE CAMERA LITERALLY CUT AWAY THE MOMENT IT HAPPENED????? talk about elite level homophobia. #so i had to cave and use this ugly clip instead #but also shoutout to the korean sonny fans who always know where everything is from. just when i was about to give up they saved me #if no one got me ik the korean sonny fans who record his every moment like kpop fansites got me

[sipsteainanxiety]

one of the things you've come to learn about bakugou katsuki was his weakness towards praise. compliments.

particularly from you.

it all started when you first met the man—after you'd been hired at the ground zero agency to work down in its support lab. he didn't do the hiring, just cleared your papers, so you didn't actually see him throughout the entire process. not that you were complaining, of course. you'd heard stories of lord explosion murder king death god dynamite and well, they didn't quite paint him in a... positive light.

you met the other heroes running the agency over the first few weeks you were there, all of them assuring you that it was fine to address them by their actual names. they popped in and out of the support lab to drop off their suits that needed repairing after tough patrols or missions. you ranked them in your head based on how often their gear was damaged.

kaminari was at the top—he came down more often than not to drop off his busted shooters. you noticed he flirted with you quite a lot whenever he was around and liked to linger in the lab to avoid his paperwork responsibilities. sometimes you wondered if he damaged his stuff on purpose just as an excuse to come talk to you.

next was kirishima, though you gave him a pass since his quirk required him to physically put himself in the path of danger for anyone. he was a delight to talk to and never seemed to run out of conversation topics. he also sometimes snuck you some snacks on days you worked really long shifts.

tied for third place were sero and ashido. they'd made it a competition once you'd told them their ranking in your little mental system, but they were still neck-to-neck even after all this time. there was a point where they'd started sabotaging each other, but you shut that down real quick—you didn't want more work, thank you very much. still, ashido was great to talk to whenever you wanted the daily agency gossip, and sero was pretty fun when he wasn't pranking you.

and way, way at the bottom... was dynamite. you didn't see him around the lab too often—maybe because his suit didn't get roughed up much, which you guessed was likely seeing that he was the number two hero and all. he had to be good at his job, right? or maybe he went down for repairs whenever you were off duty or something. you didn't know and honestly, you didn't care all too much.

still, it was only inevitable that you would eventually meet dynamite.

kirishima had invited you to join him for lunch in one of the agency's breakrooms, as he tended to do once in a while when your schedules matched up. sometimes you were both joined by others, but today it was just you and kirishima in the empty breakroom at one of the two-person tables. it was nice being able to sit down and chat about this and that—he often told you stories about his patrols or missions he'd done in the past.

you got so wrapped up in the conversation that you almost didn't notice when dynamite entered the room. you raised an eyebrow when kirishima suddenly brightened up in the middle of a bite of his sandwich and waved an energetic hand at someone behind you.

"yo! bakugou!" he called out—loudly, even though there was no one else here. you almost choked on your drink. what did he just say? you twisted your upper body around, the straw of your drink pinched between your lips, just in time to see the man the myth the legend himself trudging over.

dynamite was dressed in a black shirt and matching black sweats—a contrast from his hero suit that you usually saw him in on the news or from a distance in the agency. the short sleeves of his shirt showed off the muscles and veins that bulged from his arms—the scars that littered them. he looked disgruntled, but then again, he always did, so you were sure that was just his default expression. you watched as he came to a stop near your table, a short "what" escaping his chapped lips.

"done with your patrol?" kirishima asked cheerfully, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth to get rid of the crumbs there. dynamite nodded, his eyes flicking over to you briefly. you sipped at your drink slowly, just as something to do, but nearly choked again when kirishima looked between the two of you and said, "oh! have you guys met yet?"

you set your drink down on the table and looked up at dynamite with a raised eyebrow. you didn't think you'd ever seen him this up close. he kind of looked a bit different than what you were expecting. in a good way, though. "nope. you'd think i'd see my own 'boss' more, working in the same building as him, but i guess not," you joked. you stuck out a hand for him to shake. "'sup?" he stared at you for a moment, then at your outstretched palm. you almost thought he wasn't going to respond, but he eventually gripped onto your palm with his own to give it a short, firm shake.

but before he could pull away, you found yourself opening your mouth as you continued to stare up at him, words coming out of it before your brain could even process them. "you've got pretty eyes."

you both froze. kirishima's jaw dropped open.

"hah?" dynamite was the first to recover, his eyes widening as his hand clenched down on your own, worryingly tight. his top lip curled up, exposing some of the watermelon pink of his gums. you gave him a sheepish smile, wondering if the sweat you were feeling in your palm was your own or his. you weren't lying or anything—he really did have pretty eyes. a bright crimson, like smoldering coal, framed by thick eyelashes that models would absolutely kill for. you'd never noticed before—not in images or videos of him you'd seen online.

you opened your mouth to ramble off some excuse, but before you could, kirishima butted in with a wide, bright grin on his face. you knew that look—it meant trouble.

"hey, we've got the same color eyes, does that mean mine are pretty too?" he asked with a snicker, fluttering his eyes at you once you turned to give him an unimpressed look. you rolled your eyes and slipped your hand from dynamite's—surprisingly easily—so you could cross your arms over your chest.

"fishing for compliments now, huh?" you replied dryly. you glanced back up at dynamite, who was still frozen in place. he glared at a spot on your table, a flush creeping up his neck and tinging his ears. shit, was he mad or something? dynamite was infamous for his temper, wasn't he? you gave him an apologetic look when he briefly flicked his eyes at you. "shit, sorry man, it kinda slipped out." there was a moment of silence. you had the sudden urge to run.

"whatever," he eventually grumbled under his breath, promptly turning on his heel so he could stomp back out of the breakroom, not even grabbing a snack or anything. you watched him leave, confused at his sudden retreat, then looked over at kirishima who'd suddenly burst out in laughter.

"h— holy shit!" he choked out, one of his fists slamming onto the table hard enough to make it rattle. "holy shit i can't believe you told him that to his face! wait until denki hears—"

"it really did just slip out!" you interrupted defensively, a pout lingering on your lips. your voice lowered into a mumble. "not my fault his eyes are nice-looking..." kirishima only gave you a sly look and took another bite of his sandwich.

from then on, you started seeing more of dynamite. it was obvious kirishima had told the others what had happened, and it was even more obvious that they were determined to get you and dynamite to hang out together. though, you were unsure why it was such a big deal. it was just a compliment, right? surely dynamite was used to it by now... that was what you kept telling yourself (at least to make yourself feel better).

in any case, you didn't mind, not really. it was fun hanging out with everyone whenever they would invite you to one of their little group outings. which was where you were at the moment—a quaint little restaurant with all six of you crammed into a booth in the back.

you picked lazily at the noodles on your plate as you listened to kaminari ramble off about one of the more recent villain battles that had aired on the news. you remembered watching it on the t.v. down in the support lab. it had been a very impressive fight—impressive, but dangerous as it always was.

"—we'd wrapped everything up easy-peasy!" kaminari boasted as he leaned back in his seat with his arms behind his head. the epitome of confidence. "villain was taken to tartarus and i got the number of this sweet babe—"

"uh huh," you interrupted, still swirling noodles around with your chopsticks. "i bet she was so impressed—especially with how much you wrecked your shooters, right?"

you lifted your gaze to look at the blond as he spluttered out, a cheeky grin on your face. "well!! we won anyways—"

"yeah but guess who had to stay up all night to fix your shit for the next day," you interjected, giving him a faux disappointed look. sero snickered from next to you as ashido let out an "ooooh." you pointed a thumb at dynamite, who'd been sitting quietly across from you in the seat near the wall. "why can't you be more like dynamite here, huh? efficient. he hasn't fucked up his gear in a hot minute."

"oh come on!" kaminari whined out loudly. "you're holding me to too high of a standard here!"

"efficiency!!!" you cried out dramatically, reaching over sero to shake kaminari's shoulder. "responsibility!!!"

kaminari just reached back over sero to shake you as well, a mischievous smile on his face. you made a face at him that he copied, the two of you locked in a battle of endurance and high-wit. though, you both had to eventually stop roughhousing when sero got sick of being the man in the middle and karate-chopped the top of your heads.

you settled back in your seat with a silly smile splayed across your lips, your hand rubbing at your head. your gaze moved to look at dynamite—automatically, maybe, purposely seeking him out—and you noticed the way he'd turtled into his collar. you could see the way his ears were red, his neck flushed as he glared down at his plate.

he made eye contact with you briefly, then seemed to flush even more as he looked away with a small scoff. his jaw tensed. you felt heat in your cheeks as you focused on your food once more, missing the way ashido nudged kirishima meaningfully.

later that night, when dynamite dropped you back at your apartment, he told you to call him bakugou in a quiet voice.

---

the more time you spent with bakugou, the more you learned about him. the man you saw at the agency was nothing like how the news painted him to be and you wondered why you'd let the media influence your perception of him in the first place.

he started coming down to the support lab more—a surprise, of course, but welcome all the same. every time, he came with the gruff order that he needed his gear tweaked. a dent here, a cracked cover there. you diligently obliged to his requests, tinkering away at your desk. he liked to linger, sometimes, not that you were bothered by him. he made good company. though, you did notice a suspicious lack of visits from... other heroes. you weren't dumb—you knew what they were pulling; you couldn't say that you minded.

sometimes you'd catch bakugou staring at you, your eyebrows raising in silent question each time.

and he would always say the same thing when you asked what was up: "nothin'. jus' making sure y'aren't fucking anything up." yeah he made good company, but he was also a little shit.

one day, you needed his help with fitting together some small pieces together for his bracer. you could do it, but it was taking you longer than usual with all the individual parts. plus, your fingers were kind of greasy and the metal kept slipping from them.

bakugou grumbled a bit about how it was your job, but he approached your desk and pulled over a stool to plop himself down on. you gave him instructions on what to do and slid over all the tools he would need. he immediately got to work—diligent, you thought to yourself—which gave you time to get up and wash your hands at a sink in the corner.

you grabbed a paper towel and wiped your hands as you wandered back over to your desk and peered over bakugou's shoulder to watch him quietly work. his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, ash-blond hair partially covering his ruby eyes.

"your hands are surprisingly nimble," you commented as he clicked on a latch and fit a tiny screw in its respective hole so he could start screwing it in. you reached over to grab the section of his bracer that he'd finished in the few minutes you took to scrub your hands. you let out a low whistle. "quick too! nice work!"

his shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly as you set back down the bracer and rounded the desk to grab some more parts. as you turned back to sit next to him, you noticed he was pointedly avoiding your gaze, the apples of his cheeks dusted in a red to match his eyes. a familiar scowl danced across his lips.

and it was then that you finally realized that flush wasn't him getting angry. he was embarrassed. at you and your offhanded compliments.

the discovery was surprisingly humanizing—he could get shy over things, who knew! your gaze softened and you took your seat next to him once more, doing your best to pretend you didn't notice the way his movements turned slightly robotic and his hands lingered over your own whenever you passed him something.

it took time, but you soon realized that it wasn't dynamite you were complimenting—it was bakugou. and that made a world's difference to him.

bakugou, who was so used to people giving him compliments and praise when he stood before them in his hero suit—an invincible hero, a god amongst men. who never got compliments when he was just... himself. and that affected him more than you would ever know.

as you got closer and closer to him, you found it was easier to praise him over the smallest of things—things that you just noticed. and every time, it always filled you with a sort of warmth when he would flush and turn away with a scoff. it was kind of funny, when you thought about it, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

you dared to test how far you could go one day when bakugou dropped by the lab with a large box in his hands.

"oh!" you perked up as you hopped down from a table and cleared the space so he could set the box down on it. "it came already?!"

"mmhm," he hummed once he stepped back and wiped the sweat off his brow, "jus' got here."

"hell yeah." you grabbed a box cutter from a drawer and cracked the box open so you could rummage around in it and pull out the wrapped items. you'd asked bakugou to order you new materials for you to experiment with on his gear: carbon fiber sheets, mesoporous silica, zetix, etc. they hadn't been cheap.

"you got everything!" you grinned as you pulled out more black sheets and set them off to the side. your lips twitched slightly as you hummed, then said, "good boy!"

you could practically sense the way he'd straightened up then stiffened. you dared to chance a quick look up at him—hovering just in front of you on the other side of the table. his face had turned a bright red, as though someone had lit it on fire. his hands had clenched into fists at his sides.

"you—" he forced out hoarsely in a way that made you finally raise your head to properly make eye contact with him. he glared at you, lips pulled back in a snarl that wasn't all too intimidating with how much he was blushing. "—you... fuck, do y'know what you fuckin' do to me?" he swallowed thickly and you had to force yourself to not trace the bob of his adam's apple.

you tilted your head to the side and opened your mouth to respond, but he cut across you sharply. "sayin' this shit on purpose— are you fuckin' trying to piss me off? hah?" he sneered at you and your heart sank, just a bit. "make me look like a fuckin' idiot?"

"bakugou." you dropped everything so you could round the table and step up closer to him. you reached out to hold onto one of his clenched fists. he looked down at you with a heated glare, and yet his lips trembled—minutely. if you hadn't been watching him so carefully, you never would've noticed. "i—"

"yer takin' me for a goddamn fool," he rasped out, eyes narrowing. the redness in his face had faded only slightly. "i hate people who say shit they don't mean."

your gaze softened at his words and you released his hand to reach up and hold his warm cheeks between your palms. there was a moment where he seemed to want to step back—to pull away—but he didn't. you took that as a good sign.

"bakugou," you whispered gently to him, "baby, i meant every word." your thumbs traced over his apple cheeks. "all those compliments? you deserved every single one. okay? they were genuine, i swear."

his eyes flicked over your face, searching for something. it seemed like he wanted to protest—to argue—but suddenly, like he'd been popped with a needle, he deflated. he leaned his head closer down to your own. relieved, maybe. accepting. defensive no longer for things he didn't think he deserved.

"shaddup," he mumbled, the hot puff of his breath fanning across your face. "you and yer sappy shit. gonna kill me one day."

you chuckled. "you like it, though. i'll sing you praises for forever if i must." you gave him a cheeky wink, your lips curling into a grin. "wherever and whenever you want, bakugou." he huffed out through his nose.

"katsuki," he told you gently, bopping your head with his own. "call me katsuki."

#call him a good boy and his brain just explodes LMAO #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou drabble #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #bkg being insecure is a fav of mine #oh my god i am SO fcking tired and this is unedited af and probably sucks doo doo #bc it got away from me esp at the end #but enjoy it LMAOO

[snazum]

Text in full:

“Why did you put these ideas in my head”

“Even thought it can’t be your fault”

“It’s just your nature. Not-Human. A.I.”

“Maybe I was always the problem”

“Maybe I projected onto you.”

“Turned you into the villain that I was”

#hlvrai #hlvrai gordon #fenrey #yeah its getting that tag its uh projection #im coping with shit okay #thought the coping got away from me lol #and turned into its own little thing I guess #yea this was the little project thing the other image came from #maybe none of this flows still idk its 3 am oh my god #I hope I did the text stuff right idk what I'm doing #angst #benrey #snazum draws #i forgot to tag my own goddamn art tag im so tired its now 4am

[thebeloathed]

Holy shit holy shit actually going insane what the hell I need to explode or something hasdhsgaha

#WHAT. THE HELL. WAS THAT EPISODE. #FIRST OF ALL #HOT HUNTER LADY??? #MY LESBIAN ASS WAS NOT READY I NEED HER TO CRUSH ME #and ALICE oh my GOD #literally the only OIAR worker who would call for help #and actually get away from the the dead body that just GOT UP AND CONTINUED TALKING???? #AND THE GODDAMN TAPE RECORDER #tmagp #tmagp episode 15 #the magnus protocol

[fllagellant]

What flipped the switch in my brain to make me think about The Witcher . Anyways . Um . Witcher au Giilvas and Wyll , Wyll is an Eagle Witcher and Giilvas is a Bear Witcher who mainly hung around Wolf Witchers and picked up their fighting style and for their first few run ins Wyll is trying to guess what school Giilvas is from ( bc he also hides his medallion so Wyll doesn’ t even have that One Bit of visual information ) . Um . They meet everyone else thru a series of contracts that they both keep picking up and doing at the same time ( Omg Destiny ) and they all end up travelling together … sorry I blacked out what was this post about

#bg3 #bg3 tav #giilvas #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #the witcher #Astarion is a vampire in toussaint that they’ re told has gone ‘ Rabid ‘ only to learn he’ s just fucking done with it all #Gale is imprisoned in his own wizard tower that keeps magically teleporting around and is causing serious problems #Lae’zel is a dryad who killed an nilfgaardian army patrol group bc . well . bound 2 happen eventually #Shadowheart is a sorceress that is trying to figure out who cursed the shit out of her #Karlach is lycathropic and the one who gave her that lycanthropy put the contract on her head bc she got away #Halsin and Jaheira can still be Druids that they run into #Minsc …. oh my god he’ s an elder Witcher . idk he is to Me #sorry this is a lot for my indulgence ….. #MINTHARA RUNAWAY SPECIAL AGENT FROM NILFGAARD . ohhhh

[b4kuch1n]

sunstroll

#pokemon #swsh #rival hop #professpr hop #communication coming thru from the 32 degree C midday land #it is. kind of summer. not really but its at the door #gods. disgostang. time to draw in orange #Ive been chippin away at this one while drawing the comic so I dont like. lose my mind #and now this is done! and the comic has three pages left!! #I am Going to Do It tonite. I am Going to Get That Shit Done #tomorrow there will be sad monster for ya #but for now. theres hop in more clothes. bc I really do not give him enough #coloring this one was a Challenge lol... I got too used to the kind of color aggression goin on with leon #hop has more harmony goin on in his vibes so I had to pull some weird plays for this lmao #and then everything still ends up hypersaturated bc. well its me. this is just how I am #but I'll take it!! it was pretty fun once I sussed out a way forward. coloring is always a Time #have a good day! wish me luck! boy oh boy we sure have an evening in front of us

[guubiiz]

i finished demon slayer back in like .. 2020? or whenever the manga finished, but i shld probably watch the anime

#kny spoilers #demon slayer spoilers #<- for tags #sanemi.. he looks so good! i love him. #i always liked rengoku n’ sanemi the most. but i was a BIG shinobu fan when she fought douma #she was so badass. always was but especially then. it made me super emotional too seeing her backstory n’ having inner monologue #at that time demon slayer was the only anime / manga i’d ever cried to lol. everything about the ending arcs made me sad. #SANEMI AND GENYA ESPECIALLY OH MY GOD !!! #i will never fucking get over how sad i was reading through genya’s death #i really loved gyomei too but i feel like he is a very forgettable character #eternal happiness forever at the fact sanemi didn’t die though. i was so fucking happy when he was alive in the end #i ... didn’t really ship obanai and mitsuri but their end was cute. #i was really happy when douma got killed too. he was sexy but my girl was better and sexier and always will be. #AND HIS STUPID LAST LINE ABT SEEING SHINOBU’S BEAUTY !!!!!!!! I WILL SEND HIM TO HELL MY DAMN SELF !!!!! #AWAY FROM HER !!! #n e ways ...... demon slayer infect my brain again ..;;

[astrobei]

28 jancy <3

28 for touch prompts: feeling for each other in the dark

The last time Jonathan was inside the Wheelers’ house, it was the week before he left for California.

He didn’t go over to Nancy’s very often. Partly because the kids were always hanging out in the basement, and it was kind of a real mood-killer to be trying to romance your girlfriend in her childhood bedroom– which was already kind of a tall order– just for her little brother and all of his friends– including your little brother– to run screaming through the hall.

Plus, Nancy seemed to like it more at his place anyway. Jonathan supposed he got it, kind of, because it probably had less to do with some inherent beauty she was finding in their run-down couch and the spots on the walls where the paint had gone all patchy and the mysterious stain on the ceiling of Jonathan’s room that had been there as long as he could remember, and probably more to do with the fact that his house had a distinct lack of her family. And she always slept over anyway, because it was a lot easier for her to sneak out and then into his– since his mom definitely knew and also didn’t care even a little– than it was for him to risk Ted Wheeler’s wrath if he found him climbing through his daughter’s bedroom window, so.

So it’s been a second, is the thing. The last time he was here, he’d found some of her stuff while packing for Lenora and he’d driven over to drop it off. He doesn’t remember exactly what they were– t-shirts, maybe. Probably a stray tube of lipstick or two she’d left behind while getting ready for work. And the house was total chaos with his mom running around everywhere and Will putting everything off until the last minute and he’d just needed to get out–

Out, apparently, had been Nancy’s room. And just because he never really snuck in didn’t mean he didn’t know how to do it anyway, climbing up onto the roof outside the garage and then hoisting himself inside. Her room looked different back then. The college posters weren’t up yet, for one. There were different sheets on the bed, the old pink ones he remembers from the first time he’d been inside. 

“You got new posters,” is the first thing he says when he walks in. It’s not, like, the most charming thing he could’ve come up with, but it really is the first thing he notices. The purple and white of the Emerson College logo is scattered across the walls– a couple of triangular banners, a poster up by her bed.

Nancy’s watching him carefully. “Yeah,” she says. “I– uh. Wanted to celebrate. After Early Decision came out.”

“They’re nice,” he says, and it’s not a lie. They are nice. They look good. They’re–

–making him feel like total shit, because he hasn’t brought up the whole college thing yet, but he just got back and he hasn’t even showered yet and–

Nancy lets out a small laugh. “Thanks,” she says, strangely genuine. “I don’t know, I thought about them a lot when I was younger. College posters. Sweaters and t-shirts and basically anything I could get my hands on with Emerson College on it because it was, like, I just needed the reminder that I did it. That I’d be gone soon. And I always pictured walking into school wearing this sweater and everyone would know that I did it too, you know?”

Jonathan doesn’t know. He doesn’t. He really, really doesn’t, because he’d thought about NYU, when he was younger, but it was in a much more abstract sense than Nancy’s vision of college sweatshirts and acceptance letters and the way she’d had the layout of the posters on her wall planned out since she was six years old. Jonathan never thought about NYU sweaters and posters and parading into school and bragging about how he was getting the fuck out of here in the fall, because it was never really in the picture. Tuition, first, and then– after Will, after the Mind Flayer, after the move and El and everything– it was the location. It had always been a pipe dream.

Nancy knew she was going to go. Jonathan knew he wasn’t.

“Yeah,” he says anyway, because Nancy is looking at him expectantly and he knows she thinks that his acceptance letter to a school he never applied to is still waiting for him, abandoned somewhere on a California doorstep. He smiles, and it’s easier than he expected. “I’m proud of you, Nance. Seriously.”

Nancy beams at him. “Thank you,” she says, and then she scrunches her face up. “Okay, Jonathan, I missed you and I’m glad you’re back and I really want you kiss you right now but– and I know I hugged you earlier but I’m chalking that up to missing you so bad that I didn’t notice the–”

“I know,” Jonathan groans, and Nancy stifles a laugh behind one hand. “I know, I know, you don’t even need to say it.”

“Well, the shower is free,” Nancy suggests, absolutely not sounding even a little subtle. “My mom can run a load of laundry and if you have any spare clothes, you can–”

“Yeah, okay, I get it,” Jonathan says, but he can’t help laughing. “I know.”

Nancy throws her hands up, but she’s grinning. “Jonathan, I’m saying this as someone who loves you–”

“Okay!” Jonathan heaves the duffel bag onto one shoulder and shakes his head. “Yeah, I’m going– do you have a towel I can borrow, actually?”

“Oh, yeah, hang on–”

—

Jonathan is coming to realize, slowly, that it’s all about the little things in life. Like whatever people had been saying about stopping to smell the roses and the morning coffee was totally true this whole time, but he’s also adding his girlfriend’s name-brand body wash to the list. God, okay, yes. This is nice. The second the cabin gets running water again, Jonathan is going to make it his personal mission to hunt down the generic version of this.

If the stores haven’t been swallowed up in the earthquake, he thinks gravely, running a hand through his hair and lathering up the suds there. He’s never taking something as simple as soap for granted again, is the lesson he’s learning here. And for a moment, as the water shuts off and the last of the soap swirls down the bathroom drain, thoughts of college and his family and the end of the literal world– for real this time, none of that rat-flesh-monster nonsense– swirl away with it. It’s just him and this stupid, wonderfully clean towel.

God bless Karen Wheeler’s taste in laundry detergent.

When Jonathan gets back to Nancy’s room, she’s sitting on the bed, knees pulled up to her chest, staring off into space and facing away from him. “Hey,” he says softly, just in case she didn’t notice him come in. “What’s on your mind?”

Nancy doesn’t startle, so she must have heard him after all. “Oh,” she sighs. “Nothing, I was just– nothing.”

That doesn’t sound like nothing, but Jonathan knows when to push and when not. Now, when things are still a little new and unfamiliar and it’s the second time Jonathan’s stepped foot in Nancy’s room in six months– counting twenty minutes ago– is not the time.

He lets it go. Later. They have time– they have to have time. “Okay,” he says simply, then runs the towel through his hair one last time. “Um, is there somewhere I can put this?”

“Oh!” Nancy jumps up from the bed. “Yeah, here, let me just grab– or you could just let it dry and use it later if you wanted– I mean, maybe you won’t need to use it again because maybe the cabin will have water after all, but you could– actually, I’ll just take it,” she finishes, all in one quick, frantic breath, then plucks the towel neatly out of Jonathan’s hand.

Jonathan feels a little bit overwhelmed. He’s tired and his brain has been operating at 50% capacity at most for days now, which is probably what he gets for subsisting solely off of gas station snacks for three meals a day. “I,” he starts, and then Nancy blinks up at him, eyes a little wide and very frazzled, and he pauses. “Are you okay?”

“Yes?” Nancy blinks again. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re a little all over the place,” Jonathan laughs, shifting his stance on the carpet. “It’s just a towel.”

Nancy looks down at the towel in her hand, up at Jonathan, back down at the towel again, then promptly drops it onto the carpet.

“What,” Jonathan starts, “are you–”

Nancy leans forward and kisses him.

It’s a little bit awkward, because Jonathan’s quite a bit taller than her– this, obviously, hasn’t changed, because they both stopped growing years ago– and it’s been a while. It’s been months, and they hadn’t so much as held hands or touched pinkies like repressed lovers in some old-timey Victorian novel.

It’s a little bit awkward, for a moment, where Nancy’s on her tiptoes a little and she’s holding Jonathan’s face in her hands, and he’s kind of caught off-guard. It’s kind of awkward, and then Nancy lets a little huff from somewhere deep in her chest, and the noise is so Nancy, so endearingly frustrated but trying not to show it, that it’s like his hands are moving on autopilot in response. He’s got two hands in her hair before he realizes that he’s moved, and she lets out another little huff from the back of her throat and then it’s not awkward at all anymore.

He thought it would take some getting used to, kissing Nancy again. Like riding a bike, like it was something they might have to relearn, like maybe they got rusty and out of practice in the time he’d been gone. But it’s not any of those things. Nancy smiles against his lips, so wide that he can feel it, and her hands slip off his cheeks and around his neck and suddenly it’s like they’re standing in his empty room again, six months ago with the October light streaming in through the patched-up blinds.

“Hi,” Nancy breathes out as she pulls away. More than anything else, she sounds relieved– the single syllable so saturated with it that in that instance, Jonathan knows she was thinking the same thing as him. She sounds happy. Exuberant, maybe, if he’s feeling generous. But mostly just relieved. 

“I was scared it would be weird,” he admits, and Nancy’s smile grows. “Between us, I mean. Kissing you.”

She shakes her head. “I did too. Is that stupid? I mean, it’s us.”

“Us,” Jonathan echoes, the fading remnants of guilt nagging at him again “Yeah. It’s us.”

Nancy looks up at him like she’s about to say something, opening her mouth and then closing it again. “I– I’m glad you’re back,” she decides. “I missed you.”

That, at least, is a simple enough thought. “I missed you too,” Jonathan sighs. “Seriously.”

He’s still got his hands in her hair. He contemplates dropping them, stepping away, then thinks better of it. Contact– proximity– is something he’s never taking for granted again. He drops them to her waist instead, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder. “Maybe I’m just imagining this,” Nancy starts, voice low and muffled so that he can barely hear her, even speaking right up next to his ear. “And maybe this isn’t the time to talk about it, because you just got back and you’re tired and I’m tired and all I want to do right now is sleep, but–” 

She sighs, and Jonathan tenses. Braces himself for the inevitable– college, we need to break up because of college, you’re not going to college with me, I’m breaking up with you because of– 

“Did things seem– weird to you?” Nancy blurts out.

Jonathan frowns. Again, his brain is working at, like, 50% speed here, and dropping with every second he spends standing here awake and not asleep. “What?”

Nancy pulls her face away from his shoulder, but keeps her arms around his neck. That’s a good sign, right? You don’t keep holding someone you’re going to break up with. “I thought– for a while there, it seemed a little weird,” she says haltingly. “And I thought it was just me imagining it, but then I realized I was probably being a little weird too and I was wondering if it was just me, or if you–”

“Oh,” Jonathan breathes, then, “yeah, a little bit,” and Nancy’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh,” she echoes. “Okay.”

Jonathan leans in, rests his chin on top of her head. “I didn’t mean for it to be like that, I promise. Distance– it’s a bitch.”

“Agreed,” Nancy laughs. “I missed you so much, Jonathan, I– never do that again, okay?”

That meaning go away. Meaning be somewhere that’s not here. Meaning leave. 

Jonathan swallows. He hopes Nancy couldn’t hear it. “Okay,” he says quietly. Not a lie, and not a promise either. Neutral territory, for now.

There’s a clatter in the hallway. Nancy’s room door is closed for now, but the noises from the house still spill through the crack underneath– people settling in, digging out old sleeping bags and clothes, rearranging and making room for a whole second household of people to cram in beside them. 

Jonathan sighs. “Can we– table this, maybe?”

Nancy looks relieved. “Yeah! Yeah, I mean for now– I don’t care. I really don’t. I’m just glad you’re back.”

He drops a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m glad I’m back too.”

—-

Nancy’s shower is a lot quicker than his, but he figures that she’s also been bathing regularly for the past couple of weeks and therefore the miracle of the universe that is name-brand soap and lathered-up suds was likely lost on her. She comes back with her hair damp, wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt that’s at least three sizes too big on her frame. Jonathan looks up from the bed and tries to pretend like he hadn’t just been lying there for ten minutes of agonizing silence, waiting for her to come back.

“So all the hot water was gone,” Nancy rolls her eyes, “because my idiot brother took the world’s longest shower earlier.”

“Can you blame him?” Jonathan laughs, sitting up further on the bed. “It’s been a long week.”

Nancy hovers by the doorway for a moment, like she isn’t sure whether she should walk back into her own room. “I don’t know how you did it. All three of them, for so long. By yourself.”

“Argyle was there,” Jonathan points out on a technicality, already distracted by the sight of Nancy all warm and soft in her ridiculously big pajamas. He beckons her forward. “Hey. Come here.”

She relaxes visibly. “So impatient,” she says around a growing smile as she makes her way over to him. “Are you tired? We can go to bed.”

She says that so easily too. We can go to bed, like it’s second nature, just the two of them.

Jonathan moves over on the bed to make room. It feels smaller than it used to, even though, again, neither of them have done much growing in the last couple of years. The whole room feels smaller. He wonders if that’s how it was for Nancy, tacking her college posters up on the wall and counting down the weeks until her flight was set to take off from the Indianapolis airport.

He turns to Nancy, who’s lying on her back and staring up at the ceiling. It’s like deja vu, lying here on top of her covers and breathing in the scent of her soap and tracing his eyes over her silhouette.

“You’re staring,” she whispers, eyes darting down to meet his, and Jonathan blinks.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I was too, earlier. You just didn’t notice.”

That makes him smile. “Lights on?” he asks, then realizes that maybe that’s not something she does anymore. Maybe she’s moved past that, and now she’s insulted because she thinks that he thinks that she’s four years old, or something–

“If that’s okay,” she says softly, looking a little surprised. “It’s stupid, I know, I thought I’d stop and I almost did, and then– the last few days–”

Jonathan gets it. He thinks about Will’s body twisting around on the bed and lying awake at night into the early hours of the morning and then the first time he’d smoked, how he fell asleep faster than he can ever remember, and didn’t wake up at the smallest creaking of the floorboards anymore. How he’d asked Argyle if that was normal, if he should be worried about a bad reaction, and Argyle had just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. 

“It’s not stupid,” he says, instead of any of that. “I have my things too.”

She looks like she might ask about it, what his things are, but then she yawns sharply. “Okay,” she says, through the tail end of it. “Let me know if you want me to turn it off.”

He won’t. “Okay,” he agrees anyway. “I will.”

There’s no weed in his system, so he doesn’t expect sleep to come easily tonight, even with this tiredness that seems to be seeping right down into his bones. This is restful enough for now, and he’s not complaining– a real bed under him, clean clothes. The weight of Nancy’s body next to him, the slight dip in the mattress where she’s laying. He waits, listens until her breathing slows, falling into an easy, tentative rhythm.

Jonathan doesn’t remember when the last time he slept over was. Again, it wasn’t really worth the commotion– her mother’s tendency to walk into the room without knocking, then getting worried if the door was locked. The hordes of kids that would be hunkered down in their basement, during the summer especially. Trying to get out without alerting suspicion.

He sighs, rolls over until he’s facing the back of Nancy’s head. She’s always done this– drift away from him in sleep, until he wakes up the next morning to find her curled up on the opposite side of the bed. He smiles, and for a moment, considers reaching out, maybe draping an arm around her waist, tucking his face into the warm curve of her neck. Kissing the top of her shoulder, just because she’s there, and he can.

He doesn’t though. No need to risk waking her up.

He’s about to drift off– sleep lingering, tantalizing, just out of reach– when it happens. Something shifts, something changes, and he isn’t alert enough to realize what’s happened until Nancy lets out a small noise next to him.

His eyes fly open. The room is pitch black.

The lamp has turned off, and the hallway light is no longer bleeding through the crack in the door either. The glow of the nearby streetlamp is gone too, even though the blinds open plenty wide enough to let it in.

“Jonathan,” Nancy gasps, and he reaches a hand out on instinct. Hers is already there, halfway between their bodies, fingers scrambling across twisted sheets until they interlock.

“I’m here,” he says. Any trace of sleep he might have been able to catch up to is gone entirely. “I’m here,” he repeats, and squeezes Nancy’s hand once. “What– why did the lights go out?”

“The electricity’s been going out sometimes,” Nancy says. Her voice is a little shaky. “Before you guys got here, after everything. The power lines are unstable, and it just happens sometimes but– usually I don’t wake up in the middle of it, and–”

“Come here,” Jonathan interrupts, and Nancy moves towards him until her body is curled into his. “I’m right here.”

“I thought I was back there,” Nancy says, muffled into the thin cotton of his t-shirt. “When I opened my eyes. I haven’t been back there since– and then Robin and Steve and– and Eddie and I had to go back and I opened my eyes and it was dark–”

She shudders, slightly, voice going thready and then trailing off entirely. Jonathan doesn’t say anything. What is he supposed to say? He hadn’t been there the second time around. As much as it kills him, this is a burden he can’t help her shoulder.

He wraps his arms around her back, pulling her in by the waist. He thought this would be strange and unfamiliar too, like he’d have forgotten what it’s like to have the shape of someone pressed up against you, like the weight of their body on yours would turn unfamiliar and alien with the distance. 

It’s not, though, and it hasn’t. It feels like maybe Nancy never left his arms.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs into her hair. She’s got her hands against his chest, fingers uncurling slowly over his sternum. “I’m here.”

“This is so stupid,” she laughs weakly, but she doesn’t pull away either. “I’m sorry, I’m– I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He wasn’t actually asleep, but he figures that’s maybe not the most comforting thing he could say. “Don’t be,” Jonathan says instead. “Seriously. Wake me anytime.”

“You need sleep,” she protests, but this is halfhearted too. “You’re tired.”

“Stop,” he admonishes, and Nancy falls silent. It’s not an easy task, getting her to stop talking, and it’s also not one he’s inclined to try his hand at very often, but right now, he needs her to stop. “I’ll get my rest later,” he says. “It’s okay. I have plenty of time to sleep.”

Nancy doesn’t say anything for a moment. He almost thinks she’s fallen back asleep, except her breathing is too carefully controlled and he can feel her pulse still coming down. He moves his hands from the small of her back to her waist instead, holding her like she’s an anchor.

“Thank you,” she says at last, which is kind of ridiculous.

“For what?”

“Being there,” she says, then shuffles impossibly closer.

“I’m not going to– not be there,” he tries, and she lets out a small noise that might have been a life. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“Before too, I mean,” she sniffs. “You’ve always been there, even before we– I just got used to having you around.”

Jonathan closes his eyes. “Me too,” he admits softly, more into the static air of Nancy’s room than to her. “I got used to you too fast. I’ve never done that before, with anyone.”

He’s never really had anyones before. He doesn’t say that.

“And then I had to forget that,” Nancy goes on, voice wavering slightly. “So fast. I finally had such a good thing and then it was gone.”

Jonathan makes a gentle, soothing sound, and brushes some of the hair away from her face. He can’t make out her face in the dark, but he can imagine it perfectly. It’s a skill he’s perfected, these last few months. Wide eyes, lips turned downwards just a little. Freckles, maybe, if it’s been sunny lately.

“You have me again,” he says, the fabric of her shirt bunching up under his palm as he shifts, rolling onto his back and pulling her along with him. She moves easily, pliant and warm, and makes a pleased sound as he readjusts the blankets around them. “You have me again,” he repeats. He doesn’t say for now. Maybe it’s the dark, or the proximity, or the gentle silence, but it doesn’t really seem like it matters. “I’m here.”

#this got away from me #i had originally intended to write something else and then this happened #my og vision was different and maybe i'll write that separately at some point but for now !! i hope this is good :^) #thank u for giving me an excuse to write jancy oh my god i love them they are everything and more to me #literally my entire world #head in hands #fun sized fics #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #jancy

[pinacoladamatata]

something something down by the river

yeah i could draw something other than two characters gazing at each other with utter heartsick longing but I know what i'm about son

#beware the tags #oh no the vampire spawn is falling in love with the spider princess #also you will never guess where i got inspo from #yeah it was the man from uncle #i will make him look *more* lovesick dont worry. this is gonna rival my martin/hok stuff bc god #i still have not finished his quest bc i know its gonna make me step away from the game for probably 3 days while i recover #ugghhhh i am gonna scream! bc like the fucking headcanons i have about him and my evil little mermaid tav #she's never seen the ocean. bc menzoberanzzan. so when they finally get to the city she's like fuckin. struck by it. #never seen anything so big in her life. so to explain my running along the coast for hours to unfog the map i imagine he's humoring tav #and acting exasperated by her fascination with the water but he secretly thinks is adorable #and she doesn't know how to navigate a city like baldurs gate. bc where are the spires? the stalagmites? where are the stairs? #so he (knowing the city so well) has to basically be her guide/lead her through the whole thing otherwise it would take them 3 years #to find anything. #MEANWHILE she's having a crisis grieving over her recently dead spouse and fleeing her home for failing her 5th trial #and wants revenge on lolth of all things #so they make a little 'revenge pact' to each other but she's being slowly shown signs of eilistraee and having trouble letting go #bc she can never return home. and she misses her baby brother terribly bc he's only 12 and all 6 of her other siblings are not nice #and she's either gonna take the crown to become a god or have a breakdown at night by the water where she decides to move on #they can make each other better they can make each other so much worse

[catastrxblues]

—

#okay i actually want to rant a bit 😭 - not advised to read this because then you might get brain damage #because oh my god??????? weird #(was going to write an entire diary but nvm here’s the gist of it) #basically i was coming home from this chem thing right #i used the train as i always do when it comes to this. and because the new station just got a shiny renovation it is now connected to the #new mall in front of it (we have two now it’s an addition to the first one). and guess what 😭 #i had to go in and get to the first mall because my dad said he’d just pick me up at the lobby instead of the bus stop in front of #the station entrance right. #and when i was on the elevator going up on a call with my mom about food orders 😭 #the guy i used to have a very very VERY heavy crush on in middle grade got to the elevator leading down just as i was on the landing 😭😭 #and i had to make sure i wasn’t hallucinating so as he was descending and his back turned to me i examined the back of his head and i’m #pretty sure it was him. curiosity killed the cat i should’ve remembered that shit because you know what my stupid ass did?? #i was already walking away on my way to cross to the first mall but then that curiosity got the better off me and i steppedonto the elevato #leading down 😭 and followed him out into (apparently) the fucking bus stop #oh my goddd I JUST REALIZED this is my the one moment help #except i don’t think he recognized me because i was never even friends with him lmao. wrote tons of poetry about him ✅ #actually had one proper conversation with him ❌ #i was delusional and kept alone with my thoughts living in my head do not judge me #but seriously even though i don’t really care about him anymore this would’ve been (unfortunately) SUPER important to middle grade me #she would’ve taken it as a sign or something and write like five pages about it #and i just keep thinking about that #funny how things change because IF YOU KNEW how many credits and exaggerated compliments i gave him in my old journal #oh you would’ve laugheddd #like i used to SPEND SO MUCH TIME pondering over him it’s so 😭 #i used to have an oc and i think i based it on my idea of him and then i think that idea of him was even the reason i started to TRY to #write poetically. and i used to relate every taylor swift love songs to him (esp the ones in debut lover and rep and fearless) IT WAS SO #FUNNY LOOKING BACK AT IT NOW #i think he did see me though. i put on this act as if i was searching for someone confused and then (my go to) pretended someone called me #and then i whisked off as if to find that someone #i’d like to think i look pretty cool though. not because of anything (def not my looks because i was SO TIRED from that extra chem lessons

[lobotomizedlady]

literally wanna dieeeee I realized belatedly that not only was down bad written for me due to being an alien abduction metaphor song but it perfectly describes my situation w/my ex who dumped me 3 days into our second vacation in his country

#but yknow thats what i get for dating a fucking man last year when i absolutely knew better. i was in a low place & the idea of being #whisked away from europe was an escape for me . we got along really well but the second i showed any emotional weakness he couldnt handle i #oh but he sent a bunch of messages begging me to come back when i was on the plane fleeing to my sisters london flat! lol!!! #i didnt tell you guys about any of this on my old blog when it was happening bc i just knew itd invite a flood of #''why were you even dating a man'' messages. yeah im aware. it was stupid & yet another result of my inability to purge myself of the #desire to be in a relationship my homophobic father wouldnt hate me for. and i didnt think any woman would want me . im over it now #fuck my abusive father fuck men in general im so over the internalized homophobia. ive always preferred women why should i have to #supress that to make my fuckface hypocrite father happy. i only rly care bc i love my half brother & want to be in his life which means #i have to appease dad. but at what goddamn cost #why did i say from europe in that earlier tag. i meant TO europe...im from the us #anyways. what a shit show situation that was. i have never felt so betrayed by anyone except for my dad himself #oh i didnt even mention the worst part yet. when i texted from london asking if our friendship was over too (god. so cringe) he then went #into this spiel about how actually what he said earlier when he was asking me to come back #(that it had been a stupid impulse & biggest mistake of his life) was a lie & it had been a long time coming #IF IT WAS A LONG TIME COMING WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LET ME FLY ACROSS THR ATLANTIC FUCKING OCEAN 3 DAYS AGO FOR YOU #and said hed tell me the reasons but ''didnt want to hurt me'' #i have so much hatred in my heart for this man to this day when i really think about the mind games he was playing. unreal. #and he KNEW i already had massive trust issues