#Uncle Knit Knots

[coconutgirl28]

My boy deserves some credit for being a trend seater back in 2008 on the tv show Imagination Movers on Disney Channel.

#memes #disney #disney memes #imagination movers #Uncle Knit Knots #knit knots #beige #sad beige #beige aesthetic #sad beige mom memes #beige moodboard #sad beige mom #sad beige mum #2008 #2008 disney #disney 2008 #nostalgia #nostalgic #sad beige memes #fashions #trends #aesthetic

[pedropascallme]

OH GIVE US SOME JEALOUS JIM!

Think He’d Do What I’ve Done?

Pairing: jealous!Jim x f!Reader

Summary: "He knew it was ridiculous, knew that what the two of you had was nothing short of intense, something wonderful and miraculous that had come out of catastrophe. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of embarrassment surrounded by these people while the girl he loved was seemingly ignoring him."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral (f & m receiving), fingering, p in v sex, creampie, cum play, praise kink, overstimulation, dom/sub dynamics (dom!Jim x sub!Reader) (listen Jim FUCKS I do not make the rules), if I missed anything please let me know!

AN: Your wish is my command! Sorry that this took so long, but good lord I had fun writing it. I will always be a slut for dom!possessive!Jim it's not even funny.

Jim was indebted to the people that surrounded him in the house he stood in; Hannah’s family, however distant they may be, had made an amazing effort to ensure you all had a fresh start in America. The cousins and aunts and uncles and whomever that stood around the living room, sharing well wishes and anecdotes, who had provided housing and employment opportunities, were all so kind. So he didn’t like the voice in the back of his head that told him otherwise when he looked over at you.

One of Hannah’s cousins had an arm around you while you admired the different pictures sitting on the mantle. Jim watched you laugh at whatever remark he was making and scoffed, disillusioned by the way your eyes shined up at the man when you spoke to him.

He knew it was ridiculous, knew that what he had with you was nothing short of intense; something wonderful and miraculous that had come out of catastrophe. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of humiliation surrounded by these people who bordered strangers while the girl he loved was seemingly ignoring him. After all that, it seemed as though every time you found yourself in a room with these relatives, this cousin found his way to you, and you to him. It had Jim silently fuming.

Jim left the gathering early, only muttering a goodbye to Hannah, who, for what it’s worth, rolled her eyes at his obvious melancholy.

“You’re not waiting for her?” In true fourteen-going-on-forty nature, Hannah pried.

Jim mumbled a noise of rejection, padding out of the house and heading for the apartment he shared with you.

~~~

“You left early!” You walked back into the apartment you shared with Jim, jokingly accosting him the moment you crossed the threshold. Jim didn’t look up from his spot on the couch, flicking through the TV channels and bouncing his leg.

“Didn’t think you’d notice.” He was dry, and you felt your heart somersault at his cadence—he felt his do the same. He knew he was acting like a child, but he didn’t know how to confront what in his mind was an issue.

“Course I noticed,” you shook off your jacket, dropping it on the coffee table in front of him, “you alright?” Jim shrugged, and you sat down on the couch next to him. You watched him continue to browse TV channels.

“Hannah’s cousin likes you.” It was blurted and came out as more of a shout than a statement; it caught you both off guard.

“No he doesn’t.”

“I didn’t say which one.” Jim was brooding, upset that you were further proving his point without even trying. He shut off the television and set the remote down next to your jacket on the table.

“You—you didn’t have to, I know who you're talking about,” you looked at your hands, folded on your lap, “but he doesn’t.”

“Do you like him?” Jim followed your line of sight, looking down at your hands. He felt a knot forming in his stomach; the concept of such strong feelings that had nothing to do with the need to survive made him anxious.

“Jim…” You looked up at him, brows knit and lips curving up at the edges, “are you jealous?”

“N—” he tried to protest before you cut him off.

“You are.” You grinned, and he could see the devious glint in your eye. “You think I want him.”

“Didn’t say that.”

“It was implied.” You crossed your arms, somewhat offended that he could think you would be able to look at any man the way you looked at him, but pleased by his possessive nature.

Jim reached around you and rubbed up and down the back of your neck, and you playfully turned your head away from him, hoping he would put in the work for whatever answer he wanted. When you moved your body away from his, you felt the hand resting on the back of your neck stop moving, taking hold of you in a gentle, haughty manner.

“Look at me,” he asked nicely, and so you did, “think he’d do what I’ve done?”

You smiled, enjoying the way he responded to your teasing, “I don’t know. Maybe.” You batted your lashes and Jim pouted. “Depends on what you think you’ve done.” You felt the hand he had on your neck tighten, and a shiver ran down your back.

“Think he’d kill for you?” The air felt thick around you, and you remembered how much you enjoyed Jim’s more domineering moments.

“No.” You whispered, tilting your head up in the hopes that he would give in.

“Do so much for you, don’t I?” He smiled, and you saw the Jim you fell in love with shine out from under the dominant exterior he had fashioned for himself tonight.

“Show me what you do for me.” Your pleading was acknowledged in seconds when Jim grabbed you by the waist and helped you find the proper footing to straddle him. You moaned into his mouth, and he made quick work of the top you were wearing, throwing it blindly onto the floor. You ground your hips down into his, and you could feel the gentle friction of his growing erection against your clothed core. The kisses were messy, teeth clacking gently against each other as you licked his tongue. You pulled away from Jim, who moved down to your neck and chest, marking you with love bites and licking gently at your pulse points. You pushed him back onto the couch, wordlessly lowering yourself to your knees and beginning to undo his zipper.

“Baby…” He smiled down at you, head resting on his arms as he leaned back into the cushion of the couch. He helped you remove his cock from the confines of his jeans, stroking himself. “Open.”

You opened your mouth wide, happy to let him take control, to prove that you were his and his alone. He watched as you placed a kiss on the head of his cock, taking his length in your hands and shooing his own hand, still loosely holding the base of himself, away. You moved your wrist up and down, steadily taking more of him in your mouth as you did, using the spit that dribbled down his shaft to lubricate the motion of your hand. Jim let out a breathy chuckle when you managed to fit most of him down your throat, running his fingers through your hair and pulling stray strands out of your face.

“God—yeah, like that.” His jaw was slack while he analyzed every move you made. “Just like that, sweetheart.” You tried to smile with his cock in your mouth, getting another huffed laugh from him, before you returned to your prior movements. You licked the tip of his cock in a circular motion, pumping up and down with your hand, before attempting to take as much as you could into your mouth. You repeated these gestures to Jim’s delight.

“Fuck, so good—fuck, that’s it, oh my god, baby.” He tugged on your hair in a half-hearted effort to remove you from his cock, but you allowed yourself a few more bobs up and down before listening to the message he was sending.

Jim cupped your cheek in his hand, his thumb wandering over your swollen, saliva coated lips. “So good for me.”

“All for you.” You found a steady rhythm for your breathing.

“That’s right.” He pulled you in for a kiss, letting the spit on your face cover his own mouth and chin. “Do you like sucking me off, baby?” You nodded, eyes hooded and pupils blown out; you wanted to tell him that you could go down on him for hours, but the words wouldn’t come out, head too clouded with need. “Want me to show you more? Let me show you how good I can make you feel?” It was rare that Jim became this controlling, but you felt it go to your cunt every time he did. You nodded again, and Jim stood up, removing what remained of his clothes—and of yours—before easing you onto the couch and moving your legs to rest on his shoulders as he knelt in front of you.

“Say please.” Jim kissed your inner thigh.

You might’ve rolled your eyes under different circumstances, but something about his tone and the way he nipped at your leg turned you into the picture of obedience. “Please, Jim…”

“Please what?” He grinned, perfectly aware of how torturous his treatment was.

“Please,” you were getting impatient, and he knew it, you could see in his eyes how much he relished watching you squirm, “please fuck me, Jim—touch me, please, please.”

His smile turned into something more sinister when he heard you beg, and it was only then that he dove into you. You felt his tongue make contact with your clit and you yelped, the sudden and intense feeling making you jump under his hold on you. He tightened his grip on your legs, holding them firm against his shoulders so that your thighs all but engulfed his head. You could feel the vibrations of his moans travel through your body, and you wriggled underneath him when his tongue broke past your entrance and he licked gently into you. You couldn’t tell what was his spit and what was your wet, everything seemingly running together—and you didn’t really care, either. He suckled on your clit and teased a finger into you, looking at you intently while you came undone for him.

“Think he could do it better?” He moaned into your core, and you were broken out of your haze mostly by the shock that he still had the time to be jealous while he was buried between your legs —though not dissatisfied by the way he managed to show you who you belonged to while forcing you to acknowledge it.

“N—o!” You squeaked at him when his finger hit your sweet spot.

“Think anyone could do it better than me?” He continued to hound you between licks over your bud, fingers rubbing gently across the spongy spot inside of you.

“N—just—fuck, just you! Only you, Jim, only you.” You moaned, pleasing him immensely and motivating him to press down just a bit more on your g-spot while he sucked harder on your clit. Your legs, weak with gratification, shook in their spot on his shoulders, and you felt the fire that had started in your stomach spread across your body. He continued to lick stripes up and down your clit, finger still curling inside you while you rode out your climax.

“That’s right,” Jim kissed your dripping hole, noticing the way you flinched when his breath fanned the now sensitive area, “only me. All for me”

You moaned a pitiful confirmation, and he stood up. He rearranged you so that you were lying properly on the couch, head propped up by a pillow next to the cushioned arm.

“Gonna let me show you more, now, yeah?” You trailed a hand down his stomach, looking up at him from your spot underneath him as he straddled your legs. “Wanna let me fuck you into the couch?” You sighed dreamily, nodding with enthusiasm. “So good f’me.” He lined himself up with your entrance, continuing to whisper praises down at you, before pushing his cock into your desperate cunt little by little.

“Fuck, Jim!” You couldn’t help the expletive; no matter how many times he fucked you there was still so much joy in the way he filled you up to the very brim.

“Good, yeah? Feels good, sweetheart?” He bent forward and pushed your legs up more to allow him to fit deeper inside your cunt.

You whined, eyes screwed shut and lips parted, as he pressed his cock into you. You felt him bottom out, and he brushed his fingers over your cheek, kissing you gently across the face.

“Want—will you—will you fuck me?” You encouraged him, wanting—needing—him to move, to let you enjoy the way he pumped in and out of your pussy.

“You want me to move, baby?” He cooed, leaning forward to whisper into your ear, “Want me to fuck you nice?”

“Please!”

“Say it, then. Say my fucking name.” His breathing was labored, a product of the effort it was taking to hold himself back.

“Please, Jim, I need you to fuck me, I need it, Jim—I need it!” You felt like crying, the way he filled you up and mocked you was entirely too pleasurable. Hearing you beg as if you were on the verge of tears was all he needed, and he pulled out until the tip of his cock was just barely kissing your hole, before he thrusted deep and rough back into you. You cried out, feeling the friction from the way your back rubbed against the couch with each of his hard thrusts into you, and the way his hips rubbed against your own with every move.

“God, fuck,” Jim watched the way your eyes rolled back after a particularly deep plunge into you, “gonna fuck you like I own you.”

“Y—oh! You do—Jim! You do!” You were so far into your own pleasure, you weren’t even sure if the words had come out properly or if they had been reduced to gibberish between the time it took for them to travel from your brain to your mouth. But when you heard him growl in your ear you knew he had heard you, and it registered to you both what you had said.

“Yeah?” His voice was laced with care but was so outwardly assertive, “yeah, I own this fucking pussy.” He raised your legs to rest them on his shoulders as they had when he’d eaten you out, and he used them now as leverage to bend you backwards so his cock was seated as far as your body would allow him. His name fell from your lips continuously as he pounded into you with seemingly no regard; he managed to pick up the pace slightly and your eyes watered, overwhelmed by the sensation of being used to the fullest extent and absolutely loving that you had this effect on Jim.

“Gonna fucking cum—fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he was panting, chest rising and falling rapidly in sync with his thrusts, “tell me—tell me how you want it, sweetheart, tell me.”

You didn’t respond fast enough to satisfy him, and you whimpered when his hand came down to smack your clit, then gasped at the way he soothed you by rubbing tight circles on the bud.

“Tell me.” He grunted.

“Want—Jim!—please, please, want you to cum in me! Please—please, Jim, need—need it inside.” Your back arched up in response to his ministrations, and his hand that wasn’t massaging your clit came up to squeeze your leg to his cheek.

“Fucking—oh, hell, gimme one more, baby, please.” The mask of dominance slipped slightly when Jim began to beg for you to cum one more time, “cum on my cock, baby, I’ll give you what you need—all for you, fuck!—good girl, my good girl…” He placed kisses onto your calf, still holding it over his shoulder while he fucked you stupid. You felt his cock sliding in and out of you, every vein catching against your walls and the fat head of his cock nudging the spots that you could never reach on your own. He felt velvety inside you, and the way he spoke only heightened your pleasure, the promise of feeling him fill you up with his cum only spurring you on further to reach your peak.

“Ji—I—fuck!” You choked out a string of profanities, punctuating each with a gasp of his name as you came for him. He smiled into your leg, turning to look down at your face to watch your eyes roll back and your mouth hang open while you came on his length. He felt the way you clenched around him and the sheen that your cum added to his cock, his own head lolling back as he felt himself fall over the edge.

Still squirming under him, overcome with the strength of your second orgasm and the way he continued to use your spent cunt, you felt him paint your insides with his load. He moaned out your name, still shallowly thrusting in and out of you, admiring how your pussy milked him for every last drop he had to offer you. You whined, needy and messy and fucked out, and he gave your clit a final few swipes with his thumb, smirking sadistically at the way you cried out at the overstimulation. Jim began to pull out of you slowly, eyes glued to your hole to observe how the mixture of his cum and yours leaked out of you and down over the curve of your ass, dripping over your asshole and thighs. He leaned down, pulling your legs open to lick and kiss at the mess the two of you had made.

“Jim!” You squeezed your legs together, thighs pressing against his ears. He came up from between your legs, licking his lips, before he brought himself up to your face to kiss you softly. You wrapped your arms around him, and you could feel the pressure of his chest against yours as he rested his weight onto you.

“Too much?” He whispered after a while of heavy breathing and fingertips tracing over one another.

“No…perfect.” You squeezed him closer to your body, lips grazing his ear. “You’re right, y’do so much for me.”

Jim laughed against you, and you shook with his chest, “I do two things for you—kill and cum.”

“Hope you only have to do one of those things from now on.”

“I plan on it,” he smiled, then deadpanned; “you mean cum, right?” You pushed him away playfully and he laughed. Scooping you up into his arms, he let you rest yourself against him, letting the liquid seeping out between your legs trickle down onto him. He hugged you to his chest, eyes suddenly heavy and body light with satisfaction. “I’d do anything for you.” He whispered, breath fanning the top of your head.

You pawed at his chest, eyes closed. “I know you would. Feeling is mutual.” He cradled your head in his hands, “He doesn’t like me—Hannah’s cousin—he doesn’t. He’s married. You’ve met his husband.”

Jim felt you smile into his skin, and he felt himself go red, embarrassed that he hadn’t made the connection, but too blissed out and used up to backtrack and claim he had known all along. “I love you,” he chuckled, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” You looked up at him, cozy and content with your position on his lap, “would’ve said something earlier, but I like when you get possessive.”

“Thanks for letting me prove a point.” He rubbed your back, head falling against the couch cushion behind him.

“Always happy to help.”

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #oppenheimer #peaky blinders #peaky blinders smut #thomas shelby #tommy shelby smut #28 days later #28 days later smut #jim 28 days later x reader #28 days later jim x reader #28 days later fanfiction #jim 28 days later

[mirkwoodmunson]

silly boy

eddie munson x gn!y/n

850 words

you pick eddie up from lockup and give him a good scolding

contains: lil angst, lil fluff, lil bit of hopper, est. relationship, pre-s3-4 tw: cursing, drug mention, jail mention, self-deprecation, scolding a/n: wanting to do more short n’ sweet lil drabbles cause they’re easier more fun and my brain hurt — shoot me some ideas! disc: i do not give permission to share my content outside of tumblr; please reblog and do not repost; my content (even sfw) is not meant for minors; i am not responsible for the media you consume online.

“What the fuck, Munson,” your voice croaks, weighty with a mixture of anger, relief, watching him sheepishly make his way towards you.

You stand beneath the ‘HAWKINS POLICE’ sign, stood in front of Eddie’s van with tightly crossed arms. Hopper nods at you once, eyeing Eddie with final regard before turning back inside.

Eddie holds up placating hands, but something in your gut twists and you purse your lips, almost glaring from behind your lashes. You shift away from him as he draws near, not letting him touch you like he very much wants to. He tries to meet your gaze but keeps looking away.

“y/n, listen, I-“

“No, Eddie — what the fuck?!! Do you know Wayne’s been worried sick about you?? That I- I’ve been looking for you Eds, for days, till Chief Jim Fucking Hopper lets your uncle know you got picked up across state lines?!? What the fuck were you thinking??”

Angry hot tears have begun spilling, dripping heavily from your jaw, but rather than cry you just swallow the knot in your throat and jab a finger into his chest.

“Get in the car, Eddie.”

You hold it there a moment before turning and climbing into the driver’s seat.

Eddie stands there for a moment after you’ve turned away and just, looks down at the pavement, heart in his stomach. After a few beats he sighs, walks around the other side and slowly climbs into the passenger side, dully closing the door.

“You know I don’t care that you sell, Eddie — I don’t; I know that you do it for a reason, God knows I’ve got my fair share from you. But—“ you heave an exasperated sigh and gesture uselessly with your hands before dropping them heavily into your lap.

“What were you doing??”

You look over at him, Eddie looks down into his lap, spinning a ring on one of his jeweled fingers.

“Eds. Lookit me.”

Hesitation, before he lifts his head, shyly gazes with those goddamn big brown doe eyes. You sigh again and lean your head against the headrest, brow knitted.

“Your turn. I’ll stop scolding. What were you doing?”

Eddie’s lips thin as he presses them together, swallowing thickly and shaking his head a little, dispirited and very aware he’s deeply upset you.

“Being, fucking dumb—“

“You’re not dumb Eds you just— you make silly decisions sometimes.”

“Is that not what it means to be dumb?”

“No. It’s not. You’re not dumb. You’re silly. I’m sorry I’m so upset, babe, but… You can understand why, right? Eddie — Wayne was crying.”

That gets his head to snap up again, eyes wide and concerned.

“He couldn’t look for you ‘cause he had to work, so he asked me. We were so worried about you, you hadn’t been picked up yet so they weren’t much help,” you nod towards the police station.

“Called around Hellfire, Hideout, checked out Rick’s,” you give a heavy shrug and then rub your eyes.

“We thought—“ you sigh and sag your shoulders. “I don’t know, Eddie, we thought you got hurt. That something happened. You left your van, so like — what if someone…”

Eddie squeezes your hand and a few more tears drop. He’d had deals go wrong before, bad customers, and even though you knew Eddie, he wasn’t exactly the most well-liked person around town. You’d seen him get hurt before.

“I’m really sorry,” his voice is a little strained, upset that he’s upset you.

“I’m dumb — point fuckin’ blank — I’m dumb. It was a big deal, two-hundred bucks, they wanted to drive out someplace and I’m dumb, I realize how dumb that is now and—“

You kiss him quiet, pulling him in with hands cupped against his neck.

“Eddie Munson you are not fucking dumb!” You giggle tearfully against his lips, foreheads pressed together as he scoops your cheeks up and holds you near, pecking your nose and cheeks.

“I’m an ass, a big giant ass—“

“Shut up,” you hiss with a soft smile, nipping his bottom lip to which he finally utters a deep chuckle.

“You’re a silly, silly boy and you make silly decisions, and I worry about you and you scared me. You’re not dumb,” a smooch to the corner of his mouth, “you’re not an ass,” one to his jaw.

“Just…please, be more fucking careful. Maybe take a break from selling for a bit, yeah? Wayne is gonna have a heart attack if you go missing again, and then I’m gonna have a heart attack, and then who’s gonna pick you up from jail??”

You give his head a little jostle, and he laughs again, nuzzling his nose alongside yours.

“I promise I promise I promise — I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.”

You giggle and peck another kiss to his cheek before starting up the van.

“Now get buckled, silly boy, I can see the Chief looking through the window.”

Sure enough Jim Hopper’s scowl is visible through the pane, and Eddie snorts as he fastens his belt before you take him home to his waiting uncle.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x gn!y/n #stranger things fic #eddie munson angst #mine #1k

[katyawriteswhump]

Never let me go (Steddie holiday drabble)

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 18, Free Space--Hurt/Comfort. 

Steve’s really good at pretending he’s fixed—especially to himself—and decides he’s totally up for kinky fun with Eddie. Also part of my steve whump fic thread on ao3

WC: 922.

Rating: M.

CW: Mild kink and bondage, sexual content, panic attacks, PTSD, flashbacks. Tags: Emotional hurt/comfort. Trauma. Fluff, whump.

***

Eddie draws the tinsel garland around Steve’s arm, looping it loosely before dragging it tighter. Not too tight. Steve swallows hard, nerves fizzing. Eddie tethers Steve’s wrist to the bed frame behind his head with a loopy, hitchy knot.

“Where the heck did you learn—"

“My uncle. He’s worse than a billion scout leaders, I shit you not.” Eddie lazily kisses the tender underside of Steve’s wrist, beneath the knot, setting Steve’s pulse skittering. Eddie shifts his attention to Steve’s other hand. Steve has, without thinking, moved himself into place, ready to be tied. He’s happily drowning in Eddie’s gorgeous eyes, lapping up Eddie's hungry appreciation of him, till…

“You’re sure you’re good with this, Stevie?” 

“How many times, dude? I’m fine.” Steve slides his tongue around suddenly dry-feeling lips. “Tinsel is dangerous for cats and babies. I could literally snap this crap in half.”

“You could snap me in half.”

“I dunno. You’re crafty. And deceptively strong.” Steve tugs speculatively at the tinsel. It’s deceptively strong too, and the wire holding it together grooves into his flesh. Clearly breakable, though. If he wanted out.

He doesn’t.

When Eddie confessed a drunken desire to tie Steve to their bed, they’d both been apprehensive—given Steve’s “history,” with Soviets and throttling vines, and the rest of the shitshow. Using tinsel was Steve’s dumb, buzzed-out-of-his-skull idea.

Now, Eddie drags the tinsel across Steve’s bare chest, swirls it over his abs, raising goosebumps in its wake. Eddie’s using black and silver tinsel. “So pretty against your skin,” he purrs. Steve’s eyes flutter closed, because the sensations… Gnng! So good! Also, kinda excruciating. Both too little contact, and too much.

Eddie trails the tinsel lower. Steve’s wearing his boxers, and he moans, whimpers—why isn’t he naked yet? Eddie’s fingers drift down Steve’s leg, and Steve flexes into Eddie’s hand. Eddie spreads Steve’s leg toward the bedpost then crouches beside.

Eddie’s hot breaths scorch his flesh. Steve’s breaths accelerate further. As he binds Steve’s ankle, Eddie’s brows knit in concentration. Why’s that super-hot? Steve’s gotten a semi already, and he’s no clue what Eddie’s gonna do next.

“I better be naked soon, Munson.” Eddie lightly pinches Steve’s inner thigh, a total blindside. “Ow!”

“Patience, Babe. Or I’ll start over with your ass upward.”

Steve smirks: “Only just thought of that, moron?”

“Haha, don’t be a brat. Takin’ this slow. Now, shhhh.”

Steve shudders, frets his lip. Eddie winds the last of the tinsel around Steve’s other leg. This is still fun—right?—and he trusts Eddie. Okay, that nervous stirring in the pit of his stomach persists, but it’s sure as hell exciting. Eddie backs away, and Steve rolls his eyes. “Gonna eat me or fuck me?”

“C’mon on, man. Didn’t I say, ‘Sssssh’?”

“There’s better ways to shut me up.”

The kiss is delicious and deep, and Steve just breeeaaaaks. It’s easy to surrender to this—the hot, thrumming weight of Eddie’s clothed body pressed to his near-nakedness, the slick sweep of Eddie’s tongue, the frisson of tinsel against Steve’s ever-more-sensitive flesh as he fidgets and sighs. He feels wanted, worshipped… and randy as hell.

Eddie breaks the kiss abruptly. Before Steve can whine about it, Eddie presses a finger to his own lips, looking… kinda stressed?

The blood thundering in Steve’s ears calms enough for him to hear the loud knocking on the door.

“Eddie? Steve? Hellloooo!” It’s goddamn Henderson.

“I’ll tell him to scram.” Eddie leaves.

Steve’s breathing speeds up again—his face burns, the rest of his skin feels oddly chilled. Distant voices murmur, an owl hoots, and he’s all alone… and feeling… okay, yeah, vulnerable.

Don’t be a wuss, Harrington. You can break free if you want. It’s candy-ass tinsel.

He tugs at his bonds. 

No, don’t spoil the game.

His eyes lull closed, and he’s lost in an instant. 

His hands are tightly bound… above his head… no, behind his back? Shit, shit, shit, he’s losing track of everything save his terror. All he knows is he’s struggling, and he can’t get free and the Soviets are gonna hit him again. They just keep hitting him. Shouting in his face. He tastes the blood, and he’s screaming it over and over: “For the millionth time, I work at Scoops Ahoy.”

His raw throat clogs, then closes up. He can’t breathe! The vines… Those goddamn vines. They’re winding about his every limb, slithering, squeezing tight around his neck. His whole existence reduces to a desperate fight for air… I’m choking… drowning… suffocating… Oh God… Oh God! He fights in small, snatchy gasps that he barely believes in. Vecna’s got him, and he’s gonna die, and…

“Steve! Sweetheart, you’re okay… You’re okay… I gotcha.”

“Wha—” Steve’s eyes fly wide. Eddie. Eddie’s here! Leaning over him. Touching him tenderly. Reality slams back, and he throws an arm around Eddie’s neck and clings. Eddie hugs him close, and the whirlwind of his panic slows. His only actual pain is a faint sting in his wrists and ankles, where he’s busted through the tinsel.

“Crap, I’m sorry.” Eddie presses a soft kiss to Steve’s clammy brow. “Leaving you was dumb. The whole idea was dumb.”

“S’okay.” Steve buries his face in Eddie’s shoulder, and his pulse and breaths calm further. “I kinda enjoyed it till…” I totally lost my shit. He slowly inhales Eddie’s warm, reassuring scent. The terrifying flashbacks retreat a little further. He’s okay… He’s okay! As long as Eddie never lets him go, the darkness won’t win.

He nuzzles up toward Eddie’s ear: “Maybe try again next year?”

#steddieholidaydrabbles #steddie #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington whump #steve harrington hurt/comfort #eddie x steve #steve harrington x eddie munson

[highlady-sorcha]

Appetite (Cassian x Reader) (Mature)

Holy freaking cow guys, I CANNOT believe the reception that you all have given my work on here. I can’t even begin to tell you what it means, and I truly cannot thank you enough for all the love and support you’ve given me over the past couple days. Here’s another one from my Wattpad in a much different vein than the other two. I’ve never written smut before this- so bear with me lol. Thanks for reading!

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The cabin got too quiet during the day. Snow flurried down from the skies in a ceaseless sheet of white fluff, and the drifts grew higher and higher, beginning to shift around as the wind roared around the eaves of the building.

   You shuddered against the cold and snuggled deeper into your sweater. The thick knit felt good against the chill that leaked in from around a few of the windows. For all the magic that Rhysand held, it was a wonder he never bothered to fix that. For all the time that he and Feyre spent up here, didn't he ever get cold?

    Thinking of what they spent their time up here doing, you snorted. Of course they didn't get cold up here, no matter if they were deep in the Illyrian mountains in the dead of winter. Nyx was proof of that.

  Settling down into the overstuffed couch, you grabbed your book off the sofa, where you had it laying open, face down to keep your place. The wind roared outside as you tried to not consider what had possibly happened on this very seat by the same two people you'd had in mind.

   You picked up the book and began to read, taking a long, slow drink of your steaming tea. The hot liquid slipped over your tongue and languidly dripped down the back of your throat.

 There were other things you wanted to drip down the back of your throat.

A pleasant ache throbbed softly between your thighs.

Now wasn't the time, Cassian would be back later, he said he just wanted time away from everything when he got back. Being part of the inner circle took a toll on him at times, and now with the pressure of being an uncle, the protectiveness he felt for Nyx... you knew it killed him at times.

    But, there were ways to help him relax when he did get back to the cabin.. Your chest tightened a little bit at the thought of him in that huge armchair by the window. His dark, tattooed skin shining in the winter light. All of his skin. Not a stitch on him. Laid back, his head thrown back in ecstasy. With his thick cock in one hand, your hair knotted in the other.

  The ache built, wetness slicking your throbbing slit. Tingles traveled down your legs, and you couldn't help but curl your toes in response. The sensation traveled up from your gently swelling clit to the tips of your breasts. They hardened instantly.

 You forced another breath through your tightened chest, and set the book on the back of the couch. It slipped off the back and fell to the floor in a flutter of pages. You hardly noticed as you leaned back against the arm of the sofa and spread your legs just a little bit.

   The other night, Cassian had wanted to try something new. He'd brought out a length of rope and tied your wrists together  around the bedpost. After stripping you bare and laying you facedown on the bed, he'd run a calloused fingertip down your spine with one finger, and used the other to play with your clit.

  You were so sensitive that you rarely liked him touching you like that. The sensation was almost more than you could bare. It almost hurt. You could never stay still, him touching your clit sent you jerking and clenching your leg closed. Most of the time, Cassian lost patience and just spread your legs. He normally chose to pleasure you with his cock instead- what he knew you could handle.

  Recently though, he'd been sadistic- feral, almost. Bared teeth, fucking outside. The more you whined and begged, moaned and whimpered that you had already come too many times- the harder and longer he fucked you.

 Although the fire in the hearth now banked low, heat rippled across your skin when you slid your hand between your legs. The silken sleep shorts you wore were damp at the crotch seam. The navel length top did nothing to hide your peaked breasts. They chafed against the fabric, begging to be kissed by cool air and kneaded by Cassian's rough hands.

 A soft sigh left your parted lips and you closed your eyes when your fingers dipped into the wetness you found.

 "Mmm, kitten. Seems like you knew just what I would need when I got in." A deep voice purred.

Your eyes flew open as snowflakes fluttered in on a frigid wind. You'd been so preoccupied, you hadn't even heard the door open.

 Cassian threw it closed behind him, all his attention already on you. It slammed so hard you didn't need fae hearing to catch the glass rattle in its frame.

  A feral smile stretched his mouth, his wings spread wide behind him so that winter light highlighted the membranes between each bone. Snowflakes melted in the black, wind tangled locks that curled around his jaw.

 He had a warrior's stance as he looked at you reclined on the sofa, playing with yourself.

 Cassian growled and stroked the enormous bulge building beneath his belt.

 "I thought you were going to spend the day reading and writing?" He smirked.

 Your lips pulled back from your teeth in a feral grin, dipping deeper into the wetness at your core.

  "Reading builds an appetite," you replied.

 "Does it now?" The corner of Cassian's wide mouth quirked up.

  Folding his wings in tightly behind him, he stalked across the room. Every thump of his boots echoed in your heart, at the apex of your thighs. That hot tightness built and built. The tightness in your chest curled like a python preparing for its next meal.

 He stood over you and leaned down onto the back of the sofa, bracing himself on his powerful forearms. The sight of corded muscles shifting under his bronze, tattooed skin made you swallow past a lump in your throat.

 "Now kitten... what are we going to do with you?" Cassian raked his eyes up and down your body before meeting your eye.

 A growl rumbled in his throat, his adam's apple shifted. "Well, are you going to answer me?"

 You gave him your best naughty smirk and lifted your hips off the sofa, pulling your silken shorts down and off in one smooth motion. You flicked them across the room, onto the very same armchair by the fire you'd imagined Cassian stroking his cock in only moments ago.

 Meeting his eye again, you spread your legs and played with your clit, making a mewling sound at the back of your throat as you did so.

  His eyes darkened as he smiled. "Now... I don't think we want to do it so simply, do we?"

 Before you could respond, he'd reached over the back of the couch and snatched the front of your silky tank top. Cassian fisted it in his hand and pulled you up face to face with him. This close, the musky scent of his arousal was almost more than you could bear.

  His lips crashed into yours, and he wrapped his arms around you. You kissed him back, opening your mouth to allow his tongue in. He kissed furiously, with a primal need. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he sat you on the back of the sofa, deepening the kiss. He nibbled at your bottom lip before leaving it, kissing down your jaw, licking the sensitive spot below your ear.

  You groan at the hot sensation of his tongue and shifted closer to him, desperate for any friction to help relieve the ache that was building to a fever pitch. Cassian allowed you closer, your naked bottom grinding into his leather covered bulge. Your slickness did nothing to give you friction though, against the leather you just slid up and down. You whined at the reality.

 Cassian chuckled low in his throat, pulling away from your mouth. He braced his hands at the tops of your thighs and smirked at you. His face was wild with attraction, but you could see the leash he kept on it tighten just a little.

  "You're not going to get away so quickly. You said you had an appetite (y/n)?"

 Still breathing hard from making out, feeling the burning of his scruff still on your face you nodded desperately.

 Cassian's smile was positively feral. "So do I, it's been a long damn day."

 Cassian dropped to his knees and feasted like a starving man.

#acotar #smut #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #Cassian #Cassian x reader

[ezdotjpg]

forgive me if it's been asked before but alt. hobbies for your bonus links?? would guess mage has a thing for gardening and fishing because of his uncle's apple orchard with a nearby pond but i'm curious!

ooo I like that for mage! he also spends a LOT of time reading. Like anything he can get his hands on. He’s reading the driest tome abt the history of hyrulean property taxes ever put to paper

ok I have more some of these might be repeats sorry

Loft really loves woodcarving but he hasn’t been able to do it as much since he has tremors in his right hand now. he’s getting better with his left though! I feel like he might have also liked other crafts like knitting or crocheting but encounters the same problems with those. do death-defying stunts with his loftwing (safe for the loftwing, batshit for him) count as a hobby. he jumps off cliffs for fun. if u asked him what his favorite hobby is he would say it’s sleeping

Mask loves fishing too! for some reason I feel like he’d also be good at like. idk. weaving shit out of grass. he’s basket weaving. he’s making bracelets. he makes flower crowns for the cows. I like to imagine he and malon come up with a lot of games to play together with their own elaborate sets of rules. does that count as a hobby

Wolf likes to bake! he also reads a lot tho I love the headcanon that it’s like. 95% garbage romance novels. love that for him. Also fishing! I think he would also like gardening

War dances! Mostly only when he’s by himself if it’s not in formal setting like a ball. He has no other hobbies <- desperately needs them

Mini builds machines out of garbage. most of them are harmless. sometimes he’s an evil mastermind. I think he’d like sculpting things out of clay too

Mirror makes jewelry but that’s more of his profession. He’s taken up drawing and painting! noting the irony lol. he always has a sketchbook on him. i think he likes watercolors. He really likes fashion! He can sew and embroider.

Spirit also invents contraptions but that’s also his job. Knowing everything about trains is also his job. I think maybe he does not have many hobbies that aren’t also his job. Hm. Actually he really likes playing his flute I think he makes up his own songs on it. If u asked him I think he would also say his favorite hobby is sleeping

I think. Wake likes to collect weird stuff he finds in the ocean or on beaches lol. Like salvaging? It’s weird seashells. It’s cool pieces of driftwood. It’s rusty swords that wash ashore. it’s objects from another time. He taught himself to play the trumpet. He loves to sing and he’s so bad at it. If he spots a piece of rope he’s tying an elaborate series of complicated, artful knots

I think Slate really likes climbing. Like yeah he does it to get around but sometimes he just climbs giant cliffs for fun. Lots of active stuff like shield-surfing and sandseal racing! He treats riding horses as more of a hobby than a means of travel. He loves hearing stories from ppl a stables, if that counts. Game nights w the locals in Hateno. He grows different plants he finds in hyrule in his room in Hateno and Zelda does experiments with them when he’s not home lol.

#wish I could come up w some more specific stuff lol but my head is empty #bonus lore #all links #askdotjpg #bonuslinksdotjpg #long post

[darkmagyk]

that you for the explanation! I'm so sorry you're having a bad week and I hope things get better. *sending virtual hugs and chocolate* no pressure, but if you want to share more percababy/percabeth hcs I would love to share your joy

Some headcanons: Most people think the Jacksons have three pets, there three cats: Himbo (name because they found him near the Himbo Juice in New Rome, and also, because he is orange), Turkey (named because they found her fighting wild turkey's on Harvard's campus. She's a calico), and Smaug (named because Paul read Junie and Lucie the Hobbit when they were little, and Smaug is black. And also, she was a gift from Freya).

However, these people are of course not counting Mrs. O'Leary, Donut (Blackjack's son, who is born when Junie is about 3, and they are best friends forever), Peanut Butter (Lucie's 6th birthday present from Poseidon. She's a Megalodon), and various Hippocampi, given at various times, and named, at Uncle Tyson's insistence, Red to Indigo.

Percy and Annabeth have never met a teacher or school administrator they would not throw down with. They spent there entire school careers being dismissed and labeled problems. And they will not put up with it directed at there kids.

They got to New Rome for college, and then both get masters at Harvard and so live in Boston for a couple of years, but they settle in NYC. They get two townhouses side by side, and Annabeth reinevates it into their dream house. The basement is actually a little demigod crash pad. Demigods in New York city know its a place for a warm bed, snacks, extra nectar, and a hot shower.

Annabeth discovers fiber crafts after Mark of Athena. And she never looks back. She weaves, she sews, she knits, she crochets, she nålebinds. She spins her own yarn when she can source the wool. And her kids are the same. Sometimes the whole family will be piled into the living room, watching Lego Masters, and everyone by Percy is knitting or crocheting or embroidering something. Even like the 3 year old is doing like a knotted bracelet thing.

(Because of her faber crafts skills, Annabeth is laundry master of the house. She can get blood, mud, and monster goo out of late Byzantine princess costumes, including historically accurate brocade, that she also made.)

She also is officially cake and cookie decorator, with her army of helpers. But Percy is the chief cook in the house.

I have more, if anyone ever wants them.

#pjo #asks #percabeth

[loudsnapdragon]

thank you to @dreamwatch for tagging me a in a little WIP Wednesday!🧡

some angsty Eddie pov, from a possible b-side to my Juno fic here.

His mama always sends him a handknitted toboggan for his birthday, or close abouts. It was November by the time it arrived this year, only two months late, wrapped up in brown paper and twine. Wayne called it handsome when Eddie pulled it over his head, the blue wool a little harsh against his dark hair but still charming in its way. He remembers her always being nimble with her fingers, whether it was knitting needles or the fine papers of rollie or the strings of that little old guitar painted silly colors.

It was a pretty thing, that guitar. A Rickenbacker acoustic with pink and blue daisies around the pick guard. It got her into a lot of trouble, that guitar.

There’s this old boozer off Main St. It’s where the plant workers go; Wayne and his buddies. Eddie only set foot inside once, twelve years old and fucking terrified cos’ he’d lost his keys, and the frozen trailer door wasn’t budging like it usually did when he shimmied the handle. Dragging his feet through the snow and biting his lip blue. Expecting the complete stranger he’d only recently been informed was his uncle, and the only living relative fit to care for him, to slap him backwards for losing the keys to the trailer Eddie’d no doubt already tarnished with his mere presence.

He remembers the shock of warmth when he walked out the cold of his first Hawkins’ winter and into the red carpeted bar. The way the glowing neons behind the counter were blocked out by the bartender towering over him, asking if he knew where he was. Eddie wasn’t one for biting his tongue, never has been, but he didn’t answer. Too distracted by the guitarist in the corner, twanging strings waving under his fat fingers. Odd music, not quite like home. Wherever that was. But it got the liquored up oldies at the bar waving their beers, cheerily mumbling along to the too-fast words.

Wayne spotted him soon enough. And cos’ he’s an old sweetheart, he barely bat an eyelid at his night ending early. Walked Eddie home and showed him the spare hidden in a knot in the punk wood under the doormat. Eddie sat up on the kitchen counter, cos’ he was small enough to do that back then, chewing on a fresh grilled cheese as Wayne pottered around the stove, making himself a black coffee to sober up before bed. With a decisive swing of his feet against the cabinets, Eddie decided the curiosity beat out the constant low-lying fear that he was impeding on Wayne’s everything, and asked after the music. It sounded like mama’s songs, he said. Back when she still played.

And Wayne sighed like a tire wheezing out the last of its air, the car crashing into the side of the highway. Made Eddie freeze his short legs, hanging perpendicular off the counter.

'Sorry,' he said.

'It’s alright,' Wayne said, putting down his coffee and helping Eddie jump down. ;Get to bed, and I’ll tell ya.'

He’d never had his own bed before. Always slept in his mama’s bed back in Virginia, and then, when he was with Teddy, it was the loveseat under the apartment window. Never any curtains, so the streetlights would bother him all night, morning sun waking him up early enough so he could dust down the living room, make Teddy a coffee, and then go about pretending he didn't exist. As was best to do when he was staying there.

But Wayne gave up the bedroom when Eddie moved in, telling Eddie to make it his own. He hasn’t got much décor to show for it; a snapshot of his mama above the bedside lamp; some rocks he’d found in the creek back home; the leather jacket Teddy had given him as way of an apology, too big for a child and falling apart at the seams.

Wayne pulled up the rickety chair to sit by the bed, like he’d be telling Eddie a fairy tale. But Wayne’s never been that fanciful, who’s got time for that, so it was a real story. More truth than Eddie had ever heard before.

A very pretty lady came rolling down the mountains to stay with her auntie and get her high school diploma. Hawkins’ High didn’t know how to comprehend her, this skinny girl with straw hair and strange words and a face that got Ted Wheeler nearly giving it all up just to take her to Prom. But Ted didn’t win her hand, cos’ the pretty lady had her eyes set on a life beyond the better-to-do suburbs. She wanted to travel to the real city, see the big wide world and where she fit into it. Poor as pieces she was, made ends meet with a job cleaning at the luxury motel off the highway, and on occasion singing a tune around town. Wayne always wondered after her, how safe she was playing her silly guitar in those smoky bars. He was ought to be graduating the same year as her, couldn’t deny he’d blush when she smiled so earnest in the hallways, like she’d never learnt the high-mindedness that Karen Childress got her kicks from. But where Wayne kept his distance, his big brother crept forwards.

Edward Munson has four years over Wayne, four years more than Eliza too.

When he’s older, Eddie will hear the odd story about Teddy around town. How he was a charmer, a crook, a cheat, but more often than not, how he was the handsomest man his dear mama ever saw. He found her playing guitar in that old boozer, watched her intently as he sipped on a whiskey he didn’t pay for, tipped her mighty with cash he won fair and square in a pool game against Lonnie Byers, or so he claimed. Teddy told that girl she had a voice made for the West, how her yellow hair would light up like golden sand under the sun.

Three months later and she was expecting, one month more and they were married, and she’d dropped out of high school. Another month after, and Teddy ran off solo to the coast, leaving Eliza on the Munson’s family’s doorstep, begging her mother-in-law to lend a helping hand. Wayne put in a good word for he, he swore he did. Told his mom that Eliza was a good girl who been screwed over by the slimiest Munson there was. But his mom had a soft spot for her eldest, and the besotted kindness didn’t extend to the witch who’d stolen him away.

So, Eliza went hitchhiking back to Virginia, her aunt having lost her wits and screeching that there was no hope for her left in Hawkins, and Edward Munson Jr. was born by a woodstove on the brick floor of his nana’s house in the mountains.

#wip wednesday #stranger things #eddie munson #wip #wayne munson #i never know who to tag in these things! #but thank you! #trying to do appalachian eddie and hoping it's not too cringy

[riahlynn101]

Dad December - Day One: "I Trusted You."

Summary: Izuku faces the vestige of an uncle he will never get to meet, angry that he kept such an important fact from him. And then, All for One shows up. 

Trigger warnings: Implied/referenced murder, trauma (of all kinds), canonical character death, and All for One being himself.

Warning - this does contain spoilers from the last few manga chapter. (Sadly, none of them are DFO related, but oh, well....)

Wordcount: 1,904

--

“I’m sorry.”

It feels like Izuku’s being punched in the gut. 

“I know we….I should have told you sooner, but I didn’t know how.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, collecting his thoughts. A thousand different words sit just outside Izuku’s reach.

“I trusted you,” he says at last, noting the heavy silence. He opens his eyes. The vast expanse of the void he’s come to know and love greets him. A deep breath in and a deep breath out. 

Behind him, The First-Yoichi Shigaraki, All for One’s brother, and Izuku's ... .Uncle-hovers. The others have disappeared further into the void. Probably for the best. He isn’t sure he can face them right now, at least not as a group. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Yoichi murmurs. He sounds sincere - sad but also sincere. 

Izuku whirls around, face scrunched up. He raises an accusatory finger at his uncle. “Well, you did. What did you think would happen?”

His uncle doesn’t have an answer for that. He bows his head. “I…I just didn’t want you to get hurt. I didn’t want you to…” Yoichi trails off, looking at him with something akin to pity. 

“Didn’t want me to do what? Fight in a war? Break my body just to keep up with my peers? No, that isn’t it.” He laughs, but there’s no humor behind it. “It’s because I’m destined to murder my father.”

It’s Izuku’s turn to feel pity (or maybe it’s empathy. That shared feeling of hopelessness, of pain and loss). His uncle’s lips purse into a thin line, grief flashes in his eyes. For a mili-second, he finds himself wanting to reach out.

He doesn’t, of course. The anger coursing through his veins is enough to keep Izuku standing in place. 

“A long time ago, my brother was a good person.” 

Izuku stares at him, wondering how he failed to notice his uncle losing his mind. Or maybe he’d always been like that? It wouldn’t surprise him, given the track-record of One for All users, and he can say that because he himself is a One for All user. 

When Izuku doesn’t interrupt him (and why would he? If he’s good at anything, it’s lending an ear to those in need - just ask Tomura Shigaraki) Yoichi continues. 

“Izuku,” he says, and the use of his first name makes Izuku jolt. “You never should have been put in this predicament.”

Self-loathing ties his stomach into agonizing knots. It’s unreasonable, he knows, to be so hurt over the notion that the original wielder of One for All doesn’t think him worthy enough. Now is not the time nor place for those feelings, but Izuku feels them all anyway. 

Of course, that isn’t what his uncle is saying, but it’s hard to look past his own hurt.

“You’re a child.”

“I’m a child,” he repeats, slowly. The words feel foreign and funny on his tongue. 

“So, you can see why I didn’t tell you about your father?”

It takes him a few seconds to process his uncle’s words. A beat of silence then two, on the third beat Izuku speaks up. 

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” Izuku says, brows knitting together in confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense.” 

“I’m inclined to agree with him,” a voice pipes up. 

Their attention is immediately drawn to the imposing figure sitting poised in one of the abandoned thrones. A detail that Izuku has personally never understood, but who is he to nitpick the interior decorating choices of his predecessors. 

“All for One, what do you want?” Izuku grits out. As angry as he is at The First One for All user. It in no way cancels out how much he wants to pummel the man standing across from them. The anger he feels towards the One for All quirk and his predecessors is a mild burn, temporary and fixable, compared to the absolute inferno that makes his blood pressure rise so high it might make Recovery Girl finally retire. 

The man, or the vestige of the man, hums. He taps a finger to his chin. “Hmmm….what do I want? Glad you asked.”

In spite of his earlier hostility, Yoichi steps closer to him. Worry evident in his eyes. He grabs Izuku by the collar of his shirt, shoving him behind his back and out of All for One’s eyesight.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He sounds just as calm and collected as he had all those months ago, standing across from his brother taking control of Tomura Shigaraki, but there’s a slight tremor in his voice. 

Carefully, Izuku grabs his uncle’s clenched hand. He remains behind Yoichi, but only because his uncle sends him a stern-look that reminds him of his mother when he tries to come closer. 

“As if that’s ever stopped me before,” All for One says, amused. “Oh, it’s been such a long time since I could lay eyes on either of you.”

Izuku squeezes his uncle’s hand, willing him to stay strong. He wonders where the other One for All users have gone. Shouldn’t they have been here by now?

All for One tsks, standing up. Yoichi matches him, stepping back and taking Izuku right along with him. He takes his hand out of the boy’s grasp, using his arm to shield his nephew. 

“Come now, why are you so afraid?”

“You killed me,” his uncle murmurs, voice small. He sounds hurt, betrayed in a way that even Izuku can’t possibly understand. 

From his place behind Yoichi, Izuku can’t see what All for One’s reaction to that is. But judging from the tense silence that follows that admission and the way his uncle tenses up, he can hazard a guess. 

“That was Kudou, little brother. He’s the one that killed you.” 

“What?” Izuku asks before he can stop himself. The knowledge that his uncle’s death was caused by The Second One for All user both stuns and terrifies him. 

His uncle sends him another stern expression, but it’s too late. 

Izuku can practically hear All for One’s smile from here. “I’m glad you asked, Izuku.”

He cringes away, hating how his name sounds coming from that man’s mouth. It feels wrong somehow. 

Another step back. His uncle remains in front of him. Steadfast despite how scared he is. 

All for One must move closer, but Yoichi is quick to call him out. “Stay back!”

“Must we do this song and dance, little brother?” He asks, annoyed. 

“Leave my nephew alone!” 

All for One’s laughter echoes throughout the void. “My, my, little brother, you sound like me.”

“No, I’m simply trying to protect him.” His uncle sounds scared. He sounds uncertain.

“Just like I tried to do-”

The tension that’s been steadily building breaks. “You killed me! And don’t even try to blame Kudou or Blues or any of my successors. It was you and you alone!” His uncle jabs an accusatory finger in All for One’s direction. “Stop blaming everyone around you and start looking inward!”

“Even so,” the villain starts, tone even and sharp, “Izuku still belongs to me. I haven’t killed him, and as his father I demand to speak with him.”

“No,” Yoichi says, tone just as sharp. 

“Stupid boy-”

“We’re the same age-”

All for One sighs, heavily. “Oh, you and your technicalities.” His tone darkens, growing serious. “And I’m not asking. If you won’t step aside and let me speak with my son, I’ll have to use force.”

His uncle looks over his shoulder at Izuku. Their eyes meet. The rest of his previous anger dissolves at his uncle’s uncertain gaze. He nods, mouthing “it’s okay,” before coming out from behind Yoichi’s back to face his- no, their greatest enemy. 

It’s hard to ignore the way All for One’s face lights up upon laying eyes on Izuku.

“What do you want?”

The villain hums, thoughtfully. He’s quick to close the space between them. A mere two feet and his uncle’s extended arm are all that separates them now. 

A fond expression takes over All for One’s face, making him ache. He can’t remember his father very well. The man left when Izuku was still young, but somewhere deep within his subconscious Izuku can recall the love and adoration he was showered with. The warmth of being held firmly and close. Being loved…..

His mother loves him, Izuku reminds himself, fighting back against useless nostalgia.

He thinks All Might loves him as well, or something close to it. 

And both their love is worth way more than a man’s that couldn’t be bothered to stay to see Izuku grow up. 

“I’ve missed you,” All for One says, reaching a hand out. Instinctively, Izuku shies away. Not that he needs to - not when his uncle is there to swat at the villain’s hand. 

“Don’t touch him.”

All for One tilts his head, an unreadable expression on his face. Before any of them can say another word, the villain snaps his fingers. Yoichi disappears in a wisp of smoke.

“What did you do!?” Izuku asks, frantic. “Bring him back!”

“He’s fine,” All for One says, shrugging his shoulders. “All of them are….unfortunately.”

Izuku glares at him, crossing his arms. Here, without his predecessors or quirks to use, he feels vulnerable. He feels ...scared. 

“Well, then get on with it.”

All for One stares at him for a moment. He laughs, but it doesn’t sound as harsh as it usually does. “Oh, you’re as silly as always.”

“I don’t see how you find any of this funny.”

The villain bridges the gap between them, resting a large hand on Izuku’s shoulder. A thumb swipes at the tears sliding down his cheeks. (When did he start crying? Is he really that helpless? Inside, Izuku burns with shame). 

“I’ve missed you,” he says again, quieter. “So, so much. After my brother was killed by those miscreants.”

“Didn’t uncle say you killed him?”

A thumb brushes his lips, shushing him. “Devils in the details, little one. And your uncle has a tendency to remember things wrong.”

Despite how scared he is, Izuku manages to roll his eyes at that. 

“Anyway, I didn’t come here to discuss your uncle’s memory problems.”

Another eye roll. 

“I wanted to make sure you were doing alright. I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

The thumb returns to tracing his freckles. “What? In the middle of a war in front of my best friend-”

“Best friend is a stretch….”

“And my mentor-”

“Again, a stretch. That man is hardly fit to teach a hamster, let alone a child.”

“And anyone around the world that is currently watching the news.”

All for One grimaces at that. “Yeah…yeah, but I had to. You understand that, right? If I hadn’t stepped in, you would be a pile of dust.”

“No,” Izuku says, petulantly.

All for One lays a gentle kiss on his head. A soft smile on his lips. “No matter. Even if you won’t admit it, I would do it again anyway.” 

“Leave me alone,” he snaps, squirming out of the villain’s hold. “I don’t like you.”

Large arms wrap around him, like vices, bringing Izuku closer to the one person he desperately wishes would just go away and never return. 

“I love you, too, my Izuku.”

#daddecember #daddecember2023 #sfw #Day One: “I Trusted You.” #queue #mha #dfo au #Uncle Yoichi #no.1

[hrts4eddieee]

Rainstorms / Eddie munson

Summary: you go over to Eddie’s and dance in the rain.

Warnings: fluff

Word count: 884

Metallica

Is playing over my boombox just loud enough to hear against the rain hitting the room, I sit on my bed strumming my guitar I’m trying to find a melody for a new song I’m working on..it’s about y/n gross and cheesy as shit I know but she’s the type of girl lovesick metal head freaks like myself write songs about, but as I try to think of a melody my mind just keep wondering back to

y/n

the cute things she does like , biting her nails when she’s nervous, platting a bit of her hair if she’s bored , always tying her shoes as a double knot , she’s just perfect the way her hair falls , hair laugh is fucking better then any song I could ever hear…she floods my brain like rain on a field, as soon as I start to strum again there is a knock on the door of the trailer, my eyebrows knit together wondering who could be here this hour…my uncles working nights so nobody for him I think as I plop my guitar on my bed giving it a quick kiss before jogging out to the door , the knocking gets harder “I’m coming I’m coming” I yell frustrated I roll my eyes as I open the door

Y/n?

My eyes widen as She turns around “Jesus h Christ sweetheart what are you doing it’s pouring” I say grabbing her wet arm and pulling her inside, she’s practically shivering underneath her clothes…did she run here “hay Wait stop” she says planting her feet stopping me from pulling you all the way inside “y/n your gonna get fucking sick…did you run here…why is something wrong…do you need help, are you hurt” my minds runs like crazy as I start to worry if she’s ok, she grabs my arm “no no I’m ok Ed’s don’t worry I just uh..I wanna dance” she says with a smile “you wanna dance?” I ask her confused “well come inside then we can dance just get in your shivering sweetheart” I say she shakes her head with a laugh running her hand to my hair… “i wanna dance in the rain..like in those cheesy romantic movies” she says I chuckle a smirk growing on my face “you ran all the way here in the rain…just to dance with me” I tease her a little but , she gets flustered and rolls her eyes and raises her eyebrows “ok ok fine just let me grab you a fucking jumper or somthing Jesus” I say running to my room and back to y/n she lifts her arms up and i help put the jumper on her pulling her hair out of the neckline before I can say anything she grabs my hand “come on” she says pulling me outside

I feel the cold rain on my skin as she pulls me into the middle of the dirt road of the shitty old trailer park , I smile and let go of her hand running up to her and picking her up causing her to squeal “Eddie your gonna fucking slip” she screams though giggles I laugh and put her down carefully on the wet muddy dirt beneath us “you really have no trust in me do you sweet thing” I say shaking my head with a grin she smiles and hits my shoulder “just shut up I didn’t run here for nothing munson” she says putting her arms up telling me to come into them and i happily do so, my hand linking in hers , my other snaking around her waist , she leans her hand against my shoulder and her head in the crook of my neck as she starts to sway us back and forth, Eddie can still feel the cold water absolutely drenching his clothes, and hair but as cold as it is y/n is still warm against my chest…shes warm she’s home she’s my home I get an idea and grab the hand linked In mine and spin her around quickly she squeals again as she lands back in my arms “that was fun” she says with her eyes widened I chuckle and kiss her forehead “come here sweetheart” I say pulling her close again she sighs into my chest before I hear her start to sing a song as we says side to side

I just died in your eyes tonight , cutting crew

God she has a nice voice

Am I getting cold as fuck…yes but am I happy to be freezing in y/n’s arms dancing and listing to her sing…yes I look down at her “I love you so much y/n” i whisper in her ear causing her to look up at me “i love you too eddie so much…but I’m freezing can we please go inside” she says I close my eyes a chuckle “thank god my ass is about to freeze off my body , come on princess let’s go” I say pulling her inside “I’m staying over” she says and i smile at her pushing her wet hair out of her face

“We should take a hot shower first come on” i say she smiles… I guess I could add this to the list of cute cheesy stuff she does.

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things #joseph quinn #stranger things #eddie my beloved #fanfic #explore #smut #eddie munson smut

[tipsslight]

Random Parallels and Headcanon for Shane and Emily

Shane’s feelings toward Emily can be best described as love-hate. A lot of things in their lives are so different; it couldn’t be any more clashing. Emily is bubbly, energetic, content with life. Shane is… not that. Emily has a job as a barmaid, in a saloon that Gus admits is financially struggling, but she feels like she’s still needed there to help and seems to enjoy the work. Meanwhile, Shane either is working at Joja, which both he and the company doesn’t care at all if he gets fired or quits or ends up in the hospital for drinking too much alcohol, or he’s unemployed and ends up drinking his life away at the saloon. Emily’s relationship with her younger sister Haley is quite tight-knit despite how different they are. Even though Haley acknowledges how weird it is that they’re related, she’s still able to acknowledge that they do truly love and care for each other, and it’s rather effortless, albeit somewhat understated. Meanwhile Shane really has to *try* to show Jas how much he cares about her. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t, nor does it mean that Jas doesn’t care about him, it’s just a much heavier disconnect and showing that love isn’t natural for them, but when it does come through, hoo boy does it warm the heart.

Whenever Shane goes to the bar and grumbles out his daily order of a beer, he’s always greeted with a massive smile from Emily as she hands him his first, his second, his fifth beer. He can’t help but to feel a little bitter about it, because to Shane, Emily’s got everything that he’d want. Happiness, a strong familial bond, a reason to live. She’s even a couple of inches taller than him! As he takes another swig, the jealousy grows. He just can’t help but to feel how unfair life is, but he’s resigned to that fate. He can’t change his meaningless life, there really isn’t anything for him to-

Suddenly, Emily places another drink on the table in front of him, snapping him back to attention. Gus is busy helping Pam on an otherwise quiet night at the Saloon. As per usual, she beams a massive smile. Looking down, it’s just a glass of water. Shane looks up to meet her sparkling eyes. “I always felt like there isn’t a lot to life either, you know? We live our lives until we join those that also moved on. But until then, we just do the best we can to make our lives meaningful. Whether it’s to be at peace with the spirits and beings we can’t see, or to love and cherish those we have in our lives, or even to do the fun little things that makes us happy. All of it is what makes life worth living, even if we don’t think about what’s next. Life’s like a rollercoaster: it’s fun and it’s scary, but it’ll lead us to the end of the ride no matter what.” With that, she turns away to make a drink for Clint, without a glimpse of regret or hesitation on her face. Shane grumbled something under his breath, and drank half of the glass of water before leaving. The kind and understanding words she said hit his chest like a knife and he wanted to stop feeling whatever it was that he was feeling.

As he left the Saloon uncharacteristically early, the thought of her words came spiraling back to him in his drunken state. Emily’s future was just as unclear and unfocused as his. Was she really content with just being a part-time bartender at a saloon? She didn’t have any romantic prospects, aside from Clint but her actions towards him didn’t exactly scream “date me.” What does she want to do with her future? Was it really as fuzzy and unknown like his, a deadbeat uncle that only wishes anything in his life meant anything to him? Even he couldn’t believe it, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized how similar that aspect of her life was to his. But, Emily was somehow still so happy in spite of it.

He could feel his stomach turning into knots, and fluttering into his chest. Maybe he should have eaten something or finished the glass of water he was given. Shane curled up into his bed, and tried to sleep through the pain, knowing tomorrow will just be the same, ordering a first, second, fifth beer from the barmaid with the thousand-mile smile.

#stardew valley #stardew emily #stardew valley hcs #stardew valley headcanons #stardew shane #tbh it could be platonic or romantic #I don’t ship them but it’s still cute #Stardew angst #someone give the chicken man a hug regardless

[goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog]

Stranger Things Have Happened

Steve Harrington x OC

Chapter No.3

Summary: Eleven is still “missing”. With Nancy and Steve being not only on the outs, but calling it quits, Steve is actively mourning the loss of their relationship. Though, when a new set of siblings arrive alongside the Hargroves in Hawkins, Steve can’t help but take an interest in the eldest sister. Even when he’s promised himself he is only interested in her as a friend, Steve finds himself sharing things with her only his closest friends know of his life.

⚠️warning⚠️

Some chapters may contain explicit content, graphic imagery and scenes not suitable for children. Minors DNI. Republication or distribution of my work will result in legal action being taken. I do not own Stranger Things, but all characters inserted into the Stranger Things universe of my own creation are owned by me

Media credit to model, I couldn’t find their name. And I couldn’t find someone with the hair and green eyes for Andie, so she will have to do😂 let me know what you think of my choice in casting

The ride so far was pleasant, spent talking about our lives and things we’d had in common. Our laughing fell silent as I finally turned onto maple street, my stomach twisting in knots as I laid eyes on the Wheeler house.

“I live just at the end there, so I can walk from wherever you’re parking,” Andie offered, as if to break the obvious tension that had developed in mere seconds due to me nerves about Nancy.

“Alright cool,” when I looked to the end of the street, seeing the gigantic, two story, brownstone house, easily being bigger than the Wheeler’s place by two.

“So that’s where the mayor lives.”

“No, he lives at town hall, this is where he sleeps,” Andie pointedly explained. She sounded slightly angry whenever she spoke of her uncle. But I brushed it off, seeing as I knew every family had problems.

“But thank you, for giving me a lift,” she finished as I parked before the driveway or my ex-girlfriend’s house.

A weak smile appeared across my lips, not forced at all, but not with the fullest of effort.

“Yeah, anytime. I owed you one,” I returned her gesture.

“See ya,” with that, Andie saluted me cheekily with two fingers before opening the door and exiting the car.

I quickly followed suit, bringing my bouquet as I quickly leaned on my car. My mind raced and my lips moved before I even knew what I was doing.

“Hey, before you go, I… need a bit of advice.”

Andie, before she could close the door, stopped with a questioning glance before nodding and mimicking my position in the door frame of the car.

“Shoot,” she gestured for me to continue.

I sighed a deep breath and steadied my thoughts. I didn’t really have a question until now.

“What do I say?”

Andie’s humoured green eyes turned soft as she looked up at me from across the roof of the Beamer; filling with sincerity.

“Just tell her you’re sorry, and you love her,” she offered wisely. Well, wisely, I thought, until my brain blanked on what to say next.

“Sorry? What the hell am I sorry for?” I asked.

As Andie opened her mouth, someone else’s voice came from her lips, calling my name; or rather from behind her.

She turned to face Nancy’s house, allowing me to peer past her and see Dustin hurriedly walking toward us.

My brows knit as I became confused, coming to close my car door and walk to meet him before he could meet Andie.

“Steve,” he called again, softer this time.

“What’s up?” I asked, stuffing the hand that was not full of roses into my pocket.

“Are those for Mister or Missus Wheeler?” The kid questioned, his lisp less prevalent than it had been last fall.

“No?” I offered, my tone reflecting my still lingering and ever growing confusion.

I glanced behind me to see Andie, still standing with my car. She waved and I looked back to Dustin, who grabbed my flowers.

“Good,” he trudged up the hill toward my car and Andie, roses in hand.

“Hey! What the hell, hey!” I clambered after him, Adjusting my grey jacket as Andie chuckled at me from her place next to the car.

“Nancy isn’t home!” Dustin called, coming to stand right next to Andie, yet not acknowledging her.

“Where is she?” I asked, once again standing before them.

“It doesn’t matter, we have bigger problems than your love life. You still have that bat?”

“A bat? What bat?” Andie questioned, finally earning the kid’s attention.

“Yeah, the one with the nails?” He questioned as if she’d seen my bat.

“Why?” I asked exasperatedly as he slung open the back door of my vehicle.

“I’ll explain on the way, let’s go. And bring her she could help!” Dustin pointed to Andie as he hurriedly climbed into the seats and locked himself into the car.

“Woah,” I called, rounding the car as Andie gave me a troubled glance.

“Help with what?” She asked.

“Probably something weird,” I slid into my seat, but before Andie could get in, I stopped her.

“Hey, can you give me a sec with the kid?”

Nodding, she walked around to the back of the car, leaning on the trunk. I never let anyone lean on my car. Why I let her do it so often today, I had no clue.

When she’d pulled out a metal cigarette case and lit one up, I stared at Dustin harshly.

“What have you done that is gonna require my to bring my bat?” I questioned him, the same way my father questioned me when I was in trouble as a child.

“I found a polliwog in the trash one night and I kept it, cause he liked nougat! His name is Dart, shower for D’artagnan, and he got bigger! He shedded his skin and-“

“You need a bat for a frog?” I cut him off. “I’m trying to find Nancy and take this new friend home, kid!”

“No, he’s not a frog! He grew legs, yeah but, then he got bigger and turned into a baby Demogorgon!”

At his words, my stomach flipped and my blood ran cold. I couldn’t believe what he said.

“You want me to bring someone else into this?” I snapped back at him.

“Like you said, Nancy isn’t home, Mike and Lucas aren’t picking up, and Will is sick! We need back up, man, this is a code red!!!” He cried, causing me to worry that Andie would hear. I looked through the back windshield to see she was still smoking a black cigarette.

“Kid, this shit is too dangerous to bring other people into,” I told him, attempting to be more calm, “besides I don’t think you actually have a baby monster at your house, I think you have PTSD from what happened last year.”

Dustin’s eyes began to plead, begging my own, tugging on my soft soul. This kid was genuinely scared, and there’s no way I could tell him no.

“Alright, but you have to promise you’re not gonna tell her what you told me until after we make sure it’s not just a dumb frog,” I groaned, once again getting out of the car.

I felt my nerves begin to heat in my skin, my palms alight. I barely knew what to say for the millionth time today when I approached Andie.

I ran a hand through my hair, leaning on one hip. She looked me up and down, taking a long drag of her cig. There was obvious concern in her eyes and I knew I had to start talking.

“The kid is super freaked out,” I started, my hands taking over as I spoke.

“He’s pretty sure there’s something weird in his basement and wants us to check it out, he insists I need backup.”

“Hence the looking for Wheeler and company,” she nodded along.

“Yeah… would you mind coming along? I mean, just to reassure him everything is cool, ya know? If you’ve got plans or-“

“Absolutely,” Andie nodded, cutting me iff, immediately stomping out her cigarette with her cons, and rounding the car once again. “If this is the famous Dustin you told me about on the way here, I’d love to help.”

My spine tingled when I saw the curl of her red lips over sharp white I-teeth, like the mouth of a vampire luring in an unsuspecting victim. In some ways it was inviting, warm and sultry, but there was an edge to this girl that came out more and more, revealing a sharpness to the calm demeanour she projected.

I too nodded in finality, going back to my spot in the drivers seat. Before I knew what was going on, I was introducing Andie to Dustin, and driving us toward my place.

“Are you Artemis’ older sister?” He asked innocently.

“Yeah, I am,” Andie answered brightly. She was so different with Dustin than she was with me. Calm yes, but almost as if she were happier talking to him. She must like kids.

“She’s been hanging out with us at school, I think she’s part of the party now too,” Dustin nonchalantly said.

Another jolt went to my stomach. Great, not only Andie, but her little sister were now to be mixed up in all of these disastrous happenings.

Three times before I pulled into my driveway did I almost turn around. I wanted to take Andie home and apologise for the inconvenience. Though, I’d I did that, she’d think we were crazy. Not that she probably didn’t already think we were.

Between the humming of my own thinking in my ears and Dustin’s voice carrying from the back seat, I could barely focus my eyes as I parked beneath the awning next to my garage.

“Sir tight,” I instructed the two, not bothering to look at them before I slid from the car and ran up the driveway to my house.

Thank god, my parents were on yet another business trip over spring break. Nobody would question when I walked through my house and out the door with a nail empaled bat. I did just that, all the while fighting myself for bringing her along.

‘Take her home,’ I told myself, stopping in my tracks before my left hand could touch the door handle.

‘I can’t,’ I countered myself, ‘I’m already dragging her along on the whim of a 13 year old, she will be pissed if I take her back now.’

‘If Dustin is right, she’s not safe,’ my own thought reverberated through my mind as I once again reached for the knob. But to no avail.

‘Look, she will be fine, just make her stay with the kid, she’s good at that,’ finally, I nodded and walked back out the door, seeing Dustin chatting Andie’s ear off. I hoped he wasn’t spilling all of the upside down beans.

As I rounded the car, Andie’s eyes caught my bat, and her expression dropped.

‘Fuck,’ I thought, facepalming as I opened the trunk and laid the wooden weapon down.

I hurriedly and nervously oiled back into my seat and began driving out of my driveway. It was eerily quiet between the three of us.

“You gotta tell her, Steve,” the kid mused.

“No,” I snapped, “how do you know it’s not just a big lizard?”

“How do I know it’s not a big lizard?” He mockingly chuckled.

“Yeah!” My confidence was nonexistent as Dustin didn’t even hesitate to answer.

“Because his face opened up and he ate my cat!”

My eyes instantly snapped to Andie, who’s own went wide before she slowly turned in her seat to face Dustin.

I swore she stared at him for a whole minute before turning back to me.

“What’s going on?” She finally asked

#harrington #joe keery #joe keery x reader #stranger things 2 #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #Steve #Harrington #steve harrington smut #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x reader #season 2 #upside down

[thedreamaet]

drabble entries ,

      “something troubles you?” vasilios asked alexis, turning to his younger cousin who takes note that she’s quieter than she usually is. “having a day.” and by day she means that she’s broken one of her uncle’s vases at his shop when she was meant to be helping. to lost in her thoughts to really focus on the task at hand  ⸺  not that this bothered her uncle at all. but alexis still feels guilty. which has led her to vasilios, one of the only people alexis rambles to. “does it have to do with your poorly bandaged hands?” vas asked, moving forward to his cousin who rests her back against the counter. “may i?” the god asked, hands hovering underneath hers as she nods her head, granting her older cousin permission. he’s gentle. despite this tough exterior of his  ⸺  he has every bit of his mother’s kindness within him. he’s quick to unwrap the stained bandages, revealing the knicks that the broken glass left in her hands. “does it hurt?” vasilios asked as alexis is quick to respond. “it’ll heal.” 

“that wasn’t my question alexis.” and with a defeated sigh, she knows she’s lost. “not as much as it did before.” a quick explanation as vasilios brings her hands closer to examine them, brows knitting together in concentration. “did you try to pull the shards out yourself?” there’s both disbelief and pure admiration in his voice as alexis nods slowly, lips pursed as she awaits the usual vasilios lecture. “you won’t be looked at any differently if you ask for help you know. have our mothers not leaned on one another for the last decade and a half?” he asked, one hand holds hers in place as the other swipes over the wounds, much like her mother would do to karisa when they were younger  ⸺  wounds now nonexistent. 

“i can handle wounds just fine but these emotions, it just, clouds my mind. makes it harder to focus.“ alexis begins to explain while vas keeps her hand into his, leading her into the backyard to take their usual nature strolls around karisa and ellis’ home. “i know ⸺ i heard that you overexerted your abilities when the wraiths came to try to grab our aunt,“ vasilios added as alexis sighs, “it wasn’t only that it was  ⸺  i can handle fighting, i told you. yes it might be difficult at times but, i would take the challenge over this, these uh⸺” she tries to explain, free hand motioning circles in the air as if it would help retrieve her words for her. awhile vasilios tries to figure out what his cousin was going on about. “⸺feelings, i have feelings.“ alexis finally admits, another sigh as vasilios nods very slowly, looking at the path ahead of them. the two walk in step for a moment, shoulders bumping one another as vasilios keeps his arms folded over in front of him while alexis keeps hers behind her back. much like their mothers.

“would you like to describe these feelings so i could attempt to give you a solution?” vasilios offered, looking at her. “like, when you face your first battle. your hands are sweaty and your heart just beats all wild in your chest, your stomach is in knots and⸺” he almost laughed. “when was the last time you felt like this?” and without better judgement, alexis is quick to answer. “when benny he uh⸺came to our aide with the wraiths, he came to us i can’t remember what he said but⸺”

the shared silence is deafening and vasilios clears his throat to stiffle his laugh. “and this is where you and ivy used to sneak off to correct? to go see him?” vasilios asked - more for his own amusement as alexis just nods. “isaac is going to kill him, then you and then me. not ivy though, he loves her to much, but we  ⸺ we’re disposable.” vasilios teased as alexis stops in her tracks, brows raised. “what are you talking about? why would isaac ⸺” he doesn’t answer, he lets alexis really grasp what’s going on as it seems that the pieces of the puzzle finally are being put together. “oh.”

“he’s very handsome, a bit uh, manical, homicidal but  ⸺ handsome.” vasilios offered as alexis let’s out a breath, “he’s not a maniac and we’ve all killed for one cause or another have we not?”

“ah ⸺ she’s already defending the man she fancies, how romantic.” the blonde teases as alexis shoves him. “i didn’t come to you to be teased vas.”

taking in a breath vasilios pulls alexis into their usual walking stances, her arm hooked into his as his other hand rests against the back of his neck. “when i met cleo it was almost as if she was my guiding light. all of my worst fears, my doubts and worries would just vanish whenever she would look at me or whenever she was near me. almost as if she was my..” trailing off, alexis smiles, “like the dreamcatchers uncle ro’s always going on about.” 

“i suppose you’re right but even then, it’s a bit more intense. see, whenever everything gets to loud you know, what happened in olympus and atlantis, eden’s  ⸺ everything in between, ares i just  ⸺ cleo’s arms, have always been my home. somewhere i can, finally be at peace. even if it’s only for a little while i can breathe again, it’s almost as if i’m no longer drowning.” it’s the first time that vasilios has even been open about his emotions and she’s honored that it’s her that he chooses to tell. “when we came back, from olympus, i spent a week at cleo’s. i never left her side and she never left mine, it was home. it was where i wanted to spend my days if i could. it’s a warm feeling. at first it’s, the butterflies and the nerves, the what if’s and wishing on the stars that they share the same feelings you do and then, then they ground you. you’re no longer atlas.”

taking in the blonde’s words, alexis let’s out a breath. “at first i thought it was ivy’s doing, why we kept visiting him but, i can’t  ⸺ i’m not a liar, part of me hated seeing him like that. like some monster - as if, as if some of us haven’t done horrible things for things we believed were right, as if, we still wouldn’t act the way he did if we felt we were right. i just, i wish the others would see that he isn’t all that bad he’s good  ⸺  there’s good in him. i feel it and ivy she ⸺ she sees it but,” 

“it doesn’t matter what the others think. if you believe in your heart that there is good in that man than i trust your judgement. and if it’s him that you have grown fond of, i support you. though i can’t speak for the others i promise that you have me on your side, it’s been like that since we were kids. if ben’s your cleo then who cares what anyone else thinks? look at my father  ⸺ hades.”

“your parents can’t be in the same room together please don’t  ⸺ use them as an example,” alexis grumbled as vasilios cants his head before laughing. “you have a good point. well, look at it like this, it is your happiness. it is your future. don’t even let anyone’s opinions sway you from being happy, alright?” vasilios asked as alexis smiles, nodding. “let’s hope isaac shares the same sentiment when i bring him to the wedding.“

“oh, we’re bringing him as a date?”

“hardly  ⸺ maybe, i, i don’t know yet. i don’t know how he feels about me yet so it could be nothing.”

“it could be something.”

“⸺how goes things with your parents? how are you and your father?”

there’s a scoff, vasilios attention moving back to the path ahead. “your father is more of a father to me than my own but,” a sigh soon comes along with his words, chest rising and falling with emotion. “the man i am, now, has nothing to do with ares. i’m not vasilios maristela because of him. my mother raised me. shaped me. your parents did too. and our aunts and uncles. but, i can’t hold the past against him. i don’t think i can ever forgive him but, i can warm up to the idea of having him around after our mothers beat him up a bit right?” vasilios teased as alexis laughed along with him.

/ @intheirabsence

#drabbles / #drabbles / alexis & vasilios . #( it's giving me .... #WINNIE AND KARISA #THANK U. )

[elfdragon12]

The Sg Humanformers Combaticons keep in close touch with each other after the war.

Bernardino and Astoria are living happily and tied the knot probably eloped after the war, with Bernard playing with their young daughter and Astoria is expecting their twin boys.

Bodhan and Alana had a small and intimate wedding ceremony, with Ms. Noknoi shedding tears of joy and Victoria looking so happy. Their friends were all invited for the occasion. The couple had beautiful children and continued to support each other with their careers and goals, living happily.

Shigeru and Madeline also settled down and living comfortably with teenage Pricilla, along with visiting Shigeru and Hoshiko’s mom. Also, Shigeru teasing his sister on a certain guy, Rory~?

Victoria and Orlando decided to work together and work on rebuilding, Victoria maybe playing match maker with Ms. Noknoi to find her favourite leader a boyfriend maybe as Bodhan shrugs off “They’re your problem now, sir” and Orlando sighs but can’t help be a bit amused. Maybe he can try dating again.

Yes, the group remains very close-knit with frequent reunions. Their lives move along and they're happy. Ms. Noknoi is a happy grandma to all of their kids. Orlando is halfway between uncle and grandma himself.

No one was sure they'd get here, but are grateful for every moment.

#ask #anonymous #humanformers #anon sg fanfic emporium

[dark-arts-and-crafts-universe]

Greg, Identity, and an Archnemesis

Greg, Identity, and an Archnemesis

Greg’s a crafter. Of some kind. He’s working on it. But growing up with magic doesn’t solve all (or any) of your problems. Being a crafter cannot be your entire identity. Sometimes, you have to face the facts that who you are is complicated, and scary, and not what you expected.

Note: As an Ace person who’s earliest memory of learning about sex was telling my mother ‘you’re lying who would want to ever do that’ at the age of eight, this is based on my experience growing up, looking at my peers, and wondering if I missed a handbook. Also, enjoy the introduction to Greg, the logical crafter in an illogical world.

Word count: 3,087

Content warnings: This is a pretty frank look at untangling internalized ace/arophobia, and includes other specific tropes under that umbrella which could be triggering. If that could be an issue for you, proceed with caution.

Greg’s identity, since he was old enough to remember, was ‘crafter’. For as long as he can remember, he’s known his mother crafts through knitting, and his father crafts through knots. His Uncle Gwydion was the best story teller because his stories came alive, and wrapping himself in his grandmother’s quilts on a hot day was a great way to cool down, and on a cold day a great way to stay warm. His earliest memories were trying to do magic using one of the family methods. And many explosive mistakes. But as he grew up, he knew he needed to hone in on what type of crafter he was. It took a lot longer than expected.

As a middle schooler, Greg was very focused. He had to learn whatever the public education system was trying to teach him, and he had to try to figure out what was the best medium for him to use for magic, preferably before all his younger cousins figured out their magic. Often people discovered it pretty young, or it was something that ran in families. Sometimes it took people awhile to realize that they were using magic, but that was mostly for people whose families weren’t already involved in crafting.

Greg could use magic, that wasn’t ever a question. His parents had plenty of stories of magical accidents he had as a kid, and he was just abnormally bad with the family magics. Like, set yarn on fire when knitting bad. Unable to tie knots that wouldn’t untie at the slightest breeze bad. The one successful knot he made started a fire instead of releasing wind when unknotted. RIP door 35.

But his friend from school, and fellow after school magic learner, Melody, had decided to invite him to go watch a movie with her, to take his mind off his troubles with magic, and his slight jealousy that she had figured out her magic and was managing to get consistent outcomes whereas Greg was only ever consistently inconsistent. It was a good distraction. And they did it again the next week on Friday after their shared lesson on how not to use magic.

And on Monday, another classmate sat next to him at lunch and said ‘so, you’re dating Melody?’

And Greg, who was far more concerned with the fact that his most recent attempt at knitting magic had resulted in an exploding door (37) over the weekend and a stern lecture about knitting without supervision, stared at him.

“What?”

“You went to the movies with her,”

“Isn’t that what you do with friends?”

“Alone?”

“Well, not all of my friends are friends with my other friends, and I’m not friends with all of Melody’s friends.”

“You had dinner together. At a restaurant.”

Greg did not notice the hurt look turning into anger on Melody’s face. “Well, I’m not allowed to eat candy for dinner and movie theater food is worse than restaurant food. We’re friends.”

“I can’t believe you!” Melody yelled at him, and the next thing anybody knew was that there was flying food, Melody was strumming away at air and having it make noise, and Greg had pulled out a piece of rope while hiding under a table.

“Are we not friends?” Greg asked, still very confused as he tried to make a knot to stop the food from flying. “And you aren’t supposed to play air guitar at school!”

“I asked you to see a movie with me! We went twice! I was wearing nice clothes! I kissed your cheek!”

Luckily the music teacher was supervising lunch, so he managed to stop the food fight, deal with the table that now had a lovely hole burned through it courtesy Greg’s failed knotwork, make sure there was a reasonable explanation for those who weren’t aware of magic for everything, and separate the two children from each other.

When his mom was driving him home, and asked him why he destroyed a table fighting with Melody, Greg explained that it wasn’t his fault, Melody had gone insane and decided they weren’t friends so therefore must have been archenemies and he had been trying to stop her from making the food fly, not destroy anything.

“Does this have anything to do with the two of you going to the movies?”

“Apparently that’s how Melody decides to declare archenemyship,” Greg shrugged. “Am I banned from unsupervised knot work too?”

When he got home, he had to sit through a lecture on not fighting in school, using magic or otherwise even if someone else starts it. And for some reason his parents decided to tell him about bodies.

“What’s your take away from this?” His father asked him after explaining some changes his body would go through soon.

“That air guitar magic shouldn’t exist. How can she even make it make noise? There’s nothing there!” Greg said, because really, that was the important thing. Melody’s magic was stupid and she was stupid and he had an archnemesis before any of his cousins.

“Well, that’s not how magic works…” his dad started.

“Well, it should. I’m going to figure out how magic works, and find my craft, and become the best crafter ever, and everyone will agree that air guitars are stupid,” Greg stomped his way upstairs, already trying to come up with another art to try.

“…Well, hopefully he processed some of what I said,” his dad said, looking at his mom. His mom sighed.

“We’ll just keep an eye on him, and when it seems like he realizes what happened, or seems interested in dating, we’ll sit him down to talk about it again.”

“Well, having a kid not interested in this right now isn’t too bad,” Greg’s dad looked on the bright side, before they both winced at the sound of an explosion from Greg’s room.

“Well, hopefully our next child’s magic doesn’t tend towards explosions,” Greg’s mom said before going up the stairs to deal with it. Greg’s dad nodded until he parsed her words.

“What do you mean our next child?”

Middle school continued, mostly unchanged for Greg. Melody had become his Archnemesis, and besides the two getting into supervised magical duels every few months, Greg was still focusing on magic and school work. And helping to fix the room in the Arts Center that he and Melody had accidentally damaged in their first and only unsupervised after school magic fight. Oh, and his mother had his little sister. High School was a little different.

In high school, Greg spent a lot of time singed. And watched in chemistry. And in any of his art classes. He may have been responsible for a few fire alarms, although everyone had to agree that they were clearly never intentional, just accidental. High school is when you should really understand and explore your magic, but Greg was still trying to discover what medium worked best for him, since he had a long list of things that didn’t work. He didn’t have an explanation for the fires in chemistry. So he could be excused for being far more focused on magic than interacting with people his age. When prom came around, or dances, or anything where high school culture generally expected people to attend with a partner, Greg was oblivious. Oh, he heard the talks, everyone saying ‘so and so would be cute together’ and ‘such and such just had a breakup because such was cheating on such with someone else’ and ‘did you hear? Person asked dude to the prom but everyone thought person was going to ask guy’, but he discarded this talk as unimportant.

Who cared who was dating who? Or who was going with who? It was information that was just useless, especially when it seemed to change daily. People kept trying to pair him up with his Melody, but she routinely informed everyone that it was never happening, ever. At all. Well, honestly, Greg didn’t even notice those attempts, but he did notice when Melody got snappy. Mostly he noticed because she would sit down next to him at lunch and complain about people and their unwanted meddling. Greg would shrug and proceed to inform her why her air guitar magic made no sense whatsoever. There was nothing to vibrate and cause sound.

Greg was the only person who never laughed in health class. Most everyone else would give a nervous laugh, or turn red when the reproductive system was discussed. But it was just...knowledge. Knowledge he didn’t need right now. That was for later in life. When he was old enough to be an adult. When he had this magic stuff down.

Except that people in his classes seemed to...actually be interested in it? It seemed like dating and relationships and sex were almost always being discussed. Even when he wasn’t trying to listen, he could still over hear things. And people would make references to him wanting to date or sleep with people and he would just make a face and shrug. He didn’t understand why people cared so much. He also didn’t understand why anyone would ever want to have sex with anyone. It just...didn’t seem fun. Or to make sense. He hadn’t believed his parents when they talked to him about it before high school, because who would ever want to do that? It just...ick.

So he pushed it back, said to himself that it was just a phase and he’d understand when he was older.

But...older never really came. College was better, in the sense Greg had found a stable magic to use, was taking fun classes, and Kitty was fun. Well, as fun as a sister under ten could be. But it was also more awkward.

Greg found that people were a lot more open about sex things. Maybe he just had the kind of face that people didn’t notice, or he was just giving off some kind of vibe of being unthreatening. Or maybe Kitty switched his hat with an invisibility hat. But he could sit at the student center, and people would just talk about various things in front of him that he would have thought were private conversations. (Most everyone else would call it gossip). It was...disconcerting.

If everyone, including cousins, and his few friends, and his parents, and the random people he overheard, were interested and talking about this, did it mean there was something wrong with him? He decided to reread about the reproductive system, wondering if this time the magic switch that seemed to have flipped in everyone else would have flipped for him. It hadn’t.

Melody had found him at the local craft store, looking at stickers and trying to figure out what he needed to fix himself. She took one look at some of the stickers in his hands, and dragged him out of the store. She pushed him to Tea and Charmalade to grab some nice warm drinks and pulled him out again so they could go sit down by the port and watch the ships. Greg didn’t even say anything when she strummed her air guitar to set up some kind of privacy ward.

“You were not seriously going to try and do some kind of sketchy permanent mind alterations on yourself, right?” Melody asked, sipping her drink while Greg just stared at his.

“I’m broken. I’ve been broken since high school. I need to be fixed,” Greg shrugged.

“You may have been annoying, very good at setting things on fire accidentally, and obnoxious, but you aren’t broken,” she said. “A killjoy and a wet blanket sometimes, but not broken.”

“Yes I am. Everyone else seems to understand this...this thing that I don’t understand at all. And they understood in high school. And I thought it would happen later, but it hasn’t happened yet, and I don’t know when later is going to be, and if everyone understands it, shouldn’t I?” Greg asked.

“Just because you aren’t normal, doesn’t mean you’re broken. You aren’t broken because you can do magic, right? Not everyone can do that,” Melody pointed out, leaning back against the bench and looking out at the ships.

“That’s not the same thing, this is...about reproduction. It’s...a biological need, desire, right? I mean, it’s an imperative, right? Keeps the species going. Shouldn’t I feel that?” Greg took a sip of his drink, also staring out at the ocean.

“Why do I always end up with the hard conversations?” Melody looked to the sky, before looking back at Greg. “I’m only doing this so you can go back to your obnoxiously annoying know-it-all self with your structured imagination that crushes my soul. My parents sat me down during the Incident back in middle school. At the time, they told me that people mature at different ages, that all the signals I gave you that were in my opinion obvious weren’t something you were looking for yet. And then they signed me up for a health class outside of school because ‘if I was old enough to attempt to date, I was old enough to learn about my body more’.”

“If this is the ‘if I feel like I’m in the wrong body’ talk, I’ve had that. I mean, my body is mostly functional, and aside from my hair, it’s not too bad to be stuck in,” Greg said, giving Melody an annoyed glance.

“Are people who feel like that broken?”

“No, of course not,” Greg said, glaring at her.

“And you aren’t broken. You’ve clearly gotten the ‘gender is not binary’ talk. Sexuality,” Melody paused as Greg winced. “Is also not binary.”

“I know, people can like men, women, and men and women. People can like to be with multiple people, or in committed relationships, or committed relationships with multiple people. But…” Greg interrupted before Melody did a little twirl on her air guitar, causing Greg to be muted.

“Or they can not be interested. They could be asexual. As in not interested in sex. People who for various reasons do not feel any desire to have sex. Some of them are sex-repulsed, refuse to have sex because the idea of it is something they just can’t understand. And none of those people are broken,” Melody waited a bit, seeming to want a response from Greg, before remembering that she had muted him.

“You can’t prove a negative,” Greg began as soon as Melody unmuted him.

“I swear to god if you decide to approach this using the scientific method,” Melody began, and when Greg made a face at the experiment he would have to run she pointed at it. “See, right there. That. That is how you feel. You don’t want to. You have never wanted to. And you aren’t broken.”

“How do you know? What if later on the switch flips? How am I supposed to know what something’s supposed to feel like if I’ve never felt it before? What if I have felt it but ignored it?” Greg asked.

Melody sighed, running her hand through her hair. “Sometimes, I really hate you. You’re being deliberately obtuse. Look, Greg, archnemesis of mine, I don’t know what you feel. I don’t know what you think, I wouldn’t want to know how you think since you have no imagination and this insane desire to logic magic, when everyone knows magic can’t really be logicked. You can only really decide things based on how you are feeling. Or aren’t feeling. And I can’t exactly tell you what all those feelings are like. It’s really subjective. I felt butterflies in my stomach thinking about a crush, but a different friend describes it as floaty, and a third like getting surprise math tests. We’re still not sure if he meant that in a positive or negative way,” Melody got a little distracted before shaking her head and refocusing on Greg. ”Regardless! You are allowed to not have those feelings. You still aren’t broken. You don’t have to make a decision and be forced to live with it until you die. If your feelings change, your labels can. I mean, don’t you have a friend who’s gender fluid? You never have a problem with their pronouns,” she pointed out.

“This seemed...different,” Greg scratched the back of his head, sheepish.

“Because it was you and not someone else? You aren’t broken, Greg. Your attempts to apply logic to magic is obnoxious, your imagination is lacking, you are a walking fire safety hazard, but you are not broken. If the topic doesn’t interest you, or repulses you like I’m pretty sure we’ve demonstrated, what does it matter what anyone else says you should feel? You have never cared before, so starting now seems like it would be bad timing. Now, you good?”

Greg sighed and shrugged. “I won’t go and do dubious magic to fix something about me that you think isn’t broken.”

“Great. In that case, there’s a suspicious cloud forming in the general vicinity of your sister’s after school location and it’s been a week since her last incident,” Melody pointed to the very suspicious cloud of pink, orange, and purple beginning to form where Kitty spent her afternoon doing after school arts.

Greg gave the cloud an apprehensive stare. “Kitty probably wouldn’t actually make it rain cotton candy and hail candy apples, right? Especially after I explained why that would be a really bad idea? I mean, maybe it’s just a weird cloud that’ll do absolutely nothing but look pretty?”

“Your sister’s imagination is both inspiring and terrifying. Remind me to get a steel reinforced umbrella,” Melody said, making no move to get any closer to the cloud.

Greg sighed, and stood up. “Just because you had a good point this time, doesn’t mean that your air guitar magic makes sense.”

“That’s the Greg I love to annoy. Go stop Kitty from unleashing her imagination on the unsuspecting city.”

Greg was a sticker mage. He had a bad habit of exploding his door, causing unexpected fires and starting fights with an air guitar mage over whether or not her magic obeyed the laws of physics and the arbitrary laws of magic he tried to develop. He loved his little sister most of the time when she wasn’t accidentally sending him to Paris with no passport or causing a magical accident. He was uninterested in dating, and asexual.

He wasn’t broken.

He was, however, swearing off cotton candy and candy apples forever.

#original fiction #writing #queer themes #self acceptance #dark arts and crafts #greg cartwright #internalized acephobia #frenemies #identity #semi autobiographical

[tigoteus]

catch me crying about knitting and crochetting...

so many people, my friends, my family, were taught by aunts, grandmas, uncles, fathers, mothers, sibling, cousins... on visits, on vacations, just to pass time. everyone says "yeah i tried it, i didnt get far but it was fun learning it" or "yeah i dont like it but i do know the motions because my grandparents made sure i remembered them correctly"

we were all taught the same way, having the same knowledge about some ancient art form of knots in our brains installed from our youth of multigenerational living... i am sobbing on the floor

#yeah i started to knit again (: blankets this time #now i am talking #knitting #crochetting