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#dragons off the coast au
spacenintendogs · 4 months
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Important Information™️ for my modern au
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coojie1996 · 2 months
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I'm such a big fan of @spacenintendogs Dragons off the coast Au that I made my oc Torrin a modern design for once
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nosuda-cringe · 1 month
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Maggie and Momentum on Rose’s dragons off the coast AU!
@spacenintendogs
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artinandwritin · 2 months
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I realised my art is basically just a fashion show combined with a pretty colours parade
And i'm fine with that
Anyways!!! Cute lil thing for these goobers in my dear friend Rose's @spacenintendogs Dragons Off the Coast AU bc I just cannot resist drawing tiny lil dragons and gussiri being stupidly adorable
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ziggityzigg · 1 month
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Snowblast can’t fly after a recent vet(dragon vet?) visit
Edit: I FORGOT TO TAG @spacenintendogs
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Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs:
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Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors :)
Over The Odds: Billionaire CEO Jungkook makes you an offer you’d be a fool to refuse.  https://jungk0oksthighs.tumblr.com/post/682441385035644928/over-the-odds-collection-completed-ceojungkook
Dungeons & Dick: Your DnD group meets weekly and this time your DM, who also happens to be your boyfriend, plans on killing one of your party members until you thwart his plan leaving him pissed off and embarrassed. But Jungkook is not so secret about how much it turns him on when all the others have left.  https://jungkookiebus.tumblr.com/post/190268088251/dungeons-and-dick-jjk
Just Friends: The transition from best friends to best friends with benefits is never easy, especially when there’s a daddy kink involved. https://kinktae.tumblr.com/post/172263702969/just-friends-m
Bitchin': The 80s were a time of choices. Which perm was right for you? What color neon would you wear next? None of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jeon Jungkook. https://kinktae.tumblr.com/post/185646704844/bitchin-m Blackjack: Bangtan is one of the most vicious mafia on the West Coast, only six members are known by name though, with a mysterious seventh member dubbed as "The Shadow". You become indebted to the worst of the worst - how to get out? https://kpopfanfictrash.tumblr.com/post/165138875526/blackjack-master-list Ember Burning: The dragon riders of Duret Ghal are known across the continent: fierce warrors who take to the skies on their winged beasts led by their king Jungkook. You are the last dragon queen of Ashya, ruler of a dying species able to transform from human to dragon. When a foe emerges threatening both kingdoms, you find yourself forced to broker a peace with your former enemy. https://kpopfanfictrash.tumblr.com/post/643137431841947648/ember-burning-m A Holiday Snowdown: The Inn On The Hill is in trouble, you need money and you need it fast. Namjoon proposes a weeklong social media blitz with celebrity guest Jeon Jungkook: two-time Olympic gold medalist, world-class snowboarder and the nation's sweetheart. You happen to have met Jungkook before and sincerely hoped you'd never see him again. https://kpopfanfictrash.tumblr.com/post/671401371365507072/a-holiday-snowdown-m Paralian: A very loose retelling of The Little Mermaid. Pirate x Merfolk au. https://kpopfanfictrash.tumblr.com/post/186345871706/paralian The Monogamy Diaries: Namjoon is getting married and somewhere between the laughter and drinks, everyone has the same realization: Jungkook has never been in a serious relationship. In the name of all that is holy it is decided to find Jeon Jungkook a girlfriend. https://kpopfanfictrash.tumblr.com/post/190709693371/the-monogamy-monologues Love To Hate: Your mother ropes you into a blind date with playboy billionaire Jeon Jungkook. He stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can't deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you're in far, far deeper than you ever intended. https://kpopfanfictrash.tumblr.com/post/661587797603401728/love-to-hate-master-list
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Absolutely evil fiend. He eats the pita then throws it up on snotlouts bed
For @spacenintendogs dragons off the coast au
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arc-misadventures · 14 days
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What are Those?! AU: jaune mybe the only dragon faunus in the arc family but just because they don't have the features of a dragon does not mean those humans in the arc family do not have the heart and soul [[ and temper and Sadistic streek ]]of one,
Jacques Schnee finds this out the hard way when he tries to get jaune thrown in jail under false charges so he can take over jaunes business, Jacques Schnee is made an example to the rest of remnant on WHY YA DON'T PISS OFF THE ARC FAMILY
To Shreds You Say?
The tired slowly awoke from its slumber as it heard the soft repetition of several chimes that was its alarm clock. Or, in this case, it was, Jaune Arc’s tone.
The soon to be crowned dragon king rose from his bed, and grabbed his scroll, and register two things: That it was 3:27 in the morning. And, that his father was the one calling him at such an ungodly hour.
Jaune: Yeah…?
The weariness was palpable upon, Jaune’s voice as he yawned. He could see the handsome visage of his father, Acheius Arc staring back at him.
Acheius: ‘Yeah?’ That’s all your pops gets after not seeing him for so long. Not even a ‘hello dad?’
Jaune: Hellos are reserved for those who do not disturb the dead such as you have…
His father gave a short laugh at his comment. He knew his father was just teasing him, but nobody liked being woken up in the middle of the night.
It often meant something unexpected, and unwelcome had happened.
Acheius: See you finally ditched the onesie. About time you grew out of wearing that.
Jaune looked down to see he was bare chested. While he had stopped wearing, the reasons he hadn’t were nothing to do with his father’s words. Mostly.
Jaune: I would still be wearing it dad, but I ‘literally’ grew out of it. That, and I think one of my girlfriends stole it…
He tapped the ever present, and ever growing horns on his head.
Acheius: Ahh yes, your mother mentioned how you were growing more noticeable faunas traits. I must say horns were not on my bingo…?! Wait, did you say ‘girlfriends?’ As in, more than one?
Jaune: Dad while I understand you want to know what’s going on with my life, we both know you didn’t call me this early in the morning to catch up. What is it?
Jaune rubbed his face trying to wipe away the tiredness from his eyes. He father gave him a look before explaining his reasons for waking him up.
Acheius: It’s about that one of your diamond mines.
Jaune: Which mine?
That woke up, Jaune rather quickly. He turned his eyes to fully address his father as he was about to take in every word he was about to say.
Acheuis: The one at north east tip of, Vacuo: Raiders…
Jaune: Raiders Coast. There’s a diamond, and Dust mine located there, as well as a small town whose population mostly works there. What happened; Cave in, Grimm attack, raiders?
While, Jaune was highly protective of his diamond mines, to the point of fanatical, he cared more about the people working in his mines, than the diamonds themselves. A collapsed mine could be mine once again, and reclaimed. Peoples lives however, could not be so easily reclaimed. At most they could give the bodies of the dead a proper burial.
Acheius: A raid happened. Of sorts that is.
Jaune: Of sorts?
Acheius: A group of bandits attacked the mine. Trying to steal the, Dust, not the diamonds. They never touched your diamond vaults.
Jaune: They only went after the, Dust? Odd… They usually go after my diamonds; they’re easier to steal, and fence. Why only the, Dust though.
Acheius: Because they weren’t your typical, ‘raiders.’
Jaune: Explain.
Acheius: They were too organized, and disciplined to be your usual raiders. Not to mention all of them basically carried the same type of equipment: From weapons, to uniforms, to gear. Practically all identical.
Jaune: Identical…? Hmmm…
Jaune racked his mind as he pondered this information. A well organized, armed, and disciplined militia. That was an interesting tidbit of information.
There were dozens of gangs of bandits; large, and small in number strewn all about the desserts of, Vaccuo. But, only a few matched such a description. There was the, Bloody Skulls, they tended to be rather uniform in their appearance. There was the Dune Raiders, they had a lot of standardized equipment under their belts. The Scorpions were another, who followed this same rule, but their members tended to be branded with scorpion tattoos, and if it was one of them his father would have mentioned it. The Crowns had a habit of attacking his, Dust mines. But, just like the rest, he, and his family had hunted them down to extinction.
But, who ever attacked him only attacked the, Dust mine, not the diamond mine. Which left him with only one culprit left. The one person who would do anything do steal one of his, Dust mines.
Jaune: Jacques…
Acheius: Jacques? As in, Jacques Schnee? You think he is behind this?
Jaune: The bastard has been trying to get a foothold into, Vaccuo’s Dust mines for years, not to mention I am his biggest rival. Him taking one of my, Dust mines by force, and gaining a foothold in, Vaccuo is a two birds one stone scenario for him.
Acheius: Hmm… That makes sense. Luna’s been tracking the money that’s been deposited into their coffers, and she said it came from some company called, ‘Hybrid Enterprises.’ They’re registered as a, Atlasian company. Ring any bells?
Jaune: No, I’ve never heard of that company before.
: That’s because its a dummy corporation.
Jaune: A dummy corporation?
Acheius: I-Is someone with you, Jaune?
Jaune: Uhh…?
Jaune felt an arm wrap around his body as a head rested upon his shoulder. He could feel her bare chest against his back as his face was flush red. Not so much because he had a beautiful woman resting against him, more so because he had beautiful woman resting her body against him, and she was naked, and he was in the middle of a video call with his freaking father!
But, other than that things were okay.
Acheius: And… who are you…?
: My name is, Willow, Willow Schnee. You must be, Jaune’s father. Mr…?
Acheius: Acheius Arc…
Jaune: H-How do you know they’re a dummy corporation, Willow?
Jaune decided to take control of the conversation before it went somewhere he did not want it to go.
Willow: Because my… husband founded it. He uses them for all his shady back room deals: Bribery, stealing, blackmail, threats… various deplorable things such as that.
Acheius: It doesn’t surprise me that, that bastard would have such associates under his payroll. So he must have used this dummy corporation to hire these mercenaries.
Willow: They may not be mercenaries per-say. Tell me, did they have any badges on their uniforms, any iconography?
Acheius: No, their uniforms were clean of such items. But, there was a tattoo of a white raven on one severed arms of one of them, does that ring any bells, Mrs. Schnee?
Willow: Hmmm… White ravens…? Ah! Winter’s Cawl. They’re a private military force that’s under the, quote control of, Hybrid Enterprises. Really its under, Jacques’s control as his personal hitman army.
Jaune: He has an army?!
Willow: No, more than a couple hundred strong militia. But, they are well equipped for a group their size.
Jaune: Damn… I need to speed up the timetable for making my own military force then… Wait, severed? Did you cut off that guys arm dad?
Acheius: Ah no, that wasn’t me.
Jaune: Then who did it?
Acheius: Thiriana did it. A gunshot went off, and accidentally clipped her hair, singeing a bit of it, and… you know how protective of their hair they are.
Jaune: Ahhh… That explains that.
A small shiver of fear ran through his body as, Jaune remembered the hell the female members of his family raised when something happened to their hair.
Twas a horrifying sight to see.
Willow: I assume you left some of these ‘bandits’ alive to be interrogated?
Acheius: I tried to do so… but…
Jaune: What did my sisters do?
Acheius: More so what the bandits attempted to do. Several of them were using some of the miners children as hostages, and well, Thiriana, and Janette went feral.
Jaune: Ahh…
Acheius: Yeah…
Jaune: Were they quick?
Acheius: They weren’t quiet…
Jaune: Bloody hell…
Willow: Are all, Arc woman so violent?
JA: Yes.
Willow: Oh my…
Acheius: Unfortunately, we know who did it, but we don’t have any proof to convict, Jacques of ordering this attack on one of your mines.
Jaune: Dammit…
A low growl escaped his lips as he mulled over this information. They had information to convict, Jacques Schnee to various crimes, but they were all speculative however, easily dismissible in a court of law. One more the bastard would get away with things.
Or, so he thought.
A ringing sound soon went off on his father’s scroll, he quirked an eyebrow at the caller before he answered it.
Acheius: It’s your sister.
Jaune: Which one?
Acheius: Luna. I’ll put her on a combined call.
As he said that, Jaune was met with the sight of his sister, Luna who was looking positively radiant as she gave a pearly smile to the camera.
So long as one ignored all the blood on her face.
Luna: Hi Dad! And, hi, Ja…?! Oh… is… is that Mrs. Schnee. Willow Schnee of SDC draped over your shoulder…
Luna: Naked…?
Willow: I seduced a handsome young man that really, really knows how to show a woman a good time~! There’s nothing else to it.
Luna: S-She seduced you…?!
Jaune: No comment.
Luna: But, how did…?!
Jaune: No. Comment.
Luna: I shoved, Jacques into a cell, and you shoved it into his wife… The fuck is going on…?
Acheius: Wait, what did you say, Luna?
Luna: I uhh… I threw, Jacques into a cell.
JA: …
Willow: And, why is he in a jail cell?
Luna: Tried to bribe me for control of one of, Jaune’s, Dust mines. It was a poor bribe so I told him to shove it up his ass. He didn’t take too kind to that, so he told his ‘associates’ to convince me to ‘accept’ his deal. And, well… Long story short; the main office at the, Kantor Mines needs to be remodelled. And, Jacques Schnee is… currently being pelted with tomatoes as he is suspended ten feet in the air in a cage.
Willow: I see… So, how much do I have to pay for his release?
Luna: Ohh direct hit to the groin…
Jaune: Luna.
Luna: Huw? Oh yeah! Let’s see… Damage to the main office at. Kantor Mine. Shouldn’t be much to pay off. About three thousand Lien.
Acheius: You’re forgetting about all the havoc he caused at, Raiders Coast.
Luna: What happened at, Raiders Coast?
Acheius: You didn’t hear? I thought one of your sisters would have told you. It was attacked by a mercenary gang run by the, SDC.
Luna: Ahh, send me a list of the damages, and I’ll make a list of damage fees to send to, Jacques for him to pay.
Acheius: Alright, I’ll go…?
Willow: A moment if you will.
Acheius: What is it, Mrs. Schnee.
Willow: Why don’t you have, Jacques pay off the damages he has committed with some good old… manual labour~?
Jaune: You want him to work off his debt?
Willow: Indeed. The crimes he committed shouldn’t be simply payed off with money, they should be payed off with hard, back breaking labour.
Luna: But, his bill will be in the thousands, possibly the tens of thousands?!
Willow: So he will be working at this debt for years to come? Oh, what a shame.
Acheius: …
Luna: …
Acheius: Okay.
Luna: Seems reasonable.
Acheius: We still have to let, Atlas know that we have him in our custody.
Willow: And, tell them the SDC is doing everything in its power to get his… eventual release. Somewhere between six months to a year.
Luna: Okay, I can do that. Anything else I should tell him?
Willow: No, now if you’ll excuse me, I just got a rather invigorating second wind~!
Jaune: Second wind? What are you… Ahh?!
And, with in his question, Jaune yelped in alarm as he felt a beautiful lady’s hand descend lower to grab something particularly long, and hard in her hand.
Jaune: I-Igottagonowguys.Bye!
And, with that the call was cut on, Jaune’s wnd leaving the father daughter duo to look at each other with bewildered expressions across their faces.
Luna: Uhh… what just happened?
Acheius: I don’t… oh… Oh that’s what happened…
Luna: What happened?
Acheius: Quite simple. Learning that her husband is now in jail, giving, Willow time to take back her company has left her in a euphoric state of mind.
Luna: Oh, good for her. Getting rid of that bastard will do wonders for the world!
Acheius: Luna. She got off to the fact her husband is in jail, and wants to sleep with your brother again…
Luna: Dad, I fucking know that, I just didn’t want to think about my brother sleeping with a woman!
Acheius: Oh…
Acheius: Yeah, I don’t want to think about, Jaune sleeping with a woman your mothers age either.
Luna: The fuck did you have to say THAT?!!
Acheius: Whoops…
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sarahowritesostucky · 3 months
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📖Make it Stick: Pt. 1 The Dragon
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Rating: Explicit
Chapter Rating: Mature
Pairing: Bucky x ofc x Steve
Word Count: 1103
Tags: dark!fic, mob/mafia au, mob!Bucky, mob!Steve, dubcon/noncon, sexual coercion, half-sibling incest, m/f/m, non-con drug use, mentions of torture (non graphic), double penetration, forced tattooing, forced orgasms, enemies to lovers
Summary: When his babygirl—his sweet pea, little one, puppy ... half-sister—is recaptured after her latest attempt at running away, Bucky makes a power play in front of the entire Bratva to remind her exactly who she belongs to.
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Dark and smutty content below the break. Consume responsibly.
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“Да. Good. Make sure she stays that way. Now, tell me everything.” Bucky listens to his henchman’s answer, pissed in general but only getting truly angry when he hears one specific detail. “She was with who?! Ублюдок!!” He takes the phone away from his face for a second as he curses in three different languages. Fucking Gleb. He fucking knew it. He’s going to cut his fucking dick off! When he brings the phone back up to his face, all he utters is a deathly quiet, “We’re in the Dragon’s Den. Get them here. Both of them.” He ends the call.
The gun at Bucky’s back has stopped buzzing. Funny, how it’s the sudden lack of pain that makes goosebumps rise to his skin. “Boss?” Natasha asks.
Bucky’s eyes flick over to Steve, who’s sitting next to the Karpovs on the couch. One moment of intense eye contact between the two of them, and Steve’s face goes wan in recognition. Tight-lipped, Bucky gives an almost imperceptible nod of confirmation. Steve squares his shoulders and pushes up to standing to go over to the bar. The guy has an almost preternatural ability to predict Bucky’s wants and needs, which is one reason why he’s risen through the ranks so fast (well, it's one, leastways). He artfully flips a lowball, knowing what this situation calls for without having to be told; ice and two fingers of the Russo-Baltique that’s so expensive, Bucky once stabbed a guy’s hand into a table for drinking it without permission.
Steve delivers the glass and retreats to stand sentinel along the wall. Bucky sips, sets it down, growls and grabs it up again. He rolls the liquor in his mouth as he fumes, a dark plan starting to form in his head. It comes together quickly, because it’s not like he hasn’t spent plenty of time fantasizing about it before now. What he’d do when he finally got her back.
His little one is tenacious and likes to make trouble. She has a penchant for running away, but she’s never lasted this long before. It’s been over ten months—long enough to put the fear of God in Bucky that he could actually lose her for good, if he isn’t more careful. So, he has to be careful, has to make a statement, send a message. He has to make it stick.
Luckily, when it comes to “sending messages,” Bucky Barnes can be very creative. Like tattooing, torture is an oft underappreciated artform. “Dimi,” he barks. “I’m expecting some special guests tonight. Go and sort things out downstairs. I want the place packed by ten—Make sure it’s with the right people.”
“Boss?” Lev pipes up, confused. He’s Karpov’s kid brother: new, inexperienced but eager, still “earning his scales,” as the boys like to say.
Dimitri jerks his head for his brother to follow him. “Boss wants a demonstration. C’mon.” He’s already got his phone out as they leave the room to get things arranged. Bucky’s “demonstrations” usually require plastic sheeting and a crowd of people who are either Hydra themselves, or else educated enough to know to keep their mouths shut about Bratva business.
“Where’d they find her?” Steve asks.
Bucky scoffs, still fuming. “Floating off the coast of Belize. On my own fucking yacht. Can you even believe that?”
“Sounds like her.”
“Lena?” Nat hums. “Who’d you send?”
“Maximoff and Belova have her.” Bucky grits his teeth at the sting as Natasha uses a wet cloth to wipe off the excess blood and ink. He can feel her scrutinizing her work. “You can keep going,” he tells her, but she ‘tsks’ in that way that only a Russian tongue can really do.
“We’ll come back to it. Skin behaves differently when you’re not relaxed.”
“I’m am relaxed!” He hears how ridiculous he sounds and heaves a long sigh, trying to let his shoulders untense to at least somewhere below the level of his ears. “I’m relaxed.”
“Keep saying it and it might come true.” Nat rolls away on her stool, peeling off her gloves with finality. “Your blood pressure and vodka’ll push the ink out faster than I can stick it. Just come over to the Red Room once it’s done scabbing and we’ll finish it then.”
She’s already packing up her stuff when Bucky gets the idea. “Wait.” He narrows his eyes at the rolling toolkit that Nat keeps in the club’s upstairs lounge just for him and his men. “Do me a favor,” he says slowly, the idea taking shape in his mind. “Run down to the shop and print out a transfer for me. Cyrillic. A small font. Something pretty but … bold. Easy to read.”
Natasha tenses. “What do you want it to say?”
“собственность дракона.”
“No,” she says, and when Bucky looks over, she’s standing ramrod straight.
“Clearly, you disapprove.”
“I’m not inking it.”
“I’m not asking you to,” he snaps, low on patience tonight, even for Natasha. “Print it out on a goddamn transfer sheet and bring it to me.”
She’s doing that dead faced thing she does—where she goes still like a doll to avoid making some expression she doesn’t want you to see. Right now, Bucky suspects it might be sheer disdain. “Size?” she asks. “Shaping?”
“One line straight up the forearm. Delicate lettering, but clear as a fucking bell to read.”
“That still doesn’t tell me what spacing—”
“You know how big she is, you figure out the fucking spacing!” he yells. “Or what the fuck am I even paying you for?!”
Natasha goes eerily still, then abruptly pivots to leave, the severe line of her hair whipping around with the motion. She’s unhappy with him.
“Red ink!” Bucky calls out, the door slamming shut after her a millisecond later. He grinds his teeth together and stands up from the chair he’s been perched in for the past three hours, carrying his drink over to the mirrors so that he can get a better look at his back.
Scales, teeth, claws. Crouched and curling across his shoulders, tendrils creeping up onto his neck, marking him as what he is: Дракон.
The Dragon.
“Will you help me?” he asks Steve, quiet now that it’s just the two of them.
“Depends on what you want me to do.”
“It depends”—No other man in the Bratva could give such an answer and expect to remain in one piece. But Steve’s gaze is steadfast when Bucky meets it and tells him, “She’s gotten away with too much for too long. It’s time to shorten the leash.”
In the mirror, Steve’s eyes darken. He nods.
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Take me to part 2!
Masterlist
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If you like what you read and feel so inclined, please consider dropping a tip in the Kofi🍵 cup!
Commissions: contact via Tumblr messenger or Kofi
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hellfirenacht · 5 months
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Plus One Chapter 1
Summary: Once upon a time, you made a deal with the school freak that if he ever got famous then he'd invite you to be his plus one at a red carpet event. Now a decade later an invite shows up at your house asking you to be the +1 to Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin.
Tags: modern!au, Eddie and Reader are in their late 20's/early 30's after the deal is made. Rockstar!Eddie. Friends to strangers to friends to lovers, references to Flight of Icarus characters eventually
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The squeak of desks being pushed across linoleum flooring made you wince as everyone adjusted the classroom for partner work. It was too early for this, you hadn’t slept the night before and had almost been late to this class, taking your seat at the last second just as the bell rang. 
First period science wasn’t your hardest class, but it wasn’t exactly your best subject either. You’d been floating along with a solid C and that was as good as you were hoping to get. As long as you graduated by this point, you’d be happy. It was near the end of your senior year, and senioritis was hitting you hard. It was your hope that you could just coast these last few weeks, pass your finals and get the hell out of the public school system. 
There would be no coasting this morning though as you were all assigned partners. No one was thrilled about this development aside from a few peers who had been partnered with their friends. You weren’t exactly unpopular but you didn’t have anyone in this class that you would consider a friend or even an acquaintance. You’d borrowed a pencil once from Randy who sat in front of you, but other than that you kept to yourself first thing in the morning. 
Which is why when the name ‘Munson’ was called out along with your own surname you’d barely registered who that was. A few people snickered and you caught one girl giving you a pitying look as you tried to connect the name to a face. It took your partner sitting down across from you for you to realize who you’d been paired with. 
Munson. Eddie Munson. Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson. 
Ah. That Munson. 
“Uh, hi.” he said, with a wave and you desperately tried to reconnect the tired wires in your brain to say hi back. 
“Mornin’” you managed to spit out. He sat in the back of the class on the opposite side of the room. You rarely even saw him in class because you were usually here before him, and he was the first to get out the door when class ended. You never said a word to him the whole semester, but again, you didn’t talk to anyone in this class. 
Worksheets were passed around and you stared at the different questions and equations. You might as well be sitting in Latin class with as much as this made sense to you. 
“I know this is a higher level than what you all are used to, but this is what is going to be expected of you in college next year.” Your teacher explained, followed by a chorus of groans which included yours as well as Eddie’s. 
The two of you stared at the worksheet for a moment before making eye contact. You felt a little nervous under his gaze; you’d seen him around school and had heard the rumors about the leader of the Dungeons and Dragons club. He’d been seen pushing around freshmen wearing the same shirt as him, and was often regarded as a loudmouth and a danger to everyone in school. 
It didn’t help his case that he looked older than you. His broad shoulders were only accentuated by the heavy leather jacket and denim vest giving him the appearance of someone who absolutely should not be in high school. How old was he anyway? 
“Eddie.” 
You blinked, surprised he was the first to speak. You offered your name as well with a nod, neither of you going for the handshake. 
“So... does any of this make sense to you?” he asked, looking back down at the worksheet. 
You glanced down with a small laugh. “Not even a little.” 
“Shit.”
“Shit.”
He looked up at you with a sheepish grin, and you swear it took at least five years off his appearance. You found yourself relaxing just a bit, if he was as dangerous as everyone made him out to be, at least he wouldn’t do something stupid in the middle of class. Hopefully. 
You grabbed your textbook and opened it up and Eddie leaned over the desk to read with you. 
“Sorry, forgot mine.” He said and you adjusted the book so it sat between the two of you. 
The next half hour was a testament of will as the two of you tried your best to work out the formulas put in front of you. The ancient calculators that the teacher had provided only caused more confusion between the two of you and you tried to figure out buttons that you had never had to press before. 
“I’m sure someone, somewhere is using this on a daily basis.” you said as you jotted down a string of numbers that you were positive were wildly incorrect. “I understand that this is important to someone, but outside of a trivia game there’s no way I’m ever going to even think about this ever again.” 
You were mostly talking to yourself, not expecting a response from your partner. He was looking at the calculator, and your string of numbers with equal confusion. 
“Music is as advanced as my math skills go.” Eddie said. He’d removed his jacket at some point where you were staring at your textbook with a blank expression trying to understand how to apply the formulas. You couldn’t stop your eyes from occasionally flicking towards the tattoos that covered his right arm. So he was at least old enough to get tattoos... or to have a parent or guardian agree to let him get tattoos. 
You weren’t sure why you were so hung up on his age. Maybe it was easier to focus on that mystery than the jumble of letters and numbers that was making your brain more numb than it already felt. 
“What kind of music?” The question was out of your mouth without thinking. You didn’t think you’d seen him hang out with the band or orchestra kids before. 
“Metal and rock music mostly.” Eddie said, erasing one of the numbers. His pencil was a cheap one, and only managed to make a huge smudge on his paper rather than clear his answer. You handed over your own pencil on instinct and he took it with a thanks. 
“Do you play an instrument or something?” you asked, already checked out of the worksheet. Fuck it. It’s not like it was going to count for much anyway. 
“Yeah I, uh, I’ve been playing guitar since I was a kid.” There was a light in his eyes that made you wonder why anyone would ever think he was dangerous or scary. In the half hour that the two of you had been struggling with this busy work the two of you had been making small talk that you’d found way more engaging. 
“Electric or guitar?” you asked, and it was when Eddie let out a laugh that you realized what you had asked. You pressed your hands to your face with an embarrassed chuckle. “I didn’t sleep last night.” 
“I play electric and guitar.” came the teasing response. “But I lean more towards electric unless my uncle is home or I need to keep it down.”
“Are you any good?” 
“Good enough to have a steady gig at the Hideout.” he shrugged. “It’s not much, but it’s a stage. Sort of.” 
Eddie had also given up on the worksheet and was using your pencil to absently doodle in the margins of the paper. 
“I have no idea where that is.” 
“Shady dive bar in the warehouse district. My band and I play on Tuesdays, you should come see us sometime. It’s a shithole, but it’s safe.” The last part was added hastily as he saw your weary expression. 
A shady dive bar on a school night? Not a great chance of that. 
“What’s your band called?” 
“Corroded Coffin.” he dug around his pockets in his jeans and jacket before he pulled out a bent cut out piece of flashcard and handed it to you. It had the band’s name scribbled on it in sharpie and a list of socials on the back. It screamed home made and there was a charm to it that made you smile. 
“I’ll check you out.” you said, tucking it into the book you had been reading for the past week knowing damn well that you were probably going to forget about it the second it was out of sight. 
“Don’t worry about the worksheet being perfect.” the teacher piped up from their desk. “Just do your best, and it’s only being counted as pass/fail. I’m just trying to see that you’re all able to use your critical thinking skills to look up information.”
“I’m about to use my critical thinking skills to bullshit the rest of the worksheet.” Eddie muttered and you laughed. 
You grabbed his worksheet and scribbled down a formula and some numbers and handed it back. “Long as there’s something written down she doesn’t care.” 
That was good enough for the both of you as you set the papers aside. There was still a good fifteen minutes left in class, and you expected that the two of you would just sit awkwardly in your grouped desk facing each other until the bell rang. You almost laid your head down on the desk and try and get a power nap in, but curiosity was getting the better of you. 
“So, you wanna do music for a living?” you asked, looking at him again. 
“Ideally.” Eddie said, fidgeting with your pencil still. You decided that it was his pencil now, you had others in your bag. “I know it’s a long shot and most of my band is still gonna be in school when I graduate this year but we’ve got a few songs that we’ve been working on.”
“So you’re gonna be famous one day?” It wasn’t a sarcastic question, but a genuine one. Maybe this guy could be famous one day, you didn’t know. Maybe he didn’t even want to be famous. 
Eddie shook his head and laughed. “I’ll be lucky to keep the lights on with my music, but I’m gonna try.”
“You’re going to be famous.” you told him with a firm nod. The lack of sleep was catching up to you. It’s not like anything in this class was going to matter in the future anyway. “I’ve decided it.”
“You decided that I’m going to be famous?” he asked slowly, as if trying to decide if you were fucking with him or not. 
“Yeah, why not?” You replied. 
He stared at you and his gaze turned intense as he sat up straighter. Eddie’s gaze swept over your face, looking for any sign that you were speaking with ill intent, when he found none, he gave you a smile. 
“I’ll hold you to it then.” he said. “If I don’t get famous I’m holding you personally responsible.” 
“Alright, but there’s a catch.” your smile widened. 
“A catch? You won’t let me get famous on my charm and talent alone?” He tilted his head with a grin. 
“Nope. I need payment. Deciding things isn’t cheap, you know.” you were delusional from lack of sleep, and you probably sounded crazy to him.
“Alright, what’s your fee?” Eddie leaned back in his chair, looking as if he were trying to start a business deal. His demeanor change starkly contrasted the long dark hair, band t shirt, and heavy metal rings he wore and you had to stop yourself from laughing. 
You thought about it for a moment. “I want to be your plus one to at least one of your red carpet events.” you said. “I think that’s payment enough.”
He rubbed his chin in thought, as if carefully considering your offer. “And if I don’t.”
“If you forget to come back for Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.” you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing now at how ridiculous you sounded. 
“Holes? Really?” Eddie snorted. “Alright, I know how that story ends. You have a deal.” 
He offered you his hand and you two shook on it. 
And because you two had at least ten minutes to kill, Eddie took out a beat up notebook and started drawing up a contract to make it official. The two of you debated on the wording, and how it should be drawn out. In the end, it was decided that Eddie would have at least five years after his first red carpet to invite you to an event (your idea) or else he’d be cursed and he’d end up on TMZ in a scandal involving a goat and a runaway parade float (his idea).
You each signed the fake contract, dated it, and had the teacher notarize it. 
“Did you two even try to do the worksheet?” they asked, signing and stamping the notebook with a ‘GOOD JOB!’ stamp.
“We tried.” Eddie smiled at the teacher, taking the notebook back and trading it for the worksheets.
The bell rang and you two shook hands one last time. The last few weeks flew by in a whirlwind of spring break, prom season, and graduation. You barely talked to Eddie after that class, occasionally saying hi to him in the hallway, or the odd small chat during class. You’d managed to get him to sign your yearbook, but he hadn’t asked you to sign his. You felt a little sad about it, looking back. He’d been nice to talk to, and his reputation hadn’t lived up to that hour that you’d been forced to spend with him. 
Graduation was the last time you’d seen him, when he’d run across the stage, flipped off Principal Higgins and ran off like a bat out of hell. You had looked for him passively in the chaos and sea of graduates and their families taking photos and congratulating each other. Okay, maybe you’d looked for him a bit more deliberately than you’d let on. 
Maybe you had developed a small crush on Eddie in that hour that you’d spent working on that stupid worksheet. Maybe you had hoped that when you gave him your email in that contract he’d reach out to you to say hi. Maybe, yes, you did eventually remember the handmade business card for Corroded Coffin and had looked up their information a month into summer to find them as dead and dry as the Sahara desert, with only a muffled .mp3 of one of their songs to go off of. 
There were a lot of maybe’s that came with being in high school. 
But life moves on. You forget about the man with the long dark hair and boyish smile. Your yearbook gets tucked away in a box, out of site and out of mind. The homemade business card gets lost under the bed and eventually tossed in a deep clean as you get ready to move to college and move out. The muffled .mp3 sits in your computer for years until you get a smartphone and stuff a ton of your old music on it, shuffling it into your streaming playlists. 
The song gets skipped over more often than you’d ever admit. 
And now there you were in your new apartment a year after graduating college, living on your own for the first time. No dorm, no family, no roommates, no partner. 
It was the middle of your work week, and you were outside checking the mail. You flipped through the envelopes of junk and bills for anything that would have been worth the walk from your apartment to the community mailbox. 
A thick envelope with your name and address was in the middle of the pile. Your name was hand lettered in fancy script and you glanced at where the return address should be. 
WR RECORDS 
Who?
You pulled the envelope out and glanced at the rest of the mail to make sure there was nothing important there before tossing it into your neighbors recycling bin. You ripped open the envelope. 
Inside was a thick black card, and your name was once again written in beautiful red ink that reflected off the dark card stock. 
WR Records would like to invite you to be the +1 to Mr. Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin to this year's annual Hellfire Awards.
And below that in chicken scratch handwriting that wildly contrasted the careful lettering of the rest of the card: 
A deal’s a deal.
You stared at the words and read them over and over and over again, trying to make sense of them and only one question passed your mind. 
“Who the fuck is Eddie Munson?” 
---
Please comment and reblog <3
Tag List: @hellfiredarling @crocwork-clockodile @hitoshislut @kurdtbean @kennedy-brooke @daisyridleyyyy
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spacenintendogs · 4 months
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if i were fishlegs i'd also sob abt meatlug 24/7
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coojie1996 · 1 month
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Oc thing of @spacenintendogs au
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sesamenom · 6 months
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Ringlord High King of Everything Elrond, inspired here
(@the-writing-goblin)
I imagine in this situation elrond would have been partially tempted by boromir's declaration, but instead of trying to fight sauron with it (because even in the weirdest crack au i can think of elrond is still too genre-aware to try that) he tried to use it to supercharge his use of vilya and protect everyone.
basically Ringlord!Elrond turned the entirety of Eriador into a mega-gondolin situation: massive walls (courtesy of numenorean/eregion tech) around the regions bordering the north or Mordor, fortresses along the mountain range and several layers of gates along every road in or out. Everybody goes in; nobody goes out; everyone is safe.
and he ended up claiming the kingship to give him more authority in the process - he's High King of the Noldor and Sindar and King of the Edain (given that there are like three half-vanyar in middle-earth, he's more or less king of all children of iluvatar) and so he can have command over the entirety of the West.
and with the help of the Ring, this actually works! but the corruption starts to show eventually
he uses his kinship to Gondor to forcefully drag them into his neo-gondolin-empire-creation so he can ensure none of his great-nephews will ever have to face sauron. he extends the walls to encompass Mirkwood, because he's the high king of the sindar and has a duty to protect thranduil's realm, and unleashes the full might of his melian-lite powers to purge Sauron's Shadow and the spawn of Ungoliant from the now-Greenwood.
Galadriel and Glorfindel very much see where this is going and are very very worried. galadriel won't let him build walls around lothlorien (because she lives next door to a balrog and knows exactly what happened to gondolin) but celeborn thinks it's a good idea, since after all Doriath wouldn't have fallen if Melian's girdle had still been up. glorfindel tries to talk him out of it but the ring has taken hold
the Ring's power also enhances all his natural weirdness and powers - he has his wings and maia markings permanently activated now, with or without finwean anger. he can fully shapeshift, and he goes from raising waves in the bruinen to raising tsunamis in the great sea.
except the finwean anger seems to be permanently activated now, too, and anyone who harms someone he's deemed under his protection finds themselves the target of a rather ironic vengeance quest. the shapeshifting is looking weird now - his teeth are always sharp now, and his eyes have gone fully inhuman. sometimes he has claws and his wings look more like bats than eagles. and his water powers are more like osse's- he can't calm the waters now (goldberry is the first to notice something's up) and can only stir them into massive ship-sinking storms and tsunamis.
this progresses until he's basically Evil Luthien ruling over a continent-wide Mega-Gondolin, slaughtering orc-hordes before they even reach the white walls and sinking any naval fleet Sauron tries to send around the coast. Everybody is brought in; nobody leaves; everyone is safe...?
he figures out that the dwarven legend of "Durin's Bane" has to be one of the few first age balrogs thats still unaccounted for. and well, it's living right on his border, and he can't risk another fall of gondolin, right? so he leads a small force in there to clear moria, and they shove the balrog off the edge, but it takes one of his captains (except glorfindel) with it (maybe erestor?) and he uses the ring and saves erestor, (and maybe floods the balrog for good measure), and glorfindel is sure he saw elrond's eyes go yellow for a moment.
and even fully corrupted, he knows he can't take the ring directly into mordor. but he can wipe out sauron's armies outside the walls, to protect his kingdom - because turgon's mistake was thinking he was safe even when there were balrogs and dragons and orcs outside, right?
somewhere along the way, arwen realizes what's happening and goes to live with galadriel. one of the twins goes with her; the other stays out of loyalty but eventually follows.
elrond's kingdom has become a cross between doriath and gondolin now, with all the surrounding lands warped by ring-magic to hide it, and layers of stone walls and iron gates preventing anyone from leaving. because everyone is here; nobody leaves; everyone is... safe?
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artinandwritin · 4 months
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My brain has been going "modern au modern au" every since @spacenintendogs waved her dragons off the coast wand at me
I am very thankful <333
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ziggityzigg · 2 months
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I was lazy for coloring (i might properly color later or sm)
Yes! Choa has a Snow wraith! Which i cannot draw lmao
Anyway. @spacenintendogs *Shoves in face* HERE, TAKE!!
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Just another manic Monday
Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 17
Prompt: Platonic Stobin
Rated: G
CW: monsters
Tags: Urban fantasy AU; Magic AU; Creature AU; background Steddie; background Buckingham
Notes: Based on an idea and the gorgeous art by @house-of-the-moving-image - so happy I got to throw a little something together for it. 🥰
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“I don't understand this,” Steve yells, jumping over another garbage bag like a hurdle sprinter. “That thing is fucking huge, where was it even hiding?”
“Gee, I dunno, Steve!” Robin skids to a halt beside him and impatiently hops from foot to foot while he pulls out their scooter from  between two dumpsters. “I didn't ask, you think we should wait up?” 
Somewhere behind them, something lets out a loud, gargling roar. A giant body scrapes against the walls of the alley. 
Steve gulps. 
“Nah, I'm good,” he says and tosses her the egg. It's larger than his own head, and Robin sags briefly under its weight. “Get in!”
Sometimes, Steve really, really wishes he was normal. 
In a world where ninety-seven percent of the population are either magic users, non-human, or hybrids, people like Robin and him tend to get the short end of the stick. Take the job market, for example. What's a guy to do if most entry-level positions require basic flight skills, or rudimentary knowledge of summoning spells, or two years minimum of experience in applied runology? 
The job at Fleetfoot Delivery is actually okay, all things considered. The pay is decent, the uniform isn't completely humiliating, and his coworker is his best friend and platonic soulmate who happens to be just as lamely human and completely unmagical as himself. 
It's easy work. Customers trade items via the app, Steve and Robin deliver the goods from the pickup location right to the lucky new owner. 
Basic stuff. 
Simple. 
Boring.
Except for the days you get chased by giant fucking monsters. 
“Who even sells a phoenix egg online?” he asks while he waits for Robin to clamber into the side car. “I mean, shouldn't we be calling child protection services or something?” 
“Phoenixes are extinct, Steve, everyone knows that!” 
He hums vaguely. He does know that, of course, but the question has its desired effect - namely to send her off on a tangent and get her mind off things. 
“The eggs that are left are infertile, but they're highly coveted in certain circles. Rumor has it that consuming one will boost your magic like nothing else. Chrissy says there's a sea witch living off the coast who's been looking for one for-”
“Chrissy, huh?” Steve grins and swings a leg over the saddle. The scooter stutters to life. “The cute little mermaid with the milkshake order from last week? You two on first-name terms now?” 
“Oh, fuck off!” Robin jabs him in the ribs, but quickly clutches the egg again as he needs to swerve around a stack of old, soggy cardboard boxes. They're picking up speed, but not nearly enough in the crammed, narrow alley. Behind them, the roaring and scraping are getting louder. “You don't get to berate me for flirting with clients. If I see you do that ass-wiggle in your stupid shorts in front of that dragon dude one more time-” 
“His name is Eddie,” Steve snaps, neck erupting in heat. “And I don't think he has any idea what my first name is. Or my last name.”
“Yes, Steve, of course,” Robin deadpans. “That is why he calls you big boy and honey and sweetheart. That is the actual reason.” 
Steve lets this statement simmer for a few seconds. 
“Shut up and tell me where to deliver this thing,” he then says. 
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Robin smirk while she fishes her phone from her pocket and tells him the address.
“Oh, freaking great,” Steve grouses. “That's only on the other side of town. Won't take forever at all at this-” 
“Steve?” says Robin. Her hand is tugging at the sleeve of his uniform jacket, like she's been trying to get his attention for a while. “Steve, you may wanna go faster.” 
“I know!” he groans. “Need to beat rush hour, or we won't be home until-”
“That's not what I meant!” Robin shouts. Her voice goes all shrill and grating towards the end, and he almost crashes them into the wall in his impulse to cover his ears. 
“Well, what do you-” he starts to say, but doesn't get any further.
There's a loud crashing sound as the dumpsters are mowed over. He glances over his shoulder, just long enough to see a slimy, clawed something that's roughly the size of his house erupt from the alley behind them. It shrieks. The rush of hot, stinking breath sends garbage flying in all directions. A fist-sized glob of spit hits the back of Steve's head with a wet splotch. 
“Ugh, what the fuck? I just washed my hair this mor-”
“Drive!” Robin slaps his arm. “Oh my God, drive, drive, drive!” 
Steve does. 
They shoot out of the alley and onto the main road, just narrowly avoiding a collision with a flock of banshees. As their scandalized shrieks and the roar of the monster fade behind them, Robin's wristwatch buzzes. 
“Oh,” she says. “Today's your lucky day. A certain dragon just ordered an entire crate of aventurine, express delivery.”
Steve groans and takes a right, reaching up to disentangle half a banana skin from his drool-coated hair.
The day is shaping up to be a real Monday. 
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All my holiday drabbles
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