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heartfullofleeches · 10 months

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Yan Clown/Circus + Imaginary Friend Darling Blurb

Throughout life, friends come and go, but you - were always the first.

Things were simple in the beginning. Sit with that lonely kid at the playground, wipe their face with your sleeves, and ask if they wanted to be friends. They always said yes. You were inseparable. Playing until streetlights came on plus a seat saved for you at the dinner table when they reluctantly returned home. The biggest fears you faced where the monsters under the bed and the dark... then came school, homework, the future. Your playdates became so far and few, they put in the efforts to make new friends and you were so happy for them.

"Y/n? Who's that? Quit talking to yourself and come hang out with us."

But none of them ever wanted to be yours. Your friend was never home anymore and when they were it was always school work or video games taking their attention. Your place at the table was given to someone else. They'd gradually drift away from speaking to you and it was like you never existed in the first place to them, and maybe you never did - so you left. Back to that empty that existed before it all. There, you remembered all your friends. All your precious memories and the treasures they gave you their parents questioned them about when they disappeared. You hated it there. You didn't want to reminisce on the good times - it only lead to wordless goodbyes. Why - why did they always leave you behind?

"I got invited to a slumber party this weekend... Everyone turned out to be so nice once I gave them a chance like you told me to.... You'll... always be my best friend, but I have real ones now. I'm not a kid anymore - and I can't live in a fantasy world forever."

Of course you always knew - but did your time together really mean nothing? The smiles and tears, joys and fears - were those fake too? This was how life for you went and has gone your entire path. Make a new friend, wait for them to make their own, force yourself to forget, and repeat. You never, ever blamed them for abandoning you. It was your biggest dream to see your friends go out in the world and do all the things you rambled about for hours - you just wished you could've been their when they made their dreams come true. If they could make those fantasies reality, why couldn't you be real too them? It's not fair-

"Hey! You gonna put your raspberry in the square yet? I don't mind waiting cuz you're really cute - but I've eaten most of the blueberries already and if I eat one more I won't have enough for a win."

A new friend - you kept them waiting, lost in your thoughts like that. There's something different about this one... They're a lot bigger than your old friends and dress strange just like those funny people in shows. How old are they?

"28..... Is my favorite number because that's how many waffles I can eat before throwing up. I dunno my age really, I like a lot of candles on my pie so it's hard to remember. I'm probably waaaaaay older - or younger, but I'm definitely not younger than eighteen because I get a new doll every year - and there's a ton. Hey, when's your birthday so we can get your collection started?"

An adult - An adult can see you, but why?

"Hmmm, I dunno how you got in here either. I was just thinking about how great it would be to have someone to eat all these waffles with since I made 29 today - and poof you appeared outta nowhere. You gotta so me that trick eventually - wanna be pals? I'll give you... a quarter, no- half the stack if ya stick around. My name's Gus. Gus the clown."

A clown... Alot of your friends loved those, others were terrified. This one reminded you alot of them. So silly and carefree, just like they always were before reality kicked in. It was never that way for Gus. You'll never forget the shocked look on their face when you told them chocolate milk didn't come from brown cows. They serenaded you with songs detailing your adventures together and nearly had a heart attack when you played peekaboo together which they later tried to play off as good acting - the tear smudges in their paint was just from hot how was is.

At the same time, Gus was far more mature they let on. They fantasized about finding the missing piece to their act and heart, and hopefully marrying that special someone someday. They were all smiles - but as soon as someone got hurt they knew when to drop the act and when to use it to their advantage. You prayed the day they found someone they wouldn't ditch you like everyone else.

It turned out there were a lot more like Gus. True to their status as a performer, they worked and lived in a traveling circus with others who were accepting of you - and had the eyes to see you. They never doubted your existence like parents used to and believed near ever word Gus said even when at the point in time you were nothing more than the ramblings of a mad-clown, and greeted you in kind. Overtime, you became corporal for these performers too and the brief hellos turned to bear hugs thrust upon dolls Gus' sibling made for everyone to have when they wanted sat hello. They still couldn't touch you, but for the first time everyone knew you were their and love you the same, if not more than the friend you came for. Sometimes it really did feel like you were a real person. If only....

"Ouch!"

You pull your hand away from Gus' as the clown bursts into a fit of giggles - yelping in pain as they clap their hands together, electrocuting themselves on the buzzer.

Whoo! That definitely sends a shock through ya. Can't believe that got you. Hey - that got you... you've never been hurt by any of the things we've done before."

They're right. That really did hurt. Wait. It hurt. You've never been able to interact with anything before - leaving Gus overwhelmed on brunch dates when they devoured your share. What's going on?

Gus expresses the confusion you're both feeling with a high-pitched scream. They dart around the room, nabbing their emergency supplies of candy from beneath their pillow. "Ahhhh, idea - Y/n, try one of these - hurry!"

You take one of the licorice sticks and shove it in your mouth. If picked up the treat wasn't proof enough, the explosion of flavor on your tongue confirmed your theories.

"It's...good."

Gus races in a circles, squeeling in delight as they grab and pinch your plush - warm cheeks. "They've never been warm before! This is amazing. Ahhh, next test- here goes!"

Shutting their eyes, Gus rams their lips against yours - grinning with teeth against your skin. They kiss your lips, cheeks, and noses - smothering you with a hug, soaking up the beat of your speeding heart.

"You have no idea long I've wanted to do that...."

You're still reeling from everything going on. "W-what's happening, Gus?"

"No clue! If you want my guess, I'd say so many people believing in you made you real like that one movie with the puppet. The others! Oh, man everyone's gonna love this! Come on!"

Gus picks you up and sprints to the main show room. They gather everyone into the area along with the biggest mirror they could find. They try to explain, but the excitement gets the better of them. Frustrated by everyone's agreeable questions - they rip off the blanket covering the mirror and your reflection, and the crowd goes wild.

"That wasn't there before! Can we touch Y/n now???"

"I call dibs on giving them their first piggyback ride!"

"Wonderful timing! I knitted you a lovely scarf before I forgot you technically were a figment of our combined imaginations."

"If they're really here and can touch stuff... They can be part of the show - can't they?"

Thats right. You'd fit right in with your history too. After a celebratory dinner and cuddle session - the preparations for your big debut were made. As expected, everyone loved you. You and Gus were the starting act, and two halves of the same whole. People saw you, they praised you, loved you. The adoration of the crowd was like no other, but everything after the curtains were closed was even better. Gus kept to their promise of never leaving you behind. You were that missing piece - someone they couldn't live without. It was time for you to finally grow up and leave the ghosts of the past where they lied.

"Aw, don't be like that, sweetie. You'll love it once we get there."

This is bullshit. Their college gradation and their folks were dragging them to some circus. Luckily they had a few buds pull through for an aftershow at a nearby bat.

"Maybe your opinion will change when you see the staring act. That clown reminds me a lot of that friend you used to go on about. What was their name again? I think it was -"

Y/n. Your name and smiling face were plastered on a billboard they passed. It was no vague resemblance - that was their first companion down to the scrunchie you wore around your wrist that they gave you on the day they gave you the lukewarm mercy of a goodbye. It couldn't really be you - right?

"Look how big you've grown...."

No-

"Your parents tell me you're graduating this year. I'm so, so proud of you. Are you going to become a scientist just like you said?"

How?

"You always said it was so you could find a way for everyone to see me too... I'm sorry for holding you back for so long. It's good that you made friends. I made alot too - really good ones. With them, I can live in fantasy and the real world at the same time. It's so much fun."

What are you apologizing for? Why are you acting like you're the one that abandoned them. You were everywhere to them. Everything they ever achieved was because of the shoulder you gave them to lean on. Being with you was like a dream - but everyone has to wake up eventually.

"Oops! Looks like a wasted all our time. I have a few more scheduled greets, but maybe if you stay after we can chat a little more before you leave. See you!"

They don't want to leave. There's still so much to be explained; to say and do, but just like them - you were gone as you appeared. They had to see you again in a better time. Do imaginary friends drink coffee?"

"How's it feel to be the one on the other end of the stick?"

Another clown stands behind them. It was the same one that shared your act. Gus. What do they want?

"Y'know I know alllll about what happened between you two. I know everything from their past since as their bestest friend - and potential future spouse - it's my job to make them loved enough to spill every, little detail. You shouldn't have come here. You're not the first to recognize them - and you won't be the last.

The ball of their wrist juts painfully against their skin as the clown grabs their arm.

"I won't let any of you get back into their heart. I won't let anyone hurt them again. You can't just take back what you broke when someone else fixes it. I'll make you feel what they felt. I'll make them forget you - and anyone who tries to take them from us that I promise and promises are meant to be kept. Quick question before you go though - think Y/n will like these matching necklaces I made us? Anything looks cute when its on them - but think it'll fit better than that old scrunchie."

#Gus my oc #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere clown #yandere concept #yandere idea #yandere

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dc-and-arfrona · 10 months

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Traditions - HeadCannons - BatBoys

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Batboys x GN!Reader

Type: Fluff

Word Count: 2.6k+

Masterlist

Summary: Your Traditions

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Jason Todd - Library Dates

The Gotham City Library was a place of solace for both Y/N and Jason Todd. It had become their sanctuary, a respite from the chaos and danger that enveloped their lives. Every week, without fail, they met there to immerse themselves in the world of literature and to cherish their growing bond.

On a quiet evening, Y/N made their way through the library's entrance, a sense of anticipation coursing through their veins. As they stepped inside, the familiar scent of aged books greeted them, wrapping them in a comforting embrace. The sound of hushed whispers and pages turning filled the air, creating a symphony of knowledge.

Glancing around, Y/N spotted Jason waiting near their favorite reading spot, his piercing blue eyes scanning the shelves. A smile spread across their face as they approached him, the excitement of their shared tradition filling the air.

"Hey, Jay," Y/N greeted, their voice a gentle whisper. "Ready for our library adventure?"

Jason turned towards them, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Always, Y/N. Let's see what treasures we can find today."

Together, they embarked on their journey, exploring the countless rows of books that held infinite stories and wisdom. Y/N's heart skipped a beat every time their fingers brushed against Jason's as they reached for the same book, their connection growing stronger with each fleeting touch.

They meandered through the aisles, sharing whispered conversations and excited whispers about the tales that captivated them. They discovered hidden gems in every genre, losing themselves in worlds of fantasy, romance, and adventure.

As they settled into their favorite reading nook, a cozy corner bathed in the soft glow of a nearby lamp, Y/N couldn't help but steal glances at Jason. The way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way his eyes scanned the pages with unwavering focus—it was mesmerizing.

In the tranquil silence, Y/N found solace in Jason's presence, a calmness that transcended the chaos of their lives. The library was their sanctuary, but in each other's company, it became something even more profound.

Occasionally, they'd share passages that spoke to their hearts, their voices blending harmoniously as they discussed the themes and emotions evoked by the stories they encountered. The library walls became witness to their intellectual exchanges and heartfelt conversations, each word bringing them closer together.

Time seemed to lose its meaning as they lost themselves in the pages. Hours melted away, but it felt like mere moments in each other's company. And in that ephemeral space, Y/N and Jason forged a connection, their souls entwined through their shared love for literature.

As the library's closing time drew near, Jason reluctantly closed the book in his hands. He turned to Y/N, a spark of warmth in his eyes. "Same time next week?"

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as they nodded, their voice filled with sincerity. "Absolutely, Jason. The library wouldn't be the same without you."

And with that, they bid the library farewell, knowing that their tradition would continue, and their bond would grow stronger with each passing week. For in the sanctuary of books, they had found something rare and beautiful—a love that bloomed amidst the pages and a shared passion that united their hearts.

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Dick Grayson - Ice Cream Dates

The warm summer breeze swept through the streets of Gotham City as Nightwing and Y/N strolled along, their laughter filling the air. It had become their cherished tradition to explore the city's ice cream parlors, seeking out new and exciting flavors to indulge in.

As they approached their favorite spot, the colorful neon sign of "Sweet Delights" beckoned them with its tantalizing glow. The scent of sugar and waffle cones wafted from the entrance, a promise of frozen delights that awaited them inside.

Nightwing held the door open, a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes. "After you, my ice cream connoisseur."

Y/N playfully rolled their eyes and stepped inside, their excitement palpable. The glass display cases revealed rows of frozen treasures, each one more enticing than the last. They eagerly scanned the labels, discussing their preferences and debating which flavors to sample.

After much deliberation, they made their selections and settled into a cozy booth, their pints of ice cream before them like delectable works of art. Nightwing couldn't help but admire Y/N's enthusiasm as they dove into their first spoonful, savoring the creamy goodness.

"So," Nightwing began, a grin spreading across his face, "what do you think of the new flavor? Is it worthy of our ice cream adventures?"

Y/N's eyes lit up, their delight evident. "Absolutely! The combination of caramel swirls and chunks of brownie is a stroke of genius. Gotham's ice cream scene never disappoints."

As they indulged in their frozen treats, the conversation flowed effortlessly. They shared stories, laughter, and dreams, their bond growing stronger with every spoonful. The ice cream parlor became their sanctuary—a place where they could let their guard down and revel in the simple pleasures of life.

Nightwing couldn't help but be captivated by Y/N's infectious joy, their eyes sparkling with every new flavor they discovered. In that moment, he realized that it wasn't just about the ice cream—it was about the shared experiences, the shared memories that made their tradition so special.

With each new pint they devoured, their friendship blossomed into something more. Nightwing found himself falling for Y/N, their shared passion and adventures deepening his affection. The way they laughed, the way their eyes crinkled at the corners—it was pure magic.

As the last spoonful disappeared, Nightwing leaned back, a contented smile on his face. "Another successful ice cream adventure, wouldn't you say?"

Y/N nodded, their expression filled with happiness. "Definitely. Thank you for introducing me to this tradition, Nightwing. It's become one of my favorite parts of Gotham."

Nightwing's heart skipped a beat at the mention of his alter ego. He reached across the table, gently grasping Y/N's hand. "The pleasure is all mine. And maybe next time, we can try a new flavor that's as sweet as you."

Y/N blushed, their eyes meeting Nightwing's with a mix of surprise and affection. "I'd like that, Nightwing. I'd like that a lot."

And in that ice cream parlor, amidst the swirls of sweet flavors and stolen glances, Nightwing and Y/N discovered that their favorite tradition was about much more than just ice cream—it was a gateway to their hearts, a journey of love that had only just begun.

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Damian Wayne - Morning Coffee Walks

The morning sun cast a warm glow over Gotham City as Damian Wayne and Y/N stepped out onto the bustling streets. Their loyal companion, a spirited dog named Ace, happily wagged his tail, ready for their daily adventure. It had become their cherished tradition to start their mornings with a peaceful walk to their favorite coffee shop, embracing the tranquility before the chaos of the day.

As they strolled along the familiar path, Damian's stoic demeanor softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. Ace's leash gently swayed between them, connecting them as a trio of companions. The city's buzz seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the quiet harmony of their footsteps and the rhythmic patter of Ace's paws on the pavement.

Soon, they reached the charming coffee shop, its aroma of freshly brewed beans and pastries welcoming them with open arms. Damian held the door open for Y/N and Ace, his eyes scanning the chalkboard menu, already knowing their usual orders by heart.

With their cups of steaming coffee in hand and a treat for Ace, they settled into a cozy outdoor seating area. The morning sunlight filtered through the leaves of nearby trees, casting dappled shadows on their faces. Damian couldn't help but be captivated by Y/N's radiant smile, a sight that made the world feel just a little brighter.

As they sipped their coffee and exchanged gentle conversation, their dog curled up at their feet, Damian found himself drawn to the simple moments—the way Y/N's laughter filled the air, the warmth of their hand as it brushed against his own, and the love that radiated from Ace's expressive eyes.

Together, they absorbed the tranquil ambiance, finding solace in each other's company amidst the city's chaos. The world seemed to slow down as they sipped their coffee, their conversations flowing effortlessly from lighthearted banter to heartfelt reflections.

Damian marveled at the way Y/N's presence could bring calm to his usually tumultuous world. With them by his side, the weight of responsibilities and expectations eased, replaced by a sense of peace and acceptance.

As their coffee cups emptied, Y/N leaned back in their chair, a contented sigh escaping their lips. "These mornings with you and Ace are the best part of my day, Damian."

Damian's emerald eyes softened, a rare vulnerability flickering in their depths. "And they are mine as well. This tradition, the three of us, it's something I treasure deeply."

Y/N reached over, their fingers brushing against Damian's hand. "I'm grateful for our walks and the moments we share, Damian. They mean more to me than you'll ever know."

A genuine smile graced Damian's face, one that mirrored the warmth in his heart. "I am not one to express sentiments readily, but know that you and Ace are important to me. Together, we make a formidable team."

Their hands intertwined, Y/N and Damian basked in the simplicity of the morning, cherishing the bond they had forged with each other and their faithful canine companion. In that moment, the world seemed full of endless possibilities, and they were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

With each new morning walk, Damian and Y/N's love deepened, their connection strengthening with every shared coffee, every stolen glance, and every playful bark from their loyal friend. For in the midst of Gotham's chaos, they had found a sanctuary—a sanctuary of love, understanding, and the unwavering support of a faithful dog.

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Bruce Wayne - Lunch Dates

Amidst the bustling streets of Gotham City, Bruce Wayne and Y/N shared a secret tradition—a respite from the chaos of their lives. Every day, during Bruce's lunch break, they would escape the confines of Wayne Enterprises to seek solace in a quaint café tucked away from prying eyes.

Y/N eagerly awaited Bruce's arrival, their heart skipping a beat as they caught sight of him striding purposefully towards the café entrance. A warm smile played at the corners of Bruce's lips, a rare sight that made Y/N's heart flutter.

As they settled into their usual booth, a sense of comfort settled over them. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the gentle chatter of fellow patrons created a serene backdrop for their cherished tradition.

"So, what's on the menu today, Bruce?" Y/N asked, a playful twinkle in their eyes.

Bruce chuckled, a sound that was both familiar and comforting. "How about we try the chef's special? I trust their culinary expertise."

Y/N nodded in agreement, their gaze lingering on Bruce. In these moments, away from the public eye, they were allowed glimpses of the man behind the billionaire facade—the vulnerability, the passion, and the yearning for connection.

As their meals arrived, they savored each bite, the flavors dancing on their tongues. Conversation flowed easily, shifting effortlessly between lighthearted banter and shared aspirations. Bruce's genuine laughter filled the air, a rarity that Y/N cherished.

"You know, Bruce," Y/N began, their voice filled with sincerity, "these lunch breaks have become my favorite part of the day. It's a chance to escape the chaos and simply be."

Bruce's gaze softened, his eyes reflecting a depth of emotion rarely seen. "I feel the same way, Y/N. In the midst of the demands and responsibilities, these moments remind me of what truly matters."

Y/N reached across the table, their fingers gently intertwining with Bruce's. "We all need a reprieve from the weight of the world, Bruce. I'm grateful to be a part of this tradition with you."

Bruce's grip tightened, a silent reassurance in his touch. "Thank you, Y/N. You bring light into my life, reminding me of the joy and beauty that exist even in the darkest of times."

As their lunch break drew to a close, they shared a moment of quiet connection, their intertwined hands speaking volumes of their unspoken affection. Though they would soon return to their respective roles and responsibilities, the bond forged in these fleeting moments would endure.

With a lingering touch and a promise of future meetings, Bruce and Y/N bid farewell to the café. As they stepped back into the world, their hearts were buoyed by the knowledge that they had found solace and companionship in each other—a sanctuary amidst the chaos, a tradition that nurtured their souls.

And so, between the clandestine meetings and secret lunch breaks, Bruce Wayne and Y/N built a foundation of trust, love, and shared moments—a testament to the power of connection and the beauty of finding solace in the simple pleasures of life.

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Tim Drake - Unsolved Documentaries

In the quiet sanctuary of Tim Drake's cozy apartment, he and Y/N found solace in the mysteries that unfolded on the screen. Their shared love for unsolved documentaries had become a treasured tradition, a window into the enigmatic depths of human nature.

As the evening settled in, Tim queued up their latest selection, the glow of the TV casting a soft illumination across the room. Y/N curled up beside him, their eyes fixed on the unfolding story of a baffling crime that had remained unsolved for decades.

Intertwining their fingers, Tim and Y/N journeyed into the realms of intrigue and curiosity, their minds captivated by the elusive answers that lay just beyond their grasp. The unsolved mysteries sparked conversations that danced between theories and deductions, the lines between reality and imagination blurred.

In the depths of the documentary, Tim's analytical mind shone brightly, his eyes alight with the thrill of piecing together clues. Y/N marveled at his keen intellect, admiring the way his passion for solving puzzles ignited the room, casting a vibrant energy around them.

As the final credits rolled, Y/N let out a contented sigh. "Another fascinating case. I can't help but wonder what really happened."

Tim turned towards them, a playful glimmer in his eyes. "Well, you know, I do have a few theories of my own. Care to hear them?"

Y/N grinned, their curiosity piqued. "Absolutely. I'm all ears, detective."

Tim launched into a detailed analysis, sharing his insights and thoughts with the enthusiasm of a true detective. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, their minds intertwining as they dissected the complexities of each unsolved mystery.

In those moments, Tim and Y/N found solace and connection—a shared passion that transcended the mundane. They reveled in the depths of the unknown, each case bringing them closer together, their shared excitement forging an unbreakable bond.

As the night wore on, Y/N couldn't help but steal glances at Tim—the way his eyes sparkled with intensity, the furrow of his brow as he pondered the unsolved riddles. They admired his intellect and the unwavering dedication he brought to every mystery, captivated by the intricate layers of his personality.

With each documentary they explored, Tim and Y/N unearthed not only the enigmas of the world but also the depths of their own connection. In the quiet moments of contemplation and spirited discussions, they found a sanctuary—an escape from the chaos of life, where they could embrace the allure of the unknown together.

And so, in the depths of Tim's apartment, they would continue their tradition—watching unsolved documentaries, sharing theories, and delving into the mysteries that awaited them. As they embarked on another journey of the unknown, Tim and Y/N knew that they had discovered something rare and beautiful—a love that thrived amidst the enigmatic depths of their shared passion.

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lavenderfluorite14 · 2 months

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A Taste of Plums | Astarion x Female!Tav

Chapter 4: Confession

Summary: Another companion makes a bid for Tav’s heart. Astarion wrestles with what that means.

Chapter Warnings: Canon compliant fantasy racism. See A03 for Full Tag List.

1. 2. 3.

@ambi-chann

In the end, Lae’Zel wins. Her argument is indisputable. They could ceremorphosize at any moment and every minute they waste traipsing around the forest is another nail in all their coffins. Tav begrudgingly relents, motioning for Astarion to come with them. Lae’Zel drags their group back to the Emerald Grove in tense silence.

“So, you know a lot about these parasites? Will we survive them?” Astarion asks hopefully, trying to break the tension.

“Only if my people extract them. The only other cure is the blade,” Lae’Zel replies tersely, offering no further explanations.

“Wonderful,” Astarion blanches.

“So how do they extract them?” Tav presses further.

“They will do so with a zaith’isk. By covenant I can say no more,” Lae’Zel snaps. They descend back into uncomfortable silence. Lae’Zel has such a way with words.

But there had to be another way. Ceremorphosis should have begun days ago and yet here they are, completely untentacled. There must be something special about their tadpoles, Astarion can feel it. And if they are special, then maybe there is a way to control them and stop the transformation altogether. Asatrion could be free, for good.

Free for good. He doesn’t care how it happens. He would take any help he could get, even from mindflayers. The proximity of true freedom spurs him fiercely onward, even as a second death looms.

Lae’Zel hunts Zorru down with meticulous precision. Although, he really wasn’t that difficult to find. Most people eye them with polite curiosity as they pass, but the tiefling called Zorru immediately begins cowering at the sight of Lae’Zel.

“By Mordai’s Eyes, another one? My friend’s blood not enough?” Zorru accuses. “Come to rip me open too?”

Lae’Zel crosses her arms, looking down her stubbed nose at him. “In Crèche K’liir, a formal greeting begins with a bow,” she says. It’s not a suggestion. Astarion feels a thrill of excitement ripple through him. How promising.

Zorru rounds on Astarion and Tav. “Is this monster with you?” He demands.

Tav crosses her arms too, moving to stand by Lae’Zel. “Yes. And I suggest you do what she says,” she warns sternly. Well, well, this was certainly another side of Tav. And not an unwelcome one, he thinks. Astarion crosses his arms as well, scornfully staring down Zorru. Zorru balks, waffling lamely. When neither Tav nor Astarion move, he folds at the waist, inclining his head in a bow.

“Lower,” Lae’Zel commands imperiously. Zorru looks to them for help, dark eyes wide and begging.

“She’s serious. You’d better get on your knees. Fast,” Tav warns again. Zorru hesitates, then sinks to the ground, his face reddening with shame. Astarion thrums with glee. He had suffered similar humiliations at Cazador’s hand for centuries. How fun to be the one commanding and not the one kneeling. Ah, how the other half lived.

Lae’Zel unfortunately concludes her business swiftly and with frustrating efficiency. She shoves their map in Zorru’s face and he marks a point in the west corner where Lae’Zel’s comrade, Kin, had slain his friend. With no more use for him, Lae’Zel orders Zorru to stand, announcing loudly that he may keep his innards.

“You’re not going to eviscerate him? I was hoping for a show,” Astarion pouts.

“Cool your blood. I’ll indulge you soon enough,” Lae’Zel promises. Astarion grins. He certainly hopes so. He should adventure with Lae’Zel more often. Tav unfolds her arms, exhaling audibly through her nose.

“Well…..you are quite the interrogator,” Tav finally grimaces. “We may have to use those skills again.” Astarion notes that she doesn’t seem pleased at the idea, which is a shame. Lae’Zel still preens.

“A shell so thin it was easy to crack it. The teef-ling was clear-“

“Hold on, did you say teef-ling?” Tav smiles, despite herself.

Lae’Zel pauses, confused. Astarion could swear that she was blushing. “I am unfamiliar with the, well I shall not say culture. Custom, perhaps. You shall educate me on matters of this Fay Run,” Lae’Zel orders, confident again. Tav chuckles, sighing.

“Well then, your lessons begin immediately. It’s Faerûn.” Lae’Zel chks quietly, pushing past them towards the exit. Tav catches Astarion’s eye and they both burst into a fit of quiet laughter. Tav quickly trots back up alongside her, Astarion in tow.

“So, Lae’Zel. What would you like to know about Faerûn?” She asks. “I’d be happy to-“

“I have a confession,” Lae’Zel interrupts, suddenly halting. She stops at the upper entrance of the grove where the land levels out into pleasant greenery. She turns squarely towards Tav, who freezes on the spot. Astarion slows to a stop a few paces away. He has to hear this.

“I was too hasty to judge you. I thought you witless, gutless, unimpressively bland,” Lae’Zel begins. Tav frowns, her brows knitting together in confusion, and Astarion quickly presses a hand to his mouth to stifle more giggling. “But now you have earned my respect, and more still.” Lae’Zel takes a step towards Tav, who takes a step backwards. “My yearning,” Lae’Zel confesses. She continues advancing. “You’ve proven your wits.” Lae’Zel takes a step, Tav takes a step. “You are efficient and dominant in and out of battle.” Lae’Zel takes a step, Tav takes a step. “You’ve proven your courage. I swear you would tear the horns off of one dragon for plunging into another.” By now Lae’Zel has backed Tav against the rock face of the grove. “And you are hardly bland. Your scent alone is enough to make my neck sweat and my hairs stand on end.” Lae’Zel murmurs softly, placing an armored hand against the cliff, much too close to Tav’s face. Astarion isn’t laughing anymore.

“Hold on, are you coming on to me?” Tav asks.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lae’Zel mocks. “I want to taste you. Perhaps tonight. Perhaps later. But I want it all the same.” Her voice is a warm, sultry rumble as she leans in closely. “Do you?” Lae’Zel’s golden eyes gleam with carefully controlled lust. Tav’s eyes flick over to Astarion, who has schooled his face into careful neutrality.

“I’m deeply flattered, Lae’Zel,” Tav says carefully, “but I’m not sure.” Lae’Zel withdraws. Something like relief fills him.

“You’re not sure?” Lae’Zel jeers. “Well then. Your loss, I fear,” she says breezily, righting herself. “One day soon you will wonder how my lips might have tasted, how my fingers on your skin might have felt. And you will wish you could return to this lost moment.“ As she turns away, she boldly looks Astarion up and down. She quirks an eyebrow at him, as if in challenge. Astarion quirks an eyebrow back.

“We must find this crèche. Only there can we be purified. And only then will this be over.” She strides forward purposefully, leaving Astarion and Tav to trail behind her. Astarion curiously watches Tav out of the corner of his eye but she pointedly ignores him, staring ahead as they pass beneath the heavy stone gate of the Emerald Grove.

They swing by camp to grab Gale, then spend the rest of the day fruitlessly scouting. The roads beyond are swamped by knolls and goblins, making peaceful passage impossible. They will have to fight their way through no matter what they choose. Which is good, because Astarion will need to stab something soon.

He had been so absorbed in his own plan that he had not considered whether any of his companions might also have designs on Tav. Obviously they would, look at her. She was witty and cute, she defended her comrades, she was a fierce fighter. She was bound to be someone’s type. He had the advantage of course, he was the most attractive one in camp. He assumed. And Lae’Zel had still tried to claim Tav as her trophy.

He hadn’t thought that Lae’Zel of all people would approach Tav. So far she had been utterly single-minded in her pursuit of other Githyanki and deeply disdainful of any unrelated suggestion. It’s not that he didn’t like Lae’Zel, quite the opposite in fact. She was strong, fierce, capable. Ready to kill at a moments notice, no questions asked. He respected her, which was a strange feeling. He was also afraid of her, which probably had a lot to do with it. Astarion should really sleep with both of them. Then, he could have two allies instead of one.

He imagined Lae’Zel would be as indomitable in bed as she was out of it. She would probably be rough, bruising. That could be fun on the right night. But Astarion suspected that Lae’Zel would abandon their camp and rejoin her people as soon as they found her crèche. He doubted Lae’Zel could or would protect him from the Astral Plane, which defeated the purpose of sleeping with her.

And what would Tav think? Would this liaison alienate his best and only ally? Would Tav be hurt if he slept with Lae’Zel, or would she just move on to the next warm body, so to speak? Tav obviously wanted him. What he didn’t know was whether or not Tav wanted only him. Who was his competition and how worried should he be?

For a moment Astarion considers whether or not he is out of his depth. This would have never happened at Cazador’s palace. They had never interfered with each other’s hunts, there was no need to. Why compete for one specific prey, who you would never have anyway, when there were ten more around the corner? He eventually dismissed this ridiculous idea. He’d been toying with and breaking hearts for centuries. He knew how to play this game. Just nights ago Tav had been grinding in his lap begging for more. He was the one on the right trajectory. A trajectory he had interrupted, he thought angrily. He had completely forgotten that there were five other people competing for her attention and every moment that he spent twiddling his thumbs was a moment when someone else could swoop in and steal his prize.

He didn’t know what he would do if that happened. He supposed he would suggest a threesome. He could easily enthrall them both with a range of sexual delights. And if that was not enough? Astarion didn’t want to think about it. He would just have to be the most beautiful. The best in bed. Once Tav got a real taste of him she wouldn’t want anything else.

Astarion was growing hungry. He debated leaving camp to hunt down some juicy, woodland thing, but he still held on to the hope that Tav would come to him tonight. He was slowly tasting more and more creatures and while each held their own particular appeal, Tav still remained his favorite.

He wondered if there was actually something special about her blood or if it was purely sentimental. She was his first. She was willing. Had he known she would be so amenable he would have approached their first time completely differently.

He wanted to scoff at the idea of “their first time.” It made him sound practically virginal, a truly hilarious joke. And yet, it was true. She was the first thinking creature he had ever drunk from. Not a rotting carcass nor an animal he had hunted and killed. A living being who had offered herself to him. Who continued to offer herself to him. It made him feel good, powerful. Warm.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Tav rounded the corner and approached his tent, raising a hand in greeting. Perhaps she really had been summoned by his thoughts. Sometimes his tadpole squirmed in a way that made him curious about all its ignored potential.

“There you are! I was just thinking about you,” Astarion called lightly. Tav raised a teasing eyebrow.

“Oh? Only good things I hope?”

“Naturally, darling.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I was just remembering that delicious moment we shared the other night.” Tav snorted.

“The one where you bit me? Which time?” She shot back, not unkindly.

“The first time, actually.” He’s glad she’s here. He’s glad she makes time for him, even though there are five others she could seek out instead. “I’ve had this condition for two centuries but, truth be told-,” he pauses briefly. Telling her felt right. “You were my first,” he confesses softly.

Tav blinks at him. “You’ve really only ever-“

“In all these years I’ve only fed on beasts. Drinking the blood of thinking creatures is another thing entirely.” He remembers how their minds connected that night. He knows she knows.

“How different is it?” She asks quietly, her expression softening.

Astarion sighs. “Like night and day. Like nothing I had ever tasted before or since.” He holds her gaze. “You were positively delectable.” A small smile plays upon Tav’s lush lips. He hungers for her even now, the sweet thing. She has created a monster. He’s had a taste of good blood and now he’ll never have enough of it. “And now I can’t help but wonder how the others taste,” he admits. His eyes flick around their camp, watching the others’ unsuspecting movements. Tav shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know if they’d be as open to the idea as I was,” she reminds him.

“Oh, I don’t think they’d volunteer, of course. But it doesn’t make me any less curious,” He glances back towards Tav, who has crossed her arms over her chest. Her face creases in a frown. “Take Gale, for example,” he continues, in spite of her. “His blood strikes me as rich, refined, like a well aged brandy.” He can’t help but salivate, just a little. A glass of Gale must be so satisfying after a long day. Tav’s gaze drifts over to Gale, who is reading a book in his tent. She chews her lip.

“I could see him as a smooth whiskey. Something classy and expensive,” Tav agrees, playing along.

“But the gith? What in the hells would she taste like?” He says it casually, but he watches her closely for her answer.

Tav cocks her head, her eyes far away as she imagines it. “Something unique, for sure. Some kind of liqueur that you have to sip,” she suggests.

“Ooh, that sounds very appealing. Perhaps a cordial of some kind.”

“I could see that,” Tav says, They both angle slightly towards Lae’Zel, watching her as she sharpens her sword. “Definitely something strong, that’s for sure.”

“And what about Shadowheart?” Astarion prompts. They watch silently as Shadowheart meditates peacefully in front of her tent, her eyes closed to the world.

“Something that really packs a punch, but not right away. Something that sneaks up on you.” Tav is silent for a moment. “An absinthe?” She offers. It’s Astarion’s turn to snort.

“There’s nothing subtle about absinthe, darling. But yes, something with an intense flavor.” He points to Karlach. “Do you think dear Karlach is spicy?”

“No, she’s a beer,” Tav says decisively.

“Ugh, no. Karlach does not taste like foamy piss,” Astarion grimaces.

“Don’t be gross!” Tav exclaims, elbowing him.

“It’s just the truth, darling. I think she’d have a peppery finish.”

“I disagree, Karlach has a sweetness about her,” Tav continues.

“Well beer is not sweet,” he says haughtily. Tav elbows him again, but there’s no real bite behind the jab. He nudges her back, just a little.

“Wyll is definitely fresh and crisp,” Tav says, completely ignoring his comment.

“Like a cider. Far too much sugar for me,”

Tav eyes him. “Thought about that one, have you?” She says.

"I’ve thought about many things,” Astarion counters. “We have a very enticing group on our hands.” He stares at her, eagerly.

“We certainly are an attractive bunch,” she agrees, her tone even. She’s crossed her arms again. Good. Let her wonder what he means by this exchange. He hopes by now the possibilities have made her well and fully jealous.

“So, if you had to take a bite out of one of them, who would it be?” He asks. Tav bites her lip again, scanning the camp. She considers the question for far too long in Astarion’s opinion.

“Honestly, I’d be curious to see what vampiric blood tastes like,” Tav slowly admits. Her eyes meet his, boldly. Astarion can’t help but beam. Got her.

“Darling, I’m flattered,” he teases. “Who knew you had such taste?”

“Has it gone sour and necrotic? There’s only one way to know,” she parries back.

“Indeed. Well, all this talk has made me hungry,” he pointedly looks at Tav. “I’d better find something I can actually sink my teeth into,” he prompts.

“Good hunting, then,” she says, almost airily. It’s not the invitation he had wanted.

“And how will you spend your night?” He asks. Only the barest hint of distress graces his words. “Will you take our gith friend up on her delightful offer?” He tries to wrap the words in velvet, tries to make it seem enticing so Tav will tell him her thoughts plainly now. Instead, she looks away.

“Ah, no. At least, not tonight.” Tav says, embarrassed. “I just need time to myself. To think about everything that’s happened.” She can’t meet his eyes.

Tav is slipping away from him. He could double down, pursue her desperately. He bristles at the idea, despite the needy flame that has ignited inside him. Never again. He would never beg again. It had always been more effective to get them to chase him anyway. He still had many cards to play. He could wait.

“Well, don’t think too hard, darling. Your second thoughts always spoil the fun,” he says silkily. Tav laughs.

“Sweet dreams, Astarion.”

“Sweet dreams,” he says smoothly from behind lowered lashes. Tav retreats to her tent and Astarion slips off into the night, needing to kill.

Astarion returns in the early hours of the morning, long after anyone reasonable has gone to sleep. Yet there’s someone still awake, warming themselves by the fire with a goblet of wine. When she senses Astarion’s return, Shadowheart turns and approaches his tent.

“Find anything out there as tasty as our mutual friend?” She asks.

Astarion smiles perfunctorily. “Nothing out here, no.”

“Do you speak Elvish?” She asks.

“Obviously,” he replies, perking up. Centuries of torment had taken many of his early memories, but Astarion would always remember his first language.

“So what really happened this morning?” Shadowheart asks as she settles down before his tent.

“As Tav said, the tiefling gave us the location to the crèche. Whatever else could you mean?” Astarion replies, sitting beside her.

“Don’t play coy. You, Tav, and Lae’Zel all leave on some Githyanki errand, then when you return not an hour later, Lae’Zel is frowning despite the good news and Tav looks like her heart is going to explode. Then she grabs Gale for a scouting mission and you spend the rest of the day brooding by yourself.” She swirls her wine as she watches him. “So. What really happened?” Astarion swipes her goblet and takes a long sip. Wine still tastes sour, but the buzz is undeniable.

“Lae’Zel made a pass at Tav,” he confesses.

Shadowheart gasps. “Really? What did Tav say?”

“She let her down gently. She said ‘I don’t know,’” Astarion enunciates Tav’s words bitterly.

“Oh, don’t do it, Tav. Can you imagine, with a Githyanki?” Shadowheart groans into her drink.

“I’m sure you’ve never thought about that before,” Astarion quips. Shadowheart shoots him a stunned glare, a beautiful flush rising along her neck.

“Well, that explains your bad mood,” she retorts.

“Excuse me?”

“Please Astarion, you’re about as subtle as a peacock,” she says. “I don’t know what is going on between you and Tav but if you like her you should just say so.”

“That’s rich coming from a Sharran,” Astarion lashes back.

“Look, I’m trying to help you.”

“I don’t need seduction tips from a cloistered nun, my dear.” Astarion’s tone is clipped and biting.

“You’ve clearly never been to a Sharran cloister, then.” Shadowheart rises. “Fine, your feelings are your own. But don’t string Tav along too far. For some reason she actually cares for you,” Shadowheart lowers her voice unnecessarily. They are the only ones awake who can understand Elvish. “Even if she didn’t invite you to her tent tonight.”

“Goodnight, Shadowheart. A pleasure, as always.” He dismisses her in Common, rising to his feet as well.

“Goodnight, Astarion. Sweet dreams,” she calls as she walks away, a saucy echo of his earlier conversation with Tav. Astarion slinks into his tent, tying the laces of the flap tighter than he strictly needed to.

Tell Tav how he feels? What was there to say? “Please help me, I’m so desperate and pathetic, you can have any part of me you want!” Or perhaps, “Despite knowing what I am, you are still so incomprehensibly kind to me that it makes me ache?” Now that was unattractive. This was not some schoolyard crush. Shadowheart would never understand.

Assuming he isn’t banished from the group, he knows he won’t immediately die if Tav chooses someone else over him. If he’s really honest, his plan doesn’t even hinge on being exclusive with her. She just needs to like him enough to keep him around, which he can earn by fulfilling any and every fantasy she has about him. It doesn’t need to be more than that. She could still fall in love with someone else afterwards. Or before. Astarion isn’t picky.

But it would still be a very long adventure if he had to hear her flirting with someone else, see her kissing someone else, know she was fucking someone else. He had experienced many, many tortures throughout the years but that would be a brand new kind of punishment.

Chapter 5: Doubt

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion fic #Astarion longfic #background Shadowzel #Astarion and Shadowheart will be mean girl elf besties #A Taste of Plums #the night shift

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dejwrld · 2 months

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✿༉ ⸻ legendborn by tracy deonn (review)

genre: young adult, fantasy, adventure, a hint of romance published date: 09/15/2020 pages: 501 format: paperback, audiobook

start date: 02/01/24 end date: 02/19/24

rating: ★★★★★

spoilers below cut.

This book has been sitting in my TBR since I started back up reading books again and I am now sending out a formal apology on me taking so long to pick up this book. I now understand why some people have multiple copies and editions of this book.

Although the font was extremely small for me so I had to get the audiobook also to follow along....the audiobook simply helped me become even more immersed in the world that Bree Matthews was navigating through.

Now, let's talk about Bree Matthews. The GOAT herself! By the end of the book, she became one of my favorite book protagonists. From the longing of wanting to know what happened to her mother to her development by the end of the book, it was just such a fun experience watching her grow as a character. Especially as the chapter went on and she connected more and more about her roots.

This story just kept me on my toes as each chapter went on. From the plot to the world-building, it was such a roller coaster that I didn't want to get off because I was so eager to know what was going to be next.

I loved the side characters in the book. Sel had me side eyeing him the first half but he grown on me. Nick just deserve best fantasy boyfriend award tbh. Matter of fact, him, Bree, and Sel should just be a trouple or something. I loved that Tracy included so much about Bree and her interactions with other characters. I feel like it made Bree so much more human to see her have a fight with her best friend and see her conversations with her father (the scene in the Waffle House was my favorite).

Overall,

Tracy Deonn...I wasn't familiar with your game. I am seated for the rest of this series. On to the next...aka Bloodmarked.

#⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 #legendborn #tracy deonn #bookblr #book tumblr

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freetobeeyouandme · 1 month

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Chapter 7: I Get 'Advice' From a Demi-Goddess

Chapter 7 of my Byler Isekai AU took me forever, but it's finally up on Ao3! Mike and Will get to go shopping in a quaint little lakeside town and run into demi-goddess dispersing invaluable wisdom.

Tags: M, Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Fantasy AU, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Horror, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn

Summary:

Mike Wheeler hates High School, so when he almost dies and falls through a portal to another world, he’s not going to complain. Especially not when that world does not only have swords and magic but seems to work exactly according to the rules of his favorite tabletop role-playing game. But his euphoria might be short lived because the party of adventurers he falls in with turns out to be the target of an evil god and the fate of the world might rest on their shoulders. So, exactly like his games of D&D. Except the wanna-be Paladin soon realizes that being a hero is much harder in real life than it is in-game. - Or, Mike gets isekai’d into a world where D&D is real.

An excerpt and taglist below the cut:

Excerpt:

By the time they make it back to their rooms, everyone else is awake and busy; breakfast sits mostly eaten on the table in front of the fireplace. El, Hop and Jonathan are still at it while Max sits beside them just sort of staring into space a little. The others flit in and out of their bedrooms as they get ready to leave.

El smiles when she sees them come in and waves with a half eaten pastry. “They made waffles!”

The thing in her hand looks like a waffle alright, but all the waffles in the room seem to be hoarded on her plate, so it’s not like Mike and Will could grab any if they wanted to.

“It looks like they made everything,” Will replies. He sits down besides her, grabs a plate, and then surveys the remaining food. In the end he settles for trying to swipe one of the waffles from his El’s plate.

The Sorceress is quicker, though, and the two of them end up squabbling over the food. Hop has to put a stop to it, reprimanding Will to leave his sister’s plate alone, and El to be nicer to her brother.

In response El sticks her tongue out at Will triumphantly and hugs her plate of waffles to her chest. Then she turns towards Mike with an innocent smile: “Do you want a waffle?”

Mike looks from her to the food ladden table – most of it normal enough, scrambled eggs and breadrolls, jams, and pastries – and feels only a little bit overwhelmed. “Uh, sure.”

El gleefully scoops a waffle onto an empty plate and holds it out for him over her brother’s head. Mike reluctantly takes it and a seat on the other couch, besides Jonathan.

“How is that fair!?” Will wails, although his tone only sounds half serious.

Still, Mike takes the waffel and rips it in half, giving Will a part of it. The dragonborn blinks, surprised. On the other side of the table El’s eyes widen, but before she can do anything, Will stuffs the entire thing into his mouth and chews exaggeratedly in her face.

For a moment the table is silent. Then Max bursts out into loud, cackling laughter.

El shakes her head, but she doesn’t look angry, instead just giving Mike a disbelieving smile. He meets her eyes and just shrugs. Then he fills his plate with some eggs, syrup and a round pastry ball covered in what looks like powdered sugar and digs in.

“You feeling better?” Will asks Max when the Monk’s fit of laughter has subsided.

Max shrugs. “Sure. I had all my bones broken yesterday, but I’m healed, so I’m fine.”

Her voice drips with sarcasm, but no one calls her out. Who among them would be fine in her shoes? She might seem physically alright, but Mike doesn’t want to know what it must have felt like to die like she almost had. Just the memory of her broken, bloody body will haunt his nightmares even if they manage to defeat One – he can’t fathom how Max will ever sleep again.

In a way, too, he knows what it feels like to die. He remembers the darkness that had taken him as he drowned, the fire that had engulfed his entire body as it shattered on the cement surface of the lake. But the water had taken him fast. He’d been out quick and only come back as Will healed him. One was a lot more precisise than Sattler’s Quarry, and Mike didn’t doubt Max would remember dying in much greater detail than he ever would.

It’s a strange thing to be grateful for.

Owens returns as they finish breakfast, the same faux concern plastered onto his face as he had yesterday. Mike had thought that perhaps he had judged the High Mage too harshly, since the Laboratories had seemed to good to be true to his exhausted and frightened mind. But he still feels the same distrust today, as Owens smiles at them just a little too widely, offering his help without wanting anything in return – the sort and scale of an altruism out of place in a man of his political stature.

The others don’t seem to necessarily disagree with Mike’s judgement. Lucas is quick to thank the man for his hospitality and his support, but also makes it clear that they won’t be staying past breakfast. Owens tries to talk him out of it, then seems to realize there is no point arguing with the prince and relents. He promises some more resources and to see them off personally, then leaves them to their preparations.

They’re gone less than an hour later. When even El has finished eating, they collect the last of their things, pack the rations that Owens sends up, and head out.

Unofficial Tag List (aka you interacted with my posts about this fic, please tell me if you want me to not tag you in the future (or want to be added)): @smalltownwheeler @wheelerpilled @wrong-energy @willthelies @foodiewithdahoodie @doggo9 @gardenfairie @beelikesbyler @beverlysclown @yickarus @sourdough-el @hessolivagant @hesquietoday @oldfashionedmorphine @total-serene560 @bylersrise @hawkinsunderground @longtallglasses @generalstorecashier @usnaavi @camel-casing @bylersbear01 @turningsoft @casatoan @maru-chu @xobyers @goldentrunks @itachisnipplesharingan

#byler #will byers #mike wheeler #cleradin #stranger things #byler fanfic #kingslayer fic

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gargoyle-doyle · 5 months

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notes & thoughts i had when i was reading this book ;-3 (its kinda disjointed and doesn't read well, there were just things scrawled when reading. idk i might write it up properly one day xx).

-Clinically obsessed with Neil Gaiman's 1994 'The Tragical Comedy or Comical Tragedy of Mr. Punch' and yes i am incredibly biased, and yes it is because i'm living away from pompey right now, and i miss my ghost adventures, and fratton rd subway.

-Its just such a nostalgic, and fun read. Mckeans art is so vivid, its like something walked straight out of my mind and onto the page, its really a graphic novel that properly exploits the medium and captivates on every page.

-As someone who has personally beefed with the descendants of these swans, i can tell you for a fact that this still stands true - they will break your arm, and not only that, they will peck into ur stomach and pluck out ur intestines. Apart from one swan who has arthritis, and is fed medicine in the evenings by an unnamed local, he is probably too busy eating his medicines.

-Reading all these passages written in 1994, almost exactly 30 years ago, set even further back into the late sixties, and seeing such relatable anecdotes. it's hopeful. Pompey stays Pompey forever.

And then you're hit with bits like this:

-And I'm reminded of the bridge centre bookshop losing the war against the council, the privatising of the secret garden, commercial road - the ghost town. And subway, and rowans, and London rd dying. Moorhouse becoming a newsagents, becoming a house.

-And then even before me, (mandatory obelisk mention), tricorn, charlotte st. The shadows of the past. What becomes of the time capsule in the bridge, when there is no bridge? But then in the same way theres development. Gunwharf, The spinnaker, The Mary Rose Museum.

-But it's all the superficial stuff - the tourist attractions. And it's all the heart and soul that get left to rot.

-I love this graphic novel because it's alive. and its mean. an affair, a pregnancy, forced abortion by beating a woman with planks of wood, disguised in cloudy memories and that slight childhood hope to mask it. to retell it again and again until the story turns out different this time.

-And there's this house, and its my childhood home. its the home of everyone i've ever befriended, and ever went to school with. And I'm reminded of when i used to see Punch and Judy shows over in St James' Dog park for picnic on the green.

-And one year, after the show, after the ice lollies, and after the raffle, my friend and i walked home, past all the shops, and at the end of my street was a great plume of smoke, and crinkle chip was burning down. We stood across the road and watched it burn.

Crinkle chip survived - but not as crinkle chip. It changed, it became Crispy Cod. But the foods the same. the important stuff. idk, i hate everything closing, its gone, and likely never coming back. But i still care, and i think that's the important part. that it mattered to me once upon a time (second mandatory obelisk mention in brackets so i don't waffle on about the obelisk).

-the story of punch and judy is told and retold by so many. as life here is lived by so many, but in many ways the same life. with many of the same characters and set pieces.

-the tale really articulates the frustration, the whimsy, the worry, and the awareness of childhood. living in a dream-like world, only in that none of your questions ever get answered. fantasy from boredom, fear, and confusion. the world is new, its your first time here and everyone just expects you to know whats real and whats not. That feeling of being looked over, of raising yourself because adults lie, cry, and run away from questions.

-This lamppost is real - so are the lights. i know exactly where this is and what they look like at every time of day.

-I love puppets, i love making them, buying them, studying them. This book reads like a love letter. But one written to a love never indulged. a love letter written and then kept in a box in the attic. The book feels like everything we want to say but don't. in the real world there's the story following the boy and his grandfather, and in the magical, theres the denial to let the self wear the puppet. nothing ever comes to fruition. nothing stays long enough to have the time to tell it how you felt, to express the grief. at the end theres a moment where the narrator just might wear mr punch. but theres not enough time to rationalise, to explain. its not the same mr punch anyway.

-its a scene that reminded me that sometimes we never get to do the things we desire because its too late. like trick-or-treating. if you dont do it as a kid you never will. and it sucks. and we dont get to go back.

-i should've bought all those Anne Rice books from the Bridge when i had the chance. but its gone now. and i won't.

-everything goes. but the memories remain, spectres to be engaged with, and in that its not really gone. The hearts arent gone, because they are here in this book. and so is the grandfather, and so is pompey.

-i should've written more notes about the art. The combination of photos and drawings portrays memories in such a beautiful and disorienting way. its distressing, and memorable. the way some things are emphasised by the photos, Punch and Judy, and the grandfather, while other memories are more obscure sketches, like the pier and the houses. it reads like a Cecilia Condit film scary and fragmented and young, or Jan Svankmajer's (my birthday twin xx) Jabberwocky short film.

-“Everybody dies but Mister Punch, and he has only the life he steals from others”

-----

after reading the book, and spell-checking my notes. i also read this companion article by Jennifer K . Cox 'From Stage to Page: Adaptation as Survival in Neil Gaiman’s Mr. Punch' that i would like to share highlights from;

-Forbidden knowledge, portrayed as the magic of puppetry, parallels the narrator’s traumatic childhood memories; the adaptations to his memories have allowed him to survive, even if they obscure the truth of his past.

-“The path of memory is neither straight nor safe,” - Gaiman

-'In some sense, telling a story makes it happen again' - Schank (eek! i love this, it fits with the ethos of the graphic novel itself being that things change but that doesn't mean you can't return to how it was in story and memory).

-'As inanimate objects that rely on human hands to give them life, puppets represent a physical “link with the dead, with the realm of the uncanny, the threshold realm of things unknown or repressed” - Gross (sums up how i feel when i make my frog puppet dance to Modern Talking).

-“Tolkien’s view was that the myth-making imagination always tends toward truth rather than lies; that fantastic stories lead toward a genuine understanding of the conditions of existence” - Attebery

-Theatre historian John Bell describes puppets as “performing objects” and suggests that people manipulate them “in order to show us how parts of the…material world can be animated by humans. [..] that our playing with objects allows

us to come to terms with death”

-this adapted work is by and for adults. (i dont know if i particularly agree with this statement. i think kids should read tough and scary stories. Mr Punch provides a great framework for exploring ones own anguish with the world in a way thats relatable and readable. with sections feeling specifically catered towards kids. 'adults lie', 'i should've written this in blood' and the mystical views on death. Yes, they have a nostalgia factor for adult readers, but they are childish thoughts, relatable to child readers. Kids deserve thoughtful and dark stories that challenge them, that haunt them).

-For the lower classes during the eighteenth century, divorce was improbable, public hangings were employed to discourage crime, and a healthy Puritan work ethic threatened bodily harm, while a poor work ethic threatened eternal damnation; Punch thumbed his rather large nose at each of these oppressive institutions

-the narrator resist picking up the puppet for one of two reasons: because the knowledge will destroy the magic of puppetry, and if the audience knows how the magic works the genre of puppet theatre ceases to function, or because he knows wearing the puppet means he must then become Punch

#neil gaiman #punch and judy

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monthly-challenge · 2 months

Text

Fanfiction Masterlist

Day Five: Oceans

Fantasy Adventure with Waffles - @kanerallels

Dawn and Mikayla - @thehappybaker

#magicalmarch2024 #fanfiction #fanfiction masterlist #day five: ocean

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coffee-in-europe · 2 years

Conversation

january: black-and-white films, old records, red lipstick, classical music, gold earrings, city lights, garnet clothing, champagne, glitter, russian literature, snowstorms, art galleries, dimly lit restaurants, high-heels, chickadees, frosted windowpanes, silk shirts, espresso, pomegranates, snowy owls

february: candy hearts, roses, grapefruit, trench coats, mittens, dark chocolate, calligraphy, sealed envelopes, vanilla cake, ballet, romance films, chandeliers, late-night phone calls, musicals, aurora borealis, marshmallows, pink lipgloss, poetry, freesia, movie theatres, ballads, pressed flowers, stained glass, teacups

march: dark comedies, photo albums, lemons, cold rivers, baking, tidying, colouring, movie marathons, nonfiction books, newspapers, clovers, train rides, fashion magazines, pasta, orchids, podcasts, houseplants, sketchpads, yogurt, celestial art, bubble baths, charcuterie boards, moonlight, ice floes, crystal glasses, coffee dates

april: disney cartoons, rubber boots, tulips, mauve nailpolish, fresh vegetables, cold rain, journals, lavender, fresh eggs, pink blush, birdsong, morning frost, rosemary, tulips, foggy mornings, aloe vera, ponds, herbal tea, puddles, lilies, bunnies, floral sheets, marmalade, pastoral novels, frogs, english custard, lily pads

may: picture books, daisies, farms, warm breezes, cherry blossoms, early mornings, fresh-baked bread, gardening, childhood reminiscing, dandelions, honey, meadows, hummingbirds, butterflies, rainbows, sugar cookies, polaroid cameras, wild mushrooms, carnations, frescoes, silver lockets, brown bears, pancakes, rivers, greenhouses, white sheets

june: jean shorts, pop music, white wine, beach days, yoga, sunday brunch, ice cream, concerts, wildflowers, fluffy clouds, morning dew, cotton candy, turtles, popsicles, kayaks, watermelon, pineapples, vineyards, sparklers, bicycles, denim jackets, swans, asphodels, cocktail parties, gooseberries, lilacs, hollyhocks

july: adventure stories, oranges, lakehouses, campfires, festivals, disco nights, strawberries, figs, starry skies, iced coffee, fireworks, street markets, bumblebees, trumpet vines, strappy sandals, sunglasses, patio lights, linen, denim skirts, pizza, fruit smoothies, pizza, rainstorms, peaches, lagoons, white dresses, astronomy

august: golden sunlight, nostalgia, willow trees, nature poetry, sunrises and sunsets, picnic baskets, sunflowers, crickets, cicadas, colourful quilts, cherries, rolling hills, maxi-dresses, tall grass, dragonflies, crochet, renaissance art, vine tomatoes, overalls, roadtrips, hammocks, sunhats, waterfalls, tabby cats

september: coffee, book piles, croissants, long walks, classic novels, braided hair, notebooks, film festivals, apples, pears, farmers markets, forests, jigsaw puzzles, owls, tortoiseshell glasses, orchards, library cards, foxes, tweed blazers, climbing ivy, tea kettles, maple syrup, goldenrod, lanterns, waffles, boardgames

october: pumpkin patches, black turtlenecks, ginger pastries, fireplaces, wet leaves, ankle boots, corduroy, birch trees, cafés, bookshops, castles, caramel, rainy mornings, blustery nights, town fairs, countryside walks, cinnamon, nutmeg, old houses, black cats, bakeries, creeks, thick blankets, city blocks, white chapels

november: candles, red wine, ancient ruins, greek mythology, second-hand books, plaid blankets, mahogany nailpolish, mystery novels, museums, burgundy sweaters, dinner parties, gemstone rings, icy breath, black coffee, language studies, antique shops, white roses, cobblestones, lace, cathedrals, firewood, audiobooks, crescent moons

december: soft snowfall, christmas carols, pine scent, wool socks, irish stew, fairy lights, thick books, fantasy stories, throw pillows, shortbread, comfort films, window shopping, scarves, icicles, peppermint, carrot noses, angels, hot chocolate, skates, pinecones, caribou, gingerbread, crackling fires, hot toddies, cashmere

#something to look forward to in every month #mine #text #personal #vibes #note to self #Aesthetic

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omgauplease · 1 year

Text

Ransom & Holster here to help with our upcoming fest, brahs!

AU, n.

1. An Alternate Universe (often abbreviated as AU), used to characterize fanworks which change one or more elements of the source work’s canon. Usually transplants a given source work’s characters to a radically different setting, shifts the genre in which their adventures occur, and/or alters one or more of their professions, goals, or backstories.*

Put simply, you’re going to put us and our lineys into totally different worlds!

*(credit for this definition to fanlore.org)

🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒 🏒

Here are some Common AUs** to get you started (certainly by no means an exhaustive list, that’s where you come in for prompting dear frogs, tadpoles and waffles!):

Canon AUs

Amnesia

Fork-in-the-road

Genderswap

Role reversal

Genre AUs

Crime thriller

Cyberpunk

Fairy tales

High fantasy (castles and wizards and dragons, oh my!)

Post-apocalyptic

Science fiction

Steampunk

War / historical war

Western

Setting AUs

Bar / club

Carnival / circus

Coffee shop

Haunted house / castle

High school

Medieval Europe

Neighbours

Roommates

Tattoo Parlour

Theme AUs

Aliens

Angels, demons

Band, musicians, rockstars

Magic & magic users

Ninjas

Pirates

Royalty

Soulmates

Spies

Superheroes

Vampires / Werewolves / Zombies

**List generated with help from various tumblr/reddit posts

Which one of these are your favourite(s)? Tell us in your reblog!

And stay tuned for more tutorials with us, Ransom & Holster, as the fest draws nearer!

#check please #omgcp #omg check please #check please fic #check please podfic #check please art #omgauplease #alternate universe #aus #ransom and holster #tutorials by ransom and holster

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kanerallels · 1 month

Note

For the kick in the pants game, Kanereoke and different fantasy adventure with waffles!

DANG y'll are putting me to work today. Okay, here's my snippet from Kanereoke (which I haven't worked on in months, so thank you for that!! I'm at a really fun part)

And then he heard a familiar noise. A snap-hiss that could only come from one place. Kanan. Thank the Force. Grinning, Ezra said, “You guys are so screwed.”

And then from the other more different FAWW story!

He hadn’t started out wanting this job. But when his parents died, he did what he had to so he could take care of his sister, and protect her. Elisheva didn’t have quite the skill for violence that he did, and the streets wouldn’t be kind to someone like her. Eleazar would never let that happen.

"Kick in the pants" writing ask game!

#thanks for the ask!!#this is actually really fun guys i'm doing pretty well as far as progress goes! so thank you!#fantasy adventures with waffles #kanereoke

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fleurfay · 1 month

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Writeblr Intro (cuz i forgot about this)

AYUP everyone my name's Fleur, i'm a 19 years old woman, im cishet and painfully neurodivergent (AuDHD and MADD). Im also brazilian and christian so there's that! (Trilingual beast coming at ya!)

I've been a writer since who knows when, started to write fanfiction in the worst fandom i could've started (...the beatles), went to an amazing fandom -that turned out to not be that amazing but my writing and storytelling evolved exponentially so im grateful- to now being more focused in original works

I'm currently writing a book with my friend (@serenity-of-waffles)*, an original story all in portuguese - mother language inbound - and i might probably work in scripts for comics, animations and maybe games????? Let's see-

yeah im an artist too hehehe

Genres i enjoy reading/writing: Fantasy, Scifi, Romance, Thriller/Suspense, Horror, Slice of Life, Supernatural

Here comes the lists of things i like to see in a book and that i tend to write it in my own stuff:

FOUND FAMILY!

A good well written romance sometimes doesn't kill ^.^ (im a cliché beast, careful)

Tragic Backstory? Sign me in

NEURODIVERSITY

Supernatural ocurrences and creatures. Analog Horror, Psychological Horror as well

Super heroes? Yes

Mythological metaphores

I write for both Youth and Adult (im a sucker for children's books they can get so dark suddenly and is amazing)

Mystery elements yesyesyes a good suspense

Deep relationships

Consequences. I love consequences.

Historical plots and period inspired fiction

Super powers, creatures, magic, a whole well made worldbuilding (Tolkien wannabe)

SOOOO what am i looking for??

FRIENDS! People to rant about my silly stories and worlds!

More writers to follow and engage and and- ykwim

Current WIPS? hmmmmm

• A Flake of Rouse - A story (in brazilian-portuguese sorry fellas) about the idea of "what if the monarchy in Brazil never ended in 1889?". A narrative about folklorical creatures, fantasy and magic, inspirations on steampunk and art-deco, 19th/beginning of 20th century at its best, the pure juice of Brazilian culture and history. (Fun fact: I names this fictional era Isabelian Age, inspired by the Victorian Age-) A grand adventure following the native descendant girl called Aurora and her journey to save the country against evil forces and hidden enemies of the crown and the empire. • Eden Fables: The Inkweaver's Diary - (*NOT WRITING ALONE) So this one i won't give much detail, just know that me and my friends we're going absolutely insane over this book and the entire possible series and is our child, you're not fucking ready. The best fantasy book i ever written in my life TRUST ME. Blame Tolkien and C.S Lewis for inspiring us so much- (sorry for the vague synopsis muahahahah) A story of a boy displaced in time and space as he finds his heart and returns to his throne, finding a family along the way while dealing with the craziest adventures.

• MaxSeven - This one is my new story, a space opera retro-scifi with retro-cyberpunk and internet aesthetics elements. Very inspired by Star Wars, Akira, Dune, Evangelion, Pacific Rim, Megaman, etc Seven is an android forgotten on a dumpster, with a mysterious story lost long ago in his driver. Till one day a bratty engineer called Maxivo finds him and decides to fix him, an act that turns him into a target against the Order of Ômega. What will this friendship that's about to blossom create in this galaxy imbued in chaos? We might discover soon.

OOF DAMMT I SPOKE A LOT HUH SORRY IM A TALKER! Hope to find more writer friends along the way ^.^

#fleurfay speaks #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writeblr intro #female writers #artists on tumblr #adhd writer #madd writer

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pandorasgirlfriend · 2 years

Text

Marauders era aesthetics

James Potter - Gryffindor

broomsticks, quidditch robes, hot butter beer, autumn leaves, cinnamon, apple pie, dancing badly, movie nights, campfires, walks in the rain, adventures, new places, maps, fireworks, pine trees

Sirius Black - Gryffindor

leather jackets, thunderstorms, cigarettes, eyeliner, oversized hoodies, stolen sweaters, band t-shirts, rock music, record players, breaking rules, strong emotions, playing in the snow, drawing, friendship, loopy handwriting

Remus Lupin - Gryffindor

worn out sweaters, fresh parchment, old books, cigarettes, tea, ink pots, messy handwriting, chocolate, old shoes, fuzzy socks, forests, tragic smiles, sarcasm, big mugs

Peter Pettigrew - Gryffindor

birthday cakes, smiles, surprises, hot chocolate, board games, reading marathons, baby animals, weird talents, chess, soft blankets, herbal tea, disney songs, long walks, sunny afternoons, baking

Lily Evans - Gryffindor

vanilla ice cream, strawberries, summer dresses, scented candles, lemonade, snort-laughing, taylor swift, wild flowers, braided hair, gummy worms, romance novels, stuffed animals, lip balm, freckles

Marlene McKinnon - Gryffindor

jewelry, eyeliner, fishnet tights, dyed hair, crisp weather, polaroid pictures, parties, mint, iced coffee, whipped cream, thrift stores, friendship bracelets, sushi, piercings, chipped nail polish

Mary MacDonald - Gryffindor

cute pyjamas, tea leaves, crystals, glitter, cats, coloured pencils, heart doodles, lemon water, curly hair, bralettes, cardigans, flared jeans, poetry, musicals, taylor swift

Frank Longbottom - Gryffindor

wild ideas, free spirit, hot cocoa, beach days, watermelons, waffles, pure heart, passing notes, willow trees, best presents, bright colours, cartoons, rainy days, hide and seek

Alice Fortscue - Ravenclaw

floral patterns, picnics, pixie cuts, leather sandals, forest fruits, ice cream, horror films, blanket burritos, salted crisps, summer breeze, soft lips, mascara, lipstick, brown eyes, creativity

Emmaline Vance - Ravenclaw

open windows, windy weather, mythology, zodiac signs, photography, blueberries, jasmine tea, dark colours, dark hair, forests, classical music, astronomy, lavender, messy hair

Xenophillius Lovegood - Ravenclaw

wild imagination, obscure teas, colorful clothes, blue eyes, thoughtful gifts, rain, doodles, fantasy books, painting, museums, rivers, smooth pebbles, mascarpone, magazines, dark chocolate

Pandora Rosier - Ravenclaw

pearl necklaces, silver earrings, clouds, old books, ice skating, contagious laughter, curiosity, wild animals, cooking, windswept hair, pressed flowers, tall grass, butterflies, bird watching, denim jackets

Gilderoy Lockhart - Ravenclaw

poetry, snow, birds of paradise, valleys, cologne, rain, echoes, astronomy, charms, fame, elegance, fashion, dragon flies, ocean waves, new places

Sibyll Trelawney - Ravenclaw

crystal balls, minerals, tea leaves, cigarettes, long dresses, starry nights, zodiac signs, astronomy, mythology, piano music, poetry, teacups, essential oils, incense

Dorcas Meadows - Slytherin

colourful clothes, nails painted electric colours, raspberries, iced tea, citrus fruits, spring time, converse, lip gloss, lollipops, foreign languages, art museums, scrunchies, sticker collections

Evan Rosier - Slytherin

old books, long scarves, cooking, headphones, snowball fights, climbing trees (totally not a crimson rivers reference), binge watching shows, friendship bracelets, pet snakes

Lucius Malfoy - Slytherin

poetry, classical music, history, forests, dark chocolate, fresh parchment, mint, black coffee, architecture, quills, cunning ideas, birds of pray, sea salt, champagne glasses,

Narcissa Black - Slytherin

romance novels, red roses, bikinis, lakes, constellations, cheesecake, makeup, red lipstick, sorbets, diamond rings, piano music, black cardigans, white shirts,

Bellatrix Black - Slytherin

ball gowns, red wine, ambition, curly hair, reptiles, cliffs, mini skirts, cherries, eyeshadow, white bedsheets, silver jewelry, obsidian, black tea, powdered sugar

Andromeda Black - Slytherin

baking, summer dresses, messy handwriting, flower crowns, wild strawberries, ocean waves, blankets, crochet queen, picnic baskets, lace nighties, rose petals, full notebooks, sunsets

Regulus Black - Slytherin

big rooms, pianos, beaches, caves, echoes, books, theatre, sparkling water, lightning, rainy evenings, ink pots, poetry, dogs, cups of tea gone cold, rings, cologne, gobstones

Severus Snape - Slytherin

potions, tattered clothes, greasy hair, bad choices, unrequited love, snail slime, horrible personality, bullying children, blackmail

Rita Skeeter - Slytherin

gossip, perfume, fresh parchment, quills, romance novels, mini skirts, classical music, eyeliner, lipgloss, long nails, curled hair, insects, pressed flowers, blackmail, silver earrings

Barty Crouch Jr - Slytherin

messy hair, lakes, cupcakes, penknives, quills, mint, forests, fantasy novels, chess, thunderstorms, snow, black tea, mean comments, ink pots, empty rooms

Hestia Jones - Hufflepuff

cardigans, curiosity, adventures, confidence, mary jane shoes, fairy lights, pressed flowers, guitars, hardback books, daffodils, mermaids, beach days, sun hats, sparkly nail polish, long walks,

Ted Tonks - Hufflepuff

si-fi novels, video games, movie nights, cooking, photo booths, wax crayons, kanken backpacks, festivals, amusement parks, insects, hot chocolate, cookies, worn out jeans

Maryrose Jenkins - Hufflepuff

(this character is from “ The Marauders” series on wattpad by pengiwen, not canon, i just really wanted to include her)

scented candles, tatters converse, pressed flowers, lip balm, fantasy novels, curiosity, adventures, creativity, ice cream, sunsets, scrunchies, flared jeans, bikinis, butterflies

Amelia Bones - Hufflepuff

denim jackets, doc martens, essential oils, writing stories, lavender perfume, plant mom, big windows, forests, boats, hoodies, oversized t-shirts, black coffee, snow globes, seashells

Amos Diggory - Hufflepuff

creativity, cooking, adventures, movie nights, book shops, bow ties, lakes, woods, campfires, a little shy, cookies, tea, plants, sugar cubes, jokes, smiles

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stevespookington · 1 year

Text

💬 talking about fic 📝 ori's wips tag 🎨art blog: @oriarts 🖋writing blog: @oriscribes

prev stevecarrington ITS SPOOKY TIME (also steve carrington and steve harrington)

latest update:

after all this time (i'm still into you) | 15k 3/6(?) | big bang fic!

Steve just wanted to keep working on his TV show, but due to some clauses buried in his contract he'd been coerced into a fake dating scheme. Which was especially stupid because Munson didn’t even like him. Steve should know, Munson had already rejected him years ago. Eddie just wanted to keep his head down until his contract ran out so he could get back to writing with Corroded Coffin instead of doing this idol shit. He wasn't counting on getting outed and having to do damage control... by pretending to date someone who he maybe sorta had (has?) a huge crush on. OR: Steve pretends that if he keeps calling Eddie by his last name then he won’t develop any feelings to go with that crush he'd been trying to forget about. Meanwhile, Eddie is trying to figure out what went wrong years ago and if this time could be different.

currently working on:

after all this time (i'm still into you) | 9.6k 2/6(?) | big bang fic!

different places (different fate?) | 2.1k 1/? | aka role reversal au

part 1, part 2, #steddie role reversal au Dustin swung around, suddenly interested. He asked Eddie to tell him the message or something, his voice faded out of Eddie’s perception, he wasn’t listening. Instead he watched the TV screen with shock. His jaw dropped as he read the alert across the bottom of the screen “Body found, investigations ongoing.” The news crew was outside Harrington’s house.

multi-chapter fics

a heart's a heavy burden | 8.9k 4/6 (will be back to this after hallmark au is done) #hmc!steddie

Steve Harrington was born an only child to boring parents who both were only children and whose parents were only children and so on. They were perfectly content with a boring life; they were well to do and kept a hat shop in the prosperous part of Hawkins. Steve decided early on that it might not be the most glamorous option, but that he would make it work. And so, Steve worked hard and he listened. By listening to the stories of the land, he soon realized how little chance he had of an interesting future. However, destiny is a funny thing, and in the land of fantasy, Steve soon finds himself on an adventure with his friend Dustin, a strange wizard named Eddie, a fire that loves waffles, and a magical castle after a curse lands Steve with knobby knees and more wrinkles than he can count. aka a howl’s moving castle au

it's christmas eve again | 38k. 13/13 | a hallmark au with a twist

Eddie didn’t know why he was sharing this, he usually never shared this much about himself. But something about how this man’s eyes twinkled seemed to almost compel him. “Holidays you know? And I’m looking forward to seeing my Uncle, but so much has changed… and I got a dumb blind date to go to before I head home.” The man raised fluffy white eyebrows in reply. “Maybe it will be a good one? You never know, a date on Christmas Eve? Could be magical.” A laugh slipped past Eddie’s lips. “Magical? With a guy named Steven? I don’t think so, sorry. I really doubt it, he evidently used to babysit my Uncle’s fiancee’s kid. I mean I like the kid alright. But his old babysitter? I don’t think so.” The plane jerked to a halt and people started moving towards their carry-on bags. “Well, never laugh at fate, my boy, it might just laugh back.” or: fate very much laughs at one Eddie Munson and he finds himself searching for some holiday magic. or: Santa was trying to set him up with Steve fucking Harrington.

no longer theoretical | 5.7k 2/2

“Totally and utterly.” Robin paused before her attention flitted across the store to a tape, probably something for them to watch on their morning shift. Steve swallowed, this was his chance. He had been working up to this for weeks, months even. But something the other day finally pushed his passive musing up to action. “Hey, Robin?” She paused on her journey across the store before turning back to look at Steve. “Yeah?” “What if…” Steve paused and closed his eyes. He swallowed and looked back up at Robin before quietly continuing. “What if I do know what I want?” aka: steve comes out to robin

oneshots

rushing home to you | 1.5k | There were many things Eddie could put up with while dealing with a huge crush on Steve. But Steve standing in their entryway slinging on a jacket over another one of his stupid polos and asking him if he wanted to go watch a romcom with him was not one of those things.

java chip frappes are always the answer | 1.5k | Sleep deprived and on a desperate mission for caffeine, Eddie stumbles upon the perfect coffee shop. And maybe more?

words wrapped around my arm (shaped like a fucking worm?!) | 1.3k | Steve had unfortunately spent a lot of time thinking about worms. They were fine, good for the soil or whatever. He really didn’t care about worms, but evidently his soulmate fucking did. Would you still love me if I were a worm? It was fucking scrawled across his bicep, wrapping around his arm and holding on tight. Like who the fuck said that to someone they had only just met?!

comin' up for air, breathin' in | 7.4k | Eddie Munson loved music. He loved playing it, he loved listening to it, and he even loved writing about it. Which explained, of course, how he ended up on the fucking soccer beat of the Indianapolis newspaper. Not music, not theater or the arts, not even a sport he at least cared about like hockey. Nope, fucking soccer. Nothing ever happened in the soccer scene of Indianapolis. Well, nothing interesting used to happen. But that all changed when Nancy Wheeler inherited the Mastodons, named after the Indiana state fossil for some ungodly reason. When she inherited the Mastodons and hired Steve Harrington as the head coach.

i couldn't see (you were always right beside me) | 13.5k | Steve hated his neighbor. And then Dustin and the other kiddos left for college and Steve signed up for some online game called World of Warcraft. Which was how Steve met a Night Elf druid named Greyhawk.

lost in the middle of you | 4.3k | Eddie closed his eyes and leaned against the railing in front of him, sun warm on his face. A breeze was coming across the water, gulls crying overhead. A warmth bloomed across his back as Steve dropped across his shoulders, heavy and warm, the perfect combination. Eddie woke up alone. No Steve Harrington. He rolled over, not quite awake, and reached for the other side of the bed. Cold. Steve would have woken him up so that meant… oh.

the icarus to your certainty (oh, my sunlight) | 2.1k | eddie helps steve put together a dnd character sheet for an upcoming game and faces a crisis when steve breaks out his glasses

in our bedroom after the war | 2.4k | eddie is having nightmares and can’t sleep, steve offers to be his lookout.

hey, babe, your hair's alright (hey, babe, let's stay in tonight) | 3.9k | Eddie discovered one downside to graduating is that he doesn't have access to the school to play dnd in anymore. Steve, on the other hand, discovered that he has a huge weakness in the form of Eddie Munson's puppy dog eyes. Steve finally broke down and offered to let him run sessions out of his house and Eddie stuck around afterwards. Eddie paused midstep, “I mean, I was just going to go home and collapse on my couch? What were you up to for the rest of the day, Harrington?” “Probably just going to collapse on my couch actually.” Steve replied with a smile. “But it’s big enough for the both of us and I was going to maybe put a movie on if you are interested? Maybe order pizza later?”

5+1's (series on ao3)

hot patootie bless my soul | 2.7k | 5 times everyone thought steve was just really supportive +1 time they realize he is just a pining and idiotic bisexual

dnd is gay (but so am i so this tracks) | 4.5k | 5 times that eddie introduces harry stevon to the party as a dnd npc +1 time steve meets him (aka eddie accidentally makes a npc based off of one steve harrington)

i'll stop the world (and melt with you) | 2.5k | 5 times that steve falls asleep on eddie +1 time eddie takes a nap on steve

i'm your man (don't you know that?) | 3.7k | 5 times that steve and eddie go on a date +1 time that eddie realizes that they are dating

almost, nearly, finally | 2.5k | 5 times steve and eddie almost kiss +1 time they finally do

and the reason comes on the common tongue of your loving me | 4k | E | 5 times steve finds it incredibly hot that eddie knows what he's doing +1 time when they figure it out together

#ori writes #ori talks fic #steddie #stranger things

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