#i've never written them before

[blorbocedes]

sewis + "i really wish i knew you at 13"

Lewis thumbs through all of Sebastian's Instagram posts before finally deciding to DM him. He feels a bit ridiculous -- he has Sebastian's number, he could just call; he doesn't even know if Sebastian posts these carefully curated and restored childhood karting pictures or if his team -- but he sends it before he can double think it.

Just an observation about karting. They both karted. It's something to talk about. Lewis wasn't expecting the reply in 5 minutes, despite going through his phone notifications and snooping through the roscoelovescoco account. Charles posted an Instagram dump, Angela is hiking somewhere cold, and Sebastian Vettel has replied to your DM.

The reply is so Seb, a cheeky joke Lewis could hear him say; and suddenly it's easy. Karting in Europe, what having Michael around as a mentor was like, the conversation flows as easily as the red wine in Lewis' other hand. Despite being so close in age, only 2 years, they never bumped into each other those years -- Lewis always 2 years ahead, got his championship 2 years before Seb too.

Sebastian Vettel: I wish I had known you at 13

That made Lewis pause, he'd been regaling some story about how much shenanigans he got up to/got away with. It was so long ago, a different lifetime ago, memories of his dad taking him to races, of uncomfortable motel beds, jumping over them, blonde hair blue eyes ice cream sticking out of the edge of his mouth, random words of German flying over his head, the sun on his back, the smell of fuel from the garages, riding on unicycle with an arm around him for support, laughing cause his dad drove the car into the river, laughing cause they were fighting until they were out of breath, laughing, so much laughter. Memories he thought he'd buried deep down, forgotten.

Lewis Hamilton: I wish you did too.

and then hits backspace, and changes the topic.

#how dare you use the TSN press tour line against me #my fics #f1 rpf #fascinated that you prompt sewis to ME #I've never written them before #blorbocedes ask

[shes-an-oddbird]

Went to Las Vegas on a work trip and have now plotted out two thirds of a massive 911 Lone Star/Cirque Du Soleil-Vegas Performer AU - this is one of the few bits I’ve written that isn’t just a dialog dump - its also TK and Nancy’s first meeting and the intro to tarlos’s first meeting 

I haven’t written anything longer than a one-shot in a while so this should be interesting

“Just water please.” The bartender nods in his direction and TK takes a seat next to a woman about his age. She’s dressed in a faded blue sweatshirt, her hair neatly twisted into a bun on the top of her head and appears entirely uninterested in the show going on as she reads from a magazine in front of her. She would be completely inconspicuous, at a bookstore or coffeeshop maybe, but as they were currently amongst a sea of tourists, dressed in outfits they’d been planning for weeks, to attend what was likely their first and last burlesque show, she stands out in the crowd.

“Not enjoying the show.” He asks.

She glances up at him, a slight smile on her face. “I’ve seen it.”

This takes him by surprise. It didn’t exactly make since to buy a ticket to a show you weren’t going to watch.

“So you’re here for the drinks?”

She closes the magazine, turning to look him in the eye. “Maybe I just like the atmosphere.”

“Yeah, seems like a great place to catch up on your reading.”

TK’s relieved when he notices the mischievous look in her eyes. She’s teasing him, why he doesn’t know but at least he wasn’t annoying her. “I work here, I’m a trainer with the show.” She finally admits.

“Oh cool, I’m sorry I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay, it was kind of fun messing with you,” she offers her hand, “I’m Nancy.”

“TK.” He brushes off the curious look she gives. He had to know a person a lot longer than five minutes to give them his full name. “Hey, maybe you could tell me, you must know Michelle right?”

“I do.”

“Is she around?”

“She’s not here tonight,” Nancy pauses, her curiosity over her bar companion visibly doubles, “she’s visiting with her sister.”

TK shoulders sink. He’s really wanted to check in with the woman. To thank her. He never did get the chance to in person. If she hadn’t recognized him and contacted his mom. TK didn’t know where he would be right now.

“How do you know Michelle?”

“Oh, she, she’s an old friend of my parents.” TK excuses and it’s not untrue. “They worked together on a show, well, with my dad, my mom used to take me to see the different shows when I was a kid.”

“So, you’re a fan?”

“Exclusively for the last few years, I injured my shoulder awhile back and was thinking about getting back into performing.”

“What do you do?”

“Mostly aerial work, some tumbling.”

“Were you here to see if Michelle had an opening?”

“Oh, no, just to say hello.” He turns his attention back to the stage. He watches as the aerialist spiral from twenty some feet in the air, stopping just before they hit the stage. Their synchronization is flawless as arms loop through the fabric, twisting and flipping around in a beautiful manner that he can see is setting up another awe inducing stunt. “They’re really good, do you help with the choreography?”

She shakes her head. “Just technique and training, rehabilitation if they’re injured.”

“You’re a physical therapist?”

She nods. “Officially.”

A round of applause erupts through the room. TK’s attention turns back on the stage. He’s missed the big stunt but the crowd loved it. Cheering rumbles the glasses and bottles, the loudest it would seem, coming from a table near the front.

He’s gorgeous.

TK can barely put together another thought beyond that. Dark hair, dark eyes that are bright with joy as he smiles up at the stage. The performers take a quick bow and then he’s pushing himself up from his seat.

“I guess we’re done talking about me than.” Nancy says, following his gaze. “He’s cute, right.”

“What?”

“He’s off the clock tonight too, if you wanted to talk to him.”

TK pulls his eyes away and back to her. “He’s one of the performers?”

“He works security.”

“You know him?” He asks as he glances back to see that the man is making his way towards them. TK hopes his tone is cool and disinterested. His whole body is itching to betray him. He can feel the fidgeting as he attempts to take on a casual stance.

“Not well, his name is Carlos, he trains with the cast sometimes but he’s got great technique, so he doesn’t need my help.” She shrugs. “I know he’s good friends with Michelle, maybe you could ask her to introduce you.”

“She’s not here.”

“What a shame.”

“Maybe you could introduce us then?” TK swears that when Carlos notices the pair of them at the bar, his walk shifts, becoming more of a saunter as their eyes lock.

“Oh no, I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not?” He whispers because he’s too close now.

“Because it’ll be much more fun this way.” She grins. “Hey Carlos.”

“Hey Nance.” Carlos’s eyes drift back to his again, watching him even as he leans across the bar and orders a couple of beers and a glass of wine for his table. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

#911 lone star #911 ls fic #wip wednesday #tk strand #nancy gillian #carlos reyes #tarlos #i've never written them before #I love them so but also #they are so loved I hope i do right by them

[unfinishedslurs]

gay bar (steddie)

“Well, well, well,” says a voice from behind. “Steeeeeeve Harrington. I must be dreaming.”

Steve turns around to see a guy, dressed in black and chains. Rings decorating his fingers, studs in his ears, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. He’s hot, yeah, but something about him has Steve squinting, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar. 

“I know you from somewhere,” he says, pointing out the obvious. The guy knows his name.

The not-a-stranger snorts. “Of course you don’t remember me. Why would the likes of King Steve stoop to—“

As soon as the nickname leaves his mouth, Steve’s brain lights up. “Munson!” He exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You used to climb on the lunch tables to give speeches.”

It was so obnoxious, too. The kind of thing that had him and Robin reminiscing late at night, celebrating some of the weirder shit about Hawkins that didn’t come from monsters, or Russians, or government conspiracy. Remember that one asshole? Yeah, he stepped on my lunch one time!

Condolences to Robin’s pb&j. She never sat at that table again.

Munson’s whole face turns pink. “Seriously? That’s what you remember?”

“It was pretty fucking memorable, dude. Like, gross, doesn’t this guy know not to put his feet where people eat? Dustin thought you were so cool for it too. I had to nip that in the bud before he started imitating you or some shit.”

“Oh,” he says, voice gone flat. “Because God forbid some poor kid try to immolate the freak.”

Steve gives him his bitchiest, most deadpan stare. “Feet,” he says slowly. “Nasty, fifteen year old boy feet. On my kitchen table. He almost slipped and cracked his skull, and I would have sent you the hospital bill.”

He had to get creative to make him stop, too. Stood there, hands on his hips, and made Dustin tell him exactly how many germs he thought were on his shoes. Then when he tried to do it barefoot, decided the only course of action was to stuff Dustin’s abandoned sock in his mouth and ask if he wanted that shit with every meal. Erica still has the photos. 

Munson has the decency to look embarrassed, face flooding an even brighter red that wouldn’t be out of place in a tomato patch. “What are you even doing here, Harrington?”

What does he think Steve’s doing here? It’s a fucking gay bar, it’s pretty self explanatory. “My friend is here somewhere,” he says, waving out at the crowd of people. “She’s going through a dry spell, so…”

“Right,” Munson says. Steve squints at him. Does he look disappointed?

Eh. Doesn’t matter. 

“You gave my kids the best freshman year of their nerdy little lives,” he tells him, because he knows Dustin would want him to. Plus, the guy was Mike’s gay awakening. He should probably get some credit. “So thanks for that.”

He lights up. “Yeah! How was Hellfire in my absence?”

“I had to hear them bitch and moan for months about how it ‘wasn’t the same,’ but it’s doing pretty all right. Erica Sinclair is running it now.”

“Erica Sinclair…” Munson mutters, snapping his fingers. “Lucas Sinclair’s little sister? Lady Applejack?” He beams when Steve nods. “She kicked ass. Best finish to a campaign my entire high school career. How’s Lucas, anyway? And the rest of the runts.”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says. “College basketball at Yale. Pretty sure he’s dying under the workload, but that’s what you get for majoring in physics. Dustin’s at MIT, and Mike’s taking a gap year.”

He whistles lowly. “Yeesh, I don’t blame him. How about Byers?”

“Which one?”

“Zombie boy.” Steve’s hackles raise, but Munson just grins. “God, that nickname was badass.”

“How do you even know about that?”

Munson taps the side of his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Besides, all it took for you to remember me was calling you by your high school nickname.”

“That wasn’t my nickname.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally three people ever actually called me that, and you were one of them.”

He has a feeling it was Tommy who started it, bitter and vicious. Told himself Steve was self possessed, high and mighty, above it all. That’s why he left his old friends behind. Not because he was in love, or because he wanted to be better. No, King Steve just sits alone in his castle, looking down on the peasants with contempt. 

Billy must have taken his angry ramblings and run with them. After all, what better way to get a start in a new town than declaring yourself royalty? Never mind that Steve hadn’t cared about anything like that for almost a year by then. 

Munson had just been a drama-loving asshole. 

“That can’t be right.”

“I stopped being popular in junior year. Why the hell would anyone call a sophomore King?” Steve points out. 

“You were Prom King.”

“Again, in junior year. Pickings were slim. Who else would it have been? Tommy?” He has to laugh. 

Luckily, Munson takes the hint and swerves the conversation into new territory. “You know, I always figured you’d be homophobic.”

Steve snorts. “What, and get kicked out for nothing?”

Munson stares at him, and Steve furrows his brow, looking into his glass like it will have the answer to why the hell he said that to this guy he barely knows. He just decided he wasn’t going to spill all his daddy issues to a near-stranger in a dingy bar, dammit. Is he already on his fifth drink?

Actually, this might be his sixth. That tracks. 

“What?”

“My dad caught me kissing a boy,” he says. If he’s going to give Munson his life story, he might as well commit. “Can you believe that boy ruined my life in three different ways? Two of them didn’t even have anything to do with the gay thing.” 

Maybe four ways, if you accounted for the way he broke his goddamn heart, but everyone and their mother saw that coming a mile away. Even Steve. Especially Steve. 

No offense to Jonathan. None of those things were really his fault. Or actually life ruining, but it sure fucking felt like it at the time. 

He should give him a call soon, actually, see how he and Argyle are doing. He misses the guy. Maybe he and Robin should save up for a visit to Cali. Get Nancy on it. They could see San Francisco while they were there, that’d be cool. Apparently it was the queer capital of the country. 

He’s thinking about asking the bartender for a napkin and a pen to write down the plans he’s forming when Munson speaks up again. Steve honestly forgot he was here. 

“I thought you said you were here for a friend.”

What?” Steve blinks, confused, and then catches on. “Yeah, to get her laid. I’m not in the mood right now.”

Munson cocks an eyebrow. “Wearing that? Could’ve fooled me.”

Steve looks down at his Springsteen T-Shirt that Robin cropped, and picks at the frayed hem of his shorts. Okay, yeah, they’re on the skimpy side, but in his defense it’s summer and even if he’s not cruising Steve likes being looked at. “Yeah, yeah. What about you? Here for anything in particular?”

“Just to talk to some pretty boys,” Munson says, leaning on the bar to flag down the bartender. Steve smirks, reaching out a hand to tug at the hanky in his back pocket. Pinned, damn. 

Munson whirls around, a flush starting to crawl onto his ears. 

“Wearing that?” Steve echos snarkily. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He swears that for a minute Munson’s eyes darken. 

He’s almost tempted to follow through, high school reputation be damned, when someone crashes into his side and nearly sends him careening. 

“Steeeeeve,” Robin yells happily into his ear. “This is Bernie, she’s gonna take me home, see you la—oh, hi!” She says, noticing Munson. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Eddie Munson,” Munson greets. “Steve and I went to high school together.”

“Munson! That’s it, you climbed on tables and had shit music. I’m Robin. Okay, I’ll call the apartment and leave a message when we get there. Bernie’s waiting on me, it’s-nice-to-meet-you-bye!” Just like that, she’s gone. 

Munson’s mouth has dropped open. “You told her I had shit music?” He demands. “Wait, you talked about me?”

“She went to school with us, dumbass,” he says, as if he can talk. He still barely remembers her as more than a vague, glowering figure in his peripheral. “It’s not my fault you blasted your screamy music for everyone in the parking lot. Such a fucking headache, God.”

Munson turns his nose up. “Sorry for having offended your jock sensibilities.”

“Oh, I don’t play anymore,” he says, and knocks on his head. “Concussions, yanno. Apparently brain damage will fuck you up. Who knew?”

“What, like the fight you had with Byers? He did you that bad?”

“He did me just fine,” Steve blurts out, before he can stop himself. Munson chokes. “Shit, sorry, I’m kind of a horny drunk.” Weird thing to say, Steve. “Also, I cannot stress enough how much I needed to be punched in the face. It was a monumental moment for me, you know. Started me on the path for changing my entire worldview. Plus, he was my first guy crush.” He swirls his empty glass, lost in thought, before brightening up. “I should call him!”

Munson is staring at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish. 

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

“I should probably stop you from booty-calling the guy who punched you in the face.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “It wouldn’t be a booty-call,” he says. “He and Argyle are happy together, man. I’m not gonna ruin that.”

“Oh, so you’d call him because…”

“I call him all the time,” Steve says, confused as to why this is such a big deal. “We’re friends.”

“Jonathan!” He yells happily into the pay phone. Munson is standing to the side, looking on in annoyance. Whatever, it’s not like Steve asked him to do this. “Jonathan, man, how are you?”

“…Steve?”

“Yeah!”

“It’s like…” he hears something clatter in the background, like Jonathan is looking for something, “two in the morning there. You okay?”

“I’m doing great!” He exclaims. “How about you? It’s been ages, man, I miss you.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Munson whispers behind him. Steve ignores him. 

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” he says. “Well, maybe a little. Do you not miss me too?” He pouts, and Jonathan sighs loud enough he hears it over the phone. 

“I just talked to you yesterday.”

Steve frowns. “Yesterday? That can’t be right, it’s been, like, forever. Oh, hey, have you heard from Nance lately? How’s your mom? I love your mom, she’s so fucking cool. Does she know I think she’s cool? How’s Will? It’s been so long, is he taller than me yet? How’s Argyle doing with his degree? I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too, Steve.”

“Awww, Byers, getting soppy on me? Gross, man.”

“You literally just—yeah, okay. Are you alone?”

“Nah, I’ve got this guy with me, he’s walking me home. Oh! Dude, do you remember Munson?”

“Munson?”

“Yeah, Eddie Munson! From high school! The one who used to climb on tables and shit, remember him?”

“Jesus Christ,” Munson groans. “Please let that die.”

“No one is dying,” Steve informs him seriously, and turns back to the phone. Munson sighs. 

“Wasn’t he a drug dealer?”

“Yes! Yeah, drug dealer Munson! Did you ever buy from him?” He turns to where Munson is looking around furtively. “Did Jonathan ever buy from you?”

“How about we not talk about this here,” Munson says through gritted teeth. Steve sighs and turns back to the phone. 

“Never mind, he says he doesn’t want to talk about that. Not like we can judge him, but whatever. Maybe the guy’s turned into a prude—“

“Okay, give me that.” Munson wrestles the phone out of his hand, and Steve whines at him. “Hey, Byers,” Munson says. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. Or Munson. Whatever. Listen, I’m getting kind of sick of standing here watching Harrington slobber all over the receiver, can he call you tomorrow? What? No, I don’t sell anymore—yeah, total bummer, whatever. Listen, I’ll get him home safe—no, I’m not going to serial murder him. He’s gonna be fine, he’ll call you tomorrow—Nancy Wheeler? Like that girl he dated? Didn’t you—shoot me? Jesus, okay! I’m not gonna kill the guy, Christ. He’s gonna be fine, oh my God. He’ll call you tomorrow. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. Bye.” He slams the phone into its holder with more than a little contempt. 

“Hey!” Steve protests. “You didn’t let me say bye.”

“You can call him tomorrow and apologize,” Munson says. “Now c’mon, Harrington. I’ve been tasked with getting you home safe, and if I fail, apparently Nancy fucking Wheeler is going to shoot me in the balls.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s really hot when she does that,” Steve says fondly, and Munson splutters. 

“What, does Wheeler just go around shooting people? Does she even have a gun?”

“Of course Nancy has a gun.” Steve frowns. It was one of the sure things in the universe at this point. The sky is blue, Hawkins is fucked up, and Nancy Wheeler has a gun. “And she doesn’t shoot people, stupid. Well, she shot at Billy, but he deserved it.”

“Billy?” Munson mutters, starting to usher Steve in the direction of home. “Who the fuck is Billy?”

“He was trying to kill her first!” Steve defends. “I hit him with a car before he could, so she was okay.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t you hit some guy with a car? 

“It wasn’t some guy,” Steve says. “It was Billy. He was, like, possessed or some shit. Oh, and he beat me up. Total psycho.  And that was before the melted flesh monster.”

Munson stops and stares at him. “You know what, sure. Demonic possession. Yeah, okay. Some guy named Billy kicked your ass—wait, are you talking about Billy Hargrove?”

Steve lights up. “Yeah! You remember that? That’s one of the concussions I was talking about. I gotta wear glasses 'cuza that shit. Man, fuck that guy.”

“Didn’t he die?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve frowns down at the ground. “Shit, I’m, like, speaking ill of the dead, aren’t I? Max wouldn't like that. Unfuck him, or whatever.”

“You wanna come up?” He asks. “For old times sake?”

Munson stares at him like it’s the craziest thing he’s said all evening. “‘Old times’ was your asshole friends calling me a satan worshiper and pushing me around in hallways, Harrington.”

“I know.” He grins. If he was sober he’d definitely feel worse about that, but as it is he’s pretty single minded. “Don't you kind of want to make me cry about it?”

Deer in headlights isn’t usually a good look, but Munson’s got the eyes to make it work. Or Steve is drunk. Either way, it’s kinda cute. 

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, stumbling over the words a little. If Steve pays close attention and ignores most of reality, it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince both of them. “You’re so incredibly drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.” He totally is. 

“I just had to supervise you calling Jonathan Byers so you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended. “I love Jonathan! I tell him all the time. Just because I said he ruined my life—“

“That was him?”

“Did I not say that? Huh. Whatever. Point is, I’m not that drunk.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” Munson says. “I’m not—yeah, no. I’m not coming up.”

“Damn.” Steve shrugs, not too put out about it. It’s a bummer, sure, but he handles rejection like a champ. Just ask Robin. “Worth a shot. See you ‘round, Munson.”

“Don’t kill me,” Steve says. 

“Oh, god, did you punch him?”

“No, I, uh.” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think I tried to fuck him.”

He has to hold the phone away from his face so Dustin’s screeching doesn’t break his eardrums. 

“Your exes are weirdly protective of you,” Munson says blandly. “Also, didn’t they date?”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, not exactly eager to start spilling his life story again now that he’s sober. Munson doesn’t need to know more about his dating history than he already does. “We’re all a little weird about each other, sorry.”

“Weird about your exes,” he hums. “No wonder you’re single.”

“Oh, fuck you. It’s not like that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“Are you always this nosy?” Steve asks, a little waspish. 

“Absolutely,” Munson replies without hesitation. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. When did you even date him?”

“Dude.”

Munson just cocks an expectant eyebrow, hip resting against the bar. He can’t imagine why someone would be so interested in the romantic lives of their old high school classmates. It’s not like Steve is about to ask what was going on between him and Chrissy Cunningham. 

“Well, Harrington?”

“First grade,” Steve answers, deadpan. He grins when Munson chokes. “Nah, it was actually after he and Nancy broke up. Fall of ‘86.”

Arms squeeze him from behind, and Robin slides into view, leaving one hand wrapped pointedly around Steve’s waist. She gets clingy when she thinks someone is bothering him, or when she’s just on the side of drunk that she gets possessive. She told him, embarrassed and hungover, that it’s because she registers someone he’s getting along with as infringing on “her Steve time.” Steve thinks it’s hilarious and kind of sweet, an obvious lesbian trying to pretend he’s her date. Especially because he gets the same way when he’s tipsy and feels like he doesn’t have enough of her attention, so she can't yell at him for being a cockblock. Cuntblock. Whatever the lesbians call it.

He wonders what category she thinks Eddie is. Of guy, that is. Not block-anything.

He'd actually be pretty damn happy if the guy miraculously changed his mind and decided to sit on his cock instead.

“What’s going on here?” She asks, almost cattily. He loves when Robin gets bitchy. It brings him back to their Scoops days, except he gets to see it turned on someone else. 

“I’m telling Eddie my life story,” Steve says blithely.

“Ugh. Who would want that?”

Eddie grins. “I’m curious about the adventures of a former king.” He dips his head in a bow, waving his hand in a flourish. “I don’t know if you remember me from last time, I’m Eddie—“

“Munson, I know. You stepped on my lunch in junior year.”

Eddie turns beet red in record time. 

“Aww, Robbie,” Steve almost coos. “Leave him alone. I wanted to be the one who made him blush like that.”

“It’s not my fault your boy’s easy.”

“Not my boy, clearly,” he mutters under his breath. “And if he were easy, I’d have gotten fucked by now.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open with a choked little sound. Whoops. Steve forgot volume control again. 

Robin takes one look at Eddie’s face and bursts into cackles. 

“He was asking about,” he waved a hand in the air, “the whole Nancy-Jonathan thing.”

Her eyebrows jut up. “You told him about the threesome?”

“The what?”

Steve sighs. “No, Robin. I did not tell him about the threesome.”

“…oops.”

“When?” Eddie demands. 

Robin gives him the evil eye. “Why are you being weird about this? It’s not gonna make him fuck you.”

Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut. 

Eddie does not. “Your boy here already asked,” he smirks, leaning closer. “I said no.”

Then, as an added punch to his ego, he twirls a strand of Steve’s hair around his finger and tugs slightly. Steve’s too stunned to protest. 

Robin watches the exchange. “Oh, no thank you,” she says. “Nope. I’m out. I don’t want to see whatever this is. Ugh, stop making me hear about your sex life.”

Hypocrite. “We have thin walls, Buckley,” Steve reminds her. He turns to Eddie and stage whispers, “She likes her girls loud.”

“Steve!”

“You do!”

“Oh, because you’re so quiet,” she snaps, smacking him. “How many times have I had to bang on the wall because you couldn’t keep it down? You wanna talk about loud? I know more about you than I ever wanted to.”

His mouth drops open in mortification. “You know it’s rude to be mean to the man who told you how to eat out,” he hisses. 

“I’m not dying without fucking Eddie Munson,” he declares. “I mean, his high school nickname was literally ‘The Freak.’ He’s got to be good in bed, right?”

“I think that was mostly because everyone thought he was communing with the Devil or something.”

“Maybe the Devil gave him sex magic.”

“Of course he thinks I’m cute.”

“I do?”

“Do you not?” Steve turns to him, widening his eyes in the same pout that always has Robin throwing something at his face, or the kids reluctantly agreeing to do what he wants. He’s found it’s useful for guys too, especially if he ducks his head to seem smaller and looks through his eyelashes. Makes them imagine him looking like that on his knees. 

Munson is no exception. He melts faster than Steve can say gotcha. “You’re very cute, Harrington,” he purrs, and Robin snorts into her drink. 

“You’re a weak, weak man, Eddie Munson,” she tells a blushing Eddie. Then she kicks Steve. “Stop bringing out the ‘fuck me’ eyes when I’m around, I’ll gag.”

“You could leave.”

She gasps, affronted, and kicks him harder.

“So you would fuck me if I wasn’t drunk?”

“Uh…” he looks everywhere but Steve’s face, which is just rude. He has a very nice face. He’s been called dreamy before. 

Which made Robin laugh so hard she fell off the couch when he told her, but he’ll take the lesbian’s opinion with a grain of salt. 

He makes his way onto the dance floor. He’s not a particularly good dancer, but he shakes his ass like he means it. Gets up close with a guy, stares at Eddie the whole time. Keeping eye contact as the guy puts his hands on his hips. 

Look, he means to say. This could be you. You could lose your chance if you’re not careful. 

From the burning in Eddie’s eyes, he gets the message. 

The message is a bunch of bullshit. It’s been over four months, he’s in too deep to go fuck off with someone else now. Still, he enjoys the way Eddie’s hands flex on his thighs, like he had to stop himself from reaching out. 

The thing is, Steve’s not an asshole. He can take a hint. No means no, and all that jazz. If Eddie really didn’t want him, he’d fuck right off and find someone who did. He even started to.

Except Eddie pouted up a storm when he flirted with someone else. Got even clingier when Steve tried to back off. At this point, he’s accepted that Eddie does want to fuck him, and maybe even be more (no one flirts with someone as long as they’ve been doing without wanting something like a relationship out of it. At least, he hopes there’s something more on the horizon), but has some weird hang up about Steve being even a little bit buzzed when it happens. Even though they only ever see each other at this fucking bar.

The problem is Steve has no idea when Eddie will be at the bar. He’ll stay sober one night, hoping to see him, and then go home alone only for next time to be when he sees telltale curls and a wide smile. It’s driving him up the wall. 

Robin has been similarly affected.

“It’s been six months,” she growls as Steve looks eagerly around. “Six fucking months of you two dancing around in the worlds most annoying mating ritual. I’m going to kill both of you.”

“We’re not that bad,” he says absently. 

“You don’t even have his phone number. It’s pathetic. I swear to God, if you see him again and don’t get laid I’m reviving the scoops board. I will go out and buy a whiteboard to keep track of all the times you strike out with a man who used to walk on tables. He stepped on my lunch, Steve. Do I need to keep bringing up the fact he stepped on my delicious, nutritious PB&J? I can’t believe that’s the guy you decide to be obsessed with, that’s so fucking embarrassing for you.”

“Embarrassing? You mean like your crush on my ex girlfriend?”

She screeches wordlessly, pulling her keychain off her belt loop and attacking him with it. 

Naturally, that’s how Eddie finds them. 

“I swear you guys get weirder every time I see you.”

Steve grins guilelessly at him, holding a flailing Robin in a headlock. 

“Eddie! Hey! It’s been a minute.” He hasn’t been able to come in a month, and it’s been longer since he’s seen him. It’s honestly one of the deciding factors on whether it’s a passing fancy or a full blown crush. He still went to sleep every night thinking about Eddie. It didn’t even have to be about sex. 

Although maybe not sleeping with anyone else for half a year should have tipped him off sooner. 

“Sure has, big boy. I was starting to think you were getting sick of me.” It’s a joke, but Steve catches an undercurrent of insecurity. 

“That’d make my life easier,” Robin snorts. She finally wiggles her way out of his hold. “I saw Arty somewhere around here, I’m gonna see if I can crash at her place tonight.” She levels Eddie with a look. “He hasn’t had anything to drink. If you don’t put him out of his misery, I will. And it won’t be the good kind. It will be the bad kind. With bad screams. Lots of screaming, and someone will call the pigs, and I’ll be arrested and jailed for life. Do you want me to go to jail, Munson?”

Eddie shakes his head dumbly. 

“Good! Then do something about it.” She slaps Steve’s back, a mocking echo of his jock days. “Go get ‘em, slugger!” 

With that, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd. 

“She is,” Steve remarks with amusement, “the worst wingman on planet Earth. Mars too, probably.”

“I dunno, I think it might be working.”

“I’m not doing anything without a condom,” he says, eyes narrowed like he’s waiting for an argument. 

“Me neither,” Steve agrees. “Robin has, like, this big fear of diseases. Totally got me with it. She pulled out the library books, those pictures were fucking disgusting. Shit showed up in my dreams, man. Neither of us do anything without protection.”

“I’m going to be totally honest with you, because I haven’t been and it’s starting to eat at me,” Eddie says, hovering above Steve. 

Steve wrinkles his nose. “What is it? Are you a spy or something? Are you Russian? Do you have superpowers? Is your name not actually Eddie?” He pauses. “Oh, God, you’re not even Eddie Munson, are you? I’m just some asshole who’s been calling you by my old classmates name and you were too embarrassed to correct me. Shit, we made so much fun of you for walking on tables too—“

“What?” Eddie covers his mouth, expression hovering between amused and baffled. “What the fuck, why would I go along with that? No, Jesus, I’m Eddie Munson. Moved to Hawkins when I was eleven, took senior year three times, walked on the fucking tables, could you let that go?” He moves the hand covering Steve’s mouth to play with his hair, looking annoyed for a minute before it smoothes to trepidation. “No, I, uh, I just felt like I needed to tell you that I used to have a hate-boner for you in high school. Like, I used to jack it to the thought of kicking your ass and making a mess outta you. In more ways than one.”

Steve stares. 

“Also, that’s kind of why I approached you in the bar in the first place,” Eddie blabbers on. “And then you said you were just there for a friend, and I was disappointed but it’s whatever, yanno? And then then you told me about your dad, and threw my expectations to the fucking wolves, and then you asked me to come up to your apartment except you were drunk and you probably didn’t mean it. But then the next time I saw you, you kept flirting with me, which you were not supposed to do, and I kept pretending that wasn’t the reason I even talked to you in the first place, and, uh, yeah.” He smiles nervously. “Surprise?”

“I mean, not really.”

“You’re such an asshole, fuck off. At least pretend to be shocked.”

“It’s not my fault you stare at my legs all the time,” Steve says, affronted. “I know I didn’t do too good in school, but I’m not dumb enough to miss that. Like, hello, my eyes are up here.”

Eddie lets his arms give out, flopping on top of Steve heavily. Steve wheezes. “Am I really that obvious?” He whines into his shoulder. 

“You got sad and pouty when I even looked at another guy.”

“You could’ve fucked him,” he mumbles. “The guy you were dancing with. It wasn’t any of my business. I’m a big boy, I can deal.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to fuck him,” Steve says. “I wanted to fuck you. Can we go back to that please?”

“Thought I was fucking you.”

“Someone’s getting fucked or Robin will kill both of us. I’d like to live tomorrow morning. And not have to deal with any more of her teasing for having no game.”

“You have unfortunate amounts of game,” Eddie sighs, tracing the side of Steve’s neck. It tickles. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, are we using those condoms or not, Moodkiller?”

“Oh, I’m the mood killer?”

“Yes,” Steve says matter of factly, and pulls him in for a kiss before he can protest.

#gay bar au #steddie #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #featuring robin as the worlds worst wingman #i'm never not going to bully eddie for walking on those tables #'why does everyone here hate me🥺' mf it's bc you keep putting ur nasty ass shoes where people eat #i've said it before and i'll say it again. someone should have yanked on his leg and made him faceplant. he would have deserved it #we stay billy bashing 💪 #in this au the byers didn't move to california #jonathan still goes to school there tho #why? bc he and argyle are soulmates and time and space moved for them to make sense next question #i need u to know eddie does not have sex magic and steve isn't actually as smooth as eddie thinks. they r just obsessed with each other #that one person who was in my notes truthing ab a stoncy threesome. i was excited when i saw that bc i had this written hope u see it <3

[everythingeverythingbagel]

Prepare For Clownery, Y'all

Screw it. I want my OCs to see the light of day, and I may as well start with the Marimashita Iruma-kun OC I mentioned once (it's going to be long). Hopefully you've read the series, because this does contain out of context spoilers (and headcanon territory).

Aside from the 'I have no artistic skill' disclaimer (I will be using Picrew and your imagination to will this being to life), I have a couple warnings to set into place:

Warning 1: This character may be seen as disrespectful. If you find it to be so, please contact me ASAP so I may take this post down.

Warning 2: Under the read more contains the following: gore, body horror (and semi-unrealistic perceptions of such), self harm (specifically in the form of dermatillomania), and whatever sort of horror comes from being on the streets. This work also contains content that may be NSFT (nudity and mention of genitals). YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

If you understand this, then feel free to look at the OC.

[Image ID: A Picrew depicting a brown rat-like creature facing forward with a mischievous expression. It has three eyes, two of which are orange and one green. It has purple markings, one on their forehead and one on their chest, where a green, hexagonal gem is also situated. On its back is a set of wings, large and grey with black tips. /.End ID]

[Image ID: A Picrew depicting a bronze-skinned doll wearing a short grey dress, black gloves and bandages. Her brown hair is short and ruffled, and she has a set of cream wings, one organic, one metallic, and a plug for a tail. She is holding a silver cane in her right hand. The artist's signature kuren.@seep_999 is written on the bottom. /.End ID]

[Image ID: A Picrew depicting a man with brown skin marked with stitches that cross his neck and eyes, and a purple blush. He has eyes that are yellow with a red ring and slitted pupils, as well as black sclera and dark green eyelids. His hair is brown with various shades of grey at the tips, save for two strands that are a pale orange. He wears a pink shirt and tan sweater. The artist's signature @HNN_PAGE is written in the corner. /.End ID]

[Image ID: A Picrew depicting a mischievous humanoid with brown skin, save for their black arms and reddish legs. Their hands are clawed and their legs are that of a goat. They have furry brown ears, black sclera, orange eyes, green eye shadow, three sets of black wings that fade to orange, and a black tail. They wear a grey, crudely made dress. /.End ID}

[Image ID: A Picrew depicting a Protogen, which consists of a mammalian humanoid with a mechanical or digital face in the shape of a snout and a mechanical chest plate with digital shoulder pads. This Protogen has two sets of ears. The Protogen is smiling and waving at the viewer. The Protogen is brown, save for its chest which is metallic grey, its face plate which is a very dark green, its shoulder pads which are indigo, its neck which is cream colored and its paw and second set of ears which are black. /.End ID]

(If you like the Picrews here are the links 1 2 3 4 5)

Noteworthy is that I don't yet have a name/ pronouns for the character. If you have any suggestions and this post isn't taken down, do chip in!

Body (Because I didn't explain it properly)

They didn't look like this before

Small, scrawny with brown-gray hair. You could probably pick them up with the same force as a toddler requires

Somehow sturdy yet soft. A wrong kick could cause their entire chest to collapse but they would heal quickly from such an incident. Also capable of eating things that normally cannot be eaten

Sometimes has body cavities if an injury is too much to immediately heal. They do nothing except expose nerves until healed over

Perpetually sore all over to varying degrees. Side effect of constant shapeshifting. Does not stop them from folding into a pretzel like a lactose intolerant chugging a milkshake

Joints have become vaguely mechanical in nature, with segmentation being visible

Speaking of, you know when sometimes someone fears that they have wires for veins? They now have those wires. Regular veins, too, but wires as well

Wire tail. I'm not talking your pansy ass computer cord I'm talking 6 cm diameter with an outlet slapped on the end. The tail is THICK

Offset by the fact that there's more than wire in there. Surprisingly flexible

Outlet is capable of turning into a plug. They found this out after getting sufficiently hungry while their mouth was unavailable, and promptly learned that their body also consumes electricity

Wings have now turned into bird wings that are very much oversized for their body and cannot be hidden away. The pattern on them usually resembles a rock dove

Sometimes they grow 1-3 pairs of 'vestigial' wings alongside the 'main' wings. They are also birdlike, but can be organic or metallic with any sort of pattern. They usually come and go

Skin now contains copper. They also occasionally develop 'plates' of metal on various patches of the body, most commonly around the stomach, chest, and neck

Now blushes a purple blue

Hair no longer grows past their neck

It also sometimes contains down. Pubic hair also is sometimes downy

No genitals. Or anus. The first doctor visit was very confusing. Theory is that the waste becomes mutant material

Sheds/ molts frequently and at a much faster rate than most

Protractile hands and retractile feet. The hands and forearms resemble black rat fur and paws overlaid with a human arm but everything below the torso has become a twisted nightmare. Three front toes, two back toes, unusually dark red fur above the knee but a deep scaled pink below it.

They still remember watching their two smallest toes twist backwards, splitting the foot in two and unable to scream

Two sets of rodent ears in place of human ears. The back set is black and was once their horns

Cannot smell or taste by normal means. The senses that were once smell and taste have been replaced by what can only be called soul sensing, which relies on touch and something akin to electroreception for souls

Don't be fooled by this comparison they think earthworms taste like apples

Irises look like a rock dove's- orange/red ring with yellow center, though the sclera is black and the eyes have an electronic glow

Sometimes their mouth and jaws fuse together, leaving them temporarily mute and dependent on electricity. Happens to eyes on rarer occasions

Locked into returning to origins. Eyes look constantly crazed and slitted no matter what they do

Not eating enough causes madness and extreme mutations. The first warning is an excess number of tails, all in the shapes of different chargers, plugs, and jacks

The second warning is more plating than normal, as if they're armoring up

The third warning is excessive limbs and organs. More arms and legs, all with the claws already out. Eyes forming on the wings, scouring for prey. The backside splits to reveal a mouth with chainsaw tongues and clockwork teeth

If they ever start melting?

Delkira help you

Magic

Zero true magic! Since most of the magic was mapped to bodily functions, the only actual magic they have is (out of control) shapeshifting, contractual magic, and a neat trick where they can magnetize themself and 'hover', provided they have enough to magnetize against

They like spinning while hovering, so they've been practicing magnetizing smaller objects

They have invariably hit themself with multiple metal objects while practicing

Has a unique contract sigil. Normally sigils have a motif depending on the family they came from and require the demon in question to be of sufficient strength to use a unique sigil, but nobody on Earth is aware of such motifs and they don't really operate on normal demonic context

Using a contract/ being summoned lessens the soreness and mutations, and allows them access to do tasks with magic

Also usually turns them into a small rat with pigeon wings. The only abnormality in this form is sharper back feet and that sometimes they have more than one tail, leading to 'Rat King' jokes

Traits

Doesn't really remember their old family, only that they were preparing to move to a new home. Might have a slightly soured opinion if they ever knew about the Border Control

They do remember their transformation, though. Every nerve set on fire as veins turned to plasma, jaw fusing shut and preventing screaming, bat wings becoming covered in molten gunk while pathetic spines of wings shot out from their back, trying to claw and drag themself to safety with their multitude of limbs while each and every one fell apart at the seams.

They watched their organs fall out from their chest. They watched the wires and gears form. They stopped watching once their world began to flash- blurred, multiple positions that could not have been formed by two eyes, inverted color, mirror house, horrific shrieking that wouldn't end.

And then it did

Only leaving behind blood and soreness, and cold, and hunger

It's warmer, now. Fuller. Their new family loves them so

They would destroy everyone who would take their new family from them

Hates the cold. Makes their joints ache, and for a while they didn't have anything to cover up themself with (human clothing and all that). Also doesn't like super wet conditions for the same reason, plus the water takes hours to remove from the joints

Sleeps for very long amounts of time

Not sure why people think they're feral or uncivilized

Capacity for proper flight is varied, but usually no. All wings have to be aligned and able to fully move, and they themself need to have it in them to fly. Gliding is usually possible, though, and they have somehow gotten into utilizing parkour for this exact purpose

Surprisingly good at gardening and engineering, though the latter is attributed to their odd physiology

Picked up sewing a couple years in as an orphan. Stitches are still messy but they are Determined

Due to tail and wings they normally wear backless shirts/ dresses and skirts unless the clothes are tailored otherwise

Knows multiple languages, including a few variants of sign language and braille (being left unable to communicate Did Something to them). Has forgotten Demonic entirely outside of a few simple words due to age of arrival

Can sort of do anatomy. It's not good, but they've been scouring human physiology books and websites to compare against themself

Terrible at cooking and chemistry, though. Causes both to blow up

Homeschooled (post adoption- pre adoption was self taught) due to, well, demon.

Does not have a stable doctor either

Or dentist

Or actual records. It Will Be Chaos when they finally prepare to get an ID

Favorite food is pineapple

Habits

Shoplifter. Wings are great for hiding stuff, as well as body cavities, so long they don't suddenly close up. Then it's back to digging out the goods from their skin before the pain gets unbearable. That said, the stuff they take is usually A. Food, B. Clothing material, or C. Something that they can trade for one of the other two

Runs multiple schoolyard trading rings where kids trade lunch or hand-me-downs for items their parents won't get them. Also is sometimes asked to deliver letters or packages

Ate radioactive dirt once due to it containing worms. After 44 hours of sped up mutations they swore off dirt, not realizing what happened

Owns multiple canes, and generally likes bringing one with if possible. What they actually use them for varies. One of the more comedic incorrect uses is knocking out books from a particularly tall bookshelf like it's Jenga

Has been kicked out of multiple places for 'loitering', aka charging

Also sometimes uses their tail as a charger

Has Hit People With The Wings

Frequently digs at themself, trying to pick away stray feathers, unusual hairs or shedding plates. Doubly so if it grew in wrong. Generally refuses to stop until satisfied, so they're often covered in scars from where they tore at themself

Uses The Metal Feathers As Cutlery

Uses the soft feathers as stuffing for their sewing. Throw pillows and quilts everywhere

No experience in metalwork, so the plates and excess metal feathers often get given away

Banned From Every Fancy Restaurant

They've eaten human, once. A mistake derived from biting an assailant's hand too hard and impulsively swallowing the severed off fingers and muscles. Now sometimes licks humans' wounds for the boost it gives them. Still prefers pineapple

Picks up ground items with their feet

Has Food Stashes Hidden Everywhere

If they ever saw Iruma again, they would specifically recognize him as the dude who helped out the weirdly tall cosplaying architect. Why was Kira-san studying agriculture anyways?

Would spoil the kids too much if they babysat

Hasn't really bothered hiding features

Their only cover right now is that people think they're a really weird kid/ some sort of hikikomori that likes cosplaying

#m!ik #mairimashita! iruma kun #mairuma #gore #body horror #self harm #scars #horror #my creations #let me know if the disrespect is too much #and also let me know if the image descriptions are any good #i've never written them before #long post

[cerise-on-top]

hi! how would Valeria and Kate react if their wife’s got hurt because of their work, both of them working highly jobs and it ended up catching up to their s/o. hoe you are doing well and drink plenty of water! thank you!

-🍒

Hello! Both of them would be absolutely distraught, but would go about it in different ways!

Valeria’s and Laswell’s Wife Gets Hurt Because of their Job

Valeria: Whoever hurt you will wind up tortured and eventually, once she thinks they’ve had enough of their miserable life, will wind up dead. Naturally, the first thing she does is check up on you, see if you’re alright and well, that’s her priority. You’re the love of her life, there’s no one else in this world she wants to see do well. You’ll be admitted to the best hospital nearby and will only get the finest treatment. Once you’re stabilized, that’s when the hunt begins. Whoever hurt you won’t get too far since that bastard’s life will be on the line. Regardless of where they might be hiding, Valeria will find them and show them that death is actually a kind of mercy. She has pretty much everything at her disposal, everything money can buy, this sucker won’t know what hit them. If it’s revenge they want, then revenge they’ll get. Valeria promises you that their head will be on a silver plate. She’s not very good with words when it comes to comforting someone, but she will have that person killed in the most cruel ways she can imagine. In fact, she’ll take the pleasure of torturing them upon herself. Once she’s done, she’ll take some days off, which is surprising since she usually can’t afford that at all. You’ll be under her direct care for those days. Anything you want you’ll get. Afterwards there will be a slight shift in her demeanor, Valeria becomes more protective over you. Sometimes she might even assign some trusted people of hers to watch over you since she can’t afford something like that happening again. While she can’t always take some days off, she’ll try to be closer to you anyway. Always texting you, finding excuses to come home for a day maybe. She just really needs to make sure you’re okay, she wouldn’t know what to do with herself if you died.

Laswell: Laswell will try to be a bit more diplomatic about it at first, trying to coax whoever hurt you out of hiding. This person will be held accountable for their crimes against her world. Naturally, she rescues you first, gets you to the nearest hospital and won’t leave your side until you’re stable again. If it takes you a while to wake up again, she’ll leave to find the fucker and make sure they swim with the fishes. She has a pretty large, efficient network and will find out who it was fairly easily. Once she knows who they are, she won’t hesitate to find out all their past crimes as well, if they hurt you then they must have done some other awful things as well. Once that phase is over, she’ll go to their home herself and have them arrested, put in the worst prison imaginable where the inmates are treated especially badly. She won’t kill them, but she wouldn’t be surprised if they wind up dead anyway. Laswell usually isn’t an evil person, but she does hope that person dies during their time. Their sentence will be as long as possible so there’s no chance of them ever seeing the sunlight again either. Once all of this is over, she, too, would take some days off to spend with you. You’re a priority above all else, so Laswell will want to be there for you, no matter the cost. While she usually isn’t, depending on how severely you got hurt she might become a bit overbearing, a bit overprotective. That overprotectiveness will last for a few months, afterwards she’ll try to give you some space again. However, she’ll always be keeping a closer eye on you, always texting or calling you every once in a while to make sure you’re okay. If she needs to, she’ll put you under her protection officially, but the situation needs to be dire for that to happen. Either way, she’ll be keeping you safe.

#cod #cod x reader #valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #kate laswell #kate laswell x reader #fem!reader #I hit over 100k words in my document last night which is so so much #I've written so much for Call of Duty in such a short time it's unbelievable. granted there's one fic I never posted but still #I don't intend to stop now either though it's fun. I'll probably be into cod for a while still anyway so there's that too #besides Valeria and Laswell have me in a chokehold. Farah does too I love them #every time someone requests them I'm very happy. I didn't expect the girls to be this popular though in all honesty #not complaining! it's nice to get to imagine kissing girls. it makes my gay little heart sing #I actually had some art of Valeria and an OC of mine commissioned not too long ago #every time I look at it I giggle and kick my legs a bit #I want her to fluster the everloving hell out of me until I can't speak anymore and am complete mush for her #I know I've mentioned it before but I love women who could absolutely just kill me. and who absolutely would do it as well #cod has some good women. made me realise that older women are also pretty epic #I think I'd melt into a puddle if Laswell ever called me her girl or her wife

[canisalbus]

This isn't really a question, but damn- you know you're getting popular when your ocs- which are unrelated to any fandom- is getting both fan art and an entire fanfiction dedicated to them.

I know, and I feel exceedingly lucky to be surrounded by such creative people. I love my characters dearly of course, but the fact that they're resonating this strongly with others as well is staggering. I can't thank you enough.

(edit: Maybe I should mention that if anyone ever feels inspired to write something about my dog boys, I'd consider it an honor. You can ask for my permission or advice if you're unsure but it's not mandatory. Just try to treat them nicely if you can? You don't have to adhere to their established canon, but don't publish anything you wouldn't want me to see. And send me a link please, I'd love to take a look).

#this isn't the first time my characters have appeared in written fiction that has happened on a couple of occasions before #but this is definitely the largest and most elaborate piece so far I did not expect this level of detail and complexity #and I'm not a writer I've never written prose myself so reading about them like this made me see them from a completely different angle #which was very inspiring #answered #mustaches-blog

[divorcedfiddleford]

it is friday my dudes (little hearts added by @tazmiilly)

#sorryyyyyy for not posting ... please accept these as compensation #gravity falls #fiddleford mcgucket #artwork of the damned #tales of the wild zeep #ummmm ok context for the first one should be mostly self-explanatory #i purposefully left the person he's calling open to interpretation #however for the record i will say i am a 'fiddleford was divorced before he came to gravity falls' truther #but that does not mean he would never call back to cali to check in on his son or anything #so take that as you will #uhhhh everything else is pretty silly and doesnt require much explanation i dont think?? #i dont draw pre-college fidds a lot even though i literally have a whole backstory written for him LOLLLL #also i have a whole complex where when i draw a character pre-transition i feel embarrassed #sort of like i've walked in on them in the bathroom or something. like 'whoops sorry' and i politely look away #want to make it VERY CLEAR i dont think theres anything wrong or bad about drawing someone pre-transition!! #it's just a weird thing ive noticed about myself that i'm trying to deal with #and it literally only happens when i'm drawing. not when i'm writing

[nickymoonwater]

Forget-me-nots (Jegulus one-shot)

(326 Words)

Every Saturday since James read about Regulus' death in the daily prophet, he'd gone to the ocean.

Every Saturday since James read Regulus had been killed for trying to leave the death eaters, he'd brought a flowers. Forget-me-nots.

Every Saturday since James read that Regulus didn't even have a body to bury, he put the flowers in the water.

This Saturday was no different.

Once James was done with all his duties for the day he apparated to the shore he always went to. It had been a long day, the stars were already shining bright in the sky by the time he arrived. He walked over the sand, flowers in hand, and sat down by the water, the waves occasionally drifting over his feet. He looked at the water, saw the stars that reflected themselves in it, and looked up at the actual stars in the sky, letting out a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment.

He began talking, about his day, what he'd done, how he felt about it. Pretending as if Regulus was there to hear it. For a moment he let himself believe that was true. That Regulus wasn't dead. That they never broke up, because Regulus was never a death eater. That they were on the same side of this stupid war. That they still talked regularly, and that Regulus was sitting beside him, listening to him talk now. But when he opened his eyes again, Regulus wasn't there. Of course not. Regulus was dead. There wasn't even a body.

He sighed and and lifted his hand, gently letting the flowers down on the water. Watching as they float away, imagining that maybe, somehow, they'd find their way to Regulus anyway, before he stood up and apparated home again. Knowing that was unrealistic and childish. What he didn't know was that somewhere, under the water of a dark cave, lay Regulus body with blue petals in it's hair.

#I've never written anything this long before #sorry if it's bad #I tried #Also in this James and Lily are just friends #don't come for me #He isn't cheating or anything like that on anyone #they love each other plantonically still though #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #james and regulus #james x regulus #regulus black #james potter #dead gay wizards from the 70s #the marauders era #idk how to tag this #marauders era #regulus arcturus black #james fleamont potter #forget me not #theyre so cute #i love them

[astrobei]

prompt from @strangeswift: "literally anything madwheeler. them bonding, them in the future being besties, them arguing... whatever you want. just them."

It might only be her first week of high school, but Max is already so over it. 

It meaning everything. The cramped desks, the giant textbooks, the smell of the locker rooms after third period gym. The way that there had been some plausible deniability, in middle school, about the inherent repulsiveness of teenage boys– and now any minute trace of that is gone, because holy fucking shit, it’s like all of a sudden, deodorant has just totally ceased to exist.

Which isn’t great for someone like Max, by the way, who stands a glorious five-foot-three– also known as the perfect armpit height for the average pubescent boy.

Yeah. She’s so over it.

If walking the hallways hadn’t been abhorrent enough because of this and this alone– which it is, mind you, it’s plenty bad enough– there’s everything else. Everything else meaning the looks. The stares and the glances and the whispers following her as she walks from first period English to second period Geometry, trying her hardest to not get violently lost in the hallways like a total freshman. It’s embarrassing enough being a freshman, right, because you don’t know where your classes are and you have to run to the cafeteria to get a good seat and you’re not completely jaded yet, so people can one hundred percent tell that you’re new.

Max is used to being the new girl. She’s used to holding her head high and marching down the hall like she knows the school like the back of her hand, when in reality, she’d never stepped foot in it before that morning. So the being a freshman thing is a certain kind of clumsy spotlight that she doesn’t mind.

What she does mind, however, is the dead brother thing.

Stepbrother, technically. As if that makes it any better, the way that her mom won’t look at her and suddenly there’s beer in the fridge where her mom never used to keep any before. If that makes the pitying glances and whispers as she passes by any better. As if that takes away from any of it.

She knows what the girls, especially, are thinking. So few casualties at Starcourt, and Billy Hargrove– the cool new boy from California, the one with the cool car and the charm and the hair and the lifeguard job at the pool– Billy Hargrove had to be the one to die.

Max supposes she can’t really blame them either. It’s easy to get caught up in someone from afar. Easy enough to get too caught up on the ridiculous amounts of body oil and the gross open front shirts and the hair they spend hours on every day to really see the small stuff.

Like how they’re an asshole, maybe. An asshole who caked the whole house up with the stench of cigarette smoke and stale beers and sweat. An asshole who liked to push people down to lift himself up. An asshole who bullied little kids just to make himself big again, who–

The girls didn’t see any of that, of course. Max is happy for them, despite the glares and the whispers and the pity. No one deserves to see that. Let them remember Billy as a hero. The king of Hawkins High.

Don't speak ill of the dead, et cetera. It's fine. This is a secret she can shoulder on her own.

Max swings the locker door open, shoving her Geometry textbook into her bag with a soft grunt. Another reason to hate high school– or maybe love it– is that she’s going to get so scary jacked by the end of the year.

“You’re not going to tryouts today?”

The voice behind her makes her jump, even though the hallway is just as crowded and cacophonous as it always is. Mike Wheeler is looming over her, one hand clutching tight at the strap of his backpack, looking, for all intents and purposes, like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

Max frowns. “Tryouts?”

“Lucas has tryouts today,” Mike explains, slow and condescending like he’s trying to explain long division to a toddler. “Remember?”

“Of course I remember,” Max says immediately, which definitely makes her sound guilty of not remembering. But she had remembered. Of course she had remembered. It was all Lucas talked about for the last month. Basketball tryouts for the high school team. He’d said high school team like it was the big leagues that were personally recruiting him, as if he weren’t going out for JV.

“Right,” Mike says. Predictably, he doesn’t sound like he believes her. “You’re really not going?”

Max bristles. “What’s it to you?”

“Because Lucas is my friend,” Mike huffs, “and I’ve had to listen to him mope all week about you being too busy to see him at tryouts.”

“Yeah, so?” Max leans down to zip her backpack closed, the zipper catching momentarily on a stray notebook corner. She heaves it onto her shoulder and tries to pretend like it’s not as heavy as it is. Jesus H. Christ. “I can’t help being busy, Wheeler.”

“You’re not busy.”

“Yeah? How would you know?”

“Because you don’t do anything,” Mike scowls, falling into easy step beside her as she speeds down the hallway to class. The bell is going to ring any moment and– damn it.

She’s definitely lost.

Whatever, it’s fine. Geometry is, uh. It’s here somewhere. She just has to get Wheeler off her trail and then she’ll be free to be lost and confused in peace. Do not engage, she thinks. He’ll never shut up if you engage.

“You– I do things,” Max protests, despite herself. “I– I have homework.”

“Bullshit,” Mike scowls some more. He’s been scowling a lot lately, ever since summer ended. It doesn’t take an idiot to figure out why. El isn’t talking to him and the For Sale sign in front of the Byers’ just got taken down and replaced with an obnoxiously happy Sold! sign, and now Mike Wheeler’s got a dark little cloud of rain and gloom following him around like a lost little puppy. “It’s the first week of ninth grade. We have no homework.”

Max grits her teeth. “What do you want me to say? You want me to get down on my knees and grovel for forgiveness? I’m allowed to be busy, okay, Mike, I don’t owe Lucas anything, we’re not dating anymore–” 

“Yeah but you’re still his friend!” Mike exclaims, throwing his hands up and nearly smacking someone walking towards them in the face. The boy scowls. Mike ignores him.

Max looks away. Was it a right down this hallway or a left? Whatever. She goes right.

“Whatever,” she says. “Of course we’re friends.”

“Friends show up.” Mike jabs her in the shoulder with one finger, and she bats his hand away. “Friends show up. You know he’ll be so sad if you don’t–”

“Yeah?” Max spins around to face him, and jabs him in the chest with one finger, just for good measure. Mike makes an offended noise and rubs at the spot with his other hand. Not so nice, is it? “Yeah? Well if friends show up, when was the last time you went to Will’s?”

Mike blanches. “That’s– different,” he gets out. Max feels a guilty rush of satisfaction at his expression, at striking a nerve. Not so nice, is it?

“Friends show up,” she parrots gleefully. “But I know you’ve been avoiding him, so why can’t I avoid–”

“Me and Will aren’t you and Lucas,” Mike splutters, face going from a ghostly sort of white to a splotchy red all in the span of one and a half seconds. “Me and Will aren’t–”

Max waits, raising an eyebrow. “You and Will aren’t what?”

Mike ignores her. “Don’t turn this around on me,” he says. “This isn’t about me.”

“Feels an awful lot like the pot calling the kettle black, Wheeler,” Max says anyway. “What is this? Some sort of intervention? Did Lucas put you up to this?”

“No way. He doesn’t know.”

Max lets out a sigh, not bothering to hide her frustration. “Then why do you care? Why can’t you just screw off?”

“Because Lucas is my friend,” Mike presses. The scowl on his face has given way to a stubborn, almost-pleading look. “And you know how much this means to him, and–”

“Well, tough shit, okay?” Max snaps, and Mike’s mouth falls blessedly shut. “I can’t do this right now. I have to go to class and– you can stop following me now, by the way. I don’t need another stalker.”

Mike’s upper lip twitches. “We have second period Geometry together, asshole,” he says, yet somehow not unkindly. “I literally sit next to you.”

Oh. Maybe he does. Max feels a little bad for not noticing, but she hasn’t been noticing a lot of things lately. She’s spent most of the first week focused on drawing as little attention to herself as possible. Getting in and out of class as soon as she can. Running home before anyone can corner her and– God forbid– rope her into hanging out or whatever.

And see, that’s the thing, is that a different version of herself– months ago, when things were good and simple and fun and wonderfully uncomplicated– would have gone. Of course she would have gone. She can’t remember the last time she had friends like this. Definitely not back in California, definitely not right before the move. The summer had been some of the best weeks of her life. Before the– you know, before the shit had totally hit the fan and Billy died and Hop died and El was moving away and she and Lucas broke up. Again.

They’d broken up before too, and they’d always gotten back together, but it seemed like a finality this time. It wasn’t the sort of thing he could make up to her with jewelry and teddy bears and chocolate from Melvald’s with the price sticker scratched off (and Mrs. Byers’ employee discount no doubt utilized).

It was different this time because he didn’t need to make things up to her. Because it wasn’t his fault, and she wasn’t dumping his ass because he’d been immature and loud and thoughtless in typical thirteen-year-old fashion.

He’d been the opposite, actually.

She turns away from Mike before he can see her face.

Lucas had been so composed about it, so mature. He hadn’t rolled his eyes or scoffed or been frustrated when she’d said it. He’d been– quiet. Sad. Accepting. If that’s what you want, he’d said, and she’d nodded quietly before stepping off the bleachers and walking away. 

It was what she wanted, because it was easier this way, but something still made her frustrated and keyed up at the way he’d said it. Quiet and sad and without a fuss. 

More than anything, Max wants it to be April again, when things were simple. When he’d win her back and deep down she’d be secretly pleased that he hadn’t gotten tired of this inane push and pull. That he wanted her enough to spend his allowance on that teddy bear or those roses. She’d never really been mad at him. That’s just who she was– someone who pushed and pulled on the slightest of whims. Someone who dragged everyone else along with her, just because she could.

“Max?” Mike prompts. “The bell’s going to ring, and we’re in the wrong wing, so–”

The scowl has disappeared from his face a bit. He looks strangely contemplative.

Not angry. Not pitying. Just– looking.

Max takes in a deep breath and crosses her arms. “And you didn’t tell me this before?”

“You were all– all angry and stomping around and– it didn’t seem like the time!”

“Like you’ve ever cared,” she huffs, then spins on her heel and sets off in the opposite direction.

“No, Max– go left.”

“Oh. I knew that.”

She didn’t know that of course, but it’s not like she’s going to say this out loud. Mike catches up to her in three long strides, his bag bouncing obnoxiously against his back. “So?” he prompts, and Max wants to slam her head into the wall and yell. “Are you going?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re insanely persistent? Like annoyingly so?”

Mike grins. “I consider it one of my better qualities.”

“You remind me of poison ivy,” Max grumbles, as they turn the corner into the east wing. The bell rings sharply, the sound shrill and tinny through the hall, and she startles. “Oh shit–”

“So you’ll come, right?” Apparently Mike Wheeler doesn’t care about racking up tardies in his first week here. It’s not like Max does either, but she does like to hold the moral high ground.

She shakes her head, almost smiling despite herself. “Why do you want me to so bad?”

“It’s important to Lucas,” Mike insists, “and he’ll want you there. I don’t know how many more times I can say the same damn thing.”

“I don’t think Lucas wants to see me, Mike. I broke up with him, remember?”

At this, Mike stops abruptly, right in the middle of the hallway. Max collides roughly with his shoulder with a shocked gasp.

“Hey! What’s your deal?”

Mike grabs her shoulders, frustrated. “It’s because we– I’ll kill you if you repeat this to anyone, Max, I swear– but we miss you, okay? All of us. We miss you. It’s not that complicated, seriously.”

We miss you.

If she’s being honest, Max hadn’t been aware that there was anything to miss. She visited El, sometimes, after school when the trailer park got dark and lonely and way too quiet. It wasn’t the same as before, though. Things were heavier, sadder. Too many things unspoken, hanging in the air. 

El lived with the Byers now, and sometimes Will would be there too. There was something heavier and sadder about him too, but Max couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. But surely there was nothing to miss in her absence. The four of them did just fine before she came along– Lucas and Dustin and Mike and–

She glances down at his hands on her shoulders, and gets a brief flash of phantom pain– hands gripping her wrists, too tight, angry. Being pushed against walls, wrestled and manhandled and shoved into the car. Road rage.

So much anger. God, there was so much anger.

She was tired of the anger, but now she doesn’t know what to do without it. Maybe that means there’s something wrong with her. Normal people don’t think like this.

She pulls away sharply. “Don’t touch me.”

Worry flashes across Mike’s face, a split second and then it’s gone. His hands fall limply to his sides. “I– sorry.”

Max feels bad. Really, she does. She wants to go. Really, she does. She wants to laugh and tease Lucas as he misses free throw after free throw, and then congratulate him when he inevitably makes the team anyway, because of course he will. He's a shoo-in, and she wants to run down to the gym after school and shake the nerves out of him and tell him that. She wants to go.

She wants–

Mostly, though, she just wants to be left the hell alone.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and Mike’s face falls, ever-so-slightly. The guilt swells up inside her and she looks down at her shoes. They’re getting even more late with every second she waits here, unmoving, and yet– “I really can’t.”

Mike doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then he sighs, and reaches for the handle of the door to the classroom, pausing for a moment before opening it. “Next time?”

It’s weirdly hopeful. Max swallows the guilt back down. “Next time,” she lies, and follows him inside.

#i can't believe i've never written madwheeler before #this got sadder than anticipated #sorry abby #i hope this still scratches that itch #i have a max character study brewing in my mind so this is like. dipping my toes #testing the waters #god i love them #two sides of the same coin for real #fun sized fics #madwheeler #mike wheeler #max mayfield #ficlet #alexa play midnight rain #fic

[imtrashraccoon]

Do you know what tatting is? It’s a kind of lacework, but I’m curious how you think the Underfell bro’s would react to an MC with tatting as a hobby

Thanks for sending this ask, it was fun to write out! I actually had to look this up as I hadn't heard the term before. Totally thought it was related to tattoos until you specified lol. Headcanons under the cut as they got a bit lengthy...

Both brothers would likely be a bit confused about the term unless they saw you in the process of actually making the lace. While both would find the process and techniques interesting, they would have slightly different reactions from each other.

Sans:

He would be absolutely amazed that you both have the time and patience to make such a delicate creation. He's certainly not known for his patience, especially when it comes to fiddly things like this with all the tiny loops and chains required to make lace. Also, he has sharp claws and would likely tear the thread or otherwise ruin the lace if he tried himself.

While he isn't interested in taking the time required to even attempt to make something like this, he is impressed that you are. Even though he makes a habit of doing nothing most of the time and often has long periods of his day dedicated to doing nothing, he couldn't see himself putting that time into something like this. He's still a lazy bonehead it seems.

He may not fully understand why you enjoy making lace. It takes hours upon hours to do and when you're actually done, you end up with such a tiny and delicate piece that doesn't really do anything? It does look nice but he wouldn't dare wear any lace out in public - he has a reputation to uphold afterall.

However, he might make an exception if you two are in a relationship and you make something specifically for him. He cares a lot about you, and this hobby of yours is one of the many things he admires about you as it shows how gentle, patient, and basically the complete opposite of everyone else he's ever known is like.

He's both proud and protective of your skills. If someone belittles you or thinks it's a dumb hobby? He will convince them otherwise, which may or may not involve a beat down depending on how mean they were.

Papyrus:

He is fascinated you know how to do this and whenever you're casually doing so, you'll have a captive audience. He wants to know how you do it, even if he isn't sure he'd actually be able to replicate it like you can. He'll try his hardest though, even if it results in the obvious outcome of torn thread from his sharp claws. He'll get it eventually, just bear with him a little, and be patient.

Being a member of the Royal Guard doesn't allow him much free time and when he does, he generally spends it doing chores or running errands. He's motivated enough to slot this hobby of yours into his schedule though and would appreciate it if you helped him make time for it. He prefers spending time together with you, even if he is a workaholic, and this is the perfect reason to do so.

Much like Sans, Papyrus isn't interested in actually wearing the lace pieces but would likely use it for decorations around the house. Unfortunately, he also has a reputation to uphold and wouldn't tell anyone about his new hobby as a result. He would be the type to hype up your skills though if someone is visiting and compliments your lacework. He might even admit that he took up the hobby because of you, but only if they genuinely liked it.

He also might make an exception to wearing lace if it was a gift that you specifically made for him. He cares a lot about your talent and the commitment it requires to make it. He would be very proud to wear your gift if you two were in a relationship, regardless of what other people think.

He's already rather protective of you and your hobby is no exception. However unlike his brother, Papyrus is a bit more calculating if someone were to be mean to you or belittle your hard work. He could resort to physical violence but he'll try other methods first if the situation allows. The bully may not even know he was angry until they get a surprise visit from the Guards at an inopportune time, especially if they were already involved in criminal activity. If you find out about this, Papyrus will likely give you a wink and mention karma came for them, but you know he was purposely involved.

#anon ask #i'm not sure if this would exactly apply to how i've written either brother so far as i've never thought of this before #good ask keep em coming because i love answering them! #raccoons drabbles #underfell #undertale #underfell sans #underfell papyrus #reader

[joyfuladorable]

< Prev Doodles | First Set of Doodles

Surprise, @redstringraven!! Guess who watched a playthrough of Horizon Forbidden West AND the DLC Burning Shores and Then proceeded to reread Pretend that I Never Left and draw Four More DOODLE PAGES!!!! To all the 2k3 Mikey fans out there, this is the fic for you!

#tmnt #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt mikey #hzd aloy #hfw beta #should I tag Donnie and Erend and Varl and... Nah #my art #fic fanart #in which Mikey showcases all his badassery while becoming fast friends *cough*siblings*cough* with Aloy #correction: ALL 2k3 fans should read this #as I've stated before this fic does Not Need any prior knowledge of HZD #hzd fans who see this you might have a little more trouble reading this if you don't know anything about TMNT 2k3 lol #hey to all who know HFW do you think it's weird as hell that Beta didn't get new clothes??? #like Damn Aloy you have a whole walk in closet and a kitchen sink's worth of clothes and you don't share any of them with your sister???? #anyways fixing that lol #also can you tell I've slipped from trying to draw Aloy and the rest in 2k3 style to just doing whatever's most comfy for me #also ALSO Hannah if you're reading this Apologies if I've somehow predicted more of the Epilogue #my brain would Not Stop thinking about What IFs lmaooooo #anyways no matter how many times I reread PtINL I will Never be over how well it's written #nor will I ever be over Aloy and Mikey being found siblings and what a blessing it is on my entire soul #straight up could not stop thinking about PtINL while watching HFW #anyways anyways lol back to work on other stuff! #I've got less than a week left of vacation let's see how much I can get done *cracks knuckles*

[ortetbones]

Hello, Lunter fandom! For the anniversary of Hunting Palismen, I’ve written a Hunting Palismen Lunter fic. A little under 2k words, third-person Luz POV. Contains some bickering, a touch-starved Hunter, Luz developing (and being in denial about) a crush, and lots and lots of fluff!

“Too slow,” Luz crowed, cackling as she ran from him, her witch’s wool cloak streaming behind her. The Golden Guard groaned in annoyance and followed after. “Let’s get this over with,” he grumbled.

She hadn’t gone far. She’d spied nearby a crumbling wall that contained an almost perfectly circular hole. She ran through the mist spell in her mind again, trying to picture how the glyphs would connect both with each other and the structure of the wall. Yes, this just might work. 

She turned to the Golden Guard, who was hovering behind her impatiently. “Okay, I’ve got a plan,” she said. “There’s a marketplace down there, right? Think you could go get me some sleeping nettles while I start preparing things here?”

He scoffed. “Do you think I’m stupid, human? Sure, you can stay here, unattended with the palismen, and in the meantime I’ll go provide you with means of drugging me.”

“It’s not for you, it’s--”

“Well, I’m afraid it wouldn’t work, anyway,” he said, puffing out his chest a bit. “I am on high alert at all times, and could not possibly be put to sleep that easily.”

Luz glanced at the noticeable dark circles beneath his sunken eyes. “You know, I seriously believe that.”

She sighed. “Well, someone’s gotta be here keeping an eye on Kikimora. Why don’t you wait here, and I’ll go get the supplies, okay?” And I guess I’ll just have to draw out the glyphs when I get back.

He frowned at her, but gave a curt nod and turned back to where the little red demon was currently in a heated argument with the Emperor’s Coven scouts.

Luz turned to leave as well, but stopped and looked back when she heard the boy let out a small huff.

She was met with an interesting sight. The Golden Guard currently had one arm over his shoulder, his gloved fingers scrambling awkwardly as he tried to maneuver his hand beneath his armor. She watched in mild amusement as he tried again with the other arm in what was clearly a losing battle.

“You got a little problem there, Golden Guard?” she asked innocently, unable to keep the smirk from showing in her voice.

He whipped around to face her. “No,” he spat defensively. His nose was scrunched up, openly betraying his discomfort, as though he was used to relying heavily on his mask to conceal his emotions. “Not that that’s any of your business, anywa--Why are you laughing?!”

Luz snorted, catching her breath. “Sorry, just didn’t really expect one little itch could bring the Emperor’s right-hand man to his knees.” She started snickering again.

His cheeks flushed angrily. “Shut up,” he muttered. “You’re making it worse. Just leave me alone.” His large elf ears had flattened and turned downward, one of them twitching slightly. Luz hadn’t seen any other witches’ ears move like that before.

She watched his arm automatically start to reach for his back again and rolled her eyes. “Dude, just take off your armor already. I’m getting secondhand embarrassment.”

“You seem to misunderstand the point of armor, human,” he said through gritted teeth. “Though to be fair, I suppose you’d probably prefer I expose myself to enemy attack.” He straightened up, clearing his throat. “Well, I for one have more important things to deal with right now. And shouldn’t you be off collecting your supplies, anyway?”

His ear twitched again.

Luz sighed. “Just c’mere. I’ll get it for you.”

The boy froze. “W-What? You seriously think I would just let you...As if you’d actually be trying to help me--”

“Look,” she said, interrupting his indignant sputtering. “You said it yourself. I’m too nice to do anything to hurt you. You’re safe with me. And for the record, I am not”--she added forcefully--“doing this to help you. But we’re gonna have to fly on your staff if we want to keep up with Kikimora’s dragon, and I’d rather not have a distracted driver. That’s all.”

“Fine.”

It was Luz’s turn to be taken off guard. “What?”

He was beet red, his fists clenched and eyes fixed firmly on the ground. “F-For the sake of the mission...I-I will accept your assistance, human.”

Luz kneeled on the ground and patted her lap, motioning for him to lie with his chest resting on her legs. He did as instructed, though he held himself up awkwardly, essentially just doing a plank in front of her, clearly trying to avoid touching her as much as possible.

With her left hand, Luz lifted up the boy’s armor from his back as best she could. She then slipped her right hand underneath, though in reality she could fit only a few fingers, and began to gently scratch the areas she could reach.

The boy tensed and gasped softly under his breath. A smirk made its way onto Luz’s face again and she applied a bit more pressure with her nails. “D’aww, is that the spot, big guy?” she cooed teasingly. 

She was expecting him to get flustered again. That she would see his face flush and hear more of his sputtered protests. Or maybe he’d even have an actual comeback this time.

“Oh, Titan,” the boy whimpered, his arms buckling as he collapsed face first into her lap.

She was not expecting that.

Luz felt her cheeks grow oddly warm. She looked down in wonder at the boy, who had completely relaxed in her embrace, his eyelids fluttering closed. She resumed gently running her nails across his back, and he hummed softly at her touch.

They remained like that for a while, until suddenly he let out another huff and started squirming uncomfortably. “Lower?” he mumbled into her lap.

Luz jumped slightly, snapping herself out of her daze. What had gotten into her? She cleared her throat. “Welp, you’re outta luck there, buddy. That’s as far as I can reach with your armor on.”

She barely had time to register what was happening before the boy had sat up, practically tearing his armor off himself in his haste and tossing it aside. He then nestled back down into her lap, letting his entire weight sink into her again. “How about now?”

She gaped at him, dumbfounded. What had happened to the proud Golden Guard that struggled to accept even the slightest bit of help? The corners of her mouth twitched, and she inhaled, ready to snark him again. To call attention to the fact that he had just doffed the armor he had made such a fuss about keeping on. To point out that he could easily reach his back by himself now.

But as she gazed down at him, for some reason, she just didn’t have it in her to make fun of him. She obliged him, scratching her nails across the parts of his back that had been covered by the armor. He immediately melted into her touch again, letting out a sigh of contentment.

His itch was surely gone by now, and they were running short on time if they wanted to stop Kikimora. Not to mention that Luz was more than a little mad at herself for getting so distracted like this. If she had just left him here to deal with his problems himself, she probably could’ve had the entire spell ready by now. Man, she really needed to work on her weakness for princes. Even if this one was, objectively speaking, kind of cute, she supposed, she didn’t know what had possessed her to...

She was pulled from her thoughts by a sudden vibration she felt coming from his chest, that was soon accompanied by a low trilling in his throat. 

Now this was just unfair. The Golden Guard could purr? She had never heard Eda or any of her friends from Hexside purr! No one could have warned her that witches possessed such an irresistibly adorable trait before she was forced to face it coming from her mortal enemy?

Luz couldn’t help herself. Barely stifling a squeal of delight, she continued running her nails across his back and began gently carding her other hand through his (notably soft) hair. The boy’s purring was soon joined by another noise, a slight whistling sound that seemed to accompany each exhale. Curious, Luz tilted her head to get a better look at his face.

The Emperor’s right-hand man had fallen asleep in her lap.

His scarred and battered face looked remarkably serene, his lips parted slightly. She realized the whistling sound was the result of his gentle snores passing through the gap between his front teeth.

Her gaze lingered on his lips for a moment, as it had earlier when she’d first laid eyes on his unmasked face. As if on instinct, she let her hands come to a stop for a moment as she slowly leaned in closer, her lips mere inches from his.

The instant her touch stilled, the boy jolted awake, jumping and nearly bonking heads with Luz. He stared at her for a moment, confusion evident on his face, before a deep scarlet color spread across his cheeks and all the way to the tips of his ears. He scrambled off of her and rushed to put his armor back on, his fingers fumbling with it clumsily.

“I...I...This...This never happened,” he stammered. “And...And you will not speak of this to anyone, or else I’ll...or else. Are we clear?” His voice was shaking so badly Luz almost felt guilty. Though that also might have been the fact that she had almost tried to kiss him. “We’re clear,” she replied, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

He fidgeted awkwardly with his hands. “I-I’ll go get those sleeping nettles,” he said, stumbling to his feet. He paused a moment and met her gaze again. “Um...thanks,” he said, his tone sincere and gentle, reminiscent not of the Golden Guard but of the boy she’d held cradled in her lap.

Luz nodded and watched him walk away, his blush still slightly visible on the backs of his ears. A smile bloomed on her face in amusement at the whole situation. Though at the same time, something inside of her couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed, and she wondered, maybe if things were different...

She pushed her thoughts aside and got to work on her glyphs.

#lunter #goldenlight #huntceda #luzter #goldenluz #luz x hunter #hunter x luz #writing #maro's stuff #can't believe disney made them put a commercial break here so we couldn't see this very canon scene😔 #also i am not a writer in case you couldn't tell haha #i've literally never written fanfic before but i wanted to do something for the anniversary yknow?

[marioxdk]

Ohhh I love your headcanons! You know what could be fun? A MarioxDK where Mario comes to JK as a kid and is raised among monkeys like tarzan 😋

Thanks for liking the headcanons!

AU where Baby Mario ends up in the Jungle Kingdom

The idea of Baby Mario crawling around in Brooklyn sewers and crawling through pipes is so funny to me

I assume he was left unsupervised and he just started wandering around and somehow ended up in a mysterious green pipe

He ends up being deposited in the Jungle Kingdom, and DK's family decides to take him in

They decide to raise him so that one day he can join the Kong army as a soldier

Mario is trained to be a warrior alongside Donkey Kong

Between sparring and battle training, DK and Mario become best friends

They are constantly hanging out and going on adventures

They become notorious for getting into trouble and doing really stupid things (it drives Cranky crazy)

The incident where they accidentally set all of the karts on fire trying to attach flamethrowers to them

Eventually, as they grow older, they start to transition from "you're my best friend" to "oh, I think I love you"

But neither of them really know how to deal with how they're starting to feel

So they both start subtly flirting with each other, just to see how it goes

It goes very well

But because they're both idiots, they don't realize how reciprocated the feelings are

Everyone can tell that they like each other, and they are so frustrated that they're not even dating

Eventually Cranky decides to have the most awkward/necessary conversation of his lifetime

Cranky: What are your intentions with my son?

Mario: Huh

Cranky: Don't play dumb, I know you both like each other, now what are you going to do about it?

Mario: I mean... I'd like to ask him out but...

Cranky: Then just do it already, I'm tired of watching you pine

Mario: ...Are you giving me permission to date your son?

Cranky: Unfortunately, yes

So Mario asks DK out, but he's super nervous about it

He kinda stumbles his way through it but luckily DK starts to understand and helps him

Mario: so... I was kinda wondering... because I... well... I like you a lot... but not just in a friend way... I mean... you're one of my best friends... but also...

DK: *hope in his eyes* ...Are you asking me out?

Mario: *nods furiously*

So they start dating, and when it comes time to fight Bowser, they do it as a couple

#i like to think that luigi also falls through a pipe #and ends up getting raised princess peach style #so he becomes prince luigi and rules alongside peach as a brother figure #so during the battle mario reunites with his long lost brother #also who knows maybe this entire time bowser's been trying to marry luigi #and everything ends peacefully when luigi reciprocates #also thanks for liking the headcanons #i've legitimately never done them before #they've lived inside my mind #but i've never written them out #so it means a lot that someone likes them #mario x donkey kong #dk x mario #mariokong #mario x dk #mario movie #super mario bros movie

[cerise-on-top]

hi just want to pop in this request how would 141 react to reader who likes to uh.. chomp down on almost anything like maybe their arms? or random bites on the finger?? but its just in a playful way what would their react to it?? anyways you're a lovely writer have a good day <33

Hello! I wrote something similar to that for Gaz already here, so I left him out! His biting section is a bit short since that ask encompassed something similar to it, but it's there!

Price, Ghost and Soap with a Reader who likes to Bite Them

Price: He’d be so utterly confused if you bite him. Depending on whether or not you’re close with each other the scenario could go one of two ways: If you’re close, he’ll raise an eyebrow and ask you what you’re doing. If you respond with showing affection then he’ll be more inclined to let you continue doing whatever it is you’re doing. Truth be told, he’s not the biggest fan of you biting him, but if you’re his partner, then he’ll tolerate it. He knows you’re just being friendly and showing him that you love him in your own way, so he won’t say anything, but he’s not particularly too happy about it. Price doesn’t like how you’re getting saliva on him, he’s not a big fan of something like that. If you’re not his s/o then he’ll tell you to stop.

Ghost: Like Price, he’ll raise an eyebrow upon finding you chomping on him and will ask you what in the world you’re doing. Unlike Price he’ll be more understanding of it all and won’t really mind it too much. He won’t do it back to you in fear of biting your finger off or hurting you otherwise, even if biting people really isn’t his style either unless he has to. He’ll allow it and won’t really comment on it too much, aside from asking you whether or not you want an actual snack instead of him. Bite him and he’ll awkwardly pat your back, he does appreciate you being affectionate with him, though. Doesn’t mind you getting saliva on him either, he’s been through far far worse. Overall, just don’t bite him too hard and he won’t mind, but if you’re genuinely hurting him then he’ll put an end to it all.

Soap: I wouldn’t be surprised if he bit you first, in all honesty. Not by accident, but on purpose. Soap isn’t a biter normally, but he can and will bite someone if dared to or if they lovingly annoy him. However, if you’ve bitten him first then be prepared for him to bite you back. He’s not grossed out by anything, but he will bite down harder than you bite him. Affection like this is a competition and he is hellbent on winning. If you’re his S/O then he’ll also try to leave marks on you to show everyone that you’re his and that you’re having fun with each other. And by that I mean he’ll bite your cheek since that’s one of the most obvious places out there. By the time you’re done being affectionate with each other you’ll both be covered in bite marks, each one deeper and more concerning than the last. But you’re having fun, and that’s all that matters.

#cod #cod x reader #john price #john price x reader #price x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #do people genuinely bite each other to show affection? in a SFW context I mean #I've literally never heard of it before but my friend says it's got something to do with cuteness aggression so I can't help but wonder #no Gaz because I've already written something like that for him. sorry these are short I don't know what to write for something like this #I don't really have much to add this time except I'm sort of confused #gently kicking someone to show you love them is something I used to do but I've never bitten anyone #ever since my first violent love language request I've been seeing an increase in biting as a love language #oh well it's not my place to judge but I'm still not sure anyone actually does this

[tunastime]

For the writing prompt thingy- #15 Rendoc? /nf

15. dearest / ache (x) (777 words)

Doc is making coffee. Ren is standing behind him. He isn’t sure why. That is, until Ren lets his head fall forward, colliding with the cold metal curve of Doc’s right shoulder. His coffee cup sloshes, but doesn’t spill. 

“Mrrmmgg,” Ren says.

“Riveting.” Doc stirs sugar, no cream, into the coffee. It’s just enough to round it out. It’s cheap coffee, company issue. He can’t complain.

“Ugh,” Ren supplies, as if it clarifies anything. Doc sighs, turning as much as Ren’s slouch will allow him. Ren’s head shifts from his shoulder blade to his shoulder. He’s frowning, deeply, eyes screwed shut as they stand together.

“Alright. What’s up?”

Ren raises his arm weakly. Doc watches the mechanisms whirr in the gaps of the metal as Ren flexes his fingers. Ren pulls in a breath through his teeth when he bends and sets the arm back limp by his side.

“My arm hurts, man. It aches,” he whines. He sounds particularly pathetic, which is half the reason why Doc fixes him with such a look of sympathy. It’s hard sometimes to understand what goes on inside Ren’s head, but his expression makes it clear enough that Doc feels it in his chest.

“Oh?” Doc sets his cup down. “Part of it, or...?”

“I dunno,” Ren sighs. When Doc glances down to look at him, he can see tired lines under his eyes. He doesn’t remember if Ren slept last night. “Enough of it for me to not want to move, that’s what.”

“Well, let me see,” he holds out his hand, waiting for Ren to unhook it or pass it to him. Instead he lifts his whole arm and sets his elbow in his palm and doesn’t move from his spot at his shoulder. Doc turns his wrist, smoothing his thumbs over the metal surface. “Is it working okay?”

Ren finally lifts his head to look at him and his shoulders sag. 

“It feels stiff,” he complains, mostly in a huff.

“Ah. Like it wont move right?” Doc frowns. Ren nods.

“Mhm.”

“Let’s see,” he lets go of Ren’s arm, lowering it to his side. He turns away for only a moment in their cramped little space. There are tools somewhere beneath papers and cups and half finished ready-to-eat meals. When he glances around again, Ren is still standing where he left him, holding his arm in his hand. His ears twitch, pinned back against his head. Doc waves at him. “Sit, sit.”

Ren startles, turning in a circle before he finds a chair to sit down in.

“I’m sitting, I’m sitting,” he says, laughing to himself.

Doc keeps searching for the shulker he knows has his good pliers. He ducks below the desk with the coffee pot on top and spots the purple shell, reaching for it. He finally manages to catch the lip.

“How about we take it off?” he asks Ren as he turns. Ren grumbles.

“Because then I have to get used to it again.”

Doc laughs, and though Ren doesn’t look pleased, the tension in his face softens a bit.

“You’ll be alright, it won’t be more than a few hours. How about that?”

“Fine, fine,” Ren complains tiredly. “But I’m watching you work.”

He turns so that Doc can unclasp the metal arm from his shoulder. He folds up his shirt sleeve for him, glancing away as Doc works to release it. It’s a familiar pattern, one they’ve done quite often. When the metal is too heavy to carry, Ren will leave the arm in his care, let him fix it, let him rework it. Renbob helps, sometimes, and Doc bets that it's a sight for sore eyes, to see them fussing over something of Ren’s. Ren stretches up with his good arm, sighing as he does. The arm comes loose with a click. Doc sets it down on the work table and flips on the pale light hanging over it. 

As he starts to work, Ren shuffles forward in his chair, eventually resting his chin against Doc’s shoulder. He feels him hum in greeting, and inclines his head in acknowledgement.

Doc lets him sit beside him, a comforting and familiar weight on his shoulder. Ren watches him work for a long time, unlatching the main mechanisms, readjusting the wheels and wires, laying redstone and grease. There’s a half stuck release mechanism that he manages to unhook, and the joints move quiet and precise. He sets down his pliers after a long moment, a long stretch of silence between them. He flexes his fingers. When he turns his head, he rests his chin on Ren’s head.

“Ren, you okay, dude?” he asks. Ren doesn’t reply. “Ren?” 

Ren’s shoulders rise and fall slowly. His ears twitch, just for a second. He lies heavy on Doc’s shoulder, not moving, not stirring. Doc leans into him, smiling.

“Oh, Ren...” Doc sighs. “if you needed a nap that badly, you should have said something. Silly.”

#ANON IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG #at ur behest: them #rendoc #rendog #docm77 #hermitshipping #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fic #mcyt #mcyt fic #renthedog #in hc8 they r married and in love i refuse to believe otherwise #they r now bitter exes #this is a joke i promise #but seriously i've never written them before and i actually kind of loved learning their dynamic #i apologize if it's not perfect!! #i had to rewatch the beginning of s8 omg

[unreadpoppy]

Y'all

Remember how I said I had a Beauty and the Beast Raphael AU in mind?

Yeah so I'm gonna write it

EDIT: FIRST CHAPTER IS OUT

Read it on tumblr

Read it on AO3

#i don't promise anything #like i'm outlining this shit #especially cause I've never written canon x OC before #and yes it will be OC cause as much as i love reading reader inserts i can't write them #(and also because this is a shameless self insert so bear with me) #but i'm gonna do it #i'm gonna write it #raphael bg3