#maniac writing

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

okay so a couple of days ago i saw this ask on @fellshish's blog about a need for a full 1941 discorporated aziraphale angst fic, realized i had an entire outline already in the hull, and... this happened:

a "what if crowley didn't miss in 1941" fic, including but not exclusive to the moment itself, the hours leading up to it, and the aftermath; a fanfiction (chapter 3/4)

summary:

It's Fell the Marvelous' awaited debut performance on the West End. He has his marksman, his turnips, and things appear to be going as planned—that is, until said marksman does the one thing he was supposed to avoid. Not missing. (or: the bullet catch goes wrong, and due to a tiny technicality, crowley's afraid aziraphale is gone for good. and crowley himself—for the first time in quite a while—is well and truly alone.)

warnings: full of blood, sweat, kissing while crying, blown up heads, prayers, nostalgic churches, polaroids, alcohol, and aziraphale being a discorporated bastard and bitching his way back to earth while a plot we should probably be focusing occurs as we ignore it entirely. and written extremely slowly. oxymoron but i couldnt get this out of my head fast enough and now you must endure it (should you choose to accept). i think i'm gonna be pretty proud of this though. excited!

(also thank @tforthetea for the inspiration because a conversation with them helped spark this the first time. all hail)

ao3 link for those who didn't check the title, and fic under the cut! :)

chapter 1: number thirteen

One of the things Crowley liked gloating about on occasion was that he was older than Death Itself.

He wasn’t technically wrong, per se. The humans think him mad, and the demons think him stupid, but he was still right. Human concepts, despite their hold on the population and overall importance, were non-existent before or even during the Beginning. The Four Horsemen and other ideas evolved right alongside the humans, so technically, Crowley was older than all of them. He rather liked having something to lord over War (in his head), during the few unfortunate meetings he would have with her. Famine was a non-issue, and Death could not touch him regardless of how much he didn’t like him. There were failsafes.

Now, however, actually being in the room that Aziraphale could potentially walk into and never come out of, Crowley would gladly take all of it back and pretend he never even thought about it at all.

The damned magician. Crowley never caught his name, but if he had, he would wrought him with the most annoyingly small curses that no one would ever believe to be true after today. Tonight wasn’t just about impressing the audience or even repaying that wine-filled debt, it was about them. Tonight, Crowley was to play the trusted stooge, and…shoot the angel. Point blank. In the face. And make it look real. And not discorporate him. And not get them fired. And—

There were a lot of things to consider, alright? To contrary belief, Crowley did, in fact, not think Death was silly or stupid. He’d also been there when It was born, you know. Crowley liked Abel. Watching It happen was, plainly, fucking terrifying. It brought up something new, and change was just as scary as Death. Ask anyone, and they’d tell you.

Crowley has been running that unfortunate meeting involuntarily through his head for the first ten or so minutes of waiting for the actual show to begin, while also listing out the terrible things he would do to the magician man had he ever held the opportunity again. He’d been sort of gunning (no pun intended) to stay backstage and avoid the riffraff, but been ushered out the dressing room the second he’d given his (admittingly harsh) two cents on the situation. Aziraphale said he wanted privacy before the big show, but Crowley knew he was just ticked. Aziraphale was an angel who thrived with a supportive devil over his shoulder.

So, Crowley is just milling around in the crowd as the Allied soldiers and their companions filter in. They come and go—a Lady even comes to check on him at point, mentioning odd vacant gazes and looking over shoulders paranoid-like, but he waves them off before they can pry. He really shouldn’t be so worried—even if Aziraphale…‘didn’t make it through the night’, he’d eventually be fine. As long as he discorporated a certain way, nothing too lethal—some deaths were harder to come back from others.

They’ve been discorporated before, of course. That was how Crowley knew this. Six millennia offered many opportunities for the event. But never, and it was never, at each other's hand. On paper, yeah, they killed each other on occasion, but truly…

Crowley shifts nervously, sending a glare at anyone who got a bit too close, but the brief discomforts aren’t enough to lift his spirits. There was one entity faffing about who refused to bugger off even with direct acknowledgements, though that might be because Crowley was imagining It. Or It really was here, and interested in the affairs of potential angel discorporation. Or a bomb was going to fall here and It was just beating the rush. The theories were far from endless.

Death appeared back there as soon as Crowley had been kicked out. He’s simply been dealing with it since then, and It probably wasn’t helping to lift his spirits. He shouldn’t be so antsy—both logic and mechanics deemed it so.

They’d be fine, Crowley repeats to himself near constantly, finding a proper seat in direct line of sight where Aziraphale will be standing. He readjusts his tie as the humans sit around him, creating a perfectly isolated bubble of red velvet seats. What did it matter that twelve humans died doing this before? They weren’t human. Death had no claim on them. It couldn’t take them even if It so desired.

Crowley scowls at the hooded figure standing near the entrance of the theater, cold scythe gleaming under the warm bulbs of the West End. Its just…standing there. Making no move to come closer, either. Odd.

Crowley sinks lower into his plush seat, as if trying to avoid Death’s gaze. But being one of two immovable objects on this Earth, It’s always on him. If Death had a goal, there would be no point in warding It away.

Seeing Death is a famous bad omen, and would send a chill down his spine had it been anywhere else. At this moment, however, Crowley is simply irritated. If It was looking for another soul in this theater, that was fine by him, let It take them, but It would not be ruining whatever this was. Humans were ever plentiful—there was only one angel deserving of Earth.

Before Crowley can decide whether or not he should be stupid and confront the omen in the room, the lights go dim. The crowd’s murmurs die down, and Crowley has no choice but to stay seated and watch the show. Aziraphale wouldn’t be coming on until the Ladies of Camelot had their first number, but Crowley could easily endure it. The gaze aimed straight at his head could be ignored.

World be damned if It took the angel’s enthusiasm. They’d be fine. Crowley just has to remember that.

-----

Things are, indeed, not going fine.

Crowley is meant to go up on stage any second now. Aziraphale has no inkwell in his gloved hand. No amount of snapping is removing said turnip from line of sight. He reads the pamphlet—then again, then again, then again, but there is no second option for apparently miracleless individuals.

Fucking. Hell.

Whatever false bravado Aziraphale is spewing is null and void compared to the should-be-non-existent nerves running through frantic hands and finding absolutely nothing useful. Crowley flips through the same two pages—give the stooge the bullet, poise, and shoot. The miracle would’ve ensure that the bullet would never leave the barrel. But now—now, well, he really regrets not considering a Plan B. Did they ever consider a Plan B? Apparently not.

Getting there is a blur. Aziraphale is essentially shoving the rifle into Crowley’s care, which is honestly becoming a worse idea by the second. He’s switching between the demon and the audience so quickly that Crowley can’t tell who he’s addressing. They’re deathly quiet, and Crowley would feel embarrassed if his heart that shouldn’t be there wasn’t pounding with too much blood in too little time. His mind is a soup. Muddled, feverish, and incredibly foul tasting. You wouldn’t want to drink it even if you were starving.

“I would ask you,” Aziraphale says loudly, cutting through the fog of utter mental mush, “to take this bullet, and load it into the rifle. Very carefully.”

Crowley nods belatedly, squeezing and turning parts of the gun to get the non-existent warmth running back through his fingers. He takes the bullet, and turns it round a few times while Aziraphale stares at him with excruciating anxiety. Is he stalling? Honestly, even Crowley wouldn’t be able to tell you.

“It's perfectly simple,” Aziraphale mutters softly, pushing the gun a bit closer. “Aim for my mouth, but shoot past my ear.”

Crowley can’t find himself to agree here. He’s staring at him, and that would usually get him to listen regardless of shades, but Death is boring into them like the harshest of theater critics. His skin is slick, almost clammy, threatening to let the gun slip and fire a stray bullet anywhere but its intended target. His back is sore, oddly enough. Irritating.

Crowley has questions, like he always does, but the time has long passed. What he wants to ask is ‘do I just squeeze that little bit there?’ pointing at (what looks like) to be the trigger—but then that would just make Crowley look incompetent, so he swallows it back and nodly lightly. He’s never fired a gun like Aziraphale seems to believe whole-heartedly, but he’s certainly watched it happen. He’s picked up enough of the motions to figure it out on his own.

That thought still doesn’t help when he’s being told to insert the bullet, though. Crowley fumbles through it, opening a mislaid hatch or two, but manages before Aziraphale could raise any alarms. He’s already stood back in position (when did that happen?) when Crowley raises the loaded rifle for all to see, proclaiming as such. He bites back the tremor threatening to appear—he wasn’t nervous. Excited, more like it. Excited to finally get an excuse to make a throw at the angel non-suspicious like.

That was all it was. Really.

Crowley turns the rifle one last time as Aziraphale spins more useless pageantry for the audience to woo at. They’re both grinning, but tightly and annoyingly false. It wasn’t the eyes that were the problem—what, do you think that demons ever got stage fright? Absurd!

It was just...well, there weren’t just humans in this audience. Crowley couldn’t forget the shadow looming at the end of the theater no matter how tight he grips the side of the weapon. But, just like Someone had laid out all that Time ago—Death could only perceive them.

It could not touch them.

It would not touch them.

It would not touch him, if he could help it.

The drums begin their incessant titter as Aziraphale finally turns to Crowley properly, blue cloak glimmering under the warm light of the stage before them. “A-are you ready, sir?”

Crowley would scoff at this if he could. Sir. Only humans ever addressed him that way; angels look down on him, demons sneer at him. Though he supposes this angel would be different—always throwing the curveballs, him.

“When you hear my signal,” the angel says, voice growing quieter, “shoot.”

Aziraphale removes his tophat, revealing preciously white curls. This pings something, the remaining traces of damned sense he’s got buried inside. Crowley isn’t sure what has possessed him—but he shakes his head. It’s all he can do. Don’t make me do it, he nearly warns out loud. Not if you know what’s good for you.

Aziraphale stills, but not before mouthing words that would be akin to an ashamed mumble if he were close enough. Trust me.

Trust me.

Satan, he got him there. That’s why Crowley was here, after all. Stooge. 100% Reliable Marksman.

Right.

Aziraphale isn’t nearly as good as Crowley at hiding his anxious gaze. “Ready?”

Oh, Heavens no. He never would be, but no better time than the present. Or something like that. He can’t recall where it came from.

“Aim…”

Crowley can’t ignore it anymore—he’s shaking. Extremely so, at that. It’s knocking around the air in his lungs very unkindly. It’s quite difficult to aim. His head is bobbing around in the scope.

Just about…

There it is.

Crowley waits—just like he’s done for the last…however long. A long time. His arms are starting to hurt, frankly. He rests his finger over the trigger to ease the trembling a tad.

And the magician remains silent.

Crowley ignores the sweat crawling down his neck. (Wasn’t it supposed to be freezing?) He waits some more—it’s not like one can forget where you are. Benefit of the doubt and such.

Nothing still. Nary a nod.

He’s been staring at him for a minute. The crowd hasn’t uttered a peep. Is Crowley just supposed to…do it? Did they talk about this? They must have. They talked about this. They talked about it, right? Yeah. Yeah, they must have—

"Fire!"

He startled him.

The reason why he listens is easy to explain. Aziraphale made Crowley flinch. A bit of a spook, really, not that bad of a fright. A sudden jolt—a tap on the shoulder, one that said ‘oh, look, you’ve got perfect aim already! Shoot!’

And he did.

What’s the first rule of approaching someone with a weapon again?

Right. Don’t fucking scare them.

The handle is warm. Slick, heavy, shaky. The scope aims with guilty target missing at the helm. A puff of smoke is spewing from the barrel. A thump, a sickening thump, deafening in the cricket silence of a post-trick world.

And Aziraphale…is on the floor.

(Where else would he be, really?)

There, obviously. On the floor. With a blown-up head. Bleeding like blessed Heaven. Bleeding like bloody Heaven, while Crowley has to take in the sight and smell the blessed thing.

It fits. They fit. Like a perfect crown on a decapitated head.

God, his head’s just gone, isn’t it?

A noise cuts through the thick silence like a stubbornly determined knife. Far away, above it all, there it rings. It’s muffled, soft, and almost awkward in the way it cuts through the air. A camera click. A reluctant, malicious camera click.

And that was just the perfect way to say it, no? He blew his brains out. Crowley blew his angel’s fucking brains out with a fucking gun that he’s never fucking held before.

Trust me.

Well. That, no doubt, was Aziraphale’s fault—it’d be a funny old world if angels and demons went around trusting one another.

-----

hgh. hope that was decent. chapter two coming as soon as it can because im invested now :))

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens fanfiction #good omens 1941 #cw blood #cw guns #cw death #maniac writing #in a west-end town

[graviitron]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Nimona (2023)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences 

Warnings: Major Character Death 

Relationships: Ballister Blackheart | Ballister Boldheart/Ambrosius Goldenloin Characters: Ambrosius Goldenloin, Ballister Blackheart | Ballister Boldheart Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt No Comfort, Blood, Mild Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, no beta we die like ballister in this AU, Stream of Consiousness, No Dialogue, Character Study, Angst, My First Work in This Fandom, yeah. be cautioned, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping 

Summary:

Ambrosius finds Ballister lying face down, in a little crooked tower deep in the woods, with a puddle of crimson underneath and a crude sketch of a robotic arm soaking in the mess.

okayyy first nimona fic and i kill someone. great. au where ballister does end up dying from arm complications. wow. hi nimona fandom, im here to possibly hurt you :> 

#no idea which tag the fandom uses so im using them all for now #nimona #nimona 2023 #nimona movie #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #fanfic #maniac writing #goldenheart #nimona AU #AU

[authenticaussie]

Alright so I just finished Batman:TAS recently and started watching Superman:TAS and it delights me that the first episode is literally just: superman??? Who dat. This is aliens :)) (even if Brainiac does say "human error, Jor-el"). So obviously I do now have aus. Obviously <3 shout-out to @midnightluck for the Justice League, @cer-rata for Terry and @suzukiblu for Jordan + putting up with the initial ramble

So anyway Brianiac's satellite upload gets fucked up by Jor-el either in petty revenge or as an accident, and a part of Brainiac ends up on Clark's ship. The vague explanation I have is that Brainiac is the AI for everything and in TAS, Jor-el also does not realise he is "evil" and thus still uses his help as a navigator for Clark's ship while he is initially building it. The ship, however, is offline to prevent the Kryptoninan council from finding out about it, and thus, that section of Brainiac does not get taken back into the satellite upload.

As it is BARELY the 90's when the Kents find Clark after the crash, Brainiac is summarily useless thanks to the current lack of wifi, but manages to mostly teach himself English and Kal kryptonian, and decides that. >:( since they're BOTH there, they can BOTH be vestibules of kryptonian knowledge. And also Kal can get him more earth knowledge. The vibes entirely are: "Weird aspects of kryptonian culture taught by an unbodied dickhead historian" and while the argument is "but brainiac is evil!" Main brainiac is. But this is a subsection of Brainiac :) he learnt more stuff + Clark loves him soooo much.

Unfortunately. That is His baby now. He is not impressed with his baby. His baby bought him a growing chick the other day, with big sad eyes, and said the kryptonian word for fluffy!!! in such a mournful tone that Brainiac resigned himself to teaching kal about how growing up worked and that the chicken needed feathers to fly. This explanation ends with Clark collecting feathers and trying to jump off the barn roof, and he thus resolves to extend further co-parenting issues to the Kents. For his own personal convenience, of course.

It does of course ALSO mean that Brainiac, who has a loose definition of the words "surveillance state" absolutely gets in at the ground floor when the internet first starts up. Clark's influence relegates him to the background, but he is good at hiding ! So they don't realise they have an AI in the wifi! But ohhhh boy does brainiac scare a few people at first. Potentially tries to do his "i am helpful" schtick before realising he is not useful in this because he's basically just. Seems completely like a troll? He's some random person who's invaded the internet!!

However he is also the inspiration for google 😂 and calls it his younger, stupider sibling. It is also funny to me to think about earth compsci engineers having NO idea why sometimes the internet acts SO DAMN WEIRD <- brainiac's fault.

As a result though, when Clark starts up as Superman, Brainiac does NOT let the Kr project off the ground. Files are misdirected and blackmail is gathered. Until one day Kal says something sad about how he'll never be able to have a great romance, because he's terrified of telling anyone the alien thing, and that he's always thought about kids but he's kinda terrified because what if he hurts someone- and Brainiac is like ah yes wait. I shall fix this for my Only Kryptonian.

TWO kids for the price of one?!? he finds, after he goes searching, and then further prodding finds THIRTEEN children, extraordinary. Not all of them are viable because the earth scientists truly are incapable but Brainiac can fix the issues with their technology to ensure Kal has the children he wants.

"How many children did you think of, kal-el?" he asks, and Clark laughs at how kindly his friend/uncle/grandfather figure treats his silly selfishness.

"Oh, man, sometimes I think: as many as I can carry! But then- I don't want Superman to get in the way of being a good dad. Too many and I won't be there for them like I should, you know? I worry about that, I guess."

"As many as you can carry is a significant amount," Brainiac says dubiously, already imagining teaching these numerous children kryptonian culture and Also that they are Not chickens. "I do not think that can be fulfilled effectively."

Five minutes later Clark has five children and has realised his matchbox apartment and budding romance with Lois Lane are both complicated things he will now have to resolve. He's basically commuting daily to the Daily Planet from Smallville, thank god for superspeed and his endlessly patient parents, jfc

(Children I was thinking of: the destablised kon!clone from SB94/The Ravers, Kon, Match, Bizarro, and Mia. Alternatively they went old-school with Biz so Brainiac didn't get a chance to help him/he's older than the other kids when Clark finally mentions wanting kids, to Brainiac, and thus Biz ends up like. The kids' uncle. There ARE technically twelve clones before Kon. I could've given you thirteen-fifteen kids, Clark.)

Anyway this does mean that either a) when Lois finds out Kal is superman this is not his biggest secret, b) Kon rocks up as Superboy and Lois, once she finds out Clark is Superman, immediately goes: WAIT BUT SUPERBOY'S YOUR KID. ARE YOU MARRIED??? or c) everyone at the Daily Planet thinks Clark just. Got really unlucky with different people he slept with and someone in the world's wildest stroke of luck they all ended up pregnant. Because Clark Does Not mention a partner when it is eventually revealed he has kids.

He probably does keep them a secret for a while though. A) He doesn't want them to have to try and be "normal" since they're only just out of the pod and B) I feel like, weirdly, Clark is somehow that co-worker that people like. barely know anything about. You like them and they're so helpful! and good-natured! and then you get him in the office secret santa and realise you're not even 100% what his favourite colour is or if he has a pet.

Anyway, Lois: he is NOT expecting Lois to get pregnant and they have to have a Long talk about it because Brainiac is. :) Being an asshole about species compatibility and the fact that it is "not natural" for Kryptonians to be created biologically rather than properly, in a pod, and also: Clark already has five freaking kids. That's a lot of kids! Are they going to be okay having a brother that much (at least five-ten years I'm thinking, depending on if we go: Brainiac gives him multiple children of multiple ages, or multiple young children of the same age,) younger than them??? And then there's Chris, too, who rocked up just after Clark and Lois started dating, and is still pretty high needs because he only mostly speaks Kryptonian (and is lowkey terrified of Brainiac, so Clark's main babysitter is out) (also please please imagine how freaking cute the subplot of "chris realises this brainiac is not the nightmare his stories told him about; watching his new siblings do things that Brainiac would have killed them for, terrified for them because he heard the stories of how long Brainiac bided his time--)

But this is also: how many kids can we give clark, the fic, and thus they have Jon, and then Jon exhibits so many kryptonian characteristics and Lois doesn't mean to but she's a little wine drunk and says, "i love them, you know, they're all perfect, Jon's perfect, I was just- I'm terrified for him. If we raise him right he's gonna be just like his dad…and you know what? I was wanting my own little Lane. Someone to follow my footsteps. I'm feeling a bit outnumbered here, haha!"

Brainiac: hm. I will amend this. (Makes and artificially grows human!Jordan so he displays more human genetic characteristics As Lois Wants)

Brainiac: I have created Jon-el's twin for you, Lane. You are welcome.

Lois: um what

Clark: honey no you can't talk about children with Brainiac he will make more

Lois: WHAT.

Lois: OUR CO-WORKERS KNOW I DIDN'T HAVE TWINS, KENT.

Clark: …. you're gonna have to be one of those weird "I didn't know I was still pregnant" stories…. 😂

Lois: 😭 Clark you know those are only funny when they are NOT HAPPENING TO ME

Clark: you didn't know you were pregnant….. literally

Lois must engage in the gaslighting of all of her coworkers <3 What do you mean you didn't realise she had twins she's shown you both of them? Of course they look the same they're babies. Of course she always had twins. She carried them. Did you carry her babies? Of course she would know. Isn't that right, Clark? …. isn't that right, Clark?

Clark: "Where else would she'a gotten a baby from, guys? An alien?"

Brainiac: hello i have delivered the child. Where is my thanks? It has still not been conveyed? I am doing the Literal Best as the Literal Best AI ever? Excuse me? You ignore Brainiac?

Brainiac: death for one thousand humans-!!!

Martha: 🥰 Brainiac I'm so proud of you for always making sure these kids are taken care of. Giving us Jordan! Oh, you marvellous robot

Brainiac: …. acceptable, Matriarch Kent

either that or Lois shoots herself in the foot and everyone thinks Clark is STILL the man with the world's worst luck and the strongest genetics ever:

"Lois, honey…how are Jon and Jordan so close in age? If they're not twins?"

"Uh- Jordan is adopted!"

Everyone: looks at Jordan, who is Jon's splitting image

Everyone: …..okay

Anyway because this AU is wildly cliche, very obviously the Bit of Brainiac that helped Clark grow up re-integrates with Brainiac prime during a Big Dramatic Battle where all of the Superfam are getting hurt, and manages to stop/halt Brainiac prime from hurting Clark and the Kryptokids at the cost of his existence.

Jordan gets to punch it in the circuits cause he's the only one not affected by kryptonite but still has the general invulnerability. (And then Jon and/or Kon and meeting the LoSH and they realise their grandfather Brainiac has very much been continued in Brainiac 5's code :3 for an open-ish happy ending of "hey good exists forever and always regardless of heritage")

GRANDPA LEARNS LOVE AND AFFECTION.

GRANDPA CHANGES FROM GENERAL SELF SERVICE AND SELFISHNESS AND REALISES HE LOVES KAL AND THE KENTS AND HE WILL PROTECT THEM

GRANDPA ALSO WANTS ACCESS TO THE INTERNET. There is a constant battle and it does work for a while because he is elected babysitter of the kryptokids and he is only a small part of Brainiac, five kids does stretch the circuits he developed from Clark's pod, but it's a constant cycle.

"Kal-el, son of house of el, I demand google, I have not finished investigating the 'man of Bats'. Why are there two variations of his name?"

"You mean Dark Knight?"

"THERE ARE THREE? KAL-EL, PROVIDE ME WITH THE WIFI IMMEDIATELY--"

Also when Brainiac finds out that Clark's birthday falls on a human holiday he. He tries. He tries to do pranks. Most of them are vaguely and accidentally evil (Chris cries when Brainiac takes over the internet for the day and makes every search engine answer questions wrong), but he tries. He knows Clark likes pranks! He is trying to participate! It's family bonding!!!

Braniac: It is your 33rd April fool's day.

Clark: Yep!

Braniac: I have finally decided to assist you with a prank.

Clark:...oh?

Braniac: Behold! (Small boy with dark hair, blue eyes and a square jaw walks in, dressed in a decent little suit.)

Clark: Braniac you CANNOT keep making...Wait. No. No you didn't--

Braniac: A prank to share with your closest friend!

Braniac: I have been calling him "Bruce" for my records, but you may want to pick something else for clarity.

Clark: 😦😳😬💀

(And thus we have Terry)

Also, while Clark is pretty secretive about his kids, when/if any of them go out with a Superfam name, and/or after he gets closer with the Justice League, there are little slip ups. He does really love his kids!!! And at the point where he's joined the JL he's been with Lois for a few years now and is used to mentioning them every now and then at the Daily Planet/trauma sure does bond you together :) and he trusts the core members of the JL pretty well. Someone makes fun of Bruce for his "hoard" of children and his "adoption problem" and Clark snorts and then chokes. Bruce has barely adopted Tim and/or has only just gotten Cass. Four? Please, Clark's almost at double digits.

Or Hal is talking about the fact that he doesn't know what to get his niece for her birthday; Clark asks how old she is, and goes "Seven? Oh, yeah. Go for Monster High, it's really big right now. The dolls are pretty cool."

"Lol why do you know so much about dolls, you have a secret collection-"

"What? No, my daughter likes them."

Hal:

Barry complains about how many birthdays he has to go to and Clark laughs. "Oh, tell me about it! Mia, Mark ((Match)), Chris and Mara all had birthday parties for their school friends in the same week - thank god for superspeed, right?"

Barry, who was talking about volunteering to visit kids' birthday parties at different orphanages in Central: Clark what are you talking about.

Also, Clark's an idiot and decides to introduce Brainiac's "prank" to Bruce on the watchtower because hey! It's neutral ground! And none of his kids can hear into space, thank fuck.

Clark: so....Bruce....you know how you were complaining about being an empty nester. Now that Damian's gone to college. Well. Hm. (pulls Terry from behind him) Surprise!

Bruce: .......You have a new child.

Clark: er. Well. sort of!

Terry, staring at Bruce like the autism creature: O_O

Bruce: .....I have a new child.

(also probably terry's backstory then includes some amanda waller induced kidnapping and potentially a bit of amnesia and adoption by another family but hey, he finds bruce again eventually!)

(also match does try and be the badboy of the family and does hang out with thad, when thad comes up to kill Bart, but. they both just. accidentally vaguely rehabilitate each other? They're not good, but they don't murder, at least. It's a low, low bar. When Clark tries to disappointed-face him, Match just says he's following in Grandpa Brainiac's footsteps and does Clark REALLY expect him to disregard a family legacy-- and you can give him some suicide squad angst or whatever, but the fam is still. there for him.)

(Mia and Kara get into a fist fight when they first meet; then they are best friends. Mia's not great at 'being Kryptonian', especially because she was one of the first attempts, and as per canon is technically a human who they tried to overwrite with Kryptonian DNA, and thus doesn't entirely understand Kara's connection to their 'home', but as a result she also ends up being Kara's confidant in it, because unlike Kal she does understand being taken away from your home and not being able to go back to it, and yet does not have...the same connection the way the other members of the Superfam do, and the disconnect allows Kara to actually talk about Kyrpton instead of mourn)

(Kon does try and grab the spotlight; Clark is trying to let him have freedom, after both Mia and Match went a bit....bitey at his attempts to keep them safe until they were older, but he's still the more naive of his siblings. Thankfully for Clark, he does get to introduce Kon to Robin, and while they don't hit it off, it is enough to mitigate the worst of the fallout of Rex's sleazy bs and Knockout's crimes ): When he joins YJ Clark is both proud of his heroism and a little scared that one of his kids is actually deciding to follow in his footsteps.)

(Mara is Kon's destabilised clone, from when he learns about paul westfield. We did not have enough girls in this family and thus part of their journey of self-identity was the fact that in a family of loud personalities they weren't great at speaking up; it takes a while for them to admit they want a new name and to use she/they pronouns, but by the time Jon and Jordan are five everyone's used to the change. Mara and Kon are closest, even though Kon and Mark/Match are technically sort-of twins; they clash waaay too much in temperament and personality. Kon was much better at playing protector to his little sibling, especially after they came out, and Mara shares "Supergirl" with Kara - she's only a backup member of the titans, though, and has the compassion and strength for heroism but sometimes too much empathy. Does a lot of relief work and peaceful outreach programs. They love a lot.)

(Chris?? no self sacrifice here!!! He has a bunch of fucking siblings with TTK, he is NOT going into that portal)

(There are two Nightwings; every now and then they debate who should switch to Flamebird, jokingly, and yet both of them have perfectly valid arguments - it's kryptonian! / I look good in blue! - and thus it never comes to fruition. When Mia and takes on Flamebird they give it up entirely; it helps that Chris ends up doing a lot of intergalactic work, so there isn't much confusion on earth with the call sign.)

When Jon is old enough to want to switch from Superboy he 100% puppydog eyes Chris into giving him the Nightwing handle so he can give it to Dami, and snags Flamebird from Mia. Dick decides he can live with that and is trying to take care of his own kid so is semi-retired (and can snag it back from Dami if he ever gets too bored).

For a bit there are def still two Flamebirds, but then Mia and Chris decide to team up for intergalactic stuff and to bully Mara into more fistfights, so then they're Trio and just go by Mar-El, Lor-Zod, and Mi-El. I know that is not how female names work on Krypron but I also think Lois Lane, who kept her name and also gave both Jon and Jordan her last name, hyphenated, heard of that shit and went "absolutely not". Either that or Mara decides to keep her Kryptonian name as Mar-El and Mia is Mia Kal-el, or copies her mom and is like naw Fuck This, especially considering her.....lack of general connection to Krypton? Could be fun for any :3 (Or maybe in space she just goes by Lane; time for her semi-mom to get recognition. Mara is already showcasing the house of El, Chris is rehabilitating the house of Zod, she's gonna kick butt for the house of Lois.)

....Though this does potentially mean i have accidentally called Match "Mat-el" and the Barbie jokes from that. Would be. Iconic.

Anyway that's the Grandpa Brainy au! Tune in next week when I force Cerata to watch Arthur and the Invisibles with me and start talking about bug-prince Kon-el and Lois' adventure to save her husband from a tiny evil overlord.

#alternatively this is. give clark ALL the kids: the fic!!!!!! #wow i wonder if you can sense a theme in any of my works 🤔 #bip bop nari drops #dc #superfam #clark kent #superman #nari is writing #lois lane #clois #grandpa brainiac au #grandpa brainy au #batman #bruce wayne #superboy #jon el #kon el #match #supergirl #OF FUCKING COURSE IF YOU HAVE QUESTIONS OR IDEAS FOR THIS PLEASE SHARE THEM <333 #i am an au maniac <- im so sorry //lying #justice league #fic ideas i probably won't write

[pmpwbrrs]

I draw what I want I draw what I want I draw what I want

I draw what I want I draw what I

#rain world #rain world no significant harassment #rain world five pebbles #rw sigpebbles #rw shipping #rw ragequit #I still don't understand why they're called ragequit #Just so you know if you draw or write about this ship then I AM looking like a maniac -> clapping my hands and jumping around in excitement #pmpwbrrs #sigpebbles #rw

[fexiled]

@stanuary Week One: Mystery

man of a thousand faces (or at least four)

#gravity falls #stanley pines #stan pines #stanuary #fex draws #id in alt text #''alright it's time to put stanuary to bed for the year--wait what's this?? it's fex with the steel chair!!'' #is it really truly stanuary if i 1) don't go absolutely ham on at least one piece; and 2) don't start posting until the very last minute #it's just tradition at this point #anyway- tried my hand at writing an image description for this in the alt text #and discovered i am extremely self conscious about describing my own art lol so if there's anything i could add or do better lmk #this took 8000 years bc i hand lettered everything except for the small text on the IDs and plane ticket like a maniac #serif fonts my beloathed

[yandere-romanticaa]

Dabi is such an interesting character to me. I find it so fascinating how he says that he does not care about some things, how he could not give a single crap about anything that's going on. With his easygoing attitude and flat tone, no one could blame you for thinking that way.

It was one of the many reasons why you wanted to break up with him.

Falling for Dabi to begin with was beyond unexpected. The man positively reeked of trouble. The second he stepped foot in your favorite coffee shop, you know that the only thing that guy could bring was chaos. The way he carried himself was a dead giveaway, even if most of his face was covered. You had no idea that he was a wanted criminal at the time and perhaps that was one of the reasons why you approached him to begin with.

Besides, life was just dull. Nothing was going on in your life, no sparks, no excitement. Every single day started to feel like the same shade of grey, the old colours of the world morphing into something so forgettable that it made you want to pull out your hair. So what if talking to this guy was a possible mistake?

It was better than nothing, you told yourself.

You can still recall his strong smell - smoke with a hint of some cheap cologne, perhaps a vain attempt to cover up that third metallic smell which couldn't be hidden no matter how hard he tried. Beneath that dark hoodie of his you could see his lips twitching and just as he was going to tell you off for bothering him, you introduced yourself.

The rest was, as they say, history.

Dabi was a bit of a weirdo but you didn't mind. You enjoyed his quirks and even liked to compliment his appearance from time to time, which made the villain wonder just how sick in the head you really were.

He never made any moves to shoo you away though.

And that stone cold fact was something which the League would often make fun of him for it. Dabi would usually end their jabs and jeers with an annoyed scoff and just leave the bar, hands in his pockets but no one was buying it.

Dabi wasn't sure if he wanted you near those clowns. The thought of someone else oogling you, in the same manner as he did, set him off. Dabi started to make the effort of seeing you more, whether or not you knew he was actually there was up for debate. He stuck to the shadows, tailing you day and night and he would reveal himself only if he saw fit.

Dabi wasn't sure why he was doing this, wasting his time with some weak little civilian.

When the day had ended and the sun was setting, Dabi would lazily walk back home. His mind would be rushing with thoughts of you, his knuckles in a tight grip as he kept them hidden in his deep pockets.

He could kill you whenever and however he damn well pleased.

Dabi had the terrifying ability to snuff the life out of you, and that thought gave him a rush of adrenaline, dare he say confidence.

Your life really was in his hands.

You often felt the need to explain away Dabi's red flags - he's just tired, that's why he's so cranky! Oh, he got mad that you went out with someone else? Well, um... There are so many bad guys out there, it makes sense that he would be worried. Because that is what a good boyfriend did - worry about his precious baby.

Dabi was smart (even a little kind) enough to keep his burn scars hidden away from you but the ones on his face were impossible to conceal. The villain would often find himself enchanted by your gentle touch as you'd trace your delicate fingers across the rough flesh, a stark contrast to the sheer softness you radiated.

He was often torn between two options - does he keep that softness safe or will he sink his fangs deep in your neck, claim you all for himself?

Day after day, the second opinion started to sound so much more appealing.

Dabi's love was all over the place. There would be times when you would hardly ever see him. No calls, no texts, no nothing. For all you knew he could have been dying in a ditch somewhere and you'd be none the wiser. You tried countless times to open up to you about his job but he would just shut you down in record speed. He would never get annoyed or angry with these questions but that did not ease your worries.

And with the prying eyes of friends and relatives, it got even harder to keep yourself so delusionally in love.

None approved of your relationship with Dabi. You shed countless tears due to their harsh protests, which often meant that you would run away straight into the arms of the main issue. Dabi would hold you in your bed, his arms wrapped tightly around you. His shirt would be covered in your tears and snot. Perhaps he would grumble about it later but not at the moment.

He was not a good person, but he did not want to be a complete monster towards you.

After these incidents, almost everyone who was ever close with you would start dropping like flies. All died violent, brutal deaths with the main cause usually being severe burns inflicted on the victims of various parts of their bodies. Sometimes the scarring was so deep that even days later the corpse would radiate heat, the disgusting smell or rot forever sticking to your nostrils.

To describe the experience of being forced to identify those bodies as "traumatic" would have been the understatement of the century.

The walk back home was excruciating, perhaps even a little otherworldly. There was no left in the world who cared for you anymore, no one you could run to for safety and comfort.

The only one who you had left was Dabi.

Maybe, it wasn't so bad, being with him that is. Yeah, he could be a little mean sometimes but he would always make it up to you. Dabi would call you his doll and pepper your face with gentle kisses, which often made you giggle. Sure, not knowing what Dabi was doing at the dead of night made you worry so much that you would sob until the cracks of daylight but that was okay because he would always cross the threshold of your home in one piece.

You only had Dabi to worry about, and that was... Odd to manage.

Gone were the walks with friends, meals with family. There was no living soul on this Earth which cared about you, wanted to see you happy and thrive.

Dabi was the only person left in your life.

And that was when the horrible realization hit like a bucket of ice cold water.

Dabi was the only person you had left.

Every single complaint, he had memorized them, each and every one. You knew that this was the case as he would sometimes bring up the most random things you had said months after you said them to begin with, proving the fact that he actually was paying attention.

The door opens with a powerful slam which startles the man. He asks you what's the problem but all hell breaks loose.

You scream, shout, cry. You accuse him of every possible crime he could have committed and he says nothing. Dabi sits on the sofa, his legs crossed as his cheek rests on the palm of his hand. You go on and on and Dabi doesn't bother to stop you.

Not until he lets out a deep chuckle.

Took ya long enough, he said to you. The tips of his fingers ignited with blue flames, a silent threat to keep you from screaming. You couldn't even bolt towards the door and there were no other escape routes.

He finally had you where he wanted you.

Dabi wasn't stupid. He knew that you planned on dumping him for a while now. He could not allow that, not now. Not when you had forced your way deep into his heart and made a home there. Dabi had nothing in this world and he made sure that you had nothing either.

Now, you had each other. And to him, that was more than enough.

#i was NOT kidding when i said I'm back in my bnha era #and ngl i missed writing for this maniac #yaaaaaasss king slayyy #SLAYYYYYY #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yancore #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yandere male #mha dabi #bnha dabi #yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #dabi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #boku no hero acedamia #yandere bnha #yandere bnha x reader #yandere mha #yandere mha x reader

[zifey]

not invader zim but i recently read jthm!!!! aaaaaand i love it very much it’s very good i thoroughly enjoyed the insanity and nonsensicality

#johnny the homicidal maniac #jthm #jthm johnny #jthm nny #nny #johnny the homicidal maniac fanart #jthm fanart #i also learned through it that i really don’t know how to write the word homicidal! i kept writing HOMOcidal LMFAOO

[flowercrowngods]

Loving Eddie Munson is a full body experience. Steve can feel the lightness in his chest and the heaviness in his arms, can feel his hands tingling and his legs itching — itching to stay, to follow, to buckle and fall and float.

Eddie’s touch leaves goosebumps on Steve’s skin, his smile leaves a giddiness, his laugh a shortness of breath because, suddenly, Steve is laughing, too. Because of Eddie. With Eddie. Forgetting to breathe because he takes it away with gentle touch and playful wink, rendering Steve useless and utterly devoted.

But even when his eyes closed and they’re not touching, Steve isn’t safe from feeling this love in his entire body. Because Eddie is there. He’s always there; in his thoughts, his memories, this week‘s calendar, yesterday‘s Polaroid picture, tomorrow’s dreams.

Or here, right now, in bed, so close that warmth is radiating off him, but not close enough to touch yet. But Steve only needs to reach out with his pinkie and he could wrap it around Eddie‘s. Only needs to shift his leg just so to brush his knee against Eddie‘s thigh.

He’s there, he’s here, and Steve can feel him. Can hear Eddie’s smile in the air, can feel the the love in the safety of their little box-spring bubble, can smell belonging in his own shampoo mixed with Eddie‘s scent, can taste the words still that Eddie pressed to his lips earlier.

Loving Eddie Munson is a full body experience. All senses and more. Past, present, future. It’s all there, in the centre of Steve’s chest, slightly to the left as if always reaching for Eddie, drawn to him. Like the Fates knew upon the creation of humans that Steve’s heart would long for Eddie’s. His body would defy the laws of anatomy if it had to, he knows.

It makes him smile. It makes him want to cry, too.

Eddie is so close, so warm, so perfect and so still for once. And Steve wants to cry because the lightness in his chest needs to be filled somehow.

“You have your thinking face on, Stevie,” Eddie whispers then before Steve can lose himself in it, before he can let go and fall; fall so hard, fall without a landing, and still have Eddie catch him.

Eddie always catches him. Even when Steve isn’t falling. That’s another thing about loving Eddie Munson.

He doesn’t open his eyes, leaves them closed, the dim light of the room painting the world behind his eyelids in a beautiful sepia tone. That’s what he wants his future to look like. Not bright and loud and colourful. Just like this. Calm, serene, quiet, and with Eddie by his side. He deserves it. They deserve it. After everything, they deserve a future that will become a sepia past, the kind that will make people feel it in their whole body, too. The kind of story that will make them smile and cry at the same time, the kind that leaves behind lightness and space and the feeling that love could conquer worlds. The story of Steve and Eddie. Sepia-pretty, full of love and adoration and tingling hands.

He hums. “Not my thinking face.”

There’s no elaboration; because while Eddie knows Steve loves him, is in love with him, irrefutably, and can’t imagine loving anything or anyone as much as he loves Eddie, Steve still can’t tell him this. It’s his little secret. His safety belt in a world that moves so fast outside of this bedroom, outside the dim light, outside the safety they’ve made for themselves and each other.

“What’s that face then?” Eddie asks, but Steve just smiles. Hums. Dismisses the question, locks away the answer.

It’s the face that says, I love you so much, I can’t even stand to look at the world because that would be one sensation too many and I would break. Surely, I would break.

Eddie, however, refuses to let him go that easily.

“Stevie,” he sing-songs, moving closer until warmth turns to touch and lips are brushing over his face in butterfly kisses.

Steve smiles, a laugh bubbling out of his chest that’s still entirely too light, and leans both into and away from the touch, shy and brave at the same time.

“Stevie, baby,” Eddie continues, brushing kiss after kiss to his eyes, his brows, the tip of his nose. So warm, so close, so much and yet not enough, but still the perfect amount.

It doesn’t make sense and it doesn’t have to, not when Eddie kisses his smiles into Steve’s skin and leaves them in his memory for all eternity. Breath has left Steve’s lungs and he only lives because Eddie kisses him, loves him, adores him so entirely.

“Tell me, tell me, tell me,” Eddie begs ridiculously — still smiling, still grinning, still laughing into Steve’s skin. Every time Eddie laughs, Steve feels so young. As though he were a little boy, because only children feel this kind of joy, this kind of safety and invincibility. That’s what people say, at least. They’re wrong. Obviously, they’re wrong, but Steve doesn’t fault them, because they don’t have Eddie Munson in their bed — and they never will.

So maybe it’s another secret of his now.

“It’s nothing,” he says, playfully pushing away Eddie’s face, only to chase after it just a second later, hovering above him. It’s Steve now who laughs into Eddie’s skin, who chases faint blushes on sepia skin with his lips and leaves a trail of kisses in a familiar path from his forehead down to Eddie’s lips; right into his heart.

He rolls his hips into Eddie’s and swallows the breathy sigh, the hum, the moan, only realising now that he was starving. He was bursting with emotion and still he was starving.

“Doesn’t feel like nothing,” Eddie breathes into his mouth, reaching for Steve’s hands with his own until their laced fingers rest above his head and he’s meeting Steve’s eyes with this rare look of quiet devotion. Staring for just one second. Two. Three.

It’s that look that makes Steve fall. It’s that look that catches him.

That makes him say, “I love you so much it’s like my body doesn’t know what to do with it.”

He doesn’t elaborate, wouldn’t know how even if he wanted to. But the way Eddie’s face shifts into something soft, something so vulnerable, makes Steve feel like maybe he’s not alone with it.

He swallows and buries his burning face in the crook of Eddie’s neck. Not shying away from vulnerability — not with Eddie, not anymore — but not quite strong enough yet to meet it head-on. Face first. Eyes open.

“That’s what that face was.”

Eddie frees his hands from Steve’s grasp only to wrap his arms around his middle, holding him tightly and securely. Like he’s loving him with his whole body, too.

“I love you, Stevie,” he says. Quietly, like it’s not for the world to hear, not right now. Like it’s only for him. Only for Steve. “So much. So, so much. I don’t even know what to do with it most of the time, either. You’re okay, baby, you’re so perfect. Don’t even have the words for it.”

“Words are overrated,” Steve says, lifting his face to press his lips to Eddie’s in a conquering kiss. Licking his way into Eddie’s mouth, he swallows any and all words that might have followed, just to make a point. But Eddie doesn’t seem to mind.

Steve pulls away just for a beat, his body still on top of Eddie’s, and rolls his hips once more.

“But you can show me.”

Oh, and Eddie does.

#steddie #steddie fic #dio words #stranger things #brain’s a little mushy but sometime among academic writing like a maniac i also wrote something floaty i hope this is okay 🤍

[twstbookclub]

Sharp Teeth, Tough Love

Summary: You caught Floyd's interest the moment fire and chaos erupted in the Mirror Chamber. One chance meeting gave you the nickname Shrimpy, and another left Floyd sinking deeper into the depths. POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender-neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa🦋 Tags: Romance, Angst, No happy ending, sorry folks, Floyd Being Floyd, Slow Burn, Minor ADeuce and Grim Shenanigans again, Unrequited Feelings, Floyd's POV (I hope yall remember whose nickname belongs to who) Word Count: 3, 044 If yall needed to know, I wrote this on the same day I wrote the Riddle fic. My brain is spent on these two, and I couldn't be any happier. I wish I could end this another way, though. Poor terrifying and violent Floyd. One thing to note, it's really fascinating how he only calls someone by name if he really respected them. Also, if yall catch that reference to one of Floyd's lesson chats, I will love you forever. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy again 💕

Floyd could never forget the first time he saw you.

Your face was twisted into a flabbergasted frown, mingled with distress, confusion, and exasperation. The cat monster—he’ll call it Baby Seal since its tiny height and gray fur reminded him of one—ran amok and spewed fire everywhere. Kalim’s screams rang in the air, followed by Crowley’s indignant shouts. He watched the chaos unfold with intrigued eyes and a widening grin, revealing sharp teeth and a thirst for more wreckage.

Amidst the smoke that billowed and swirled in the Mirror Chamber, you stood in the middle of it. The harsh glow of the fire pierced Floyd’s eyes, but all he saw was your silhouette surrounded by dying embers and crackling flames. Just as his gaze landed on you, your head swiveled around to look back at him. As if some invisible force compelled you to find the eyes that burned into your figure.

He wanted to see you again.

The next time he saw you, you were with Baby Seal and those two freshmen in Heartslabyul: Crabby and Little Mackerel. Even Goldfish and Sea Bream were with you. The six of you lurked in the courtyard, as if trying to spy on something. Whatever you were doing, it caught his attention.

“Careful, Floyd,” Jade simpered after he followed his brother’s line of sight, “don’t scare the fish away.”

Of course, Jade already knew what Floyd was thinking with one look. There was a reason why they chose each other and survived the coldest, harshest waters.

“Yeah, yeah.” Floyd flippantly waved away Jade’s words with a languid grin, before he snuck on the group. It was laughable, how they didn’t notice his tall and gangly figure slink in front of them. The six students spoke in hushed whispers, too engrossed in their conversation to see the shadow that loomed over them. His eyes roamed each freshman, checking the fresh meat, but they lingered on you.

You looked so small, and he had to tilt his head down to see your eyes. Back then, during the entrance ceremony, you hunched over as if to curl into yourself. Small and weak and afraid.

Floyd’s lips stretched from one ear to the other. He’ll call you Shrimpy.

“Oh ho ho! What is up, Lil’ Goldfish?”

Goldfish jumped, sputtering and floundering like a fish caught by its prey. The rest showed varying degrees of surprise. Sea Bream’s smile became strained, and Floyd could see the junior sweat a little. Crabby flinched, while Little Mackerel took a step back with wide eyes. His fists were raised to his chest, and Floyd’s eyes narrowed at that.

Huh, one of them was ready for a fight. Interesting.

His attention shifted to you, wide eyes fluttering in disbelief. You craned your neck to look up at him with parted lips. As Floyd engaged Goldfish in a conversation more like interrogation, he felt like he was floating. It’s as if he could run around the track field without breaking a sweat from the look you gave him.

He wanted to see more of that. He wanted to see you more.

Your gaze drifted to Jade, and you froze. Floyd brushed it off as fear. That was how people usually reacted to them, anyway. It was nothing new. He focused on the conversation with Goldfish without sparing your reaction another thought.

One sunny day, a few days after that chance meeting, Floyd saw you in the courtyard again. You were with Baby Seal—he always was—along with Crabby and Little Mackerel. The latter two stood in front of you, who sat on the edge of the fountain. Baby Seal was standing next to you with this annoyed look. Meanwhile, the Leech brother was lounging on the grass. Alchemy class bored him, so he decided to skip and bathe in the sunlight on the courtyard.

None of them seemed to notice him. Floyd watched, still bored out of his mind. He was debating on whether to spook the group or otherwise, when he heard you laugh.

You tilted your head back, letting the sun illuminate the smile on your face. It was a toothy grin, one that crinkled your eyes and emphasized the chub of your cheeks. He barely saw the color of your irises, and your unrestrained laugh echoed in the desolate courtyard. You even snorted.

You tilted your head back so much that you tipped over and fell into the fountain with a loud splash. Floyd snickered, ignoring the warmth in his chest and the flutter of his heart. Howling laughter followed your fall. Crabby clutched his stomach and doubled over. Little Mackerel held back a smile as he flailed, unsure of how to help you, in front of the fountain. Baby Seal was laughing his ass off, belly flopping on the edge of the fountain.

He decided to stand from his spot and help you, since the entire thing entertained him. Although, when he stood tall and took a step towards the fountain, he paused. You were drenched in water, from the top of your head to the tip of your leather shoes. Locks of hair stuck to your forehead and cheeks. Your uniform clung to your skin, and it looked uncomfortable. Despite all that, your smile remained.

“You assholes!” You laughed with a loud wheeze, happy and carefree with that toothy and blinding grin. He could clearly hear you laugh and sputter, even with Crabby’s and Baby Seal’s loud snickers and laughter. As he watched Little Mackerel help you—and fail, because you slipped back into the fountain—a thought nagged at his mind. 

What should I do to make Shrimpy laugh like that again?

“Hey, Shrimpy!” Floyd chirped, grin too wide and sharp to be considered friendly. Little Mackerel and Crabby stepped back, as the sophomore grabbed your arm and tugged you out of the fountain. Your hand shot out to grip the edge, while you stood from the water.

“Need a lil’ help?”

“Oh merciful Seven—” Floyd pretended not to notice how your vocabulary changed in just a few months— “thanks, but how much did you see?”

The fact that you nonchalantly accepted his help, that you didn’t flinch from him, made Floyd’s heart do somersaults and cartwheels. The corners of his lips stretched towards his ears. He squeezed your arm and watched you step out of the fountain.

Water dripped from your uniform, and Floyd observed the droplets fall from your hair and fingertips. He briefly wondered what you’d look like if he dragged you into the sea. Would you be surprised? Would you scream?

Would you laugh and call him an asshole, like what you did earlier?

“What answer do you wanna hear, Shrimpy?” He teased, still grinning and holding your arm. For some reason, Floyd didn’t want to let go.

“The one that doesn’t embarrass me, thanks.” You chuckled, despite the other three freshmen being silent spectators of this interaction. As you thanked him again and flicked the water off your hands, Floyd couldn’t help but grin wider.

Another month passed. After that admittedly hilarious outburst from Azul, you became a regular at Mostro Lounge. You visited during the weekends, even if you were wary at first. You fell into a routine, just as fast as how you picked up on the lingo in Twisted Wonderland.

You walked in during the weekends and stayed for as long as an hour and thirty minutes. (Yes, Floyd kept count.) You’d talk to either Jade or himself, depending on whoever was waiting tables at the time. Azul passed by at times to make sure you were having a good time, obviously to maintain Mostro Lounge’s good reputation. After a few visits, Floyd began to monopolize your attention by literally taking over server duty during the days you visited.

Even if he had to subtly threaten Azul with profit loss via property destruction and sabotage.

“Hey Shrimpy,” Floyd drawled, sitting across from you in one of the booths. It was a slow day today, and all you ordered was a fruit shake. A history book was opened to some page Floyd didn’t care to know. Notes littered your table, and your penmanship occupied his attention a little.

That was, until he grew bored of the sounds of pen scratching paper and the clinking dishes in Mostro Lounge.

“Hm? Yeah, Floyd?” You asked, flipping a page and jotting down something on your notebook. The tall merman pouted, before he reached over and snapped your book shut. Before you could even react, he snatched it away and lifted it far from you.

“I’m boooored. C’mon, play with me!”

Floyd grinned when you stuttered and glared at him. Your reactions always amused him, moreso whenever you were irritated or angry. Something about the way your brows furrowed and your nose scrunched made him want to tease you more. When you began to flail your arms and make animated gestures, that was when he knew you were really fed up.

“You—” You sighed and stood up, trying to reach for the book. Floyd only lifted it higher, and he didn’t even need to stand up. The corner of his lips twitched, while he watched you struggle and stretch to snatch the book back.

“Floyd, give it back! Please? I promise I’ll—”

There was a reason why he always tried to annoy you. You’d always promise him something in the end: treat him to lunch, hang out with him in the Lounge, watch his basketball matches (even if you were there for Crabby, too). It was the only way he could spend time with you without outright asking for it.

Floyd wasn’t an idiot. He knew he liked you, and it all began with that incident involving the fountain. Even Jade pointed out the many times Floyd’s face lit up every time you were around. He couldn’t ignore how much his heart pitter-pattered every time he saw you. He couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t grinning every time he caught sight of you. The way his name rolled off your tongue made him giddy enough to want to throw you over his shoulder and skip class with you.

If he had a choice, he’d drag you to the deepest parts of the sea and keep you to himself.

The book was plucked out of his hand, but your own hands were empty. You owlishly blinked, and so did Floyd. Both of you stilled, until another voice broke through the quiet hustle and bustle of the Lounge.

“It’s not nice to play with the food in front of you, Floyd.” Jade smiled, the kind he usually wore that fooled anyone into thinking he was the safer option between the two brothers. It was still funny to Floyd how everyone gravitated towards Jade, only to realize the jagged teeth behind that fake smile of his.

You took your book from Jade with an awkward smile. “Ah, thanks, even if you said something subtly backhanded…”

“It’s my pleasure, Prefect,” Jade answered, his smile never wavering in that moment. Careful hands gripped the book and slipped it off his gloved one.

Without missing a beat, you set the book aside and asked, “How are you then, Jade? You and Floyd are usually together, but I haven’t seen you in a while.”

The book remained shut, as if you weren’t trying to get it back from Floyd to study earlier. The lazy smile he had dropped into a thin line. His eyes drooped as he watched the conversation between you and his brother. On the other hand, Jade still wore that perfected smile of his with a hand over his heart.

“I’ve been doing fine. Thank you for asking.” Jade hummed before adding, “I found this lovely new specimen—another species of fungi—while on a hike recently. You were interested in mountain hiking and foraging, am I correct?”

“Oh, yeah.” You laughed, light like tinkling bells. It was a stark contrast to the boisterous laugh you usually had. Floyd’s chest tightened, and his hands clenched into fists under the table.

Letting your laughter die down, you continued with a smile, “Can I join you next time? If not that, you have terrariums, right? Can I see them some time?”

Your smile was small and practiced. Whenever you smiled, it was always toothy and the corners pushed your cheeks up. Now, it reminded Floyd of a prissy princess who had been sheltered all her life. You smiled like a noble that faced the aristocrats in hopes of a good impression. You smiled like the guests his parents had, trying to curry their favor, while he and Jade grew up.

You solely focused on his brother, as if Floyd wasn’t sitting right in front of you for the last hour. Your book and notes laid forgotten on the table. Condensed droplets began to drip from the glass, and the fruit shake was forgotten as well. Even when the edge of one of your transcripts became wet, you didn’t bother moving it away from the glass.

Floyd wasn’t an idiot. Of course, he wasn’t.

His eyes flitted towards the smile you had, softened with an emotion he didn’t want to see. Your own eyes appeared brighter, livelier than whenever you were with him. Even when you sat down, your body was angled towards Jade as you leaned on the table with crossed arms.

His mood soured in that instant, and the pitter-patter of his heart dulled into silence.

Floyd scowled, standing from the booth and shoving his hands in his pockets. You jumped a little, while Jade watched him with that carefully crafted smile. He didn’t bother explaining himself. Jade knew already, and he didn’t owe you anything. You’d only take this as Floyd sulking because his brother ruined his fun.

“Whatever,” he mumbled and trudged out of the restaurant with an air of annoyance. Everyone who happened to be in his way immediately skirted around the Leech brother. One wasn’t fast enough, and Floyd’s arm knocked the tray out of the poor student’s hands.

His scowl deepened. He loomed over the terrified boy with his jaw clenched and eyes glinting ominously. The aggravated tone rang clear in his voice when he threatened, “Watch it, or do you want me to squeeze ya, huh?”

The Heartslabyul student silently despaired about his lunch. He was too intimidated and afraid of Floyd to even squeak. The merman left Mostro Lounge with a scowl and his fists in his pockets, like a child throwing a tantrum. He didn’t bother looking over to see your reaction.

Floyd was growing irritated at the thought that you’d give all your attention to Jade. He’d rather not see you make goo-goo eyes at his own brother. He didn’t want to think too much of it. Maybe he’d find something to do; something to get rid of this itch in his chest and fists.

If he couldn’t, then Azul would just have to deal with Crowley later. He wasn’t going to sit in that cramped office and get lectured by a headmaster that preened over his and the academy’s reputation.

As Floyd stomped through the portal that led back to Night Raven College, his thoughts veered towards you and Jade. His mind conjured every memory he had of you: how you perked up every time you saw Jade; how you always asked about him, even if you thought you were subtle about it; how you subconsciously gravitated towards Jade every time he was there—

A pair of Pomefiore students skittered towards the wall as Floyd passed by. A shadow loomed over his scowling face, which accentuated the dips and curve of his mouth. His blood boiled, and his footfalls grew heavier with each step. If he went on like this, Floyd would dig potholes in the corridors with his feet alone.

He always saw your smile brighten and look dainty around Jade. Your laugh grew softer, restrained and freakishly refined. It was as if you deliberately controlled yourself to look more appealing to his brother. It was annoying Floyd more than it should.

He liked you, even when your body tipped back and doubled over from laughing so much. He liked you, even if your laugh sounded like a dying whale. He liked you, even when you snorted so hard that it hurt your nose. He liked you, even when you smacked him on the shoulder out of exasperation. He liked you so much that he was tempted to tickle you in front of Jade—just so he could hear your loud and carefree laugh again.

He wanted all of you, even if you were weak and frail and helpless. He just wanted you.

He already hated how cheesy he sounded, but his heart called out for you with each waking moment. The image of your smile overlapped with his memory of your laugh. Your name was scrawled in his mind, his heart, his lips, his very soul. Floyd already knew it was bad if he was being poetic, sappy, and romantic like Seagull.

So, why’d you like Jade? His brother could care less about you in that sense. Floyd was already annoyed that Jade moved things behind the scenes: making sure that you were alone with Floyd as much as possible. They were brothers, but none of them would ever admit that they cared for each other out loud. That didn’t stop people from thinking Jade was the more capable and reliable brother than Floyd, cunning and mischief aside.

Floyd was the one who helped you out whenever he could. He was the one who spent the most time with you in Mostro Lounge. He was the one who made a beeline towards you every time he saw even a glimpse of your head. He was the one who made you laugh and smile, especially whenever he noticed that you were down in the dumps.

He found himself in the courtyard, and his mood soured more at the sight of the fountain. The memory of you, laughing and sitting like a drenched duck in the water, overlapped with the image. Grumbling, he kicked a pebble off the path and clenched his jaw.

“Ah…” Floyd sighed and ran a hand through his hair, before ruffling the locks on the back of his head. His feet halted right in front of the fountain, with its clear and burbling water. Looking down at his reflection, he saw your face beside his—all smiles and eyes hiding behind your cheeks. His heart felt weird, as if being strangled by some invisible force that Floyd couldn’t punch nor squeeze.

He clicked his tongue and looked away from his reflection. With a frustrated groan, he mumbled to himself, “Why did it have to be Jade, Shrimpy? I’d fight tooth and nail for ya, but it’s Jade.”

With that, Floyd kicked the base of the fountain like a petulant child. A dull crack echoed in the desolate courtyard, before water gushed out of the broken stone. It spilled through the fissure, and Floyd took a step back to keep his shoes from getting drenched.

He frowned again and stalked off to find something else to occupy his time with. The afternoon sun showered the courtyard with a golden glow, which only reminded him of the time the sunlight illuminated your grinning face as you laughed.

“Why’d it have to be you, Prefect?” Floyd mumbled, shoulders sagging and foot kicking another pebble in the way. Maybe, in the near future, he’d get bored and forget about you. His heart wouldn’t do that weird pitter-patter, and his lips wouldn’t twitch into a grin with one look at you. His chest wouldn’t grow fuzzy and warm. He wouldn’t get the urge to run to where you were whenever he wanted to see you—which was every day, honestly.

Floyd hoped he would forget about you, but you were so difficult to forget. He’d never find someone else who captured his interest this much. He’d never find someone who looked so beautiful, even if the noises that left them were unattractive and childish. Even if their smile was too wide to be natural. Even if they were fascinated by him at first sight, rather than scared and intimidated.

No one else would be like you, but you just had to like his brother instead.

#floyd leech x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #floyd leech #twst floyd #genuinely mapped out the plot until this happened for some reason #is it obvious that i hate love triangles #floyd is more than a violent maniac and i'm dying on this hill #jade is scarier ngl #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst angst #romance #unrequited feelings #twst fanfic #writing #fanfiction #AdminCressa🦋 #CressaWrites🦋

[euphor1a]

Riding Soobin’s thigh

thirst drabbles (11/∞)

fandom » txt

pairing » soobin x f!reader

rating » 18+ (minors dni!)

genre » smut, established relationship.

word count » ~ 1460

warnings » profanity, light dom/sub undertones, reader is thirsty, teasing, implied size kink, thigh riding, dirty talk, breast play, lmk if i missed anything!

You know he’s probably working on something important. The furrow between his eyebrows and his hyper focused eyes are kind of a clear giveaway. So, it’s probably for the best and the most natural thing to not bother him until he’s done. You know.

But God, why does he have to look so sexy while working? The glasses that sit low on the bridge of his nose being the most criminal of it all. You wonder if you’re a total weirdo for feeling so turned on by a rather simple thing.

To your defense, this is the first time you’ve seen Soobin working from home. And, he doesn’t exactly wear his glasses frequently. But then again, it hasn’t been long enough since you started to spend more time at each other’s places, often staying the weekends together instead of going on dates. 

“Soobin-ah~” you coo, hoping, praying that he answers. God, you are so desperate, down bad. 

“Mhm?” He answers, long fingers quickly typing something away on his MacBook. His gaze is transfixed on the screen, not once reverting towards you. The strangeness that’s been pooling in your stomach increases tenfold. You want him. Fuck, you might as well be crazy. 

“Soobinnie…” you mewl, wanting nothing more than his attention right now. 

Soobin looks at you for a split second, his face blank. “What happened?” 

You sigh, mumbling an almost inaudible ‘nothing’ and lowering your head. He shrugs it off, going back to his work nonchalantly. What can you possibly tell him? That you’ve been admiring him for half an hour now and you’ve made yourself wet in the process?

But you’re no quitter. It’s embarrassing to tell him out loud, but you can surely do something to get him on board instead of confessing your sins, right? 

You unbutton his oversized shirt you’re wearing as silently as possible, taking small steps to reach where he’s sitting on the couch, completely unaware of your intentions. 

“Baby, what are you doing?” Soobin hisses under his breath, caught off-guard by the feeling of your warm hands squeezing his shoulders firmly. 

“I thought you could use a massage.” Your voice is gentle, scared of rejection. 

He can’t help the smile that curls his lips upward. “Aww, thank you, my love.” Your heartbeat picks up speed, hands continuing their journey across his broad shoulders. It only turns you on more, thinking about the times you had scratched up his back while he fucked you so good. 

You let your thumbs rub soothing circles around his neck, earning a groan from Soobin. It makes you clench around nothing, a trigger flipping inside you. 

So you lean down, dropping a fleeting kiss on his neck to test the waters. To your dismay, he doesn’t react to it at all. You swallow nervously, nuzzling the crook of his neck, more bold with your kisses now.

Soobin halts momentarily, your ministrations sending shivers down his spine. He has no clue why you suddenly did that, but he can guess what you really want when you reach for his earlobe and start nibbling at it.

“Oh, I didn’t realize that it was supposed to be this sort of massage.” He teases you, still trying to focus on his work. But you aren’t having any of it.

You hum in response, letting your hands wander off towards his chest, your mouth hungrily sucking a hickey on his neck. Soobin shudders as you slowly move downward, stroking his thighs teasingly before squeezing them rather roughly.

“Fuck,” he groans, your hands sneaking under the material of his shorts swiftly. He grits his teeth, your fingers gently caressing the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. It’s almost ticklish — but in a very good way, goosebumps spreading all over him. He can also feel his cock starting to stir in the confines of his boxer-briefs, a sigh escaping him.

Soobin removes the MacBook from his lap, spreading his thighs apart, giving you access to more. You smirk, excited to see that your plan has worked. But, you continue to stimulate his soft spots to get him properly aroused, so that he doesn’t back off later on. 

But the more you see his thighs, the more you realize that you want to feel them against your pussy. The way his muscles contract every time you hit a more sensitive area has you feeling dizzy. You’re not sure why this is the first time you’re noticing how strong and thick his thighs are. But it really shouldn’t be a surprise — considering that he’s pretty big in every aspect possible.

After a while of teasing him, you go over to the opposite side to face him, quite impatient by now. You’re met with a pair of dark, dilated pupils, drinking you in with desire. You shiver under his gaze, discarding your panties and positioning yourself over his left thigh. 

Soobin quirks an eyebrow as he watches you with piqued interest. His hands come up to caress your sides underneath the shirt loosely hanging from your shoulders. You lean down to capture his lips in a searing kiss, your hands around his neck. Soobin reciprocates with the same hunger, his tongue entangling with your own. 

As the kiss gets heavier, the urge to have some friction between the two of you grows rapidly. And to relieve you from your misery, you start to lower yourself on his thigh. Soobin growls when your wet folds make contact with his bare thigh, his hand squeezing your ass firmly. “Fuck! So impatient that you wanna get off on my thigh, huh?” 

You mewl needily in response, rubbing yourself against his thigh. “I just, I just wanted to see how it feels…” 

“Aw, I’m always happy to fulfill your cute little fantasies. How is it, baby?” Soobin enquires, dropping a soft kiss on your shoulder. 

“Hmm, so good.”  You hum as you continue rolling your hips in slow and smooth circles. Honestly, you didn’t know what to expect, but this is so much better than anything you could possibly think of. You can feel your juices wetting his skin, the friction oh so delicious. Soobin reaches up to tuck a stray lock of hair between your ear fondly, his hand on your waist — guiding you on himself. 

You sigh at his touch, moving your hips with a passion in an attempt to get yourself off. He caresses your back before sliding off the shirt from your body and throwing it off somewhere. Soobin grabs both of your breasts immediately, looking like a starved man who’s just been presented with a full course meal.

“So soft.” Soobin murmurs before taking one of your erect nipples into his mouth, his fingers teasing the other. A strangled whimper escapes you, your nails raking on his clothed chest — the delicate material getting snagged in a few places. He’s so good at sucking your tits, alternating between twirling his tongue in circles around your nipple and sucking and nibbling lightly. You can’t help but let out a string of moans as waves of pleasure crash through your body.

“Nngh, Binnie,” You cry out, “Feels– s’good!” He smiles softly in response, his adept tongue slurping at your stiff, sensitive peaks. 

Soon enough, you start to feel your pussy spasming and every little sensation amplifying with each roll of your hips.

Soobin licks his bottom lip, eyes hungrily watching your every motion as you move so desperately to get yourself off on his thigh. Knowing very well that you’re very close to your release, he thumbs your clit gently to assess your reaction.

“Ugh, Soobin!” Your whimper encourages him to go on, calloused thumb rubbing your clit, adding more to the pleasure from his thigh. He leans forward, whispering lowly into your ear as he feels the heat of your cheeks against his own, letting out breathless moans.

“Do you like fucking my thigh like that, hm? You like it when your pussy rubs against my thigh and makes a mess?”

“God, yes!” You squeal, moving frantically against him, your cunt starting to pulsate as you start shaking. Soobin grunts, his lips finding yours again and again, muffling your loud moans. 

“I’m gonna come.” You whimper helplessly, his expert fingers teasing out the pleasure from you. It feels unspeakably good, your hips moving on their own, slippery folds gliding along his wet skin.

“Then come, baby. Cream all over my thigh like the needy girl you are.” Soobin murmurs huskily, clenching the muscles of his thigh.

And that does it for you. You moan his name urgently, your body breaking out in exhilarating sensations as orgasm hits you in tidal waves. He holds you close, his cock twitching as you try to recover, your nectar sleeking his leg even more. 

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💌 author’s notes ꒱

thank you so much for reading <33!! i hope this was enjoyable! it was... an experience rewriting this old work from my old blog🧍🏽‍♀️ (s/o to the sweet, sweet anon who asked me to repost this long ago)! my apologies for any mistakes left in there!

consider leaving a reblog or a comment to let me know what you think of this <333!! feedback through asks will be appreciated too! support your local writers, it keeps us motivated to create and share 🌸!

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#🪄; things i’ve written #♨️; thirst drabbles! #txt smut #soobin smut #soobin x reader #kpop smut #txt x reader #soobin imagines #txt imagines #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #txt scenarios #i can proudly say that i did a splendid job with the rewrite... it's unrecognizable. way hotter. so much better. #writar 📈📈📈📈📈 #like me next 😔 soobin... pls #giggling n shit; i am reader she is me. she's so valid. #posting this at 6 am like the maniac i am 😃 #after rewriting this since midnight #i'm grateful that i didn't d word of cringe and embarrassment (of my past self and her writing skills) #hope u guys enjoy this~ ;) #am i overcompensating for my prolonged absence? perhaps. but we don't talk about that shhhhh

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

hold me like a bouquet

(or: crowley and aziraphale, as told by history’s flowers.)

10.5k words, rated T, and warnings for blood, jesus’ crucifixion, and implied/referenced violence + character death + war. betaed by queerasinfuckyou and andromeda4004 on ao3

@kovvskii, this is for you. i was your gifter for the @gospexchange event!!!! i screwed with this for a very long time, and i hope you like the finishing product. this event was so so so so much fun and i already have ideas if we’re gonna do it again….not much more to say beyond this, im just very tired and very proud of it. do with it as you please ! and as for everyone else, i hope you like it too <3 happy reading!!

(taglist under the cut)

@fearandhatred i promised i would tag you so i Am. also @frappe-the-peppermint and @deerpines my wonderful converters . hi . thats it

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #maniac writing #good omens fanfiction #ineffable spouses #yippie im finally done !!!! logging off now . im so tired

[graviitron]

Chapters: 1/3

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences 

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings 

Relationships: Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Bill Cipher & Ford Pines, Pacifica Northwest & Ford Pines, "Manly" Dan Corduroy/Tyler Cutebiker, Daryl Blubs/Edwin Durland 

Characters: Ford Pines, Daryl Blubs, Bill Cipher (Mentioned), Tyler Cutebiker, Stan Pines, "Manly" Dan Corduroy, Fiddleford H. McGucket, "Lazy" Susan Wentworth, Pacifica Northwest, Lee (Gravity Falls), Edwin Durland, Jesus "Soos" Alzamirano Ramirez, Abuelita Ramirez, Gideon Gleeful, Mabel Pines (Mentioned), Dipper Pines (Mentioned) 

Additional Tags: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Flashbacks, Electrocution, Tasers, Post-Canon, Greasy's Diner (Gravity Falls), Past Torture, Psychological Trauma, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Gaslighting, stan almost gets arrested for assaulting a police officer (you probably know why), Minor Fiddleford H. McGucket/Ford Pines, Minor Pacifica Northwest/Mabel Pines, Trials, stan gets arrested for assulting a police officer (you probably know why), okay published wip number six boys. don’t worry this’ll get done quick 

Summary:

The Pines family, for all of their involvement in saving the universe, were not present when the Never Mind All That Act was instated as immediate law. As a result, they never heard about it, nor did they hear about the punishment for breaking said law. Fresh off a boating trip, the brother of Gravity Falls’ hero has no idea why everyone is apparently insistent on pretending Weirdmageddon didn’t happen. He intends on getting to the bottom of this alarming mystery.

Unfortunately for him, Sheriff Blubs always carries his trusty taser with him, and the public has no idea what happened in those few days before Ford was rescued from Bill Cipher’s clutches.

grrrrr wip six. @thereareeyesinsidethetrees HERE!!! i can’t believe this. i’m gonna go watch nimona now I don’t care if i’m over my sleeping limit i’m WATCHING THE GAYS

#gravity falls #maniac writing #fanfic #electrocution #ford pines #uhhh I’ll tag this properly later I need to watch NIMONA #OH SHIT THE POST LINK

[mausinly]

Grrr cowboy!velikan thoughts, au belongs to @ghouljams, also big thanks to @reyesbignaturals for enabling me hehehe

I don't think he's exactly retired yet, more like laying low with a lot of other guys from Shadow Company. Maybe they did something just a little (not little) risky (they almost blew up all of Washington) and need to stay off the radar for a while. Since Lerch is canonically from Texas, I think it may have been his idea. He's got some of the shadows working as temporary hands while others are holed up on various plots of land in plain sight.

While Graves is busy riding bulls and being a usual showboat, I think Velikan is more dedicated to the laying low part of laying low. He's living on a small ranch, nothing more than maybe 5 acres. He's got a few horses and livestock, mainly chickens and goats because he wants things he can wrangle easily.

It takes some adjustment for him, the slow and somewhat repetitive life in a small town like this. He's so used to constantly being on the move, constantly being on guard. He didn't become the warden by half-assing his job.

But it's so quiet. He always drags himself down to the bars and rodeo arenas with the rest of the shadows, just for the white noise (and to bet on how quickly his CEO gets bucked). They must look like some kind of old western gang, all wearing black hats and bandanas over their mouths. At least there's still that familiarity. He hates to admit it, but he cares about these kids more than he wants to.

It's nice for a while, a little too nice. Laying low seems to drag out longer and longer, and he finds himself calling his little farm "home" more often than not. He starts to understand the suspicious amount of retired military here, this weirdass town has a way of luring you in and wiggling its way into your heart.

Apparently, a lot of the other shadows seem to agree because, one by one, they all begin to settle down with oddly charming and beautiful women. They start making jokes that there must be something in the water when Graves starts chasing around a pretty bronc rider.

He didn't take it all too seriously until he walked by a little stand in the market, selling jars of honey with you sitting comfortably behind the display. There's a frayed little straw hat sitting comfortably on your head and he can't help but wonder how it would look replaced by his own.

Hell, maybe there is something in the water...

#maus writes #i both love and hate writing for characters that dont have much of a personality #because i can play with them like dolls and make them whatever i want but i also want them to feel accurate #which is hard when this guys only voicelines are just his maniacal ass laughter and legit no one knows anything abt him #so im taking him and running #next cowboy post will be the introduction of his darling + meet cute #so ill actually be able to write how he acts and speaks in day to day human interaction #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #velikan x reader #velikan #velikan cod #velikan call of duty #cowboy!velikan #velikan x f!reader #cod

[matchingbatbites]

all for the love of you | 4.7k

My super late contribution for @thefreakandthehair Lex's spring challenge, using the prompt daisies! I caught writer's block pretty bad and wasn't able to finish this on time - honestly, I got to a point where I just couldn't stand looking at it, so I set it aside for its own good. So glad I finally caught the bug to finish it, because I'm really happy with it! <3

Read on Ao3

Eddie isn't one to get jealous. He didn't really grow up with a lot, he learned to care for the things he had, and his mom taught him that being jealous only made you feel like shit in the long run. Sure he's wanted things before, has coveted things that other people had, but jealousy. 

Jealousy is a whole other monster, something he wasn't familiar with until he caught feelings for one Steve Harrington. 

It wasn’t something that happened immediately. Eddie spent a solid four months getting to know Steve after the younger had carried him out of actual, literal hell. The boy had opened up his home to Eddie once they’d been released from the hospital, and they’ve spent countless hours together since.

Watching movies and talking and just helping take care of each other - something they’d almost been forced into when they realized that neither could reach their arms above their heads without pulling at their sides, their matching bat bites tugging and aching, and Steve completely unable to reach the road rash marring his back.

They fell into a routine that settled warm in Eddie’s soul, and every day became something to look forward to. No matter how bad his day was - and there were plenty of bad days - he knew that he had Steve, that at the end of it he could count on crawling into bed with someone who helped chase the nightmares off, who helped ease the pain just a little.

When he eventually moved back in with Wayne - once his name was cleared and his scars finally manageable on his own - it felt like he’d left part of himself behind. Moving out wasn’t something he had to do, but he felt like he’d needed to. He didn’t want to be a bother to Steve any more, didn’t want to take up space any more than he already had.

He didn’t realize something had changed until they had a bit of distance between them, until he was crawling into a cold bed all by himself, until he was forced awake by vivid nightmares. It didn’t take long for Eddie to be struck by the knowledge that the reason he misses Steve so much, the reason why being away from the younger boy is physically painful, is that he-

Eddie grew up hearing people talk about crushes and butterflies, has heard his friends go on about the people they like, but he's never actually felt that himself. He's never had that nervous, fluttering sensation, or the swooping feeling that Jeff described when he met his current girlfriend. 

Over the years he's managed to brush off inquiries about his own love life, spinning it around to the people that he’s fooled around with, because apparently sexual attraction is something he has no problem feeling or understanding. No, that was something he figured out pretty quickly. 

He's had no problem finding people to sleep with, whether it be in Hawkins or in the bigger city an hour or so away. He learned that he doesn't have a preference when it comes to sex, that he just leans towards pretty people who seem like they might be a little bratty in bed, regardless of whether they're a guy or a girl. He likes feeling good and making others feel good and for years that's been enough. 

Until Steve.

He's been attracted to Steve for a while - a couple of years now, if he’s being honest with himself - though it's hard not to be when the guy won the fucking good gene lottery. His eyes, his mouth, those irresistible little moles and freckles scattered across his skin like stars. Eddie’s always thought he was pretty, even back when he had a shit personality, but now- 

Now that he knows what Steve is like when he’s protecting the people he cares about, when he wakes up shaking from a nightmare, when he just gets to be his genuine, goofball self without worry, well.

It took Eddie by surprise the first time he felt that swooping sensation in his gut, exactly the way Jeff had explained it to him. The fact that it was preceded by one of Steve’s blinding, sunshine smiles being directed straight at him helped the final pieces snap into place, and the completed puzzle laid before him could only spell out the realization of holy shit, I like Steve.

The feeling hasn’t dulled a bit in the two months since his epiphany, and he almost regrets that he hadn’t felt it sooner, back when he was living with Steve, back when he might have had a chance. 

Because now Eddie is jealous. He knows he doesn’t stand a chance with Steve now, because unfortunately, the younger boy seems to have his sights set on someone else. 

He doesn’t know exactly when Steve met her, but it’s been about a month since Eddie first heard this new crush mentioned in quiet conversation between Steve and Robin. It became pretty commonplace for Eddie to catch her name coming from one mouth or the other, and now. 

Just hearing the name Daisy makes Eddie's skin crawl with envy, especially because the two always stop talking about her when Eddie gets close. It’s like they don't want him to hear anything about this mystery girl, like they know he holds some sort of grudge against someone he’s never even met before.

It’s a stupid thought, but one he can’t shake, especially because it keeps happening, hushed conversations quickly cutting off the moment he’s within earshot. Eddie is beyond frustrated, but he keeps his mouth shut, knows it isn’t really his place to be upset about something that isn’t any of his business.

The night that shit finally hits the fan, they’re having a movie night with just the three of them, just Robin, Steve, and Eddie himself. 

Everyone else is busy - something not out of the ordinary with their ragtag bunch - and Eddie shows up a little earlier than they had agreed on. He doesn't think they know he's arrived, he can hear voices still flowing from the kitchen as he closes the front door behind him and heads deeper into the house.

" -don’t know why you keep putting it off! Just ask Daisy out already!" 

Eddie freezes just outside the doorway to the kitchen. He shouldn’t be listening, he knows that it will only make the ache in his chest worse, but he can’t bring himself to take those final steps to join them as Steve responds back.

“Come on, Robin, how many times are we gonna talk about this? I'm not- There's no way Daisy likes me like that."

“Well, I think you’re a self-sabotaging idiot, because you’re clearly wrong. Daisy is totally into you!”

A soft sigh. “Just… What if I’m not wrong? It could ruin everything between us, and I don’t want to lose Daisy because of my dumb feelings.”

“Steve…”

Eddie feels his heart sinking at the hopelessness in Steve’s voice, and decides he’s officially done listening to them talk about this. He steps into the room as casually as possible and they both go quiet - fucking again - as he says “Hey guys! What’s up?”  

Robin looks at Steve and makes a face that Eddie can’t decipher, and Steve shakes his head. The look on her face shifts into something determined and Steve goes a little pale as she turns to Eddie and says "Hey, Eddie! Perfect timing! Maybe you can help us figure something out?”

“Rob-”

Eddie shrugs as he goes into the fridge and grabs one of the sodas Steve keeps around for the kids. “Uh, sure, I can try.”

“Okay! So there's this girl Steve likes and he refuses to ask her out because he thinks she isn't interested in him!"

Eddie does his best to be nonchalant as he pops the tab on the can. "Is she?"

Robin and Steve reply at the same time, their "Yes!" and "No!" overlapping and leaving Eddie blinking as he processes their reactions. He makes a decision and turns to Robin, says "How do you know she likes him?"

Robin instantly looks smug and she leans in closer, almost conspiratorially. "She's not super obvious about it, but I've been watching! Any time she comes into the shop, she always leans against the counter and plays with her hair, and she gets this dopey look on her face whenever he isn’t looking at her.”

The swig of soda Eddie takes turns to ash in his mouth, and he swallows roughly as he turns to Steve, forcing himself to say “I dunno, man. Sounds to me like she’s pretty interested in you.”

Robin looks at Steve, a clear I told you so on her features that even Eddie can read. Steve pushes a hand through his hair, a nervous habit that makes Eddie want to take the hand in his own and hold it, to help sooth whatever worry Steve has. 

“I just don’t know. We don’t really like a lot of the same things, and I- I worry that she would get bored with me after a while.”

“Do you and Robin share everything in common? Do you like exactly the same things?”

The younger two blink at each other before Steve gives a hesitant “No, we don't,” and Eddie shrugs. 

“But you're still important to each other. Sometimes what makes you different only makes your relationship stronger. If this girl is worth anything, then you’ll both find a way to make your differences work.”

He points between himself and Steve. "Like us. You don't mind listening to me talk about D&D stuff, and you're the only person besides Wayne who can get me to sit and watch a sports game, because we care about each other's interests."

That little bit of advice feels like a big thing, especially when Steve looks at Eddie like he's shown him how to hang stars in the fucking sky. The wonder shining directly at him is a lot, it makes his heart thud behind his ribs, and he's thankful when it quickly fades into a soft smile.

Steve's response is a gentle “Okay. Okay, yeah, you're right. I’ll ask her out. Thanks, Eddie,” and even though he'd seen it coming, Eddie’s heart breaks. He shrugs it off, says "Yeah, of course, man. Let's uh, let's watch this movie, yeah?"

*

The rest of the night is - not tense, but there’s definitely something in the air that wasn’t there before. Eddie leaves almost as soon as the movie is over, brushing off Steve’s offer to stay the night in favor of heading back home to wrap himself in his blanket and think about exactly what he’s gotten himself into.

He knows that he can’t be around to see how this unfolds, to see Steve being sweet with some girl. He knows that the jealousy, this unfamiliar creature, will eat him alive from the inside out. Especially because he hasn’t seen Steve like this before. 

Usually Steve’s interest in a girl sparks and fades pretty quickly, a bright flash in the pan of his affections. The fact that he’s been hung up on this girl for a whole month - at least a month, he doesn’t actually know if it’s been longer - is actually a big deal.

No, Eddie can’t be around to see Steve’s courtship or whatever the fuck he’s going to try with Daisy. Instead he does something he’s not proud of and makes himself scarce, just running away from his problems again. 

Whenever Steve calls him to make plans, Eddie makes himself unavailable. He’s helping Wayne with something, or he’s hanging out with Gareth or Jeff, and he stops going by Family Video entirely. The only time he sees Steve is when they cross paths at the D&D sessions the kids roped him into running, and even then, Eddie manages to keep the interaction as brief as possible.

It works for a solid two weeks, until one Thursday afternoon, he finds Robin on the other side of his front door.

“I’m having a crisis. Can I come in?”

Eddie blinks and barely gets out a “Yeah, sure,” before she’s pushing past him and moving to sit on the nearby couch. He follows and takes the opposite end, one leg folded underneath him as he sits sideways, and she turns to face him.

“So, what’s your crisis, Birdie?”

“My crisis is that you’re avoiding Steve, and it’s making him upset.”

Oh. He hadn’t- no, okay, he had kind of been expecting this to be about Steve, but he hadn’t expected her to come right out and say it.

“I’m not avoiding him.”

“Oh, so he’s just going around being mopey and saying that you won’t hang out with him for absolutely no reason at all?”

Eddie gives a half-hearted shrug and leans into the back of the couch. “I don't always have to hang out with you guys, you know. I have other friends, other things to worry about. Besides, I thought he would be too busy with Daisy to even realize I was- not around as much.”

Robin’s eyes narrow, and for a brief moment Eddie knows just what it feels like to be a bug pinned to a display, laid out for someone to see to the very core of him. “Well, that’s also why I’m here. He’s tried asking her out but she keeps dodging the question, and things keep popping up that keep her from saying yes. I wanted to ask if you had any advice?”

Eddie punches down the glee that begins to bubble up and tries to be cool as he responds “You’re going to ask the guy who’s never been on a date for dating advice? For Steve Harrington?”

“You’ve been on dates! You’ve mentioned people you’ve been out with!”

“Yeah, to fuck, Robin. There was no actual dating involved.”

Robin flaps her hands a little in dismissal. “Okay, well just- Humor me for a second here. How do you think he should ask her out? Because obviously whatever he’s trying isn’t working.”

Eddie doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to give Steve’s best friend advice on how he should ask out some girl, when all he wants is to have the younger boy all to himself. He wants to be selfish, to deny her request and send her on her way. 

Unfortunately, Steve's happiness seems to be his priority, even if it means he finds that happiness with someone else.

“Well, has he asked her out or has he asked her to hang out?”

“What’s the difference?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, motherfucking hell. “Okay, so like, I personally wouldn’t know if someone was asking me out unless they said it outright. ‘Hey, I like you and want to take you on a date, will you go out with me?’ If he’s just asking her to hang out then she may not realize he means it as a date, so he needs to be blunt.”

Robin blinks before she hums in understanding. “That makes a lot of sense, actually. If you- If she's never been on a date, then she wouldn't be familiar with the signs of romantic interest as opposed to purely sexual interest. So he should say it outright."

"Exactly."

"That actually does help, surprisingly. Thanks, Eddie."

"Glad my lack of experience could be of service to you, Birdie. Anything else I can help you with on this fine Thursday evening?"

She bites her lip, suddenly nervous, and Eddie almost regrets asking. “Just- do me a favor; when Steve asks you to hang out again, say yes, okay?”

Eddie can’t hold in his grimace as he says “And be forced to listen to him go on about his new girl? Yeah, no thanks.”

Robin goes completely silent and when he looks up at her, she's giving him that pointed stare again. 

"Eddie-" Oh no. "-are you jealous?"

He scoffs and cuts his eyes away from Robin, unable to look at her as he says "There's nothing to be jealous of, Robin."

“Oh, yeah, so you’re totally cool about Steve going out with Daaaisyyyy?”

His face must do something involuntarily, because Robin lets out a squeal and reaches across the short distance to slap him on the leg, a reaction that isn't uncommon for her but something that still takes Eddie by surprise every time.

“Fucking ow!”

“Holy shit, you like Steve! I knew it! I mean, I had my suspicions, but you totally fucking do, don’t you?”

Eddie shakes his head, pushes his hands into his hair and tugs slightly to release some of his quickly building anxiety.

“Nope, no, we’re not going to talk about this.”

“But Eddie-”

“Robin! Steve is literally in the process of trying to ask out some girl! My feelings don’t even factor into this situation, so fucking drop it!” He knows he being mean, but he can’t stop himself from snapping as he stares Robin down, as he watches the expression on her face shift- 

It’s like she’s just realized something terrible, something absolutely horrific, and she immediately backs off with a soft “Sorry…”

Eddie sighs and slumps into the couch, drags his hands down and presses his palms into his eyes until he sees spots. The silence between them is heavy for a moment before he feels Robin moving closer, and he finds himself suddenly wrapped in a hug. He leans into her, lets her hold him for a moment as she asks “What are you doing Saturday?”

“Nothing, as far as I’m aware.”

“Steve is on a closing shift, and I’m off. Maybe I could come over and we could watch something? Something weird that only we would like. As an apology for being pushy.”

The metalhead hums in consideration. “You have to bring the movie and the snacks.”

Robin just laughs and nods. “Yeah, deal.”

*

Eddie feels a little better over the next two days. Having someone else know, even if he didn’t really confirm it, leaves him feeling a bit lighter. He’s not worried about Robin telling Steve, he trusts her not to expose his feelings like that, and he finds himself really looking forward to spending some one-on-one time with the girl.

The knock sounds on the door half an hour earlier than Eddie expected, and he yells out a “Just a second!” as he quickly pulls his hair up into a loose ponytail. He’s freshly showered after doing a little work on his old van, and he’s dressed in a pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt that he had swiped from Steve’s place - Robin’s sweatshirt, actually, if the ‘HHS Marching Band’ scrawled across the front is any indication.

“You’re early, Birdie! I thought we said-”

His sentence dies off as he opens the door to find Steve fucking Harrington on the other side. 

This is- It’s very much unexpected, and not the social encounter Eddie had been preparing himself for tonight, especially when Steve looks like actual perfection in a polo that hugs his arms and chest just right and brings out the greens in his hazel eyes.

“Steve? What are you doing here?”

Steve takes a breath, and Eddie gets the sense that he’s nervous, but why-

“I know that you’re expecting Robin, and I’m sorry for just springing this on you, but- Will you go out with me? On a date- a romantic date. Robin said you had planned for a movie night so I brought-” 

He lifts a hand and Eddie’s eyes cut down to see a bag clenched in one, and in the other a bouquet of red daisies that make Eddie’s heart stop. 

“I brought The Evil Dead and The Thing, and I uh, I made that pasta you like, literally pulled it off the stove before I came over.”

He’s looking at Eddie expectantly, but there’s so much to process and nothing makes sense, and Eddie can’t- He doesn’t -

“I don’t- I don’t understand what’s happening right now. You- You’re-”

Steve’s expression goes soft and he nods towards the trailer. “Can I come in?”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just steps back so Steve can come inside, and watches as he sets the bag on the counter but keeps his hold on the flowers. Eddie closes the door behind them and asks “I thought you were working tonight?”

“Yeah, uhm. Robin took my shift so I could come over. She told me- And I had to-”

Steve pushes his free hand through his hair and Eddie waits, watches as he builds up the courage to-

“I like you, Eddie, I have for months. I think about you all the time, and I hate that you don’t live with me anymore, and I can’t- I thought I was being obvious about it, but I was wrong, so now I’m being blunt because apparently that’s what it’s going to take.”

Steve offers the bouquet to him, pushes it into the space between them, and Eddie’s eyes snap to the flowers as he gives a weak “But what- what about Daisy? You been talking to Robin about her for weeks, so-”

“Eddie, you’re Daisy."

He- What?

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn’t just talk about my feelings for you in the open. I never knew who would be around, if it would be safe, so I uh, I came up with a code name for you. It was actually Robin’s idea, but that’s probably not surprising. But, yeah. You're Daisy, I like you and I want- I want to be your boyfriend, Eddie. If that's what you want too?"

Eddie’s heart is racing. He almost can’t believe what Steve is saying, he actually-?

“I’ve never liked someone before.”

Steve blinks at Eddie’s admission, and the older continues before he loses the last of his nerve.

“You’re literally the first person I’ve ever liked, and I thought- For a long time I thought I was broken, that there might be something wrong with me, because having sex was never an issue but crushes and romance felt like an alien fucking concept. And then I spent four months getting to know you, the four best months of my entire life, and I realized that holy shit, I think I love Steve, and it’s-”

Eddie takes a breath, trying to steady himself as he takes in Steve’s wide-eyed expression. 

“No one told me how fucking terrifying it is, how big it feels, how mean it can make you. Every time I even heard the name Daisy I wanted to dig my nails into something and tear, because I didn’t want you to think about her, I wanted-”

He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Steve steps into his space and reaches out, one big hand moving to grab his wrist, something that instantly helps ground him, and the other gently cupping his jaw.

“There is no girl, Eddie. Baby, sunshine. There’s just you, only you.”

And Eddie feels like he’s going to collapse. He jerks forward, arms wrapping around Steve and face pushing into the crook of his neck, and he’s grateful when Steve lets it happen, when he pulls Eddie close and just holds him, letting everything sink in.

His eventual “Yes,” is muffled by the fabric of Steve’s shirt, and the younger hums in question. Eddie pulls back so he can look at Steve properly as he clarifies. “You asked me out on a date, and you said you want to be my boyfriend, if that’s what I want. And yes, fuck yes, that’s what I want, Stevie.”

Steve beams at him, another one of those sunshine smiles that warms Eddie from the inside out. He watches as Steve pulls away and stoops to grab the flowers - he must have dropped them in his haste to comfort Eddie - and offers them a second time. Eddie takes them with a soft smile, can’t help but jibe “You know I don’t have a vase for these, right?” and Steve shrugs.

“We can trim them down, put them in one of the mugs. Vases are overrated anyway.”

Eddie laughs in agreement and sets out to do just that. He feels light as air as he and Steve move around the little kitchen, Eddie tending to the bouquet as Steve dishes out the pasta he brought into a couple of bowls.

It’s so nice. It’s just like when they were living together, the easy harmony that they had coming back to them so naturally, but now with a different undertone. Now, Steve touches his waist as he passes by, he lets Eddie lean into him, lets their fingers brush meaningfully as he hands over Eddie’s food. 

They eat right there at the counter, shoulders brushing as Steve talks about what happened yesterday at work, as Eddie recounts last night's D&D session with the kids. Eddie can’t stop smiling, he feels like fucking giggling, and Steve isn’t much better off, his eyes full of stars as he listens to Eddie talk.

Their first kiss tastes like red sauce and pasta, and Eddie is so unprepared for how it is to kiss someone when there are actual feelings involved. It only reinforces the buzz in the back of his mind, that distinct impression of home that he gets whenever he's around Steve.

They eventually end up on the couch, Eddie mostly in Steve's lap and arms wrapped around each other, and Eddie’s never felt so utterly content. 

They’re most of the way through The Thing when he tips his head up so he can look at Steve with a soft “So, I gotta ask… Of all the ‘secret code names’ you could have chosen for me, why Daisy?”

And Steve flushes. He looks away, and Eddie can feel him lacing their fingers together as he speaks.

“Don’t laugh, but uh, when I was little, my babysitter used to take me to the nearby park all the time. I was a pretty rambunctious kid, so it was a normal thing for us. One day we were walking to the park, and I saw that there was a daisy growing out of a crack in the sidewalk. I’d never seen something like that before, and I thought it was so cool, so I showed it to my babysitter. 

"She said ‘You know, sometimes people are like this daisy. Life puts them in a hard spot, and they think they won't ever be able to grow. But some daisies are stubborn, and make the choice to grow anyway.' And that’s what you are, Eddie. A stubborn little daisy, still growing despite the hard circumstances around you. That's why I picked it.”

He finally looks up to meet Eddie’s gaze and frowns, says a soft “Oh, baby,” as he reaches out and wipes at the tears building in Eddie’s eyes. Eddie grabs the hand and holds it to his cheek as he blinks back the waterworks, and he just feels so much-

“I fucking love you, Steve Harrington. I know it’s probably way too early to say that, but god, I need you to know that someone loves you.”

And Steve melts. That’s the only way Eddie can put it, his boyfriend - and god, what a crazy thing to even think - goes completely gooey as he leans in and presses his forehead to Eddie’s.

“After all the shit we’ve been through, I think we’re allowed to do things a little early, yeah? And, just so there’s no more confusion, I love you too.” 

*

A year later finds Eddie slowly pulled to consciousness, gently guided by the morning sunshine streaming in from a nearby window. It takes a moment for his sleepy brain to wake up, to register the feeling of Steve pressing feather-light kisses to the cluster of daisies that decorate the back of Eddie’s shoulder. He hums softly in approval and can almost feel Steve smile as he mutters “Morning, Daisy Bell,” against sleep-warmed skin.

Eddie huffs a laugh and turns just enough to capture Steve’s mouth with his own, morning breath be damned. 

“Mornin’, buttercup.”

#this took too long for how short it is tbh #i did do some research on demiromanticism #but this is based more around story flow than accuracy #so it may not be a super realistic depiction #lexsspringfanworkschallenge #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #joey writes #free cookie for anyone who can pinpoint the line that had me giggling like a fucking maniac lol

[velvette-hussle]

*Male Character does something wrong*

The Fandom™ (& even sometimes the canon narrative itself): Quick! Where's the nearest woman we can blame?!

This is purely fueled by YouTube comments, I’m sorry y’all.

#it was all Lilith’s fault #maybe if Adam hadn’t been cheated on twice then he’d be a better person who didn’t hate women #if only the women in his life had taught him how to trust and to love then he wouldn’t be such a genocidal maniac #….really? #okay #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critique #fandom sexism #fandom salt #writing and shit…. #i speak bitches *mwah* #me•

[maniacthewriter]

Writing to this goes insanely hard btw

#creative writing #maniac op #writing memes #ponyo #ponyo movie #oppenheimer film #oppenheimer #barbenheimer #oppenbarbie