#read more for mobile

[semisolidmind]

(If you’re uncomfortable with this than you can ignore it or make it into a joke)

*down on knees* 🙏 PLEASE I BEG! PRETTY PRETTY PLEASE MAKE SOME SPICY DOGDAY X Y/N ART!

I have some sweets! *gives gum and lollipops*

….idk if this is all that spicy, but—

big fella is demanding some cuddle time right freakin now

(this week was a lil rough mentally cause of school, so this is a lil scratchy)

#click for quality cause mobile is stupid #poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #dogday #dogday x reader #dogday x y/n #sunnyangel #I don’t think this will get smited but I’m putting it under a read more anyway

[eldritch-thrumming]

When witches turn eighteen years old, it’s customary for them to be sent out into the world, to practice their magic and find their calling. So when Eddie Munson’s birthday passes in July, he packs a suitcase, says goodbye to his Uncle Wayne—the best garden witch in the tri-county area, ask anyone!—zips his cat into the neck of his leather jacket (whom he’d cleverly named Kitty when he was six years old), climbs on his broom, and sets off for the city on the coast.

Once he gets there, Eddie’s not entirely sure where to go. He’s never actually been to the city before, but he’d heard so many stories—from classmates and friends, from travelers passing through his small town who’d come searching for Wayne’s recipes, from the witches who returned after their year-long apprenticeships—that he’d known since he was thirteen that he had to see it for himself. He wanders the cobblestone streets with his broom and his bag and marvels at the crowds. He watches a magician perform on the street—doesn’t miss it when he slips a card up his sleeve or shifts a coin through his fingers, but it still makes him smile—before he stumbles onto a ‘help wanted’ sign in a shop window. Kitty lets out a tiny meow from where she’s tucked under Eddie’s chin, like she’s trying to get his attention. Eddie glances down at her and she shifts her gaze from his face to the sign and back again.

“Alright, I hear ya,” Eddie murmurs, grinning and cupping a hand over her head for a quick pet.

A tiny bell jingles overhead as Eddie pushes open the front door. Immediately, he’s met with the smell of baking bread and sugary frosting. He breathes deep, giving Kitty another pat on her head. He stands at the counter for a moment before a boy around his age appears from the back room.

“Hi, welcome to The Bakery. What can I help you with?” The boy is grinning wide, wiping his flour-covered hands on his apron. He’s got soft brown hair and eyes to match. Eddie meets his gaze and feels himself blush.

“Um, you have a ‘help wanted’ sign in your window?” Eddie hooks his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing at the sign.

“Oh! Yeah, we just put that up today actually. We’re looking for a delivery person,” the boy is still grinning, eyeing Eddie’s broom. “I’m Steve.” He holds out his hand over the counter for Eddie to shake.

“Eddie.” Steve’s hand is surprisingly soft when Eddie shakes it.

“The job comes with a room over the bakery, our hours are from 6am to 5pm every day but Thursday, and we’d like you to start immediately.”

“Oh, um. Just like that?”

Steve grins again. “I may not be smart, but even I know not to turn away a witch when one comes knocking.” He knocks his knuckles against the wooden counter and Eddie returns his smile. “Come on, I’ll show you the room.” Steve turns to head back the way he came and Eddie takes a moment to look down at Kitty. She blinks at him, all-knowing, and it makes Eddie blush again. He rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at her before following behind Steve.

He follows Steve out the bakery’s back door and up a set of wooden stairs that lead from the garden to a small deck, where Steve pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks one of the two doors. He gestures for Eddie to step through the doorway before following behind him.

“The room is furnished, there’s a small stove there in the corner with a sink and a washroom just over there,” Steve gestures to a door on the opposite wall from the tiny bed. “My apartment’s the next door over and I have a full kitchen, which you’re welcome to use if you need to. Here’s your key,” Steve drops the warm piece of metal into Eddie’s palm, “and I’ll have the spare key to my place and the bakery for you tomorrow. Make yourself at home and head down to the bakery tomorrow morning.” Steve pats him on the shoulder before heading back out of the tiny room and down into the bakery.

Eddie is left to do nothing but blink at the empty space Steve had left behind. He’s not entirely sure what just happened, but he’s pretty sure he’s landed both a job and a place to stay. Not bad for his first day in the city.

~*~

A year passes and Eddie is happy. He writes to Wayne and tells him all about Steve and the recipes he tries out in the bakery. Tells Wayne that he suspects that Steve might have some witch blood he doesn’t know about; the things he can do with buttercream are pure magic. Eddie visits Wayne once for his birthday—it’s a long way by broom—weighed down by pastries and cakes that Steve insists he take home with him.

Eddie starts to learn the landscape of the city, learns when to fly over the coastline and when to keep tight to the city streets. He makes his own posters, starts to do some deliveries after hours too, which leads him to meet all sorts of interesting people. He meets artists and performers, writers and teachers, even the man who services the big clock at the center of the city (which Eddie finds particularly impressive).

He spends time with Steve. Steve is funny and smart, despite what he’d said the first day Eddie had met him. He can cook, not just bake, and he insists that Eddie joins him for dinner at least three nights a week. At first, Eddie had tried to say no to Steve’s invitations, thinking that Steve was just being polite, but Steve had insisted and Eddie realized that Steve was actually pretty lonely. He wasn’t from the city and he didn’t have much family; he’d come here when his parents had died. He’d apprenticed with an older woman named Claudia, who’d left the bakery to him when she’d retired not too long ago. Steve’s eyes go soft whenever he mentions her. Her son, Dustin, still helps them around the bakery three days a week, counting down the days until he leaves for university (he only ever relays the amount of days and Eddie’s pretty bad at math, but by his count, Dustin’s still got about three years to go).

Steve also talks about his best friend, Robin, who’s away at art school. Steve is hoping when she comes back in the spring, she’ll work at the bakery decorating the cakes. Eddie’s surprised to learn that Robin is also a witch; he hadn’t known many witches to go to art school.

The year passes in dinners and picnics, in deliveries and odd jobs, and when spring is finally turning over into summer again, Robin arrives home to the bakery.

“Stevie!” A voice calls from the front of the shop, scratchy and warm, drowning out the jingle of the bell. Eddie is sat on the counter in the back room, completely entranced by the way Steve’s arm muscles jump under his skin as he kneads bread dough. He’s barely listening to some story Steve’s telling about something Dustin had done the other day.

Eddie watches as Steve stops what he’s doing completely. “Robbie?” A smile spreads across Steve’s face, quick and involuntary. He doesn’t even pause to wipe his hands before he’s rushing into the front of the shop. Eddie watches through the door as a pretty girl with short blond hair throws her arms around Steve’s neck. He lifts her off the ground, spinning her around, leaving flour fingerprints across the back of her navy t-shirt.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming today?” Steve asks when he’s finally returned her to an upright position on her own two feet.

“Because then it wouldn’t have been a surprise, dingus.” She pokes a finger into his ribs and he half-heartedly tries to shove her away.

Watching them, Eddie feels something tighten in his chest that he can’t quite explain. He knows this is Robin—he’s seen pictures of her before—knows she’s Steve’s best friend, but this is more than mere friendship. This is something else entirely. Something magic. Eddie’s a good witch. He knows true love when he sees it.

“You have to meet Eddie,” Steve says before calling through the doorway, “Eddie, come meet Robin!”

Eddie hops off the counter and does as he’s told.

~*~

A few weeks later, Eddie wakes with a pounding headache. There’s a breeze coming through his window off the coast and it makes him shiver. He coughs and looks around for Kitty, but she isn’t curled in her usual spot on his pillow. Eddie sniffles.

He pulls himself from his bed and feels dizzy. He washes his face and drinks some orange juice before he heads down to the bakery.

“Wow, you look awful,” Robin says by way of greeting. She grimaces as he comes through the doorway.

“Gee thanks,” Eddie grumbles half-heartedly in her direction. His voice sounds heavy and hoarse.

Steve crosses the room from where he stands in front of the ovens and presses the back of his hand to Eddie’s forehead. “Eddie, you’re burning up. You should go back to bed. I’ll bring you soup later.” He pushes Eddie in the direction of the back door.

“But the deliveries,” Eddie mumbles, eyes already half closing as he dreams of getting back into his sleep-warm bed.

Steve smiles softly. “Don’t worry. Robin and Dustin can handle it.” Eddie glances behind Steve at Robin, who nods at Eddie reassuringly.

“Okay.” Eddie’s voice is a whisper and then he’s stumbling back up the stairs and falling into his bed. He wonders again where Kitty’s run off to.

~*~

Eddie is in and out of consciousness for three days. He has strange dreams, some of them nightmares where monsters chase after him as he tries to fly away on his broom; others are about Steve and Robin and even Dustin, good dreams of the life he’s made here for himself.

Steve keeps his promise and brings him soup every day, helping Eddie sit up against his pillows and even helping Eddie spoon the broth into his mouth. Eddie thinks he maybe should be a little embarrassed about it, but it’s so nice and comforting that he can’t. It reminds him of home, of recipes from Wayne’s garden.

Robin comes to sit with him on the second night, stroking his hair and humming lullabies while he drifts off.

On the third day, when Eddie is starting to feel better, Kitty finally reappears. Eddie asks her where she’d run off to, but she doesn’t answer. She’s been keeping secrets lately.

~*~

After three days, Eddie finally returns to work. Steve gives him the first delivery, tells him Dustin and Robin can continue to help out, just for a few days, so Eddie doesn’t overexert himself. Eddie nods.

He ties the tiny pastry box to the handle of his broom and mounts it on the sidewalk outside. He kicks off from the cobblestones. Nothing happens. Flying had always come easily to Eddie. It was second nature to him, something he never really had to think about. Not all witches could fly, but Eddie can’t really remember a time when he couldn’t.

He tries to kick off from the sidewalk again. Again, nothing happens. Eddie can feel the panic rise in his chest. He swallows, tries again. Still nothing.

He hears himself let out a small whimper and he’s glad Steve’s gone back inside and can’t hear him. He glances through the shop window and sees Robin’s clever eyes watching him. She meets his gaze. He can see the naked concern there. He swallows again.

He climbs off the broom and unties the package. He carries both as he re-enters the bakery.

“Something’s wrong,” he says to Robin and Steve.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks coming out of the back room again.

“Dunno,” Eddie replies. “Broom’s broken or something. Can’t fly.” He shakes the broom in his hand.

“Does that happen?” Steve’s brow furrows. Eddie shrugs.

“Maybe you’re still sick,” Robin says. “You should go back to bed. Try again in a few days.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Eddie looks down at his feet. He passes the box to Robin and then decides she’s right. Decides he should go back to bed.

“Don’t worry, Eddie,” Steve says, reassuringly. “It’ll pass. Robin and Dustin can keep doing the deliveries for a little while.”

~*~

Eddie’s magic doesn’t come back. It’s not just the flying either. Kitty stays away longer. Eddie finds himself misunderstanding her more often than not. He keeps messing up simple cleaning spells and the easy home remedies he’s been brewing since before he can remember.

He takes his broom out every night and under the cover of darkness tries and tries and tries again. Sometimes he feels eyes watching him from Steve’s apartment, but when he glances up, all he can see is the flutter of curtains.

~*~

After three weeks of a miserable, magic-less existence, Robin knocks on the door of Eddie’s small room.

“Wanna talk?” She asks from the doorway.

Eddie considers saying no. Instead he nods and gestures toward his small kitchen table. She sits.

“I saw you practicing,” she says, diving right in.

“Yeah.” Eddie doesn’t try to deny it or even play dumb and ask what she means. She’s a witch. She’ll know. “Flying used to be like breathing. I didn’t even notice I was doing it half the time. Think I learned to fly before I could even walk. Now it’s all I think about. Feels like something’s missing now, like my lungs or, like, a part of my heart or something.”

Robin nods, knowing. “That happened to me, you know. Lost my magic. Felt like I lost an arm.”

Eddie swallows. “What helped get it back?”

“I met Steve,” she says softly, a fond smile playing around the corners of her lips. “I left home earlier than other witches. I never really fit in. I wanted to go to school. Didn’t know if I even wanted to practice my magic at all. My parents said if I stuck it out, I could leave when I was fourteen. So I did. I waited and counted the days and finally it was time. Spent a year in the city. I loved it. But then, one of my friends… something happened to her.” Robin looks sad and twists her fingers together, fidgeting. “She had to leave the city. When she left, I got really sick. Couldn’t do magic for almost a year.”

“A year?” Eddie asks, mouth hanging open. “I can’t not fly for a whole year.”

Robin hums. “You figure it out. You have to. Some days it’s more noticeable than others.”

“But you met Steve. And you got your magic back?” Eddie prompts.

“Yeah. It’s like that saying, you know the one? ‘True love makes the best magic.’” She says it like she’s said it a hundred thousand times before.

Eddie grumbles. “Don’t think I’m gonna fall in love and magically fix my flying problem.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I didn’t say anything about falling in love.” Robin smiles again, big and bright this time. “There’s more than one kind of true love.”

~*~

Eddie thinks about what Robin had said to him for days. He turns it over in his mind again and again and again.

He starts laying out treats for Kitty. He misses her. Even before he got sick and lost his magic, he’d started to leave her behind more and more on his deliveries. He’d realized he could fly faster without worrying about her falling from inside his jacket.

She’s hesitant, but she starts coming back more. When they sleep, she returns to her place on Eddie’s pillow and Eddie feels good with the soft, warm weight of her next to his head as he slowly drifts into sleep.

Before he’d gotten sick, he’d taken on too many deliveries. He’d stopped having time to chat with the customers, to hear the little stories of their lives, of cleaning the clock tower at the center of town or a new plot point one of the writers had just figured out. He’d missed hearing the explanations of what celebrations he was delivering cupcakes or tarts or heart-shaped cakes for. Delivering on foot gave him a lot more time to stop and watch the street performers, to help tourists with directions. On foot, Eddie began to appreciate the city again, like he had before, when he’d first gotten here. When it felt like he’d been dropped right into the center of a dream realized.

He starts having more dinners with Robin and Steve. He’d stopped doing it so much, not wanting to feel like a wonky third wheel. But they slot him in right next to them, right in the middle. They fill him in on inside jokes and old stories. Sometimes Dustin joins them and Eddie tells stories of Wayne and the strange people who used to appear on their doorstep in search of some of his magic.

Eddie starts to feel happy again.

~*~

A week after he talked to Robin, Eddie brings his broom out into the center of the street. It’s close to dusk, the sun low in the sky, and the bakery is closed for the day. Steve, Robin, and Dustin stand shoulder to shoulder on the sidewalk, waiting.

Eddie breathes deep. He swallows. Breathes again. And then he mounts his broom like he has a million times before. He grips the polished handle. He feels it thrum beneath his fingertips. He takes another deep breath, closes his eyes, and kicks off from the cobblestones.

There’s a strange sort of hush to the street. Eddie can’t tell if he’s in the air. He squints an eye open and sees Steve, Robin, and Dustin waving up at him. He can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. He lets out a shout.

He does a few circles around, just above their heads, while they all scream and clap for him. Eddie can’t help but laugh. He’d missed this.

When he finally lands, they all rush to hug him. Dustin lets go first and then Steve.

Robin’s arms are still around him when she whispers into his ear, low enough so only he can hear it. “See? True love magic.” Eddie smiles again and gives her one last tight squeeze before letting go.

Dustin and Robin head back inside, leaving Steve and Eddie to stare at each other in the empty street. Steve is still grinning, his hands in his pocket.

“How’s it feel?” Steve nods toward the broom.

“Feels like breathing,” Eddie tells him, closing the space between them. Steve’s cheeks flush and Eddie doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick from Eddie’s gaze down to his lips and back again. Steve licks his own lips. “Feels like home.”

Steve is breathing a little harder now as Eddie continues to slowly close the distance between them.

“Feels like magic,” Eddie whispers, before he brushes his lips against Steve’s. He pulls back slightly. “Feels like love.” Steve’s hand comes up to curl around the back of Eddie’s neck, pulling Eddie in close for a real and proper kiss, right there in the empty street, under the setting sun.

now on ao3 :)

(For @outpastthebrakers for commenting on the post where I mentioned this!!!! Warning: this was fully written under the influence of a sleeping pill in abt an hour and a half. Don’t hold that against me :P)

#steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlet #stobin #platonic stobin #Eddie munson is a witch #Robin buckley is a witch #Robin buckley #Kiki’s delivery service au #steddie au #steddie fluff #sorry abt not putting a read more I still can’t figure it out on mobile despite 3000 of you trying to explain. it to me #I’m too exhausted to fix it rn literally abt to pass out as we speak

[starrysharks]

OK heres zeno coloring tutorial 2.0 !!!! i'm gonna do it kind of in chapters i guess?

chapter 1: choosing base colors

when i'm choosing base colors i always pick everything based on a specific off-white! my 'default' off-white is this kind of very light cyan color but i change it regularly based on character designs/environment/lighting whatever,, examples here!

for callie in this piece, i based everything off of this pinkish color! her skin tone, tentacles, outfit etc are all chosen to harmonise/contrast with the pink color

and with this piece, i used a slightly darker blueish color as they're in space but there's still a lot of light... and the lighter colors in the background (the explosion) make a sense of depth i guess? i used that blue color and chose similar cool colors to harmonise with it!

so i more or less base the tone of the colors in the piece off the off-white! warm off-white = warmer colors (like the nova valentine's day art) and cold off white = cooler colors (like the explosion nova and paro art). but i switch up this formula often !!

chapter 2: coloring specific things

here i'll go over some specific textures and stuff like skin and hair ... skin first !!

for skin, i like to use a variety of tones! there are different ways to draw cooler and warmer skintones that other people have gone over way better than i have but basically for skin i use this part of the color wheel and pick the darker tones of oranges/reds/pinks etc. (for darker skintones, i go to the middle of the color square thingy, and for lighter tones, i usually slide down the upper-right side)

when it comes to shading skintones, it's pretty straightforward, just a darkish-purple and a pinkish color on 100% multiply, and i always add a little shadow on the nose and blush becuz i think it's cute

(also i like to add reflective spots on darker skin tones sometimes because 1. darker skin tones reflect in real life and 2. it's fun)

next up is hair... this is very specific to my artstyle but i like to add 3-6 long oval line thingies to the hair to mimic reflection ! it looks cool, it's a good way to show off different colors in the design and i like to switch it up sometimes based on a character's personality!! (like how the frye pic above has a lighting bolt shaped hair thing, or how my teto design has a wing shaped hair thing to mimic her wings in her chimera form!) (note: it doesn't always need to be lighter than the actually hair color and it usually isn't)

for other materials like metal, screens, etc etc... i just add random X marks lol... and reflections!!!

(also, just a general thing, but adding little saturated lines to shading really adds depth and color imo!!)

i would put more tips with refs but tumbles only allows 10 images per post ;w; so i will simply close off by saying don't be afraid to add overlays and filters to your art!! overlays can really help harmonise colors and filters like brightness and contrast can help colors pop... try not to completely rely on them for color choice tho!!

and that's basically it !!! this is not a definitive 'how to draw/color' post... i am not a color theorist... i just wanted to show people how i choose colors cuz a lot of people say they like my color choices! honestly i don't know much myself but i hope that this and the philosophy of 'do what looks good' will help you all o_ob thank you and goodbye

#long post #ah its so freeing to have zero character limit on this site #i did want to add more pics tho 😭 #i would make a part two but i dont have much else to say #hope this helps people maybe #also idk how to add a cut/'continue reading' thingy on mobile so if someone could tell me how id appreciate it 😭😭😭

[capricioussun]

Why is it always “what’d sans do to Grillby” and never “hey isn’t it weird neither Papyrus nor Grillby have appeared in deltarune yet?”

Anyway happy let papyrus say fuck day everyone

#this is based on that image of the little girl outside the house fire yes but I can’t add images under read mores atm bc mobile #let papyrus say fuck #letpapyrussayfuck #what’s a little arson between perfect strangers am I right #undertale #papyrus #deltarune #sort of? #ut rus #ut sans #ut dyne #sort of…

[carnation-damnation]

Kind of a sequel/revamp to that one comic I made where Sonic helps Shadow through a sensory overload episode. Rambled a bit to a good buddy of mine about it but I really like the idea of Sonic and Shadow both having sort of similar insecurities about themselves (I think Sonic has a hero complex and doesn't take care of himself sometimes, and Shadow gets too into the idea of being The Ultimate Lifeform and pushing himself too hard) and both are susceptible to adhd autism overloads. They can confide in each other about this because they're both VERY aware of the pressures they're both under and I just think they're neat. :')

#Made the text smaller because apparently you can do read more on mobile anymore? idk #sketches #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sth #adhd sonic #autistic shadow #sonadow

[allthedrugsforcreativity]

Where your nightmares end...

WILLARD BEGINS

#I can’t work out how read more works on mobile so your not getting close ups lol #just look at the Instagram post for that I suppose #will wood #will wood and the tapeworms #wwattw #wwatt #art #my art #traditional art #black and white #willard #willard 1971 #willard 2003 #rat art #rats #will wood fanart #fanart

[gferamos]

Random assortment of doodles tiem (⁠づ⁠｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡⁠)⁠づ

-------------------------------------------------------

#read more #my art #digital art #wow I sure draw MK a lot #sometimes I feel bad only drawing him but then I remember hey as long as I'm having fun screw all >:)) #... well sometimes it works- #also I blame a certain friend and also a mutual of mine because of my weird amount of Kine doodles.. #long post #sorry I have no idea how to do the whole thing is it because I'm on mobile orr? very confused on how to use it #man I'm not tagging everyone only the ones who show up often enough.. #kirby #bandana dee #king dedede #meta knight

[gothic-mothic]

“It’s uncanny the likeness. Apart from the eyes. The Narrator has green eyes.”

Haiii another tsp fan comic, this time it’s fully polished! This is (as far as I can remember) my first time doing this so I apologize if it’s messed up or difficult to follow. I struggle a lot with writing so again, apologizes for any grammar mistakes.

I hope you enjoyed ! :3

#the stanley parable #tsp #tspud #the stanley parable ultra deluxe #the black panels are my favorite #I love making things glow or ominous #EEEE I’m so proud of how the last panel came out too!! almost exactly how I pictured it in my head #READ THE WARNING ALSO #I don’t know how to add the little ‘see more’ thing bc I’m dumb and use mobile exclusively #I would absolutely add it if I could but I can’t so a warning is the best I can do #I mostly made this to test out trippy visuals (the eye bubble) and draw a big ol eye #love eyes #-said the corruption and flesh enjoyer #(Tma reference) #SPEAKING OF TMA NARRATOR IS SOOO BEHOLDING CODED #we love that for him!!! #oh right warnings #cw eye contact #cw eyestrain #cw eye stuff #(just a catch all) #tsp narrator #tspud narrator #tsp stanley #tspud stanley #canon compliant queer coding #aka #could be read as stannarrator #.png

[evesburden]

Malogranatum [Ominis x Slytherin F!Reader]

Ominis opens up to you in the Slytherin common room while Sebastian is out clearing his head. Slight angst and melancholy follows. A fic that gives perspective to his standoffish behavior towards you, despite his warm welcome at the start of the game. I’ll probably edit later when I’m not so lazy and read it myself.

If someone had asked Ominis Gaunt who his family was, he would have sighed and listed off his lineage - always with his disclaimer on how he did not agree with the Gaunt family practices. He would do so in a measured voice, blocking out any emotional response that might bring that horrible guilt roaring back to his ears. A tricky spiral he had learned to carefully mortar to the far reaches of his consciousness in polite company.

However, when you had asked him what family was in its stead, he felt himself take a staggering pause. Maybe you hadn’t meant to phrase it that way, maybe you were just truly interested in his bloodline…But the warmth and cautiousness in your tone spoke otherwise.

So, after a long pause, he divulged thoughts that he kept pieced away. He did so cautiously, his pale slender fingers pinching and twisting around one another in anxiousness. He told you how he had first met Sebastian and Anne, how they quickly adopted him into their tightly knit bond, despite his cold and somewhat prickly demeanor that first year.

Truth be told, he had only been so off-putting due to his own concerns. Walls he had put up that he had never before felt safe letting down. Anne saw right through them, with Sebastian only too happy to follow along. Always the one up for a challenge to keep up with his twins antics.

He was much better now, at socializing and making friends. Just as the twins had adopted him, he began to adopt their boldness and steady footing. Never any best friends, mind you. That was reserved for the duo who had quickly become the only place he felt structured. But he did have a fair sprinkle of acquaintances throughout the school and houses.

More than Sebastian, at any rate.

Ominis spoke of spending nights and holidays with the Sallows, how despite the constant teasing and bickering between the two, he had found a security he didn’t know was previously available to him. He chuckled remembering how he thought he was in love with Anne for nearly an entire year, until he realized that the love he felt wasn’t the romantic variety. Ominis was, and still is, clumsy with familial dynamics and affection. He admits this to you in the same way adults tell stories of when they believed in Santa — with a warm melancholy of lessons learned and fond memories.

Almost an hour goes by until he notices that he had been the only one talking, the realization hitting him with an uneasy feeling he couldn’t place. A self-consciousness he rarely was vulnerable enough to experience in front of others.

“That’s truly lovely, Ominis.” You had responded as he faltered, sincerity so thick Ominis felt like he needed to clear his own throat of it.

“Sorry,” He murmured in embarrassment, “I suppose I sound like a prattling old man.”

Ominis couldn’t see you shake your head, but he could feel the motion from where you were sat next to him, “Not at all, truth be told you could speak about all of this for hours and I’d be elated.”

There was a…squeeze in his chest just then. A sensation that somehow both alarmed and comforted him. If you had been observant, maybe you would have caught the half second his eyes widened, before they crinkled in a small smile, “That’s very kind of you to say and not something I necessarily deserve.”

Ah, there it was. The guilt.

Ominis stood up, wanting to end the conversation on a good note, and not on the flashes of jagged cursed energy that lurked in his memories. He imagined Sebastian was still getting his fresh air, if that’s what he was actually doing at all, as he let his wand lead him to their rooms.

He wasn’t sure how much time had gone by when he finally heard the clicking of the door, alerting him to Sebastian’s arrival. Ominis sighed, his tone an annoyed whisper, “You really ought to go to bed at a somewhat normal hour.”

Sebastian laughed in a hushed tone, “And miss the adrenaline rush of nearly being caught? I could never.”

Stereotypical Sallow; always a childish quip to be had. His friend had been a lot more reasonable when Anne was still attending, since Sebastian wouldn’t go out if neither of them agreed to join him. It was a bit worrisome, how he was slowly changing. Most would argue independence was a good thing to mature into, but in Sebastian’s case it felt destructive. Like he was chasing something that they both knew he was never going to find.

“Why are you still up?” Sebastian asked, sitting with his back against the side of Ominis’ mattress, “Not fair to nag me just because I choose to take my insomnia outside.”

He paused while he considered lying to Sebastian on why his mind was refusing to pull him into the lull of dreamland. However, he was too emotionally drained to do that back and forth. Once Sallow felt a sniff of a secret he was like a dog with a bone. If that dog had fleas and a slight hyperactivity problem.

“Our newest classmate and I had a…Nice chat in the common room,” Ominis explained, unsure how to best word it, “It had been awhile since I was able to do that.”

There was a pause, “You chat to people all the time.”

Ominis let out an annoyed huff, “We spoke about you. And Anne, of course.”

“What about me?” Sebastian’s voice was part curiosity, suspicion, and incredulity.

“Just how I came to know you both and our first few years together.”

“…And that kept you up?”

This was the part that Ominis had been carefully treading around, the part he had been struggling with formulating into words — even in his own mind. But in true Sebastian form, if there was something Ominis didn’t want to divulge, it would be the one thing his friend would ask about.

“No,” Even Ominis was aware of how annoyed his tone sounded. He wasn’t even entirely sure why he was so upset with having to share the details to his best friend. To someone he fully considered as a brother. Maybe it was his issues with affection, “She had asked me what I considered family to be and naturally, you and Anne came to mind.”

If Ominis was bad at showing affection, Sebastian wasn’t much better. Except where Ominis was the kind to rarely express such thoughts verbally, Sebastian was always the first to make light of them with jest. Ominus decided to take advantage of the beat of silence he was positive Sebastian was using to try and formulate a socially acceptable response.

“But other, not so pleasant, memories followed, as they often do,” He continued as if he were talking about the weather, “So I came to bed where my self-loathing thoughts were so rudely interrupted by our resident delinquent.”

Sebastian chuckled, no doubt relieved that Ominis had made a light hearted joke of his own despite the seriousness of the topic. If the descendant of Salazar Slytherin had been completely honest he would have asked Sebastian the question that had been lingering in his mind all evening; What does the new fifth year look like?

It was never something Ominis had shown the slightest of interest in — what someone looked like. In fact, he couldn’t recall ever asking that before, let alone even care to. It wasn’t as if he would suddenly get his eyesight back and would need to pluck people from a lineup. He often associated people by their voices first, then their smell, and finally tastes that would remind him of their demeanors.

Anne’s voice came off like the crackling of lit torches, warm and familiar but with the slight unease that fire tends to bring. Sometimes, it was more like a rock being skipped across a lake; more lively and active, traveling further out of earshot but never out of reach. She always smelled like fresh wool and gently spiced soap, except on days she had been exceptionally adventurous, and came back smelling like grass or dried weeds. The thick underlaying of pollen and soil, from where she had no doubt been ducking for cover to stay hidden. She reminded him of fruit tarts filled with berries that were picked just a touch too soon. Bitter but sweet and refreshing, never the same flavor ratio twice. Buttery pastry that had a light crisp to it, but was soft and gooey where the filling had sat.

Sebastian’s tone was always deathly serious or teasing — Like the raucous in the school halls, at times it took a moment to decipher if someone was upset or just overly excited. It was akin to hearing the waterfalls around the lake, roaring impact against rock that was either extremely relaxing or would put your teeth on edge. He smelled faintly of stale book pages that had been left unopened for too long and the Butterbeer candies he kept in his pockets. Occasionally, after he showered, he would smell like the same soap as Anne — probably because he didn’t care to purchase anything different. Rocky air also liked to cling to him when he had been out. Fresh but with old moss and a slight salt peppering the edges. As far as taste went, much like the candies Sebastian stowed in his pockets, he reminded him of fresh butterbeer at the three broomsticks…But specifically the butterbeer they had bought Ominis and filled with a sprinkling of grass as a ‘prank’ their first year. He could still remember the warm flavors being harshly interrupted with the pungent taste of spring lawn trimmings. Sirona had let out an annoyed sigh as she brought him a new one, while the siblings tried to muffle their laughter.

If he were honest, that was Ominis’ favorite draft that he had ever had. Not that he would openly admit it, of course. Sebastian’s outward ego was already far too obnoxious without any additional ammunition.

Despite their unique differences, the twins both smelled like Feldcroft as a foundational scent. The small home where they had grown up. Damp wood, dried hay, and slightly over ripe apples. It was a smell that Ominis wished he could bottle and label homesick.

The new fifth year…Her voice reminded him of rain. But not the deep echoes when it landed in an obtuse pattering, but a tad sharper, like when it struck the windows just right in the astronomy tower. Ominis hadn’t been able to pick up her perfume yet, or maybe it was her soaps, but it struck like a honey chamomile with sharp spikes of lavender — but even that didn’t sound quite right. There was another scent underlying those, not an offensive smell, but something uniquely her that he had no name for. To be honest, he hadn’t been around her long enough to be fully confident on what her personality was like. She seemed to always surprise him based on the situation and the people he overheard her conversing with. If Ominis had to pick one at the moment, based on what little he knew about her…He’d have to say warm mint tea, with a hardly noticeable trace of sweetener. Maybe lemon, as well.

No, that wasn’t quite right either…

“Falling asleep already?” Sebastian’s voice cut through Ominis’ musings.

“Unfortunately I’m still among the living.” He deadpanned, stormy eyes pointing up towards the ceiling, fingers silently drumming against his sternum.

“I was thinking…”

“Always a dangerous endeavor.”

Sebastian ignored the comment, “Of writing to Anne about her. The new fifth year, I mean. I think they would get along.”

Ominis nodded.

“I think I’m going to introduce them. Might lift Anne’s spirits a bit. Meeting people outside of our doorstep.”

In all it wasn’t a bad notion and normally, Ominis would wholeheartedly agree with anything that was healthy and good for Anne. Something Sebastian had been in low supply of lately, as far as ideas went. Regardless, It wasn’t lost on him the verbiage he had chosen.

“Just you and her?” He asked, trying to keep his tone light and inquisitive.

“Well, yeah for the first time anyway,” Sebastian clarified, but his voice seemed a tad tighter…almost nervous, “You can come next time.”

Ominis wasn’t daft. After all, Sebastian wasn’t exactly known for his depth when it came to organizing events. There was a part of Sebastian, that for whatever reason, wanted this to be a closed event. It rubbed him the wrong way for a multitude of defenses.

They were best friends for years, was the first to come to mind. He had known Anne and Sebastian longer and far more intimately than anyone else in their lives. If anything, it would make more sense to invite him to help ease the social interactions. He had missed Anne too. Why was he expected to sit this out? Was he being replaced?

The second, and far more impossible to vocalize, left Ominis’ chest feeling like a pomegranate being split open. The initial crack being swiftly followed by the sound of flesh ripping from the fruit, juice spilling into clutched hands, no doubt staining everything it touches.

“Makes perfect sense,” He felt like he had a stone in his throat, “Tell Anne that I miss her when you go.”

Ominis made the decision that it would be in everyone’s best interest if he simply kept the new student at a distance. As separate from his emotions as possible, much like the memories he so often clutched back from bubbling to the surface.

Growing attached and vulnerable to more things he would just inevitably lose was naive. Sebastian and Anne were his family, and while they were never sure how long Anne would be in their lives, he knew that Sebastian would be the constant. He had accepted he would lose Anne, someday, and the mourning for that would come when it was time.

That was all the mourning he had the heart for.

Ominis went to bed that night, and despite his resolve, was left feeling like he had already lost something anyway.

#ominis x reader #ominis gaunt #don’t at me #I know this is insufferably long #and I haven’t figured out how to add the read more on mobile #because i only went to public school #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ominis gaunt x mc

[mickstart]

Hi! I don’t know if you still take Formula 1 asks but I was wondering after watching the Senna documentary, WHY ON EARTH everyone deems Senna better than Schumacher?!

Everyone always talks about Senna as the greatest, but he can’t be better than Michael Schumacher right? Or better than Fangio or Vettel, and definitely Hamilton.

Which I know Verstappen always says you can’t compare different eras but I can’t understand the hype around Senna,

I mean, personally, I prefer Prost because of how Jenson Button describes his driving style.

But I would like to understand though. I always like your input, so that’s why I’m asking. Thank you!

Have a lovely week!

Hey! yeah F1 will always be a part of my life so I'm always down for F1 asks. Fdfsjfdsghjds as for this it's a... complicated question. There's a lot of stuff going on.

So fair warning, this is going to be a long fucking answer.

For me personally, I totally agree with the argument that you really cannot compare different eras. Like, Max for example having more wins per season means Nothing when there are statistically more races per season. But then does this mean Fangio's statistic of winning the highest percentage of races per season is the real meaningful record, and it means he's better? Well, not in a way you can meaningfully prove, because fewer races per season means fewer chances to lose, or to have a mechanical problem, or a freak accident.

So you see really quickly how comparing different eras is like. Almost meaningless, because the skills needed in each era varied so much. It's not like a lot of other sports where the rules and structure were already consistent more than a hundred years ago and so it's easier to compare across a few decades. The physical demand an F1 race places on the body today would have been absolutely unthinkable to those drivers in the mid 20th century, even in the late 80s. They'd think it was a different sport entirely.

Like to me, The Greatest in F1 is about how they impact you personally. Michael is The Greatest and I don't feel any need to justify that by comparing his stats to others. It's about what he makes me feel in my chest, not his numbers.

And I think that's the crux of the issue w/ Senna. LOTS has been written about his driving style, his accomplishments, his determination. When Michael was peaking people were doing NASA level calculations to explain why Senna would actually always be better than Michael in numbers still. But I think some of that is people's personal attachment to both of them. Michael is a godlike figure to the tifosi and in German motorsport, and Senna is arguably an even more religious figure to Brazilians. Like I don't even feel right explaining here how much Senna means to some Brazilians because I know it is that deep of an emotion he brings out. He was a big donator to charities, he was a public figure representing Brazil on a global stage at a time the country was recovering from various crises. His funeral was enormous because he was arguably the biggest celebrity in the country.

And that mythical status spreads into motorsport as a whole. First of all because of his success, then because of how he himself weaved his religion into his racing - allegedly talking to god during the race and claiming God chose him to be a racer - then because of his rivalry with Prost, and then, finally, because of the impact a champion dying in an F1 race had on safety in F1 and across motorsport as a whole. Today we don't really appreciate how insane it was that F1 went from the death toll it had before Senna's death, to immediately going 20 years without a grand prix race killing a driver.

(Sidenote but I wish Ratzenberger's death didn't go ignored so often in this legacy and I can't talk about it without mentioning him for the sake of not letting his name go unsaid. Imola as a whole sparked change, not just Senna. It was too much tragedy in too short a timeframe for them to ignore it.)

Senna being "the last death" for such a long time only made his mythical status bigger. The religious wording he'd used about his own career, the way F1 (Brundle) tends to 'valorize' risk and danger, his popularity in Brazil, the mourning his death produced, it all pulled together to create something that's more legend than man. It became less a historical record of a real racer with numbers to his name and more a story about a doomed hero who died too young. When I was watching F1 as a kid - before Jules' death - Senna to me had this image of a martyr now guarding the racers in death and protecting them. That was sort of the 'vibe', I guess, that F1 liked to push.

(There's really something to be said about how Ferrari and Brazil and Italy and Catholicism shaped F1 into a religion with saints of its own I guess.)

Like, I wasn't alive when Senna was racing. I don't consider myself a spiritual person. I don't really even care about Senna, and frankly I know his personal life includes essentially an arranged marriage to an underage girl. But still, I hate it when we go racing at Imola. The whole track feels eerie to me, like it should be left alone, like we're disturbing something. I know that IS superstitious and I never let that feeling out, but it's in the back of my head. That's how strongly F1 has pushed Senna on the fans as a legend beyond questioning, and how it effects even someone who doesn't consider him the greatest and never has.

This ties back into people comparing him to Michael, I promise. I think a lot of the reason people do that, is actually that they're mourning that they never got a definitive answer to the question "Which one is better?" because Senna was killed before the championship could be settled. They try to find other ways to give an answer, to prove it, so they can feel satisfied, so they feel there WAS some sort of resolution to the question and it was just hidden.

But death isn't neat and tidy like hypothetical answers. It just happens. That's natural, and so is resisting the truth of it and the questions it leaves unanswered, or the gaps it leaves in our lives. Senna is framed like a story - F1 is framed like a story - and human nature is to give a story a conclusion with meaning that answers all of our questions - Senna was the best, Michael was the best, Lewis is the best, Fangio is the best, etc - not... nothingness. Not a sudden and abrupt ending to a young life that had nothing to do with the story he was carving out. So Senna's death becomes the turning point for safety in F1, the answer to the question of 'the greatest' becomes something that has already been given, and we create whatever proof we needed to simplify these things down.

In reality, F1 went 20 years without a death from a grand prix because of luck, swift action, and the tireless work of many, many individuals. Stewart, Watkins, Lauda, the drivers who reformed the GPDA after Senna's death and had it up and running by the next race, the people who redesigned Imola to be safer, the FIA circuit grading system, the track marshalls, the medical staff, and hundreds more.

In reality, there is no definitive greatest, and if there is, if we can somehow prove it via mathematics, very few statistics are on Senna's side.

But like. For all that we live in reality, that doesn't inform how we perceive it. When Michael equalled one of Senna's records he broke down crying, and for the rest of his career he always said Senna was the greatest without pause. I'm pretty sure Lewis himself still holds Senna up as the greatest. Because at the end of the day that title isn't something that can be 'proven' to some people, me included. It's not actually about records or statistics or proof. It's about who makes you feel like an awed little kid watching a very brave man in a very fast car.

People don't like to admit that though. People like to be right, and they like it even more when the thing they're right about makes them part of a group. (Senna Fans, Schumi Fans, Hamilton Fans.)

For me personally though, I never like to argue or debate about who is the 'best'. I know nobody will ever change my mind about Schumi, and frankly I don't want to change anyone else's mind about who the 'best' is, and as soon as the conversation starts it always ends up becoming about doing one of those things. I don't see the appeal of it. If someone out there is convinced Maldonado would be a 10 time WDC if he had been in a good car then fine, fuck, sure. You keep believing that.

Sorry. I've rambled a lot and this became more a general treatise on What It Means To Be The Greatest and How Sport Becomes Folklore than an answer to your question. I just didn't feel I could answer without Getting Into It. I hope I've kept this respectful to the drivers of the sport, and it hasn't felt like me lecturing you when I just got super carried away with my theories sfdghfsdhg

TL;DR - I don't think Senna is the greatest, but I think it's purely because of his legacy and myth.

#long post #I'm literally praying read mores still work on mobile

[alienssstufff]

OC I MADE FOR A DR CAMPAIGN WOOPER!

Ultimately (haha) I went with the og concept but still wanted to test alternatives - was inspired particularly by rabbits and their associations with the moon by East Asian culture. The crescent shape of the helmet too + the neck fluff give illusion of a moon hiding in the clouds :3

More developments on the design details. It’s not AS fitting to the typical Danganronpa wardrobe but a) he’s an adult b) the regular is kinda boring c) his Ultimate is an alien might as well go all out. Focus here is memorable yet consistent silhouette and testing potential logo designs (every dr character comes with a symbol whether from them self or a school)

Also bonus colour tests! My priority was to make green the highlight colour in the end I went with the Top Left palette, it’s like the Top Right but subtler colours fitting for the source media but not too washed out like it. Alternatively I also rly likes how cold the Bottom Middle looked

#stufffsart #character concept stufff #Danganronpa #fanganronpa #danganronpa oc #I’ll add a READ MORE tomorrow I can’t add it on mobile >< #original character #oc

[nburkhardt]

Somebody loves you, you got a friend (part 6)

Other parts: one, two, three, four, five

Again, please ignore whatever doesn’t seem accurate to real life. It is omegaverse after all 😅 also I didn’t think I’d ever share this but here we are! (Also heads up: not only does this jump around but at some point we switch from Steve’s pov to Eddie’s pov) Timeline? Idk what that is. Don’t think about it!

He ignores Nancy and Jonathan at school, avoids Billy and Tommy. Joins Eddie at his table at lunch, gains friendships with Eddie’s friends and once they’re behind the doors of the drama room for Hellfire, admit their relationship is more than just friends.

Eventually he doesn’t necessarily drop out of school, more so, leaves Hawkins High and finishes at home while being tutored instead. But the rumor at the school is he dropped out because of Billy Hargrove taking over the “king” status.

When in reality, he’s six months along and although not that big, it’s very obvious that he’s pregnant. So, he sticks to staying at home while wearing larger clothes. He’s not embarrassed, and neither is Eddie.

They just decided it was safer this way, especially after Steve admitted how much Billy kept trying to fight him.

Steve still goes around town, he knows at least some of the people in town noticed him acting strange or looking heavier, but luckily it’s not at the high school.

After some convincing and a long talk with both their parents, Eddie moved in with Steve with the promise of always visiting Wayne; weekly dinners, Janet also makes one of their guest rooms into a semi-permanent bedroom for Wayne.

It’s been a wild ride for him and Eddie. They had a few arguments and usually it was just blown out of proportion. The biggest one was Eddie running late to the appointment where they found out the gender and it wasn’t even Eddie’s fault (got detention from some asshole lying about him cheating and the fucking teacher believed it) and it took a week and his mom talking with him before Steve even allowed Eddie back inside the house.

Besides the few arguments, they were doing good and after the week Steve refused letting Eddie in, the two of them were nearly attached at the hip. They weren’t allowed to mate each other until both of them were eighteen. A rule set by Janet and Wayne.

Not that it stops them from doing whatever else to be the mates they’re definitely going to be. Eddie leaves marks all over Steve whenever possible, Steve’s scent is nearly gone in favor of Eddie’s and then when Steve’s really feeling clingy, Eddie smells exactly like Steve.

Currently, the couple is in bed and happily scenting each other. Eddie has a hand underneath Steve’s shirt, feeling the movement from the baby. The omega hums happily and rests his head back onto the alpha’s shoulder, closing his eyes with a smile as the baby kicks just light enough that it doesn’t bother him and for Eddie to feel it.

“God, I’ll never get over this” Eddie whispers and presses a kiss to Steve’s temple, “Just so insane”

Steve laughed and cuddled closer, chasing Eddie’s warmth while moving his hand to follow the light kicks, “I still think it’s weird.” He whispers back, letting his eyes fall shut and his breath evening out.

That’s how Janet finds them a few hours later for dinner, Eddie curled around Steve with his hand still over the baby bump. Smiling softly, instead of waking them, she just pulls their blankets over them and shut off the light.

——————

The baby is born in the middle of August, and shortly after Steve turns seventeen.

Between Eddie and his mom, he’s not panicking as much as he thought he would when they found out. Still, as he’s walking around the hospital room with Eddie, all he can think of is how stupid and all the pain he feels. “I don’t know how you did this, mom”

She’s sitting on the window sill, laughing.

“Oh Sweetie, I was in labor with you for fourteen hours. You’ve only been at this for two,” she doesn’t bother looking at him, “But just know that at the end, you’ll have a beautiful and healthy little baby girl”

It continues on for another five hours, then when the date turns from the 17th to the 18th, a healthy baby girl is born.

Eleanor Janet Munson.

His mom tears up when he says the baby’s name in a tired and raspy voice, Steve waits until the nurses and doctors leave to say more. “I know you said no apologies, but I really am sorry momma. For not being safe, for- for throwing this curveball” he looks down at Eleanor, “adorable curveball”

Eddie laughs and presses a kiss to his head, “I’m sorry too” he whispers.

Steve shook his head and then Janet laughs, causing both boys to look at her. She sighs, squeezing Steve’s shoulder before placing a kiss on his forehead. “You both need to stop apologizing. I’m not upset, well, maybe a little for making me a grandmother so young. Eleanor is beautiful and I’ll be right here helping you both figure out this life with her.”

——————

School starts back up when Eleanor is a month old, and unfortunately, Eddie is back in his senior year despite all the tutoring.

“I’m just saying, I think the teachers are out to get me!” Eddie’s ranting as he gets dressed, roughly pulling on a shirt, “they keep coming up with excuses! I know what I’m doing, you helped me! Hell, your tutor, what’s his face helped a whole lot!”

Steve’s currently sitting up against the headboard, feeding Eleanor. A smile on his face, despite Eddie’s mood. “Eds, maybe it was all the ditching you did?”

The alpha spins around pointing at him with a blush speeding its way across his face. “N-no! I had good reasons for ditching! The teachers at Hawkins high are just assholes”

Shaking his head, he smiles up as Eddie steps closer to the bed, “hm, i’ll give you that one. But hey at least that dickhead Hargrove is gone, right? Plus you can recruit new members for hellfire”

Two of the four current Hellfire members are graduating this year, and Eddie is letting Gareth DM for the first time. Eddie’s been more occupied with them and not paying much attention to anything else. Of all the members, only Gareth knew about Eleanor.

That was by accident on their part. It was Wayne’s turn to host dinner and so they were all over at the trailer, Gareth had only shown up to talk about their band. Eddie had opened the door and at the same time, Eleanor had started crying.

In a panic, Eddie pulled his friend inside and was brought into the knowledge of their baby.

All Gareth had to say was, “you know, of all the rumors I heard, none of them were like this.

It then caused a chain reaction of finding out all the current rumors surrounding Steve and Eddie. Only to end the night with Gareth promising to keep it a secret for now

Anyway, back to now; Eddie ranting about how shitty it is that he’s doing senior year a fucking third time.

“Go find new blood for your nerd game, enjoy some time away from our cranky newborn.” Steve winks before pulling Eleanor away from him, “Ellie, tell daddy it’ll be fine”

Eddie gently takes her from him and snuggles her close, gently scenting and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “It’ll be torture, princess. But I guess your mama is right”

Steve stands and wraps his arms around the alpha and scenting him, “it’ll be fine, then when you’re done. We’ll be here”

Within twenty minutes of being at the school, he’s gained a total of four new members of Hellfire. He ignores their questions and just tells them the time and room before quickly finding Gareth to tell him about it.

“A warning, got new members for Hellfire already. Hope that campaign is big enough to include four new freshmen” he all but whispers against his friend’s ear and laughs hard when he jumps.

Gareth glares, closing his locker, “you’re getting too good at that”

Laughing, Eddie claps his friend on the shoulder, “gotta be quick and quiet when you got a newborn” he whispers again then pulls away, “seriously though, got new blood for hellfire.”

Gareth rolls his eyes and pulled Eddie along with him to their class, “These new blood, got any names?”

Groaning and hitting his forehead, Eddie lets out a frustrated huff, “Didn’t get the names, all freshman though. I think I recognized one of them but I don’t know how, the last year I’ve been busy with Stevie”

“Damn, so it’s a surprise for all of us.” Gareth snorts, “how is Stevie by the way? Haven’t seen either of you for a bit”

That causes Eddie to happily tell Gareth everything he can without letting the big secret slip. Doesn’t hurt that they’re still outcasts and freaks, so everyone ignores them.

The rest of Eddie’s day surprisingly goes by smoothly except for gym when he bumps into Jason Carver, the new it boy of Hawkins High. The younger alpha snaps at him and unoriginally spits at him, “Step away, Freak!”

Currently he’s whistling as he makes his way to the drama room for Hellfire, he’s already planning on cutting the clubs meeting short. He really wants to get back home to Steve and Eleanor.

As he reaches the door he’s surprised to see Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers waiting near the door, he stops short. Clearing his throat, causing both of them to jump.

“Why are you standing outside of the drama room?”

Nancy crosses her arms, “Our brothers said someone invited them to a club, you that someone?”

Then it clicks, why one looked so familiar, “huh, you know you and your brother could pass as twins?”

He doesn’t wait for a comeback and walks into the room not even bothering if they follow him in, he’s surprised to see more than those four he invited. From the looks of it, they’re joined by two girls. The red head looks familiar too, “hello, I see you multiplied”

Gareth snorts and Eddie smiles wide as everyone else is confused, the red head is staring at him like she’s trying to figure something out. The other girl is quietly whispering to Nancy’s brother and the kid with the Weird Al shirt is smiling wide.

“I’m Eddie Munson, welcome to Hellfire. Where we welcome all and everyone who’s a lost sheep in this big bad world called high school” He grins, “I’m usually the DM. But I’ve been a little busy,” that causes Gareth to snort again and he glares over at his friend before turning his attention back to the freshmen, “Gareth is DMing for now, he’s got a whole campaign cooked up already.”

“Munson? Like Wayne Munson?” The redhead cuts in, “I’ve seen you before”

He pauses and looks at her, “how do you know my uncle?”

“I’m his new neighbor,” she then looks between him and the other freshmen, opening then closing her mouth and then shook her head, “anyway, I don’t play your nerd game”

Raising an eyebrow, “then why are you here?”

“You invited the nerds, we tend to stick together”

Nodding, he then looks between the other freshmen and that causes a chain reaction of them introducing themselves.

There’s: Mike Wheeler, Will Byers, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair and then Max Mayfield and lastly Jane Hopper. Only the boys play but apparently they’re a party and never far from each other. And according to Will, their siblings are part of the package.

“Great” he says with a tight smile, “let’s cut today short, I gotta go. We meet every Friday after school, those who want to can play, the rest can hang out”

He doesn’t wait for many replies, and just bursts through the door. Sending a salute to the older Wheeler and Byers before making his way out of the school.

~

Soo, we jumped around a bit. Just wanted to move things along a bit because I didn’t want to linger on the pregnancy part lol. I hope you’re like me and just…ignores timelines. Because I definitely didn’t consider it whatsoever. Currently it’s September and Eleanor (Steddie’s baby) is a month old. Btw I imagine she has Steve’s nose, Eddie’s face shape, Eddie’s eyes and light brown curls. She’s fucking adorable and has everyone wrapped around her tiny finger already 😌

ANYWAY, Upside Down events: I’m just gonna say I’m completely ignoring it now. Mostly because Steddie’s not involved. If you want you can say it still all happens but they’re just not involved or be like me and think it’s done. This is supposed to be a slice of life fic with honestly no plot just me being sappy with my fav boys.

Tag list: @spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @zerokrox-blog @callme-keys @maya-custodios-dionach @rajumat @yellowdevilkitten @munsonfamilyband @steddierthings @tartarusfairy @mx-jinxous @zombiethingy @lunaticmarunatic @izzy2210 @carlyv @thelittleclare @estrellami-1 @sierra-violet @grtwdsmwhr @epiclazershark @bookworm0690 @forest-fogg @flustratedcas @p0lybl4nkk @tiny-enthusiast @a-gae-af-racoon @blackpanzy (if you want to be added to this let me know, I’ll add you!)

#steddie #steddie fic #omega steve harrington #omegaverse #alpha eddie munson #a/b/o fic #mpreg #nburkhardt writes #steve x eddie #stranger things fic #guess who found out we can use read more on mobile 🥳

[emry-stars-art]

tell us about the royals au!!! (im on my knees. please.)

Ohhhhh my friend you have started me on a RANT I hope you’re ready!!!

I don’t know that I’ll ever actually write it so I’m not too worried about spoilers, and the wonderful people in my dms (which are still open btw) bouncing ideas with me are always going to come up with great ideas so I’m putting WIP in big red letters, things are subject to change! But for now, some ideas. Most of what I have will be under the cut, but if you want to know more about a specific part/have any questions please I’d love to chat :D will link to the art/posts I have so far!

(In this au I’ve been referring to Neil as Nathaniel at first and then Abram (hello names as a plot device), and everyone else right now is some version of their name)

Kevin and Nathaniel were raised at Evermore castle, Kevin to be in direct competition to Riko/see which of them might claim the throne (not thought out yet), and Nathaniel as the Moriyama’s attack dog, born and raised to take his father’s place as such. The two never met in person, but Nathaniel knows and recognizes Day because of course he does, and Day knows the name Wesninski means a very, very dangerous person. Essentially the top assassin on the continent.

But as we do, Day decides he can’t/won’t handle the treatment anymore, whatever the last straw may be, and runs off to Palmetto in a kind of desperate chase of the stories his mother used to tell him when he was little. He knew she loved that kingdom. Somehow he finds Wymack - the twin’s royal advisor - or Wymack finds him, and once Wymack realizes who this kid is and has reason to believe he’s not here on Evermore business, he puts Day’s incredible talent and training as a tactician/commander to work as his pupil.

Meanwhile Nathaniel is still at Evermore, mistreated and learning from his own failures and mistakes until he’s nearly as good as his father at the family business.

I don’t know how long Nathaniel plans it, but he either plays the part for long enough or his skill is so undeniable that when the Moriyamas have plans for the Palmetto Kingdom, they send him and one other accomplished fighter to kill the king. Nathaniel goes quietly and decides he’s not coming back if he can help it.

So instead of killing the young king, Nathaniel’s panic has him turn on his partner at the very last second, stopping them just before they can get to the king. He takes them somewhere far away and does what he does best, leaving no one to report back to the Moriyamas. From then on it’s a waiting game to see how long the family will wait before they send someone after him.

Day’s followed them, and Nathaniel turns around from the body and sees this man he hasn’t seen in years, alive and safe away from Evermore. It’s as elating as it is crushing - because Day heard his partner call him by name, and there is no way Day will ever let a Wesninski walk away alive. Not if he knows what’s good for all of them.

Except Day doesn’t kill him, even when Nathaniel asks him to. (Better Day than Riko, Nathaniel knew that even when they were all stuck at Evermore). Instead, he takes Nathaniel back to the twins/Wymack, gives him a little bread, and they sit until he can pry out an explanation. (See the comic of this first meeting here.)

Day and Nathaniel spend most of their time together because Day refuses to let Nathaniel out of his or Wymack’s sight until he proves not a threat to the royal family, which proves an issue because between Andrew’s rotation of personal guards (he never gets along with them well enough that they stay/aren’t fired) Day is Andrew’s guard, which sometimes means Nathaniel is stuck a lot closer than Day would like. But after a long, long time, Day and Wymack decide Nathaniel was serious about the whole “runaway” thing and isn’t playing spy (maybe there’s some dramatic event/Nathaniel protecting a twin that convinces them or maybe it’s just a lot of little things over time). Andrew, after a rough spat with the latest guard, is again in need of a new one. Finally Day just asks “is there ANYONE you could possibly pretend to get along with that can do the job” and Andrew knows Nathaniel is dangerous he just doesn’t know exactly how or why (but oh he is curious) so maybe he just straight up says. “Wesninski.” And Day has to go “…. Fine.”

So boom. They knew each other superficially before, but now Andrew and Nathaniel are spending most of their time together and miraculously - no arguments. No spats. Day thanks the gods there’s no physical altercations (that’s probably what got the last guard fired so quick). Nathaniel is just a mystery with shady ability to tell the truth and Andrew can’t help his curiosity. Good old fashioned andreil :D

From here the timeline becomes essentially nonexistent, I have no idea when these things happen in relation to each other but so far they’re all things I like and want to include!

1) there’s plenty of games and competitions at Palmetto, we love a good tussle, and Nathaniel usually does quite well - he’s not good at playing fair, but his underhanded methods are not technically illegal and usually he can use his preferred weapon - dagger rather than sword. He does well except for the one time an opponent accidentally says/does something that was constantly said or done to Nathaniel while “training” at Evermore, and he comes back to Andrew and the tent he watched from in the beginning of a panic attack. Andrew doesn’t know anything about Nathaniel’s past at this point, but he knows a panic attack when he sees one. In trying to talk him through it, Andrew realizes that yes Nathaniel is scared of being hurt, but he’s more afraid of hurting others. Nathaniel won’t let Andrew call him by name, he flinches every time Andrew says it. After, Andrew asks what he should call him instead, and Nathaniel finally asks to be called Abram.

2) Balls! Masquerades! Abram doesn’t have many outfits, he wears the regular issued uniform to every event. Andrew will not stand for this. Abram always wears clothes that cover him fully, which is fine, Andrew can work with that. He’s still seen Abram in a tight shirt or two. So he commissions one of the most knowledgeable people in the court (we’re thinking it might be Allison, she’s a noble but she’s great with textiles/embroidery/etc) and gets Abram a new outfit. It still covers him, its still protective material, but it looks better. (Find Abram in a corset here). Andrew handles it totally normal and rational in his head when he sees Abram actually wearing it of course.

3) Day probably assumes for a little while that Andrew and Abram have got a more or less normal guard/charge relationship, even thinking it’s slightly antagonistic considering this is Andrew we’re talking about. (This doesn’t fit the timeline, but here’s a mini comic of one of Day’s misunderstandings hehe)

4) king Aaron! He became king at 18/20/whatever age we decide this universe deems old enough because he is in fact the elder twin here. I imagine their parents have both been dead and gone for at least a few years at this point. Dan is Aaron’s guard and she and Abram hit it off great as coworkers and friends. More on the uncertainty of the twins backstory later. (Drawings of Aaron and his queen Katelyn here!)

5) the angst. The Moriyamas should have heard from the Wesninski boy months ago - something somewhere went wrong. So, naturally, they go to collect their property. If they get away with it, we can imagine how it goes. What I don’t know is if the twins, Day, and Wymack know for sure he was kidnapped or if they have a little nagging in the back of their head that wonders if he’s only run away from the castle or if he’s run back to Evermore with everything he’s learned.

When he’s recovered, Day doesn’t let Andrew too close too often for a while. If Abram forgets where is for even a second too long - waking up from a nightmare, having a flashback - it’s long enough for it to be fatal to whoever might get too close to Abram. It’s already almost proved fatal for Andrew, after Abram played normal so well that Andrew let it slip - he forgot Abram was taken back to Evermore for them to finish making him into a thoughtless weapon, and they’d nearly succeed. He wakes Abram too quickly and ends up extremely lucky Abram recognizes both his voice and the way Andrew didn’t call him ‘Nathaniel’ or ‘Wesninski’. There’s really a huge amount to possibly be covered about this point so I won’t go into detail here - but if you like hurt/comfort you know where to find me 👀

6) the biggest thing we haven’t figured out is Andrew. Either he was kidnapped at a young age and only recovered in his teens, or the elder King Minyard didn’t much care for his second son. Though I’ve always liked the idea of Mr. Minyard being a good man who died shortly before the twins’ birth and their mother just couldn’t handle the grief or knowing that the twins look like him. Anyway a lot of the twins’ issues after both of their parents are dead are the advisors or other people around them that try to take advantage of their youth and inexperience for their own gain, without realizing that both Aaron and Andrew have had to grow up much too fast, each for their own reasons. They can usually see right past the tricks. It’s why they both trust Wymack so much - he’s one of the few adults that are truly there to help them, and not make decisions for them.

Im sure there’s more I missed, but this is long enough as it is lol. People have asked about the Trojans/Jean in this au, and I’d love to include them! My brain’s instinctive response is that Jeremy is some sort of high end noble/royal of a faraway kingdom, and Jean (always last to leave the nest, im so sorry baby) somehow gets over there, but I don’t have an idea of his or anyone else’s roles yet. Renee could even still have a hand in him getting there if we really want.

So I’m still writing snippets and drawing over here lol but i promise I don’t bite if you want to talk :D

#dear. lord. #this got long #very handy that tumblr adds a read more button to mobile as soon as I learn the shortcut for it #whatever I’m uh #invested #that’s the word I’ll use #I TOLD YOU ROYAL AUS ARE MY ABSOLUTE BABY #my main ocs have a royal au too that’s equally as long winded #it’s insane what this universe can do to me 😭 #uhhhh okay tags #my writing #royal au #asks #neil josten #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #kevin day #david wymack #aftg #all for the game #oh also lemonzestedtea #your tags bless me #thank you for the cool pillow 🙏

[asukiess]

wanna do a smut series where it’s all the unpopular headcanons. vanilla toxigriffe. femdom marichat. service top adrien w/ladrien. super kinky PRE-REVEAL adrinette. uhhhhh idk ladynoir has been pretty versatile. I’m not saying this is revolutionary I’m just saying I like to explore The Dynamics

#smut talk #LMAO what a tag anyway #Asukies ramble #sorry read mores just don’t work on mobile ig

[5blight]

a charismatic butcher who seduces men and women only to chop them up and feed them to his monster daughter.

#myart #silas #sybil #tes #the elder scrolls #can u not do read mores on mobile still .. always feel so bad subjecting ppl to long posts

[biohazard-inevitable]

You know what I’m also gonna post that Zosan fic on here cause its too fucking good not to anyways-

Why not let it be me?

Ao3 Link here

Rating: T

Zosan

Word count: 2530

Post thriller bark angst

It was quiet, for once. The boisterous cheering and singing dulled to a snoring lull as the drunk pirates had all collapsed for the night, practically sleeping on top of each other among the rubble of the great ship.

Sanji, however, was not as asleep as the rest. He couldn’t stop worrying.

Slowly, his feet shuffled towards the door of the makeshift infirmary, cautiously pushing the splintering oak forward with a groaning creak before slipping inside, wordlessly. His tired, sapphire eyes adjusted swiftly to the darkness, settling on the broken form of the swordsman on the bed, swaddled in bandages and gauze, a choked sound lodging in his throat like bile that refused to come out all the way, sour and vile.

“Oh marimo.” He whispered out softly with a sigh, having stubbed his usual cigarette out before entering as he quietly approached the bedside. “Will you wake up soon?”

Softly, he trailed his fingers down Zoro’s limp arm, tracing lazy circles along each wound as he knelt at the bedside, searching the man’s face for any sign of consciousness, though finding nothing but the soft rise and fall of his chest. Well, at least he was actually alive, that was a plus.

Sanji laid his head atop the mattress, his golden hair splaying across the sheets beside Zoro as he ran his knuckles along his body, carefully counting every dip and curve beneath the wrappings, noting how every abnormality was a new gash or broken bone. Tears welled in his eyes as pain tore its claws through his heart, pain and guilt that this should be him in the bed, it should be him laying like this, not the swordsman.

His mind swarmed with flashes of yesterday, of Kuma and his offer before Zoro had knocked him out, of the blurry pain that blossomed across the bruise now settled beneath his ribs matching the shape of Wado’s hilt, the wheezed protests before his body had crumpled to the ground, his vision fading to nothingness around him. Memories of the panic in his chest when he woke to find Zoro wasn’t there, the rush of adrenaline in his lungs as his legs pounded against earth in a desperate attempt to find him, only to come face to face with the disastrous aftermath, the cross-armed swordsman standing as still as a statue in a endless crimson pool of his own blood, waiting.

The way Zoro had looked at him in that moment, no rage or usual bickering to be had from Sanji’s quips and teases, just stern, hopeless determination as his shaking form barely opened its mouth to speak, replying to only one of Sanji’s hundreds of questions.

“N-nothing happened.” He had spoken, body crumpling into Sanji’s the moment the cook had touched him, as if he had been waiting to collapse the entire time, waiting for it to be safe enough to do so.

“Nothing happened.” Sanji muttered with a click of his tongue, fingertips curling into the sheets as he snapped back to the present. “Nothing happened my ass.”

There was no point in chewing him out right now, and Sanji doubted he could even hear him with how out of it he was. The blonde’s lingering grazes slid down Zoro’s arm towards where his palm lay limp on the mattress beside him, calloused fingertips facing upwards to allow easier bloodflow from the IV Chopper had hooked up.

He was beat beyond what any normal human would ever be able to survive. His beautiful, warm sun-touched skin now looked and felt unfathomably cold and grey, the only color of it being dark specks of clotting black and tarnished rust that was what was left of the blood he had been soaked in. His face seemed peaceful, and unmoving like a corpse, the though sending another pang through Sanji’s heart as his fingertips tightened into a sharp grasp around Zoro’s fingers, giving a gentle squeeze as he laid his head against the mattress beside the swordsman, his own heart thundering so loud in his chest that he could barely hear the murmur of the other’s, if it was even there at all.

“Sanji…” Came the soft, squeaky note fo concern from behind followed by the soft but familiar rattle of glass clinking together as the door creaked closed. “I thought I told you to stay out until he recovered, though I understand your concern.”

“Sorry, Chopper.” Sanji spoke, almost surprised at the broken crackle to his voice, his cheeks wet and puffy with the liquid that stung at his eyes, tears he wished never fell. “But I can’t leave him. What if… what if something happens in the night?”

“Sanji, thats why I’m here.” Chopper sighed, laying a hoof softly on the blone’s thigh. “To make sure nothing happens.”

“But what if it does?” Sanji gasped through a sniffle, his hand tightening around Zoro’s fingers as he watched the faint, but steady, rise and fall of the swordsman’s bandaged chest. “What if it does and he- Chopper… what if he doesn’t wake up?”

“Don’t say things like that!” The reindeer pleaded through tears of his own. “He won’t die, he’s stable. I’m monitoring him, but I promise you he won’t die! Although… I don’t know when he’ll wake up, but he will! I know he will.”

“He has to…” Sanji sighed, threading his fingers together with Zoro’s absently.

A pause fell through the air between the trio as the cook’s grip tightened, his other hand rising to run gentle minstrations theough Zoro’s fuzzy hair as he cradled his head like a lover.

“Sani, forgive me for asking but… are you and Zoro..?” Chopper began, unsure of how to explain what he knew he was seeing.

“Are we what?” Sanji hoarsed through a whisper, not taking his gaze off the swordsman’s resting face. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I mean, I know I fight with him a lot, but never seriously. I never wanted something like this to happen. Out of everyone… hes my best friend.”

“I see…” Chopper mused, biting his tongue from speaking the obvious as a long, tired sigh freed itself from his snout and he found himself padding over to the spare blankets. “In any case, you’ll catch a cold if you fall asleep without a blanket. I can’t let both of you fall ill! It’d be wrong of me as a doctor.”

“So you’ll let me stay?” Sanji sniffled, finally turning to look at the little reindeer as Chopper flung a soft, but tattered blanket over his shoulders.

“Of course.” Chopper nodded. “Just dont mess with any of the tubes, and I might wake you up to take his vitals throughout the night.”

“Thank you, Chopper.”

“Get some rest now, Sanji. You’re just as worn out.”

“I’ll sleep when he wakes.” Sanji grumbled, choosing instead to thumb across the swordsman’s knuckles with his soft, well cared for hands, ignoring the huff the doctor sighed as he put some used bottles onto his tray.

“Fine, but take care of yourself properly when you get a chance!” Chopper scolded lightly before exiting the room, leaving the two alone once more in favor of treating the others who were still quite injured.

Sanji hardly paid attention to when Chopper had left, instead choosing to sleepily bring Zoro’s limp hand to his lips, gently kissing over each knuckle like a silent prayer to whoever would listen, a prayer hoping that Zoro would wake from whatever battle still raged inside his mind.

“Come back, Zoro.” He murmured to himself, breath ghosting whispers of warmth over the mosshead’s hand and his eyelids feeling heavier and heavier the more he tried to force them open. “Come back to me. I don’t… I don’t know what to do without you. I love you.”

He didn’t know how long passed before sleep inevitably sunk its cold, callous claws into him, before his exhaustion ridden lashes shuttered his eyes to the world or before his stiffled sobs stuttered into a soft, sonorous snore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zoro awoke on the early dawn of the third day, his whole body going rigid with the ever gnawing flames of agony that screamed through every fiber of his being, joints sore and bones aching while the stitches beneath his cause itched and stung like a thousand raging bees. Softly, he let out a long, dreary groan as his senses slowly came back to him.

After the fires of touch came the soft jingle of sound, the clinking of a stirring spoon against the edge of a bowl echoed from a table nearby while the faint scent of day-old secondhand smoke nipped at his nostrils. His eyes blinked open slowly, the crumbling ceiling coming into focus before him while his tongue smacked at the bitter taste of old iron at the back of his cotton-dry mouth.

As the swordsman tried to move into a lazy turn, a thousand spikes of pain roared up his spine, sending a soft hiss out from his teeth as the soft sheets underneath him shifted and he came face to face with a sleepy blonde head lain right beside him, a pair of undeniably curly eyebrows in plain view.

“Cook..?” He hoarsed, voice feeling entirely unlike his own as he spoke it, realizing the soft sensation caressing his fingertips was that of the plump, glossy lips pressed against his knuckles, a hint of drool pooling at the edge while those flawless, slender fingertips coiled loosely around his hand.

“Zoro!” Came the soft, whisper-yell from behind, the tinkling of the metal now ceased entirely as soft hoofbeats padded towards him. “You’re awake!!”

“Chopper…?” Zoro spoke with a groan as he glanced towards the reindeer, eyes wincing at the brightness of the lamp. “Good to see you’re alright… what about everyone else? Luffy! Is he?”

“Of course you’d be worried about that! He’s more than okay.” Chopper chuckled softly, motioning for Zoro to quiet down his excitement before gesturing to Sanji’s sleeping form. “You were the one we were most worried about.”

“Even dart-brow was worried?” Zoro grunted, maneuvering more to lay his head closer to the cook’s, admiring every little spiral his golden hair made on the mattress as he gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Hard to believe he of all people would be worried about me.”

“I don’t know what happened back there… but it really messed with Sanji.” Chopper admitted quietly. “I’ve never seen him cry so much before.”

“He cried..?”

Oh… now that took Zoro by surprise, but he could see it now. The faint, puffy redness around his eyes, the salty crust that clung to his lashes, the phantom rivers carved into the rosy hills of his cheeks. The way his grip had clearly been so tight before he went limp with slumber, the soft stain on the mattress beneath his face. Had the swordsman’s state really done all of this to a chef who claimed to despise him?

“I don’t think he thought anyone noticed… so I wouldn’t bring it up. I don’t need you getting into a fight for at least another few weeks! Maybe months with how badly you’re hurt!”

“Mh… nah I’ll be fine by tomorrow.” Zoro huffed before rolling back into position with a slight wince, absently thumbing over the cook’s knuckles as he got comfortable again.

“Zoro!” Chopper scolded, droning on and on about the importance of resting and the severity of his injuries, but Zoro was more consumed by the thoughts that the one he woke up to see first was Sanji of all people.

The lovestruck blonde who called the swordsman a plethora of profanities and the most degrading of insults, who would happily throw his leg up in deranged attacks while growling professions of hatred, the same cook that was now curled up on his knees at his bedside, brows crumpled with worry and cheeks stained with the salt of his tears. Surely, on top of all that, the gentle lips pressed to his knuckle had to be a coincidence, right? Surely, of all people, the cook didn’t like him like that, did he?

Surely Sanji didn’t love him back.

“Chopper…” Came the sluggish, dreary yawn from between the two, interrupting the doctor’s rant. “Quiet down… its hardly even dawn and I don’t have to make breakfast for a while longer… what the hell has got you so worked up?”

“Well, now that sunshine here is finally up, I might be able to get my hand back.” Zoro joked with a low, tremor of a chuckle, drawing that blurry blue gaze upwards until Sanji’s eyes shot open and he was yanked to attention.

“Zoro!” He exclaimed, those bubbly tears welling up again as he stumbled to his feet. “Fuck- Zoro you’re awake! You’re alive!”

“Course I am curls.” Zoro winced at the sudden uproar of worry that came from the blonde, a soft annoyed scowl darting across his face as he slapped a hand over Sanji’s babbling mouth. “Now can it! You’re too loud for how fucking early it is.”

The swordsman half excepted that small gesture to send Sanji into one of his usual upity rants, legs flying and swears spewing from his mouth, so when it didnt come, Zoro wasn’t sure why.

Instead, the cook’s soft, supple hands reached up to tenderly grip around Zoro’s wrist, watery eyes averting themself from the swordsman in favor of the ground as he slowly pulled the hand away from his mouth, letting the fingers lazily drag against his plush lips if only for the briefest moment.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” The blonde apologized, really catching Zoro off guard. “I shouldn’t be so loud. I just- look, everyone was really worried about you and Luffy wouldn’t be the same if you died and so I of course had to make sure you didn’t leave us all behind! You have a job on this ship wether you like it or not and I sure as hell am not gonna let you throw it all away for nothing! Zoro, I-“

I care about you.

I couldn’t live without you.

I can’t see you die when I’ve only begun to want to live.

I love you.

All unspoken against Sanji’s lips as his confession died in his throat, unable to admit the truth tearing its claws through his heart, unable to admit that for once, his love was a man. A man he’d sworn he hated, a man he refused to bend to, a man that had nearly died in his arms protecting him, a man that was his everything.

“You… what?” Zoro urged, steely gaze locked in on the chef’s figety fingers, his teary lashes and the worried quirk in his brow.

“I need a smoke.” Sanji sighed bluntly, releasing Zoro’s hand from his grip, decidedly unready to say how he truly felt. “And to get breakfast ready. Come by later when Chopper is done checking up on you, alright?”

“Yeah…” Zoro sighed in response, watching as the chef left for the doorway. “Alright.”

So much for thinking Sanji liked him more than just a rival, Zoro mused to himself.

How stupid could he be thinking it was anything else?

#one piece #roronoa zoro #sanji #zosan #zosan fic #zosan angst fic #zosan thriller bark #thriller bark #post thriller bark #tony tony chopper #black leg sanji #THEY FINALLY IMPLIMENTED THE READ MORE FOR MOBILE HALLELUJAH #zayne’s writing #anyways this scene has been loving in my head rent free