#stupidest shit i've ever written

[astridthevalkyrie]

A Scene Popped Into My Head But Instead Of Writing A Whole AU I’m Just Going To Write That One Scene <3

—> Scene Capture Fics Masterlist

—> Today’s Feature: Ice Hockey Coach Levi!

—> a/n: a scene capture fic????? in 2023????????? yes, i'm actually alive :) tbh by reading this you can tell how rusty i am because this is trash

Levi doesn't think he's ever had this big of a headache. And there's been some real contenders over the course of his life. One would think all the death or that one bit where he was sleeping on the streets would take the cake. But no, it's this idiot—this mousy, annoying fucking idiot who really makes migraines a constant in his life.

For the sixth time in an hour, Levi blows his whistle.

"Jock! Get the fuck out of the rink!"

The player in question slams down the stick he's holding in his left hand, shoving the teammate he just elbowed out of the way before skating towards him. That migraine seems to pulse in anger the same way the player's veins do.

"You can't bench me again," he seethes, fists clenched and eyes flaming behind his helmet. "I'm your best player."

"You're also the biggest pain in the ass." Levi grabs the front of his shirt. "Any points you score won't mean shit if you get double the penalties."

Never has he met a player so skilled, and yet so troublesome. When Levi agreed to coach the team as a favor to Erwin, who owned them and was taking loss after loss, he hadn't expected this hothead. From the first moment the man introduced himself, wide-eyed, spitting out the word, "Cock!" when Levi demanded his name, he'd been nothing but a dick indeed.

"What was that?" he'd hissed, eyes narrowing.

"Jock! I meant Jock!"

"Tch. And you clearly find that fitting, do you?"

"Oh yes, sir, I'm the best player you'll meet."

And to Jock's credit, he hadn't been wrong. He was the best player Levi had seen since, well, probably Erwin and himself. The word miss wasn't even in the man's dictionary, and he skated on the ice like he'd been born to do so. The problem was that Levi was the coach of a team, and Jock was anything but a team player.

From the beginning, he was aggressive. Constantly shoving teammates both smaller and bigger than him around, constantly shouting, constantly throwing tempter tantrums. Levi knew a thing or two about a short fuse, but this guy made him look like a fucking saint.

"Far as I see it, Coach, you're the only one who penalizes me." That gaze hadn't stopped glaring once. "Whatchu gonna do when other teams and kick these weaklings' asses? I'm the only one who—"

"Did I stutter?" Holding one hand out, Levi takes your stick from one of the other players (a common occurrence, for them to pick it up) and shoves it in your hands. "Get the fuck out and sit out for the rest of practice, or I'll kick this weakling's ass right now."

Even people who have played against him haven't given him the look that Jock's giving him now. A hateful gaze complete with bared teeth, like he's about to pounce.

"Fuck you, coach."

The worst thing, Levi thinks as he finally stalks off, mutter obscenities under his breath, is that unlike other players who get angry, this is the only who looks undeniably attractive while doing so.

And speaking of undeniably attractive.

Nighttime is the only time his migraine seems to die out, and sure, part of it is because he's not coaching anymore. Another part is that he can simply skate, without hearing shouts and without having to be aggressive. And the final part, is the company.

The first night he'd visited this rink, he'd found he wasn't alone.

"Sorry!" the stranger had whisper-shouted. "There's never anyone here usually, since the rink is closed."

"It's alright. You can skate, I know the rink is booked up with the trainings all the time."

"Yeah. But..." Her words seem to catch even her by surprise. "Well, it's a large area. We can share."

"You're here earlier than normal," she teases, already on the ice as usual. "Miss me, Levi?"

He snorts, already entering the rink with two sticks and a puck. "Better you than the idiots I deal with all day."

The woman's eyes are some of the nicest things he's seen, especially when she smiles. When she spins, one foot in the air, she doesn't know he's watching, and yet she seems to make a point to be completely entrancing.

He's never seen anyone skate like her. If his skills are a ten, then hers are a hundred.

"Here." He offers her a stick. "You said you played, right?"

"Um..." For some reason, she looks nervous. "I used to, back in high school."

(In high school, Levi was skating too, but the only time he played hockey was when someone, usually Erwin or Petra, managed to convince him to drop the attitude and play a match.)

"Play with me," he requests, "there's gear in my bag if you want it—"

"No," her response comes quickly, "um, no, I don't need gear, that's okay." Giving the stick a practice swing, she grins up at him. "But why are we playing today? You want some practice?"

"I honestly just need to remember why I like the sport." Levi groans, rubbing the back of his neck to soothe out a crick. Then he slides the puck into the center, not bothering to make sure it's a perfect fit. "The big match is in two days, and there's only so much I can fucking take training these assholes."

Levi notes immediately that she favors her left side. "Anyone in particular giving you problems?"

"The usual. Eren, Jean. Connie. And this one dick. Gets angry at everything that moves."

He moves first, but she still hits the puck before him, in a speed that few have demonstrated to him before. He can only blink as she moves past his shoulder. "Sounds like a handful. But maybe he's just got stuff going on?"

"What would he have going on?"

"Everyone has stuff going—hey!" she cries, when he steals the puck from her, swerving around and skating towards the other side. In a flash, she's going around the other side.

"Not an excuse to be an asshole, is it?"

"Well—no. But is he a good player?" Instead of coming up to him, she skates up to the net, right as he takes aim and swings.

Her stick outstretches before she moves, blocking the puck with a resounding smack and sending it sliding to the right.

This isn't a real match, so Levi takes the time to pause, raising a brow at her.

"One of the best I've seen."

"Then," and she takes her time too, offering him a sweet smile as she propels forward, stopping in front of him, "maybe you should cut him some slack."

A part of him wishes he could say the last time he felt his chest squeeze like that was a long time ago, to really make this moment special. But it was only a few hours ago, when the same man he's complaining about now had looked at him with hate, the exact opposite of the softness in your gaze.

"M'starting to think the guy's your boyfriend, the way you're batting for him."

She laughs, skating back as he follows her. "No. I don't have a boyfriend."

This is the first time a topic like this has come up. His heart twists happily. "Would you even date a hockey player?"

"Mm, I don't know. A lot of them are assholes."

She's not wrong. If Jock wasn't enough of an example, Levi definitely is.

"Something tells me you'd put them in their place."

Her hand is on the railing as she peers at him, coy features twisting into a smirk. "Flattery won't let you steal that puck."

Then she's speeding, like a bullet, straight for his net. Levi mimics her move from before, coming to stand in front of the net as she halts. Her eyes move down to his feet, than up to his eyes. Strangely enough, that order of observation is exactly how he teaches people to play.

Her fingers move, and she aims left. Before she can shoot, he's already moving to block her.

Victory shines on her face she she hits the puck to the right.

For a moment, Levi can't even wrap his mind around it. No one, no teammate or opponent or underling, has ever gotten past him like that.

"Jesus Christ," he finds himself muttering under his breath, "maybe you should be on the team."

Again she's grinning, spinning up to him to hook her fingers into the pockets of his suit jacket. "Trust me, you wouldn't want me."

One second, Levi's staring at her, mesmerized.

The next, his lips are on her's, as if to show her just how much he really does want her.

The tension in his stomach snaps, doing the only think he's wanted to do for months, aside from kicking Jock off the team. A flare of annoyance sets off an alarm in his head—he shouldn't be thinking of Jock at a time like this.

The kiss is brief, though, because she immediately pulls away, sliding back with a guilty expression.

Now that's not the look he'd want someone to have after he just kissed them.

"I...the game is in two days," he stupidly reiterates, "I was hoping you'd come watch."

Her tongue darts out to wet her lips nervously. "Levi, I—I can't. I'm sorry." Letting the stick drop, she skates back, putting more distance between them. The rink feels colder than usual. "I really like you, but I...I can't."

There's nothing more he can say as she steps out, hurried and clumsy. All he can do is watch from afar, cussing himself out in his head. The one person he'd felt at ease with all these months, and he had to go and screw things up.

Before she leaves, in a moment of hesitation, she turns back to face him. "Good luck with the game, Levi. Wish Eren and Jean and Jock all my best."

And then she's gone.

The rink and stadium are now completely empty, with only the empty seats and his own gear strewn around to mock him with how lonely they look.

But instead of focusing on that, Levi only has one question.

When had he told her Jock's name?

#stupidest shit i've ever written #but whatever i hope you enjoy LMAO #aot #aot x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #ice hockey coach levi #scene capture fics #valkyrie stories

[andthebeanstalk]

Just heard the news about WB telling Misha Collins to pretend he's bisexual.

I mean there's token representation and then there's "okay no homos onscreen but maybe if we make the actor queer." 🤣🤣🤣

#bishagate #misha collins #good GODS #original #I mean there's been given crumbs and then there's being given a picture of some crumbs XD #holy shit #destiel as a concept drives me insane bc the way it was written and handled doesn't even make sense by the rules of capitalism! #you're supposed to excuse your homophobia by saying that queer characters would lower your profits!!! #it! doesn't! make! sense! to exclude queer characters at the expense of #the biggest profit opp I've ever seen any company leave on the table! #I know homophobia isn't logical but it was and is just cartoonishly bad business sense it drives me crazy #how I wish I could go on national television and personally call this out. presumably after I cover other more important topics but #I just cannot fucking fathom this one it doesn't make any sense men are so so stupid #homophobes are the stupidest people on earth besides terfs

[nasa-is-shaking]

why are you pregaming, we’re going to a baby shower??

#this is the stupidest thing I've ever written I made this post two years ago and never posted it because I didn't have time to tag it #I had this thought in the middle of math class and quickly jotted it down in passing period so I wouldn't forget it #I thought it was the funniest shit #shit post #shitpost #comedy #fucking ridiculous #and honestly I'm ashamed to say I do still think this is mildly funny #moth's chatter

[running-in-the-dark]

I'm so tired I want to just go into the woods and hope a wild boar sees me as a threat and kills me

#seriouslyyyyy I can't fucking do thiiis #it's too much im too dumb I can't. #I've got to get at least 10 more pages done. somehow. I'm not capable of thought at this point #I just wanna lie on the floor and stop breathing #or maybe a wild boar could come into the house and kill me #that'd save me the trouble of going outside #I'm too tired for that #or the boar could write my thesis #it couldn't possibly do any worse than me #personal #posts about my stupid fucking thesis which is the stupidest thing that's ever been written by anyone ever #literally WHO thinks they can get a third of that shit done in ONE DAY #me apparently!!! #it would be a fucking miracle if I don't fail #fucking fuck fuck it I'm fucked

[trensu]

Some more of stasis in darkness. you have no idea how many times i've written this scene. i discarded three or four different versions of it before i came up with this one. i feel like this version worked best for the characters. or at least i hope they feel in character.

It was the ninth night.

Steve took his usual spot before the shrine. He greeted his god as he had before but decided tonight was going to be a quiet night. He didn’t have much to say so he’d simply let his faith burn bright in his silent vigil.

Hours passed, and again the strange man didn’t show up as he had been the nights prior. This time, Steve didn’t bother putting it off. He decided to do a perimeter check. As he stood, however, a cacophony of squeaks and beating wings filled the air.

A massive colony of bats burst into the clearing. They moved shockingly fast as they neared Steve and the shrine. Steve ducked his head under his arms but let the bats come. He ignored the little Robin in his head yelling about rabies. He couldn’t risk hurting one of his god’s favored creatures. 

There were so many of them, more than Steve had ever seen in his life. They flew round and round dropping altitude until they coalesced at the foot of the shrine. The din stopped as abruptly as it had started. When Steve could no longer hear a single squeak or feel wings zipping overhead, he lowered his arms. Cautiously, he lifted his head, eyes drawn immediately to the shrine to check for any damage. 

Not a single bat remained. Instead, the strange man sat, cross legged, at the statue’s feet. He wore a dark cloak comprised of deep navies, bruising purples, and an inky black. Each color slowly, gracefully shifted and melted one into another, again and again before Steve’s eyes. Flecks of light littered it in familiar formations. The clasp that secured it around the man was a bright silvery white. It was shaped exactly the same as the waning moon above. 

“Ta-da!” the man said, fluttering his hands in a showman’s gesture.

Steve took in the man's appearance. The ratty travel clothes, the cloak of constellations and its clasp…Steve leapt back in shock. Everything suddenly clicked into place very quickly to paint a very unflattering picture of himself. He whirled around. He couldn't face the shrine. 

"Shit," Steve's voice was loud with a stunned sort of panic as he remembered the events of the past week. He paced anxiously. "Shit, shit. It was y–the whole time, you were–FUCK. How did I miss–and even if you weren't you, you were still a traveler in the night and I treated you like–I'm a fucking idiot. I'm the stupidest man alive, how–"

"Probably from getting dropped on the head so much, huh?" the man asked with that same annoyingly self-satisfied voice he'd been using every night. The annoying stranger with his annoying questions and his stupid smug tone.

Mindlessly, Steve turned on his heel to glare at the man. He jabbed an accusatory finger in his direction, frustration flaring.

"Oh, you can fuck right off, man," Steve replied reflexively. "I am having a crisis!"

A split second later, he felt his stomach drop to his feet. This wasn't just a stranger talking. He backpedaled hard.

"Oh, ohhhh no, I didn't mean that, Lord, I-I wasn't thinking."

The man exploded into raucous laughter. It shook his whole body until he doubled over from the strength of it. He continued to laugh when he toppled off the side of his perch and landed with a thunk on the ground. The man sat up, wheezing and wiping at his face, mirth clearly keeping him in a choke-hold. 

"Oh, far be it for me to interrupt your crisis," the Lord of Night forced out amidst the laughter. He flapped a hand at him. "Please, continue."

The god attempted to regain composure but all that did was turn his full bellied guffaws into snorting giggles. Steve waited, his anxiety fading in the face of the god’s genuine good humor. It took another couple of minutes before the god calmed enough to pop back to his feet and climb back onto the plinth. The man made himself comfortable at the foot of his own statue as he had before.

"So how goes the crisis?" he asked mischievously.

"On hold," Steve said evenly, fighting back the start of a smile. The man said nothing but still radiated amusement. Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you really the Lord of Night?"

"The one and only!"

“And you’ve been here the whole time?”

“Yep!”

“So why didn’t you say anything? I mean, I talked to you every night! I don’t get it.” Steve paused as a thought occurred to him. “Was this a test?”

“Uh…yes? Yes.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. The god shifted in his seated position. It reminded Steve of the time Dustin shattered a jar of his most expensive hair product and tried to hide it. Dustin had squirmed guiltily under Steve’s expectant gaze until he confessed to his dastardly crime. Apparently, the method worked on gods as well.

“Okay, it started more as an attempt to get you to leave me alone,” the Lord of Night admitted. 

“Oh.” It came out blankly, which Steve was grateful for, because he felt like he’d been kicked in the chest by a mule. “You don’t want me.”

Steve wasn't sure why he was surprised. This was a classic Steve problem. He tamped down the old familiar sting of rejection. Steve knew going in that this had been a possibility. It was a god’s right to reject an offering.

“I never wanted any holy warriors,” the Lord of Night corrected. “Hence the attempt to make you leave.” 

Steve supposed that lessened the blow a little. It was an impersonal rejection. That was better, right? 

"If you didn't want me as your holy warrior you could've just said," Steve said ruefully.

“You seemed pretty determined to come back, though.”

“Only because I thought you’d want to, like, use me for something. If you’d asked me to, I would’ve stopped bothering you. I could’ve gotten someone else who could worship you better,” Steve said, trying to keep his voice light and unaffected.

"Yeah, I really don’t think you could have,” the Lord of Night said in a strained tone. 

“No, I mean it,” Steve insisted. “I told you, Robin and Dustin wanted to come along. They would make sure you’re not alone again. You would like them. They pick up on stuff faster than me. They’d be good worshipers.”

“That’s not what I meant. Your worship was, uh, it was…no, nevermind, forget that. The thing is, the more you came back the more I…” 

The Lord of Night trailed off. He tugged his dark starry cloak around him tighter. When he spoke again, he seemed to have switched tracks entirely. 

"Look, I don't know exactly how the holy warrior thing works, but you guys do quests for your gods, right?"

"Well, yeah, that's the whole point. We're your boots on the ground. We do acts in your service to spread your faith. Like priests but less boring." 

The god snorted which made Steve grin.

"Priests are so boring," the Lord of Night agreed. 

Things went quiet again. The cloak of constellations made it hard to see his god, but Steve got the impression that the Lord of Night was fidgeting. Steve remembered the conversation from a few nights before, about nervousness and not knowing what to do. Steve fell back on his social graces, his good old Harrington charm, and carefully picked something that would encourage the god to speak.

"I can't believe I didn’t see it,” Steve said, with a self-deprecating shake of his head. “Like, I know I'm not the smartest guy around but I didn't think I was that slow."

"Don't worry about it,” the god replied instantly, breaking out of his internal reverie. “That's not on you. I didn't want you to notice, so you didn't."

"Oh."

"Yep. And, it's not like I have a face to remember, so, y'know. You're good."

"I guess that does make me feel bet–wait. What do you mean you don’t have a face?” Steve squinted at the Lord of Night.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I lost my name,” the Lord of Night said with a hint of irony. “No name, no face.”

“But I saw it,” Steve insisted.

“Did you?” the Lord of Night asked, amused. He slid off the plinth and walked up to Steve until he was only three feet away. The god lowered his hood without any flourish. “What do I look like?”

Steve squinted at him studiously. The god was pale as moonlight and had hair as dark as the night itself; as for the rest of him…it was the strangest thing. Steve knew there was a pair of eyes under a brow. There was a nose above a mouth. He knew the right features were in the right places. However, he couldn’t tell if the eyes were dark or pale. He couldn’t say whether the nose was large or small. The mouth could be thin or it could be full. 

“I don’t know,” Steve relented. The Lord of Night nodded.

“Yeah, me neither.”

“Is…is that the quest? To find your name?” Steve asked, dread pooling in his belly. That quest would involve a lot of reading and…he didn’t even know. Language things? General research, for sure. None of which Steve was particularly good at.

“That’s a bit presumptuous of you,” the Lord of Night smirked. He didn't give Steve a chance to apologize. “But yeah, there’s something important that needs to be done. I’m not strong enough to do it myself and I’m running out of time to do it.”

“I can do it,” Steve responded. “I’ll do it for you, my Lord.”

“You don’t even know what the quest is,” the god said wistfully.

“But I know you wouldn’t ask me to do anything cruel or unfair.”

“You’re unbelievable,” the Lord of Night muttered under his breath. Steve didn’t think he was supposed to hear that so he kept quiet. In a louder voice, the god resumed. “Okay, are you sure you wanna do this? Be a holy warrior? Because you could be literally anything else. You told me you liked cooking during one of your prayer sessions. You could open up a restaurant! Restaurant owners don’t usually die in the line of duty or whatever.”

Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This is what Steve trained for, what he was good at, and he wanted to put those skills to use.

“You said you needed help to do something important. I want to be the one that helps you. I want to be your warrior. I can do it, I know I can. I won’t let you down.” Steve bit his lip uncertainly as a thought struck him. "If you don't think I'm worthy–"

“It’s not about worthiness!" The god cut in. "Do you know what it would mean to be my holy warrior? The weight of the night sky, with all the stars and the moon, will be on your shoulders for as long as you walk the land. I don’t know much about holy warriors but I remember this: there’s no take-backs. You can’t just quit and go off to become something else later.”

“Yes, I know. We covered this in lectures at school. It wasn’t all swordplay," Steve said impatiently. "I did think about it once I finished training and I decided if I could find a god to pledge myself to, I didn't want to be anything else. Then I found you."

“...Okay. If you're sure, then okay,” the Lord of Night said decisively. “So what do I have to do? How do I make you mine?”

“Um, I think it’s different from god to god?” Steve stuttered, heart thumping at the god’s words. “But I guess we can do our own thing? I’m pretty sure it’s the intent that matters most.”

"I can work with that." The Lord of Night gestured downward. "Kneel, kneel. I have an idea of what to say.

"Should I close my eyes or something?" Steve asked once he’d gotten to his knees.

"Nah, this is good," Lord Night said. 

The god squared his shoulders and straightened his spine. Then, something miraculous happened. The Lord of Night spoke his name aloud.

“Steve Harrington.”

It was the first time his god ever said his name; it was stunning in a way Steve couldn’t begin to comprehend. A bolt of lightning down his spine. A roaring forge in his chest. A whirlwind in his lungs. It felt like all of that simultaneously, yet nothing like that at all. How could pitiful human speech hope to encompass the intensity of a god’s undivided attention; his god’s specific acknowledgement of a primitive life such as his? 

Tears sprang unbidden in Steve’s eyes. He became aware how lowly and frail his own body was, and how utterly insignificant his existence was in the vastness of the stars in the sky. He curled forward, hiding his face and making himself as small as he could. He could not bear his god seeing his mortal failings and imperfections. It would invite an exquisite, holy agony Steve surely wouldn’t survive. 

“Oh,” the Lord of Night breathed. “I forgot how that could feel to a human. I’ll try not to do it again.”

“No,” the word tore out of Steve’s throat without any conscious thought. “No, please. Please, my Lord.”

Steve didn’t even know what he was begging for because the singular attention of a god was agony but the thought of his god leaving him filled him with terror. He shattered, left with no purchase save his god’s words. Then there were arms around him, pulling him close, and enveloping him in constellations. Steve’s vision blurred. Great, heaving sobs overcame him as though ripped from his very soul. The Lord of Night murmured comfortingly.

“Alright, there we go,” he said softly. “I’m here, Steve. I see you in the night, every night. The stars shine for you, Steve. The moon turns its face for you. I’m with you, Steve.”

The words crashed into him with the unrelenting force of ocean waves. They swept his footing from underneath him and sent him spinning endlessly, endlessly. They lifted him upwards and sent him plummeting down until he was deep below the surface where the currents finally slowed. Surrounded by eternally burning stars, he was left weightless and suspended in an unearthly calm. The words rang in his skull with the surety and strength only a celestial being could claim.

Somewhere between an eternity and no time at all, Steve came back to himself feeling overexerted, though he hadn’t moved from where he knelt. Steve’s heart and soul had been scraped out of his chest, put between a pestle and mortar before getting unceremoniously dumped back in his weak flesh, but in a weirdly good way. His sobs subsided. His breathing came in and out slowly.

Eventually the cloak of constellations released him as well. He blinked his eyes open gradually to see his god kneeling before him at arm's length, palms resting on Steve's shoulders. Steve felt a stab of shame at having brought his god down low to a mortal's level. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Steve croaked. “Do you still–? Can I still be–?”

“No, yeah,” the Lord of Night said straight away. “That was on me. Not your fault at all. I’m out of practice interacting with mortals."

The god’s words lost the gravitas from before in a way that would've been jarring if it weren't such a relief. He finally broke his hold on Steve. He got to his feet, somewhat gracelessly. 

"Let’s try that again?” the Lord of Night asked.

Steve cleared his throat. He straightened up where he knelt and kept himself still. He nodded to show he was ready.

“Steve Harrington,” the god said. This time hearing his name on his god’s lips was exhilarating but at a level a human could bear. “Do you swear to spread my values in the minds and hearts of mortals, through action and word?”

“I swear.”

“Then will you, Steve Harrington, do me the honor of being my sword and shield? Will you carry my crest through all your agonies and all your joys?”

“Yes.”

For a breathless moment, their words hung in the air, resonating through the night with finality. The Lord of Night reached out and gently traced something on Steve's forehead. Steve assumed it was his god's sigil, though neither Robin or Dustin could find any images of it so he couldn't be sure. It felt like an incomplete circle with a squiggle running through it. The god stepped back to observe him when he was done.

The stillness that followed, ironically, rattled Steve’s bones with relief and joy that it was done. His god had accepted him. Then the Lord of Night shuffled his feet in an awkward, shy manner.

“Cool,” said the Lord of Night.

The heaviness and tension brought down by the gravity of their oath ruptured with that single world, and Steve could do nothing but dissolve in helpless, giddy giggles.

#trensu tells stories #stasis in darkness #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #you know what #i'm actually pretty proud of how this scene worked out #there were parts of the other versions that i really really liked but they ultimately didn't fit the tone of the story #but i'm glad i ended up with this version #and that this scene is done #because the next scene is one i've been churning in my brain for ages but i couldn't start it without establishing how this one would go

[alovesongshewrote]

Baby Girl | The Lost Boys x Reader HCs

Plot:  ya call the boys baby girl. just to see what happens. [The Lost Boys x GN!Reader]

Word count:  1420 (nice)

Warnings:  implied horniness???? it's not that bad, it's just paul being a dingus

A/N: again, holy fuck i can't believe i wrote this. even more holy fuck, somehow, this isn't the stupidest thing i've ever written, and the most holy fuck, i think i might do one of these for every fandom i write for. wish me fuckin luck babes.

Marko

Marko finds it hilarious 

You saunter up to him on the boardwalk

Full of confidence and mischief 

You throw an arm around his shoulders 

Lean your weight on him

And you say

“Ok, where are we going, baby girl?”

Yeah, you don’t end up going anywhere, because he starts wheezing 

He just wasn’t expecting it, it caught him off guard

And then you have to stand there for five minutes while he laughs so hard he fails at standing

Boy is on his KNEES losing it at “baby girl”

And you’re just standing over him for a few minutes, ginning like a madman until you kneel down next to him

And holding back your own laughter

You say

“What’s wrong, baby girl?”

And he just falls over

And at that point you also fall over 

And both of you are just cackling at this dumb shit

It’s attracting attention, but neither of you care

Eventually the rest of the boys come back to find you and marko just

On the ground

Dying

And david straight up turns around and walks the other way

It’s great, it’s fantastic

You and marko call each other “baby girl” for at least a week

And you both die laughing every single time

Everyone else hates you but it’s so fucking worth it

Paul

He also finds it hilarious, but like

Slightly to the left

The two of you are also on the boardwalk 

Vibing

Waiting for everyone else to show up

And you’re sitting on one of the rails while he stands like, kind of in front of you?

And he gets distracted by something

As he does with startling frequency 

And you watch him for a few minutes

Admiring him

But eventually, you get bored with that, so you kinda 

Kick him

A little bit

Not hard 

It’s not enough to hurt him

(if you can even do that)

But it’s enough to get his attention 

He looks at you

And his eyes get really big and sad, like he’s silently asking, “Why did you kick me?”

Or alternatively, “YOU KICK PAUL?  YOU KICK HIS BODY LIKE THE FOOTBALL?  JAIL FOR Y/N, JAIL FOR ONE THOUSAND YEARS”

Either way, you power through it

And you go

“Whatcha lookin at, baby girl?”

And this boy just

Lights Up

The sad puppy eyes are Dropped 

And They Are Replaced With The Horny Eyes.

He just

Leans into you

As he looks at you, scanning you up and down

His gaze is piercing and uhhh

It looks like he wants to Eat You.

And goes

“baby girl, huh?”

And you’re like

“Yeah, baby girl.  And you didn’t answer my question.”

Which like

You say it

And you are Aware that you are Playing With Fire

But fuck, the fire is fun to play with

And you won’t complain about getting burned 

So

When he takes another step towards you and like

Smacks a hand down on your leg

You just lean in further and go

“Are you gonna answer me, baby girl?”

Yeah, you get bit

On the neck

You fucked around and found out

You leaned in too far and you got bit

These boys, i swear, they’re animals 

Just fuckin biting

It’s a gentle bite tho

Soft

Teasing 

And when he pulls back he goes

“Doesn’t matter, baby.  All I can see now is you.”

And it’s so fuckin cute that you almost fall off the rail you’re sitting on

Anyway, yeah, you and paul also call each other “baby girl” for a week, but the context is Different 

Dwayne

Dwayne has a relatively simple reaction

The two of you are vibin in the cave

It’s dark outside 

So everyone else is out

And the two of you are alone

And he’s minding his own business

Lounging around a bit 

Reading a book 

And you

You are Bored

And you’re in the mood to cause problems on purpose, so

You slide in

Lean over him

And you watch him for a second

Tilting your head every now and then like a confused puppy

He ignores you

And after a few minutes of standing there, a plot comes to your wicked little mind

You lean in even closer

And you go

“Hey baby girl, whatcha reading?”

And he just

Looks at you 

For a second

Maybe he blinks once or twice

And you don’t budge, you’re just sitting there grinning at him

In silence

And then suddenly 

In the blink of an eye

He pulls you down onto him and into his arms

You quickly find yourself resting on top of him 

Using his chest as a pillow 

And this man

Does Not Wear A Shirt

So that’s fun for you

Anyway, he takes the book and just

Holds it above the two of you 

So that you can both read it

And he says

“Look for yourself, baby girl”

Which if you ask me, is the fuckin Height Of Romance, but you didn’t ask me, and that’s okay

Anyway, yeah, it’s cute

Fuckin

Adorable shit

David

Anyway, time for david

David is

Confused

By his baby girlification 

Like

He’s not mad, he doesn’t expect it

(Kinda like marko, but he doesn't laugh, he just sorta sits there)

It takes him a second to process, because the second the word “baby girl” leaves your mouth and floats his way, he blue screens

Like

David.exe is not working

The first time you do it, you’re in the cave with everyone else

And he’s sitting in his wheelchair, staring off into the distance like the brooding vampire man that he is

And you lean over him and go

“Whatcha thinkin about, baby girl?”

And he just goes

“What?”

And like

I don’t think you can actually say that he says what

It’s more like he breathes it out while his eyebrows furrow together and he shoots you the most confused look you have ever seen on his face

In part, he’s unsure that you’re talking to him

And in another part, you usually use more

Idk

Standard?  Pet Names? 

Darling, maybe sweetheart 

And he wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to weird pet names, it’s just that one time on the boardwalk you heard him call a potential meal “kitten” and you didn’t stop meowing at him for three months

So yeah, he didn’t see that one coming

It doesn’t help that the rest of the boys are there at the time, and you, marko, and paul just start chanting the word “baby girl” over and over again

Side note, i think the boys may have a thing for chants

Anyway

The next time you call him baby girl, he you catch him off guard with your sheer boldness 

It’s not the “baby girl” itself, it’s the words that accompany it

See, he’s drinking something 

Water, blood, whatever

He’s drinking it

And you look over at him and you just go

“Damn, you’re pretty thirsty tonight, huh baby girl?  We’ll just have to do something about that.”

And your tone is like, half joking, but that doesn’t matter, he still chokes on his drink

He coughs for like

A Good Few Minutes

And in those minutes you go from laughing at him, to panicking and patting him on the back

Congrats to you btw, you almost killed known horror icon david lost boys

Good for you

Anyway, he survives, which is good

Bc idk how forgiving the other boys would be of you committing manslaughter (vampire slaughter?) against david

(tbh, they’d probably be pretty forgiving given the sheer hilarity of the situation)

BUT HE LIVES, AND I DIGRESS 

The next time you call him baby girl is in front of max

And like

This is peak 0 brain cell behaviour for you, because you straight up aren’t even thinking about it

You see david in the video store

You walk into the video store

You don’t realize he is in the Middle Of Talking To His Dad

“Dad”

And you go

“Hey baby girl”

And then you wander off to the horror section 

Just

No thots given 

You don’t even notice david and max staring after you

You’re too busy looking at a copy of texas chainsaw massacre 2

And when they turn back to face each other it is literally that one meme

“David, why does (Y/N) call you baby girl?”

“Maybe we should stop talking for a while”

Overall 

David doesn’t mind it, it just fucking surprises him every gd time

You’d think he’d get used to it but nope

It always gets him

#x reader #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys x gender neutral reader #tlb marko x reader #tlb dwayne x reader #tlb paul x reader #tlb david x reader #tlb x reader

[concreteparasite]

man i love haley, shoutout to Haley my favorite nonbinary representation at the moment UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH i love them

I'm so glad you like them 🥰

Haley was written to provide the player a safe space and comfort amongst all of the chaos and angst the game offers.

I have a small head-cannon (which I realize is dumb to say because I'm the author lol) that when Miles, Haley and MC flee the city and start a new life Haley cuts their hair short. 💞

Here's a doodle of it and a doodle of Haley laughing too hard at Miles saying something dumb.

" That's the stupidest shit I've ever heard! Hahaha, my sides hurt!"

#binary star hero #bshvn #binary star hero vn #binarystarhero #bsh #binarystarherovn #visual novel

[starlightsearches]

Your headcanon about Eddie actually wanting to be babied a bit is SO good you’re so damn smart! Just letting him rest his pretty head on your tits and stroking him off real slow, going ‘good boy’ and ‘that’s it, honey’. The pleasure combined with feeling so safe and loved hits him like a truck and-I’m broken. My brain is a slushie over this. Need to take care of man need to put him in jar with holes poked in the lid like a firefly

Let Me Be Good to You

My love, the inspiration you have provided for me is simply *chef's kiss* 🤌 I've thought about it every day since you've shared it with me, and I hope you enjoy this little blurb I've written in response 💖

Please let me know if you liked this—comments always make my week! Requests are open if you'd like to send something in or scream your thoughts about this perfect boy 🥰

Eddie x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: no spoilers, 18+ only!, hand job (m recieving), spit as lube, cum eating, eddie is self-deprecating, PRAISE KINK, pet names, veeeeeeeeerrrrrry soft dom/sub dynamics if you're looking for it, idk if it's good or not I'm just horny lol

Eddie flops down on the mattress beside you with a dramatic sigh, burying his face in your stuffed ewok. He made fun of you for buying it in the moment, but you know it's his favorite—always in his arms whenever he's stretched long across your bed. Out of habit, your fingers stroke through his hair, scratching your nails at the scalp the way you know he likes.

"Rough day?"

Eddie nods, his big eyes finding yours over the horizon of your pillows, tough exterior discarded along with his jacket on your floor.

You lay back so you're at his level, pressing a kiss to the bridge of his nose. "Wanna talk about it?"

He pauses, chewing on the words. It doesn't surprise you—Eddie lets most things roll off his shoulders, but when he gets hit by something, it hits hard.

"It's nothing, just, uh,"—he flips onto his back, posed like a corpse with the ewok trapped under his arms— "I'm probably gonna flunk Mrs. O'Donnell's class again, 'cause I . . . I failed her last test."

"What?"

It's literally the last thing you'd ever expected him to say. You'd helped him study for that test yourself, gone over the practice problems with until you were sure he could could do them blind-folded, underwater, and half-dead. The stupidest thing was that you didn't really need to do that much prep; Eddie was good at math. He was good at a lot of things when it came to school . . . he just had a hard time getting himself to focus.

His big, brown eyes are glassy with tears, pointed at the ceiling, unblinking, so they won't stain his cheeks. "She wouldn't even grade it. Said I cheated."

His voice is soft, and small—quieter than you're used to. You, on the other hand, are ready to explode.

"Are you shitting me?"

You're off the bed—leaping over him—grabbing your keys, balling up a jacket in your hand, about to march to the door before he grabs at your wrist, pulling you back to him with a few stumbling steps.

"Babe, where are you going?"

"To the school. I'm gonna give that raggedy bitch a piece of my mind."

He pulls you back down against the mattress, slipping your keys from your hand and tossing them onto your bedside table. You're still thinking about escape—until he pulls you tight against his chest, bodies curled around each other, legs intertwined. You've always been a little helpless when you're trapped in Eddie's arms.

"You don't have to do that, honey. My counselor said she'd talk to Mrs. O'Donnell, at least convince her to let me retake it."

"That's so unfair," you sigh, limply punching at one of the pillows. Against your best attempts, he's kneaded the anger right out of you, the rings on his fingers catching along your shoulder blade with every stroke of his hand.

"It's whatever," Eddie shrugs, like the action could make him care less, "she's always hated me. And it's not like she's wrong. I'd think I was too stupid to do it on my own, if I were her."

Stupid. God, you couldn't hate that fucking word more. You shift onto your hip, sick to your stomach that he could even think that way.

"Don't say that."

He's still not looking at you, chewing at his bottom lip, fiddling with the hem of your top. "Why not? It's true."

"No it isn't, Eddie." You've got his face sandwiched in both of your hands, begging him to look you in the eyes, even if he doesn't want you to see him cry. "You're smart, Eddie. You are. I don't give a fuck what Mrs. O'Donnell thinks."

The tears are there, pooling against the junctions of your thumbs. It breaks your fucking heart to think how little he hears those words—not from teachers, not from people in his classes, probably not even from his friends. Wayne was a good guy, but school had never really been all that great for him either. He wouldn't even think a worry like that would be on Eddie's mind.

Eddie's voice is wet, lips trembling around the word. "Really?"

"Yes, really,"—you're getting a little enthusiastic, but you mean it, and you can't temper your praise when he needs it so badly—"of course you're smart. You're so, so, so smart, Eddie."

He laughs weakly, pushing at your shoulder when you start to pepper him with kisses, but you know his heart's not in it, petting along the side of your face, warm fingers cupped around the back of your neck.

Big eyes locked onto yours, he couldn't hide from you if he tried. "Say it again."

You press your lips against his temple, punctuating each compliment with another gentle kiss. "You are smart. And you're fucking talented. And kind. And so, so good to me."

Your path leads you to his lips, capturing them against yours, pressing him so far back into the pillows that strands of his hair are tickling at your cheeks. His hand comes to rest at your jaw, the bottom of his palm just barely brushing against your skin, like he's still not sure if he should be allowed to touch you. You lean in to his hand.

Eddie kisses you the way he knows you like, darting the tip of his tongue against your lips before upping the pressure, moaning against your skin. His free hand travels along your spine, fingers striking up a melody that only he can hear.

And then he grips tight at your waist, and things are decidedly less sweet, fingers carving indents in your side as you shift more of your weight on top of him, chest to chest, the top of your thigh dragging along his crotch.

Eddie groans at the feeling, a twitch in his hips, looking for a little more friction.

You're gonna give him more than a little.

Petting a hand over his thigh, you slide closer to the distended fabric of his jeans, just barely stroking the edge of your thumb across the shape of him, feeling his cock throb for you through the thick fabric.

Spit spreads across his chin as you whisper, his head pressed back and eyes clenched tight. "Let me take care of you, baby."

Eddie nods—your teasing has taken the words out of his mouth, but he's putty in your hands, compliant as you get comfortable against your headboard, pulling him into the space between your legs.

Gentle fingers brush a few strands of his hair away from your face as his head comes to rest against your shoulder, his wet breaths at your neck. Eddie stares at the soft patch of skin just below your earlobe, vision going dark at the edges when you slip your hand inside his unbuttoned pants.

He sighs, lifting his back as he shifts into your grip, coming back down to rest with his head pillowed against your chest.

"Comfortable?" you ask, meeting his eyes with a sly smile. He's got a pretty little flush in his cheeks, dark eyelashes framing his big doe-eyes, looking up at you with a kind of disbelief you'd never understand.

He nods, flushing darker when you press a kiss to the top of his head.

Eddie's cock is pretty, and thick—dark red when you slip it from the confines of his boxers and bring it into the light. He whines when you let go, but the sound is cut off in his throat when he hears your spit meet the palm of your hand.

"How does that feel?"

You're coating the base of him, stroking higher, further over his hot skin—always gentle with him—rolling the tip of his cock in your palm until it's all shiny and slick, your spit mixing with the first drops of pre-cum he's leaking.

The groan he answers with rumbles through your own chest, hair tickling at your chin as he nods. "Feels good—real good, baby, please don't stop."

There's no need to worry about that. Heat builds at your own core just watching him squirm, his lips parted and glistening and eyes shut tight.

You feel his fingers wrap tight around your thigh, the softness of hands contrasted with the bite of his rings, and he struggles in vain to get at your core, trying to give back some of the pleasure he's getting. You kick his hand down to the sheets with a gentle nudge of your leg. His knuckles turn white with the grip he's got on the fabric.

"Don't worry about me, baby. This is about you."

Eddie nods, lips pressed tight, trying to stopper the little moans slipping through. You don't want him to hold back.

Kissing across his temples, you pepper praises into his ear, listening closely to the sounds he makes in response.

"You're such a good boy, Eddie. So good for me. Such a smart, pretty boy. God you're pretty, Eddie. Did you know that?"

He's having a hard time responding, his cock pulsing in your hand. Your fingers travel easier over his skin with the slick he's beginning to spill. Eddie's head falls back, eyes blown wide, when you play with his slit, massaging the sensitive skin with the pad of your thumb.

"Baby," he calls out, his sweat-slicked t-shirt riding up a little over his hips with the way he writhes, revealing the thin stretch of skin above his belt, and the dark little hairs that grow there, "m'gonna cum."

You just tighten the circle of your fingers, speeding the pace of your hand over his taut skin.

"Go ahead, baby," you tell him, your own breathing heavy, "I want you to."

He spills, thick white ropes of cum staining his black t-shirt, and his body curves around the sound he makes, a deep, satisfied groan coursing from his lungs.

"Fuck, baby," he breathes, big eyes meeting yours, going wider when you clean some of the cum off his shirt with your thumb, popping it between your lips.

He mashes his face against yours, kissing the taste of him from your mouth, his tongue licking at yours.

You laugh at the dopey grin on his face when you part from the kiss. "Feeling better?"

"Uh, yeah," Eddie chuckles, tucking himself back into his pants, a little self-conscious. You take his hands in your own, twining your fingers together. His tongue darts over dark pink lips, eyes locked on yours.

"Good," —you give him a soft peck, and then another—" 'cause you deserve it, Eddie. You deserve the whole goddamn world."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #my writing #requests #minors dni

[tumbleweedtech]

Oh get fucked you dipshit. No one bothered with you or cared about your ship until you started attacking people for the "crime" of liking a different ship than you. I'd forgotten you existed and was all the better for it. Sure, fine. Vernilla forever, it's vanilla and boring and stupid, just like you. I shall stop enjoying the fandom I'm in, that has nothign to do with you, and come back just to write you some stupid blonde bimbo who lays back to get fucked in boring, uninteresting, and unpleasant ways by some smelly fucking war criminal who barely gets it up because he's too goddamn old and tired. He's just huffing and puffing away on top of her like some pathetic lump. How's that for pillow princess, you dumb fuck? At least check if 1) people are even still in your fandom, or 2) taking prompts, you utter fucking shit stain. You are the worst part of fandom. I wish your computer would melt. You do not deserve the internet. I hope your phone battery never holds a charge, every plug in your home fries the motherboard of every computer you have forever, and every ship you ever love is never, ever more than a rarepair that only you and the nice people you trick with prompts bother to write for. You lost any chance at kindness and/or respect from me when you attacked people who had nothing to do with you, when you sent inappropriate gifs to minors and you harassed people WHO HAD NEVER EVEN WRITTEN ROCHE BEFORE. Now go away, @whereisvernilla . Go the fuck away and don't ever come back. Because all you're doing is making me hate Ciri as a character since you can't fucking comprehend that people not writing your ship doesn't mean they dislike it, or dislike the characters. IT JUST MEANS THEY LIKE OTHER THINGS. Fucking moron. I swear to god if you had two braincells it'd be because one was solely dedicated to keeping you breathing, you goddamn idiot. I swear to every god you don't understand the concept of fantasy, of preferences, or consent. You keep telling us to go to hell. WELL BITCH ILL MEET YOU THERE. this is the fucking stupidest motherfucker I have ever met both in person and online and i've met some really, really fucking stupid people.

And for everyone who has no fucking idea what's going on, sorry. This dipshit has evaded blocks, sent emails, dms, asks, both anon and not, full of bigoted slurs, she's stolen fics and art that she's edited and reposted, she's sent sexual things to minors, she's sent sexual things unasked for to people, she has been asked, told, demanded, and reported. She comes around every now and then and Drums up drama crying about how no one likes her ship when all we were doing was cheerfully enjoying doing our own things and ignoring her. Note: Been dealing with her bullshit for years now. Yelling at her makes her leave me alone for a few months.

#martmarina #marinamart #marinadk29 #marinakd29 #lovelycasualdetective #vernon roche #cirilla fiona elen riannon #Ciri #Vernilla #Ciri x Vernon #vernon x ciri

[obscuritory]

Alright we're gonna talk about BATTLE DOME

You asked for off-topic content, so we're gonna talk about one of my obsessions from the past year: BATTLE DOME.

I know there's a lot of Y2K-era nostalgia now, but if you lived through the Bush years, you probably remember that the early 2000s were a cultural wasteland of amped-up, testosterone-addled, hyper-sexualized garbage.

At the top of that pile was BATTLE DOME, a short-lived TV game show that aired for two years in syndication, presumably to low viewership. BATTLE DOME attempted to blend the over-the-top athletic competition of American Gladiators with the hypermasculine, character-driven soap opera of professional wrestling.

The result was maybe the stupidest show ever to air on television: an extraordinarily dangerous game show where competitors regularly walked away with serious injuries, interrupted by scripted melodrama that played like it was written by and for horny middle schoolers. It is spectacular, and it's almost too unintelligible to be offensive.

The pitch for Battle Dome is simple: three random competitors compete in a series of demanding physical events against THE WARRIORS, an ensemble cast of underemployed Los Angeles-based bodybuilders, stuntmen, and MMA fighters, who have come together here to play a collection of cultural stereotypes and beat the absolute shit out of the hapless contestants.

Here's one of the warriors, Mike O'Dell, a grotesquely muscular dude presented as a white-clad golden god with uncomfortable Aryan overtones. He's at least a head taller than all the contestants and could probably eat them.

There's also T-Money, played BY A YOUNG PRE-FAME TERRY CREWS IN HIS FIRST ACTING ROLE. Getting him on this show was an incredible casting coup in hindsight.

Every event on Battle Dome has a simple objective, like knocking your opponent off the monkey bars. Except this is Battle Dome, so the monkey bars are 15 feet off the ground. And the bars are shaking. And there's a massive man kicking you in the chest.

They call it Aerial Kickboxing.

But the real highlight of Battle Dome are the terrible wrestling plotlines they interject between (or sometimes even during) the events. They're usually arbitrary, poorly written, and just an excuse to make the beefy men fight each other. In this episode, T-Money is pissed at O'Dell because he's underperforming.

After an episode's worth of O'Dell and T-Money throwing barbs at each other, they finally must come to blows. Bobbie Haven, the "sexretary" to the Battle Dome Chairman, demands that the warriors must compete in ULTIMATE BODY SLAM to decide who is the number one warrior!

What is ULTIMATE BODY SLAM, you ask?

I've never been into pro wrestling, but I get the sense that part of the fun of pro wrestling is being a "mark," suspending your disbelief and buying into the fake reality. I do not know how you can do that for Battle Dome. The problem is that the Battle Dome warriors are competing against real humans, which makes their fake absurd antics even faker and more absurd. There is no kayfabe. There is no hermetically sealed world of Battle Dome fiction. This is more like Legends of the Hidden Temple with punching.

But you know what's definitely not fake on Battle Dome? The violence. This show is brutal. Concussions are received. Bones are broken. Even the actors aren't immune to injury. Terry Crews said years later that he almost got set on fire once during an event.

The tagline for the show was "Real Warriors, Real Pain," and at least the second one of those is correct. Pain is the only real thing in the bizarre world of Battle Dome, where emotional truths have been replaced by body slams.

This is clearly not a good television show, and it is incredibly fun. 20+ years removed from airing, it's much easier to laugh at. If I wanted to show someone what American culture felt like at the turn of the millennium, I would show them Battle Dome. I would show them its bacchanalia of testosterone, its bizarre miscalculation of human drama, its Tommy Wiseau-style acting and understanding of women, its unrelenting grinder of human bodies, and then I would get popcorn.

PS: Here are the two announcers for Battle Dome: Steve Albert (right), professional sportscaster; and Scott Ferrall (left), shock jock and professional feral man, dressed like he's about to go on a cruise inside a surrealist painting. Albert does the play-by-plays, while Ferrall screams incoherent horny color commentary in a gravely voice that sounds like he's been smoking six packs of cigarettes a day since kindergarten. They are truly a dynamic duo.

#battle dome #sort of wrestling? #wrestling #the culture immediately before 9/11 is fucking crazy

[beevean]

Give each NFCV and Nocturne character ratings, as in scores :P

Why must you hurt me in this way.

Trevor: 7/10. A cliché personality, but enjoyable enough, and with a nice mini arc in S1. Too bad he was turned from protagonist to silly comic relief by S2.

Sypha: 5/10. She's supposed to be the plucky innocent girl, but she's just too rude and insensitive, and not even by design.

Alucard: 1/10. A cunt with a bad boob job.

Dracula: 9/10 in S1, 5/10 in S2. He started out so well in the first episode, being actually the grief-stricken monster he was supposed to be... and then he became a Stupid Old Depressed Man for the sake of propping up Carmilla. bruh.

Lisa: 4/10. Way less likeable than she appears. She's condescending towards the peasants she supposedly wants to help and she doesn't give a single shit about her only son, even preferring to let him grieve the death of his parents.

Hector: 8/10 in S2, 5/10 in S3, 2/10 in S4. Started out as a promising character with an unique worldview and genuinely morally grey. Became nothing more than a punching bag for Ellis, losing his personality and dignity in one fell swoop. Will always be remembered as the dude who fell for vampire pussy. The way he was written in S4, which was supposed to "fix" him, makes me want to destroy a house by punching it.

Isaac: 2/10. He gains some points by being the only character with a coherent character arc, even if rushed like hell. But he's still a pretentious prick who got unfairly sucked off by the story and nowhere near as "deep" as his fans tout - he was just lucky to be the only character written with respect in the shitstorm that was S3.

Carmilla: 3/10. She's like Mephiles and Starline all rolled into one unlikable OC villain who only exists to paint Dracula in a bad light. She seems like a mastermind manipulator only because everyone around her lost IQ points exponentially. She became utterly irrelevant after S2 and had a grandiose death for nothing. She could have been much more, but this is what happens when a sexist pig writes a radfem villain.

Lenore: 1/10. That one point is because she had the potential to be an interesting, fleshed out antagonist with again an intriguing grey morality. But she had the misfortune of being written by a hack who can't give his characters a consistent personality and a sex pest with a clear dommy mommy fetish, so she became rape apologism bait and now she pisses me off at sight :D

The Lesbians: who?/10. Waste of good character designs. At least Striga was used for Berserk bait.

The Japanese not-twins: 0/10. Completely pointess torture porn fodder.

St. Germain: 8/10 in S3, 5/10 in S4. Pretty enjoyable in his first appearance, and surprisingly faithful to the game counterpart in spirit. I didn't even mind his descent into villainy, in theory. But let's just say that his motivation is... lacking. and hilarious.

Death: fuck/10. He's the ShTH of NFCV.

Richter: 6/10. Not too bad? I don't understand the hatred for him. He's perfectly inoffensive, if not bland. The only line that made me go "bruh" was him correcting the girls about the meaning of "fraternity" lol

Maria: 4/10. This is not a character. This is a parody of a communist teen on Twitter.

Annette: 1/10. As I said multiple times, she doesn't feel like a character, but as carefully engineered rage bait.

Tera: don't care/10.

Abbot: 4/10. I would care about his conflict more if he wasn't the stupidest man alive. Also his Devil Forging machine sucks ass.

Cecile: 3/10. Maybe don't teach your student that she is perfectly in the right in looking down her white French friends...?

Edouard: WHEN I'M LAID/10.

Olrox: 7/10. As for now, he's fairly interesting, mainly because of his intrigue. A bit too try hard, though.

Bara Agent Stone: bro really was shocked at the abbot having a child when he was happily sticking his dick in a male vampire/10

Sun Thundercat: 0/10. By far the worst villain I've ever seen in any kind of story.

Tiddied Isaac: 4/10. I would like her more for her unapologetic style (calling it "personality" is a stretch) if she didn't expose the sheer hypocrisy in the fandom :^)

#anti netflixvania

[talkfantasytome]

Two-Fifty

Cassian receives kindness from a beautiful stranger, but that's not enough for him.

Warnings: None | Word Count: 1,067 | Read on AO3

Nessian Masterlist

a/n: Just a bit of a drabble for Day 1 of @sjmromanceweek! I've not actually written anything for it, and just busted this out quickly, so....😬

Prompt found on @meetcuteprompts:

A is standing at a bus stop and accidentally drops their last token down in the water drain! As the bus nears, A starts to panic, until B offers to pay their fare. A sits in front of B and turns around in their seat to stare them down until B takes off their headphones and A asks how they can repay B’s kindness. “You can leave me alone,” is B’s answer, but A won’t take grumpy-pants’ answer!

"Oh, shit, no!"

Cassian huffed frustratedly at himself as he watched the bus token fall perfectly between the lines of the drain grate. It was his only way home without spending a fortune on Lyft. No cash, no bus card because he's just that stupid and left it at home, and the token wasn't even technically his. Az gave it to him so he wouldn't have to shell out for a car that would let him off exactly where the bus does. Gotta love living right by the bus stop.

When he remembers his bus card.

He cursed under his breath as he watched his last chance fall beneath the city streets. And right as the bus showed up. Frantically, Cassian began to search his pockets to find something he knew wasn't there. He stepped aside to let others on before him and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

Turning, Cassian froze in place at the sight of the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Golden brown hair pulled up into a large clip, strands falling out of the loose updo and framing her thin face. Her nose was just slightly tilted upward, sitting above full lips and situated perfectly between a pair of steely blue eyes that seemed to look right into his soul.

She wore earbuds in one ear, the other currently dangling from the cord - she must be the last person in this city to actually wear wired earbuds - and Cassian couldn't help but try to focus his ears to see if he could hear what she was listening to.

"I can cover you," she offered in the most amazing voice he'd ever heard. Az probably would've called it cold and distant, but Cassian found it mesmerizing. So much so that he didn't have a chance to respond before she was stepping on the bus and swiping her card twice, explaining to the bus driver why. The driver nodded, and Cassian stepped onto the bus and followed her down the aisle.

Not wanting to look too creepy, he took the seat in front of the woman, thanking the Mother that the bus was so empty. He then turned around to thank her, only to find she already had that second earbud back in and was very decidedly paying attention to her phone and not him.

So Cassian waited. His eyes fixed on her, watching how the loose strands of her hair swayed in the air as she bobbed her head to the music. On how her lips were moving ever so slightly, mumbling the lyrics to the song she was listening to so quietly he couldn't hear a peep. The pink of her cheeks, flushed from the cold, perfectly matched the pink of her lips that Cassian couldn't look away from.

Until finally they were projecting their words and the woman was staring at him with narrowed eyes as she said, "What?!"

"I was hoping to thank you," he explained, giving her a half-smile that always got him what he wanted. "Ask how I can repay you for your help."

The way her eyes and face scrunched together as if he'd just said the stupidest thing in the world took Cassian aback. That was not how people reacted to his half-smile. To throw salt on the wound, she added, "You can leave me alone."

She went to put her earbuds back in, but before she could Cassian said, "How about I buy you dinner, instead?"

"For a two dollar bus fee?"

"Two-fifty," he countered, grinning widely at his success of keeping her in the conversation for just a bit longer. "You have to let me do something."

The woman rolled those icy eyes. "I really don't."

That just wouldn't do. Cassian couldn't live knowing this woman existed in this city and he wouldn't get to see her again. "So, not dinner. Perhaps I can do something else?" Her face distorted into something like disgust and he quickly attempted to explain, stumbling over his words. "No, not that! I mean, like, I'm handy and could fix or build something for you. Or help you out with something else. Or walk your dog - if you have one - or-"

"I'm a cat person," she interjected. He sighed loudly and let his face fall into his hand.

This never happened to him. He didn't fumble. He didn't beg for attention. That was not his style. And yet, with this woman, and her apparent immunity to his charm, Cassian was ready to get on his knees to ensure a shot at keeping her in his life.

She let out a loud sigh and shook her head softly. "I do have a bookshelf arriving this weekend that will need putting together, and I hate doing it myself," she started, and Cassian looked up at her, hope swelling in his gut. "If I can't find another friend to help, perhaps I can take you up on your offer."

"Deal!" he exclaimed far too quickly. "I'll give you my number." She nodded and offered him her phone.

He typed his information in quickly, triple-checking that the number was right before he handed the phone back to her.

"Cassian Laskaris," she muttered to herself. "Nice name."

"Will I be getting your name?" he asked.

She smirked up at him and hit the button to request the next stop. "If I decide I need your help, I'll give you my first."

"And the last?"

The woman stood as the bus came to a stop and quickly stepped off it, ignoring his question.

Cassian groaned, resting his head against a window. It was better than nothing, he supposed. But now the ball was entirely in her court, and he had no way of finding her again.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he unlocked it and looked at the new message from an unknown number.

You'll get that if you do a good job Saturday. Eleven o'clock. I'll send my address that morning. - Nesta

Nesta. The name engraved itself on Cassian the moment he read it, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

A stupid smile spread across his face and Cassian didn't care. Grinning like an idiot, he stared at the message for so long he missed his stop and had to walk an extra two blocks home because of it.

@live-the-fangirl-life @generalnesta @secretlovelybeauty @julemmaes @boredserpent @autumnbabylon @moodymelanist @sv0430 @nesquik-arccheron @gwynrielsupremacy @katekatpattywack @moonstoneriver77 @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @swankii-art-teacher @lemonade-coolattas @emily-gsh @my-fan-side @champanheandluxxury @sayosdreams @simpingfornestaarcheron @perseusannabeth @clemidansleschoux @meher-sumedha @labetenoir @vinylcryes @shinya-hiiragi @starryblueskies7 @a-court-of-milkandhoney @pintas3107 @embersofwildfire @superspiritfestival @aks18 @thewayshedreamed @lunabean @xstarlightsupremex @mis-lil-red @wannawriteyouabook @dealfea

#nessian #nesta x cassian #sjmromanceweek2023 #cassian x nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acotar fic #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acosf fanfiction #fluff #meet cute #acotar fanfiction #modern au

[shatterstar]

the thing that makes me so mad about this isn't that I think thjis conversation by itself out of character I think they should fight on panel I think shatterstar is absolutely right that rictor feels inferior and insecure and I also think rictor would say some shit like that if he was mad and if it was well written the fallout would be delicious because shatterstar would be like yes of course I'll regress for you if you want me to be a heartless killing machine I'll be a heartless killing machine I'll be whatever you want me to be etc etc. maybe its the amount of fiona apple I've been listening to or maybe it's just growing up but healthy fictional relationships in comics are boring as hell these guys have PROBLEMSSSSSSS they should be mildly to severely dysfunctional. like at best they should be sicko4sicko where at least they aren't exposing everyone else to their issues and they kinda like fighting all the time and breaking up and getting back together it's like enrichment. and at worst they really should go their separate ways but they won't due to aforementioned Problems. like there is absolutely no way that staying in a relationship with the first person who you felt comfortable having gay sex with as a repressed teenager with internalized homophobia problems or the first person who you experienced emotions about ever in general is going to be healthy and well adjusted. Like JUST this out of context is like. delicious to me. The problem is the fucking context that rictor is mad at shatterstar for flirting with other people. that's like the stupidest and most uncreative way you could possibly inject drama into the relationship. it's just soooooo out of character for him as I've said one billion million times. but I just can't get past this page without complaining about it. especially given what's on the next page

#comic lb #And you can. you can relax around me (lying)

[imminentinertia]

SHIPPER TAG GAME

@lurkingshan tagged me, thank you darling! So now I'm forced to admit that whispers I'm honestly not much of a shipper

I get into shows and films, but rarely so much that I get invested in couples (canon or otherwise). Even rarer, so much that I start taking ship war sides. Notable exception: Harmony (Harry/Hermione) because that ship came with the stupidest shit I've ever seen in any fandom.

1. What ship were you completely obsessed with when you were a teenager, but now you don't care anymore?

What do you mean, don't care anymore. I absolutely do care about every ship I've ever shipped.

No wait - as a very young teenager I was so into Alice Hoffman's books it's not even funny. Especially Property Of. I wasn't terribly into the nameless main character, but I adored The Dolphin and thought McKay would be much better off with him. Then I grew up and realised that Property Of is pretty badly written and has a frightfully naïve plot (no wonder, she was practically a baby when she wrote it), although it really hit the spot for a 13 year old with a rabid case of bad boy syndrome, and completely stopped caring about any of the characters.

2. Which ship would you consider your first one?

The first I went insane about was Harry/Draco, so probably that.

3. Your first fanfic belonged to which couple?

Harry/Draco. I wasn't going to write fic at all! Wasn't interested in writing them myself! But I got so fed up with all the horrible purple prose in a lot of fics, wrote a pisstake, and it escalated.

4. Do you remember the first couple you saw a fanart over?

No. That was so many years ago. SO MANY.

5. Did you ever get into ship discourse?

No. When I get into discourse it's about other things than ships. When I try to start discourse it's definitely about other things.

6. Did you used to have any no-otp or have it currently?

Some pairings squick me, but I tend to forget the horrors as quickly as I discover them.

7. Who were the couple in the last fanfic you read?

Jaeyoung/Sangwoo (Semantic Error).

8. Currently, do you have any OTPs?

VEGAS/PETE. I also adore a number of other BL couples, but that's the OTP. Show versions, not book originals.

9. Is there any couple that, to this day, you are extremely mad about not getting together?

Spooks WASTED A BRIILLIANT OPPORTUNITY for a ship that could have been either canon or not-canon by KILLING A GUY ten minutes after he meets THE POTENTIAL LOVE OF HIS CANON OR NOT-CANON LIFE. They barely had time to share some chips. YES I AM EXTREMELY MAD, 16 YEARS LATER.

10. Is there any ship you used to dislike but now you think they are kind of interesting?

To me, any ship that's well written and where both characters are well formed and not limp 2D shit can be kind of interesting. I can't remember any of my squick pairings starting to intrigue me. Does it count that I used to dislike any KinnPorsche pairing featuring Ken, but I'm starting to quite like them?

11. Do you have any ship that, in the past, was considered normal but now you would be cancelled over?

Oh, I'm sure I do. I like age gaps. People are often very weird about them.

12. What was your favorite crack ship?

Giant Squid/anyone. Such a great setup for crack tentacle porn.

13. Who is the couple you read more fanfics of?

I've read a fuckton of Harry/Draco, but because of betaing and rec blog running it might be Even/Isak? Give it enough time and it will be Vegas/Pete.

14. What most of your ships usually have in common?

At least one, preferably both, of the parties is a criminal. Okay, that also has to do with what sorts of films and shows get made and appeal to me, but I love a good criminal so much and I just can't get interested in some goody two-shoes. I can honestly only think of Even/Isak when I try to list my ships that don't feature a delicious criminal. Preferably unhinged murderers, but I'll take minor misdemeanours too.

15. What do you absolutely hate in a ship?

Big fat traditional seme/uke or het dynamics where the seme/man blatantly doesn't give a canon shit about the uke/woman. I could write a thesis on this, I suppose.

As usual I don't dare to actually tag people, but if you've made it this far, you are so tagged.

#tag game

[unholyverse]

awsten knight in kerrang! issue #1654

(full text under the cut)

THE ULTIMATE ROCKSTAR TEST

AWSTEN KNIGHT WATERPARKS

HOW DO YOU BECOME HEIR-APPARENT TO POP-PUNK'S THRONE? EAT CIGARETTES AND BREAK YOUR FEET…

ON ROCK'N'ROLL…

YOUR ALBUM'S CALLED DOUBLE DARE. WHAT'S THE STUPIDEST THING YOU'VE EVER DONE FOR A DARE?

"One time I lit my pants on fire. I was sitting on the couch with my friend, playing with matches, and he said, 'I bet you won't set your pants on fire.' I said, 'Fuck you', and I did it. We freaked out because the flames were getting really big, so he went and got a wet towel and squeezed it out over my pants. Another time I ate a cigarette in a graveyard while we were out there playing with a Ouija board.""

WHAT'S THE MOST OUT-OF-CONTROL SHOW YOU'VE EVER PLAYED?

"Back when we used to play just locally in Houston, we used to play a lot of small places. They were the sort of places where there was no security and no barricades, and a lot of the time people would basically be on the stage. They'd be stepping on pedal boards and stuff, so there were times when we had to ask them to please step off our equipment. It was all good fun."

HAVE YOU BEEN INJURED BECAUSE OF THE BAND?

"We saw this setting we wanted to take some new pictures by. Basically, we had to do some trespassing to get to the spot, and there was a 15-foot fence. When I jumped off it I landed very wrong and busted up both my feet. I don't remember what it's called, but there's this thing that connects the front and back of your feet, and I tore both of them."

We presume you mean tendons, but it could have been your socks.

FAILS AND F UPS…

WHAT'S THE MOST EMBARRASSING THING TO HAPPEN TO YOU ONSTAGE?

"I don't really get embarrassed, and if I do fuck something up it's usually on purpose, whether that's singing a part in a weird, goofy way or anything else. I can't even recall falling over onstage. There was one time I nearly went off a 10-foot stage at a House Of Blues venue somewhere. I was spinning round and went right to the edge, but I didn't die, so that's good."

WHAT'S THE WORST SONG YOU'VE EVER WRITTEN?

"I've written plenty of bad songs, but with Waterparks I'd say Bones Of '92 or Easter Egg. I just don't like Bones Of '92—it's not a very good song. With Easter Egg, it doesn't flow well and it doesn't make sense."

Did you hear that, everyone? No Easter eggs for Awsten this year…

LIFESTYLES OF THE RICH AND FAMOUS…

WHAT'S BEEN YOUR WEIRDEST-EVER FAN ENCOUNTER?

"There have been so many weird ones, but the one that made me feel the weirdest was when a mom came up and asked me to take a picture with her daughter. The girl was crying but I thought, 'Okay - sometimes people cry when they meet the bands they like. Then the mother said, 'She's sad because one of her best friends just died. Now take a picture with her, smile.' I was like, 'What the fuck is happening?" I was trying to talk to the daughter, the mom was oblivious and it was just the most awkward situation I've ever been in."

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WERE STARSTRUCK?

"The time I went to Pete Wentz's house. He was having us on his radio show for an interview and I couldn't believe I was there. He brought us out water in boxes, which was really weird. I was just sitting there going, "What the fuck, I'm at Pete Wentz's house!" It was nuts."

Water in boxes, eh? How the other half live…

ON THE HYPOTHETICAL…

GOOD CHARLOTTE ASK YOU TO GUEST ON A SONG, BUT WHAT THEY PLAY YOU IS SHIT. DO YOU TELL THEM?

"I would, but I'd definitely still do it. It might have been shitty on purpose, and if that was the case I could go and be shitty on purpose and get with that vibe. That could be really funny"

WOULD YOU RATHER BE ABLE TO SPEAK TO ANIMALS OR SPEAK EVERY HUMAN LANGUAGE FLUENTLY?

"Animals, easy. I talk to enough people as it is, and I love animals. I went to a pet adoption thing a couple of days ago and there was this dog looking at me. I felt like he loved me more than any human had ever loved me and he'd only just met me. If I could hear the love that he was expressing I would be completely fulfilled."

Get a dog-translator app-there probably is one now. Then feel the love…

SPIRITUAL HEADMELTER…

DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS?

"Yes, I do. I told you I ate that cigarette when I was in a graveyard with a Ouija board, and we used to do that a lot. We'd seek out haunted places a couple of times a week. I had to stop because I got too freaked out. It's really fun to do all that but then when you're alone afterwards, that fucking sucks."

Imagine how the ghosts feel when you leave…

"I USED TO GO LOOKING FOR GHOSTS A COUPLE OF TIMES A WEEK" - AWSTEN KNIGHT

WORDS: PAUL TRAVERS PHOTO: ANDREW STUART

#awsten knight #waterparks #i.zip

[astromechs]

in like 45 minutes i've written like 700 words of the stupidest shit you will ever see

#i have other things to be working on. what is this.