#<- i'll try to tag all of the posts with this so people can avoid it if they want to

[hqrarepairtournament]

Haikyuu!! Rarepair Tournament

This has been something I've been wanting to do since November and with Tumblr introducing polls and all of the other tournaments going around, I decided to finally do it.

RULES:

Submissions must have less than 500 fics on AO3. I will double check all of these when I'm making my list. If your ship has over 500, try searching it with "otp:true" to see if that changes anything. (This is the filter I'll be using when I check tags)

This probably goes without saying but I want to be clear: I will not accept any incestuous or adult/minor pairings.

Campaigning is encouraged but please be kind and respectful! At the end of the day, it's just a tumblr poll.

Right now, I'm planning on including most of the submissions I get but this may change if I get more than I expected. This also may change if characters repeat a lot (like, if say, I get a lot of Oikawa ships). I'm undecided on how I'll narrow them down in those cases but I'll think of something.

Submit your rarepair here. You can submit as many as you want, just please don't send the same pairing more than once.

I don't have a set end date for when I'll stop accepting submissions (it's entirely dependent on how many submissions I get) but I'll give a heads up the day before.

If you have any questions, the inbox is open!

[dandyshucks]

blinks tiredly. i decide "hm maybe i should try to expand my circle and step outside of it a little, lets go look at the main community tags" and im just greeted with a bunch of edgelords who think saying "fiction doesn't affect reality, don't like don't read" is peak activism and "fighting censorship". head in my hands. this is partially why i do not ever go into the community tags, my nervous system cannot handle blocking fifty weirdos every single day just so i can have a normal experience in the community tags hfdsjkl

[lovelightandbonemagic]

"it's okay to be bisexual" is a phrase that was hurled at me repeatedly over the past some days of people trying to convince me I'm not a lesbian, and every time they said it they made it very clear it, in fact, was not okay to be bisexual.

Homosexuality is what happens when you cannot form Opposite Sex Attraction in the form of sexual attraction and romantic attraction. It doesn't mean gold star (this post will be tag free after their last bully session), it doesn't mean a strict religious adherence to homosexuality. It means you can only form these *bonds* with the same sex. You can act outside of the bonds you create, it's just not healthy. And I'll admit having sex with someone you know you can't bond with isn't really fair to them either, but there's a lot of reasons gay people try to not be gay. A lot of them are survival reasons. A lot of them are desperation and hope to avoid a life considered "degeneracy" by either family or religious people in your life. And I think the people that don't know that or understand it must be too far removed from it to understand. Compulsory heterosexuality is so much a thing that discovering I was gay came with the great sadness that I would have a very different life than had been presented to me as a child. I grieved for a future I got to watch happen uninterrupted for all the other kids around me; who now have children and uncontested marriages.

I promise, if I were bisexual I would have been married to a man, stayed in the church, and I may never have even openly recognized my love for women. But I love women exclusively, so much that I cannot avoid it, no matter how many bombs I set off inside myself.

I simply cannot imagine how much worse it is for people in less safe places than I am in.

[mc-i-r]

Disposable Heroes

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four AO3 link

A/N: hi yes so sorry for how late this is, it turned into a huge monster of a fic that I’m still working on but I figured posting the first part wouldn’t hurt. This is based on this post by @liightsnow, @acowardinmordor, and @00biscuit while back and I decided to expand that concept a bit and here we are. I'll be tagging anyone that seemed interested in the concept at the end of the fic! Warnings are below but I just wanna say that Steve is struggling with his sexuality in this one so most of it comes from that. This will absolutely have a happy ending, just not right now. Enjoy the angst!

Tw: internalized homophobia, homophobic language, mentions of canon violence, dissociation, panic attacks

———

It’s a Sunday afternoon when he realizes it. Steve is sitting on his couch, eating a shitty frozen meal and watching a random movie on TV when it hits him. The kids haven’t asked him for a ride in two weeks. Two Saturdays have passed and there was not one call— either on the phone or over the walkie— from any of the kids. Not even Dustin, who has seemed to make it his life’s mission in the past couple years to annoy Steve into an early grave.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen them at all. He still practices basketball with Lucas on Thursdays, even though the season is long over. His weekly dinners with Claudia and Dustin are still going strong every Wednesday. Joyce seems to invite him over for dinners every couple weeks. From the outside, everything seems fine. And maybe it is, but Steve’s noticed things.

See, he’s not as stupid as people think he is. He may not be academically smart but he can read. However, instead of books, it’s people. He can read their micro-expressions, notice little signs in their body language that help him understand the person. He can tell when people are nervous when they avoid eye contact, can tell how anxious they are when they distract themselves by picking at their fingers. It’s how he’s so good with the kids. They’re in the stubborn stage of their teenage years, the time in which the only answer you’ll get is ‘I’m fine. Leave me alone’. But he can tell if there’s something on their minds, if there’s something eating away at them.

He can tell that Mike’s anger and pointed barbs are directed towards himself, how he’s struggling with something he can’t quite admit to himself yet. How Max is frustrated with her body, with accepting help, because she’s always had to rely on herself and putting that much trust in someone else has never been an option for her until now. How Lucas is trying to find joy in doing something he loves again, because his love for basketball has been ruined by Carver and his trusty band of assholes. How Dustin is trying to deal with almost losing Eddie, how he’s processing the feelings of almost losing a brotherly figure along with one of his friends. How Will is hiding part of himself, struggling to accept it in the same way Mike is. How El is trying so hard to find her new normal, to adjust to getting her life— her father— back.

There’s another thing he’s noticed, however. It’s that the kids are obsessed with Eddie. Steve from a couple years ago would feel jealous of Eddie, and would try to hold it against him. Now, though, Steve just feels… sad. The kids constantly talk about how cool and badass Eddie is for still being himself despite all the shit Hawkins has thrown at him. They talk about how Eddie takes them places, gets them little trinkets for their nerd game, and takes them fun places. Eddie does all these little things for the kids, lets them just be kids, and really, Steve can’t be mad at him for it. He tries to let them have fun, but his constant worrying overwhelms them. It brings them down. Eddie doesn’t do that. He joins right in with them, basking in the fun and letting himself go. Steve… can’t. Not with all the shit he’s seen. Letting his guard down is something he can’t afford to do anymore.

He sighs down at his meal, chucking it on the coffee table as he loses his appetite. His glasses land next to the disposable plastic tray, sliding across the finished wood surface from the force of his throw. He rubs harshly over his face, hands digging into his eyes until he sees stars.

Steve knows he’s not perfect. Hell, it took an interdimensional monster trying to kill him in order for him to realize that he could be a better person. That the only person truly able to change his life is himself. He used to think he had no choice in his life— whether it was his parents' high expectations of him or his friends trying to mold him into their perfect little plaything— but he knows better now. He knows that he shouldn’t have become King Steve, that he shouldn’t have hurled all his hate and anger towards other people who didn’t deserve it. He knows he shouldn’t have called people names or slurs, that he shouldn’t have spray painted lockers or ripped up books or shoved people against hard asphalt. He knows that, but knowing it was wrong doesn’t erase the fact that it happened. That Steve did those things and hurt people.

Part of him knows that his past is what made the kids turn towards Eddie. Why wouldn’t they? Steve was a bully, thought he was hot shit in school and made it everyone’s problem. Eddie was simply himself. His unabashed, unashamed self. He stood on cafeteria tables, made dramatic speeches, and shared his opinions to anyone and everyone who would listen. He’s so genuine and so, so much better for the kids. He teaches them how to be themselves, how to shove off the hate and embrace their weird side. He’s perfect for them, and Steve knows deep down that this is good for them. The kids need a good role model, one they can rely on, and Eddie has his herd of little sheep to teach and protect. It’s perfect. They’re perfect.

Steve remembers the time last week at the Byers-Hopper house when their little obsession truly became real. They were waiting for the bread to finish baking in the oven, and Steve saw that Will was seated alone in the living room. Joyce and Hopper were in the kitchen, talking and keeping a lookout so the bread wouldn’t burn. Jonathan and El were listening to music in his room, the synth and guitars echoing down the hallway. So, Steve decided to finally talk to Will. It’s not like they don’t talk ever, just… not much. Will is quiet, blends into the background, and Steve never felt like the kid would be comfortable with him trying to get in his business. However, he needed to ask the question that had been on his mind for a while.

Steve sat down on the couch next to him, keeping a fair amount of distance between them, and rested his elbows on his knees. Will was reading a comic, the cover full of bright colors and words, not paying attention. Steve sighed, pushed his glasses up, and ran a hand through his own hair.

“Hey, um… can we talk for a sec?”

Will startled a little, like he didn’t realize Steve was there, and closed his comic. He nodded, and Steve tried not to feel bad about the hesitation in his eyes.

“Is there something going on that I don’t know about? Like with the others?” Will’s eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression taking over his face.

“Um.. what do you mean?”

“Just… have I done anything to them to make them mad? I just… I don’t know, I feel like I’ve done something but I don’t know what,” Steve confessed. He must have looked as distraught as he felt, because Will seemed to soften at his explanation a bit.

“Why do you think that, Steve?” Will asked softly, and Steve had a moment of realization that Will seemed years older than he looked. Steve sighed, and explained that the kids haven’t really been hanging around him much and instead like to spend time with Eddie. He’s quick to clarify that he doesn’t mean anything bad by it, just wants to know what happened. It was Will’s turn to sigh, and he looked at Steve with something akin to sympathy.

“Steve, I don’t say this to be mean but… Eddie just relates to us more, you know? He shares more interests with us, and he seems to get us better,” Will expressed. His eyes widened and he hastily added, “it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you! Just… it’s nice to have somewhere else to go, you know?”

The rest of the evening was spent with Steve silently eating his dinner, Will’s words echoing through his head as he munched on half-burnt bread.

Steve decides then, TV dinner half-eaten and work vest still on his shoulders, that he’s going to make this better.

The next day, Eddie comes into Family Video to pick up some movies, definitely for a movie night judging by the titles— he seriously doubts a metalhead would willingly watch The Goonies, The Dark Crystal, and Ghostbusters by himself on a Saturday night. Eddie bounds up to the register, movies in hand, and does a dramatic bow as he presents them to Steve.

“I wish to borrow these, my liege,” Eddie declares, his voice deep and in a horrible mockery of an English accent. Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, unable to hide the small grin on his face at the other man's theatrics.

Eddie looks so effortlessly pretty, his hair tied back in a ponytail and his tattoos exposed through the large arm holes in his homemade tank top. Steve shakes his head to get rid of those thoughts and takes the movies to check them out, ignoring the late fee balance on Eddie's account. A glance at the man in front of him, who is bouncing on his toes and looking around the store, gives Steve an idea.

“Hey, is Hellfire still going on?”

Eddie snaps his attention back to Steve, looking a little startled to be asked such a thing.

“Uh… yeah, it's still going on. We have to play in Gareth’s hot ass garage since school is out but we’re making it work. Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, uh… the kids complained awhile back that they didn’t have a good spot to play anymore and I was just wondering,” Steve explains. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, and Steve can feel him staring. Can feel him looking at him closely. Too closely. He clears his throat and looks back down at the counter, pushing his gold, wire-framed glasses further up his nose. “I uh… I actually wanted to offer up my place? My parents aren’t home much”— more like never— “and I’ve got plenty of space for the gremlins and the other guys. Plus, my A/C works and I’ve got a shit ton of snacks. I’ll stay out of your hair and-“

“Actually uh…” Eddie cuts him off with a strained voice. Steve looks up to find his face contorted like he ate something sour, and he knows what his response is going to be before he opens his mouth. Eddie wipes a hand over his mouth before shoving it in his pocket. “Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Steve nods— tries not to let the denial sting— and looks down at the movies in his hands. Ignoring how they shake, he sets them on the counter and slides them towards Eddie.

“That’s okay man, I get it. I need a break from the little horrors anyway,” he huffs out, the words digging their way into the pit in his stomach. He puts on his best customer service smile and looks up at Eddie, finding him looking a little wary. Eddie hesitates, as if debating with himself on whether or not to say anything, before rapping his knuckles on the counter in a little rhythm and picking up his movies. An awkward smile finds its way to his face, and Steve thinks it strange and out of place. It’s so.. un-Eddie-like. The pit grows deeper.

Walking backwards towards the entrance, Eddie throws a little salute his way before turning and swinging out the door. A belated “see ya, Harrington” drifts through the closing door in his wake.

Steve slumps over the counter when he’s gone, holding his head in his hands and feeling the childish urge to cry make its way up to his eyes. Even after everything— after walking through hell together, dragging his lifeless body out of the Upside Down as his blood dripped down his back and soaked through his clothes, standing vigil at his side until he woke up two weeks later— Eddie still seems to hate him.

But Steve… he feels the opposite. He has this overwhelming desire to be with Eddie. To hang out with him in the back of his van, drinking sodas and eating snacks as they look out over Lover’s Lake while the sun sets. To talk to him until the early hours of the morning until there’s nothing left to say. To go for drives late at night and listen to his loud music on the radio while holding hands over the center console. He has feelings for Eddie he’s never had before. Not for any past romantic conquests nor any girl. Hell, not even for Nancy. He’s never felt this intense need to be near someone before, and it scares him. It truly terrifies him.

He’s not homophobic— his platonic soulmate is a lesbian, for Christ's sake— but the fact that he feels this way is just… wrong to him. How is Steve Harrington, ladies’ man and charmer extraordinaire, into dudes? What is he, like, half gay? It just doesn’t make sense, doesn’t seem right, for him to feel like this. He sighs into his hands, digging his palms into his eyes until he sees stars. He can’t be thinking about this now, he can’t be thinking about this at all. He needs to shove it in the box in the back of his head where all the hard feelings go, waiting and festering to be dealt with later. He needs to, but he doesn’t know if he can.

Fuck, he needs to talk to Robin. Shit- can he though? What if what he’s feeling is a fluke or something? What if it’s just in his head because he’s desperate? What if Robin thinks he’s making fun of her and won’t take him seriously? It’s not fair of him to throw all his problems on her, even if he thinks she could help. It’s not her job to look after him, to take care of him. He can do that himself. He can figure this out himself.

Distantly, the words of Richard Harrington play in his ears. About how being gay is wrong, how it’s a disease. How it’s a sickness that slowly takes over until there’s nothing left. How it’s a disgrace.

He remembers sitting in the living room with his parents on a rare occasion in which they were home, watching the news channel as it talked about an epidemic spreading through young men. His father scoffed at the screen when they started talking about potential cures.

“Cures? They should just let those fags die. They brought this on themselves, you know. Typical of them to complain about the fucking consequences,” Richard had spat out at the block TV, standing to refill his bourbon. Steve had clenched his fists at his side, his already stiff posture straightening still. He felt angry at his fathers words, something pure and burning in his gut.

He didn’t know what it was at the time, but maybe he should’ve known. Maybe him being queer shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it feels. Maybe he’s always known and just couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Maybe that anger he felt at his father’s words was partly on behalf of himself, too.

A wince shudders through him as he remembers how that night ended.

Steve had stood up from the couch, watching the dark liquid flow into the crystal glass in his father’s hand.

“What’s so wrong with being gay? I don’t understand how you could just.. hate people like that. Hate them for just existing,” Steve countered. His father had frozen at his words, slowly setting down the decanter with a solid ‘thunk’ against the metal tray where it belonged and turned to face him. His face was slowly gaining a reddish hue, a sign of the anger rising within him.

“What did you just say?” He demanded, voice scarily calm but laced with an icy rage. Steve swallowed.

“What… What's wrong with being gay, sir?” Steve hesitated, voice failing him. Richard had downed the glass of bourbon before throwing it at Steve, the crystal shattering on the mantelpiece behind him and sending shards flying.

“What’s wrong, Steven, is that you think it’s okay. No son of mine will think like that, not on my watch,” his father boomed, taking long strides towards him. Steve didn’t dare move, only watched his fist grow nearer as he punched him high on his cheek. He fell to the floor, arms trying to protect his head but it was no use. Richard had ripped his arms away, gripping the front of his shirt and making Steve hover above the ground.

“I didn’t raise a fucking fairy, Steven,” he spat. “A faggot.” Steve recoiled, physically feeling the vitriol his father aimed at his face. Richard had sneered, pulled him close and whispered, “Never forget that, Steven,” before shoving him harshly onto the ground and walking away. Black had clouded the edges of his vision, and he laid on the plush rug until it cleared up. He looked over, found his mother silently watching the TV and sipping her wine, and begged with his eyes for her to help him. To say something. Anything. She didn’t, and Steve had to haul himself off the floor, grasping the couch when his vision swam, and stumbled his way to his room.

The rest of that weekend was spent in his room, gingerly cleaning his face and the couple places where glass had cut him on his arms with a wet washcloth and soap. It was the first time he had ever gotten a concussion. He was fifteen.

He remembers replaying the fight over and over again, feeling like those barbs were directed towards him, too. In hindsight, maybe they were. Maybe his father just knew. Knew he was queer long before Steve ever did. Maybe that’s why he’s always so angry with him, so… disappointed. A groan escapes him and he runs a hand through his hair. He’s been thinking way too damn much for it to be this early in the day.

God, he really wishes Robin was here. He knows he can’t talk to her, but it would be nice just to have someone here to keep him from spiraling and drowning in his thoughts. He pushes himself off the counter and goes over to the cart where the returns sit, hoping that busying himself will occupy his thoughts. He sets a few on the shelves when what Eddie said earlier barrels into him full-force.

“Yeah, the other guys just… really wouldn’t want to be there.”

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s stupid. Of course the other Hellfire guys wouldn’t want to be at his house, they probably still see him as King Steve. Most people do, nowadays. Only the ones he went through hell with know he’s different now, that he’s changed. So really, he can’t fault them for being against the idea of Hellfire at his house. He wouldn’t believe it either if he was in their shoes.

Then again, wouldn’t Eddie or the kids try to convince them he’s different? That he’s not a dick? Shit, he’s been through four apocalypses, three concussions, and survived Russian torture— surely they would give him the benefit of the doubt, right? He’s dropped the bad influences out of his life, found better friends, better family— or can he even say that anymore?— to be with. Wouldn’t they try to stick up for him? Or... is he just not worth it?

Steve clenches his eyes shut, willing his bubbling emotions back down, and grips the movie in his hands so hard the plastic begins to creak. The little voice in his head, one that sounds suspiciously like Robin, tells him to breathe. He does. Deep inhale, hold, long exhale. Over and over and over again until he’s calm, until his head is clear.

He knows what he needs to do now: apologize. If it's one thing Steve Harrington knows, it’s how to apologize. Hell, he’s done it more times than he can count. He knows how to repair burnt bridges and how to get past the tough exterior of a person to pull at their heartstrings for sympathy. He knows the key; he just has to make himself useful. If he can provide things for the kids, for Eddie and the Hellfire crew, then they’ll want him around. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it is with his parents, with school, with his past friends, and now his current ones. He vaguely recalls his junior year art teacher saying that, "once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but thrice is a pattern." Which means this, this is something he has to make right.

With a plan solidified in his mind, he goes back to work refilling the shelves with movies, brainstorming ideas to get his family back.

Over the next week, Steve becomes a one man show. He offers up more rides, more movie nights, more free reign of his house and his pool and his car and his money and himself just to make the kids happy. He picks up extra shifts at work just to get extra spending money for them, knowing that they go through twenty bucks in no time.

But… it doesn’t work. Because bit by bit, ride by ride, movie marathon by family dinner by game night by post-nightmare phone call, it becomes painfully clear. Everyone puts on a mask around him. One that says they’re happy to see him, that they’re glad he’s here, but he knows it’s a lie. This, really, shouldn’t be much of a surprise. People don’t stick around him much, so why did he think this was any different?

Maybe it’s because he was finally himself around them, he finally opened up and showed a bit of his true self, and was still rejected. Still pushed away. He wasn’t cowering behind a mask this time, he was just Steve. But it wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough.

To their credit, it starts off slow. Casual comments that are cut off quickly, kicks under dinner tables and pointed throat clearing. It’s one instance during game night where it all clicks.

The Monopoly board is spread out before them in the Byers-Hopper living room. Steve, of course, is losing. He’s not good with investments and savings and he keeps landing on the goddamn ‘jail’ space but he doesn’t really care, not when he’s finally having fun with the kids. He groans when the dice make him land on one of Mike’s properties, shuffling his fake cash to pull out the tax money.

“C’mon this game is totally rigged. How the hell am I losing to a bunch of teens?” He grumbles as Mike proudly snatches the money from his hand. Max snickers from her place beside him, her pale blue eyes rolling as she looks at him.

“You know, if you actually used your brain then maybe you wouldn’t be losing. Ever think of that?” She quips, and Steve huffs. Leave it to him to be called out by a fifteen year old.

“I’m surprised there’s even a brain in there to begin with,” Dustin states. He’s seated across from Steve. “I mean, why else would he have-“

His comment is cut off by Lucas smacking his arm. Dustin looks at him like he’s about to protest when Lucas raises his eyebrows, looking pointedly from Dustin to Steve and back again. Steve can’t hear from his position so far away, but he swears Dustin mutters “shit” before crossing his arms and looking down at the board. Steve looks around at the rest of the group, noticing how none of them seem to want to look at him, choosing to focus rather intently on the cardboard before them.

The rest of the game is filled with awkward silences. Steve can feel them looking at him when he’s occupied, and it makes him feel like shit inside.

It’s on the drive home when it hits him. He is the one that doesn’t fit into their group, into their family. They’re slowly but surely removing him and replacing him with Eddie. With someone who fits. With someone better. It hits him so hard, so fully, that he has to pull over on a quiet street to sob in his empty car.

The first time it's fully solidified in his mind is at a barbecue at the Byers-Hoppers house. Robin can’t come, her aunt from up north is visiting for the weekend and she has to stay home. Steve walks through the house, planning on saying hello to Joyce before joining the party outside. He finds Joyce talking low to Eddie in the kitchen and he pauses in the doorway, watches how Joyce laughs at something Eddie says. How she places her hand on his arm as her eyes crinkle with the weight of her laugh. Eddie is smiling, open and wide, with a flush high on his cheeks that stains his skin pink. His dimples are on full display and it takes pure willpower for Steve not to go and poke at them, to settle his thumb in the divot of his skin.

Joyce leans close to Eddie and says something under her breath, making him blush purely red now and shush her, causing another wave of laughter to ripple through the both of them. The kitchen is filled with warmth, the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the sheer cream-colored curtains that line the two windows as laughter fills the room. It’s light, it’s happiness, it’s love. It’s something Steve hasn’t felt in years.

Steve knocks on the doorframe, waggling his fingers in greeting. They both turn to look at him, and all that warmth from before flees the room. If he hadn’t just seen the thin rays with his own two eyes, he could have sworn even the sun went down as well. He feels a stab of pain in his heart, so sharp it makes his breath stutter. He fights to put a smile on his face, briefly clearing his throat and praying his voice doesn’t sound as faint as he feels.

“Hey, Ms. Byers. Eddie,” he greets. Steve runs a hand through his hair, just to give himself something to do. “Just wanted to say hi before I go outside.”

Eddie’s face has gone completely slack, the only thing convincing Steve he didn’t hallucinate the entire exchange earlier is the flush that had yet to leave his cheeks. In fact, Eddie looks even more red now that he’s made his presence known. Joyce, to her credit, has a small polite smile on her face.

“Thank you, Steve, that's very kind of you,” she replies. She casts a glance at Eddie out of the corner of her eye, something Steve has noticed a lot of people do to each other when he’s around. “You go on outside now, okay? I’m sure the kids are missing you.”

Steve holds back his remark of “yeah, I actually doubt that” and nods, leaving the two of them in the kitchen as he continues down the hallway. He tries hard not to let the harshness of their quick whispers dig further into his already injured heart.

Once outside, he’s greeted by no one. Dustin and Lucas are discussing something rapidly to one another, Dustin gesturing wildly with his hands as Lucas nods along and adds details. Max and El are sitting on a lawn chair together, Max seemingly teaching El how to braid her hair. Mike and Will are sitting in the grass a bit away from the group, shoulders touching and heads bowed together as they talk quietly to one another. Steve smiles softly at them, knowing.

He makes his way over to Hopper, who is manning the grill with a beer in one hand and a spatula in the other. Steve waves and gives him an awkward little smile, and Hopper nods his head, pointing towards a cooler with his beer. Steve grabs one, popping it open and taking an, admittedly, big first swig. Hopper doesn’t notice, or at least doesn’t comment, and Steve looks out over the people he still considers his family. He catches Dustin’s eyes, hoping to have someone to talk to, but the kid only looks away and continues his conversation.

So now Steve is here by himself, slowly nursing a beer, and trying to keep his emotions in check.

It’s just that… he doesn’t know what he did. Was he too overbearing or did he not care enough? Was he too pushy or too distant? Was he just annoying them? Was he just an inconvenience? Did they ever really like him or did they just put up with them out of necessity? Or because they felt bad?

He takes another sip of beer, hating the way it tastes on his tongue but it’s better than the bile slowly rising in his throat. All he wants is for someone to see him, to see who he truly is and like it. To stick around. To stay.

And it’s true, he does have Robin, but sometimes she can’t give him what he needs. Call him a romantic but Steve wants that love, that connection, that intense feeling you get with a partner. He craves it more than anything. He wants to touch, to taste, to feel someone else.

Eddie. He wants Eddie.

A voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Kid, will you go get me a plate for the burgers?” Hopper asks, his gruff voice shoving all of his mushy thoughts aside. Steve nods, sets his beer on top of the cooler, and makes his way inside. He silently dreads ever walking in that room again, dreads having to feel the chill from before. However, the scene in the kitchen is drastically different this time. Joyce is by herself, Eddie nowhere to be seen, and is mixing together slaw in a big tupperware bowl.

Steve knocks on the frame again and is met with a small smile from the older woman. It’s infinitely more warm than the one he was met with when he got there, and he thinks it’s partly due to the lack of a certain metalhead in the room. Joyce sets down her spoon, wiping her hands on a nearby towel, and holds her arms out.

“C’mere, honey,” she murmurs, and Steve tries not to let her soft tone get to him. The last thing he needs is to cry in front of everyone. He walks forwards into her hug, leaning down a little to wrap his arms around her properly, and sighs when she rubs her hands up and down his back. Steve clenches his eyes shut, taking in stuttering breaths that he knows she can hear but thanks every god out there that she doesn’t comment on it. She taps her hands twice on his back and pulls away, reaching up to push some of his hair off his forehead and Steve wills himself to not lean into the touch too much.

“Sorry for not saying a proper hello earlier, I was a bit preoccupied. Eddie- well, that’s not my thing to tell but he needed some help with something and… well, you get it,” she smiles, laughs a little, and Steve smiles back.

This. This is what he wishes he could have with his parents. This lightness, this love. He never will, he knows that, but the little moments like this with Joyce, the way she hugs him and cares for him, are ones he treasures. Ones he wishes he could have everyday. Joyce is a wonderful mother, and part of him wishes he could have her as his own. Hell, she’s been more of a mother to him in the four years he’s known her than his mother ever has. But he knows that isn’t fair. It isn’t fair of him to put his parental issues on her or anyone else. So he doesn’t, and shoves his hands in his pockets instead.

“It’s okay, Ms. Byers, I get it. Sorry to interrupt you two, though,” he apologizes. She waves her hands in a shooing motion.

“Oh don’t apologize for that, honey, it’s okay,” she smiles, then hesitates. “I do want you to promise me something, okay?” Steve nods, and Joyce places her hands on either side of his face. “Promise me you’ll be careful with people, be gentle. Not everyone can be treated the same, some people… they’re special.

“Sometimes, it’s better to listen. Promise me, Steve, that you’ll always listen, okay?” She asks, and Steve has to swallow before he responds.

“I promise, Ms. Byers,” he replies, and she pats his cheek. Her smile has grown, and her eyes have softened.

“I love you, Steve, you know that, right?” Joyce asks, and it’s like the world has stopped moving. He didn’t know that, not really. Sure, he knew she liked him but he didn’t know she…

He doesn’t realize he’s tearing up until Joyce coos at him, wiping away a few stray tears that have escaped with her thumbs.

“I-I didn’t know you- I’m sorry, I don’t-“ Steve stutters out, but Joyce shushes him.

“You don’t have to apologize, Steve, it’s alright,” she insists. Her thin arms pull him into another hug and he buries his face in her shoulder. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s a comfort Steve hasn’t had in ages so he stays. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Her small hands rub up and down his back as he holds back tears. He regulates his breathing, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, until he’s sure he won’t cry. He pulls back from the hug and wipes at his eyes, sure that they're red-rimmed and a little puffy, but Joyce only smiles that warm smile and pats his cheek again. Steve smiles at her, the first genuine smile he thinks he’s had in awhile, and it feels good. To smile and know it's real.

Joyce turns to the counter behind her and picks up a plate, handing it to Steve. His brows furrow, and he hesitantly takes the offered crockery.

“How did you-“

“I had a feeling,” she interrupts him with a wink. “Now go on before Hop burns the yard down.”

Steve smiles and goes back outside, handing the plate to Hop and ignoring his grumble of “took ya long enough”, before picking his beer back up and taking a much needed swig. A few minutes later, they’re all eating. Eddie has joined Dustin and Lucas in their rambling, all three of them loudly talking over one another. Steve watches them; wishing, wanting, yearning. Joyce bumps her shoulder into his, making him swivel his head to look down at her. She smiles, almost knowingly, and Steve blushes. He clears his throat and looks away, focusing on fixing his burger rather than whatever the fuck that was.

He sits alone away from the group, catching occasional glances from Joyce, Dustin, and Hopper. Joyce is concerned, he can tell that much, and part of her almost looks sad. Dustin looks conflicted, like he can’t decide if he wants to be mad from a distance or just come right up to Steve and say it to his face. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he did the latter. Hopper, to Steve’s complete unsurprise, looks uninterested and, frankly, fed up with this whole situation. Steve doesn’t blame him, he is too.

After the food is gone, and dessert is served, Steve heads inside to help clean up. He washes dishes quietly with Joyce, while she dries them and puts them away. As he finishes up the last plate, Will comes into the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom? The party wanted to play some board games, is that okay?” He requests, and Steve can feel Joyce soften beside him. She smiles.

“Of course, honey. Make sure you ask the girls what they want to play, too, okay?” Will rolls his eyes and smiles, a mannerism Steve notes he definitely got from Mike.

“Got it, Mom,” he replies, and runs off. Steve turns back to the sink, realizing he’s been scrubbing the plate well past the point of clean, and rinses it off.

“I um.. I think I’m going to head out, Ms. Byers,” he begins. He hands the plate to her. “I’ve got a shift tomorrow and uh… I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

He doesn’t mention that he doesn’t want to repeat the last game night, where everyone kept glancing at him like he was a bomb set to explode at any moment. He doesn’t say that he can’t handle their stares for any longer than he already has.

“Oh, are you sure? You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want to,” Joyce offers, but Steve shakes his head.

“I really should be going, sorry.”

“Alright, dear. Let me walk you out,” she insists, moving to take off her apron.

“I’ll walk him out, Joyce, don’t worry about it,” Hopper's gruff voice interrupts from the doorway. Steve swallows and nods, drying his hands off on a towel. He looks at Joyce, seeing her share a glance and a smile with Hopper before looking back at him. He smiles, finally beginning to think that maybe… maybe things will be okay.

“Thank you, Ms. Byers. For everything,” he expresses. He leans down to give her a hug, her arms quickly hugging him back.

“It’s alright, dear. You come to me if you ever want to talk, you hear?” Steve pulls away from the hug.

“I will, promise,” he hesitates. Steve looks down at his hands, shaking from where they’re clutching each other, and takes a breath. “I… I love you too.”

He looks up right as Joyce pulls him into another hug. He laughs a little, and she pats his back before pulling away with a “be safe”. Hopper clears his throat from the door and Steve takes a step back, nods to Joyce, and follows the other man outside.

They step out on the front porch together, and Steve is prepared to continue walking to his car when Hop places a hand on his shoulder. He stops, and turns to find the man looking at him seriously.

“Son, I want you to promise me something,” he grumbles, and Steve begins to feel a strange sense of deja vu. While Joyce’s tone was soft, Hopper’s is deep and leaves no room for hesitation. He vaguely has a thought that this is what his father would have been like if things were different. If he were different. Steve nods.

“Promise me you’ll fix our shit, alright? I don’t wanna get in the middle of… whatever the hell this is but promise you’ll be better, okay?” He commands, and all the thoughts Steve had earlier about thinking things would be okay fly out the window.

“Y-yes, sir,” he stutters out. Hop claps his shoulder, mumbles a “get home safe”, before pulling a pack of smokes out his pocket and lighting one up. Steve turns, shoves his shaking hands in his pockets, and walks to his car.

Getting in his car is a blur of unconscious actions. He’s driving down a barely lit backroad when he registers that his eyes are stinging, and something warm and wet is dripping down his cheeks. He pulls over on the side of the road, shifting his car into park, and he sits there. He reaches up with a shaky hand and wipes his cheek, his hand coming back wet and shining in the faint glow of the moon. The sight breaks him, and an ugly sob rips its way out his throat. He chokes on an inhale as tears fight their way out, and he hugs his arms around himself as a sad semblance of comfort. His forehead finds purchase on the steering wheel, and his tears stain the leather before dripping on his lap.

He cries because he knows he’s the problem, that he’s the one fucking up. He cries because everyone thinks so, everyone knows. The kids know. Eddie knows. Joyce knows, but she’s just too kind to say it to his face. Hell, even Hopper knows. He cries because he doesn’t know what he did wrong. He cries because he doesn’t think anyone really wants him to fix it.

It’s the second time on a drive home from the Byers-Hopper house that he has to pull over and cry.

He struggles to inhale a deep breath and sits up, harshly wiping his tears away with his hand, uncaring that it rubs his skin raw and red. Sniffling, he puts his car in drive and goes home. Toeing his shoes off at the door is the only thing he thinks to do before he stumbles his way upstairs and collapses on his bed, snuggling into the thin comforter and falling into a fitful sleep.

After a slow shift at Family Video the next day, Steve returns to the darkness of his home with a plan. He can still be useful. They may not have to know, but he can still do something to help. To try and save them before they need to be saved. He can be a preventative measure for them, can stop them from getting hurt before they even know they’re in danger.

He shrugs off his work vest, throwing it on his desk chair as he searches his closet for an old sweatshirt. He finds one, the front adorned with white block letters that read ‘Tigers Swim Team’ and tugs it on. His nail bat finds purchase in his hand as he tucks a flashlight in his back pocket. The walkie Dustin gave him is hooked in his belt loop, just in case. He leaves all the lights on in the house and shuts the door, skirting around his house to begin his walk in the woods.

After four bouts with the Upside Down, he doubts that they’re in the clear, that it’s finally over. He thought it was the first time, then the second, and by the third he was skeptical. Now, though, he doesn’t know what to think. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a round five, or six, or seven. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if it never stopped. But each and every time, they were unprepared. They were surprised, and it nearly cost them every time. But if Steve could prevent that surprise, give them all a heads up before it becomes a big problem, then maybe— just maybe— it’ll come in handy. He’ll come in handy. He’ll be useful again.

So, he walks the woods of Hawkins. His feet crunch the dead leaves piled underneath trees as he trudges through the woods. The flashlight shines long shadows on the ground in front of him, lighting up the pale gray bark of trees and making the eyes of rodents and raccoons shine amber and red.

A rustle sounds a few feet away and he jumps at the noise. He pauses and stands still, listening for the shrill chittering of demodogs or the heavy, thudding footsteps of a demogorgon. He waits, and his flashlight reveals a small fox walking out from behind a tree. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and continues walking.

His feet carry him to Lover’s Lake, the water lapping lazily at the shore with the warm summer breeze. Out here, the lights from town are distant, making the stars shine brightly and reflect in the water. Steve stands there, watches as the artificial light of his flashlight reveals the small ripples on the surface of the water, and waits.

He waits for a lumbering figure to emerge out of the murky depths, to claw its way onto the shore and stalk off into the woods. He waits for chirps muffled by water and splashing to sound in his ears as four-legged creatures swim to the beaches. He waits for the screeches of demonic bats to echo off the trees around him as they fly out of the water and take to the sky. He waits, but it never comes. The lake stays silent.

So he walks.

He follows the road leading to the lake out, letting it take him to the highway that leads out of town. His feet stop as they come across a crack in the road, the crack he took in the other world to get Eddie home safely. The crack that is closed over with black tar, leaving a dark line on the ashen gray asphalt. He remembers clawing his way out of that crack, Eddie’s lifeless body over his shoulders as he slowly bled out.

Nancy had driven her station wagon over, opening the back so he could lay Eddie down as they rode to the hospital. She had asked Steve to drive so she could patch him up, but he refused. He couldn’t leave Eddie, not when he finally got him out. Not when he was barely hanging on. So she threw the first aid kit she had stashed in her car at him and drove to the hospital. Steve had done his best to stop the bleeding, the stark white cloth immediately turning red when he pressed it to Eddie’s skin. They almost lost him. But they didn’t. He’s alive.

Eddie. Eddie.

His head swivels to the forest next to him, the one that leads straight to the trailer park, and he runs. He jumps over fallen trees, feet thudding against the dry earth and leaves as his breath picks up. Orange street lights shine through branches as he draws nearer, and he only slows his pace when he breaks out from the line of trees. His feet swiftly take him to the sight of Eddie’s old trailer, the vacant lot standing out against the fullness of the park. The wooden front steps are still there, partially broken and shifted. The grass has yet to grow in fully, bare spots of dirt showing through the green. His shoes crunch on the gravel as he takes a step closer, inspecting the ground and poking at it with his bat as if it would move. As if the gate would open up just by him being here.

It doesn’t. Steve steps back.

He turns to leave the park, eyes wandering and finding a familiar cream-colored van parked at a trailer a few rows away. Eddie and his Uncle were granted a new trailer for their trouble, really the bare minimum they deserve after all the shit they went through, but they took it in stride. Eddie and Wayne spent the first few weeks after spring break making it into their new home once Eddie was released from the hospital, and Steve had done his best to help them out. But he knew they needed time alone, time to heal, so he let them be. He hasn’t been back there since then.

He kicks a stray piece of gravel, watching as it tumbles a few feet away and disappears into the grass, as he makes his way out of Forest Hills. Houses blur by as he walks the residential streets, only stopping when his own comes into view. Steve sighs, and walks up the concrete driveway, through the large wooden doors, and into the silence of his house. He doesn’t bother taking off his shoes, reveling a little in the dirty footprints he leaves behind on his mothers’ ornate runner that covers the length of the hallway. The analog on the stove tells him it's a little past three in the morning, and he sighs. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, he fills it up with water before shuffling out of the kitchen. He flops on the couch, sips his water, and waits.

He waits for the sun to peek over the trees in the backyard, casting long shadows on the curtains that cover the windows and glass doors. He waits for the warm rays to shine through the large window in the living room, the one that faces the road, and light up the rug that rests under the coffee table in soft hues of yellow. He sits his empty glass on the table. He waits. And he gets up.

He goes upstairs, changes his shirt, and grabs his vest. Steve slips the walkie off his belt loop and places it on his desk, the flashlight landing right beside it. He props the bat next to his chair, and Steve looks at it, looks at the bent nails sticking haphazardly out of the wood and how it splintered in places from too much force. How some of the nails are covered in dried, blackened goop and dirt. How it's sharp and dangerous, a weapon. How it’s chosen to protect.

At this moment, Steve feels like the bat. The rough wood is his exterior, the splinters through it are the cracks. The holes in his facade. The places where people got too close, where people hurt him. The nails are what makes him strong. They’re the kids, Joyce and Hop, Eddie and Robin. They’re his family. They mold him into a weapon meant to protect, to keep them safe.

But just like Steve, the bat isn’t needed until it’s necessary. Until the world is ending. But until that time comes, the bat is left out of sight. It’s hidden away, moved from place to place just in case, but never used. Never wanted.

Steve walks out the door.

His shift at Family Video passes by like every other day, slow and full of know-it-all customers that never seem to understand that he can’t magically summon movies out of his ass whenever they ask. Robin comes in around lunchtime, and they spend the rest of their joint shift making fun of the ridiculous movie covers that adorn various romcoms. He goes home alone, sheds his vest, and once again walks the town of Hawkins.

He does it again the next night. And the night after that. And the night after that. Until it’s been a week and Steve hasn’t slept for more than a couple hours a night. He doesn’t mind, just means there’s less nightmares to wake him up before sunrise.

Less nights where chittering and the thuds of heavy footsteps strike fear down to his core. Less nights where the chill of fog and night air pierce his skin, warring with his senses against the hot breath hitting the back of his neck from deadly flower-shaped mouths. Less nights where the harsh scraping of monstrous nails against rusted metal and the echoey bangs of heavy, meaty bodies against solid bus walls fill his ears. Less nights where he can feel the thick, choking air of the tunnels, can feel the wispy particles filling his lungs and coating the inside of his mouth.

Less nights filled with muffled Russian echoing in his ears, the harsh texture of rope around his wrists, arms, and chest. Less nights where the sickening crunch of fists against bone and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth linger for hours after he’s awoken, shallowly breathing and pleading to be let go. Less nights where he can feel the blood in his teeth, coating his tongue and dripping down the back of his throat, and he has to run to the bathroom to puke the phantom feeling away.

Less nights he wakes up alone, empty house hollow around him. Less nights he cries to himself in the silence of his room, wishing, hoping, yearning for something. For something to happen, to change. For something to get better. For him to get better.

On the eighth night, he finds his feet have taken him to the edge of Hawkins. The brown road sign reads ‘Leaving Hawkins! Come Again Soon!’, and it stares at him from a few feet away. He looks past the sign at the stretch of road that disappears around a curve, trees following the line of asphalt and distant street lights lighting up their leaves with an orange glow.

He thinks about what it would be like to leave Hawkins, to pack up his clothes in his car and leave town. To follow the road and go around that curve, to not worry about ever coming back. No one needs him here, not anymore, so what’s holding him back?

Maybe this will fix him.

Robin might miss him for a bit, probably curse him and his whole family when she figures it out, but she’ll move on. She’ll find someone better. Hell, she’ll probably go to Eddie too. They already have some sort of secret friendship thing going on between them anyway. Really, he wouldn’t blame her.

Eddie probably wouldn’t care. Shit, he might even throw a party celebrating the fact that he’s gone. Steve snorts at the thought, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

Would it really be so bad if he just disappeared?

But then there’s the kids, left behind with no one to protect them. Sure, Robin and Eddie and Nancy are here, but Nancy is off to Emerson in the fall, Robin surely bound to follow in similar footsteps, and Eddie has made it well-known that he’s getting the hell out of here. If everyone is gone, who will be here to protect them when it comes back?

He rakes a hand harshly through his hair, pulling a bit at the ends and hating how greasy it feels on his fingertips. He can’t think like that, he’ll just worry himself into a panic and that’s the last thing he needs right now; a panic attack on the side of the road. He turns around, walking back towards town as the sky fades into light. He gets home right when sunlight begins burning the tops of the trees and collapses on the couch, sleeping until his noon shift.

He’s exhausted when he gets home, having to close up Family Video after a ten hour shift by himself, but he knows he can’t sleep. Not now. So he does what he usually does now when he gets home and grabs his essentials for his rounds, something that’s become routine for him.

He shrugs off his work clothes, replacing it with what has become his patrol outfit; the old swim team sweatshirt and a faded, ripped pair of light blue jeans. The sweatshirt is filled with holes, the baggy sleeves having caught on briars and branches alike, that allow the white of his shirt to show through. The jeans share a similar fate, the knees scraped up and the denim fraying from the unhemmed edges.

His white Nikes are stained a gray-ish brown from the nightly treks through the woods, small bits of leaves and debris sticking to the laces and in the grooves of the tread. The flashlight finds its place in his back left pocket, an extra pair of batteries landing in his front pocket after an incident a few nights ago where his flashlight died on him out in the middle of nowhere— he was forced to stumble through the woods until the sun began to rise and he was able to find his way back home. He didn’t sleep that night.

The nail bat is crusted with dried bits of mud sticking to the slowly rusting metal, shredded bits of leaves and undergrowth tangled in a green and brown mass. Clumps of dirt litter the floor under the bat, and likely mark a line in the hallway from his room down to the front door. Steve hopes it's still there if his parents come home.

It’s dark outside, only the street light at the end of the driveway illuminates the concrete and stepping stone pathway to the front door. Steve steps out on the front stoop, taking a deep breath of cool summer night air, and starts walking.

He walks out onto the street, uncaring at this point if anyone sees him or not. What does he have to lose? Hopper would probably tell him he’s stupid— something he’s well aware of at this point— and tell him to go inside. Or maybe he would drive him home, take the bat, and leave.

A small, traitorous part of Steve wants Hop to find him. Wants him to ask what the hell he’s doing walking around at night alone in the dark. Wants him to coax him in his old beat up truck and take him back to the Byers’ house. Wants some of Joyce’s hot chocolate as he sits on the couch and explains what he’s been doing, what’s been going on. Ask, desperately, why everyone hates him. Wants them to tell him he’s wrong, that no one hates him. That it’s just a misunderstanding.

But it doesn’t happen. All of that is a lie.

It’s a lie Steve has secretly been telling himself under the cover of darkness alone in his bed, lying awake and exhausted but unable to sleep. It’s a lie he tells himself when he sees any of the kids so he can act normal, act okay. It’s a lie he tells himself when Eddie grins at him, wide and gleaming, eyes sparkling with the afternoon sun beaming in from the storefront windows.

It’s those grins, those looks Eddie gives him sometimes that almost convinces him the lie is fake. Like Eddie is sharing an inside joke with him, only Steve doesn’t know what it is. Eddie doesn’t come around often but when he does… god, it’s like he’s the only one in the room.

Eddie looks at him with his whole body, always focusing on him so wholly and touching in some way. A hand on his bicep, an arm slung around his shoulder, even his arms wrapped around his waist one time. He was friendly, they were friends, until he wasn’t. Until Steve did something stupid that he still can’t figure out and Eddie is avoiding him.

The crunch of gravel under his sole brings him back into his head a little. He looks up, finding the pale orange glow of a lamp through a trailer window, and curses. His feet have brought him to where his mind always seems to go these days: Eddie.

He stands outside of the trailer, watching the way the little bits of weeds around the base shift and sway in the wind. The sky is filled with patches of clouds, light gray ripples standing out against the black sky from the glow of the moon. Steve isn’t completely sure how he got here, only that he started walking and didn’t really… stop.

Wayne’s truck is gone, leaving only Eddie’s cream-colored van among the gravel and grass. Which means Eddie is home and, judging by the light in the window, awake. Steve has a fleeting thought that he should turn around, walk back home, and try to forget he ever came here. Try to forget that he didn’t mean to, that his head and his heart are traitorous beings that have conspired against him to bring his body to the one place— one person— where he isn’t welcome. He tries to move, to will his legs and his feet to catch up with his brain and the urge to run. But they don’t. They stay frozen to the ground, rooted in place as if they belong here. As if he belongs here.

A voice cuts his thoughts off, one that he could pick out in a crowd full of people. His eyes snap to the front door of the trailer, now open and spilling warm light onto the wooden steps that lead down to the gravel drive. A figure grows near, tall and lanky and Steve feels like he’s trapped. His thoughts get louder, yelling and screaming at him to run run ruN RUN RUN-

Hands on his shoulders. Eddie’s face in front of him.

Eddie looks panicked, his dark eyes wide and dancing around as if searching Steve's face for… something. He must not find it, because the two little lines between his brows appear and his mouth starts moving. It’s all muffled, like he’s trying to talk through glass. Steve blinks.

“-ington? Steve,” Eddie’s pleading voice finds his ears as he shakes his shoulders, the fog in his head dissipating as the strained way his name falls from his lips. Steve hums. He blinks again.

“Oh,” he breathes out, voice barely louder than a whisper. Eddie is here. He’s in front of him. He can see him. He’s here and he can see and Steve shouldn’t be here he needs to go-

“Stevie, are you okay?” The fear in Eddie’s voice cuts off his train of thought— something that seems to happen a lot nowadays— and Steve feels every sensation return to his body. The heavy hands on his shoulders, soft and warm and missing their signature rings. The distant chill of the night air on his exposed bits of skin seeping away at the small amount of space between them. The faint puff of air on his face from the man before him. The fact that all of those things are from Eddie.

Steve clears his throat, swallows. Tries to focus his eyes on Eddie’s face.

“I’m fine, Eddie. I um.. sorry,” he trails off. He tries to smile, at least give something to reassure him, to keep him from asking questions. Steve doesn’t think he could answer them.

To his surprise, Eddie lets out a breath of relief, the fear dissipating from his eyes as they clench shut and his head drops. His shoulders move with his lungs as he takes a breath before looking back up at him.

“Jesus H. Christ, you scared the shit outta me, Steve. Thought…” he trails off. His voice wavers. “Thought you were gone. Like… like her.”

Oh. Chrissy. Fuck.

“Shit- sorry, Eds, I didn’t even realize- fuck, I’m so sorry,” Steve pleads. He takes in his surroundings, realizes he’s been standing out here, alone, for who knows how long. He needs to leave. “I-I should go.”

Eddie’s brows furrow, and he tilts his head. “You don’t have to leave, Stevie, it’s fi-“ he cuts himself off.

Steve looks up at that, unsure of when he stopped looking at Eddie, and takes in his pinched expression. The one that’s trained to the ground. The one that’s trained towards-

“What the fuck is this?”

Shit.

“I-it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” He begs, voice sounding unfamiliar even to his own ears. It’s raspy and breaks after a few words. When was the last time he really spoke to anyone today?

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Eds, I really don’t- please, believe me,” he pleads. “It’s just for protection! I don’t-“

“Why are you covered in mud, Steve?” Eddie cuts him off, voice strange and cautious and his hands tighten their grip on his shoulders. Steve knows he doesn’t look the best, knows that his clothes are dirty, but he looks down at himself anyway. His eyes focus on a leaf stuck to his shoelace. He shrugs.

Eddie moves in front of him, a quick thing that Steve suspects is him shaking his head. He mumbles something he can’t hear, voice only a rumble in his throat but Steve knows enough to know that people only talk under their breath when they’re mad. When he’s done something wrong.

He pulls away. Eddie’s hands drop off his shoulders.

“I-I should go. Sorry for bothering you, an-… and keeping you awake,” Steve stutters out, clearing his throat when his voice breaks. He chances a look at him, finding concern written on Eddie’s face. It softens when they make eye contact, and Eddie shakes his head.

“I wasn’t asleep, Stevie. Don’t really, uh.. sleep much, these days. I usually just wait around for Wayne to get home to catch a couple hours. Doesn’t feel safe here by myself, you know?” Eddie confesses, mouth turned upwards in a small, sardonic smile. Steve nods. He does know, he’s never felt safe in his home. With or without people. He’s been going through it for years, long before the events of ‘83. He doesn’t say any of that though, doesn’t think he has the right to.

Eddie steps towards him, closing the bit of distance Steve made between the two, and rests his hand on the arm holding the bat.

“Come inside, Steve,” Eddie requests, voice low and soft. Eddie’s smiling at him. It’s that soft, small, Eddie smile. One that Steve has only seen a handful of times. It’s asking him to say yes, and Steve… he’s weak. So, so weak.

“Okay.”

Eddie’s smile grows.

His hand wraps further around his arm, tugging him towards the open trailer door and Steve feels betrayed that now is when his feet decide to move. He follows Eddie, watching the way he’s glancing at him the entire time. Eddie pauses at the doorway.

“Steve,” he whispers, and Steve looks at him. His hand travels down his arm, causing goosebumps in its wake despite the layer of fabric between their skin. It pauses over the hand still gripping the bat, thumb brushing along his knuckles. “Let it go.”

Steve looks at him, searches those dark brown eyes for fear or hate or anger but finds none. He only finds care. Concern. Love.

It’s terrifying.

He loosens his grip and Eddie takes it from him, the comforting weight of the bat replaced with the warmth of Eddie’s hand. He props it just inside the door to the trailer and leads him over the threshold by the grip on his hand. He’s led over to the couch where a hand on his back urges him to sit down. Steve does, and instantly sinks into the well-worn cushions.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Just gonna get you some water,” Eddie informs him, squeezing his hand briefly before releasing his grip and turning the corner to venture into the kitchen. Steve watches him go, the way the baggy and worn band shirt hangs off his frame. The way his sweatpants are bunched up at the ankle as if they’re too big for him. The way his hair is pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head that swings a little when he walks away. Even now, he’s beautiful.

Shit. He’s so gone for this man.

Eddie returns with a glass of water and flops down on the couch beside him, pressing the cool surface of the cup into his palm. He takes it with a shaky hand, his other joining it to help stabilize the glass. It doesn’t work.

He takes a small sip of water, the liquid feeling like heaven against his dry throat. They sit in silence until Steve finishes half the glass. Then, Eddie speaks.

“Why were you outside at two in the morning, Stevie?” His voice is gentle, and it makes Steve want to cry. He swallows.

“I- I don’t know,” he deflects, lies. Anything to not talk about it.

The harsh sound of a mock game show buzzer startles him, and he turns to find Eddie with his hands cupped around his mouth. Steve grins and lets his head drop, and Eddie nudges his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, focusing on the surface of the water in his hands.

“I have to keep them safe, Eddie,” he confesses. Eddie stays silent, hand gently rubbing his forearm. “It’s what I need to do. What I have to do.”

Silence stretches between them, then, “who, Steve? Who do you have to keep safe?”

‘You,’ he wants to say. ‘You almost died. It’s never been that close before, not in the four years this shit has been going on. You and Max almost died, and I wasn’t there to protect you. I wasn’t with you and Dustin to keep you both safe, to help fight off the bats and urge you through the gate. I wasn’t with Max and Lucas and Erica, wasn’t there to fight off Carver and save Max just a little bit earlier. I wasn’t there, but I should have been. Carver should have beat me to pieces, not Lucas. It should have been me the bats got to, not you. It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me.’

Hands fall over his as Eddie takes the glass from him. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking that bad in his revere, causing the water to spill over the sides and onto the brown carpet below them. The glass thunks on the coffee table before Eddie rests his hands over Steve’s, stills their shaking.

“Hey, talk to me, Stevie,” he practically begs. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Steve looks at him, sees the worry in his eyes, and wets his lips with his tongue. Doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes flicker down at the movement. He clenches his fists.

“Please don’t tell Robin,” he pleads. If she found out about this, if she knew, he wouldn’t be allowed outside alone ever again. She would worry about him, keep him under lock and key to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid. She would stay with him during the night, insert herself firmly by his side until she was sure he was okay. She would make him sleep in his own bed, trapped between his own walls. Trapped in his own house. He can’t stand that place, can’t handle the echoey walls and empty rooms. Can’t stand not being able to do anything for anyone. Can’t stand to be useless.

He’s just wasting time right now. He shouldn’t be here, talking to Eddie, when he could be checking the gates. He should be out there trying to save people, not himself. He should be trying to save his family. He could already be too late. It might have already come back while he was distracted and they could all be gone. It could have been waiting until he was occupied, waiting for an opening to strike. They could be in danger right now. They could be dead.

“Alright, I can do that. I won’t tell her but… Steve, why-“ Steve cuts him off by standing up on shaky legs, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Steve?”

“I need to go, Eddie, I need to- they could- I need to go,” the words tumble out of his mouth, words he isn’t quite sure even make sense but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out.

Steve walks over to the door, eyes locking on the bat propped there, before he hears Eddie stand up behind him. He turns to find Eddie holding his hands out in front of him like he’s trying to placate a wild animal and, at this moment, he kinda feels like one. His heart is beating too fast and he can feel his breathing quicken. His throat closes up as panic claws its way upwards and clouds his vision, muffling his hearing. Eddie’s mouth moves but Steve can’t hear it through the cotton in his ears. He backs towards the door, hating the fear in Eddie’s eyes as he does so.

His back hits the wall next to the door and he turns, hand finding the rough wood of the bat almost instantly, before he runs out the door. The small “sorry” he lets out is an afterthought, thrown over his shoulder right before the trailer door slams shut behind him and his feet crunch on gravel as he runs towards town.

His blind panic takes him to Dustin’s house first, finding all the lights turned off save for the faint glow of the hall night light through sheer curtains. He stays there for a minute or two, waiting for the sign of flickering lights. Nothing comes.

A couple streets over, he stops in front of Lucas’s house, finds the same thing. Dark. He stands there and waits. No flickering. He runs.

The Wheelers. Dark. He waits, no flickering. He runs.

The Byers-Hoppers. Dark. Waits. No flickering. Runs.

Max. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

Robin. Dark. Waits. Dark. Runs.

His house. Light.

They’re safe. He collapses.

He sits heavily on the front stoop, bat falling to the ground and knocking against the concrete with a thud. His knees come up to his chest and his arms wrap tightly around them as he rasps for breath, the air coming in short, quick bursts. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of his calves, hard enough to leave bruises. His forehead rests heavily on his knees and his eyes sting, welling with tears as the fear slowly fades away.

He sits outside, struggling for breath until the sun begins to rise, and waits. When the sun finds its way over the trees, he makes his way inside to get ready for his opening shift.

The bat finds a new home in his trunk.

Taglist: @tea-beloved @starry-eyedlune @hyperfixationgoddess @zerokrox-blog @nicovania @invisibleflame812 @chaoticvictorianspirit @justforthedead89 @dacremontgomeryay @vhelt @adhdsummer @nerd-and-nervous @i-have-three-feelings @mimicori @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod @solliesolesito @romanticdestruction @vanillatwist @bowl-o-queerios @grimmfitzz

(If you want to be added or removed please let me know!)

[flippinpancakes64]

could you write the cullen's being jealous??

The Cullens being Jealous

Thank you so much for requesting and I hope you enjoy this!

Also I mentioned it in my last post but I know not everybody would have seen it because I didn't put as many tags, so I'll say it again.

My requests are open!!!!! Please request, I'm bored :(

Edward:

I feel like he would get jealous pretty easy

Like he can hear everybody's thoughts

He already knows if someone starts expressing interest in you before they can even do anything

But the most he would do in that scenario is maybe keep you a little farther away from that person

You know like moving your seat in class so you're closer to him and farther from them

Walking different ways to class to avoid them

Stuff like that

He wouldn't say anything to you or to them

Now if they act on it?

Completely different story

No matter your gender, physical appearance, race, literally anything, the second you guys start dating everyone knows it

So for someone to know that you guys are dating and still try something?

He is seeing red

It doesn't matter what the other person did

A flirty note, asking you on a date, literally touching your fingers while they hand you something

All of it's the same to Edward

If it wasn't your fault or you weren't reciprocal, it's very likely that you wouldn't even know anything happened

To you, Edward just stepped away for a moment at lunch

But in reality he cornered the poor, stupid person and not-so-nicely told them to never even look at you again or they were gonna be dead

But if he sees something that you did as meaning that you were into it?

The same thing happens to the other person

And he sits down to have a talk with you

Maybe he only heard about what happened and didn't get to read your mind as it was happening

Or maybe he can't read your mind for some reason

Just explain to him that he's the only one for you

And let him read your mind if he can to let him know that you mean it

Overall he's very protective and pretty prone to jealousy

Alice:

I don't really see her as the jealous type

She has that mentality of "they come home with me every night so it doesn't matter what other people do"

Like she's got you already

And she doesn't ever see you cheating

So she's not worried

The only time that she would get jealous is if you show a liking to human nature

AKA anything that she can't give you

If you mention something about someone's hand being so warm or mention having a sleepover with someone she gets a bit jealous

The sad type

It just reminds her that she can't be everything for you

If you're a human it's even worse

She knows that she's cold

She knows she can't sleep

She knows that she'll never be able to enjoy your favorite foods with you

It just hurts to be reminded of it

But she's also not the type to stew in it

She will tell you straight-up if something is bothering her

She won't ask you to never make comments like that ever again

Obviously that's not really something that can be controlled

But she just wants you to know why she's a little more down than usual today

"Oh nothing, I was just reminded that I'm not human"

Please give her so many kisses and tell you that you love her no matter what

Jasper:

I can already tell I'm gonna get carried away

Jasper in my mind 🤝 angst

He gets so jealous

But again it's the sad kind

He's not perfect

He's not human

And he's not good for you

The fact that you agreed to date him at all is still a wonder to him

So he's very sensitive to seeing you with other people at all

He knows that you have friends obviously and that you can't be with him 24/7

But when he sees you and your lab partner laughing and making jokes, when he sees one of your oldest friends leaning way too close, when he finds a note shoved in between your papers, it gets to be too much

It just reminds him of how many better options there are for you

He wouldn't say anything to the person making moves on you

He knows that it would definitely end up in a police report and the Cullens needing to move again

But I feel like he would take some time to talk to you

He would take a while to psych himself up though

Maybe a few practice convos with Alice

And a threat from Rosalie that she is going to take matters into her own hands if he doesn't say anything

He would be very open about what's bothering him

He doesn't like keeping secrets from you

So he would tell you about how he felt seeing the way someone acted with you

The type of emotions they were feeling

And how it was bothering him

He would accept all of your explanations that the person was just a friend, or that you don't feel that way

But I feel like what he would really need is some intense reassurance that you do want to be dating him

And that you love him

Aww so sweet

Rosalie:

Yeah she doesn't get jealous

She's a bad bitch

She's hot

And she knows that you love her

It doesn't matter if some nobody from your highschool starts hitting on you

Because there's no way they have a chance with you

And she knows that

Because guaranteed you are a bad bitch too

The only time that really any reaction would come from her is if somebody physically hits on you and makes you uncomfortable

And it's not jealousy it is full protective rage

Like how dare someone touch her SO and think they can get away with it

A note or two, maybe some longing glances she can get past

But harassing for a date, pressuring you for your number, or even making physical advancements that you are not okay with?

Yeah suddenly they wake up the next day with a broken arm

And she goes full exposé

If they sent you any nudes they are getting leaked to the school

She doesn't play around like that

Fuck around and find out

But she will never be jealous of some losers trying to take what's not theirs

Emmett:

He's also not really one to get jealous

In fact he kinda likes the opportunities

Like if some guy is hitting on you he LOVES being able to sneak up and go

"Babe is this guy bothering you?"

And then the dude just turns around and sees this 6 foot something 300 pounds of pure muscle dude standing there

He loves it

He does get a bit annoyed though

Like if there's one person that keeps sending you notes, asking you on dates, trying to sit next to you in class, he gets frustrated

He offers to beat them up

To get them to leave you alone of course not because it's annoying him

Even if you say not to he's still gonna do it

He's like a 50's gangster waiting in an alleyway for the person to show up

He doesn't physically beat them up

Yet

If the person persists after his "stern talk" their ass gets jumped

And he will always deny it if you ask him

Oh well :)

Esme:

I feel like she might be a bit insecure about being one of the "normal" ones

She doesn't have any special powers

And she didn't have any particularly strong characteristics that manifested themselves when she turned

In her mind she's just a little "blah"

So I feel like she would get jealous easy

But it wouldn't have an opportunity to present itself as much

She wouldn't get jealous over most humans

And since she spends most of her time in the house, she doesn't even get to see you out and about interacting with people all that often

So I feel like the moments in which her jealousy makes itself known would be when other vampires are in the area

Especially if they're vegetarians

And ESPECIALLY if they're gifted

It was her actual waking nightmare when all of the vampires were collected to protect Renesmee

(Not that she really had time to be worrying about that but yk)

The only other time I could see her getting jealous would be if you two were out and about together and someone started hitting on you

And even then she would only tell you about it after the person left

"I can't believe they were flirting with you while I am literally right here" "...are you jealous?" "...no..."

Carlisle:

This is a man who is secure in his relationship

He trusts you completely because he knows that you trust him completely

SO many people flirt with him at the clinic (I don't blame them I would too tbh) (actually no I wouldn't I'm too scared to do that)

He knows that people find him attractive

And he knows that people find you attractive because how could they not

But he has full faith in you

And he is very transparent

He tells you all of his stories from the day when he comes home from work

"This woman came in today with a broken foot, like completely turned around, bone showing and everything. And she still looked at me and asked for my number! And then she passed out..."

He thinks it's funny

Because he would never, not in a million years, even CONSIDER cheating

The only thing would be if you're describing an interaction you had and you don't sound completely put-off by it or if he finds that you kept a note someone gave you that was very clearly flirtatious

He, once again, does not let it stew, though

He directly asks about it

Prying into the details of how you feel about this person and why you talked the way you did/kept the note they gave

I can't imagine anyone cheating on him tho so just tell him the truth that you didn't mean it that way or just forgot to throw the note away

He still fully trusts you tho

Vampire! Bella:

She sort of has the same problem as Esme

In her mind she still thinks of herself as the boring, plain-looking girl who just blended in

She doesn't consider herself to be anything special

So when she sees you talking to someone else, maybe laughing a bit too hard at someone's joke, or even hanging out with someone, she gets super jealous

I am sad to say though that she does immediately jump to conclusions

She gets sad for a bit but then immediately she flies into accusations

Asking you what you were doing with that person, if you want to break up with her, if she's not good enough, if you already cheated on her

It gets a bit exhausting after a while

I feel like this would be a genuine problem

Once she met Edward, she basically left all of her friends

So she has a little bit of a skewed idea of what a relationship is supposed to be like

I mean you can't entirely blame her

Her only other experience with a relationship was complete obsession

So she thinks your relationship should be the same

You just need to tell her that

That most normal people in relationships do actually have friends

She'll get it at some point... maybe

[supersoakerfullofblood]

Dialogue Tags and Action Beats, Pacing and Scene Development; a Brief Overview

I've seen a few "dialogue tags to use instead of 'said'" posts now, but most of the tags provided by these posts are trying too hard and are much more distracting than "said" would be. "I'll kill you," he declared; "It's okay," she exonerated; He remarked, "He shouldn't have done that." These are clunky to varying degrees, and if you don't recognize that now, you will with practice.

The truth of the matter is that "said" is pretty much always blank space that the reader will skim over without a second thought. It's maybe the only word we have with this function, and it should be treated as such! So why don't we use dialogue tags that add meaning to the dialogue? Something like "argued," "rejoiced," "remarked"? You can, and these should be used now and then (maybe not "rejoiced"), but overusing them weights down the prose, and in general, they should be replaced by action beats or description.

In much the same way adverbs and adjectives should be avoided if the noun they modify already has the qualities of its modifier, wordy dialogue tags should be avoided if you can show the character's emotions through other means. Dialogue tags are telling; action beats and description are showing. Look at these examples:

He remarked, "I can't believe it's not butter."

His eyebrows rose. "I can't believe it's not butter."

"I told you not to do it," she cried.

Her body shook; words rasped her throat. "I told you not to do it."

"Cried" and "remarked" here aren't bad, but they are weaker than they could be. In the first example, "remarked" indicates tone, but it doesn't do anything else. "His eyebrows rose" indicates tone and also develops the scene. It places the character in the reader's mind's eye, and we understand how that specific character reacts to margarine. How would a different character react differently? This dialogue feels embodied; it belongs to a specific body, a specific host. The second example is embodied too, and a little flowery, though not excessively so. We see how a character reacts to whatever "it" is, and we aren't told how they react. How does she cry in the first sentence?

The debate about dialogue tags, however, misunderstands what tags are actually for. Probably 10% of it is imbuing meaning where there is none (a simple word like "whisper" is a great replacement for "said" when used with restraint), but 90% of it is about tempo/flow/beat/pacing/whatever you want to call it. Read these sentences:

She said, "This is none of your business, and you aren't telling anyone about it."

"This is none of your business," she said, "and you aren't telling anyone about it."

"This is none of your business, and you aren't telling anyone about it," she said.

These sentences convey the same information, but to the careful ear, they carry a world of difference. The first reads snippy, like a terse command; the second gives some added gravity to the second half of the quote, landing hard on the last clause; the third one may be effective if the character is responding immediately to something another character said, since there isn't anything to preface the dialogue, and there's nothing halting it in the middle. All this happens in the two syllables of "she said." Use this word to affect the flow of your writing; use this word to affect how people read your writing. Another sin of other dialogue tags is that they may have too high of a syllable count to warrant use. "He expostulated" is a wild distraction from otherwise smooth prose. "She interrupted" is also clunkier than just having the character interrupt with your choice of dialogue tag/action beat placement or omission. In general, I'd be wary of any dialogue tag longer than two syllables.

Wordy dialogue tags can also be avoided by seeding description in your conversation scenes! Just as the world still operates when we have conversations, so too should it for your characters. Here's an exchange from a story I wrote:

He smiled. “Sleep well?” “Girls were up late.” “Is that a yes—” “No. I didn’t sleep.” She squeezed her eyes closed. “They were screeching.” The crowd caught up with them, swallowed them, and they were carried along the cement. “Oh.” Carmen paused. “Sorry.” “It’s okay.” “Is it all bad?” Bodies shifted in the crowd, and Piper glimpsed Beatrice again. Familiarity warmed her chest. Here was the world outside the camp; here was everything Piper knew. She stood between Beatrice and Carmen and lived again in band class, lived again on the bus home, let public streams flood her roots and grow her as a social monolith, an independent and undisputed landmark in her social circles. But at camp, she was little more than Beatrice’s friend, than Carmen’s apocryphal lover. “It’s not all bad,” she said. “Bea is here. And you.”

Description can easily mold into a character's internal monologue, as it does here. You can also go straight to the monologue if you'd like:

Was she sad, Piper thought, or coy? No, it was the start of a joke. “You didn’t think you were a big deal?” But Beatrice didn’t smile. “I didn’t think people cared that much.” She drew her hands close on the table, covered right with left, and looked into her knuckles. This was defeat, Piper recognized. Beatrice conceded, but of her own will. Piper won, but her score was sour, and Beatrice seemed to crumple her arms into the abject statue of her body. And Piper felt as she never had before, as if a storm of locusts ate at the border of her stomach, as if her skin turned to deep and polluted waters, as if moving one hand or twitching one muscle would irrevocably alter the course of life; the drumming of a finger would set off some idle paranoia in Beatrice, or a sniff of the nose would throw her from the wide window, drop her thirty feet down the wooded hill, and crack herself in two on the base of an implacable oak. This was grief, Piper felt, or something approximating it, something resembling internally a dark and blank horizon, something feeling as a stone feels in a pond whose size may only house that stone, something taking shape in the woman before Piper, shrinking now to a girl, now to someone uninspiring in a world of couplets. Piper sat still, because she did not know how to affect the world without ending it. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Imagine if the second example read:

"You didn't think you were a big deal?" Piper said.

Beatrice frowned. "I didn't think people cared that much."

Piper frowned because Beatrice was sad. "I'm sorry."

Much weaker! Why is the description so long in the second example? Because it's a big emotion! In the world of pacing, big things get big descriptions. In both examples, you feel exactly what the characters are feeling, even though I never used a dialogue tag besides "said." And I used "said" a few times to affect the pacing, which adds to how you perceived the characters. You understood the characters because stronger, more descriptive, more pacing-aware things replaced what could've been clunky tags.

Still, you can do whatever you want with tags, beats, and description. I've read incredible prose with zero tags and sparse beats, prose with paragraphs of beats and plenty of tags, and anything in between. It's all a matter of style, which is to say, experiment! Writers will be stubborn and say things like, "I don't use anything besides 'said' in my prose" or "I'll never use 'said' in my prose again," but neither of those are your personal style. They're declarations that you'll die on this hill you don't fully comprehend, to take a stand on an idea you've never genuinely played with. Go full maximalist; go full minimalist; find what feels right for the pacing you want to incorporate into your style, and recognize how pacing changes depending on the context and content of a scene. Nearly every word is permissible somewhere, it's just a matter of finding the right scene for it. And "said" is permissible always.

[avalonianrising]

Since I've seen more than a couple of people not sure how Worldbuilding Wednesday works, I wanted to help out a little so no one feels either too shy or unsure to chime in! We're all in this together, I promise!

Linking your lair in your post helps folks a ton! That way we can go ogle your kids and get an idea of who we might want to ask more about.

Speaking of which, please do let folks know if there's any dragons who you might not want questions about. Whether they don't have lore yet or they're maybe a fodder dragon, we can avoid them if you wish!

There's a ton of prompts hanging around and I'll try to reblog some tomorrow for everyone. This way, people can send you some questions from said prompts and it makes things nice and easy if you just want to follow along with the outline!

Don't be afraid to just go for it!! I've absolutely just started blathering on about either my current dragon fixation or a whole faction before. I tag stuff with things like "FR Worldbuilding" or "FR Storytime" (sometimes even just "Worldbuilding Wednesday") personally, so those tags may very well help you get an idea of what you might want to do. The more stuff we tag, the more we can read all of our fun lore. :)

Questions are always, always welcome. I'll help out anyone who needs it, promise--and I'm sure others are just the same. I want us to have a fantastic time. :D

I'm definitely probably forgetting something or other, so paging Dr. @spongyspingy-rising just in case they have anything to add.

I'm so excited!

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 1

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 1

Word Count: 4145

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Special Warning 2 : I advise reading the introductory chapters first, as they give a sense of the story, introduce characters and locations and, this chapter starts off immediately after the Sanji chapter. Your first interaction with Law is in those chapters! If you don't want to read the other characters, I recommend reading, at least, Law's Chapter since it's their first interaction!

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: First chapter of Law's story! I'm already writting chapter 4 so I think it's safe to start posting this. I'll try to update regularly, but life usualy kicks my butt so I'm aiming for one chapter per week (though this can change!) Also, this story is more sugestive than Ace's was, since reader has slight kinks (described in tags) that will influence the story. Read the tags, people, they're important! I guess this is it. Have fun!

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz

Masterlist for previous introductory chapters.

|Chapter 2|

The ride home is uneventful. You have come out empty-handed from your job hunt and, as your car drives by the clinic, you remember that there is still a very serious conversation to be had with your father about his surgery. He has to have the surgery as it will improve his lifestyle. 

Shanks is eating chips straight from the bag as he screams something at the players of a football game on the TV when you arrive. That is all fine. Except his posture, however, makes your eyes twitch. He's completely hunched over, and every time something exciting happens in the game, he jumps, throwing his back as if he doesn't have an injury on it. 

You bang the front door especially hard just to get his attention - he hates when you do that - but he simply yells an angry ‘careful, bug!’ without tearing his eyes from the television. Sighing, you enter the living room and place your body in front of the TV. 

“Hey! My game!” He yells, hands in the air and another jolt to his back. 

“Dad! Your back! You want to throw it out again?” You cross your arms in defiance, moving your body as he moves his head, blocking his view even as he tries to see behind you. 

“Bug, I'm being careful.” He whines, clearly more interested in what’s going on behind you. 

“I'm going to set up an appointment with Dr. Law. We are going to schedule the intervention and you are going to get surgery. But first, you will speak with him and get all your fears and worries out of the way. He seems very competent. You're in great hands. Do you agree?” Stomping your foot down, you raise your eyebrow at him. 

“Can I have some time to think about-...”

“Not if you want to see the game!”

Shanks grunts and falls against the back of the couch. 

“And don't make those sudden movements! You'll throw your back out!”

“Fineeeee!” He drags the ‘e’ so much that he sounds like an exasperated child. “Schedule the appointment.” A heavy sigh parts his lips. “Now get out of the way, bug.” You remain stoic, eyebrows raised even higher now. “Please?” He begs as he sits very straight on the couch. 

At that you nod in satisfaction, turning to leave the room and already dialling the clinic’s number to schedule an appointment at Law's earliest convenience. 

-*-

Unfortunately Law's schedule is not the same as your father’s, and there will be about a week where their schedules conflict. So, after speaking with your father and assessing his fears and worries, you decide to go alone to this appointment and see where it gets you. 

Does it seem silly that you are looking for the cutest dress to wear to the appointment? Maybe. But Law is freaking eye candy. How can you not want to look good and maybe catch his eye? And the only other thing he saw you in was torn clothes, so this time you want to be presentable. 

Besides, you can't stop thinking about those tattoos… Just how many does he have? How far down do they go? 

Sighing you deem yourself ready. Your father is with his neighbour and friend Benn Beckman, helping him around his property, so you pray your car works, pat it nicely, like your father told you to, and off you go.

Once you enter the clinic, Kaya is ready for you with a wide smile. You can't help but smile back at her, even though you know she is going to tease you about Law. 

“Good morning, Kaya. How are you today?”

She sing-songs your name as she pulls your father's file from the archive on the computer. “I'm doing very well, thank you. Just getting ready for another chapter of my novel!”

You arch an eyebrow, an intrigued smile on your lips. “Oh? What are you reading?”

Kaya giggles with a hand covering her mouth. “A romantic novel about a young doctor who falls in love at first sight with a patient's daughter. It takes her a bit longer to realise he's the love of her life, but she's getting there.”

The unamused look on your face only makes her giggle more. “That's not funny, Kaya.”

“It is to me! I have a bet going on with Shachi and Penguin. It's about you two, but I'm not going to tell you what it is. I have a lot of money riding on this thing, Usopp would kill me.”

As she fills you in about who Usopp is, and you lean on the counter, engrossed in your conversation, you don't sense someone approaching. 

“Nurse Kaya, you are paid to do your job. That does not include idle chitter-chatter with patients. I was calling you so you could let Mr. S. in.” He says your name and his low voice makes it sound like the most beautiful word in the world. “Good morning. I hope you're feeling well.”

“I-... Hmm, hmm!” You cringe internally and hiss through your pursed lips. A college graduation and a master's degree and this is the best you can do? Shit. 

Spying the hint of that sexy smirk he showed you last time, he glances around the waiting room. “No Mr. S.?”

With a heavy sigh you shake your head. “He ‘couldn’t make it’.” You emphasise with an eye roll and air quotes. “But I want to ask some questions to assuage his fears, if that’s alright with you?”

Nodding, he gestures towards his office. “Follow me.”

Your feet immediately follow him without contest. There's just something in the assuredness of his voice that makes you want to do as he says. Not to mention that now every time you do something he asks you to, all you can hear in the back of your head is that slurred, low-vibrato ‘good girl’. And damn it, just thinking about it sends shivers down your spine. 

After entering his office, he follows you, closing the door behind him and sitting across from you, his hands resting against his chin with his fingers entwined. 

The combination of his piercing amber gaze and the hand tattoos is making your heart race and you're glad you're not hooked up to any monitor now. 

“How have you been feeling?” He uses your name again and you gulp, actually thinking before uttering your response so you can articulate a clever answer this time, or an actual answer. 

“Perfectly fine. I'm in good health, Doc. Physically at least because if you could peek at my ebooks or listen to my audiobooks, you would say I'm unhinged!” You snort before regaining composure and cursing internally because that was way more information than necessary. “Fine, I'm fine!” You add with an eye roll. 

What is it with this man and his ability to render your brain into mush? 

“That's good.” You almost have to stifle a whimper. “And how's your father?”

This is a safe topic, so you feel more relaxed as you lean back and cross your legs, forgetting for a moment that you’re wearing a tiny summer dress. 

“His back has been fine, his habits, not so much. I fear he might come back sooner rather than later. And he's so afraid of the surgery that just speaking about it sends him bolting out of the room like lightning. I swear-...”

You stop talking as you notice that Law's hands have risen from his chin and are now covering half of his face leaving only his amber gaze - which is fixed on your bare thighs - and the slightest hint of pink on his cheeks. 

Shit. 

You just gave the doctor a peep show. 

Blushing, you uncross your legs and tuck them neatly to the side, like the old etiquette books demand, resting your hands on your lap as Law realises he was staring. 

Though he seems unfazed. “Well that aligns with what we've seen since discovering the hernia. Mr S. completely ignores caution when moving around and doesn't want to hear anything related to surgery.” He sighs and you tilt your head. So he was paying attention, not just staring at your nearly exposed thighs. 

You reach into your purse and take out your notebook with a sigh. “He has questions. I did some research too, so I jotted down a few more. If he won’t come here, then I need to be reliable enough to give him the right information. I’ve divided the questions by theme and organised them from the most common to the really crazy ones my father came up with and-... what?” You ask, annoyed at the amused look he’s giving you. “Do I have something on my face?”

He chuckles softly as he leans back in his chair. His piercing gaze should be unsettling, but instead, it makes your heart race and leaves you breathless. 

“It's not that. You're a control freak with a need for organisation and planning, and an endless search for perfection. You have high standards and expectations of others, but mostly of yourself. Am I right?”

Your mouth hangs open for a moment before you snap it shut, your cheeks flushing red. He’s right on the money. 

“Is that a proper diagnosis, Doctor?” You ask, crossing your arms in defiance. 

“No, not at all. I'm not a psychiatrist. That was just a random guess.” That damned smirk again. 

“Random?” You raise an eyebrow, a chuckle escaping your lips. 

“No. Not random at all. I tend to always be in control, so I understand it. But, there are ways to just… let go… and relax.” That damn sexy smirk is back again and you realise it does things to you. “But we’ll talk about that some other time, if you’re interested.”

A warmth spreads through your cheeks as your body responds to his intense gaze. 

“How about this, you lend me that notebook and I’ll take a look at all your questions. We won’t tell your father anything, and I’ll make him a house call with the answers. If we ambush him, he’ll have to hear us out.”

Biting your lower lip you run his plan through your mind. It’s flawless. Shanks will be caught by surprise, with no way to escape. 

“Sounds good!” You say smirking as you close the notebook with a light tap. “But I’ve paid for a full consultation. What should we do with the rest of the time?”

He makes a low hum, almost a grunt. Something primal and instinctive that makes your hairs stand on end. But when he speaks, his voice is calm. “The way I see it there are two options. Either I do a full checkup, or you ask for a refund. Which we don't offer.”

Well that isn't fair at all. He’s playing you like a fiddle. 

“Law, you're being unfair. That’s hardly an option at all. I just said I didn't want to waste this consultation.”

When he leans forward, his chin resting on his hands again, giving you a perfect view of his hand tattoos and long, slim fingers, you gasp for breath. 

“No point wasting it. Hop on the table.”

You don't know why your heart keeps pounding at an insane rhythm against your chest, but if you are about to be examined by a doctor, he’ll immediately realise that you're nervous. Still, you get up and do as he says, because, once again, you find it very hard not to obey his commands. 

Taking a deep breath and trying to calm your racing heart, you climb onto the examination table, fixing your eyes on your legs instead of on him. But when he approaches, you realise he's wearing spotted jeans. He looks like a cute leopard. How did you not notice that before? 

“Look at me.”

You do. Shit. What's with his hold on you? 

Law points his flashlight at your eyes, one at a time, testing your pupil reactions. You try to focus on the light, but all you can see is the yellow of his eyes. And he's very close. 

“Follow the light.” He moves it up and down, left and right and you follow it. Your breath keeps coming out in shallow pants and you scream at yourself in your head. You're being ridiculous! This is an exam! A professional one! 

“Now open your mouth wide and stick out your tongue for me.” You swallow hard before complying. In most of your books what follows this command isn’t exactly office appropriate. His gloved hand cups your jaw gently, opening it further as he shines the flashlight into your throat. “Say ah!”

The sound you make is rather sinful. You can't help it. You told Kaya you weren’t interested in men in general and you weren’t interested in Dr. Trafalgar Law in particular. But your body didn’t get the memo your brain sent out. Because you're twitching, throbbing, and clenching. And he is just there. Ready for grabbing and taking. 

But you have to be rational. You’ve just met the man. There's undeniable attraction, but there's no way you'll act on it. However the way his pupils darken at the sound that leaves your lips makes you realise that the attraction is mutual. 

And the two of you could have so much fun together. 

You close your eyes and dig your nails into the examination table, making the paper crinkle and tear beneath your fingers as you ground yourself. 

“You can close your mouth now.” His voice sounds hoarse, so he clears his throat as he takes a step back, removing the stethoscope from around his neck and placing it near his ears, not yet covering them so he can speak with you. 

“I'm going to listen to your heart, lungs and abdomen, checking for murmurs or abnormal noises, is that alright?” 

It's the first time he asks permission to do something and you realise it's because he's going to have to touch you, so he needs consent. “Yes.” Your voice seems weak and distant, charged with desire and want. You're pretty sure he picks up on that tone as well, but he doesn't comment on it. 

He places the stethoscope in his ears and the flat part against your chest. He starts with the lungs. “Deep breath through the nose.” Once again you follow all of his instructions. “Out through the mouth.” He keeps moving the piece on your bare chest and back, repeating the orders. His gloved hands are warm, big and firm and they make you feel things. “Your heart now.” He states and you gulp. Your heart is not going to be beating at a normal rhythm at all. 

He notices immediately as a small chuckle escapes his lips. You drop your gaze to your lap again as you bite your lower lip. “Interesting.” He replies and you don't really ask what he finds interesting, knowing the conversation could veer down very dangerous paths. 

Removing the stethoscope from his ears, he asks you to lie down as he reaches for a sheet, placing it over your lap and covering your legs. “Can you pull up your dress so I can listen to your abdomen?” You notice him asking again. He doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. 

And you're not. 

“Yeah.”

Adjusting the sheet to cover your panties, you pull the dress to expose your belly and he listens to whatever odd sounds come from it. There's a spot he touches on the side that tickles you and you squirm and twitch with a hearty laugh. He seems surprised and looks at you with a glint in his eyes before resuming the examination. 

“Palpation next. Abdomen first to check for irregularities.” He looks at you for confirmation and you nod. This whole ordeal is overwhelming. You try to look away from his form, his eyes and his hands, but it’s impossible. He’s focused on his task, professional and attentive, yet… There's a hint of mischief in the way he looks at you every time he presses your flesh.

And you can’t help but to blush as your breaths grow more and more ragged. 

“Joints and muscles next.” His hands trace your ankles and calves, then your knees - front and back - before climbing towards your lower thighs. You hold your breath, but he doesn’t go higher. “Sit up.”

“Yes, s-... doctor.” The flush in your cheeks nearly rivals his own. Neither of you expected this reaction. You were about to call him sir? Stupid, stupid, stupid! You should really start reading self-help books instead of filthy smut. But his voice… Law’s voice is deep, assured, commanding! You can barely help the way you want to bend to his words and do everything he asks of you. 

In fact, you’re pretty sure he’s deepening his voice on purpose. He’s been using a more commanding tone since the beginning of the consultation. He probably picked up your little kink when you told him to call you a good girl when you met. And now he’s taking full advantage of it. 

Trying to push the whole ordeal behind you, you sit up and close your eyes, willing your mind to focus on something other than the sheer sensuality of a freaking doctor’s appointment!

He keeps touching and squeezing you. Wrists, elbows and shoulders are next. “You’re doing very well.” He says, adding your name and making you blush even more. If you weren’t sure before, now you are. He’s doing it on purpose. 

And damn, it's working!

“Open your eyes.” You try to fight it, pressing your lips together and shutting them even tighter. “I need you to look at me while I do this, can you?” There’s tenderness beneath the firmness of his voice, and the combination sends shivers down your spine. Yet again, you do as he says and open your eyes, only to find his face directly in front of yours. “Good.”

Fuck. You’re about to declare the time of death for any decency you thought you still had, because the huskiness of his voice is enthralling and mesmerising. 

His tattooed hands wrap around your neck and you gasp, your pupils dilating as your hands grip the paper beneath you. His smirk is no longer veiled as he now knows exactly the effect he’s having on you. His fingers move, pressing against your thyroid and under your jaw, and he lets out a satisfying hum that you instantly want to hear again.

But closer to your ear, much, much closer. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“No nodules, that’s good. Now, take a deep breath, relax. You did very, very well.” You want to scream. You want to cry or smirk or laugh. Anything to express the warmth you feel in your chest from his praise. 

You discovered this little kink of yours some time ago but you were always too fearful to ask Ichiji, your ex-fiancé, to explore it in the bedroom. Ichiji was, by nature, violent and controlling, but in a frightening way. You never meant to tempt or provoke his behaviour intimately. Yet with Law…

Your mind was already picturing all kinds of scenarios, each hotter than the last. You knew, you just knew that you were screwed. There was no way you could get this man out of your head now. 

Even though he was very professional with his touching. It was your head that created all the scenarios. Your horny head!

As he sat down by the computer, typing away notes on your file, you composed yourself by pulling your dress down and passing your fingers through your hair. Taking a deep breath, like he said, to steady your racing heart. 

When your eyes landed on him again, his professional demeanour was back in place, as if it were a cloak he had donned over himself after all this teasing. “Tell me, have you done any palpation of your breasts?”

“What?”

The chuckle that escaped his lips was low and soft. “Self-examination? Looking for nodules or abnormalities. A breast checkup?”

Oh. Dumbass. “Yes, yes! I have. All is well.” With wobbly steps you return to the chair in front of him. 

“Any concerns with your health? Something that feels off, or any indispositions? Headaches, stomachaches, or any other aches?”

You keep shaking your head at his suggestions until a snort escapes your lips at his last suggestion. “Does heartache count?” Then you immediately blush and lower your eyes. Thinking about Ichiji earlier revived very unpleasant sensations within you.

Law stops typing while his piercing gaze returns to you. “I can’t offer any medical assistance for that, per se, but I can always lend an ear, if you ever want to talk about it.” As you glance up, the smirk on his lips is replaced by a stern smile. You nod and mumble a low ‘thank you’. 

“Anything else?” He’s not teasing now, nor being playful. He’s being strictly professional and that makes you realise he was teasing you on purpose during the examination. 

“No, thank you.” Your voice still seems very small. You thought that the mere mention of your ex was not enough to alter your state of mind so much, but it really affected you. Maybe it had something to do with being highly stimulated by all the sensations Law was provoking and then crashing when you came down from that high just by thinking about Ichiji and the heartache he caused you. 

His eyebrows scrunch and he stares at you for a while, waiting for you to add something else. When you remain silent, he gets up. “Okay. You’re all set, then.”

“Thank you, Law.”

And without barely saying goodbye, you hasten out of his office, quickly saying goodbye to Kaya and telling her you have to run some errands and you can talk some more another day - since you already settled the payment when you arrived. 

You had just unlocked your car when you heard your name. It’s Law’s deep rumbling voice again and you almost gasp.

“Law?”

He approaches you without his doctor’s coat on and you blush as your eyes take him in. His t-shirt shows off even more tattoos on his arms. Just how many tattoos does he really have? And why do you want to trace them all?

“Can I have the notebook?” You look at him with a raised brow. “You said you’d leave it with me so I can review the questions.” He says with a slight chuckle at your aloofness. 

“Oh!” Smacking your forehead with your palm, you reach into your purse and hand him the notebook with a slight shake of your head. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He takes it in his hand and fidgets with the ribbon from the page marker. He looks slightly embarrassed and you don’t know what to make of it, since he seemed so sure of himself in his office. “Did… did I go too far?”

The look on your face is one of surprise. Does he think you’re acting like this because of his teasing?

“No!” You almost scream. A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you try to compose yourself. “Not at all! You were very…” Endearing? Seductive? Sexy? Irresistible? “Professional. I’m just…” Another chuckle escapes you, accompanied by a sigh and a dismissive gesture. “I’m a mess! I’m still terribly affected by my past relationship and-... well, thinking about him stirred up some bad memories. I’m sorry.”

Now it’s your turn to be embarrassed. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s completely understandable.” He seems much more at ease now that he’s sure you weren’t weirded out by all the teasing. 

“I’ll be reviewing these, then. I’ll make sure to schedule a house call so we can surprise your father.” 

“Oh!” You gasp in surprise as you reach for the notebook again, fishing a pen from your purse and quickly scribbling your number on one of the pages. “There’s my number. If it’s a surprise visit we don’t want Shanks to be the one to answer the phone.” 

Your easy smile makes him chuckle as he, once again, takes the notebook, tucking it neatly under his arm. “All right. See you soon?”

You nod. “Yes, Law, thank you.” He nods back but, before leaving, he reaches behind you, his arm grazing your side as he opens the car door for you. Such a random, simple gesture has you blushing, and once again thinking about how, in four years of relationship, not once had Ichiji held a door open for you. 

Muttering a muffled ‘thank you’, you climb into your seat. Law says goodbye again before closing the door to the car and walking away. 

You let out the biggest sigh to ever escape your lips as your head falls forward against the steering wheel. 

Why did your father’s doctor have to be so freaking hot?

|Chapter 2|

[kikker-oma]

Fan Joy July!

Coined by the sweet @isasan347 , Fan Joy July is an art challenge I've created for myself!

I will be drawing one piece of colored fan art every single day of July that corresponds to a scene in various Linked Universe Fanfics.

This challenge is meant to push myself to draw daily, give back to writers who make this fandom so much fun, and give others a chance to read something new they may enjoy 😄

I will be choosing some fics myself that I've read and enjoy, but I would love if others recommended their favorite LU fic. This way I can pick one LU fan fiction to draw for all 31 days. Feel free to self promote as well!

To recommend me a fic, please comment or reblog this post with the link so that I can see it easier. Please avoid sending asks if you can, just because I tend to get overwhelmed when my inbox gets full 🥴🥲 hehe

I'll be taking recommendations from April 11-30. After that I'm going to start drawing so that I can be ready to post in July! ( This is gonna take me a while so I need all the prep time I can get haha).

**I'm not asking anyone else to do this challenge, but I would ADORE if anyone wanted to join me! Even if it isn't for the whole month. **(I can be your excuse if you've ever wanted to draw for a writer but were too shy hehe)

I've also seen one or two writers interested in how they could participate. I think that maybe if there is an artist you enjoy you could write something for a drawing they've done? I know there are a ton of very talented LU artists in the fandom, so that could be a good challenge for writers 😀

--- General Notes:

Please note that I will only be doing 31 drawings and a recommendation does not guarantee I will draw for it ( I love you all, but I can only do so much)

I will be tagging my challenge as "FanJoyJuly" and will try my best to note posts appropriately

I will be tagging writers (if they have a Tumblr and I can find it)

I will be linking the story for each day in the post

I will not be releasing which stories I'm drawing for until I post them (for the DRAMA😉)

As we get closer to July, I'll create a master post and update it with each post I make in case people are interested in following along ❤️

Thank you all for the initial feedback for this idea, and I'm excited to get started!

[kittybroker]

Intro post!

I'll reblog cat pictures and value the kitty.

Now I'm sure you're all saying kitties are all valuable, and while that's true one cannot simply dismiss the importance of proper accounting in today's economy.

If you want to submit a picture of a cat you can use either the ask function or send in a post submission and value it yourself. Feel free to tag me into any kitty post you want.

Please make sure to read the FAQ below before sending in any questions.

While I am mostly a joke blog, please be wary when sending overly personal/strange asks, particularly when I do not know who you are. Absolutely do not ship this blog with other blogs, and particularly do not make comments to me about this.

Tagging system: I'll tag all the cats here with #crazy kitty The pricing of kitties is set into one of five categories:

#free bin - $0 kitties #bargain bin - Under $5 #discount kitty - Under $20 #valuable kitty - Under $50 #premium kitty - Anything over $50

#alt currency is used for any kitty not using kitty dollars.

Note that kitties from before 27/01/24 may not include the #bargain bin or #premium kitty tag as those tags were introduced after the blogs creation.

#set deal - For pairs kitties sold together #collection - For collections of different kitties in a collection

#silly kitty - For memes and humorous kitties #art - For drawings of kitties or kitties with art attached #fake kitty - For kitties that aren't really actually kitties at all

#text post - For posts that aren't actually evaluations #asks - Posts that are sent via ask #tagged - Posts sent via tagging #in the replies - Tags from the replies of a post #kitty music - For self-promotional music posts or music performed by kitties (meowsynth)

I'll probably post my own cat a bit here as well and tag that with #my cat.

Submission: You can submit kitties by tagging me in posts or sending asks (when the inbox is open). I will not always get around to tags as sometimes there is too many to get to or I have already evaluated the post. I prefer people tag me into a post over DMing, and will not evaluate a kitty sent in DMs. I would also ask you to not send too many asks or tags in a row simply to avoid too many posts being sent in at a time and allowing others to send stuff in. If you are unsure on how to tag me please refer to the FAQ, do not message me asking how to tag me into posts.

Rules for submission: Please no real people or anthropomorphized cats. Anything that is pretty much just human is a big no go zone for evaluation (particularly evaluating real people). As long as it's clearly an animal I don't really care. Do not tag me into more than 2-3 posts at a time.

FAQ

Why hasn't my ask been answered? I get a lot of asks, and I can't answer everything. It usually takes a few days to a week to get around to answering an ask. Sometimes the ask may also contain a submission that cannot be posted, ie you submitted a real person, a cat in the harmful situation or with wounds. For text based asks I cannot get to everything and am frequently inundated with comments. Not all will get a response. If you ask a question answered in the FAQ I will not answer.

How do you evaluate the kitties? The economy guides my hand, I merely see the truth of what is already there.

I tagged you into a post, but you never responded? I get a lot of tags, and often a lot of the same post. I will try to avoid responding to the same post multiple times (sometimes I forget!). Sometimes I just have so many tagged posts to get to I have to cut some out. I do see every tagged post though so you're post will still be seen, even if not answered.

What is the most valuable kitty ever? Our current estimates would put Intergalactic Shiro, now at an impressive 720000000000

What currency are the kitties evaluated in? They are all in Kitty Dollars. I've never heard of this "USD" or "Euro" stuff. None of it is real.

I want to tag you in a post, but I don't know how? To tag me into a post you will need to reblog the post and add the tag into the text field of the post (no the tags!). If you type @kittybroker you should see this blog appear in a dropdown menu. Select kittybroker and then reblogging the post. You can also tag me into the replies of posts by opening the notes, heading to the replies section and tagging me there with the same method.

Can I submit myself? Many before have attempted this perilous feat. Yet I remain strong. No real people will be evaluated!

Kittybroker, you reblogged a bad post! Sometimes I reblog posts that I should by mistake. Please notify me if this is the case, ie. the cat is in danger, the video is not safe or harmful. I do my best to try educate myself on what the best, but I still miss stuff. THIS DOES NOT APPLY TO FANDOM DRAMA/PROBLEMATIC USERS. DO NOT MESSAGE ME ABOUT THIS.

Kittybroker, I want to support you but I hate capitalism! Good news for you! The best way you can support me is to check out the #kitty music tag! I write a fair bit of music and you can find it at my old soundcloud, or you can find my recent piano sheet music here! Completely free! I really appreciate any support with my music work outside of kittybroker and sharing or listening to my stuff helps a lot!

Do you have a cat? I do, although I rarely post it out of both privacy concerns and the sheer number of other kitties sent in. The rare occasion I do however they will all be tagged. His name is Boris and he is around nine years old. He is very crazy.

That is all for now! Remember to stay crazy and kitty!

[chic-diet-inspired]

Tips on how to create content but not get your account d4let1d?

HOW TO NOT GET D4LETED ON TUMBLR

Okay so I studied this a bit and as a comp Sci major and I have also got termed, I'll give you some tips:

1. Do not use the long form of word "cal".

2. Most important: Keep track of what tags are being blocked. That way you would also know which ones are going to get blocked. Avoid using those tags. And incase you have used them go back and delete them.

3. Avoid triggering people. That's why posting mean$po content is risqué. (See how i used an alternayive word instead of the actual one for mean$po)

4. Try to use positive words. So what computer does is it filters out all the negative words, words like "do not", "should not" or even "don't know". Then it will go through that content. So rather than writing "I don't want to eat" write "I am clueless as to what to eat" or "I am blank about what to eat."

5. Limit your blog's discoverability. You can remove your blog from Tumblr's recommendations, search, and tagged pages. You can also discourage external search engines from indexing your blog.

6. Avoid posting watermarked photos and Links that lead outside of tumblr. Screenshot it and post it if you want to post about it. I did the same with posting "The chic d1et".

[sh0tanzz]

wonbin as your boyfriend based on astrology !

(reminder that this for fun and astrology is something I study for a hobby, these are all inferences based off of observations and not exact fact unless I knew him myself !!)

warnings: small mention of suggestive innuendo but nothing extremely graphic I'll only do NSFW asks if requested.

Pisces Sun : Honestly I knew from the jump when I first started to stan Riize that Wonbin would be a water sign 😭, people claim that pisces men are toxic+manipulative etc. However EVERY sign is capable of toxicity/negative behaviors so I will not feed into those stereotypes. As a boyfriend he'd be pretty shy in the beginning, before you two even dated he would probably stalk your socials and eavesdrop in your convos to gather info before even actually talking to you. He's be pretty...delusional LMAO ! especially with his venus in pisces, you could post a song on your notes and he'll think to himself... "she wants me.." yet wont text you until his confidence was high enough. Ngl he might be slightly flakey, he'd take a min to respond at times and might not be super precise when planning things out for the two of you.

Libra Moon: This makes me feel like he'd be pretty considerate and would thoroughly think out the pros and cons before doing anything just to avoid upsetting you and to ensure your comfort. He could be very observant on the reciprocity of the relationship so if he feels like things aren't even or fair he might retaliate, for example if he feels like you're distancing himself he might take a step back as well. Also do NOT make him question your feelings for him because he will FLEEE THE COUNTRY libra moons take their love and kindness seriously and will feel upset and even embarrassed when taken for granted .

Aquarius Mercury: This placement makes me giggle knowing he couldn't keep up with the whole "cold mysterious guy" persona SM tried giving him 😭. He'd be goofy especially in private and would use his wit to flirt. Would most definitely mess with you and rile you up just for jokes. In a recent vid I've seen he said he'd play/joke around since he's relatively shy to break the ice and it seems super true to me. Would also use music to communicate or send you songs pretty frequently.

Pisces Venus : Siri play Dangerously in love 2 by Beyonce !! Venus in pisces can be soo sweet. He'd love you unconditionally and for your authentic true essence. He could be pretty clingy, tagging a long as much as he can and will want your attention and this paired with his Libra moon points towards him wanting to impress you/get praised. Once again would love to bond over music. The gifts he'd give you would be things that make you feel special and customized to the info he knows about you. He'd be literally stuck and severely down bad once he fully develops feelings. Would plan dates with an aesthetic touch and would want romantic moments between you two to have a "straight out of a movie" feel to it. He would also fall very hard very fast. He'd also want to have a sense and feeling of being "taken care of" since there's sm venus influence in his chart and a lack of domineering energy. Downside he can be too lost in the glitz and glamour of the relationship that he ends up not acknowledging or downplaying the problems in the relationship or even his own red flags.

Taurus Mars : He may not be super direct or would want to take certain things slow during the beginning of the relationship since Taurus values its boundaries as well as comfort and hates to be rushed. Before the relationship even begins he might be a bit hesitant to even approach or out his feelings unless he was 100% confident or sure. Taurus rules the neck, throat/vocal cords, and shoulders. Sssooo he may enjoy receiving neck kisses/hickies, kisses along his shoulder or even massages along his neck and shoulder line or would try to do that to you. Similar to Gemini mars he also may find your voice as a sensual turn on and very attractive and would try to hear it often.

Other Aspects:

Moon/Mercury trine: Would most definitely remember facts about yourself that you've told him especially those he deems important to you. He'd also remember the nostalgic moments between you two

Mercury/Neptune conjunct: Generally sensitive and it can show in how he communicates especially in high tension or stressful moments in the relationship

Mars/Uranus sextile: Random moments where he's very spontaneous and will require a lot of freedom and could feel suffocated within the relationship if not given time to himself

Potential Toxicity: (reminder that any/everyone is capable of being toxic and everyone has negative traits these could be POTENTIALLY true)

Venus/Pluto square: His feelings can become quite intense and he can become extremely possessive as well as SUPER jealous to the point his partner might feel constricted and like he's their shadow. Can also be super sensitive and take things that you might not find as deep very personal.

Hope you enjoyed, I might do Sungchan or Anton next :P

[ribena59p]

I've seen a lot of people try to paint Orcatstra / Maowzarts as problematic, and I believe much of it stems from misinformation or misunderstandings, often because it's being spread through word of mouth. I'm not making this post because Orcatstra asked me to—because they didn’t. No one is forcing me to write this; I'm doing it of my own free will. I really hope that #orcatstrahaters will take the time to read this carefully before dismissing it just because Orcatstra is my friend. I'm writing this to clear up the misinformation surrounding them, as I’ve seen people unfairly group them with genuinely problematic figures like Mawthe (who, by the way, draws necro art!!!).

Yes, there have been times when Orcatstra could have handled situations better (I'll try to keep my personal opinions on those situations brief), but let’s not forget—they’re 17! Some people seem to think that just because they’ll be 18 in a few months, they’re suddenly supposed to be all-knowing. Meanwhile, others are excusing or even babying older individuals like Criminalx3 and Parsnipling, both of whom, to my knowledge, are in their twenties! THEY should know better.

(Because someone asked) I bring up Parsnipling because they were called out for posting a fanfic where Dave from DSAF had animal genitalia (a cloaca). They then accused me of being the reason people sent them death threats, even though all I did was share a thread showing what they had posted. I didn’t even tell anyone to block them. Parsnipling lied to me, claiming that the tags with "cloaca" were meant as jokes. Afterward, they left Twitter (due to death threats, unfortunately) and went back to Tumblr, where they posted about how fandoms used to be spaces for "freaks." Take that as you will.

(I’m not debating the morality of referring to non-human genitalia with animal terms. Personally, I find it strange, which is why I made the thread in the first place—to draw attention to it. People are free to come to their own conclusions and decide whether to block or avoid interacting with them as they see fit.)

This post isn’t made to say you can’t..not Like orcatstra as a person..cus u can…everyone can dislike anyone for any reason just to reiterate this is just made to clear up misinfo

I exclusively use they/them pronouns for Orcatstra in this post specifically so that people don’t get confused about who I’m referring to, but please keep in mind when discussing them that they use any pronouns (besides from she).

The main points for why people deem orcatstra as problematic (that I’ve seen) are:

* Running a 15 year old off of their own tumblr blog

* Accusing a rape victim of liking and supporting rape + accusing the same person of being a groomer

* Comparing phone x Jack to slave x slave owner

* Blocking people for shipping things that they don’t like

I’ll be going through these one by one and explaining what happened to my knowledge.

Running a 15 year old off of their own tumblr blog

The 15-year-old in question ran a DSAF confessions account, where they posted anonymous confessions from people within the DSAF community. These confessions were typically related to DSAF topics.

I've seen people claim that Orcatstra harassed this person because their blog posted confessions about people disliking Davesport. However, that's completely inaccurate—Orcatstra doesn't, and never did, care if people dislike Davesport, so that part of the accusation is blatantly false.

(This is Orcatstras own words)

“I didn’t like harass them to the point they had to quit at most I made like 2 posts publicly and kept the rest of my disdain of a confessions account private”

“and I only disliked them 1) bc they’re a confess account which is inherently made to post and stir up drama like what. and 2) they DID post stuff that would cause drama so I was like dawg wtf”

“and then ppl from that blog started harassing ME 😭😭😭IN MY ANON ASKS 😭😭”

“Not (the 15 year old) I think but just ppl who followed the blog or were one of the “anons””

I believe some people are upset because Orcatstra was venting about the account on their private account, but I’m not really sure why... They're mad about that? Orcatstra’s private account only has about 50 followers, and most of those are people who follow with both their main and private accounts.

“I also think ppl were mad because I made a (admittedly dramatic) post talking about why I didn’t like the confessions account ,, but again from what I remember the points were just the og mod posting stuff that’s clearly gonna stir the pot YKWIM ..”

“and I only made that post because someone asked & for some reason you can’t comment pictures on tumblr which I think is quite stupid ☝️”

Accusing a rape victim of liking and supporting rape

(I do not know this persons pronouns so I will be referring to them with they/them pronouns, if they do not use these pronouns please tell me and I will edit this section to display the correct pronouns)

I believe the person being referred to is Cr1minalc1minalcr1minal, who has read and bookmarked non-con fanfics on AO3. Non-con stands for non-consensual, which is essentially the definition of rape. Orcatstra believes that if someone regularly consumes this type of content, it’s reasonable to assume they enjoy reading it. However, Orcatstra has never claimed that Criminalx3 supports rape.

“OH WAIT is it ok if i add that when i did point out the fanfic thing i genuinely was not aware at the time that guy was a victim, ..i dont rlly go on his acc bc i blocked him for my well being (i think thats the right way to use the phrase) … and i didnt/dont wanna be super creepy and stalk him. .. U CATCH MY DRIFT ..”

+ accusing the same person of being a groomer

(This is Orcatstras own words)

“So .. criminal ... I got this info from oomf so keep that in mind, but l've been told that he mains posts nsfw and encourages minors to consume nstw media and to my knowledge hangs out with one specific minor who changed ever since they became friends or something like that I NEVER! Explicitly said anyone was a groomer! ☝️ but it is very weird to see someone do that as an adult”

So they’re (minor and criminal) writing together but it’s not smut

“it’s not but like for a brief second we (orcatstra and oomf) were worried it was because. yk. that seems to mainly be what that guy makes 😓😓😓 (from what I’ve gathered)”

“And then I had to delete my replies bc I was replying on main and someone on tumblr (who does not follow (*oomfs) priv) took the links of my replies so I was like ‘erm what the freak this is kinda supposed to be a private convo’ and deleted them”

From what I understand, Orcatstra was having a conversation on their main account with someone on their private account, and they were discussing something about Criminalx3 that they believed to be true. However, it turned out not to be accurate. Unfortunately, someone on Tumblr took this conversation out of context and framed it as if Orcatstra was accusing Criminalx3 of being a groomer.

I don’t believe that Orcatstra ever made a public post stating that criminal was a groomer.

(I tried looking, but I may be wrong, feel free to correct me and I’ll edit this section)

Comparing phone x Jack to slave x slave owner

I believe this was stated in a now private youtube video where Orcatstra ranks dsaf ships, it may also be said in some tweets.

By definition, the DSAF 3 phone guys are slaves, regardless of the route. They are legally owned by Jack and work without pay. I understand that "slave" is a very strong and impactful word, which is why I'm personally hesitant to use it, but by definition, that’s what they are. You literally see Jack buying Harry in the DSAF 3 intro tapes. I've also seen people try to defend this by saying, "Well, Jack can be nice to them!"—as if that somehow erases the fact that he still owns them.

Blocking people for shipping things that they don’t like

There's nothing wrong with blocking people, even for no particular reason. It can be a little upsetting to get blocked over a post about a ship, but try not to take it personally—it’s just the internet. Unless you were doing something genuinely awful, Orcatstra probably blocked you simply because they didn’t want to see a ship they don’t like. They're just curating their online experience, which is totally normal.

And yes, people are bringing this up as an actual point against them.

I know that many people who dislike Orcatstra also dislike me for being their friend and sharing similar opinions. However, if you haven’t blocked me, please share this with others who might be misinformed.

There have been additional things added on by other people in reblogs if you would like to hear their side of the story.

I am more than happy to engage in neutral and respectful discussions, but I will not be willing to continue if you begin the conversation by being extremely rude or using offensive language. In any other case, I’m fully open to a constructive exchange of ideas, thank you.

[the-astral-express-archive]

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Hey there, welcome to the-astral-express-archive, an unofficial fanblog for official Honkai: Star Rail resources. Everyone can call me Seven or Sev, and I'm also the owner of genshinresource (now a retired blog). This post might be long so I’ll keep the main content under break.

Below are a few things everyone should keep in mind before following/interacting with this blog:

Please avoid bringing up all kinds of real-life related controversies in reblogs. I believe people who come here all want to have an enjoyable time looking at their favorite scenes and characters and maybe, just for a moment, forget about the difficulties they have to go through in life, and this also applies to me as well as a person. While I'm really thankful when someone shares their creations or translations for non-English contents in the reblogs, sometimes the negativity coming from people who hate on some characters for how they look or act, which is seen as "controversial" in real life, affect my mental state a lot. What I wanna say is, If anyone wants to vent their frustration over fictional characters then for God's sake, please do it somewhere else, don't do it here, I really appreciate it.

This blog is NOT spoiler-free but I'll try not to post any directly without prior warnings, especially in-game contents like story CGs and such. If you’re not comfortable seeing any content(s) here, please consider blocking/muting/filtering respective tag(s).

I also don't post leaks or any content related to leaks. All contents you see here were officially released by miHoYo/HoYoverse/COGNOSPHERE and/or their respective owners in-game and/or publicly by the time they are posted.

I usually don't reply to Ask messages aside from questions, feedback and requests to minimize clutters but rest assured, I read and really, really appreciate every single positive and encouraging message everyone sends to me. They're the energy and motivation I need to keep running this blog for as long as I can. Thank you so so much, everyone.

NAVIGATION

AIO download links (Google Drive)

Artworks - Illustrations

Assets

Videos

Master Pages

[Outdated/Being reworked on] Masterlist/Tags page: This page is the main masterlist of this blog. All tags assigned in this blog are grouped into categories and there’s a filter at the top of the page if when you want to see specific groups of tags.

Character tags page: There’s a filter box to the right where you can filter characters by their attributes, factions and sexes. Click on a character’s avatar to go to their tagged posts.

Sticker page: This page is the masterlist for all previously posted Star Rail stickers. You can use the filters on the left and at the top to narrow down your searches, or you can use the search box in the top right corner to look for a specific character (first names only).

Light Cone Gallery: As the name suggests, you will find the images of all the released light cones here. Hover on a light cone to see its name and a list of characters featured in it. Right-click or long-press the image then choose "Open image in new tab" to see it in full size, or "Save image as..." to download it in full size.

Last updated: July 3, 2024

[halfmoth-halfman]

Leaving this blog.

With my mini-series finishing up soon, I've decided to leave this blog as well as my AO3 account once it’s finished. This is not a decision I've made lightly, but circumstances have left this a place where I no longer feel safe.

As of now, I won't be deactivating this blog and will be leaving my fics up for anyone who'd still like to read them. I can't say this decision won't change later, but right now I feel that I've put too much work into this blog to simple delete it.

Below the cut is an explanation of why I'm making this decision, and what has been happening on this blog since the end of last year. It's not required to read or anything to understand the gist of this post; it's simply for my own peace of mind knowing that I spoke up about it. There will be topics that are possibly triggering such as harassment, threats, and racism so please mind the warnings and tags.

The mini-series is queued to finish next week, but there will be no more fic polls or wip wednesdays. I'll still be on here to make sure the queue does its job, and maybe post some stuff from my old drafts as a last bit of fun.

I'll have dms tentatively open for the next two-ish weeks for those who'd like to follow my new account, however I will not be answering anything from empty blogs. After that, asks and dms will be turned off, and I won't be coming back to this blog very often, if at all.

I cannot say thank you enough to the wonderful readers I've had and the amazing people I've met. I don't think I would've ever continued writing without your support and friendship. There's nothing I can do to show my appreciation for all of you.

Maybe we'll see each other again. If not, I hope your inspiration is always flowing, and 2024 treats you kindly.

Mothie 💜

Again, TW: rape/death threats, violent racism, repeated harassment, and mental health.

Back in November, I started getting rude, mean-spirited anons. It wasn't anything I was too bothered with because it didn't happen often and, honestly, my inbox gets flooded for a week or so anytime I post about certain topics. I blocked, deleted, reported and moved on thinking whoever it was would get bored and leave.

However, what started as a few rude anons calling me a bitch or stupid turned into a lot of anons being vile and racist which only worsened over the next few months.

I spoke about it in this post (link) near the end of November. In that post, I mentioned that those were the nicer asks and that was not an exaggeration. I have gotten my fair share of shitty anons as seen here (link) when I had to take a break from my blog because of said anons, but I have never gotten the amount of vitriol that I saw in these asks.

When I turned anon off, I started getting even worse messages from empty blogs that would either be blocked or deactivate within a week. When I turned my askbox off, I started getting hateful DMs. When I turned DMs off, it jumped from Tumblr to my other social medias which I had to private, completely avoid, or outright delete.

I got messages attacking my writing, calling me slurs, threatening to find me and rape or kill me, sending me explicit porn and rape videos while insulting my sexuality, and going into gross detail about how much people I interacted with hated me or how I would never be as good as them. I tried to power through it, pretending everything was fine while I pulled away from this blog, from writing, from friends that I loved and talked to every day. Everything about this blog, the fandoms I enjoyed, the people I talked to, made me so anxious because of these constant messages.

I took several breaks while dealing with this in therapy, repeatedly trying to come back and get comfortable on this blog, but within a few days of coming back the messages would start up again, either here or on any of my social medias I tried to unprivate, and I couldn't deal with it.

Only in the last week or two has it started to slow down and stop on a few of my other socials, which is the only reason I even feel comfortable making this post. However, in regards to this blog and my feelings toward it, the damage is done.

I don't think I can ever truly convey how isolating this has been. So many of these messages were about how I've spoken about my struggles as a black woman in fandom, how much of a burden it puts on the people who interact with me, how inferior I am to them and that I am everything that's wrong with fandom.

I felt scared and anxious to talk to anyone about this, especially people mentioned in those messages, out of fear that this harassment would jump to them. There are friendships that I stepped away from that I will never get back because of that. There are friends that I've felt like I was betraying by never telling them about what was happening because I felt too ashamed about letting this get to me.

I constantly worried that making a post like this would feel like, "Oh, Mothie's whining and trauma-dumping into the void about fandom racism again", that those messages would be right and it would force people to feel like they had to support me. Or worse, that people would agree and it would only make things worse. I've wrestled with so much guilt trying to decide to make this post and figure out what to do to make me trust myself again.

Ultimately, I don't think I was wrong for talking about my issues in fandom, and I don't think anything I've said has warranted this kind of harassment. I don’t know the who’s or why’s behind of this, but I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never really know. Truthfully, I'm not sure it even matters at this point. In the end, I think moving on from this blog entirely would be the best thing for me right now.

But, man, does it fucking suck.

This was the blog where I felt comfortable enough to start writing again, to start posting my fics. It's the blog where I met so many friends, got the courage to join new communities, found new hobbies, new music, new things to enjoy in life. It feels silly to say about a blog, but this was a place where I felt like I was able to carve out a space for myself. I put so much work into making it my own, and now the only thing I feel about it is anxious.

Hate messages and threats and racism have always been a part of fandom, and the internet as a whole. I’ve known since I started participating in fandom spaces that it was going to and continue to happen. I've known that I had to have a tough skin, especially if I ever spoke up about problems I faced because no one was going to have my back if I didn't have my own. I thought I had learned how to deal with it, and how to make a safe space for myself. But this goes beyond that. I did not deserve this. No one deserves this.

In some ways, it feels like admitting defeat, like I'm weak or hypocritical for not being as strong as I pretended I was and leaving. In other ways, it feels freeing to start over, and I'm choosing to view look at this optimistically even if it bittersweet. I don't want to let this scare me away from writing or from speaking about things that are important to me. All I can do now is say I'm so incredibly sorry to those I've hurt by stepping away or keeping this secret, and make sure I'm able to at least leave this blog on as happy a note as I can have.

[hazbinhazbinhazbinreblog]

HELLOOOOOO

I have been semi stalking and poking my head into this account a lot since I adore fanfic anons content. And I would like to propose my own little AU and maybe fanfics for a later date (keyword, maybe since I may also post these onto my ao3) BUT LE CONSIDER:

Based semi on the AU from user AppleParty on Twitter, mainly just one idea, the one where Alastor is Lucifer’s personal guard, the rest is my own.

Basic gist: Alastor makes a deal with Lucifer. Lucifer grants Alastor all the power he desires, but Alastor has to vow to protect Charlie with his life and try and help parent her as Lucifer knows he is not in the right mental state to do so anymore. So Alastor ends up vanishing for 7+ years to help raise and protect the Princess of Hell, while also having a budding friendship with Lucifer (So Hell's Greatest Dad turns from dad off to a tongue and cheek teasing match).

Everything is fine and dandy, some of the same plot points from the pilot happen instead with the inclusion of Alastor. Vaggie and Alastor also have a more mutual respect but not friends yet relationship. The interview goes horribly wrong and Vaggie has to hold Alastor back from ripping Katie Killjoy’s head off. The scene in the limo is more tense as Angel is avoiding the piss off guard dog that is the radio demon now. Alastor tries to cheer Charlie up by cashing in some favors by calling up Nifty and Husk, probably in this AU, Husk is still not an overlord as Alastor owns his soul still, but Husk has more power and having to raise Charlie probably has matured Alastor more so him and Husk are more on even ground and Alastor looks at Husk as more as an advice giver when he needs it. Nifty is just Nifty. The two agree to work at the hotel as they are doing Alastor a favor and they believe in Charlie’s dream. Alastor is up for debate as he may only be doing this because he has to since he is her personal guard or he actually believes in it. The only thing he will say on the matter is he finds it entertaining and he can’t wait to see the chaos start.

All things are going good, they plan on celebrating and everything until a knock comes to the door. Alastor excuses himself, shooing off Vaggie to tell her she should be with her girlfriend, he will handle the matters. He goes to answer the door, being speaking in a manner tone until he opens his eyes and is greeted to

Vox

BECAUSE YEAH SPOILER ALERT THIS IS A STATICRADIO AU HAHAHAH

Alastor’s smile drops and he hisses in anger and slams the door shut in Vox’s face, not even giving the Overlord a chance to speak as he storms back into the lobby. Cue Charlie having to rush over and mediate everything and bring Vox in, who saw the interview on TV and wants to sponsor the hotel. Because well, hey it would be good money and it would be funny to see Charlie try and redeem sinners. But everyone can TELL there is tension between him and Alastor, like the scary kind of tension when you have no clue if person a is gonna lunge and rip out person b’s throat. But you know its there since they have a history together.

Cue all the hijinks that ensue as Alastor and Vox have to try and repair their relationship while also helping Charlie out with her dream. Also more chaos than normal since Alastor probably accompanies Charlie to more places than in canon.

But that is all hehe. Am gonna give myself a sign off so people know who I am soo

-⚔️aka “Hotel’s Radio Guard AU” (work in title au name) Anon!

I love your energy my friend, on this blog we appreciate fanfic anon, spamming, and all kinds of AUs

The beginning of this is similar to dadstaticradio au (except lucifer instead of lilith ofc) but there is no issue I take with that bc I love it

Also referring to Alastor as guard dog and "Niffty is just Niffty" made me laugh, if you ever do post on Ao3 pls tag me in it or sent a link in asks and I'll share it on your behalf