#[[Oops this is short my bad.]]

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

IDK if you've ever said anything about it, but in the Lights Out AU, what was Wally's first reaction on realizing that Frank was alive and he wasn't alone anymore? I imagine it was...quite emotional

i Haven't talked about their Initial Reunion yet, no! but yes, it was very emotional! there were certainly many emotions!

namely: fear, confusion, shock, and nearly killing your friend with an oversized baseball bat <3

[nburkhardt]

This was just supposed to be a small fun little “what if Mike has a crush on Steve?” Thing and it turned out to be a character study on Mike figuring out his sexuality. Oops, my bad. Sorry for glossing over the upside down things and for the unreliable narrative lol (Mike’s a bit of a mess) Also sorta canon but also definitely not canon. Small warning for references to homophobia, nothing is directed at anyone but it was there. (Timeline is a little…iffy. Don’t pay too much attention to if)

Anyway ~

He first learns of him on accident and a month before ever meeting him. Overheard Nancy admitting to Barb; “he’s just so handsome, I can’t help it!” Then he listened to Barb complain about the guy before giving up on eavesdropping. During that, he never actually heard a name. So it didn’t matter, it’s just some dumb boy…right?

He’s twelve years old and his best friend is missing. That’s what is important to him right now, what he overheard a month ago isn’t useful to him and he forgot most of what he heard, actually.

When he’s sneaking out to search for Will, he hears a crash and someone cursing. Looking around he catches sight of someone trying and failing at climbing the side of his house. The guy waves once he notices him staring and attempts to look casual, like that would make anyone feel any better. Rolling his eyes, he rides away annoyed.

Even if there’s a flash of the guy’s dumb smile in his head and it doesn’t matter to him, there’s more important things going on.

Finding a girl in the woods throws him for a loop, causing his brain to stop and whatever thoughts he had on the guy to be temporarily forgotten. Since he’s too wrapped up in finding Will, hiding El and figuring out The Upside Down to really pay attention to anything else. Even though his brain plays that dumb smile in his dreams over and over. It’s weird and he doesn’t know why it’s happening.

Fast forward to after finding Will and El disappearing, he actually meets the guy. Steve Harrington, Nancy’s apparent boyfriend. It’s definitely the same guy, his dumb smile hasn’t left his head since the first time and he doesn’t understand why it makes him go a little… loopy? Mushy? His stomach is doing weird flips, maybe he’s getting sick? It has been cold out recently and he was out a lot looking for Will and El. That’s gotta be it.

Nothing to do with the way Steve flashed him a smile before continuing on his way to Nancy’s bedroom….right?

~~

He’s thirteen now and he just watched Billy try to punch Lucas. Only for Steve to deck him first and then he’s cheering him on. It shouldn’t be exciting but it is. Steve punching the shit out of that asshole, he shouldn’t be cheering him on…but he is.

His stomach is doing the same thing like when Steve flashes his smile at him.

It’s been just a little over a year since feelings has started. He doesn’t acknowledge them, not really. He knows they’re there and he still can’t really figure them out. It’s confusing to him, he’s overheard many kids say “guys liking guys is wrong” and “it’s sinful!” from adults. So, he’s mostly ignoring them. Only in his head and dreams does he let himself think about them and fully acknowledging them.

But they still kept coming back every time Steve was at his house visiting Nancy and there was the one time when he decided to hangout in the basement with him and his friends. Saying something about Nancy studying. It was nice, he’ll admit it. Especially when he heard Steve’s laugh for the first time and it made the fluttering in his stomach happen again.

It’s like when he kissed El for the first time.

See, that’s where he’s confused. How can he like El and have this…thing for Steve?

Before he knows it, Steve is out cold and they’re rushing out of the house. During the trip in the car, Steve calls him Nancy and then they’re in the tunnels. In all of that, he shoves down this whatever again.

It’s just there’s more important things going on, okay?

Just a few months later, he sees Steve more often and in the dumbest work uniform ever. He makes fun of it every chance he gets and uses the fact that he can get them into the new movie theater for free. If he was being honest, the fact that Steve’s lips now look like they have lipstick on it, definitely does not help whatever he has for him.

Sometimes his brain gives him what ifs and instead of thinking of El, he’s thinking of Steve and he’s starting to hate it. Honest to god hates it. It’s been nearly two years since this started. He doesn’t like that he can’t figure it out and sometimes doesn’t want to either.

He’s just glad Steve isn’t dating his sister anymore.

~~

At fifteen years old, Mike Wheeler has finally realized he’s not straight and that he has a goddamn crush on Steve Harrington.

Between being in a long distance relationship and getting into high school, it all came crashing down on him. He’s not sure when it hit or what did it, but he knows now and honestly? Admitting to crushing on his sister’s ex-boyfriend makes him kind of want to die.

Thinking back on the last few years, it all makes sense to him now. It’s pretty obvious now, knowing why he’d feel mushy and get goddamn butterflies when Steve would look his way with his dumb smile or the first time he heard the guy laugh. Or that he just looks good and- okay, he needs to stop thinking now.

There’s one night in particular where he actually thinks about it, really thinks about it all. He doesn’t think he’s gay, he really does like- maybe even love El. But he definitely thinks about Steve more than he’ll actually admit out loud. Then there’s also some celebrities that are guys he finds attractive but he also thinks girls look so pretty and beautiful too.

After that night he still doesn’t understand and he can’t go to anyone, well, he could but talking about this out loud to somebody is scary. Especially when he’s heard his dad talk negative about gay people and his mom is nice and easy to talk to but it’s awkward to talk to his mom about things like crushes.

He absolutely refuses to talk to Nancy about it. Can’t- won’t talk about it with Steve, since he’s the whole reason he even realized this about himself. Doesn’t necessarily want to bring it up with his friends either, mostly because he’s never heard them even hint at liking guys. He’s not close with Steve’s friend Robin and the whole Byers family is in California and talking about this with El would bring even more questions.

When Eddie Munson comes in the picture along with the rest of the Hellfire crew, he keeps quiet about it still. Not comfortable with letting loose that he might be even slightly gay. Instead he talks about El and Will and that he’s leaving for California to visit them.

He shoves down all of it when he visits El during spring break and then he’s definitely ignoring it while looking for El after she’s kidnapped.

Ignores it until he overhears Argyle talking to Jonathan about bisexuality during the quiet hours of driving to Hawkins. He doesn’t know why the guy brings it up or that Argyle isn’t actually quiet about it, in fact that guy is talking so loud that maybe he doesn’t even know it.

Instead of telling them to quiet down since Will and El are asleep, he listens and listens. Stares out the window, trying to make it look like he’s not freaking out right now.

Because this is it, he’s finally learning something and he didn’t even have to admit out loud his thoughts! This has got to be what he is, not straight but also not gay either. Bisexual. A person that likes both, girls and guys. It’s okay and apparently that’s what Argyle is. So he’s not alone in this either, which makes him want to kind of cry.

There was a few moments in the last year where he felt ridiculously alone. Thoughts of Steve and than thoughts of El, felt like he couldn’t be with her when his mind kept flashing images of Steve of all people and he remembers clear as day what it feels like to have Steve’s dumb smile pointed at him, to feel all fuzzy when he laughs at his jokes. And during all of that he couldn’t share the stupid butterflies with anyone, too afraid of what would happen if he even mentioned feeling good from someone that isn’t his girlfriend.

Argyle and Jonathan keep up their conversation and have moved on to other things, but he’s still freaking out. His heart is beating ridiculously fast but his mind is finally relaxing at knowing what he is. He falls asleep like that, accepting it and realizing he needs to voice this out loud to ease himself.

He just doesn’t know to who, yet.

~~

In the end, he tells El and Will. Feels most himself and comfortable with them. It makes him feel more seen than ever before.

Even if he and El break up right after.

He turns sixteen and for the first time in three years, feels the most alive he’s ever been. Not only are the problems with the upside down is officially and forever gone, but all of his friends are in the same state again. Everyone is happy and safe, it’s the greatest feeling ever.

Somehow, on Steve’s birthday of all days, is the day he ends up coming out to his friends. It’s not exactly surprising. In the future, he’ll laugh about it when he ends up telling the man himself. But until then, he’s only telling El and Will.

They corner him, actually.

He thought he was being sneaky while he was watching Steve and Eddie badly and boldly flirt in the pool. But it seems he wasn’t sneaky enough because El grabs his hand and nearly drags him back inside Steve’s house with Will following.

“Uh, what?”

The three of them actually just stare at each other for a while. He’s confused at why they brought him inside, Will looks uncomfortable and El…well she’s smiling but also looks confused.

“You were staring at Steve a lot” El finally breaks the silence and she tilts her head, “You were blushing”

All he can do is freeze and just feel the rise of heat to his cheeks. Looking away from both of them to speak is a lot easier, after being called out. “I uh, well, since we’re here. I might have a bit of a crush on Steve”

There it is. He said it, officially and out loud in front of people. It makes him feel a little giddy, if he’s being honest. It’s a silly crush that started when he was twelve and it hasn’t gone away since, it won’t turn into anything either. But it’s still nice, still makes his heart happy. Knowing that other people also know.

When both of them say nothing, he looks at them and he’s glad it’s them. Will always be glad that they’re the ones that he told first. Because, yeah there’s confusion on their faces and the uncomfortable look on Will’s face isn’t there anymore. If anything, he looks like how he feels.

“I- I’m bisexual, I like girls and boys.”

As soon as it’s out of his mouth, he just feels lighter. It’s like he’s free and standing with two of the people loves the most, he’s himself for the first time in so long. That makes him smiles and nothing can hurt him right now, especially in this moment.

El and Will might be quiet, but they would never hurt him.

It might’ve felt like forever in the silence but in reality it was only a few minutes before they both started talking. Especially over each other, El’s still confused and Will seems way too excited. And he’s laughing, this might be his crush’s birthday but this is the best day of Mike’s life.

Eventually, they quiet back down and he explains it better. Tells them everything and how it took him actual years to figure it out. That the one who pushed it in his head and heart, is Steve and his dumb beautiful smile. He’s not afraid of speaking it out loud anymore, especially when both El and Will admit to him that they also have a crush on Steve. It makes him giddy being able to finally speak these things with people, especially his favorite people.

~~~~

He’s seventeen years old and his best friend kisses him for the first time. He’s flying in the clouds, blushing a deep red and his heart is beating faster than ever.

He feels free and happier than ever.

He is alive and his best friend is alive. That’s what is important to him.

This was seriously supposed to be a short one shot of Mike being upset with having a crush on Steve and it uh, got away from me. It’s a character study now. Hopefully it seems in character and that it’s not too weirdly written. It’s not checked over for mistakes either so sorry about that lol.

[gentil-minou]

Gosh I need to edit this more before I actually start posting but I'm just so excited so here's a preview of my wangxian OUAT au, featuring wwx as emma, lwj as regina, and ayuan as henry (though are veering far away from both canon in both cases so no need to be familiar with the show to enjoy)

----

The doorbell rings.

He blinks once, then twice. Wei Wuxian isn’t normally one to get visitors, especially at this time of night. He tries to remember if there’s a no-candle policy in his lease his landlord might nag him about when the doorbell rings again.

He scrambles to his feet and stumbles to the door, already preparing an apology for something he probably didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to do and another apology in case he did know. He opens the door and sees….nothing.

Until he hears a quiet cough and looks down to see a little boy.

At first, he thinks maybe he’s a trick-or-treater who got a bit lost, but Wei Wuxian’s building is secured with a key and callbox entry. Plus, although he’s been wandering streets alone since forever, he’s pretty sure a kid this young would have a chaperone with him. He looks behind the kid and doesn’t see anyone else there.

But instead of asking something sensible like where his chaperone may be or even if the kid’s lost, he blurts, “How did you get in?”

The boy tilts his head and replies, “The front door. It wasn’t locked, I just walked in.”

So much for secured entry. But that doesn’t really answer why there is a human child at his door at nearly midnight. There’s definitely a law somewhere that says that’s illegal, probably.

The kid, who can’t be more than ten years old and really should have learned about stranger danger by now, beams up at him, as if technical breaking and entering is something to be proud of. Which, okay, maybe Wei Wuxian is kind of impressed by that.

“Aren’t you going to let me in?” the boy asks, his smile so sweet and unassuming that before Wei Wuxian even realizes it, he’s turned to the side and let the boy in.

The kid is wearing a blue puffy coat and carrying a white backpack that has homemade floppy ears made of felt that make it look like a bunny. They bounce up and down as the boy walks inside and slips his shoes off. Wei Wuxian very maturely resists the urge to tug on those floppy bunny ears, though only just.

Shoes off, his socks patterned with fluffy white clouds, the boy turns back around to look up at Wei Wuxian. His entire face beams up at him as if he were a sunflower facing the sun, which wow what an ego-boost. He’s got dimples, little baby dimples that are very cute and look very pinchable but that doesn’t matter because there is a baby in his house! And okay he’s at least ten years old but regardless why is there a whole entire child in his apartment? What is one supposed to do when some random kid shows up at their doorstep and invites themselves in?

“Oh shit uh, wait not shit,” Wei Wuxian stammers. “Shit, sorry. Um. A drink, you want a drink?”

Ask the random child if they want something to drink, apparently. Perfect.

The kid nods, still giving him that doe-eyed look. Wei Wuxian doesn’t have much by way of child-friendly beverage options, but he wasn’t exactly expecting something like this tonight. He settles on milk that looks like it hasn't gone too bad yet. Besides, expired milk builds immunity and character in children, that's how it works, right? He pours a glass for the kid, making sure to give him the cleanest one even though there’s a tiny crack on the surface.

He guides the kid over to the coffee table and hands him the milk. The kid takes the glass and sinks onto the deflated beanbag while Wei Wuxian perches on the edge of the couch. He grabs a can of beer from the six-pack still on the floor beside the table and takes a sip. Wait, is that allowed? Can he drink alcohol in front of children?

The kid doesn’t seem to care. He takes a tentative sip of his milk and makes a very polite face that fails to mask his disgust, before putting the glass down on the table next to the forgotten cupcake. Fair, it’s nice to see him asserting boundaries and all that.

"Okay," Wei Wuxian says, amused despite the situation. "Who are you and why are you in my house at—" he checks his phone for the time"—five minutes to midnight on a Friday night?"

The kid doesn't answer right away. His eyes are still focused on the cupcake, but in a way he probably thinks is sneaky. Wei Wuxian tilts his head to get a better look and sure enough, there’s a furrow between his eyebrows like the kid is trying really hard to ask a difficult question. After a minute, it becomes clear he hasn’t worked out a nice enough way to ask, but it’s a good thing Wei Wuxian knows enough about being a hungry child to recognize one.

He nudges the cupcake over to him and says, "Help yourself." Immediately, the kid grabs the cupcake with all the care in the world, like it’s a priceless artifact and promptly devours it. Wei Wuxian can’t help but smile as he eats. Suddenly the cheap cupcake feels like an excellent choice.

When the kid finishes licking the last bits of frosting and crumbs off his fingers, he sits politely with his hands in his lap and looks longingly toward the kitchen. He’s still too nice to ask forthright, but Wei Wuxian knows better and he isn't a monster.

Wei Wuxian gets up and opens one of the cabinets to look for something that’s probably child-appropriate, pulling out a bag of his least spicy chips. Chips are made of potatoes which are vegetables which means it’s probably not that bad for kids. Either way, the kid takes the bag gratefully and eats the chips with relish, even though they’re definitely way too spicy for someone his age.

“Alright, alright. You’ve been fed. Now tell me, who are you?” he asks again, though he can’t stop the tiniest bit of fondness from creeping into his tone. It’s just that everything this kid does is so cute! He can’t help himself!

The kid stops eating and tries to speak, but what comes out instead are the quietest little coughs Wei Wuxian’s ever heard. He’s been eating these spicy snacks and slowly turning as red as they are, but he’s so polite he hasn’t said a thing about them.

All at once, Wei Wuxian realizes he likes this kid, despite knowing practically nothing about him. It’s strange. He hates the kids the customers at his job will bring sometimes, especially when their parents just let them loose like it's a daycare and not a coffee shop. Wei Wuxian isn’t mean or anything, it’s just that wrangling kids is way above his pay grade. He didn’t even get along with other kids when he was a kid. All the other foster kids stood clear of him pretty much as soon as the social worker told his foster parents he was known for being “emotionally dysregulated” and labeling him a problem child.

But this kid is different from all the others, even though Wei Wuxian can’t quite put his finger on what’s so special about him. He seems like the kind of kid who would politely ask for steamed oat milk and say thank you, then ask his parents to let him give Wei Wuxian the tip. When he finishes, he’d probably throw his trash out without anyone asking and call goodbye to him one last time before he leaves. Even just imagining it makes Wei Wuxian feel wistful for something he’s never really wanted before.

It doesn’t help that this kid’s got what must be the fluffiest hair he's ever seen, and those dimples! It takes all of Wei Wuxian’s self-control to keep himself from pinching those chubby cheeks.

He doesn’t quite succeed and leans forward anyway to ruffle the kid's hair. "Ask for water, you silly,” he says, already standing and heading back to the kitchen.

When he hands him the glass, the kid just looks up at Wei Wuxian with his big, bright brown eyes filled with wonder. He’s looking at Wei Wuxian like he has the answer to everything. Wei Wuxian doesn't, but it's nice to feel like someone thinks he knows what he's doing.

The kid drinks half the glass before clearing his throat and finally answering Wei Wuxian’s question. “I’m Sizhui, but you can call me A-Yuan. Or even Little Radish, if you want! You called me that before.” He says it all in one breath, practically vibrating with energy by the end.

Wei Wuxian pauses in the middle of taking a sip of his beer. He’s not sure why he would ever call anyone a radish, and he’s pretty sure he’s never met this kid before. Does A-Yuan have mistaken him for someone else? Could this kid have some weird memory loss, except one where he gains fake memories instead of losing them? It’s definitely not the strangest thing about this whole situation.

Like all problems Wei Wuxian doesn’t know how to deal with, he decides to ignore that for now and asks, “Okay, A-Yuan then, why are you here?”

“Because,” A-Yuan starts, leaning forward and looking at Wei Wuxian with all the seriousness someone pre-puberty could possibly possess. “I need your help.”

“…Okay…” Wei Wuxian replies. The world must truly be fucked if someone is coming to him for help. He hasn’t had a vegetable in a week, unless pizza actually does count. “What do you need help with?”

He’s expecting the kid to say something normal like “my homework” or “getting to the train station”, you know, normal things a kid would ask a stranger to help him with.

He’s not expecting A-Yuan to respond gravely, “To save the world and everyone we love.”

Wei Wuxian blinks, speechless. A-Yuan doesn’t seem to notice, continuing to speak as he lifts his backpack onto his lap and rummages through its contents. “My family’s in trouble, our family. Everyone we know is, and you’re the only one who can fix it. Look here, see, I’ve got this book, it’s all written here. There’s a curse that’s affecting everyone and we need to break it.”

He plops the book down on the coffee table. It’s not at all what Wei Wuxian expects. It’s hand-bound, with a simple red fabric cover that’s blank except for the title that’s written in Chinese calligraphy. It’s written entirely in Chinese, in fact, completely by hand with the same impeccable calligraphy. Inside are what appear to be a bunch of stories or folktales. There are beautiful gongbi illustrations on every other page, inked in bright colors with an incredible level of detail.

Wei Wuxian can’t help but be impressed. The book is something he would expect to see at a museum or in a period drama, not on his coffee table with its chipped surface and water stains.  

A-Yuan flips to a picture of a man with long hair dressed in black and red robes. He’s playing a flute as shadows dance and twist around his frame. Then tendrils lift high into the sky and block out the sun. He’s standing on a pile of human bones, to really sell the whole villain energy this guy’s got.

A-Yuan points at the guy. “That’s you, you see?”

Wei Wuxian does not see, he’s pretty sure he would have noticed if his body was covered in shadows. Also, he would need way more conditioner for that length of hair.

The kid continues, interpreting Wei Wuxian’s stunned silence as something else entirely. “You’re the only one who can help them, who can save us all.” A-Yuan thrusts the scroll out to Wei Wuxian, who’s too floored to do much more than take it from him. “So, I’m here to bring you back.”

Wei Wuxian has to admit, the guy in the picture does look pretty badass. But it’s still just a drawing, and there’s little to suggest this looks anything like him at all.

He glances up. A-Yuan smile is so bright and excited that Wei Wuxian wishes he could feel his excitement too. The guy in the picture does look super cool, like someone he’d want to dress up as when he was A-Yuan’s age.

But all he feels is concern and confusion. Before, he was actually starting to enjoy spending time with this kid, but something is wrong, though it’s not what A-Yuan thinks. There’s a random kid in his apartment late at night, making up stories. And whether he likes it or not, Wei Wuxian is the adult here. He has to remember that.

“I’m sorry, kid,” he says, and the smile slowly drops from A-Yuan’s face and Wei Wuxian feels like the absolute worst person on the planet for doing that to him. “But I don’t know what this is, or who you are. I want to help, you’ve just gotta give me some actual answers. Where are your parents? Do they know where you are?”

A-Yuan looks down and mumbles, “I was so sure you’d remember if you saw this, if you held it.” He tightens the hands on his knees into fists and looks up at him with a startling conviction. “But that doesn’t matter. I know it, I know who you are. You’re Wei Wuxian. This is you. And you’re the only person who can save us.”

Wei Wuxian rubs his temples and contemplates chugging the remainder of his beer. He holds it in his hand, wishing he’d gotten another pack. “Look, I don’t know how you know my name, maybe you saw it on some mail outside or something, but—"

"You're my dad!” A-Yuan hastily interrupts. “That’s why, that’s how I know!"

Wei Wuxian drops the can. There's a splash of something spilling all over the carpet and he should probably make sure it’s not too bad. He's too busy trying to figure out how he could have a ten-year-old at twenty-five when he was definitely still a virgin at fifteen.

The initial shock slips away, leaving him only more confused. He raises an eyebrow at A-Yuan, willing him to explain.

"Not my real dad," A-Yuan says, rolling his eyes like somehow Wei Wuxian is the one claiming something impossible. "But you're my dad in every way that counts."

Wei Wuxian wishes he hadn't dropped his drink. He'd really like to take a sip of it now. And several more, maybe the rest of the cans, too.

This day needs to end. He should have stayed home and drank his way to oblivion, so he’d have been too far gone to answer the door in the first place.

TBC

[regretevatorconfessions]

i LOVE effeminate poob designs. let them wear a skirt that's smaller than a belt! who cares! poob is a grown adult who can be depicted however an artist wishes 🥳

i’m guessing this is a jab at the last ask?

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

brainrotting over a very tsundere mothman ;__; imagine a terrifying creature that is just "soft" towards you and you only, and he's just with you a lot even if he scoffs and doesn't seem to "like" the things you do. (example be like... you wanna pet him but he moves away, seeming uninterested but when you pet him he's just unexpectedly purring quietly, leaning close a bit, shy bebbi)

aaaaAAHHH imagine receiving actual comfort from him too... When he looks at you crying (or an attack in general), and slowly tries to get close to help... He's never done something like this, likely learning because of how you treated him or what he felt would help. qwq

~ 🩹 anon !

oh yesssss i love Foul Legacy being all tough but secretly soft for you hehe

he acts like he doesn't care about you, but really he does- why else would he follow you around the house, watching intently and quickly looking away when you turn? the creature from the woods- Foul Legacy- doesn't say much. he's more of a constant, looming presence behind you, scary for some but comforting for you. you've become accustomed to his silent ways, how he grumbles when you ask him a question, how he acts like you're pestering him yet never leaves your side

once you began scritching under his chin and caught him by surprise, the small hisses quickly turning to quiet purrs as he leaned into your touch, crystalline eye slipping closed. he had yelped that day once he realized what he was doing, already-crimson mask blushing further yet unable to tear himself away from your touch. you hear more of those sounds nowadays- excited chirps and little trills and sweet, meltingly soft croons. he allows you to pet him more, murmuring and hesitantly clasping your wrist in his claws. not all the time, but sometimes

but when Foul Legacy walks in on you sitting on your floor, head buried in your knees, he's lost. he's only been taught to maim and kill, which is all he needed before... but you're so small and fragile-looking right now, and he wants to help you smile again but how? how can he get close without breaking you? he quietly sits beside you, and to his surprise you turn and lean against him, wrapping your hand around one of his claws. small chirps slip from his mouth as he begins to gently pat your head, cooing happily when your sobs lessen and begin to die away. if you give him permission, he carefully gathers you in his arms and sets you on his lap, stroking up and down your back like you would often do for him

and that's when you know that he really does care for you, in his own way <33

[compacflt]

wip wednesday: workin on some things

[domoz]

...okay this is even less drabbleish probably but now I'm imagining the like. Scenario with Hashirama and Tobirama miscommunicating and both not trusting each other (specifically re: Butsuma needs to die) and then dropping Mito in the middle of THAT mess. Just, you know, because it wasn't complicated enough yet

Fic Ideas That Haunt Me!!!!

Mito had never quite managed to get herself to believe in rumors of Hashirama's ruthlessness. Not until, on the first night she spent visiting Senju Lands, he caught her in private. Sat her down, clasped her hand, told her he understood if she thought differently of him, after this…

Her family hadn't quite been convinced of the need to marry her to Hashirama, though to not marry someone would have meant to all but break the alliance they'd had with the Senju for as long as both clans had existed.

Mito had argued it should be herself, in the end, and not for truly political reasons.

She liked Hashirama, liked his grand dreams, and even if they seemed a little too far-fetched to come true, he'd certainly make interesting things happen by trying. Her family liked him too. It was his father that had them all concerned, and, well…

Patricide was no small thing, but Hashirama had said, guilty and tearful, that his father hurt people. Broke people. That he wouldn't accept peace if it was handed to him on a silver platter, and the longer he stayed in power the harder it would be for Hashirama to achieve it.

Mito had promised not only to keep his secret, but to support him, where she could. There wasn't much she could do, not when they weren’t married yet, but she kept an eye out, an ear open, and a few seals hidden in certain spots to help those first two thing along.

That was how she noticed Tobirama -- the stoic younger brother, the one who she'd been introduced to but not actually properly met, which was a shame because she'd heard he was a dab hand at seal work and hardly anyone else seemed interested in it, around here -- was acting just suspiciously enough that she could tell he was up to something.

She'd just assumed he was in on it. It was the most obvious answer to why she overheard him. He was cautious about it, clever; what he was doing only apparent to her because she was an outsider not privy to whatever assumptions Tobirama was using to get away with with saying what he was saying. He was undermining his father's leadership. Smoothing along the inevitable transfer of power.

It wasn't until later that she realized otherwise. She'd thought meals were strained because they were shared with Butsuma, but one evening the Senju clan head was called away for work. Even with him gone, Tobirama remained withdrawn, and Hashirama's smiles remained tense and forced.

"I thought…" Mito puzzled out slowly, after the meal, and Hashirama had oh-so improperly found another private moment with her, "That your brother was after him, too?"

"If he is, he's never told me." Hashirama said, all sad and bitter and anxious.

Well, Mito would just have to see what was going on with that.

[mooseonahunt]

Leon, ever the mind reader, dashed Luis’s hopes by refusing to drop the subject and go. Instead, he kissed the back of Luis’s neck and muttered, “I know you better than that. Something’s bothering you.”

Luis turned himself around in Leon’s arms and lazily draped his own arms over his partner’s shoulders, wrapping them loosely around the blonde’s neck. He smiled softly, but whether or not Leon saw it in the dimly lit room remained contested.

“You know me too well, Sancho."

--

Luis has been having trouble sleeping, so Leon comforts him in his time of need.

[haemosexuality]

part 2 of drawing every cool marceline outfit until i give up (part 1, part 3, part 4, part 5)

[penta-png]

this is very late and low effort but happy bday hero ( ft. my au losers )

[doctorwhoisadhd]

i was in a high school during school hours for the first time since i started dyeing my hair and the number of compliments i got was crazy

[ehlnofay]

19 for the worldbuilding prompts + Torr?

the profound quiet of a small settlement at night

North Eastmarch is freezing cold all over, but it wears different outside the city than within.

Torr would never call Windhelm warm – not even in summer months, no matter how used to it they are – but what little heat it has it clings to with great determination. The walls huddle together, trapping the air so that it’s either still and muggy or a howling wind, like each close-knit house is breathing in tandem. The heat of the people run up and down its streets, blood through its knotted stone veins. The city is alive, an ecosystem unto itself; its snow, dark with footprints, runs sludgy down the roads; a fireplace is always burning somewhere.

Outside of the walls, surrounded by nothing but empty air and snow-laden trees, a slow-moving stream running with barely a burble – it feels dead, in contrast. Silent. Branches reach needle-sharp across the blue-black sky, the ground is gleaming white and undisturbed by anyone else’s footprints, and the nearest fire is the barely visible gleam of the Kynesgrove mining camp, up the hill and through the sporadic spindles of the trees. The breeze ghosts past Torr’s neck and whips the mud-stained snow into a flurry.

In the city, Torr’s comfortable sleeping almost anywhere – as comfortable as they ever get, anyway. Some of the buildings have great gaps under the porch where the snow can’t reach and no-one ever finds them; there’s places in the nooks of the walls, and sheds built into the side of the house that people don’t lock, and Torr knows a few people besides who don’t mind him kipping on their floor every now and again, as long as he doesn’t ask too often. The outside isn’t like that. There’s not many places to go. He’s lurking around Kynesgrove tonight – on his way back from a quick venture out to get some things done that pay better than running errands around the markets – and there aren’t many options. The inn, which he can’t afford – the mine, which would be warm but is very guarded – the miner’s encampment or someone’s house, both of which would most likely result in being chased off. Besides, there’s a performative element to meeting people, especially adults, in strange places, and Torr’s not in the mood to play to strangers. So much of his being is caught up in Windhelm’s grimy alleys, tangled in the hair and fingers of its discarded children; he doesn’t know how to be himself away from it all.

But they don’t have to, seeing as there’s the rickety old sawmill on the edge of a stream feeding into the harbour. It’s not bad, as shelter goes; no walls, so the wind rubs its fingers wraithlike down Torr’s cheeks and tangles them in his hair, but at least there’s a roof. It looks newly thatched, too, the floorboards free of rot, the water-wheel still chugging creakily along. There’s no wood to cut here, all the nearby surrounding trees too scraggy to be worth the bother. The only big ones are part of the grove up on the hill. There’s no point in keeping the mill running, but Torr is glad it is; he watches the distant firelight flickering through the scrub, and listens to the splashing of the wheel. It’s proof that people and the things they make do still exist – if not necessarily here.

It really feels dead, out in the cold, with the leafless trees and the wind that doesn’t even whisper. It always does. It’s a bit discomfiting, which is maybe why Torr doesn’t go on out-of-city endeavours as often as perhaps he could; but really, there’s not work out here enough to make it worth it. There’s always problems with bandits on the road, but Torr’s not a good enough fighter for bounty work; there’s collecting plants and things to sell Nurelion, but that’s easy enough to do on a day trip. (And, really, it’s more for Torr’s own enjoyment, besides. They never even venture far south enough to get to the sulphur pools, which is where the more interesting things grow.)

This trip, though, is an outlier. Unusually efficient. Just a quick job for Niranye, scouting a merchant’s cart on the road – almost definitely for something shady, but that’s not Torr’s business, and it was too much money too easy to turn down. And then – just earlier today, foraging out in the wilderness as best as Torr (a distinctly urban animal) knows how – they’d come across a giant’s corpse, stiff and white as the snow it lay in. Torr’s no master alchemist but they know the value of a cadaver when it comes to brewing alloys and admixtures, so they set to with their blunt-edged dagger and now they’ve got a sack full of what may as well be gold. (Long as it doesn’t start to rot before they can get Nurelion to preserve it, anyway.)

Torr’s going to be rolling in it when they get back to Windhelm. They could use that money for nearly anything – pay off a few things they borrowed, new warm things now that winter’s coming back strong, bedrolls, waterskins. Endless options – which, strangely, is more exciting than it is burdensome.

It’s all the sort of decision that would ordinarily feel life-or-death urgent but right now feels – not small. Not insignificant, not at all, but distant. A choice to be made at another time, by another person.

(Torr’s whole being belongs to Windhelm’s back streets. They’re someone else, away from it all.)

That’s the other thing about leaving the city, spending time in the discomfiting slow-paced ghost-world outside. It’s quiet. Torr sits surrounded by the wind in the trees, the lazy murmur of the stream, the creak of the water-wheel, and nothing else.

He’s been called a worrywart (mostly by Griss in a strop) but to tell the truth he doesn’t think that’s true. Torr doesn’t fuss for the sake of fussing, he just doesn’t like to leave things undone; can’t stop until he finds a solution. Out here, alone, in the empty cold, there are no solutions to find – same old problems back home, he knows, but no steps he can take at this time to right them. That’s never true while he’s in the city, so he can never stop thinking about it, every choice and action accompanied by a buzzing background chorus of everything else he really should be doing – that really should have been done by now – that should never have been left undone this long, what was he thinking? Everything is urgent when it’s doable. But here and now, there’s nothing to do.

So Torr sits hunched on the board floor of the ramshackle watermill, huddled among their heaps of bags and blankets, and thinks of nothing at all.

Not strictly true. They think of supper – haven’t eaten since an apple this morning, except for some snowberries they found around noon, and it’s been a long day. They nabbed some turnips from the garden of the Kynesgrove inn on their way to the mill. They’re fresh, if nothing else – also covered in dirt, so Torr rises reluctantly from their pile of stuff to crouch on the banks of the stream and dip the vegetables in to clean them off. It aches like hell, the frozen water turning their joints to ice – they almost drop the turnip they’re washing, so they scrub it as best they can with the frigid pad of their thumb and whip their hands out of the water soon as they’re able. They stick their fingers in their mouth to warm them back up.

Even after all that time spent warming up their hands, arraying all their belongings back around themself to conserve body heat, the turnips are still cold enough to hurt Torr’s teeth when he bites in. He eats them anyway, relishing a little in the unearthly silence and the aching of his lips and palms. They taste delicious.

With nothing else to do after, the gnawing of his stomach sated, he wraps himself in his shawl and stares up the hill at the camp’s fire until it goes out. The stars wink into brighter being. The wind whistles through the whip-thin branches of the trees. The water-wheel creaks.

Torr sleeps, but he feels like he hears it all – a silent observer, an echo, a beginning – until morning.

[oscill4te]

idk if its bad that this is true, but the only time i feel sheer bliss is when I am alone and high

[that-was-anticlimactic]

universe of constant spinning, every end a new beginning

“So, do you have an umbrella? That was like, your thing, right? At Claw?”

Ah—not again! He can’t keep zoning out while talking to people—especially his boss.

But… why was Reigen still here? It was late and he always got to work early. It wasn’t his job to stay and coddle his employees. “I—uh—no,” he stuttered, fingers twisting anxiously. “Mine was, uh, "is” broken, sir.”

‘Broken’ was a mild way to put it. More like it got destroyed.

[or, reigen gives serizawa an umbrella]

☔️2,651 words | serirei☔️

[toribookworm22]

Find The Word (×2)

Thank you @writeintrees & @arigalefantasynovels for the tag!

No pressure tagging: @gracebriarwoodwrites @harrison-abbott @vsnotresponding @bookmarks-reviews & my open tag!

Your words are: PERFUME, DIRE, BEAT, & FRACTURE.

My words were: noon, neat, nurture, and nose & lovely, frantic, hit, and manage. Excerpt origin listed under each. Hidden under the cut.

(After)noon

I tip my head forward so our lips just touch in what can barely be called a kiss.

Light trickles in from the window, late afternoon sunlight that makes the silver in his veins glow and burn. His lazily blinking eyes are alive with golden light, making him every bit as eternal on the outside as he is to me every single moment of every single day. When I pull away, he follows, leaning into another kiss.

- Animatronic Saga Short Story

Neat

“Do you have a calendar?”

Her head tilts to the side. I’m opening my mouth to tell her to forget it, but then she’s rolling her eyes again and pulling a 15-month flip calender from her bag, images of puppies staring up at me. “You doubt me. I’m offended.”

Flipping through, I find December-- a cocker spaniel in a Santa hat-- already filled in with her neat handwriting. December 16th is circled in red. The showcase. Probably the most important performance of the season and the cleanest time to fold back into the company. She’s right. (Of course.)

- Four Kinds Of Falling

Nurture

What’d she wish for?

“She wished for a garden full of things green and growing and vibrant. A garden bursting with lives she could nurture and take care of.”

- Secondary Series

Nose

"You're staring." I refocus to find his tired fond eyes searching my own face. One of his hands finds the nape of my neck and tugs gently at the hair there until we're nose to nose. "Creeper."

I laugh, the sound loud as always, but he doesn't even flinch, just leans in and presses our swollen lips together. "Your creeper," I mumble when he pulls away.

He tugs my hair again. "Yeah."

- Animatronic Saga Short Story

Lovely

I found a pair of scissors in one of the bathroom drawers. Of course, I look lovely. I’ve remade my own clothes a thousand times over because none of them fell quite right. Maybe the slit up my thigh, cut down the center of the square neck, and layered high collar underneath still aren’t. But they’re at least closer.

- Secondary Series

Frantic

“Can you get onto your knees for me?” The nodding is more frantic now, followed by him trying to flip onto his stomach with me still on top of him. “Woah. Hold on. There’s no rush.”

- Animatronic Saga Short Story

Hit(ting)

Something snapped at my wrist and for one delicate moment, I just stared up into the most beautiful pair of eyes I’d ever seen, suspended, floating, flying.

Rrrip! And then I was falling falling falling

with no chance of ever hitting the bottom.

- Animatronic Saga

Manage

And like the American Dream, I get a basket with sticky handles. The balance required to stop for groceries on crutches is no small feat, nor is the fact that I manage to knock at least one item off of every shelf.

- Four Kinds Of Falling

[risingsunresistance]