#I have a bone to pick with the world and I’m gonna make it everyone’s problem

[exileorexodus]

Okay, actually. No. I refuse to be miserable. As far as I’m considered, if no one is telling me I’m a failure to my face, then I ain’t one. Sure there are things going on right now that I don’t necessarily like, but that’s just life. I can work with it. I can wrestle advantages out of it if I try hard enough, even. Yeah that sorry excuse of a first term was godawful in retrospect but I learned a lot more from crashing and burning it spectacularly then I would have if I just scraped by like I usually do just to crash later down the line.

Beating back the demons armed to the teeth with spikes and steel, because the dark corners of my brain might have hands, but so do I. Never asked for an easier life, just the strength to endure through hardships. 🚶🏻

Besides I have 300 chapters worth of extremely accessible Golden Kamui now if I really need to cope harder at any opportunity. It’s just the right mix of bizarre and off the rails but grounded enough to not fully hold you hostage in la la escapism land.

Also I’m going to cut my hair shorter (it’s Kash length now, and too long for my liking) and draw and I am NOT letting my own mind stop me from doing that. Do not expect anything cool or grandiose or whatever if I draw I drew 🫡

[casin0table]

soo like you guys do realize that a big point in SABM is that, unlike how Ocean has been treating him Ricky is a LOT more than the “disabled boy” who needs to be sheltered 24/7,

the vulgar or sexual ideas and themes that encompass that song aren’t just for comedy nor are they just for shock value, they’re—in my opinion—supposed to highlight Ricky’s capability as a person, from his incredibly elaborate fantasy world, to his ability to grasp and tackle mature themes (both in sex and in war), and his capability to be wise, to see past everything so horrible and love.

Even if his ideas aren’t super perfect or realistic, they are still his work, they are still proof that he isn’t stupid, just like everyone else this song is meant to show that he is so much more than what people see.

In my opinion, it’s really shitty that people tend to dunk on him, infantilize him, or diss him for the nature of his song just because it holds provocative themes in contexts that differ from norm.

Quite literally the opposite of what the song was about, and in a sense what Ride The Cyclone encompasses as a lesson!

Again, yes. RTC is flawed, and I’m willing to admit that. Of course I have bones to pick with it as anyone might. But I’m not gonna keep sitting here listen to anyone say “OHH RICKY IS SO DISGUSTING!” or continue to make him less than what he is, or what he’s supposed to be. Grow up, be better, learn.

[sp0o0kylights]

There were a lot of things Mike hated in life.

The demogorgon, and how it had essentially destroyed his life.

 Brenner, and the madhouse laboratory El had survived. 

How each and every one of his friends now did something weird--were weird, because flashing lights or fireworks or some stupid tune a toy horse played dragged up memories that made their eyes flat and faces hollow. 

Most of all though, Mike hated how much they relied on Steve.

There was no reason he should be the person to call when it started pouring and no one wanted to bike home from AV. 

Steve wasn’t Nancy, or Jonathan, or a parent--he wasn’t even dating anyone related to any of the Party anymore so what excuse did he have to keep hanging around? 

(Even if Jonathan was always working, and Nancy was always busy with some club or homework, and everyone’s parents all seemed to be in a race of who could get back to normal the fastest…) 

They should at least try to get a hold of other people, instead of constantly going to Steve first.

“Why?” Dusitn had scoffed at him the last time this had happened, feeding quarters into a phone and staring at Mike like he was the one being unreasonable. “I’m not gonna waste money just to hear your sister tell us no again when we all know Steve will do it.” 

Which was perhaps the most infuriating part of it all.

That Steve would do it. 

Show up and help them, even if he bitched the whole time. 

Hell, Steve Harrington knew more about Mike’s life offhand than Nancy did, and that made him want to punch a wall more days than it didn’t. Why the hell was Steve so involved? 

It was stupid. 

Weird, even! They weren’t friends, (even if Dustin and Max and El of all people said the opposite) he wasn’t being paid to babysit, (Mike had double checked; going round to ask Ma Henderson and Mrs. Sinclair, only to get an earful of how wonderful Steve was from both.) he had no reason to hang around! 

It didn’t make sense that Steve could be harassed into picking them up from school. 

Would take them to get ice cream, or hand over extra quarters for the arcade. He even gave out advice like some kind of--brother that Mike had never wanted. 

Above all?

Mike hated that when he needed someone, the number he punched in on automatic was Steve’s.

“I need you to come get me.” He said into the receiver, mad at himself and the world, but mostly mad that beyond the normal amount of squawking Steve did, he shut up and came. 

Drove up in his rich boy car, stepping out and herding Mike into it like the rain hadn’t already seeped into his bones. 

“You wanna tell me why you snuck into a bar two towns over?” Steve asked, long after Mike had slung himself into the passenger seat, arms crossed defensively over his chest.

“No.” 

One of Steve’s hands went right to his hair, running through it before adjusting the mess he’d just made. 

It was a nervous habit, and Mike hated that he knew that too. 

“Okay, well.” Steve’s hand fell back to the steering wheel, clenching tight around it. “Next time you want to do something dumb could you at least come talk to me about it beforehand?”

“What the hell would that do?” Mike bitched, staring firmly out of the window. 

“Not waste my gas for starters.” Steve bitched right back. “But I dunno man, we could have taken some bats and gone and wailed on cars in the junkyard and talked or some shit, not--whatever this all was.”

‘This all’ was accompanied by a wave of his hand, indicating not just the bar Mike had been standing in front of, but his general sopping wet state. 

“You’d actually go to the junkyard with me?” Mike challenged, doubtful. 

Steve made a face. “Did you lose your hearing in there? I just said--.” 

“Why?” Mike interrupted. “Why the fuck would you come out with me?”

Matching his entire aggressive tone, Steve said; “Because it’s better than trying to sneak into the one local gay bar when you’re barely fourteen, Michael.” 

And that? 

Steve being oddly aware of shit he really shouldn’t have?

Mike hated that too. 

“You knew what the bar was?” He asked, his voice coming out much smaller than he intended. 

“Everyone knows what that bar is, except it’s more of a biker bar than a gay bar.” Steve shot back--which did actually explain about ten different questions Mike had about the place. “Also, language you little shit.” 

Under his breath, Steve continued in a muttered; “I swear I’m going to start carrying around soap.”

“You cuss more than we do.” Mike responded, and if his own voice was a little strangled as he fought back the sudden swell of tears, then that was between him and God. 

He was not crying in front of Steve Harrington, he outright refused. 

“The point I’m making is that there are way better bars to sneak into. That one’s not nearly as welcoming as people make it out to be, probably because they’re sick of all the rumors.” 

Steve seemed to realize what he was implying because he quickly added; “Not that you should be sneaking into any bars at all!” 

“You’re not my mom.” Mike’s voice turned wet as he lost his battle with his throat, voice cracking as he failed to choke the tears back.  

“No shit Wheeler.”  Steve said, and at least he was good enough not to call attention to Mike’s crying. 

If he had, Mike was pretty sure he’d just up and die of embarrassment, right there. 

“I don’t get why you care.” He muttered, angrily swiping at his eyes. 

“I didn’t keep you alive this long just so you could die of something stupid.” Steve countered easily.

Which was kinda fair, if you thought about it.

Mike very much did not want to think about it. 

Any of it.

Ever. 

“Are you gonna tell my parents?” He asked after a painfully long moment. 

Long enough that Steve had begun fiddling with the radio, trying to find a station as they drove back that wasn’t wailing country or gospel music. 

“I’m not a narc, so no.”  

“Not about the bar.”  

Now Steve just looked confused. 

Probably because he was, because he was without a doubt the stupidest almost adult Mike knew. 

(Not that he could say that out loud--last time he had, Max had made one of her pissy faces and then El got mad because Max was, which led to a break up, which led to Mike having to beg his way back into his girlfriend’s good graces while explaining that he hadn’t meant it like that.

“How did you mean it then?” Max demanded, and Mike wasn’t sure how he managed to dodge that entire conversation but he had, on grounds that untangling his own emotions regarding stupid Steve made him want to pull his hair out and scream.) 

“What about then?” 

 “You know. Don’t make me say it.” Mike absolutely didn’t plead, even if it did sort of, kind of, sound like pleading. 

Steve flicked his eyes away from the road to give one long, weird look at Mike. The same one he gave Dustin when he went off on a rant about Cerebro or Lucas when he started discussing the stats of different D&D weapons. 

Unlike those times, Steve’s face cleared. 

“Oh.” He said, blinking, and Mike could practically see the light bulb flash above his head.

Then; 

“Nah.” 

Mike waited.

And waited.

And kept waiting as Steve went back to searching through radio channels, as if that was the end of the conversation.

It couldn't be the end of this conversation.

Not when this was the part that was eating Mike alive.

He didn’t know if this was Steve repressing it on purpose or if this was what he had to look forward to for the rest of his life if he kept trying to figure his own head out, but either way, he knew he had a choice to make. 

To let the unspoken part of today die quietly. Go unsaid, and remain unsaid, for all eternity--or he could let it out. 

Shove the “gay” part of “gay bar” in Steve’s stupid, jock face. 

Make him acknowledge it, even if it got Mike kicked out of the car, and who cared if it did? 

Steve wasn’t the person who should have picked him up anyway. 

The anger climbed higher and higher in his chest, tears and rage combining until Mike spat it all out, furious. 

“You’re not going to ask if I’m gay?”  

Steve didn’t turn to face him, but Mike saw his eyebrow cocking anyway, given how he was currently glaring a hole in the side of the older teen’s head. 

“Do you want me to?” 

“No.” Mike bit out automatically. “Yes. I don’t know!” 

Steve’s hand found its way back into his hair. 

“Okay then.” Steve paused, clearly fishing for something to say. 

Gleefully, Mike watched him struggle. 

“Do you like guys?” He managed finally, looking like he was navigating a minefield more than just talking.

“I don’t know.” Mike stressed, sinking lower in his seat. “Why do you think I was at the bar? I was trying to figure it out!” 

“Honestly I assumed this was some sort of stupid dare--but!” Steve held up a finger, before Mike could interrupt, “But let’s--shit, hold on, I had a speech for this but I kinda wasn’t expecting to use it this soon. Um.”

“You have a speech for me being gay?”

“Not for you.” Steve rolled his eyes. “For--in general! It was an in general, just in case speech!” 

He rounded on Mike, for longer than the younger was comfortable with given Steve took his eyes off the road to do it. “Okay--you can like boobies, you can like, uh--not boobies, and that’s fine! It’s all totally fine!” 

“You are not making it sound like it’s fine.” Mike said, feeling like he’d been taken out by hearing Steve say the word “boobies.” 

Gross, gross, gross. 

“Well it is.” Steve said, in a tone that felt like he was two seconds from adding in a smarmy ‘so there!’ at the end. 

“But I’m dating El.” Mike whined, which really, was both the heart of the matter and the eye of the storm that had been growing in his head for months now. “I can’t be gay if I like her.” 

“Don’t you guys break up and get together like four times a week?”

“No, that's Max and Lucas, El and I are stable.” Mike scoffed. “Or we--we were stable.” 

Before he started to have thoughts about people that weren't his girlfriend. 

Or women.

“Stable for being in middle school, sure.” Steve snorted. “You don’t just have to like one or the other you know. You can like dudes and chicks at the same time.”

Which Mike did not know, on account of being fourteen. 

He did his absolute damndest not to show that realization, instead adding that to the list of reasons why he hated Steve Harrington too.

Steve shouldn't be the one teaching him about who you could like!

“The point is that who you end up loving isn’t a problem.” Steve finally looked back to the road. “Other people might be an issue, and those people we can punch in the face so long as the cops aren’t looking, which isn’t part of the speech so let’s not tell people I said that part, but whatever you do choose, there’s nothing wrong with you.” 

Steve’s voice went firm, as he apparently recalled his speech or something close enough to it because his next words sounded a little rehearsed. “You have people who are here for you, no matter what. Okay?” 

Oh God, Mike was crying again. 

He wanted to punch Steve in his stupid face.

Wanted to hold onto the fury he'd built inside himself. Thrash around, throw himself out of the car, get away from the emotions that felt too big for his chest to contain. 

Instead he felt it all break on Steve's acceptance. On word's he didn't know he needed to hear until they'd been spoken, and sniffed out a quiet; “Okay.” 

Steve of course had to take it too far by reaching over and patting his knee, which they both regretted judging by how quickly Steve took his hand back and the face Mike made at his hand--but it…

It was appreciated, even amongst all Mike's rage.

Steve was appreciated. 

Not that Mike would ever, on pain of death, tell him that. 

Neither said a word for a while, Steve finally landing on a radio that was playing some Top 40 hit, Tears for Fears singing about ruling the world while Mike found himself trying to rebuild his own once again, tired of it having shattered so many times over. 

At least he finally felt better, even if he refused to admit Steve was the reason for it. 

He wasn’t quite done though.

 There was a piece Steve had skipped over, that Mike felt was critically important, if only because it was partly the reason he was having thoughts about being gay in the first place. 

He had to know if Steve saw it too. 

That it wasn’t just him and his stupid head, making up things that weren’t there. 

“Hey Steve?” 

“Yeah?”

“Who was the speech for?” 

Steve sighed. 

“Rule one of the whole queer thing Wheeler, you don’t out other people.” 

Like there were written rules or something.

(Maybe there were, it wasn't like Mike knew.)

“Was it Will?” Mike asked, and pretended like he didn’t desperately want the answer to be yes. 

 Steve didn’t say a thing, but the fact he nearly took the car off the road was a pretty solid answer in itself. 

“We’re not playing guessing games about other people’s sexualites!” He yelped, hands gripping the steering wheel as Mike felt a wave of relief crash through him. 

Will was--maybe, possibly, also--queer too. 

Which didn’t make this any better but it--wasn’t the not preferred outcome, either. 

(It wasn’t just Mike struggling alone, trying to figure out if his best friend wanted to be more than that, if El was breaking up with him and more and more because she wanted to be less than a girlfriend, if things were changing and he would have no one--) 

“I’m not out here picking Will up from a gay bar dipshit, I’m picking you up, and this is your reminder that next time, you should just come talk to me!” Steve ranted. 

Mike snorted.

He absolutely hated Steve Harrington, but--

“Fine.” He said, talking so low he could barely be heard. “I will.”

--maybe Mike did have someone in his corner after all. 

Even if it was just Steve. 

xXx

Bonus: 

“Between you and me, that kid is gayer than a two dollar bill.” 

“Wow Robin,” Steve teased, “Isn’t that like, a slur or whatever?” 

He snickered when she rolled her eyes and threw a roll of stickers his way. 

“I’m just saying. Did you see the way he was looking at you when you were showing off your stupid biceps?” Robin said, nudging her shoulder into Steve’s. “Will’s gonna have a rude awakening later if he hasn’t already.” 

Steve nudged her back, but kept his gaze on the Party as they trooped their way from Family Video to the arcade next door, the realization that they now had connections for free rentals making them downright gleeful. 

Will was the last one in, and Steve watched him hurry so as to not be left behind. 

He didn’t like to worry about the dipshits, but Robin was just putting voice to a thought Steve knew he wasn’t the first person to have.

And if he noticed it, then it didn't exactly bode well as being kept a secret. 

“Should we like…talk to him about that?” He asked after a long moment, turning to face Robin.

“Us?” She pointed at herself, before turning her finger on Steve. “Why us?” 

“Well you’re into girls.” He gave her a pointed look, glad that the store was empty of everyone but them so he could actually voice all this. “And I’m fine with it.”

“Yeah I’m sure he wants to know you’re fine with it.” Robin taunted, but she had her thinking face on, eyes out to the middle distance. “I barely know him. You barely know him--he’s the quietest out of all your kids.”

“They’re not my kids.” Steve argued automatically. “They're like a weird cross between shitty siblings and that kid in your class who never leaves you alone.” 

A fact Steve no longer took for granted, even if he made it sound like the worst thing ever.

“I just think it’d be nice if he knew that he had people in his corner, you know? Who supported him and shit.” 

“Steve, you compared my crush to a muppet, that wasn’t supportive.” Robin countered, but it too was on automatic. 

Softer she admitted; “You’re right though. If I had known other queer people, if I had known people would accept me...it would have made things a lot easier.”

A very long pause, in which both of them stewed for a moment, before Robin abruptly slapped her hand down on the table.

“Okay, you got me. We're doing it, and I'm making us a speech.”

“A speech?” 

“Yes dingus, a speech. I know you, you’re terrible when you’re put on the spot with this kinda thing, and trust me with things like this the moment will be spontaneous.”

“It’s Will, how spontaneous can it be?” Steve challenged back. “Getting a dinner order out of him is a chore.” 

“Stop whining and hand me that notepad. Im telling you its gonna happen when you least expect it and then you're gonna thank me later.”

“It better not happen without you.”  Steve sighed, but passed the notepad over.

God the things he did for those stupid kids. 

Bonus x2

Steve would later go on to use the speech on himself, in a gas station bathroom mirror, eyes wide and freaked out after Eddie Munson called him Big Boy in a van they stole, while Robin snickered behind him. 

He would turn on her, snapping that she; “Help me with this dammit!” 

In return she’d remind him that Tammy might sing like a muppet but Eddie  was the guy who stepped on lunches while giving speeches at lunch and sticking his tongue out, and “Really Steve, I think I won best gay awakening, here.” 

Which would promptly start an argument regarding how it wasn’t a competition, which would continue for another fifteen or so odd years before finding its way as a reference into both of their speeches as each other’s best man. 

Nancy and Eddie wouldn’t get it at either wedding, but Mike would.

[arc-misadventures]

MFK with Jaune: Harley Quinn, Pamela Isley, and Selina Kyle

Jaune: MFK XII

Nora: Oh Jaune-Jaune~?

Jaune: No, you can’t have your grenades back.

Nora: But, that’s not…?!

Jaune: You aren’t allowed to test peoples bone density with your war hammer.

Nora: But, it’s only, Cardin… Wait! No, that’s not what I want…??

Jaune: You can’t have another, McSchneer Lumberjack Burger. They banned you after you demanded more maple syrup bacon strips, and subsequently destroyed the counter when they said no.

Nora: That’s not what I wanted to ask!

Jaune: It’s not; Then what is it?

Nora: MFK~!

Jaune: Naww fuck…

Nora: Harley Quinn, Pamela Isley, or Selina Kyle~?

Jaune: The ladies of, Batman’s Rouge Gallery? Why them?

Nora: Why not them?

Jaune: …

Jaune: Fair enough… Okay… I would kill, Poison Ivy.

Nora: Aww… but, I thought you liked us red heads~?

Jaune: I do, but it’s more of personality/mind set kind of thing. I understand why she wants to save the environment, and all that. But, considering her powers she could make plants that absorb the pollution, and cleanse the environment like nature currently does. I mean, we’ve got algae springing up the can digest plastics, and there are mushrooms capable of absorbing nuclear radiation. I mean come on! Poison Ivy could easily do that, and make something ten times better at doing that! But, no let’s kill all the corrupt businessmen, politicians, and everyone on the whole god damn planet to save the environment! That’s sounds lovely~!

Nora: Okay… that sounded personal…

Jaune: Sorry, but environmentalists annoy the hell out of me! I mean come on! Let’s stop using all fossil fuels, and natural gas to prevent the world from ending in the next five years, a notion that they have said a dozen times in the last three decades! Not to mention that idea would kill millions in a matter of weeks if implemented?!

Nora: …?!

Nora: So…

Nora: Who ya gonna fuck…?

Jaune: Harely Quinn.

Nora: Oh really, you got a thing for clowns~?

Jaune: No. I have to pick, and of the two I would like to sleep with, Harely Quinn. I’m curious about how flexible she would be, among other things…

Nora: Nice~!

Jaune: And, lastly I would marry, Selina Kyle.

Nora: Why her?

Jaune: Admittedly I like, Catwoman the most out of the trio. I like her mature elegance, that femme fatale, and saucy air about her. Plus, I read the comics, she a romantic at heart with, Bruce Wayne. Granted unless written as so, Selina never overcomes, Bruce’s obsession with being, Batman. But, in the stories they do get together, they form a strong lasting pair who grow up to have a loving family together with.

Jaune: I want that too…

Jaune: You happy, Nora, have you got your answer.

Nora: I’m ecstatic, Fearless Leader~! I’ll see you later~!

Jaune: …

Jaune: Somethings off with that smile of hers… I don’t like it…

~~~

Nora: Alright ladies, have you made your decision?

Cinder: Perfectly! I will be going as, Catwoman. I already have a catsuit that I know, Jaune will absolutely drool all over~!

Nora: Oh, nice! It really shows of your phat ass! He better give that a nice hard slap when he sees it!

Cinder: I’ll give him plenty of reasons to do just that~! Now, Neo will be using her semblance to dress as, Harley Quinn. She is also flexible enough to play the part~!

Nora: I’m sure, Jaune will love that~! Don’t pull a muscle out there , Neo!

Neo: 😁

Nora: No, I’m being serious, he will pull some muscles when he’s done with you!

Neo: 🤕🥴

Nora: Oh~? Kinky, I like it~!

Cinder: And, lastly, Emerald will be using her semblance to appear as, Poison Ivy!

Emerald: Are you sure this will work? He hates, Poison Ivy.

Nora: That means he’ll hate fuck you to get rid of that pent up rage~!

Emerald: Oh…? Oh~? Oh that sounds like fun~!

Cinder: Alright girl, let’s head out! Let’s show, Jaune what’s it’s like to be embrace by a trio of femme fetale’s~!

Emerald: Thanks, Nora, we really appreciate your help!

Nora: No problem ladies! And, good luck!

Nora: Cause… you’ll need it… oh boy you’ll need it…

[iamumbra195]

Random One Piece incorrect quotes cause I'm bored

Some of these are modern au though

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

*Sanji's not there*

Usopp: HELP! I TOLD LUFFY I’D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN’T COOK!

Zoro, pouring alcohol directly into a cereal bowl:

Zoro: And you thought I could help?

...

Luffy: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

Nami : Wasn't Zoro with you?

Zoro: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised

...

Law: I trust Mugiwara-ya.

Penguin: You think he knows what he's doing?

Law: I wouldn't go that far.

...

Sabo: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life

Ace, confused: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?

Sabo: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.

Luffy: edible

...

Nami: We need to get through this locked door. Usopp, give me your credit card.

Usopp: Here.

Nami, pocketing it: Thanks. Luffy, kick down the door.

...

Chopper: You know those things will kill you, right?

Zoro, pouring another glass of whiskey: That’s the point.

Sanji, smoking a cigarette: We’re trying to speed up the process.

Luffy: *Nods while eating raw cookie dough*

...

Robin: Why is Luffy so sad?

Nami: He took one of those “Which Character Are You?” quizzes

Robin: And...?

Nami: He got Buggy

*Zoro cackling in the background

...

Zoro: Self care is actually getting into fights with randos in dark alleys.

Nami: No, self care is stuff like taking a bubble bath, or putting on a lot of makeup if you like it, or taking a nice warm nap!

Kin'emon, trying to be poetic: Self care is the burning heat when rage washes over you!! Self care is when you feel the bones crack under your powerful fists!! Self care is the fear in your enemies’ eyes!!!

Usopp: Lmao self care is taking Luffy's birthday meat cake just so I can eat the frosting.

Luffy: If you touch my meat cake I’ll make you eat your hands.

Sanji, losing his mind: WHY IS THERE FROSTING ON MEAT?

...

Franky, about Jinbe: Apparently we’re getting someone new in the group.

Robin: Are we stealing them?

Brook: New or used?

Franky, cackling: Wonderful responses, both of you.

...

Smoker: You’re receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle.

Sanji: Shit.

Usopp: Wait, three?

Smoker: Yeah?

Nami: OH MY GOD ZORO FELL OFF!!!

...

Kin'emon: Tonight, one of you has betrayed us.

Ashura: Is it me?

Kin'emon: No, it’s not you.

Denjiro: Is it me, Kin?

Kin'emon: It’s not you either.

Kanjuro: Is it me, Kin'emon?

Kin'emon, bleeding from several debilitating injuries:

Kin'emon, mockingly: Is IT mE kiN'eMOn?

...

Usopp: Can I be frank with you guys?

Luffy, confused: Sure, but I don’t see how changing your name is gonna help.

Chopper: Can I still be Chopper?

Franky, snickering: Shh, let Frank speak.

...

Sabo: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Koala: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Sabo: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING ROBIN-CHAN WITH ME

Hack, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

...

Law, walking into his submarine: Hello, people who do not belong here.

Zoro: Hey.

Sanji: Hi.

Robin: Hello.

Chopper: Hey!

Law: I gave you my vivre card for emergencies only!

Luffy, grinning: We were out of meat.

...

Sanji: You know, I'm starting to regret showing you how that blender works.

Luffy, drinking meat: Why do you say that?

...

Zoro: Do you take constructive criticism?

Nami: I only take cash or credit.

...

Koala: Why are you on the floor?

Sabo: I'm depressed.

Sabo: Also I was stabbed, can you get Ivankov, please.

...

Robin: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death?

*everyone looks ay Karasu

Karasu: What? How am I supposed to know?

Lindbergh: You say, as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult.

Karasu: *sighs*

Karasu: You wouldn't be trapped

...

Vivi: I love you guys, you're the best thing that's happened to me.

Nami: We're the best thing that's ever happened to you?

Vivi: Yes!

Usopp: ... I'm starting to feel a little sorry for you.

...

Usopp: WHY. why did you give Luffy a KNIFE?!

Zoro, shrugging: He said he felt unsafe.

Usopp: Now I feel unsafe!

Zoro: ... would you like a knife?

...

Dragon: What did you do with the target's body?

Sabo : What didn’t I do with the body?

Dragon:

Sabo: Okay, that sounded more sexual than I intended. I disposed of the corpse respectfully.

...

Luffy, texting Ace: Ace! Help I’m being kidnapped

Ace: Where are you?

Luffy: I’m with some strange person. In a car. Help.

Ace: I’ll call Gramps.

Garp, answering their cell: Y’ello?

Ace: Where’s Luffy? He texted me that he was being kidnapped.

Garp: Luffy? Whaddya mean, he's right next to me-

Garp, who shaved his head:

Garp: I’ll call you back. *hangs up*

Garp: THE NEW HAIRCUT ISN’T THAT BAD!

Luffy: WHO ARE YOU?!

...

*Ace, Sabo and Luffy sitting in jail together*

Sabo: So who should we call?

Ace: I’d call Gramps, but I feel safer in jail

...

Roger: Garp, my old arch enemy.

Garp: ... I thought I was your only arch enemy?

Roger: I have a life outside of you, Garp

...

Zoro: Sometimes I drink milk straight out of the container.

Luffy: The cow???

Zoro: What?

Sanji: *disgusted shudder* LUFFY, W H Y?

...

Usopp: Would you stab your best friend in the leg for 10 billion berry?

Zoro: Nami can stab me, and then when my leg gets better, we buy a big-ass house and erase my debt

Luffy: You can stab me too, then we'll have 20 billion.

Zoro: Good thinking.

...

Kin'emon: Come on, I wasn’t that drunk last night.

Denjiro: You were flirting with O'Tsuru.

Kin'emon: So what? She's my wife.

Denjiro: You asked her if she were single.

Kin'emon:

Denjiro: And then you cried when she said she wasn't

...

Marco: What time is it?

Ace: I don’t know; pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out

Ace: *Plays sax loudly and extremely out of tune*

Izou: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING

Ace, proudly: It’s 2 am

...

Luffy: I can’t believe you live nearby, and you won’t let anyone crash at your place.

Law: You people already know too much about me.

Kidd: I know exactly three facts about you, and one of them is that you won’t let any of us crash at your place.

...

Sabo, an enabler: Tell Ace about the birds and the bees.

Luffy: They're disappearing at an alarming rate.

...

Brook: Schrödinger’s cat is overrated. If you wanna see something that’s both dead and alive you can talk to me any time of the day.

...

Zoro: With great power comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later.

...

Law: When someone points at your black clothes and asks whose funeral it is, having a look around the room and saying 'Haven’t decided yet' is typically a good response.

Bepo: Captain, no.

...

Law: Nothing in life is free.

Chopper: Love is free!

Luffy: Adventure is free!

Robin: Knowledge is free.

Nami: Everything is free if you take it without paying.

...

Usopp: We’ve been conducting an ongoing study to see what Luffy will and will not eat.

Franky: Grass? Yes!

Usopp: Moss? Yes!!

Franky: Leaves? Ohh, yes!

Usopp: Shoelaces? Strange but true!

Franky: Worms? Sometimes!

Usopp: Rocks? Usually nah.

Franky: Twigs? Usually!

Usopp: Zoro's cooking? Inconclusive!

Chopper: How did you… test this?

Usopp: You just hand him stuff and say ‘eat this’ and if he eats it, he eats it.

Chopper: ... I don’t know how to feel about this.

Nami: IS THAT WHERE ALL MY SHOELACES WENT?

Robin: What about humans? He tried to eat Crocodile once

Everyone: ...

Usopp: I think I might be too afraid to ask

(Someone pls draw this one XD)

...

Betty: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity?

Koala: *turning to Sabo* How tall are you?

...

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

That's it, this took forever to write lol

[insomniamamma]

Spinner: Joel Miller x F!Reader

A/n: Okay, so this one got real personal real fast. Many of Spinner’s insecurities are my own. I meant this to be a soft little snuggling for warmth fic, but then things happened. Even in a world than hasn’t entirely gone to shit, it’s so hard to hang on to doing the things you love even if they don’t make you money or get you likes or clout. Also, I rabbit holed a lot about the spinning process and plant dyes but there’s only so much i can do. Any inaccuracies are on me.

Warnings: slurs. Mentions of past relationships gone bad. Shitty family dynamics. Reader is neurodivergent, diagnosis unspecified. Old enough to be married on outbreak day. Ageism. Bullying. Gruff Joel.

No one in Jackson calls you by your name. You’re Spinner or Weaver or Yarn-lady. Turning wool into yarn into clothing that spills out of your needles when you can’t sleep, socks and hats and mittens. You had a spinning wheel, looted from the historical society, but it was old and dry as a bone and the wheel split the one time you tried to use it despite how careful you were, so now it’s the drop spindle, the endless rhythm of it, a sensation so close to your own pulse that you don’t think much of it any more. Waste of time your father told you when you built a loom in the garage, your useless hobby your ex-husband called it as if he didn’t spend all his free time playing GTA and Zelda and Final Fantasy. Every family gathering since moving out a hybrid of when are you going to settle down, when are you going to give us grandkids, when are you going to get a real job, as if you didn’t spend half the year doing paid demos and plying your wares on the ren-faire circuit, good if not entirely predictable money, but it didn’t count because you didn’t make it in a cubicle farm.

You always knew you weren’t like them but could never quite pin down what made you different, what made you other, your Mom told me not to marry you because you’re a fuckin retard, your ex had spat during the fight that ended your marriage. And, for as shitty as your ex was, you knew he wasn’t lying about that part. Two brilliant sisters and then you. An odd afterthought of a girl. Got yelled at for staring at people when you weren’t looking at anything at all. Got yelled at for not making eye-contact, look at me when I’m talking to you.

Funny how they’re all dead and you’re still alive.

You hear folks talk sometimes. Waste of time if you’re asking me. They drug a whole container of clothes from the old Walmart. In your mind you grab them and shake them and yell in their faces that that world is never coming back, that we’re gonna have to get our shit together real quick or our grandkids are gonna be wearing untanned hides and rotting plastic tarps. But you don’t. You just spin your wool into yarn, and do your assigned tasks. Everyone helps everyone. That’s how things work here. Folks come and help you pick and soak and scour the fleeces. You show them how to card the wool and how to make drop spindles of their own and turn fleece into yarn, but most of them give you odd pitying looks. That world is dead, you want to tell them. It’s been twenty years. It’s not coming back, but you know in their secret hearts they don’t believe it.

Everyone helps everyone. So that means you help with the gardens, help with the harvest, help in the kitchens, reinforcing a gate or raising a barn or clearing brush for firebreaks. You’re at your best when you can work with your hands and not have to talk much. Everyone helps everyone and you know how people think of you with your wool and experimental plant fiber yarn and onion skin dyes and mordants. You can feel it even when they don’t say it right out loud. No place in this new world for people like you. Only the strong survive. So you put yourself on the roster for watch duty and patrols. Watch duty is fine by you. Sit in one of towers along the wall and peer out over the vast and unchanging dark, rifle leaned against the wall in case something happens, two way radio for emergencies only and it’s quiet and unchanging and you don’t mind at all.

Patrol is a different animal. Why do you keep signing up for this? Maria asked you, I know you hate it. Can’t make someone else do something I won’t, you told her, but that’s not the whole answer. You want to feel like you’re doing something real. Like you’re contributing. Like you’re not as helpless, as useless as everyone seems to think.

You show up for your assignment. A foot patrol. Day out and day back. Over night in a shelter house a little over halfway round the trail. You’ve got a bedroll and a change of clothes and the canvas bag you use for foraging. Your patrol partner eyes you skeptically and you curl into yourself. Everyone’s heard the rumors about Joel Miller. People shrink from him. You’ve seen it. When he comes into the tavern or the caff or the lending library people suddenly find someplace else to be. Figures. “You Spinner?” “Yeah.” “I’m Joel.” “I know.” “You good to go?” “Yeah.” He looks at you the way someone might look at an odd bug or a difficult equation, and then turns down the trail and you follow.

He doesn’t say much. Which is a relief. Last time you were on patrol you were paired with Ez who could not shut up for the life of him. That trip out and back was a running commentary of things Ez missed and things Ez remembered and a million other things you could not give the faintest of shits about. Joel doesn’t try to engage you in conversation and you are glad for that. A soft hold up means he needs a moment to go take a leak in the weeds, and you creep off too to do your business. You’ve seen plants along the trail that you could use on other patrols, sumac berries and oak galls, but you never said anything, just tried to remember on the off chance you’d be out here again.

“Joel? Can we stop?” The question surprises you as you ask it. He turns to look at you, “This is curly dock.” You hunker in the tall weeds on the side of the old road, logging trail most likely, frantically clipping stems and pawing roots out of the ground, dirt plating itself under your nails, scrabbling for what you can get before Joel tells you to hurry it. Even dried out and dormant, it’s still good. “What’s it for?” “For making dye. If I can find the right mordants I can get some nice golden yellows from the roots and the seeds. I’m still figuring it out.” “How much you need?” Joel hunkers down beside you and starts slicing off the flower heads that look like clusters of coffee grounds. You shrug. “I was just gonna fill this bag,” you say, “I’m still testing it out.” Joel stands and you yank a few more roots out of the ground. “I’m gonna make a blaze,” says Joel, slicing lines into the bark of a young cottonwood. “Huh?” “So the others’ll know there’s something useful here.” “Thank you.” Joel nods, folds his blade away, puts the knife back in his pocket. He turns and continues along the winding game trail and you follow, small smile playing at your lips. Useful. Not a word often used for you and what you do, you and yours. The other artisans. Figuring out how to tan hides and dye wool and save seeds because that world isn’t coming back. They’ve managed to drag a few trailers of that world from the Walmart, teams of horses foaming around their bits, sweat darkened flanks and for what? Clothing and shoes and cans and dry goods for now. There’s only so much to be looted. And then what? That world isn’t coming back. Even if cordyceps went away, that world isn’t coming back. Who could fix the world? Not Fedra, that’s for damn sure. Not the folks in town who talk too much.

He stops walking and you almost collide with him. “Look.” You follow the track of his raised hand over his shoulder, a herd of deer crossing the path, a buck standing stone still, looking at you with shimmering black eyes, antlers curling up like old tree branches, while the does and yearlings cross behind him, all long limbs and flicking ears and quivering noses, and you feel yourself smile. You remember a time in your life when seeing deer in the back yard was a magical thing, you and your siblings and your parents pressed to the curve of the bay window, watching them pass through the trees like shadows. Even after everything you’ve seen since, your heart contracts with the old wonder. “They’re beautiful.” You glance at Joel and see the curve of his smile, the way it dimples his cheek. “They are.” The buck flicks his ears and springs off into the gray light, the rest of the herd gone like ghosts, and the wind stirs after them, and you pull your coat closer, tuck into yourself. The faint spats of rain against your cheeks have turned into a steady, miserable drizzle. Nothing to focus on but how cold you are and Joel’s retreating back, and you silently curse yourself for not dressing warmer. Bright blue sky scrimmed over and swallowed by low, blank clouds, not quite cold enough to snow, but the damp air makes your knees and hips and knuckles throb. Should’ve dressed warmer. Fall in this part of the world can turn on a dime.

Not too far now, he says, but by the time you reach the shelter little pellets of sleet are mingling with the rain. Shelter is a rough, drooping structure with yellowed plastic sheeting taped over the small windows, crude wood stove blacked with smoke, ugly welded chimney poking up past the sagging roof. Joel hunkers in front of the wood stove. Folded cots lay against the wall and you pull one out and unfold it, smells like mold and motor oil, and you get another one, one for you and one for Joel. “Shit,” he murmurs low, “Wood’s all punky.” “Will it catch?” “Yeah. Maybe.”

You and Joel sit on your cots and eat, bread and cheese brought from home. The fire in the stove burns low and ugly. Joel has set up lengths of firewood in a straggled ring around the stove, hoping the heat will dry them, but the cold creeps in, unroll your sleeping bag and try to rest. Sleet spats against the roof, against the plastic shrouded windows, wind blows hard enough to send huffs of smoke back down the chimney, not that the fire is doing much, seething hiss and low smolder, sluggish embers, weak orange glow that does little to ease the cold. You jam your hands into your armpits and curl yourself tight, crunch your eyes closed and wait for your own breath to warm you, but there’s no position, no way of tucking your limbs against yourself that does a damn bit of good, the cot creaks and squeaks with each shift of your weight.

“Stop movin around so much.”

You can see the slope of his shoulders picked out in the weak firelight, his back to you. Your throat constricts and tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You lay with your arms crossed, peering up at the cobwebbed beams I won’t cry, I won’t, but the tears slide out of you all the same, fever hot where the rest of you is so cold, close your eyes and try to make yourself stay still, at least until Joel falls asleep. Your teeth chatter. You can’t stop it. You wonder for the millionth time why you’re still here, familiar poisonous rut that your mind runs in, why are they all dead and I’m still alive? Can spin wool into yarn while people snicker behind your back for it, you know that world isn’t coming back, the easy one where you could go to a store and buy a heavy coat to keep you warm, an electric blanket to keep you warm, once this is over, you hear them say sometimes, once this is over I’m gonna eat nothing but rare steaks for an entire year, once this is over I’m gonna buy my girl a ring, once this is over, we’ll never be cold, we’ll never be hungry, we’ll never be hunted once this is over. You feel your chest tighten. Your breath comes hard and fast. Your chattering teeth and ragged inhales betray you. You hear him move and tighten your arms across yourself, try to stop your tears and teeth.

Joel knows the sound of muffled crying. Tess would cry sometimes in the dead of night, curled away from him, when she thought he was asleep. Your shuddered inhale and tight clench of your shoulders give you away. His first impulse is to turn over and ignore you, let you blend into the spackle of rain and sleet and let sleep take him, but a dull spike of guilt lodges in his gut, can’t fix the world, but maybe he can fix this.

“Hey, Spinner, you okay?” You roll on your side, poke your head out of your sleeping bag to look at him, can’t quite meet his eyes, you shake your head. “Can’t get warm,” you say, “It’s stupid. My hands--“ “That wood should be a dried out a little,” says Joel, “Try and see if it catches.” You get up and moving around feels a little better, hunker by the wood stove and tuck a length in, flames licking low and yellow, you blow into the fire, hoping the wood will do more than hiss, more than useless white smoke of escaping water vapor, hold your hands in front of the low lazy flames and grey-ashed coals. You prod at the small nest of logs with a stick, turn one over and the fire licks up bright. You can hear Joel moving around behind you, scrape and rustle and he’s pushed the cots together, he’s unzipping his sleeping bag. “What’re you doing?” “I’m gonna zip these together,” he says, “It’s warmer this way.” Your cheeks and ears burn. You shouldn’t even be out here. Can’t even keep yourself warm. Can’t look at him. “You don’t have to--“ “C’mere.” You glance at him, his dark eyes shining in the weak firelight, “It’s okay.” You nod, more to yourself than him, crawl in beside him and zip the bag around the two of you, and before you can protest, Joel has pulled you half atop him, rubbing his hands briskly down your arms and back. “When we were kids, Ma got it in her head that we should go on vacation for Christmas and see real snow,” he says, the motion of his hands rucks your shirt up a little and he smooths it back down. “Colorado?” you ask. “Maine,” says Joel, and you laugh through chattering teeth, “Ma rented us a cabin out in the ass end of nowhere. I’ve never been so cold in my life. Dad showed us how to zip our sleeping bags together. It was warmer after that, ‘cept Tommy wouldn’t stop kicking me. Here. Give me your hands.” Joel folds your hands into his, squeezes your fingers, and then cups your hands in his, and blows, breathes into the cage of his hands around yours, you remember coming home from a day spent playing in the snow, cheeks and ears and toes and fingers burning as they warmed and your Mom taking your hands like this and breathing into them like this, and your eyes scrim over, sink your teeth into the meat of your lip but it does no good, the tears slip out. “I’m sorry.” “For what?” For everything, you want to say, but don’t. “Weather turned on us, that’s all.” Joel rubs his thumbs over your knuckles, “You don’t need to be sorry.” Presses your hands tight in his, holds them to his chest, and that’s how you fall asleep, warmed by his breath, hands folded together between you.

You don’t speak of what happened. Just pack up your gear and head home, following him down the trail, it feels like he turns to check in with you more, but maybe you weren’t paying attention on the way out.

“Hey you got a package!” says Ellie. Joel misses coffee. Almost killed a man over a dented can of Folgers, misses the taste and smell and waking slow with a cup cradled in his hands. He’s barely staggered into the kitchen, barely nursed the coals in the stove into life, waiting for the kettle so he can have some herb tea that warms his hands at least, but Ellie is up and bright eyed and talking a mile a minute. “Package?”

“On the front step, stupid.” Joel rubs at his eyes.

“Why don’t you quit yappin and bring it in for me?”

“Lazy ass,” says Ellie, but Joel hears her grin, hears the door open, feels the puff of frigid air. Ellie plops an irregular bundle wrapped in string and old newspaper on the table. “I gotta go,” she says, “Gonna be late for school—“

“Hey! Did you eat?” But Ellie’s already out the door, leaving Joel to examine the lumpy parcel, rain-dotted darkening newsprint scavenged from God knows where. Joel unties the string and winds it into a careful coil, turns the bundle over to unwrap it. Thought I’d return the favor, the note reads. No name, but who else could it be? Broad scarf of thick cream colored wool with a pair of socks to match. He runs the pads of this thumbs over the precise rows of stitches, brings the bundled scarf to his face and breathes in, not unpleasant smell of sheep and grass.

“Oooooh, looks like Christmas came early!”

“Ellie!” Joel feels his face going hot.

“What? I forgot my bag,” she says, scooping said backpack off it’s hook by the door, heads back out into the bright, bitter day, frigid air blowing loose snow across the threshold, turns to grin at him, her split eyebrow quirked up. “You know she likes you, right? She actually smiles when you’re around—“

“Git! You’re letting all the warm air out.”

“If those socks fit you can thank me!” And then she’s gone, door closed behind her.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel says to his empty kitchen. Wraps the scarf around his neck, just to see how it feels, imagines your hands busied with knitting needles, maybe a spinning wheel like in Sleeping Beauty, hands that felt like ice in his, the uncertain way your eyes would fix on his and flick away, didn’t say more than three words to him until you happened on that patch of weeds in the ditch along the trail. Burdock? Curly dock? It looked like used coffee grounds on stems, but you were so happy about it. Your face lit up. You smiled. He sits at the kitchen table, hoping that Ellie hasn’t forgotten anything else, and peels his socks off, threadbare, thinning at the heels, so he can try on the ones you made for him. They fit perfectly. Gonna have to talk to that girl about prying into grown-ups business, the thinks.

You wouldn’t be here if not for Lina’s birthday, she came to your place with three cakes of beeswax, knows you need it for waxing the finer threads you spin, the ones for leatherwork, for sewing book pages onto spines, we’re getting together at the Bison! You should come! And Lina is one of the few people in town you like. She’s always been kind to you, never seems to mind when you start talking scouring and lanolin and how you want to start working with plant fibers. She’ll talk endlessly about her hives and how the weather effects the honey, what’s in bloom and what isn’t and how it changes the taste. So you sit with Lina and her handful of friends, drinking hard cider and wishing you were home sitting in front of your wood stove drop spindle in your hand, endless, thoughtless repetitive motion until sleep calls you. When you spin the things you’ve seen recede, slows your ever racing heart. You fidget, calloused fingers rubbing together, the motion you make when you spin, not wanting to be there, but not wanting to let Lina and the other half-dozen people you interact with down, an impromptu artisans meeting, you and Lina, Jimbo the paper-maker and his daughter, Tim who used to teach high school chemistry before everything went to shit. Joel’s here, him and his brother seated at the bar, talking over their drinks, faces serious. You feel yourself start to smile. You’re not sure if he’s been around more, or if you’ve started noticing him more, like playing punchbug when you were kids, there were Volkswagen Beetles everywhere if it meant getting to hit your cousin as hard as possible without getting in trouble for it—

“Oh look it’s the Artists.” You feel your jaw clench and Lina puts on her brightest, cheeriest, go-fuck-yourself smile. “Hi, Kev,” Lin chirps, “To what do we owe the pleasure?” “Maybe I want to wish you a happy birthday,” he says. Kevin and his lot. Supposed crack-shots. Take every opportunity for long patrols, ex-military if you believe their yap. Picked off some clickers and expect everyone to kiss their asses. “Consider it wished—“ “And maybe I’d like to know what we’re risking our necks out on perimeter for--“ And this shit right here is why you rarely leave your house, if it’s not Kevin it’s some other jerk wanting to know what you’re here for. Same question you’ve asked yourself so many times. Why are they all dead and you’re still alive? What are you here for?

“Maybe I want to know what you ar-teests are doing while me and my boys our out risking our lives in the dark.” You know how this will play out, how it always plays out, Lina will placate him with offers of hot honey and soap, the rest of you will bend the knee, make polite noises about how you wouldn’t be able to do what you do without people like him keeping you safe. Never mind that no one’s seen a proper pod of clickers or runners in months, a few lone stragglers and that’s it, your eyes flick up to Jimbo’s and you see the resignation there. Let him have his say, take the ribbing and move on, and you see Joel, pushed back from the bar, looking your way. Your face goes hot and your neck goes tight and you are angry, Kevin and his bullshit always makes you angry, but this is different, brighter and sharper, and before you really know what you’re doing you are up in moving yourself into Kevin’s personal space.

“How those Walmart socks holding up? Your little toesies start poking through yet? Getting a little thin in the heels?” He grins wide, hands on his hips, “You offerin to mend my socks, Spinner? Got a girlfriend for that. ‘Less you think you can do better-“ He laughs and his dumb buddies do the same— “What’s this shirt made of?,” you pinch a bit of his yellow and black flannel between your fingers, “Feels like a cotton poly blend. Probably more poly than cotton. Too bad.” “You tryin to flirt with me, here, Spinner? Bit long in the tooth for all that aren’t cha-“ “You know why wool is so much better than poly-cotton blends like this? Wool holds its heat even when it gets wet. You can wear wool in a rainstorm—“ “So what?” “So you’re gonna have a cold walk home.” You dump your nearly full pint of cider down the front of Kevin’s cheaply made flannel shirt, turn tail and bolt for the front doors.

“Woo!” “You tell im, Spinner-“ “You fucking BITCH!” “Don’t.” Joel’s voice the last one you hear before bursting into the snow-shot night.

You fetch up near the huge pine tree in the town square all lit up for Christmas, on the steps of the gazebo where the choir’s set to sing a few days from now, a rag-tag group led my Moira who’s got to be pushing ninety and teaches the kids how to read music and pick out middle C on the desperately out-of-tune piano in the Hall. They sound so sweet together. For now the square is silent save for the gentle ticking of snow falling on snow. You’re cold and you should go home, but your rolling gut says to sit right here and wait, a couple pints of cider and spent adrenaline roiling your insides. Stupid, you think. You’ve made things worse, Kevin and his goons will just double down, but you were so angry— “Hey.” You glance up from the nest of your hands and the gathering snow, feel Joel settle beside you on the step. “Hey.” “That was brave, what you did in there.” “How come I feel like I’m gonna throw up, then?” “You want me to break his legs?” You look up at him and he’s smiling, a little one that just curves his cheek. “You’re joking.” “Mostly,” says Joel. “If Kevin bothers you again, you come tell me-“ “You’re wearing the scarf,” you say, and feel yourself smiling wide, and now his eyes flick to the side. “It’s real warm,” he says. “I’m glad you like it.” And you sit in the silence together for a beat, mesmerized by the slow falling flakes, catching and haloing the strung lights. A few years from now, these bulbs will be candles, but for now it feels a little bit like it used to. Joel stands and offers his hand. “Can I walk you home, Spinner?” You let him pull you up off the step. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Tagging @oonajaeadira @grogusmum @sp00kymulderr @boliv-jenta @writeforfandoms @quicax3 @fromthedeskoftheraven @artemiseamoon @the-blind-assassin-12

[xx-alice-in-wonderland-xx]

Abby, Lev & Yara incorrect quotes 🖤

Abby, to Lev: Look at you! All cute and small! I could just eat you up! Lev: *proceeds to kick her in the shin and run away*  Yara, walking past: Rule number 1, don't call Lev cute or small.

Lev: Why is everyone so obsessed with top or bottom? Honestly, I’d just be excited to have a bunk bed.  Abby: Abby: I'm gonna tell him.  Owen: Don't you dare.

Abby: Today, Lev said a swear word, so Yara said that she was going to wash Lev’s mouth out with soap. Lev replied, “It’s okay, I like the taste of soap”. Turns out, they’ve both been putting soap on their lips to blow bubbles for the past hour.

Lev, gardening: Hey, can you bring me the hoe?  Abby: Yeah, sure.  *A few minutes later*  Abby: Here you go.  Lev:  Abby:  Owen: Why am I here?

Yara: Breathe, just breathe.  Lev: I’ve done nothing with my life! I’m a failure!  Their mom in Lev’s mind: Awww, that never bothered you before.

Lev on his 18th birthday: Adulting is hard.  Lev: How do I quit?  Yara: Time travel.  Abby: Die.

Lev: When Yara was born, the gods said, "She’s too perfect for this world."  Abby: Please. When I was born, the devil said, "Oh, competition."

Yara: You get turned back into a baby but you retain all your skills and memory, what do you do?  Abby: Eat a nickel.  Yara: A reminder: You have retained all your skills and memories.  Lev: Eat a nickel.  Yara: Ok.

Lev: Why does everyone want to kill Abby?  Ellie: Because, goddamnit, have you seen her? her neck looks so snappable.

*the Squad cleaning up*  Abby: Pick up the nearest piece of trash and throw it away.  Lev, to Yara: Aight, which bin do you wanna go in—

Lev: *sneaking in through their window*  Yara: *turning in their chair and flicking the light one* You want to tell me where you've been all night?  Lev: I was with Abby?  Abby: *turning in their chair* Wanna try again?

Yara: Do you support gay rights?  Lev: I’m literally trans.  Abby: He’s avoiding the question!

Yara: What did Abby do this time?  Lev: More like WHO did Abby do this time?

Lev: Self care is stuff like taking a bubble bath or putting on a lot of make up if you like that, or taking a nice warm nap and stuff like that basically.  Abby: Self care is the burning heat when rage washes over you. self care is when you feel the bones crack under your powerful fists. self care is the fear in your enemies eyes.  Yara: Self care is stealing someones birthday cake just to eat the frosting.  Lev: If you touch my birthday cake I’ll make you eat your hands.

⬆️ (Lev’s never had a birthday cake 🥲)

Lev: If I die, my funeral will be the biggest party ever and you're all invited.  Yara: "If"  Abby: Great, the only party I'm ever invited to and they might not even die.

Abby: Uh, I think I got your lunch. *Holds up a note that reads: ‘I am very proud of you. Love, Yara’*  Lev: Oh yeah. I didn’t think this was for me. *Holds up a note that reads: ‘Be good. For the love of God, Please be good.’*

Yara: Nice rock.  Lev: Thanks, Abby gave it to me.  Abby: I threw it at you!  Lev: Isn’t she the sweetest?

Yara: Lev! Abby got that thing on the control panel working!  Lev: Wow! That looks pretty impressive.  Yara: Yeah!  Abby: Any idea what it does?  Lev: Not a clue.

Yara: What are you two arguing about this time?  Abby: They’re always using common phrases incorrectly!  Lev: Cry me a table, Abby.

Yara: Lev isn’t answering my messages.  Abby: Allow me.  Yara: I tried 6 times, what makes you thi-  Lev: *replying to message* Hello.

Lev, not understanding the concept of holidays since I headcannon Seraphites didn’t celebrate stuff like Christmas: Christmas is cancelled.  Abby: You can't cancel a holiday.  Lev: Keep it up, Abby, and you'll lose New Year's too.  Abby: What does that mean?  Lev: Yara, take New Year's away from Abby.

Yara, to Abby You know, Lev can be really aggressive, so it's important to take all the necessary precautions when approaching.  Lev: *blows airhorn at a seraphite* GET FUCKED!

this was so funny to make lmao 😭

[spencermorgans]

Incorrect Quotes Generator II

Rossi: I never said I was gonna get back together with them. But I was thinking, they're in town, would it be the worst thing in the world if I gave them a call? Spencer: No. No, Rossi, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. It would be the fourth worst thing. Number one: a super volcano. Number two: an asteroid hits the Earth. Number three: All the Evel Knievel movies are lost. Number four: Rossi calls Hotch. Number five: Derek gets eaten by a shark. Derek: I’m Derek, and I approve the order of that list.

-

Derek: Bad news—Rossi locked themself outside of their own house. Derek: Good news—we didn’t have to wait around for a locksmith. Derek: Bad news—Hotch finds it very concerning that I know how to pick locks, and tried to unlock my Tragic Backstory(TM). I was too embarrassed to admit that the reason I learned it was because, at thirteen, I figured that was the kind of skill that would impress cute guys Derek: Good news—a cute guy saw me do it. Derek: Bad news—it was Spencer, and since they’ve already seen me fall out of several trees, cry because I saw a fawn that was just too damn small, and knows I can ride a unicycle, they’ll never think I’m cool no matter what I do. It’s too late. They know.

-

Spencer: I’m so happy two of my favorite people are getting along now. Rossi: Uh, Hotch and Derek are not getting along. Spencer: They’re not trying to kill each other. Rossi: You may have a point.

-

Derek: What’s the announcement, Spencer? Spencer: It’s a lecture. Hotch’s gonna tell us everything they know about sex. Rossi: It should be an enjoyable 60 seconds.

-

Spencer: seductively takes off glasses Spencer: Wow… Derek: blushes Haha… what? Spencer: You're really fucking blurry.

-

Derek: Being half asleep and feeling someone gently plant a kiss on your forehead is one of the purest kinds of love in the world. Spencer: Unless you're home alone.

-

Spencer: It doesn’t have a bone. Derek: Then why is it called a boner?

-

Spencer: I truly go into housewife mode when I'm someone's soulmate- like, I'll make you pancakes and bacon every morning. Derek: This is a lie. Derek: I'm literally dating them. This is a lie. Derek: THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO COOK A PANCAKE, WHAT IS THIS.

-

Hotch: It'll be fun. Hotch: We'll make a day of it. Hotch: Come on you punk bitch. Rossi: I can't believe I have to say this. Rossi: I don't have time to get tested for sti's with you tomorrow.

-

Emily: So you like cats? JJ: Yeah. Emily: tries to impress them by slowly pushing a glass off the table

-

Emily: How do I tell JJ that I want them to yell at me like they're Gordon Ramsay and I'm a poor little chef who just ruined a crème brûlée?

-

JJ: What’s your body count? Emily: Do you mean sex or murder?

-

Emily: I was going to suggest we do Marilyn Monroe and JFK roleplay, but I’d get way too into it. JJ: What- how? Emily: You’d be like “come to bed … Mr. President” and I’d be like, “I need to increase the amount of American military advisors in South Vietnam by a factor of 18.”

-

Emily: JJ, is that my mug you’re drinking out of? JJ: No, it’s mine. Emily: It… looks just like the one I have… JJ: You don’t have one like this anymore.

-

Gideon: walks into the kitchen, ignoring everyone Rossi: Hey, Gideon, how was your day? Gideon: picks up an onion and bites into it, staring at Rossi Hell. Hotch, watching this unfold: whispers Who hurt you?

-

Hotch: So, what’s Rossi's type? Gideon: Brown eyes, kind, oblivious, good sense of humor, turtle lover. Hotch: Sounds kind of like me. Too bad we’re just friends. Gideon: Did I mention oblivious? Hotch: Yeah, why? Gideon: Okay, just making sure.

-

Gideon: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming? Hotch: Can everyone in this godforsaken group please learn the skill called "Think Before You Speak"? Rossi: Ya know… it might be.

-

Hotch: Look, I know you think my judgement's clouded because I like Rossi a little bit. Gideon, holding Hotch's notepad: You doodled your wedding invitation. Hotch: No, that's our joint tombstone. Gideon: My mistake.

-

Penelope: H-how do you ask someone out? Emily: Well, first- JJ: Don't ask them, they asked me out in a McDonalds parking lot. Penelope: …And you said yes?

-

Gideon: Who do we know that has handcuffs? Rossi: Well Hotch and I- Hotch: elbows Rossi Rossi: …wouldn't know.

-

Gideon: What did Rossi do this time? Hotch: More like WHO did Rossi do this time?

-

Hotch: And here we see Rossi and Gideon in their natural habitat. Texting eachother variations of the word "garlic bread" to try to make eachother laugh. Rossi: Gaelic bread. Gideon: Grueling brad. Rossi: Ha ha, glamorous beans.

-

Gideon: They can't make me admit France exists, right? Legally, that's not allowed. Gideon: Sure, if France was REAL I'd say I liked it. Gideon: But who's to say. Rossi: I think France isn't real. Hotch: Rossi, you've been to France. Rossi: And???

-

Gideon: I need 28 lightbulbs for 28 ducks. Hotch: Ducks can’t eat lightbulbs? Rossi: I think that’s the point. Gideon: Exactly. I want my ducks to glow so I can find them.

-

Hotch: What happened to Gideon? Rossi: They died. Hotch: They what? Rossi: They died, but they’re okay. Hotch: …Can you please clarify? Gideon: Clarification is for the weak.

-

Gideon: So… I’ve seen you’ve been spending a lot of time with Hotch recently. Rossi: No, Gideon, it's not what it looks like, I swear. Gideon: Oh really? So no reason for me to be jealous? Rossi: No! You’re the only one for me. Gideon: Is that so? Rossi: I promise! Hotch and I are just dating, okay? They’re my partner. Gideon: So there are no best-friends-feelings involved? Rossi: You are still my one and only best friend! They’re just the love of my life, nothing more! Gideon: But I’m still the platonic love of your life, right? Rossi: Of course bro! Gideon: Bro… Hotch: What the-

-

Rossi (brainstorming ideas for pranking Hotch): How much could a serial killer mask possibly cost? Gideon: Well it’s hard to find a high-quality one made out of leather or silicone, but if you did find a good one like that it’d be a couple thousands of dollars. I can try to hook you up with one but I don’t know if I’d be very successful. Rossi: Huh, that’s pretty interesting actually- Wait, how the hell do you know that? Gideon: …I am very passionate about Halloween, Rossi.

-

Spencer: Isn't it weird that people kill mosquitoes just because they're annoying? Derek: Damn, if people did that to each other, Hotch would've killed me years ago.

-

[webbo0]

Prodigal Doll

Goose Boys Mafia AU

AO3 Link

Length: 753 words (short and not sweet)

Summary: Nobody ever expected Ken to join the family business, but when he's caught in the middle of a war he knows nothing about, the other boys have to pick up the pieces.

Content/Warning: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Hurt/barely comfort

Authors Note: I don't even remember how this started lol

I think I saw those Tag Heuer photoshoot pics that look like Ken but as Six?

Anyways I have a LOT of lore ideas and a whole arc for Ken in this, but god only knows if I can actually write it ugh

Also I'm not sorry lmao

“He’s… changed”

“ Don’t say that”

“Look at him!”

“Shut the fuck up, Richard”

Gathered, the men stare at Ken.

Whenever he used to be scared, he was loud (it was a liability sometimes, all the shrieking and sobbing). But now, he’s silent. Tear stains cut clean lines through the filth and gore on his cheeks, but none fall from his eyes. Not anymore.

He’s… vacant. Not like Driver, his stare always intense, or like Julian, always lost in thought. No. He’s just. Empty.

Six and Lars are sanitizing and bandaging his wounds. Slashes on his chest, burns on his limbs, bruises scattered on every inch of available skin like a fucking Jackson Pollock, and blood from god knows who and god knows where drenching his scarily pale skin and platinum blonde hair. He doesn’t flinch, doesn't move at all, even when Six gently murmurs that he needs to reset his shoulder. The bone grinding into place would have even the toughest of men gritting their teeth in pain, but Ken just sits there. Disconnected from the world. Lars is delicately cleaning the blood off of him, swallowing tears of his own while dabbing a warm cloth over his exposed skin. 

Ken wears nothing but a ragged pair of boxers stained with fluids nobody wants to think too hard about (just like they found him). He hasn’t said a word since they found him, but Lars finally gets a reaction out of him. He’s shakingly whispering to Ken that they need to remove his old shorts to wash him off and get him into something clean, but when his hand goes towards the waistband an explosion of movement happens. Ken bolts away from the men, scrambling to the closest wall and pressing his back to it. His voice is raw and venomous as he roars at the surrounding men.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” 

Everyone in the room freezes because Ken never curses. All eyes are on him, the torn and bloodied nails on his hands scratching at the brick wall, the bloody trail of footprints he makes, his heaving chest, and his frantic, darting, unseeing eyes. Blood drips down his inner thigh.

“I think I’m gonna be sick” 

“He needs a professional, guys, we can only do so much”

“Oh yeah, get the cops involved that’s smart”

“I thought I told you to shut the fuck-”

“Everybody out.”

The room silences once again, save for some muffled sobs and Ken's rapid breath. All eyes now turn to the man who spoke, the man in charge . His white jacket is splattered with blood, and a fire rages behind his cold, blue gaze.

“... are you sure we should leave him like this?”

“Six stays, the rest of you leave. He’s in no state for visitors. Every man is allowed some dignity.”

The room empties without protest, save for Ken, Six, Driver, and Julian. Julian didn’t need to ask to stay (not that he would have). Wherever Driver goes, he goes.

“Why am I staying?”

“You have the most combat-medic training. And. You can… restrain him if you need to.”

The rage in Driver’s eyes slips, showing for a brief moment deep, soul-wrenching anguish before he clenches his gloved fists and returns to his default neutral, intense stare. 

“I expect a complete injury report once he’s patched up. Ask Julian if you need any extra supplies. I have to go deal with the rest of this shit storm.”

He turns to leave, but pauses, glancing back over his shoulder.

“And Six?”

Six stands at attention, ready to receive orders.

“...be gentle.”

Six nods once in affirmation and Driver lets his head hang down, taking a deep breath before straightening his spine and closing the door quietly behind him. The room was now solely occupied by the three men left there.

Julian, standing and waiting by the door. Both ready to retrieve any necessary items and guarding against any poor fool that might try and interrupt them.

Six, shoulders sagged and ruffling through a medkit.

And Ken, who had slid to the floor, legs finally giving out, but the wild look in his eye still shining.

And it wasn’t until Six slowly approaches (the same way he did when he freed a wild deer from a beartrap as a kid), sinking to his knees, gently carding his hands through his blood-matted platinum hair and softly reassuring him that you’re safe now, you’re safe, we got you back that Ken starts trembling, a tear finally slipping from his eye.

[major-comet]

i have a lot of ideas for how they could introduce mccoy into strange new worlds, and one of my favorites i’ve been musing over lately is them doing it via joanna

if my memory is correct, SNW is currently right around the point when the cerberus crop failure happened (joanna was attending school there at the time). perhaps the enterprise is making a supply run to the planet just to help make sure they’re back on their feet, and mccoy gets picked up along the way because even starfleet’s terrible mental health services recognize that it might be a good idea for the man to be able to verify that his daughter is okay, especially if the ex wife hasn’t been able to get out there to verify she’s alright.

or! since actually i don’t think bones and pike ever met, maybe they pick her up during the supply run and bring her to a space station where mccoy can see her because surely that kind of thing is grounds for the school to go on break, and the whole episode is this kid running around the enterprise absolutely charming everyone she meets and so eventually during the five year mission bones is kind of known as Joanna’s Dad at first to everyone who was there at the time

modern trek need to give me joanna mccoy or else i’m gonna riot

[scoops-stevie-archive]

✨ stranger things fic rec pt 1 ✨

part 2 | part 3

mostly steddie with some ronance/fruity four/platonic stobin sprinkled in. heed the ratings, there's a healthy amount of smut.

fics in this installment: 65

fics in total: 196

as per usual:

-all fics are in alphabetical order

-please tell me if the links are broken/linked wrong

more fic recs

my own works

and, as always, please leave kudos and comments, and reblog this post!

'86 baby - T, 2.5k, 1/1, complete

hydrangea_bush

Eddie is finally graduating and is prepared to walk up to Principal Higgins, flip him the bird, and snatch his diploma.

Steve doesn't know any of this is about to go down and is just proudly waiting for his boyfriend to graduate.

"Steve Harrington Corrupted By Eddie Munson - Sounds like a Hawkins Headline" - E, 7.5k, 1/1

krwaken

"Harrington, what the hell are you thinking about down there?"

Steve grins up at the ceiling, languid and sated. He feels so fucking good. Every muscle in his body is relaxed, practically turning him into a melted puddle in the middle of Eddie's trailer. The carpet underneath him is soft and plush, and maybe a little outdated, but Steve swears he could sleep here for an entire year. He runs his open palms along the shag, letting out a contented noise - somewhere between a hum and a moan.

"God, you're so fucking high," Eddie says.

(you're my) bone to pick - E, 2.6k, 1/1

bdelaney

Kinktober Day 30: Pet Play

“How about this?” he says into the top of Steve’s head. “I’m gonna go get our food, and you stay here–” Steve cuts him off with a whine, and the hand running through his hair suddenly grips him firmly. “You’re going to stay here and get out of your work clothes. And then when I get home, if you’ve been a good boy, I’ll put your collar on.”

Any remaining tension seeps from Steve’s body fast enough to leave him feeling a bit lightheaded. He chances a glance up to see Eddie smirking softly down at him, eyes knowing as he watches Steve already beginning to slip into that headspace at the mere mention of his collar.

“That’s what I thought,” he says quietly before kissing Steve’s forehead. “Alright, up we go. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

4B - T, 4k, 1/1

andthentheybow

One of them is in college, Josh and Maisie are pretty sure, at Emerson. The other three work an odd variety of hours. They have a large amount of makeshift weapons littered where anyone can grab them, they’re all covered in scars, and whenever the lights in the hallway flicker they jump about three feet in the air.

Or, the kids that live in apartment 4B are weird.

5 times someone noticed Steve and Eddie and 1 time everyone noticed - G, 6/6

kermittheshipper

5 times somebody notices Steve and Eddie being completely and irrevocably in love and 1 time everyone notices

A Bad Day - T, 6.3k, 1/1

Abigailcantread

Steve’s friends don’t know he’s struggling and he reaches his breaking point

or

Steve has a very bad day and someone’s there to help

A Bracelet - G, 2.6k, 1/1

mewtoz

Steve is making a bracelet for Eddie and he really hopes his boyfriend will like it.

a criminal like me (and a princess like you) - T, 3.3k, 1/1

roosevelt

When Eddie comes into Family Video on one hot, boring summer day in Hawkins, long after the danger has passed and things have gotten back to normal, the last thing he expected was for Steve to invite him over his place to watch The Breakfast Club.

And the last thing either of them expected was what came after the movie.

a lunchbox full of drugs and pretzels - G, 606, 1/1

Lullabyebye

Eddie gets an actual lunch instead of just pretzels.

A Quiet (distracting) Morning - N/A, 1k, 1/1

slythekiel

A sweet rainy morning between Eddie and Steve as Eddie prepares for the next session of his campaign. Sweetness ensues.

A Secret World, My Secret Love - M, 6/6

RandomThingsInLife

Steve curses everything that led him here. Here being stuck in a Russian elevator, he was supposed to be with his fucking boyfriend tonight.

In other words, Steve's been dating Eddie for a bit, and he really wishes Dustin wasn't quite so curious.

Eddie has no clue what's going on, his boyfriend has been beat to hell and maybe drugged, and every word someone says just adds more confusion.-In other words, Eddie loves his boyfriend, but he really, really needs someone to tell him what the fuck is going on.

ahoy there - E, 7.4k, 1/1

starryskeyess

“Alright, Munson, let’s hear it,” Steve says, beckoning at Eddie. “Do your worst.”

Eddie blinks at him a few times, hiding half his face in his drink as he eyes Steve from head to toe. Everything about Eddie is intense, and the way he looks at Steve right now is no exception. Blatant and interested and heated.

Steve shudders at the look, so direct it feels like a physical touch, but he doesn’t back down.

Eventually Eddie smiles at him, wide and playful, and asks, “So when do you set sail, big boy?”

all at once it feels so right - M, 3.7k, 1/1

deadratz

Robin has never kissed anyone and is terrified of doing it wrong. Steve and Eddie both offer to give their best friend a (completely platonic) kiss to show her it's not so bad, but it ends up being too weird, and too funny of a situation for them.

Nancy ends up being the one to help Robin out.

Steve realizes that he might still be hurt over how his relationship with Nancy ended, and feels just a bit overprotective over Robin.

Eddie helps Steve.

All I Ask - M, 8.2k, 1/1

god_hates_tyler (@bisexual-cryptid)

Eddie will not stop calling Steve silly little pet names, which is really not helping the massive crush he has on him. He gets super flustered whenever he does it and makes a bit of a fool of himself in the process. Thankfully Eddie seems to like him anyway.

always a lonely boy (cry, boy, cry) - T, 2/2

riceenthusiast

If Steve got called an asshole one more time Robin would lose her actual mind. This was her official warning. The last chance everyone got to clear their fucking act before she snapped.

(Boy, did she snap.)

OR: Robin is sick of everyone putting Steve down and calling him an asshole (Steve was sick too but in a different way). She finally snaps when she has to comfort him after a breakdown.

Amantium irae amoris integratio est - T, 2.7k, 1/1

hellabifurious

Eddie and Steve didn't fight. It wasn't an official rule they'd written down somewhere, stuck on the fridge between the chore chart and the grocery list. Yet by a certain point, it simply felt like a rule of the universe, the ones that governed space and time and held together the sun and moon and stars.

Max allowed that to comfort her; coming home every day to Steve and Eddie's at most playful bickering allowed her to find solid land when everything around her was spinning out of control.

Naturally, when she heard the shouting, her stomach turned to lead.

And I'm Sorry I Left, But It Was For The Best (Thought It Never Felt Right) - T, 3k, 1/1

Babybuckleydiaz

“Oh darling, what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?” Questioned the curly haired man, and Steve wishes he could put it into words what’s going on in his head right now.

“Can I braid your hair?” He asks instead, and he expects to get questioned more or for Eddie to try and keep them on topic, but that isn’t at all the reality that he is faced with right now. Instead, Eddie smiles so softly and filled with nothing but understanding as he nods his head in silent agreement because he knows how Steve’s mind works.

- - -

“Tommy called me today, he wanted to try and be friends again.”

- - -

Steve pauses and smiles softly before he answers. “For loving me.” Is the response that he gets, and Eddie’s gaze softens into something filled with pure unadulterated love that he holds for the man sitting pretty on the couch in front of him. The corners of his mouth twitch upwards as he responds.

“You never need to thank me for that. I do it happily, lovely.”

- - -

aka: steve having a bad day and eddie is a wonderful partner

Babygirl and Sunshine - T, 2.7k, 1/1

made_of_tea

He squatted next to the bush, giving Eddie a good view of his thighs. "Anyway, why are you in a bush?"

"Henderson thinks you have a girlfriend, and we're all spying to see if you meet up with her during your morning jog," Eddie explained.

~~~

The Party thinks Steve has a girlfriend. Little do they know, the "girlfriend" is actually a boy. And that boy is Eddie Munson.

Back to the Light - T, 2.7k, 1/1

analogical9954

Dustin has a terrible nightmare about that night and there's only one place he can think to go: Steve's.

Backer? I Hardly Know Her! - T, 1k, 1/1

alligator_writes (@riality-check)

"'I quit dealing illegal shit,' Eddie says. 'Now I just get alcohol and backer for high school kids who want to party a bit.'

'Backer?'

Eddie looks at Steve like he’s stupid. 'The shit that goes in cigarettes? I know you’ve been clocked in the head a lot, but you’re not that dumb, sweetheart.'

Rude, Steve thinks to himself, then says, 'Do you mean tobacco?'

'Yeah. Backer.' Eddie has the beginnings of a shit-eating grin on his face."

AKA an incredibly niche fic in which Steve and Eddie compare their accents. (you don't need to read the first work in the series to read this one)

Bad Timing and a Good Audience - T, 5.1k, 1/1

MonstrumOstendere

After an enlightening conversation, Chrissy finds out Eddie likes Steve. Steve also finds out. Robin is just along for the ride.

be my baby ( never half & always whole. ) - G, 3.4k, 1/1

peachyyjacobs

“Don’t need you choking on your own vomit in case you throw up,” Eddie says softly, and Steve thinks he hears an underlying tone of pain somewhere in there.

“Mm ‘kay,” Steve mumbles, gazing up at Eddie through half-lidded eyes. The blurriness is starting to subside a little bit, but not all that much.

Eddie sits down next to him, his back resting against Steve’s headboard. “How are you feeling?” Eddie asks, voice soft as he looks down at Steve. His hair is curlier, frizzier, even. “Your hair looks so curly,” Steve says, curbing Eddie’s question completely. A shocked laugh is ripped from Eddie’s throat, looking down at Steve in bewilderment. “I like it when you laugh,” Steve tacks on, before Eddie can say anything in rebuttal to him.

A rose blush dusts over Eddie’s cheeks. He shifts where he sits. He clears his throat, “you do?” He asks. Steve nods, a dopey look of his own falling across his face. “Yeah, ‘s loud…Like you, like you own the whole room when you laugh.”

or, a party at Steve's soon turns into something much softer.

besides all the glamour (all we got was bruised) - M, 9.6k, 1/1

haushinka_love

He knew, through rumors and jokes and the literal handcuffs hanging on his wall that Eddie liked things rough. Probably liked his partners rough and strong and durable in a way Steve hadn’t been since the first time he swung a baseball bat full of rusty nails at a monster from an alternate dimension. Since Jonathan and Billy and several unnamed Russian officers had each taken a turn at making mincemeat of his face. Since chipped teeth and concussions and broken bone after broken bone. For all his bravado, for all the time he spent chasing down demons and play-acting a hero, he knew the second Eddie laid his hands on him, he would crumble, and he just couldn’t live with the shame of having his chance and ruining it because he couldn’t keep up.

Or, the one in which Eddie Munson lives and Steve Harrington learns that it’s okay to want.

but yours has just begun - E, 1.3k, 1/1

limerental

The plates rattle in the cabinets. The trailer's kitchen is glowing orange like fire while the sun tracks to the black edge of the horizon, and Steve can't dance for shit, always gets a little deer in the headlights when Eddie tries to hip chuck him into it. Slow, Steve puts his hands up high on Eddie's waist and tries to move with him, clumsy as shit but earnest, and Jesus Christ, Eddie wants to keep this guy snug in his pocket and feed him kitchen scraps. Get him a collar. Tug.

Calamity's Child - T, 3.6k, 1/1

glorious_spoon

It’s 10:15 on a Sunday morning, and Steve is on Eddie Munson’s couch.

More specifically: Steve is on Eddie Munson’s couch, in his boxer shorts and a shirt that's clearly been slept in, eating dry cereal out of the box and blinking slowly at the TV, which is currently playing WWF. His hair is more of a mess than Dustin has ever seen it outside of literal fights to the death. Eddie himself is nowhere to be seen.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dustin demands, dropping his backpack just inside the door.

Candle in a Window on a Cold Dark Winter's Night - G, 6/6

Shadowmouth

Five times Steve (and Eddie) spontaneously come out and one time they plan it.

come lie with me and let silence treat us kindly - T, 3.6k, 1/1

flowercrowngods

Eddie learns that sometimes Steve will just lie down on the floor and simply exist while the world around him continues. The Party know that, call it "floor time", and generally leave him be until Steve is ready to be back. Eddie doesn't mind, because it offers him even more opportunities to just look at him. To watch him.

That is, until Eddie himself is in dire need of just lying down and letting the floor work its apparent magic. It's a good thing, he finds, that Steve understands him without as many words and is very ready to just take care of him. Eddie might be a little bit in love, actually.

Or: In which they lie on the floor and take care of each other, falling in love somewhere along the way between music and silence.

Come up for air, you pull me to the floor - E, 2.2k, 1/1

L3gitD3ntist

He looked like cogs were spinning in his head, his gaze locked on Steve and weighted with longing. Steve raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak but was cut off as Eddie’s expression shifted towards a grin; wide and wolffish.

“Y’know, it’s not every day I get to see Steve Harrington on his knees in front of me.”

His voice had deepened, words followed with a low approving whistle.

“And my, my, my; what a view.”

Contact - T, 1.3k, 1/1

jesskier

AU where it’s still 1986 but everything is normal.

Steve and Eddie run and hide from Jason & his goons under the high school bleachers.

Critical Hit - E, 7.1k, 1/1

AidaRonan

Steve shows up to play DnD.

Eddie decides Steve can stay. IF 'King Steve' recognizes the real lord and master of Hellfire.

Dee - N/A, 731, 1/1

demon_spirals

“Close your eyes.”

“What was that now, Stevie?”

“You heard me! Close ‘em!”

Dirty Laundry - T, 4.3k, 1/1

sparrow_in_hawkins

Eddie is excited for Steve to attend a Corroded Coffin gig for the first time, even if it includes fighting off other guys who want to hit on Steve.

Disarmed - T, 1.5k, 1/1

crow_of_crimes

When Robin and Steve volunteer to drive Murray back to Illinois, he may have met his match, a case he finally can't crack.

Or, Murray tries to break down Robin and Steve's "relationship", but it's more of a challenge.

don't make me regret this, dingus - G, 1.7k, 1/1

kermitwashingtonlincon

The King of Hawkins High takes the Weirdest Girl in Hawkins to prom

Don't Tell Steve - T, 3.9k. 1/1

Blapblaps

Fourth of July is just around the corner, and Eddie’s determined to make it the perfect day for everyone. The best way to do that is to give the kids their own fireworks display, but the only way to do that is to keep his boyfriend calm, cool, and collected. Can’t be too difficult, right?

Double Date at the Haunted Corn Maze - T, 2.8k, 1/1

Asimplewriterlivingasimplelife2

It’s Friday night and instead of having a double date to the midnight showing of Evil Dead, Steve was standing in line for the annual Hawkins Haunted Corn Maze.

Drive Me Crazy - T, 1.7k, 1/1

Asimplewriterlivingasimplelife2

"You sure know how to drive a guy crazy Steve-O."

"Yeah?"

-

Steve and Eddie make out in the Staff Room at Family Video and get to be happy

Dying for Another Taste - N/A, 7.3k, 1/1

the_departed_one

Eddie likes to think he’s not an overly judgmental person. He prefers to take his time and fully learn someone before deciding anything about them. It’s the same grace he wishes Hawkins and all her judgmental residents had given him before writing him off as the freak. But whatever, that doesn’t matter. He’ll still give them the benefit of the doubt first, even the ones who shouldn’t get it.

The most notable exception to that is one Steve Harrington.

Or, Eddie finally learns about what the Russians did to Steve and Robin.

End of Beginning - T, series

FreshLoaf

“This is dedicated to my husband, who, at the beginning, only ever heard the shitty versions of these songs and still believed in me anyway.”

The crowd roars, and Steve hears a couple of their Chicago friends near the stage boo in jest. Eddie narrows his eyes at them and laughs.

Steve looks around at this bar that their family has shared so many memories in - he tries and fails to not let his heart overflow at the sight of so many people coming to see Eddie play in the same bar that housed empty gigs not that long ago.

He wills himself not to cry.

-

Eddie wins a Grammy, finishes an album and comes home for a secret gig - and in the arms of their old haunt, Steve surprises him.

Family is Built, not Born - N/A, 3.7k, 1/1

just_a_garbage_dump

When an argument between Steve and his father ends badly, he turns to his boyfriend for support, but instead finds Wayne, who turns out to not be half bad.

feel the magic (there's something that drives me wild) - T, 1.8k, 1/1

fivecenturiesverse

Robin is drunk and not for the first time wishes she could fall in love with Steve Harrington. Wishes she was 'normal'.

It’s dumb, really dumb, that she still wants to crow to the whole of Hawkins High that she knows what Steve looks like in the morning, in his boxers, coming out of the shower. She still wants to be normal, and it stings sometimes so harshly she thinks she might cry, that she’s never going to swoon over Steve’s arms or his stupid hair.

Fight So Dirty (But You Love So Sweet) - E, 4.2k, 1/1

god_hates_tyler (@bisexual-cryptid)

Eddie ties Steve up and marks up his chest before fucking him stupid.

First Timer - E, 2k, 1/1

ZachwyBuwnzie

Steve and Eddie do it for the first time

Forget About - M, 2k, 1/1

theoldhouse

Eddie laughed. And Steve saw the light come back into his face.

The light was beautiful.

-

Steve and Eddie share a tender moment in the RV.

four walls - T, 2.5k, 1/1

shroooms

“You got a lotta stuff,” Steve remarks, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, arms behind his back.

Eddie’s cheeks grow red. “Yeah, stuff just sorta piles up in here,” he takes a seat at the edge of his bed. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve done any kind of deep cleaning around here so, sorry for the mess.”

“No, no — it’s fine, man, it’s cool. Your room’s cool. I like it,” Steve reassures.

-

steve, eddie, and home

Fragile (Handle With Care) - E, series

LexiRoseWrites (@lexirosewrites)

All it takes is getting dragged to one Corroded Coffin concert for Steve’s life to change forever. Now he has to find a way to navigate a newfound romance with his famous soulmate while dealing with his complicated past and mothering a pack of preteen pups.

full time daddy, white and gold - E, 1.4k, 1/1

bdelaney

“You think we finally knocked you up?”

The words take a second to register in Steve’s post-orgasm haze, but then…

Oh.

get you back (by my side) - T, 3.9k, 1/1

fivecenturiesverse

Eddie hasn't spoken to Gareth and the others since whatever went down with Chrissy Cunningham, now Gareth sees him playing basketball with Steve Harrington and a bunch of kids, what the fuck is going on?

Sinclair sighs longingly.

“Okay, man, I can get behind you on the sweet and salty,” says Gareth, “but New Coke?”

“He was crazy for it,” says Harrington, grinning all fond at the back of Sinclair’s head like he’s retelling the story of his toddler’s foray into the world of art and talking Gareth through all the monstrosities in pride of place on the fridge. “Weird kid.”

Eddie is smiling at the side of Harrington’s face and Jesus Christ, Gareth never wants to meet another gay man in his whole life if their taste is Steve fucking Harrington.

get you wild, make you leave ( a little much for everyone. ) - G, 3.2k, 1/1

peachyyjacobs

“Hey,” he murmurs, slowly sitting up. Eddie whips his head to look in Steve’s direction, eyes wide and wild. He looks scared. “What’s up?” Steve whispers, more than ready to help. Eddie just shakes his head, his arms wrapped tightly around his torso. Steve glances over at the clock, barely able to see the big hand pointed at the six, and the little hand pointed at two.

“It’s two thirty, Munson. Did you have a nightmare?” Steve asks inquisitively.

And finally, Eddie opens his mouth to speak. “No,” comes his defensive reply, but Steve sees right through him.

or, it's movie night at the Wheeler's, but Steve's got something in store for him.

Getting Eddie Munson to graduate, and other acts of herosim - M, 7/7

liionne

It had only been about two weeks since Vecna and their trip to the upside down and everything had just… gone back to normal. As it always did. Life went on. The kids went back to school, he and Robin went back to work, Nancy and Jonathon were getting ready for college and Eddie…

Apparently, no one thought to check in on Eddie.

Recovering from first-time exposure wasn't easy, especially not when your return meant trying to graduate high school for the third time, so Steve decides he's going to do whatever it takes to help Eddie Munson graduate, even if it means re-learning 12th grade U.S History, and learning some things about himself along the way.

Good Dog - E, 7.8k, 1/1

PuppyKTae

Eddie calls Steve a "golden retriever boyfriend." Steve likes that a little more than he probably should.

Aka: Eddie calls Steve a good girl ❤

Handcuffs and Pleasant Surprises - E, 5k, 1/1

thefatedthoughtofyou

Steve accidentally handcuffs himself to Eddie's bed. It might be the best day of Eddie's life.

Happy Birthday, Will Byers. - T, 2.4k, 1/1

jesskier

“You forgot Will’s birthday?!”

The look on Steve’s face is nothing short of flabbergasted, and Eddie can’t exactly blame him. El and Mike are staring back at them with wide, guilty eyes and he would never touch a hair on El’s head but he kind of wants to backhand Wheeler.

“We only just moved to California and it was very difficult,” El continues, tears welling in her giant, brown eyes. “He is like my brother and I would like to make it up to him.”

“Yeah,” Mike chimes in, gesturing at El with his thumb. “It was kind of distracting when El knocked a girl in the head with a roller skate.”

All three of them glare at Mike. El opens and closes her mouth a few times, apparently at a loss for words. Eddie takes an aggressive step forward. He’s never hit a kid but if he were going to it would be Wheeler, definitely.

Before he can speak his mind, Steve steps between them, coming to the rescue (which is so very him that it makes Eddie’s chest ache). “Okay!” He claps his hands and rolls up his shirt sleeves. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”

have yourself a merry little christmas (far away from a hallmark card) - E, 9/9

JeanElaineGrey

Steve Harrington hates Christmas. Not in a Scrooge-y, Grinch-y way, but in a "my parents are never home for holidays" way. Eddie notices and worries.

He Can Handle It - T, 2.4k, 1/1

Tricker86

His parents weren’t supposed to be back for another four days, they didn’t come home early unless something happened. The last time they’d come home early was when the "earthquakes" happened, but they didn’t come home because they were worried. No, they came home because since he had been missing he was considered a suspect of murder. His parents had been furious, demanding to know why he was careless enough to let the family name be tarnished by his actions. Almost an exact replica of what they’d said the time before when they came home early because Steve had gotten suspended for getting in a fist fight with Billy Hargrove during basketball practice.

This time though there wasn’t a fight with Billy Hargrove. There wasn’t an "earthquake". There wasn’t anything other than the fact that for the past nine months he had been dating Eddie Munson.

Steve knows they know. He doesn’t know how but they know.

-

Steve's parents find out that he's dating Eddie. He doesn't know how they found out but he can't take it anymore. He doesn't care what they think or what they do. Whatever happens, he can handle it.

Head Over Heels - T, 3.5k, 1/1

possumrug

Vecna is gone. Highschool is over. Everything seems to be back on track for Eddie and Steve. But with Halloween just around the corner, what harm can a little relaxing do?

hideout series - E, series

ghosttotheparty (@ghosttotheparty)

steve and eddie fall in love pre-season two. steve keeps eddie away from the whole upside down mess, but of course he gets involved eventually. it was inevitable.

home - G, 2.6k, 1/1

peaktotheocean

Eddie was well aware that his ideas of romance were vastly different from that of the general population. Metal, for one-- super romantic music in Eddie's opinion.

His partner showing up to a metal festival after a twelve hour shift teaching/babysitting a bunch of five year olds, not even changed or showered from his day, covered in paint that he was never going to get out of his favorite sweater vest? The most romantic thing Eddie could think of.

Home (Music Box) - G, 1.7k, 1/1

eajsabandoned_acc

Steve Harrington hated hospitals with a burning passion. Smoldering, if you will.

But here he was, Hawkins Memorial Hospital, sitting in one of the stiff waiting room chairs next to Wayne Munson, waiting for Eddie to be discharged.

(Not that that needed a medal or a pat on the back, because that’s the bare fucking minimum, and he damn well knows it.)

Home Is Where The Heart Is - E, 3.8k, 1/1

calendulablooms

It feels like it's been a much more hectic day than it actually has. Steve has just worked himself up into a tizzy. The list of stuff he wants to get done before Eddie gets home is long, and he wants, no, needs everything to be perfect. Eddie's had a long day, and he deserves to come home to a clean home and dinner on the table. So Steve bustles from one end of the trailer to the other trying to get as much done as he can. He still has laundry to fold, and the floor could honestly use another going-over with the vacuum, but Eddie is due home any moment, so it's time to check on dinner.

(Or, Eddie figures out Steve maybe has a thing for being his good little housewife and indulges him like a good, sweet boyfriend)

honey, when you warm the bed on wednesday - G, 1.4k, 1/1

bartoninthevent

Slowly, Steve pulls his gaze from their joined hands to look into Eddie’s eyes. The usual deep brown of his eyes has caught the light just so and it has shifted the shade to a gorgeous amber that almost makes Eddie choke remembering how to breathe.

Holy shit, isn’t he the most beautiful man.

hopelessly devoted (to you) - T, 8.8k, 1/1

fivecenturiesverse

In Miami, on vacation with his parents, Steve meets Eddie. So what if he doesn't get a last name or a phone number, it was a summer fling and they had a great month together. He doesn't realise it was Eddie fucking Munson until the guy has a broken bottle to his neck and they're about to go face interdimensional aliens together. Steve doesn't know when his life became a very fucked up and non-musical version of Grease.

Robin’s lips twitch. “And it was just a summer fling?”

He narrows his eyes at her. “What?”

“You’re such a hopeless romantic, Steve. Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you.” He must look as confused as he feels because she laughs and says, “Dude, you like sighed his name, you’re so done for.”

“Shut up. It’s not like I’m ever going to see him again, is it? I’m never even going to hear his name again. It was a summer fling and that’s all.”

Hours and Hours - E, 7k, 1/1

Blapblaps

“My tats turning you on that much, huh?” Eddie jokes.

“All of you,” Steve whispers, “So handsome.”

Eddie’s breath hitches and he wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, bringing their bodies flush together. It sends a buzz thrumming underneath Steve’s skin.

“Talkin’ like that’s gonna get you in trouble,” Eddie’s voice is lower now, thick with something Steve hopes (knows) is love.

Steve’s hands haven’t stopped moving. “What kinda trouble,” He murmurs into Eddie’s ear, pulling their hips together.

“The kind where I keep you here and make love to you for hours.”

housing a wanted fugitive never looked so good - G, 2.6k, 1/1

just_yeole_cryptid

Dustin needs to find Eddie Munson, to help prove his innocence, and fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, he goes to Steve.

Steve, who knows exactly where Eddie is.

-

“Did you see what was on the news?” Robin asked, disturbing Steve from his reverie, as Dustin and Max hurried up to the counter.

“That’s exactly what we’re here about.” Dustin replied, hopping the counter, barely giving Steve enough time to brush a stack of VHS tapes out of his way.

“We need to find Eddie,” Max supplied, giving Steve a look.

How Do I Get You Alone? - T, 5.1k, 1/1

eerielake

Dustin rolls his eyes and pushes off of the counter. "Your shift's almost over, right? Wanna hang out?"

Steve scoops up the fallen movies. "I would, but I've got plans. Me and Eddie are meeting up at the diner."

"Oh, that's cool. I'll just come with you."

Steve pauses his work and looks over his shoulder at Dustin. He's got a pinched look on his face, like he's thinking something over. Dustin knows that can be a real struggle for him.

"Uh... I don't... I don't know if that's a good idea."

-

5 times Dustin accidentally crashes a steddie date (+ 1 time Steve crashes a Hellfire Club meeting)

[lowkeychenle]

Lost & Wayward [NJM] (1)

Description: After the worst couple weeks of your life, you finally break down in the middle of an alleyway. Jaemin hears you and comes to comfort you, and little do you know, he's about to change your life--in more ways than one.

Genre: Fluff/Eventual smut

Content Warnings: A little bit of an existential crisis at the beginning but what else is new?

Word Count: 2,452

Pairing: Na Jaemin x Reader (Canon!AU so all the Dreamies will be mentioned/appear)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Lost & Wayward Mini-Masterlist

Juliet's Masterlist

You’re officially having the worst day of your life.

After five years, you decided to break up with your ex-boyfriend last week on a whim. You waited and waited for the sadness to hit you, but it never did.

Until now, that is, when your manager pulled you aside to let you know you’d been let go from your job. You worked there for almost as long as your previous relationship, making it the last bit of normalcy you had.

To be honest, you’re more frustrated than sad, but the tears pour out either way. You walk down the street before you allow yourself to break down. You find a slot between buildings and, without a second thought, plop onto the ground and bury your head into your knees.

If you weren’t scared of shattering every bone in your fist, you’d punch the brick wall behind you and pretend it’s your boss’s face. You worked so hard for them, only to be let go because they didn’t have the hours.

You’re not sure how long you’re out there for. Could have been minutes, hours, or even a whole day and the thought would’ve skirted right past you.

“Excuse me, Miss,” a voice sounds, not quite close enough to worry you. “Is everything alright?”

It doesn’t surprise you that someone decided to ask you. It’s beyond cold outside and you’re not wearing a winter coat. The chill sets in when you remember that, but the tears burn hot on your face.

When you don’t answer, the man steps closer. The only light is the crescent moon behind him, so you can’t see him too well. He’s hesitant to approach you, but considering the amount of people walking past the alleyway on the street behind him, you’re not worried about him talking to you.

“Is it okay if I talk to you?” he asks. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I hate to see anyone sad like this.”

You sniffle, cradling your knees to your chest and nodding slightly. Soon enough, he’s squatting in front of you to look at your face. Even through the darkness, there’s something familiar about him. The majority of his face is covered by a mask, but strong eyebrows furrow over his worried eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“I’ll be okay,” you tell him. After all, you’re used to shrugging off your problems and pretending they don’t exist. That’s probably how you ended up in this situation in the first place.

“Wanna talk about it?” He tilts his head. His hair is some sort of blond, but you barely have time to register anything about him before he’s blinking expectantly at you.

“You don’t even know me.” You let out a small laugh of disbelief. “Why would you want to listen to me?”

“The world can be a lonely place.” He clasps his hands together, planting himself down on the ground in front of you. “Everyone feels like this at some point, I think. You shouldn’t have to go through it alone. And let’s not forget you chose a dingy alley to come sit in, so I couldn’t just…leave you here by yourself. It wouldn’t be right.”

“It’s a long story.”

“Lucky for you, this is one of the only days in existence where I have time to listen.” Humor laces in his tone, and it forces a smile onto your face.

You pick at your shoelaces. “It’s gonna sound stupid.”

“Hit me with it.”

“Okay, just remember you asked for this. You’re not allowed to leave until I’m done now.”

The only reason you know he’s smiling is from the way his eyes crinkle and sparkle like stars are lodged in them. He looks so damn familiar, but you can’t place it here.

“So, it started last week. I broke up with this guy I’d been dating for…a while. But that’s not what I’m sad about. Honestly, it was a long time coming, and everything he did annoyed the shit out of me—sorry, getting off track. Anyway, I was doing okay with that and being alone and stuff, but then I just got let go from my job I’ve been working in for forever. It was my dream job since I graduated, and now I’m back to square one.” You let out a shaky sigh, letting your head smack against the bricks behind you.

The man flinches at the sound. “Why’d you break up with him?”

“We weren’t right for each other. I was tired of fighting for love and affection when it should’ve just been given. I’d rather be alone than tied down and miserable, you know?” You run your fingers through your hair and wipe your eyes. “God, I must look like a complete mess.”

“Not completely,” he says in an attempt to soothe you. “Promise, I’ve seen worse.”

“Oh, do you make it a habit to come check on crying women in the street?” You meant it as a joke, but he coughs once.

“No, absolutely not.”

You’re pretty sure he’s blushing.

“I really just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He clears his throat. “What…What did you do for work?”

“Marketing,” you say. “I used to work down the street, but my boss said they’re not bringing in enough money to justify my hours. It’ll suck for them once they realize I’m the only one who brought in any money to begin with.”

“I’m really sorry that happened to you.” He pauses. “Is talking about it making you feel better?”

As much as you hate to deny it, it is.

“Yeah.” You purse your lips, pondering your thoughts. “I don’t really have any friends to talk to about this, so I appreciate you taking time to make sure I’m okay.”

“Speaking of friends.” He glances over his shoulder. “Mine are probably wondering where I am.”

“Oh.” You don’t mean to sound disappointed. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be fine.”

He looks back at you, seemingly contemplating something before a sigh escapes him. When he stands up, he holds his hand out to you. You take it, and he helps you up to your feet. Brushing yourself off, you pull your phone out of your pocket to check the time.

“Let me give you my number,” he offers. “That way you can just text or call me if you’re sad.”

“I can’t ask you to do something like that.” You silently thank whoever’s listening that it’s so dark outside. He can’t see your blush.

“I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to answer quickly, but I’d feel a lot better knowing you had someone to talk to.”

Hesitantly, you open the contacts app and click the add button. He recites his phone number, and you show him once you’re done typing it to confirm it’s correct. Once he nods, you click to add his name.

You don’t even have to ask, he already realizes what you need.

“Na Jae—” he cuts himself off with a cough. “Na Jae…Na Jaeseok.” He watches you type it in.

“Thank you, Jaeseok.” You smile at him.

“Text me if you want. Or not. I won’t be offended.” He puts his hands behind his back.

You’re about to speak when a group of six guys appears at the end of the alleyway.

“What the hell are you doing over here?” The guy in the middle tries his best to sound like he’s scolding Jaeseok, but you know there’s no real malice behind it.

“Sorry, coming.” He turns back to you. “Are you alright getting home on your own?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me.”

He jogs off to meet his friends, making eye contact with you one more time before they disappear down the street. You stare down at your phone screen, at his name and phone number, and wonder why he would do something like this.

You mutter his name under your breath, frowning when you yet again think of how familiar he feels. It didn’t matter, not really, because he was nice enough to make sure you were okay.

With that in mind, you walk home with a smile on your face. As you settle in your bed, you send him a quick text to thank him and to tell him your name.

A few days later, you awaken to your phone ringing at 7:30am. With a groan, you stare down at the unknown number with a frown.

“Hello?” you answer.

“Hi, is this (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?”

“Speaking.” You sit up, massaging your forehead.

“Hi (Y/N), this is Kim Minji, I’m head of the marketing department at SM Entertainment. I heard you’re looking for employment, and your work history is quite impressive. Are you interested in coming in for an interview?”

Your mind whirls and your eyes widen.

SM Entertainment? As in…EXO, NCT, SHINee, Red Velvet, Aespa, and so many other groups you absolutely adore? What the actual hell?

“I…I’m so sorry, but I didn’t apply…”

“You were mentioned by one of our scouts, ma’am. Although I completely understand if you’d like to pass on the interview—”

“No!” You gasp. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. No, I’d love to have an interview. The sooner, the better.”

“Perfect. If you’ll provide me with the best email address for you, I’ll send you the time and location for it.”

You happily provide Minji with your email, bubbling with energy even after you hang up the phone. Without a second thought, you open Jaeseok’s message thread.

You (7:42am): you’ll never guess what just happened to me!!!! Jaeseok (7:43am): this kinda sounds ominous…a good thing i hope? You (7:43am): didn’t you say you might take a little bit to respond? i figured that meant more than one minute Jaeseok (7:44am): well you better hurry up and tell me because i start work in 16 minutes You (7:45am): freaking sm entertainment just called me and offered me an interview. SM ENTERTAINMENT!!!!!!!!! Jaeseok (7:50am): holy shit, no way! that’s great! i’ve gotta disappear for a bit but i’m so excited for you. you’ll have to tell me how it goes

You text him back to let him know you will, and then you refresh your email for the next twenty minutes straight awaiting Minji’s email.

Your interview is the same day. Holy shit, your interview is the same day. You never even thought of applying at SM, assuming they were way too competitive for the type of work experience you have.

You dressed in a nice skirt with a button-down shirt tucked into it. Since you only own one pair of heels, you quietly thank your past self for making them work appropriate. You don’t exactly know what to expect when you walk in.

You let the lady at the front desk know you’re here for Minji, and she instructs you to sit in one of the lobby chairs. You do as she says, nervously bouncing your leg.

The door opens next to you, and immediately, you almost choke on air. Three of your favorite people in the entire world just walked in. You only realize you’re staring when Chenle, Haechan, and Jisung see you, too.

They exchange a glance, and before you know it, they continue on into the building. You fan yourself with your hand as you try to calm down. If you’re going to work at their entertainment company, you’ve got to be level-headed when you see them.

Until the rest of them walk in after. Mark, Jeno, Renjun, and Jaemin. Mark says something to the group, and that makes Jaemin throw his head back in laughter, the widest smile on his face. Good God, they even walk in sync. Your heart stutters at the sight of your years-long bias walking past you.

Jaemin is so much prettier in person. Holy shit. His hair is blue, and from the looks of his roots, it’s freshly dyed.

Every single thing that went wrong in your life over the past few weeks is suddenly not even a thought in your head. Who gives a shit about your old job when this new one has you in the presence of the world’s most beautiful angels?

And then you make eye contact with Jaemin. Your gazes lock together, and the breath leaves your body. Like the friendly human he is, he slightly bows his head at you before he continues on with the rest of Dream.

“Holy shit,” you mumble under your breath, bringing your hand up to your forehead.

It’s safe to say you rock your interview. Minji seemed to really like you. She let you know you could expect an answer by the end of the week. You, obviously, thanked her for the opportunity and left.

The first thing you do when you get home is pull your phone out and text Jaeseok.

You (3:45pm): the saga continues Jaeseok (4:03pm): another ominous text. u have to quit doing that to me! what happened? You (4:10pm): so i go in for my interview, right? which i rocked by the way, not that either of us were concerned about that, but you’ll never guess who i saw Jaeseok (5:24pm): sorry, just on my dinner break. who did you see? You (5:25pm): dinner break? what the hell do u do that keeps u at work literally all day? but anyway, i saw nct dream. freaking nct dream. they just walked right past me and i nearly had a heart attack Jaeseok (5:26pm): you’re a dream fan? You (5:30pm): i’m not like…crazy if that’s what you’re asking. i loooove them though! it would be so cool to work in the same building as them. and exo. if u want to see me crazy, put me in a room with byun baekhyun Jaeseok (5:32pm): forget exo, who’s your dream bias? You (5:45pm): why does that matter?????? i saw alllll of them, jaeseok, keep up Jaeseok (5:46pm): pinky promise i’m definitely keeping up. just curious. You (5:50pm): we are not close enough yet for me to spill those kinds of secrets. try again next week Jaeseok (5:52pm): i have to get back to work but keep me updated on if you hear anything about the job! i’m sure you rocked it.

How the hell did your life do a complete one-eighty like this? You went from crying alone in an alleyway to having a job opportunity at one of the biggest entertainment companies in South Korea. And you were blessed by the presence of NCT Dream. 

Now all you have to do is wait for Minji to call you with her decision. Can’t be that hard, right?

[aurumacadicus]

Absolutely confounded I missed this

--

Steve dropped a box of chocolates into Tony’s lap and flopped onto the couch next to him with a sigh he felt deep in his bones. “Valntn.”

“Ope,” Tony said, fumbling between it and his tablet, then turned to look at him in surprise. “Steve. Happy Valentine’s Day. Belated,” he added as an afterthought. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s not my blood,” Steve grumbled, but did move his leg so his uniform wouldn’t get the couch dirty. “Sorry I missed Valentine’s Day.”

Tony set both the box of chocolates and his tablet on the coffee table, turning to begin unlacing his boots. “You had an important mission.” He couldn’t help a fond smile. “And you still remembered to bring me chocolates.”

“I was gonna get you flowers,” Steve lamented, somehow managing to sound maudlin even as he let out a relieved sigh as Tony pulled his boot off. “I was going to take you out on the town, show you off, take you dancing. I made reservations.”

“I’m sorry they went to waste,” Tony offered, dropping his boot and turning to wrestle with the other one.

Steve sighed again, this one forlorn. “I called and cancelled when I realized the mission was running long. No point in them holding an empty table. I’m sure some lucky stiff snapped it up.” He gave Tony sad eyes. “Did you do anything fun? Please say yes.”

“Oh, well, um, everyone else had plans,” Tony said awkwardly, dropping his other shoe on the floor. “But!” he added hastily when Steve’s face fell. “I don’t mind! It would have been depressing seeing all of them with their plans and everything and knowing I had no idea if you were even safe. Besides, every place would have been so busy, and loud, and--”

“I wanted to do something special for you,” Steve cut in. “Show you that I love you and appreciate you. I asked you for the chance to plan Valentine’s Day and I feel like I blew it.”

Tony snapped his mouth shut, unable to help the heat flooding his cheeks. “Oh,” he finally said, and then, “Um. Well, it’s more like, SHIELD blew it for you? But I’m not upset,” he added when Steve raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not, okay? I knew it was possible you’d be gone over the holiday and it was because of work, so it’s not like I’ve never done the same to you or anything. I thought it was just your turn to have things fall through?”

“Tony,” Steve sighed, unable to keep the disappointment from it.

Tony turned back to the table, reaching out for the box of chocolates. Swiss. He couldn’t help a smile, smoothing his thumb over the silk lid. Steve hadn’t been able to say much about the mission beyond a clipped ‘Europe,’ but he supposed he could narrow it down now. “You spoiled me anyway. I know how much this cost, Steve,” he added when Steve opened his mouth to rebuke him. He held up the box to show off the purple flowers woven in the silk. “You can’t get one of the best brands of chocolate in the world and think I wouldn’t know.”

“You deserved more,” Steve muttered petulantly, but there was a smile curling the corners of his lips up as Tony opened the box and began picking through everything. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to make it up to me,” Tony said, staring suspiciously at a dark chocolate bonbon. It could have nougat in it or it could have champagne. He wasn’t certain he wanted to try his luck when Steve had just gotten home and he wanted to spend uninterrupted time with him. Then again, he could get tipsy and just lounge on top of him like a cat. Steve liked that sometimes, and he was tired enough he could basically be a weighted blanket.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Steve repeated firmly, reaching out to take his hand. “I want to. You do so much for me. Give me another chance to do this for you.”

Tony blinked down at his hand in surprise, then looked up at him, frowning in confusion. “Of course, Steve. I’m just saying, I’m not upset you weren’t here. I’m sorry your plans didn’t work out, but... I’m just happy that you’re here.” Steve looked like he might cry for a moment, and Tony frantically opened his mouth to backpedal, but then Steve was wrapping his arms around him, pulling him in tight and peppering kisses all over his face. “Steve,” he spluttered, laughing.

“You are so good and sweet and perfect,” Steve mumbled between kisses. “I think we should go take a bath together and get reacquainted.”

“Well, I’m sure my boyfriend is in there under all that dirt somewhere,” Tony began, then squealed when Steve hefted him up over his shoulders and began toward the bathroom.

[pinkcaddyconfessions]

Anything for You, Darlin’

- - -

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader (can be Austin!Elvis if you prefer)

Word Count: 738 words

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of the Colonel, Teasing of Smut, Language

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! Thanks for all you love you have shown this series! I’ll be busy this weekend so I will try to upload another chapter or two.

- - -

Chapter 5

June 1968

Things were definitely looking up for Elvis. Filming began for the Christmas Special, which you and him knew there was no way in hell it was gonna be a Christmas Special. Ever since little Mallory was born, Elvis had a fire lit underneath him. He wanted make something she would be proud of. He demanded that you and Mallory would be filming the whole time, against the Colonel’s wishes.

You had to admit, seeing Elvis in that black leather suit made you crazy for him. It made you want him even more than you already did.

“Elvis, I don’t know if I told you this already, but you are sexy as hell in that black leather,” you said to him as you kissed him all over his face.

“Darlin, I can see it on your face,” Elvis replied back while also blushing. He knew he had you in the palm on his hand. “(Y/N, baby, you look sexy as hell too, I mean just look at you lil mama.” The kisses began flying, but before anything could begin, Mallory woke up crying.

Both of you jumped and ran over to her, and you scooped her up in her arms. “Mallory, what’s wrong baby?,” you cooed to her while Elvis watched with concern and love in his eyes. Elvis loved his girls more than life itself. Everything he did, he did it for you and Mallory. As soon as you changed her, Elvis picked her up to soothe her.

“Hey there princess there’s no need for all this cryin’ daddy’s got you,” Elvis said to her lovingly and gently. It was like he could read her little mind because she almost instantly calmed down. Mallory Love Presley was your whole world, but she was also a daddy’s girl. She had him wrapped around her pretty little finger since the day she was born.

“Elvis stage in five minutes,” Steve Binder called out. Steve Binder and Bones Howe were the masterminds behind the special. Binder knew Elvis wanted more than just a “Christmas special”. This was do or die or Elvis’ career.

“Alright I’m ready,” Elvis called out. He looked at you holding little Mallory and walked over to kiss you both. “This is all for you two, my baby girls. I love ya,” he said to you and Mallory. The three of you walked out to the stage area where you and Mallory were seated next to Jerry. Filming began and once again, lightening had struck. You saw Elvis in his full glory performing like there was no tomorrow. Smiling, laughing like he did back in his early days. Every chance that man got, he was looking over at his girls.

December 3, 1968

When the ‘68 Comeback Special aired, the whole Presley household was watching. No one could say a word. The room was so quiet. Elvis’ leg was bouncing like crazy while you tried to settle his nerves. Of course, that’s when Mallory started to cry, so you went upstairs to get her. You brought her down so you didn’t miss a second of it.

“Come here little darlin’ daddy needs ya,” Elvis cooed to Mallory. She was truly a daddy’s girl. He could get her to calm down and vice versa. When the special ended, she was asleep in his arms and that’s when it hit you all at once: Mallory Love Presley was turning one in three weeks. Tears starting streaming down your face. Elvis looked to you when he heard you sniffling.

“Doll, are you ok? What’s wrong mama?” He asked while wiping away the tears. “Elvis….. she’s turning one in three weeks… our ba..ba..baby girl is growing up,” was all you managed to get out before you really started crying.

“Aw (Y/N) I know. It’s ok lil mama, let’s get my girls up to bed,” Elvis said. First Elvis went upstairs with Mallory to put her to bed, then he come back down to get you. He scooped you up in his arms and held you close to him while walking up the stairs. For the rest of the night, he held you close and whispered sweet nothings in your ear until you fell asleep. Not much longer after that he fell asleep with you. This was what he dreamed of: the perfect wife and family. Little did he know, life was getting ready to change again.

[redwolfstabs]

SONGS FOR STUILLY. AGAIN. ‼️ [saying this now, a lot of these lyrics are toxic as all hell, but so is stuilly, so it checks out-]

• Let’s kill tonight [panic at the disco] [this songs repeats a lot so-]

“You’re the galantine. Cold and alone, it suits you well.”

Stu as he talks about/to Billy.

“Let’s kill tonight, kill tonight. Show them all you’re not the ordinary type.”

This could go either way with these two.

• Stockholm Syndrome [Muse]

“I won’t stand in your way, let your hatred grow.”

Stu talking to Billy after what Maureen did.

“And she’ll scream, and she’ll shout, and she’ll pray. And she had a name- yeah she had a name.”

Also about Maureen, could either be Stu or Billy tbh

“This is the last time I’ll abandon you. And this is, the last time I’ll forget you.”

Billy as he speaks to Stu [I think of the kitchen scene..]

“And we’ll love, and we’ll hate, and we’ll die. All to no avail.”

Either one of them, after the kitchen scene

• This is Love [Air traffic Controller]

“You’re no good you’re no good, you could kill me and you should.”

Stu speaking to Billy.

“You must like being the victim, you’ve done nothing to get out.”

Billy at Stu.

“You’ll forgive me if I promise, and do nothing but the same.”

Also Billy at Stu

“Yeah I know wrong I know right, but I just love to pick a fight. I can sleep with one eye open, if there’s any sleep at night.”

Billy coded again

“I got my knife, got my gun. Let’s see how fast you can run.”

Billy speaking to Stu, because he would absolutely mess with Stu in the Ghostface costume

“I was good but then I quit. Everyone that tried to fix me, knows that I can’t change a bit.”

Billy coded

“I’ve got no shame, got no pride. Only skeletons to hide.”

Hmm either one of em tbf-

“Yeah once you think you’re in control, you’ll believe that we are partners and you’ll feel comfortable. Oh then the darkness rolls in and you’ll forget who I have been.”

Billy to Stu, kitchen scene.

• Psycho [Muse]

“Love, it will get you nowhere.”

Stu coded.

“Come to me now, I could use someone like you. Someone who’ll kill on my command, and asks no questions.”

Billy getting Stu to help him commit to the murders

“I’m gonna make you, I’m gonna break you, I’m gonna make you- a fucking psycho.”

Billy coded

“Your mind is just a program and I’m the virus.”

Billy coded again

“And you will kill on my command and I won’t be responsible.”

Billy when he has Stu commit a good portion of the murders

“I’m gonna make you, a fucking psycho- your ass belongs to me now.”

Billy coded

“You fucking psycho, your ass belongs to me now.”

Also Billy coded

• The Handler [Muse]

“You are my handler, I will execute your demands”

Stu following Billy

“Leave me alone, I must disassociate from you”

Billy in return to Stu

• Wolves without Teeth [Of Monsters and Men]

"Open my chest and colour my spine. I'm giving you all"

Stu showing his devotion to Billy.

"Swallow my breath, And take what is mine. I'm giving you all"

devotion

"I'll be the blood, If you'll be the bones."

could be seen as compromise- still devotion though

"Haunt me in my sleep. You'll sailing from another world, Sinking in my sea."

"You're feeding on my energy, I'm letting go of it"

"I can see through you, We are the same. It's perfectly strange. You run in my veins. How can I keep you, Inside my lungs. I breathe what is yours, You breathe what is mine"

Stu as he knows who/what billy is, and he's not off putted because he loves it.

• Partners in Crime [Set it Off] [self explanatory.]

"You'll never takes us alive, We swore that death will do us part. They'll call our crimes a work of art"

"This, the tale of, reckless love. Living a life of crime on the run"

"And if the heat comes close enough to burn, Then we'll play with fire."

"This is the night the young love died, Buried at each others side. You never took us alive, We swore that death would do us part"

[reblogs appreciated but not at all forced! <3]

[firephoenix23]

A Tad Discussion

So, I kind of wanted to do this post for a while now. I was just never sure how to collect my thoughts about it because Tad as a character is very... interesting to me, specifically his motivation for why he hates Eli and his hatred for his dad despite acting almost just like him. So, sit back and relax as I try my best to understand and explain Tad.

Tad himself, as a character was obviously not very well-liked when he was first introduced. Despite the fandom being really small at the time our tiny but mighty fandom had a bone to pick with Tad because he's just Twist but almost worse. It's like those goofy fanfic where they're like and then it turns out that along Dr. Blakk had an evil son or daughter. Like it's just really lazy and we already had a character that the fandom really liked do this plot so much better

But I don't want to talk about Twist's motivation (I'll save that hopefully for another day), but I want to talk about Tad. First of all, his motivation for hating his dad really doesn't make sense... at first, I will explain. For example, he constantly says that he's picking up where his FEEBLE father left off and Tad I don't know if you've SEEN your father but that man is not feeble for the life of him lol.

But he continues to go on to insult him calling his dad a fool and even when Boss Ember calls him junior since I assume his full name is Thaddius Blakk Jr., it really pisses him off and his points his blaster at Boss Ember saying he's no one's junior. Speaking of his name it's interesting that he goes by Tad and not Thad. I guess you could argue that he was trying to hide himself from Eli and the Shane gang but considering how much he hates being called junior I feel like that's not the case.

It's just strange. He's really pissed off at being called Junior and acts like he doesn't want to associate with him but then ACTS just like him. I mean not completely, he doesn't ghoul Peiper which is better than you can say for Twist, but it's almost like Tad knows the ghouling is wrong. Maybe that was a way to differentiate from his father. I know they say it's to control the ghouls better but still

Either way, what does this leave us with. A boy who had a horrible life on the surface that acts like his dad but doesn't want to associate himself with him and who literally says that he wants to be twice the man he was. Sounds like bad writing sure but I think it's something different. I think Tad is overcompensating.

I mean think about it. Imagine you're Tad. You have a horrible life on the surface and your father either left you or doesn't even know about you only to spend all his time in this fantasy world building a business and a life that you're not a part of.

Only to later find a map or create a map I can't remember which one it was that leads to this underground, and you think I'm gonna go see my dad only to find that he was defeated by as he says "A kid my own age" I would be pretty mad too and it's clear just like Twist, Tad is taking out his problems as his frustrations out on Eli. Also, I will say I feel like the "evilness" from Tad came outta no nowhere or it could just be bad writing.

Either way, I still think he's overcompensating for his daddy issues. Everyone does something different. Some run away and become the protector of the world, some steal treasures, some become their enemy's associate, and others resurrect their father's business lol

But to finish off, Tad clearly wants to show the world or eh Slugterra that he is clearly better than his dad and a better villain. He's kinda like, oh, you were a businessman and left me or didn't know about me well, I’m gonna be a better businessman than you ever were, and I’ll prove that leaving me behind was a mistake. He hates his father so much that he wants to prove to everyone and himself that he can be better than him and kind of show off that he never needed him. At least, that’s the kind of vibe I get from Tad.

I mean in the end, I'm probably just reading waaay too much into this character. More likely than not the writers probably were just like ooooo how cool would it be for Blakk to have a son that also lived on the surface and then betrays the gang... as if we haven't seen that before. Rip Twist