#I haven't exactly reached that stage

[brokendarkfairyempressforever]

Thanks for being alive. When you see this I want to let you know that I'm happy that you're still here. I'm happy that you're still breathing. I'm proud of you. I'm proud that you got out of bed. I'm proud that you ate something. I'm proud that you drank something. I'm proud that you cleaned. I'm proud of you for sleeping. I'm proud of you for resting. I'm proud of anything you were able to do today. Even if you think you didn't do anything I'm still proud because you're still here and haven't left yet. It's so hard to be alive when it feels like you're fighting for your life every second of your day. I'm proud. I don't know who needs to see this but you are not worthless. I promise you you're not. Right now you may feel like what's the point of being alive and you may feel like this for a long time. But as a person who suffers from a lot of mental illnesses life's worth it. I met some amazing people who make me feel life seem not that bad. I'm finding out and remembering who I am and I'm changing and I'm growing. I will have dark moments throughout my life the life I had I know there's going to be dark moments. But also I know I'm going to have moments where everything's okay not perfect but a lot better than before. I know you may think you have no one but look around there's always at least someone or maybe you have to find them but trust me when I say you're not alone in this world. I know I'm a stranger but I hope you know that I want you to be alive. I want to let you know I'm proud of you. I want to let you know I care. Please stay

[meazalykov]

Could I make a request for Obi please?

They already have a established relationship.

With her recently getting injured, could it be something along the lines of Reader got injured a few months before the World Cup and had to miss it, but Obi mostly was there for Reader. Now with it being the other way around this time, Reader feels conflicted about going to the Olympics as see knows those first few weeks are the hard but she won’t be there to support Obi.

my home is with you

lena oberdorf x uswnt!reader (requested)

authors note: i'm sad about her injury :( I wanted to see her at the olympics and start with bayern soon.. I know she will come back stronger ❤️ here's your request! normally i wouldn’t decide to write about this because it’s so soon, but i do requests (unless it’s too dark & much) so i hope you like :)

warnings: many injury mentions, very long chapter.

being back in your hometown gave you a sense of peace and warmth.

you haven't stepped foot in washington dc since 2018. you left your childhood club to go play at gotham for a year-- before moving to lyon (2020-2022) and then bayern afterwards.

waking up in the morning, you wished obi the best of luck against her game against austria. yes, she will be your competitor in the group stages against germany, but she is still your girlfriend of 2 years.

afterwards, you put your phone on dnd and put it in your adidas bag that you will take to the audi stadium. on game days, the captain (lindsey) highly discourages the players being on social media before games.

as the second captain after her, you agreed to follow that rule. social media can be toxic.

if someone really wanted to reach out to you for an emergency, they can do it through lindsey, emma, or your sisters who came to the game to support your send off to paris.

that's exactly what happened. while you were getting ready in your hotel room-- lindsey got an emergency call from sara dabritz, her lyon teammate who played for the german national team.

sara isn't on the german roster for the olympics, but alex popp asked her to call lindsey-- since she needed you to know of the news as soon as possible.

"sara?" lindsey's eyebrows knitted together. sara calling her during international break and the off-season has never happened before.

"where's y/n?" sara asked, ignoring lindsey's confused tone.

"I haven't seen her since this morning, she might be getting ready now. what's going on?"

"the entire german team is trying to get ahold of y/n. lena went down pretty badly during todays game-- it was her knee." sara swallowed.

lindsey was sad to her about the news. nobody likes when another player goes down with a *possible* acl injury.

however, she was scared on how she was going to tell you the news.

hours later at audi stadium, you walked into the stadium alongside trinity and hal. both of them play on this field for washington spirit, and the three of you bonded over the last few days-- knowing washington dc so well.

trinity and hal stopped at a water fountain to fill up their empty stanley bottles with water. your owala bottle was filled with cold ice water already, so you continued on with walking into the dressing room.

as you turned the corner into the room, you hear your coach Emma, say something along the lines of "well we can't tell her until-" before lindsey stopped her with her finger pointing at your entrance.

you were the first to arrive before the rest of the team, surprising to the captain and coach talking in the room.

"hey!" you smiled, unaware of what they know.

"hey y/n, ready for the game!?" lindsey casually says with a smirk on her face.

the poker face of the lyon player is perfection. something could be wrong but as the main captain, she can't let her emotions take over her logic.

as the second captain of the team, you had every right to question what emma and lindsey were just talking about.

however, you didn't. you were too excited to play in your hometown again. many uswnt fans came just to see you play on your turf again.

"I'm so pumped! my family came just for the send off to paris. some of them talk about "oh we can't never see you play since you're in germany." but now they're here so-" you rambled as you giggled.

for a moment, emma frowned at your happy sight. lindsey turned around to look at the coach with a guilty look, hating that they both agreed to not tell you *that news* until the end of the send-off.

"that's exciting. I'm positive we have a great game ahead." emma says.

your happy mood became a miserable one at halftime. being nil-nil against costa rica was not motivating since you wanted to impress your hometown community.

in the 70th minute, you scored off of a set piece shot by mallory swanson. the crowd screamed as they've realized that it was you, their fellow dc native, that scored the goal.

the game ended with a 1-0. you knew that the team needed tons of things to work on if you wanted a chance at winning gold in the olympics, but that will come with time.

after the send off ceremony, lindsey asked if she could personally talk to you in one of the empty conference rooms.

you agreed. at first, you thought that she was going to discuss olympic matters and what will drive the team to win gold once you reach france. since she is the first captain and you're captain whenever she isn't-- along with alyssa naeher.

however, lindsey was very tense as you sat down beside her in one of the wheel chairs. she made sure to close and lock the door as well-- this is when your heart started racing.

she is your friend and hates to give you the bad news.

"I need to tell you this before you go on your phone and see it in the locker room in front of the other girls." lindsey speaks.

your eyes widened, confused.

"what's wrong?" you start to panic.

"alex-- alex popp-- said that lena went down during the game against austria. it's her knee, y/n."

your heart shattered into a million pieces. you looked away from lindsey as you took a few deep breaths.

the blonde understood why you couldn't say anything after that moment. you thought about lena having a possible acl injury.

you panicked knowing that you weren't there to help her.

"I need my phone!'" you jump up from the wheel chair.

"here." lindsey said, pulling your phone out of her jacket pocket. she made sure that she had your phone on hand-- in private-- so none of the other girls were alarmed about seeing you so upset.

after you switched your iphone off from dnd, you had nearly 200 notifications.

the first is lena's parents-- asking you to call them whenever you had time before or after your game.

others came from lea-- updating you on what's going on with obi. she understands you were playing a game and couldn't answer right away.

some messages were from other footballers in the community that you're friends with, asking you to send well wishes to lena on their behalf.

is this how lena felt back in 2023?

back in april 2023, you were a starter in the second game against Ireland.

you weren't feeling the greatest, your friend mallory suffered a bad injury in the first game and you knew she wouldn't see the pitch for a very long time.

in the second half as the ball was coming from the air, you jumped up to head the ball. at the same time, an Irish player's foot went up in the air to get the ball.

the sharp part of the boots kicked at your ribs extremely hard. your breath was caught in your throat and you landed on the ground-- injuring your ankle by landing awkwardly.

the irish player received a red card, but you were struggling to breath as you needed medic immediately. alex and kelley stayed with you as you couldn't even sit up without squealing in pain.

your ankle was on fire and your lung felt like it was beaten in. torture would've been an understatement.

lena finished playing the game against brazil when jule pulled her-- harshly-- to look at the tv in the dressing room.

the german girl watched in horror as she seen her lover on the grass, you were crying your eyes out as you balled yourself together.

she noticed your hands going back and forth between your torso by your right lung, and your left ankle, as the medics tried their best to figure out what's wrong.

"what the fuck happened?" lena said angrily, in english-- confused as she rushed to grab the remote and turn the tv up.

"this isn't good for the united states before the world cup-- mallory went down on the first game against ireland and now *reader's last name* can barely move without a reaction." a german commentator speaks.

the entire german dressing room looks in horror.

your bayern teammates looked horrified as jule tried her best to comfort a stressed lena.

a replay of the injury happened on the tv a second later. everyone could see quinn's cleat harshly kick your ribs-- the landing on your ankle afterwards made some of the dressing room cringe as if they could've felt it themselves.

"yeah, I don't think we will see her in the world cup after this one." the woman commentator on the tv speaks when a stretcher takes you off the pitch moments later.

lena was quick to immediately call your mom and sisters, since they were there and she wasn't.

she knew how excited you were to play in your second world cup after winning the first one at age 17.

when you got back home to germany, lena was there for you. you suffered with a broken rib and grade 2 ankle sprain.

obi helped you stand up most days and picked up heavy things, since you couldn't even breathe without feeling pain for the first three weeks. lena did your chores at home, helped you with showering (your ankle made that hard to do), she did your hair. she did everything to make sure that you were okay.

you couldn't go to the world cup and watch her play, but you were still so proud of her-- even if she got eliminated in the group stage.

the injury that happened to you made lena fully committed to wanting to marry you. even through your bad injury-- you were there to comfort her once she was back from australia after a failed world cup campaign.

back in the conference room in dc, you rushed to call lea.

she answered in a heartbeat, you were surprised since it had to have been 5:30am in germany while 11:30pm back in washington dc for you.

"lea?" your voice cracked. you hated this for lena, more than your own injury from a year prior.

"how was your game?" lea tried to calm you down.

"it was fine, now what happened?" you ask.

lea didn't take offense to you wanting to know what happened. this reminded her on how lena was with you.

being her closest friend at bayern, and the one that put lena onto you, she understands the bond you have with your girlfriend better than anyone else.

"lena tried to tackle and get the ball away from a player but her knee popped. I think you need to watch this for a better understanding." lea speaks.

on the FaceTime you can see lea typing on a few things on the phone.

you looked up at a confused, yet guilty lindsey. she felt bad for you since you were far from your home in germany.

the notification on your phone showed that lea sent a link to a twitter video. you clicked on it and watch the whole thing play out.

its hard to tell at first, but slowly you could see obi's knee pop out.

this made you sick to your stomach.

after talking to lea for a few more minutes, then waking up lena's parents to talk to them (they didn't mind, they really wanted to hear from you), then laura, then klara-- you were exhausted.

you were allowed to go on the bus early and choose if you wanted to sit alone on the way back to the hotel.

lindsey told all of the girls that something happened- she explained the situation which caused the girls to feel bad for lena and your situation.

you called lena, in private, once you were back in your hotel. she sounded so hurt which caused your eyes to let out tears (quietly) as she talked about her medical scanning tommorow.

many people would do anything to participate in the olympics. you were grateful to be a bronze-medal olympian already heading to seek gold-- but you wanted to go home to lena in munich.

the best player on the uswnt was you, no debate. after scoring in the 2019 world cup final at 17, winning two champions leagues with lyon, being the second best-player now in the bundesliga with bayern, and carrying the national team to bronze in the last olympics-- the team looked up to you.

the girls let you have your space for a while. even on the plane on the way to france.

tierna, your closest friend on the national team, sat beside you. she was quiet as she watched movies while you anxiously looked at your phone to receive some kind of news.

after the plane landed, the girls were quiet as they headed out. you realized that you couldn't sit in pain waiting for the day that you will get home to munich-- that will affect the team chemistry.

as you were in your hotel room, lena called you.

"hallo liebe." you spoke softly.

you heard lena cough before a few seconds of silence started.

the fact that lena called you instead of facetiming you, you knew it was bad. the three letter injury is something u feared for lena as your eyes widened.

"its both." lena mumbles.

"its both?" you question softly as you request to switch the call to FaceTime.

lena accepts and you see her in the hospital room, tears dried down her cheeks as her red face is covered by her hands.

"acl and mcl." she breathed out as she looked at you through the camera.

you frowned as reality hit.

lena couldn't start a bayern next month.

lena won't go to the olympics.

she will have to sit out for at least eight months.

you know she will be okay, since she has the team and medical doctors to help her heal.

however, you were sad that you couldn't drop everything to go back to munich.

"obi." is all you could say.

"I already know what you're thinking-- and don't." lena randomly says.

your eyebrows knit together in confusion as she looks at you with a unreadable look.

"don't leave your team just to come here. they need you-"

"but you need me a lot more." you cut lena off.

she knows you're right, but she can't be selfish-- even with her injury.

"you will be home soon liebe, I know you love me and will care for me as soon as you can." lena says.

"once I'm back in munich, I will be there for you. you aren't going through this alone-- we will fight through this together and you will be stronger." you gave a sad smile as lena smiles for the first time since she went down on that grass.

"Ich liebe dich" she whispers.

"Ich liebe dich auch" you say back.

"when is your surgery scheduled?" you ask.

"we don't have an exact date yet, but they said it might be the week of the 29th." lena says as she lays back in the hospital bed in her black shirt and black shorts.

you didn't respond as lena flipped the camera, showing you a closer look at her knee.

"I am so sorry." you say.

"its not your fault." lena says.

"I know- but again-- I just want to be there for you."

"and you will soon, don't abandon your team." lena made it clear.

"okay, I won't" you sigh.

of course you felt bad that you didn't want to be in france, but in germany instead helping lena. however, you were sad about the group stage match against germany.

lena and you talked about that match as being one of the last moments where you will be "rivals" before she joins you in the season for bayern. now, neither will happen.

days later, the united states plays germany in the group stage after beating zambia 3-2.

you were in the starting lineup. emma needed you for this match, making sure that you talked to a sports psychologist before this match-- just so you were mentally prepared.

you knew how the germans played, so you would be a key to winning the group stage match.

as the teams were going to take their starting eleven picture, you see the germans hold up a shirt in honor of sydney and lena-- who were injured and couldn't be in the olympics.

you sadly smiled at this, happy that they're remembering them.

however, you got your act together fast. lindsey wasn't in the lineup so you were the captain of the match.

at halftime, it was 1-1. trinity rodman scored a goal in the 10th minute but klara equalized in the 34th after an error from #3 on the USWNT.

in the second half, you scored a golazo in the 55th minute after dribbling around sara doorsoun and alex popp.

unfortunately, lea equalized in the 88th minute.

the game ended 2-2 and you weren't happy or sad about it.

all of the german girls greeted you immediately with hugs and kisses on the head. you accepted them. you missed them dearly and they were the closest thing you had to lena right now.

"lea love!" you sigh in relief when you hug her tightly for thirty seconds. the cameras capture the beautiful sight as most know the significance.

"I wish obi was here right now." you lean your head on lea's shoulder as she kissed the side of your head, above your left ear.

"I do too. I hate how fate works." lea speaks through her german accent.

"same." you roll your eyes. not in anger, but in disappointment for the situation and how things can play out for the worst.

"how are you?" lea asks.

"can I be honest?" you ask. lea nods her head.

"I want to be with her. I am so grateful to be here for a second time but I can't imagine her being alone without us." you whisper into her ear.

you didn't want any of your teammates to hear you. lea is your closest friend so you know she won't tell on you.

"she's not alone, she has her parents-- but I totally understand. she will be okay." lea smiles lightly as she pulls a piece of hair of yours behind your ear, a piece of hair that fell out of your ponytail during the match.

lea is right, lena's parents are staying with her at the new house you both own until you can go back to munich-- which could happen in a few days or weeks depending on the outcome of the olympics.

"I know. she's a fighter.' you smirk.

"and a lover." lea winked at you.

lea loves the way that you and lena respect and are in-love with each other. being the third wheel is annoying sometimes (when she has to hang out with y'all instead of her own girlfriend) but she is happy for the both of you.

after multiple matches of the olympics, the united states is awarded silver after losing against france 2-1 in the final.

you were the one that scored against france.

if you said that you weren't in a rush to get home to munich, you'd be lying.

lena's surgery was pushed back to this morning. so you took the uber straight to the hospital from the airport.

the taller german was asleep as you quietly walked into the hospital room. obi's parents hugged you and congratulated you on silver.

knowing that they've been with their daughter for many days, you offer them a break.

"you guys should go down to the cafe and grab lunch for yourselves, please don't take offense to this but ihr seht beide sehr müde aus." (you both look very tired) you whisper since you didn't want to wake lena.

they loved you like their own daughter, so it didn't take them much convincing for them to get a break-- knowing their daughter was in safe hands with you.

when they shut the hospital doors behind them, lena woke up from the noise.

you took out a blanket from your carry on luggage, your back faced towards lena so you didn't see or hear her wake up.

"liebe?" you turned around quickly when you saw lena awake.

she had the same tired look that you're used to seeing when you wake up beside her, but she was smiling at your sight.

you pout in happiness as you walked up to hug her upper body.

"my sunshine, I'm so happy to see you awake." you kissed the top of her forehead as her head pressed against your chest.

lena closed her eyes in comfort, she missed you the most.

"to see me awake? omg I didn't die." lena laughed.

"oh lena shut it, you know what I meant." you giggled back, happy to see lena cracking a joke through her pain.

you look down her body to see the scar on her knee peak out from her hospital gown.

on the inside, you felt terrible. you hated seeing lena in pain. you'd rather it be yourself than her.

on the outside, you looked at lena as she gave you a peak on the lips.

after that, you saw the ponytail of her hair tangled.

"hold on lena." you pull yourself away from her arms and reach into your tote bag.

"no don't leaveeee!" lena says

"I'm not I'm just going to help you with your hair-- it will help you relax."

you pulled out a soft brush from your bag, refusing to use a comb and risk pulling on her hair after she had surgery.

"you're so sweet" lena looks at the brush in your hand and turns her head to the side, so you have better access.

"anything for my baby." you tell her as you kiss the right side of her temple.

"i'm just glad to be back home." you mumble as you start brushing through obi's hair, getting the tangles out slowly and softly.

"isn't washington dc your home?" lena giggled, joking and teasing about the game you played in dc almost a month ago.

"nope, my home is with you."

I hope you're happy with what I wrote from this request! #comebackstrongerlenaoberdorf ❤️🙌

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiesongfics.

Fan Mail

June Prompt: Song By Blondie | Word Count: 876 | Rating: T | Characters: Steve, Robin, Eddie | CW: Language | Tags: Future Fic, Canon Divergence, No Upside Down, Steve "I'm a Big Fan" Harrington, Platonic Stobin

For a song by Blondie, I picked Fan Mail.

The crumpled ball of paper hits the wall, banking off and falling straight into the trash can. At least his aim is good, even if his writing isn't. Steve looks up at the poster over his desk, and sighs. He's fucking pathetic. Seriously, is his plan really that he's gonna write Eddie "The Freak" Munson with some, what, fan mail? Yeah, that's a great fucking plan. 

Hi, remember me? We went to high school together. I was a bit of a dick, but I'm hoping you've forgotten that. You're pretty hot up on that stage. Call me.

Yeah, right. 

He's definitely aborting this mission. It was a stupid idea, anyway.

A few weeks later, Steve pulls a stack of letters out of the mailbox. Bill, bill, junk, junk, bill…and then his stomach drops with dread. A red envelope, with the Corroded Coffin logo drawn in the corner, where the return address should be.

What the fuck? No, seriously, what the fuck?

Steve takes it to the kitchen counter and sits it down, filled with dread. He didn't lose his mind and actually mail one of those goddamn letters, right? Surely he'd remember doing something as unhinged as that. 

He wants to open it, but he also really doesn't want to know what's inside.

So, it sits. For an hour, a day, a week.

It sits until Robin swings by one day, and picks it up like the Nosey Nellie she is, "What's this, dingus?"

Steve reaches for it, trying to grab it from her grubby little hands, "Nothing!"

"It doesn't sound like it's nothing," she crows, and holds it behind her back. 

"Robin, give it to me," he warns, low and pissy. If he opens it, it's gonna be on his own terms. And that's a big if. As long as he leaves it alone, he'll never have to know what's inside. Good, bad or ugly.

"Why haven't you opened it? Maybe it's important," she says, "maybe it's from Eddie."

And he knows. He suddenly knows exactly what's happened here, and he's gonna kill her.

"What the fuck did you do?" he asks, eyes narrowed.

"What you were too chickenshit to," she says, and she presses the envelope to his chest.

"Goddamnit, Robin," Steve says, feeling embarrassed and sick, "they weren't, I wasn't, ready."

Robin's eyes soften, "I know you, Steve. You'd never be ready."

She's not wrong, she's not, but still. She shouldn't have done this to him. It could be classified as a hate crime, he's pretty sure. And maybe even tampering with the U.S. mail. That's a federal offense. He could have her prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

"Quit daydreaming about my demise, and just open it. Then you can kill me if you need to," she says, and he nods, sliding onto the stool at the counter. 

He slides his thumb under the flap of the envelope and tugs, ripping it open, pulling out the letter. When he unfolds it, two tickets fall onto the counter and Robin reaches for them, and he just lets her. 

And he reads. 

It's short, and funny, and not as embarrassing as he'd feared. Eddie seems happy to have heard from him, and the two tickets are an invitation. It seems casual, but Steve knows better.

Holy shit.

He's actually made a fucking pass at Eddie Munson, and he seems to have made one back? What is happening right now? For real. 

"Well?" Robin asks, bouncing on the balls of her feet, impatient. 

"He invited me, us, to their show in Indy next month."

"See? I told you it'd be fine, dingus," she says, and he nods.

He spins on his chair, to face her full-on, "What version did you send?"

Steve suddenly needs to know how embarrassed he needs to be right now.

"The least stalkerish one, I swear," she says, "and I included a note from me, so he'd know, you weren't exactly aware it was being mailed."

That's probably more embarrassing, he thinks. Like he was just sitting there, pining, like a fool, and his best friend had to intervene.

Eddie must think he's the fucking freak, now. 

The tickets are good. Really good, Steve has suddenly realized, as they stand right next to the stage. They aren't front and center, more off to the side, but still. Right there. Front row. Where Eddie will definitely be able to see them, and know they came, if he just looks down.

And he does. 

As soon as he hits the stage, he comes right to their side, squats down, and reaches out to hand Steve something. Steve's frozen, eyes locked on Eddie's, so it's Robin's hand that reaches out and takes the folded up piece of paper he's offering.

Once Eddie's gone from in front of them, taking his spot center stage and getting the show started, Robin is unfolding the piece of paper. 

Steve leans over her shoulder, and it's dark. Nearly too dark to read, but it's fan mail. Right back. Talking about how he'd always liked looking at him, too, back in high school.

That he'd like to look at him a little bit more after the show tonight, if Steve is interested.

Oh.

Steve is definitely interested.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiesongfics and follow along with the fun! 🎶

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Ask me about my sins (and I'll tell you about my love)

carry me slowly, my sunlight (these colours, they fade for you only) - series masterlist here

pairing: damian wayne x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.8k

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

warnings: the initial awkwardness of enemies to lovers who have JUST moved on to the lovers stage, there's a lil jealousy but it's smoothed over pretty easily

a/n: this is a bit of a longer one but whatever I hope y'all like it <3

The galas Bruce Wayne holds may have become a normal occurrence for Damian, but the thought of them and everything they entail still makes something uneasy stir in your gut. Damian assures you that it's fine - that it's understandable. He stares intently in the mirror, straightening his suit as he speaks soothing words.

"You haven't been in Gotham for very long," he says. "No one expects you to adjust to life here immediately… and no one will demand you do anything you're not comfortable with. Ever. If you never go to one of these galas, that's fine with me."

You stare at the pattern of the wood floor in Damian's room, your hands bunching the covers of his bed where you sit as he moves to stand in front of you. He doesn't touch you - he's not sure enough, yet. This newfound peace between the two of you is still so fragile and neither of you know exactly how to navigate it yet. It pains him, though - he often finds himself wishing he could reach out, wishing there was something he could do to bridge the gap between the two of you.

"You've adapted to life outside of the League very well," you say quietly, a sharpness coating your words. There's an accusation there somewhere, maybe born of jealousy, maybe born of fear. Damian doesn't take the bait, though - another indicator of the ways in which he's grown since coming here. Another moment that leaves a bitterness on your tongue.

"No," he responds simply. "It's just that the years I spent learning this new life, you were… still back there. You knew me in the League and you know me now. There was an in-between that you just didn't see."

You don't respond to his words, a swirling sort of panic rising in your chest at the reminder that there was so much of him that you missed, so much of his life that you were so far away for. Damian kneels in front of you, tilting his head to lock his eyes with yours, a gentle love shining in his irises that makes you wish you could run away - again. 

"Please be here tonight when I get back?" he asks softly. "We can talk more about this then." You nod at his words and he reaches out slowly, taking your hand in his and pressing a series of delicate kisses to your knuckles. There are words neither of you can say yet, bridges neither of you are ready to cross, but he hopes - every day he hopes that you know how much he loves you. And every day you pray he can see how much you love him back.

Having spent his whole life circling you and watching you circle back, it's almost second nature for Damian, now, to check for you. No one else is aware of your presence, too focused on the press and the dresses and the endless champagne that comes with these events - not that any of them could find you if they tried, Damian thinks smugly. He knows, of course. He always knows. The flicker of a shadow seen through a window, a rustle on the balcony near him, the ever-present feeling of eyes on him. 

Damian doesn't mind, he realizes. He takes no issue with your hawk-like gaze trained on him from a vantage point no one else can find. In a way, it makes him feel better. You're not here, in front of him, where he can keep you safe - but if you're around, then you must be okay. It soothes something in him - something new and foreign that pleads with him and demands he take care of you. It's an unfamiliar feeling, one that trips him up and knocks him off balance. He has a hard time placing the moment he stopped being possessive of you as his enemy and started becoming protective of you as his… well, he doesn't even really know yet.

He does mind when a girl his age bumps into him at the gala, a glass of something sparkling in her hand as she giggles and promises that it was an accident, her hand finding itself placed on his chest. And he minds even more when, amidst his attempts to escape the sudden intrusion on his train of thought he suddenly… can't find you or feel you anywhere.  He removes the girl's hands quickly, excusing himself and slipping out, away from the noise and the politeness and the showiness of it all.

"You cut your party short," you say quietly, not turning to look at where Damian's climbed onto the roof of the Manor behind you, dress shirt ruffled and jacket unbuttoned. You don't need to turn to know he's there, silent as he is. You always know.

"It's not my party. I made my appearance," he shrugs, sitting down next to you and staring at you intently. You keep your gaze trained up, staring at the night sky as you sit stiffly, back straight and shoulders back. 

"She means nothing to me," Damian says firmly when you remain silent. You tense at his words. "I don't even know who she was."

"...It's fine," you say stubbornly. Damian sighs. Silence covers the two of you, the weight of it bearing down on the uneasiness - the stubbornness and the frustration of you both. Damian shifts, finding himself unsure, once again. You had always been better at this than him - always been more sure of yourself when it came to mind games. He finds himself wishing suddenly that he had a sword in his hands - it was always easier to fight you like that.

"You're… jealous," he says slowly, like he's trying to figure out where you stand in the situation. You snap your head around to look at him and he winces internally. Wrong guess, he thinks.

"I'm not," you respond stubbornly and he thinks briefly that this isn't the tact he's used to seeing you use in verbal sparring matches. He's not sure if it soothes or stresses him that he seems to unarm you the same way you so effortlessly unarm him. 

"We were apart for years, Damian," you continue quietly, looking away from him pointedly. "And… we were never actually together. And we were so young when you left the League. And…" you trail off, eyes shifting as you seemingly search for the right words.

"And…?" he prompts patiently. You sigh, slumping over ever so slightly, cracking your perfect posture for just a moment. Damian wonders if anyone else has ever seen you like this or if he's an exception - then kicks himself mentally for focusing on something like that right now.

"You came to Gotham for a second chance - a new life. I don't expect that you sat here waiting for me… I don't expect that there was never anyone else," you finish glumly, still pointedly looking anywhere but Damian as you speak. He makes a strange sound at your words, a strangled sort of panicked noise at the idea that you're presenting to him.

He turns suddenly, facing you completely as he reaches out, hands outstretching towards you so fast and determinedly that you jerk back, years of the two of you on opposite sides of a bloody fight flashing in front of your eyes. But there's no fight in Damian tonight. There's no violence in the way he cups your cheeks tenderly in his hands, pulling himself forward to press a kiss to your lips. 

Your own surprised sound leaves your throat at the action, your hands reaching up to wrap around Damian's wrists as he kisses you. Maybe you both expect for you to pull him away, but you find your fingers wrapping around the delicate bones of his wrists and keeping him there, pressed against you.

By the time the two of you part, you're both gasping for breath and you find yourself half in Damian's lap, your chest heaving against his as his hands anchor you to him. He tips his head forward to touch his forehead to yours, leaning into you as you relax against him. A faint smile flits over his lips at the way you sag against his chest, letting the tension you've lived with for so long slip ever so slightly off your shoulders.

Eventually, he brings a hand to cup your cheek again, firmly this time, moving just enough to look at you. You're close still - close enough that you can feel his lips brush against yours as he talks and you can't help but notice the way his heart beats against his chest and into yours. 

"It was always you," he says in that voice that you know is reserved for you - that voice that's gentle and loving and full of so much emotion that it nearly wavers. "There was never anyone else - not even in my thoughts. Certainly not pressed up against me like this."

You huff at his words, your cheeks beginning to feel hot as you pull away from him just enough to let your head fall to his shoulder, your face hidden from him. He lets you, thankfully, humming in contentment and just a touch of smugness as he pulls you closer to him, your weight a welcoming blanket.

"I think…"  you begin, pulling your face away from his neck to look at him again. "I think this may have been inevitable. I think we… might have been inevitable." Damian grins at your words, his smile flashing in a way that makes your stomach swoop.

"I think you're right," he says firmly. Sounds of the gala float up towards the two of you as you sit together, leaning against each other. "I was, by the way," he continues. You cock your head to the side.

"What?"

"I was waiting for you. And I would again, if I needed to. Until the end of my days." Damian says it so simply, so matter-of-factly, and something in your brain feels fuzzy because of it.

"Well… I'm sorry to have kept you waiting for so long," you respond gently, a smile passing across your lips quickly. Damian's returning smile is just as small - just as shy. His voice, in his response, is soft in a way that blankets you.

"You don't need to apologize. Your mistakes are not sins to me and your missteps do not demand penance. You will never have to ask for my forgiveness because it will always be given… without question, without hesitation, without uncertainty. It's… inevitable."

You laugh at his words and Damian feels his heart soar.

"Yes," you agree. "I suppose it is."

[yanderenightmare]

something i havent seen you do is Bakugou with an equally famous or successful reader, like she's still quirkless but maybe an idol of sorts? i think it could be interesting

BNHA ! HEADCANONS + IMAGINE

Bakugou Katsuki x darling

TW: yandere, some slight nsfw, obsession, coercion, abuse of power

PROFESSIONAL

Your face is on the poster plastered right next to his, only you look like his stark opposite.

Flowers instead of explosions frames you and your dewy skin. Glittering with the spritz of perfume you’re commercializing instead of the droplets of sweat and grease he’s smeared with.

A catlike grin plays deceptively soft in the corner of your glossy lips, whereas his bear a crazed maniacal demonstration of canines like a rabid mongrel.

And your eyes, painted with a seductive blend of smokey colors similar to the smudge of his war paint, though refined to make you look oh-so-lush and divine, like a queen, and he, only a lowly sooty footsoldier in comparison.

He buys magazines you’re featuring in and reads them before bed.

Ending up with a hand bobbing beneath the cover.

Feeling lucky like none when the poster within is a large A3 foldout of you in something rather risqué. 

He reads your interviews from cover to cover or watches them on TV.

His heart pounding when the segment of your nameless childhood bully is brought up. Happy to see you haven't forgotten him.

He was a complete desperate mess when you did that extremely private lingerie commercial that had you showing off nearly all assets on a set of pillows and plushies.

Losing his mind looking through the mesh and chiffon right to where your nipples teased him with their perky strut. 

Not to mention your face and your expressions… 

You really know how to play to the camera. So much so it makes him jealous of the photographer. 

He’d like to be the one to tell you to pose and give him a pout. Pretending he is when slowly peeling each page over to view the following image. Throat tight and dry and palms sweaty, watching you crawl and give a rather intimidatingly large teddy bear a kiss on the cheek.

You’ve definitely become something different from your shared days in middle school.

Something confident and alluring.

Something he wants to play with in a wide new variety of ways than before.

It’s good that your industry often intertwines with his.

He knows exactly which model to request when his agency wants to shoot a new campaign poster starring Dynamight saving a Damsel in Distress.

No one but you fit the role so picture-perfectly, being both a beautiful idol and a quirkless citizen.

You’ve learned to refrain from asking your handler any questions, just doing what the strict woman tells you, be it what jobs to take, how to dress, or what to eat. It’s better that way. She’s a professional, and you owe your entire career to her wisdom. But once you get to the photo shoot and start recognizing the props of a certain hero decorating the stage, you get queasy with unease upon understanding exactly which pro hero you’re going to be shooting with. 

Swallowing thickly, you bar yourself in your dressing room for a minute. Your handler already shouting at your ear enough to make you wince with tears at the ready as you try to explain the sticky situation to her. Naturally, your cries fall upon deaf ears, and soon enough, you’re convinced you’re being silly. This is a huge opportunity, after all. Dynamight is on par with Deku, having shared the title of the number one hero ever since they graduated. It would be career suicide to decline a collab with him, especially now that you’re already under contract with his agency.

You splash your face with cold water to calm the swelling left by your tears and get dressed in the silky white summer dress provided to you. It’s a pretty article, you think without being overly happy about it. It’s a thin, nearly see-through, backless model with a rather deep dip reaching down between your breasts. And though it isn’t at all the first time you flaunt your body in a nearly nude state in front of the world, it certainly is the first time you do so in front of the guy who used to pick your appearance apart until you cried. You only hope he doesn’t recognize you and that the shoot will be over before he eventually can.

You’re glad your handler does what her job suggests and handles all handshakes and greetings on your behalf. But though all the formalities of the work fall upon her shoulders, the part of the actual modeling is something only you can do.

You’re able to remain professional for the most part, barely ever glancing in his direction, though picking up on his mass from the corner of your eye and through the veil of fake lashes where you keep your eyes glued to the floor as the photographer gives instructions for the new pose. But then comes the direction you were dreading, the one which has the two of you touching. And even though you knew it was inevitable, you still flinch when he puts his hands on you.

And though the assistants, handlers, managers, and photographers are all oblivious to your discomfort, he notices, smiling at your tiny shivers and how well you hide them.

He’s so much bigger than you remember, you think while you try steadying your breath and convincing yourself that it isn’t any different from all those other times you’ve gone out of your comfort zone for the sake of a good deal. The shoot you did for Playboy Magazine had practically been a porno, and that time you’d been surrounded by a great deal of big beefy men, much similar to the one touching you now. 

Still tough... you had a laugh that time around. You had fun.

This wasn’t fun.

“Funny this.” He spoke, and you feared he was speaking to none other than you.

Holding you in a scoop of a bridal carry, you felt the harsh metal of his costume dig into your skin, not more than the grip of his hands clawing at your flesh like a predator sinking its teeth into caught prey. The grime on his fingers dirtying the white of your dress.

“Or… ironic is a better word for it.” He adds, and you finally look up into that face that still sometimes haunts you in your dreams despite having been out of your life for years. “Oh- don’t say you don’t remember me, Quirkless?”

After the shoot, the photographer praises you on your ability to portray true distress, unbeknownst that the sentiments in your expressions were genuine, and you almost trip over the stage props while thanking him, wanting to leave the set as quickly as possible in favor of going home.

But obviously, shooting a campaign poster isn’t why you’re there.

“Have dinner with me.” He says, with his hand, seemingly made to break bones, wrapped tight around your twiggy wrist. Stopping you from running away.

And just as expected, your handler accepts before you can make the costly mistake of refusing.

tip-jar: Kofi

[coffeeghoulie]

Mushy May Day 12: First Time

Dew's entrusted with Aeon's first time Up Top.

Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together, and to @ghuleh-recs for the divider <3

Contains t4t ghouls, discussion of boundaries, a little miscommunication that is quickly resolved, but no actual smut because this got long and it was very late lol

"I'm not him, you know," Aeon says tentatively, pulling away from the barrage of kisses, even as Dew keeps backing them against the wall of their hotel room. They're somewhere they've never been before, somewhere in the middle of the United States that they can't really remember the name of. "I don't know if I want it if this is just because he's not here."

"Voidling," Dew freezes, hands caging Aeon in. Something in his hungry expression cracks, softens, and Aeon stares with wide, nervous eyes as Dew brings a hand in, running his knobby knuckles over Aeon's cheek in a sort of caress. His brow furrows. "Did you think I wanted you because Aether's back at the Abbey?"

Aeon shrinks back as much as they can. It isn't a lot, their spine already pressed to the tacky hotel wallpaper. They can't meet Dew's eyes. The silence is enough of an answer. Dew hums, and Aeon squeezes their eyes shut. They bite at their already kiss-swollen bottom lip.

"Voidling, look at me," Dew says in a tone that Aeon's never heard from the fire ghoul before. It's shockingly soft, and it's enough of a jolt to their system that they glance up, mismatched eyes meeting copper. He sighs, and Aeon tenses up as he keeps touching their cheek. "I want this because it's you. Blow off some steam, yes, but because I wanted to do this with you. If you don't, if you think you're obligated to keep going, tell me to fuck right off, okay?"

Aeon blinks, a little shellshocked. They had played it up at the Ritual a few hours earlier, falling to their knees at Dew's feet and bending back so far their helmet had brushed against the stage.

Dew had stalked up to them after bows, spindly fingers around the back of their neck burning like a brand, whispering in a low, dark tone that they'd be rooming with him tonight. It had sent a spark of something hot down their spine. And when they had gotten to the hotel, and the door had barely latched behind them before Dew was pouncing, kissing them like he meant to devour?

It hadn't been a spark. More like a bonfire.

They've tried to make up for their inexperience with enthusiasm, pretending like they haven't been staring at him since the moment they arrived Up Top a few months ago.

"Voidling?" Dew asks, an undercurrent of worry filtering into his voice. "Hey, Aeon, you alright?"

Aeon shakes their head, not as a no but to clear their head. "'M okay," they say, trying their best to maintain eye contact.

"What's goin' on in there, Aeon?" Dew asks, hand still on their cheek. "Let me in."

"I want this, I do, I'm just-" They sputter, tongue too big in their mouth, unyieldy.

"Easy. Take a breath. 'M not gonna bite. Not unless you ask."

Aeon obeys, chest heaving as they inhale hard. "I haven't done this Up Top yet, not in a vessel. I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Oh," Dew's hands move down from their face, curling softly around their biceps. "That's okay. I'd be honored, voidling, that is, if you're sure you want it to be me. I haven't exactly been, ugh, the nicest to you."

Aeon flushes a dark violet, making silver freckles stand out on their cheeks. Their mismatched eyes go wide, hair falling over their forehead with how violently they nod. "Please, really want it to be you."

Dew smiles, something softer than Aeon's ever seen on the fire ghoul's face, and he reaches up to push a few strands back. The lamplight softens his sharp features, and he cocks his head. "Let me treat you right, voidling."

Aeon nods again, and Dew draws them into another kiss. This is like nothing Aeon's ever experienced, leagues of difference between this and the kisses from before, the ones that felt like Dew was trying to consume them whole. This feels almost reverent, the way Dew's lips move against theirs, the way he cups their cheek like they're something to be cherished. They don't know what to do with their hands, brushing over Dew's hair, down his arms.

They kiss like that until Aeon's dizzy with it, pulling back to pant desperately. There's a warmth blooming deep in their gut, knees shaking. Dew laughs, not unkind, and begins to herd him towards one of the queen beds. Their eyes go wide as the backs of their calves bump against the mattress, collapsing back onto the bed.

"Again, voidling, if you don't like any of this, tell me to fuck off. Those words. Okay?" Dew looks more serious than he has the entire time, a small furrow between his brows that Aeon has the impulse to kiss away.

"If I don't like it, I'll tell you to fuck off," they repeat, nodding. Dew's lips quirk up in a smirk, and it sends a bolt of heat down Aeon's spine, tail flicking as they prop themself up on their elbows.

"Good boy," he purrs, crowding closer before pausing. "'Boy' a good word for you?"

Aeon chews on their bottom lip, the pupil of their good eye probably dilated to the size of a quarter. "Very much so," they breathe.

Dew nods curtly, visibly filing that information away in his brain. "Let's get you stripped down, want to see what you're hiding under those hoodies, voidling."

Aeon obeys, tugging the hoodie up over their head. "You've seen me changing, though," they say, struggling not to tangle the hoodie in their horns with how eager they are to get rid of it. "We share dressing rooms."

Dew leans in, a glint in his copper eyes. "Yeah, but I've never looked. Let me see."

Aeon swallows hard, tossing the hoodie at the corner of the room, blush spilling down their chest as they feel more than see Dew's eyes on them.

"Pretty," Dew hums, gaze raking over the swell of Aeon's chest. The chill of the air conditioning makes their nipples pebble, a pretty lavender against the rest of their skin, and they fight the urge to cover themself with their arms.

Dew notices, because of course he does, ever perceptive, and tugs his own hoodie off, revealing skin covered in silvery scars, matching sets along his ribcage and two much more prominent ones underneath his pecs. Aeon swallows the saliva pooling on their tongue, staring unashamedly. "That's better, right?" Dew laughs, pressing closer until Aeon can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

"Yeah," Aeon says, chest heaving and all they've done is kiss. "Dew, please." It's not something that they meant to say, but it slips past their lips on a whine.

Dew absolutely lights up at the sound. "What, voidling? What are you begging all pretty for?"

Aeon tries to turn their head away, but then Dew's fingers are on their chin, gently making them keep eye contact. "Please fuck me?"

Dew leans in, pressing a soft kiss at the corner of Aeon's mouth. "Of course, voidling. I'm going to take such good care of you, I promise."

[tadc-harlequin-au]

God I'm way too invested in this au. Anyway I wanna hear more of the biology of the puppets and marionettes (might make fanart maybe)

I don't think I'm fully ready to delve into the topic of a Marionette because it reveals major story spoilers, for now just know that they are completely and utterly devoid of life, forever following an endless directive.

For the Puppets, I guess I can give a little bit more information about them, as long as I'm not crossing a personal story boundary I've set for myself lol

Once a Puppet reaches the first enlightenment stage, black tendrils begin to appear on their innermost structures slowly but steadily, as I've explained with Caine.

These things, these transformations... they can be jarring for the Puppet experiencing them for the first time especially when the Puppet starts to feel full sensations such as an electrifying jolt, a pain, or a touch, but make no mistake; aside from their weird alien appearance they mean no danger, and they can even come in pretty handy.

About half-way through the story, Pomni actually gains new abilities everytime she reaches a stage of enlightenment, and there are six steps to achieving the full process, and it may vary on how fast or slow these Puppets can achieve them.

Yeah, can you tell this is like, the leveling up system? lol

Firstly, let's start with Awareness.

Awareness is when a Puppet grows to think beyond their directive; their thoughts becomes separated from the imprinted norm that they used to know their whole existence.

Although, it's still the first stage, which means that even if a Puppet begins to think original thoughts for themselves, they'll still have a tendency to follow the original commands.

They'll just start thinking "hey, maybe I should stop and think about what exactly I'm doing for a second. Just for a second. Then I promise I'll go back to my routine."

At this rate, there's not much changes happening on the physical, except letting a Puppet feel physical touch, despite their mechanical body.

Secondly; Sentience

Sentience is when a Puppet grows... well, a genuine sentience, one that wasn't pseudo and pre-programmed into their very being.

They'll start exploring aspects that they haven't thought of exploring, and this is where creativity and imagination gets to shine a little more if the Puppet is on the creative side of things.

a Puppet may undergo a change of personality (not always guaranteed), so don't be surprised when the once-happy-go-lucky puppet starts crying out of nowhere.

black tendrils may seep out of an exposed joint or a cracked part, but they're only tiny little veins.

Thirdly; Conscience

Conscience is when a Puppet starts to feel emotions based on an inner moral system, that wasn't, again; pre-programmed into them.

they'll start to THINK what's right or wrong based on personal experiences, or maybe even remember their OWN former moral system from their past life, and even a combination of the two.

This is usually the part where they'll start to judge the directive imprinted into them, maybe bouts of unknown regrets will come too.

the veins become more noticeable at this stage, and can now be used for physical attributes/advantages.

Fourth; Reminiscence

This one is usually in tandem with the third, but not everyone can have the same case, since it always varies between all of them.

Reminiscence is when a Puppet remembers their past life prior to becoming what they are now; no strings holding them back from recalling anymore.

These come in the form of seeing major life events unfold right between your eyes; whereas before, there'll only be hazy glimpses.

Fifth; Persipience

Persipience is when a Puppet becomes wiser, and can now overcome the directive they were tasked with if they wished to.

This process can be agonizing for some because it is similar to the symptom of a withdrawal from an addiction.

Fortunately, once they've gotten over past that obstacle, they'll gain full automation over their bodies, the "itch" no longer as present as it used to be.

Sixth; Enlightenment

The final step.

A Puppet needs to come to terms with their new discovery.

They need to be at peace with the process of what had happened to them, accepting the progression from "Human" to "Puppet" as a part of their existence.

Final evolution takes place, and the Puppet can now fully utilize their soul magic to it's fullest extent.

Just like wisdom, not many are willing to go through this process/or can achieve this, since accepting the idea of "becoming a Puppet" like it's similar to the concept of growing up from adolescence to adulthood can be hard for some to fully stomach.

Although, it is considered as the "fully matured" process of the six stages.

Now, Madness takes just as much of steps as Enlightenment does. Only this time, you're on the wrong end of the stick.

Firstly; there's Isolation.

As the name itself applies, isolation is when a Puppet denies/is denied social interaction that their soul wants, prioritizing objectives over anything.

Subtle twitchiness may occur.

Secondly; Revelation

A revelation settles deep within a soul fragment laying inside a puppet's heart; they're trapped, and there's no escape.

Can also be called "entrapment", but revelation is cooler and sounds more fancy

Thirdly; Rebellion

Rebellion is when an attempt to rebel against the internal system of a Puppet takes place, but is not achieved due to the lack of free will and sentience on the physical and mental body.

The body becomes more uncontrollable, dangerously swinging and twisting.

the literal metaphor of an internal battle happening within oneself.

Fourth; Corruption

Another attempt is made by the soul energy, only this time, it's harnessing the worse aspects of a Puppet to propel itself and grow physically stronger, a desperate option.

large, black tendrils may burst through weaker parts and/or limbs; namely joints.

Repairs? What's that? Who even needs 'em lmaoooo

Fifth; Obsession

A Puppet begins to obsess over directives; a byproduct of the soul energy harnessing the negative traits that it's host was ingrained with.

The physical appearance of a Puppet becomes more grim, overexaggerated features that you'd only see in horror movies start to become more prominent.

Work is non-stop, no breaks. Liberation is irrelevant. The concept of humanity is irrelevant. They only exist to follow their directives now. If some shithead wants to tell you otherwise, they will fucking DIE.

Sixth; Madness

You've grown physically stronger. But at what cost?

ANYWAYS that was a massive infodump, what were talking about again?

Oh right. Puppet biology.

Uh, They're hella weird.

[salchat]

So, here's another Dean. This one's in neocolor crayon, which are very soft crayons - you can use water with them, but I haven't here, because the paper's newsprint and it would fall to pieces very quickly if I used water.

While I was drawing, I was pondering various arty matters. Mainly, how some art/craft posts - mostly on Facebook rather than here - irritate the hell out of me. You know the ones. Where there's some amazing piece of art/craft, but the caption is something like, 'please be kind - it's my first time!' When it's blatantly not their first time, unless art and craft is just plain easy, which it isn't. Anyway, I'm not sure why people make those posts - for others to comment how amazing they are? I suppose. But it must be pretty hollow to receive such compliments. Unless it really is their first time. And even then...

So, anyway, it made me think, why do I post my art? What exactly do I get out of it? Do I do it to receive validation in the form of compliments? I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that, but I just wanted to be really honest with myself. And also, why do I make art in the first place and why this particular type of art, drawing the same characters over and over?

Well, I think I draw for the same, or similar reasons that I write - because it's my own world, that I can control. There's comfort there, isn't there? And comfort in the characters I draw and write about - they're not called comfort characters for nothing, after all. And they're beautiful, aren't they? They're just damn beautiful. Why wouldn't I want to draw them?

So, I guess I want to pour my love into creating something beautiful, or as near beauty as I can get. And I choose to do that with my crayons or my charcoal or my pastels because I love those things too - their colours, the way they spread, the way you can make big, soft marks or sharp, dark marks, the way you can smush them around with your fingers, the way you can just mess about and sometimes it doesn't work and sometimes you get an amazing effect that you didn't know was possible. I love drawing randomly, roughly, searching and searching until I find what I want.

But why post online? Hmm... Well, yes, it is nice when people think what I've created is technically skilful. I have an ego that likes to be stroked, same as anyone else. But if that was the only reason, I'd probably cheat. Some people do. And if that makes them happy, who am I to criticize?

Anyway, I think what I'm after is connection, which is in no way an original thought. That's what makes fandom so wonderful, isn't it? The way you can find connections with other people all over the world. I think when I post, I'm looking for people who love the same kinds of things that I do - the same characters, obviously, but also the same kind of approach to art. The colours and the roughness, the playfulness and the 'continuing mission' to find beauty. I think I post in the hopes that someone will see my art and think, 'hey, I like that.' And that they'll feel a little spark of joy.

I think that's what all our fan creations are about. You get the firework of joy and excitement that goes off when you create your story or your picture and then, around the fandom world, other people get a spark struck from your joy. Which is pretty flowery stuff, but, hey - I'm a writer, aren't I?

That's enough rambling. Nearly. Because I also want to do the thing I often do, which is totally anti the 'it's my first time!' kind of posts. This is very far from my first time and I want you to see the crappiness of my progress shots, because it's important to know that there's almost always a lot of crappy stages before you reach something you consider beautiful. Not perfect. I'm not after perfection, which is impossible anyway, and I would never say any of my stuff is perfect because it's far from perfect and I don't want that - I want life and humanity and striving toward something.

I'm gonna shut up now, because there are burgers to be cooked and chocolate cake to be eaten, and hey! Doctor Who's on soon! Bye!

[winterhawkkisses]

Reality sometimes feels kinda like a soap bubble, waiting to pop. Gravity's a law, and it's not like Bucky's used to breaking those.

His therapist says it's all part of his recovery, that it's normal, and he'd like to be grateful for her perspective and all but sometimes the weird euphoria of freedom, twisting tight and shaky in his stomach, makes him feel like he's gonna fall upwards and he's never gonna stop.

He can't fit under his own bed. This is now a thing he knows.

Everywhere in the Avengers base is too goddamn big. Cavernous rooms, airplane hangers with sofas in, even his own bedroom feels like the walls are gonna disappear. Sometimes he shoves himself into the corner of his shower cubicle until the water runs cold.

He didn't know to miss Steve, but he's grateful he's around. Only it seems like Steve feels an opposite sort of way to him, takes Bucky up onto the flat roof and doesn't notice how hard Bucky's got to press his hands into the gravelled floor.

The sky is just so goddamn big.

*

It's a middle of the night kinda feeling, even if it's only just getting dark outside; Bucky has slept through the day and woken up to a place his dreams are still lurking in the corners. He has no idea what day of the week it is but it feels like a Sunday, that empty feeling before the week gets going when everything's hushed for no reason, the echoing hours impossible to fill.

He shuffles out into the communal spaces, lifeless and empty until he climbs up to the strange kinda gantry that's almost a living room, like a spotlighted stage set where they have to act like it's home. It's disorienting for a moment, unfamiliar in a way that's different to all the other unfamiliarities, but then he sees that the couch has been shoved against railings, an armchair pulled in front of it, layered mismatched blankets pulled over it all.

Bucky edges closer and then - when he recognises battered purple sneakers - ducks down so he can see if there's space for him to crawl inside. He doesn't know Clint, not exactly, but he's not entirely convinced he knows himself so they've become something that could almost pass for friends.

"Hey Buck," Clint says, and he grins around the candy necklace that's shoved in his mouth, frayed elastic strung between his teeth. He looks exhausted and battered and uncomplicatedly happy to see him, so Bucky crawls into the weird little blanket fort so they're almost on top of each other, woven over and under and Clint's crooked knee sprawled over his legs until it's practically holding him down.

Bucky reaches out before he's even really thought about it, gently tracing skin below a bruise that's crested on Clint's cheekbone.

"I mostly won," Clint says, chipper, and Bucky raises an eyebrow and then looks up at the blankets that hang low above them before looking back at Clint.

"Eh," says Clint, deflating a little (his leg lowering, weight and warmth against Bucky's thigh). "Haven't made it home if I'm still in a fuckin' airport."

"Welcome home then," Bucky says, smirking slightly, and Clint grins too wide, and his eyes are too blue, and Bucky feels like he's falling.

(The sky is just so goddamn big.)

[itsseohannbin]

〉Get On My Level, Bitch〈

Jisung Drabble

A lil something for my gamer girlies

© itshannjisung, 2024

♡ itsseohannbins masterlist ♡

Genre: Fluff. Crack.

Established Relationship.

Summary: After losing one too many rounds of Hyungs vs Maknaes in Call Of Duty, Jisung enlists help from his gamer girlfriend, who teaches him how to win and impresses his friends as she does so.

Pairing: Idol! Han Jisung x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Crack. Swearing. Soft boi Han Jisung. Gamer Skz. Nerdy Skz. Lots of gaming terms are used. Gun and knife use (in-game). mentions of the boys being shot (obvi in game). Reader is older than Jisung, Hyunjin, and Changbin. suggestive towards the end.

** Members' clan tags/gamer tags are also used.

Word Count: 4k lol fuck

Inspired by a dream I had of exactly this, so this was completely self-indulgent LOL

Enjoy!

Waking up to an empty bed on a shared day off was extremely unusual for you. Typically, when you and your boyfriend had the same days off, you'd both lounge in bed together well into the afternoon, just relaxing and enjoying each other's company. You'd usually be starfished out across the mattress reading Webtoons on your phone, while Jisung would be cuddled up between your legs, his back against your mid-section while he watched an anime on his laptop.

So, when you woke up to nothing but emptiness beside you one random Thursday morning, you were more than a little concerned. That was until you heard the faint sound of Jisung cursing aggressively coming from two rooms over.

A smile spread across your face almost immediately as you pulled yourself out of bed and wrapped one of Jisung's oversized hoodies around you. It had been a long time since he had stepped foot inside the game room.

With one comeback finishing and another one right around the corner, you haven't seen any of the guys online at all lately. They must've finally all gotten a couple days off together because Jisung never went online unless all of them did.

You were anxious to see what game they were playing, and admittedly, excited for the possibility of a gaming day with your boyfriend. Sure, lounging in bed all day with take-out and anime was the perfect way to spend time together, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't miss the days' pre-5-star comeback where the two of you would be in front of your computers for hours on end.

You grabbed your phone and slipped on a pair of comfy slippers before tiptoeing out of the room, giggling quietly to yourself as you listened to Jisung's annoyed words sounding all the way from down the hall.

"Yah! Quit camping and come face me like a man, Hyung!" Something akin to a laugh and a groan of frustration left Jisung's mouth shortly before a loud "Fuck!" echoed off the walls.

"Lino-hyung, you're so fucking dead!"

Once you reached the door to the game room where you and Jisung had computers set up side by side, you leaned against the door frame and watched him silently in admiration. Jisung sat in his big black leather chair, the RGB lights in the computer tower the only source of light in the room as they flashed different shades of red against the stark white walls.

His back was to you, his big chunky headphones covering both of his ears and his microphone stand that he got from Felix that previous holiday season was sitting way too close to his mouth. You had to suppress a laugh when his lips grazed the metal mesh of the mic so hard you could hear Changbin yelling through the headset for Jisung to stop eating it.

He was a rapper through and through on and off stage. You made a mental note to pick him up a foam microphone cover to help keep his teeth from grazing the material, and more importantly, help prevent Changbin from killing Jisung altogether.

"Top right, top right, top right," he then spoke quickly, his shoulders tensing up for a moment before relaxing again. "Nice one Seung. Good coms." he then praised.

You watched him for a couple more minutes before stepping into the room and coming up behind him. You were careful not to startle him while he was so clearly focused on his game, your hands lightly resting on his shoulders so he knew you were there.

"They're rushing B, they're rushing B, they're rushing B! Oh, hi Baby!" Jisung turned his head for a moment to beam up at you adorably with those large, brown eyes and full cheeks. He grinned and kissed the back of your hand quickly before he went back to focusing on the screen in front of him.

"Fuck, I died. Sorry. Innie behind you!"

Your eyes immediately became glued to the computer screen as he called for Jeongin again, another smile making its way to your face. They were playing Call of Duty, your current favorite game to play, and you had a sudden urge to sit down next to him at your own computer and join.

During the weeks leading up to the release of 5-Star, you spent a lot of your free time online playing the game with your own friends while Jisung and the boys prepared for their comeback. Jisung knew you loved to game, he loved that you did, but he didn't know just how good you had gotten at it in the hours you spent home alone while he was away.

You genuinely did love the game, as the franchise itself was one you played throughout your years growing up, but you mostly wanted to show off to Jisung and the rest of the guys. They would always tease you for playing 'girly' games, like Stardew Valley or Animal Crossing, and even occasionally, The Sims 4, so you were determined to improve your FPS skills and impress them.

"Fuck, how did you even see me there Binnie-hyung?" Jisung whined as you watched his screen go grey. He pressed a button on his RGB keyboard and quickly brought up the scoreboard to see how he was doing, and you saw that they were playing a 4v4 match. Hyungs vs Maknaes.

This wasn't going to end well.

When it was the older four versus the younger four, it never did.

"Aha, get on my level, bitch." Changbin taunted in response.

You felt Jisung's shoulders tense under your touch when the game ended a second later, his death being the final kill. He hit the top of the desk with his fist lightly in annoyance at his comical and unfortunate death before a laugh left his throat.

"Don't look at that guys!" he begged as the 'Final Kill' camera replayed across the screen. His hands went up to cover his face in embarrassment. "Please! I'm so embarrassed!"

You couldn't tell if the sound that left his throat a second later was a cry or a laugh, but you assumed the latter as you watched the Kill Cam show his character flying back into the match on a parachute. Changbin had seen him clear as day and sniped him right out of the sky, leaving Jisung's character to fall dramatically to the ground.

You could hear the hoots of laughter coming through the headset from the rest of the guys, his teammates included, and it made a laugh of your own escape your mouth before you could stop it. Jisung turned to look at you with squinted eyes, a playful grin on his face as he gaped at you in mock betrayal.

"Baby!" he cried as he watched your shoulders shake with the force of your laughter. "You're supposed to be on my side!" he feigned offense.

"I'm sorry Sungie," you giggled as you squeezed his shoulders reassuringly and planted a soft kiss onto his messy bedhead. Jisung sent you a playful pout before he turned back around. "You're just too cute for words."

Jisung scoffed and returned your affection, planting another kiss on your hand as the final scoreboard flashed onto the screen. Interested to see how everyone played, you leaned in to take a look at everyone's scores.

Hyungs (4/4) Score: 100

[3Racha] DaddyDwaekki99; Kills:37 Deaths:9

[3Racha] xCB97x; Kills:30 Deaths:15

[SKZOO] Butt-Hunter0325; Kills:25 Deaths:18

[SKZOO] Jin&Tonic00; Kills:8 Deaths:24

Maknaes (4/4) Score: 66

[SKZOO] BrownieBoiT_T; Kills:29 Deaths:12

[SKZOO] Nimgnues148; Kills:20 Deaths:27

[SKZOO] XxMAKNA3.0N.T0PxX; Kills:13 Deaths:27

[3Racha] QuokkaPrince; Kills:4 Deaths:34

"Are you serious? How the hell did I do worse than Hyune?" Jisung grumbled as he looked at the scores, his face falling to one of disappointment. You could hear Bangchan cackling light-heartedly through the headset.

You let your hands then slide down Jisung's broad chest and hugged him tightly against you in an attempt to cheer him up. You kissed the top of his head again before resting your chin on it.

"Hey, I think you did good." you voiced. Jisung's hand came up to rub your arm in appreciation, though he was still frowning to himself.

"You're supposed to say that," he mumbled. "You're my girlfriend."

You just smiled down at him and leaned over to plant a kiss on his cheek. Jisung then lightly tapped his microphone to mute it before he reached up to cup your face, bringing your lips back to his for a gentle kiss. You smiled against his mouth before pulling away.

He tasted like coffee.

"Good morning, Jagi. Did you sleep well?" he asked now that he finally had a moment to talk with the game being over. You nodded and pressed a firm kiss to his exposed forehead, causing him to smile up at you.

"I slept perfectly," you answered with an adoring smile as you brushed some hair out of his face. Jisung craned his head back and puckered his lips once more, silently asking for another kiss, which you happily obliged.

His lips were slightly chapped and dry, probably from all the talking he'd been doing and lack of hydration, but they still felt warm against yours. You felt a shiver run down your spine when his tongue found yours a moment later, your body tingling with pleasure the way it always did when kissing him, even after all these years together.

"Did you eat?" you asked after his lips pulled away from you. The guys were busy upgrading their guns and changing their specs, so you had a little bit of alone time with Jisung before he was called back for another round.

"Mhmm., Jisung hummed as he swiveled his chair around and pulled you into his lap. He planted a kiss on your cheek and wrapped his arms lovingly around your waist before nuzzling his face into your neck. He loved physical touch with you, and he'd eat it up every chance he got. "I sure did. Just had some eggs and toast. There's coffee left if you want any."

"Thanks, Baby." you grinned down at him as you wrapped one arm around his neck and pulled him impossibly closer to you. His lips found purchase on the skin of your throat where he began peppering small pecks of love all over. "I'm really happy to see you back in here finally. You guys have all been working really hard lately and you all deserve time off to relax and have fun."

"There's a double XP event happening this week so we're trying to all get upgraded before we have to go back to work," he explained. You hummed in response, content with the affection he was currently giving you in between words. Jisung then pulled away, giving you an anxious look.

"Is it okay if I spend a couple of hours gaming with them? We can go watch some shows if you want to instead, I don-" You cut him off abruptly with a shake of your head and a hand over his mouth. Jisung peered up at you with wide eyes, waiting nervously for your response.

"Sungie, baby, if you want to spend the day gaming with the guys, I'm all for it. I promise," you assured him with a quick kiss to his nose. "I was actually thinking of joining you, honestly. It's been a long time since we had a gaming day."

You moved your hands to tangle in the wisps of hair that sat at the nape of his neck, toying aimlessly with the freshly-dyed strands of dark brown.

"Yeah?" he asked with a smirk. "You gonna' play some Stardew or something?"

You grinned down at him shyly.

"Actually, I was going to ask if I could try a round of Call of Duty with you guys. Would you teach me?"

Jisung's eyebrows disappeared behind his hair as he looked at you in shock. His mouth fell open slightly as if he couldn't believe his ears before it broke out into the most adorable smile you've ever seen.

"You want me to teach you how to play?" he asked, excitement already causing him to vibrate in his seat. He'd been waiting for the day for you to ask him to teach you how to play all his favorite games, even though there weren't a lot of them. He was absolutely ecstatic at your inquiry, he could barely mask it as he jumped happily.

"Of course, I will teach you, Baby!" he squealed when you nodded. "I'm not very good myself, but we can do a one-on-one match so you can get used to the controls without being overwhelmed."

The excitement and happiness on his soft features almost made you blow your cover. He was so cute when he got excited over little things like this. It made you fall impossibly more in love with him.

You shook your head quickly before he could even finish his sentence, causing confusion to glaze over in his stare.

"I want to play with the guys. Right now. I want the next round," you claimed as you shifted on his lap, turning around to take the mouse in your hand. Your other hand landed on the keyboard and your fingers twitched with anticipation. They fell perfectly into place and you hoped to god Jisung didn't notice.

Jisung was taken by surprise at your eagerness, but he just laughed and wrapped his arm around you and went to unmute the mic before you grabbed ahold of his wrist and stopped him.

"Don't tell the guys I'm playing. I want to surprise them," you insisted. Jisung raised an eyebrow at you.

"Surprise them how?" he asked slowly, his eyes suspicious yet amused. You beamed back and kissed him on the nose once more.

"I'm going to win this round for you. That'll stop them from teasing you so much." You could hear the guys shit-talking each other through the headset Jisung had looped around his neck when you initially sat down. It was all in good fun, obviously, but they were making a lot of digs at Jisung, which only made you more determined to bring home a win for Ji and the Maknaes.

Jisung gave you a skeptical look, biting his lower lip in uncertainty when he realized how serious you were.

"Have you played this game before?" he questioned. You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly.

"Once or twice while you were at work." you fibbed, hoping he didn't catch onto your lie the way he always did with you.

"Alright, but if you fuck up my K-D ratio, I'm gon' be really upset." he teased. He sat himself up straighter so he could lean his chin on your shoulder and watch. You rolled your eyes at him and let out a snarky remark, to which he laughed.

"Can't fuck it up more than it already is."

"Har har, very funny."

Jisung hooked his headset back onto one ear, allowing you to listen in on the conversation as well. You took the time to make yourself your own custom gun class, one that you were used to and had been using for months prior, but you tried to act clueless as you put it together.

So far, so good.

Jisung, and the rest of the guys for that matter, had no clue what was coming for them.

"Alright, so move your character using the WASD keys." Jisung lightly pushed the hand on the keyboard out of his way and demonstrated for you. "Space is jump and 'R' is reload. Use the middle button on the mouse-" he quickly moved his other hand to hover over yours, demonstrating again. "to use your lethal equipment, and the '1' key to switch to your tactical equipment."

You nodded along, playing dumb as you repeated his actions.

"The left mouse button is how you fire your weapon, while the right mouse button is used to aim down sight. 'E' is used to interact with shit around the world, and 'M' will bring up your map." he continued on without hesitation, waiting for you to nod in understanding before moving on to the next. "You can crouch and slide by pressing the 'C' key, or you can lay down by holding it. Cool?"

You nodded again, biting your lower lip to stop a laugh from escaping your throat as his vague instructions. Jisung misunderstood your action and began rubbing his hands up and down your arms reassuringly.

"It's okay, Baby. Don't be nervous. You got this. I'll be your eyes and ears, okay?"

After going over the rest of the controls, all of which you already knew and more, Jisung unmuted his mic and hopped back into the conversation the guys were having about the upcoming album due to come out in the next couple of months.

His hands were now resting on your hips reassuringly while he talked with the guys, acting as if he was playing, and you felt yourself getting jittery from the anticipation that tore through you when the countdown finally began.

When the clock hit zero and all players were free to move, you quickly worked your way around the familiar map and went directly to your favorite vantage point, perfect for sniping off of. Jisung snorted to himself when he saw your character pull out the sniper rifle you customized.

"Good luck, Sweetheart. Binnie-hyung is a sniper king," he mumbled quietly enough for only you to hear. You shook your head.

"Not for long," you whispered back.

Felix's voice came barreling through the headset suddenly, causing you to jump as adrenaline pumped through your veins. You loved the rush that came with these FPS games.

"Roof of the red building!" he yelled excitedly. Jisung's finger came up to point out where Binnie's character was sneakily army-crawling across a rooftop in the distance, just like Felix had said. You pulled out your sniper, aimed down your sight, and lined up the shot. In a second, POW! Binnie had died in one swift shot to the head.

"What the fuck?" Changbin laughed in disbelief into his mic, confusion clear in his tone. "Are you using a sniper rifle, Ji?"

You held back a cackle at his words, allowing Jisung to answer with a small laugh of his own, the disbelief in his own voice barely unnoticed. "Yeah, I figured I'd change it up a bit." he offered to his older member. He sounded so casual, but his eyebrows were once again raised in surprise as your lucky shot.

Looking through the scope of your gun, you watched as Changbin's character climbed back onto the same roof moments later and aimed his own rifle in your direction, a flash of light in the distance. You were quick to get up from your crouched position and move away from his field of view, your fingers dancing across the keyboard as you changed position and sniped him again from a different angle.

POW!

Dead again.

Binnie let out a string of curse words as his body rolled dramatically off the roof to the ground below.

"Yah! What the fuck?" he laughed again.

You knew your cover was now blown, so you jumped from the rooftop you were lying across and parachuted down to the ground, running for cover when you heard gunshots going off all around you.

"Ji, behind you!" Jeongin shouted. You twirled your character around and pulled out your secondary weapon, a simple pistol, seeing Lino's character running towards you at full speed with nothing but a knife in his hand.

Typical Lino.

You smirked at his antics and shot him point blank before he could reach you, causing Lino to squeal dramatically like a girl into the mic, which in turn, made you and Jisung both wince at the unusually high pitch of it.

"Nooooo! Dammit!" he laughed.

Jisung gave you a soft high-five at your kill and watched in awe as the game continued.

For fifteen minutes, you sat rock solid in Jisung's lap, your eyes hyper-focused on the screen as you ran across the map, killing off the Hyungs and racking up your team's points. The boys were all shocked at Jisungs 'sudden skill', suspicious of him cheating or hacking the system, but he had lost the ability to defend himself as he was too shocked to even say anything in response.

He muted his mic and was cheering you on, congratulating you on every kill and assist you got. He had chalked it all up to beginner luck, but when you got the game-winning kill, sniping Chan from across the map where he hid almost too perfectly between two barrels, barely in your sights, he knew.

He knew this wasn't your first, second, or even third time playing. Based on the snicker on your face when the scoreboard popped up, deeming you first place on the winning team, he knew you'd been practicing while he was away at work. And while he was envious of your skill and abilities, he was more proud than anything else.

"Okay, Ji, seriously? What the fuck?" How did you get from the bottom of the scoreboard to the top in the span of five rounds?" Felix was in awe. You smiled over at Jisung upon hearing the younger males' question., and before Jisung could answer with some cocky response you knew he'd have, you tapped the mic to unmute it and spoke into it playfully.

"Hi guys," you giggled.

As much as you wanted Jisung to take credit, you couldn't. You worked so hard to impress these guys and you didn't want to pass up the opportunity to prove them wrong with their teasing.

"Holy shit, Y/n?" Hyunjin chuckled in disbelief. "Was that you playing the entire round?"

"The one and only," you confirmed with a smirk.

"Fuck, I want you on my team next time. You snipe better than I do." Changbin spoke next. You shook your head and tsked at him.

"Sorry Binnie, no can do."

"Why not?" Hyunjin then added. "You're technically mine and Changbin-hyungs Noona, so you're playing on the wrong team!" You could practically hear his frown through the speaker of Jisung's headphones.

"Sorry guys. I play for Jisung and Jisung only."

Seungmin scoffed playfully at your words.

"You're a fucking simp." he joked. You laughed alongside everyone else before hitting them with the final blow.

"Looks like you guys are just going to have to, what is it that Binnie said last round? Get on my level, bitch." you mocked.

The guys all burst out into laughter at your impression, Binnie included.

While the guys went on to boast about your incredible win, Jisung muted the microphone once more and nuzzled his face back into your neck lovingly.

"You're a little shit," he teased, his nose tracing the shape of your ear. A shiver ran up your spine as his hot breath fanned across your throat.

"What did I do?" you asked innocently as you tilted your head to the side, allowing him to trace his nose along your neck before plating a teasing kiss below your jaw. He squeezed your hips and nibbled your skin gently as he laughed at your innocent tone.

"You've been playing this a lot, haven't you?" he questioned before biting your neck again and sucking the skin into his mouth. You sensed he was punishing you for playing him so well, but you didn't mind. You loved the feeling of his mouth on your skin.

"Every day while you're at work." you breathed out. "Gotta' learn how to put the boys in their place for teasing you so much. Gotta protect my baby." you then cooed.

Jisung's hands trailed up your sides again, sliding underneath the fabric of his sweater. His touch on your skin felt electric as his mouth teased your earlobe, his hands traveling further up your torso.

The bulge in his pants that he was rutting against you was growing harder with each passing second. Leave it to Jisung to get turned on by something as simple as you knowing how to game.

"Fuck," he whispered in an adoring tone. "I really hit the fucking jackpot with you, Jagi."

Hannjis Pookie Wookie Bears 🐻: @moonlightndaydreams @noellllslut @bethanysnow @channieandhisgoonsquad @queenmea604 @newhope8

[toooliix]

hey! alright so i may have done a thing

so for the past,,, idk 3 weeks? ive been going on a deep dive into spelling bee mostly to sedate my own curiosity of needing to know everything about what i'm interested in. as it turns out, there is a LOT of content with this musical, so i'm here to talk about my findings! note: i will be keeping this EXCLUSIVE to the original 2005 off broadway cast. as much as i'm a brown university girlie through and through, the original cast is where the content is. OKAY FIRST: youtube findings

a lot of small videos were made usually with logainne and leaf. you'll be quick to learn that they made the most off stage content. i have a public playlist with these videos, along with interviews, the original boot, and a few other things. the cast album isn't in it because that's audio only and i want visuals damnit. (plus its on spotify and easy to look up so.) the exception is 25apcsbmt12doc because its pretty underground and the purpose is to get word out about niche things.

second: myspace pages a lot of the spellers have myspace pages! this is like. a common thing!! only two were archived (leaf and logainne) and are able to be accessed! i'll talk about the others in a bit. they contain new information and i personally find them very interesting!

leaf logainne

HOWEVER: three are currently able to be accessed through modern myspace without needing an account. the format is off, but it's accessable.

barfee 25apcsb account panch third: other

there's two different things here so i'll separate them :]

3.1: r/v club

r/v club is a short film by rebecca feldman (one of the people that worked on spelling bee) that includes logainne! it can be found on her site with other short films. i believe this is the only one with her in it HOWEVER i have not checked therefore i could be wrong. it's set post-spelling bee, i believe. also jesse is in it but not as leaf.

r/v club

3.2: official site

spelling bee had a site!! and official merch!! its just a cool thing i think. it'll be mentioned again in the last section

spelling bee site

fourth and final: lost media (to my knowledge)

okay, spelling bee has.... QUITE a bit of lost media. again, this will be separated into parts.

4.1: C-R-E-P-U-S-C-U-L-E

before spelling bee was a thing, crepuscule (albiet mispronounced) was an improv play made by the farm. (same group who made r/v club) a lot of the characters were similar or the same, and it has a similar premise. however, it wasn't a musical. from what i've heard, there USED to be a boot of it, however i haven't found one of my own. i would love to be corrected.

4.2 myspace pages

remember how i was going to say this was going to come up again? hi thats now. outside of leaf and logainne, other myspace accounts were made! mitch (comfortcounselor), olive (mydictionary) + (oliveostrovsky), chip (chiptolentino), marigold (marigoldconeybear) an olive and barfee joint account (ilovemydictionary), and a leaf and logainne joint account (schwartzylogan). there's also another leaf account with the very confusing name of panchspell the issue with these is that theyre not archived, so you'll need a myspace account with a verified email to view these. in the year of our lord 2024 that's not exactly an easy find, especially since verification emails no longer send. plus, one of olive's accounts is dictionary.com now so,,,, who knows what it looks like there. most also need a connection, which makes things even MORE difficult. i hate how close but out of reach these accounts are.

4.3. spelling bee game

yeah they had a game. it's on the site, and it's eternally stuck at loading characters from my experience. here's the link anyway! game

4.4 the dirty bee

oh jesus its the dirty bee. so for context, in 2006 when the show was running, a few nights were booked for spelling bee that were meant for mature audiences and were 18 plus. it's catered towards people who have already seen the bee and want something new. it was inspired by jay (panch) and putting in words or sentences researsals that were clearly for funnies because he was bored. alas it became a derivative of the musical. all we know is what an article provides (theres more than one but the one linked gives the most info) and that chip quote unquote "finished off" at my unfortunate erection according to jose. there's rumor that chip is canonically bi in it but theres no sources so,,,, can't confirm that one.

article

(the quote is said in the reunion "stars in the house" and is found in the playlist)

conclusion:

there's genuinely so much shit in this musical i find it fascinating. this post WILL be updated with any other finds or information. PLEASE dm me or let me know if i got something wrong or if you have something to add (though do add a source, please and thank you)

ALSO: reblogs are greatly appreciated!! shoutout to the wiki, @/honkmaster69 and the people i spam in dms for helping and tolerating me <33

[glorious-spoon]

19! a kiss for luck

Thank you! I hope this suits :D

-

Eddie makes it halfway down the hallway outside the green room before he turns to Steve with a wild kind of panic in his eyes. "I can't do this."

"Yeah," Steve says reasonably. "You definitely can. You could literally play this set in your sleep."

"I'm gonna get up there on stage and freeze."

"No, you're not."

"I am," Eddie insists. His guitar bumps against his hip as he lifts both hands to tug at his wild mane of hair, threatening to turn it from artfully disheveled to a full-on rat's nest. Steve reaches for his wrists and pulls his hands gently down, then holds them. From beyond the stage up ahead he can hear the swelling noise of the crowd as the opening act takes their final bows, but right now, for this brief moment, they're alone. 

"Hey. Listen," Steve says. "You played guitar in the Upside Down without freezing. Remember that?"

Eddie laughs, a little hysterically. "Yeah, well, at least I don't have to worry about the good metalheads of Inglewood, California rending my flesh from my bones if I fuck it up. Probably."

"See? There you go."

"You are the opposite of reassuring, Steve."

"Sorry," Steve says, and Eddie laughs again, still a little panicky. But there's humor in it now too. He looks beautiful like this, in his leather and patches with rings on his fingers and his wild mane of hair; every inch the rock star, and something wild and fey besides that. He looks like everything Steve never used to let himself want. "But I mean it. You're gonna knock it out of the park."

Eddie glances around, then steps closer and lets his forehead drop against Steve's shoulder. "Promise?" he asks, his voice small.

There's a rustle up ahead; Gareth ducks his head out from behind a curtain and makes a come on gesture from behind Eddie's back. Steve waves him off, and he ducks back in.

"Yeah, I promise," he says, and cups Eddie's cheek with his palm. "Hey. Kiss for luck?"

"Yeah, okay," Eddie whispers, turning into his touch.

The kiss is sweet, lingering, and familiar, even though they haven't been doing this that long—haven't even been doing it long enough to define exactly what this is. Steve knows, for himself. Lately, he's begun to hope that it's the same thing for Eddie.

Maybe after the show he'll ask. For now, he's content with the fact that Eddie is smiling when he pulls away.

"You're gonna kill it," Steve says. "I mean it."

Eddie laughs, sudden and bright, and darts in to kiss him again before pulling back.

"Thanks," he says.

"You're welcome," Steve says back. "Now go, they can't start without you."

The crowd is chanting now. Eddie spins on his heel and jogs toward the stage, and Steve watches him go. The chant turns into a roar a moment later when Corroded Coffin takes the stage, building joyfully until it's drowned out by the thundering growl of Eddie's guitar.

Steve touches his lips, and smiles.

-

(For these kiss prompts!)

[skywalker1dream]

Title: Unexpected Encounter

note: I can't say anything other that that I love this man, his ideas, and his soul. <3 Sebastian Vettel x reader

Warning: Fluff

Summary:Amidst the vibrant energy of a summer carnival, you find yourself unexpectedly crossing paths with Sebastian Vettel, setting off a chain of events that leads to an unforgettable night of laughter, music, and dancing beneath the starlit sky. As you lose yourselves in the magic of the moment, you can't help but wonder if fate had a hand in bringing you together.

The air was alive with the festive energy of the summer carnival, vibrant colors swirling around in a kaleidoscope of joy. Stalls lined the bustling streets, offering everything from savory treats to whimsical trinkets, while the sound of laughter and music filled the warm evening air.

Amidst the throngs of people, you wandered through the carnival, your senses alive with the sights and sounds of the festivities. It was a welcome escape from the monotony of everyday life, a chance to lose yourself in the magic of the moment.

As you meandered through the crowd, your attention was suddenly drawn to the unmistakable sound of a familiar melody drifting through the air. It was "Pocketful of Sunshine" by Natasha Bedingfield, a song that never failed to lift your spirits and bring a smile to your face.

Following the sound, you soon found yourself standing before a makeshift stage, where a local band was performing an energetic rendition of the song. The crowd swayed and danced to the music, their infectious enthusiasm contagious.

Lost in the music, you couldn't help but join in the festivities, letting the rhythm carry you away on a wave of pure bliss. But just as you were lost in the moment, a voice broke through the music, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Having fun?"

You turned to see Sebastian Vettel standing beside you, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched you dance. You couldn't help but laugh at the unexpected encounter, the thrill of seeing him in such a casual setting sending your heart racing.

"Sebastian!" you exclaimed, a grin spreading across your face. "What are you doing here?"

Sebastian shrugged nonchalantly, his smile never faltering. "Just thought I'd check out the festivities. And I must say, I'm glad I did."

You chuckled at his response, the warmth of his presence sending a flush to your cheeks. "Well, you picked the right place to be. Care to join me?"

Sebastian's eyes lit up at the invitation, and before you knew it, he was taking your hand and leading you into the heart of the crowd. Together, you danced and laughed beneath the starry summer sky, the world around you fading into insignificance as you lost yourselves in the magic of the moment.

And as the night wore on and the carnival continued to pulse with life, you couldn't help but feel a sense of serendipity in the air. For in this fleeting moment of summer bliss, you knew that anything was possible, and that perhaps, just perhaps, fate had brought you and Sebastian together for a reason.

---------

As the night wore on and the carnival lights danced around you, you and Sebastian found yourselves drawn to each other like magnets, unable to tear yourselves away from the spell of the moment.

With each laugh shared and every step danced together, it felt as if time itself had slowed down, allowing you to savor every precious moment in each other's company. The worries and stresses of the outside world melted away, leaving only the two of you and the promise of what could be.

As the music reached a crescendo and the crowd erupted into cheers, Sebastian pulled you close, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his embrace, you felt as if you were exactly where you were meant to be.

"Thank you for tonight," Sebastian whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "I haven't felt this alive in ages."

You smiled up at him, your heart overflowing with emotion. "The pleasure is all mine. Who knew a chance encounter at a carnival could lead to something so special?"

Sebastian's gaze softened, a hint of something deeper lurking beneath the surface. "Maybe it was meant to be," he mused, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe we were always meant to find each other."

And in that moment, as the carnival lights twinkled overhead and the world faded into darkness around you, you knew that this was just the beginning of a journey that was destined to be filled with laughter, love, and endless possibility. For in each other's arms, you had found not only a pocketful of sunshine, but a ray of hope in a world that too often seemed clouded by doubt and uncertainty.

[tgrailwar-zero]

You watched as MUSASHI heeded your instructions, heading right before reaching a courtyard. She furrowed her brow, looking around the streets as she slowly walked forward, like a hunter stalking her play.

MUSASHI: "Come out, come out, wherever you are… I promise, it'll hurt less if you don't struggle as much."

She was actually pretty good at playing a more antagonistic character. You could see JAGUAR MAN subtly nodding with approval at your role choice.

The Saber approached the hall, stepping inside. The sight was… unsettling, to say the least. A ton of dolls, dancing in a stilted waltz, walking around. Inhuman puppets, each of them.

MUSASHI: "Talk about creepy..."

PRETENDER: "So everyone else is just puppets... I can't imagine what this could be trying to represent, perhaps it's a quirk of the arena?"

MUSASHI: "What? Woah--!"

Out of the corner of her eye, several projectiles shot towards her. Several small wooden spears, shot at a brutal pace, jabbed into the ground- a couple of which grazing past MUSASHI's legs. She let out a yell, stumbling backwards as she looked for the source. PRETENDER, off to the side, attempted to dash back into the shadows where he had emerged from, but was a moment too slow as the blades connected.

PRETENDER: "Ghh!"

You could tell from that one slash that PRETENDER was pretty badly injured just from that one attack- he didn't seem to be a Servant exactly stacked when it came to 'defenses'. He vanished again, disappearing into the darkness, his voice melodic yet taunting as he spoke to MUSASHI from 'somewhere'.

PRETENDER: "Ah… as expected of such a fearsome samurai. Your reputation proceeds you, as always. I'm honored to be your first opponent, though I can't help but lament."

JAGUAR MAN: "Mn. A bit premature for a monologue, but I guess being long-winded fits the character. He's got a good voice for yapping, I'm sure the ladies love it. The fellas too. Everyone, really."

PRETENDER: "And I was thinking to myself… well, there's no way for me to beat you head on. You're powerful, much more powerful than I am. I could make strategies for the others, discern their weaknesses and use my wits to find a path to victory, but you're as beautiful as you are smart as you are deadly. And so… with your talents with blades, I should use my own talents, right?"

Suddenly, he appeared before MUSASHI in a flash of sparkles and whistling winds, two brilliant moth-like wings unfurling behind him as he hovered in the air. It was theatrical in its execution, like he was being suspended by wires in a grand stage showing.

PRETENDER: "You have such a troubled past, I know. Seeing these dolls... you've slaughtered countless more individuals than the ones in this ballroom, haven't you?"

MUSASHI: "...Shut your mouth."

PRETENDER: "Shadowed by the violence of your commanders and your own soul, don't you want to live a little bit happier than you are now? Allow me to grant that wish."

He held out his hands, motes of light drifting from them. No, not just from his hands, but all around the two Servants. MUSASHI didn't waste a second, beginning to sprint forwards to close the gap.

MUSASHI: "A Noble Phantasm…! You're resorting to that, this early?! I mean, I'm sure it's a 'wow, finally' moment for people who have known you, but think of the audience?! Where's your sense of suspense!"

She rushed forward. It was a matter of speed, if each strike she made was a 'critical hit', then she'd have him down in no time. Her eye glinted- a perfect strike to end the fight. A single issue. The pikes that were shot into the ground began to dissolve into black mud, and several fae familiars emerged, grabbing the sword saint by the legs. They were light, and you could see that they weren't heavily hindering her movement, but it was enough.

A moment off. Slower on the draw by a millisecond.

The PRETENDER clapped his hands together, a pulse of powerful mana surging from behind him, the very fabric of the world changing in a brief instant as the camera's caught a glimpse of a beautiful autumnal forest, before the illusion collapsed in on itself and centralized itself entirely on MUSASHI.

PRETENDER: "…Lai Rhyme Goodfellow."

MUSASHI: "...!"

Her footing slipped, her body going limp as the magic centered on her, as the PRETENDER gracefully caught her resting form. He laid her down on the ground, keeping her face visible. A veritable sleeping beauty, as he hovered over her, his expression enigmatic.

PRETENDER: "…Start the count, please."

You heard the heavy ring of a bell. One. The count was starting.

The cameras switched back to the PRIEST.

PRIEST: "In a surprising move, the Winter Prince plays his trump card first. By all accounts, the Samurai is rendered unconcious, and has ten seconds to awaken and resume fighting, or else victory will belong to the Prince."

CLEOPATRA: "Woah! Our blademaster beauty is on the ground! Is this a premature end for such a promising fighter?"

PTOLEMAIOS: "...'Tis not enough."

CLEOPATRA: "Mm? You're saying there's a chance for a comeback?"

...Not enough?

You looked at the sleeping MUSASHI on the screen, and saw her twitching, subtly.

Whatever this Noble Phantasm was, it was a deep-sleep spell... but MUSASHI also had Magic Resistance of the near-highest rank as a Saber. She'd wake up, but it was a question of how quickly... time was running short, which meant that waiting for a natural 'waking' may not be in the cards.

JAGUAR MAN: "Well… that ain't good. For the ratings, I mean. We billed your Saber as a top-class fighter, if her first fight ends with her losing via nap, that'll make me look bad too! I'll lose all my credibility as a scout! I mean, maybe not completely since this is a really good showcase for 'Jeran', but I have a stake in you guys!"

She grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you vigorously.

JAGUAR MAN: "C'mon, what's the plan here?! We've got 10 seconds!"

-

MUSASHI'S STATS:

MUSASHI took a hit from PRETENDER! She's lost a point of Endurance!

ENDURANCE GAUGE: [X/X/X/X/X/ ]

MANA CHARGES: [X]

(When her Endurance reaches 1, she'll go unconscious! Different choices will have a differing effect on her Endurance!)

[30somethingautisticteacher]

I'm the WORST at prompts. But something whumpy... I need that so badly. I dunno, maybe throw one of them off a high place. I'd take anything that hurts one and makes the other worry. 😭

I haven't written much whump before so I hope I delivered!

When Buck and Tommy first started dating, Buck knew the risks of being with another first responder. He had mentally prepared himself for the possibility of a helicopter crash or Tommy getting trapped during a rescue. He didn't want those things to happen, but at least he had experience with such scenarios.

What he wasn't expecting, though, were the awful words the doctor had just uttered: "Stage 3 kidney cancer." Buck felt as if his heart had stopped beating right then and there. "No!" he silently screamed. Not this... not now. They were so happy together. Buck had just moved into Tommy's house, and they had all sorts of plans to renovate and redecorate. They were going to plant a little garden and had talked about getting a pet. This couldn't be happening.

Tommy was so big, strong, and capable. Tommy, his Tommy, couldn't have cancer. Buck couldn't stop the tears from streaming down his face.

Tommy, on the other hand, remained stone-faced, expressionless. His voice was steady as he asked, "What's the prognosis? What are my treatment options?" He paused for a moment, then added, "Just give it to me straight, is this the end? Am I gonna die?"

Buck knew that his boyfriend was a straight shooter, but hearing him ask that so matter-of-factly sent a chill down his spine. He choked back a sob, trying to compose himself for Tommy's sake.

The doctor's expression softened slightly. "Mr. Kinard, while stage 3 kidney cancer is serious, it's not necessarily a death sentence. The five-year survival rate for stage 3 kidney cancer is about 53%. With aggressive treatment, many patients can go into remission."

Buck found little comfort in those words. "53 percent," he thought, his heart sinking. "So almost half don't survive." He knew Tommy was a fighter, but those were not good odds. And just what exactly did "aggressive treatment" mean? The uncertainty was almost as scary as the diagnosis itself.

Tommy remained stoic, his face masking the emotion that Buck new lie beneath the surface. Buck knew Tommy well enough to know that he was terrified. "And the treatment? What does that look like?" he asked, his voice unwavering.

As the doctor began explaining the potential treatment plans - surgery, radiation, chemotherapy - Buck felt completely overwhelmed. Their life had been completely turned on its head in a matter of minutes. Everything they had planned, everything they had looked forward to, now seemed trivial in the face of cancer.

Buck tried to focus on the doctor's words, knowing he needed to understand what lay ahead. But his mind kept racing. He had to be strong for Tommy, he knew that. But in this moment, he had never felt weaker in his entire life.

A wave of guilt washed over him as a selfish thought crept into his mind. He felt like the universe was taunting him. Cancer again. Cancer had affected his life before he was even born. He was born because his brother had cancer and he couldn't save him. And here cancer was again, threatening the happiness he had built with Tommy.

He glanced at Tommy, marveling at his composure. How could he be so calm when their world was crumbling around them? Buck wanted to be that pillar of strength for Tommy, but he felt like he was barely holding himself together.

Buck reached out and grasped Tommy's hand, squeezing it tightly. To his relief, Tommy squeezed back, a small gesture that spoke volumes. In that moment, Buck made a silent vow. No matter how tough things got, no matter how weak he felt, he would find the strength to be there for Tommy every step of the way. They would fight this together, just as they had faced every other obstacle in their lives.

As the doctor continued speaking, Buck tried to prepare himself for the fight ahead. Their future was uncertain and full of challenges. But one thing was clear: he wouldn't let Tommy face this alone. They were a team, and together they would tackle whatever came their way.

When they climbed into the car, Tommy quietly asked, "Are you ok?"

"Am I ok?" Buck replied, incredulous. "Babe, are you ok? This is earth-shattering."

"I know," Tommy said, tears welling up in his eyes. "But you're not stuck with me. I don't want you to feel obligated, and I won't blame you or judge you if it's too much. You didn't sign up for cancer."

"Tommy," Buck gasped, his voice thick with emotion. "I would never leave you. We may not have officially said it yet, but I am here in sickness and in health."

Tommy didn't say a word but pulled Buck into a hug. His eyes met Buck's with a look of determination. It was a silent promise to fight - for himself, for Buck, and for their future together. Because they deserved their happily ever after, and Tommy wasn't about to let cancer take that away from them.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

The Remnants

Week #11 Prompt: Sunglasses | Word Count: 898 | Rating: T | POV: Karen Wheeler | Characters: Karen, Steve Harrington | CW: Prior Major Character Death (Unspecified Member of The Party) | Tags: Future Fic, The Party, Unnamed Character Death, A Look at Grief, At Loss, Steve Harrington is Still Their Babysitter Person, The Kids Are Home For A Funeral

Inspired by the song Pink Skies by Zach Bryan.

The kids are in town for a funeral. 

Karen has been listening to them move around the basement, getting ready to go. She doesn't want to make them wait, not on her. Not today.

She's touching every surface in her kitchen, every counter, frantic. It doesn't make any sense. They were just here. She's sure of it.

She laid them out with her purse. She swore she did. 

She's yanking open drawers, then slamming them shut, over and over.

"Can I help you find something?"

It's Steve Harrington, standing at the edge of her kitchen.

She's not surprised to see him, because the kids don't want anything from anyone, except Steve Harrington, and she's had to stand back and accept that this isn't something she can fix.

She can't make a pot roast, and let them run wild on their bicycles. Not now.

If Steve can ease any of this for them, in any way, she'll be grateful. 

"My sunglasses," she says. They have to leave, and soon, but she can't go without them. 

Steve pulls his own sunglasses out of his shirt pocket, and hands them over, "Until yours turn up."

Karen takes them, isn't sure what else to do, and lets him lead her to one of the waiting black cars. He's not a kid, not anymore, none of them are, even if she'll always see them that way.

Even as they have to go to a funeral. 

After, Karen watches as Steve Harrington herds the remnants back through her house. All that's left of their little group. The Party. The fuss and fight gone out of them, now. The boys, and later, the girls, that trampled up and down her staircase, excited and loud, are now long grown. Men and women, somehow here in their places. 

They haven't all been gathered together, not all of them, not in years. Maybe not since Ted's funeral. 

Burying parents, that's the stage of life they've reached. It's a rite of passage that sneaks up on you, hard and fast, and often before you're ready. But it's the order of things, to be expected, even when it's a complete surprise.

But they shouldn't be burying each other. Not yet.

And now that they have, now that the seal is broken, they won't ever be whole again.

It's unfair. 

Now, they're silent as they walk past the doorway, and don't even look at the growth chart they all spent so much time and energy trying to be the tallest mark on. 

She listens to them go down the stairs, and maybe it's her imagination, or her failing hearing, but they still sound exactly the same as they did as kids. 

Now, though, the noise stops too soon. One pair of feet too few.

She leans in the doorway. Listens. Hand touching the carved-on piece of wood. The growth chart on the door frame started as Nancy, then Mike. By the time Holly came, all these other kids had scraped their own right alongside her kids. Cheating, standing on tiptoes, so desperate to grow taller than each other. 

The funeral was beautiful, but the kids are all pretty stoic. Like they didn't even notice. They aren't kids, not anymore. But they still feel like her kids, always will. All of them, and now one is missing. 

They've had a practice run at this at twelve-years-old, but then they got a do-over. They learned to believe in magic, to believe in the impossible being possible.

She knows that won't happen again. This time it's for real. One of them is really gone, dead and buried, and they don't know how to act.

She doesn't know how to act.

She's still supposed to be the adult here. The mom.

They'd spread their wings. Flew far, and wide, but always flocked home, together. 

She's pretty sure that won't happen again. They're cleaning the basement, clearing the drawers, mopping the floor. Steve's been up and down a dozen times, digging under the sink for cleaning supplies, then carrying up box after box, taking them out the front door, and she doesn't know where it's all going. 

Just that it's already gone.

The basement, their safe space, can't go on with one missing. Won't.

So, they're closing up shop. 

And she's having to watch from afar. Only getting kernels of secondhand knowledge from her daughter's ex-boyfriend. 

It's a strange life they've all lived.

But once they got past that, she thought they'd made it. That they'd all be fine. 

That she would eventually go first.

She wishes she could go back to the start. When Mike was so little, and just meeting Dustin, Lucas and Will for the first time. When they were just old enough to ride bikes down the driveway, and then later, out of sight. Not to be seen until the streetlights came on again.

Kids don't roam like that now. Her grandkids sure don't. Their parents, far too well aware of what can go bump in the night.

She listens.

It's quiet, too quiet, down there. 

She misses the sounds of screaming, tumbling dice and curse words they weren't supposed to be saying, but did anyway when they thought they could get away with it. 

She settles in her chair, and gets poked in the thigh. She reaches down, and her sunglasses aren't lost. 

Just broken. 

Just like everything else here today.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun!