#IF I MESSED UP ANY OF THEM TELL ME I’LL FIX EM

[ebenezerboozoo]

Hello fellow Eugene-Lovers, I come bearing gifts

Riley (The Human) is the Self-Insert of @anotheroneofthegaysharks and Franklin (The Fish) is the OC of @lapinibernatus !!!

[luffyvace]

Tanjiro x male reader<3

Tanjiro x male reader won second place in the poll!! :) enjoy tanjiro stans<3

Starting back at the final selection let’s say that’s when you met

just to clear things up

and you two started dating some time after that

of course eventually making it official

tanjiro was quite flustered when he realized his sexuality might be different from tradition

but he wasn’t afraid to be bi/gay/pan or anything

he just thought- ..! Actually he never really thought of that type of thing..

I mean he was kinda too young

but now that your together!

he has time to figure it all out :)

tanjiro is such a sweet lover!

and helpful!

and caring!

(Really he’s a ball of love)

if you feel tired he carries you

(Even if your both beat up after a mission)

if you need water he’ll spare you some of his or go fetch some

And he’s always down to spar at any type of day!

I will say he’s not thinking about you in that way when you take your shirt off

but when you do he definitely admires you!

you might have abs seeing as though the demon slayer corps has………...harsh (brutal) training 😅

if you do then he sees it as a result of your hard work!

same with scars!

especially with scars<3

he can 100% relate and you two share stories about each one

if you have any—you probably trauma bond

you guys just end up talking all night long about your past, everything that happened, your pain, whether you want revenge or not and so on!

It strengthens your trust and relationship with each other

btw if anyone asks why your together as two males or how you know you actually like men..

tanjiro will humbly and politely educate (lecture) them on how important you are to each other, how you met, why/when you started dating and even if they don’t like it, it’s simple to walk away instead of disrespecting your relationship!

I hope y’all don’t run into uzui..

(y’all do)

that man has THREE wives why wouldn’t he question when he sees you two?? 😬🧍‍♀️

tanjiro had to hit em with the quick fix cuz when I tell you he did not let that slide 😂

especially with how slick uzui mouth be gettin..😒

Tanjiro also has learned to adjust to scavenging for food (he grew crops with his mom)

as well as inosuke (he grew up in the wild) and zenitsu (he used to have crops with his sensei)

so if you can too, great!

if not the 3 of them work together to make the 4 of you meals

and after they learn how to stop burning them

theyre pretty tasty too!!

don’t expect inosuke to share.

do expect inosuke to take

-note to self, m/n.

zenitsu doesn’t see the attraction to males instead of females

he won’t judge but will ask you two if your sure your into males

and after tanjiro gives him that lecture about being respectful-

he doesn’t question it again

LOL

inosuke straight up don’t care

he doesn’t really view relationships in a romantic way

its more so between “they’re beneath me” , “they’re above me, I must beat them”

so no worries about him judging either 😋

if nezuko doesn’t like you

it’s not to say tanjiro won’t date you because of it

but I’ll honestly say it plays a factor

If sweet nezuko doesn’t like you it prob means something..🤨

she has good instincts so tanjiro might start to assume you have ill intent or smth 😬

he’ll try to get her to like you and if she warms up to you he assumes it might’ve been personal 😂🤷‍♀️

but if she doesn’t..

he finds you like 30% less attractive🧍‍♀️

if she does like you from jump, she starts to protect you as well

and loves to spend time with you when she’s outside her box

tanjiro adores this and you three cuddle or play in each other’s hair whenever you have the time

It also makes him happy if you accept nezuko as a demon quickly

after missions tanjiro finds you, nezuko, zenitsu and inosuke

then cries

like your all just a crying mess tbh

i mean unless your like emotionally unavailable..

BC I DON’T SEE HOW YOU COULD NOT CRY AS A MINOR WHO HAS TO KILL LITERAL HORRIFYING BEASTS FOR A LIVING?!?!?!?

Tanjiro will help you achieve your goals as you likely help him achieve his

even more so after that night you had where you opened up to each other about your past

(again, only if you have truama)

tanjiro is really grateful for you

before all he had was nezuko

and aside from zenitsu and inosuke

now he has you!! 💗

tanjiro’s love languages are acts of service, quality time, words of affirmation and (shy) physical touch

actually maybe some gift giving when he can too!!

so all?!

such a green flag 💖

for acts of service as I said he’ll genuinely do any sane thing you ask of him

he cares about you that much

he won’t bother to complain about being tired either

he automatically assumes your either doing worse or he’s fine

as for quality time he gets really relieved when he gets sent on missions with you

at least he can be there to see and protect you

(or maybe vice versa 😂)

he’d beat himself up about not being able to protect you more if you get serious injures

tends to your wounds everyday then trains vigorously

to get stronger and protect you as you fight along side him when he fights muzan

if your gonna fight along side him in that battle? He’s gonna need to be strong enough to protect you.

he doesn’t want to loose you.

especially not to that man.

he lost everything to him.

he won’t let it happen again.

💗💕💖🍡♥︎

for quality time outside of missions ✌︎('ω')✌︎

tanjiro likes to train, cuddle, go on walks, go shopping, chit chat :)

All that good stuff <3

with words of affirmation he really just praises you all the time

”you did your best today in training! I could tell! :D”

“You look great today m/n!! I’m glad your wearing the (favorite men’s jewelry piece) I got you!”

”I can definitely tell your getting stronger, m/n!!!”

c:

it can also be

“get a good nights sleep, m/n! I love you!”

”be careful on your mission okay? I love you, m/n!”

“thank goodness we surviveeeeed!!! I love you m/n!! I love you so much!!”

now lastly for (shy) physical touch

he is nervous to touch you

he doesn’t wanna make you uncomfortable, yes that’s the last thing he wants

he doesn’t know how to execute it so he ends up either asking or making it very obvious of what he’s trying to do

that way you can shut him down early on just in case

and you won’t feel pressured to let him if you dislike affection

which mind you he does asks if your okay with it first

so that’s likely not the case

if you did mention your distaste for physical affection, however, it’s duly noted in his mind and will keep it to a minimum

your gonna have to discuss boundaries or else he’s gonna act like you have the plague trying not to upset you 🤦‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Tanjiro doesn’t dislike pda or anything

he’s just a bit embarrassed about it

maybe if it’s more subtle like resting your head on his shoulder, then yeah that’s okay!

hugging too!!

but direct kissing or hand holding?

his face is a cherry and he’s apologizing to the passerbyers for disturbing them

even if they don’t mind

he’s self aware when it comes to not disturbing others

tanjiro can be a little flustered/shy about things but he’s certainly isn’t embarrassed about your relationship!

he’s quite proud, actually!

will happily tell/correct anyone that asks or misjudges♡♡♡

It’ll make me happy if you enjoyed this, so hopes to you did!

(apologies for the procrastination, and thank you for your patience lovelies!)

[101ocs]

Leslie Transcript

Note: I just wanted to do this for funsies giggle :3!

[Leslie’s ability, “SIC,” allows him to call upon his dog, Bullet, to attack any victim close enough to him. Bullet cannot kill a victim himself, but can incapacitate them if their health is low enough.]

Feed Grandpa

- I’ll read you a story after this is all done here, grandpa.

- Here you go, Grandpa! A lil’ snack!

- Johnny didn’t mean to, Grandpa…we’ll fix it.

- I gotta present for youuu! Say ‘aaah…’

- I wish you were up n movin’ again. Things would be so much easier.

Victim Found

- Hey, that’s my hidin’ spot!

- What’re you doin’ in there, babe?

- You thought I wouldn’t check here? Really?

- Sorry, babe. Cat’s outta the bag.

- Peekaboo!

- You shy or somethin’? C’mon out.

Victim Hit

- I’m tryna be gentle!

- Awh, yer blood’s so pretty! Lemme see a lil’ more, ‘kay?

- Gotcha good there!

- Why’re you squirmin’?! That just makes things worse!

- I’ll make it quick, babe! Just stop movin’!

Blood Trail

- I’ma have’ta clean this up, y’know…

- What did I say? I told you I’d be nicer.

- Man, I really don’t want clean up duty again.

- Phtt…someone’s havin’ a bad day, huh?

- Yeah, that’s it. Leave Bullet somethin’ to rat you out.

Match Start

- Bullet’s gonna have a field day with this one!

- I’ve never really done a chase like this before…gotta stay on my toes.

- I might be young, but I ain’t dumb. I’ll find ‘em.

See Victim Escape

- We’re really gonna get it this time!

- Shit! This can’t be happenin’ right now!

- I’ll send Bullet after ‘em.

- Goddamnit. I gotta tell Ma.

Idle

- I gotta prove that I ain’t a kid no more!

- That girl Johnny liked…she was really pretty. I mean, really pretty. He didn’t have to do that…

- This may be my first rodeo, but that don’t mean nothin’! I’ll still get it done!

- Bullet should be waking up soon. (sigh) He’s such a good boy…

- Y’know I…I don’t really like killin’. But it is what it is. Gotta do what’s best for us.

Sees Enemy

- I promise I’ll be way nicer than the others. Just c’mere.

- It’s okay…c’mere, sweetheart.

- I’m sorry it has to be this way. Really, I am.

- It’ll be over soon, hun. C’mon over here.

- All of this is pointless. It’ll hurt worse if you squirm. 

Ability Denied

- Bullet can’t hear me from here…

- Nope. No scent for Bullet to track.

- Bullet won’t be able to find ‘em.

- Let’s wait a lil’ longer…

Use Ability

- Sic ‘em, Bullet!

- Get ‘em, boy!

- Find ‘em, Bullet!

- [whistle]

Execution

- Sweet dreams…

- Don’t keep the angels waitin’.

- There you go. You’ll find her up there…I promise.

- Night, night.

- Rest easy, babe.

Cook Seen

- Don’t be hollerin’ at Bubba, okay? You’re makin’ him nervous.

- Let me know if you need help, ‘kay?

- You seen anyone yet? Huh? Huh?

- I’m sure Johnny’s sorry for all this mess, alright? Can you just drop it please?

- Hey, hey, hey, what you gonna cook up for dinner tonight? (laughter)

Hitchhiker Seen

- O-Oh, my bad. I’m in the way…

- Did Grandpa really teach you how to make those traps? You’re so lucky!

- Hey, you should really stop mutterin’ ‘bout my folks, y’know…

- I think you should set a few more traps, man. They’re runnin’ around everywhere!

- I know you’re more experienced than me but…I don’t think messin’ around will do much for our cause.

Johnny Seen

- There you are, Johnny! Me and Bullet have been lookin’ all over for you!

- We should be more gentle with them this time…y’know?

- Johnny…is this about that girl? …Never mind that, we’ll get ‘em!

- I should start workin’ out like you do. My arms could use a lil’ more muscle! (laughter)

- Mama’s worried about you, y’know. Once we catch ‘em, I think you should try to work things out…o-or not.

Sissy Seen

- I’ll get outta yer way…

- Make sure you don’t overdo it with that poison, okay? Ma gets pissed off whenever you do.

- What’re you always singin’ anyway? I don’t get it.

- I’m worried one of these days yer gonna step on somethin’ and hurt yerself. You should really put some shoes on or somethin’!

- Yer flower garden’s doing real well, Sissy! Must be that fertilizer we make. (giggle)

- Y’know, I’m surprised to see you! Thought you were gone for good last time. I’m glad you came back…

Nancy Seen

- Hey, mama! Having any luck over here?

- We’ll definitely catch these kids with you ‘round, mama! You had tons of practice with me n Johnny way back when, huh? (laughter)

- Mama, you think I should call Bullet out soon? He’ll handle this like a champ!

- When I find ‘em, I’ll bring ‘em to you, mama! I promise.

- Need any help, ma?

Bubba Seen

- Woah! You work that saw real good, man! Real good!

- Make sure you’re havin’ fun, alright? We can hang out later, if you want!

- Sorry, man. I’ll get outta your way!

- Are they botherin’ you again? (sigh) Don’t listen to ‘em! You’re doing awesome! I wish I could be as cool as you!

- You’re doing great! Keep going, man!

Cook

- You oughta get yer brother and mother in line, boy!

- Stop yer whinin’ and get to work!

- C’mon, kid. We don’t have all day! Let’s find ‘em!

- If it weren’t for yer brother, we wouldn’t be in this predicament! I keep tellin’ him, but he just don’t listen…

- You better not go off and get us into trouble like this too!

Hitchhiker

- Y-You don’t know nothing ‘bout nothing! Yer just a k-kid!

- I-It’s funny how you n Johnny look alike…(snicker)

- Better hu-hurry or your mama m-m-might give you a scar next!

- You wanna hear a s-secret? C’mere, I’ll tell you a s-secret!

- You still scared of k-killin’? Huh? (laughter) I knew it! Yer shakin’!

Johnny

- C’mon, lil’ boy. Pick up yer feet.

- It’s like that game we used to play as kids! (laughter) Hope you learned a thing or two from that.

- Don’t give up on me now! Keep searchin’!

- Thatta boy, Les. Keep it movin’.

- You see, Les? This is what happens when you’re too easy on them kids! Gotta make sure you finish what you started!

Sissy

- (laughter) Well, aren’t you a sweet thing?

- You just haven’t found the light yet, sugar. That’s all!

- Oh, there you are! I planted some new flowers I want you to see once we’re done!

- Don’t start getting into trouble like your brother does, now. He’s enough as is.

- (laughter) Aww, sugar���you can hardly hold your shears without shakin’.

Nancy

- Breathe, sweetheart. You’re doing just fine.

- Remember what I taught you, Leslie. You’ll be alright.

- Hold those shears up, sweetie. You won’t hit a thing with it swingin’ like that.

- C’mon, Leslie! We can’t let them get away! Get focused!

- There’s a first for everything, Leslie. Don’t get cold feet now.

[jichanxo]

ok, i’ll bite: how pathetic is kitakata in sensei au fic in a scale from 1 to 10, and will he have some kind of kuwanafication-level fuckup (or at least a chance to fuck up that much)?

omg hi… thank you for asking… (twirls hair around my finger)

this got long (of course it did) so it's under the cut for those who would prefer to scroll past.

okay pathetic level… uhhh ummmm hm… how to quantify… I want to say either a 7 or an 8? he does embarrass himself quite a bit. he has no idea how to act around yagami FOR SURE. so while some of that is just him being annoying, a good chunk of that is. flirting. and he’s SO confident about it even though he keeps failing over and over again… buddy you gotta take a hint… and eventually something comes of it! but yeah he’s super embarrassing about it. and he’s down so bad for yagami. and his bedroom talk… yeah he’s lame. he’s very lame I think. trust me. (using my best judgment here)

kuwanafication-level fuckup… so far? no. current plan for this fic is essentially a mishmash of lj school story and kuwagami-romance-drama bullshit, so just by having that as the basis, there isn’t really that much opportunity for something that life-changing to happen, really. I have most of the kuwagami-romance-drama bullshit side of the story sorted, but I still need to figure out more of the school story side of this fic (I gotta go over em and take some detailed notes to make sure I write it correctly…), so there’s still a chance that something else will pop up as I write it, especially depending on how things with Itokura shake out, but so far there aren’t any plans for anything like that.

it’s definitely kind of this idealised universe where everything Just Goes Well, yknow… a contrast from canon… but this kind of mundane kuwana is nice too… he’s done his best to try and learn from his near-fuck-up. he’s not perfect but he tries.

in regards to Kusumoto Mitsuru, since it’s important and I don’t remember clarifying this in any post/tags – the deal here is that kitakata still fucked up but he managed to fix everything at the last second before mitsuru died. so kitakata’s kind of had the lesson but without the, yknow. the transformation. I wrote about it as a kind of prequel here if you haven't already seen (obligatory reminder to heed tags etc since it's heavy stuff). I assume that’s kind of sort of relevant to what you’re asking? it’s not that this kitakata never had it happen to him, he messed up and he was forced to stare that in the face, but he managed to avoid the worst outcome, took responsibility, tried to change and continued on with a renewed perspective on his job.

but let’s go back to kitakata actually fucking up during senseific, because I definitely have that! rn the most obvious example is yagami and kitakata getting into a fight and sawa having to intervene and tell them both off for it. it sounds silly when I put it like that, but in context it’s a big moment and a big deal for them both. it’s not just kitakata’s fuck up and it’s there’s more to it obviously (kitakata wouldn’t get all worked up without reason, right?) but yeah, having your kouhai/ex-student have to intervene because you’re trying to punch a grown man in the face? it’s a fuck up. lmao

[m-t-nester]

A video file is attached. Would you like to watch it?

[Video begins in darkness.

“I just don’t see why you’re letting him stay on your couch if you’re so uncomfortable with him,” Cynthia’s voice says.

“Call it a matter of personal pride, as a mother,” Em responds quietly. 

“Won’t you end up just resenting him? You’re exhausted, you need rest. I’m just worried about you.”

“I… don’t know. Maybe,” Em admits. 

Footsteps can be heard— one pair of slippers, one set of heels, and a large bipedal pokemon. The camera fades in to show Em, Cynthia, and her garchomp approaching the couch.

“Oh, shit,” Laurence says quietly. “I— am I going to get arrested?”

“Doubtful. You’re still a minor,” Cynthia says.

“Oh.” He considers this. “Can I say hi to your garchomp?”

Em sighs, muttering something about the stupidity of innocence, but sits down to supervise anyways. Garchomp seems pretty okay with this arrangement, and puts her head in Laurence’s lap.

“So, I assumed you might have had your pokemon taken by Plasma earlier,” Em says, almost conversationally. “Not a lot of kids your age don’t even have a starter. And you could be hiding from transphobic parents.”

Laurence flinches at that.

“Knock it off, he’s clearly not ready,” Cynthia snaps.

“No, I— it’s okay,” Laurence says. “I know I can’t pass that well, anyways. I’d have to dress better than I can afford to, or learn how to do makeup, and make an effort with my voice, and it’s all too much trouble. I don’t care if people clock that I was born a girl. I don’t even know for sure if I’m a boy, it’s just safer right now. It doesn’t hurt if people call me a girl. But it’s not safe.”

“You’re…. Not sure. So you’re experimenting?” Em frowns. “I see.”

“Something like that. Being a girl in Plasma wasn’t great.” He gives an emotionless smile.

“Well, I’d imagine that being part of an organization that brutally murders children isn’t great,” she remarks coldly.

Laurence doesn’t seem to notice her tone. “They weren’t brutal. They don’t beat you to death unless you really mess up and betray us, and that was only one time anyways. It was medical neglect, mostly. Preventable stuff, like how a couple people died each winter from the flu or hypothermia. Oh, or when the measles went around. I heard you’re supposed to be vaccinated against those, but we weren’t.”

Laurence keeps petting the Pokémon in his lap, seemingly oblivious to what he just said. Em looks too shocked to do anything. Cynthia has her hands clasped over her mouth.

“Historically accurate infant mortality rates,” Cynthia says very quietly, and then rushes out of the room, looking ill.

Her garchomp looks ready to follow her. Laurence pouts, trying to get the pokemon’s attention again.

“Kid. You know— that’s not normal. None of it is normal.” Em shakes her head. “They shouldn’t be recruiting kids. Kids deserve better than this. I’ll kill them all.”

“What, all the parents? Are you going to kill me the day I turn eighteen, too?” Laurence asks.

“I— what the hell?!? What do you want,” Em demands, looking more and more flustered.

“I want to reunite with my Pokémon and live somewhere safe until I stop feeling empty inside. That’s all, really.” Laurence finally loses at his attempt to keep snuggling a ten foot tall garchomp, and sighs as the Pokémon rushes off. A moment later, garchomp returns, nuzzling Cynthia. She looks pale and unwell.

“I’m going to get some water,” Laurence says, standing with a crack and wandering off into the other room.

Garchomp deposits Cynthia on the couch next to Em, gives her one last nuzzle, and then follows Laurence.

“Sorry you had to see me like that. I’ll be a proper feminist girlboss tomorrow,” Cynthia says, trying to fix her bangs. Trying to fix her composure. 

“No need for that here. It’s okay.” Em’s hand touches hers. “I’m a bad feminist too.”

“It’s stupid. It’s stupid, it’s incredibly stupid, any historian will tell you that you should never uncritically romanticize the past. They blamed technology for their problems and recreated medieval— historically accurate mortality rates. We study the past so we don’t repeat it!”

“I. Maybe I should study more,” Em admits. “I didnt know they had kids in their ranks. Plasma, I mean.”

“Is studying going to be a trauma trigger for you?”

“I dont know.”

“I dont know either.” Cynthia sighs, wiping at her eyes. Her eyeliner, normally sharp enough to kill a man with, is smeared from crying. “Hey, this might be overstepping, I don’t know, but is there any chance you could pack me a lunch or something? Whenever things go bad, I feel like I need to Do Something about it, and I’m working with interpol to raid another hideout, and—“

The camera pans downward. Em is holding Cynthia by both arms, leaning across the couch. Their chests nearly touch. Cynthia’s body language is shocked at first, then she reciprocates, wrapping an arm around Em. A lock of blonde hair falls into Em’s lap.

Video ends.]

[house-of-slayterr]

Firefly Family Group Chat:

For: @myers-meadow-selfship @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better Cy, let me know if you want in on the shenanigans 😈

AN: For reference, the group chat is from Blinky’s phone, hence why the screen names are the way that they are 😂 I don’t even think half of them know what they’re set at in their phone. Spaulding is “Daddio”, Otis is “Old Man”, Baby is “Barbie”, Doe Eyes is “Angel Face”, Mama is just “✨Mama✨”, and Blinky just made themselves “👁️👄👁️”

Daddio:

Problem

Blinky:

Have you perhaps tried… solving said problem?

Daddio:

That it! I’m taking Blinky behind the shed for the Old Yeller treatment. Any objections?

Old Man:

Ain’t hearing non’ from me.

Barbie:

They used the last of my red polish, send em to the shed! 😈

Angel Face:

Calm down Killer Barbie, nobody’s Shooting the kid!

Old Man:

That so Princess? 🤨

👁️👄👁️:

Yo, since when did gramps learn how to use emojis? Yall seeing this shit?

Angel Face:

Language Blinky!

👁️👄👁️:

Bet he’s just standing there lookin’ like this tbh thinking nobodies watchin’

Well guess what Santa Claus, I’m always watching 👀

Barbie:

Woah, Blink, when did you get that super high quality photo of Otis?

Old Man:

I DO NOT STAND LIKE THAT!

👁️👄👁️:

I Do nOT StAnd liKe ThaT!

Old Man:

Spaulding you got extra shells in that gun? I’m gonna make a second mess behind the shed.

✨Mama✨:

Children, if you do not shut up and listen to your damn father, you’re all going in the shed.

Blinky:

Ahhh!!!!!

Mama using proper city words! Burn the witch! Run!

Old Man:

I think I saw Mama grab the wooden spoon 👀

Blinky:

Firstly, Otis, don’t go stealing my emoji “👀” is mine ok?

Secondly, which way did she go?

Angel Face:

Mama isn’t gonna hit them with a spoon Otis, stop scaring them!

Old Man:

Are you sure about that?

👁️👄👁️:

Ahhhh!

Saint Klaus discovered gifs, and John Cena!!

BURN THE WITCH!!

Angel Face:

Ok, Blinky, I can’t see you right now, but you better put that lighter down or I swear to-

Just, don’t touch anything!

Daddio:

Well thanks to you useless little shits, I don’t got a problem any more. It fixed itself, dumb broad ran out infront of a moving car.

Someone was driving really quickly down the main road, strangely the car kinda looked familiar

👁️👄👁️:

Angel Face:

….

Barbie:

….

Old Man:

….

👁️👄👁️:

Don’t worry Papi, I’ve got your back 😉

Totally random, off the top of my head question here…

How does one go about removing hair from a grill plate?

Barbie:

…

Old Man:

…

Daddio:

Thanks little clown. At least one do my children respects me.

…

…

Wait, who the hell gave Blinky the keys to the truck?!!?

👁️👄👁️:

Oh no-

Our connection…

It’s breaking- ing up!

Old Man:

Blinky this is a text chat.

Angel Face:

Are you texting while driving??

👁️👄👁️:

No…

Angel Face:

Unbelievable!

Barbie:

High five little dude! That was awesome!

👁️👄👁️:

Thank you, thank you. I do aim to please! I also like to multitask, anyone want a milkshake?

Daddio:

Kiddo, please tell me you didn’t go into town with the truck covered in blood.

👁️👄👁️:

Of course not, I’m not stupid. I ditched the truck in the tree line, and stole some fancy sort of hybrid nonsense. Much less suspicious for legal Milkshake purposes.

Barbie:

Strawberry please!

👁️👄👁️:

You got it Baby! Anyone else?

Going once…

Going twice…

✨Mama✨:

Blinky if you don’t get your ass back in this god Damn house in the next 30 minutes, I’m lighting the spoon on fire first.

👁️👄👁️:

Flaming spoon you say? I’ll be there 😏

Angel Face:

Blinky! No!

[nokingsonlyfooles]

And, Again with the Art!

This illustration is for Tin Soldier #13, Flour Power. It's been through some changes!

Woo! Finally came up to one with lyrics!

I'm doing some civil disobedience here, with a metred amount of disobedience. I'd be willing to pay songwriters a reasonable amount (like, an amount comparable to something a human being would pay for a single/MP3) for the ability to reprint/remix music with credit and a link to the original. I would be willing to work with a reasonable copyright of 2-7 years. That's not an option right now. So, I rewrite lyrics and link you to the original on YT (which has paid for the privilege of skirting copyright and can afford it), with credit. And I try to give views to the artist's official account, if possible.

I also use song titles, because we seem to have decided those are not unique enough to be copyrighted, but I have no idea if that, or the rewritten lyrics, will hold up if someone gets pissed and comes after me. This is, conceivably, a risk, but any jailbreak is.

My lyrics are Creative Commons, BY-NC-SA. I would go full public domain, but Disney likes to pull things out of there and copyright the hell out of their version, so I gotta add something to keep them away. Just in case! So, with that disclaimer out of the way, here's a parody of Master of the House that tells a different story. You can listen to the original and read along in mental stereo! (To substitute, or "sub" means to use a thing as another thing, or alter it with magic enough to do so. "Master of the Kitchen" doesn't scan, and Maggie has asked to learn about substitutions. But, by all means, reblog and make the obvious joke. Any publicity is good publicity!)

Welcome, mon Dieu, sit yourself down

And meet the greatest handler around

As for my friends, they do their best

But I can manage any request

I’ll settle the debt

Aren’t you glad you met

This guy with few supplies

Who’s a nervous wreck?

Master of the Sub, confidence is key

Specialize in baked goods and psychology

Answer with a nod, service with a smile

Invisibles require you to be versatile

Keeping track of gods and favours

And remember to be nice

But nothing costs you nothing

Before you buy, you’d better know the price!

Master of the Sub, herder of the cats

Ready with some poison or a friendly chat

Water down the wine, I can fix the taste

Somebody will want that, it won’t go to waste

Everybody loves a handler

Everybody's trusted mate

If you need it, I’ll do it

Screw it! My own mental health can wait!

Master of the Sub, always finds a way

Available for counseling both night and day

Servant of the gods, slave of the possessed

Confidant, psychologist, and total mess

Everybody’s first defender

Everybody's chaperone

But though I’ll help you through it

Screw it! When it counts I’m on my own!

Food beyond our means. Food beyond belief

Mix it with some bouillon and they’ll think it's beef

Turkey tastes like sheep, chicken tastes like rat

I can fix the texture, they won’t notice that

Deities are always welcome

Residents are pushed aside

Help them make the best deal

Then I mind them while they’re occupied!

Pay 'em for their skills, careful who they kill

Negotiate the prices and pay all the bills

That’s survivable, just a little pain

Don’t call a god to fix it, or you’ll pay again

When it comes to filling orders

There’s so many tricks I know

All these chains of deals, questionable meals

Screw it! That’s the way the money goes!

I thought the park might be more fun than school.

But gods in heaven, will you listen to this fool?

Master of the sub? Couldn’t cast a spell!

Confidant, psychologist and dull as hell!

Very little skill. Story’s pretty tragic

Guess he’s halfway clever, but where’s the magic?

I’m s’posed to write a paper, what do you want me to do?

It’s still not three pages even with the part about the zoo!

Master of the sub!

Master of the yuck.

Confidant, psychologist

I may upchuck.

Servant of the gods, slave of the possessed

Devious, incompetent and clinically depressed!

Everybody needs a handler!

Everybody likes his grub!

Let’s all learn to substitute!

Let’s all admit the point is moot

Let’s all learn to substitute from the Master of the Sub!

And, here's the shaded version. It has slightly different lyrics, but I think the newer ones are better.

No pen-paper-scan version of this, 'cos I didn't make one. Tin Soldier is a thing. I wrote it. Go read it!

[toomanyfandomsorkinafs]

😅 Probably the called upon series but I might remake it cause I was newww to the fandom

🥺 their fighting big fight with either each other or some else and then they just hug and one breaks down crying and tells them the truth🥹

🤡 Scott Smajor Style, (person) flavour.

😈 It’s not out yet but…I might be killing someone that literally doesn’t need to die-

✍ ITS JUST ME MYSELF AND I

🛒 I like talking about hybrids cause they add do much for movement, description etc!

🎢 Spore Family or WTFWBTR

✨ great job on your emotions! Their very cobblesome

💋 Depends on how the rest of the fic is but most of the time I love em!

🎶 Depending on what I’m writing I’ll play my love songs playlist for love fics/sad fics, whoever my current favourite artist is(Erykah BADUUUUU) for literally any or my main playlist for silly ones cause it just hits different(or of that fic has a playlist based on it that’s what I’ll play)

🛠 Apple notes app…

⛔ A lot actually! Sometimes my ideas don’t work with my thought process

🙋‍♀️ four actually!

🍦 AUs I probably won’t finish! They’re sometimes so sweet.

🍷 I think soda- (I’m a minor)

🍆 Nope! I leave that kinda of stuff for 🌸🐚🌹

🌞 night time so no one I live with comes in and messes up my idea flow

💖 I don’t know… I can’t remember..I started back in late 2020/early 2021

💌 I love it so much! I love hearing other peoples opinions!

❌ Exes that know that don’t work together get back together cause they can’t live without each other or one is in love the other only just likes them🤮

💲 actually they are open!

🧐 if it needs something I don’t know about 30mins-2hours

🏆 I called upon a group chat and I was finally answered.(Cause obviously it’s a chatfic)

🎃 I haven’t yet! Maybe Christmas or Easter for like more family kinda ones

🎯 not yet~ I’m just that good at hiding it

🎨 Id love to have some! Only got one from my irl

📈 12 at this current moment

🦅 some I do, some I don’t🤷🏽‍♀️

👀 Snowbugs baking + poetry

🤗 Don’t worry if someone says your writing is cringy or stupid. If it makes you happy then work on it. One day you’ll be far better then you could’ve ever imagined

💞 Scott Smajor and LaurenZside(but I don’t post those cause those are mainly just for me to be happy)

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcannon(send plz, Also Aether from Genshin Impact)

🤩 Lizzie, Grian and Scott(I mainly watch just them so I know how to write them best.)

🤲 I hope one day you are to see your greatness too. I know that one day is not near, but I make promise that I will make you have the love I have always have for you. 

😬 ALL(homophobic family members + this is my way to escape from them all😭)

🎉 what ships its uses, and the way it’s write + what type of fic it is

✅ one character just losing someone close to them(I don’t mean it! It’s just my abandonment issues sneaking into my writing)

📚 Yes! I enjoy it and can write so much when motivated but I think I won’t last cause sometimes I just can’t write at all

⌛ Depends on how much motivation I have that day

🤯 action💔 I suck at writing fighting scenes and such. I can’t describe what I think into words probably

💔 WTFWBTR

💥 I love to know how I can fix myself! I know that I’m not perfect so please do tell me when I’m wrong

🤭 Flower husbands…

🥰 I love it! I makes me feel so happy when someone says something even if I was just a spelling error cause I can’t realise them sometimes😭 plus it’s always fun to hear what they think might happen and take that(with permission) and add it to what I’m doing

Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

✍ Do you have a beta reader?

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

💋 First kiss fics. Love em or hate em?

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

🛠What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

🍦 What's the sweetest fic you've created so far?

🍷 Do you drink and write?

🍆 Do you write the spicy stuffs? If so, what's your most popular nsfw fic?

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

💖 What made you start writing?

💌 How do you feel about comments and feedback?

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

💲 Would you ever open commissions?

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

🏆 What's your most popular fic?

🎃 Do you write fics for certain holidays? Which is your favorite holiday inspired fic?

🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?

🎨 How do you feel about fan art of your stories?

📈 How many fics do you have?

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

💞 Who's your comfort character?

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

😬 Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon?

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

📚 Would you ever want to turn writing into a career?

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

💥 How do you feel about criticism?

🤭 Do you have a favorite tag to use when posting your works?

🥰 How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?

[arickaandherfictionalothers]

No place like home Part 2: pep talks and rehearsals begin!

(Aricka x Bradley, Aricka and Jake; Aricka and Bob; Aricka and MavDad)

(Aricka has rehearsal jitters and her best friends and boyfriend give her a pep talk.)

Aricka’s palms were sweating and the air felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. She chewed on her bottom lip, teeth worrying it like her life depended on it.

Bradley noticed first, gently prying her hands open, gripping them in a relaxed but firm manner. “Hey sweetheart,” he says. “Come back from whatever internal conflict you’re having and look at me.” He knew she got like this sometimes- she seemed like she shut down externally but internally her thoughts raced and stomach churned like she ate something bad.

Jake tossed a clementine orange her way, Bradley peeling it quickly and handing her a piece, relieved when she actually ate it- so she was still able to take in her surroundings. “Hey, A?” Jake says. “You okay?”

“I’ll get her some water; she finished her water bottle in chemistry,” Bob says, snagging her Captain America thermos and taking off down the hallway.

“Talk to me, babe. I can’t exactly fix it if you don’t tell me.”

“I’m nervous,” she says, barely above a whisper. “What if I screw up?”

“You try again. And again. Until you get it right. But you won’t mess up; because you’ve had this movie script memorized since you were seven,” Bradley says. “You’ve idolized Judy Garland since you could say her name. You and I were Dorothy and Scarecrow for Halloween when we were ten. This movie has quite literally raised us.”

“You are the best person to sing, “Over the Rainbow,” who’s our age, and you’re the one who helped me and B memorize our lines for our auditions.”

She smiles and leans against him. “Thanks; B. Jake.” He squeezes her carefully, letting her bury herself against him.

“Anytime, Miss Gale,” he teases.

Jake reaches over and offers a fist bump, “what are friends for?”

Bob returned then with the water bottle in hand. Aricka takes it gratefully and unscrews the lid, taking a deep drink before screwing the lid back on and tucking it away in her backpack. “Thanks Robbie,” she says. The quieter member of their band of thieves smiles.

“You’re welcome. And to echo what Bradley and Jake said; you’ve got this.”

“Now, let’s get through the rest of today and get to rehearsal,” Bradley says, grabbing his and Aricka’s backpacks before also claiming his girlfriend’s hand, as the four of them walked to their next class together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright; Aricka, I want you to run in and start talking about Miss Gulch to your Uncle Henry and Auntie Em,” Ms. Barnes says. The girl beams and glances over at the pair playing Em and Henry and darts off stage, waiting for her cue. “Okay!”

Aricka runs onstage, clutching the stuffed dog from the auditions, exclaiming, “Aunt Em! Aunt Em!” Penny keeps pretending to be counting the make believe chicks in a cardboard box. “Aunt Em! AUNT EM!”

“Fifty-seven, Fifty eight,” Penny Benjamin, the woman Aricka wishes was her real mom, knelt down and went on counting, so Aricka huffed and began ranting,

“Just listen to what Miss Gultch did to Toto! She -!”

“Dorothy, please! We’re trying to count! Fifty-eight -,” Penny interjects.

“Oh, but Aunt Em, she hit him -!” This time, Aricka’s own dad interrupted her,

“Don’t bother us now honey. You see, this old incubator’s gone bad and we’re likely to lose a lot of our chicks,” giving her a faux-stern look. Aricka clicks her tongue worriedly,

“Oh, - oh, the poor little things.” SHE reaches into the box and lifts out a chicken which SHE strokes during the next bit of her dialogue, “Oh, but Aunt Em, Miss Gultch hit Toto right over the back with a rake just because she says he gets in her garden and chases her nasty old cat every day!”

“Seventy. Dorothy, please!” Penny exclaims. Aricka huffs, stomps her feet.

“But he doesn’t do it every day -- just once or twice a week. And he can’t catch her old cat, any-way. And now she says she’s going to get the-!”

Dorothy! We’re busy!” Penny pretends to put the final chickens in HER outstretched apron and hurries off-stage. Aricka turns to her dad. Pleads.

“Uncle Henry. Can’t you do something?” She watches her dad pretend to wipe actual sweat from his forehead; turning to her. Patting her head.

“I’m doing something right now honey so just keep out of our hair.” He lifts up the box and exits after Penny. The noise of the chicks fades.

“Oh - all right…”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Aricka-Dorothy and Bradley

“She tried to kill him. Oh, what am I going to do about Miss Gultch, Hunk? Just because Toto chases her old cat,” Aricka says to Bradley, who turns to her, somewhat exasperated.

“Now lookit, Dorothy, you ain’t using your head about Miss Gultch. Ain’t you got no brains?” He taps her forehead, making the girl protest,

“Sure I have brains!”

“Well, why don’t you use them? When you come home, don’t go by Miss Gultch’s place - then Toto won’t get in her garden and you won’t get in no trouble. See?” The two of them stare each other down before the girl mumbles,

“You just won’t listen, that’s all.”

~~~~~~~~

Aricka and Bob

“Zeke, what am I going to do?” Aricka asks Bob, who pretends to think; guiding her off to the side of the stage.

“Well for a start, Kid, don’t let that old Gultch heifer try and buffalo you. She ain’t nothing to be afraid of. You got to stand up to her, that’s all, with a little courage, a little grit.” Behind Aricka, Jake mimes holding a large metal funnel and Bradley pretends to hold the ruined scarecrow.

“I’m not afraid of her,” Aricka says.

“That’s what I wanted to hear. Walk with your head up, your chest out and the next time she squawks, you just stroll right up to her and spit in her eye. That’s what I’d do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Practicing Somewhere Over the Rainbow

“Okay; Aricka; this is just the first rehearsal, so feel free to use your script and sing along, I just want you to begin getting comfortable with the song, and the tracks, alright? If you mess up: we can start over; it’s all good.” Ms. Barnes motions for the song to begin, and Aricka begins reciting the line right before the song begins,

“It’s not a place you can get to by a boat or a train… it’s somewhere far away… beyond the moon… beyond the rain…” closing her eyes, she began to sing,

“When all the world is a hopeless jumble

And the raindrops tumble all around

Heaven opens a magic lane…” she slowly begins walking in a circle, keeping her front half to the audience, glancing at her script before continuing,

“When all the clouds darken up the skyway

There's a rainbow highway to be found

Leading from your windowpane…” she bends down as if she’s setting down Toto, glancing offstage she sees Bradley and her dad both giving her a supportive thumbs up.

“To a place behind the sun

Just a step beyond the rain…” she makes her way back to center stage, taking a deep breath and belting it out,

“Somewhere, over the rainbow

Way up high

There's a land that I heard of

Once in a lullaby…” nerves began to come back and she felt panic fill her stomach, but another voice came from behind her; and she sang with it,

“Somewhere, over the rainbow

Skies are blue

And the dreams that you dare to dream

Really do come true…” she turns to see Jake-!- walking up to her; grabbing her hand and pulling her focus onto him; and behind him; Bradley and Bob joining him,

“Some day I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are

Far behind me

Where troubles melt like lemon drops away above the chimney tops

That's where you'll find me…” for a moment, it was just the four of them; in their own bubble.

“Somewhere, over the rainbow

Blue birds fly

Birds fly over the rainbow

Why then, oh, why can't I?…” Jake let’s go of her hand and turns her back to facing the audience, squeezing her shoulder as Bob and Bradley do the same to her other shoulder and hand.

“If happy little bluebirds fly

Beyond the rainbow…” she takes a deep breath, nods her head; and belts it out,

“Why, oh, why can't I?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That was the best time I’ve heard you sing that song,” Pete says as he pulls into Jake’s driveway.

“Thanks dad,” Aricka says, finishing the last drops of her Oreo milkshake. “I was really nervous, but having Jake Bradley Bob and you there really helped. I didn’t feel as scared.”

“We’re your backup,” Bob says.

“Sure thing snickers, what’re friends for?” Jake adds.

“I’ll- um- we’ll- always have your back,” Bradley finished. Aricka grinned at her best friend and says a soft,

“Thanks B-B. Thanks guys. See you tomorrow Jakey-!”

“Bye Ariel; bye guys-!” And Jake jumps out of the vehicle, running into his house and waving once he was inside.

Pete made the drive to Bob’s house in the same fashion, making small talk about the kids’ day, asking them about their upcoming college visits- knowing full well that the four of them had every intention of applying to join the Navy and later, TopGun.

Aricka mentioned that she had a backup in mind on the off chance she didn’t get accepted- Juilliard, in New York. “I’ve always loved acting as much as aviation,” she points out. “That way even if I can’t fly planes I can still sorta fly with pulleys and such.”

Bob mentioned a college in Texas as a backup and Bradley said he’d found one he’d liked locally near the base- Fallon Campus. Bob disappeared into his own house and soon it was just Pete, his daughter and his godson.

Now. He wasn’t oblivious. The two in the backseat of his car clearly had some sort of feelings for each other; and neither seemed ready to make any sort of move.

He’d have to mention it to Nick to mention it subtly to Bradley. Not that he was eager for his only daughter to be dating but- he trusted Bradley.

“Hey: can you come over later and study?” Bradley asks suddenly. “For the English lit test Friday?”

“Can I dad?” She asks, not about to commit to anything without his permission.

“As long as you get home by curfew,” he agrees, pulling into his own driveway; knowing Bradley would more than likely cut across through the backyard to his parents’ house. “You had enough to eat or-?”

“If you want she can eat with us, Uncle Mav,” Bradley says. “Mom’s making this spaghetti-pizza bake thing. With homemade garlic bread.”

Aricka glanced at her dad once more; beaming when he nodded his permission. “Have fun,” he says, wrapping his arms around her when she crashed into him with a hug.

She snuggled underneath his chin like she had ever since she was two, before standing on tiptoes to kiss her dad’s cheek.

“Love you daddy,” she whispers, before grabbing Bradley’s arm and running across the lawn with him, Bradley carrying both their backpacks instead of just his.

———————-

@astralshipper @rosieshipper @hyperionshipping @sappy-secrets @yeehawselfshipping @letsgofoletsgo @tsundere-selfship

[moemammon]

could i please request the obey me ! boyfies with an s/o who is like & chubby ? they get insecure about it (like being tall + chubby) and really are body-insecure to the point it’s like super frustrating too bc they want to express themselves through their outfits but absolutely hate clothes shopping and will break down bc of the amount of people, the clothing sizes, and being upset after trying things on... thank you so much!!

The Demon Bros react to a Body-Insecure GN!MC

(Beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. This is something we hear all the time to the point that it almost feels dry and cliche. But! Just know that there's NOTHING wrong with the way you look, despite all the media we see centered around the world's idea of beauty. Beauty is subjective, and not eternal. Just be you. The best 'you' you can be!)

Lucifer

Do you REALLY think an age old demon would see anything wrong with what you look like? He's constantly surrounded by beauty, anyway, in the form of demons and angels alike

Besides, Luci isn't shallow enough to base his affections for you purely on how you look, so you don't even have to question that.

But he does recognize that you don't see yourself in the same like as he does, and he's so, so patient with you. After all, he can't have the love of his life doubting their self worth. The Avatar of Pride won't be having that.

Lucifer takes the time to tell you, everyday, what you mean to him. In the quiet moments when you two are alone, he'll guide your gaze to meet his own, and starts going down the list of the things that make you beautiful.

"To think you'd be self conscious about something like this.... Do you think I'd settle for anything less than perfection? Let me remind you again why I love every inch of you, MC."

Mammon

Taking up modeling gigs means Mammon's seen just about every body type under the sun, so do you seriously think he's that worried about the way you look?

He's a little slow to read the room, so it takes him a while to realize that you're self conscious. But when he tries taking you clothes shopping one day, and sees you're on the verge of tears after trying on two outfits, he gets the clue.

NOW he's being extra as hell in showing you how much he likes you. You start waking up to texts telling you how beautiful you are (with the obligatory threat that you'd better not show his brothers), he keeps putting his arm around you in public, and when he can muster up the courage, he'll even tell you in person how good you look in the outfit you're wearing.

He even starts sending you links to websites he visits to buy clothes. There's some good ones that have a wide range of customization options, and a pretty diverse size chart! It's not so bad if it's online, right?

"Anyone who's worthy of being around THE Great Mammon is worth a million grimm, understand? I don't really get all the fuss about yer body, but... I think ya look fine the way ya are. So smile a little more, alright?"

Levi

Levi can relate when it comes to body insecurities. He's a layabout, and the only exercise he gets is when he's forced to get it. He doesn't think he's much of a looker compared to his brothers, either.

So when you tell him how you feel about the way you look, he gathers up every ounce of otaku™️ strength to tell you that there's nothing wrong with your height, or weight.

He DEFINITELY values personality over looks, and even then it's not like he finds you unattractive. Seriously, he doesn't get your worries at all. Are you sure you can see properly..? They say staring at screens too long can mess up your eyesight, so maybe he should stop forcing you to watch so much tv with him?

And guess what? Levi can sew. Go ahead and bring him the clothes you wanna wear, and he'll get em fixed up for you! Or if you want something custom made, he's got you! Leave it to the master weeb and his endless cosplay knowledge! ✨

"L-Like in anime! It's boring to see the same body types all the time and it's nice when they change it up, s-so....Uh.... Anyway, I like everything about you, okay?! Your body is fine the way it is!"

Satan

According to his nerd calculations, you have no reason to be insecure.

Jokes aside, Satan listens to your concerns and handles them gently. No two people look alike and the world is full of different body types, so who's to decide what is and isn't beautiful?

As he sees it, you're healthy and happy, and isn't that all that matters? He can't take away your anxieties about shopping, but he CAN help you find things you would like to try out. He's pretty sure he has a book that teaches a spell for altering clothes in an instant....

Satan tends to think on the logical side of things, so you can trust that he isn't just saying nice things to spare your feelings. He means every word when he tells you how perfect you are in his eyes.

"Of the billions of people on earth, do you really think anyone can say what 'beauty' is? MC, you're perfect the way you are. Should I write a book about all the wonderful things I love about you?"

Asmo

If there's anyone who can appreciate all body types, it's Asmo. What can you expect from the Avatar of Lust, who's seen all there is to see? If anything, there's more for him to love~!

And his affection for your body isn't even entirely sexual. It's all about aesthetics! He loves every dip and curve of yours, from head to toe!

He knows you find it difficult to find clothes that suit you, so he's started having your clothes tailored. You're a little confused when he randomly starts taking your measurements one day-

Later, he returns to you with all those outfits you kept staring at a little too long, all tailored to your body type. Asmo has CONNECTIONS, baby. He's gonna make sure you find everything you could possibly want. He knows how crucial it is to express yourself through what you wear!

"Didn't I tell you you'd look great in that? I'm never wrong when it comes to fashion! And MC darling, you look as stunning as always! Ooh, I just love the way this accentuates your body~!"

Beel

Beel only has food on the brain, so he's the least likely to care for appearances. He loves you for your heart, because that's what matters the most to him. And when you're happy, he's happy!

He loves the look on your face when you smile at yourself in the mirror, and he wants to see that more often. So when you express your insecurities about your body, Beel has a plan of action in mind.

He hoists you up and settles you onto his bed, first grabbing your thighs, your hips, your torso, your arms, and ends all the touching by cupping your cheeks. His hands are warm with affection, and you could already feel yourself melting into his touch.

He looks you in the eye with that deadpan expression of his, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, and a potato chip to your lips.

"No matter how you look or what you wear, you're still the same MC that I love. Every part of you is just fine, so why do you worry so much about it? I'll remind you over and over if I have to."

Belphie

Um??? That means he has more to hold?? when you guys cuddle?? You're warm, you smell nice, and he loves you. Literally where is the downside to any of that???

Belphie takes your worries with a grain of salt, but he knows how insecure you are so he doesn't brush them off. He DOES however tell you that you're worrying yourself to death.

Also, do you really think a man that sleeps all the time is going to have washboard abs? Belphie definitely has a little chub here and there under those baggy ass clothes of his.

Speaking of clothes, he thinks you should just wear whatever makes you comfortable. You're wearing those clothes for yourself, aren't you? So just wear what you like.

"There you go again, talking badly about yourself. Geez.... I guess I'll just have to hold you in my arms until you realize how silly you're being. Come here."

[arrowflier]

prompt, if you have the time: ian and mickey talking about ian's bipolar in a really chill manner. like they are married and their convo after securing business made me think about how many other convos we missed 😔❤️

Disclaimer: I don’t know what it’s like to actually live with bipolar. That makes me nervous because I want to do right by it, so if I miss the mark on prompts like this, please do let me know. Also, this starts out a bit dramatic because when aren't they, but I promise they chill out.

Take Off Your Mask (don’t compensate for me)

Mickey is at the bathroom sink, getting ready to brush his teeth, when Ian comes in behind him. He watches the reflection of that messy red hair get closer as he squeezes minty toothpaste onto his brush—well, onto a brush, he’s not totally sure whose is whose at this point. Ian’s arms wrap easily around his waist, hands dipping just a little too low for common decency, and Mickey leans back into him as Ian bends to breathe against his neck.

“Mmm, again?” Mickey murmurs as Ian licks that sensitive patch of skin just behind his ear, those broad, warm palms heavy on his hips. “Didn’t I just take care of that?” he adds, pushing his hips back.

But Ian shifts so they don’t make contact, their lower halves stubbornly separated even as he plasters his chest to Mickey’s back, and Mickey knows something is wrong.

“You uh…” he starts, suppressing the sudden fluttering feeling in his chest, the one you get when you stand up too fast. He swallows. “You feelin’ good, man?”

Ian pauses behind him, and Mickey can feel him breathing. In and out, in and out, but just a touch too fast. He knows despite his efforts, the words came out cautious, came out concerned. And Ian had definitely noticed.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Ian tries casually, bringing sharp teeth to nibble at Mickey’s ear. “Can’t I just be turned on by my husband?”

“Yeah,” Mickey agrees, “sure you can.” He pulls away though, just enough to get Ian looking in the mirror, and meets his eyes through their reflections in the glass.

“But you’re not, though,” Mickey says, and Ian shoves away from him with a heavy sigh.

“Never mind,” he mutters, looking at the floor. He starts to leave, but Mickey’s having none of that, and sets his unused toothbrush down with a clatter to make a grab for Ian’s arm.

“Hey, wait,” he gets out before Ian is spinning on him again, pushing his hand away.

“I just wanted to do something for you,” Ian growls, leaving Mickey stunned with the sudden shift in attitude. “I know that wasn’t enough, earlier, I know I haven’t been enough. Not since they upped my fucking meds.”

“The fuck are you on about?” Mickey asks, completely mystified. “When did I say any of that?”

“Just now!” Ian bellows, and Mickey’s not having that, either.

“Yo,” he states firmly. “Knock that the fuck off.”

And Ian does. His eyes go wide at the iron in Mickey’s voice, and then he’s deflating. Like a balloon animal from the fair that you leave in your room for too long, he goes from overfilled and pressurized to a limp, wrinkled mess in no time flat.

“Sorry,” Ian manages softly. “I’ll just…” And then he’s leaving the room, leaving Mickey staring at the space where he had been, wishing he was better at all of this shit.

Mickey rubs his face with tired hands, then follows.

He finds Ian in their room, huddled on his side of the bed. The blankets are still kicked to the bottom of the mattress where they had left them, Ian’s toes tucked underneath as he sits with his knees to his chest.

Mickey sits on the edge next to him, facing him. Pokes at his leg until Ian looks up.

“Hey,” he says simply. “What’s goin’ on?”

Ian bites his lip, so Mickey reaches out and pokes that, too.

“You gotta talk to me, man,” he presses. “We’re married now, you can’t just run off on me.”

Mentioning their recent commitment is always a surefire way to get Ian smiling, and Mickey counts it as a victory when his husband’s lips can’t help but twitch upward. Ian doesn’t seem any closer to speaking, but Mickey can be patient. They have the time, now.

He doesn’t have to wait very long before Ian relaxes, letting his legs straighten on the bed and folding his hands loosely in his lap. Ian twists his wedding ring on his finger, stares at it, then reaches over and takes Mickey’s hand where it lies against the sheets.

“Been feeling off again,” he starts quietly, stroking the back of Mickey’s hand with his thumb.

Mickey raises an eyebrow, even though Ian can’t see it with his gaze fixed on the clasped hands.

“You think?” he offers dryly, and there’s that hint of a smile again.

“Yeah,” Ian admits. “I know. It’s just…” he hesitates, then pushes on. “I’m happy, you know? I am.”

Mickey nods.

“I am,” Ian repeats with emphasis, and Mickey just snorts.

“Didn’t say you weren’t, Ian, what the fuck?” He pulls his hand away and places it on Ian’s cheek, turning his face so he can look him in the eye.

“Just tell me what’s happenin’ here,” he asks. “You were fine earlier, so what got into that brain of yours to make you think somethin’ was wrong? That you had to make somethin’ up to me?”

Ian shrugs. “Don’t know,” he answers. “I never fucking know, that’s the problem." He laughs humorlessly. "And I can't even keep you from noticing."

Mickey can work with that.

“Alright,” he says casually. “Just the usual shit, then, huh?” He can see Ian’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t let him say anything, or turn away.

“Thought you might be on an upswing,” Mickey continues, “comin’ at me less than an hour after the last time and all. But that’s not it, obviously.”

Ian shakes his head, to the extent that he can with his chin in Mickey’s grasp.

“Downswing, then,” Mickey decides, and nods to himself. “You feel like shit, and that asshole brain of yours is tellin’ you you’re shit, too. Tellin’ you you’re not enough again, or that you’re too much?”

Ian doesn’t try to argue. “Not enough,” he admits, then, “maybe both,” a second later.

“Alright,” Mickey says again. Then he drops his hand from Ian’s face, straightens his back, and stares him in the eye.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Mickey orders. “You’re gonna go take your meds—” he holds up a hand to stop Ian’s protest, “I know you didn’t do it yet, you moron, I was in the bathroom the whole time. So you’re gonna go take ‘em,” he repeats, “and I’m gonna call your doctor. I know they said to give it a couple weeks, but you shouldn’t be havin’ to deal with this.”

“Okay,” Ian agrees softly.

“Then,” Mickey continues, “you’re gonna get a shower and put on something clean, because I can’t make you feel better, but I can damn well make you comfortable.”

Ian sighs. “Mickey…” he starts, and Mickey think he knows what’s coming: the usual diatribe of you shouldn’t have to, this is my problem, just leave me alone.

But it never comes. Instead, Ian leans over, kisses him lightly on frowning lips.

“Thanks,” he whispers, and Mickey cracks a smile.

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” he mutters, but he knows Ian can tell that he’s pleased. “Go take your pills, bitch.”

He moves to let Ian off the bed. Before the other man can get through the door, though, he calls out to him again.

“Ian,” he says, and waits for him to turn around with questioning eyes. “Come downstairs when you’re done, yeah? We’ll lay on the sofa, watch some shitty movies or somethin’.”

Ian smiles. “Yeah? Gonna cuddle me better, Mick?”

Mickey bites his lip, but he knows he’s grinning back. “Maybe. You got a problem with that, tough guy?”

“No,” Ian says over his shoulder as he turns and heads back to the bathroom. “Not at all.”

"And Ian?" Mickey calls out one more time before Ian can close the bathroom door.

"No more hidin' this shit, yeah?" he says. "No more puttin' on a mask for me, no more tryin' to compensate for somethin' that ain't even there."

He moves toward the bedroom door, rests a hand on the jamb.

"I'm in this, okay?" he confirms. "So let me be fuckin' in it."

Ian's back tenses, then relaxes again.

"Okay, Mick," he agrees. "Okay."

And it might not be okay right then, but it will be.

They always will be.

[lovelylilpostitnotes]

‘86 Baby

Here is a chapter 2 of my Eddie Munson x Reader fanfiction. It follows the plot of season four, with a little time prior to the events of the show. I’ve tried to keep this fic as self-insertable as possible without making the reader’s character totally flat. And of course please feel free to use your imagination and switch details in your head if you so please. Happy reading everyone!

Here is a link to Chapter 1 if you’re new! 

(and my apologies for any grammar or spelling mistakes, if you see ‘em let me know so I can fix it)

Chapter 2

By the time my lunch period finally rolled around, my brain was already dry heaving trying to contain all the syllabus information that had been stuffed into it in the span of only four periods.

At least when I got there, Robin was already waiting for me at our table we had claimed in sophomore year.

She had been my first friend when I moved to Hawkins, we did everything together. And I was the first person to know about her sexuality. She had broken down crying when she told me one night at a sleepover, which in turn made me cry, which basically just left us a big blubbering mess as we held onto each other and rocked back and forth. It was quite the experience, that's all I’ll say.

Since then she’d grown tremendously. I watched her smile more, speak to more people. She even made friends with Steve Harrington, which I never saw coming. I mean she had loathed the guy for the longest time. Then again I also never saw it coming that we would be fighting evil Russians, a racist bitch gone total horror movie villain, and a gigantic, interdimensional monster over the summer. Or that I would be well acquainted with the strangest group of children ever, including my brother’s ex-best friend, Dustin Henderson. But anyways, even though I could talk all day about the shit I’ve been through with those kids, that’s so far beside the point. I was just so proud of her, telling at least one person had taken so much weight off of her. And I only watched more and more lift away after Steve knew; Steve who was surprisingly supportive and later had long “boobie talks” with us. I mean I knew he could be understanding, but you’d be surprised how much easier it is for someone to swallow hunting demodogs compared to knowing a lesbian. Regardless, it finally wasn’t such a big secret anymore and she was better for it.

So, I listened to her ramble away all of lunch, telling me all about the new jobs she was searching for since her last one had been in the mall we basically destroyed, and how she finally landed herself one at the Family Video store in town alongside Steve.

I’ll admit I was a little distracted though, only hearing bits and pieces and humming in response. But could you blame me? Eddie Munson was sitting across the cafeteria with his signature jackets off. Meaning his Hellfire shirt was on display, meaning his forearms were on display, meaning his tattoo on his forearm was on display. God, I was a mess.

I suppose I ought to explain myself a little. I had found Eddie Munson absolutely fascinating since the first time I saw him. It was my freshman year and he was, I think, a junior at the time. I had been minding my business, sitting quietly in the hallway afterschool, waiting for my mom to come get me from the detention I had served for threatening to castrate the boy who had gotten way too up in Robin’s personal space and wouldn’t leave her be.

Who knows what he had been doing before, all I saw was his wild hair and his white shoes as he flew past me, whooping and screaming. I had about 10 seconds to register that before some guy from one of the sports teams, I couldn’t tell which, came lumbering down the hall.

“You see which way that freak went?” he spat at me.

“No um, I don’t believe I did, I was reading,” I lied with ease, shaking my book. I had no idea what was going on with the two of them, but the jocks of Hawkins High hadn’t exactly ever been nice to me so I definitely wasn’t going to help one out.

The kid narrowed his eyes at me but finally took my shitty answer for what it was and kept going the way Eddie had run just moments before.

From that moment on I found him everywhere I looked. In the cafeteria, the halls, outside in the parking lot after school. My eyes were drawn to him, I didn’t even know his name until sophomore year, but I always knew he was there. And when he started the Hellfire Club, I immediately ran to check out all the DnD books I could find in the library. It wasn’t until then that I realized I didn’t just find him widely amusing, I totally had a crush on a boy two grades above me who I’d never even spoken to before. Perfect.

It wasn’t until my junior year that we actually talked a little, but that was very briefly in the art class we both took. Yet I would still go home and think about our three sentence exchanges for hours.

He rarely showed up though, in fact his grade in that class could have very well been half the reason he didn’t graduate that year either. I’d always kind of felt bad about it, he definitely didn’t seem stupid, he just had no motivation to play along like the rest of us. Which, minus the fact that he had to keep coming back to hell on earth, was pretty revolutionary of him.

“Oi- Y/n? You listening to me?” Robin asked, snapping me out of my thoughts

“Oh- yes yes sorry, I’m just tired and zoned out a little,” I offered up the pretty pathetic excuse with a sheepish smile.

“More like you were staring at Eddie again,” she rolled her eyes at me. “You could like, I dunno, try talking to him some time.”

“I did talk to him, today, in English!” I said defensively.

“Oh really? You know, saying hi doesn’t count.”

“We talked about what music I listen to, thank you very much!”

She gawked at me. “You spoke to him for more than thirty seconds?”

“Jesus, don’t sound so surprised.”

“Sorry, sorry, I just never thought you’d do it, I mean you tripped walking into class that one time he smiled generally in your direction,” she reminded me with a sick grin.

“You absolutely suck, you know that?” I snapped. “And it’s not like you’re any better, asked Vicky out yet? Hm?”

“That is so not fair, I could get hate crimed on top of being rejected, you’d only get rejected.”

“Still, don’t lecture me about my game when you have absolutely none either.”

She stared at me for a moment before bursting into giggles. Giggles that then spread to me and had the two of us doubled over our lunches. Giggles that had Eddie Munson turning his head over towards us. Robin was the first to catch it.

“Oh shit- don’t look now, but I think Munson is looking this way,” she hissed.

“What- really?” I gasped, my eyes flying up to search for him like the idiot I was.

It took me a second to find him but as soon as I did, our eyes were locked.

He gave me a nice little smile when my gaze finally caught his, and then bowed his head with a flourish of his hand. What. A. Dork.

I felt my cheeks get rosy and I looked down at my lunch bashfully. I could hear Robin laughing but I simply didn’t care. Eddie Munson had smiled at me.

The day went by quickly after that. I had seen Eddie in two more periods, but we had been seated across the room from one another so I didn’t get the chance to pull out my smooth moves, as Robin called them, again. However, I was still perfectly satisfied by the smiles and odd faces he would send my way every time my eyes flitted over to him, which was often.

I didn’t know what it was that was different about this year, maybe the fact that we shared multiple classes, or that I’d finally talked to him long enough for him to notice me, but whatever it was, I was enjoying myself far too much.

“Hey, dingus, you giving me a ride or what?” Robin asked, sidling up on my left side and successfully scaring the shit out of me. “Jeez, could you have jumped any higher?”

“I’m sorry, you keep catching me when I'm in my head, it’s like you plan it this way,” I bit back.

“Well, I am your best friend, and you’re really quite obvious when you’re off in your thoughts or daydreaming,” her grin got wicked, “you get all glassy eyed and I can practically see your pupils turning into hearts.”

“You’re so mean to me, honestly,” I rolled my eyes as my ears burned. She wasn’t wrong, I had been fairly obvious with my infatuation despite my best efforts. You can only stare at somebody so many times before it starts to become noticeable, especially to somebody who’s known you for half your life.

“Yeah well someone has to be, because you’re a mess,” she sang with a matter of fact nod of her head.

“I am no-” my words were cut off by a familiar, slightly squeaky voice.

“Hey- Y/n- listen, Mike and I need your help,” one entirely out of breath Dustin said as he gasped for air, doubled over with Mike next to him.

“What? What’s wrong?” the urgency in my voice was clear and the terror I had felt all too many times over the summer bubbled up in my chest.

“No- no nothing like that! We are aaalllll good, all safe, everything is fine,” Dustin hurried to reassure me when he saw my face. “Mike and I just need you to come get us after a club today, we absolutely have to go and Nancy refuses to drive us.”

The terror settled down with his words, but in it’s place came violent irritation. I stepped forward and looked down at him, my eyes very still and almost blank. The same stare I had used on a Russian guard before I caved his head in with a pipe. “I will give you a ride…”

I watched as the two boys gulped.

“But if you ever run up on me like that again, acting like the Mind Flayer or some shit just reappeared in the boys bathroom, you will wish you were in the hands of the Russians again, am I clear?”

“Yep got it,” they both squeaked out fearfully.

I sighed and switched my demeanor back to normal, “what time?”

“I have to be home before 9,” Mike offered, “so um- sometime around 8:30?”

“Alright, I’ll be there,” and with that I was grabbing Robin by the arm and hauling her off towards my car.

“Jesus, are you alright Y/n?” her brows were furrowed.

“Yes, I’m fine- he just- and I just-” I sagged against the side of my car, taking a deep shuddering breath. “These past few years- it’s the most terrifying shit I’ve ever been through, and I’m always just waiting for it to come back, for something else to happen. I mean it did before- it could happen again.”

“It could,” Robin said softly, placing a hand on my arm, “but we destroyed the machine, the gate was closed again, and the military took care of everything else. There’s always going to be that ‘what if’ but you can’t live like that, or it will ruin all the good shit you’ll go through.”

I nodded, still taking a minute to calm down and let her words sink in.

“I’m scared like that too.. I still have the dreams.. But we can’t let what happened ruin everything, we deserve to live like kings after everything we had to do, so let’s live like kings, alright?” She cracked a smile for me.

I nodded again, this time smiling back, “Alright, first stop on our royal agenda, the Family Video store, most glamorous location in town.”

She laughed and shoved my head down, walking around the car to her side.

I grinned and unlocked it, getting in and starting her up. I was glad to have friends like Robin, it made the horrors of everything I saw so much easier to handle. I couldn’t move on, not yet at least, but I had people who understood. People who I could talk to, but also be normal with.

…

“Where are they? They said 8:30,” I grumbled to myself as I leaned against my car. I didn’t have anywhere to be or anything, I’d forced myself to do all my homework, but still I wasn’t a fan of standing in a dark parking lot all alone.

I was never a fan of the dark, but after learning what really could be lurking in it, the fear became 10 times more paralyzing.

I tapped my watch impatiently, considering waiting in the car again instead of making myself such an obvious target. Dustin and Mike could figure it out, I was the only car here aside from someone’s van.

But right as I was about to climb back inside and crank the radio to drown out the thoughts of being mutilated by some raging beast, the doors of the high school slammed open and out flooded a stampede of nerds. I smiled softly at the group when I recognized most of them, they might’ve been odd but they were some of the most decent kids in school.

“Hey, Y/n!” Dustin called, waving once he noticed me.

I waved back at the pair as they made their way over. It didn’t take me long to notice Eddie following behind and I felt my throat tighten up. I hadn’t known this was his club, no one had told me I was picking the boys up from Hellfire.

“So, we meet again, oh fair one,” Eddie said in one of his stupid, dramatic voices.

I felt my face flush involuntarily while Dustin and Mike wretched.

“You get any of the Macbeth work done yet?” he said, moving around the two disgruntled looking freshmen to stand in front of me.

I nodded slowly, trying to find words again. “Y-yes, um, I finished Act 1 already actually, and the assignment was nothing.”

“Impressive, I haven’t touched the thing since I passed them out,” he wore a goofy little grin as he set his hand on the car next to me.

“You better get that reading done, Munson,” I said, my eyes narrowing. “I’m not carrying your ass through this assignment. We both know you’re competent.”

“Do we now?” he popped little accents onto the words, his grin widening even further as his other hand fell to his hip.

I leaned in closer, my face set with the challenge. “You write and narrate new DnD campaigns like every week, you can read some Shakspeare and talk about foreshadowing.”

He laughed softly and pushed off the car. “You got me there,” he said, backing away towards his van with his hands up. “I like this one, Henderson, have Y/n pick you up more often, and maybe even convince the lovely high elf to come some time.” And then he was off across the parking lot.

“What the hell was that?” Dustin snapped at me as we got into my car.

“What was what?”

“Um, you and Eddie practically undressing each other in the parking lot?” Mike’s squeaky voice came from the back seat.

“We were doing no such thing,” I said with an amused note to my voice as I pulled out of the parking lot.

“You two are disgusting, keep that far away from me,” Dustin said.

“Of course, Dusty Bun,” I mocked. He had no room to be judging me here, not with the way he spoke to his “Suzie Poo.”

“Fair enough,” he grumbled, angling his body away from me.

“Ahuh, that’s what I thought.”

...

“Goodnight, Dustin!” I called as I pulled out of his driveway.

He simply waved in response, still looking slightly mortified, and then ducked into his house.

I laughed as I pulled out of the driveway and drove down a few more houses to my home. Once inside, I kicked my shoes off and hung my keys up before scurrying to the kitchen to find something to eat. After acquiring some cold chicken tenders left over from my brother and I’s “last night of freedom” fast food run, I beelined straight for my room, merely offering up a wave to my family on the way. I had a phone call to make and there was no time to waste.

As soon as I was seated on my bed, the phone was in my hand and I was calling Robin. “C’mon, pick up pick up pick up,” I chanted, buzzing with excitement.

“Hello, this is Family Video, how can I help you?” Steve Harrignton’s familiar voice recited.

“Give Robin the phone, Steve,” I said, grinning from ear to ear.

“You sound way too happy, Y/l/n, I don’t even want to know what you two are up to.”

“Hand. Over. The. Phone,” I repeated.

“Alright, alright,” He conceded, yelling for Robin a moment later.

“Hey, what’s up?” Robin said finally.

“Eddie Munson spoke to me again!”

“Details! Now!”

I giggled my way through the entire retelling, making sure to really emphasize how he’d practically pinned me to the car. Okay, maybe that was a slight exaggeration but it certainly felt that way to me.

“Oh you have it so bad,” Robin teased.

“You’re telling me if Vicky did that to you, you would be fine?”

“Absolutely not, but I still plan on making fun of you for all this.”

“He is such a dork, he called me ‘oh fair one,’” I was giggling again.

“I really don’t know what you see in this guy.”

We always went around in this circle, I would tell her about something he did, and she would pretend it wasn’t totally endearing and absolutely something to freak out over. We both knew she liked Eddie though, she just wanted to be difficult with me.

“I have to close up now, weirdo, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, faking exasperation.

“Alriiiight, see you tomorrow!” My voice was light and bubbly.

“Jesus,” she muttered as she hung up, but I could hear her smile.

I set the phone down and demolished my chicken tenders before getting up and getting ready for bed.

Once I was all done, I dove into my bed and grabbed one of the DnD books on the lower level of my nightstand. I had to read up if there was a chance Dustin would be taking me to the next Hellfire meeting. It was a bit of a lost cause though because I couldn’t stop thinking about how much interaction we’d had in one day. I could live off the high for a week at least. I fell asleep still on that high, smiling n’ shit like all those dopes in the rom-coms. How pathetic.

A/N: Hiii, everybody! I hope you few readers enjoyed chapter 2! Please feel free to comment feedback, I always love to be bettering my work! Mwah! See you next chapter! 

[queenxxxsupreme]

Protector (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

A/N: In most of my Arthur fics, if I mention the reader’s horse his name is Calvin and he’s blind in one eye so if you’ve noticed it that’s awesome! If you haven’t no worries! I just wanted to point it out before anyone gets confused. I’m not sure how many times I’ve mentioned it but I know in my head that’s how it is 😂

Warnings: Micah being a dick, no actual animal abuse but it almost happens, Micah roughly grabs reader but that’s it, nothing out of canon

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You can defend yourself. Arthur knows this. But he makes sure Micah knows you aren’t the only reason he should keep his hands to himself.

***

You hummed softly to yourself as you helped Mr. Pearson prepare dinner. 

You looked up from the potato in your hand for a moment, eyes flickering around camp to take count of who was present. 

Mrs. Grimshaw had pulled Pearson away from his wagon and all the way to the other side of camp. Mary-Beth was sitting on a chair near her shared tent with the girls, busying herself with a book in hand.

 Abigail and Jack were towards the back of camp. Abigail was doing her best at keeping Jack occupied with the flowers growing in the grass back there. Molly was fixing her makeup in her tent at the center of camp.

 Micah was near the horses, messing with a saddle bag on his horse. Everyone else was gone. Today was one of those days that everyone was busy away from camp. 

“Son of a bitch!”

You lifted your head up from the potatoes you were peeling, turning your attention to where the horses were hitched. 

Micah stood by your horse, a gray Dutch Warmblood named Calvin. Micah was cradling his hand to his chest as he cursed, but then he looked at your horse and pulled his fist back as if to strike the animal. 

You were on your feet and crossing camp in a matter of seconds, grabbing the back of his coat and pulling him away from your horse. 

“Don’t you dare put your hands on my horse, Micah Bell.” You spoke through clenched teeth, holding the knife you’d been using to peel potatoes in your hand at your side. 

“That damn bastard of a horse bit me! Nearly took off my fucking hand!”

“Then don’t get close enough to him for him to grab you!” You raised your voice to match his, holding his gaze as he glared at you. 

Micah took a step towards you, knowing very well that he could use his height to appear more intimidating. But you weren’t one to back down so easily.

“Maybe if someone taught you a lesson in manners, that horse would behave better.”

“You don’t get to say shit about me and my manners, Bell.” You shook your head, pointing at him with the tip of the knife. “Don’t touch my horse, or I’ll put a knife between your ribs.”

You moved to return to the potatoes but Micah wasn’t about to let you off so easily. 

“Now see, girl, I don’t much care for that attitude you have.” He grabbed your arm and pulled you back around to face him. You didn’t even get a chance to use the knife to defend yourself because he’d grabbed the arm that you held the knife in. 

“Let me go, Micah.” You spoke through your teeth, glaring up at him. 

“Oh, Mr. Morgan isn’t here to save you, sweetheart. You’ve gotta face the consequences of your actions.” He smirked as he looked down at you. His grip on your arm was unbelievably tight and no matter how much you tried to get loose, you couldn’t seem to break free. “Don’t you raise your voice at me like I’m some little bitch of yours. I’m not your cowpoke. I ain’t scared of you, and I ain’t scared–,”

You cut him off by headbutting him. He immediately released you and stumbled back, cursing. 

“Don’t put your hands on my horse, Micah Bell.” You repeated your warning, readjusting your grip on your knife. 

“You think you’re big and bad because you’re sleepin’ with Morgan, don’t you?” Micah took a step towards you, wiping the blood from his lip. “Goddamned whore! Probably sleeping with half the fucking camp too!” 

“Micah!” Charles called his name. 

You turned your head to see Charles moving towards you and Micah. 

“Is she sleeping with you?” Micah pointed an accusing finger at Charles but Charles ignored him. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Charles asked you. 

“I’m fine, Charles.” You gave him a little smile, hoping that maybe he’d let the whole thing go. “Just had to have some words with Micah.”

“Looks like it was a little more than a few words.” Charles glared at Micah before following you back towards Pearson’s wagon. 

“Well, with someone like Micah Bell, words barely get through to him.” You returned to peeling potatoes. “Too damn stubborn.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Just a few moments later, Arthur, Bill, Javier, and Lenny returned to camp, hitching their horses up beside Calvin. 

Bill tethered Brown Jack to the same post Calvin was on. 

“Be careful of Calvin, Bill.” Lenny warned, pointing to your horse. “He likes takin’ a piece off of whoever passes by too close.” 

You grinned a little as you listened to them joke around about Calvin. He was a sweet horse, he was just crotchety and being that he was blind in one eye didn’t help that either. 

“I think it’s just you boys he don’t like.” You spoke up as the small group made their way into camp. “Kieran can brush him down any time of day and Calvin is just as sweet as could be.”

“That’s ‘cause Kieran sneaks the old man treats.” Javier spoke as he sat down at the table not too far away from Pearson’s wagon. “Found out how to get to Calvin’s heart. Sugarcubes.”

“Oh, it’s just ‘cause Kieran’s a sweet kid.” You teased, eyes flickering up to watch Arthur. 

He grunted, shaking his head. 

“Ain’t nothin’ sweet about an O’Driscoll.” 

You finished cutting up the potato in your hand and then put the knife down. 

“Damn bastard!” Karen shouted as she hitched her horse to a post.

“Who are you cursing at, Karen?” Lenny asked. 

“Micah! He nearly ran right into me running outta this place!” She brushed her skirt off. “What’s got him all pissed off?”

“The wind probably blew the wrong way.” Arthur said. 

You chose to stay quiet. You turned your head to look at Charles. He was near the backside of Pearson’s wagon. His eyes found yours. You took a deep breath, shaking your head just slightly, then turned your attention to Calvin. He was okay, you knew that, but you couldn’t help feeling the need to make sure he was okay. 

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” You wiped your hands off on a rag and set it on the table before making your way towards the horses.

Arthur took note of your behavior. You usually were the first one to poke fun at Micah, to comment on his antics. It was unlike you to stay silent when his bad attitude was brought up. 

Arthur sat down in the seat you’d previously been in, absentmindedly scratching his scruffy jaw. 

Seeing that Javier and Lenny were engaged in a conversation of their own, Charles moved to Arthur.

“Arthur?”

“Hey, Charles.” Arthur greeted him.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Arthur nodded and followed Charles towards the lake away from everyone else. 

“I didn’t see everything, but I was coming back from switching out guard duty when I saw Micah had ahold Y/N’s arm.” 

Arthur’s eyes darted across camp to you. 

“Don’t worry, Arthur. She’s okay.” Charles assured him. “I just wanted to tell you because I don’t trust Micah. I don’t know if he’ll do anything or what he was trying to do. I don’t know what goes through that man’s head, and I don’t want anything to happen to Y/N.”

Arthur let out a heavy breath, running his hand over his face. Anger bubble in his veins. 

“He’s a snake, Arthur.” Charles spoke quietly.

“I know he is, Charles.” Arthur shook his head, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Did you…. Did you see him put his hands on her in any other way?” 

“No. All I caught was him holding her arm and she headbutted him. Caught him right in the nose and mouth.”

“He didn’t hit her or nothin’ did he?”

“Not that I saw.”

Arthur nodded his head, letting out a heavy breath through his nose. He put his hand on Charles’s shoulder, nodding his head once, then moved across camp. 

***

You approached Calvin on his right side so that he could see you. His left eye was the one that was blind and he didn’t react well to anyone coming up to him from that side. 

“Hey, handsome.” You cooed, smiling softly as you reached out to rub his nose. He huffed and leaned into your touch. Your touch moved along his neck and down his side, then to his hindquarter. “My good boy, huh? Just don’t like no one else, do ya?”

“Think you have a thing for grumpy old fellers.” 

You looked up to see Arthur rubbing Taima’s nose. 

“I like the challenge that comes with the grumpy ones.”

He chuckled.

“You, uh, you know why Micah left like he did?”

“No.” You shook your head, moving around to Calvin’s blind side. “But it’s hard to tell what’s going through that man’s head.”

“Just thought maybe you’d know since you were here with him.” Arthur thought at loud.

You shook your head. You could feel his eyes on you, studying you like a book. 

“You’d tell me if something happened, wouldn’t ya?”

Your eyes flickered up to meet his. You were quiet for a few moments, locking your jaw. 

“Charles told you, didn’t he?”

Arthur nodded silently.

“He almost got a knife in his gut. He raised his fist like he was gonna hit Cal ‘cause Cal bit him. But I had it under control. No need to worry. Micah’s just a sour bastard. Don’t like being told off, especially not by a lady.”

Arthur let out a sigh. 

You gave Calvin a loving pat on the shoulder and moved to go back to Pearson’s wagon. 

“I don’t like leavin’ you here at camp with him.” Arthur followed behind you.

“I know you don’t, but you don’t have much of a choice.” You washed your hands and started to get back to work. 

His hand wrapped around your wrist and he carefully pulled you back around to face him. 

“Don’t egg him on when I’m not here.”

“I can fight my own fights, Arthur. And I’m not gonna let him hit my horse-,”

“That’s not what I’m sayin’, Y/N.” He cut you off, looking down at you. “If he ever put his hands on you, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill ‘em.”

“I know.” You placed your hand on his chest. “I know. But you, Arthur Morgan, also know that I can kick ass just as good as any man here. You shouldn’t worry so much.”

“I’ll always worry.” Arthur took your hand and brought it up to his lips. “Micah’s a snake.”

“Worrying is bad for such an old man’s heart.” A grin tugged at the corners of your lips as you moved away from him. He allowed you to slip away, watching you return to your chair by Pearson’s table. 

Arthur chuckled at you, shaking his head. 

***

Arthur settled back into bed, getting comfortable while you changed into a chemise and fixed your hair for the night. 

“I think I gotta go to Strawberry tomorrow.” 

“What for?” You slipped on your chemise, pulling it down over your head and into place. 

“Dutch said there’s someone there who has information on a train comin’ through.” Arthur tucked one hand behind his head and watched you turn to face him. His eyes flickered down to look over you. 

Though the lighting from the lamp wasn’t the best, he could see an odd marking on your bicep just above your elbow. It was darker than the rest of your skin and seemed out of place. 

Arthur sat up, brows furrowing together. 

“Come here a minute, pumpkin.”

“What?”

“Just come here.” He patted the bedside next to him. 

You moved to sit on the edge of the bed, confused but unaware of what he had seen.

Now that he was close enough to see just exactly what they were, he could tell they were bruises. 

You looked down to see what he was looking at. 

“What is that?” You furrowed your brows together.

“Looks like finger shaped bruises.” Arthur just barely brushed his fingers over the markings. “Micah’s lucky I don’t cut off his goddamn hands.”

“Don’t, Arthur.” Your eyes shot up to find his. “I’m serious.”

“I am too.” Anger clouded his blue eyes, making them a stormy gray instead of the pretty vibrant blue you adored so much. 

“He ain’t worth you gettin’ in trouble, Arthur. I probably broke his nose anyways.” You stood up. “Let’s go to bed.”

Arthur was silent as he laid back down and you climbed into bed with him. You curled up against his side, resting your head on his chest. 

“Just don’t want nothin’ to happen to you, pumpkin.” He murmured, kissing the top of your head. 

“Nothin’s gonna happen to me.” You assured him. 

***

Once Arthur was sure you were asleep, he put his clothes back on and slipped out of his tent. 

He looked around camp, spotting a small group gathered around a campfire near Pearson’s tent. He could spot Dutch, Hosea, Javier, Bill, John, and most importantly Micah. 

Arthur took a deep breath, fighting the urge to cross the camp and start throwing punches at Micah. 

Instead, he calmly made his way to the fire and sat down on the log next to John. 

“Thought you went to bed.” John commented. 

“Nah, can’t sleep.” Arthur shook his head. 

“Arthur! So glad you could join us!” Dutch’s voice was unnecessarily loud. Arthur hoped you wouldn’t wake up. 

“Hi, Dutch.”

“Thought you and Miss Y/L/N had gone off to bed for the night, cowpoke.” Micah offered him a beer but Arthur declined, lips pressing together in a tight line. “What happened?”

“Figured I’d stay up a little longer. Spend some time with you guys.” Arthur forced a smile on to his lips. “Don’t get to do that much anymore, do I?”

“No, as a matter of fact you don’t. You’re either off playing hero or-or…. or your off playing hero.” Bill swayed in his seat. He had too much to drink. 

“Or you know, you’ve got certain people around here up your ass.” Micah shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t have time to sit around and drink with your brothers.”

John furrowed his brows, looking over at Micah. 

“What the hell are you talking about, Bell?”

“Shut up, Marston.”

“You know what? Maybe you’re right.” Arthur tilted his head to the side a little as he looked at Micah. “What happened to your nose? I’ve never noticed it was so crooked.”

Micah scowled. 

“Or maybe it’s not.” Arthur shrugged his broad shoulders. “Maybe I just never got a good look at it.” 

“My god, Arthur, I think you’re right.” Hosea leaned forward as if to take a closer look at Micah’s nose. “Looks absolutely terrible, Micah. You might need to get that checked out.”

“Go to hell.” Micah started to stand up. 

Arthur stood up too, stepping towards Micah. 

“The next time you think about putting your hands on Y/N or her horse, the least of your concerns is gonna be her breakin’ your nose or pullin’ a knife on you, you hear me?” He spoke lowly. 

Micah held his gaze for a few moments before turning and skulking away. 

Arthur turned back to those who sat at the fire. Everyone was silent and didn’t know what to say. 

“Is Y/N okay?” Hosea asked. 

“She’s fine.” Arthur muttered, clenching his fist together. “I don’t like that fella.”

“Don’t think many of us do.” John sighed, standing to his feet.

Taglist: @winterwolf @doggone-cowgirl @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @nonodino @krenee1drful @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[reinvent-and-believe]

48 from dialogue prompts + 50 from wordless i-love-yous for geraskier?

Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping

--

It catches Geralt’s eye while he haggles over an outrageously priced jar of alchemy paste with a none-too-impressed herbalist on the outskirts of Novigrad, a buxom widow with thick-braided auburn hair by the name of Irmina.

“This for sale too?” He picks up the brooch from the countertop where it rests in a beam of golden light streaming through a dingy window. He examines it. It’s simple enough metalwork, a brass oval with a scalloped edge, but inlaid in its face is a single pressed yellow flower framed by tiny white blooms encased in resin.

The herbalist’s dour demeanour brightens immediately. “It is indeed!” she answers, her brown eyes shining in a plump, suddenly pleasant face. “Made it myself just last week. It’s something of a hobby of mine, making pretty knick-knacks from the flowers we can’t sell. Got plenty more like this if you’d like to peruse ‘em, master witcher! Forget-me-nots and arenaria, hellebore, violets, any flower you might like.”

A buttercup, he realizes belatedly. That’s the yellow flower in the center.

“No.” He sees Irmina’s brow furrow in offense, so he hastens to appease her. “No need, I’ll take this one. I...I’m partial to buttercups.”

Her freckled face breaks into a sly, knowing smile. “Oh, aye, I’m sure someone is partial to buttercups.” She winks, waving away his stammered attempts at an answer. “Never you mind, I know a man besotted when I see one, and it seems a witcher’s not so different. Tell you what. Fifty crowns for the paste and I’ll throw the brooch in for only ten.”

-

Leaving the herbalist’s shop with an overpriced paste, a lighter purse, and a useless trinket, Geralt curses himself for a fool.

He’s not sure why he bought it.

He knows buttercups are Jaskier’s favorite, of course. “None but the noblest of flowers for my sobriquet!” Jaskier had squawked indignantly when Geralt once made the grave mistake of referring to the pesky things as weeds after he’d stopped Roach from chomping on a patch of the bright, poisonous blooms.

They are weeds, buttercups. They serve no function. They can’t be used in any of the potions, decoctions, or oils Geralt brews, nor do they have any particularly helpful curative properties for humans.

“As ever, my dear witcher, you have no sense of poetry,” Jaskier had sighed in a most put-upon voice when told as much. “Their function is they’re pretty. Their function is to enrich our lives through the beauty of the natural world.” He’d looked to the sky, tip of his tongue between his teeth showing through his frown as was his custom when puzzling through the right way to turn a phrase. “From a strictly utilitarian perspective, perhaps the buttercup has less value than, say, moleyarrow, or verbena, or chamomile, even. Some plants provide nutritional or medicinal or alchemical qualities of various sorts. But some exist to make life worth living! To transform the banal into the sublime.” He’d plucked a buttercup from the roadside, twirling it between his long fingers. “It’s graceful and balanced, effortlessly beautiful. It’s vibrant, bright like...like sunlight, on a summer afternoon! And when you see it growing alongside the various and sundry flora, it fills you with the loveliest burst of warmth, like a lover’s smile.”

“So...it’s a pretty weed.”

“You’re incorrigible, witcher, that’s what you are.” Jaskier had huffed dramatically before tucking the buttercup behind Geralt’s ear, his face alight with a delighted grin.

Like sunlight on a summer afternoon.

-

The Kingfisher Inn is crowded when Geralt arrives. He goes to the bar, orders an ale from Olivier, and leans against the counter to take a look at the stage.

Jaskier loves playing the Kingfisher. In many of the inns he plays across the Continent, he’s relegated to a corner to try to sing over the clang of dinner, his only option to win the common folk over a raucous drinking song or a filthy ditty. And while the bard doesn’t shy away from such vulgarities, the patrons of the Kingfisher tend to be of a more artistically inclined ilk, responding with appropriate gusto to the virtuosic art songs that he rarely performs outside of competitions or Oxenfurt.

Or so he’d explained to Geralt when he’d suggested they meet up at the inn.

Jaskier sits atop a tall stool on a rather large stage framed by crimson curtains, his sky-blue doublet a vivid contrast. The audience, enraptured, listens to his ballad, a melancholy tale of a fair maiden who’s violently killed before she can profess her love to a farmhand in her village, a beautiful, strong, kind man whose hair shines like a blaze of pale fire in the sunlight. Her love for him tethers her to this world, and her spirit—bitter, weary, and endlessly yearning—calls the men working in the fields to join her dance at midday, when the sun is in its zenith, hoping against hope for the chance to finally confess to her beloved.

In the end, the brave, noble farmhand sacrifices himself, hoping to stop the spirit’s killings by listening to her song and joining her as she beckons. And as they are reunited, as she finally kisses the lips she’s longed for in a blinding blaze of sunlight, they pass on together, their spirits becoming one.

It’s a contract Geralt worked a few years ago, a noonwraith outside Oreton—or at least something close. As ever, Jaskier has taken artistic liberties, romanticized the actual events (“Sometimes, in our pursuit of Truth, we must sacrifice the facts,” Jaskier loftily explained on more than one occasion. He seemed quite taken with the profundity he seemed to find in the statement. Geralt called it pretentious once and Jaskier hurled a chunk of bread at his head). Once it might have bothered Geralt, but he’s grown accustomed to Jaskier’s rather malleable relationship with veracity in his ballads. There’s no denying the impact of his storytelling: when Geralt glances around the inn, he sees several patrons discreetly dabbing at their eyes.

It’d been an ugly case, leaving him feeling empty, drained. Noonwraiths haunt his thoughts far longer than most the monsters he dispatches. They’re victims of circumstance more than anything, young women who’ve been transformed into bloodthirsty, violent spirits through no fault of their own, through the violence inflicted upon them. Nearly forty men had fallen prey to her before the farmhand distracted her with his kiss—though Geralt would hesitate to classify his grotesque, gruesome sacrifice as such—so the witcher had a chance to strike her down with silver. Jaskier has spun the miserable tale into something beautiful, moving, something that clearly resonates with his captivated audience, that speaks to a greater force at work than the chaotic, banal evils the witcher sees every day, and Geralt thinks he understands, for a moment, what the bard had told him of Truth and facts.

(Geralt doesn’t know what greater Truth is served by changing the beloved farmhand’s hair from the dull brown it really was to “a blaze of pale fire,” but then, Geralt’s not a poet.)

The final notes hang in the air, all eyes fixed on Jaskier for a rapt, breathless moment before the room bursts into wild applause. Jaskier stands and bows deeply, once, twice, a third time, surveying the room as he offers his thanks. When his gaze catches Geralt at the bar, his expression of showman’s grace vanishes, a flash of something that looks almost alarmed for a split second before it’s replaced by a small, gentle smile.

Geralt nods and raises his mug toward the stage in cheers, draining the remainder. Jaskier is quickly swept into the swarm of captivated fans, accepting their praises with a gracious, if distracted, smile.

The witcher turns back to the barkeep to order himself another ale along with a glass of wine.

“Geralt!” Jaskier swerves to avoid a near-collision with a frenzied barmaid on his way to join his companion at the bar. He grabs the wine glass with a groan of appreciation, taking a swig before asking, “Is this for me? Gods, but you’re a marvel, darling, I thank you.” He takes another sip and sends a disarming, roguish wink to a pair of girls staring at him and giggling to each other. “I wasn’t sure when you’d arrive, but it wouldn’t have mattered, I suppose, they only had one room to let when I checked in and it hasn’t cleared out since. You’ll share mine, of course, but I’ve been here a week so, you know, best brace yourself, I’ve quite made the place my own.”

Geralt snorts. He’s stayed in enough rooms that Jaskier has made his own over the past decade to predict with some certainty what mess he’ll soon venture into.

(Doublets draped over furniture after they’ve been discarded; crumpled sheets of paper tossed near, never in the fireplace; a few near-empty bottles of wine; a shirt hung to dry over the modesty screen between the sleeping and bathing areas; bottles of a dozen oils and perfumes and soaps scattered haphazard near the tub; an unmade bed that may well contain an abandoned undergarment or forgotten stocking left by some well-satisfied guest.)

“Have you eaten? Shall we? I’m starved, felt jittery all afternoon and didn’t eat a damned thing which was all well and good until I got onstage and suddenly wished for a fainting couch. Or we could take your things up to the room first, of course. Oh! We could have them bring our dinner up to us, it’s awfully crowded down here tonight and I’m not sure I’m up to socializing all evening, to be honest, I’ve been dreadfully out of sorts, did you notice, Geralt, that I’ve…”

Jaskier continues his ramblings, and the witcher can’t help a twinge of worry for his friend. It’s not unheard of for Jaskier to be in a heightened state over a particularly important performance, but usually afterwards the nerves dissipate and he seems more himself. Not to mention, why would playing in an inn prompt such anxieties? Even if the Kingfisher clientele trends toward the more refined than the country folk he often plays for, it’s still rather a low-stakes environment to trigger such stress.

“New song?” he asks casually. Jaskier always beams when he notices such things, when he makes an effort to ask about his music.

Instead, Jaskier blushes, looking away with an expression that almost seems guilty. “Ah, yes, well, I wasn’t certain when you’d be arriving, of course, I thought I might try out something different, a sort of test audience, as it were, to feel out the piece before I use it for anything important.” The look he’s fixed on Geralt seems almost wary. “Did you...like the song?”

Geralt shrugs. “Not quite how it happened,” he grumbles, out of habit more than anything.

A smile, genuine and rueful, breaks out on Jaskier’s face. “Gods, I’ve missed you, my friend,” he says, shaking his head and looking away quickly.

“Hmm.” He reaches quickly into the coin pouch at his side, thrusting the trinket from the herbalist into Jaskier’s hand with a brusque, “Here.”

“Whatever have we got…” He cuts off as opens his palm. “Oh.”

There have been so few times over the years that Geralt has seen Jaskier speechless that he begins to worry he’s offended him. He turns the brooch over in his hands, once, twice, his thumb swiping gently over its smooth enamel face. He doesn’t look up.

Even in the crowded room, Geralt can smell the shift in his demeanor, the muted sickly-sweet anxious smell becoming something sharp, metallic, pained, like he’s been stabbed. “You’re upset.”

“I...no.” Jaskier shoves the brooch into his trouser pocket, a tense smile on his face, not at all reaching his eyes. “Thank you, Geralt, it’s lovely. Shall we take your bags to the room now?”

“I didn’t...I didn’t get it to upset you.”

Jaskier laughs, a broken thing, and Geralt grows even more alarmed. “You didn’t, it isn’t that, sometimes I want things I can’t have is all.” He grabs the saddlebag sitting at Geralt’s feet, not meeting his eyes as he rushes past him up the stairs to the last bedroom in the hall.

Geralt follows after a moment, giving his companion a respectful distance. There’s a tightness in his shoulders, a knot in his gut that only grows as he watches Jaskier’s hand tremble on the key as he unlocks the door.

It was a stupid idea. He knew it was stupid when he bought it, yet he bought it anyway, somehow ruined everything anyway.

“Here we are.” Jaskier’s voice is filled with a forced cheer as he sets the bag down, hand never leaving the doorknob. “I’ll go fetch us some supper. Or, actually, you know, now that I think of it, I’ve a few errands to run before it gets too late, meant to do it earlier but you know how it goes, lost track of time…”

“Jaskier.” Geralt moves toward him but stops himself, helpless. “Please. I’m sorry I upset you.”

Jaskier stands in the doorway for another moment. He takes a deep breath, closes the door, and walks slowly to the writing desk in the corner. He pulls the chair out, moving the doublet strewn across it before sitting. He doesn’t look at Geralt.

“You didn’t.” Every word is calculated, deliberate. “What kind of ungrateful wretch gets upset over...over an exceptionally thoughtful gift from a friend after a time apart?”

Geralt sits on the edge of the bed. His elbows rest on his knees, fingers locking together as he stares at the floor. “You’re not a wretch. The fault is mine.”

“Dammit, Geralt, there isn’t fault, I only—why did you bring me a gift?”

Geralt frowns. “I’ve bought you things before,” he says slowly.

“Things, yes!” Jaskier vaults from the chair, pacing listlessly about the room, no longer trying to mask his inexplicable distress. “Lute strings when I broke a string and I was low on coin. The lute is my livelihood, it made financial sense for you to replace the string so I could pull my own weight, help you when we pass through several towns in a row with no contracts. Boots when you noticed the hole in the heel of my old pair, because I slow you down limping about in footwear that’s falling apart. Room and board, sometimes, because you know I’m good for it, I’ll cover you the next time.” He’s stopped pacing, stares silent into the fireplace.

“Wasn’t keeping a tab.” Geralt’s voice is quiet. “You needed strings and boots and food and a room.”

Jaskier doesn’t turn to face him, but Geralt sees his hand slip into his pocket, pull out the brooch. His head bends, studying it.

He’s not offended or annoyed or angered by the gift. He’s hurt. But why?

Except...

Jaskier looked guilty when Geralt brought up the song. Like he’d been caught red-handed. Did you like it? he’d asked. Incredulous.

The noonwraith singing her song in hopes that her beloved hears her confession. That he’ll hear her song of longing and come to her.

Hair like a blaze of pale fire, not dull brown.

Sometimes I want things I can’t have.

“Geralt?”

The witcher snaps back to attention, eyes fixed on Jaskier, finally facing him.

“Why did you get it for me, Geralt?”

Geralt frowns. “It’s...pretty,” he starts lamely. “I thought you might wear it when you play. You wear gaudy things.”

Jaskier snorts, a small, crooked grin on his lips.

“It made me think of you,” he confesses quietly, his eyes tracing the wood grain of the floor. “Sometimes...things don’t have to have a function. It was a buttercup and it was pretty and it…made me think of you.”

When Geralt dares to raise his eyes, Jaskier’s staring at him, brows drawn together and mouth slightly agape. After a moment, he walks toward the witcher, sitting carefully beside him on the bed. He reaches his hand towards Geralt’s and presses the little brooch into his palm.

“Will you pin it on me?” he asks softly.

Geralt nods.

His fingers feel thick and clumsy as he fumbles with the delicate clasp. The top few buttons of Jaskier’s doublet, as ever, are undone, but it closes neatly just beneath his exposed neck. Geralt slips a finger beneath the satin fabric to pull it away from his throat, cautiously piercing the fabric with the thin pin and sliding it into its slot, locking the clasp with shaking hands.

His hand doesn’t move from Jaskier’s chest. A sword-calloused thumb, seemingly of its own volition, grazes lightly over the bobbing Adam’s apple.

“Geralt.”

He looks up, almost pulls away but for the flushed cheeks, the tongue that darts out to wet pink lips, the hooded eyes beneath dark lashes fixed on Geralt’s mouth. Jaskier’s breath is warm against his face. When did they draw so close?

“Are you going to kiss me, Geralt?” The breathy whisper is laced with wonder.

And he didn’t...didn’t buy the brooch to entice Jaskier into anything, didn’t mean to solicit any sort of reward, and he opens his mouth to tell him so, yet as his rough hand moves to gently cup the back of Jaskier’s neck the words that tumble out instead are, “I’d like to.”

And Jaskier throws back his head and laughs, a euphoric, intoxicated sound, as his lovely hands cradle Geralt’s face. He brings his forehead to rest against Geralt’s as they still, breathing each other for a moment before Jaskier surges forward to capture his lips.

His kiss tastes like sunlight.

[hargrove-mayfields]

Back when things were still easy, Billy and Max used to have sibling days on the weekends when Neil wouldn’t be home, setting aside their issues to have just one day that was meant for doing something fun together.

The tradition had been dropped after the move to Hawkins, and Max thinks that’s where a lot of the strain on their relationship comes from. Without those designated times to let go of some of the tension building between them, they fall to pieces.

There’s one day in particular where it’s just Max at home all by herself, her mother and Neil having gone on a trip to the city she opted out of, when Billy shows up much earlier than he said he would be back, ruining the calm when he slammed the front door so hard a picture frame fell off the wall.

Neither of them say a word to the other, all she gets is an apologetic and glossy looking glance for the noise as he storms past her like she isn’t even there.

She doesn’t see Billy again for a long time after that, just hears the angry music blaring in his room. By now, she’s wisened up enough to know that meant he was probably crying in there, and though she doesn’t know what happened, she feels bad.

It’d been far too long since they acted anything like real siblings, not that they were actually related, but they used to be just as close, so after her brother’s been brooding for literal hours, she knows she wants to do something.

Her opportunity to bring it up comes when Billy makes his grand appearance at her door, stopping by to ask if she ate dinner just so he, quote ‘wouldn’t get any shit for it.’ She nods in agreement and asks, “Do you know what day it is, Billy?”

He shrugs, “28th of June.”

“Well, doy, but it’s also Friday.” Billy raises an eyebrow, missing the point, and Max rolls her eyes. “Friday. You know, like, the one day we get to hang out.”

Too cool for that stuff anymore apparently, he scoffs and leans against the doorframe, and she just knows he’s going to say something snarky, so she turns the puppy dog eyes up a notch, “Please? It’ll be fun.”

It works, Billy sighs way over dramatic and steps into her room, throwing himself down onto her beanbag chair. She can’t contain the smile on her face when he asks with fake defeat, “What did you want, shitbird?”

“I want a makeover day. Like we used to do.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Why?” She crosses her arms, “Just because that’s what I want to do?”

He fixes her with a look that says ‘seriously?’, and explains, an edge of frustration to his voice, “No, because you know what’ll happen if I’m struttin’ around in nail polish and shit when Neil gets back.”

“They’re not supposed to come back until like, Monday though,” in response to her excuses, he mimics her in crossing his arms over his chest, so she tries harder to reason with him, “And we can always just take it off when we’re done.”

“That’s just a waste of your stuff, then.”

“Come on, Billy, please?” she’s out of actual arguments and he’s winning, so she brings out the big guns, the little sister privilege, the one surefire way she knows will always knock her brother off guard, “I miss you.”

He squints at her, seeing through the attempted guilt trip, but he can’t muster a frown, and he must know it wasn’t all fake, because he says, “Whatever.”

She knows that’s his version of a yes and he’s just too proud to admit he caved, so she squeals and claps her hands together, taking off like a shot to dig under her bed for the stowed away beauty kit. It’s a little wicker basket filled to the brim with nail polish and makeup, the same one they’d used years ago before everything went wrong, and it makes her happy, bringing the old thing back out.

She stops to put a record in her player, choosing Queen as the closest thing to a middle ground between their respective music tastes, they at least both weren’t supposed to listen to it, and drops down into the other chair beside Billy.

On the latch-hook rug in front of them, she starts to empty the basket, lining up all her brightly colored bottles of nail polish, slightly dried out after months of not using them. “What color?”

“Why do I have to go first?” Billy asks. All Max has to say in response is a know-it-all “Because I said so.”

“Fine. You pick.” The moment he says it he looks like he regrets it, Max is notoriously bad at making decisions, but she ignores him and starts holding up bottles anyways.

First, after few minutes deliberation, she chooses a pretty dark green, and he scrunches his nose and doesn’t say anything. She picks a purplish color, which he tosses away on the bed, a very firm ‘no’ that makes Max giggle. Then she gives him a bright orange bottle, and he holds in front of his face, studying it before turning that one down too.

“God, if I knew you’d be so annoying I would’ve just painted them all the colors.” She remarks, lining up her polishes so she could do just that.

“That’s actually probably not a very good idea, kiddo.” Looking a little panicked, he digs through the bottles himself, settling on one he pulls away and stares at for a second before handing it to her and telling her, “Just do ‘em red.”

It confuses her, but she agrees regardless, and makes him turn in his seat so he’s facing her and his hands are flat on the floor. His hands are a little shaky, so her paint job isn’t the best, she even drips some on the carpet, which she hopes her mother won’t notice, but Billy doesn’t say anything about the mess.

With his nails done she moves onto his hair, she wants to do double braids like how he taught her to do in her own hair, so she shoves his arm to get him to turn around. “Scoot.”

He lets her push him around until he’s in the right place that she can reach his hair, but once he’s facing the far wall he tells her, “Don’t you dare use that brush on my hair, Maxine.”

“Jeez, relax. I’m not gonna mess up your princess curls.” She mocked, but she still went for the comb to run through his hair instead.

She waited until she could get it through without catching on any tangles before bothering trying to talk to him. When Billy was upset, he tended to clam up, but she didn’t particularly like feeling awkward in the silence, leaving all the talking to the record player. “Can we talk about why you were mad earlier?”

“Nope.”

“Would you tell me if I told you about my day?” She tries, but he shuts it down again with an “Unlikely.”

“I’ll tell you anyways.” Max didn’t know what had happened with Billy, but she knew she hadn’t had the greatest morning herself either. “I had to ask Lucas to bring me home early because me and Mike got in a fight.”

Billy snorted, and spoke with just as much sarcasm as Max had used on him. She learned that from him anyways. “You and Mike? No.”

“Yeah. He was being a total ass about El, trying to like, own her or something, so I told him to lay off ‘cause that’s totally not fair.”

She knew that Billy, having graduated and turned 18 now, was probably getting a little old for this type of drama, but he was a good listener, no matter how much he pretended not to care, always giving little bits of insight and saying things to make her laugh.

She continues, “Well, anyways he like, totally bit my head off for sticking up for her, so then I told him he was just a miserable mouth breather who’s jealous of El being happy, and he tried to kick me out.”

Billy laughed at that, muttering a little ‘ow’ when the action made Max pull his hair, “But you left before he could kick you out right?”

“Duh.” She sighs a little, the fun part of the story over. “Then when we pulled up outside, Lucas said something stupid about it being my fault or whatever, so I dumped him again.”

“Good. I told you not to take any shit from them anymore.” Billy had been less than happy with her friends a lot recently, when she’d come home from school or from hanging out upset over something they said. They never meant to hurt her feelings, but Billy didn’t like it all the same, and made her promise she’d stand up for herself a little more. Like she did to him.

“Yeah, I guess.” It makes her feel light on the inside, to know Billy was proud of her for following his advice, in his own way at least. “So? What happened to you?”

He shrugs again, and blows her off, “It’s nothing.”

“You were crying.”

“Yeah, and it’s none of your business.”

“Maybe not,” she fumbles with the braid and loses it, Billy’s stupid uneven mullet making it way too hard to braid so many different lengths of hair, “But I’m like, an expert now. El says she likes my advice.”

Under his breath, Billy mutters, “‘Course she does.”

Max purses her lips and pretends she didn’t hear that before continuing her offer, “Anyways, I can always try to help.”

“Listen, it’s just stupid dating stuff. Nothin’ you need to be worrying about.”

“But I’m a girl. I can give advice about that.” She thinks about it for a second, “I mean, I know more about being a girlfriend than having one, but it’s probably about the same.”

“Maybe.” Billy mumbles, focusing all his attention on picking at the nail polish that had missed the edges of his nails, and just from the way he tensed up she can tell she’d overstepped Billy’s boundaries in some way or another.

She finishes of the braid she had already started over twice now and puts a blue scrunchie on the end of it, giving him a minute.

When she starts combing out the rest of his hair is when Billy speaks again, not a drop of his distinctly Billy attitude in his words as he admitted softly, “You know, shitbird, I never said anything ‘bout having a girlfriend.”

That’s confusing to her at first, because he had just told her it was a dating thing, but Max’d been hearing all the nasty things Neil said about Billy for years now, and while she might just be a kid, might be the clueless and annoying little sister, she still knew the weight of what he’d just admitted to her.

It had always made her sad, to know Neil didn’t really like Billy, all the mean words he used, ones she wouldn’t dare repeat, to describe Billy and his friends, all the lies he told about him behind his back. But she doesn’t buy it, what her asshole step-dad had to say.

Her brother was cool, and she liked hanging out with him, when he wasn’t being such a jerk. The fact that he had a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend didn’t change that in the least bit.

She hums, trying to gather words and, her voice strained against the outburst of happiness, says “See? I can totally help with boy stuff.”

[simpz-art-stash]

Late Beginnings [Ch. 2]

Summary: Macaque’s gotten over the biggest gap on his side of the burnt bridge between him and his broke af relationship with Wukong. Now he’s gotta take an even bigger leap in hopes of getting MK to give him a chance as well.

(Author’s note: DUNNO IF THERE’LL BE MORE BUT WE’LL SEE, FEEL FREE TO SUGGEST STUFF TO PUT IN HERE)

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It should’ve been easy, a kid like MK had a good head on his shoulders, enough to see the good in all besides himself.

It should’ve been easy.

So then why the hell was he still standing on the sidelines mulling over what to say to the kid who was just a few yards away training under the careful eye of his mentor?

What could he say? The same to Wukong? He felt that might be a bit too cliche, even if it had worked.

‘Just barely.’

Mac sighed, brushing his hair back and watching the two practice stillness together, Wukong resting on his tail in a lotus position while MK stood on one foot, straining to keep his posture in check. Even with the staff being used as a counter-balance his muscles flexed against the lack of support in his other leg.

Maybe he could offer him something? Nothing major of course, something innocent but worthwhile and thoughtful. Demon head’s wouldn’t do, the kid had no real use for those, nor would he probably appreciate a trophy that wasn’t his. What did kids even like these days anyways? He thought of toys but, MK was practically a bigger kid than most other cub’s. Most kids like him usually just kept to popular places or their phones…

Decisions decisions…

A small yelp forced him out of his thoughts, his gaze shifting back over to MK who had since fallen back on his butt. Groaning and complaining like usual before Wukong gave him the ol’ ‘keep it up!’ attitude, prompting MK to simply nod and give it another try.

‘Geeze, and I thought my training was harsh. At least I gave him actual critique on his form…’

Then an idea flashed in his mind, popping off like a rocket and he suddenly found himself with something worthwhile.

------~------

“Alright bud, I think that’s enough of that. Why don’t you hit the bench, I need to go check on the kids back inside n’ make sure they haven’t left a mess after that marathon I set up for em.” Wukong claimed, patting MK on the back before turning away. Offering a curt wave as he left, “Call me if you need me!”

“Alright, I will!” MK sighed and made his way over to a makeshift seat, which happened to be nothing more than a split log. And proceeded to take his headband off if not to just drench his hair in some of the water from one of the bottle’s he’d brought along with him. Before guzzling the rest of it down like he hadn’t drank in forever.

“I see he’s been keepin’ you on your toes. Full pun intended.” Mac commented, earning him a startled squeak from MK who had just about spat his drink out when Mac rounded him from behind to sit himself down on the opposing side of the log.

MK had heard a little snippet from MKing about Macaque trying to make amends, he didn’t get the full details but he’d heard enough to know to keep an eye out for the guy. Not that he wasn’t already always on high alert for any suspicious activity.

“Guh- yeah.” MK coughed a little, rubbing his throat a little as he cleared it. “It hasn’t been uh, easy, but I think I’m gettin’ better. Just need to try harder or whatever…”

“Mmm…” Mac let his gaze concentrate on the immortal peach tree Wukong had planted out in the front of his yard, it having long since bloomed and been picked clean.

MK shifted a little under the uncomfortable silence that spread between the two, there wasn’t tension in it per sey, but it was still a lil awkward for him to just outright be chatting it up with the same guy who had once tried to kill him at one point.

“So uh..I was hoping to..make it up to you, what with everything that happened the last time…” Mac’s face squinted a little, his tail irritably swaying behind him, it seemed this was just as awkward for him as it was MK.

“Uhm..okay?..” MK veered a little away from the guy, not too sure how to handle that. “Hey if this is about the whole ‘you trying to kill me thing’ then uh, hey man we’re cool.”

“What? I mean yeah but, it’s more than just that..” Mac fiddled idly with the hem of his cloak, the things color long since having been worn down from the elements. “A lot more…”

“Complicated?” MK quirked a brow at him.

“Yeeaaahh…”

“Heh, been there. Done that.” MK nodded, not that it was anything to be proud of.

“He didn’t tell you?” Mac looked at MK finally with a concerned expression.

“About you and him?? I mean..yeah he told me a lil..mostly just warned me to keep an eye out for you but…” MK rubbed the back of his neck out of nervous habit, shifting under the demon’s gaze.

“Of course he didn’t…” Mac sighed with a frown, “Well, maybe that’s where I can help you out. I know Wukong, he doesn’t exactly give you the full picture so easily, then again he’s never really had a student before either so.”

“So?”

‘So, he won’t just outright give you the benefit of the doubt just like that, especially if you just say you’ll give him whatever advice he wants. He’ll think you’re just trying to pull him from Wukong again or worse.’

“What I mean to say is, if you want to correct your form with that whole balancing thing, you should try putting less focus into just your foot, and put it towards your whole body.” Macaque stated plainly, his gaze shifting away back to the peach tree.

“Oh..uhm..alright?...Thanks???” MK blinked, none too sure what to make of that, but he wasn’t trying to kill him, or hurt his feelings so, maybe that was a good thing??

“Feel free to mention it to him…” Macaque claimed, his gaze softening before he got up finally and began to walk elsewhere.

“h-Wait!” MK called out, standing up right then. To which Macaque of course obliged, though he kept his back facing kid.

“..are you..like...being serious about that whole, ‘making amends’ thing?..” MK squinted at him suspiciously, even if Macaque could lie about his true intentions, MK at least thought it right to ask. Considering everything else…

“Yes.” Mac stated, his tail curling a little behind him.

“Ohkaaay... “ It was still hard to tell but, “Then why’re you trying to?-”

“Because he told me to.” Mac claimed, his head turning just enough to share a glance with the kid. “Don’t get the wrong idea..it was wrong of me, but.”

“Buuut?”

-------~-------

“But whatever you do, you gotta stop lyin’ about the real stuff.”

Mac grunted, that was probably gonna be the hardest trial of his to overcome. For him, lying was basically his day by day means of survival. “I think I’d rather cut my own tongue out at that point an be mute then cut that out.”

The chick shrugged, “Hey, I’m just sayin’. Honesty is the best policy. Even if it hurts to hear it, better said than left for dead. You want em to trust you again? You gotta earn it. A few pretty words ain’t never gonna be enough. You gotta put some effort behind em.”

“Uuuugh.” He rolled his eyes, already regretting having decided to go through with the whole thing. “Fine...but if I get my ass beat because someone couldn’t take the heat, I’ll hunt you down.”

“I’ll take that chance.” The chick smirked.

-------~-------

Macaque sighed, he could already imagine just how easy it’d be to screw up something so casually done by others. Century old lies he’d held onto for most his life being the worst one’s, with how gnarled they were from the many times they’d been knotted by his reasons to keep them from being undone by any means necessary. He’d run from them for such a long time though, enough to the point where he’d finally hit the end of his lead, and now he was forced to look back at the mess he’d caused.

It wasn’t a pretty sight at all.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t go back and try to fix some of it. Now matter how long it took, little by little. He just had to be careful in doing so or else he’d just get himself wrapped up in knots all over again.

“...I..” Just say it, even if it’s half the truth.

“I didn’t want to see you waste that potential under a guy who wouldn’t appreciate it...” Macaque claimed, his gaze shifting away.

That...was probably the first time MK had ever seen Mac show a genuine side of himself before. Even during training he’d been distant and strict, similar to Wukong but a lot less merciful in a spar. Where with Mac, bruises were lessons learned.

“...Thanks. For the uh..advice I mean.”

Macaque stiffened a little at the response, but he didn’t spoil it for fear of ruining what little ground he had on that bridge.

“Anytime.”

And then he was gone.