#but I’m still happy enough with it to add it to the archive

[flwrstqr]

✶ ꒰ ENHYPEN REACTION WHEN YOU PRANK HIM BY SAYING "I LIKE YOU" AND NOT "I LOVE YOU"

PREC𝓲S ✦ 엔하이픈 x f!reader ‎ ୨୧ 783wc. ᰍ 𝅄 ׁ ˳ fluff, headcanons && cw. kissing, petnames, skinship.˙⠀⋆ ۟⠀｡♡

` . ( MY ARCHiVE ) iF ENJOYED PLEASE REBLOG !! — CLICK

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

as you're about to leave, you casually throw out, "i like you," with a playful grin, watching heeseung’s reaction carefully. he stops in his tracks, eyes narrowing slightly. “wait… like?” he repeats, blinking a few times as if trying to process what you just said. “yeah, i like you,” you say again, suppressing the giggle threatening to spill out. his face scrunches up in confusion, a hint of panic in his eyes. “just like?” he asks, tilting his head, his voice quieter now, like he's genuinely concerned. you stay quiet, biting your lip to keep from laughing, letting the silence drag on just a little longer. “so, what happened to ‘i love you’?” he finally asks, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, his pout making him look almost too adorable. you shrug nonchalantly, still not giving in, and his eyes widen. “wait, no way… did i do something wrong? baby, come on, talk to me,” he pleads, stepping closer and gently cupping your face. his brows are furrowed, lips pursed in worry, and you can’t hold it in any longer. bursting into laughter, you lean into his touch. “i’m just teasing you, hee! of course i love you!” you finally admit. his shoulders relax as he lets out a deep sigh of relief, pulling you into his arms. “you almost gave me a heart attack!” he grumbles, nuzzling his face into your neck. “but fine, you win this time,” he adds, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, “but you owe me an extra 'i love you' now.”

rest of the members below !!

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐀𝐘

as you grab your bag and head for the door, you turn back to jay with a casual wave. "okay, gotta go, i like you, bye bye," you say quickly, almost slipping out the door before you hear his voice, a little louder than usual. "you what?" jay's tone is incredulous, and you freeze, your hand still on the doorknob. turning around, you see him standing there with one eyebrow raised, arms crossed over his chest. "i like you?" you repeat, acting innocent, but the mischievous grin tugging at your lips gives you away. he steps closer, his eyes narrowing playfully as he leans against the doorframe. "no, that’s not what you usually say. what happened to ‘i love you’?" he teases, his voice softening. you shrug, trying to keep up the act, but your heartbeat quickens when he gently grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. "come on, i need to hear it properly," he murmurs, his gaze locked on yours. biting your lip, you finally give in. "fine, i love you, happy now?" you say, trying to sound annoyed, but your smile betrays you. jay grins, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips. "much better. now you can go," he says, letting go of your wrist but keeping his eyes on you until you walk out the door.

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄

as you're about to head out the door, you glance back at jake with a cheeky smile and say, "i like you, bye bye." his reaction is instant—he grabs your hand and pulls you back, his eyes narrowing in playful confusion. "wait, you what?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "i like you," you repeat, trying to act casual, but the grin on your face is a dead giveaway. jake looks at you like you're crazy, crossing his arms. "why ‘i like you’? we’re dating because we like each other?" he teases, his tone a mix of disbelief and amusement. you nod, still keeping up the act. "yup, i like you. that’s why we’re dating," you reply, trying not to laugh. jake steps closer, shaking his head as he narrows his eyes. "no, no. why just ‘like’? where’s the ‘love’? like?" he says, his voice almost pleading. "because i like you," you say again, biting your lip to hide your smile. jake lets out a dramatic sigh, then gently cups your face, bringing you closer. "well, i love you, okay? like is not enough," he says softly, his thumb brushing your cheek. "you better say the right word next time." you laugh, finally giving in. "okay, fine, i love you, happy now?" he grins, leaning in to kiss you. "much better. now you can go, but don’t forget it next time."

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

as you're about to walk out the door, you glance back at sunghoon with a playful smile and say, "i'll see you later, i like you, bye!" before quickly turning to leave. sunghoon blinks, processing your words for a moment, before calling out, "wait... what?" his brows furrow as he stands there, clearly confused. "well, i hope you like me, but do you... love me?" he asks, his voice soft but laced with curiosity. you pause, turning around with a teasing grin. "yeah, that’s why I’m saying it—i like you. now, gimme a kiss," you reply, stepping closer. sunghoon lets out a small, amused laugh and leans down to give you a quick, soft kiss. as you pull away, he gently cups your face, looking into your eyes. "i love you," he says with a smile, his tone sweet and sincere. you can't help but grin as you respond, "i like you." sunghoon shakes his head, laughing under his breath, but the sparkle in his eyes tells you he’s completely smitten. "you’re impossible," he murmurs, still holding onto you for a second longer before finally letting you go.

��𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎

as you slip on your jacket, ready to head out, sunoo watches you with his usual playful smile, eyes glinting with curiosity. "angel," he calls out softly, stepping closer. you turn to face him, heart pounding a bit faster, and instead of your usual "i love you," you say, "i like you." he blinks, clearly caught off guard, his lips curling into a smirk. "no love?" he teases, leaning in, voice low and mischievous. "i said i like you," you repeat, trying to hold back a grin. he pouts dramatically, crossing his arms. "just like? what happened to love?" you roll your eyes, stepping closer, poking his chest lightly. "you're being so dramatic." he huffs, still pouting. "well, i like you too, angel. but you better give me 'love' next time." shaking your head, you start to walk away, but he grabs your hand, pulling you back into a quick hug. "fine, but don't forget to miss me while you're gone," he mumbles against your hair, squeezing you tightly before letting go with a soft smile.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍

as you grab your bag, jungwon looks up from his phone, an expectant smile on his face. "you're leaving already?" he asks, playfully pouting. you nod, standing by the door with your shoes halfway on. "yeah, i’ll see you later," you say, adding casually, "i like you, wonnie." his brows furrow immediately. "like me?" he stands up, crossing the room in a few steps. "hold on, like? what happened to love?" there’s a teasing glint in his eyes, but you know he’s a bit serious. you laugh, leaning into the doorframe. "what? you’re cute, so i like you," you say, drawing out the words to mess with him. "wow, i see how it is. no 'i love you' today, huh?" he shoots you a playful glare. you grin, stepping closer to ruffle his hair. "you’ll survive, baby. i’m sure of it." but before you can turn away, jungwon catches your wrist, pulling you close. "nope, not good enough." he leans in, lips brushing your ear as he whispers, "you’ll have to say 'i love you' before you leave, or i’m not letting you go." his warm breath sends shivers down your spine, and with a laugh, you cave in. "okay, okay. i love you, won." his smile widens, satisfied. "that’s more like it."

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈

ni-ki grab your wrist just as you’re about to leave, and he turns around with that familiar smirk already on his lips. “did you just say ‘i like you’?” he asks, pretending to be offended. you shrug, trying to act nonchalant. “yeah, what’s wrong with that?” his eyes narrow as he crosses his arms, clearly amused. “we’ve been together this long and that’s all i get? just ‘i like you’?” you roll your eyes, knowing he’s not going to let it go. “oh, come on, ni-ki. ‘like’ is still a compliment!”he steps closer, his expression teasing. “yeah, well, it’s not enough. i’m waiting for the big three words, you know.” you sigh, trying to hide the grin tugging at your lips. “fine, i like you and i love you. happy now?” his smirk grows wider, and he tilts his head like he’s considering it. “yeah, i guess that’ll do for now.”

[sitp-recs]

Hello!! Thank you for this blog really its been so lovely reading fics from the master list I've discovered drarry because of you! My favorite "trope" so far is draco who's struggling a lot but manages to preservere and even find humour in the worst situations. I find his character that way truly inspiring. Do some fics like that come to mind? I'd love to hear your recommendations and to read more fics like this

Hi anon! Welcome to Drarry, I’m so happy to see you enjoying the lists 💜 I love a struggling Draco who’s still proud and snarky and a little shit, that’s such a great take on the trope! Here are some recs focused on Draco’s resilience and perseverance. You can also check GallaPlacidia’s archive, who usually explores this trope in a sweet and light-hearted way. And if I can add something on the angstier side, Take A Chance On Me by @mintawasalreadytaken and Winner Takes It All by @skeptiquewrites are two underrated masterpieces among my top favorite down & out Draco fics. I’ll come back to add more titles as they come to mind. Enjoy!

Rebuilding Draco Malfoy by khasael (E, 11k)

Draco wants to do something to get his life back on track, but no-one seems to be taking him seriously – until he finds himself in an Auror training session led by Harry Potter.

The Year of Non-Magical Thinking by whiskyandwildflowers (E, 13k)

"I don't know what I'm going to do, Potter. I'll think of something. So will you. But this is my journey to self-actualization," Draco managed to smirk. "You can fuck off and get your own."

Open For Repairs by @drarrytrash (M, 35k)

After the war, Draco works at a tv repair shop and Harry breaks things.

The Vanishing Department by @dictacontrion (E, 47k)

The things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, even if that involves a lot more form-filling, bickering, covert glancing, miscommunication, and flying furniture than we might expect.

Heal Thyself by astolat (T, 47k)

"Are you going for the course?" Lovegood asked. "You have the NEWTs.” “What course?” Draco said, then, “No, don’t be ridiculous,” when he realized she meant the notice pinned up on the board he’d been staring at: Applicants To The Introductory Mediwizard Course For The Coming Term Shall Present Themselves In The Chief Mediwizard’s Office By August 24th.

Kept in Cages by @sweet-s0rr0w, @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (E, 77k)

Deep in the heart of the Ministry lies the Beast Division: a hidden room where ancient beasts roam, and winged creatures soar, and grumpy giant ferrets eat all your biscuits unless you keep them well hidden. Draco Malfoy would know – he’s been working there for five years now, after all.

The Liars Department by @dorthyanndrarry (T, 103k)

This is a story about Harry meeting up with Draco Malfoy four years after the war. And a story about Harry, well, not hating his job per say, but it's not like he has much to compare it to and it seemed fine. His whole life seemed fine. Then Malfoy came along with and his flashy suits and fast car making everything seem dull in comparison, and Harry... Harry couldn't just leave well enough alone.

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

Whatever You Want, Draco Malfoy by DorthyAnn (E, WIP)

Draco lost his home and the only society he knew after the war. He ended up living in the muggle world, making new friends and new connections and maybe some sort of peace. Even if that peace was usually found at the bottom of a bottle. It was enough for him. He was content to just exist. Then Harry Potter decided to ruin everything.

[sulphuric-onyx]

Day 3 of @rvbrarepairweekdos ! : …and they were roommates (aus, cannon divergence, what ifs)

Some designs for a Docnut apocalypse AU! I was a little hesitant to draw these two for this event bc I’m not entirely sure on their rare pair status but it’s Doc, so I’m sure he s forgotten about enough for this to count.

Donuts long hair was inspired by @grif-hawaiian-rolls’s face cannon for him (which is amazing btw, go check it out if you haven’t seen it already, their art is stunning) and in this universe is because he hasn’t had access to scissors recently, hence the grown out blond and pink dye. I’m also a huge fan of getting to draw Donut as the corn feed tall farm boy he is, and making Doc look short next to him was very fun, and giving the guy his big fuck off hammer back was great. The background was something a bit different for me, and only a little inspired by imagery of the eye-poclypse from the Magnus archives, but I’m very happy with how it turned out in the end :]

Docs outfit was really satisfying to put together, and the camo pants were much easier to draw than I thought they’d be, although I forgot to add the mask until later so i still drew his face beneath it so here’s the gas mask-less version under the cut lmao

[demonvampire180writes]

Come find me on the Archive

The week is finally coming to a close. It’s been an agonizingly long six days since Buck has seen his boyfriend in person, and his heart aches for him. His skin misses the lingering warmth of every touch and the smell of his shower gel after a long, hot bath. Buck misses those bright blue eyes that crinkle at the corners with every smile and the deadpan delivery of dumb jokes. In short, Buck just misses Tommy.

After a final inspection, Gerrard dismisses the A shift and Buck shoots out of there like a rocket, barely taking time to shove his change of clothes into his duffel before he’s side stepping through coworkers just so he can get to his Jeep that one second faster. Because the faster he moves, the sooner he gets to see Tommy.

As he runs, he places his hand over his heart; the tattoo is through the peeling stage and the redness and swelling have both gone down. It’s still fresh enough that the lines are dark, and strong, but it doesn’t look like he just stepped out of the shop and decided to go sunbathing and got sunburnt either. He’s unspeakably happy, and as each day went by, the more he wanted to see the older man, to show it off. It took days and days for the nerves to calm down and, now that he’s finally going to see Tommy, all he can do is shake with anticipation.

Tommy’s going to love it, he just knows it.

Just as he’s throwing his duffel into the passenger seat, his phone nestled into its holder on the dash, it begins to ring with a video call. Buck grins so wide his face hurts as he answers it, Tommy’s face too close to the camera as usual. “Tommy!” Buck breathes, leaning back against the seat.

“Hey babe. How’re you?”

“I’m just getting off shift.” Shyly he adds. “I can’t wait to see you.” Tommy pulls the phone back some and Buck swoons at his affectionate grin. “I missed you.” He finishes.

“God, I missed you, too. A week is far too long to not see you.” Buck’s heart pitter patters. “Are you coming over right away or do you need to stop home first?”

Buck is shaking his head before he even finishes speaking, feeling his heart grow three times larger just hearing the man’s smooth baritone over airwaves. “I can’t wait a second longer. I’ll be at your place in…” He glances quickly at the clock on his dash, turning his eyes back to his love promptly, “...probably an hour?” It’s 6 PM on a Monday so crosstown traffic will be atrocious. And he took a car this time.

Tommy winks, lips quirking michievously - his pupils dilate a bit and a shudder runs down Buck’s back. Don’t get distracted. “I’ll be waiting for you. So how was your shift?” As Buck starts the vehicle, they fall into easy conversation. Before he knows it, Buck is pulling into Tommy’s driveway, their conversation not having lulled once the entire drive.

He’s up and out of the seat almost before he’s turned the ignition off, and the front door swings open, Tommy standing behind it with his arms held wide open. Without a second thought Buck walks right into his embrace, wrapping himself around his man like a koala around its favorite tree. Tommy leans into him and presses a kiss to his hair, his strong arms hugging him tight enough that Buck can barely breathe. And he’d rather not be anywhere else.

“Hey.” Tommy mumbles, refusing to pull away.

“Hey.” Buck replies, turning to nose the side of his boyfriend's neck, inhaling his scent until it’s all he can smell. “Missed you.” He says it again to ensure there’s no confusion.

“Missed you too.” He presses another kiss to his hair before running a hand through it, tugging softly at the little curls at his nape. “Glad you had a good shift.”

“It’s better now because I get to see you.” Buck looks up through his eyelashes, batting them like he thinks he’s cute or something. Apparently Tommy thinks he is because he plants one right on his lips, his own mouth curved up in an exasperatedly fond smile. “How was your day off?”

“Oh, you know.” Tommy pulls away and Buck whimpers, bottom lip jutting out almost subconsciously. Tommy says nothing but pulls the younger man through the doorway, closing it behind them, and lacing their fingers together as they traverse the foyer and hallways into the kitchen. Tommy plants Buck down on one of the island stools and makes for the fridge. As he pulls it open and grabs out two beers he says, “The usual. I worked on that car I’ve been trying to restore, didn’t get very far because my God is it a beast, and did some chores. Really I spent most of my day lamenting that you weren’t here in my arms, yet.” Buck’s face flames and he has to duck his head in his embarrassment.

“Dammit Tommy, really? You’re gonna make me giggle like a little girl over here.” He chides, secretly loving when Tommy casually slips in some mushy bullshit. It makes him feel loved. It makes him feel like the tattoo was, in fact, a great idea. He doesn’t see Tommy shrug but he can sense it, like he senses the shit eating grin he wears as he sets down his drink in front of him, having popped the top off on the bottle opener mounted under the counter. Then there’s fingers lifting his chin, forcing him to look up and he inhales sharply at Tommy’s slight frown, his blue-grey eyes intent.

“Evan, I’m not joking. I missed you so much this week. We were both so busy at work, and we hardly had time to Facetime each other. There wasn’t even time to visit you at the station for meals or breaks. I-” He takes a deep breath, grounding himself, and seems to force the words out. “I never thought I could miss seeing someone in person that I talk to on the phone every single day. It physically hurt me to not be able to touch you; to hold you.” He leans in to press a hard, lingering kiss to Buck’s lips, tilting his chin upwards with those two fingers like he had done the first time he took Buck’s lips. When he pulls back, Buck’s heat is in his throat and his brain is in a fog. It takes all his willpower to look away from Tommy’s lips and into his eyes as he says, “Knowing you were coming over tonight, I could only distract myself for so long before you were the only thing I could think about.” He pauses. “Though, now that I’m thinking about it, you’re all I think about anyway.”

It takes all of Buck’s self control to not leap from his seat and tackle this man to the ground and take what he pleases. It’s not that he doesn’t want that, in fact he’s so pent up he can cry, but he refuses to let that be the foundation of their interactions. That was Buck 1.0 and Abby taught him that that isn’t what he has to be. Every relationship since has taught him more and more that, while sex is great, there’s more to intimacy than just that. Like getting permanent body modifying art without discussing it with your significant other first. Instead, Buck keens pitifully and whimpers as he wraps himself once more around his boyfriend, pulling him in snuggly between his legs and burying his head into his stomach. Tommy snorts and wraps his large hands gently around Buck’s necks, thumbs rubbing circles over the taut muscles there. He doesn’t stop, or pause, even once, until Buck pulls away.

“No wonder everyone keeps accusing me of having it down bad for you.” He huffs, eyes hot.

“Down bad?” Tommy asks with a confused, raised brow.

Buck pats his boyfriends stomach and replies, “Don’t worry about it old man. You wouldn’t get it.”

Tommy gasps, “Excuse you, Evan, I am not old. I’m only forty.” He tugs at Buck’s hair. “I’m not even old enough to be your Daddy.”

“Oh yeah? Says who?” Buck asks with the most lascvicious grin on his face, unable to keep from poking the beast. Tommy lunges forward but before he can tackle Buck, Buck is out of his seat darting around the kitchen island.

The next twenty minutes is spent with Tommy chasing Buck around his house with peels of laughter rolling out of Buck in waves he cannot stop. Eventually it ends with Tommy tackling Buck onto their bed with the younger man on his back, panting and Tommy bridged over him, curls a tangled mess. Both men grin at each other and Tommy leans in to meet Buck halfway in a kiss. Moaning, Buck rolls his hips, his libido choosing that moment to rear its head. He can feel Tommy responding to the motion but, at the most inopportune time, Buck’s stomach screams out with hunger - reminding him that the last full meal he ate is close to ten hours ago.

Startling, the two crumple in laughter, realizing what just happened. Tommy lets his full weight flop on top of Buck, and Buck relishes as he buries that perfect, somewhat crooked nose, bury itself into the sensitive flesh of his neck. They stay, giggling, like that for a few minutes before Buck’s stomach makes his hunger known once again. “I think that may be a sign.” Tommy huffs, nuzzling him deeper. “Shame.” Buck can feel the disappointment against his thigh and he can’t agree more. Tommy brushes his lips against his skin and sighs, “We’ll be picking up where we left off, later.”

“D-definitely.” Buck mumbles, running his hands down Tommy’s spine, grabbing his ass, and squeezing until the man yelps in protest. “So. Are we making dinner or going out?”

“If we stay in, I can promise you we’re not going to be leaving this bed to get as far as dinner.” Tommy assures him.

Buck guffaws and shoves Tommy off, laughing as he lands with a whumph on his back, grinning like the loon he is. “Dumbass. What are you hungry for?”

“You.” He replies, deadpan.

Buck rolls his eyes and thwacks him softly in the stomach with the back of his hand. “I’m clearly dessert. I mean what do you want for the main course?” He’s sitting up now, willing the heat in his stomach and groin to get the message that personal time isn’t on the books right at this second. His body needs nourishment if they’re about to marathon the next seventy-two hours they have off together. A delicious shudder runs down his spine, but he manages to shove those thoughts away.

Tommy’s head lulls his way and, once again, in the driest, most deadpan way he can muster, he replies, “You. You are the appetizer, main course and dessert. You’re a one stop dinner shop to me, Evan.”

O-o-o-o-kay then, so much for putting those thoughts away. Grunting, half in resignation and half with building desire, Buck heaves himself on top of Tommy, straddling him. “If I pass out, Thomas Kinard, I’m blaming you.” And the next instant he’s on him, bodies making magic with every movement.

Buck is standing next to the bed, shirt in hand. They’d gone two rounds before his stomach had protested loud enough that they had to call it quits. Tommy’s currently showering, Buck went first to make sure showering is all they did, but a second later the door swings open and he’s standing there in all his bare chested glory, hair dripping, curls awry. He uses the towel wrapped around his neck to start drying his hair, eyes roaming Buck hungrily, though more sated than he was an hour ago, when his eyes stop and his mouth falls open. The towel he’s using drops, draping limply around his shoulder and his mouth is agape.

“What is it, babe?” Buck asks worriedly. He glances down at his own body, not seeing anything to call for alarm. Then it strikes him. Slowly raising his head, he carefully follow’s Tommy’s sightline and confirms just where he’s looking. How did he forget? Actually, how had Tommy not noticed mid coitus? (Well. Actually. If he had, Buck wouldn’t have been doing a very good job he thinks to himself.) “O-oh. Um…” The weeks earlier anxiety spikes. All the confidence he’s built vanishes in an instant and his body starts to shake. He pulls the shirt he’s holding up a little further, even though it’s not really blocking anything, creating a barrier between his boyfriend’s eyes and his new art. He feels laid bare, and not in a good way. This was a stupid idea. He wants to cry - he feels the heat prickling in the back of his eyes, the way his nose tickles in anticipation of tears.

Tommy strides forward, reaching him in three long steps, and reaches out to place his hand over Buck’s heart. Buck, unintentionally, flinches and Tommy doesn’t fail to notice. He pulls his hand back as if burned, looking hurt. He doesn’t reach for him again as he says, “Evan. Is that new?”

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to flinch.” He apologizes quickly, feeling smaller than an ant. He looks away from Tommy, shuffling his feet. “Y-yeah. I-it’s new.” His throat clogs. He’s going to pass out. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid Buck. How could he have thought this was a good idea? It’s too soon and now Tommy is going to leave him, just like everyone else. Tears really do begin to fall now, Buck unable to stop them at the thought of Tommy leaving him. “I-I know it’s too much, and I-I-I know it’s t-too soon, so if you n-need to step back from m-me, I get it.”

“Evan.” A warm hand presses over his heart again. “Hold on just a second. I know you tell great stories, but it’s easier for me to understand if you start from the beginning. What do you mean it’s ‘too soon’? What’s too soon?”

Buck sniffles far too loudly as he wipes at his nose, the dopamine from their romp in the bed not twenty minutes before evaporating into dust. He’s unable to compose himself and, in fact, starts crying even harder when Tommy brings him into his arms, one hand still pressing against his tattoo. “This. All of this. I know it’s stupid but… I just… I love you so much Tommy and the thought of losing you brings me to my knees.”

“Honey. Baby. Why would you ever lose me? I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

“You say that now,” Buck snuffles, “but everyone gets sick of me eventually. And then I do stupid shit like getting a tattoo that I hope will be my good luck charm in keeping us together. Forever.” Tommy pushes him back and his hands clamp down, hard, on his shoulders.

“Evan. Look at me.” He doesn’t. “Dammit, Evan Buckley, look at me.” There’s a growl in Tommy’s voice that Buck has never witnessed before, and he can’t help how his head snaps up to look him in the eye. Tommy’s expression is hard, harder than Buck can ever remember, and his heart stutters. Tommys is pissed at him. Of course he is. Who wouldn’t be pissed when someone does something this big without talking about it. The tears come faster and he can feel snot pooling along his Cupid’s bow but he doesn’t even bother trying to swipe it away anymore.

To his total surprise, Tommy does it for him, using the towel he’d been drying his hair with before, not caring that he won’t be able to use it again until it’s washed. “I’m still not understanding. This tattoo is… You got it for us?” Buck nods miserably, still sniffling. 

The longest silence Buck has ever suffered through follows, though logically he knows it was likely only a few seconds, when he hears a sniff that isn’t his own. Lifting his eyes, his chest seizes, noticing wetness in his man's eyes, his baby blue-greys glistening with his own unshed tears. “T-Tommy, oh my God I’m so sorry. It doesn’t have to mean anything for us. I can tell people I just thought it was cool. Oh God, please don’t-” He doesn’t even finish the sentence before Tommy’s mouth is crashing over his and his face is wrapped up in hot, calloused hands. Buck opens his mouth in a gasp but doesn’t get it out because Tommy’s tongue is shoving past his lips, tangling with his until neither of them can breathe.

When they finally pull away from each other, Tommy rests his forehead against Buck’s as he breathes, voice wet, “Oh Evan, you stupid, stupid man. I don’t even know how to convey to you just how much I love you. How much I love everything about you. Just how much I want to spend forever with you, too.” He sucks in a breath through his nose, calming himself. “I have never loved anyone as much as I love you, Evan. I’ll never love anyone as much again. And I’m sorry you ever had to doubt yourself, or your actions. I promise that I will do better showing you that you can be who you are, no matter what.”

Buck whimpers, his knees going weak. Tommy catches him, holding him up without disengaging their heads. “You’re perfect, Tommy. You already do so much for me. You don’t need to change. It’s my fault. It’s just my stupid insecurities.”

Tommy shakes his head. “No, Evan. You’ve been through so many bad relationships, romantic and familial, and I knew that, yet I still didn’t try hard enough. I will never let you feel this way again. I shouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.” He tilts his head to press a kiss against Buck’s birthmark, squeezing him into a hug with one arm around Buck’s shoulder and the other around his waist, wrapping him in an embrace he never wants to escape from. Buck doesn’t respond, choosing to instead grab Tommy’s hips as best as he can, leaning his head against his shoulder and letting himself be surrounded by his calming scent.

When Tommy finally lets go, he grabs Buck’s chin and rubs soothingly along his jaw with his thumb. “Now, you’re going to let me finish getting dressed, and then you’re going to tell me all about this.” He pats Buck’s chest. With a watery chuckle Buck nods his ascent, finally loosening his grip on the shirt he’s kept a death hold on this entire time.

The two sit in Tommy’s living room on the couch, Buck with his shirt off facing Tommy who’s sitting with one leg cocked, the other draped over the edge. His eyes roam over the scene - a hyper realistic helicopter with its blades blurring as though in motion facing towards what could only be LA’s muted skyline. In the background of the otherwise greyscale ink is a fiery red sunset with hues of orange, and red, and pink, the glaring sun sinking behind the fluffy grey clouds. Although “LAFD” isn’t anywhere in the image, if one looks closely enough they would notice a tiny “217” inked on the front of one of the building outlines, as though nothing more than an address. Another one, more in the background, shows “118”.

The picture takes up the entirety of Buck’s pectoral and Tommy is in awe. His fingers trace the delicate linework and a lump the size of a gumball catches in his throat. Buck did this for him. For them. This man, this beautiful, glorious, golden retriever of a man wishes so much that they’ll last that he marked himself. Trying to clear away the emotions Tommy chokes, “It’s stunning, Evan. I don’t even have the right words for it.”

Evan looks at him, shy. “So… this is okay?” He puts his hand over Tommy’s, squeezing.

He doesn’t even have to contemplate the answer, replying, “Nothing has ever been more okay in my entire life.” He pecks the tip of Buck’s nose. Trying to shake off the too heavy emotions he jokes, “So, when I called you that first day… You weren’t denying me seeing my hot boyfriend shirtless… You were keeping this little surprise to yourself?”

Evan shoots him a crooked smile, heat coloring his neck the prettiest red. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you.”

Tommy snorts, flicking the end of his nose with his free hand. “And I’m guessing your whole family knew?” Buck nods. Scoffing the pilot says, no heat in his words, “And Howie managed to keep it a secret? Damn, I see where his loyalties lay.” Evan rubs at his nose but grins. “Evan…” He pauses. “Thank you. Thank you for making me the happiest man I’ve ever been, and probably the happiest man I’ll ever be. Neither of us can say for certain that we’re going to be forever but, more than anything in the world, more than me hoping you have Daddy issues,” he snorts that cute little snort he does when he’s taken off guard, “I hope we are. Evan Buckley. I love you and you’re mine. Now and for the foreseeable future.” He leans in to press his lips to Evan’s forehead, heart swelling with pride.

Tommy doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this, but he will never take it for granted for as long as they both shall live.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

[sapphicscholar]

A/N: happy end of term! I fell in love with this show watching it for the first time this fall and wanted to write my own canon divergent love letter to two women who remind me of back home more than just about anything else I’ve seen on television

Fic Preview

The world shifts beneath Patty’s feet as she clambers up the stairs to a floor of Kevin’s house that’s as unfamiliar to her as the world outside of Worcester. For as many hours—christ, probably years if anyone cared enough to add them all together—as she’s spent with her ass planted in the living room, the bottom landing of the stairs is as far as she’s ever gone into Allison’s domain. (At least sober. She thinks she may have been the one to puke on the bathroom floor one St. Patrick’s Day, but if she did—and she’s not taking the heat for it until someone finds real proof—it was only because Allison’s idiot husband and his idiot best friend had managed to clog the downstairs toilet to hell and back.)

It’s different up here than she’d expected. Then again, a lotta things are different than she expected. It’s lived in, but not homey. There’s nothing that looks like it came from Pottery Barn, thrifted or no, up here. It’s just…someone’s house. Not anyone in particular’s.

“Allison?” Patty calls out as she slips through the door into the bathroom.

A sad little hiccup meets her question, then: “Patty?”

“Yes. Obviously,” Patty huffs. “What are you doing in here?”

“I’m…” Allison sniffles, and it’s just enough for Patty to slide the shower curtain back, revealing a very much still clothed Allison curled up in the bathtub, clutching a bottle of wine like a lifeline, mascara streaked beneath her eyes and her hair pulled back into a messy bun.

“Jesus,” Patty breathes out. “What the hell happened to you?”

[karniss-bg3]

Salute, Larian Studios

Heya folks! It’s been a while, I hope everyone is doing well. I’m breaking my hiatus to discuss the recent announcement made by Larian Studios on their steam development blog. I will add the link here for those who wish to read the blog in its entirety but be warned, there are patch seven spoilers within. I wish to focus on a particular section in the final three paragraphs of the document, which reads as follows:

“Being given the chance to develop a game set in the Dungeons & Dragons universe has been a dream come true for all of us. But as Swen recently confirmed, we won't be introducing any major new narrative content to the story of Baldur's Gate 3 or its origin characters and companions, nor will we be making expansions or Baldur’s Gate 4. As an independent studio since 1996, we value the freedom to follow our creativity wherever it leads. In this case, after six years in the Forgotten Realms and much discussion and rumination, we’ve decided to seize this opportunity to develop our own IPs. We’re currently working on two new projects and we couldn’t be more excited about what the future has in store. It’s still early days - we’ll tell you more about those later down the line. But know that even as our focus turns to these new games, the sensibilities that brought you Baldur’s Gate 3 are alive and well here at the Larian castle. We’re fueled by the very same fire in our bellies, one that drives us to create immersive experiences shaped by your choices, and we can’t wait for you to join us on this next adventure.”

I will admit, when I first read this I felt a tinge of disappointment. As someone who had a lot of hope in seeing some stories continued, Kar’niss especially, this feels like the once open door is now sealed shut permanently. To be entirely fair, I always looked at an expanded Kar’niss story with skeptical optimism; hope for the best but expect the worst. After all, Kar’niss was designed as a throw away plot device that had no real bearing on the over-all narrative. Most of what has been derived of the character is entirely fan driven and not based on anything confirmed by Larian as a whole. Furthermore, there were many fan favorites that had a larger base than our dear drider and chances are even if Larian did decide to do an expansion, Kar’niss still wouldn’t make the cut.

With that said, I respect Larian in their choice. To expand on other characters would cost a lot of money and time. To juggle that alongside making new games would be unrealistic, and I understand their point of view completely. We also don’t know what is going on behind the scenes which could’ve influenced their choices all the more. Over all this situation mirrors the old saying, “Don’t cry because it’s over, be happy that it happened.” I am happy, and grateful. Without Baldur’s Gate 3 this blog wouldn’t exist. All of the amazing interactions I’ve had over several months would’ve never occurred, nor would I have found the courage to publicly publish stories to the internet. While I don’t consider myself an awful writer, I never believed my work was good enough for those outside of my personal circle. To say that my confidence has blossomed over the last few months is an understatement, and I owe that to the fantastic support of those in the fandom as well as those close to me. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.

With Larian closing up the BG3 shop after the next few patches the question becomes, what’s next? For me, I don’t know. Sadly I’ve been swamped lately and it’s not destined to slow down until the middle of May. By then I hope to have a sufficient breather so I can return to projects I’ve left on the back burner in the interim. The Kar’niss blog will remain in place along with all of the archived stories, theories, and miscellaneous posts that are present. I still have a few writing requests that have waited a lot longer than I anticipated, so forgive me for the delay. I may also make a new blog that is dedicated solely to writing and other fandoms of interest. When the time comes I’ll post it here and folks can follow it if they wish but I’ll understand if not. Regardless of what the future holds, I am very stoked with the experiences I’ve had within the Baldur’s Gate 3 fandom. I’m a painfully shy individual and I am not a spotlight seeker by any stretch of the imagination. This section of the internet allowed me to expand my horizons a bit proving that you can indeed teach an old writer new tricks.

I look forward to seeing what is in store for Larian Studios. So long as they stick to their passion for making good games and treating their customers like people instead of money cows to be milked, then I will support every game release that comes in the future. While I’m sad that the many questions I had about Kar’niss will go unanswered, at least the drider will live on through the stories, art and other creative works made by his fans. In that way he is eternal, as are all of the other characters we’ve grown to love over this journey.

I hope to return on a more regular basis soon. Until then drider army, take care of yourselves and thank you for your continued support.

[zzzykiek]

Play It Sweet

2P!Alastor x Fem!OC reader

CW: toxic workplace, creepy boss, talk of past violence, serial killers

This chapter is SFW but I'll still ask Minors DNI

Chpt 6_________________ “Ugh…Susan”

That lunch break was just what you needed and you return refreshed and ready to show Al how things work on the back end. Even Al lets his act drop, willing to relax enough to show his adorable stutter.

Returning to your office you do a quick check of your messages letting Al relax for a moment. “What do I g-get to observe first?” His question is barely a whisper in your ear. “S-s-sorry.” He whimpers when the unexpected proximity causes you to startle.

He leans into your touch as you caress his cheek. “I suppose I will give you the typical new patron rundown I do. That will give you the basics for everything and then we can dive into what peaks your interest.” Al reluctantly backs away from your touch and ushers you to lead the way.

You take him to the library's catalog computer. “This is the brain of the library.”

“No d-dear, that would be you.”

You giggle at Al's comment feeling your cheeks heat up. “Sadly, I am not always available, but this is.”

“Hmm, I will always prefer getting my information straight from the source, but enlighten me.” He leans his chin on your shoulder, watching as you access the catalog.

“You can search for anything you're interested in using: subject, title, or author. What do you want to find?”

“Hmm…” You see Al’s eyes flick to something on the other side of the kiosk and then back to the screen. “What if I was interested in….say…. serial killers?”

You give him an intrigued look. “True events or stories featuring them?”

“Real events, my dear.”

“Oh perfect! This will let me show you how to navigate our nonfiction collection. It is a bit more complicated than looking for a novel.” Pointing to the information on the screen, you continue, “This selection of numbers is the Dewey Decimal number, which is how the nonfiction books are arranged, and this number indicates the aisle where the item can be found. I added that detail when I started here to make things easier. Saves so much frustration. Is there a particular killer you're interested in?”

“I do enjoy the stories of those that were never identified. Makes it a bit more dangerous.”

“I will add unsolved to our search, and it looks like we have three items available; two books and one archive item.” You click on the archive item and are about to explain what it is when you hear the worst sound in the library.

“Ehhhh hhehehem.” A scratchy voice clears their throat.

“Ugh….Susan.” You whisper under your breath before switching to a cheery customer service attitude, feeling Al stifling a chuckle as you step out from under his chin. “Susan! How can I be of service today?”

“I am not so sure I approve of the topic you are leading this impressionable young man to.” Her eyes scan Al with a scowl.

You hear Al snort and say in your ear, “I’m not as young as everyone thinks.”

“I am simply providing a reader's advisory, leading him to what he has requested.”

“Why does the collection even have items on such a morbid topic?” The pointed look she gives indicates she puts all the blame on you.

“For readers like me that enjoy the mystery and danger of humanity.” Al is obviously turning up the charm. (I need to remember to ask if his voice is part of his powers.)

“Humph, shouldn’t be accessible to the public. Keep it at the police station.” She folds her arms and straightens up, obviously trying to command power in the conversation even though Al towers over her by a good two feet.

Bending at the waist, Al lets her have a sense of power. “An interesting perspective. I will let you know, I am looking for just that. I will be here doing interviews for community members on Thursday. I will be happy to schedule you a slot for you to speak your voice.”

Her demeanor immediately changes as she lays a hand on Al’s arm causing his body to stiffen. “Ohhhh, well I would be happy to!”

Quickly sidestepping from the touch, he returns to the computer. “Wonderful! I am sure it will be most enlightening! Now, Sunnifa was just about to explain the archived items to me, and these are details I must hear. It was wonderful to meet you Susan and I will see you on Thursday.” Al turns back to the screen, slotting back onto your shoulder as you give a dismissive nod toward Susan who begrudgingly returns to her place in the reading lounge.

You tap the mouse and bring the screen back to life. “Archived items are things that are not published books; they could include field notebooks, artifacts like bones or antiques, and newspapers which is what this particular item is. A collection from the late 1920s. Oh! They are from New Orleans!”

“Oh really, I would love to check those out.” He winks at you, and your eyes go from the screen to him and back as you piece together some comments from your hours of random conversation before realization smacks you in the face. You mouth to him, ‘Is that about you?’ He nods with a mischievous glint in his eye. You know you have a funny look on your face as you do some math in your head. “A decade old….” You say in a breath.

Al leans down and whispers. “T-t-told you I am not as young as p-people think.” You just laugh.

“Well these items are kept in the archive offices on the third and fourth floors. Usually patrons will put in a request for the item using the catalog and a staff member brings it to the desk for viewing, but we didn’t include the archives on our tour, so I will show you while we retrieve this. These are labeled 3.0167, so third floor, aisle one, sixth column, and seventh shelf.” You write down the location code and the call numbers for the other two books. “I also know our database has an article on the same killer featured in the newspapers. I will pull that up for you from the reference computer in a bit. It was written by someone I think you know.” Your turn to flash him a mischievous grin.

“Oh! Well, paint me intrigued. I will follow you.” You begin moving toward the elevator.

“Actually, would you mind if we took the stairs?” You catch a small tremor in Al’s form.

“No problem at all.” Al holds the stairwell door open for you. As you enter, he looks around for a moment before popping back to his demon looks.

“N-n-needed a b-bit of a break.” He summons his microphone staff and uses it to assist him in climbing the stairs, holding your hand tightly the whole way. He is shaking some, and you gently pull him to pause at the second floor landing. You meet his eyes and plant a comforting kiss on his lips which he melts into.

“Keeping up your disguise takes a lot of power doesn't it?” You gently run your finger through his hair as he relaxes the shaking stops.

“Not an insane amount, but even holding something light begins to feel heavy after a while.”

“I will make sure you get a few more breaks tomorrow.”

“Hmm.” He pulls you in against his chest and nuzzles into your hair. “Th-th-thank you, me amour.” Even he startles himself with that slip of the tongue as he clears his throat. “We better make our way up.” He snaps back into a human appearance and heads up the steps two at a time, holding the door for you on the third floor.

You beeline for the shelf, knowing exactly where it is, ascending the small ladder. You feel Al take hold of it at the bottom. You remove the box from its spot, placing it on a small platform attached to the ladder. “Crank the little handle to your left and the box will come down.” He looks at the crank, but waits for your feet to be on the ground before following your directions. Al picks up the box smirking at the highlight of the top issue. ‘New Orleans Butcher Strikes Again!’ It’s paired with a photo of the victim and a blurred out render of the crime scene. “His body count was higher than mine ever was.” Al’s grip on the box tightens and you can feel the rage emanating from him.

With a knowing smile you interrupt his spiraling thoughts. “Can't wait to hear your side of these stories.” The shocked look on Al’s face is truly adorable.

“Really?”

“Most definitely!”

Al laughs heartily. “I shouldn't be surprised at this point.”

The remainder of the afternoon is rather routine. Al wanders around observing the daily happenings of the library while you complete your normal daily tasks. Making sure to print that article for Al to see later.

Before you know it, three-thirty rolls around and Heather comes into your office with Al. It seems they have been chatting for a bit. “Sunnifa, It's about time you're let out from this prison to enjoy your evening!”

“I would never consider this place a prison Heather.” You laugh until you hear heavy steps in the hall.

“Cliff, you're late!” Heather turns with a hand on her hip.

“I was dealing with a patron’s concern, my apologies. Seems our new friend made an odd impression on Mrs. Susan.” Cliff tries to stifle his distaste at seeing Al’s hand on your shoulder.

“Ahh, yes, I plan to interview her on Thursday.” Al lets a bit of concern slip into his voice.

“I recommend you smile, nod, and take notes. She isn't impressed with you...at all.”

Heather picks up on Al’s concern, waving a hand in dismissal. “Oh don’t fuss over her. If she wants to complain, I will take it and then toss it in our fireplace.”

“She always complains. We are used to it at this point.” You add, placing your hand over his on your shoulder.

“I would have never known!” Al laughs, put at ease by your touch.

Heather squeezes his arm affectionately. “Well Al, did you observe all you needed to?”

“Oh I could spend days gathering information! It is a library after all.” The comment has Cliff rolling his eyes and putting Heather and yourself into a giggle fit. “But in all seriousness, I am sure there is so much I could learn here, though I have gathered plenty to get my gears turning. I plan to get my questions and some scripts prepared this evening.”

“Wonderful, we will have some things to go over with the board tomorrow.” Cliff huffs.

“For now you two head out and enjoy some time together.” Heather leans over to Al. “Still going to take her to the place I recommended dear?”

“How can I not; your hype makes it a necessity!” He twirls Heather around and flashes you a big smile. “Besides, you did say Sunnifa deserves to be treated well; I pride myself on being nothing but a gentleman.” Al plants a kiss on your hand just like he did the day before. “Are you off the clock now dear?” You glance at the clock to see it is five minutes after four.

“That I am, Al.”

“Good, I have been dying for this all day.” He plants a chaste kiss on your lips, and you can practically feel the anger radiating from Cliff.

“Ohhhh!!! Al, you cheeky thing; you said you weren't an item!” Heather coos.

“Technically we are not, but I planned to change that this evening. What do you say my sunshine, can this be our first date?”

Your mind is racing, but as you look into Al's eyes, there's only one answer to his question. You nod as a smile spreads across your face. Heather has both your and Al’s bags in her hand and is standing between you and Cliff.

“You two get going and I want to hear all about it in the morning.” She rushes you out the back door as she whispers. “I'll handle the man, baby.” Al absolutely explodes with laughter as he picks you up and carries you to the car.

“So what is this place that Heather wants you to take me to?” Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Al’s blue ears bob as he hums along to the music from your radio. (No one can really see him in the car) He fishes out a piece of paper from his pocket and places it in your line of sight. Your eyes go wide. “Now I know why Heather told you to take me there!”

“Because it's your favorite!” His smile is so wide and so proud you can't help but mirror it.

“Aren't you from Hell?”

“D-d-did that not register after this m-m-morning?” He taps his finger on your wrist.

“And yet you keep making me feel like I'm in Heaven.” There's that purple glow again. You giggle at his flustered state. “Well you are adorable as Hell, so I guess I will believe you.”

Now Al is a babbling mess next to you, though his voice isn't loud enough for you to make out any of what he is saying. “You're only giving me more proof.” You flash him a grin and entangle your fingers in his, causing him to relax some, going back to his humming. You begin singing along, not catching Al’s stare from the passenger seat.

When the song ends, his wistful voice comments, “You have the voice of an angel, so maybe it's you who the Heavens sent me.”

You just look at him, giggling, and let him take his victory. “We will be there soon. Time to human up again.”

[starshideyourfics]

Chapter three of Build a Life with You, the omegaverse mail order bride au, is up now!

Enjoy a quick preview here, then enjoy the rest on ao3!

Angel of the Home

Steve’s nausea settles, but Eddie encourages him to take things easy and rest when he comes out to join them. Not that any of the Munsons are doing anything particularly taxing when he does; they’re spending the late afternoon talking in the front room, and Eddie keeps Steve pressed against his side once he joins them. Dustin bounces around until the sun begins to set, yawning and stretching as he visibly sags. Wayne’s just said his goodbyes, needing enough light to get home, and Eddie tells Dustin, “I think you had so much fun this week that your body needs a break. Go on and get ready for bed.”

Dustin sulks, fighting his clear exhaustion, and sits next to Steve, arms thrown around his neck. “Do I have to?” he asks, only a little whiney as he snuggles into Steve’s shoulder, his breathing already getting deep and even.

Steve looks to his husband, not wanting to overstep his bounds, but also desperate to comfort Dustin. Eddie sucks his teeth, but refrains from saying anything, simply nodding to Steve so they can present a united front without turning this into an argument. Stroking down Dustin’s back, Steve says, “I think you’re already halfway asleep, Dustin. You need to rest, and so do I. I promise you won’t miss anything exciting.”

“Pinky promise?” Dustin murmurs, looking up at Steve and holding out his little finger.

Linking his own pinky around it, Steve whispers, “Pinky promise,” against his fist the way he would with Tommy when they were still young enough and close enough for such things. Dustin grins, fighting to keep his eyes open, and Steve adds, no longer whispering, “But you can’t just come to me if Eddie tells you to do something you don’t like, all right? We’re pack and we work together.”

“All right,” he agrees, yawning again and hiding his face against Steve’s shoulder.

Eddie smiles indulgently at them both, Steve smiling back as he rubs little circles between Dustin’s shoulders. “I’ll go get the animals bedded down for the night and when I get back I can carry him up to bed,” Eddie whispers before dropping a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Scent sharing like this should be good for you both,” he adds as he ruffles Dustin’s hair before turning to leave.

Steve hums his assent, happy to continue cuddling the pup, feeling warmth spread through his body as Dustin’s powdery sweet scent fills his nose. Dustin mumbles something incoherent, fingers gripping harder at Steve’s shirt. “Shh,”Steve soothes, “Rest now. Just relax here with me.”

Pretty soon, Steve has his eyes closed too, letting himself drift…

A gentle, “Nooo, don’ wan’ go,” mumbled near Steve’s ear wakes him. Dustin clings to him, and Steve holds him tight and buries his nose in the boy’s curls.

“I’m just taking you up to bed, Dusty,” Eddie says, gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“I can take him,” Steve announces sleepily, blinking to try and focus on his husband’s face. He shifts his arms, doing his best to cradle Dustin close and get an arm under his legs.

He tries to stand, but Eddie’s hand on his shoulder keeps him down as he leans to whisper in Steve’s ear, “Don’t think that’s a great idea, sweetheart. I don’t want you to strain anything, and you’re clearly too tired as it is.” He carefully peels away Steve’s arms, omega and pup both huffing small whines at the loss of contact, and picks Dustin up, tucking him to his neck to calm him.

Steve stands, getting a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and trailing behind him up the stairs. Walking gets his blood moving, wakes him up enough that he can dig through Dustin’s small chest of drawers and retrieve a nightshirt for the pup while Eddie gets him out of his clothes. Together, they have Dustin ready for bed in about a minute, Eddie tucking him in and Steve brushing a hand over his forehead, pushing his hair back from his face. “Night,” the pup mumbles as he turns on his side and presses his face into his pillow.

“Good night, Dusty,” Eddie says from the doorway, already leading Steve slowly from the room and back downstairs.

Once in their own bedroom, Steve rests his head against his husband’s shoulder and hums. Eddie easily wraps him in his arms, a purr rumbling through his chest. “Sweetheart, you need rest. Let’s get you ready for bed.”

“You too?” Steve asks sleepily, nuzzling forward to press his nose to Eddie’s neck and drawing in his scent. No matter how tired he is, Steve dislikes the very idea of sleeping without Eddie touching him. Two nights and he already can’t imagine going to bed alone.

“Me too, Stevie.” He drops a kiss to Steve’s temple and tugs him closer.

Steve rewards him with a smile as he lifts his head and leans in for a proper kiss. “Can you help me? Too tired for buttons.”

Eddie chuckles, cupping Steve’s cheek and kissing him again. “I can handle buttons,” he says, gently flicking open the placket of Steve’s shirtwaist, revealing his lace-trimmed chemise. His fingers trace over the lace, then move up to stroke over Steve’s collarbones. “Such a pretty package for my pretty wife,” Eddie murmurs, leaning in for another kiss.

Glowing at the compliment, Steve wants to keep kissing his husband forever. He’s too tired to do so, and certainly too tired to even consider attempting more, but it doesn’t stop the wanting. “Eddie…”

“I know, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed.” Eddie pets his hair and strokes down his back. Focus shifted, he helps Steve change into his nightgown, then strips down to his underwear to join Steve in their bed. “Wanna touch you,” he whispers by way of explanation, “Feel your skin against mine.”

Steve has the same desire, perfectly happy to snuggle against Eddie’s chest, falling asleep in the span of a few deep breaths.

[greyennui]

Q&A for Anger is but Passion Borne of Love

@waterho-writes and I can still hardly believe how much love and support we've gotten on this Bowuigi fic, so we want to thank y'all for sticking around on this journey! We're only about halfway through the story, and we can't wait for y'all to read the rest.

Below the cut is the Q&A with all your questions. Enjoy!

Q: Did Mario and Luigi come from Earth like in canon or have they always been in the fantasy world?

It’s a passing mention in Chapter 1, but Mario and Luigi grew up in an orphanage that still sends them a monthly stipend (allowance). They’ve always been a part of this Regency-era Mushroom Kingdom, but are still outcasts in a way.

Q: Is Luigi allergic to flowers?

Not all flowers, just the really pollen-y and smelly ones (like lilies).

Q: How tall are Luigi and Bowser?

Luigi is 5’8” (~172cm) and Bowser is 6’4” (~193cm) For a visual reference:

Q: What happened at the trial?

Keep reading to find out!

Q: Are we gonna get Bowuigi smut??

Waterho: There will absolutely be smut. GreyEnnuigi can only stop me for so long. 😈 GreyEnnuigi: Don’t worry; the Explicit Sexual Content and Dom/sub tags are not just for show (and note that we did not add the Rape/Non-con archive warning). Consensual spicy times will come! And so will Bowser and Luigi!

Q: Could you give a summary of the smut in the chapter notes if it’s plot-relevant?

The smut will be plot-relevant at some points, so we can definitely do this.

Q: Will Luigi get his own emotional support animal for his anxiety (like Polterpup)?

Waterho: Does Bowser count as an emotional support animal? GreyEnnuigi: We haven’t planned for a Polterpup in this story, as there’s already a fair bit going on plotwise. Putting a dog into the mix might well and truly throw us off the rails. ;)

Q: Will Luigi be able to overcome his anxiety? I want to see Luigi put someone in their place after they insulted him.

Luigi actually does this during the announcement dinner in Chapter 8 in this exchange with Lord Booking: Lord Booking paled a bit, his mouth turning into a slight frown. “Indeed. Such a delicate flower must be hidden away, for exposure to that world would surely wither it.” […] [Luigi] straightened himself up, still holding Lord Koopa’s hand open in both of his own, then addressed Lord Booking directly: “Some flowers may thrive in the shade and wilt in the sun, but it does not make them any less a part of this world, Lord Booking.” Lord Booking is implying that Bowser is hiding Luigi away because he’s a commoner in a noble’s world and can’t handle the change. Luigi’s response is essentially, “Yeah, I’m a commoner and I’ve lived my life differently, but that doesn’t mean I don’t belong here.” Don’t worry, we like character growth in this house. ;) GreyEnnuigi: On the same sort of subject, if you ever have questions about the fancy Regency language, don’t be afraid to ask! It’s very flowery and can be complicated, especially if English isn’t your first language. I’d be happy to “translate” any passages for you into modern English.

Q: Is there going to be a good or bad ending?

There is going to be a happy ending! This is a fairytale retelling, after all. ;)

Q: You started this fic as a joke, but now it’s not a joke anymore. How did that conversation happen?

A few things to note before we answer this: 1. GreyEnnuigi has wanted to write a Regency AU for a while. 2. We saw the Mario movie together and started reading Bowuigi fics because we couldn’t get enough. 3. We noticed that a lot of Bowuigi fics had a Beauty and the Beast theme. With that out of the way, here’s the transcript of how that conversation played out over text messages: 22:48 Waterho Ok hear me out 22:49 Waterho Bowuigi Beauty and the beast set in a regency setting 22:49 GreyEnnuigi omg wait haha 22:49 GreyEnnuigi but like 22:49 GreyEnnuigi is Bowser still koopa 22:50 GreyEnnuigi or is he big beefcake human 22:50 Waterho Big beefcake human obviously 22:50 GreyEnnuigi excellent 22:51 Waterho The more I fall down the bowuigi hole, the more I feel like I gotta try my hand at it lmao 22:51 Waterho That movie changed me [sparkles emoji] 22:51 GreyEnnuigi bro the URGE i have had this week 22:51 GreyEnnuigi it's undeniable 22:51 Waterho Why are we like this 22:52 GreyEnnuigi i prefer not to ask questions like that 22:52 GreyEnnuigi BUT LISTEN 22:52 Waterho This was a children’s movie why did they have to make The Scene so spicy 22:52 GreyEnnuigi if you can give me plot and conflict and incidents 22:52 Waterho Listening 22:52 GreyEnnuigi i will write that shit 22:53 GreyEnnuigi i have too many plots I'm thinking about rn but if you can give me an outline I'll do the rest [relieved face emoji] 23:04 Waterho [drops a 5-paragraph summary of the first chapter and main plot points] 23:04 GreyEnnuigi omg that was quick 23:04 GreyEnnuigi okay I'm reading 23:06 GreyEnnuigi eheheh yes I like this 23:06 Waterho Excellent After that conversation we kept feeding each other ideas and plot points and then GreyEnnuigi was writing it and Waterho kept coming up with more scenes and now here we are.

Q: What is it like making a chapter for this fic?

Waterho: basically, I supply the maladaptive daydreaming, and GreyEnnuigi supplies the prose and structure. Then we add it up and try to create a somewhat cohesive narrative. Many of our conversations these days start with “ok listen….” GreyEnnuigi: We have the overall plot planned out and most of it outlined, so we already know what main plot events we want to happen in each chapter. After that it’s a matter of filling the rest of the chapter by fleshing out the characters, doing a bit of worldbuilding, and making sure we’re progressing all the relationships properly. This usually happens with Waterho proposing a specific scenario, then we ask ourselves how this and that character would react and does that fit with the plot, and then we agree on how the situation unfolds. Then I write it all out, Waterho tries to convince me to add fluff and smut too early, I rein it back in and write something more subtle, and then we review, edit, and post. Here’s an example of this sort of back-and-forth from our chat transcript: 23:00 GreyEnnuigi thinking I'm gonna start chapter 3 with Kamek confronting Bowser about Luigi, but what else should happen in ch 3 after that 23:00 Waterho Let’s see the part where bowser [redacted for spoiler reasons] 23:01 GreyEnnuigi ooh so soon?? 23:02 Waterho If we want to draw it out more we could push that part off 23:02 GreyEnnuigi i just don't want Bowser to be too soft at the beginning 23:02 GreyEnnuigi Luigi needs to wear him down first lol 23:02 Waterho Fair enough

Q: Is this fic definitely going to have 20 chapters?

With what we currently have planned and outlined, 20 chapters is our best estimate for how long the story will be. It’s very possible this will change, and if it does, it’s more likely that we’ll end up with more than 20 chapters as opposed to less.

Q: Is there a schedule for uploading chapters?

We don’t currently have a schedule and we’re just posting the chapters as we finish them. That being said, we’ve been on a pace of about 1 chapter every other day. That could definitely change, though, so don’t expect us to stick to that.

Q: In this world hetero is not seen as the default. Did you write it this way because you didn’t want to focus on the homosexuality topic but more on the Bowser/Luigi ship itself?

Short answer: Yes. Long answer: The concept of homosexuality being accepted in this AU came about as we were discussing the reason Bowser would accept Luigi in exchange for Peach as a spouse. If we were to follow realistic Regency-era ideologies, then it would be extremely unlikely for Bowser to take Luigi as a spouse as he is (i.e. a cis man). We wanted to follow the Beauty and the Beast storyline, which at its core is our protagonist falling in love with someone who is widely regarded as unlovable. It wouldn’t have made sense to include homophobia in the plot, and that wasn’t the story we wanted to tell. Also, the beauty of fiction is that we can make our own rules and do whatever the hell we want with it, so we did!

Q: Who’s who??

Luis Walbright: Waluigi Thomas Kamek: Kamek Kammy Magis: Kammy George Morton: Morton (Koopaling) Lemarcus Swift: Lemmy (Koopaling) Laurence Ripley: Larry (Koopaling) Lord William Booking: King Boo Ellord Elvin Booking: Professor E. Gadd Lady Daisy Sarasa: Daisy Ellady Rosalina Sarasa: Rosalina Lord Henry Toadsworth: Toadsworth Ellady Etta Toadsworth: Toadette Lady Birdie Pirah: Birdo Ellord Peter Pirah: Petey Piranha John Tannock (tailor): Tanuki (maker of Tanuki suits) Lord Robert Ombler: King Bob-Omb Ellady Sylvia Ombler: Sylvia (Paper Mario: TTYD) Lord Lionel & Ellady Catherine Graham: GreyEnnuigi made these up, but their names are basically animal crackers (Lion & Kitty + Graham) for no reason other than it amused them Ignatius Hopper: Iggy (Koopaling) Wendy Carter: Wendy (Koopaling) Gustav Ember: Goomba (general, no specific character) (note: Waterho still maintains that the Goomba should have been named Barry Ragoon) (note: GreyEnnuigi still maintains that it's best if GreyEnnuigi remains in charge of naming the characters in this fic)

Q: If we were to make fanart for this fic, where should we tag y’all to let you know?

We would be honored if you wanted to make fan art for our fic! If you do, tag @greyennui and @waterho-writes on Tumblr, and you can also use the fic’s tag #Anger is but Passion Borne of Love

[purgatory-is-life]

Mechtober day 31/alternate prompt-tragedy

Happy Halloween to all those that celebrate, and happy Thursday to all those that don't!! May your day be filled with fun and spookiness!

@mechtober-2024

Sing To Me, O Great Atrophy - Reality666Rift999 - The Mechanisms (Band) [Archive of Our Own]

Tw; gore, murder, gun violence, some minor dismemberment, disappearances, violence, character death, temporary character death, mass murder, body horror. blood, violence getting shot to death, there's absolutely something I forgot so please let me know what to add!!

---

There was a strange man. No one was sure where he’d come from, no one was sure how long he’d been there.

One day he wasn’t there, and one day he was.

He was a strange man.

All he ever did was play his violin, or maybe a mandolin, and wander around with no apparent purpose. Once in a while he’d ask if he could have room and board in return for playing one of his instruments. He never asked for food, only smirked and said music was enough for him. And after a day or a week, he’d disappear in the middle of the night, carrying with him the strange songs on the wind.

No one knew his name, no one knew if he even really was a man or if he was something else–a woman or laying somewhere in between. When asked, if you managed to get him to sit still long enough, he simply shrugged and gave that playful smirk. Whatever’s easiest, I’m not one to judge, he’d say. I’d never really thought too deeply about it. Feel free to call me whatever works best. So most people just called him the strange man. The songs he played were strange, and he claimed that they told stories of the things he and his friends had witnessed.

One day, at a bar where he was drinking and humming quietly to himself, he’d explained to a few people who were willing to listen– “I’d decided to take a moment away from their chaos. I love them, but it’s so easy to get Lost around them. So I needed somewhere quiet, and your lovely little planetoid had such a lovely and quiet Song to it. It drew me in. And here I am, now. Thank you, for having me.” And then he returned to playing a soft, romantic tune on his mandolin. Cinder’s Song, he’d called it. A song of lost love.

There was a strange man.

No one was sure where he’d come from, and no one was sure how long he’d been there.

He’d been wandering around for, perhaps, years. It must’ve only been a few months, really, but no one was sure how long he’d been around, so it could’ve been years.

He had a metal arm and distant eyes, always looking off into the distance with an odd look.

He played loudly and strangely, as if along to a symphony only he could hear.

He asked if he could play his music to people, expecting nothing in return.

He just wanted to play a song for them. Just a single song.

Most people agreed, and let him play.

He’d pull his violin from nowhere, and start to play.

And no one ever heard from those he played for ever again.

Did he ever really have an audience?

Still, he went around and played for anyone who was willing to listen.

There was a strange man. He’d been there for hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades. He did not die, and he only played strange music, his violin’s songs haunting any who heard it for days on end before they disappeared. He didn’t stop wandering, never stopped playing, as he moved from town to town to town. Even as his flesh fingers bled and blistered, even as his feet broke from the endless walking, even as he was injured by the rare few brave folks attempting to stop his music. He only ever continued playing and wandering endlessly. No one let him in, no one listened when he arrived to play anymore. But the music echoing from his violin was growing louder, and louder, and louder.

His music left people tearing at their hair and tearing out their hair and ripping their skin, screaming and crying as they begged for the noise to stop.

The music only ever continued. It only ever got louder, and louder, and louder.

One day, he finally collapsed from exhaustion, breathing slow and ragged, and a few brave people from the town he was in at the time sought to put an end to the Noise once and for all.

They approached, guns at the ready and any other item they could use as a weapon on hand.

The person at the head of the small mob stared down at the prone form of the strange man, who was just staring at nothing in the sky.

The leader shakily took their gun, aiming it at him. He simply grinned, eyes snapping clear and resolute as the two locked eyes with each other.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you. You might make it louder. And it’s already so Loud.” The strange man didn’t blink, as he stared at the leader’s shaking hands. “That’s why you think you’ve got to do this, don’t you? Try to kill me for a moment of peace. Peace is frail, peace is a lie. Dying never quiets anything. Do you hear it? The death knells have begun, and it’s singing for something much greater than me. I’m just a string, a chord in Its voice box. I would imagine It would get very angry at having a string cut–most musicians don’t like their instruments being touched by another. Though you know that, too, don’t you? What is it you play?” They didn’t respond, and the strange man just sighed. “Well, don’t draw this out any longer. If you ask me, I’d say avoid the arm at least. It doesn’t like being damaged.”

The leader fired three shots into the strange man's chest, two into his head, and two into his right, metal arm, effectively severing it from his body.

He didn’t scream, he didn’t yell, he showed no indication of pain. Just smiled, as his eyes fogged over and the pallor of death took him.

And that was the end, they’d all thought with relief. That was the end. They’d be free of his haunting music.

That’s what they thought. That’s what they hoped.

But that is not what happened. It’s never what happened, is it?

It’s never that easy. It’s never that easy.

The now-corpse was dead, and everyone started to head back towards their homes, planning on leaving the corpse out for the carreon and rot. And then the corpse, of all things for a corpse to do, started humming.

Everyone turned back, to see the corpse. And they watched, in sheer terror, as the corpse started healing. The strange corpse’s humming echoed, louder than it should’ve been, as his bones cracked and repaired themselves. The bullet wounds through his body sealed themselves, and the mechanical arm made a sickening scrrreeeeeeeechhh, as it rewired itself into the body of the strange man. It could’ve taken only a few minutes, or maybe a few hours, but no one there dared to move or speak as the man regenerated. His humming stopped, all of a sudden, and his eyes cleared. He looked towards the party, eyes a little sad, a little disappointed, and he sighed heavily as blood dripped down his forehead as the wounds closed.

“I did try to warn you.”

His eyes glazed over, and he was holding a violin again. He started playing, something different. It was loud, chaotic, and it filled everyone around him with a bone-deep terror. Something was coming. Something was coming and there was no way to stop it.

And then the pandemonium started.

Breathe in the air

The last of its kind

The strange man stood as he started playing, and off in the distance, screaming started. The small mob abandoned the strange man, hearing their loved ones scream and shriek– in pain, or in terror, who’s to say anymore.

Feel the sun on your skin

Let it sink in

Clouds began rolling in, the sky growing darker, darker, darker still. People in the streets were writhing on the ground or clawing at themselves. Blood dripped from their ears, as people screamed their throats hoarse. Some people dug at the dirt, raking their nails through the grass and flowers as if it would offer some kind of relief.

We don’t have much time

Lightning crashed, and its thunder echoed like a drumbeat. The wind howled, high and piercing like a delicately carved flute, and in their homes people were reacting in many different ways to the noise and the renaissance of mayhem. People were throwing and breaking things, clawing at their eyes or their ears to try and quiet the Noise surrounding them.

There was no way to block out the Noise, to silence it, no matter how hard people tried.

Fawning, panting

Wondering when this will end

So many people were screaming that it sounded more like one homogenous, echoing note. People’s throats started to bleed, the liquid ichor flooding their mouths and dribbling out as they shrieked endlessly, and people were trying to tear their ears off in order to quiet the constant Noise.

Starving, hunting

Can’t tell my prey from my friend

Some people, in their desperate attempts to stop the noise, went for the throats of the people around them. Choking, slicing, stabbing, whatever to stop the Noise. Nothing worked. Nothing ever worked. The Noise never stopped, its symphony needed to be played, after all. It needed to be heard, and it was going to be heard at all costs.

Tearing, rending

The strange man walked through the town, as the screaming people tore each other to pieces. He seemed untouched by the madness, untouched by the violence. A few people went after him, tried to tear his violin from his hands, but as they tried their flesh boiled and melted off the bones, and their voice was pulled from them in screaming terror, singing a horrified Song that matched the unsteady and overwhelming tempo of the strange man. Words that made no sense, in no language any of them knew were pulled, bloody and painfully, from their throats, and they fell to the ground at the strange man’s feet. The strange man just continued meandering around the bleeding village, with no apparent destination.

Feasting, hunting

He did pause, at one person who was seemingly equally immune, clutching the corpse of someone that had torn their own heart out of their chest. The person looked up at him, tears and blood on their face as they stared angrily at him. “Why? Why did you do this?”

Tearing, rending

The strange man just smiled, a confused look on his face. “I’m not doing anything,” the man said, his voice echoing and overlapping as if he spoke with all the voices of those around him, “I’m simply the Voice for the thing that is causing this. The Eternal Symphony just wants to be heard.”

Feasting, hunting

And then the distant look returned, and the strange man walked away, leaving nothing but chaos and destruction in his wake.

Can’t tell my prey from my friend

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

(“Oi, you finally back? The fuck did you go?”

“Oh, you know, I was just taking a vacation. You know how it is.”

“Well, welcome back. Are you doing alright?”

“Thank you my dear drumbot! And yes, I’m doing quite fantastic! I hope you didn’t miss me all too much.”

“In your dreams, von Raum.”

“Fuck you.”

“It’s nice to see you again, by any means.”

“There is a forty-seven point-three percent chance that everyone missed you to some degree, rounded down.”

“Oh, how you all wound me! Well, no point dwelling, I suppose.”

“How was your trip, Marius?”

“Oh, rather boring, honestly. It was nice and quiet, though! Exactly what I needed. Anyway, I’ve had my fill of Quiet, so let’s head on to the next adventure!”

“You never cease to confuse me, von Raum.”

“I think that’s the idea! Sound isn’t consistent, after all!”

“What does that even mean?!”

“Well-”

“…Did you have to shoot him, Jonny?”

“He’d get going on another fuckin’ tangent and we don’t have that kinda time. Let’s get going, shall we?”)

[tehriel]

Moth and Flame (not Ghoul enough)

Behold, I have finished this fanfic, I am editing chapters as they come out.

Sodo/Dew x Reader primarily. Little Rain and Phantom x Reader too. Reader do just get around.

Mature, more plot over porn.

Tags: banter, attempts at humour, little violence, gore, really don't take this one seriously

Classic enemies to lovers romcom vibes. Not reinventing the wheel should be an easy read. The reader is a too-happy, sparkly ghoul who has been given the position of cardinal. Sodo is the bane of their entire existence; they are forced to work together. Gaffs ensue.

Deals with themes of being a people pleaser.

Below you can find the first chapter~

will probably repost when I have made a pretty cover for this one~

You hummed softly, swaying in the lazy light of early spring. You spun barefoot around your well-trodden paths of the greenhouse, which hid in the great shadow of the cathedral. Your waltz caused your tail to sweep the dirt floor and the skirts of your white cassock to flutter.

You stopped dead in your tracks. “Just look at you~” you chirped, pausing to admire one of your black roses. “Friend, you’re early; the ritual dance isn’t for another three weeks,” you tapped the early bloomer on the head. “Maybe I’ll dry you out so people can still enjoy all the work you’ve put into being pretty, hmm?” You pondered for a while before pouring some water from your watering can. The water ran red. The rose could not be happier.

“Cardinal _______,” came a soft call.

A smile slowly peeled over your face; your teeth were sharp, but your demeanour wasn’t threatening. “Sister Maria~” you sparkled and peered down from the balcony, “I’m in the roses—from memory, you liked my roses, hum?”

“O—o.. yes, Cardinal.” You were her Juliet on your balcony, and the small slight of a girl turned bright beet red.

You cocked your brow and gave her an unassuming grin. “Whatever has you so flustered, Sister?”

“N-nothing, uh, Papa Emeritus has sent for you, Cardinal.”

“And here I was thinking you’d come to see me, Sister,” you teased and picked up your snips from your tool table. “I’ll be down in a moment.” Your voice turned to whisper, “You want to go with her, huh? That’s why you were early, very sly of you.” You took the rose low on the stem and replaced your snips on the bench before walking down the spiral steps, flower in tow. “You look lovely today, Sister~” you twittered.

“Oh, t-thank you…” The scarlet of her cheeks contrasted her black habit.

You expertly dethorned the rose with quick claws.  “Here you are,” you gave a short bow and offered the plant.

“T-thank you, Cardinal,” she stammered and looked away as she twirled the stem between her fingers.

“Anytime, Sister~ You know I appreciate your company~” You twinkled and danced around her, tail moving like a streamer in your wake. “Will you walk with me to see Papa~?”

“No-no, I’m needed in the kitchens today.”

You clicked your tongue, “Ah, too bad—and still, I think I can tell when you are helping out in the kitchens, the meals taste a little extra… mhhm.” You made the universal hand sign for ‘fucking delicious’.

“Oh, I just chop…”

“It’s not what goes in… it’s the way you smell,” you slowly flashed her your teeth.

She swallowed.

“Anyway~ I’ll see you later, Sister; enjoy your rose~” you beamed and near-skipped away to Papa Copia’s offices.

***

“Meet in Aeth’s room after practice?” Rain the water ghoul prompted the group of dark-clad ghouls in his soft-spoken voice.

“Yeah, you can all try my new brew,” Swiss’s grin was too big, it always was.

“Eugh, you didn’t make this one in your toilet again, right?” Aether wrinkled his nose.

“Noooo….” Swiss waved off in a way that everyone with ears could tell he was full of shit.

“Oh, you so did, fucking minging, man,” Aether was loud. His voice echoed up the polished marble hallway.

“Naw, come on, it adds to the-the… experience. It’s fucking powerful stuff—I’ve been bothering Papa for a distiller.”

“I don’t care about the minutia and the abience of your fucking toilet, man!” Aeth’s nose wrinkled.

“I cleaned it before I..”

“Brewed more fucking shit in it?” Aeth’s brows rose in a ‘are you kidding?’ manner.

“Well, I’m in,” Phantom shrugged, “pretty sure I’ve put worse things in my mouth.

“Pretty sure I’ve watched you put worse things in your mouth,” Aether slapped his shorter brother’s shoulder affectionately.

“Uh, hey guys, what are we talking about~?” You twinkled, stepping up to the group. Your white hooded cassock shone colours in the stained glass sunlight, a blinding contrast to their inky black formal ghoul’s uniforms.

“Oh…” is all Swiss said. 

They all went dead quiet. 

You felt the weight of it.

You watched them look at each other. 

Even Phantom couldn’t look at you.

You nodded to yourself, “Uh, I was going to hang out in the forest later this week if anyone wanted to come?” You prompted, still smiling.

“Ah, busy week,” Aether stretched.

“Busy,” Swiss nodded. “Yeah, you know all this ritual prep,” Swiss waved.

“Phantom?” You smiled hopefully. 

“Ah, nah, gonna have to take the L on this one, Cardinal… busy, uh, with them.” He pointed to the rest of the group.

“All uh, week?” You frowned.

“Yeah, yes.” Swiss nodded. “Alllll week, that Copia is a real slave driver.”

You nodded in a big way. “Ah, yeah… I get it, no, uh… probably more fun alone, right…? uh, trees and… yeah. Really absorb the… ambience,” You refused to let your smile die or show any disappointment.

“Anyway, we got a thing with Sodo, like right now, so…” Swiss thumbed.

“That’s right,” Phantom touched his forehead. “Almost forgot that.”

“Oh, cool, yeah, you guys have an awesome day, huh?” You nodded, still beaming as brightly as you could.

“Yes, will do!” Phantom gave a thumbs up but was already walking away.

There was a chorus of ‘bye’s, and they hurriedly walked away. Rain was last to move. “Sorry, Cardinal ______…” he murmured, turning away.

“You know you don’t have to call me that?” You called softly, knowing his grey, pointed ears would still hear you. “Just ______ is fine.”

“______,” he muttered but left anyway.

Your grin shakily gave out, and you sighed softly, watching the leaves dance and mar the light of the windows. You were alone.

***

“Ah, my beautiful Cardi _,” Copia brimmed and stood from his paper-littered desk. He might as well have swum up to you from the depths of ink and paperwork. Poor guy.

“Does not seem fair that I can no longer call you Cardi C, Papa,” you chuckled. “How are you today, Papa E~?”

He was in his comfy red sweats and simple dark eye makeup for a hard day in the office. “Ah yes, good-good. Come sit, my ghoul. You want a biscuit or perhaps a juice box?” He offered you the cookie jar on his desk as he always did.

You sat, your tail ending up politely in your lap as you waved off the biscuit; for some reason, you had no appetite. It definitely had nothing to do with what just happened in the hallway on your way here. “What can I help you with today, Papa~?” You twinkled.

“Naw, can’t I ask you into my office just to catch up?” His grin skewed the black of his painted upper lip.

“I know you wish you could, Papa,” you huffed a small sigh, missing when you were both cardinals and he had actual time on his hands. But humans grew up—and you just wouldn’t.

“I’m taking some holiday time soon, perhaps then, huh?”

“That is the best news I’ve heard all day~” you grinned. “Ooo ooooo, I gotta start planning!”

“Yes, I will book you in for a weekend, but until then, I want you to do something for me.”

“Hmm~? I’m listening.”

“I, uh, need the basement cleaned out and reorganised. I went down looking for what we need for the springtime ritual dance, and I really couldn’t find shit down there.”

“Not even a little turd?” You frowned.

“Very funny,” he said in a way that meant, ‘you’re not funny at all’.

You stood and stretched yourself out. “Last I checked, it’s a fucking hellscape down there; I think I’d know because, uh,” you pointed to the horns that popped out the top of your hood. “But I’ve got this~ Anything else, Papa?” You were already getting ready to leave, though. He just didn’t have time for you anymore, but if this made things easier for him, you were all too happy to help.

“Eh, yes, actually,” he looked away, and his leather-clad finger fiddled with a pen on his desk.

“You’re usually a little more forward about these things,” you chuckled and piqued a brow.

“What? Uh, nah.. it’s…” he cleared his throat. “Sodo will be helping you clear the basement.”

“Eh-what?” You felt your usually springy, chipper mood slipping.

“Sodo is going to be helping you out,” he repeated, but you had definitely heard him correctly the first time. You were praying for a bee to have maybe buzzed passed, and it sounded like people just saying stupid shit for some reason.

“Papa…” you eased. “Papa, this is where you say uh, ‘sike’, and we both laugh because he is an awful shit, and you would never trap me in a basement with him for weeks on end.”

“I am sorry, ______, I am aware of how you feel about him.”

“I am starting to think that may not be the case. Papa, Lucifer created him to be the size of a football for a reason.” You studied his mismatched eyes, trying to detect some kind of joke you were missing.

“A reason, Caro?”

“So that Baggio might one day kick him into the sun.”

Copia laughed before he could stop himself. “Ah, I love Baggio~”

“Come on, Papa, there has to be something more useful he could be doing, like uh, being a hamburger. I have a very good recipe if you ever consider….”

“______,” he shook his head and chuckled, “I’m sorry, it’s out of my hands; Sister caught him trying to set a fire in the abbey again…”

“Of course, he was,” you rolled your eyes. “He keeps saying there are cherubs in there…”

“He’ll be helping you out as punishment.”

“Punish himmmm! Not me! I can do this all so easily by myself.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love you both dearly,”

“I have no idea why…” you muttered under your breath.

“But I worry what would happen if he was in there alone and unsupervised with all our ritual decorations…”

“And the weapons locker,” you huffed, and your lip dropped. “He only has two brain cells, violence and dumb.”

“Naw, come now, Cardinal ______. I am still not wholly sure why you hate him so much.”

“He’s short, angry and mean,” you answered without thought.

“Mean?”

“Oh, you know, ‘______, if you love plants so much why don’t you marry one,’ orrr ‘______, maybe you should sew yourself a body bag next’ orrr ‘______, I get to make love to Swiss, and you don’t so… go eat worms.’ You know, things like this.”

Copia steepled his hands in thought. “I see. Maybe you could, uh, take time and ‘bond’ over this… at least hate each other a little less…”

“Bond? Bond?! Papa! I rather eat glass. I would rather strap on wings and ascend to whatever heaven the Trump supporters go to.”

“At the very least, you will have some more uh, comedic material, huh?”

You blew out your cheeks. “They say trauma makes a person very funny. Eugh, but I’ve already seen hell; why must I survive it here too?!”

“Ah, always so dramatic, my pretty ghoul.”

You gave him a face of utter disapproval.

“I’m afraid it’s my final say on the matter, ______. I believe the two of you can work out the basement without too much damage.”

You closed your eyes for a long time and sighed, “I understand this next ritual takes a lot of time and planning, so I will do this for you, Papa Copia—not for him. For you.” 

“Thank you, my sweet ghoul. Perhaps I will take time to plan out our weekend, huh? As a reward for all this?”

“When did you ever get so charming?” You gave him a tight smile.

“Oh, uh, always~” he grinned. 

“Right, let’s fucking get this done…”

“Hope you have a lovely day, Cardinal~”

“You too, Papa,” you sagged, opening the door. Your tail followed you limply out. Fucking shitty, fuck. Hell.

Thank you for reading friend! I hope you enjoyed it!!

[scumbag-monthly]

The Young Ones Were: A Final Word from Scumbag Monthly’s Editor 🖕💚

I was going to post this on 7th March – the birthday of the pan global phenomenon himself – but I think the emotion will be stronger tonight. Either way, I’ve chosen this post to say my last farewells to Scumbag Monthly and thank the people who helped make it what it was.

It was my decision as editor to end SM at Issue #25 and it was a difficult one to make. Although SM has come with both pros and cons, it’s something I’ve enjoyed creating and is something I’m very proud of. In a way, it would have been easier to carry on – sticking with the familiar is always easier – but I didn’t want our fanzine to drift off into nothingness. I thought twenty-five was a good number to end it at. Three years; twenty-five issues; three Rik specials; a zine for the fortieth anniversary – I think we’ve done alright, all things considered. More than alright! I’m so happy that we were able to add to the fandom in some small way.

I have a head for dates, so I can tell you with 99% certainty that I took on the reins of editorship at SM on 14th May 2020. It’s weird that that time feels both close and far away – international pandemics will do that to you. I’ve seen engagement and interest in this zine ebb and flow over the years. We’ve never really received enough submissions to keep us afloat long term. I used to ask my mutuals if I could add old art of theirs to zines to keep the Drawing Room full, and the amount of my fic that made its way into SM was not the result of an overinflated ego (I promise!), more the result of fic submissions falling even lower than art submissions. We’re a small fandom; that’s always been a problem for SM. While I’ve continually emphasised the importance of submissions to SM – how else would SM involve those not working behind the scenes? – the truth is that the end products simply wouldn’t have arrived on our website be it not for the so-called scumbag staff who dedicated their free time to making pages and content.

With a small fandom and ergo a small team, SM’s ambitions had to be realistic. We would all have loved to bring new segments out in every issue but, with a lot to do and limited time to get it done each time, this often wasn’t possible. I never wanted SM to become a burden to the people who made pages for it, as we all lead offline lives and SM was simply a passion project – we made this because we wanted to, because it was fun.

I won’t deny there have been points where SM burnt me out a tad. I think it was easy to lose sight of things during the lockdowns, or simply fall completely into one project. There are some zines where well over twenty of the pages were made by me because they had to be, and I’ve often feared that The People’s Poetry suffered because of this. I’m very pleased and grateful to point out that the page share became slightly less exaggerated after we found different people for each character, but (and I’m afraid I am going to have to be egotistical now XD) I’d be lying if I denied every zine since Issue #4 isn’t drenched in my blood, sweat, and improvised version of graphic design (not actually my passion, me being primarily a writer and all XD).

I hope this isn’t sounding too negative because SM really does mean a lot to me. I think it’s just that a mixed relationship is guaranteed with anything you give a lot of yourself to and I want to be honest here, at the end. It’s going to feel weird for me for a little while: no more new documents to set up, no more new pages to make, no more themes to discuss, no more Google Forms to collect. I will miss SM, but thanks to the internet it’ll actually still be here. We’ll be keeping the website up as an archive and the same with our Tumblr blog and Instagram (scumbag_monthly). For future runs of the Rik and Ade Fest, another blog has been set up (@rikandadefest). SM has also had a Redbubble on the down low for some time now and we’re planning on adding our designs of the lads there soon, if any of you fancy owning something with those on.

I realise this whole post comes at the risk of sounding pretentious and melodramatic… but sod it, you know? Here are the people I’d like to thank individually, on behalf of our fanzine.

@theevilesteviled -

First of all, the creator of SM: the reason you’re even reading this right now. During the period in which SM got going – that calm before the utter shitstorm of 2020 – we spoke nearly every day… though, living on different sides of the globe did limit our talk time to early mornings and late evenings. Ed is the reason SM ever launched. She did almost everything for the first few zines, often at the cost of her own sanity, and she inspired a passion for this fanzine within me.

In May 2020, when I found myself in lockdown limbo between college and university, Ed was struggling with the brunt of SM plus the new hell of online classes. When I took charge of Issue #4, I don’t think I realised the extent of what I was taking on – I certainly didn’t expect to still be editor nearly three years later! Even so, without Ed SM wouldn’t have gotten as far as Issue #4. I’ll admit when she initially proposed the idea for a The Young Ones fanzine, I didn’t assume it would ever actually happen. I agreed to take on Rick’s page, but never allowed myself to imagine we’d end up with a project that’d last three years. Surely, it was only other people who could pull off that kind of thing, right? Surely, a group of introverted young adults online weren’t really going to get anywhere with this, were we?

I’m not trying to make SM sound bigger than it is – I’m well aware how niche we are, have always been – but the point I’m trying to make is: thanks to Ed spearheading SM in the early days, I had the profound realisation that I can actually be creative and try new things and they’re not destined to fall completely flat on their faces. I think everyone involved with SM, be it through making pages or submitting their work, has experienced a version of this same realisation with the publication of each zine.

That’s thanks to Ed, so I’d like to formally express my gratitude. Thank you, ya bastard.

@xgardensinspace -

The lovely Deya! Deya has always been a big part of SM, right from the beginning. The portraits of Vyvyan, Rick, Neil, Mike, Balowski, and P that appeared regularly in our zines were drawn by them, as well as the ten portraits of our staff on our website. That’s not even mentioning the five exemplary covers they’ve whizzed up for SM!

Not only is Deya an exceptionally talented artist, they’re also an enthusiastic team player. From Issue #11 onwards, they’ve been our resident Mike. As most of us agree, Mike is the most difficult young one to characterise – Deya rose to the challenge with full commitment. Alongside taking on Mike’s Moments, for a period of time in late 2021 Deya posted as Mike to SM’s Instagram every Thursday, providing all of us with funny insights into Mike’s sense of fashion. There have also been times when my SM workload proved too much and they stepped up to write Comic Strip reviews for our Strip Tease – in fact, one of my favourite reviews is the one of Five Go Mad on Mescalin we wrote together for Issue #18.

Deya has always been passionate about SM, even when it seemed there were only a few of us who were. They’ve been incredibly supportive and understanding, often one of the first to volunteer to make art or write pieces for specials. To put it lightly, SM would be left severely lacking without their endless contributions and help and for that reason I’m incredibly thankful to them.

Last spring, I was lucky enough to finally meet Deya, when they visited the UK on holiday, and they were just as lovely in person as they are online. Thank you ever so much for your work on SM, you really are a cool person.

@drinkysketch -

I felt it only right to single out Julia here. Fandom spaces are ever changing and the individuals who’ve contributed to SM are no different. Despite this, Julia has been a constant cover artist for SM – not only did she create our first ever cover art back when SM was completely unknown, she’s since provided us with five more pieces for our covers. As the clever trousers among you will have worked out, that’s six in total. Almost a quarter of our regular zines!

There’s something instantly likeable about Julia’s art style: the shapes, the bright colours, the insistence on always giving Vyvyan one eye bigger than the other. The cover of Issue #1 especially is representative of SM – it’s the establishing shot – and I couldn’t imagine a better piece of art than the one Julia provided us with. I’d like to thank her for always being so eager to make art for us, even as the world’s gotten crazier and crazier. True scumbag style!

@codrington-road -

It was April 2020 when Haley first emailed SM with a fanfic submission and an offer to make pages for Neil. These were the early days of SM – Ed and I were just about keeping up with the zine’s Rick and Vyv content but were seriously struggling where Mike and Neil were concerned. It’s thanks to Haley that Neil is the only young one I’ve never had to make a page for… well, aside from that time we switched characters for April Fool’s in Issue #14… and she’s been a constant, reliable presence at SM since Issue #4.

There probably aren’t many people who could come up again and again with hilarious horoscopes on purpose, and I don’t know for exactly how many Wednesdays Haley manned Neil’s entries to our Instagram stories, but it was a lot. 9th June 2021 fell on a Wednesday – a little daunting for anyone. Yet, I think it’s that entry from ‘Neil’, a touching piece about missing people who are no longer here while still carrying the warmth they gave us within us, that sticks out to me the most.

Haley has always brought the exact right levels of surrealism, humour, and bloody hippie moping to Neil. She is probably secretly Nigel Planer. She’s helped keep the excitement for SM alive in me when I’ve been at my wit’s end with it and is in fact the main reason this fanzine didn’t fold after Issue #19. Honestly, she’s great. Have you read the fanfic she’s submitted? Pure brilliance. Her reviews of Rik Mayall's Bedside Tales and GLC were sublime.

Thank you, Haley, for encouraging not just me but everyone behind the scenes of SM and for being our resident Neil for so long. I know you’re a girlie, but I hope the seed of your loin is fruitful in the belly of your woman. Ta very much!

@martian-martian-martian -

Part of SM since Issue #18, Wisely is a person who truly deserves so much love. I first spoke to Wisely on Tumblr when they signed up to write about Rick and Kevin in our second Rik zine, in 2021. Needless to say, the results of their endeavours were some of the most memorable pieces in that zine. Rick still hasn’t recovered.

After that, Wisely only became more and more involved in SM, until they’d taken on the enigmatic fifth housemate, that scumbag named Petyr, as a regular in our zine. They did this despite the graphic design element being out of their comfort zone and even came up with a whole new page idea to spearhead. Cliff ‘sHits – as well as having a perfectly Young Ones-esq name – is exactly the kind of thing I always hoped would start happening with SM: that staff would strike out with new page ideas when they had the time. Wisely has a talent for twisting well known verses to fit the scumbag agenda and we thank them for it.

A keen promoter of SM – they could frequently be found suggesting submitting to our fanzine in the comments of TYO fanart on Tumblr – they’ve even written fanfic to keep zines full of content. I’d like to thank them for joining the team and enhancing the zine in the process. SM is all the better for having them.

@the-tardis-in-221b-baker-street -

Zoe already has a name for herself in Rik Mayall circles outside the scumbags; what fan wouldn’t go absolutely crazy at the sheer time and dedication she puts into her many cosplays? Zoe has a knack for morphing into the bastards she portrays… physically, at least. I’ve always found her to be as friendly as Alan B’Stard is devious. XD

It was during SM’s hiatus, when the spot of resident Vyvyan fell vacant, that Zoe immediately jumped at the chance to help SM out. Since Issue #20, she’s provided the voice of the beloved punk as well as producing a page of her own design, Top of the Plops. Zoe has also been quick to help out where reviews of Filthy, Rich and Catflap and of the music in The Young Ones are concerned, for which I am very grateful. Despite being the newest staff member at SM, she’s thrown herself fully into it and offered much needed reassurance and submissions whenever necessary. Zoe has been an optimistic voice at the fanzine: always up for new ideas and competitions, always there with schemes to boost engagement. Her DnD stats for the lads in Issue #24 were incredible.

We’ve had many scumbags writing for Vyvyan at SM over the years – more than we’ve had for any other character – and I’m thrilled we got Zoe in for our final run. She even made the cover art for our last issue. Thank you!

@aspinecone -

Aspen is someone I’ve shared online fandom spaces with since 2017. We’re both fans of Red Dwarf, but it was our shared enjoyment of The Young Ones that finally got us talking to one another. Last autumn, we finally met in person when we went to see Ade in A Christmas Carol - a brilliant day with a great friend that I'll always remember.

Aspen has had a presence behind the scenes of SM since the beginning, often submitting fanart and the odd piece of fanfic, until they took on the role of resident Balowski at SM from Issue #16 onwards. Creating content for the character most out of the loop with the others isn’t as easy as you might think, but Aspen has always produced insane, amusing pages for him. Aspen was also the original cover artist pencilled in for Issue #21, but graciously stood aside when they realised offline commitments were going to need more of their time.

During SM’s run, I’ve sometimes had hairbrained schemes such as making the badges several scumbags will be receiving very, very soon. I’m no design whiz – Ed and I always made SM out of Word Documents – and Aspen helpfully volunteered to remove the backgrounds from designs and clean them up. Like I’ve always said, producing SM has been a team effort. I’d like to thank Aspen for always being in my corner.

@cloubdustings -

Ava, the mad meme machine! If I recall correctly, Ava first popped up in scumbag circles in late 2020. She surprised SM with cover art for Issue #10 and kindly took on the role of resident Vyvyan from that same issue until Issue #19. 2021 was not a fun year – in fact, I’d argue it was worse than 2020 in some respects – so having Ava on the SM team to handle all Vyvyan content was a great help.

Ava has a very distinct sense of humour and you can usually tell which British comedian she’s most recently become obsessed with by checking her Instagram. XD Even with changing tastes, she’s still making content about Mr Mayall and her brand of whackiness is most definitely beloved by the fandom. Thank you for sharing it with SM!

@lumivarjo -

Lumi was around at the very beginning of SM and is actually responsible for the piece of grey tape bearing the zine’s name that became our logo. He was our original resident P, producing pages for us during the autumn of 2020. Lumi has always been more behind the scenes than at the forefront of SM, but has nonetheless also always been supportive. Being an artistic sod, Lumi is to thank for many of the key headers SM used, which were all vital pieces of the SM brand… if we want to get really pretentious. Thank you for being there for the zine!

@serenpop -

Pol was also around when Ed was proposing this insane new idea of a fanzine for The Young Ones and was our first resident Neil. Offline commitments saw them have to drop the role, but they reappeared again to help us out when we needed cover art at a pinch for Issue #9. A lot of SM’s Drawing Rooms have featured art from Pol, so I’d like to thank them for brightening up our pages!

Additionally, I'd like to thank the other scumbags who’ve made cover art for us: @frankenbolt (who made three(!) beautifully chaotic covers, including everybody’s favourite Modern AU); @whatacompletebastard (for the fab Breakfast Club parody that’s always been popular with the scumbags); @heinzpilsnerbloody (another talented artist who drew me a whole bunch of cool stuff in an exchange and kindly helped SM out); @colourshot-draws (our first anniversary zine cover artist and a genuinely lovely person); @postpunkpontypandyphantomthief (a massive Rik Mayall fan and integral part of the fandom); thedinodoodles (for being ahead of the curve and bringing us pirates before the Tumblr obsession); @rikhead (for the sheer dedication to detail on her cover and for her legendary skills in Rik Pic Hunting™); and @smashingblouses (for providing us with the brilliant TYO 40th anniversary zine cover art). I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: SM couldn’t have functioned without its cover artists. Thank you all. Big respec.

There are a few final scumbags I wish to mention and thank - SM's cheerleaders, if you will. These people have brightened up my day on various occasions and their enthusiasm helped make the zine what it was: @anglophobias, @my-blood-is-maple-syrup, @friedhofcreative, @shotsofnovacaine, @5gogh2, @mariigoldmayall, and @fourstarsandahamster.

Finally, of course, I’d like to say a quick thank you to the people who inspired this fanzine in the first place. Without the canon, there would be no fanon. They’re never going to read this thank Cliff but without the brilliance of Rik Mayall, Adrian Edmondson, Nigel Planer, Christopher Ryan, Alexei Sayle, Ben Elton, Lise Mayer, and all the recurring comic guest stars of The Young Ones, SM would have quite literally never existed.

We need comedy in hard times – to call out the shits in power, to keep us grounded, to simply make us laugh. I count myself incredibly lucky to have stumbled across fans of this anarchic ‘80s sitcom on Tumblr. Despite the time gone by between 1982 and 2023 and the changes in society and sensibilities, I think it’s an incredibly good thing that this comedy still connects with us. Most of the people I’ve spoken to on here, like me, weren’t alive during TYO’s initial run. It’s often assumed by certain bastards who shall remain nameless that the youth are trying to kill comedy, that we take offence too easily, that comedy classics are a thing of the past. To them I say: UP YOURS, UGLY! As long as there are people, there will be laughter; and among those of us laughing, there will be the young ones.

So thank you, scumbag reader, for downloading our zines and supporting our bastardly endeavours.

Signing off from Scumbag Monthly for the last time,

- R / @neil-neil-orange-peel <3

"This is it! It's really happening! Who needs qualifications? Who cares about Thatcher and unemployment?! We can do just exactly whatever we want to do! And you know why? Because we're Young Ones. Bachelor boys! Crazy, mad, wild-eyed, big-bottomed anarchists!!" - The People's Poet, 1984

[suleikashideaway]

Updated September 12, 2024

Chapter 13: Preventative Measures

Chapter length: 4,149

Chapter Summary: 

Cid was looking directly at Squall as if it were the first time he was seeing him. “Do you really believe that?” “Yes!” Squall yelled, his voice cracking. “And it's worth trying, even if you're right and we can't stop it from happening. We have to try!”

—

A week late on this update, but I’m happy to get it more Squall out into the world! 

I cannot tell you how many times I had convinced myself that I wouldn’t care about stats, but guys! People are reading this story!! And commenting! And leaving kudos! I am astounded that the hit count is now over 470, and the kudos count is 27. And three bookmarks?! What!???! Truly astonished. And eternally grateful.

I know this story is not everyone’s…ahem, cup of tea…but to those of you who have given it a chance, I thank you. And to those who have left comment after comment (you know who you are, you beautiful people), you guys add months to my life with every notif in my inbox. Pretty sure you’ll be reaching the fanfic equivalent of sainthood sometime soon. I love you guys so much.

Anyway, enough sappiness, I hope you enjoy the latest installment! Squall is still a bit angies but let’s be real, he needs it. 

More about Time Will Tell under the cut!

Fic Summary: Carefree, fun-loving, passionate, free spirited, can also mean impulsive, reckless, obsessive, thoughtless. Rinoa Heartilly is learning the dangers of her own personality, and who she will become if she continues down this path. 

Squall Leonhart is fully awake now, no longer a pawn in someone else’s plan. He’s ready to take charge of his own fate. But what if fate has other plans? 

Rating: M

Warnings: No archive warnings apply

Chapters: 13/?

Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII

Relationships: Rinoa Heartilly/Squall Leonhart, Selphie Tilmitt/Irvine Kinneas, Zell Dincht/Library Girl, Rinoa Heartilly & Selphie Tilmitt, Ellone & Squall Leonhart, Squall Leonhart & Quistis Trepe, Squall Leonhart & Irvine Kinneas, Ellone & Rinoa Heartilly

Characters: Rinoa Heartilly, Squall Leonhart, Cid Kramer, Edea Kramer, Selphie Tilmitt, Irvine Kinneas, Zell Dincht, Quistis Trepe, Library Girl, Laguna Loire, Ellone, Kiros Seagill, Ward Zabac, Fury Carraway, Seifer Almasy, Original Characters

Tags: Angst with a happy ending, Fluff in early chapters, Self discovery, Navigating relationships, Depression, Anxiety, PTSD, Codependency, Sexual content, Drug & Alcohol use, Canon-typical violence, Debunking a fan theory, Friendship, Fandom blind, Post-canon, What is time anyway, Fate & Destiny, Tags to be added

[steddie-fanfic-recs]

Don't you worry 'bout a thing, baby ('cause I'll be standing on the side when you check it out)

by Gorgeousgreymatter

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Character: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, The Party (Stranger Things) Additional Tags: Touch-Starved Steve Harrington, Needy Steve Harrington, Hurt Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Is a Mess, Bisexual Disaster Steve Harrington, Soft Dom Eddie Munson, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light BDSM, Praise Kink, Steve Harrington Has Sensory Issues, Mutual Pining, Everybody Lives, I lied about the smut tags in chapter 2 it will now be chapter 3 please don't hate me, Platonic Soulmates Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Friendship, Rough Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Body Worship, Hand & Finger Kink, Finger Sucking, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Light Dom/sub, Pet Names Words: 12,647 Chapters: 3/3

Summary

Now that a few seconds have passed and the shock and confusion of waking up not in an alternate hell dimension while getting eaten by demon bats or strangled by tentacles has worn off enough, Steve is now very, very aware that he’s awake, thank you. Because holy fucking shit every inch of his body hurts. Even more than the time Billy Hargrove nearly beat him to death, gave him a black eye, a concussion, and two broken ribs. When those crazy mall Russians had given him some more head trauma to add to his growing collection, not to mention nearly knocked his teeth out. That had felt like a goddamn picnic compared to what’s going on where all those demobats had ripped into his sides. “Yeah,” Steve hisses (because maybe talking will distract him, who fucking knows), “—I kinda gathered that when I woke up with you gawking at me. I mean, you’re a cool dude, Munson, but you wouldn’t be the main attraction in my afterlife, man. No offense.” “Hey, man. None taken. I’m still stuck on the fact that King Steve thinks I’m a cool dude.”

[wackymaci]

I guess I’m using this as a casual oc posting blog now too?? cause this is from priv twt and I don’t necessarily wanna put it on the big blog since it’s an unorganized mess lmao

but so long as I’m posting convo snippets and related moments. allow me to transfer over a thread i’d made re:,, Eisa and Einmyria, Tory’s oopsie twins with Loki — if you don’t know from my twt (dm me for circumstances if you’re really curious and nosy lmfao) the elysiumverse IS undergoing some minor restructuring over the past few months & still now for.,,,, reasons. some of which involves some retconning to completely delete some obscure characters from the common consciousness & massively overhauling others -

THATS not super important but you’ll see why that’s sort of relevant, anyway for preservation purposes I am going to!! copy and paste a specific twitter thread as bullet points and it’s attached OOOO CANON CLIPS underneath the cut bc :-)))))) this is all about Loki obviously mwah

fuckin hello if I write lokikid Tobias out of existence that means the first of Loki’s children that HE didn’t carry HIMSELF like — EVER beforehand - were Eisa&Einmyria with Tory? he was a basketcase at the time for other reasons (accident babies, Maci was not happy,🤪) but if I retcon now it’s so much worse🤩

due to the series of tragic events befalling his first six children Loki has ALWAYS been highly anxious and cagey every time he’s been pregnant anyway and havin to trust someone else now w them was. oh god let me go back in time I feel like I didn’t give that enough wEIGHT AAHHHH

saying this wholeheartedly with the knowledge that even with or without *deliberately* devoting the proper amount of gravity to this Loki canonically was still so stressed out at the time he literally triggered the beginning of Ragnarok but, like, lmao meh,, EDIT to add that whole series of events with Thanatos happened DURING Tory’s pregnancy w them so that’s like. Loki: no i’m not psychologically affected from how that all went down at all :-) -*THE END OF THE WORLD ACCIDENTALLY BEGINS*

haha did I ever discuss how Eisa and Einmyria were conceived. well:

and of course; the follow up part 8 (Bel and Ty were like,, idk age 6?)—

kicky feet lmao reading this whooooole chain of events is so wild, just some of the most utterly delightfully vicious behavior cycling between Maci and Loki and Tory this was SO much scream fighting on and on, would get resolved and then exploded again, just SO unhinged—

so reading this now 10 years later where - Maci & Loki & Tory do successfully co-parent Eisa and Einmyria with zero issues lmao and. where lately Loki’s made a complete 180 re: Maci and Tory in.,,, an insanely nsfw domesticated way is so. wow the difference a decade makes,, SCREAM

at this point in this twitter thread, a brief several day interlude takes place during which the l0ki show finale premieres and pisses me off enough for me to return to this thread in a slightly different direction lmfao??? the following;

BACK 2 ELYSIUM. Ty & Bel when they were kiddos were obsessed with Loki - god whose every word out of his mouth is a lie VS mindreading “children” who could literally see all of his actual thoughts & deep insecurities, especially when Drama Occurred & Loki refused to fuckin talk to anyone—

when goin thru that Eisa Einmyria plot collection I found yet another huge scene tht Loki’d caused with Tory & Maci (dont forget this timeframe was SOOO VICIOUS) & found afterwards Bel finding him & talking to him with, quote—

“They can't understand that you wreck things when you're nervous”

ssso um, elysiumLoki thesis statement, oh hh,hhhHHHHH— 🥺🥺🥺

Yknow what I went back and retrieved that exact section again an d it’s. so. I think Bel was like age 6 here lmfao:

collapses. just think this thread was recorded BEFORE I plunged myself into the 2012 section of the archives during Loki’s first entrance into Elysium so. honestly all these convo snippets I may or may not post MAY or MAY NOT be E!L related AAAHHHHHH— anyway. thoughts..,,,, thots…….,,

[galaxies-unknown]

Hey, guys. It’s- been a while, again. Haven’t really posted here aside from signal boosts since March... My energy has remained on my little passion idea, and... I don’t have energy for anything else. My panic attacks have begun to calm down, but I did end up reverting back to being on melatonin and caffeine... So, yeah.

TL;DR: The hiatus continues, may become a full-blown archive. RP’ing on Discord only, for now. Doing better, mentally and physically.

I figure this fixation of mine on MHA won’t last a full-blown year, but it’s... possible. It’s certainly looking that way, since it’s been about seven months, and Toshinori Yagi continues to infiltrate my every thought. In that time, I had a few thoughts- and honestly, I considered archiving all my RP blogs on Tumblr entirely, because I feel bad staying away so long and claiming I’m ‘on hiatus’, when all my energy is on one fictional guy.

I also considered making new multis- dropping the muse list down even further, and just keeping my Sonic muses, KS, Queen Chrysalis, and Yagi/Fin. Technically, I already have the potential Sonic and KS multis already made, and the YagiFin one has been around for a while... But I still only have energy and desire for the one idea.

So the hiatus is going to continue. Most likely, it will end in an archive. Also potentially, I will return once my energy for Toshi has waned enough that I feel a desire to come back here more than just keep everyone else happy because I loved all we built.

From the dynamics of Velte with Dusk, to the friendship of Peach and Rouge with Bel, to the Sensei family chaos with S-Mun... I do love everything that was made here. I loved chatting with all of you, and I do hope we can continue to do so- I’m just not high-energy in those fandoms right now, nor will I probably be for a while longer. I’m not gonna ask you guys to stick around, especially with how the hiatus has been going on for two months, and probably won’t be ending soon, if it even does.

I’ve by-and-large swapped to RP’ing on Discord for the time being, and accepting very few RP partners at a time.- All of whom are MHA RP’rs, since that’s what my brain is stuck on like a broken record...

I’m available on Discord, under Writer#7548, if anyone wants to still chat. I recently culled my friends list of people I figured wouldn’t want to contact me/I haven’t spoken to in ages/didn’t get anywhere with, so apologies if you find that I’m no longer on your friends list. You can feel free to re-add me if such a thing has taken place.

I am still faintly active on Tumblr, but that’s under a new main that is NOT devoted to RP. I won’t be giving out the tag unless asked, since I know y’all are RP’rs and... This is kinda me saying my goodbye. I don’t know if it’s forever, I want to make it permanent and just come back or stay away- but I’m not sure what it is, if I’ll be back, all the things... I just hope you all do well. I love you mates, and thank you for the 4+ years of crazy Tumblr RP chaos. Please remember to take care of yourselves, and do what makes you happy (within reason).