#cringe. i had to log back in after like two years.

[theonpilled]

how the fuck do I DM a tattoo artist without sounding like a dumbass or them hating me help please

[wannabespiderman]

Man vs machine

Hello! This is my first fanfic written in English so I'm slightly nervous to post this but I couldn't get this idea out of my head so... I hope you enjoy :)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Just an old man confused about modern technology.

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You were walking past the living room door when a discontented grunt caught your attention. You took two steps back to crane your neck past the half-closed door. Bucky was sitting on the sofa, leaning over the living room table, which looked like a toddler’s table compared to him, his face illuminated by the bright screen of his new laptop that you’ve bought him not too long ago. His eyebrows were tightly knit together when he mumbled a quiet curse. You turned around, a curious expression on your face as you walked through the door.

"You okay, baby?" you asked and promptly sat down next to him. Bucky gave you an inscrutable look before turning his eyes back to the screen. “Where the hell do I find my emails?” he asked in frustration. A sudden laugh escaped you. You should have realized that a 106 year old man who had little to do with electronics would have some trouble with a laptop. Bucky gave you a displeased look with a slight, unconcious pout appearing on his face. “Click on the internet icon.” You spoke softly, willing to help. Bucky’s brow furrowed. “I don’t need the internet, I need my emails.” You stayed silent for a moment, slightly baffled by his words. Just last week you took the effort to set up a Google account with him and you were pretty sure he had paid attention then. “Bucky.” You said an amused huff escaping you. “Your e-mail is connected to the Internet. Just click on the icon.” Bucky clicked his tongue in annoyance to cover his slight embarrassment and went back to staring at the desktop. He was definitely taking his time, and at one point you doubted he knew what an icon was. “Need any help?” you asked as kindly as you could, though the sight of Bucky squinting his eyes like a real old man made your voice sound rather amused. With an exhausted sigh, Bucky leaned back against the seat back and rubbed his face, his shoulders visibly slumping. “You do it.”

You snort, but immediately apologize after he gives you an exceptionally grumpy look. “You can do it.” You said encouragingly, giving him a small smile. Bucky rolled his eyes, but relented and bent over the laptop again. You shuffled closer to it so you could see the screen properly, and the little orange and blue Firefox icon literally jumped out at you. You pointed your finger at it and looked at it again. “Just click on this one.”

You tried to be patient with him, really, and actually he did exactly what you said, but you couldn’t hold back the little sigh that left your mouth as he moved the cursor over the Firefox icon and clicked. Once. “Okay.” You mumbled, rubbing your eye. Apparently, you needed to be more specific. "This time you click twice." Another brief but piercing look from Bucky before he actually double-clicked and the browser opened. You sent a quick thank you to the heavens before instructing him to type the url into the search tab and cringed silently when he started typing with both of his pointer fingers. Right this second you decided to teach him how to properly type with all ten of his fingers later. A few more instructions later, probably a little more than usually necessary, he reached the Google log-in site.

“I assume you can handle the rest?” It was supposed to be a statement but your voice shifted into a question at the end.

He hummed quietly in affirmation, though his brow was still furrowed as if this whole thing was incredibly complicated which, to be honest… it probably was for him. You pressed your lips together, a slight sting of guilt coursing through you, your previous amusement and frustration about his hardship completely vanishing. One second you were quietly sat next to him and the other you had your arms wrapped around his bicep and your head leaning on his shoulder. “I’m sorry about laughing earlier.” You whispered, almost too quiet for him to understand if he weren’t a Super-Soldier and had enhanced hearing. “I know it’s new for you.” Bucky tried to shrug it off but you saw how his eyes softened when he tilted his head to look down at you. A sudden, quiet chuckle escaped him, making you quirk an eyebrow in curiosity.

“You’d think, as a Cyborg, I’d be better at this.”

[reevezs]

//lots of end-of-the-year shouting in this post, sorry if it gets too loud, I'm screaming into a read-more pillow... mostly.

there would be no Zach, Eric, and Ria (and Ver lol) without ByeNYC so:

thanks @byenycfm , its lovely admins, and every single member of the group, I obv won't tag all of you on an indie blog but I LOVE YOU. you're all amazing and amazingly talented, I love your characters. I'm grateful for Ria and her beautiful skeleton bio, thanks for letting me take care of this bby. thank you for *the* brotp I'll never get over, thanks for two heartbreaking ships and three heartwarming ones, for all the crazy headcanons we've got there, whether it's chasing zombies with an RC car or pushing one out of the window or down the stairs... most importantly - thank you for promising you'd come back after the group's hiatus and for actually coming back. we've created a community we wanna return to and we all deserve the biggest hug for that. 💙

thanks for coming back @renegadetulisrp , Old Ass RPers know what's up lol. we've known each other for more than a decade, holy shit. I love you and your babies - don't ever change, add more muses, write more crazy plots, you're one of my favorite reasons I'll always log back here 💙

@pleinsdemuses my bb! I love you and our 1000 verses where we hurt our babies for the plot and hand them some Happy Verse cookies so they don't kill us. my angst, smut, drama partner in crime, I don't think we'll ever run out of ideas. thank you for everything 💙

I don't know if I love us or hate us, @parvumchao , probably a bit of both lmao. it sounds like a threat, but I'll follow you everywhere, the dash without you is shitty. I love your muses - we don't have a single happy thread *shrugs*, but I really do 💙

@nikkiitalks , let's ruin our muses and cry over them like we're not responsible for their misery! thank you for finding me years ago and for keeping me. or for letting me keep you. I don't know, we're just holding hands and follow each other everywhere and that's how it should be 💙

another partner in chomper crime! I'm so happy you and your ocs joined BNYC, @myriadxofxmuses , so now our lovely nerd ship can sail in two verses, giving us diabetes! it wouldn't be the same without you, my dash here wouldn't be the same without you, I'm so happy I've met you! 💙

@ayakoito first-time husbands muns, I'm so happy for these two! we can have 100 threads and they find a new way to make me AWWW in every single one. we can ramble about everything and anything and I'm so happy to have you, but I'm sure you will understand when I say thank you for teaching me the most important word ever: verschlimmbesserung. 😂💙

thinking "oh god, so much cringe" already? it gets worse. more hugs and thank yous:

@plotsjotsandespressoshot and your girls - I apologize for being a shit partner and I miss writing with you, so we need a new thread or ten now lol 💙

@kierankyleculkin you hurt a bot but I think you're lovely 💙

@impcrsonatcr my fellow h.alsey human, big hugs! 💙

@thefvrious & @ghostsxagain and your chef's kiss muses - I'm a fan 💙

@dontcxckitup , @richardxoliverxmayhew , @kit-just-kit - I don't think you'll mind if I put your trio like this? that's how I see you, guys lol. your muses are among my all-time favorites. 💙

speaking of favorites - @notsoinnocentlittleangel I want you to know that Joanna is one of my favorite female ocs ever 💙

@brokenblondeprincess and pierogi is a full sentence 💙

@rcbf4 it's "Adam", not "Jake" 😂💙

@sugarandwhiskey and your lovely bby - thanks for popping on my dash 💙

@emeryfleming @corxunum @ghostsandmirrors @formaechao @heartxshaped-bruises @crew-from-capulet @bewitchingbaker @thxnymph @poisonedfire @brooklynislandgirl @thatslayer @facepeeled @alwaysanangcl - seeing you on the dash makes me happy 💙

people I've followed since my indie debut, @cheapxseats @heartonanoose - idk if you're still around, we haven't had a thread together in ages but thank you for the ones we had in the past 💙

[zerillia]

Our little secrets, Pt 2

Pairing: Felix x Fem!Reader (Enemies to friends.. To lovers???)

INFO: high school/collage au, Straykids and NMIXX, --Romance and a little angsty.

Warnings: Delusional, kinda cringe(they allways are tho), Fear of the dark, not proofread.

The Unforeseen bong:

Their conversations grew more relaxed with each time they spoke, the awkwardness of their forced proximity slowly giving way to a cautious curiosity. Y/n found herself laughing at Felix's stories. She couldn't recall the last time she had laughed with him, and the realization was both strange and refreshing.

Felix's gaze landed onto her.

His voice a mix of amusement and sincerity as he stated. "you actually have a pretty nice laugh."

The unexpected compliment caught Y/n off guard. She felt her cheeks warm up, and she couldn't help but smile back at him. "Thanks" she murmured, feeling a flutter in her stomach. It was strange how something so simple could feel so significant after years of animosity.

As they got up from the log and began walking back to the cabin, their steps were lighter, the air between them less charged with tension. The sunrise casting a new light across their path and without realizing ..they had spent hours just talking through the night.

"So, what do you think about trying to be… I don't know, not enemies?" Y/n ventured as they approached the cabin. The wooden structure loomed before them, a symbol of their shared past and an uncertain future.

Felix thought for a moment before nodding. "Yeah," he said, his voice a bit gruff. "..i suppose it could be worth the effort."

The door creaked open as they entered the cabin, and the warm light spilled out into the night. The rest of the group was gathered around the fireplace, their faces a mix of surprise and curiosity as they saw the two of them walking in together, looking more like comrades than rivals.

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The following days of the trip saw a subtle shift in their dynamic. They didn't become best friends overnight, but the constant barbs and sarcastic comments were replaced..somethink else..that they just could not but into a word. "You know," she said, poking at the water with a stick, "you're not that bad after all."

Felix smirked "Well, you're not that bad either" he conceded.

The group's laughter filled the air, mingling with the slashes of water and squeals as they meddled in the lake. And for the first time, Y/n felt like she truly belonged with ..All.. of these people, even if one of them had once been her worst enemy.

The trip was drawing to a close, with only 3 days left till they went back to their hectic collage life.

Felix and Y/n had somehow managed to avoid each other's nerves most of the trip, even sharing a few moments of camaraderie here and there. But as the days dwindled down, the pressure to make the most of their newfound tolerance grew stronger.

That evening, the group decided to have a bonfire just like on the first day they'd arrived here. As the flames danced and crackled, casting a warm glow on everyone's faces, the conversation grew more intimate. Stories of past heartaches and future dreams were shared, and the air was thick with the smell of marshmallows and the promise of friendship.

Y/n found herself sitting next to Felix, their legs stretched out toward the heat. He glanced at her, the firelight flickering in his eyes. "You know," he said, his voice low only for her to hear "I kinda liked you."

Y/n turned to face him, a question in her gaze. "What do you mean?"

Felix shrugged, poking at the fire with a stick. "..In highschool" he said. "..I ..y'know ..had a crush on you.."

Y/n felt a strange mix of emotions. She had always seen Felix as the epitome of confidence, someone who never doubted himself. To hear him admit vulnerability was like discovering a hidden layer of the person she thought she knew so well.

"You did?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"yeah," he said, not meeting her eyes. "But ..you were dating one of my bestfriend, ..and i was just trying to fit into the group back then…"

The revelation struck a chord within her. She had always felt like an outsider in the group, and she realized that maybe Felix did too. They had both been fighting so hard to be seen and heard, to be part of something, that they had forgotten to listen to each other.

she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "..Maybe we'd fit in the puzzle better ..just fine if we'd stick together like everyone else…"

Felix looked up, his gaze meeting hers. There was a moment of understanding between them, a silent agreement that they had both been wrong. That maybe, just maybe, they had been fighting the same battle all along.

The group's laughter and stories continued to fill the night, but Y/n and Felix remained lost in their own world, sharing glances that spoke volumes without words. The flames of the bonfire reflected in their eyes, a symbol of the fire that had once burned between them in anger, now transformed into a gentle warmth. A harsh wind suddenly blew past, sending a shiver down everyone's spine. The strip lights that had been steadily illuminating a decent portion of the woods and campsite flickered ominously before finally going out, plunging the area into a deep, inky blackness. A collective gasp filled the air, followed by a nervous silence. The only sound was the crackling of the fire, which now seemed like a beacon in the dark.

Y/n's heart raced, but she felt a strange comfort as Felix's hand found hers in the darkness. His grip was firm and reassuring, and she realized that she was not as scared as she would have been alone. The group huddled closer together, their laughter now replaced by a sense of unity in the face of the unforeseen.

"Everyone okay?" Hyunjin's voice called out, breaking the silence. One by one, their friends confirmed their safety, their voices echoing through the now eerily quiet woods.

"We should probably go inside," Jiwoo suggested, her voice trembling slightly.

"Yeah," Felix agreed, his thumb absently rubbing circles into the back of Y/n's hand. "But we need to find our way first."

The group fumbled in the darkness, phones pulled out to provide a dim glow. Y/n's pulse pounded in her ears, she'd been scared of the dark since she was a child, she clung to Felix's hand, she felt a strange sense of peace. The group slowly made their way back to the cabin, the darkness seemingly thickening around them like a fog.

Once inside, the cabin was a flurry of activity as everyone searched for flashlights and candles. The sudden power outage had thrown them all off balance, but the urgency of the situation had also brought them closer together. "Why don't we tell some ghost stories to pass the time?" Lily suggested with a mischievous smirk, her eyes shining with excitement.

Jiwoo shivered. "Not sure if that's the best idea right now," she murmured, glancing around at the shadows that painted the room. But the idea was met with enthusiasm from the rest of the group, and soon enough, they were all huddled together in the main room, sharing tales of things that go bump in the night. Y/n noticed that Felix had moved his chair closer to hers, their arms brushing occasionally as the stories grew spookier.

The air was thick with anticipation as the group took turns, each story more chilling than the last. Y/n felt a strange thrill as the darkness outside pressed against the cabin walls.

Felix's hand was still holding hers, and Y/n didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into the warmth he offered, letting his warmth seep into her. As she rested her head against his shoulder she found herself looking at him. His profile was illuminated by the flickering candlelight, casting shadows that danced across his features. He was listening intently to one of the stories, his eyes focused on the storyteller, but every now and then, they would flicker to her, and she would feel a strange whenever they're eyes would meet even for s split second.

The candles flickered in the draughty cabin, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Each gust of wind made the branches outside scratch against the windows, sending chills down their spines. Haewon's story was particularly spooky, and the silence after she finished was deafening.

"Your turn, Y/n," Minho suggested, breaking the tension. She took a deep breath, her mind racing for a suitable ghost story to tell. But as she opened her mouth, she heard a noise from upstairs. It was faint, but distinct enough to make everyone's head turn towards the staircase.

"What was that?" Sullyoon whispered, her voice barely audible.

Felix squeezed her hand gently. "Probably just the house settling," he said, trying to sound braver than he felt. But the noise came again, louder this time. It was definitely footsteps, and they were moving closer. The group exchanged nervous glances, the laughter of a moment ago forgotten. Y/n felt her heart hammering in her chest. She had never been good with the unknown, and this was certainly unknown.

The steps grew closer, and the door to the main room creaked open. They all held their breath, waiting for whatever was out there to make its presence known. But instead of a monster or a ghost, it was Han, looking flustered.

"I needed the bathroom," he said, panting slightly. "..my god it waass soo darkk..i sprinted back."

The tension in the room dissipating like mist as a few chuckles and laughs broke out.

"Of course YOU of all people, Han, would need that bathroom..at a time like this.." Chan stated, as a few of the girls and guys laughed at that.

"Why don't we play truth or dare?" Changbin suggested, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Groans and protests filled the room, but there was an underlying excitement. The power outage had turned their last night at the cabin into an adventure, and they were all eager to keep the adrenaline flowing.

"Fine," Jeongin said, grinning. "But only if we play as a group. No picking on anyone."

One by one, the candles were blown out, leaving only the fireplace to cast a warm, flickering light across the room. The shadows grew longer, and the whispers grew softer as the game began. The first few dares were simple, playful even. The room was filled with laughter as Changbin was dared to do his best impression of a cat by Jini, which was surprisingly spot on. But as the night wore on, the dares grew daring the truths more bold. And soon after it was Y/n's turn, she felt a mix of excitement and fear.

"Truth or Dare?" she was asked by Hyunjin.

Her heart skipped a beat. "Dare" she said, the word slipping out before she could second-guess herself.

Felix leaned in, his eyes glinting with a mischievous spark. "I dare you to go outside and get us more firewood" he stated. The room was silent for a beat.

Y/n felt her heart stop. The thought of being alone in the dark, especially after the tension of the past few moments, was almost unbearable. But she wasn't one to back down from a challenge. "Fine," she said, trying to sound nonchalant. "But only if you come with me." Felix's smile grew wider, and she couldn't tell if it was from excitement or amusement. "Deal" he said, standing up, neither of them noticing the small glare Hyunjin had shot Felix. He grabbed a flashlight from the kitchen counter, and together they stepped outside into the cold, black night.

The forest was eerily quiet, the only sound the distant howl of a lonely coyote. The darkness enveloped them, making the simple task of collecting firewood feel like a daring escapade.

"You're not scared, are you?" Felix teased, his voice low and playful.

Y/n rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the goosebumps that had decided to make an unwelcome appearance on her arms. "I'm not scared," she said, her voice steady despite the quiver in her chest. "I've just never been a fan of the dark."

Felix laughed, the sound surprisingly comforting in the otherwise unsettling silence. "Well, I'll protect you from the big, bad monsters" he said, holding up the flashlight like a sword. His playfulness helped to ease the tension that had settled around her.

Y/n couldn't help but smile at his antics. "Oh Thank you, my dear knight in shining armor," she said, playfully swiping at his arm.

Felix feigned a dramatic bow, his smile never wavering. "Always at your service, my lady" he quipped back.

Their banter continued as they gathered the firewood, their laughter piercing the stillness of the night. They stumbled upon a small clearing where the moon cast just enough light for them to see. The sight was so serene that it took Y/n's breath away. She paused for a moment, taking it in.

"It's beautiful." she murmured, her voice filled with wonder.

Felix looked up from his task, his eyes meeting hers. "You're right" he said, his voice softer now. "It is."

Their eyes remained locked as they stood in the clearing, the moonlight playing across their faces. Y/n felt something shift within her as their eyes locked. For a split second, she swore she saw Felix's eyes drop to her lips, and her heart skipped a beat. The air grew thick with an unspoken tension that was no longer hostile but something entirely different. Felix took a step closer to her, his hand reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. His touch was gentle, almost tentative, as if he was afraid she'd pull away. But Y/n didn't move. Instead, she leaned into it, her eyes never leaving his.

Their faces were mere inches apart, the warmth from their bodies melding into one in the cold night. The wind picked up again, sending a chill down their spines, but they didn't break the gaze. It was as if the universe had paused just for them. Felix leaned in even closer , his breath warm on her skin, she could feel his pulse racing in sync with hers.

And just as their lips were about to meet, a sudden noise pierced the tranquil night. "Guys! Guys!" Han's frantic voice echoed through the trees. "The power's back on!"

Felix and Y/n jumped apart, their cheeks flushing as the tension broke. They exchanged a look filled with a mix of relief and disappointment. They had been so close to crossing that line, but the interruption served as a stark reminder of their current reality.

They gathered the firewood and hurried back to the cabin, the mood between them now awkwardly charged. The lights flickered back to life, and the group erupted in cheers. The game of truth or dare was abandoned, replaced by a frenzy of activity as everyone rushed to check their devices and catch up on the world they had left behind. Y/n couldn't help but feel a pang of..disapointment.

Felix set the firewood down by the fireplace, his eyes avoiding hers. "Looks like we're not going to need this anymore" he said, his voice strained.

Y/n nodded, trying to compose herself. "Yeah, I guess so" she murmured, her heart still racing from the near-kiss.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter and relieved chatter as the group reconnected with the outside world. But the unresolved moment between Y/n and Felix lingered in the air, a silent electricity that neither of them could ignore. They sat beside each other, but the warmth of their earlier conversation had been replaced by a cautious tension that seemed to stretch between them like a tightrope.

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Im aways open for requests/suggestions and more, or even to just chat. Feel free to add constructive criticism.

btw you are so beautiful and so awesome and you should never feel like less then bc i love you <3🍀 Lillie xxx

[a-short-alien]

Hiiii! First ever post! I wanted to start off by introducing my cringe self insert. I made him at first just cause I like clowns and wanted to make an OC to date Nightwing, but like many of my cringe self inserts I overdeveloped his story and accidentally made a whole AU centered around him. I’ll make more posts about the cannon characters soon, but enjoy his backstory :3

Joker was looking for a new plan that would hopefully both prove his “love” to Harley and finally get him even with the Batman. The Batman had recently started working with his first ever Robin, eight year old Dick Grayson. To the Joker, this was unfair, so he decided to get his own child sidekick. Joker made his way to the broken down apartments surrounding crime alley and after finding a neglected little seven year old kid alone in their apartment he made the next logical move, waited for their parents to come home, murdered them and took the kid home. He decided on the name Clown, telling Harley they were their new son! Of course the Joker did a number of unethical things, like never taking the kid to a single school building for any reason that wasn't for a plot, trying to bleach his skin (he was stopped by Batman on multiple occasions but Clown always ran back to his father), and training him specifically for the purpose of one upping Robin. There were times he was good, or well, bare minimum. He was accepting when Clown came out as trans at the age of 9 (he hadn’t even realized Clown was AFAB in the first place), he fed him proper meals most days, ensured he wasn’t thrown in Arkham (much easier considering he was a minor), ensured he wasn't homeless (at least not for log periods of time) and even provided some emotional support (though poor) when needed. But like a lot of Jokers plans, it wasn’t as effective as he had wished, no matter what he did, Robin was always better than his Clown, so he scrapped the idea. He didn’t kill Clown, he had become oddly attached to him and liked keeping around someone eternally loyal to him, just stopped paying attention. Clown continued pursuing Robin though, in an attempt to prove to his father he was worth the attention but ended up just creating a secret friendship with him, even learning his secret identity at some point (Bruce will not learn this until far later he simply thinks Clown is just friends with both Dick Grayson and Robin and is HEAVILY against it for obvious reasons). Clown sort of filled his days with spending time with Harley, the Hyenas, and sneaking out to go see Dick whenever he could. After Harley left, taking the dogs he picked up hobbies like painting or writing, slowly seeing Dick less and less until he had left to become Nightwing. In the period of years Dick had “died” and done all of his antics with Spiral and the court of Owls Clown ended up moving from home. He stayed with Harley some days, sometimes stole some money for a hotel for a few days until one day (at around 22) he started this odd love/hate relationship with the Riddler (only about a year or two older than Clown and Dick in this AU). They lived together for a while and were pretty on and off until Nightwing was back, Clown left Eddy to move to Blüdhaven and start following Dick around again. He stole the occasional wallet from tourists and managed to scrape together enough money to rent a pretty shitty apartment. He spends his time now just bothering Dick both on and off the Hero clock. They eventually developed a small tradition where Dick buys Clown dinner just as a way to ensure he eats at least once a day. This went on for a year or two until slowly Dick began to realize how Clown was struggling (could barely pay rent, no heating/AC, very little food, ect.). After one night in winter where Clown nearly froze to death and had to be taken back to stay at his apartment, Nightwing very slowly moved Clown's things into his apartment by trying to get him to stay more and more overtime. Eventually Clown had just fully moved in and after a few emotional conversations about their childhoods, what they missed in those years apart and Clown's admission that he didn't like doing his father's bidding (was always clear to Dick anyway), the two slowly began to start a relationship together. They now live together in his Blüdhaven apartment and are currently working on trying to track down Clown's legal documentation and get him a normal life.

[katyawriteswhump]

the power of love pt 4 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part one Part two Part three Part five Part six Part seven Part eight Part Nine Part Ten Part 11 Part 12

Chapter Four

Steve POV

1978

Steve carves his way across Lover’s Lake with an energetic front crawl. Okay, he’s got to admit—it’s a bit bigger than he judged.

He’s getting tired, though he can still make it. After all, he’s eleven years old, and the best swimmer in his grade. He reckons he could beat half the kids in the High School swim squad. What’s a puny lake to Steve Harrington?

The waters grow thick and deadly heavy. Soon, his arms flounder and his legs splash uselessly. He glances up to figure how far the bank is, mistimes his stroke, gulps a mouthful of water.

He chokes, swallows, discovers he’s no clue in which direction he should go. He swipes wet hair from his eyes and realizes he can’t see his parents. Can’t see anybody. Yeah, he’d deliberately swum off to prove his father wrong, because he’d said Steve couldn’t cross the lake, but… Oh crap!

He sinks, pulls upward with all he’s got left, and bursts through the surface, screaming: “Dad! Mom! Dad? I’m… lost… Heeeelp!” His legs have gone weak, and he doesn’t know what to do with his arms, whether to wave them or try to swim or… “Mommy? Da-ad? Daddy!”

His final efforts fail, and the dark waters suck him deep, closing seamlessly above his head.

1986

The scary dreams fade to nothingness, and Steve begins to wake. His head aches, and his bat bites manage to throb, itch and burn all at once. He opens his eyes, with a weary sense of having been through all this before, far too many times.

However, he isn’t in his parents’ living room, which is the last thing he remembers. He’s not a clue where he is. It looks like some dingy log cabin, and a stale tobacco stench catches in his throat. Robin’s nowhere to be seen, which alarms him further. Eddie paces the creaking floor, flexing and cracking his fingers.

“Eddie?”

Eddie’s hand flies to his chest. Then that electric smile that Steve’s getting way too fond of returns: “Hey, big boy. How ya doing?”

“Oh, never better.” Steve coughs. He doesn’t even try to rise from the lumpy old camp bed he’s lying on. “My body feels like goddamn heavy metal… and, uh, not the sort you dig.”

“Seen bodies I like less, Harrington.” Eddie smirks then cringes; Steve’s not gotten a clue how to read that. “Look, you've been asleep for nearly twenty-four hours.” He grabs a bottle of water. “You have to drink. Or we’re gonna have to get you to a doctor, and Buckley’s gonna ride my ass.”

“I’ll give it a shot.” Trouble is, Steve knows that Eddie will have to help, and it’s dead awkward. He does his best to sit, while Eddie plumps the pillows and helps support him. Eddie’s hair gets everywhere, way worse than Steve’s. Then Steve’s hand trembles so bad, Eddie has to guide the bottle to his lips. Even then, half the water dribbles down Steve’s chin, and it barely wets his parched lips. After a couple of slurps, his stomach performs an unpleasant flip. “Had enough, man.”

“Ooookay. We’ll try again later, huh?”

“Yeah, if you want me to vomit all over your… Hey, is that my Hugo Boss t-shirt?”

“Don’t worry, Harrington. It’ll look waaay better when I daub it with the sacred Hellfire Club logo.”

Steve’s beyond caring about that kinda stuff. What he really wants to say, but won’t, is that it looks great on Eddie. The short sleeves afford sizzling glimpses of Eddie’s tats.

Christ, get over it, Harrington.

He concentrates on what Eddie is telling him. Turns out, the three of them have escaped Hawkins, though not travelled far: “We’re in a deserted cabin, about twenty miles out. Robin can cycle back and get into radio contact with Dustin and the others, which is where she is now. They can sort out supplies, give us updates. It’s still total chaos in town, which has bought us time.”

“You need to keep moving, man,” murmurs Steve. “I know I said don’t go without me, but… Jesus, I’m slowing you down.”

Eddie gives a casual shrug. “Nah. We can wait for ya, Stevie.”

Stevie?!?

Steve snorts with laughter, then he sinks again fast. He’s so stupidly tired. God knows how long passes before Robin’s voice revives him. “Steve? Steve! Try to wake up. Please?”

He does. For her. His eyes are watery, and it takes a moment to focus. Then he sees her eyes are watery, pink-ish too. “Rob? W-What’s wrong?”

“Thank God, you’re back.” She leans close, attempts a clumsy approximation of a hug. When she pulls away, she unleashes way too many words for him to cope with. Dustin has updated her on tons. Max is hurt, and it’s really bad, and then she talks about Hopper. 

Hopper’s alive?

Steve raises a shaky hand to veil his eyes. “Hey, slow down. Max is gonna be okay, right?”

He peeps between his fingers. The look that passes between Robin and Eddie all but chokes him. He disguises a sniffle beneath another cough.

“Hop’s coming back, and that’s good news, right?” says Robin. “Maybe he can get you two off the hook. Although, right now, I believe we’re among the missing, presumed dead. Yay?” She underlines her false cheer with a tremulous smile. That’s when Steve notices the baggy yellow top she’s wearing:

“Hey, that top is mine! You’re both wearing my clothes?”

Eddie leans coolly against the wall. “Badge of ownership, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asks Steve. “Who owns whose ass?”

Eddie grins and… was that a twitch of his eyelid or a wink?!? Either way, it dizzies Steve. “Whichever way round you want, baby,” says Eddie.

“Ooookay.” Robin giggles, sounding as jittery as Steve feels. “Uh, Steve. We should probably check your bandages.”

He’s genuinely relieved when Eddie wanders off. He lifts his t-shirt and hisses as she pries the dressing from his scabbed blood. “Is it bad?”

“You’re not all stinky and septic, nor leaking Upside Down black goop, so… No, I’d say good. Does it hurt much?”

“Not as bad as it did.”

“You still seem a bit fever-y.” She gingerly drifts the back of her hand across his brow. “Not so gross and sticky as you were, though.”

“Lucky for you,” he snarks. He actually finds feeling so sick and weak far more intolerable than the pain. It reminds him of when he travelled with his parents, when he was much younger. And when he always got sick. A splash of ice bites deep. “Ow!”

Robin assaults him with an antiseptic spray.  “Sorry!”

“Don’t go into medicine, Rob.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Uh, Steve. One question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you ask us to leave town via Lover’s Lake?”

“Wha—” Steve blinks. His brain strains to retrieve whatever the hell she’s talking about and draws a blank. “I have zero memory of saying that. I mean, why the heck would I?”

“Oookay. You were probably raving.” That nervous laugh returns. “You sure you’re sure you’ve no idea?”

He blinks at her again. He really hasn’t.

He’s always loved swimming in Lover’s Lake. Then again, he likes swimming pretty much everywhere, particularly in open water. It gives him a rush, a sense of control that’s proven so difficult to grasp in pretty much every other area of his life. Okay, there was that one time he nearly drowned in Lover's Lake as a kid. Even that didn’t put him off for long. In fact, it fired him to get stronger, better, to learn lifesaving and CPR.

Robin’s brows are raised, as if she expects some bombshell revelation. “What do you want me to say?” he answers. “I haven’t a goddamn clue.”

She lets it drop. He fears he hasn’t heard the last of whatever’s bugging her. Perhaps, despite her protestations otherwise, she’s still fretting about rabies. “Hey, Eddie,” she yells, “stop skulking and come and help, will you?”

Robin and Eddie finish patching him up, and Steve struggles not to whimper like a candy-ass wuss. Then, as he feels too crappy to sleep, his mood plummets even lower. He can’t stop thinking about Max, and how he’d failed to save her. Maybe if he’d been there, he could’ve found a way, like he did when he saved Eddie?

That he was otherwise occupied feels like an excuse. He should’ve protected the kids better, and… Ugh, he detests being THIS DAMN PATHETIC, a total wimpezoid. He despises being seen like this, even by Robin, and she’s seen him brought low before, when they were captured by the Soviets. Plus, she’s his best friend. Steve Harrington is the big guy, the protector. Without that…

…I’m nothing. Eddie Munson’s gonna see that pretty quick. Uh… Why the Hell should I care so much about that?

His miserable thoughts drain him. He tries curling onto his good side, just as Robin comes at him with a bowl of cereal. “Get lost,” he mutters, and finally drifts back to a sick-feeling sleep.

Later, when he awakes, the fuss remains excruciating. Eddie props him up on more pillows and tucks up the blankets. Robin menaces him with the cereal again, and this time, he chokes down a few mouthfuls. Eddie checks Steve’s wounds, and wipes him down with a cloth, dabbing his scarred torso, hands and face.

Steve refuses to look Eddie in the eye, and chews his lip ragged. He waits till Robin goes outside then asks the question that is literally gonna kill him: “Eddie, I need the bathroom.”

“Oh.” Eddie palpably tenses. “Uh, pretty sure I saw a bucket somewhere.”

Steve groans. “Isn’t there plumbing inside this dump?”

“Noooot as such. There’s literally a brick shithouse outside. Reckon you can make it?”

“Sure,” says Steve, trying to sound casual rather than terrified he’s absolutely not gonna make it.

He manages to sit, and then Eddie helps him to his feet. They start off, with Steve leaning heavily against Eddie. To be fair, it goes better than expected. Steve’s dizzy and slightly nauseous, but the cereal stays down. While his legs are basically jello, they don’t give out completely.

Not until the way back, at any rate.

One of his knees buckles beneath his weight, and he flops into Eddie. He winds up clinging around Eddie’s neck, one foot sliding as if on ice, and staring up into Eddie’s dark, soulful eyes. Losing himself in them, like they’d drugged him or something; even giggling, and wondering fleetingly if that fizzle of attraction might still be real, despite his wretched state.

“I gotcha, Stevie.” 

Stevie… again?

The pulsing veins on Eddie’s face betray his strain in keeping Steve from falling. He’s also wearing a faintly amused smile, which touches Steve somewhere tender and deep.

But Eddie’s laughing at him, not with him, right? “Bet I’m hilarious,” mumbles Steve. “I guess with no TV you get your kicks where you can.”

“I don’t watch much TV,” says Eddie, placid enough. “Sure miss my Ghetto Blaster.”

“There was one in my room. If you were dumb enough not to bag it, that’s your loss.”

While bitching, Steve finds his footing again. Eddie helps him back toward the camp bed.  When, finally, Steve’s butt lands heavily on it, he’s still hugging around Eddie’s neck, so he tugs Eddie down with him. He slithers his arms free and shivers. He actually wishes he could keep clinging rather than go back to lying alone, feeling horrible. Christ, he’s hopeless.

He rolls to face the wall. Eddie pokes him. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” snaps Steve, the heat of his temper warming him. “I made it to the outhouse and back, didn’t I? If you two morons quit stalling, we can get moving again right away.”

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part Ten Part Twelve

...

tags: estrellami1 (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

[goodluckclove]

An Interview Series

Stop Two: A Private Room with @cssnder

When i thought to do this, Cassander Di Angelo was one of the first people I knew would make for good conversation. What resulted was something far more vulnerable on my end than I ever expected. She was kind, insightful, and intelligent as always, but I had to wait a few extra days before posting the log from this stop on my journey.

Join us as we discuss the nuance of identity in person, online, and on the page, and the reasons for why we do what we do.

If you want a closer look into Cassander's fascinating voice, I highly suggest signing up for her Substack. It's free, and you'll get direct access to her writing once it's developed! Now join us on this stop as we meet Cass somewhere quiet and secluded.

Now Playing: You Want it Darker by Leonard Cohen

It was a small, private, room of a quite picturesque sort. No bed, no television. There was a green sofa (one of those hideous things one could only find on sale the day following the death of an elderly, the kind you'd think smell of death but for whatever reason your girlfriend loves it), an antic wooden desk that stood grotesquely in the middle of the room, and an innumerable number of bookshelves. It wasn't much, and yet, the room seemed full.

The most interesting part was not so much the furnitures dressing the room but rather the few other details that were not of real interest when taken separately but created a striking picture when assembled together: the half-played game of solitaire spread on the floor, a selection of colourful ties hanging from the back of the sofa, papers all over the desk and piles of books everywhere but on the shelves.

The window was left open. And, in the morning fog, the sky turned into a pious white while the earthy smell of oak trees filled the cold November air. Melancholic, like a sad tune sang among magnolias.

where are we right now?

In a nameless town where no one knows me.

it's certainly a literary environment. i read through your entire blog so far while i was waiting to talk to you.

I used to be much more active on other platforms — Twitter, mainly. But as time went by, I learnt to love privacy and staying away from social medias. I think Tumblr is the platform I am the most active on, if that says anything about my relationship with the internet.

i have some mixed feelings on your content that i think would make for good conversation if you're open to it.

Sure, tell me.

so we've both been writing for a decade or longer. it's been fourteen years for me, and i think you said it was ten or more for you. would you say your practice up until now has also been very solitary? Yes, definitely.

i got the feeling. i can't cite the exact post, but i read something where you dove into your style of observational nuance, the aspects of strangers you take note of. And i immediately related, as someone who works the same way by instinct, but i found myself cringing. it felt like you were describing something deeply intimate about the creative process that you weren't supposed to put to paper. What I suppose i mean to say is that, after ten years of writing alone, how much do you still work to be understood by others? And to what extent?

Quite frankly, there are times where I feel like I don't really understand myself — maybe it's because I am only twenty-three, perhaps I haven't been human long enough yet to feel too sure on my feet. And I suppose, because of that, I do not expect anyone to understand me.

God, am I aware how it sounds so pessimistic but you know I do not mean it that way. I simply do not want to put unfair expectations on people simply because, in my mind, I was sure they, this person specifically, would understand me. If that makes sense? Plus, there are so many sides of us. I don't think we ever understand ourselves a hundred percent. So how could other people?

it's a strange juxtaposition to have that mindset and also be a writer and actor. someone might assume those are two mediums where the person is a vessel meant to relay an intent of some kind. to be comprehended, so to speak.

I think I do not necessarily want to be comprehended but rather offer something to other people — a minute of distraction, them feeling seen, or simply some inspiration. It's not to much about me but rather about them?

I remember something Margaret Atwood said in one videos. I saw it a long time ago so it's not verbatim, of course. But she said that once a book is out in the world, it's not yours anymore. No matter the message you put in it, everyone will interpret it as they want. Of course, it's better if they get what's written as you've written it. But you also have to accept that, most of the time, everyone will take what they want and leave the rest.

are you lonely? creating art as just an offering to the world sounds to me like the objective of someone who's either fulfilled in separate relationships or so lonely they've given up on escaping the feeling.

What other reason do people have to create art?

to be seen to some extent. to share a message that's important to them. to release something from within themselves. to process a color they're worried only they can see. or to just give a story to the world. no reason is better than the other.

I'm not lonely. But I do feel bored and stuck, though. Like I'm not living enough.

you do seem to cultivate some sort of Life Aesthetic from how you describe things. you know, black coffee and earl grey tea. classic music on a record player. violin and card games. russian literature, possibly in dog-eared paperback. the kids online would call it “dark academia”.

Yes, I love those and while I suppose what you say is true to a certain extent — I do love aesthetics as long as I make the rules for my own — I do not want to feel stuck in it. It would be hell, and it shouldn't be so serious. I love a variety of things — Nu metal, black leather, Barbie movies and animes like My Hero Academia.

it's odd how we only show certain parts of ourselves in different spaces. i don't think anyone reading your blog would peg you as a nu metal fan. i feel like i just uncovered a major scoop.

I supposed many of us feel like they need to have a more distinct aesthetic or some sort of brand. Even subconsciously so. I think, even if I didn't want to, there would always be different versions of me in my novels because I base everything on my feelings, me, places I've seen, people I've known. Oliver and his melancholy and need to live something, anything, is one version of me. If I were to write a book about a wanna be singer, it would also be a version of me, little me from the past who wanted to be a singer too. I think the version of me I put the most is my emotional self more than an aesthetic.

can you describe your emotional self?

Intense. Very often, I feel like my heart is too big for my body, you know. But it's also very important for me. If there's one thing that would make me more unhappy than to be overwhelmed by emotions, it's apathy. [Laughs] God, you must wonder what kind of weirdo you're interviewing.

no i'm actually quietly having an existential crisis in my discord server. this is very enlightening. is that something you think is present in the current novel you're developing?

Oh, definitely. I am really into stories fueled by the characters' emotional worlds. Oliver is a mess of self-doubts, of pressure to live something and feeling scared he'll never get to, of wanting to please at all costs. Wilhelm is apathy and the secret desire to let loose just to see what happens. It is safe to say I've always prioritized the emotional quality over the plots and events themselves.

i was supposed to have you introduce yourself. do you think you could maybe pitch your novel for new people?

My novel Thus Saith The Lord is set in Prague, in 1987. The story focused on a young student named Oliver, who's bored of his life and wishes for more in some sort of Bovary-way. He drops out and flees his monotonous home town in the countryside to move to a big city and finally live his life. Unfortunately, things do not turn out the way he hoped. Eventually, he ends up practically poor there and lonely and despises his new way of life. However, he goes on to befriend a guy who, with his connections, helps him integrate his Catholic school, thus pushing him to continue his studies. Once there, Oliver becomes morbidly fascinated by one of his classmates. What started out as a simple friendship quickly turns into obsession and desperation as the lines of morality become blurred.

As for me introducing myself: My name is Cassander, I am a twenty- three year old writer and aspiring actress from France.

assuming this draws a new audience to your blog and substack, what could they expect to see from you?

Anything in terms of medium — novels, poetry, short stories. Quite frankly, there's a melancholy feeling that permeates almost all my work. They can expect that already. As well as stories with immoral and horrible characters, intense emotions, terrible decisions, and existential themes. Do not expect anything tender or joyful, I've never been good for that sort of things.

and since you claimed you'd give yourself 10 years to write thus saith the lord, i feel like people are in for a pretty intense journey.

that's all i have to talk about. i could speak for much longer but i don't want to take up too much of your space. mind narrating my exit from this little room to close us out?

The teas had been drunk, and the conversation had died. Not an unpleasant silent, but rather the sort of satisfied ending, like after a good meal.

Clove got up. “That's all I have to talk about. I could speak for much longer but I don't want to take up too much of your space." They said.

A kind and polite ending to our conversation. Although it wasn't like I had plenty of people waiting at my door or a full schedule. I nodded, before walking them to the door. We exchanged our goodbyes, and as they walked away, I remembered these words by Shakespeare that I knew by heart:

“And whether we shall meet again I know not. Therefore our everlasting farewell take: For ever, and for ever, farewell, [trustees]! If we do meet again, why, we shall smile; If not, why then, this parting was well made.”

previous stop

[lilac-hecox]

If you're still accepting Damien fic requests, maybe a camp au with a puppy love crush on one of the counselors (Ian or Anthony) and/or having a reciprocated crush on Shayne

I wrote this in the camp au that was written by @wow-ihateithere

Damien/Anthony and Damien/Shayne - Summer Camp

--

“You’re acting like one of your kids,” Angela says with a grin.

“Huh?” Damien says, coming back to his senses, turning his gaze away from where he had been watching Anthony animatedly eating with his campers.

“You’re staring at Anthony like a thirteen-year-old with a crush,” she adds, mimicking a love sick expression.

“Stop!” Damien says, feeling his face get hot. “I am not.”

“You are!” Angela says around giggles. “I hang out with the same age, but the girl version. I can spot a crush a mile away.”

Damien scoffs. That absolutely wasn’t true because if it were Angela would know that Amanda’s been into her since the beginning of summer, instead of being utterly oblivious.

“I don’t have a crush on Anthony,” Damien says more firmly, but his face gets red.

“Okay,” Angela says in a sing-song voice, going back to eating her lunch.

--

Okay, so, maybe Damien did have a small crush, but it’s small! It’s manageable! He just thinks Anthony is cute and funny. He’s good with the kids too. Damien finally accepts the crush on Anthony when he watches Anthony strip off his colorful camp shirt and toss it on the grass up beyond the shore. Anthony is muscled and lean and gorgeous in the bright light of the warm summer day. Damien watches as water splashes on to Anthony as he begins to wade into the lake, Anthony letting out a shriek as the cold-water splashes on him, Ian laughing from where he had committed the crime and swimming away before Anthony could retaliate.

“Mr. Damien! Come on!” one of his students yells from the water. “We need you for chicken!”

Damien smiles and peels off his own t-shirt as he wades into the cool water of the lake.

--

Damien catches Ian and Anthony kissing after one of the staff bonfires in the deep warm night of summer. They are sat together on the same log, Ian’s hands in Anthony’s hair and Anthony’s hands on Ian’s waist. They kiss urgently and fervently in the night, the warm glow of the fire illuminating them.

Damien isn’t crushed. He didn’t need Angela’s supposed ability to see crushes developing to realize that the two counselors liked each other, to see the momentum between them building like an unstoppable freight train where they were always meant to collide.

He vows to let go of his crush that day out of respect for both of the other counselors.

--

What takes him by surprise is when they do the camp talent show Shayne sits next to him while they watch the acts. How whenever Shayne laughs it is so bright and cheery and how more often than not, he’s looking at Damien to see if he’s laughing too.

Damien and Shayne’s talent is performing an improv skit together. They make it cheesy, making the younger kids laugh and the older kids roll their eyes and “die of cringe.” At the end of the skit Shayne gets down on one knee and then offers Damien a plastic flower, declaring his love.

The younger kids giggle, the older one’s groan, the other counselors crack up laughing. Damien accepts the plastic flower, and he sees Shayne smile with bright blue eyes crinkling in the corner, a big cheesy grin on his face. What takes Damien by surprise is the fondness in his heart, the way it speeds up when Shayne pretends to plant a kiss on his cheek, big, wet, and sloppy.

Angela gives him a knowing look from the stands and Damien pointedly ignores her.

--

It’s August when Shayne presses Damien against the side of the staff log cabin and kisses him in the darkness of the night. When he presses his nose against Damien’s and says, “I’ve been waiting all summer to do that.”

There are fireflies all around as Damien leans in and kisses him back.

[biolizardboils]

Hey again.

I was saving this for when I'd wrapped some other stuff up, but it's taking too long. I'm just gonna say it while the words are fresh in my head.

The two-month break I've been on? I think I'm gonna stay on it. As in, stay logged off except on special occasions.

There's still things I want to finish here. I will answer what's left at @ask-the-all-consuming-void and bring it to a proper ending; The Secret Thing it was gonna segue into will go up, even if only as sketches and drafts; And there's another project I'm still helping with behind the scenes. But aside from those… I want to maintain my internet presence a lot less.

I've learned a lot about myself since I left: most importantly the hyper-empathy, compassion fatigue thing, and that being terminally online probably does more harm than help. There's trying to be a good, vigilant person, and then there's overwhelming oneself about things they can't control, with info that isn't always accurate. I've been doing the latter in different ways for years; late April/early May was a big wake-up call. Lesson learned: I've got to find balance, and I won't find it here.

The second-most important thing I learned is that… the reason I "joined" the internet in the first place? It's pretty much been fulfilled. Has been for a few years now, actually.

I made this tumblr in 2015, but I got my real start on deviantART and WordPress in 2011. Don't expect links; what people post in their preteens can stay between them and God lol. But I'll tell you what got me to make accounts: my confusion as a new Sonic fan. The way people talked about them, the way they talked to each other… it hurt to see.

I got it in my preteen head to set a better example. To not let my love for something become disdain for others of its kind. To explain instead of assume. And to assure anyone who'd listen that it's not shameful to like Sonic, that those who do deserve better, and that they could still have it better someday.

And now, 13 years later… we do. The hurtful stuff I saw back then is nearly gone now. When it does pop up, it's easier to counteract than ever. People realize how silly and petty and wrong it was, and can call it out accordingly. People can live a little truer to themselves, now that that shit isn't everywhere anymore.

I think that, specifically, is all I really wanted. Everything else—the reinvigoration of the characters and their world, the downpour in avenues once closed off by "cringe" and "not enough interest"—have been wonderful byproducts. I've been gassing up Sonic Movie 3 as the final step, but it's really more of a victory lap.

After realizing that, I just… don't feel the need to post so much here anymore. My self-worth and sense of morality shouldn't rely on what I do or don't type. I don't need to document every thought or choice I make and why.

The cause I've performed for since middle school no longer needs my time and energy, if it ever even did. I can just enjoy things in relative silence, and spend myself in other ways. Ways I've taken too long to get around.

Sonic Unleashed is what set me down this path. I watched it go from rejected at launch, to just divisive, to respected and beloved. I still wonder if, had it gotten a fairer chance, the current Sonic renaissance could've happened sooner.

But dwelling on that won't change anything. I'd rather dwell on how, this year, I got to scream Endless Possibility with hundreds of other people, loudly and proudly. No fear of who's watching, no need to self-sabotage. It meant the world to me.

There was a con in my area on June 23rd. I wasn't planning on doing anything that day until I heard about it. There was someone in attendance who helped me put a symbolic bow on this part of my life.

I think he did a wonderful job :)

I have one last thing to say before I go. That'll be its own post, so I can put it in the public Sonic tags.

Again, the stuff I've left hanging here will get finished eventually. But for now, this is goodbye.

Moots, followers: thank you so much. I will quite literally remember you all in therapy.

--BiolizardBoils

[yueisyum]

You and jeno?

Note: any questions? Lmk!!! Any suggestions?? Lmk! Any mistakes? Act like you don’t see them! 😚

“Have you ever noticed that mr bluck, never blows his nose? He just sniffs into his mic.” The voice came from next to you, taking your focus from your notes. You turn your head to a tall, keen boy, who’s placing his belongings down and going through his bag. He hasn’t looked at you but you know his statement was directed towards you. He’s been out for a while, so his presence shocked you. Especially since you two have never actually talked.

“What?” you question. Peering at him with the most confused face you could muster up. “Mr bluck? Our professor?” he reminds with a soft chuckle.

“No right, yeah, but… why bring it up?”

You realize a little to late that your words may have come off a bit offensive.

If they did, he wasn’t showing it on his face. “Just wanna make conversation.” He finished unpacking his things before turning his body towards you fully. “I cringe every time I hear him swallow his boogers-“ “-ew” you make an face that causes him to laugh. You shake your head, in attempt to redirect your mind back to the boy.

“Sorry, it was not my intention to put that image into your head” he continues to laugh at when your noes scrunches and your eyes narrow towards the professor, who’s taking a sip of his coffee. You both laugh in unison, causing other students to glare at you two.

“So since I’ve made you laugh, you’ll help me catch up on the week I’ve missed?”

“oh Is that what this is? Just needed the notes?” You ask teasingly, hoping he doesn’t think you’re actually offended. “No, not at all. I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while, I just finally had an excuse” he corrected, shrugging his shoulders, trying to act nonchalant. You watch as he looks away to open his laptop. And to hide his face from you.

“A while? How long is a while?” You ask, now turning your whole body to face him.

“Since you cursed that kid out in the beginning of the semester” he logs into his computer and turns back to you.

“That long?” You hold an exaggerated face.

“That long.” he confirms with a smile.

You to stare at each other for a moment. The silence was about to get awkward when he broke it.

“I have an idea”

“Really what’s that?” You peak at the clock, noting class was about to begin, you keep your attention directed towards him while opening your own laptop. “Me and my Friends have a study night every Wednesday, you should come, and you could catch me up on the book and notes there.”

“No way! I don’t even know your name, how do I know your not a serial killer?” You expressed, bringing your knees up to your chest in ‘fear’. He rolls his eyes and chuckles. You watch him ponder for a moment, but he keeps his gaze on you. “My names Jeno, and If I promise not to kill you, would you come?”

Jeno

Jeno

It’s your turn to ponder. He’s definitely not a serial killer, and he seems nice…

“Pinky promise?” You tease once agaIn. Earning another laugh from him. “Pinky promise” he holds his pinky out towards you and you giggle. Placing your feet back to the ground, leaning forward to seal the deal. “Can you give me your number? I’ll text you the details” he suggested with his finger still intertwined with yours.

“Sure” you wear a bright smile on your face, it was contagious. The sun from outside was making him feel warmer then he already was. it almost felt like he was in a movie, or a book written by some lonely 22 year old. He leans back in his chair after you added your number to his phone.

You two make small talk the rest of the lecture and he was glad he finally found the courage to talk to you. What was he so scared of anyway?

•••

You triple checked the dorm number before knocking. Your bag in hand and your nicest comfortable clothes on your back. Your not sweating because your nervous, it’s definitely just because it’s hot in the mens building.

When the door opens you look to find a different boy then the one you saw in class. But you know this boy, your friends with him, you were surprised to see a friends face at the door.

Not jeno. But Johnny.

“Hey! Y/n? What the heck are you doing here?”

He questions. “Me? What are you doing here, this isn’t your dorm” you fire back. You drop your shoulders, now feeling more relaxed to see a familiar face. “Yeah? Well this isn’t your building!” He argues but his face full of playfulness. “Wait are you… the girl Jeno invited from his class? I didn’t know it was YOU” he makes a face, and you roll your eyes, failing to bite back a smile.

“Ha, and I didn’t know you study” you point to his chest. “I’ll have you know-“

“-hey! Y/n you made it!” Johnny turns to jeno behind him. “Do you two know each other?” He asks, looking between you two, your finger still at Johnny’s chest. “We’re family friends” Johnny answered, finally moving to the side to allow you into the dorm. “Oh really? Well I’m glad you’re already familiar with somone in the group” jeno smiles to you and you reciprocate.

“Yejuns here too” you hear Johnny inform from behind you, as you make your way into the hallway.

•••

He was glad you where here, he really was. But he hated that your eyes were trained into Haechan after introducing everyone. You barley even talked to him, you just watched him and looked at him. Even laughing at all his jokes.

He wasn’t jealous

No

He just wanted to study… yeah… yeah just that.

•••

He’s not bothered when Haechan told Jeno that he likes her after everyone left.

He’s doesn’t care that you two started spending a lot of time together. Even if it seemed like you two where always arguing, he could see the way you two look at each other.

He’s happy for you two, not jealous. Jeno doesn’t like you like that- does he?

It doesn’t matter because it’s obvious that you feel the same way about haechan, as he does about you. So for now he will remain your friend. That’s what he wanted anyway. Just to be your friend…

Note: want to see more into jenos mind? Or more about their friendship? Let me know!!

[ell-vellan]

You know what I miss?

(I'm gonna show my age here with this very specific and niche memory but bear with me. Or don't, whatever!)

Back when I was a kid, middle/high school ish, I frequented Gaia Online. I'm not even sure how to really describe that site (if you remember it, help me out here) but it was mainly an anime-esque forums where people could make different communities about a million different things, but it wasn't just forums. You had an anime avatar that followed you around the site, a currency you used to buy dress up items for your avatar, mini games and a a marketplace. Pretty sure there was some kind of stock market.

This was my online home for years.

I landed, somehow, on the Adoptables forums. Shops, technically, for people to "adopt" pets and then roleplay with them together. Some were original make believe worlds - one of the more popular I can remember was a world of wolf packs with their own lore and setting.

Specifically I remember being active on the Lion King RP forums called I think Shadows of Africa? The artists who ran them would sell colored lineart of lions in the style of the movie, with a little info card that displayed their name and the owner (you).

You couldn't roleplay with other people until you officially had a character through purchase, gift, or contest prize.

Each lion was unique and people gave them names from African languages (that was a rule). People formed entire prides and had special forums just for them, with rosters of who had what character, where you could "hang out" with others in your pride. Your lion would be able to age from cub to teen to adult after you had roleplayed a certain amount of time and applied for it with the artists. Your characters could find mates and breed and the artists would (for Gaia currency) remix the "DNA" of your two characters and you'd get a random number of cubs you could "give away" to friends or even hold contests for others who wanted to play.

I was just thinking about these communities and how much I loved everyone there. How much work these artists put into these communities, often without any real compensation except for pretend money. How elaborate they were. Giant games of pretend with strangers online. I did SO much writing on those RP forums, I actually feel in retrospect like it was a safe place to cut my teeth on writing and it was literally from the point of view from an OC Lion King character.

And there were so many shops like this.

I'm sure there was toxicity in some aspects of these communities, but I don't remember it, at least not to the level of toxicity the Internet gets to now. Maybe it's my rose colored glasses.

But every Christmas, these Adoptables shops would open up for people to Secret Santa gifts to your friends: a randomly colored gift, the .jpg or whatever sent to your inbox, that you could post in your profile or your journal. And on Christmas day, the artists would update all those images, and the wrapped gift would be replaced by a unique pet, randomly created for you by whatever colorists were working for the shop.

Like YES okay I understand how very childish it sounds now. Maybe even cringe.

But I've never found another sort of community like it. (Maybe discord, idk, I was too old and busy to get into discord when it came out.) So many artists doing so much work, just for others to play with pretend pets with their online friends and write silly stories about them together. These were people making dozens, hundreds of unique designs by hand, as far as I'm aware. Their workload had to be stressful. They were probably doing this in between studying or working real jobs.

But to this day, every Christmas, I think about those Secret Santa gifts. And every year I miss that excitement of logging in first thing to see all your gifts 'magically' hatch into adorable little creatures that were unique and yours.

This post doesn't have a point except I'm in my mid-30s and I still miss my online friends that I used to play pretend lions with in middle school. And nothing else has quite matched the very specific excitement of those secret Santa gifts becoming 'real' on Christmas.

And I'm so, so thankful to all the people - likely college students and adults - who did all this work just for fun. And I wanted to share this memory of some old communities that I still think back on fondly. I hope they're doing well in life, wherever they are.

[tpato]

Old piece of writing that I dug up and thought it was deserving of a new life. I’m so in love with my yellow lab irl, so here’s my homage to my living and thriving little bestie. Enjoy, despite the cringe.

As I walked down the deserted highway, I was hyper-aware of every sound. I'd grown accustom to the faint pounding of my own two feet, as well as the tip-tap of the four dog paws that trailed me everywhere. I'd gotten used to the whistling of the wind in the empty, empty silence that usually filled the world around me. But I knew better than to let my guard down.

It's been a year since the official start to the apocalypse. It's been nine months since I've seen my family. Six months since I found out everyone I loved was either dead, or the living-dead.

Well, almost everyone.

The only thing keeping me company anymore was my little fury companion. This dog has brought me protection, comfort, entertainment, and a will to live. I have no idea what the infection would do to an animal, but I do not want to have to find out. I plan to protect this little guy as much as he protects me.

That is why, as I make my weekly trip into town, with him in tow, I'm paying attention to everything around me. I learned the hard way that it would be deadly to assume the creatures with the infection are stupid. They are not the most prime strategists, but they are not stupid. They will sneak up on you. And they know very well how to kill you.

It's still very worth the risk to venture into the deserted town for a clean slate of supplies. Even if they tend to conjugate there. So I slip into an abandoned gas station for what feels like the millionth time, and my heart pounds for what feels like the billionth time. I hate being trapped up in this small space. I make as quick work of this as I can.

I shove as many water bottles as I can carry in my bag, then I take some of the jerky from a shelf on my left. It was when I turned the corner to keep searching quickly for anything that could benefit me that my guardian sniffed the air hard and let out a soft growl. And that was my que.

I shoved everything that was in my hands into my bag, looked at my little follower to make sure he was with me, and ran out the door of the gas station, just to slam it right in the face of one of the more hideous of the creatures that I'd seen. I had rarely been more thankful for a companion with a keen sense of smell then I was in that moment. But we were far from safe.

I figured any commotion would've alerted all near-by creatures, so I took off running and didn't stop when I heard the reassuring sound of the four little paw pads. When I was sure we weren't being followed, I slowed down to a speed walk, and made our way back to "camp."

It was really just a makeshift tent made of a tarp and some string. I had two changes of clothes for myself, dry fire wood kept safely under the tarp, and three thin blankets. I used to have a small supply of food and water, but I seemed only to have replenished half of what I'd sent out to. I would have to venture back into town tomorrow.

Two of my three blankets were stretched across the grassy ground. I sat down on them and stacked a few logs into a small fire, while my furry friend curled up in my lap. I started a fire when the sun had almost finished setting. I was exhausted from my run all the way from town, so I get ready to tuck in early.

I sprawled across the blankets on the ground. The little animal assumed his place by my head, and I gently laid my head on his stomach. I curled up under the singular blanket left and slowly pet my guardian until he fell asleep. I cuddled him close and followed suit soon after.

[letmereadherbertwestfics]

Combstober Day 8

Prompt: Campfire

Character: Mr. Brooks (I Still Know What You Did Last Summer)

Warnings: None

You had never understood why people liked to travel alone. Really, the idea terrified you. Being in an unfamiliar place with nobody else to share the experience with? What was so great about that?

But that was before this trip. 

At the last minute, your friend got a violent case of food poisoning and had to cancel your trip to The Bahamas. While your friend had no choice but to not go, you couldn't afford to pay the fee it took to cancel your flight, and had been looking forward to the trip for so long that you couldn't bring yourself to cancel it. So, leaving your friend behind, you took the trip by yourself. And you had a fantastic time.

You still did everything that you and your friend had planned to do together, except without the stress and annoyance of having to drag someone else along with you. Sure, it was scary being alone at first, but after a night of hanging out at a poolside bar and then not having a wasted friend to drag back to your hotel room, your fears quieted down a bit. 

And now it was your second to last night at the resort, and you were dreading the journey home. Not only because of all of the packing and preparation and the god awful boat and plane rides back to back, but just because you didn't want to leave. Not when you still hadn't gotten to talk to the mystery man behind the check in desk. 

He was a few years older than you, cold and slightly rude, from what you could tell he was your average 'manager who hates his job but still runs the establishment like it's the Navy' types. And his name tag read Jay Brooks. And in your week and a half here, that was all the information you got out of him. 

The two of you had exchanged nothing but casualties and a room key when you checked in, aside from his brief questioning of why the booking was listed as for two and you were only one, and whenever you smiled at him on your way to the pool he would react with either a dismissive stare or even an eye roll. But that didn't sway your interest in him in the slightest. If anything it only encouraged you to keep being pleasant towards him. Maybe before you left he would crack a smile. Or maybe not. Either way, you weren't going to be giving up. 

Today the hotel had banners and fliers put up all over, advertising a bonfire out on the beach. There was going to be music, sparklers, and free drinks. It sounded like the perfect opportunity to waste an hour or two before heading back to your room, so you decided to go. 

When you got to the beach you were only half surprised to see that it was thirty minutes past when the bonfire was supposed to happen and nobody had shown up. If there was one thing you noticed about the guests at this resort, it was that they kept to themselves. The karaoke machine at the bar remained untouched, and the pool was almost as silent as a library aside from the occasional drunk or unruly child. Finding out nobody else had decided to attend this party wasn't too surprising when you thought about it. 

You were about to turn around and head back to your room when you realized there was someone sitting by the bonfire. And it only took a few more seconds for you to recognize the suffocatingly neat dress shirt and tie, and the annoyed scowl of Jay Brooks. This realization made your heart skip a beat, and you approached the bonfire a bit faster than before.

"Am I late to the party?" You asked, immediately cringing at how your voice sounded. Brooks looked up at the sound of a voice, looking you up and down before his gaze returned to the fire. 

"Can't be late when there isn't an event." He said bluntly. You slowly lowered yourself onto the log across from Brooks, the bonfire separating the two of you. 

There was an awkward yet slightly serene silence, the only sounds being the crackling of the fire and the crash of the waves. Brooks continued to stare into the fire while you stared at him, thinking you were going unnoticed until he interrupted your thoughts with a stern look in your direction.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer."

Though Brooks didn't look like he was joking when he said this, you couldn't help but crack a smile. You shifted your gaze to the sand, tucking your hands in your pockets. 

"Sorry." You muttered. Brooks sighed, unsurprisingly going back to looking at the flaming logs. 

"You're the one staying in the Junior Suite?" Brooks asked suddenly, making your head snap up. Before you could ask him how he remembered, he gave you a nervous, almost shy smile and explained without being questioned. "You're the first guest to smile at me in weeks. That made you memorable."

His words made your smile widen. Was Brooks, the mysteriously cold resort manager, actually being nice to you? He actually noticed your acknowledgement instead of brushing you off? The realization that you had read him all wrong made your heart beat just a bit faster. 

Relax, Y/N. You don't even know the guy. 

But you wanted to. That was enough to get you to push any anxiety or insecurity out of your mind and get you to move one log over, closer to Brooks. Once the two of you were sitting directly across from each other, you held out your hand. 

[porcelainmortal]

Prompt Idea….

Cosmic Dancer

Pez/anyone (1 or multiple people)

-Freyja (I’m on my other blog and am too lazy to log out and log back in 😂)

Thank you for the prompt, @freyjaexplores!! You know I'd do anything for you but girl, this one made me think. I hope you love it!!

🔮 Cosmic Dancer - Pez/Henry/Alex (Platonic)

Pez dances like he was born to do it. In fact, as he tells it, he danced his way right out of the womb. Henry had cringed when he first made that joke, but that only meant that Pez would repeat it with a cheeky grin in Henry’s direction whenever anyone, anywhere, commented on his dancing. 

Henry spent years in Uni being dragged onto dance floors by Pez, only to get self-conscious in 5.8 seconds flat and retreat to the nearest booth or chair to tap his foot and drink in peace. It’s not that Henry hates dancing, it’s just that he’s not comfortable doing so in public. Ballroom dancing at an event, for which he’s been extensively trained, is one thing. Gyrating awkwardly in a club to music he’s never heard before is another thing entirely. 

But now, he’s watching Pez dance with his boyfriend, who also dances like he was born to do it and it’s not making Henry jealous, exactly, but there is a yearning within him that he can’t deny. He and Alex dance together in private, and once the fascination with their relationship died down a bit, they even began slow dancing at official events whenever the mood struck. But Henry still shies away from dancing in these types of environments, where he feels woefully out of place.

Usually, he’s happy to watch his friends hit the floor and have a good time – even if Alex has professed, on several occasions, how much more fun it would be to dance with Henry – but tonight, Henry’s feeling restless and unsettled. Maybe he’s had too much to drink, or maybe it’s because he and Alex recently spent two weeks apart and he’s feeling needy, but Henry is currently at war with himself about whether to get up and go join his two favourite people on the dance floor. 

At that moment, Alex glances over and catches his eye. The smile Alex sends him has Henry’s heart skipping a beat, as if they’ve only been together a few weeks rather than a few years. He supposes it will be the same after a few decades, too. Alex must see something on Henry’s face because he starts making his way over.

“Hey, baby.” Alex plants himself sideways in Henry’s lap, one hand coming up to thread through his hair, and his lips finding Henry’s for a chaste but sweet kiss. “You doing okay over here?”

“I’m fine,” Henry replies, though it’s not entirely true. “Are you having fun?”

“It’d be more fun with you,” Alex grins. So predictable. “Are you sure you don’t want to join us?”

Henry’s hesitation must give him away because the next thing he knows, Alex is standing and pulling him up, dragging him towards the dance floor. Pez looks delighted to see Henry coming over and it’s infectious, so Henry smiles back, oddly excited. But for all his eagerness moments ago, Henry freezes when he gets into the throng of bodies, his old insecurities coming back in full force. 

“Come on, baby, just follow me,” Alex murmurs in Henry’s ear. He gets his hands on Henry’s hips and starts to guide him, but Henry feels stiff and awkward. Alex slots a leg between Henry’s, bringing their lower halves together, then leans up and kisses him. It’s deep and erotic and a little bit filthy, and Alex just keeps moving, dancing against Henry until his body responds in kind.

When Henry is half-hard and out of breath, Alex pulls back and smiles. 

“See, I knew you could do it.”

And Henry realises that he’s dancing. He’s moving to the beat, pressed against Alex, and his previous insecurities are nowhere to be found. Alex turns around, leaning back against Henry as he dances and pulling Henry’s hands to settle on his hips. Pez slots himself behind Henry – at a slightly more respectable distance – and makes the three of them into a dancing sandwich in the middle of the packed dance floor. 

Henry may not have been born to dance, but here in the dark, with his best mate and his boyfriend, he can pretend. If only for a few hours.

Ficlet Friday Prompts

[optimizim]

tell me abt your ocz?? (>_<)//

(first of all woah my first ask! yippee!) (second of all. this got long. i'm so very sorry.)

skutz, skee and poot are their names! i don't have them developed as much as i want to; i've just broken back into the oc-o-sphere after a couple of years of succumbing to cringe culture.

skee is a, hm, xenoecologist? 🤔 it's a really cushy job, even though it sounds scientific. he's tall, impressively so, but flunked out of invader training and sucks at anything that requires a lot of long-term commitment. essentially, his job is to explore planets with No Sentient Lifeforms and log anything interesting he finds; anything that could be useful for the empire. he's kind of bitter about sucking at every job he's ever tried but he's also not self-aware enough to make any sort of genuine improvement in his life B^)

poot is the irken equivalent of a NEET. yeah TECHNICALLY he has a job. he's skee's """"assistant"""". skee is fond of him and since poot livens up the base on whatever planet they're on, he gets to loiter doing barely anything. he's loyal, upbeat, generous, and also INCREDIBLY stupid. he's less xenophobic than most of his fellow irkens but also genuinely not any threat to the empire whatsoever by virtue of his sheer stupidity. talking to him would probably be pretty grating (and you'd feel bad for not liking him because has good intentions 😬)

(there is NO way they'd have a SIR unit. why did i draw that!!!)

skutz doesn't even really know those two even tho i drew them together. he's the one i like to think about in bed before i go to sleep :,) he's yer standard irken piece of shit. short, but "pulled himself up by the bootstraps" and got a job overlooking drones and laborers, where he got to ego trip around people who couldn't really do anything about it. way too cocky and ambitious, he took a "great opportunity!!!" to test out the interdimensional tech that was being developed in his universe. he thought he'd get famous but he ended up getting catapulted into a dimension where irkens don't exist and had to kinda rawdog existing in a universe where he has absolutely 0 influence.

i've been thinking about what aliens he might encounter in this dimension and i like the idea that they'd be VERY nature heavy but not in a way that's disconnected from technology; maybe irkens even used to exist in this dimension but their tech was absorbed into this other empire instead of em achieving dominance. but! that universe is secondary to most of my thoughts about my ocs, and i just like to think about the possibilities there before i go to bed. skee and poot have a muuuch more canon adherent sort of deal, and skutz is easy to adapt for that too.

WOW and that ended up being a lot but i'm glad its written down somewhere now 👍

[xanderxone]

9/19/2023

You Might Not Be Sleeping Right

Have you ever heard of Delayed Sleep Phase Disorder? No? Have you ever heard someone (perhaps yourself) call themselves a "Night Owl"? Well, friend, I'm here to tell you that those two are the same thing.

I have always struggled to wake up in the morning. If my alarm is set for anything earlier than 9am, there is a 95% chance that I will spend my entire day tired. And no matter how long and hard I tried to shift my sleep/wake cycle to be more normal, my body refuses to get tired earlier than 1am. And for basically my entire life, I have fought the instinct to stay up late and sleep in because I knew it wasn't "right." You're "supposed" to get tired a few hours after sundown and then wake up soon after the sun comes up. But what happens when you just don't?

You read a few abstracts for a few studies. Well. That's what you do if you're me at least. Joveveska, et. al., (2020) conducted an online survey and concluded that "problematic sleep was more common for the autistic participants... and autistic participants had poorer sleep quality and longer sleep onset latency" (takes them longer to fall asleep). This same study goes on to highlight that AFAB Autists™ between the ages of 20-59 are the most likely to experience sleep problems. And guess who is all three of those things? Not only that, but a different study conducted in 2017 concluded that delayed sleep phase disorder is "particularly common in adults with ASD" (Baker, 2017).

So now you may be asking, what is the point of all the research for this journal that probably no one but my wife will ever read? Well, two reasons. One, it fights my imposter syndrome to see that studies back up my real life experiences. And two, because I was that kid that was way too fucking invested in English class in high school. I'm cringe, sue me.

About a week ago, as a part of my ongoing quarter-life crisis about my identity and how I've been living my life wrong for 20 something years, I finally said "fuck it." I'm done trying to go to sleep early and wake up early. I am so lucky to have a job that lets me be flexible with my hours, so now instead of trying to go to bed by 10:30 and wake up at 7, I started going to bed around 1am (when I get tired) and waking up around 9am (almost NATURALLY & WITHOUT AN ALARM ON ONE OF THE DAYS. I was shook). And I get logged-in to work by around 9:30/9:45 and even though it means working later in the evening, my life has completely flipped, turned upside down (I'm cringe, sue me). I feel so much more alert during the day and I fall asleep so easily and naturally (without needing to be stoned). I honestly feel like a kid on summer vacation again and it is AMAZING. I am going to keep monitoring my sleep quality and alertness during the day but I think I might have found one of the pieces that my life was missing.

After all that shenanigans, today's takeaway is this: if you think you might be a night owl and you have a job that allows you flexibility with your schedule, I highly recommend trying just going to sleep when you're tired and waking up when it feels natural for a week or two and then design your life around that. It's worth a shot!

And before you ask, yes, I did just cite a study in (shitty) APA format in my journal post. I'll do it again, too. I'm cringe, sue me.

-Xander

Baker, E. K., & Richdale, A. L. (2017). Examining the Behavioural Sleep-Wake Rhythm in Adults with Autism Spectrum Disorder and No Comorbid Intellectual Disability. Journal of autism and developmental disorders, 47(4), 1207–1222. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10803-017-3042-3

Jovevska, S., Richdale, A. L., Lawson, L. P., Uljarević, M., Arnold, S. R. C., & Trollor, J. N. (2020). Sleep Quality in Autism from Adolescence to Old Age. Autism in adulthood : challenges and management, 2(2), 152–162. https://doi.org/10.1089/aut.2019.0034