#don't tag as anything weird or i will do a murder

[linterteatime]

Redraw of the most epic undertale sticker

[chaoticlandworlder]

What is with the practically psychotic hate for Lance Stroll? I'm not even his fan- more indifferent- but the hate he gets is sickening. Like just see the recent 'Never have I ever' vid- so many top comments on youtube, instagram etc. are just spouting shit about him (attacking his looks, calling him window licker wtf etc.) based off the 'Never have I ever stood up someone question' (and of course they conveniently ignore all the other drivers that also said they have because it's trendy to hate on Stroll).

Of course, standing up someone sucks but first of all we have no context at all, and more importantly, it's clear the commenters don't actl give a shit about that because they're only hating on Stroll. This is literally just one instance of the way these F1 'fans' are so quick to seize any opportunity to put down Lance. Honestly, it's so off-putting, pathetic and sad.

[mothwingedmyths]

This took so freaking long

[throes-of-warm-tornadoes]

the 2001 planet of the apes is so good to me. like, the 1968 version will always have a special place in my heart because the makeup magic was... dare i say... very magical, but i liked how the 2001 one leaned into a more biologically accurate angle. like, those are straight up apes. no wonder humans aren’t speaking as a survival tactic, those things could hurt you without even trying. again, the 1968 one was so good and impressive but the fact that taylor could overpower the actors that were playing gorillas was a little jarring lol. which makes sense, cos so much of his escape plan relied on him being strong enough to push people out of the way.

this isn't a complaint btw! they're just people in costumes---they are still very much giving ape, but there wasn't much they could do about that on a physical level. so, when the 2001 had these big hulking gorillas and more accurate looking chimpanzee faces on the screen, i appreciated that detail about the humans exploiting their fear of the water. it leveled the playing field without making the fight against the apes look like a losing battle

[dropespeon]

i Need to write something about dcmk because i just have so many thoughts and nothing i've read has done it for me but I do not know what. But I need to write Something

[vanmarkus]

goddamnit. this post was about if a ship would "make sense" in canon context, but now i gotta point out that there is no way a ship can be illegal. because again, fictional people aren't real.

incest and underage and whathaveyou might make you feel uncomfortable, but as long as it's fiction and no real people are being put into a situation of harm, it's not illegal jfc. grow up.

i've been in fandom spaces for about 18 years or so at this point and i never thought we'd hit a point where this has to be said

[neverendingford]

,

[the--queen-of--hell]

I don't know what to think about anti proshippers anymore.

Antishippers say "stop normalizing child x adult ships" "stop normalizing incest" "stop romanticizing child x adult ships" "stop romanticizing incest" while being okay with romanticizing murder in some shows/movies and romanticizing cannibalism in some shows/movies. I didn't see any antiship throw hands the moment someone said "I like Hannibal" although it romanticize cannibalism. It's weird, isn't it?

Antishippers say "shipping fictional minor x adult ships is gross and disgusting" "shipping fictional incest ships is gross and disgusting" and "shipping X is gross and digusting" while being okay with telling real people to kill themselves. While being okay with telling real people "you should be raped" "you should be tortured" "you should burn in hell" and more things. Do you even pay attention to your actions and the actions of other people? How shipping two characters is worse than telling a real person "kill yourself"????

Antishippers say "you are gross" "you need help" "you're insane" "you need therapy" while being the ones who tell proshippers "you deserve to have trauma" "you deserved to be raped" (for those proshippers who were raped and were told they deserved it by antis- I'm so sorry). I'm no therapist, but if I were I would honestly find more disturbing an anti saying "kys" to a real person than a proshipper liking problematic fictional content.

Antishippers say "protect the children" "children could see this and think it's okay" "victims of pedophiles/abuse don't deserve someone romanticizing their trauma". You have no right to claim you want to protect children when you're harassing or telling children to kill themselves. Because yes, in the proship community there are minors. And no, they haven't been groomed into being a proship. Actually, if anything, they would have been groomed into being an antiship because they're scared of people telling them "kys" "you're a pedo" "you're fucking disgusting". And what are children doing in Tumblr/AO3/Wattpad anyways? They're not supposed to be here. They're not supposed to see content not made for them. If they are in these websites, I'm worried about why their parents aren't there to tell them "this is not a safe place for you". And if people were hurt by real pedophiles or were abused, I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry for them. But why the hell they're seeing fictional content that triggers them? If it upsets them, then block the content, ignore its existence, and trust me, you will feel less upset and more happy.

Antishippers say "you deserve to be harassed" "if you don't want to be harassed then stop being weird" "if you don't want to be harassed then stop sharing that type of content". Do you realize you sound like those people who say "if you don't want to be harassed for being gay, then don't be gay" "if you don't want to be harassed for being trans, then don't be trans" "if you don't want to be bullied, then stop being a weirdo", right? Or you didn't realize that?

Antishippers say "this ship is fucking gross" "this ship is fucking disgusting". I'm sorry, didn't you see the thing that said "block button" "filter tags"? Because you can do that. If you don't like some kind of content, use the filter tags/block button. Watch the content you want to see. Use the block button and filter the tags. Search for the ships you like instead of the ships you don't like. I forgot something? Oh yeah. Use. the. block. button. and filter. the. tags.

Antishippers say "why there are so many fics of these ships on AO3?" "why people are so gross?" "why people have to write about this?". Bro- I'm sorry that you didn't realize before but- AO3. IS. A. FUCKING. WEBSITE. FOR. PROSHIPPERS. So don't start with the "Proship DNI" in your tags because AO3 is a PROSHIP web. If you don't like it, GET OUT of AO3 and go WATTPAD or FANFICTION. AO3 is for PROSHIPPERS and we're TIRED of your "Proship DNI" bullshit.

Antiship community is honestly one of the worst communities I've ever seen. There's no other community so inmoral, digusting, and horrible in the Internet.

To my proshippers fellows, if I forgot something antis say you're free to add it.

[sirhamburrger]

and some roommates (don't worry, we're cool!)

a/n: thinking silly thoughts today... having sae itoshi and ryusei shidou as roommates while getting involved with rin itoshi… (unrealistic since they'd both probably be really rich by the end of bllk, whenever that is, or adulthood) for the purpose of this drabble please pretend they are two broke boys 🙏

wc: 739 || tags: all characters are 18+, gn!reader, reader is in uni, situationship ryusae once again putting the bl in blue lock, background rin x reader, 700 words of domestic crack and more || header from bllk manga

(continued here in my christmas miniseries, more rin x reader centric)

it all begins when you're looking for an apartment in downtown tokyo. but since you can't afford one of your own at the moment, you're looking to see if anyone could use another roommate to split rent with.

and after days of scouring the internet, you find a promising place. clean, well-furnished, spacious - but there's already a couple living together in it...

oh well. the more the better. 

so you show up at their door after a couple of text messages exchanged with one of the very enthusiastic co-tenants, hoping to get a better look at the place. you ring the bell. no response. you try again. and again. maybe they're out -

“shidou, will you just get the damn door already?”

oh. okay.

the door finally swings open, and you're greeted by a tall, tan-skinned and vaguely familiar-looking man with a terrifying grin. you take a step back, a little shocked, but he just beams at you.

“you're the one who's been messaging me about the apartment, aren’tcha? come on in!”

he loops an arm around your shoulder, introducing himself as he walks you in. he's ryusei shidou, a member of the national football team who played in an exhibition match a few years back (which explains why you find him so familiar).

“so, uh…” you shudder slightly when shidou fixes his gaze on you. “where's your girlfriend? or, uh, boyfriend, i guess. partner. i should probably meet them.”

and it's at this moment that you abandon your inital thoughts of finding another place because sae freaking itoshi steps into the kitchen??

you think you might just faint. 

“o-oh my gosh, sae,” you stammer,  “it's an honour to meet you –”

he stares at you blankly, then at shidou with murderous intent in his eyes.

“who is this?”

“i'm not, like, a side chick or anything,” you quickly clarify, but shidou simply grins.

“we need someone to split rent with, and-”

“and i thought i would just check your place out, seeing as i'm in the same boat,” you finish. “but you two, as a couple, should probably discuss this. you know what? i can wait outside-"

“wait,” sae says slowly, pure, unadulterated disgust in his eyes. “he told you we're a couple?”

shidou's face falls. "we're not?"

and that's the story of how you move in with two men around your age who have some weird dynamic going on that you don't question.

japan's talented young midfielder is a great roommate (then again, you did go into this with no expectations whatsoever). he does the dishes when he's supposed to, takes the heavier bags off your hands during grocery runs with you, stays quiet after ten pm. he makes breakfast for you and shidou in the mornings, and teaches you about football.

ryusei shidou, though... oh, you get why sae's so sick of him now.

he takes the most massive dumps in the bathroom and doesn't flush. or put the seat back up after he's done. or turn the tap off properly. (he's flooded the sink before.) speaking of sinks, he leaves his dirty dishes in the sink. sometimes you want to tear his diabolical dye job off his scalp. sae informs you he has has tried just that and failed to do so.

but he does make you laugh a lot with his jokes and antics.

"one thing you should know about genius sae-chan is that he loves back hugs." "please don't speak for me."

and the two of you absolutely love making fun of sae's attempts to properly reconcile with his brother. you'll be peering over at his phone screen, ryusei on his right and you on his left, as he types out something about lunch plans tomorrow.

"you spelled 'restaurant' wrong for a second there."

ryusei dodges the pillow that comes flying at his face.

they've known each other for longer than you've known them, but they tell you things they wouldn't ever tell the other. like when ryusei quietly admitted to you one night, that despite all his careless flirting, he does really want to be with sae, in a more-than-friends kind of way. or like when sae told you in confidence that he secretly likes ryusei's back hugs.

and when against all odds, a certain green-haired boy in your lectures starts talking to you, you shudder to think that you now have something in common with ryusei - being deeply obsessed with an itoshi sibling.

bllk masterlist || general masterlist

© sirhamburrger 2024

[zae-heeyyy]

Valor

Summary: Arthur takes you on one of his adventures. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!Reader Word Count: 1,760 Trigger Warning: Animal attack, angry-ish Arthur, violence Tags: mid- high honor Arthur, damsel in destress, fluff, and angst

a/n: Hey y'all! It's been a while since I posted because life is crazy right now. This is a request from @littlemistey. I'm paraphrasing from our convo, "Arthur x reader where the reader is saved by Arthur from almost being mauled by a cougar or a pack of wolves." Sketches are copied/cut from Arthur's journal. A classic "Arthur Morgan, please save me" trope. Thanks for reading!

Valor: Great courage in the face of danger, especially in battle. It denotes bravery and heroism, particularly in challenging or risky situations.

The bones in your wrists ached with the numbing weight of boredom as another morning of chores lumbered on. In, around, under, off. In, around, under, off. In, around, under, off. Intertwined pieces of yarn grew longer at your feet as the knitting cadence played in your head. You'd zoned out, daydreaming of anything more exciting than this.

A rhythmic clank of guns on a belt alerted you to your approaching burly cowboy.

You would've been glad to see him any other time, but your contempt for your chores and an odd hat on his head made you groan with irritation. A lit cigarette sat snug between his lips as he talked, muffling his speech.

"Why you sittin' here with your lip stuck out?" he asked, adjusting his belt and sitting beside you on a wooden crate. He tossed the cigarette away, leaned over to kiss the temple of your head, and placed a hand on the small of your back.

"Bored outta my mind," you complained. The sun reflected off a shiny decorative piece on his hat, making you squint. "And why are you wearing that stupid hat?"

"What?" he opened his hands out questioningly with a goofy grin stretched across his face. "A man keeps this camp afloat, and he can't even wear a nice hat without his lady callin' it stupid."  

You rolled your eyes and gestured to all the women in the camp, cleaning tables and guns, sewing, and helping with dinner.

"No, we keep this camp afloat while you men are out doing god knows what," you said, your stitches getting sloppier as your vexation grew. "I'm losing my mind here. Meanwhile, you come back with fancy trinkets, weird statues, emeralds, and crazy hats! You know, I think you do the robbing and hunting only sometimes, and when that's done, you're just out there playing around!"

You finally stopped knitting and turned to Arthur, whose playful grin had faltered into a thoughtful glance. You continued your monologue, "Ugh! I swear, if you don't get me outta here, I'm gonna stab Grimshaw through the eye with this needle!"

You held the sharp point inches away from Arthur's face, prompting him to snatch it from you. "Alright, easy there." He grabbed your hand in two of his gloved ones and glanced at it from under the brim of his hat, thinking for a long moment, "Fine, you can come with me long as nobody gets stabbed. Can't have a degenerate murderer loose in this camp, now, can we?"

Ignoring his sarcasm, you squealed excitedly and jumped up from your spot, pulling on Arthur's arm to make him stand, too.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," you said between the many kisses you laid on him. He stilled you with firm hands on your waist and chuckled.

"I reckon it won't be as exciting as you think, but I can't say no to you."

Within a few minutes, you were ready to go, aiming and checking the ammo on a varmint rifle that Arthur had given you.

"Met a strange feller, Algernon Wasp. He's a— he has— well, he— he's an artist, I guess; he's paying me to collect some stuff for his, uh, creations. Bird feathers, orchids, that kind of stuff. Would be faster with the two of us."

And that's how you found yourself in the swamps of Lemoyne with the varmint rifle slung over your shoulder as you swatted away mosquitoes and sweated your ass off. You were hot, thirsty, and worst of all, you'd only found four of the seven cigar orchids you needed.

Mud squelched under your feet as you followed behind Arthur; you spoke exasperatedly, "how much is this fool paying you for all this?"

Arthur had gone quieter as you'd gotten more frustrated over the hours. Both of you were starting to regret this decision.

"I don't know. Money is money," he said dismissively, his head on a swivel and eyes focused. You were bothered that he could so easily spot plants and always knew which direction to go, expecting you to keep pace with his long strides when mud weighed down your skirts, slowing you down. You knew it was irrational, but you were mad at him for dragging you out here despite your near begging.

The heat was getting to you, and you'd lost control of the filter from your brain to your mouth. Arthur was a few feet ahead when you started your mumbling, "goddamn swamps is no place for a lady. Gators, mud, bugs and—" You didn't get to finish your sentence before Arthur spun and made two giant steps toward you, jaw clenched.

"You got something to say?"

You crossed your arms, defiant. Arthur's reputation as a vicious intimidator didn't phase you, though. He wouldn't lay a finger on you; you both knew it. You rolled your eyes and said, "this is as boring as being back at camp, except I'm all dirty now."

He stepped closer into your space, his angry eyes searching yours. He spoke in a low volume that would scare anybody but you: "This is what you wanted, woman, so don't go gettin' mad at me because things ain't all neat and proper."

Were you frightened by him? No. Were your feelings hurt? Yes. You scoffed and nodded slowly while you spoke, "You're right. I'm gonna head to camp. I'll see you when you get back."

You didn't give him the chance to respond before you trudged in the other direction, clicking for your horse waiting nearby. Arthur watched you go until he lost sight of you in the overgrown vegetation.

Then you were on the road, your horse at a trot, when something in his line of vision spooked him. Before you could even react, you were bucked off, your head hitting the ground with a thud. Despite the pain, you knew better than to just lay there. Gators and snakes were everywhere, but only something notably terrifying would scare off your Andalusian. You took the rifle off your back, pointing it aimlessly all around, trying to focus your spinning vision on the threat beyond.

Before you could blink, a big cat took hold of your leg through your skirt. You shot wildly once, twice, then three times before the beast let go of you. Screaming at the top of your lungs, you scrambled backward as more bullets rang out from your low-caliber weapon. Hoping and praying, you squeezed the trigger one last time. Eyes closed, you prepared for the inevitable when a louder shot rang out somewhere near you.

When pain and death didn't come, you opened your eyes to see Arthur standing over you, concern distorting his face. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead, and he huffed, trying to catch his breath. His hands scoured every inch of you, searching for signs of bleeding. Panic started to set in again when you realized you couldn't feel anything; you held your breath as Arthur pulled up the hem of your dress, bracing for the worst.

You breathed a sigh of relief and let your head fall back onto the ground. The puncture was minor, no worse than a needle prick. Arthur stood, using his arm to wipe away the perspiration that had soaked him. Then his anger started up again.

"Can't go getting hurt like that, girl. Shouldn't've let you run off by yourself. If something happened to you, I'd—"

"Shut up, Arthur," you rose back up and tried to smile through your unease. "I'm fine, thanks to you."

He held out a hand to pull you back to your feet, then wrapped his arms around you tight. His heart hammered against his chest, and you could hear your blood rushing through your ears. Then you finally let yourself cry in the safety of all his bulk.

"I'm sorry, sweet girl; I'm sorry." Every shakey inhale, sob, and gasp from you ripped him apart from the inside out. He was supposed to be looking after you, always, but his hardheadedness and pride left you vulnerable. Killing was the one thing he knew he was good for, and to almost fail at the cost of your life made his insides rot with guilt.

He peeled you away from his chest and cupped your face, "I won't let anything else happen to you, ya' hear?" You nodded, and he wiped dirt and tears away from your cheek with a big thumb and brought you back into him, stroking the back of your head. After a long moment, he retrieved your horse, helped you, and then rode beside you the whole way back to camp.

The next day, you gladly did your chores while Arthur went on his adventures. You didn't complain in the comfort and safety of a shade tree and other skilled gunmen. You were sitting in his tent when Arthur returned in the evening, now wearing his regular gambler's hat and carrying another adorned with floral designs and a peacock feather.

He greeted you with a peck on your cheek, joined you on the cot, and talked through a crooked smile, "found the rest of those orchids today and gave 'em to Algernon. Took this instead of the money. Think he was happier with that trade, anyway."  

The closer you looked at the beautiful monstrosity, the more you had to fight off your reaction. It was undeniably unique, but you couldn't image anyone wearing it seriously.

"It's um—," You covered your mouth to stifle your giggle, but your quaking shoulders gave you away. To your relief, Arthur joined in your laugh and placed the hat atop your head.

"He tried to give it to me, made me try it on, but I figured it'd look better on you. Now we both got a crazy hat."

The idea of Arthur standing in front of a mirror in the hat with all his hardened features made you throw your head back in near hysterics.

"Well, I will cherish that image and this hat forever. Thank you." Arthur's face softened as your amusement died down, then morphed into a lamentable combination of worry and self-loathing. You recognized it all too well.  

He stroked your face with the back of his hand and spoke in a hushed tone, "I'm sorry, again, for letting you go off by yourself like that. I—"

You silenced him with your lips, pushing him onto his back and mounting him. Your new hat fell away along with his worry as you showed him just how appreciative you were.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐄𝖝𝖊𝖈𝖚𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖗 | Teaser

When second chances are wasted, there's only one thing left to do.

Tags/Warnings: Dystopian AU, Werewolf AU, Alpha!Jungkook, Omega!Reader, Angst, Some fluff, romance but he's a bit weird about it pls let him cook he's awkward okay, Violence, crime and.. bad stuff.

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: oh look another werewolf fic oops. BTW if you do not like any of the tags or the trailer doesnt vibe with you, don't read the story. I literally have tons of other content for you instead. Thanks.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

“Do you think that people can change?”

No. Jungkook does not believe that people have the ability to shed their dark desires once they've shown their ugly faces to the world. Once someone has lost control over themselves and their inner demons even just once, it’s over. A wolf's inner beast set free won’t be tamed again, by anyone. There is no coming back from that- and a crime committed has to be punished, especially when there’s not even any effort put into areas trying to redeem one’s self. second chances should always be valued highly if given-

Because everyone has to face judgement for their actions, and if those second chances are wasted, he is the man who will execute the fitting punishment.

Jungkook doesn't believe in second chances.

A man who’s laid his hand on his wife will never truly change his mind and put the shackles onto himself after the line has been crossed. A cheating spouse will not suddenly become loyal as a dog again just because they realize the hurt they’ve caused. A murderer can’t give back the life they’ve taken even if they desperately want to. A young wolf lost to a frenzy can’t gain back their sanity with the snap of a finger.

He is part of the new world’s law.

Violence is the punishment put on people who can’t seem to keep themselves in check even after second chances. Violence is the final answer to the worst of the worst, the people who will never change.

Violence is the thing that changes people- from being alive to no longer being a threat to anyone ever again.

To Jungkook, these people are like maggots, infesting the cities and homes of families who just want to exist and live. Jungkook is the pest control, he removes those insects, cleans out the infestations.

Saves potential victims.

“I didn’t do anything!” the man slurs a little, alcohol in his veins causing him to visibly struggle with his bodily functions, even if he wants to desperately be sober in this moment. You’re sitting in the corner still, watching, well aware not to interfere with a man sent by the people in charge of the wolf’s law to carry out the final judgement.

“Evasion. Armed robbery, twice. Domestic abuse, twice. Attempted kidnap of a child while intoxicated.” Jungkook lists, having memorized what this person is being accused of- or rather yet, has already been judged for in the past. “You’ve shown that you do not aim to change.” He says, not even looking at you once. Instead, he just walks closer, like a predator, staring down his prey. “And now, keeping an omega hostage? Not exactly the actions of a man innocent.”

“I-“ the man tries, but he doesn’t get far with his words. “-There’s- nothing happened- Tell him! Nothing happened, right-?” He asks you, who’s staring him down.

Jungkook looks at you as well now, awaiting your answer.

You’ve got a life in your hands.

Your lips part, but you can’t speak- when suddenly, the man moves again, lifts his hand as he steps towards you, ready to intimidate you into answering if needed- but Jungkook is faster, having seen enough. Even if nothing happened- yet- surely if he was to leave, you’d be another body found. “Where- where are you taking me?” the man begs to know, unable to really go against the hand that holds the back of his head by the hair, fingers tightly dug into the locks to have a secure hold on him as he drags him into a corner or the small, run down house.

In this moment, Jungkook looks like a different person to you. There’s no trace of the man who just wants to help others. The hands that force this stranger to his knees aren’t the same that helped you stand earlier that day, hold gentle and without any intention to hurt. Those eyes are dark as coal, like two black voids swallowing any reflection whole.

“I'll take you straight to hell, where you belong.” Jungkook simply answers the man, before he lets go-

And takes out his gun, to fire the first shot of many.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Zipper

Day #12 - Prompt: Ow! | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Aftermath of a Sex Injury | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Minor Steddie | Tags: Gareth's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, And Eddie Tries To Make It Better, While Goodie Tries To Make It Worse

"Is it bad? It feels bad," Gareth says, clearly refusing to look down again. And, he's gotta say, Eddie doesn't blame him. He wouldn't want to look down either if it was his dick in this condition.

"Well," Eddie says, as diplomatically as he can, "it's not great."

Gareth whines from his place on the closed toilet seat, as Eddie is squatted down between his thighs. Looking, examining. 

"It's probably gonna fall off," Goodie chimes in, and Eddie reaches over and swats at him. 

"Stop it," Eddie chides, because that's not gonna help anything, then he reassures Gareth, "It's not gonna fall off."

Goodie laughs his ass off, and Eddie's gonna kill him if he keeps this up. Gareth's freaked out enough as it is. These things happen, and yeah, Gareth seems more prone to stupid accidents than the rest of them. But still. This is brand new territory, even for him.

But Eddie's pretty sure it probably feels like it's gonna fall off, even if it isn't, because goddamn, fucking ow. 

The door out in the main room of the hotel opens and closes, and then Jeff is in the doorway of the bathroom, asking, "Why does it look like Eddie's examining Gareth's dick?"

"Because he is. Gareth tried to rub it off," Goodie says, dryly.

"He didn't try to rub it off," Eddie clarifies. 

Jeff leans over Eddie's shoulder, "Looks like he tried to rub it off."

"I didn't try to rub it off!" Gareth shouts. "If you aren't gonna tell me what I need to do to fix it, then let's all stop looking at my junk."

Eddie laughs, because it's ridiculous. It's not like he asked to look. Definitely not. Eddie lifts it up one more time, and man, it looks like he's been stabbed in the dick with an icepick, right under the head.

"What happened?" Jeff asks, and Gareth sighs, because he's already been through this twice before and he's beyond fed up. He told Eddie, and then told it all again to Goodie when he showed up, even if he really didn't want to, Eddie's sure. 

And now Jeff is here and wanting to know, too.

"So, I was fooling around with this girl last night," Gareth says, like he's giving witness testimony in a murder trial and not a sex story.

"And she bit your dick?" Jeff asks. 

"Tried to Lorena Bobbitt it right off," Goodie riffs.

"Yeah, with her teeth," Eddie adds, piling onto the bit. Can't help it. He feels sorry for the kid, but not that sorry.

"Guys!" Gareth shouts, and they all fucking laugh. But let him continue.

"We were fooling around, and she was grinding on my lap, my cock, and it got caught up against my zipper in a weird way," Gareth says, and the rest of them all shift uncomfortably, as if their dicks might be the next in line for such an injury.

"It didn't hurt while it was happening?" Jeff asks, being far more empathetic and reasonable than Eddie thinks Goodie or him have been.

"Of course it fucking hurt, she was rubbing a hole into my goddamn dick through my underwear with little metal teeth."

"Well, why didn't you stop her?" Jeff asks, like a reasonable solution to this would ever be the answer. 

"Because there was a girl grinding on my dick, Jesus H. Christ, why do you think, asshole?" Gareth snaps, and they all laugh. 

"I mean, you could have paused and done some rearranging, right? The options couldn't have only been 'no grinding' or 'hole in the dick', right?"

"I don't know, I didn't want her to stop what she was doing. Okay? It felt good, except for the whole making an extra hole in my dick part."

"Of course," Goodie says dryly, "that makes sense."

"Shut up, Goodie. Like you'd have ever stopped a fucking hot girl from grinding your dick down to a bloody nub," Gareth snips, covering his face with both of his hands. "Just fix it, Eddie."

Eddie isn't sure how he's supposed to fix this. It's just gonna have to heal. He can't make a hole in the dick go away. He's not a magician.

"Did you have sex like this?" Jeff asks.

"Are you crazy? I have a hole in my dick, no, I didn't have sex. I have a hole in my dick and I didn't even come. I have regrets."

And they all laugh.

Gareth's had enough, Eddie can tell.

"Okay, okay, show's over," Eddie says, and shoos the other two out of the room, the door closing behind them as they go, and then it's just him, still perched between Gareth's thighs.

Once it's just them left in the bathroom, Eddie looks up at Gareth, "Do you think you need to go to the ER?"

Gareth shakes his head, "No. It just really fucking hurts. I regret everything."

Eddie smiles, but keeps himself from laughing. It's hilarious, but it probably feels like a razor blade's stuck into his dick. It's the stuff of nightmares.

Eddie nods at him, "Okay. Then take a shower. Wash it really fucking good with soap, even if it burns, and then put some ointment on it. I'll find some gauze, or a band-aid, something. Then just keep an eye on it. Make sure it's getting better, not worse. Unless you really do want it to fall off?"

"Definitely not," Gareth says.

"Okay, that's the plan," Eddie says standing up. It's times like these that he wishes he wasn't the go-to whenever any of them need help, because this? This wasn't on his schedule for the day.

"Hey," Eddie says into the phone, "I touched another man's dick this morning. Thought you should know."

Steve laughs into the receiver, thousands of miles away, "What'd Gareth do now?"

Eddie smiles, big and bright. At the knowledge that Steve knows him, trusts him, loves him. 

And then he starts into the whole grizzly debacle, from top to tip. 

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

Notes: This is inspired by based off of Kevin Smith's comedic retelling of his first night with his wife. (Explicit story, but linked if you want to hear the original.)

[damian-al-ghul-wayne]

H h h hey...! Damian mun here with another certified YAP because I keep seeing posts about this specific thing, and I need to talk about it....!!!

So. A while back, I had seen this post talking about how Talia's first punishment for Damian would be that Damian had to kill a horse. Which seemed bonkers to me because she absolutely wouldn't force Damian to do that. If you didn't know, the Al Ghuls are eco terrorists. They want to make the world better by focusing on plants & animals more than the actual people. That's just one thing btw...

Anyways, back to my yap that will sound absolutely fucking crazy in the end because it won't be written good. (This is a warning)

I saw another post talking about how Damian only finally expressed his love for animals when he started living with Bruce and that he would only know the heartbreak of an animal death when living with Bruce. Which is... not true at all. I don't think people tend to realize that Damian's compassion for animals comes from Ra's and Talia. They're the reason he's compassionate about animals and why he ends up saving Bat-Cow.

Maybe it's just me, but people seem to keep crediting Bruce ( or other bat family members ) for things that Damian has like his love of animals, artistic ability, anything to do with the arts, etc. It feels like a tad bit racist because it's like nobody can accept that Damian's non-white family members gave him those characteristics when, in fact, they did. I don't know. That's just something I've noticed.

Going more off of that, but I've also seen people argue that Ra's and Talia were against animals, the arts, and all those types of things. It just irks me so badly when people mischaracterize them like that JUST because they're not counted to be "heroes" or on the "good side." Even then, Talia is very much a grey moral character, yet they always depict her as a terrible mother, evil, etc. Ra's is counted a supervillain, yes, but that doesn't mean Talia is? Even then, it's just weird to push those kinds of stereotypes on people just because they're "bad." I never see people say stuff like, "Oh yeah, the riddler would soooo kill a puppy." I only see people say that about the Al Ghuls, and I'm so tired of it.

I saw a post today, and it was about Damian experiencing his first heartbreak over a pet death. Legit one of the first sentences read was, "Ra's would either force Damian to kill the animal or give it away." Why is it between those options, like, what! The post overall was sad because of the meaning, but I just didn't like that part. Ra's is known to be an animal lover in the comics. He has a pet wolf. I don't think he would have forced Damian to murder an animal if he so happened to sneak it inside of the league.

Maybe that's just me, but it bothers me when people say these things.

I have a platform, though, and I'm not afraid to share my thoughts on this. I've been a very big advocate against this type of mischaracterization, and I'm sorry that I do it so much. I know it may get annoying, but I feel like it needs to be expressed. 😭

Also, you guys can definitely block these posts by blocking the tag "Damian mun yapping about Damian" 👍

That's all I have for right now... thank you for reading....

[mellosdrawings]

noooo not the n2 ship 😭 omg people can be so weird sob sob you have more drawings of them as adults and frankly why does it even matter?!? it's not even an illegal ship sob (eg. incest or smth else that normally turns heads in fandoms) if you don't like it, don't read it???? (i personally like it tons!)

-🥬

(About this post)

Well, you know, it's the usual Leojami age difference discourse. I just delete those comments anyway, but I'm glad you like the N2 squad :3

I won't develop too much since I don't want this blog to be about discourse (I'm giving my opinions plenty on my sideblog) but here's what I think about these topics:

-I'm vehemently anti-censorship. I don't think something shouldn't ever exist and I will never push for something to be censored, even if it's stuff that makes me uncomfortable. I think warnings about particular contents are great, but in the end it's my responsibility to curate my experience with banning # and blocking people, etc etc. Even illegal stuff should be portrayed. If people can draw/write about murderers and conmen without a fuss, then they can also do that about taboo/illegal sexual topics. Depiction is not endorsement.

-I believe the reader/viewer is the one who injects meaning to art/stories. I'm an artist and all the things I do mean something, but that meaning doesn't prevail over the meaning my viewers inject in my art. I regularly see people "misreading" my comics in the tags, but it doesn't matter. Their interpretation is just as valid as mine, and if they wanna see ships where I didn't mean to draw ships, or if they interpret a scene as negative when I meant for it to be positive, then it's either my role as the content creator to be more explicit/obvious with what I meant, or to simply let my viewers have fun however they want with my stuff. I don't believe in the "there's only one valid interpretation and everybody who thinks otherwise is wrong".

(That's also why I don't really believe in DNI. People you disagree with will interact with your stuff anyway, caring about those things will just anger and tire you for nothing. I try to avoid interacting with people who have DNI that probably include me? But considering "proship" means anything and nothing it's hard to tell whether N2/LeoJami is considered a proship or not.)

Tldr: I'm anti-censorship and I think everybody should make and enjoy the content they want, even if it's topics that are usually frowned upon. Imagination is the one place one should be able to go hogwild without fearing retribution.

[stellar-constellations]

Star Patient: Chapter 2 (FINISHED SERIES)

WARNING: This series will include; possible inaccurate medical procedures and medical setting, gore, toxic relationships that should NOT be replicated in real life, murder, yanderes, cursing, suicide mentions, implications of misandry (male misogyny), and possibly more.

Inaccurate canon-timeline (this is before Ashley and Andrew murdered their parents).

Reader has a small fear of adult men/rape and has a history of suicide attempts.

Incest is not Wincest.

Amnesiac! Obsessive! Patient! Andrew Graves x Yandere! Nurse! Reader:

Wordcount: 4,625 words

Chapters: Chapter 1, current chapter, Chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, final chapter.

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

        (Y/N) adjusted the name tag on her shirt as she walked to the hospital's entrance, her other hand holding some books and a DS. 

        Rachael's appointment should be starting soon. I need to hurry so I don't be late. She thought as she sped up.

        A security guard was outside guarding the hospital doors but once noticing (Y/N), he stopped her.

        "You need to go to the psychiatric branch immediately." They spoke.

        "...Huh?" She muttered audibly. "Oh... No, sir. I work in the pediatric branch with Doctor Ryan, he's my superior. You're mistaking me for someone else."

        "No, miss. Andrew Graves from room 402 wants to see you now." The security guard reaffirmed. 

        "...H-he does? That's just... great!" she smiled nervously, a terrified expression on her face.

        HE KNOWS I KNOW ABOUT HIM! She screamed in her head.

        "Get going before he breaks any more staff equipment." The security guard pressed on.

        "Okay, okay!" (Y/N) sighed, rushing into the hospital and to the elevators.

        She pressed the button and waited for the elevator to come down, walking into it and pressing the fourth floor button. She waited impatiently for the doors to open and rushed out when they finally did, heading towards the staff room. She unlocked the staff door and filled her bag with medical supplies: a mediscope, a stethoscope, a bottle of water and a bag of pretzels.

        She clocked in and sped-walked to Andrew's door, room 402, and hesitated before knocking on the door.

        "Go away!" Andrew shouted.

        "Hey there! It's me! (Y/N)? From last night?" she called out, her nervousness evident in her voice.

        "You can come in." Andrew spoke almost too quickly.

        Damn it... She thought to herself, before taking a deep breath and entering the room.

        He never corrected me last night when I gave him pet names, so they worked with calming him down. She noted.

        "Hi, star! I heard you've been causing some trouble." (Y/N) smiled, her smile twitching slightly, her voiced sounding a little muffled to him.

        Andrew opened his mouth to speak, but then paused. Why did he need to see her so badly? 

        "M... My head." He muttered. "It hurts. I need you to look at it." 

        (Y/N) couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her throat as she walked over to him. Her nerves were still on fire, but not as much as they were earlier seeing how quiet and flustered he'd gotten.

        "Did you do anything strenuous?" she questioned.

        "Ashley and I started arguing, then she grabbed my hair and shook my head back and forth." Andrew explained.

        (Y/N) wanted so badly to coddle him. To hold him in her arms and dote over him. It’s a bad habit she really needs to break, but the weird part is that she only acted towards that to people she really really liked—romantically. Anyone else she’d feel extremely annoyed and angry (unless it was children, they’re her soft spot). 

        She wants to have him laying on her body with his head in her chest as she petted his hair, cooing soft sweet reassurances into his ears so that he’d feel better.

        What the hell is wrong with me?! she thought, her face and body heating up, a bright red forming.

        I’m only thinking this because he’s obviously being treated like shit by his sister. Poor Andrew can’t even stand up for himself against her (literally). She thought.

        “Oh, Andrew. I’m so sorry. I don’t know why anybody would do that to you.” She pouted, her body acting on its own as her hands went up and gently grabbing his face, caressing the sides delicately as she looked into his eyes.

        His eyes were wide and green, laced with surprise as his face was red, looking as if he was a Christmas decoration with the bright festive colors.

        “W-what are you doing?!” he exclaimed, grabbing her arms and pulling away from her, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

        “Oh! I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you?” she questioned worriedly.

        “N-no! You… you were really close..” Andrew claimed, covering his face with his hands.

        Aw! He’s so cute when he’s flustered! (Y/N) thought to herself, a smile breaking out onto her face.

        WHAT AM I THINKING? HE’S A WANTED MAN (by the cops and me, it seems)! HE’S MY PATIENT TOO! I SHOULDN’T BE DOING THIS WITH HIM! she screeched in here head.

        “I’m sorry! I got too carried away…” She chuckled nervously, her nails digging into her palms as punishment. "I usually work with children as you know, and they appreciate the action. I acted on impulse.

        “W-whatever…” Andrew muttered, his face still not completely cooled off.

        “Let’s try this again.” She smiled awkwardly.

        She tilted Andrews’s chin up (causing wave of red to hit his face just before the other one subsided) and reached into her medical bag, pulling out her mediscope.

        “Keep your eyes open.” She instructed, following the same procedures as she did yesterday. “Now open wide.” She directed, pointing the light into his mouth. “Stay still.” She spoke as she looked into his ears.

        She noticed blood in them and sighed.

        “Either your sister ruptured your eardrums with all her yelling, or she caused the internal bleeding in your head to get worse. You’re going to need surgery for that.” She explained. 

        “Aw… damn it…” Andrew muttered.

        No wonder his hearing was a little muffled.

        “I mean, it was about time for the surgeons to get your legs done! They only got your ankles bandaged up, but they haven’t had surgery on your legs yet.” (Y/N) explained. 

        “I really can’t afford it...” Andrew muttered softly to himself, but (Y/N) heard it.

        He can’t afford it? Makes sense since he said he doesn’t have anywhere to go, so I doubt he has a home. She thought to herself before a stupid idea flashed in her mind. What if I… have him stay with me after he’s well enough to leave? she quickly shook the idea out of her head. 

        No way! He’s a wanted man! But… I haven’t called the cops on him yet, so I’m already committing a crime. Who cares if I get more years to my sentence for housing this man under my roof, feeding, sheltering, and spending time (loving) with him? she thought. 

        “Don’t worry about it, I feel we’ll find a way!” (Y/N) beamed. “Now, here’s the deal. I’m going to get the doctors to get surgery done on you, then when your head is all better and dandy, I’ll show you the collection of books and video games I specifically picked out for you~” she spoke, dragging her tone out to make the deal appeal more tempting.

        Specially picked out? Andrew thought.

        His interest was piqued instantly.

        “Yeah, whatever…” Andrew huffed, crossing his arms and adverting his head to the side.

        “Great! You’ll behave and listen to what they say, right?” She questioned a little sternly, her hands on her hips.

        “…Yes…” Andrew hissed through his teeth reluctantly.

        “Alright. I’ll be right back.” She smiled, walking out of the room.

        A few minutes later she came in rolling a wheelchair and a security guard. 

        “Careful with him now.” She instructed to the guard. 

        The guard picked up Andrew and placed him on the wheelchair, dropping him a little carelessly and causing him to wince.

        “Oi! I said careful!” (Y/N) snapped, resisting the urge to hit the guard in the back of the head.

        “Sorry, ma’am…” the guard muttered. 

        The guard rolled Andrew out of the room and followed as (Y/N) walked around the hospital aimlessly, forgetting where the neurologic branch was.

        “Ma’am… are you lost?” the guard asked.

        “No!” she quickly declared before looking around. “I’m testing you to know if you’re paying attention.”

        “I’ve been here for five years.” He deadpanned.

        “…I have to keep your mind sharp.” She claimed weakly. “But lead the way please, since you’re so confident.” 

        She followed the guard and Andrew as they headed to the correct branch. She knocked on the staff’s door then unlocked it with her key.

        “Hello!” she smiled.

        “It’s lunch break for us. What?” one of the surgeons questioned rudely.

        “Be nice! There’s a patient.” A younger surgeon spoke, peeking from over the surgeon's shoulder. “How can we help?”

        “Andrew here has internal bleeding in his brain and we need surgery done pronto.” She ordered.

        “Lunch break~” the older surgeon sang, taking a bite out of his food.

        “Pink slip~” she sung back. “I’ll get you fired for rejecting care to a patient in need. He’s your top priority right now, so get him on that operating table.” She ordered. "Please."

        What’s with all the nurses and doctors here? Andrew thought to himself, not exactly believing the healthcare here is the safest.

        Well, that should be expected considering his old town's doctors had ads recommending euthanasia for suicidal people.

        “Fine.” They sighed.

        “I’ll be back in three hours okay? By then your surgery should be done. You listen to their instructions, okay?” she spoke, patting Andrew on the shoulder before leaving.

        I’m left with these guys? Andrew thought, watching (Y/N) leave him alone.

        While Andrew got prepped for his surgery, (Y/N) had other matters to attend to. She checked her watch.

        Rachael’s appointment is just about done and Joseph’s will be on in ten minutes. I can make it in time for Joesph. She thought, racing to the elevator and hopping in.

        She hit the second button and watched as the doors closed, waiting impatiently for them to open up. She ran out and to Doctor Ryan’s office, room 213. 

        She knocked on the door and waited a few seconds for the affirmative. 

        “Come in.” Doctor Ryan called out.

        (Y/N) opened the door and saw it was only Doctor Ryan.

        So I missed the lesson… she thought, letting out a groan.

        “I’m sorry, sir. I had to attend to patient 402.” She sighed.

        “I heard about it. Seems like you got a secret admirer.” Doctor Ryan teased as he cleaned the seats in the room with a Clorox wipe. 

        “Har har har…” She laughed sarcastically. “But I do apologize about it. I wasn’t expecting to go to him until after my shift.”

        “Yeah, I heard he has quite a temper with anyone but you.” Doctor smiled.

        “Don’t start it.” I sighed, ignoring the sudden increase of my heartbeat. “Anything planned for Joseph? Or is it a typical check-up?” 

        “After his check-up you’re going to give him a flu shot.” Doctor explained.

        “Oh… no thanks…” She smiled nervously. “I don’t do good with needles.”

        I almost puked when I had to give a shot to a test dummy back in my college test room… She thought, the memory making her queasy already.

        “You’ll do fine. Now go get him.” Doctor Ryan smiled.

        (Y/N) sighed and grabbed a clipboard and pen Doctor Ryan readied for her and walked out of the room, making her way to the waiting room. She opened the door and cleared her throat.

        “Joseph Stall?” she called out.

        A set of adults and their son stood up, walking towards her and into the hallway.

        “Hey there! Turn right and go to the scale.” She smiled politely as she closed the door being him.

        She followed them to the scale and readied her clipboard.

        “Alright, take off your shoes and step on the scale, please.” (Y/N) requested.

        Joesph complied and took off his blue crocs, standing on the scale. She wrote down his weight.

        52 pounds, in the average zone. 

        “Now step off the scale and stand up straight.” She instructed.

        Joesph fixed his posture and stood up straight in front of the wall’s ruler.

        3’9” feet, also average height for his age. She noted, writing it down. 

        “Alright. Let’s go to our room. Follow me, please.” (Y/N) spoke.

        She guided them to Doctor Ryan’s room, 214, and opened the door.

        “Hey! Come take a seat.” Doctor Ryan beamed.

        Joesph used a step stool to get up on the terribly cushioned bed and waited for the doctors instructions.

        “(Y/N), do your thing.” Doctor Ryan nodded.

        “Alrighty. Let’s start by checking your eyes.” She smiled, pulling out her mediscope.

        She got close and looked at his eyes, seeing no trouble whatsoever.

        “And your mouth. Say ‘aaaah’” She spoke, giving an example.

        “Aaaah.” Joesph voiced. 

        “And your ears.” She spoke, getting to his side and looking into them.

        Nothing. All dandy.

        “Looks good.” She smiled, putting her mediscope back into her bag.

        She grabbed a reflex hammer from Doctor Ryan’s hand and moved to Joesph’s side so she wasn’t in front of him. She gave him a gentle tap on his knee, causing his knee to kick slightly.

        “Good. Now your heart.” She gave the hammer back to the doctor and grabbed her stethoscope, bringing it to Joesph’s chest and listening to his heart.

        She stared at the clock as she waited 15 seconds and counted the beats, multiplying it by four.

        96 beats per minute. That’s in the normal range. 

        “Alright, now take a big deep breath in.” She instructed, bringing her stethoscope to his lung.

        She listened to the his inhaling and his lungs.

        “Now exhale.” She instructed, listening. “Inhale again… now exhale.” She spoke. “Alright. You’re perfectly fine. Is there any health concerns you’re worrying about?” (Y/N) questioned, looking at his parents.

        “Nope.” His mother spoke. 

        “And all we’re doing is the flu shot, correct?” she questioned.

        “Yep.” His mother agreed.

        “Great.” She smiled, resisting the urge to frown. 

        I hate hurting kids like this. She thought.

        She walked to the tray Doctor Ryan prepared for her, taking a small package and ripping out the alcohol wipe. 

        “Left or right arm?” she questioned.

        “Left.” Joesph spoke.

        “Okay…” She muttered, mentally preparing herself for the kid’s tears.

        She wiped his shoulder with the alcohol wipe and grabbed the needle, removing the safety cap and checking for any air bubbles.

        “Ready?” she questioned.

        “Yep.” The kid replied, looking at the needle.

        She stuck the needle into his shoulder and injected the vaccine by pressing down the thumb press, then pulled away. 

        “All done!” she beamed with a smile, exaggerating her voice to let the kid know he was okay.

        The kid stared blankly before nodding.

        Wow, kid took it better than I do. What a champ… She thought to herself. 

        “Spiderman or my little pony?” She questioned, grabbing a box of bandages.

        “My little pony.” The kid responded.

        “Great choice. One of my favorites.” (Y/N) smiled, opening the band-aid and lined the cotton with his small wound, gently pressing it down. “And here’s a sticker for being my star patient today!” she smiled, reaching into her bag and pulling out a pink star sticker.

        “Thank you.” The kid smiled, taking the sticker.

        “You’re free to go. Reception is on the left, they'll schedule your next appointment for you.” She directed. 

        The family walked out and (Y/N) sighed, taking the needle and reattaching the cap, placing it into the sharp objects box. 

        “See? Wasn’t so bad.” Doctor Ryan smiled.

        “I hate needles…” She sighed. 

        “Hey, do you call all your patients that? Star patient?” Doctor Ryan questioned.

        “Yeah? It makes them feel special and happy. It releases a rewarding stimulant into their brains, the pain killer.” She explained.

        “I bet patient 402 sure liked that…” Doctor Ryan snickered. 

        “Oh, we’re still on this topic, huh?” (Y/N) smiled, placing her hands on her hips.

        “I mean, you’re not changing the subject so…” Doctor Ryan laughed as she shook her head.

        “Any other patients you squeezed into today’s schedule? Or just walk-ins from a here?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “Free to do anything until we get alerted.” Doctor Ryan smiled.

        “Ah, great.” She nodded, looking down at her watch.

        It’s only been thirty minutes since I last saw Andrew. And I really hate waiting around and doing nothing, I’ll go visit Hailey. She thought to herself.

        She walked out of the room and out of the walk-in clinic, heading to the room admissions. She made it to room 433 and gently knocked on the door.

        “Come in.” A weak voice exclaimed.

        “Hey there, hails! How are you?” (Y/N) questioned, opening the door and closing it behind them for privacy.

        “Hi, Ms. (Y/N).” Hailey smiled.

        Hailey was a small girl diagnosed with leukemia at seven. It’s been three years now since diagnosed and at the moment she’s in stage 3. (Y/N) finds it heartbreaking to watch the blonde girl’s appearance diminishing; her eyes sinking in, her hair growing wire-like and withered, her skin and cheekbones pale and sullen, and her arms and legs losing fat. Her appearance isn’t the only thing fading away, but her hope of surviving it too.

        “Would you like some water? It’s still cold.” She offered, already reaching into her bag.

        “Yes, please. I’m quite thirsty.” She smiled weakly.

        (Y/N) nodded and twisted open the bottle’s cap, bringing the drink to the girls lips. Hailey took small sips before raising her arm slightly, signaling no more. (Y/N) moved the bottle, twisting the cap back on weakly so Hailey could open it later.

        “Are you hungry too?” she questioned.

        “Not at the moment.” Hailey answered.

        “I’ll leave these here for later.” (Y/N) spoke, reaching into her bag and placing down a bag of pretzels on Hailey’s nightstand.

        “How do you feel?” (Y/N) questioned.

        Right now it wasn’t a normal survey (interrogation) she would give other patients, it was two friends catching up.

        “Better than I can be.” Hailey smiled.

        Even though Hailey was ten, she knew very well she was dying. It didn’t scare her as much as she thought it would. Her parents slowly stopped visiting less and less, too brokenhearted at their daughter’s rapid-approaching fate. The only visitors she got now was from her check-up nurses and (Y/N). 

        “Hey, I got you some new books. You liked that last one, yeah?” (Y/N) smiled, pulling out a book from her bag.

        “I enjoyed the ending. I liked Charlie’s bravery and courage.” Hailey commented.

        “I figured you would. She reminds me of you. Resilient and strong.” (Y/N) smiled, handing her a new book.

        “Aw… thanks.” Hailey blushed, the red in her face from the compliment looked as if it could be her normal skin tone, accepting the new book.

        “This book is about a library where all the different possibilities in your life that you could’ve had by making a choice, gets played out for you. I figured you’d like it since it’s fantasy.” She smiled.

        “Thank you.” Hailey smiled, looking fondly at the cover.

        “I’ll leave you to read the first few chapters. Want a sticker before I leave?” she questioned, already knowing the answer.

        “Yes, please.” Hailey nodded.

        (Y/N) reached into her bag and looked for a green star, finding one and handing it to Hailey to add to her growing collection that laid on her nightstand. 

        “Make sure to ring the button if you need anything. I’ll see you later, hails.” (Y/N) beamed, walking away from her.

        She opened Hailey’s door and walked out, closing it behind her. She looked at her watch, seeing it’s been an hour since she left Andrew.

        Two more. She thought to herself. Man, time seems slow today…

        (Y/N) sighed and stood there for a second, deciding what to do.

        I’ll go back to the walk-in clinic. She decided.

        She turned and walked away from Hailey’s room, she’ll return in a few hours to see how Hailey likes the book. She opened the two doors leading to the clinic, making her way to the back rooms and finding Doctor Ryan.

        “Oh, just when I was about to call you.” Doctor Ryan smiled.

        “Is there a problem?” she questioned.

        “You remember how to stitch, right?” he smiled.

        “Stitch wounds… yes…” She sighed, sucking in a breath to put her happy face on.

        “Come on, let’s get this done.” Doctor smiled, leading her to his office.

        (Y/N) walked in and took note of the situation, seeing a distressed boy a bloodied towel that was applying pressure to his forearm.

        “Hey, bud. I’m (Y/N). What’s your name?” she questioned, keeping the kid company as Doctor Ryan prepared a tray of tools for (Y/N) that she needed.

        “Cody.” The little blond boy rasped out, small tears in his eyes.

        “What happened to you?” she spoke calmly so the kid can copy her tone.

        “He had a fishin' accident with me. Got the hook hooked into ‘is skin and he ripped it out while preppin' for tomorrow.” The father sighed with his accent, covering his eyes with his cowboy hat to hide his shame.

        “No worries, accidents happen.” She smiled.

        “I really should’ve been watchin’ though.” The cowboy huffed.

        “C’mere dad, you can hold his hand.” (Y/N) encouraged.

        The cowboy sighed and stood up from his seat, walking over and holding his son’s left hand, his uninjured one.

        “Are you left-handed or right-handed?” she questioned, accepting the tray of supplies and placing it next to Cody.

        “Right.” The kid spoke.

        “Well, you might have to learn how to write with your left hand after this. But that’s okay, all the kids in school will think you’re so cool, along with the scar you’ll get too if you get one.” She smiled, gently removing the towel and placing it to the side.

        The kid has a nasty chunk of flesh ripped out of him from the hook. Either the dad or Cody panicked and ripped the hook out. Well, it's sure leave a scar.

        She looked at Cody’s elbow and felt for a vein. She found one and held her thumb on it, grabbing a syringe of lidocaine from the tray and popping the cap, checking for any air bubbles.

        “Look at dad.” (Y/N) instructed. 

        Once Cody looked away, (Y/N) removed her thumb from the vein and replaced it with the syringe’s needle instead, injecting the pain killer.

        Now we have to wait a few minutes, she thought.

        “Do you play any sports?” (Y/N) questioned, grabbing alcohol wipes to remove the bacteria from the fishing hook’s nasty ends.

        “I play football with my brothers.” Cody explained.

        “This’ll hurt real quick.” She warned. “And how many brothers do you have?” she questioned, wiping off the excess blood and grime, resisting the urge to cringe as Cody hissed and held tightly onto his father’s hand.

        “Three.” Cody answered.

        “Are you the oldest, youngest, or middle?” she questioned, wiping inside the wound a little to be extra certain it wouldn’t get infected.

   ��    “Youngest.” Cody answered.

        “Do you go to school or are you home-schooled?” she questioned, grabbing her medical needle and thread and tying the thread inside of the needle’s hole.

        “I go to public school.” Cody responded.

        “Feel any pain in your arm? Or has it gone down?” (Y/N) questioned, looking at Cody’s face.

        “Gone down.” Cody answered.

        “Good. I’m going to start sewing up your wound, I want you to talk to me or your dad while doing it.” She explained. “You ready?”

        “Yeah.” Cody sighed.

        “Do you get good grades?” (Y/N) questioned, pinching the skin together and sewing up the skin and fat, deciding to go for buried sutures to get the job done.

        “Yeah.” Cody nodded.

        “Do you like school?” she questioned.

        “It’s okay.” Cody spoke, shrugging his head to the left since he couldn’t with his arms.

        “I didn’t like school much either.” (Y/N) admitted. “I didn’t like waking up early. I’m glad I work at night now.” 

        The cowboy redirected his attention from Cody and looked down at her and smiled.

        “Where I grew up, we had a farm and got up at 4 o’ clock to work on it. I was homeschooled in the south.” He explained.

        “You have more strength than me, getting up so early.” (Y/N) joked. “You too, Cody. I dislike needles. Whenever I have to get a shot, I cry like a baby.” 

        “Trust me, she does. I gave her one for her practice.” Doctor Ryan teased.

        “You’re in school?” the cowboy questioned.

        “Yup. That man is my superior teaching me the ropes.” (Y/N) explained, referring to Doctor Ryan who sat back and watched the procedure carefully to make sure she was doing it right.

        “I wanted to go to college but my family couldn’t afford it. Hopefully it’s a different story for Cody.” The cowboy smiled, ruffling his son’s hair. 

        “Especially with all the programs now for the youth, gives the younger generation a better chance for college.” (Y/N) pointed out. “Is there anything you want to be when you grow up? Like a professional football player or a doctor?” she questioned, shifting her tone so Cody knew she was talking to him since she couldn’t look away from her stitching work.

        “Construction worker!” Cody declared.

        “Ooo, are you going to build tall buildings?” (Y/N) questioned, entertaining the boy and keeping him busy. 

        “Yeah.” Cody replied.

        He didn’t seem like crying anymore, the painkillers help shoo off the pain, for now at least. She thought.

        "And... ta dah! You're all done, Cody!" (Y/N) beamed. 

        "Woah! It looks so cool!" Cody smiled.

        "Let's get some bandages on that, so it doesn't get infected. In two or three days, you can take the bandages off. In ten days, come back here and we'll check and see if the stitches can be removed.” (Y/N) explained. “Does that sound good?” she questioned, redirecting her attention to her superior.

        “Perfect, perfect! As per usual!” Doctor Ryan smiled.

        “Thanks!” (Y/N) smiled, flattered at the praise. “Now, what color star would you like?” 

        “Blue.” Cody smiled.

        “Here ya go!” she hummed, grabbing the stickers from her bag and pulling out a blue star, handing it to Cody.

        “See ya in ten days, lil lady.” The cowboy smiled, titling his hat before holding his son’s hand.

        “See ya! Reception is on the left. Make sure to be careful!” (Y/N) waved.

        “Ahem!” Doctor Ryan coughed into his hand over-exaggeratedly. 

        “Yes?” (Y/N) questioned, confused on if she did something wrong,

        “I don’t think patient 402 would be happy with all that flirting going on.” The doctor teased playfully. "You were awfully talkative with the dad."

        “Woah now. He has kids and is like 30, I’m too young to settle down like that. There was no flirting, only polite talk.” She explained.

        "Sure thing, lil lady." Doctor Ryan chuckled, earning an unamused glare.

        She ignored him, checking her watch, catching his attention.

        “Oh, your shift isn’t near over.” The doctor laughed.        

        “No, I wanted to see how long until I had to go see Andrew.” (Y/N) explained, waiting for Doctor Ryan’s teasing remarks.

        “I see. How scandalous.” He chuckled.

        “Hardy har har har.” (Y/N) laughed sarcastically. “I have an hour and thirty minutes left. But everything feels like it’s taking so long.” She sighed.

        “Here, why don’t you do a run around the hospital? It’s lunch time. You can bring the lunch trays to all the patients!” Doctor Ryan suggested.

        “That’s a good idea. Have someone radio in and call off all the lunch ladies to serve lunch, I’ll do it all myself.” She nodded, smiling.

        “I meant this branch. The whole hospital is a little excessive.” Doctor Ryan deadpanned.

        “No, no. I got this. Besides, I need my steps in.” She spoke. “See ya later!” she waved, taking off.

The second chapter for this is done! This series will also be posted on AO3 and Wattpad!

Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is OPENfor questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, not for request!

Chapters: Chapter 1, current chapter, Chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, final chapter.

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[steddieas-shegoes]

frankie

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'freak'

rated t | 930 words | cw: temporary character death | tags: canon-adjacent events, frankie pov, eddie munson lives

🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴

Frankie doesn't think he's a freak. He knows he's not the typical teenager, but he definitely knows there's weirder dudes out there.

Take Eddie Munson, for example. He's fuckin' weird.

He knows people call him a freak for a lot of reasons: he's got long hair, likes heavy metal, plays DnD, and is allegedly queer.

Frankie stays under the radar as much as possible, but he ends up at Eddie's table, sitting next to his one and only friend, Jeff. Eddie's starting a DnD club, needs people who are serious about playing long campaigns. He's a senior and "wants to leave a legacy."

Jeff convinces him to try it out.

He tries it out.

He has fun.

He becomes a freak, too.

And, actually, Eddie isn't really a freak. He's eccentric, sure, but he's definitely not what everyone implies when they call him that.

He's kind in his own way, inviting to people where most other kids at school have their cliques and don't let anyone else in. He's funny, too, sometimes completely unintentionally.

His Uncle is nice enough to let them use their trailer for campaigns, at least until Eddie is able to convince the school to let them use the storage room in the auditorium. They have to fight for space, especially when it comes time for the end of year drama club performance.

Frankie doesn't think much about what will happen when Eddie graduates. He assumed Jeff will run the club since he's Eddie's right hand man.

But Eddie doesn't graduate.

Frankie starts to get into the same music as him, no longer worried about wearing his Black Sabbath shirt to school. It's just music.

He doesn't worry about shaving his head, letting his natural curls grow out a little.

Maybe he's more of a freak than he thought, but it doesn't bother him when he hears others whisper it under their breath. Eddie wears it like a badge of honor, and now he does too.

****

When the news reports that Eddie is the suspect in the murder of Chrissy Cunningham, Frankie knows they've got it wrong.

Eddie is a lot of things, he's a freak, he's different. But he's not a murderer.

He's also gay as fuck, and while very few people know that, Frankie knows he had no intentions with that girl other than to sell to her. Maybe he should have been more careful, but he's gotten away with it this long. Eddie never pushes anything on anyone, only sells to those who seek him out, so there's no way she wasn't the one who wanted drugs.

It seemed to Frankie like a wrong place, wrong time situation for all involved.

Eddie was missing, which means he got scared and ran, and Frankie isn't sure what that means for any of them.

Everything is hanging in a weird balance for days.

Gareth swears he saw him in an RV when his parents dragged him to The War Zone, but no one believed him. Frankie didn't not believe him, he just figured Eddie was probably already out of the state.

Guilty people may run, but so do innocent people with a bounty on their head.

***

Frankie doesn't think Eddie is coming back.

He sees Dustin crying and handing Wayne something. He sees Steve Harrington of all people in Eddie's vest, a vest that now has some suspicious stains on it.

No one mentions him for a while.

Gareth is a mess, and Jeff keeps saying that he'll come back, but the news spreads that he's dead and Frankie feels like he's the only one who is taking that seriously. He doesn't realize how much he's hurting until they're standing in Jeff's garage with no idea how to fill the space Eddie left in the band.

"I think we should have auditions," Jeff says quietly.

"I think you should fuck yourself," Gareth bites back.

Jeff sighs. Gareth crosses his arms.

"I think you guys should come with me," Lucas interrupts from the driveway.

They go with him because Frankie is sure he wouldn't have even spoken to them if it wasn't important. They barely talked since everything happened over Spring Break, but now that school's starting up again, they'll need to figure out Hellfire Club.

He leads them out of the neighborhood and towards the neighborhood at the bottom of the hill: Loch Nora. The nice neighborhood.

It's hot and Frankie and Gareth are both sweating by the time they make it to their destination: Steve Harrington's house.

"You guys can't say shit to anyone, got it? You'll put us all at risk." Lucas is glaring at all of them as he knocks in a very specific pattern on the front door.

"Are you leading us to our deaths?" Frankie asks, only half-joking.

"Despite what Mayfield thinks, I'm not gonna kill anyone."

"Eddie!" Gareth yells as he runs past Frankie and Jeff into the house.

"Alright, keep it down." Steve says from the couch. "Neighbors don't need to know he's hiding out here."

"Holy shit, it's good to see you," Jeff finally says as it registers that Eddie is actually in front of them.

"You know, I was prepared to take on the role of freak," Frankie said quietly. "Just to protect all your sheepies."

Eddie smiled at him. "Yeah?"

Frankie nodded.

"Well, you still can. I'm not gonna go back to school anyway."

"So what will you do?" Frankie asked.

"Not sure," Eddie shrugged. "Teach you my ways, I guess."

Frankie smiled at him. "First lesson: how'd you come back from the dead, dude?"