#fic: hold to the now the here
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oh
i am. unwell.
#LABRU NATION LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOO#BRO I AM EATING DIRT AND FLINGING MYSELF OFF A CLIFF#mentally i live here now#in this hand holding scene#i’ve watched this scene in three different languages#and all the kabru VAs got The Memo#speak to Laios in soft husky sexy tones#killing me with a knife would have been better#it would have been merciful#because what do you mean this is their last interaction for a good long while#someone pls put me out of my misery#or there will be consequences#like me writing insane labru fic idk#wasabi rambles#labru#laios touden#kabru of utaya#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#oh … dungeon meshi …
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“Regulus would be proud of us,” James whispered quietly to no one in particular, still gripping onto the painting like a life raft.
— Tender Curiosities, Baby! @otrtbs
#tender curiosities baby#art heist baby#james potter fanart#james potter#jegulus#rosekiller#rosekiller fanart#marauders#marauders fanart#evan rosier#barty crouch jr#jegulus fanart#jegulus fanfiction#fic: ahb#art heist baby!#mine#my art#hp#ahb#ive thought about this scene for so long it just took me forever to draw cause once again the anatomy of cars is the bane of my existence#like originally i wanted evan and barty holding hands to be visible to have the contrast of sad lonely james and sad not lonely rosekiller#but alas cars wont allow it#ahb just still has my entire heart you dont get it#i have a none blurry rosekiller and a just james in front of blue with stars version of this but i think ill only put them on insta...#(sneaky end notes: i do have to admit i am not too pleased with evan and barty but this was my first time drawing them)#(so i couldnt figure it out quite yet hency why they look a little. less efforty...)#(also the snake ring is the same design that i drew for chapter 34 of ahb in my little chapter illustrations for my typeset)#((nvm i just checked back and i am fully lying here i used a different one for my typeset and now im vaguely upset oops)#(i shouldnt make decisions only half awake im going to think about this for too long now i am sad))#((like suddenly i was like. hold up. i had a different design there didnt i... it was an open ring goddamnit))
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I've been thinking about the templars lately. they were promised honor, virtue, told that they would be charged with protection of the innocent... And then those same people are systemically exploited and abused, abuse others because they're taught to regard everyone else as either sheep who need to be lead or potential threats. Never equals, except in their brothers/sisters-in-arms. They act as the guard-dogs and military arm of an entirely different organization that they're only a functionary member of but have no governing say in. Even the chantry aren't their equals- they function as the templar order's supervisors! And all this isolation and closing of ranks ends in disability, addiction, death, and abandonment by the system they spent their bodies in service of.
To top that off, retaliations against them just confirm the paranoia they were taught to embrace. It's probably a long hard road to get out of that hole.
Like, listen. the dichotomy of mage vs templars is a satisfying and easy one, but the system is tearing them apart too. have you ever heard of a retired templar?
at the end of it, mages and templars need to unite against the real threat. the chantry.
#this is an anti chantry post i want that temple exploded NOW#the chantry controls the lyrium; benefits directly from the formari enchanter system; has a financial incentive to make and use tranquil#the templars are breaking themselves in service of a system that functionally does Not care about them in any way except#their ability to hold a sword and counteract fade magic and that messes me up#thedosians need a fucking cross-field labor union NOW#of course the kalna would probably send the carta after any potential organizations of that nature#and the coterie#cant kill em all though!!!#actually that would be a hilarious fic#dragon age#canon dont interact i dont pay attention to discrete facts here we operate on half remembered game knowledge and vibes#if there are any retired templars out there: uhh... enjoy that. happy for you king (alistair)#cullen rutherford fundamentally represents 'no retirement plans' for me#the man is fifteen chronic illnesses ptsd shit withdrawal and interpersonal abandonment in a trenchcoat with fur trim#text it#long tags
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when you're into the Big Ship™ in a Big Fandom™, you have the luxury of having an OTP - a real One True Pairing, where you can read about just them for ages, and you will never run out of fics, and everything is perfect and beautiful and nothing hurts
but when you go to a smaller fandom, you'd better pray to whatever god you worship that someone else in this room ships the same thing that you do, and that if they do, they're writing more than late-night crackfic, because you're on thin fucking ice!
and how small is your small fandom? is it less than 100 fics? maybe even...less than 20 fics?
welp, then it's time to make peace with that god and either open up a text document or learn how to ship everything, because it's swim or drown babey! and your ship is sinking fast
anyway all of this is to say that after hanging out in small fandoms and shipping less-common pairings for a while, going back into a Big Huge Fandom™ is wild because suddenly it's like...wait, why didn't I ship these people again? I don't remember. why was I only sticking to one ship in this fandom?? boring of me, honestly. these guys should make out.
#sbs rambles#fandom#fandom stuff#ao3#basically. I hung out in superwholock for so long back in the day#but then I got weird and cool and moved on to smaller and older and stranger fandoms#and decided to throw a party and have fun and enjoy all of the small and weird in those fandoms#and now rewatching media for a big fandom I'm like. huh. sucks to be everyone else I guess. they're missing out on some wild dynamics here#because I'm havin a blast#and like. when I mean small fandoms I mean SMALL#my one fic I wrote for one tv show makes up 25% of that entire fandom on ao3#(double checks)#oh!!!! new fic in the fandom!!!!#my one fic only makes up 20% of that entire fandom on ao3!!!#time to throw a fuckin party! 🎉🎈🎊🥳#anyway it's really funny because based on this some folks are going to assume what ship I'm into in a Big Fandom now#but buds. you can laugh at me#I'm thinkin about sam and cas#what's up with those guys?#fucked up actually. they should hold hands about how much they love dean#:')#but also supernatural is way more fun if you watch it out of order#that's what I've realized#now if only the RNG would give me something in season 1 or 2 T_T#also if you're at the point of reading fic on livejournal or wattpad in the year 202X you've reached ''small fandom'' status#that's the rules
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insatiable appetite [1/?]
sooo... this is one of the thirstiest things i have written—and also one of the only times i've written a character with the kink, ever T.T warnings in advance for mess, character getting sneezed on, implied contagion, possible ooc-ness, & me writing this entirely with my d instead of my head
ivan and till are from al//ien sta//ge (a very fun watch which will only take 30 mins out of your life; i really recommend it!!). that said, this fic takes place in a modern au setting, so feel free to read it without any prior context :)
special thanks to @6pmsoup for sending me a very cute alnst doodle of these two which altered my brain chemistry permanently
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Summary: Till shows up to a dinner outing with a brewing cold. Ivan suffers. (est. relationship, kink!Ivan, ~2k words)
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For all Till tries to hide it, Ivan can tell immediately.
There’s this: Ivan has been paying attention to Till for most of his life. A full decade before they’d gotten together officially, and some more—this is how long Ivan has had to observe his tells. Always from the sidelines, always with a detached air of indifference that, in reality, was anything but.
All the signs are there the night before. Till, turning up the thermostat a couple degrees higher than he usually keeps it. Spending a little too long in the shower and using up almost all of the hot water. Clearing his throat one too many times in the morning before Ivan leaves for work, his smile distracted, the rasp of his voice nearly indistinguishable—but only nearly.
Now, Till is here for dinner—it’s a dinner they’ve had plans for a couple weeks now, at one of the nicer restaurants downtown, in celebration of Till’s recent promotion. Ivan had booked the reservation a couple weeks in advance.
When Till arrives, stepping out of a taxi cab, he’s wearing a scarf, even though the weather is too warm for it. Ivan steps up to meet him.
“Sorry I’m late,” Till says. “Traffic here was the worst I’ve ever seen it, swear to god.”
“Was it cold outside today?” Ivan asks, a little pointedly, tilting his head towards his scarf.
Till looks at him, his expression unreadable. Then he nods. “Colder than usual, for this time of year.”
“Strange,” Ivan says, just to be difficult. “But the weather forecast says it’s the same temperature today as yesterday.”
“It’s probably just windier today,” Till says, readjusting his scarf around his neck. His face is a little flushed.
“Your voice sounds a little off, though.”
Till clears his throat with a scowl. “You must be imagining it,” he says. “It always sounds like this.”
No admission, then. That’s fine. Ivan will get the truth out of him at some point. He lets Till guide him into the restaurant.
It’s a nice restaurant—worth the hassle of the reservation, Ivan thinks. Each table is set with flowers arranged tastefully in long glass vases, empty wine glasses turned on their heads. The server—who leads them to their table in a small, private booth—is wearing a suit.
It’s a shame, really. Ivan has a feeling that he won’t be able to pay attention to any of that tonight.
They sit. Ivan looks down at the menu, picks out something at random in a matter of seconds. Truthfully, he can hardly think of anything less worth his attention right now. He turns his attention to Till instead—Till, who’s seated directly across from him, the scarf still around his neck, obscuring the lower half of his face.
Till sniffles, reaching down to turn the page, and oh. The sniffle is terribly liquid—has he been sniffling like that all afternoon? Perhaps it’s a good thing that they work at different offices—Till at a law firm, Ivan as a senior manager at a consulting company—because Ivan certainly doesn’t think he’d be able to get any work done with Till sniffling like that.
It’s not two minutes later that Till is reaching up to wipe his nose against the back of one knuckle. All in all, it’s discreet. Just a quick brush of the fingers against his nose, which is still hidden under the scarf. Though, the look of sheer ticklishness that passes over his features for a brief moment there is...
“What are you thinking of ordering?” Ivan asks.
“I can’t decide,” Till answers. He turns the page again. “It’s between the ribeye steak and the… snf! The pork belly. Is this the kind of place that skimps on the portion sizes?”
“Not from their Yelp reviews,” Ivan says. “You know, if you really can’t decide, I can flip a coin.”
“I’ll pick,” Till says. “Why? Hungry already?”
He looks up, now. His eyes are a little watery. There’s a faint flush over the bridge of his nose. Ivan thinks that if he reached out and touched him, he’d probably be running warm. The thought is almost unbearable.
“Your taxi did take forever to arrive,” Ivan says, by way of explanation.
“Did you really wait that long?”
He looks uncertain, for a moment. Ivan says, “Not at all. But you know, I’m always impatient when it comes to you.”
Till rolls his eyes, but it’s fond. “There was a meeting that ran late. I wasn’t avoiding you.”
“Is that also a part of your new position?” “I guess so, yeah.”
“I can see why they were eager to promote you, then,” Ivan says. “How productive can late afternoon meetings be, anyways?”
Till snorts. “Not that important. It definitely could have been an email instead. I was about ready to doze off.”
He sniffles again. “Okay. I think I know what I want.” The way he says know betrays the slightest hint of congestion.
“At long last,” Ivan says, just to be a little bit of an ass. “I’ll call over the waiter.”
He flags their waiter down, waits for Till to order first.
“A spiced apple cider,” Till adds on, at the end, with the slightest of coughs. “Hot, if you can.”
That’s new, too. Till seldom orders hot drinks at restaurants, though he’ll drink tea without complaint if it’s offered. Perhaps his throat hurts, then, from the cold that has clearly started to settle in his system. Subtle, still, but Ivan is familiar with colds like this. He knows it will probably only be a few hours before this deceptively “small” cold turns into…
Ivan orders, too, and thanks the waiter, who leaves with a curt nod. When he looks back over to Till, there’s a… strange something to Till’s expression, a slight distractedness. Irritation.
Ivan swallows hard. He should look away.
He should, but then, Till’s breath hitches. He pulls the scarf higher over his face preemptively, as if he anticipates having something to have to cover for. The sharp intake of breath that follows is breathy, though Ivan can hear Till’s voice in it. He should really look away.
Instead, he takes the scene in, painstakingly, little by little, as Till’s shoulders jerk forwards. As Till presses a hand to the scarf, presses the fabric closer to his face, to muffle a sneeze into his fingertips:
“hhH-Ih!! hiHH-’IESCHH-eew-!”
God. It sounds utterly miserable, the harsh release of it scraping against his throat, the spray tearing into his scarf. It’s the kind of cold sneeze that is undeniably telling: this is going to be one hell of a cold. It’s not very quiet, either, even muffled into the fabric.
For more reasons than one, Ivan is glad they’re in a private corner of the restaurant, not somewhere more public.
“Bless you,” he offers, once he can trust himself to speak. It’s a good thing that Till is too distracted to look up at him right now. Ivan isn’t sure he can keep what he’s feeling off of his face.
Truthfully, he isn’t sure he’s going to be able to endure a whole night of this.
The problem here is that Till—Till, of all people; Till, who Ivan has been pathetically in love with for almost as long as he can remember—has no idea about Ivan’s… relatively niche interests. That is to say, he has no idea what effect it has on Ivan when he does that.
“Thanks,” Till says, a little stuffily. He sniffles again, lowering his hand.
Ivan can’t help it. He knows he shouldn’t pursue this line of questioning, but he can feel his self-control dwindling by the second. “Don’t you think it would be better to take off your scarf, now that we’re inside?”
Till freezes. “Y-You know what,” he says evasively. “It’s pretty cold in here.”
Ivan tilts his head in question. “And just how do you plan on eating like that?”
“I’ll take it off when our food comes.”
“I can ask the waiter to turn the temperature up, if it’s a problem,” Ivan says.
“It’s not a problem.”
Ivan rises from his seat. Till watches him, perplexed, as he heads to the opposite side of the table, where Till is seated.
When he gets there, he stops. Stands, unmoving, so he can study Till from above.
“What are you—”
Ivan reaches out, settles his palm across Till’s forehead. As expected, it’s warm. Not quite feverish, which is a good sign, but warm enough to be notable.
“Just how long were you intending to hide this?”
Till stares back at him, wide-eyed. “Hide what?”
Shouldn’t it be obvious? “The fact that you have a cold.”
“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” Till says, slowly.
“Hmm.” Ivan drops his hand to his side. He is a little concerned, now. “We could’ve called a rain check.”
This time Till really does roll his eyes. “For the reservation we planned weeks ahead?” he sniffles again. “That just sounds completely and utterly unnecessary. Are you the type of person to call things off just over a little cold?”
Ivan leans over, tugs down the edge of Till’s scarf. Till bats his hand away just a moment too late, cups his other hand over his face to shield his face from view. For a moment, he looks faintly mortified.
Then his expression settles into something more disgruntled. “What are you doing?” he hisses.
So uncooperative. “Let me see,” Ivan says. Slowly, gently, he pries Till’s hands away from his face, and then—because the restaurant is dimly lit—tilts Till’s face up slightly so that it catches more of the overhead light.
Till’s nose is redder than usual. He’s probably been rubbing it all afternoon, if the redness that percolates into his cheeks is any indication. There’s a damp, liquid sheen on the underside of his nose.
“What’s there to see?” Till says, a little crossly.
“Your face, since you’ve been so intent on hiding it under that scarf,” Ivan says, leaning in to get a better look.
Till scowls at him, but there’s no heat to it. “You see my face every day.”
“On the contrary, I don’t see it nearly enough,” Ivan says. “And you hardly ever get sick. Is it so wrong for me to be concerned?”
Without looking, he reaches behind him with one hand to grab a couple cocktail napkins. The other hand he keeps held up to Till’s cheek.
But then, Till’s breath hitches. “Wait,” he says. Panic flashes through his face. “Ivan, move, I—”
Oh. Well, seeing as there’s no way he’ll be able to get the napkins over in time, it looks like he’ll have to improvise. If Till wants to cover, Ivan can help with that. He moves his hand to cup it loosely over Till’s mouth. Not a second too late, it seems. Till jerks forward unceremoniously, his nose twitching, his eyes squeezing shut.
“hHheh-! HHh’EIITShHh’yYiew!” he gasps sharply. Two? “Hh-! hHiiH’DSSCSSHh-IIew!”
The jolt of the sneezes is practically electrifying—all of that force, brought to an abrupt halt behind Ivan’s waiting palm. He feels the expulsion of air against his skin, the warmth of Till’s breath, feels the slight dampness behind his hand as the spray mists over his fingertips.
Ivan swallows, hard. Thank god it’s so dark here, otherwise Till might notice what this is doing to him.
“Bless you,” he says, withdrawing his hand at last to wipe it on one of the cloth napkins. It comes out slightly raspier than he intends it to, though perhaps it’s a miracle that he’s still able to talk at all. “Some cold, hmm?” Belatedly, he hands Till the stack of napkins.
Till practically snatches them from him, turns aside to blow his nose wetly into the top few. The way he sniffles afterwards suggests that his nose is still very much running.
“Do you have no self preservation? It’s as if you want to catch this,” Till says, drawing back with another sniffle.
Oh, Ivan thinks, fighting back a shiver. That would be far from the worst thing.
#sneeze fic#sneeze kink#snz fic#snz kink#my fic#i needed to get this out of my system 😭 i know its unpolished#i thought i was already baring my soul with the ki//ll//er pe//ter fic but this is so much worse#special apology to my dear friends who have been forced to listen to me talk nonstop about al//n//st (you know who you are) (and if you see#this i'm personally sorry 😭) maybe someday i will write something for them that is less unhinged and perhaps more in character#the thought of kink!iva//n just took hold of me and then this fic materialized#still experimenting with different flavors of writing him... balancing my understanding of his character w this specific kink flavor was#an experiment for sure. like how do you balance concern and desire/selfishness?#i couldn't figure it out so just leaned very hard into the latter#also the 1/? is a placeholder; writing this was already testing the limits of my courage LOL#if i sit here i'll write another 200 disclaimers because i'm embarrassed to be posting this so i'll just schedule the post now
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I would really like to read one piece of writing, amateur or not, that features Apollo and Zeus having a positive relationship. One. Any one. It could be 30 words long for all I care. I just need confirmation that one other writer actively producing content in the Greek Mythology sector doesn't think of Apollo as Zeus' toy, sexual or otherwise, or of Zeus purposefully surpressing Apollo because he doesn't want him to surpass his power, or of Apollo only being obedient to his father over all else because of fear and physical abuse, or of any other reason possibly invented except some sort of mutual understanding and respect.
It should not be this difficult to find content where they do not hate each other.
#ginger rambles#I am at the end of my rope actually#None of my stuff is long enough to post on ao3 but fuck it I'll just post wips here#This is ridiculous#Like categorically ridiculous I feel like I'm going insane#One or two Apollo whumps is fine#cool even when written well#but oh my god everything?? All of it???#Really???#Shoutout to that one fic on ao3 that was doing snapshots of Zeus being a good dad to all his kids#And just hasn't got around to the Apollo chapter yet#I am praying for you Author you hold one of my last threads of sanity#I'll post some stuff about Apollo and Zeus in the early days sometime soon#I'm actually just flat out annoyed now lol#zeus#apollo#writing
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Wyll breaking up with the player character if Ulder dies so Wyll must become the Duke makes me wanna throw up sobbing because he actually thinks that just because his father's first duty being to Baldur's Gate made him a Bad Father that Wyll himself will inevitably be a Bad Lover because surely no one could match love with duty if his father couldn't, unknowing he has more love in one hand than his father had in his entire body. fuck
#More in my reblog#“my father taught me more lessons than I can count” yeah dog they were called CAUTIONARY TALES 😭😭😭#“pull me too close and I'm destined to hurt you” FUCKIGN. BITING YOU#“a champion's heart is as sharp as a new blade” SO CRAZY I GOT THIS SICK ASS ARMOUR. TRY ME.#I'm actually in physical pain over this. Wyll my love.#I need to rip ulder in two with my bare hands right now.#sorry I JUST saw the breakup scene for the first time today and I haven't stopped thinking about it it's making me ill with sadness#he didn't even break up with ME but it fucking feels like it goddamn#bg3#Wyll Ravengard#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate 3#bg3 analysis#oh my GOD and the fact that he offers one last dance. I'mgoing to ufckingexplode#and he spends five whole seconds just. holding the character. not even dancing.#I watched the version with him and astarion ofc I don't romance wyll myself (lesbianism)#makes me wanna write a fucking fic (derogatory)#why the fuck is everyone so ill over astarion when mr insane mental health issues is RIGHT here (i know why. but still)
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what indeed…!
#cw blood#arcaea#my art#saya#insight#mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm blood#put saya in the Pain cycle AAAAAAA#WAAAAAAAAAAGH insight bending down to touch the flower…#g gay tension do you get it#because on one hand lethe is over there Watching#and… since saya is significant in her life… she’s curious… oh so very curious Oh and totally not because she’s gay#and has thought saya to be pretty oh No totally doesnt want to see what saya’s expression looks like#(from lethe’s view… ehhh doesnt it look like insight is being on top right now Woah wait what that’s not happening here)#(even though she says she didnt care for whatever is dancing behind that flower… she Did… was just a little curious..)#(Very curious now.)#and when insight tugs at a petal and saya grunts (softly and trying to hold back) in pain lethe’s ears pick it up obviously and uHHHHH#… i’ll stop#the ppl on twitter dont know about my delusions#edit omg i forgot to link the fic bc of my delusions
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its that time of the week again lads,,,
(spoilers)
from the fic cultivate by @neonghostcat as per usual
#svsss#liushen#cultivate: slow life on a monster infested mountain#im here yet once again to offer everyone my nonsense#anyway one more comment that got cut off while I was taking pics of these#was that i looooove so much sqq (jiu) in this aaa can you tell sjahskjdhas#i love so so much how he is written absolute batsard meow meow I'm holding him like a bug <33333#jsahdk#anyway sorry to everyone that followed for anything but cultivate but this is what yall getting as of now sorry#im rotating this fic in my brain constantly in between getting my ass handed to me by my studies lol
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How had ryukitann got together? 🤔
sorry this is a little rushed, but in general i think this is the gist of how they’d get together
#persona 5#ryuji sakamoto#yusuke kitagawa#ann takamaki#ryuann#ryukita#annkita#ryuannkita#PS SORRY IF IT SEEMS LIKE I POSTED TWICE. TUMBLR REALLY WOULD NOT LET ME INTO MY QUEUE I PROMISE#I remember trying to write fic for them and gave up#there are no non-E rated fics for these guys and that is so depressing man#I hold this ship so very close to my heart fr#it’s the only one that’s really survived from my first playthrough of p5#bc before I was into Shu///ake I was huge on Shu///yuu and polythieves in general#then I kinda settled into what I like now as I got more into the fandom#aNYWAY THO THANK U FOR THE ASK#my brainworms are progressing#I can see some people thinking ryuji is problematic here and. yes<3#I didnt have time or space really to like. make a bigger fallout before everything is resolved#so obviously intruding upon dates is not healthy but let’s just ignore that for my boi ryuji#long post#ask
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hey maybe I'll just stop watching shows from now on :) maybe that's an idea. never love anything and all that
#kind of. really wish I hadn't logged onto here or like found out about it ever and just stayed like this waiting in excitement or whatever#my throat and chest have been really tight for like. a good while now#I genuinely can't believe I have to go to college and continue working I'm actually gonna throw up#this is lockwood and co all over again I was grieving for weeks back then but this is just. hm. worse#maybe because I was actually holding out hope with this one for some reason? like I believed this had a chance and I had#a bunch of reasons I don't remember now it doesn't matter anyway#gonna be honest I don't really have any hope for it being like. saved or anything I don't have the energy to hope#and steve yockey giving out spoilers was just. the icing on the cake so.#:)#I have SO much love for the fandom here tho. all the fic writers and artists and organizers and yappers like me in general im so so serious#and im really sorry that all this was so rudely kicked out of the door. what a day huh#what a thing to wake up to#alr I will get out of bed now I'll literally go get to work. fucking amazing really fucking awesome#there is air in my lungs and im normal#dead boy detectives
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Eddie’s alive, just stuck in the Upside Down, but he doesn’t go to Dustin or Mike or Lucas—oh, no. And not even Steve, either, no matter how much he respects the dude.
Nah, Eddie traverses the woods of the Upside Down, knows where that old beat up truck sits that he and Wayne found a few months ago during season that they fixed up with the blessing of the landowner, and waits for his uncle there.
Eddie’s trailer is fucked and he knows Wayne doesn’t have the money to afford a hotel room, so he sits in that truck in the woods, shivering and bleeding and singing songs to keep himself awake, and waits until Wayne turns it on.
And when he does in a few hours, Springsteen’s faintly heard and Eddie laughs because he loves his uncle, adores the man and he wishes he told him more of that when he had the chance, but he’s determined he’ll have more time later, he just has to get out of this hellish place first, and so he starts talking.
It startles Wayne at first, swears and yells flying, and then there’s tears shared between them, so close and yet so far apart. Eddie explains what he can, pressing his hands into his wounds in hopes of slowing the bleeding, and he tells Wayne to hurry with an aborted, “I love you.”
Wayne hurries. He fishes his rifle out from beneath his seat and thinks—about the kids who joined Eddie's club, about the band kid and the kid with the questions and the other kid, too, with soft brown eyes and a sad smile when he ducked his head in acknowledgment—and takes off.
He finds Harrington’s house, knocks on the door until the kid comes running. He slings it wide, revealing himself and the band kid and Henderson, Wayne thinks, who's momma is sweet and kind at the diner, and says, “My nephew is alive. Let’s go get him.”
And he didn’t know what he expected from this kid—if he thought he’d get directions or what—but he’s surprised when Harrington nods, slips on some shoes, and follows him outside to his truck where Eddie's voice is still coming through the radio.
Harrington says hi, a broken sort of thing, and promises they’re on the way, for him to just stay where he’s at, and Eddie giggles, says, “My knight in shining armor,” because he's always been romantic, and Harrington goes red and says, “Goddamn right I am,” and Wayne listens to Eddie's laughter the whole way to the portal that takes them to the other world.
It's dark and ugly and dead, but they find Eddie fast. He’s bleeding out, blubbering as soon as he sees Wayne and Steve—“Call me Steve, please.”—and it takes both of them to carry Eddie up and out of that shithole dimension.
They take him to the hospital, Eddie resting in Steve's arms the whole way, and as soon as Eddie's taken back and stabilized, Wayne and Steve collapse in the hallway. They’re quiet when they do it, but Steve's tears are hot and Wayne’s grip is tight and they hold one another close. They ask a nurse for an extra bed in Eddie's room; she’s reluctant but she does it anyway when Steve asks nicely.
Wayne and Steve camp Eddie's room as he rests, talking quietly and getting to know one another better and sharing stories of Eddie. soon, Wayne passes out in the recliner—helps his back if he sleeps upright since those discs have been deteriorating—and wakes up a few hours later to see the extra bed unused.
Steve’s crawled up into Eddie's bed with him, nestled close and tight, and they’re both awake, faces turned toward one another as they giggle and whisper and chuckle, but Wayne can’t hear them and he thinks that’s okay.
He rests some more, content to listen to the soft sounds of his boys—his boys, ‘cause Harrington is his now; a decision he made when he saw the darkness in the kid's eyes that reminds him so much of his own shit—lull him to sleep.
That is, until one Dustin Henderson hears the news that Eddie's alive and safe and recovering. He causes a ruckus and a half, and the hospital staff is in shambles, and Wayne laughs because he might just have to make Dustin one of his own, too.
#wrote this on twitter and realized i can share it here too??#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#wayne munson#see the thing is--i am wayne's biggest fan#he is my boyfriend and i'm holding him in my arms right now#and the idea of eddie coming to him [and he would!] and then wayne going to steve#and making steve tell him where to go so he can get his son [HIS SON] back warms my cold dead heart#and i've got plans to turn this into a full-fledged thing actually#[says actually as if it's hard for people to believe i write when i can't shut up!]#2023 i'm coming for your entire asshole so be prepared#fic thread#my writings
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| will o‘ the wisps
Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen
[finished work, 17 chapters, 165k]
>>„Don‘t do this.“ Charles hisses and pleads all the same. „You can‘t do this. Please. Max trusted me.“
Seb cocks his head.
„Yes,“ he slowly says, quiet but haunting. „And that was the plan, Charles.“<<
[OR: Max Verstappen is an Omega in a world where his designation is seen as nothing but an item to be possessed, an object to be bought and used as pleased.
Charles Leclerc is an officer gone off duty, taking on the task of housing an Omega whose trust in good things is shattered, and whose secrets go deeper than anticipated.
Charles never expects things to go as far down south as they do.]
ao3 link
playlist: songs that have inspired or followed along the creation of this fic
#this baby of mine is now finally online! woooow!#this has truly been a little bit of my heart project for the past months now#and i am fairly aware that there are quite a few (absolutely incredible!!!) fics in the lestappen tag with similar premises#(alpha takes in omega etc) but. i swear the ground plot (especially later chapters) has been floating around my brain for years now#and january 24 i sat down and just wrote it down chapter after chapter…and now here we are? wild gurl!! because i never finish long wips…oo#either way. the charles and max of this are my babies. i love them. i hold them dearly. i think about them everyday.#alsooo this pic will make sense after chapter 6! hihi#will o the wisps#a.a. writing#lestappen
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“Parker,” Eliot hisses at the ceiling vent, “what the fuck?" Aw, shit. “Aw, shit.” Hardison grimaces, rubbing his head. In the…excitement of the night, he completely forgot about Parker. “Parker, why are you in the ceiling?” There's a long pause. “I don't understand the question,” Parker says.
eliot/hardison/parker rights
#eliot spencer#alec hardison#parker leverage#do they have a ship name#leverage#leverage fic#leverage ot3#fic#my fic#stuff#quick lil thing bc im obsessed with the dynamics here#i will have to do a more in depth study one day hopefully#picture the marquee: aro eliot x ace parker x pan hardison ot3 qpr and they're all holding hands and it's great#eliot and parker boost cars and do yoga and fuckin rescue orphans together#they WOULD do that shit#okay im done back to actually WATCHING leverage now xoxo#this version of events is so delightful to me that i don't want to return to actual canon#i just want to live in this fantasy world ive created where this ot3 is extremely canon and real
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Objects of Affection
Summary: Settled in Scala ad Caelum 5 years after the fall of Daybreak Town, Ephemer cherishes the treasures of his life.
(One-shot. An epilogue slash extension of Overmorrow & Part II of Overmorrow: The Founder’s Story series)
Read here
Dropbox folder (view after reading!)
#khux#ephemer#kh oc#objects of affection#overmorrow#my fics#my art#hi hi hiiii#I made dinner; now here’s the dessert#I know the art makes it look REALLY schmaltzy but I SWEAR there’s more to it than that 😆#I hope you enjoy it; I know it’s been a while since I finished overmorrow so maybe things are a bit hazy#and I know this is quite long#but I promise this is something special. I’ll hold your hand the whole way through 🩵#charis oc#my posts#my ocs#seeker and finder
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Rich and arrogant and combative and blasphemous, Jillian Salvius would surely live in a den of iniquity where her girls would be tempted enough to abandon their mission — so Mother Superion thought.
But Jillian Salvius' table, however generous, was not one set for waste: gracious as a host, meals at her house were varied but not excessive, alcohol present but not overindulged in; if more kindly, her conduct was as correct as that of any strict Christian such as Superion herself.
And, through daily contact, sharing in that their deadly conflict, Mother Superion found that she could admire her — charmed.
#doctor superion#warrior nun#mother superion#jillian salvius#i wasn't sure i'd be able to post this here tbh. tumblr on mobile is my personal hell#but here it is. enjoy. the next couple of drabbles are all sin-themed so that's fun#please join me in hoping my computer will be back and running by the time i post the next drabble lol#because i am going crazy. i hate hate hate phones. how does anyone enjoy this torture??#and since i'm unlikely to pop up again here so soon as long as the pc is out...#have an update: the vtm doctor superion au is now at page 101. but that's equal to only about HALF the original lol#so there is progress. just don't hold your breath because this fic will take a gooood while still#i'm excited though 👀#warrior nun drabble#narratives and similar
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