#here comes a shitload of character tags

[floridasmash]

some of the arts i made for my r*db*bble [e, u] over the years. these and a few others are available as stickers +more on my RB @ AKGizmo

2024 EDIT: Well it had to happen eventually, my art was removed by RB for obvious reasons. If you find them hosted anywhere else, it’s stolen. I’m working on printing my own stickers to sell on ko-fi instead.

[echoingbirdsofprey]

Back Forty View (On Our Piece Of Ground)

4 - Windows Down On A First Ride In A Paid Up Truck

Pairings: Tyler Owens x OFC Georgia Tennley-Owens, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: Explicit (MDNI!)

Warnings: SMUT, lots of pregnancy talk, unprotected!piv (wrap before you tap) argueing, angry/annoyed!Tyler, brotherly teasing and wrestling, and hopefully I didn't miss anything. Just a reminder, none of my work is beta read and I do my best to edit as best as I can so sometimes I have to go back and fix things after I reread it a million and a half times so sorry about that!

A/N: This is an interesting chapter. I had trouble writing it at first and then once it started flowing I couldn't stop. There are a lot of key moments in here between our four main characters. There's a little smut, a little angst, a little fluff and just all around a lot. The part art the end is something I have actually seen happen so I pulled from some personal experience for this one and the next one as well. The chapter after this will come with heavy warnings because as always I can't leave well enough alone. So please enjoy this chapter, the next will be heartbreaking. As always, likes, comments, reblogs, and any feedback is always always appreciated! Love y'all that keep reading along and hang with me on this journey. It's a really fun one so far and there's a SHITLOAD more to come!

Tags: @mrsevans90 @djs8891 @gpsmississippihippie @barnesboo1967 @dizzybee03 @coloraturadiva @kmc1989

Georgia had been getting many requests for lessons and training and she had tl weed out the people who just wanted to come and meet Tyler and be nosy because there were quite a few people who were exactly that. They jointly came up with a questionnaire for people to fill out, detailing exactly what people were looking for with their horses to make it easier to wade through the nonsense phone calls and texts. There had been a quiet period in between the holidays where there had been minimal inquiries except for one lady who kept calling. 

“Ugh...Tyler. It's the same lady.” Georgia said, looking at her caller ID. It was a number from a western Oklahoma area code and she knew it was the same woman because she'd leave the same text right after the call.

Unknown: Hi Georgia my names Taylor I've got a horse i need some help with. I know its the holidays but if you could call me back when you get a chance I'd appreciate it. Happy Holidays.

“Just answer. It's almost New Year’s anyway.” Tyler said. He had been sitting on the couch next to her, but decided to pause the video he was editing to engage in a cuddle session, seeing as Sam and Jake had stepped out to take the dogs for a walk around the property. Georgia giggled softly and then  cleared her throat as she answered the call. Tyler ceased his movements, his lips stationary against her neck.

“Hey, Georgia, my name’s Taylor and I was hopin’ you could help me out. I’ve got a pretty nervous horse and was told by a bunch of people that you were the person to take him to for training. I’m hopin’ you’ve got a spot open?” The woman sounded older and Georgia wondered if she realized it hasn't gone to voicemail.

“Hi, Taylor. Unfortunately I don’t have room at the moment and I’m actually pregnant so I can’t really do much more than groundwork. Maybe I can refer you to someone else for now?” Georgia said, hoping that might satisfy the woman's needs for now.

“I’d much rather wait until you were available. He’s been to too many trainers already. This is kind of the last straw.” The lady's voice grew heavy and Georgia pursed her lips. She turned to Tyler, who was listening. He shrugged his shoulders, leaving it up to Georgia to make a decision. Her lips thinned and she thought for a moment before making a suggestion.

“Oh...I’m sorry to hear that. I mean...best I could do at the moment is come take a look at him if you want?” That was the best she could come up with for now.

“Yeah, that would be great. I’ll text you my address. We’re just outside of Cleo Springs.” The woman said, hanging up immediately and sending the text with the address.

“Guess we're going to look at a horse?” Georgia asked and Tyler nodded.

“Well she'll have to wait until our make out session is done.” Tyler smirked and he took the phone from her hand and placed it on the coffee table. He hovered above Georgia before gently pressing her into the cushions. His hands were warm and inviting, much like his lips as they moved against any exposed skin he could find. Georgia’s head fell back against the couch and she let her eyes close, enjoying Tyler’s soft touch.

“Mmm, Tyler.” She purred in his ear and he chuckled as he splayed his fingers across her still growing belly. He locked her in place with his legs on either side of her hips. He shifted, kneeing her legs open. He was careful as he rested the backs of her thighs against his for support. 

“This okay? Comfortable? You’ll tell me if it isn’t?” He asked, kissing her forehead, then the tip of her nose, and then he stopped at her lips. She nodded and closed the distance between them. 

“I’m okay, Tyler.” Her voice was strained, and needy and Tyler’s cock twitched beneath the denim. He hummed and Georgia reached up to rest her hands at the back of his neck.

“Yeah, keep sayin’ my name just like that darlin’ n’ I’ll getcha there, pretty mama. ” His lids lowered, reaching for his belt buckle to undo it. He unzipped his jeans and pushed them and his boxers down his hips, then pulled her leggings and panties down. Georgia swallowed hard and her eyes met his, their mouths only inches apart.

“Ohhh, Tyler.” Georgia whimpered, as he was slow to push his length into her, stilling as he kissed her. He waited for her okay, wanting to be sure that he wasn’t hurting her. With her being pregnant, there were certain positions that had become uncomfortable for her and Tyler wanted nothing more than for her to still feel good about herself. She tugged at the hair at the back of his neck and bit her lip, signaling him to keep going. He was tentative at first but then as he saw a look of pure pleasure wash over her, he loosened up.

“Mama, yur so sexy, y'know that? Fuckin’ beautiful, gorgeous girl. Pretty Peach. ” He accentuated each compliment with a deep thrust, hitting just the right spot to bring her towards the edge of a powerful orgasm. When she crested that peak, Tyler was quick to follow, spilling inside her as his name left her lips in a satisfied moan. They soaked in their shared high for a few moments before they heard footsteps coming up the porch stairs. Tyler pulled his jeans back up, zippering them but not buckling his belt and then he pulled Georgia’s panties and leggings back up. 

The dogs came bounding in first as Tyler peeked over the top of the sofa. Jake glanced around and then saw him but not Georgia.

“Shit, sorry T. We interruptin’? He asked, stopping halfway through the door. Sam smacked him gently, trying to get in.

“No, no, you’re fine. We’re just makin’ out like teenagers.” Tyler chuckled and he helped Georgia sit up. She smiled at Jake, who let Sam through the door then.

“Nice. You doin’ the over the pants handy too?” Jake mused and Tyler grabbed a ball, strategically placed by Grits in reach and chucked it at his brother who caught it. “Ah you thought...you thought my reflexes were shit. I fly planes at supersonic speeds you ding-dong.”

“Why do you boys always use the most childish insults?” Sam asked, poking Jake in the ribs. He winced and whipped around to tickle her. Tyler smirked as she collapsed in Jake’s arms and against the front door.

“Well sayin’ ding-dong in front of kids is probably better than cocksucker.” Jake chuckled as he continued to tickle her. She swore and he captured her lips with his.

“You say that too, though.” Georgia said from the couch and Tyler raised a brow.

“Well, yeah, but Kenny used to yell at us if we swore in the house. So we reserved the really bad ones for out in the barn or on trail rides. Sometimes when we were pennin’ too.” Tyler explained and Jake had ceased his comical assault on his fiance. She was breathing heavily as she hung off of Jake. Tyler rose and Georgia grabbed for his belt, attempting and failing to hide the fact that it was still unbuckled. Jake threw his head back in a loud roar of laughter. 

“Oh my god, you were straight up fuckin’ before we came in, weren’t you! T! She’s already pregnant!” Jake cackled. 

“I’m gonna throw somethin’ else at’cha boy. We’re all adults here. I am allowed to bang my wife while she’s pregnant, thank you VERY much.” Tyler said, buckling his belt. He gazed over at Jake and his tone fell flat. “I’m sure you’ll be tryin’a do the same thing with Samantha. No offense, hun.” 

“None taken, Tyler. No, in fact, we were just discussing babies. Weren’t we Jake?” Sam said with a wide smirk. Jake’s nostrils flared and his eyes widened, surprised at Sam’s response but a little proud of her for it. This was the Sam he knew.

“Well, Jakey, if you need me to tell ya any tricks, I got a one hundred percent success rate, so.” Tyler mused and Jake's mouth fell open in a smile. Georgia couldn’t help the laughter that came from her. 

“You cocky motherfucker.” Jake scoffed and blinked a few times before crossing the room and grabbing his brother’s shirt. Tyler laughed and let Jake pull him around a little, their noses touching.

“You gonna kiss me, sweetheart?” I see why you joined the Navy.” Tyler joked and Jake pushed him back.

“That’d be the most hillbilly ass shit. We’d get hung for it.” Jake punched Tyler lightly in his chest and Tyler reached and took a hold of Jake, flipping him around and pretending to choke him out from behind. Jake fake gagged and felt to the floor and then they both laughed raucously again, all the while Sam and Georgia doing nothing but watching their significant others. Tyler helped his brother back up and then they shook hands. 

“Hey, you wanna come with us to check out a horse?” Tyler asked as their breathing returned to normal. Jake glanced at Sam and she nodded.

“Sure. Where are we headed?” Jake asked. “And should we leave the dogs here?”

“Yeah, they can all stay. Think that might be good. Sounded like this horse was kinda weird. It’s in Cleo Springs? It’s ‘bout an hour n’a half.” Tyler said. He motioned to the stairs. “We’re just gonna...change real quick.” Tyler smirked and threw his keys at Jake, who caught them and tipped his head.

“I’ll go start the truck.” Jake said and Sam made sure that the pups were all settled and happy. They’d had a nice long walk, so they’d all sleep for a while. Dustin could let them out when he came back later that evening.

🌪️ 🛩️🛻⚓

It had been a quick drive, considering there weren’t many people on the roads with it being the holidays and kids were on vacation from school. When they pulled up, Tyler scrunched his nose and glanced at Georgia.

“This place is a shithole, Gee.” He said softly, reaching for her hand. She looked around, having texted the woman, Taylor, that they were on their way about an hour ago. She said she’d be there, and she was coming from the back of the property. Georgia put her jacket on and Tyler ran to the passenger side, helping her down from the truck as it was decently tall. The woman shook Georgia and Tyler’s hands and then nodded at Jake and Sam. She was a bit awkward and she seemed very nervous, Georgia observed.

It was well into the afternoon and they didn’t want to be here terribly long with the sun getting ready to set. The horse was in a round pen at the way back of the property. The woman led them back to where she kept the horse, and they passed a few other corrals on the way with other horses in them that looked well fed and well kept. Maybe the place was just old. As they approached, Georgia noticed the woman fold her arms across her chest. 

“He’s pretty reactive. Don’t go in with him.” The woman said and Georgia stepped a little closer. He was a dark color, maybe a roan, but she couldn’t quite see all of him.

“Not a problem. Tell me a little bit about him?” Everyone stood close to the round pen and the horse stayed at the back away from them, his muscles twitching every so often. He was thin, and Georgia could count every rib, but he had muscle across his back and hind end so he wasn’t quite what she would consider neglected...yet. He needed weight though and when he turned his head, Georgia’s mouth dropped open and she grabbed for Tyler. He had a freeze brand. He was a mustang, and Georgia had always wanted one, since she was a little girl.

“Got him from the BLM holding facility at Pauls Valley. He was great for the first few months and was doin’ well and then he bucked me off and I hurt my back pretty bad. He’s never been aggressive but when he gets scared he just panics. In all honestly, miss, I really need to get rid of him...” The woman said, with tears in her eyes. “Sorry. I’ll be right back.” She said, sniffling and walking toward her house. The four of them watched her go and Georgia peered through the panels. The horse sniffed at the ground and then he jumped, hitting the panels and scaring himself.

“Tyler...” Georgia leaned against the panel, watching the horse as he trembled. 

“Gee...you’re very pregnant.” Tyler cautioned as his hand met the back of her neck. He squeezed slightly, as if to try to rub some sense into her, but he knew her decision was already made up.

“Tyler...please. He needs help.” Georgia's voice was pleading as she turned to him and looked up at him with her pretty blue eyes. Jake and Sam stepped toward the corral.

“And you cannot get injured. My kid’s in there. I can’t lose you.” Tyler said, tone flat.

“I won’t handle him. He needs to decompress anyway. I bet just takin’ him outta here would help.” Georgia reasoned. Jake glanced over at her and his eyes widened.

“That thing looks more like a bronc than a ridin’ horse...” He said softly, pulling Sam a little closer. The sun was going down quick.

“And what if he won’t go in the barn?” Tyler asked, his hands going to his hips.

“He doesn’t need to. He’s a mustang. He already lives outside by the looks of it. We’ve got panels. We can build him a small pen. He needs to be around other horses.” She suggested and Tyler shook his head.

“We? You mean me’n’Boone’n’Jake.” He said, slightly annoyed sounding as he motioned to Jake, who could see exactly where this was going. Just like Sam, Georgia would get what she wanted, one way or another.

“Yes...” Georgia said almost apologetically. Tyler sighed heavily and ran his hand over his face and scratched his beard. He stepped away from her for a moment, his heart pounding. He knew the right thing to do was to save this horse, but he was terrified that it might hurt Georgia. He would just have to be strict with her. He sighed again and then turned back to her, his hands on his hips, the classically annoyed Tyler look about him. Georgia bit her bottom lip.

“ And my bleedin’ fuckin’ heart can’t say no to you .” He said, displeased, but he stepped back toward her and pulled her into an embrace. “You’re not touchin’ that horse until Jaycen is born though. Dustin and I will feed him and muck the pen. We’ll go home and get somethin’ set up, and I’ll come back with Lennon to get him, okay? I’ve got no fuckin’ idea how I’m gettin’ him on a trailer.”

“Have I told you that you’re husband of the year?” Georgia asked with a wide smirk.

“Yup, keep tellin’ me darlin’. At this rate, I should be husband of the fuckin’ century.” Tyler said and he glanced at Jake, who just shrugged his shoulders. He pulled Sam in a little tighter as he glanced back at the horse.

The woman, Taylor, came back out of her house and she seemed in better spirits.Tyler motioned for Jake and Sam to head back to the truck. Jake took the keys and started it, letting the diesel warm up.

“Taylor, I’ve talked to my husband and if you’d like, we can take him off your hands.” Georgia said and the woman looked as if relief washed over her in that moment.

“Are you sure? You have a place for him?” She asked wearily. She probably couldn’t believe her luck.

“We can come up with somethin’ by tomorrow. We’ve got a lot of land.” Georgia said. Taylor took her hands in a thankful gesture and then hugged Georgia, careful of her belly.

“I don’t want anythin’ for him...you’d be doin’ me a mighty big favor. I..I don’t have a trailer.” Taylor said apologetically. Tyler shook his head and placed his hand back on the back of Georgia’s neck, squeezing gently. He rubbed between her shoulder blades and then pressed her toward the truck.

“We’ve got one. We can come pick him up tomorrow.” Tyler said, smiling at the woman. She thanked them and then as they were walking back to his truck the woman mentioned one last thing.

“This is great. I really appreciate your help.I’ll find his BLM paperwork so you can have it. His name is Ducati.”

🌪️ 🛩️🛻⚓

“Y'never know...maybe he'll turn into Jaycen's horse.” Georgia said as they drove home in the dark. Tyler’s knuckles were white on the wheel and Jake could tell by how hard his foot was on the gas that he was mad.

“If you can get that thing safe enough to tote around our kid and rope off it...I'll buy you ten more. You know I'd do anythin’ for you but I'd be on my fuckin’ knees like a slave if you could get that done because honestly, Gee, I don’t have any hope for that horse. He’s too fuckin’ skittish. He couldn’t even be a buckin’ horse like that. Fuckin’ Ducati...whatta name.” Tyler’s tone was clearly annoyed and Georgia knew that so she stayed quiet as Tyler continued to vent his frustration. “And for what it’s worth, I’m tryin’a not make all this harder while we got a kid on the way. You are damn near seven months pregnant, Gee! It’s a damn good thing Jake is around to take some of the load offa me because I’m gettin’ fuckin’ exhausted. God, Gee, I love you, I do...but I just want a few things to slow down.”

Everyone was silent then, Jake glancing out the back driver side window, Sam laying against him and curled up. She gazed up at Jake who gave her a small, worried smile. She saw Georgia’s eyes in the rearview and knitted her brows for her. Georgia bit her lip and glanced over at Tyler. He huffed in frustration and then he shot her a quick look. He reached across the center console and Jake observed his brother again, interested in what he was going to do next. And what he did surprised Jake.

“I’m sorry. I lost my temper. I didn’t mean to. I’m just worried bout’cha, darlin’. I love you.” Tyler’s voice became significantly softer and he took several deep breaths. This was Tyler healed and Jake was overjoyed for him. This was a much different Tyler than the one he’d been in the years that Georgia wasn’t with him. Tyler had worked on himself so much, trying to get control of his anger in that time and it had clearly worked. Georgia’s eyes were misty as she stared at him.

“I love you too. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have forced you into makin’ a decision. I just...” Georgia said and Tyler squeezed her hand.

“No, don’t you apologize. It’s another mouth to feed and muck but he needs to get outta there. You’re only thinkin’ of the animal. That’s why people ask you for help with their horses. You care more about the animals than anythin’ else. You’re such a good girl, Gee.” Tyler praised her and Georgia felt a wave of heat wash over her. His smile was warm as he glanced over at her again in between flicking on his turn signal and checking the signs for the exit. Everyone was silent again as Tyler drove through Stillwater and toward their home. When they got back it was a little past dinner, so they whipped something up quickly and ate. 

“Hey, we can clean up, you guys go rest. You got a lot to do tomorrow.” Jake offered and Tyler hugged his brother and thanked him quietly. Tyler headed upstairs, his limp evident now that he was at the end of his energy for the day. Georgia thanked Jake and Sam and then followed her husband. He had stopped at Jaycen’s room, appreciating the crib and the chair and the color scheme that had finally been finished. Everything was ready for the baby. But now, suddenly, Tyler felt crunched for time. Georgia waited for him to turn and he smiled weakly before heading into their room. He unbuckled his belt and stood for a moment, at the foot of the bed. Georgia stayed at the threshold of the room for a few minutes before she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. 

“I’m sorry. I just didn’t realize how tired you were too.” Georgia whispered. Tyler turned and he sat on the edge of the bed, He pulled her between his legs and she placed her hands on his shoulders. She reached up and ran her fingers through the hair at his temples. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

“I suddenly feel fuckin’ nervous. I don’t know why. And that horse just...he reminds me’a you...before. Spooky, skittish. I just get worried...” Tyler explained, his eyes going misty as he gazed up into beautiful and sad blue.

“Oh, Tyler...” She guided his head toward her chest, wrapping her arms around his head. His arms wound around her waist. She spoke softly as she caressed the back of his head, feeling the spot where there was scar tissue from stitches that didn’t quite heal properly. “I’m so sorry...I’m sorry I put that distrust in you and...and I know..I know I’m gonna be makin’ up for it forever but please...know I’m not gonna run anymore. I’m here to stay. I promise. I promise you I will stay. No matter how hard it all gets, I’m stayin’. I wouldn’t dare take your son away from you. Not after I lost my father. I will not let this boy grow up without you...without his father.” Georgia felt tears streaming down her cheeks and Tyler could hear the trembling in her voice as she made her vows to him. They hadn’t done marriage vows, but he was counting this as hers. And he knew she'd probably count them as hers too.

🌪️ 🛩️🛻⚓

Tyler decided that Georgia should go with him to pick Ducati up. Jake and Dustin had worked in the morning setting up a pen that was close enough to the barn that they could muck it out easily and he could at least get against the barn to block some wind until he got used to the barn. The pen was also in a spot where they could just pressure him off the trailer and into it without him escaping. Lennon sat in the back with Grits, who had decided he needed to come along for the ride because he didn’t get to yesterday. Lennon could rope damn near anything and Tyler would even say he was better than him, even though Lennon wouldn’t admit that. He looked up to Tyler. So they both brought ropes in case they needed them. 

Taylor was there with the BLM paperwork for Georgia to sign, showing that she now owned the horse. Tyler backed the truck and trailer up to the pen and they opened the gate to the pen and the back door of the trailer so that they only place Ducati could go was around the pen or into the trailer. The horse snorted and Taylor decided she would go back into her house and let them do whatever they needed to do to get him on the trailer. She didn’t think she’d be very helpful with how nervous she was. 

Ducati was a beautiful bay roan and now in the morning sun, Georgia could see that. He needed some groceries and some brushing but she knew with time, he’d fill out with muscle and be a good little horse. She hoped for that at least. Ducati was rounded up from the Pryor Mountain Herd Management Area in Montana and brought down to the Pauls Valley holding Pens in Oklahoma. He was a little over fourteen hands, so the size of a large adult pony. He was seven years old and castrated when he was adopted by Taylor. The gelding sniffed the air and he stepped toward the trailer without hesitation. Tyler’s eyes widened and he held his breath, as did Lennon and Georgia as the little bay gelding jumped onto the stock trailer. It took all of five minutes from start to finish and Georgia had a feeling if Taylor had been standing there she would’ve burst out into tears, knowing that the horse she loved on for so long had decided he’d rather hop on a trailer and leave.

Lennon secured the back door and Ducati was quiet as they started up the truck. They headed back to Stillwater, mustang in tow. The entire ride, there was not a peep from Ducati. Georgia glanced over at one point, Tyler meeting her gaze.

“He knew we came to help him, Ty.” She said softly and he reached over the center console like he had last night, taking one of her hands in his. He agreed wholeheartedly.

When they arrived home, Tyler backed the trailer in and Ducati walked calmly off the trailer and into his new pen. He sniffed the air as they closed the gate and pulled the truck and trailer away. Jake and Sam had come out, as well as Dustin, and Ophelia had finished riding her horses. Georgia held her hand out, through the panel fencing and Tyler cautioned her, but he had no need to. Ducati walked over, touched her hand gently and then poked his nose toward her belly. His ears flicked back and forth and he let out a huge breath as if to say ‘okay, I’m okay now.’

“That ain’t the same horse.” Jake said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“No Jake, he just realized the same thing that we did. He’s safe here. He could feel it immediately.” Sam said softly as she hooked her arms around one of his biceps. Sam was right. Jake had felt the same feeling of comfort wash over him as soon as he’d stepped onto the property. 

Ducati inched closer to Georgia. He very carefully, very gently touched her belly with his opposable top lip and she felt Jaycen kick then. She took Tyler’s hand and placed it on her belly, as Ducati repeated his actions, as did Jaycen inside her womb. 

“That’s crazy.” Tyler said, his eyes wide as he watched the interaction between the supposedly skittish horse and his pregnant wife, or rather, his unborn son.

“I think he’s pickin’ his rider.” Georgia said, glancing up at Tyler with a smile.

“Yeah, well, he’s got a ways to go before they’re both ready for that, but...” Tyler reached out and rubbed the gelding’s nose very carefully. Ducati pricked his ears and nickered softly, though Tyler surmised it was not at him. It was definitely at Jaycen. “I guess sometimes all you need is a change of scenery, huh, bud?”

[possumsinpeoplesuits]

At long last, my Our Lady of the Passion cosplay is ready for cons!

Based on this picture from Pinterest (google is finding fuck all elsewhere, but if someone knows the source I'll add it.)

The tank top is from Lockedtombmemes' Redbubble store.

The jacket is here, though I've painted the back with some fabric paint. I used the non-heat treating kind and just sort of sketched out the letters with a dark pencil to make sure the placement wasn't too awful.

The dog tags I'm not quite satisfied with because I put too little information on them, and an updated one is still waiting in the mail (I wanted to put the Wing and Cell on it, and had to reread some chapters to verify) There's loads of places to get them, but I used these.

The machetes I don't have many pictures of (I don't have a full length mirror to show them properly strapped to the legs.), but I went a little overbudget to the point it would probably have been cheaper to buy real machetes (but not as welcomed at conventions!) Still, they were from here, in case anyone wants some big ol' 27 inch props instead of the dinky ones from Spirit Halloween.

Gloves were these ones, and they fit my big ol' butch hands just fine. Nothing special there.

For my TACTICAL BLOOD OF EDEN FANNY PACK (which I already wear all the time, but changed colors to match the costume anyways) is this.

The boots are fairly ubiquitous and seem to come from various online sellers, sometimes in men's sizes, sometimes in women's, but this store has them up to a women's size 12, which I needed because I'm lorge.

Now, the mask I'm most proud of! I don't have any experience making costume bits, but I found this one meant for airsoft, which has TWO FUCKING FANS?!?! hidden in the filters to cool my face in the sweltering 80 degree Texas winters.

But! You'll notice the goggles aren't tinted, so I had to figure out how to do them myself to hide my glasses, for REASONS, but this little kit was pretty simple. There's a gluey side, so you just spray the goggles with some water, then slap them down and spend like... a fucking hour or two squeezing out the air bubbles, but aside from a single wrinkle, I think they turned out great! The red also provides some good contrast.

Now, the pants were pretty simple. These come with knee pads, and the black camo looks really nice with the gray coat and black shirt. It did take two attempts to get some that fit (One seller had the XL listed as having a 44 inch waist, equivalent to a women's 18, but labeled elsewhere with the true size of 36 inches, the bastards.), but where I got silly was the straps.

I got this tactical belt, which seems to have tipped the number of tactical things I can search for before search engines decide you're a bootlicker, and intended to use a single bike strap on each leg to hold the other end, which, well... two problems.

The blades were now being bent by my massive fucking quads because I've been doing a shitload of exercise to get fit, because apparently all I needed to get into the gym five times a week was wanting to look like my specialist book blorbo.

I couldn't bend my fucking hips.

So! I ended up ordering a total of SIX STRAPS for my legs, pairing two up high to fit the wider part of my leg, and a single one down near the knee. The upper ones I later looped through the belt to hold them up, which also doubles for making the trousers into a fucking cod piece, which, hey, some people like that. The lower ones were led up by the knee pad, so I had a somewhat stable set of six straps and one belt, which is dangerously close to becoming a Nomura-era Final Fantasy character, but hey, I gave myself carpal tunnel marathoning all the Kingdom Hearts games last year, so that's not a problem.

All in all, it probably cost me... well, more money than it should have, but it's all pretty quality stuff that I'm sure will be very toasty if we ever happen to have another winter down south.

Also, last note... boots of any kind are so much more comfortable with insoles. They don't have to be expensive, but your feet and knees will thank you at conventions when they have a good cushion under your heels.

That's about all I've learned putting this together! I'm 5'9 and around 250 pounds, give or take, so most of this is men's garments, which means the pockets are DEEP AS FUCK. Perfect for collecting small rocks.

Just something to keep in mind.

(See y'all at the conventions. I promise my Yorkshire accent will be less goofy by then, but I can't promise I'll be as nasally as the audiobook.)

[xpao-bearx]

Guess who started being consumed by playing BG3??? 👁👄👁

In honour of this INCREDIBLE game, here's my Tav!

(Sorry that the photo quality isn't the best, these are not in-game screenshots! I just took pics with my phone, but I do wanna say that my Tav has a LOT of freckles on her body that the pics didn't do justice)

Her name is Mon'sun and SHE IS MAH FUCKING BABYYY 😭❤️❤️❤️

I plan on writing a fic with her and the star himself (AKA MY DARLING 🥰): ✨️Astarion✨️ I already have a SHITLOAD of ideas, I just wanna play some more first and see how Astarion's romance pans out before I begin! So if that's something you'd be interested in reading, thanks sooo much and deffo keep a lookout for any updates~ Also, their ship name is SunStar which is JUST THE CUTEST FUCKING THING ALSKDJSKLJ

And I just wanna give my deepest love and gratitude to my two queens @kuroosexuall and @matchamocchi 💕 They have been nothing but patient and supportive of all my SERIOUSLY unhealthy fangirling over the sassy vampy elfy as well as my OC 🥲

But for the meantime, while I still haven't written my fic, below are some (*cough* a LOT so buckle up *cough*) stuff I've thought up for Mon'sun! Just to give y'all a fun lil taste of how I imagine her as a character, though I'm sure as I continue to play I'll get even more ideas and I'll probably have to edit this or post more about her, in which all posts connected to her will be tagged as #Mon'sun and Mon'sun x Astarion being tagged as #SunStar so y'all can easily search for them if you're interested. BTW I purposely left out extra details regarding her childhood as well as her thoughts about the tadpole cuz those are stoofs I'd like to reveal and explore in my fic!

And sadly, I'm not an artist, but I'm planning on and SO excited to commission various artworks of Mon'sun and SunStar from some truly extraordinary artists when the time comes so just wait for thy eyes to be blessed! \(^o^)/ Speaking of, if y'all are ever curious about Mon'sun, please don't hesitate to send me asks and such cuz your interest in my baby would be the BIGGEST honour 🥹

Now, without further ado...

Get to know "The Scarred Bard" under the cut!

In the game, I chose Voice 8 for Mon'sun but I headcanon that her voiceclaim is annapantsu (YouTuber who does a lot of amazing song covers!! 🙌)

Her theme song is Love Runs Out by OneRepublic

She does have a last name that she took on in honour from the woman who adopted her in Baldur's Gate but she hasn't found the need to tell anyone what it is

A drow half-elf and a College of Lore bard 🎵

Tends to face a lot of discrimination due to being a "filthy half-breed" and possessing drow ancestry, not to mention her drow parent being Lolth-sworn; her blood red right eye a telltale sign and a deep, angry scar permanently carved across it a merciless reminder of what she resents about herself

Occasionally has dreams and thoughts of the goddess Lolth speaking to her, tempting her with sweet whispers of cruelty and darkness. Mon'sun tries her damndest to resist--to stay on the path of good--but violent impulses erupt when the thin string of her patience (and sanity) snaps and it feels so fucking good

Mon'sun aligns as a chaotic neutral character. While she does try to be good, she is quite an unorthodox heroine in her personal little tale and can be pushed to make extreme decisions should she feel that they are for the better...or just whichever's a more fun option 🤭

Survived a poor and bleak childhood, but full of love in her early years; certain circumstances impacted this happiness which drastically changed everything

One of the youngest in the party, only in her early to mid 20s. And though she's not sure when her actual birth date is, she does consider the day she was adopted--saved--as such

Very resilient and versatile even through the worst scenarios (likely due to her past), but would much rather avoid problems whenever possible. She may be seen as a bit of a coward because of this though she certainly doesn't mind (she'd like to keep her gorgeous head, thank you very much!). However, there are times where she exhibits great bravery, such as standing up for the weak and defending innocents regardless of the consequences. She can also be quite mischievous and defiant with her enemies, truly a bard through and through with her vicious mockery 😈

She tries to see the good in everyone, to be patient and understanding, giving them the same chance she hopes to receive if she ever finds herself in a similar situation. However, some fuckers don't deserve that kindness and a sick, exhilarating part of her deep down yearns for the bloodshed sure to stain her hands. After all... She would only be granting them a mercy by ending their repulsive, pathetic lives...right?

She is proficient with weapons though she prefers casting spells especially ones that can be utilized from a good distance (Fireball being one of her all-time favourites--efficient and hot, both in a sexy way and an "I will feed your barbecued corpses to my widdle baby owlbear" way). She's also a fantastic cheerleader; she will happily let the stronger people on the team handle the grittier scraps of battle while she does a jaw-dropping performance of ✨️Bardic Inspiration✨️ on the sidelines (Lae'zel STRONGLY disapproves)

Skilled in stealth and sleight of hand accompanied by a biting wit (seriously, she has the potential to have been a rogue instead). Tries her best to make an honest living as a wandering bard, but whenever money and options are tight then she's driven to petty thievery. Although, as much as she hates to admit it, there is something in her that utterly relishes in the intoxicating rush of crime

Lockpicking is more so a hobby rather than a necessity for her. Funnily enough, with how much she likes to explore, she probably came across and "collected" the key that opens that mysterious door advancing the party's adventure. However, the key seems to be merely decorative because Mon'sun already opened the door since the shiny lock caught her eye as soon as the party stepped into the room! She'll even lockpick a shabby chest filled with absolutely nothing simply because she finds it to be a fun game to pass the time while everyone else debates on the next course of action (like a child being given a toy to amuse themselves with while the adults discuss boring adult shit). Astarion will even join her sometimes, and they also constantly challenge each other on who gets to disarm a trap first while the rest of the party make bets on who will win

What she lacks in strength, she makes up for with her incredible dexterity

While she is a survivor in her own right, she can't deny that pure dumb luck has saved her more times than a bard has bedded a dragon...which is definitely saying a lot

After travelling around for so long, the vast world of Faerûn has fuelled her curious mind with quite an impressive amount of knowledge along with fascinating stories to tell. But while she basks in the freedom of it all, her heart aches for a true sense of belonging; a home

She loves--and I mean LOVES--looting dead bodies. While their demise is certainly unfortunate, their loss is her grateful gain as well as a much less criminal way to obtain some quick valuables (hey, she can sympathize and get rich. It's a win-win!)

A biiit of a hoarder (perhaps she was a dragon in a past life, she jokes). Her pack is nearly always full of various junk, good and bad. She gets attached easily to these items and keeps making the excuse that "they could be handy or fetch for a pretty penny one day" all while almost never actually trying to get rid of them (DEFINITELY not me projecting myself here 👀)

She is VERY charismatic, successfully deceiving or talking her way out of many toils and even persuading powerful creatures to side with her which makes her pretty powerful, too, in her own right. On the other (much darker) hand... This sweet, cheerful bard has convinced some enemies to literally kill themselves, saving her from aaall the tough work she really can't be bothered with of ridding them herself--and she'll gladly do it again in a heartbeat. Work smarter, not harder as they say! 👏

Confident, outgoing, and playful with a flair for the theatrical; also rather perceptive to the people and things around her, but can be serious and empathetic when needed. Often tries to keep a positive (if not naive) outlook on life and continues to hold hope for a better future against all odds, yet is actually burying a devastating loneliness and pain within the depths of her soul

Can be a flirt and almost never hesitates to sleep with any man interested in her. For her, however, it's not about physical pleasure--it's about intimacy. Chasing after the high of being in someone's strong embrace, their warmth melting the icy melancholy her heart is trapped in; even if only for one, meaningless night

Despite everything, she has a big heart. She has a hard time saying no to anyone in need, her selflessness (or too much of it for that matter) sometimes leading to be a weakness. She particularly has a soft spot for children and animals, as well as being able to understand and communicate with the latter thanks to the "Speak with Animals" spell. And while she is a chaotic neutral, she instantly becomes chaotic good (emphasis on chaotic) when it comes down to animals, literally slaying everything in her path if it ensures the animal is safe from those that hurt it as well as adopting any stray back in camp if it's possible (Astarion hated it at first, until an ungodly swarm of adorable cats eventually started to appear 😹)

Besides her affinity for dramatics and the spotlight, she is usually a pretty relaxed person. That all changes, however, when a party is involved. Bring her to a lively tavern and pump some drinks into her system and she's more than ready to live it up the entire night! Good luck trying (and failing) to rein her back in... She's toootally not banned from a few taverns because of this 🙃

Talented in singing and playing many different instruments, but her main instrument of choice is the lyre. The lyre that she ventures everywhere with is from her childhood, a gift from someone near and dear to her heart. The "Spider's Lyre" as it's curiously called, in which her nimble fingers have nearly been sliced off countless times in her youth while practicing due to its dagger sharp strings, but she cherishes it like her own life

Although music is her passion--her blood--she indulges in other forms of creative art like writing and drawing when she has the time. She proudly showed off her skills this one instance when she doodled on Vlaakith's portrait in Crèche Y'llek. She believes she made it look so much better, but you could say that she and Lae'zel had...creative differences. But was it worth it even though she got chased around by Lae'zel afterwards as the gith maniacally swung her sword, Astarion giggling in the background while everyone else tried to stop Lae'zel? Oh, absolutely!

While she doesn't have much and has learned to make the most out of very little, she's quite vain and puts in the time and effort to take care of her appearance. As a bard, she lives to perform, but stands by the firm belief that her beauty needs to shine as brightly as her stage presence does lest she's hardly a bard at all

Easily makes friends almost everywhere she goes (even with more, um, questionable folks), but difficult for her to open up more and feel that she is genuinely close to someone (until she met the companions, that is)

Has a little habit where she fiddles with her eyebrow piercings whenever she's anxious or deep in thought

She's not a fan of dark spaces. She's not afraid of the dark, but being in any gloomy place for too long makes her feel uneasy and prone to panic attacks, desperate to feel the sun on her face again. One of the reasons why she's never visited the Underdark before, opting instead to learn about such dangerous beauty through books and other adventurers' experiences

When she's being idle...well, she's not very idle at all. She's always softly humming something to herself or slightly bouncing/dancing in place

Keeps the party entertained on their journey through singing and sharing tall tales. Well, "entertained" is a bit of a stretch, considering Lae'zel's always screaming at Mon'sun to shut up (spoiler alert: she won't) 🤐

Has nicknames for everyone in the party: Astarion is Astie (later on "my star" when romanced and Astarion calls her "my sun"), Gale is Big G, Lae'zel is Lae-Lae (*cough* more like Lae-Me-To-DEATH *cough*), Karlach is Spicy Mama, Shadowheart is Shady Girl, and Wyll is Bof (short for Blade of Frontiers). Can't say that everyone's too pleased with what they're so lovingly (and weirdly) bestowed with, but they just got used to it and allows only Mon'sun to refer to them as such

Can be deemed as the therapist of the group. While she absolutely has issues of her own (and plenty, might I add), she chooses instead to focus on everyone else and help them. She is super protective over them (although, one pale elf in particular has caught her favour out of all)

While she cares a lot about everyone in the party, she does consider Gale to be her bestfriend. They just get along really well together; Mon'sun proves to be an eager and like-minded listener/conversationalist to the wizard prodigy's ramblings while Gale is just thrilled that someone (and so pretty, too) is actually so kind and attentive to him as an individual, even helping him with his little--well, BIG--situation. Astarion, on the other hand... Well, let's just say that he's not as thrilled for Mon'sun to be so close to someone else, especially Gale of all weirdos 🙄

She's a pretty colourful person so it fits that her apparel is the same. She'll never be caught dead wearing something so woeful as plain ol' black or white. In fact, being so unbearably boring may just be the cause of her death!

Has complicated feelings about gods. They're interesting, for sure, and she respects anyone's beliefs in them though she wouldn't exactly put her faith in any of them let alone kneel (looking at you Vlaakith). She'd rather put her faith in herself--just like she always has--but that doesn't mean she won't take advantage of any "divine" blessings that may come her way. Such is the case when she obtained the Phalar Aluve sword from the Underdark, offering a tiny bit of her blood in exchange which pleased Eilistraee yet greatly pissed off Lolth (Mon'sun the chaos gremlin definitely got a kick out of that especially since she knows the big scary spider lady can't do anything to her...she thinks. She hopes)

While she certainly revels in having the upper hand in troublesome situations, she's not really a power-hungry person. Although, having power does have its perks. She won't lie, she has played around in her tadpole-infested mind the far-fetched but very possible idea of seizing the Absolute's followers under her own control (I mean, hey, if there's one thing she's learned during this unique little trip is that anything is possible). Not all cultists are actually evil; she likes to think that she could give them a fair shot at redemption, and it doesn't hurt that some of these cultists are powerful people that could potentially be used to "liberate the world of evil"... Blame (or rather thank) Astarion for unlocking (hehe subtle pun) this ambition of hers, though she doesn't think she could ever do this without Astarion ruling by her side--together

[myulalie]

I am proud to say that this year, I noticed the deadline for the @alexriderbingo! I was able to cross 4 squares, although none of the completed works led to a proper bingo. Doesn't matter, I had a lot of fun writing these! Thank you so much for running this event and without further ado, here is the masterpost:

The Perfect Lover

Yalex, Teen, 11k1

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Canon, Bounty Hunters, Missions Gone Wrong, Adult Alex Rider, Older Man/Younger Man, Canon-Typical Violence, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Pining, Language of Flowers

Alex turned eighteen and, coincidentally, his vest on MI6. So of course, he picks up a job as a bounty hunter.

Square: Restraints

An Unexpected Passenger

Yalex, Teen, 5k4

Tags: Alternate Universe - Mutants, First Meetings, Sick Character, Dehydration, Captivity, Human Trafficking, Canon-Typical Violence, Boats and Ships, Bathing/Washing, Touch-Starved, Geographical Isolation, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Mermaid Alex Rider

Yassen glances at Alex then, wide blown eyes, dry lips and windswept blonde hair, their encounter a secret for the salt water to keep. For Alex, Yassen will risk it all.

Square: Sick fic

Emergency Gateway

Yalex, Teen, 4k2

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Veterinary Clinic, Hurt/Comfort, Painkillers, Alex Rider Needs a Hug, Protective Yassen Gregorovich, MI6 Bashing (Alex Rider), Angst with a Happy Ending

Alex notices a veterinary clinic not far from home and takes to sneaking in to patch himself up when his missions go wrong (which is to say, on a regular basis). It’s only a matter of time before someone catches him though… unless the mysterious vet with a scar on his cheek agrees not to report Alex to the local authorities.

Square: Drunken Confession

A Little Piece of Cornwall

Yalex, Teen, 4k6

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Adult Alex Rider, Yassen Gregorovich Lives, Older Man/Younger Man, Chronic Pain, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Helicopters, First Dates

Alex left the service in his twenties with only chronic pains and a shitload of trauma to his name, convinced that all the people he had known and come to care for were dead. Not quite retired, but definitely working somewhere unrelated to intelligence now, he struggles to put his life back on track. A ghost from his past shows up one day, threatening to destroy everything Alex built so far. So Alex keeps Yassen at arm’s length, not willing to get involved in whatever nefarious purpose that brought Yassen back from the dead. Everything is not as it seems though, and Yassen might simply be trying to build a normal life for himself as well…

Square: "Am I going to die?"

[mswhich]

Self-rec post

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💕💗

I was tagged by @whimsicalmeerkat for this.

It was hard to pick 5 for this, but here we go:

A Simple Proposition. Formula 1 RPF. Toto Wolff/Christian Horner/Max Verstappen. Just really, really pleased with how this one came out.

2. Crown of Neon Lights. Original Work. High-powered rich bachelor uncle/Orphaned niece who comes to live with him. One of my longer fics (around 30k) and if I ever decide to try to publish a novel, I think I might expand this into one. I completely fell in love with both main characters while I was writing it.

3. No Secrets. Teen Wolf, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski. This is an OTP pairing for me, but while I've read a metric shitload of fic for it, this is the only one I've written. (So far.)

4. Bondmate, Original Work, Alien with no concept of consent/His human neighbor. This is another one where I fell in love with both characters. Which is maybe a little weird or perhaps telling, because one of the characters is a consent-violating alien who cheerfully takes over his human's body, but anyway, I had a lot of fun writing it.

5. Stripped as You Are, Original Work, Young Male Servant/Closeted Male Lord. The first original work I ever posted on AO3, and one I'm still very proud of.

Tagging @calenlily and @ragingrainbow.

[freuleinanna]

Oh heyyy! I'm sorry for barging in, but I saw it today and I just couldn't unthink that! I hope you maybe like it <3 gif just for the vibes

Actors AU | Agatha and Rio are exes who have had a child together, lost a child together, and are now forced to work together again.

Word count: approx. 3000

Grief and trauma are a big theme, so is healing. Namedrops of the characters are irrelevant and are for fun. It's not a TV series meta, I just thought it would be hehe fonny. Social handle's made up too.

AO3 link

*********************************************

‘So, what can we expect in terms of, uh, in terms of the dynamics between the two of you?’

‘Ohhhhhhh, you know…’

‘I know, I do know! It’s too early in the stages and whatnot, but is there anything you can say? Are there any premises, any arcs for your characters already?’

A sly smile slithers across Rio’s lips. Agatha’s looking at her over her shoulder, unsure of what to say. The new project is all hushed up for now, of course.

‘I’m sensing some… hesitation here, ladies?’

Rio’s hand on her back, wrapping her hair around her finger in little curls. Eye contact, way too long. Fan-video-worth long. There’s a shitload of them all over the Internet, dubbed with the sappiest music and in-love-rose filter. Happy, happy.

‘Some insane shit, my guy,’ Rio finally chuckles.

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Oh, I mean, full on. It’s, like, plot-wise it’s demon hoards, and religion, and bloody sacrifices…’

‘What?!’

There she goes.

‘…but really it’s a commentary on acceptance, on the grief of living in this insane world, and like, unreal amount of trauma dumping. Yeah.’

Deadpan. No expression, just making shit up. Agatha’s nodding along.

‘Right, hon?’

‘Oh, yeah!’

Something clicks, and she’s game. Rio’s fingers in her hair, and the feeling is so light, so generous, it bursts out of her with laughter.

‘So much trauma! Uh-huh, ‘cause I’ll be playing the sacrificial lamb, and you’re…’

‘I’m gonna be the demonic priest. So, there you have it.’

‘A wild ride, for sure.’

The audience is riled up. Applause come. They laugh. Cameras are rolling, forever imprinting happiness onto the lenses, every last bit of it. It is one of the last bits, actually. It’s going to spill her guts on the floor when @agatharioreallove tags her on a clip a year later (before the news comes out), showing their happy, loving faces from exactly that interview.

And then, a billion of sad, my-heart-is-breaking-for-them tags.

FUCK, she’ll be hollering in the emptiness of the living room, FUCK! Can’t you leave us the hell alone?! Fucking…

For cunt’s sake.

Our child is dead.

Our child is dead.

Fuck.

******

1 year later.

‘Thank you so much for showing up. I know it’s…’

The journalist is trying mad hard to be respectful, but also to still get a chewy piece.

‘How do you… How does one even do something like that?’

‘There’s a thing called contract, sweet cheeks.’

‘I mean, sure, but I’m… Wow, that was a raw thing to say.’

‘Things are raw.’

Awkward silence. There’s a glance over at the security guy, an unnerved tug at the collar.

‘What, do you expect us to murder each other live?’

‘Ha-ha.’

Nothing fucking funny about that.

‘I mean, everyone expected the project to get dropped, and… here you are, preparing to shoot. How was that? How was that decision made?’

Agatha’s hair in a tight bun, and she’s stroking a loose lock away from her face. Rio’s eyes are daggers. Agatha doesn’t need to look to know it.

How was it made?

Through cursing and screaming, that’s how. Kicking chairs across rooms. Throwing lamps at her agent, God bless her. Lilia’s a fucking saint draped in Sicilian shawl.

‘Aight.’

Rio fidgets, Agatha can hear it. Here’s the part she winces at, uncontrollably. Be a doll and think for a second, because you’re only not charged the lost potential value fee if you deliver the film by those scripts. What’s not clicking? And she wanted to tell that story. They both did, a love letter from parents to children. Who could’ve thought.

How was it made?

Rio’s hand perches to her shoulder, staying there like an all-too-familiar ghost. Spine tingles with rage.

‘It was hard. You can imagine…’

‘Sure… ’

‘…if you’re not an asshole. Are you?’

‘Oh, I’m—I’m not! I-- really--’

‘Good, then.’

Agatha’s dry chuckle is Oscar-worthy. She had bid a fortune on the script rights to buy them out, so she’s bound. And Rio? Rio’s completely went off the rails. Her brain train doesn’t even remember there were rails once. She’s lashed out so much she’s become a liability to everyone who has the displeasure of working with her. A bare-foot beggar in the woods is what she is without this film. So is Agatha, unfortunately. Two beggars clapping their naked ass-cheeks on the wind.

Unless they go through fucking hell.

With everybody watching.

Twenty minutes and gallons of constant internal vomit later, the interviewer stops the cameras, says goodbye, and leaves. Rio’s hand disappears. Agatha leans back and closes her eyes, waiting for another press-junket-junkie, back as straight as she’s never been.

Phone’s keyboard is spitting out quick, audible taps. Why, why does she always need to keep the sound on?

‘Fuck you.’

Agatha knows well that her voice has cracks in it. A decent amount of disdain too, she hopes. Taps are avalanching even quicker.

‘Aw, your first words to me. You haven’t been developing functional communication mechanisms, have you?’

Tap-tap-tap.

‘Go stand in the corner and die, Rio.’

‘Fuck you too.’

It’s so cold, she might have gotten frostbites. From their voices alone.

*********************

Table-reading / Rehearsals.

‘Okay, don’t be mad, but?..’

‘You don’t have to say it.’

‘It sucks balls. I’m sorry, but you just suck balls.’

‘I do no such thing, ever.’

Teen’s face wrinkles with worry. Billy, Bobby, Tommy, Toby? Whatever. He’s a teen, so, he’s Teen. A plucky assistant, and a huge pain in her moral ass.

‘Could you maybe… Cunty filter off, okay?’

‘Ugh, Teen.’

Still, Agatha’s looking this twig of a kid over, feeling worry build in the ruins of her insides.

‘What else are they saying?’ She smirks with venom. ‘Besides our chemistry being off?’

‘Basically, that it’s a Mariana Trench of flaming shit, but that it still has to be done.’

She nods, un-amused. Yeah, otherwise it’s another pile of fees, liabilities, script ownership debates, the whole petty army of Hollywood law-humpers on her back. Teen is slurping on his… blue-colored god-knows-what. Then stops, under her glare.

Rio’s afar, in the distance. Like she’s always been since… Well. Since Nicky.

‘I can’t,’ Agatha whispers before she can stop it, and clutches at her coat nervously, realizing she’s said it aloud. There’s something strangely calming in a way Teen avoids touching her, but remains just behind her shoulder, listening softly. ‘I can’t, I—I can’t.’

‘Can’t what?’

She shakes her head. Rio’s there. So is anger, so is hurt, so is everything scorching, manifesting in her oh-so-loved-once face. So is missing her fingers curling up her hair. But more, still anger.

‘I can’t say those things. The script. Not in a meaningful way. Not when--’

‘How else are you supposed to say it?’

‘Huh?’

Her comforting assistant steps from one foot to another, then lowers himself to the level of her chair. His voice crackles with nerves. His shadow supports hers. He’s saying things Agatha never wants to hear, because Nicky died, but the script brings her and Rio into a nightmare of a centuries-old witch and Death incarnate battle over a child’s soul.

‘You’ve lived them. How else are you supposed to say those things? You’ve lived them.’

Happy videos of their faces, laced fingers, loving gazes during the interview. Sad montages and thousands of close-ups of them visibly drawing away from each other at the hint of a touch. Hurting like the sun, spilling red while falling to the doom. Fuck.

‘Why don’t you go fuck yourself with a straw, huh?’

‘Sure. Okay.’

*******************************

Shooting: Day whatever, because at this point, everyone’s frustrated.

‘Oh, shit.’

‘Is she drunk?’

‘Fucking impossible— Somebody get Vidal in her trailer!’

‘Do we keep a setup?’

‘For fuck’s-- ’

‘That’s a PR nightmare.’

‘She’s not gonna sober up, is she?’

‘Not before she vomits half her stomach down the sewers, she’s not. Un-fucking-believable. Can somebody get Harkness?’

‘She’s gonna kill her.’

‘Maybe don’t tell her, smartass?’

‘She’s gonna know, and then she’s gonna kill her.’

‘What a mess.’

‘Leave it, just… everything, leave it. And get Alice to Jen for make-up. We’re gonna reschedule her scenes for today.’

‘What an A-list crap-pile on meth.’

****************

When Rio sobers up, it’s not entirely clear whether she’s dead or not, but she thinks, well. Either way there are hook-bladed daggers buried in her body, tugging in all directions at once. Hangover or hell, not much difference.

The hardest of daggers, the sharpest and most resilient one, turns out to be a scythe. And it’s in Agatha’s eyes.

‘Alive?’

A familiar voice makes the bells toll. Deep tonality of disappointment, the one which roots in hurt and blooms with blame, is a homesick sound.

‘Unfortunately so.’

‘Good. I need you alive for being skinned by the crew tomorrow.’

‘Gee,’ she croaks. ‘Sounds hot.’

Managing to pull herself into a sitting position, Rio wipes her mouth.

‘I kinda hoped I’ll just black out for the rest of the shooting. No luck, then.’

All signs are there: Agatha’s trembling hands, the way she keeps gesticulating with her whole palms in frustration. Her hateful stare, of course. There’s a storm coming. Hurricane Harkness, ready to pour molten steel. Rio sneers, taking it.

‘Come on, I know you have words.’

‘God, you’re a bitch.’ That, Agatha says with her whole chest without missing a beat, as though grateful for a convenient way of spitting some of the pain out. Those words unlock her frustrated lips. ‘Why. Seriously, why now? Neither of us wanted to do it. We’ve gone through a minefield, got fucked in the ass by every interviewer ever with a hot poker and a sympathy lube. Why not just… Do it and be gone, huh? Rio? Just one fucking movie. Why the fuck do you need to act up now?’

‘Because now, it hurts.’

And Agatha’s eyes dart away in a habit so shivery and familiar, it burns Rio’s chest worse than years of mutual blame. The woman who’s never been her wife, the woman who’s shared a son with her; now the woman who’s been so enraged, so devastated, so focused on her own irreplaceable loss that she couldn’t bring herself to look at Rio’s. Because, what if she recognizes the same pain?

People are fucking nutjobs.

‘It hurts, Agatha,’ Rio repeats quietly, with careful weight placed on each word. ‘Because I lost him too, and I didn’t get to live through my pain. I was handling yours.’

‘Oh, please.’

‘Guess it’s catching up on me.’

Hangovers don’t gently break your ribs, Rio knows. So it must be something else, like truth. Agatha’s disbelieving fury is war-like.

‘What, you got a different story?’ Rio teases, despite desperately wanting not to. Don’t tip the scale, thoughts echo, why are you like that? Why are you doing this? Why now?

Because. It. Hurts.

‘You left, Rio. When I needed you the most, you left.’

‘Needed me?’

‘And now you’re strutting back to, what exactly? Give your feelings a performance?’

‘You’ve shut me out.’

Heavy breathing. Some metallic croaking in the voice.

‘I’ve?--’

‘You’ve scolded me out. You’ve frozen me out, Agatha. You needed a space to grieve and you locked the fucking door beh--’

She stops abruptly. Draws air to say the only thing that mattered.

‘I was alone.’ I was grieving, and you couldn’t look at my face. I was grieving, and your own grief was just too big to notice mine. ‘Suppose I’d stayed. With all the time in the world, would you have hated me less?’

She sees locks of Agatha’s hair swing, heartbreakingly beautiful. Always the little things that destroy you.

‘I didn’t hate you.’

‘No?’ It’s cruel to smile. The alternative is weeping.

‘No.’

‘You sure hid it well, then.’

‘Rio, I--’

It’s a muscle memory, alright. Bodies remembering how to intertwine, how to save each other from loneliness. Hands reaching out. Breath aching to get mixed. It almost, almost happens. The warmth of it flees just before a newer, colder habit kicks in, which isn’t completely unlike cutting through arteries of hope drying in the air.

The woman Rio’s engraved into her lungs yanks them out with her need to blame someone, anyone, and walks away, still holding them.

‘I can’t, I—Don’t do that to me.’

‘I’m not doing anything.’

‘I can’t.’

‘I know.’

A beat of silence.

‘I’m done, Agatha.’ Rio smirks, broken. ‘You win. From now on, I’ll be on my best behavior.’

Agatha Harkness, an unbearable load-mouth and a genius pervert with cussing, bites her tongue and leaves. Rio feels like Death.

***************************************

Shooting: Pivotal day.

The day everyone remembers, but nobody talks about.

And then—Life.

Not at once, and not beautiful. Life isn’t a fragile flower blossoming out of nowhere. Life is actually someone’s gooey remains, definitely someone’s shit at some point, and there’s nothing fragile about it. It fights and claws, but given time, it overcomes people and buildings alike. It grows. It grows.

Given time, it stops running from the dirt whence it came, and starts reaching down with roots to accept the unthinkable.

Flowers fallen out of Agatha’s hair are white. Her hands are covered in fresh soil. Streaming down her face, tears bitter and gentle.

‘Please, my love!’

Death stops before a weeping mother. Cameras are rolling, Rio’s mind has completely switched off. Everything’s blank. Pulsating sounds in her ears are ringing with the remnants of please, my love – and Agatha’s horrifying expression. Something bruised and raw from familiarity, with which it comes.

Death – or Rio – shouldn’t rage against her helplessness. Death takes children, after all, it’s a known fact. Sometimes, it’s just… It’s just unfair. And sometimes, even Death – and Rio – can’t take being the reason for such heartbreak.

‘I can offer--’ she starts. Then, ‘No.’

Some muttering, well-earned, is heard from behind.

‘I can offer only time,’ someone whispers, reminding her of the line.

‘I know,’ she says. Then again, ‘No.’

Agatha’s face is shaded with concern.

‘What are you?--’

‘I can’t offer time.’

Taking up the skirts of her dress, Rio steps forward, toward her. Agatha draws back. Agatha the actor is wrecking her nails against stone, trying to fight Agatha… Rio’s Agatha.

‘Boys die.’

Rio nearly chokes on those words, and still it isn’t as bad as Agatha’s reaction. Invisible to anyone who’s not close enough, anger, bitterness, and grief birth real tears, instantly hot over the camera ones. But Rio is close, isn’t she? She is. For the first time in what feels like centuries of roaming wild, she’s actually there.

‘Boys die,’ she whispers, ‘and it’s never fair, but they do. And there isn’t time enough to heal that pain.’

‘Stop this.’

‘I can’t bring him back…’

‘I’m serious, Rio, stop this!’

‘…because I haven’t taken anything.’

She burns her fingers on Agatha’s face, yet it’s still worth touching it.

‘It’s not your fault, it’s not mine either.’

‘We loved him.’

Thousands of clips all over the Internet, of them showing off their happiness.

Aww, they’re the best parents <3

I NEED them to be my parents!!!

Sweet music.

Heart emojis.

Wait, are they actually raising a kid together???????

Talking about Nicky.

Talking, talking, unable to contain that joy.

And on that, Agatha breaks. Her lips twitch with a sob. Rio’s on the ground beside her, holding her face in a way that urges to listen. And her Agatha, not the character or the actor, is crying into her open palm.

‘I wanted more time. I just wanted more time, that’s all, I--’

‘We loved him so much that it… broke something, when he died.’

‘How can…’ From under closed eyes, more grief. Then a gaze so piercingly blue, it staggers Rio with ferocity of color. ‘How can I live with that? How can you live with that? How does everything not remind you of him, huh? How are you not – so – angry? Why – were you not – angry?’

Nobody could have possibly thought they’re ad-libbing. Yet nobody intervened, bless the fools. In the shadow of Rio’s face, Agatha’s darkened eyes glint almost purple.

‘I needed you to be angry, along with me. I needed you to be fucking furious about his death, and you just…’

‘Accepted it.’

Rio nods, and feels her own tears, warm and heavy like August rain. Some of them drop of Agatha’s hands. Their hands and their tears come together.

‘Because, Agatha,’ she’s barely resisting the sobbing herself. Perhaps, that’s how Death feels. Rio nods with heartbreak and compassion, and inevitability they bring. ‘Because, Agatha, boys die.’

I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that they do, and there’s nothing I could do about it, but I forgot that people die too, from suffering. We almost died, too, right next to each other.

Agatha’s chest is heaving with breath. She’s fighting against Rio’s hands, and then she’s holding them, and then her arms are pressing Rio closer with all their strength.

‘I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’ For not listening. For being angry with you, because you weren’t ready to accept. For not fully understanding. For lashing out. For leaving.

‘I didn’t—I—I’m sorry,’ for not acknowledging your loss. For needing my fury so much, I thought I’d stopped needing you. For blaming you.

And suddenly flowers bloom.

Not literally, of course, but they bloom in how Agatha’s fully sobbing into the crook of Rio’s neck. They also bloom in how Rio’s holding her: gently, stroking her back all the while. Wrapping little curls of hair around her fingers. Most of them bloom on their lips as they touch skin. Blessing, apologizing, healing.

Desperation and trauma are flowing up, up, toward grief and by it, up again, to the bright-red rage, around the gigantic ill-intentioned walls, over broken pieces of good memories thrown against it, toward air. Toward breathing.

Toward love,

and having spent years half-severed only to find that each deconstructed piece still fits perfectly as you hold each other tight,

and even toward kissing the salt.

Toward, it seems, life.

Because it’s always the cycle, isn’t it?

Out of death, life.

Actor au where they are exes who had a kid together but never got married but then the kid died(because i hate happy people) then they are forced to work with each other and drama ensue

[boffeeceans]

Dreams of Dying Fill Your Head

Summary: “Steve?” Max’s voice sounds panicked and shaky on the other side of the line, breathing heavy. It makes his heart sting.

“Max, what happened? Are you okay?”

She takes a deep shuddering breath before she speaks, “I’m fine.” Another breath that sounds more like a gasp this time. “It- It’s Eddie.”

Or,

Eddie seems to be doing fine after the Upside Down, but is he? Is he really? I don't think so.

Tags/Warnings: Trauma, PTSD, Anxiety/Panic Attack, (Emotional) Hurt/Comfort, Eddie Lives, POV Steve Harrington, Not intended to be pre-slash steddie but can be read as such if you so wish.

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Max Mayfield (Mostly Eddie and Steve)

Word count: 5k

Notes: I looked up the difference between panic and anxiety attacks, it made me confused and gave me a headache. I'm pretty sure that where I'm from we use one word for both and it's panic attack so that's what I used in here. Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Surprisingly, Eddie seems to be doing fine after almost getting mauled to death by a hoard of demobats. His name got cleared (which doesn’t mean that everyone thinks he’s innocent), he went back to school, graduated and got to flip Principal Higgings the bird. He’s still his usual loud and dramatic self, he still listens to his music way too loud at ungodly hours of the night to Max’s dismay, and he still hosts weekly DnD nights — technically Steve hosts since it’s at his house, but Eddie set it up.

He rarely leaves the trailer by himself, though, never going further than to the trash can and back. But that doesn’t mean he’s alone. Every morning Max comes over for tea or coffee, sometimes she’ll join him on the old couch outside of his trailer when he’s smoking, drinking or playing his guitar. They don’t always talk, more often than not they just sit in silence, enjoying each other’s company, basking in the knowledge that they’re not alone, that they’re not the only one that went through hell and back.

Whenever Eddie needs to be somewhere, be it the arcade, the store, anywhere really, Steve will drive him. Most of the time Steve has to offer and Eddie will reluctantly accept, but not before declining a bunch. This one time when Steve dropped him off at his trailer Eddie expressed that he feels guilty about how the other is always driving him — especially for the DnD meetings, for which Steve has to go from his house to the trailer and back twice. It took Steve a lot of reassuring and telling him that he really doesn’t mind for Eddie to stop refusing his rides and reluctantly accept right off the bat.

Nancy helped him study for his exams. Jonathan and Argyle — who is visiting for the summer — occasionally come over to get high. Robin will show up with a shitload of movies she wants to watch and pester Steve into picking Eddie up on his break so that they could spend some time together, he’ll complain but he’s more than happy to do it. The kids call all the time and visit for whatever reason they can think of, big or small.

Eddie isn’t alone and he seems to be doing fine.

However, the bags under his eyes are a stark contrast against his paler than usual skin, he covers almost every inch of his body with clothing ever since he got discharged from the hospital, even though it’s summer, and sometimes he’ll completely zone out and stare off into the distance. For the last few days Eddie hasn’t left his trailer at all, saying he has a cold. He still answers the phone and opens the door, and sure he looks and sounds a little worse for wear. He still smiles and laughs, and Steve can’t be one hundred percent sure on account of him not really knowing Eddie before, but it looks genuine.

But still, something doesn’t sit right with Steve. He doesn’t want to push him though, doesn’t want to force him to open up and talk to him.

Steve presses his palms into his eyes and slides further down the couch. Eddie’s smart, he’ll reach out if he needs to. Besides, Steve’s not his fucking mother.

Steve glances at the clock, 10:57. It’s going to be a long night, he can feel it, one filled with lying awake in the deafening silence of the empty house. With a sigh Steve pulls himself off the couch and paces around, there’s got to be something he can do.

11:09; Cleaning? No, the house is clean.

11:16; Reading? Fuck no.

11:27; Drinking? Yeah, Steve could use a drink.

Walking to the kitchen — less walking and more sliding across the floor — he takes a beer out of the fridge. He barely gets his nails under the tab when the phone rings. It’s tempting to just ignore it, but it could be one of the kids, waking up from a nightmare, or just needing someone to talk to, or maybe just to check in. To ask if he’s doing okay… Steve scoffs to himself, they call him mom for a reason. Mothers offer emotional support to their kids, they don’t ask for it.

Placing the can on the counter, Steve makes his way over to the phone and holds it to his ear.

“Harring-” He doesn’t get to finish.

“Steve?” Max’s voice sounds panicked and shaky on the other side of the line, breathing heavy. It makes his heart sting.

“Max, what happened? Are you okay?”

She takes a deep shuddering breath before she speaks, “I’m fine.” Another breath that sounds more like a gasp this time. “It- It’s Eddie.”

A pit opens up in Steve’s stomach. He knew something was wrong, he should’ve followed his gut and done something, anything. If he did Max wouldn’t have had to hear the sound of glass breaking and Eddie’s screaming and yelling. She wouldn’t have had to see him lying on the floor.

“I don’t think he’s moving.” The pit grows bigger and bigger with every word. “Steve, I… I’m scared.”

“I’ll be right there,” Steve says, “I just need you to try to stay calm, all right?” He’s telling her as much as he’s telling himself.

After an “okay” from Max he hangs up and dashes out the door, almost forgetting his shoes and keys.

The entire way Steve has to reassure himself that Eddie is probably fine. Maybe he just fell, it makes sense since he’s not as steady on his feet anymore after the Upside Down. He probably refused to use his cane and then his leg gave out, he cursed to himself and now he’s just laying on the floor contemplating all his life's decisions, which is a normal thing to do, Steve should know.

Eddie is fine.

When he pulls up to the Munson trailer the first thing he sees is Max sitting on the steps. She gets up as soon as she notices him and waits for him to park and get out of his car. There’s a panicked expression on her face; her eyes are blown wide, brows knit together, and she’s worrying her bottom lip.

Steve exits his car while the vehicle is still partly moving and speed walks to max on the porch. Before he even has a chance to ask if anything has changed she shakes her head. He places a hand on her shoulder and squeezes, trying to comfort her even if it’s just a little and glances over to the window. The curtain is mostly closed but there’s a small gap that he can see through. And sure enough there’s Eddie, on the floor in the hall, seemingly unmoving.

But he’s breathing.

Steve tells Max as much and he can feel some tension leave her shoulder under his hand. He moves past Max and to the door, trying the handle.

“I told you it’s locked,” Max says, her voice just a bit more steady than it was over the phone. “We could break a window.”

Steve glances over his shoulder, seeing Max already looking for something solid. “No need,” he says and takes a key out of his pocket. Thank whatever higher power there is or isn’t for Wayne Munson.

As he pushes the key through the keyhole, Steve realizes how much he’s shaking, how scared he is. Realizes that he’s grown to care for Eddie a whole fucking lot, just as much as he cares for Robin, and he really needs him to be okay.

He takes a deep breath before twisting the key and walking inside, Max following close behind him. Now, without a wall separating them, Steve can hear just how hard Eddie’s breathing — breathing isn’t the right word, he’s hyperventilating — and Steve is honestly surprised that they couldn’t hear him outside.

Eddie has his back turned to Steve and Max, he’s curled in on himself, shaking as sobs wreck through his body, nothing but a towel hanging on for dear life around his hips.

Steve slowly takes a few steps towards him. “Eddie? It’s Steve,”  he says to let his presence known. Eddie doesn’t respond. “Eddie?” Steve tries again. Nothing. Taking a few more steps he keeps trying to get Eddie’s attention, every attempt is fruitless and it’s really stressing Steve out. One quick look at Max shows that she, too, is getting more and more anxious by the second.

As careful as he can, Steve steps over Eddie and crouches down. For the first time Steve gets a look at the damage that the Demobats have left behind and it’s not pretty. He didn’t exactly get a good look in the Upside Down and thought that their scars would be more similar with  the exception of the ones on Eddie’s face.

But it’s so much worse than he thought it was. They’re everywhere; on his legs, arms, all the way from his waist to his chest, and from his neck to his face — though he can’t see much of Eddie’s face at the moment because of that mop that he calls hair covering most of it.

Steve feels stupid for thinking that it wasn’t that bad, especially because of those weeks Eddie spent in the hospital recovering and for the fact that he can’t walk more than ten minutes without a cane.

But he can feel stupid later. Right now Steve has to help Eddie through what he’s assuming is a panic attack, and a bad one at that.

Eddie’s clawing at his throat and chest, gasping for air and so very much not fucking fine .

“Hey, Eddie?” Steve reaches out and moves some of Eddie’s damp hair from his face. Even at the contact Eddie doesn’t acknowledge Steve’s presence, he just stares into nothingness, eyes somehow even wider than usual, frantic. “Eddie, I need you to look at me.” Sill noting which is really fucking unfortunate because Steve’s heart is pounding in his chest and the corners of his eyes are starting to sting and before long he might be gasping for air right along with Eddie and he needs to pull it the fuck together, because if he doesn’t where will that leave Max?

Max who moved out of sight, probably not being able to watch because they’ve only seen Eddie close to this vulnerable once and he nearly died then.

Steve takes a short moment to breathe and think. He needs Eddie to look at him, and that’s not going to happen with him lying on the floor like that. He places his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Eddie, I don’t know if you can even hear me right now, but I… I’m gonna move you, okay?” He’s not expecting an answer and doesn’t get one. With one hand under Eddie’s armpit and the other under his elbow Steve pulls him into a sitting position.

And that gets a reaction out of him. Eddie’s tear filled eyes shoot up to Steve’s and one of his hands grabs him by the collar of his shirt. “Hey, it’s me, it’s Steve,” Steve says and God does this situation feel familiar, it almost makes him laugh. Almost.

Eddie’s eyes wander, acknowledging Steve’s presence but not really looking at him. Miraculously his breathing becomes more erratic and tears spill like an avalanche as more sobs crawl and fight their way out of his throat. “Can’t- I-” Eddie chokes out, he moves his hand from Steve's collar and back to his throat. It’s covered in blood and still bleeding and Seve feels even more stupid for not noticing before.

“I know, I know,” Steve says and brings his hands to cup Eddie’s face, fingers brushing over the scar on his cheek. Eddie jerks his head away from the touch, desperately trying to get more distance between them. Steve doesn’t relent though, he tightens his grip and forces Eddie to face him.

There’s this terrified look in his eyes as he glances to the side like… like he’s hearing something, but as far as Steve knows the only sound is Eddie’s own breathing. And God if that doesn’t scare Steve. it can’t be him . He’s dead. Steve saw him die.

“Eddie.” Steve leans into his line of sight. “Eddie, I need you to look at me, all right?”

Eddie’s eyes dart between Steve and the distance before landing on the floor between them. He squeezes his eyes shut and curls his fingers around his neck, nails digging into skin.

“Please, Eddie,” Steve says, his voice much less steady than he wishes it to be. “You’re safe, okay? You’re safe.”

Eddie doesn’t show any signs of calming down but he does look at Steve, actually looks at him not through him.

“I just- I need you to breathe for me, can you do that?” Steve says. Eddie scrunches his face but nods either way. Grabbing Eddie’s hand, Steve moves it from his throat to his chest. “Focus on your chest, the rising and falling,” Steve says, “and take a deep breath in.”

Steve demonstrates, taking in a deep breath through his nose and Eddie mimics him. Or tries to. Halfway through Eddie chokes, slumping forward, hacking up cough after cough and all Steve can think is shit. Shit, shit, shit . He runs his hand over Eddie’s back, whispering what he hopes are soothing words.

Eddie's spine is way too prominent under his palm. Steve shakes off the thought, he can give Eddie a lecture about reaching out later — give himself one, too, for being so Goddamn blind, — and thinks of anything that could possibly calm Eddie down.

There is one thing. It could be counterproductive, could make Eddie feel trapped, caged in, but that’s a risk Steve’s willing to take because he’s running out of options.

When Eddie’s coughing slows down Steve moves from a hunching to a sitting position and slides across the floor, maneuvering himself behind Eddie. He presses his chest flush against Eddie’s back and crosses his arms in front of the other man, placing his hands on his shoulders. He squeezes, hard, and Eddie gasps. He brings his hand up to Steve’s forearms and sure his nails are digging into Steve’s skin, and sure it hurts, but Steve really doesn’t give a shit because Eddie’s getting air.

He’s still breathing heavily, he’s still shaking and crying, but through his sobs he manages to say, “I don’t wanna die.”

And fuck that breaks Steve’s heart. “You’re not gonna die, Eds,” he says, his own words coming out slurred and he sighs a sigh that turns into a strangled sob. And another one. And another one, the dam that the little beavers worked so hard on, now broken by an angry and scared river flows down his cheeks, onto Eddie’s shoulder, into his hair. He’s shaking and he hiccups but he doesn’t stop talking. “You’re safe,” he says, “I’m here, you’re okay.”

Eddie manages to catch his breath and they sit there, two slobbering messes holding on to each other. After a little while Max approaches them, she places something on the floor and a third slobbering mess gets added to the mix.

Under any other circumstances Steve would find this really fucking weird; if a year ago somone would’ve have told that he’d be in this situation — ending up in a pile of tears with Eddie Munson and Max Mayfield — he would’ve called them delusional. But right now Steve’s just glad that Max called him and that he could be there for Eddie.

Eddie taps Steve on his arm and when Steve lets him go he shuffles over to the other side of the hall, leaning his head against the wall. He wipes at his face and sniffs a few times, Steve does the same, so does Max.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asks.

Eddie chuckles dryly. “Other than completely and utterly humiliated? Peachy.”

Max grabs a glass of water from the floor — which must be what she placed down in the first place — and moves over to Eddie. “You scared the shit out of me,” she says and playfully punches him in the shoulder before handing him the water.

Ruffling her hair he says, “I’m sorry, Red.” He takes the water from her, downs the drink in a few quick gulps, and hands the empty glass back to her. “Thanks.”

A silence falls over them like a crushing weight. They should talk about it and Steve knows that Eddie knows that Steve thinks that they should talk about it. But his eyes drift from Steve to Max and to Steve. Not right now is what they’re saying, Steve nods — and if you blinked you would’ve missed it — but they are going to talk about it, as soon as Steve can get Eddie alone.

Eddie clears his throat before he speaks again, “I uh, should probably get dressed.” And yeah, he should. The towel around his waist might be one hell of a determined one but it’s still just a towel. He moves to get up, falls back on his ass, winces, and mumbles a curse under his breath. Steve is at his side in a matter of seconds and helps Eddie off the floor. It doesn’t go unnoticed to Steve how easy it is, how light Eddie is compared to when he had to carry him out of the Upside Down.

Steve shoves the thought to the back of his head with all the other concerts he has for Eddie and helps him to his bedroom. Eddie sits on the edge of his bed while Steve retrieves some clothes for him from his dresser; underwear, a pair of sweats, and a long sleeved and short sleeved shirt. Steve hopes Eddie will choose the short sleeved one since it’s way too warm for anything with long sleeves, but he knows Eddie probably won’t.

He holds the clothes out for Eddie and in a last minute decision he adds, “For your modesty, dude.”

He takes the items from Steve’s hand and the sides of Eddie’s mouth quirk up, just for a second, but the amusement doesn’t leave his eyes. Steve leaves it at that and exits Eddie’s bedroom, closing the door behind him.

In front of him is Max, looking into the bathroom. It’s not a pretty sight. The mirror above the sink is shattered, broken shards in the sink, and it’s all covered in blood. Steve sighs and walks in, he opens the sink cabinet and takes out a first-aid kit. Handing it to Max, he says, “Can you take care of his hand when he comes out?”

She nods with a little “Sure” and makes her way to the living room. Steve takes in the sight again and it almost looks like something you’d see at an art show. He can see the anger, fear and grief in the shards. Anger at what happened. Fear of it happening again. Grief for the person Eddie once was, the person he’ll never be again.

Steve walks to the kitchen and comes back with the trash can. Maybe not as careful as he should be, picks the shards up and throws them in the can. Halfway through he hears Eddie’s bedroom door open and click of his cane hitting the floor as he walks. Eddie hesitates for a second as he passes Steve, throws him an apologetic look, and keeps going.

Not right now Steve tells himself and continues with the cleanup , listening to the conversation in the living room.

“Sit,” Max says.

“Right away, ma’am.”

He can hear Eddie plop down on the couch and Max open the kit, he can hear some shuffling, Eddie wincing and an “Ow!”

“God, you’re more of a baby than Lucas.”

“Hey, I’m not a baby.”

“Then stop whining like one.”

“Keep treating me like that and I won’t play Kate Bush for you ever again.”

Max scoffs, “It’s not like you’ll be playing much of anything for awhile, you sprained your wrist.”

After a beat of silence comes a defeated “Fuck” from Eddie.

Steve finishes up and by the time he returns Eddie’s hand and wrist are bandaged, he’s standing by the open door, his hair almost covering his neck and face like a scarf, wearing both shirts Steve picked out for him, and smoking a joint. Eddie looks over to him and holds out the joint, And why the hell not, Steve thinks, he could certainly use it. After putting the trash can back in its place Steve joins him.

Eddie passes the joint to Steve and says, “You know you don’t have to stay, right?”

“Like hell I’m leaving,” Steve says at the same time Max says, “We’re staying.”

Eddie throws his hands up. “All right, Jesus.”

They pass the joint back and forth until it’s burned out. A silence falls over them again, not as heavy as the one in the hall but still very present. That is until Eddie’s stomach growls. Steve looks at him, Eddie looks away, He looks at Max and asks, “Pizza?”

“Yes, Please.”

So, Steve orders pizza, Eddie gets two beers and a Coke out of the fridge and rummages through VHS tapes.

“The Breakfast Club or Footloose?”

Max chooses The Breakfast Club, Steve chooses Footloose, Eddie puts on Footloose surprising them both — the fact that he even has that movie was surprising enough. They settle in on the couch, Eddie in the middle with his feet kicked up onto the coffee table, they eat, they watch the movie, Steve and Max make a silent agreement to pretend not to notice when Eddie mouths along with the songs and even some of the dialogue. And before long they all fall asleep.

~*~

Steve’s the first one to wake up, his head resting on Eddie’s shoulder, and even though his back and neck ache, Steve hasn’t slept this well in a while. Not one nightmare, no waking up in the middle of the night just because his body told him to, and god did he miss that.

Max is curled up on her side, her head resting on Eddie’s lap, his hand on her head, his other arm’s laid out on the backrest behind Steve. Eddie looks peaceful, smiling in his sleep and Steve can’t help the tug at the corner of his mouth at the sight.

Trying not to wake them up, Steve gets off the couch and heads for the kitchen to make coffee. And not because he needs it to wake up, no, because he wants it.

When the coffee’s almost done brewing Max wakes up and in turn tiring Eddie.

“How’d you two sleep?” Steve asks.

“Good,” Max says with a smile and takes a seat at one of the stools at the kitchen counter.

Eddie follows behind her, stretching, and takes the seat next to her. “I can’t feel my ass,” he says, “But that was the best sleep I’ve had… Ever.” There’s a flash of a smile before it falls again.

Steve pours them the coffee while Max and Eddie have a back and forth argument about his numb butt — Eddie blamed it on Max because her head is too heavy and cut off circulation, Max countered with what else she could cut off and Steve zoned out after that.

It’s nice, Steve thinks, they way they all look well rested, the banter, and if he could stay in this moment forever, pretending that last night never happened, he would.

But he can’t.

After a while Max jumps up. “Shit,” she says, “I’m gonna be late”

“Where could you possibly have to be this early?” Eddie asks. Not that it’s that early, it’s past 10 AM.

“Lucas said he has a “surprise” for me.”

Max goes for the door and Eddie quirks a brow. “Be careful.”

“I don’t need your protection talk again, Eddie,” Max says over her shoulder.

“It’s important!” he yells after her as she slams the door behind her.

“Protection talk, huh?” Steve says and takes a sip of his coffee, “Very dad of you.”

Eddie scoffs, “Yeah, All right, mom ,” he says and Steve rolls his eyes. “Lucas is a 15 year old boy, don’t you remember being 15?”

He does, he remembers all too well and Eddie has a point.

“Besides, Dustin told me about the 100 out of 10 on the disgusting scale thing Erica found under Lucas’ bed.” They both make a face, knowing exactly what that thing is. “So yeah, protection talk…”

Steve doesn’t want to think about how the kids are teens now, about how teens have things and do things and is he going to have to have talks with them and- and he needs to change the subject. Eddie might not like it and it’ll ruin the light hearted mood, but Max is gone and it’s time.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

Eddie doesn’t look at him at first, instead opting on staring into his empty mug, biting his lip. But he does look, eventually, a smile on his face. “Don’t worry you pretty little head about me, Stevie. I’ll be fine.”

And, fuck, because no, his smile is so fake and his lies are so clear . “Maybe, eventually, but right now you’re not and it’s becoming clearer and clearer that you haven’t been for a while, Eddie.” His words come out harsher than intended and Eddie tears his eyes away from him.

“You got enough people to worry about.” Eddie gets off the stool and goes back to the living room, grabbing a pack of cigarettes off the coffee table. “I don’t need to be one of them, Steve,” he says and sits back down on the couch, lighting one from the pack.

“Eddie-”

“I think you should go.” he says and lights his cigarette, biting back a hush at the uncomfortable angle of his wrist.

“Ed-” Steve moves away from the counter, taking a seat on the table, opposite of Eddie.

“I’m actually still pretty-”

“ Eddie! ” Steve snaps.

“What!” Eddie snaps back. “Huh? What do you want me to say?” he says, eyes flashing up to Steve. Fear, anger, grief. “Do you want me to tell you about how I’m too scared to sleep because everytime I do I can feel those goddamn bats holding me down, choking me, ripping away my flesh?” Tears start flowing down his face. “Do you want to hear that even when I’m awake I can still hear them so clearly and it feels like I’m turning into my mother; paranoid, hearing and believing things that aren’t real?” He’s shaking. “And how I don’t want to end up in Pennhurst just like her, pumped full of drugs, wasting away and eventually die of an aneurysm, all alone.”

Steve places a hand on Eddie's knee. He jerks away from him, rapidly tapping his foot on the floor and takes a long drag of his cigarette.

“Maybe you wanna hear about my visit to my dad in prison, that I told him I almost died, and you know what he said? He said, “They didn’t try hard enough” and what scared me the most is what I thought… “He’s right, they didn’t.” ”

It’s… a lot to take in and Steve bets that there’s a lot more Eddie hasn’t been telling him, any of them. And he almost regrets making Eddie open up, because the weight of the knowledge is crushing him, he doesn’t though. What he does regret is not trying to get Eddie to talk sooner. Steve moves to sit next to him and places a hand on his shoulder, expecting Eddie to shrug it off. He doesn’t.

“Jesus, Eddie,” is all he manages to say.

Eddie shakes his head with a humorless chuckle. “Don’t pity me, Steve.”

“I’m not.” He is, but admitting that will likely just make things worse. “You know you can talk to me, right? I’m always only one phone call away.”

“Christ,” Eddie says, he rests his elbows on his knees, hangs his head low and covers his face with his hands. For a second Steve thinks he’s laughing, but it sounds too wet. Steve rubs circles on his back, hoping it’ll bring some comfort.

“You’ve been through something traumatic, Eddie, You’ll break if you just bottle it all up.”

“You’re one to talk,” Eddie says, voice breaking. “When was the last time you had a nightmare? couldn't breathe? had to turn on every damn light in your house because you've become so damn afraid of the dark?” He turns his head to look at Steve. “When was the last time you reached out to someone because you weren’t okay?”

Eddie’s too observant for Steve’s good. He sees right through him, knows that Steve’s always letting the others talk to him about their troubles and giving them advice that he himself should follow but doesn’t.

“If I reach out,” Eddie says, “promise me you will, too."

Steve nods. He has been carrying weights on his shoulders for so long, the last three years only adding more and he’s breaking. “I promise.”

“Good.” Eddie stumps out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Remember that thunderstorm last week?”

They talk for hours. About the things that scare them, the things that make getting through the day just a little bit easier, but also day to day life. After Wayne comes home and they explain to him why the bathroom mirror is broken they move outside and talk some more. They talk well into the night until Steve has to go home because of an early shift the next morning.

Before Steve can walk off the porch and to his car Eddie grabs him by the arm and pulls him into a hug. His arms wrap tight around Steve, one over his shoulder and the other under his arm. Though Steve is surprised by the sudden gesture he does return it.

“Thank you, I uh…” Eddie mumbles, he pulls back but doesn’t let go. “I needed that.”

Steve smiles, “Yeah, me too,” he says.

And only now does Steve know what it looks like when Eddie is genuinely smiling. In time Eddie will be fine and so will Steve.

[liesmyth]

okay here's MY tlt hot take. im saying this on anon cuz i need to be put in witness protection for this.

i think harrow's overrated.

or, better put: i think harrow's fans are annoying and make me like the character less.

like the POINT of harrow is that she occupies this privileged role and does horrible things with her power BUT is sympathetic in that she undergoes her own hardships. that's fair - textually, harrow is very interesting!

but harrow fans act like the whole solar system revolves around her. like ntn makes it pretty clear that muir is doing something with the butch martyr trope (i think kiriona's life and resentment is commentary), but fans are like 'no literally all gideon was good for is dying for harrow. harrow is the saddest most special girl in the world. she's literally the single most important character who has ever existed she has done nothing wrong she is flawless and immune to criticism' and when the fandom takes the OTHER Māori characters (namely john and wake) and flattens them to 'true evil' it's annoying to see harrow get woobified! like idk harrow stans are just a specific breed of 'the world revolves around the most special girl ever'

I THINK I KNOW WHO SENT THIS. I am honoured though that you chose MY askbox to be a receptacle of such salt, I'm not worthy etc.

Ok I actually HAVE seen this opinion before. I kinda see where woobie Harrow is coming from — Harrow is sad! So many characters in-universe think she's cool and special and love her! She has a shitload of Issues that make her relatable! — but it's also just the nature of fandom things that fandom loves to pick one scrappy character to be the most specialest meow meow etc. and it sucks when you're a fan of a character who's just as much of a special woobie and gets flattened and overlooked. "Fans of X made me hate X" is a tale as old as time and 100% valid... who hasn't been there.

That said, I think it's gotten better post-Nona? Maybe? IDK, I think NtN does a good job showing us glimpses of the wider 'verse and cast of characters (many of whom are also sad in fandom-appealing way) and then there's Kiriona who's THE saddest girl in the universe, so I feel like the narrative is sort of lampshading that hey! this other girl is also sad. Though it might also be that I'm not seeing any bad takes bc my dash is great and I barely venture into the main tags

Anyway MY hot take on this is that I need Gideon to be happy a tad more than I need Harrow to be happy and I think Gideon is the biggest woobie meow meow. I love Harrow to bits but also the other day I was reading a fic set before the beginning of GtN and I was like, wait maybe Harrow lobotomising herself for Gideon is the least she could do. Maybe she was right to feel so guilty that she cut into her own brain :3

They're both fucked up! They're sad! They were dealt a shitty hand in life! But Gideon hits my sad buttons more. And I think Harrow would agree with me tbh.

[idabbleincrazy]

Destiny ~ A Missing Scenes Ficlet

<--Previous Chapter

Chapter Three: Luck

Fandom: Angel (Buffyverse)

Rating: M

Pairing: William/Angelus, Spike & Angel

Characters: Angelus. William, Spike, Angel, Gunn (briefly), (mentioned: Eve, Harmony)

Word Count: 934

Warnings: Jealousy, slight angst, mention of past dub-con/domination sex

Summary: Angelus plans his revenge, and Angel uses the chaos to his advantage

Wanna be tagged? Add yourself here! Reblogs and comments fuel the muse!!

L.A., 2004

Angel watched Spike rush off with Harmony, that familiar flash of jealousy pulsing through him. His boy’s made flesh again for five seconds, and what does he do? Runs off with the first bit of skirt he can lay hands on. Angel bit back a growl and stormed back into his office, memories pushing their way unbidden into his thoughts as he fought the urge to track Spike down and rip Harmony off him. 

Jesus, why did the return of his boy to corporeal form have to come with world-ending chaos nipping at its heels? All he wanted to do when he'd realized Spike was finally, completely, back was hold him. He'd barely fought back the urge to interrupt his explanation to Gunn and just pull him into his office, keep him there till he knew it wasn't some cruel, temporary trick. The feelings that come bubbling up to the surface since Spike had appeared in his office surged with a forceful renewal, leaving him struggling to keep up the stupid façade of his dislike of the blonde. 

It was too exhausting sometimes. 

London, 1880 

“Happy hunting. Go on. Just be home before sunrise.” 

Angelus kept his features carefully neutral as William left the carriage and stalked into the night to look for Drusilla, only letting out the growl building in his chest once the driver had started the journey up again. He felt the young bride in his arms twitch weakly in fear at the force of his anger, and he snarled at her, clutching her closer and tearing into her throat, drinking down the remainder of his refused offering. 

How dare the little bastard, choosing to chase after Dru and cutting their night short. Did the whelp know nothing of his kind? Vampires didn’t share a kill lightly, even within their own line. How dare he besmirch this gift. 

When the carriage stopped outside the hotel, Angelus snapped the drivers’ neck and prompted the horses off into the night, ensuring it would be far from their temporary home by the time the bodies were discovered. He stormed up to their rooms in a rage, mind turning on thoughts of violence. 

He’d thought to make it pleasant, this night with the young fledge, had thought to share the bride between them, her hot blood pumping through them both, making the boy drunk with desire as fledges were wont to do. He would have been tender with pretty William, easing him into it, rather than the rough hand he’d taken with Penn, forcing the prudish Childe into submission. Even then, Penn had only been good for a face-fucking, the humiliation of the unwanted act doing more for him than the actual fellatio. He’d wanted to show the boy how good it could be, pleasure between two men, wanted to take him apart bit by bit, watch him as the demon let itself give in to the desire he’d seen brewing within those crystal blue eyes. Now, he would not be so kind. 

As he slammed the door to their suite behind him, he took a breath to temper his anger, catching the fresh scent of his addled Childe, and a cruel smile twisted his lips at his luck. William needed a lesson on the way things worked around here, and fate had just delivered the perfect one. He’d teach sweet Willy a thing or two about destiny. 

L.A., 2004

He could smell her all over him. Ten minutes. Ten minutes he's been solid again, and already he smells like someone else. No matter that Spike's attempted nooner got interrupted by bleeding eyes and a sudden case of rage, her scent is covering him. She bit him. Harmony bit his boy. If there weren't already a shitload of mystical fallout to deal with, Angel's not sure what would hold him back from tracking his secretary down and teaching her a thing or two about what happens to vampires who bite without permission.

And now he wants to flit off across the pond. To her. Part of him knew he should let him go, let him get far away from him and his glass and steel bastion of evil. Let this thing between them fade back into its well-honed charade of animosity. He hated that part of him. He hated that that part of him was probably the smart one in this situation. 

At least Eve had given him a reason to ignore that voice of reason. Never thought he’d be grateful for an impending apocalypse. 

“Spike…stay. Please.”  God, that was hard to say, even if it was what he really wanted. Here he was being civil about convincing Spike to stick around, when all he really wanted was to drag the brat up to his penthouse, break out the magickally enhanced chains Wes had insisted they store up there in case Angelus ever made another appearance, and secure him somewhere until he figured out what he wanted to do with him. That or just chain him to the bed and rid him of that perfume-and-bubblegum scent that Harmony had tainted him with. “Europe will still be there after we’ve worked this out.”

“Maybe.” 

Angel felt a flash of irritation at Gunn’s interjection. 

“Probably.”

He may no longer believe in the Shanshu prophecy, but if it gave him a field to play off to convince Spike to stay, even just a little longer, he’d use it. In the past few months they’d nearly managed to regain that bond they had once had, and he wasn’t ready to give that up just yet.

All Things Spike: @leatafanfiction

Spangel Only: @highonbandcandy

[ao3feed-izuku-midoriya]

Ikigai

Ikigai by maxancheese

(N)- a Japanese concept that translates to “a reason for being.”

MIDORIYA Izuku was born with a voice five decimals too loud and the death of three doctors and his own mother on his record. He was reaching the end of his rope when suddenly, a tired man with an inferiority complex and someone who's quirk experiences were a little too close to home come bursting into his life. What a time to be alive.

OR

The “Izuku being muzzled” fanfiction absolutely nobody asked for. Featuring Izuku with a voice quirk, dadzawa, mama mic, and a shitload of hurt/comfort.

Words: 2400, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Characters: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Midoriya Izuku, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic

Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic

Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Hurt/Comfort, Deaf Midoriya Izuku, Deaf Character, Midoriya Izuku Has a Quirk, Midoriya Izuku Does Not Have One for All Quirk, Quirk Accident, Quirk Discrimination, Genderfluid Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Married Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead Adopts Midoriya Izuku, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic Adopts Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead and Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic Adopt Midoriya Izuku, Found Family, Dead Midoriya Inko, Panic Attacks

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34939102

[utilitycaster]

35 and 41 for the campaign 2 ask meme!

35. Vilya, both because I actually picked up on that one and like, I don't think endings should be uniformly sunshine and rainbows but Keyleth deserves that win. Also it just fit together so well with Vokodo and the leadup to the Somnovem/Astral Plane and what we knew about Vilya and it managed to make her still alive yet missing for so long without it seeming force; it was very, very satisfying and intricate storytelling and also Vilya was a great NPC.

41. oh god, first bless you for this and second, so many things but I think I'll elaborate on the one from this morning about lifespan angst because as we all know driving for 7+ hours through the Great Northeastern Megalopolis on the first major beach weekend is very fun and definitely improves your mood, and also because I think I can shoehorn in most other rants into this.

I very much love grief narratives and I think actual play is uniquely suited to explore death and grief precisely because of its randomness; I've made some vague posts about this in the past regarding Molly's death, which absolutely was abrupt and sudden and felt unfair (not mechanically, I should note, just like...the way death sometimes does in life, where you understand what happened and even kind of why and yet that doesn't actually help). I actually felt CR handled that death so thoughtfully and well both initially and over the course of the campaign that I was actively very nervous about the events of episode 140 and how that aftermath may play out. (I was then very pleasantly surprised with Taliesin's choices in 141).

The thing is, I've found I need to sort of pull away from fandom when it comes to death tropes specifically, because a lot of people are understandably uncomfortable with death. My attitude is like "hello I love this in fiction, and I get you don't like it but stop trying to make it okay or happy or even more overwrought or a blame game, just let it happen and be messy. Every day I read the TAZ quote and the Richard Siken quote and every day I'm like it would be cool if anyone actually processed what those mean".

This isn't limited to CR, I should note, nor lifespan angst within CR as indicated above; the only time Dimension 20 discourse has ever irritated me (usually it is both minimal and delightful) is in A Crown of Candy surrounding one character's death in particular. But that's another rant. I have multitudes.

Actually speaking of Keyleth above, that's maybe one of the only cases where lifespan angst actually was really good, because it was indicated to be very important to the character (and notably the character who is living a very long time), said character really did have a ridiculous lifespan, and also she was hesitant about Vax when she thought they'd "only" have 150 years together, and then they had two, and I think she deserves to feel all kinds of ways about that.

But for Campaign 2, which was very specifically left quite open, it just feels off? It's a little less off for Caleb in that Liam did bring it up, but also Essek's the one who will experience it, and he didn't seem to take issue (and I would imagine the Dynasty, and a person from a race that generally lives quite long compared to many others would probably take a different view).

And as for Fjord and Beau having shorter life expectations than Jester or Yasha, I mean...yeah, they do but also, and I know people might not love to hear this, the idea of someone outliving their partner by 20-30 years, vs. over 500, happens every day. Sometimes they remarry. Sometimes they never do. It doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, but this is just such a fundamental part of life that it isn't even fun to angst about for me because like...one of my grandmothers did outlive my grandfather by over 20 years. It feels really fucking weird to bring up a Mitch Hedberg line, that was using to justify drinking a shitload of red wine, in response to an ask meme I wrote that I'm now using to talk about the inevitability of death but he made the joke of "why eat an apple? eventually it will become a core". He also said "the first and the middle parts are amazing!"

I don't want to full-on armchair psychologize but I kind of am, which is I think people are mourning the campaign but talking about character death instead, even though the ending was very much "these people are still out here and have much to do, they have just parted ways with each other and with us, the audience, but they live on". And like, do what you need in your mourning process, but as this is pretty impossible to filter out from the tags, I am going to be grumbling on my own gotdamn blog.

Oh also if you think all of the Mighty Nein are going to get buried in the Blooming Grove, or that Caduceus and the Clays would in fact want that specifically over them instead having thoughtful and personalized plans for their funerals, you were not paying attention to the episode in which the Clays got unpetrified.

[crimeronan]

march, august, september, ancient for fic asks <3

march: do you listen to music whilst writing?

yeah!! but i don't usually listen to music with lyrics, unless they're in a language i don't know. i'll go on youtube and find instrumental compilations that fit the mood i'm writing. you would be amazed by how many there are!

august: are any of your fics associated with certain genres/artists/songs/etc?

oh a SHITLOAD of my fics are titled after or inspired by certain songs. the two bands/artists that have the most fic influence are definitely rise against & regina spektor. unbecoming jordan hennessy, on the other hand, is an entire series where every piece is titled after one of the lyrics in unbecoming by starset, which is Such a hennessy & the girls song that i just.... hhhh

september: share a comment or review which still warms your heart?

people have left me a lot of really wonderful and deeply personal comments over the years ;-; a few come to mind -- here is one that's long and that i still need to reply to on ao3, but which is fairly recent and makes me lose my Mind whenever i reread it:

"ASD;HGLAJR;UWAGHFSDJKV.NLJ;OFOHULTR.EIJA/S I'M IN TEARS author, this fic is one of the most gorgeous things i've ever read. HOW did you manage to make this so hilarious and meaningful at once? i LOVE the platonic ronanessy that feels like a slow burning dumpster fire (in the best way). i want to give every character in this a puppy, a warm cup of cocoa, and a big hug (lmao they would all hate that). your hennessy made me reread cdth and mi because i missed how frickin wonderful she is the first time around and now i think i'm in love with her. also, not to sound like a completely crazed fangirl, but your characterization of adam is just. 😭🤗 i think i've read chapters 17-19 three or four times now (AND I'LL DO IT AGAIN!) ngl, adam's "i wish you had died" in chap 4 almost made me stop reading the fic but i am SO GLAD i didn't because you know what you're doing. both hennessy and adam seemed so mean and awful in the beginning, and the way you slowly unpacked their respective mental states/past trauma was just *incoherent bawling* sorry if this is weird or too personal, but this fic resonated with me so much. i have bipolar and i'm more than familiar with SI and i was hesitant to read this in case it wrecked my fragile mental state, but that "Healing" tag really didn't lie. this was unbelievably cathartic and immeasurably comforting. thank you, thank you, thank you. i didn't know i needed a 113K anti-soulmate aus soulmate au to cure my book hangover from reading trc+tdt in <1 week and cure my depression(/j), but i did. seriously, thank you so much, author. i feel very called out. this isn't my fav quote from this because there are FAR TOO MANY ridiculously sweet moments to choose. this has a special place in my heart:

“I’m prettier than Parrish.” “Not to me.”

asashgj;afghkavnsa 😍😍😍 whoops i just realized this comment is a long rambling mess. sorry! i just wanted to say that YOU ARE AN ABSOLUTE GOD and i can't wait for jordeclan thing/whatever the next installment in this fic is! if you read this whole thing ily and i hope you have a great day!"

ancient: the first fic you ever posted online?

it's long since lost to the ether, but it was a twilight fic i posted in 2007 on ffnet. it was set in the 1920's during edward's "rebellious years," and it involved him accidentally attacking & then turning a teenage girl OC.

[hishoukoku]

heyyyy 😃 👋 i have a bunch of ff tropes feel free to spill the tea on: secret dating/relationship, pwp, modern au, enemies to lovers, crack treated seriously (and in the spirit of halloween), identity porn

Heyyyy,

secret dating/relationship

B: Like it. Not one of my bigger cravings, but it can scratch a certain itch if I’m in the right mood.

I mean I like it depending on the plot. It usually needs to be plot-heavy for me to get invested in their relationship being secret and all that implies.

pwp

A: Love it. Spend my time combing AO3 for it.

Look. I'm not gonna lie to anyone here. I read a shitload of pwp. and sometimes the tags can be questionable to put it lightly. Judge me idc xD

modern au

C: Neutral. A good author might be able to sell it, but a bad one will kill it deader than dead.

I only picked neutral, because when it comes to any kind of AUs, but especially those that change the setting drastically, I'm very very picky about characterization.

If I cannot identify these characters, especially the main pairing, then I lose interest fairly quickly / become angry and ragequit the chrome tab xD

(that was overdramatic xD)

enemies to lovers

A: Love it.

Enemies to lovers is one of my absolute favorite tropes, I'm obsessed with it. Yes, let's pair two characters who are slowly becoming each other's problematic fav turned into sexual partner whom they now hold romantic feelings for against their will.

Especially that e2l implies that they are being forced to bond over something, whether it's simply working together, common interests, or shared trauma (my personal favorite).

crack treated seriously

B: Like it.

Sounds fun. Especially when the premise is too hillarious and out there to be true. The more outrageous the idea the more interesting it is to delve into how the hell could this be treated seriously.

identity porn

A: Love it.

I mean I'm a sucker for the mystery and tension this implies. But I would like for them to figure it out by the end. Bonus points if there's some angst thanks to that xD

Wow thank you for all of these <3 This was so fun!

Gimme a fanfic trope and I'll grade it!

[kissjane]

Anon asks, I provide

Dear anonymous asked if I read Elu fanfic and the answer was an obvious YES.

There are shitloads of fics out there and making a list is dangerous because there WILL be authors/fics I forget, but here goes. All of these people are enormously talented and horribly generous (one of the dangers of both reading and writing is that you constantly go “oh, fuck, they write so much better than me, why would I even still post my stuff”), so go check them out if you haven’t.

I’ll just add a break here because this will probably get long...

[I don’t really have a favourite trope or anything and I’ll generally try everything (except maybe real kinky shit, and I’m not too much into mpreg so I usually skip those too), but I have to admit that I don’t like to get into unfinished works that have been left lingering for months. I’m always afraid they will never be finished and my poor heart can’t handle being left in the middle of all that angst! And I’m not a big fan of RPF, so those will not figure in this list either.]

First, the person who kinda convinced me to give tumblr a second chance, @pinkplanetaries. She writes hilariously funny stories with usually a good deal of smut in there. I would suggest you you check out all her work here, but if you only have time for one I’d suggest Lemonade - includes social media!

One of my favourite Elu fics of all time is For want of gold by @lallemanting. I love soulmate aus and this one is just really beautiful, well-written, just the right amount of angst and enemies-to-friends-to-lovers-to-soulmates, paced perfectly, and the characters are all so easy to connect with. So yeah. I just love it. Her WIP Wandering tides has got me hooked, so, uhm, yeah, update pretty please?

I’ve talked about this one before, but A measure of stars by @lepetitepeach is just amazing! Pride and Prejudice is such an awesome classic to start with, and the way she ran with it just blows my mind. She has a bunch of other fics too, so go browse through them here.

A great author who obviously puts great care in to her stories is @surrealsunday . Her stories feature the whole SKAM cast, and she paints them all just so spot on it’s crazy. I can only imagine how much time and effort it must take to find the right photo’s to accompany the stories for the social media part of it, and don’t get me wrong, the stories would work great without them but the way they add to it is just insane. I haven’t started on her latest story Mood tattoo yet, which only makes my life more difficult, I can tell you, because everybody seems to love it, but yeah, go check out all her fics here if you like. If you don’t have time for a long multi-chaptered read, I can warmly recommend Spark to flame too.

I have recently been following the social media au Online love by @livvyblxckthxrn here on tumblr. I applaud the way she’s weaving a story just through text messages and pictures.

Even though I don’t like asmr I did enjoy the story about it by @greathalesonfire called You’re already the voice inside my head.

If you’re in the mood for sad Elu fiction, I have to point you to All you have to do, is kiss me ‘till I’m blue by @bluronyourradar. I can only hope her artist & muse au From stone, we sculpt symmetry will have a happier ending (can’t wait!) - either way, I like how she describes the setting and the characters in this one.

A very productive writer on AO3 - and I don’t know if they are on tumblr - is herilaveur. They have some imaginative aus so give it a go here.

Because I’m a sucker for bookstores and libraries I have to add The book I read was in your eyes by @kritiquer to this list. I know I missed a bunch of others - feel free to add them to this list! And while you’re at it, @kritiquer has a lot of other works posted which are all worth a read, find them here. 

@briallenko has quite a few stories posted here, they are very diverse so read the tags because some of them are rather heavy, but I did like the exploration of Vendredi 19:34 in Not afraid anymore.

Did you know that the evil mastermind prompter @nachtumringt has (half-) written an excellent fic in German called Consacré à Jupiter? For those of you who aren’t lucky enough to read German, try Dis/connected for some great non-linear storytelling.

Okay, on to A rose, by any other name by @flying-elliska. I admit, I was unsure about the premise at first, but I’m utterly hooked now! The world-building, the almost casual weaving in of the mythology aspects, the appearance of the whole gang and crew, the GORGEOUS descriptions, the spot-on characterizations... Count me in, please. Check out the rest of her stuff too, it’s all here.

Another story I’ve recently read and enjoyed and that also includes social media (seriously peeps, I feel like I’m lacking by just *writing* stories when I see all you talented authors using all these extra media) is One call away by AO3 user nutriscii - I’m sorry, I think they have a tumblr too, but I can’t remember? Help me out here, everybody. UPDATE: They do! The url is @demaury! Thx @sandalwoodhusbands for letting me know.

Pining Lucas and secretly in love Eliott? Yes please. If I can recognize real by @tawmlinsun has it all.

Just another sweet little secretly-in-love story by @eliottdemmaury, We’re just friends.

[Okay, so maybe I do have a favourite trope and it is secretly-in-love. Sue me.]

Shit, I know there are so many more stories I have enjoyed... so if I missed you, I’m so sorry. I am notoriously scatterbrained when it comes to things like this. This is where the fact that I don’t use bookmarks comes back to bite me, I guess. I think 15 is a good number for now, I could easily do another 15 though. Another time, I promise!

[purplesurveys]

1275

When you were younger, did your mother or father ever let you open a few presents before Christmas or your birthday even arrived?  We open all our presents the night of Christmas Eve to begin with; but no, they don’t tease by letting us open a few of them before our usual schedule.

If you could receive a 100 dollar gift card for either blouses, pants, dresses, shoes or purses, which would you chose?  If I could change blouses to shirts, then I would go with that because I’ve recently gotten into t-shirts and sweatshirts and no longer the trendy and preppy tops I used to like haha. But if not, I would go for shoes.

What is your favorite thing to do after crying? Ex: Sleep, listen to music, have some alone time, talk to someone, etc?  It varies as it depends on how much I cried. The harder I cried the more I’d want to sleep it off, because it can actually get pretty exhausting. Sometimes I’ll reach out, sometimes I write. It’s really different every time, but at the end I’m just glad I can no longer even remember the last time I cried out of sadness.

Do you think Trump will be assassinated, or will he survive his term?  Well we know the answer to this. It’s satisfying to notice him disappear off the face of the Earth immediately after his term, though. I don’t have a clue what he’s up to now.

Last time you felt suicidal?  For some reason I felt down last Thursday and I felt the slightest, slightest tinge of suicidal thoughts. No idea where it came from.

Last time you had butterflies?  Ugh idk but it was probably BTS-related hahahahahahah

Biggest asshole you know?  Certain politicians.

Did you ever leave someone because you know you’d hurt them?  No, I was on the opposite side of the coin for this one. I was broken up with because they believed they would hurt me, if not already doing so.

What song did you last listen to?  Hip Hop Phile by BTS.

Ever ridden in a police car?  Nopes.

Ever witnessed a murder?  Hmm, not that I can recall. I do remember having to monitor crime stories for one of my very first journalism assignments and the one time I didn’t tag along to the fieldwork with my classmates, they got to witness a stabbing incident :/ By itself of course it always sucks to have violent situations like those, but as a reporter it would’ve been interesting to see the scene and its aftermath.

Have you ever lied under oath?  I don’t think so, no. I can’t even remember the last time I was put under oath.

Have you ever failed a subject before? I’ve failed exams but never an entire class.

Have you ever had a deadly animal as a pet?  No.

Have you ever kissed someone of the same gender?  Well yeah, I dated one.

Have you ever been in a hot tub before?  Sure.

Have you ever been to a movie that sold out?  I’ve never experienced trying to buy tickets only to find out they’re all sold out, but that’s also probably because we have hundreds of malls in Manila alone and you can always find a theatre that are still offering tickets.

What movie last made you too scared to go to sleep?  I’m not usually that way with horror movies, but I do remember running into a jumpscare on TikTok while I was scrolling at 3 AM. Not fun.

When you’re on a laptop, do you hook up a mouse or use the touchpad?  Touchpad. I never use a mouse.

What’s your mom’s mom’s name?  Agnes.

Would it be hard seeing someone else kiss the person you like?  I’m not interested in anyone so this shouldn’t be a problem.

Have you ever been tempted to steal?  Sure, but the urge is never so strong.

What is the main character’s name in the book you’re reading? I’m not reading anything.

Do you have a favorite local band? Who are they? Nah. I did have a Ben&Ben phase, though I haven’t revisited their music in a long time.

Who’s the last person you saw naked, aside from yourself?  I’m not sure about completely naked, probably still my ex. As for partially naked, my dad sometimes goes shirtless at home as most Filipino dads do lol.

Who’s your favorite horror monster/killer?  The most iconic for me would be that porcupine looking ass from Resident Evil 4, I believe it was meant to be for one of the boss stages or something. Anyway, it’s memorable for me just because that fucker had been impossible to defeat and I loved watching my older cousin do attempt after attempt. I don’t think he ever got to beat him and by the time he did us cousins were already adults, lol.

On a side note, we called him ‘Porcupine’ as kids since a shitload of spikes would stick out of him unpredictably during the boss stage, and I thought that nickname had been just our thing; but I’m actually surprised that that villain actually comes up when you do a simple ‘Resident Evil 4 porcupine’ search haha. I guess other people called him the same thing too.

What kind of music do you prefer to listen to when driving?  I usually put on a playlist of BTS’ rapline; I tend to enjoy high-energy songs while driving.

Would you ever own a hairless rat, cat or dog?  I don’t see why I wouldn’t when it comes to the dog. I don’t want a cat or rat. 

All the people you’ve kissed, what did their names start with?  G.

What did you and your ex fight about most?  It was about the deeper, more profound stuff. We never saw eye to eye about the future, if we were helping the other grow, etc. Someone was always scared or insecure about something that the other could never help with fixing.

Don’t you love long hugs?  Sure, I love getting hugs as long as I’m comfy around the one giving it.

And long kisses?  Mhm, they’re nice.

Have you ever purchased condoms?  Only for Angela when she had still been too shy to ask for it herself. 

Have you ever gone on vacation with your boyfriend/girlfriend?  No. We had gone out of town for daytrips, but never for a fully-decked out vacation.

Have you ever trashed your ex’s car after an argument?  I wouldn’t do anything that loud. My resentment’s a lot more reserved and subtle, definitely on the passive-aggressive side.

Would you leave a note on a car claiming responsibility if you damaged it?  If I left like a paint scratch, no. If I was somehow stupid enough to manage wrecking the car then yes.

Have you ever used someone's handicapped parking pass to get a parking spot?  Oh that’s just gross. No. I do remember unknowingly parking over a spot meant for the handicapped once just because the paint was so fucking faded. It was genuinely so hard to tell but in the end I ended up just getting out of the spot and looked for another just to be on the safe, unassholey side.

Are you embarrassed to tell people your job?  Not at all! I love telling people I work in PR and sharing the brands I work with...it’s just a bitch trying to explain what exactly it is I do on a normal day. I’m still blanking out on it now that I’m thinking about it, haha. PR’s a challenge to summarize in one or two sentences.

If you ran over an animal would you keep driving?  I honestly have no clue how I’d deal with it. Ideally I would pull over and help bring it to the side of the road, and try to ask for help from passersby as well. I’m still not sure what I should/would do next.

Where’s the best place to eat a romantic dinner?  French, Spanish, and Italian restaurants always seem to carry a pleasant, date-y atmosphere to them, so any of those cuisines should be ok. I also like quieter restaurants with warm yellow lighting, since that makes me feel at home the most. The place definitely doesn't have to be super popular; I would just want for it to serve good food.

What hobby would you get into if time and money weren’t an issue?  Flying planes.

What would be the most amazing adventure to go on?  Probably something that’s booked with thrill-seeking adventures? Like a day of wakeboarding, paragliding, skydiving, riding an ATV...I would be exhausted as fuck and sleep for the next three days, but I can’t even begin to imagine how fun it would be.

When people come to you for help, what do they usually want help with? Writing stuff. < Yeah, essentially. My friends ask me for general life advice too.

Has anybody criticized the way your significant other looked like?  Yeah. But I always defended her.

Have you written or drawn anything for somebody else?  I mean I’ve written long letters, but I haven’t made a poem or song for anyone.

Who has impressed you most with what they’ve accomplished?  These days it would probably be Arlan. He just finished his Masters in Journalism at Columbia and I couldn’t be more proud. I remember wanting to attend Columbia too, but seeing how my love of journalism turned out...I’ve long accepted the fact that that route was not meant for me, hahaha.

What is something you think everyone should do at least once in their lives?  Finish a painting, which can also serve as a callout to me lol.

What would you rate 10/10?  Seafood.

What do you hope never changes?  My relationships with my best friends.

Would you ever have sex with the last person you texted?  No, I barely have a clue who she is and she seemed decades older when she called me up this morning.

Is there anyone that you’d love to just spill your guts to?  I’m good.

Where is the person you have feelings at right now? 

Are you happy with your relationship status?  Yessssssss. I love not having to worry about another person to spend on LOL

When did you last cry? What for?  Two Saturdays ago. The one-year mark of my breakup had been coming up and an overwhelming wave of emotions just flooded me all of a sudden, I guess. There was happiness and relief from not being stuck in it anymore; feeling sorry for myself as I remembered the turmoil and deterioration I went through in the latter part the year; anger for the shit she pulled; and there was also just the general feeling of being grateful that I’m still here after everything.

Do you think you’re wasting your time on the person you love? 

When’s the next time you’ll kiss someone?  No clue. I’m not holding my breath for it and that’s okay.

Were you ever scared to death of anyone you knew? Or are you currently?  Yeah, unfortunately I’ve always been surrounded by at least one person who terrifies me.

What’s the longest you’ve been away from home by yourself?  Nothing more than a day. That’s something I have yet to try out.

Have you ever been made fun of, because of what you look like?  Athenna was relentless in her insults. I dunno why I was friends her for as long as I was.

Have you ever made fun of others, because of what they look like?  If they’re some random person on the internet with disgusting political views, then yeah; but it’s just thoughts I keep in my head and I never verbalized the bullying. But not anyone in real life. Do you think it’s cute when you’re leaving a place, and a guy says “no hug?”  If I’m friends with the person I’ll banter with them for a bit until I give in for a hug. If it was any other guy I barely know...I would be disgusted and throw them the dirtiest glare.

Do you wear short shorts (if you’re a girl)? I didn't know short shorts were specific to females. < LOL same. Anyway no, not these days. I used to but they’re not really a part of my personal style anymore.

Who are you the most uncomfortable around?  Relatives with the wrong political views.

Who has your heart?  Nobody.

Should cloning ever be allowed to happen?  I don’t see the point. No.

Are you impatient with really shy people? If it gets to the point that they seem aloof and radiate very I-could-not-care-less-about-getting-along-with-any-of-you vibes, then yeah I feel like I would get irritated pretty fast. But I was an extremely shy person once too, so I’m typically friendly with them and I would usually be That person who constantly stays next to them so they feel like they belong.

Does your house have air conditioning throughout, or do you have one that sits in your window?  It sits in the window, as with most households here.

What is the most ridiculous band name you’ve heard recently?  I haven’t encountered anything wacky recently.

Would you ever get a fashion mullet?  No.

Do you believe that Jesus lived and is returning?  No.

Do you believe in spiritual gifts?  No.

Do you believe in callings?  Not really, no.

If you were rich, would you get a professional photoshoot done?  Hell no. I get extremely sheepish in front of a camera and a thousand times worse at posing.