#hopefully there will be a fic for this eventually

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

𝑶𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅

Pairing: Vampire Bang Chan x sub fem!reader

Content Includes: DUB-CON, DARK FIC!!! blood play, kidnapping, mind manipulation, spit play, unprotected sex (he's a vampire so condoms aren't needed you know?), aphrodisiacs, biting, oral (fem receiving), jealous and possessive sex, praise, body worship, aftercare, bath sex, kissing, 18+

Word Count: 3K

It's pretty soft in it's dynamics honestly but the underlying themes are incredibly toxic and unhealthy so this is your final warning, this fic will not be for everyone.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been here—days, weeks? Time blurred together in the dim, lavish bedroom where Bang Chan kept you. The first days had been filled with resistance: pounding on the door, screaming for help, and refusing to eat. But Bang Chan had been patient, his eyes glinting with that quiet, obsessive resolve as he whispered promises that you would come to love him, that he’d make you see he was the only one who could care for you properly.

The last time you tried to run, he’d found you halfway down the staircase, dragging you back to this room as if you weighed nothing. That night, he’d fed you his blood for the first time, his lips pressed to your mouth as you resisted, his voice low and commanding. "Drink," he had said. "You’ll feel better. I promise."

You hated how right he’d been. The warmth of his blood coursing through you had sent a dizzying, molten pleasure straight to your core. It had softened every sharp edge of your defiance, leaving you pliant, your mind clouded with a hazy need for him.

Now, when the door creaked open, your heart skipped—not with fear but anticipation. Even as your mind rebelled, your body craved him, craved the dizzying ecstasy his blood brought.

Bang Chan stepped inside, his dark, predatory eyes drinking you in as you sat curled up on the bed. He looked as though he’d been pacing outside, his sleeves rolled up with his shirt undone at the collar, his hair a tousled mess, the remnants of blood on his lips and his mangled eye reflecting in the moonlight.

"Are you still sulking, baby?" he murmured, his voice low and almost tender. "Haven’t I given you everything?"

You didn’t answer, but your gaze betrayed you, flicking to the faint scar on his wrist. He caught the movement immediately, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his lips.

"You need me, don’t you?" he asked, approaching the bed with the careful intensity of a predator cornering its prey. "Even when you try to fight it, you feel it—the pull. My blood running through you, tying you to me."

Which was the point to all this wasn't it? For what could a man who can't be alone yet be sentenced to a lone eternity do?

He had to make you depend on him, feed off him, make you addicted to the aphrodisiac running through his veins, fill the void of emptiness in his dormant heart and replace it with your blood, your moans, your aching cunt and eventually...hopefully, your love and care.

Even if he had to force it, manipulate, take it.

You were the only thing he desired yet couldn't own entirely in his aimless, monotonous world.

He climbed onto the bed, his body caging you in as he cupped your face with one hand. His thumb brushed over your lips, and you shivered under his touch.

"Let me take care of you," he whispered, his voice trembling with need. "Let me give you everything you’ll ever desire."

He kissed you then, his lips soft but insistent, coaxing a response from you even as your mind screamed to resist. His hands slid down your body, peeling away the thin fabric of your oversized t-shirt to expose your skin to his hungry gaze.

"You’re so perfect," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a searing path of kisses, each leaving a crimson mark on your skin. "Every inch of you belongs to me. No one else will ever touch you, taste you, or even look at you."

He bit into his wrist without hesitation, his blood welling up in dark, crimson drops. Instead of pressing it to your lips, he leaned down, capturing your mouth with his. The metallic tang of his blood mixed with the heat of his kiss as he spat it into your mouth, his tongue chasing the last drops.

You moaned in euphoria at the taste of it, your tongue lapping at his bottom lip as your body became tingly with arousal and need, a burning heat pooling at your core and flowing to every limb and fibre of your being.

A firm hand wrapped around your neck and tilted you up so you were staring at Bang Chan who's eyes were deep and shadowed and held an unsettling combination of adoration and dominance, a bottomless pit of longing and control that promised he’d never let you go.

"Swallow," he commanded, his voice rough with desire.

You obeyed, your body shivering as the warm, heady rush of his blood spread through your veins. The haze returned instantly, a fog of contentment and submission that made you pliant under his touch.

"That’s it," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, hand slowly releasing. "Feel how much you need me. Feel how good it is to give in to me."

You could only whimper in response, your eyes becoming glassy from receiving your daily fix- too fucked out to notice his smirk as Bang Chan kissed his way down your skin, unbuttoning his shirt as he does so.

By the time he was finished with your torso, your skin was covered in shades of pomegranate and crimson, your nipples swollen and kiss-bruised, you were a canvas for his all too-consuming desires. Your marked flesh returned to blank perfection by the healing powers of his blood, which only provided the permission he needed to claim you again.

He removed his shirt, letting it fall to the ground as you gazed in awe at his torso, untainted and marble-toned under the moonlight. His hands moved between your thighs, spreading them apart as you lay pliant for him. His mouth is pressed against your skin in the softest of kisses before puncturing the skin with his fangs, his eyes lidded in a complete state of pleasure as he drank from you.

You barely had time to recover and notice the pain before his tongue lapped at your core with an unrelenting intensity that left you gasping.

"You taste like my redemption," he groaned, his voice muffled against you, his tongue drawing circles and suckling on your clit at an inhuman pace. "My heaven. And you’ll never need anyone but me."

The pleasure built quickly, your body trembling under his expert touch. Just as you reached the edge, he pulled back, his lips glistening with blood and your slick as he looked up at you.

"I won't let you cum yet until I've been satiated by the warm, sweet, wet cunt of yours." He speaks as he undresses, removing his pants and shoes so he is fully nude, his muscles tense and cock hard and aching from how close he was about to enter into his paradise.

His fingers gently brush down the side of your face as he hovers over you, pushing your legs apart with his knee so he could slot between them, running his fingers down the sides of your body before pulling your knees up and around his waist.

There was no light apart from the essence of the moon streaming through the bare window so he was a shadow of your darkest fears and deepest cravings but he could see all of you, crave you, lavish at your beauty.

And it angered him to his core that he could never truly own you, that you couldn't be truly his unless you offered yourself to him freely.

"You’re mine," he said, his voice raw and filled with dark heat as he pushed into you, filling you completely.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as he moved inside you, his thrusts deep and desperate, his hands gripping your waist as if he feared you might vanish beneath him.

Bang Chan always entered you without any type of preparation, he was so cold and you were so warm, breathing fire into him from the outside in, the first push into your tight, warm and wet heat had him teetering on the edge of his orgasm every, single time.

For you however, it would have been painful without the blood but with it alighting you with flames from the inside and out, the stretch of him filling you and settling so perfectly inside of you was enough for your body to shake and tremble from how close you were to eternal bliss, your loud moans filling the room as your nails raked down his back, pulling him closer to you.

"Yes, mark me, scrape your nails down my back, make me feel alive again," the words were laced with a gravelly husk, his voice breaking. "Say you’ll always need me. Say you’ll love me the way I love you."

"I’ll never leave," you whispered, the words spilling from your lips without hesitation.

"Good girl," he groaned, his forehead pressing against yours as his thrusts grew erratic. "You’re my good girl. Always."

His thrusting slowed to light grinding as he bit his wrist again, tearing open the barely healed wound with his fangs as the blood pooled from his mouth, streaming down his chin and dripping over your chest as you sensually opened your mouth to receive the drug in its purest form, swallowing and gulping all that you craved as Bang Chan pushed the essence further into your mouth, ensuring every part of your mouth and teeth were covered with his tongue.

You could feel his cock pulsing inside of you from this intimate act, an exchange of life force, a life he desperately wanted to give you and a life you can live with if it means feeling like this every day.

His thrusts grew faster again, his hips snapping against yours as he balanced himself on his arms, his right hand moving down your abdomen, leaving streaks of blood in their wake as his fingers nestled against your clit, his face shining with pride at your enthusiasm and pleading whines to finish.

"You're getting tired aren't you?" Bang Chan cooed at you in a slightly mocking tone, his eyes flashing a hint of mischief as he maintained his pace, not even breathless or a hair out of its place.

"I'll let you rest after you've cum for me babygirl, soak my cock for me, squeeze me with that perfect cunt of yours yeah?"

You reached your orgasm just moments later, your back arched and mouth open in a silent scream, draped in a way that Bang Chan could only describe as nirvana, his secret elysium from the agony of living forever.

The bedroom was silent except for the sound of your labored breaths, the aftermath of your intimacy still tingling through your body. Bang Chan hovered above you, his dark, piercing eyes studying your face with a mix of obsession and adoration.

"Don't fall asleep yet" he murmured, his lips brushing your temple. "I need you to get cleaned up baby. Let me take care of you."

Before you could respond, he scooped you into his arms, carrying you effortlessly into the bathroom. The room was filled with the faint scent of lavender, the soft yellow lighting casting a homely ambience in the room. He settled you over his lap as he fiddled with the taps, rubbing your back lightly as the tub filled up.

Chan didn’t say a word as he set you down in the tub, his hands moving to cup and pour water over with a careful reverence. His fingers lingered as he began to wash the blood off your chest with his bare hands, his touch igniting fresh sparks of heat wherever it grazed your skin.

"You’re so beautiful," he said, his voice thick with emotion. His thumb traced the curve of your jaw before he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow and all-consuming.

He stepped into the bath when he was ready, his body facing yours. The warmth of the water enveloped you as he helped you sink into the tub, your back resting against the porcelain.

Chan seated himself between your legs, the water lapping gently against his toned chest as his hands roamed over your body. "Just lie there baby, let me heal you" he murmured, his lips trailing from your collarbone to the swell of your breasts. His kisses were soft, reverent, each one filled with a silent promise.

His hands moved with practiced care, spreading soap over your skin as he washed you, his touch lingering in a way that made your breath hitch. "I'll keep you safe," he whispered, his voice gentle, with an underlying edge of possessiveness "Even if it means locking you away where no one else can take you from me."

The bathwater was beginning to darken in a hue of red as he washed the blood away, his cock hardening and skin burning with need at your beautiful body underneath him, your face looking so pure under the warm light and under his tarnished, sin-covered hands.

When you gazed up at him through your lashes, there was a sense of gratitude and care in them, like you were genuinely enjoying and appreciating this moment of care despite his blood in your veins thickly veiling the reality of this moment.

But it was enough for Bang Chan, his appetite for you insatiable and unwavering, every moment when he wasn't over you, holding you, being inside of you, dripping his blood into you would cause him desperate, emotional pain and an ache to tether his skin to yours.

His lips found yours again, his kiss deep and unyielding as he pressed closer, his body hovering over yours. The water shifted as he manoeuvred you, his strong arms bracing on either side of you as he caged you in.

"I'll make you need me" he said, his voice trembling with a mix of desperation and hunger. "I'll be the only thing you'll ever crave, even if I have to make you depend on it."

His mouth captured yours in a bruising kiss, and you gasped as he positioned himself at your entrance. His dark eyes met yours, his expression raw and unhinged as he whispered, "Say you’re mine."

"I’m yours," you breathed, the words spilling from your lips before you could think.

"That’s my girl," he groaned, his voice breaking as he pushed inside you. The water rippled around you, the heat of it amplifying the sensation as he moved with slow, deliberate thrusts.

The sudden intrusion made you wince in discomfort slightly but the ache was only fleeting before the familiar pleasure swept through your body, your body already conditioning itself for Chan's purpose as your legs automatically parted and your arms wrapped around his shoulders.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough as his hands roughly grabbed the side of your face . "I need to see you, need to know you’re not thinking about anyone else."

He always wanted to make love to you whilst he was above you, having you pinned underneath him- purely because he enjoyed how powerless you looked but also because he needed you to look into his lovesick eyes and know how obsessed he was over you, how he'd kill for you, how every breath you exhaled was on his conditions.

"I’m not," you whispered, your voice trembling as his pace quickened.

"Good," he rasped, his forehead pressing against yours. "Because no one will ever love you the way I do. No one else will ever take care of you like this. And I'll spend a fucking eternity proving it to you if I have too".

And how could you think of anyone else when every fibre of him was in you, his blood in your veins, his words in your brain, his teeth in your skin, his cock hard and plunging into you...because you were just as twisted and obsessed he was, obsessed for the fix, for his care, his words, his undying devotion towards- it was an addiction you could not quell, nor desire too.

His thrusts grew deeper, more desperate, the water splashing gently against the edges of the tub. His lips found yours again, his kiss feverish as if he could seal you to him forever.

"Tell me how to make you happy," he begged, his voice breaking as his movements faltered, his need for you overwhelming him. "Tell me what I have to do to make you stay with me."

"You already do," you managed to whisper, your hands clutching the tendrils of his hair as the pleasure he gave you consumed you.

"Say it again," he demanded, his voice trembling with emotion.

"You make me happy," you said, your words spilling out in breathless gasps.

His grip on you tightened as he buried himself deeper, his lips pressing against your neck as he groaned, "That’s it, baby. You’re mine. Always mine."

The tension coiled tighter and tighter until it snapped, leaving you both trembling as the waves of pleasure washed over you. He held you close, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, "I’ll never let you go. Never."

After a moment, he eased back just enough to slide out, pulling you on top of him so you were resting against his chest, his hands rubbing gentle strokes up and down your back.

"Don't ever think of leaving me" he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but firm and edged with a thinly veiled threat.

"You won't like what I become if you do".

Surprise!!! What a way to end 2024 everyone, a final gift for you all to say goodbye and welcome the new year.

I've been wanting to write this type of fic for Chris for months now and railway was the final thing needed for me to break my writer's block and write something.

My most popular fic ever of 2024 was in fact my Haunting Adeline fic with Yunho so whilst I won't write dark fic all the time, I'll probably write more of it if you can handle reading more of it.

Incredibly grateful and appreciative to everyone I've interacted with and spoken to this year, let's see what the next 12 months will bring and inspire out of me.

Kisses and hugs to all of you!!!

Taglist: @scuzmunkie @marievllr-abg @umbralhelf @starsareseen @lino-jagiyaa @mischiefsmind @mrcarrots @junieshohoho @partywithgyu @whatsk-poppinhomies @craxy-person @hologramhoneymoon @gyuhanniescarat @staytinyinmybpack @necessiteez @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @berryberrytan @sensitiveandhungry @laylasbunbunny @bangchanbabygirlx @i-love-ateez @anyamaris @krishastumblernow @hexheathen @michel-angelhoe @northerngalxy @youre-alittle-taste-of-hell @starillusion13 @justaaveragereader @ja3hwa @jus2passtime @shroomoth @marykpoppins @leomggg @daddysspecialdollyworld @mykryptonitelight @wisejudgedragonhairdo @sanakimohara @chansfavouritetoy

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 91

Besties i’m so fucking glad i don’t have that music video looming over my head anymore, like yeah i’m writing this on day 82 so it’s not ACTUALLY off of my chest yet but still. Oh right- the topic.

“So Elegant, So Vulgar” from School Life of Mutual Loving, by MarySutcliff

So this ones special! And the reason its special is also the reason I did it first! It was a bit hard to figure out, but if looking at the date of the collection of stories is correct, and putting it and putting it against other fics of the same nature, this chapter is the FIRST Soft Junkan Fic on AO3. If i’m wrong that’s my bad but I think the time of release for this one (which I can only speculate because I don’t know the best way to check)?

So it only seemed right to make something based off of it, for the culture! Though it wasn’t easy, this fic is a bit more . . . abstract? That’s probably an awful word to describe it as but I’m not good at this. The story switches perspective between several characters, in a way that pleases my brain as we loop between them, starting from Junko and ending at Junko. Now the format and the very internal way this fic was written posed the question of how the hell I was supposed to visualize it. Eventually I just tried to mimic the way the story was formatted, every character layered on top of eachother with Junko and Mikan exclusively in the center.

It’s really hard to describe but you can probably just look at it and see what I mean?

As for the fic itself! 

It’s nice! I very unfortunately don’t have a lot to say beyond paying my respects for it’s place in Junkan History, and it’s extremely pleasing and unique format. Admittedly I do find the dialogue, both internal and external, a bit, jarring? Nothing that truly detracts from the piece, just feels off in a way that isn’t there with some of this author’s other stories. 

I won’t be complaining though! I’m a gal who struggles to really critically chip into the things she takes in, I prefer to just enjoy what I’m given despite it’s flaws. I don’t blindly enjoy everything of course, there are pieces of media i either don’t feel positively on (or anything on), and even some pieces that truly bring out the worst in me. I am a woman who holds deep burning angry and spite inside of her, I just choose to try and not make it anyones problem but my own!~ Simply put while I may air small issues here and there, the coming days of fic adaptations will be more about showing my love for the work that I’ve read dozens of times and have helped somewhat satiate my constant need for Junkan, rather than picking apart everything that may or may not be wrong with them, very sorry if ya’ll were looking for something like that!~ Hopefully my happy go lucky lifestyle will suffice in its stead!

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[thatdeadaquarius]

Hello ^^ r u alive??

Yes actually!

Shocking I know, but yall haven't heard from me bc I've been having a busy year.

TLDR: Moved out of homestate year after graduating college, working paycheck to paycheck now, while taking online class (still taking, ill be done mid january), got hit by Hurricane Helene like 6 months? After moving here, and have been recovering from that while also maintaining job/class.

(It was like Katrina but for this area, bc they were unprepared for hurricanes here)

Have had No time yo work on my hobbies really, and if anyone remembers by now, ive been working on a followup fic for the eldritch reader sagau one shot from,, last year? Idk anymore, point is!

I wanted yo write it all out then make just post the chapters one after another so u guys wouldn't be waiting months on next update (like my Players Possessions fic rn 😔)

But, ive barely had any time to myself, and I usually have been filling it with my class or living my life, or other hobbies, so on top of busy life I've been unmotivated bc I've had to force myself to make time and write it out

(I'm deadass fighting for my life against my fic writing style, which i guess is pretty long winded, so the word count is like,, tied me to a car and is dragging me tf out lol)

So im still working on that fic, so that way I can post all at once,

I also feel very bad for you guys who've left asks and im very slow, so they're pretty old now and I felt bad answering them so long after you asked :/

Ill probably still be posting them eventually, but just wanted to let you guys know im alive and very sorry about not doing your asks for forever (years atp??) /gen

(Also ive had like, no time since Fontaine let alone Natlan to even play Genshin LMAO, which makes writing about the new characters kinda hard obv lol)

Thanks for checking in, sorry for the word dump!!

Here's to a (hopefully) more active deadaquarius blog next year!! 🫠🎉🥂

Safe Travels, happy holidays, and if I dont see you, happy new year!!

💀♒️

[happyandticklish]

Not a Big Deal

Notes: Merry Christmas and a happy new year to @signinandgetkinky! I know I'm cutting it a bit close, but hopefully you enjoy what I've come up with. I tried to combine your prompts together into one fic, so there's a little bit of all of them in there. Thanks so much to @squealing-santa for hosting!

Summary: Adam is insistent he's not ticklish. Ronan is insistent that it doesn't matter.

Fandom: The Raven Cycle

Pairing: Ronan/Adam (Pynch)

Word Count: 2.2k

“Parrish. Parrish. Parrish.”

Adam’s brows twitched slightly, cursing the universe for putting him into this situation.

They had a flat tire. Approximately ten minutes into their trip to Cabeswater, there was a loud pop before the Pig had begun to veer toward the side of the road, clunking unevenly as it went. For all of the Camaro’s problems, Adam supposed he should have been grateful it was only a flat tire. Gansey and Blue were currently in the process of repairing it, most likely while, as had been the trend with them for the past few weeks, awkwardly and intensely flirting with one another. They had been trying to keep it on the down low, likely for Adam’s sake. In turn, he pretended he didn’t notice, allowing them to live out their hopeless charade.

Ronan had taken these past fifteen minutes to annoy him with pokes and prods and irritating questions that Adam had been halfheartedly answering up until the most recent one.

He turned more deliberately toward the window now, pretending as though Ronan was not there. Ignore it, and maybe it would go away.

Poke, poke, poke. “Parrish. Adam. There. Is that what you want?”

Or maybe not.

“What I want is for you to leave it alone.”

“It’s a fair question.”

“It’s an invasive question.”

In fairness, it was an invasive question. Not one that Adam necessarily minded sharing, but one that he did not want revealed when Blue and Gansey could get back into the vehicle at any moment.

“I’m ticklish.”

Ronan’s tone was so somber compared to the words coming out of his mouth that Adam couldn’t help but snort. “I’m so happy for you,” he deadpanned, though he quietly stored the information away for later.

“Tit for tat,” Ronan explained, leaning back in the vehicle as his gaze dragged up and down Adam’s person. Lately, Ronan looking at him had become such an intense process that Adam was worried he was seeing something Adam couldn’t. “I don’t see what’s so embarrassing about the question. I poked you. You flinched.”

“Poking tends to do that to people.”

“Not like what happened to you.”

Pink tinged Adam’s cheeks. If it was possible to squish himself further into the corner, he did so. “I was startled,” he said, after a moment of careful consideration.

Ronan squinted. “Are you saying you’re not ticklish?”

“Not necessarily, I’m just—”

“So you are ticklish?”

Adam floundered for a moment before eventually pressing his lips together and glancing in a totally not desperate way out to where Blue and Gansey were engaged in some kind of heated discussion. Not that their presence would necessarily deter anything Ronan was about to do.

Ronan watched him carefully, noting his tense stance. “Does the question bother you?”

Adam scoffed a laugh. When Ronan didn’t take the hint, he clarified, “Normally, when people ask the question, ‘are you ticklish’, it is followed by them tickling you regardless of your answer.”

“And you don’t want to be tickled?”

“Most people don’t want to be tickled.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Adam opened his mouth to answer, but before he had a chance, the two of them jumped as the car doors flung open. Blue whirled to face Adam, a grin on her face.

“Adam, we require your assistance.”

“We do not—I had it handled—”

Blue raised a brow as Gansey continued to fumble his sentences. After a moment, he turned reluctantly to Adam. “Adam, we require your assistance.”

Adam resisted the urge to comment on Gansey’s lack of real-world skillsets in favor of silent gratitude. He jumped out of the car, following Gansey and pointedly ignoring Ronan’s eyes on his back.

He had thought that was the end of it. But the topic of Adam’s ticklishness (or potential lack thereof) resurfaced months later at Monmouth Manufacturing during what was meant to be a study session between the three boys. Gansey was sat on the floor, a stack of books on either side of him with a mountain of paper scattered in front of him that he was perusing through. It was unclear whether the aim of his research was academics or Glendower related, and Adam hadn’t bothered to ask for fear of inciting some long-lasting rant that would quickly wile away their afternoon. He was curled up on the side of the couch reading about the Byzantian Empire for an upcoming assignment when Ronan decided to join them in the form of falling down on the couch and slinging his legs across Adam’s legs and on top of Adam’s book.

Gansey didn’t bother to glance up at his presence, but offered a vague hand raise in greeting. Adam yanked his book to freedom, raising an eyebrow in Ronan’s direction.

“Move.”

“Make me.” Ronan crossed his arms behind his head, settling comfortably into the couch.

The smirk on his face implied that he was in an impish mood that Adam frankly didn’t have time for. “You’re such a child. Gansey, can you please leash your dog?”

Ronan gnashed his teeth with a grin as Gansey wearily replied, “Trust me, Adam, if I had figured out that trick, I would have done so years ago. He’s your problem now.”

It was clear he was going to be getting no help at all. Adam sighed, shoving at Ronan’s legs to no avail. The struggle seemed to be just what Ronan was waiting for, and he took advantage of it to knock Adam’s book onto the ground. When Adam turned to face him, he merely stuck his tongue out, before closing his eyes with a pleased hum.

Adam didn’t mean to do it. He wasn’t even really sure where the instinct came from, only that he wanted to wipe that smug look off Ronan’s face. His fingers had barely brushed Ronan’s foot before he was nearly upended by the force of the latter jerking his leg back. They made eye contact for only a moment before Adam was leaping off the couch and hightailing it for… where, he couldn’t say, so long as it was away from there. Gansey’s apartment was built to foster open space, not to create good hiding spots for this soon to be dead man.

Ronan was after him in an instant, and Gansey let out a disgruntled noise as he knocked over his papers in his haste. “Ronan! Adam! I would appreciate it if you took it outside if you’re going to kill one another.”

Neither listened to him. Adam had barely made it more than ten feet before he was backed into a dead end. He turned around only to yelp when Ronan grabbed hold of his wrists, jerking them over his head and pressing him against the wall. Laughter, nervous and giddy, was spilling out of Adam already as he tugged desperately to free himself.

“Ronan, Ronan, please, don’t tickle me, I swear to god—"

“I guess now we’ll finally answer the question of whether the wallflower is ticklish or not.”

“I’m not, but don’t—Ronan!"

Ronan’s hand only just made contact with his sides, though even that touch alone was enough to send shivers coursing down Adam’s spine. He paused at the frantic nature to Adam’s tone. His hand retracted slightly as he considered him, taking in his flushed voice, wide eyes, and goofy grin. Then, to Adam’s surprise, he let go. Adam brought his arms down, relief flooding him first, followed quickly by confusion as Ronan shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked back over to the couch to bother Gansey about what they were having for dinner that night.

Adam could have sworn there was a faint pink tinge to Ronan’s ears as he walked away, though that could have been his imagination playing tricks on him.  

Once Ronan and Adam started dating, it became much harder to evade queries about his sensitivity. But Ronan was unusually respectful about the issue. He never pushed as Adam made excuse after excuse, not even when too gentle of intimacy brought about twitches and huffs of barely concealed laughter. Nearly another year went by before Adam was forced to confront the issue once more. It was late December, and snow had finally graced Cambridge with its presence. Adam thought it was nice. There was something to having an excuse to stay curled up inside without having to worry about braving the company of his fellow classmates; he liked them well enough, but Adam was a creature of solitude at heart. Ronan, on the other hand, had far less charitable views toward the weather that had made the drive up to visit a living hell.

Now, the two of them lay curled up together on Adam’s bed, Adam’s head resting against the firmness of Ronan’s chest. The first several hours of the visit had consisted of far more affectionate behavior, but now they had settled into a comfortable rhythm of relaxation that Adam was loathe to leave. His shirt was rucked up in the back, and Ronan traced lazy circles over his lower back. At times, he strayed too close to his sides and Adam flinched unthinkingly. “Sorry. Your hands are cold.”

The touching paused, and Adam held back what would have been an embarrassing whine at its absence. “You can tell me if you’re ticklish, you know.”

Adam stiffened. “Okay. Thank you. I’m not though.”

Adam could practically feel Ronan rolling his eyes at him. “We’ve been dating for years now, I don’t understand why you still feel the need to hide the obvious. It’s not like I’m going to abuse the information or anything.”

“First of all, there is no obvious. Second of all, I highly doubt that. You’ve never showed the same consideration to Gansey.”

“Gansey likes it,” Ronan pointed out, before frowning. “Most of the time, anyways. Besides, do you really think I would do anything to you if you didn’t want me to?”

Adam hesitated. “Well. No, but—”

“I just don’t see why it’s such a big deal to you,” Ronan continued, ignoring his protests. “Everyone’s fucking ticklish. I’m ticklish. It’s human. It doesn’t imply something about you. Christ. Anyways. You don’t have to tell me, if it’s really important to you. But I’m not going to think less of you because you’re plagued by the same weakness as most of our population.”

He lapsed into silence after that, leaving Adam to stew in his words. He wasn’t wrong. Logically speaking, Adam knew that Ronan would probably leave him alone if he asked. There was no reason to be so cagey about such a simple piece of information, especially considering Ronan had likely already gathered the truth despite his protestations. If Adam really thought about it, which he was now thanks to Ronan, he wasn’t worried that he was going to tickle him.

He was worried that he wasn’t.

The two continued to lay in the quiet aftermath of Ronan’s words for several minutes. The tracing had started back up again at some point, but Adam couldn’t find the same contentment in it anymore. There was a growing itch beneath his skin, and he shifted uncomfortably, his body warm and prickly with embarrassment.

There’s no harm in asking.

“Ronan.”

“Adam.”

“I’m—well. I am. Ticklish, that is. Just a bit.”

A soft smile graced Ronan’s face, though Adam didn’t dare look up to notice. Ronan’s jacket was slung across the desk chair on the far end of the room and Adam focused all of his attentions on it instead, memorizing every minor crease instead of noticing how Ronan wasn’t saying anything. Finally—

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’m glad you told me. It seemed like it was weighing on you.”

“Oh. Good.” Adam’s grip tightened where it was wrapped around Ronan’s torso. Several more beats went by. The itch was growing worse, and his foot tapped a nervous rhythm against the end of the bed. “Can you—fuck. Fuck, this is ridiculous, why can’t I just—”

“Adam. I said it’s okay. All you have to say is yes or no.”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat. “I—”

“Yes—” Rona’s fingers paused in their path right above Adam’s ribs— “Or no?”

It was quite possible that Adam had never been more grateful for Ronan’s bluntness than in that moment. He wasn’t sure he could get the words out, so he nodded instead. A moment later, he was biting his lip as fingers crawled treacherously under his arms, laughter bubbling up quickly in his throat. He buried his face in Ronan’s chest, ignoring the burning of his cheeks and focusing instead on how Ronan was being so gentle and light and yet, it tickled so much more than Adam could have possibly prepared for.

“Ronan!”

“Adam.”

How could a tone be so mocking and so affectionate all at once? “It tickles.”

Blunt nails spidered quickly near the edges of Adam’s arms, leaving him in a fit of giggles as he struggled to hold himself still.

“I know.”

As he laughed the rest of the night away, Adam found himself immensely grateful for the fact.

[manuelmueller]

I'm living for the day When you hold me in the street And you kiss me on the dancefloor

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (steddie fic)

saw this post and was inspired to write something angsty <3

The first thing Eddie is aware of when he wakes up, before he even opens his eyes, is the dull, aching pain throbbing through pretty much his entire body. The second thing he’s aware of is that someone is holding his hand. 

“Eddie?” The hand in his tightens its grip as Eddie begins to stir; the voice it presumably belongs to sounds immeasurably relieved, yet only vaguely familiar. 

Eddie groans. His eyelids flutter, blinking awake, and he groggily rolls his head to the side to get a look at whoever had spoken. 

The voice sighs again, “Oh thank god-” 

“Harrington?” Eddie’s eyes fly open wide now as they land on the mystery man sitting beside him on the edge of the bed - a man he most definitely is not close enough with to be holding his hand, and a bed that is most definitely not his own. He snatches his hand away. “What the hell are you doing? Where am I?”

“Ed-” Another man’s voice, this one just as relieved and infinitely more familiar. It fills Eddie with relief too as he looks to his other side to find his uncle Wayne rising from a nearby chair to come up next to him. 

“Wayne, what-?” His surroundings are becoming more clear. “What happened? Why am I in a hospital? And why the fuck is King Steve at my bedside?” Eddie tries to sit up only to gasp and wince in pain as the dull ache in his sides sharpens to near agony at the movement. 

“Take it easy, son.” Wayne’s hand lands on his shoulder, gently but firmly pushing him back down onto the pillows. “You were hurt real bad.” 

“Yeah, I got that,” Eddie grumbles out. He sucks in a deep, intentional breath and exhales slowly, the pain beginning to dull again now that he’s settled. His questions are still largely unanswered, though. Blank mind reaching desperately for any logical piece to this bizarre puzzle, he turns an accusing glare to Harrington. “Did you land me in here? Is that why you’re here, some sort of weird guilt thing?” 

Harrington’s looking at him like a kicked puppy. “What? No, I-” he falters, takes a shaky breath and swallows painfully like he’s trying not to cry. “You don’t remember?” 

“I don’t remember what? Will someone just tell me what happened?” Eddie’s confusion is rising more and more into agitation with every second he remains without an explanation. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Harrington asks quietly.

“I was driving home from school, just found out I wasn’t gonna graduate again.” Eddie frowns as he thinks back, still trying to put pieces together. “Did I crash my car? Is that it? I was emotional and not paying attention and got into an accident?” 

Yet again, he receives no answers. 

“Eddie, what month is it?” Wayne asks instead, his tone dangerously measured and serious. “What year?” 

“May…” Eddie says warily, “1985.”

His words hold a weight he doesn’t understand, landing heavy on the others in the room and thickening the air. It sends a chill of dread down his spine, the way his answer etches concern deep into the lines of Wayne’s face, the way Steve Harrington seems to take it like a blow to the chest. 

Harrington exhales sharply as if he’s been punched, standing abruptly and taking a few stumbling steps back. Wayne says, “It’s April of ‘86, Ed.”

Eddie’s blood runs cold. “No. No, it can’t be.” 

“I’m gonna go tell the nurse you’re awake,” Harrington mumbles, his voice strained and his eyes glassy with barely held-back tears. 

“I’ll go,” Wayne offers, pushing himself away from Eddie’s bed. He gives Harrington a meaningful look, though what that meaning is, Eddie can’t decipher. 

Harrington turns his devastated gaze to the older man. “But, Wayne, he doesn’t-” 

“I know, kid.” Wayne gives a sad smile and places a sympathetic hand on Harrington’s shoulder as he passes by. “Just talk to him.” 

Eddie is thrown off by this familiarity between them. Since when were those two close? He feels like he’s entered some sort of parallel universe where everything is just ever so slightly wrong. It leaves an itch beneath his skin, uncomfortable and out of place, like he no longer quite fits in his own body, in his own life. He’s lost 11 months, apparently, and this world is no longer his; he doesn’t know where he fits into it anymore. 

Wayne leaves the room, and Eddie wants to protest: Don’t leave me here with this guy I don’t know in this time I don’t know, please, you’re the only thing that feels safe and familiar! Anxiety is crawling through him like a thousand tiny bugs in his veins. He wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants to run. Anything to shake this feeling loose. But he’s confined to this bed, trapped both by his pain and by all these machines he’s hooked up to, and he sure as shit isn’t going to have a breakdown in front of Steve goddamn Harrington. 

Instead, Eddie resigns himself to this situation and casts a sideways glance at Harrington who very much looks like he’s also trying not to have a breakdown. “I’m freaking out, man,” Eddie says finally, hating how shaky and pathetic his voice sounds. “I swear to god, Harrington, if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on…” 

Harrington worries his lip between his teeth as he hesitates. “It’s a lot to explain.” 

“Yeah, I bet,” Eddie scoffs out a humorless laugh. “I’m missing nearly an entire year, of course it’s a lot to fill in. Unless I’ve been here this whole time?” 

“No.” Harrington shakes his head. “No, you’ve only been here about a week. I- I don’t know why you’re missing so much time, the whole Vecna thing only started like a week before that-” 

“Vecna?” Eddie interrupts to question. “What does any of this have to do with the D&D campaign I was planning? And, also, how the fuck do you know about that?” 

Harrington closes his eyes for a second and takes a breath, like having this conversation is the most painful thing he’s ever had to do. “I’m not talking about D&D, Ed. Vecna was a real-life monster from a real-life alternate dimension we called the Upside-Down. The kids only called him Vecna because we didn’t know who he was at the time and he, like, cursed people before he killed them, but he was actually Henry Creel, which is a whole other fucked up story.”

“Okay…” Eddie doesn’t know who ‘the kids’ are and he’s skeptical of the way Harrington talks so factually about monsters and dimensions and curses existing in the real world, but he does remember his uncle telling him stories about the demonic tragedy of the Creel family, which is the only thing that makes any of this even halfway believable. It still doesn’t explain how Eddie wound up in the hospital with his entire body feeling like it’d been run through a blender, though, or why the former king of Hawkin’s High was hovering over his sickbed. He gestures for Harrington to continue. 

“I never wanted you to get involved in all this Upside-Down shit,” Harrington’s voice breaks. He steps closer to Eddie’s bed again, and he looks so so sad as he stares down at him that it makes Eddie’s own heart ache, just a little bit. Harrington’s hand twitches at his side as if he means to reach out for Eddie but then thinks better of it, running the hand through his hair instead as he continues, “I tried to keep you from it for so long, I really did, but then Vecna killed Chrissy in your trailer and the whole town blamed you and you were just a part of things then, there was no getting around it. You helped us fight him - Vecna. You kept his army of bats off our ass while we weakened his body and El weakened his mind. If it weren’t for you we never would’ve defeated him and we certainly wouldn’t have all made it out alive.” Harrington’s gaze softens, as does his voice, his next words almost a whisper, “You were a hero, Eddie.” 

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Eddie says, like that’s the least plausible part of Harrington’s story. And, really, it is. He can wrap his mind around a lot of things: a murder in his trailer - sure, Forest Hills always was a shady place; the whole town accusing him of being a killer - yeah, of course, that tracks; even an evil wizard from another dimension with an army of bats - fine, okay, why the hell not. But Eddie Munson is no hero, and he’s definitely not any sort of fighter either.

“No, you never did think so, did you?” Harrington mutters with a sad sort of fondness and the barest trace of a wistful smile. “But it’s true. Dustin was in danger and you didn’t even think twice. You ran right into the fray without a second thought, sacrificed yourself so that the rest of us might survive. Those bats nearly killed you, b-” he breaks, choking on whatever word he was going to say. His eyes swim with yet more unshed tears. “I almost thought they had killed you, you know. I thought you were dead when I carried you out of the Upside-Down,” he admits shakily, choked up and barely managed, “and even when I brought you here and you were stable, I was still so scared you wouldn’t wake up…” 

Eddie doesn’t know how to react to any of that information or to such a display of emotion. His own hands twitch now with the urge to reach out and comfort him, but he too denies that instinct. He tries for humor instead, something lighter, cracking a grin and teasing, “Aw, Stevie, I didn’t know you cared.” 

Harrington makes a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. “Oh, Ed, you have no idea.” 

“We were friends then, weren’t we?” Eddie guesses now, carefully. It’s rapidly becoming the only possible explanation for the guy’s behavior around him. “Before all the Vecna stuff?”

“Yeah,” Harrington manages, forcing a small, sad smile as his eyes finally overflow and streak his cheeks with tears. “Yeah, we were good friends.” 

~

Wayne reenters the room then with a nurse in tow, and Steve quickly turns away and rubs his hands over his face. He needs to pull himself together; he can’t break down right now, not yet, not here. 

He listens, distantly, as the nurse asks Eddie a bunch of questions and then tells the rest of them that she needs to take him in for some tests to determine the cause and prognosis of Eddie’s amnesia. He watches, numbly, as she wheels Eddie’s entire bed out of the room. 

Steve can barely hear, barely see, his emotion clouding his eyes and roaring in his ears. He stares blankly through the open doorway and struggles to swallow down the ever-rising lump in his throat. 

Wayne’s voice rumbles from somewhere beside him, but he can’t quite make out the words. “What?” 

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Wayne says, the sound reaching Steve’s ears a little clearer now. “I asked if you were alright.” 

Steve shakes his head. His voice comes out coarse and raw, “‘Course I’m not alright.” 

“Right, ‘course you’re not,” Wayne echoes. He follows Steve’s mournful gaze to the door Eddie had disappeared through. “What did you tell him?” 

“Told him he was a hero,” Steve croaks, “...and that we were good friends.”

“Ah…” Steve’s vision is so blurred behind a thick layer of tears he can’t see the sympathetic frown on the old man’s face, but he knows it’s there. “At least he’s alive, kid,” Wayne tries to be comforting. “You can always start over.” 

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t- I don’t want to start over, I just want-” Steve chokes back a sob. He just wants Eddie.

It’s a horrible thought, but Steve almost thinks that this just might be worse than if Eddie really had died… Because how is Steve supposed to handle the fact that his boyfriend of 9 months no longer knows him? How is he supposed to cope now that the love of his life looks right at him and no longer sees him?

He closes his eyes, presses the heels of his palms into his eyelids, inhaling a shaky breath and exhaling an even shakier sigh. Steve whispers, “It feels like I’m losing him all over again.” 

(part two is here!)

(also on ao3)

[thekittyokat]

Hi! Please please please, could you tell me more about your coffin chain ideas?/nf

I am obsessed but barely anybody has jumped onto the ship yet and I am VERY new to the fandom so I wanna wait with making it myself until I know more lol. You are lowkey fueling this entire operations and I wanna thank you for that either way.

(rubs my paws together) you have no idea what you've unleashed anon i've been holding onto this ask specifically bc i've been sapping dopamine from it like a little leech waiting until i had time to hastily doodle up a little dynamics timeline for different stages of the ot4

i REALLY hope this makes sense . i feel the need to say this every time i post abt coffinchain but my ideas are rly specific and i've had time for them to infect my brain like mold so i'm defo ready to accept this all being rly niche and really just for me and like 3 other people

buuut if this little peek into my mind speaks to ANY of y'all i absolutely encourage implore and beg you to send me asks and ideas and whatnot about these 4 bastards literally whenever you want!!

TL;DR one half of the trauma bonded couple reaches out and forms an immediate kinship with the big scary guy that no one likes & convinces his petty boyfriend to let him fw them. then he starts bringing his deranged fbi otter around they start double-dating only for it to become a situationship and then the worst polycule ever

[skyward-floored]

Swapped (part 2)

Incredibles au power swap pt. 2! Checking in on some of the other boys, who are... struggling lol.

Part 1 | Next

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hyrule woke up feeling cold.

A shiver went through him as he slowly came back to awareness, the cold feeling sinking into his very bones, and he wondered why whatever he was lying on was so hard and uncomfortable.

Why did his chest hurt? Why was he so cold? He hadn’t woken up like this since...

Since...

Panic smacked into him, and Hyrule‘s eyes flew open, his heart thudding as he looked around. He took in the unfamiliar walls around him, piles of rubble and dirt, and right as his heart began to pound with fear, he saw Time waking up, a hand held to his chest.

Hyrule sighed in relief, and carefully sat up himself, immediately feeling better. If dad was here, he wasn’t back on the streets, or... worse.

But... that didn’t really answer the question of where he actually was.

Before Hyrule could try and figure it out though, someone let out a panicked gasp. Hyrule jumped and turned around, and saw Wild sitting on the ground a few feet away, looking on the verge of hysterical.

“I’m— I’m slow,” Wild choked out, and Hyrule blinked in confusion as he watched Twilight stumble to his feet beside him, a hand held to his head.

“Wild, it’s all right,” Twilight said, taking a step, then yelped as he somehow went running across the room and straight into a wall. “Ow!”

“You took my speed!” Wild wailed, and Hyrule stared, watching as Twilight tried to get to his feet, but fell over again when his legs went too fast for him. He did a quick glance around the hallway, not seeing anyone else apart from his two brothers and dad. If he had to guess, the rest of his family was probably blocked off by the wall that had collapsed.

...Which had collapsed because of a weird explosion that had also knocked them all out. Right. Now he remembered.

Time properly sat up and looked at Wild and Twilight, his face creased with concern... and a little pain, Hyrule thought. Wild stopped yelling when he saw their dad move, but he still looked panicked, and it seemed like Twilight was afraid to move, his expression confused and fearful.

“Boys what is going on?” Time asked, and Twilight wrapped his arms around himself.

“I don’t know, I woke up and couldn’t hear barely anything and then Wild started yelling and somehow I have his speed and I can’t turn into a wolf,” he said rapidly, clutching at his hair.

“And now I don’t have anything!” Wild added, looking on the verge of tears.

Hyrule blinked, and an even colder feeling ran through him as he digested that. It looked like the explosion had done more than just collapse the wall and knock them out... it had also messed up Wild and Twilight’s powers.

...were they the only ones?

Hyrule quickly drew on his own powers, just to reassure himself nothing was wrong with them. He tried healing first, summoning a blue glow to his hands, but then the icy feeling that had been with him even since he’d woken up suddenly intensified, and Hyrule‘s stomach lurched.

The blue glow was the wrong color.

He tried again, more frantically, but the blue continued to be the wrong color, cold instead of the usual warm, and ice began to spread out from where Hyrule sat, only increasing his panic. Trying to shield brought up no results either, and Hyrule drew desperately on the strange cold power he could feel inside of him, trying to make it heal, to make it shield, do anything it was supposed to be doing.

All he could produce was ice.

Hyrule gasped, trying to stay calm, but not succeeding in the slightest at keeping back the wave of panic that was crashing over him.

What was happening? Anything he tried just kept turning into ice, shielding didn’t work, healing didn’t work, his...

His powers were gone.

The one thing he’d been able to rely on his entire life.

Hyrule felt his breath pick up, his heart pounding as more ice spread out from him. He wouldn’t be able to shield people anymore, protect himself and others from danger, he couldn’t heal, he wouldn’t be able to do anything if he or anyone else got hurt, all he could make was ice and ice and ice—

“Hyrule,” a voice said, and Hyrule looked up and saw his father had joined his side, a worried look on his face.

“Dad— I can’t— I can’t get my shield up,” Hyrule managed to choke out, clutching at his hair. “And my healing, it’s not working, it’s just ice—”

“Hyrule calm down,” Time reassured, holding out a hand.

“Why— why is it doing this, I— wait, don’t touch me! I’ll freeze you!” Hyrule choked as his father kneeled beside him, and Time ignored his words, taking his hands in his own.

They felt... warm.

“Hyrule, I’ve dealt with Warriors’ powers more times than I can count, you won’t freeze me. Calm down,” Time continued, and Hyrule’s brain stuck for a second on the phrasing. Warriors’ powers? “Focus on reining them in. It should be like your own powers, just a little different. Relax.”

Hyrule sucked in a deep breath, thinking slowly through Time’s words and trying to do what he said. He carefully pulled on the strange powers he had, trying to make the cold ease back and stop escaping from him like a leaky faucet, and the ice began to slow in its spread.

Encouraged by the results, he focused a littler harder, and the ice stalled as he took in more deep breaths, finally tamping his panic down to something more manageable. The ice had stopped, and he felt a little less cold as his hands stopped glowing.

The lack of warmth in his middle from both his powers was still terrifying, but Hyrule thought he could... work with it now.

...Maybe.

Hyrule let out one last shaky exhale, and Time squeezed his shoulder, Hyrule leaning into it and feeling much calmer.

“...thanks Dad,” he sighed, and Time nodded.

He stayed next to him for another few moments, letting him continue to calm down, but then Twilight yelped again, and Time drew back with a sigh. He pulled his hand off of Hyrule’s shoulder, but as he drew back, Hyrule let out a startled squeak.

Everything below his father’s elbow was missing.

Time jumped, a truly shocked look on his face, but before he could do anything, his fingers flickered back into view like they’d never been gone at all.

Hyrule and Time both stared at them, and Hyrule watched as Time’s arm abruptly faded out of view again, appearing and disappearing at random.

“You... have Legend’s invisibility?” he said hesitantly, beginning to get an idea of what might be going on, and his father slowly nodded, staring intensely at his hand. Whatever he was trying to do didn’t seem to work though, and he sighed, standing up and helping Hyrule stand as well.

“It looks like it. And you have Warriors’ ice, and Twilight has Wild’s speed,” Time said, and winced as Twilight tripped and landed on his face. “Twilight?”

“Fine,” his son called back weakly, and Time led Hyrule over to where Wild was still sitting in a mild panic.

He patted the both of them on the shoulder, looking into their eyes for a moment, then walked over to Twilight. Wild looked nearly as shaken as Hyrule felt, if not more, but he merely leaned against Hyrule’s arm, Hyrule leaning on him in return.

Looking at how unsettled Wild appeared, Hyrule wasn’t sure if he’d prefer having the ice he currently had, or the nothing Wild seemed to posses.

“Come on Twilight, you can stand,” Time said as he walked away, and Hyrule and Wild both watched him. Twilight was sitting up, but he still looked afraid to move, his face anxious. “You can do it.”

“I’ll just trip again! Why am I so fast all of a sudden? I don’t want Wild’s speed, I can barely hear anything like this or smell anything and I can’t turn into a wolf!” he said rapidly, and Time slowly helped him up.

“I believe our enemy decided to test something on us,” Time said, and Hyrule thought back to what the voice on the intercom had said. That would explain the test subject thing. “And if I'm right... somehow he switched around our powers.”

“But that’s not possible,” Wild spoke up as Time carefully guided Twilight over to them, “you can’t just... switch powers! That’d be like me and Hyrule randomly switching heads!”

“Well somehow he’s done it,” Twilight grimaced.

“And we’ll probably have to stop him to get our proper powers back,” Time sighed, watching as his fingers disappeared from view again.

Hyrule looked around at his family, more then half of them missing from the room, Twilight pale with anxiety, Wild still unhappy about being slow, random bits of their father occasionally disappearing from view.

This... just got a lot more complicated.

Wild looked at Time’s arms, watching as they randomly faded in and out of view, and a grin suddenly stretched across his face, wide and mischievous.

“Dad, did you get both of Legend’s powers?” he asked, and Hyrule and Twilight both turned to look at him as well, Hyrule unable to stop his smile as he realized what he meant.

“I have no idea. And even if I did, I’m not testing it right now,” he said dryly, and Wild and Hyrule both made disappointed noises. “Sorry boys. We need to focus on fixing this mess.”

“Have you tried to contact anyone yet?” Twilight asked, and Time shook his head, pulling out his communication device.

“That’s what I was on to next. I think it’s safe to say everyone’s powers got messed up, so it’s unlikely Artemis is going to come find us.”

“Unless whoever got her powers does,” Wild pointed out, and Twilight shook his head.

“I doubt it. We can barely control the ones we got. I mean, if I’d gotten intangibility, I don’t think I would want to test it by trying to walk through a collapsed wall.”

Hyrule winced. That was a good point. It probably wouldn’t end well if whoever got Artemis’s powers couldn’t use them very well, and accidentally came back in the middle of the wall.

Time busied himself with trying to get his radio working, and Twilight did his best to help him, his leg jittering so rapidly it blurred a bit. Hyrule looked back at Wild, his brother looking miserable, then ignored the urge to shiver as he drew his knees up to his chest.

Why did Warriors’ powers have to be so cold? He thought his uncle had said that the cold didn’t even bother him, why was Hyrule so freezing?

Why couldn't they just be straight-forward like mine?

Hyrule sighed and glanced back at Wild again, frowning when he saw his expression had dimmed even further while he watched Twilight’s leg jitter rapidly in place.

“Are you alright Wild?” Hyrule asked, and Wild shrugged, making the face he made when he was trying to appear unbothered.

“Yeah. I’m fine. You’re... kinda pale though,” he said, looking over Hyrule. "You okay?"

Hyrule shrugged, trying not to look as shaken as he still felt. He knew Wild probably just wanted to help, but he was pretty sure if he thought about his switched-up-also-missing powers too long he’d cry.

Wild somehow read his expression though, and after a moments hesitation, put his arm around Hyrule’s shoulder, giving him a little squeeze.

“It’ll be okay,” Wild said. “We’ll figure it out, Roolie.”

And for some reason Hyrule believed him, the words like a warm blanket on his still-shaky nerves. He near-immediately relaxed, and Wild looked at him in surprise as he leaned on him more, before realization flirted across his face.

“Oh. I got Mom’s,” he said, and Hyrule looked at him weirdly.

“Huh?”

“I got Mom’s powers. You know, she has her whole horse-soothing voice she uses, it’s really good at calming down horses and other animals. I... guess it also works on people?” Wild said hesitantly. “At least I think that’s what that was.”

Hyrule blinked, not sure how he felt about that. But for some reason the thought didn’t seem too worrying, so he shrugged, and set his head on Wild’s shoulder. He was nice and warm, and helped chase away some of the chill.

“Guess so. We’ll have to find a horse so you can test it,” Hyrule murmured, and Wild let out a quiet laugh.

A sigh caught their attentions, and the two looked over at Time and Twilight, both of their face grim.

“No luck,” Time said as he put his radio away with a frown. “It's being blocked. Looks like we’re on our own for now.”

“We should try and find the others then, right?” Twilight asked. “Because not to underestimate us right now, but uh... I don’t know if we can take on this scientist guy in the state we’re in.”

“I could,” Wild said with a bite to his voice. “I’m going to punch that jerk right in the mouth for taking my speed.”

“We were all headed for the top floor when we were ambushed, we’ll continue heading that way,” Time decided, rolling his shoulder. “The others will doubtlessly be working their way that direction as well, so we’ll try to meet up with them on the way. Are you all good to go?” he asked, looking at Twilight and Hyrule especially.

Hyrule nodded, and Twilight glared at his feet, then sighed.

“Yeah. I can walk.”

“Good. Let’s get going then,” Time said with a nod.

And as he took a step forward, he was suddenly doused in shadows.

Everyone jumped, and Hyrule stared as the shadows grew smaller, condensing most intensely by the floor. He had a brief moment of panic before he recognized what the shadows meant, and he froze, exchanging quick glances with his siblings.

The shadows faded away mere moments later, and a small, one-eyed rabbit was left sitting dazedly on the ground.

Hyrule, Wild, and Twilight stared.

Then Wild fell to the floor laughing, and Hyrule bit his lip to stop his own from escaping, the rabbit that was now their father twitching his nose in alarm. He shouldn’t laugh, he really shouldn’t, but Time was so small, and fluffy, and seeing his father as a rabbit of all things was just...

Hyrule couldn’t help his giggle, and Twilight knelt beside Time, their father swiveling his ears in his direction and giving him a wide-eyed look.

“Are you, um, okay Dad?” Twilight asked, his mouth twitching, and Time blinked once or twice, before letting out a rather squeaky sigh.

“I’m fine. Come on, the sooner we fix this the better,” he grumbled, voice slightly squeaky, and began hopping in the direction they’d planned to go in.

Wild finally stopped laughing, though it was a close thing when he saw Time hopping determinedly across the floor. Twilight followed after their father, and Hyrule and Wild trailed behind, Wild still letting out an occasional giggle.

"I guess that answers the question of whether he has both of Legend's powers," he snickered, and Hyrule shook his head in disbelief. This day couldn't get any weirder.

Twilight lifted Time up to sit on his shoulder after only a minute or two of walking, their father's face surprisingly grim for a rabbit, and Hyrule glanced at them, anxiety still churning in his stomach.

He still felt a little shaky and unsure from the shock of his powers being gone, worried for the rest of their group, and Time being a mostly-defenseless rabbit only added another layer to that. But Wild seemed confident, and Twilight and Time were both putting on brave faces, so Hyrule decided he would be too.

They could do this. They’d stop the scientist guy, and make him fix this.

Screwed up powers or not.

And Hyrule kept telling himself that, even when Twilight lost control of his legs again and smacked into a wall mere moments later.

[fumifooms]

Your post about falin manifested some Thoughts in me. Seeing how such a big part of her arc was becoming more independent and discovering what She wants to do, mixed with a lot of parts in the manga where she is much more comfortable looking masculine - embarrassed about how blushy she is but not really liking makeup, enjoying more masculine clothes, that one haircut swap where she seemed really happy in laios' cut, it made me realize there's totally some room for even some transmasc falin headcanons! Or at the very least, she's definitely GNC and it would be fun to see that explored in fanfic and fanart... anyway, your in depth analysis posts have really inspired me, got me itching to create some obscure dunmeshi fancontent or analysis now!

Omg…… I’ve never fully thought about it but you’re so right transmasc Falin would go so hard… There’s also how she idolizes Laios a lot… Male older brother role model she puts on a pedestral, could play into her relationship with it. Because of the dragon I like to see her as intersex, including post-canon but beyond that I always saw her as being the more or less agender type that just goes with whatever she feels fits her better, the sort of cis by default for lack of caring about it all that much, not unlike how I consider Laios cis by default but if you dig deep enough there’s otherkin stuff going on in there… Def agree with GNC Falin.

She and Toshiro have some interesting parallels, of being passive and suppressing themselves for the convenience of others, it’s a reason why seeing her being unabashedly entranced by a bug struck him so much— himself being a bug fan and polishing his demeanor to be perfectly respectable. Because of that and including specific details like getting told "boys don’t cry" by Hien- Actually just let me link this excellent post about trans Toshiro. Transfem Toshiro is so compelling and I think pairing it with transmasc Falin would be very interesting… The gender envy of it all, the talks… Need them to go on a trip together post-canon so so bad, life changing self-discovery camping trip

I’ll be munching on this... I love it. Your reblog tags have been a delight, I’m so happy I could inspire you in any way! So looking forward to what you might make in the future

[jichanxo]

commissioning @vos-videmus was a life changing experience. forcing you all to look at this immediately (please don't repost or crop out the watermarks. thanks 👍)

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Who’s ready for another six of crows fic idea even though I haven’t written the first one yet?

Nearly 10 years after the events of Crooked Kingdom, 25-year-old Captain Inej Ghafa liberates Maya, a 16-year-old Fjerdan girl, from a pleasure house in Ketterdam. Maya is grateful to Inej, but she’s also vengeful and wants to track down the man who led her to her position. She explains to Inej that she and her father fled to Kerch when they discovered she was Grisha, adding that they didn’t go to Ravka for fear of prejudice against Fjerdans. But in Ketterdam, already struggling, they found themselves scammed out of their money and informed of massive debts they owed to a gang. With no other options, her father sold her in indenture to a council member and used the money to pay the debt, promising her that he would find a way to save enough money to pay out her contract as soon as he could. 2 months into her indenture, Maya received news of her father’s death after he was killed by the same gang leader who he’d originally been in debt to - apparently trying to steal the money he needed to free her. Mere weeks after this, the councilman who owned Maya’s contract died. Her contract changed hands several times, until she eventually found herself trapped in a pleasure house. Maya wants to track down the gang leader and avenge her father. Although she intends to negotiate Maya away from killing him and encourage her to find a route to healing, Inej agrees to help her find her father’s murderer. She asks Maya is she knows anything about him that could help her to begin her search, and Maya replies that all she knows is his name: Kaz Brekker.

[alohawhore]

Fics I got percolating (as a preview for those maybe interested but mostly for my own sorting of thoughts)

Actively in progress:

the feel of coolness only water brings - MASH; traphawk; angsty magical realism fic involving selkie lore, finding closure, and lots of weather symbolism

soldier, poet, king (working title) - MASH; houlipiercintyre; canon-divergent high fantasy fic heavily inspired by the chronicles of narnia/dungeons & dragons/etc

how to trap a hawk (working title) - MASH; traphawk; angsty post-canon reconciliation fic with wintertime in crabapple cove, lots of rumination, and what it means to be mentally ill in mid-century America

Ideas that need to be put to paper:

A What Dreams May Come/orpheus tale inspired fic where Hawkeye is Eurydice and both BJ and Trapper are Orpheus

Sci-fi MASH AU where it’s kinda the same but in SPACE

Horror MASH fic of some kind - leaning toward a Malevolent-esque fic where Hawkeye becomes possessed by an entity that steals his sight and good hand, but he keeps the rest of his faculties and no one is (hopefully) the wiser

Time-travel!MASH mostly so I can explore their reaction to the fact the entire exercise in Korea really was pointless and nothing they did resulted in any lasting peace. But also need to see them interact with the Internet. So.

And in the same vein of self-indulgence: a Star Wars/MASH crossover of some kind

[passionartx]

Tails when I start thinking about my fic, au and art ideas I’ve had lingering in my brain for years but almost all of them involve making him sad ^

Sorry little buddy <\3 😔

[moossings]

drawn in

the f1 mafia au that no one asked for and won't leave my brain at all. mainly charlos, but featuring most of the grid and ex drivers. i've been worldbuilding with @5ainz (bless for bearing with me) and in between drawings and character sheets, i ventured to write this tiny snippet to hype myself (and be less scared of writing). if you read this, thank you and enjoy! ✨

-

“You shouldn't be here.”

Carlos’ eyes don’t move from the painting. The Death of the Virgin, by Caravaggio. He smiles to himself, shaking his head. He wouldn’t expect less from the Rosso Corsa, always proud and ready to show off their legacy. Come to think about it, everything in his life was linked to red somehow. And at the same time, inevitably, to the wounds it left.

“Are you going to kick me out, altezza reale? Like a bad behaved dog?” He does turn his head then. His tone is supposed to be mocking, but the moment brown eyes meet green, his resolution falters.

Charles Leclerc, composed as ever, stands on the door, as if he had just closed it. Carlos swears he hears the lock turn as well, but his mind is rather busy tracking every single hair out of place, from the top of his head to the strands scattering on his forehead. His gun feels heavy where it rests in its holster under his jacket.

“And aren’t you the most loyal one? Fernando must be proud.” Charles leaves the door to stand next to Carlos, shoulders almost brushing but not close enough. It’s their thing, throw knives and dodge, push and pull. The Inspector’s little prince and the right hand of the Spanish Samurai.

The silence between them is not awkward, but it feels tense in the same way the air is charged right before a storm. They look at the painting, but the details they recollect are not the brushstrokes or perspective of the piece. It’s the subtle hints of cologne coming off Charles’ skin when he tilts his head, following the lines of the old wood on the frame instead of the ones of Carlos’ perfectly tailored suit. It’s the flex on Carlos’ clenched fists as his mind repeats over and over how very not good it would be to reach and find out how Charles’ hands feel with their fingers laced.

“Did you know,” Carlos says, his voice almost a whisper. “This painting was rejected by the patron who commissioned it. No one had ever painted the actual death of the Virgin, it was a dogma, and Caravaggio depicted her as mortal: pale, bloated and devoid of spirit.” He sighs and looks sideways at Charles, from under his lashes. “It is also said that Caravggio painted her after a prostitute, so maybe that was the real reason.”

Charles tries to school his features, to stop the smile from being evident, but those sweet dimples betray him. Time to stop pretending, it seems. “I didn’t know you were interested in art.” He turns to face Carlos fully, carefully studying the strong features he usually only catches in glimpses. He is setting the ground for truce, building the bridge.

Carlos chuckles, and it sounds tired. “Really? Don’t tell me Sebastian didn’t include it in my file. He used to be more thorough with his research, he is starting to slip.” But he still faces Charles, willing to meet him halfway. “There is a lot more that you couldn’t possibly know.”

“What if I wanted to find out? What would it take?” Charles takes a step forward. Carlos lets him.

“Stupidity. Recklessness. Naivety.” He counts with his fingers, brows furrowed but playful smirk. Charles can’t really tell which one he actually means. “Trust.”

“That sounds like a challenge, Sainz.” And Charles has never backed up from one. Today is not the day he’ll start.

He extends his hand and, in seconds, a warm bigger one takes it in a firm but soft grip.

“It’s Carlos.” A smirk draws up the corners of his full lips. “You are in for a ride, cariño.”

[daffi-990]

Seven(ish) Sentence Sunday ✍️

Tagged by @tizniz (who posted 21K of fluffy dad!buddie goodness that you can read here). Thank you lovely 😘❤️

Now that turns out freedom ain’t nothing but missing you (aka the Eddie pulls away from Buck after the graveyard scene fic) is finished, I can dive back into Rival Firefighters and hopefully the Eddie breakdown fic (feel like I may be. bit stuck atm with that one).

Snuck in some tipity tap typing time this morning and was able to get a little bit more of Rival Firefighters 🚒 written (not as much as I would’ve liked but hey, it’s something 🤷🏻‍♀️).

Prev snippet here, though today’s snippet actually follows on a little bit after this one (yes I’m aware I’m posting snippets out of order but I write a little out of order soooooo)

Buck’s seen pictures of Shannon around the Diaz house but they really don’t do her justice. Shannon’s hair is up in a high ponytail, her bangs accentuating the feminine softness of her face and when she turns to look at Buck and offers him a friendly smile like she’s genuinely pleased to see him, Buck understands how Eddie was so easily drawn to her.

She’s beautiful.

The way her blue eyes light up when she smiles reminds Buck of sunlight dancing on water. Sparkling light reflection he thinks it’s called.

She extends a hand out to him. “I’m Eddie’s very platonic, ex wife, Shannon.” She says with a mischievous grin.

Eddie closes his eyes and brings a hand up to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose as he mutters in Spanish under his breath. “Dios Mio”.

A little confused at the way she’d introduced herself, Buck accepts her offered hand. “Uh, I’m Buck”

“Oh I know” she says with a glint in her eyes. Buck tilts his head and raises an eyebrow in question. Shannon glances at Eddie who is pointedly not looking at her or Buck. “You’ve been a hot topic in the Diaz family ever since Eddie joined the 136.”

“Oh have I?” Buck says with smug satisfaction as he turns his attention to Eddie who actually squirms at the attention.

“I had to bi—,” Eddie’s eyes quickly flick over to Chris, “complain to someone about the annoying probie I kept running into.”

“Uh huh.” Buck couldn't keep the stupid smile off of his face even if he wanted to.

No pressure tagging: @wildlife4life @hippolotamus @diazsdimples @spotsandsocks @thewolvesof1998 @wikiangela @watchyourbuck @monsterrae1 @malewifediaz @missmagooglie @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @nmcggg @rainbow-nerdss @bekkachaos @rewritetheending @try-set-me-on-fire @theotherbuckley @captain-hen @puppyboybuckley @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @lover-of-mine @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @athenagranted @king-buckley @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @sibylsleaves @steadfastsaturnsrings @honestlydarkprincess @homerforsure @hoodie-buck @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz @giddyupbuck @fiona-fififi @fortheloveofbuddie and anyone else I missed who wants to join 🤩

[zoomiezz]

Teenage girl trapped in a middle aged man's body, disgusting