#i love ur ideas so much!!!

[vanillaxoshi]

@nerizys NAAH NAAH I WONT LIE SEEING THAT MADE ME JUMP FROM THE COUCH CURSING BECAUSE THAT IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA!!!!!

I DONT MIND I DONT MIND THAT SOO COOL!!! HOLY SHIZ!!!

[muffinmoonn]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY USAGI!!!!!!!!

[stevebabey]

no one asked but this is the post that inspired this! thank u immensely for the luv <3 number 1 comment was wondering what steve’s bids were & from his pov, so without further ado...enjoy — part one here!

—

Begrudgingly, Eddie has to admit that Robin might be right.

It’s impossible not to be looking for the bids since he brought them up to her. Even though Eddie was fully expecting to tell Robin to suck it, maybe even wager what little money he had against this working out, Eddie can’t help but watch for them in every interaction. And fuck, she’s right.

They’re little, but they’re there.

The first one Eddie would’ve missed if he wasn’t looking for it. Actually, that’s a lie; Eddie does miss it, until Robin points it out, the nosy bitch. It’s minuscule and honestly, it just seems like Steve asking his opinion — which friends do all the time! It’s why Eddie brushes right over it.

“Okay, be honest,“ Steve had said, walking and talking as he entered the living room where Robin and Eddie were sprawled across the couches. They were both waiting on him, the three of them set on heading out to the drive-in to catch a film.

Eddie can’t fathom why Steve felt the need to change his outfit for it, but when he returns, he gets it. It’s not quite the usual polo Eddie had grown to like on Steve, this one hanging a little looser, the colour a bit darker than Steve’s usual choice, the sleeves a little shorter — almost midway to a muscle tee.

Steve’s fingers fiddle with the distressed collar of the shirt, smoothing invisible wrinkles and fussing over nothing. He swishes back his floppy hair with a flick of his head. “It’s a new shirt, I know it’s a little different - but what do we think?”

He says we but he’s looking at Eddie.

Eddie, who has taken to trying to reel in his gawp because what the fuck Steve? It’s like he’s well aware of what drives Eddie insane and has specifically leaned into it. Some evil goblin in Eddie’s brain whispers think how good he’d look in your shirt and he squashes it, giving a visible twitch to shut down that train of thought.

From the other couch, Robin clears her throat loudly and smiles sweetly at her best friend. “It looks great, Steve.”

It’s sincere and Steve’s mouth tugs up, nearly a smile but his gaze fast-tracks back to Eddie. Eddie nods in agreement, a bit sluggish from his distracting thoughts and god dammit, the extra exposed skin of Steve’s arms are so not helping. “Yeah, looks... looks good, man.”

Steve smiles, lips pressed together but his shoulders curl in just a bit, deflating just a tad. From where Steve can’t see her, Robin waves her hands wildly and catches Eddie’s attention. He watches as she gestures wildly and it takes a moment to realise what’s she mouthing — ‘A bid! That’s a bid, you idiot!’

Oh fuck, Eddie thinks. Cos it totally was; the question, the focus on Eddie. He doesn’t even think about the logistics of it, of the fact Robin was right, just jumps right into picking up the bid.

“You trying a new style?” Eddie asks and then thanks whatever god invented the whole fake-it-to-you-make-it schtick because he’s feeling so far from casual or confident. “Going metal on me, big boy?”

Eddie just manages to catch the grin that breaks across Steve’s face as he turns away, giving a scoff — it comes out too soft though, giving away his complete lack of annoyance. He pulls that usual Steve Harrington pose, hands sliding onto his hips, and screws his face into some melted smiley-grimace. “Shut up, Munson.”

Eddie grins and goads on the blush that’s beginning on Steve’s neck, a glorious tinged pink colour. “If this shirt is any indication, you’d pull it off just fine.”

Eddie watches the blush climb higher as Steve ignores the comment, his smile still giving him away. He grabs his coat and pats down his jeans — ridiculous tight acid wash jeans that Eddie hates he’s somehow become attracted to — ensuring he has his keys and wallet. Once assured, he looks up at his two friends again, brows raised, and says, “Ready to rock and roll?”

That comment alone has Eddie seriously reconsidering his type in men.

There’s only a brief moment to talk about it when Eddie and Robin cajole Steve into going and getting them both popcorn to get a moment alone. Steve had scoffed, face twitching in the way it did whenever he tried to hold back a bitchy comment, but he still stomped off in the direction of the snack stand.

The moment he’s out of earshot, both voices explode in the back of Eddie’s van.

“What did I say—”

“Jesus H Christ, you were right—”

“Literally how many times do I have—”

“Oh my god, you were right—”

“ —before you realise I’m always—”

“Robin.” He cuts her off, hands landing on her shoulders. Robin eyes them warily, lips still parted from how her rant had been cut off. “Robin, I’m gonna kill you.”

“What?” Robin’s nose scrunches up. “What the hell are you—”

“Oh Christ, I can’t believe- how long have you noticed those bids?” Eddie’s aware he sounds a bit estranged, eyes probably wide and it doesn’t help when he softly shakes Robin back and forth. She lets herself be shaken, hair flying back in forth. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! You are such a bad gay friend!”

Robin smacks his hands off her shoulders with a frown, her freckly face perturbed at Eddie’s outburst. “Dude, it’s not my fault! May I remind you that until very very recently you were seeing someone else? What difference would it have made?”

Eddie waves his hand, disregarding the point with a shake of his head. His unkempt curls cover his face and Eddie sweeps them back in one motion, “What difference would it have made? Oh my, Jesus—“

Whatever long-winded sentence Eddie was about to spit out is lost by the sound of Steve’s approaching footsteps, effectively shutting both of them up.

Eddie flings himself to the other side of the van, putting an unusual amount of distance between Robin and him like they were being caught doing something they shouldn’t.

Robin frowns at him and gestures wildly with her hands in a way that means what the fuck man? Eddie gestures back, though he’s not entirely sure what his fast hand motions are supposed to mean when Steve rounds the door.

He’s got two buckets of popcorn tucked under each arm and Eddie quickly crosses his arms, tucking his hands into his armpits like his stupid hand motions will somehow give him away. 

Steve looks up, stopping just a way from the edge of the van, and looks at the pair of them. His eyes track from Robin still sitting on one of the old cushions and looking two seconds from burying her face in her hands, across to Eddie. He huffs a laugh and kneels on the edge of the van.

“I know he’s gross Robin,” He begins, tone light, as he holds out one of the buckets for Robin to take. “But c’mon, is the distance really necessary?”

Robin snickers as Eddie makes an appalled noise, both of which make Steve smirk. He holds out the other for Eddie to take and Eddie snatches it, glaring at him over the buttery rim for his comment. Then takes a handful and shovels it in because he can’t think of a witty comment to retaliate. Steve crawls into the van and plops himself between them with a content sigh.

“See? Gross.” He teases, shoving his hand into Eddie’s popcorn bucket to grab a handful. Eddie scowls and chews a little faster when the flavour on his tongue seems to register in his brain.

His eyes stare at the popcorn bucket as he chews, then swallows — up the front of the van, the radio that’s tuned into the correct frequency begins playing the opening credits song as the screen changes. Silence sweeps across the drive-in but despite the sudden hush, Eddie has no qualms about breaking it.

“Sweet n’ salty flavour?” He asks Steve, only half attempting a whisper. Robin shushes him instantly, her focus already on the movie that’s beginning. Steve smiles, looking a bit sheepish beneath the glow of the drive-in screen, but he nods.

“I know you like it.” He whispers with a small shrug of his shoulders. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Fuck, Eddie thinks again and hastily feeds himself another handful of popcorn before he says anything majorly stupid in response to that, like: Oh, amazing- have you noticed the big fat crush I have on you as well?

He doesn’t even need to look at Robin to know she’s smiling, smug as ever.

—

Steve, God bless his oblivious little heart, doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.

Steve likes Eddie. Eddie is— god, Eddie is different but he’s good.

He’s this strange amalgamation of traits that Steve can’t comprehend how they fit together in one body or how Eddie manages to pull it all off completely charmingly.

He’s loud, he says rude things, he’s fucking dorky, and far too sweet on the kids — he likes to tease Steve, and yet somehow, when Eddie calls him ‘pretty boy’, Steve knows he’s not actually making fun of him.

Steve likes Eddie, likes his boyishly endearing charm, likes his touchiness towards Steve that no other boy his age is like, likes his messy curls and his ‘holier than thou’ attitude about metal music even though Steve doesn’t get it, like at all. And fuck, Steve really wants Eddie to like him.

It reminds him faintly of when he first started working alongside Robin at Scoops. That thought tickles in the back of his mind, something along the lines of how he had wanted Robin to like him for other reasons, but he doesn’t delve into it.

To Steve, it’s simple: he just wants Eddie to like him.

After the night at the drive-in, between Eddie acting strangely skittish and Robin giving more amused snorts than usual, Steve knows something is up.

He knows they must have discussed something when they sent him on popcorn duty, the bastards. He tries his best to not feel left out; god knows Robin and he have more than a dozen secrets they’ve sworn not to tell anyone but each other.

Besides, Steve trusts Robin to come and tell him if he really needs to know, even if it does worry him a bit. He bites down his anxious thoughts, even trying for a moment to see if there’s a pattern he’s been missing.

That train of thought gets derailed when Steve recalls instead Eddie’s delightful reaction to his new shirt — that Steve definitely hadn’t bought for that specific reason.

Even though Robin had given him that look when he’d first shown it to her — her bright eyes had narrowed, her smile turning a little more coy, and Steve had felt his ears get a little hotter. She hadn’t said anything though, just suggested that he should wear it tomorrow night when they were going out with Eddie.

God, he was glad she suggested it.

Rewinding over Eddie’s parted lips, the way his brown eyes had drank in the details as they trailed up his body and lingered on his arms— Steve had the sudden thought to flex the muscle, just to elicit some reaction, but it had gone out the window at Eddie’s original dismal reaction.

‘Yeah, looks... looks good, man’. Said all aloof, like he hadn’t really thought it. It was like bursting a balloon hidden behind Steve’s ribs, one he wasn’t even aware was there until it was deflating pathetically, making his shoulders sag.

Then— ‘You trying a new style? Going metal on me, big boy?’ And dammit, it’s like Eddie had clocked exactly what calling him ‘big boy’ had done the first time in the Winnebago.

Eddie had then grinned, done another once over of the new shirt, even as Steve pretended to search for his keys and wallet while saying something snarky to try to cover up the heat crawling up his neck. Yet, Steve found himself smiling too because, fuck yes, Eddie liked it too.

But, apparently, whatever Eddie and Robin had discussed wasn’t considered important enough because Robin never brought it up.

The thought and worry about it melt away in Steve’s mind until the memory of that night is about Eddie’s compliment, about his cat-like grin over the popcorn bucket, and how he had leaned over to whisper every bad joke into Steve’s ear all through the movie.

Some of them had been down-right filthy jokes which Eddie only seemed to enjoy more when Steve screwed his face up and nudged Eddie in the ribs, yet unable to hide his smile.

After the third vulgar joke and subsequent nudge, Steve had chided ‘dude’ with a poorly hidden grin. Eddie, smile all cheeky, had nudged him back with a ‘dude’ of his own.

Which, of course, ensued a nudge competition til Robin had given a shush that librarians all over the world would be jealous of. But Steve didn’t even care because he and Eddie were arm to arm, pressed close together and Eddie…didn’t move. Stayed close, like he wanted the closeness the same way Steve did.

Steve only remembers the strange drive-in moment when Robin brings it up finally, on one interesting Saturday night.

It’s not the usual routine; it’s not very often that the whole group gets together to share drinks and get rowdy.

But it was for Robin’s birthday and she’d been persuasive enough to get even the introverts, like Jonathan, to come along. Though, she was aware he’d probably spend the night on a pool lounger, stoned to high heaven. Whatever floats your boat, she’d said, happy for the company in any form.

There’s enough of them there that it almost resembles some sort of party— and makes Steve try not to think about the last small party he threw here. He can tell Nancy notices it too, eyeing the pool a bit too long in a way he’s very familiar with, then taking a swig of beer.

So, Steve heckles them inside — doing a fantastic mothering impression as he waves the group indoors with a promise of pizza, and that has both Jonathan and Argyle perking up and beginning a fast discussion on the best pizza toppings.

Eddie makes a fuss, because of course he does, and moans terribly when Steve tries to roll him off the pool lounger he’s on. He’s had a bit of a joint and some beer, and Steve’s learned that he gets adorably stubborn after some substances.

“Stevie, this is mean,” he had pouted, gripping the edges of the lounger and staring up at Steve with those big brown eyes. “You telling me I did all that bonding with you for nothing? Can’t even lounge by the pool! I’ve got a couch at homeeeee.”

Steve had sent him an amused look of disbelief, hands on his hips after his first round of flicks against Eddie’s arm were apparently fruitless to get him to move. “Really? Didn’t peg you for a gold-digger, Eds.”

Eddie had snorted at that, one hand coming to slap over his mouth. Steve couldn’t quite hear what he had said but the words pegging and anytime slipped through and Steve thinks he could get the gist of that.

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Steve muttered, feeling the tips of his ears turn warm. He didn’t know how Eddie could be such a menace— or why he enjoyed it so much when he was. Steve waved a hand in the direction of the doors, ignoring Eddie’s delighted snickering. “If you go inside now, you can be on music, alright?”

And that had finally got them all indoors, Eddie whooping and skedaddling through the doors in an instant, with a call of ‘no take backsies!’ echoing behind him.

Inside was much cozier, the whole group a little more connected when squished up on the couches together. Eddie had taken Steve’s word and was jamming a cassette into one of the speakers when Steve made it back inside after scouting around the pool for leftover cans and butts to throw out.

He’s just been thinking about what playful jab he could make at Eddie’s music, like Eddie always did to him when Robin hollered at him from the kitchen.

“Steve!” She’d yelled excitedly and he come to find her quick, brows raised as he entered the kitchen. She was grinning, already a bit jumpy as she got when she had a bit of liquor — but apparently not enough because when Steve saw what she’d called him in for, she’d announced, “Tequila shots!”

Which lead to now. A hazy combination of beer, tequila, and a bit of weed, and Steve is feeling good. Robin had managed to hijack the music not too long ago, with a hiccup of ‘it’s my birthday’ that had Eddie surrendering with a pout.

She’d since put on a bit of everything: some Blondie for Nance, Talking Heads for Jonathan, and some Bowie, just so she and Steve could dance along to ‘Magic Dance’ and she could do all the silly little goblin voices that made them both cackle.

Steve realised at some point that Robin was playing their mixtape, the one she’d made for driving in the morning, and nearly tripped stumbling over to her in his excitement. He grabbed her shoulders, not too hard, and squeezed.

“Is it- is this our mixtape?” Steve asked, words slurring only a bit. Robin gleamed, hair bouncing with her excited nod.

“Yes!” She was already dancing, even though the tape was between songs — because she knew what song was coming. “It’s Springsteen time, Steve!”

Right as the drums to Born to Run filtered out the speaker.

And oh, Steve loves Robin so much. He loves having a best friend that knows his favourite song and gets jittery and excited because she knows it’s about to play— that she put it on this mix for him.

“You’re my best friend!” Steve says, the words bursting out like he can’t control them. He doesn’t even feel embarrassed, just happy, just drunk, and overwhelming happy to be able to have this.

And even though Robin knows this, she still beams, feet dancing along and just begins to sing along with the song, “In the days, we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream…”

It’s a brazen drunken performance from the both of them. Steve’s chest is heaving after just one chorus that he’s pretty sure he put his whole soul into and he’s so fucking happy —and it feels like pure instinct to seek out Eddie, his eyes scouring the room for him.

Eddie’s leaned up against the wall, hiding his smile behind a can and Steve doesn’t think twice about it— doesn’t think about why he’s so drawn to Eddie, why he wants to include him in this happiness — just extends his hand out and grins.

Eddie sees the bid coming this time.

Part Three.

— 

yes i saw all ur lovely tags and MAYBE cried about it. but thats none of ur business.

@orangeandthefairroadkill @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadcanadianwinter @phantypurple @omg-elledubs-things @henderdads @farfaras @mixsethaddams @prismandblue @kerlypride @bushbees @legitcookie @temporalcoffin @callmesirkay @beautifully-useless @millyditty @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @ninjapirateunicorns @darkwitchoferie @vi-the-best-you-can @psychosnowfox @desert-fern @scarletzgo @cr0w-culture @softpink-candlelight @livingforfictionalcharacters @makewavesandwar @kozuuji @rhapsodyinalto @eddiethesexy @cassaloopa @lightwoodbanethings @qu33rcommunist @moonlitkilljoy @starkdusk @theysherobinbuckley @sanguineterrain @loganwright @sillysparrow @hotcocoaharrington @eddie-munson-is-my-wife @she-is-tim @steddiehearts @sideblogofthcentury @sidebarre @corrodedcoughin @stevieclaus

[bacchuschucklefuck]

and! barbarian!fig! its her

[liyaauhr]

I think one of the beautiful aspects of the SBG friendship is the fact that it was formed (as far as we know) purely by chance. If it weren’t for Aiden forcing his way into Ashlyn’s house and practically weaselling her way into his life, convincing her to go on the Savannah trip with the rest of the group resulting in them getting sucked into the phantom world and spending days together, then all of their lives would have been unchanged. And tbh, when you observe at all their home lives and attitudes before Savannah, I don’t think that would have necessarily been a good thing for all of them.

And it’s funny to think about how they would’ve continued their lives just walking past each other in the hallways on the way to class.

Red actually confirmed this herself:

Ashlyn would have assumably continued her life without friends, which in a lot of cases can be extremely isolating and don’t work out in the long term. It’s a hard mindset to break out of and would have made it harder for her to understand others.

The term ‘loners’ applies to all of them because no matter the social status, they were all alone.

Logan was a victim of bullying, cornered by people and having his kindness taken advantage of to the point where he felt worthless with insignificant contributions. If it weren’t for his friends, he would’ve never stood up for both himself and his bullies’ next victim and just look at how much of a badass he’s grown to be! They gave him confidence and a purpose, he knows his role in the group and helps Ashlyn with strategising, he’s got friends now and he’s not so lonely anymore.

Taylor and Tyler Hernandez are pretty implicitly stated as popular, you can see it in panels where they’re constantly surrounded by a large group of people, not to mention Tyler being a jock. But being surrounded by people doesn’t necessarily make you less lonely, the two have only ever had each other in their lives. Tyler was never able to have fun because he was too busy caring for his mother and sister while still trying to get a sports scholarship for university and Taylor watched as her twin began to load too many weights onto himself. After the Sorrel Weed house, Tyler and Taylor began to open up and have fun, for once they were both finally able to have people to rely on since the death of their parents.

Aiden had been travelling around and meeting people who he knew wouldn’t stay in the end, how could they when not even his own parents could? I think it’s pretty implied that Aiden’s parents were pretty neglectful and emotionally unavailable, being described as away on business trips and unaware of his low point in life. He also couldn’t make friends that would last because they moved so often (which I can only imagine how lonely that could be). It’s also pretty implied that Aiden’s untethered a major adrenaline seeker, reckless and uncaring of the danger he puts himself in.

Yet once he saw Ashlyn upset over his death, he had finally found a motivation to live again and with his friends, days aren’t suddenly spent alone anymore.

It was also by chance that Ben Clark ended up moving in with Aiden’s family and due to messed up reasons at that. His dreams of singing were forcibly taken from him leaving him with unmanaged anger and building resentment, his situation was so traumatising to the where he went mute. Losing the one thing you love and are good at is a visceral pain, something he’s been holding in for years.

Then he meets Aiden, he trusts him and follows him around and sort of became comfort blankets for eachother.

So funnily enough, I think you can credit Aiden for being the reason they’ve all met now.

By pure coincidence, Ashlyn got placed next to Aiden. By pure coincidence, they ended up on the same bus. Now, they’re all roped into a phantom realm together but at least they have each other and I think there’s something really beautiful about that because without even meaning to, they’ve made such a huge impact on eachother’s lives.

Without the phantom realm, they would have had normal lives unharmed but would they have been fulfilled?

(Can you tell I’m a sucker for the found family trope?)

[vicartless-bowuigi-space-au]

Bowser vs Rudy,,, Who do you think will win? 🫣

⭐️ Commission for @rustedkaibutsu !! ⭐️

[b4kuch1n]

siren

[funkbun]

i think it's funny how floofy n beffica are leading that Evil Grumpuses poll cause to me they're two completely different levels of "Shitty Person" lol

they're like this to me

[yuwuta]

itfs + reader is so real to me and it works like this: you’re megumi’s childhood best friend, somewhere along the way he meets yuuji, yuuji asks him out, and somewhere along the way—probably mid blowjob or something becuase that’s definitely when yuuji would be thinking about it—yuuji’s like “hey, so do you know you’re in love with your best friend or what?” and megumi literally chokes, and avoids him for like a week but eventually he does admit that he does know, but he also does really like yuuji and if they were normal, they’d break up, but they’re so very far from normal that it becomes a whole thing for them to get off while talking about you, for yuuji to taunt megumi about how he wishes you were here between them and tease him about naughty it is that he fantasizes about his best friend while getting sucked off by his boyfriend, and for megumi to tell him to shutup but then he babbles about all of he pent up fantasies about you anyway. yuuji likes messing with megumi’s guilt about this, and megumi hates how much he likes that yuuji is also into you, and somehow you being oblivious to this is a whole other kink they’ve got going on and have no idea how to sort out

[ask2ps]

I love your art so much. I need to throw them all against a wall and watch them bounce off like gumdrops.

BONUS:

ENGLAND: Bounces off with a whimsical sound. CHINA: Bounces off whimsically, but with a slightly unsettling reverb.

FRANCE: He is a rotten egg. SOUTH ITALY: Begins to sizzle and fry as he hits the ground...?!

GERMANY: Every time he flops another inch down, you can hear a deadpan "ow." JAPAN: Tries to pretend like he doesn't care, but he's drenched in sweat.

RUSSIA: You throw him hastily after he stabs your hand. CANADA: Totally nonplussed about the whole thing. Super casual, even.

AMERICA: His explosion comes with cheap VFX and a Wilhelm scream. NORTH ITALY: He emerges from the explosion completely fine.

[ohnoitsz1m]

Hhhhhhhgghghg ive been thinking about them

[agoraphopia]

Yandere Xiao as an idea devastates me to my very core. I think the self loathing he’d experience would be near debilitating.

There’s the concern for your safety paired with such intense longing he knows he shouldn’t allow to fester. Yet he indulges in checking up on you, in itching that ever present paranoia that whispers imagery of you down dead in a ditch somewhere.

At the end of the day, it’s all excuses and Xiao isn’t oblivious, especially not when his feet are weighed down heavily as he watches over your sleeping form, carefully scrutinising the rise and fall of your chest.

Is that a breath?

…

…That one definitely was, but just in case, let’s watch for another.

…

That next was a bit shallow, perhaps a trick of the eye? He needs to see another to placate the fear of losing you.

It’s a cycle that continually plagues him some nights right into near dawn’s rising.

Staying away eats at him like he were at the mercy of a swarm of locusts that conjure up ill fated deaths that could easily befall mortals such as yourself.

Yet the guilt that manifests whenever he’s nearby is on equal levels of excruciating.

On his own, non Yandere Xiao already deems himself as unworthy of harbouring such inappropriate feelings when he sees himself as little more than a weapon.

In Yandere form? That sentiment is doubled.

However, if you were to be gravelly injured, it’d be enough to incite a knee jerk reaction where you’re locked away in a serenitea teapot of his own he personally attained in that ‘just in case’ fantasy he, in his best efforts, seldom dwelled upon.

Even if you loved him back, I think he’d struggle to believe you. The same can be said for Non Yandere Xiao. Except with Yandere Xiao, he reasons it to be a lie, a method of manipulation you’re attempting at employing. If not, then it’s false, a fake love birthed from pity (something he innately despises, but markedly doesn’t blame you for in the slightest, only himself as always) for his extremities that lead him down such a dark road.

It would take a lot for him to believe otherwise.

[boarloved-art]

i like the car movies a lot.......

[zrllosyn-art]

Kikoru and Narumi Sibling banter hours FT. @izfaish who contributed!! many ideas!!!

(thank u for contributing ur doodles n ideas buddy!!!)

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: this got long sorry 😔 but creepy/perv bakugou, recording, film major bkg x art major reader, masturbation, coercion, dubcon before it just becomes con, voyeurism/exhibitionism

as an art major, you typically did some works for a few students on campus; for their plays, as background pieces while they danced, a cover for their released songs. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to ask you to create something for them, and you enjoyed it more often than not. but, you weren’t usually the art itself.

Bakugou is a friend’s friend that you’ve seen a few times, ran into at the library or at coffee shops. he’s a film major, and always looks so unhappy about the whole thing, as if he didn’t choose it himself. you joke to Mina that you think he’ll graduate and become one of those directors that hate everything and yell at the actors constantly and later on get sued for being a dickhead. you never say it to him though—you’ve never spoken more than a couple words to the man.

it’s why it shocks you when he approaches you one day. it’s after one of your painting classes, and he stands outside the door with a frown and his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyebrows scrunched as if pissed at the mere sight of you. he asks you, in that low and gruff tone of his, if you could star in his final project for the semester. says it’s supposed to be a film made with this criteria and that, but, you’ve kind of checked out on the conversation after the first sentence.

“You mean, you want me to create something and that be the star of your film?” you ask him, feeling so intimidated at his stature. he always seems to loom, his hair shadowing the lights above, creates a cast over a portion of his face, makes his eyes look…unsettling. like they’re looking straight through your flesh, can find the marrow in your bones. he scoffs like you’ve offended him, rolling his eyes into his skull, mouth pulled tight.

“No.” his voice is firm, gaze concentrated only on you, like the halls are empty and you’re the focus of his lens. “I want you to star in it.”

his words confuse you—you’ve never presented yourself as an actor before, never alluded to wanting to be in the spotlight if not for what you create with your hands. but he shuffles on his feet, looks desperate even. there’s some hemming and hawing for a minute or so—why not choose Mina?—she’s busy—why choose me?—‘cause you’d be perfect for my short film—what’s it about?—you’ll find out once you get the script.

and even after you hesitantly agree and get the script—you still don’t understand what you’re doing. why you’re here, why you’re the only person, why it has to be a solo film, why there’s damn near zero lines in the entirety of the have-to-be forty five minute film.

the scenes are all so long, and maybe it’s because movies aren’t your forte or chosen major, but you just don’t get it. one scene; you’re staring at yourself in the mirror while Bakugou holds a small, black camera over your shoulder. he’s eerily quiet behind you, whispers out a faint fuckin’ go when you have to wash your face in the sink, makes you do it over because your movements are too jerky and unnatural.

the rest of the scenes go that way; you doing regular at home activities, being put under a lens, quietly barked at to do this and move that way and fix your hair and remember to frown.

“Isn’t there another way to film this?” you ask him on the fifth day of shooting in his spacious loft. there’s a bubble bath scene coming up, one you dont understand the importance of, but Bakugou tells you it’s the most necessary part of the entire thing.

“No,” he grunts out, looking at you from under his lashes as he sits on the lid of the toilet. “But I’ll make it soapy, so the camera won’t see much.” the camera? much? you weren’t worried so much about what the camera captured as you were the man behind it. he looks at you with such intensity, you feel naked already despite the robe you wear that’s suspiciously already your size.

he leaves the bathroom when you sink in the hot water, returns before you can say it’s okay, hears the water splashing and thinks that’s good enough. he kneels on the floor beside you, camera pointed directly in your face, makes your chest hot and your skin feel prickly. the scene passes on regularly enough; you run the water over your arms, tilt your head back as you sigh, whisper the few lines scripted, lean back and close your eyes, sigh again. it’s almost relaxing, makes you forget about the friend of a friend recording you naked right now. almost.

“Touch yourself.” Bakugou suddenly demands, hushed and quiet behind the camera. your eyes immediately shoot open, looking to him in question, how he’s eerily still in his spot hovering over you.

“Huh?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly, looking around the rounded lens in your face, trying to ignore the red blinking light. but Bakugou only frowns.

“It’s a masturbation scene. Touch yourself.” he repeats, voice louder, more demanding this time. your stomach twists at the thought of doing something so intimate in front of him. he’s a handsome guy, for sure, even made you consider asking him out after this, figured he was just serious about his work and awkward about certain things. but…something had been off about this entire thing since the start.

“But—but I don’t, I’m not,” you stutter, sitting up a little, the bubbles covering your chest starting to disperse with your movements. but Bakugou only sits a little higher on his knees, finally pulling the camera away from his face for the first time since he’s asked you to do this for him.

“You want me to fail?” he asks, booming voice eerily quiet in the silent bathroom, carmine eyes dull, shaded over with something terrible. “Then do it.” he tells you when you shake your head quickly.

you stare at him until he gets back into position again, camera back pointed at you. when he doesn’t say anything else, you swallow thickly, wondering if the art that will come out of this will be worth it. so you listen, sneak a hand under the water, start touching yourself in a way you never have in front of anyone.

is it bad to say that it’s exhilarating? being watched and recorded by someone who breathes so heavily every time your voice hiccups? being directed to touch your chest next when the suds start to disappear and your nipples start to peek through? is it bad that you want him to send you this portion of his film, only, just so you can watch yourself again and again? make a portrait of yourself with your fingers on your nipples and your knees raising from the water and your head thrown back from the intensity in oil pastels?

“That’s a wrap.” Bakugou announces when you finish, head spinning and still panting. you look over to him, how he closes the camera, the obvious bulge in his pants. “I’ll get you a towel.”

you wonder when’s the next time he’ll need you. or better yet—maybe he could be the star in your final drawing project? you had finished it already but, what was the harm in starting over with him as your muse? as naked as you are? camera not blocking his face so you can paint the similarities of his blushing cheeks and eyes when you direct him to look at you? to touch his chest? to play with himself just like that?

[baby-babeyy]

Jonmund + Targaryen Jon

AU where Robert’s rebellion doesn’t happen and Jon is brought up in Kings Landing with his father Rhaegar and his sibling’s after his mother dies giving birth to him.

He has a relatively happy childhood, but he knows his siblings resent him for not sharing their mother, and his fathers pained look every time he sees him tells him he’s nothing but a painful reminder of his mother.

As the second son, he’s not the immediate heir to the throne, so in an effort to connect with his mothers family his father allows him to ride north to spend time in Winterfell with the Starks.

He flourishes in the north, finding he fits in better than he does in the south- he certainly feels he’s more Stark than Targaryen.

The Starks love having him around, he and Robb become as close as brothers, Sansa adores his tales of life in the capital and he spends more time than is proper for a Prince playing with Arya, Bran and Rickon.

The years he spends at Winterfell are the happiest of his life yet, though he misses his father and his siblings the cold and wild terrain agrees with him far more than the heat and politics and social expectations of the south.

When they discover the direwolves, they offer one to Jon, telling him he’s as much a Stark as they are. He and Ghost become inseparable, but secretly Jon worries about what will happen when he has to return home, for Kings Landing is surely no place for a direwolf.

As he gets older he knows that the day he has to return south grows closer, so he decides to make the most of the north while he can, and takes to sneaking out on a night and riding alone with Ghost, as it’s the only way he can get away from the constant chaperones forced on him as a Prince.

One of the nights he’s out riding he’s hit by a terrible snowstorm, he falls from his horse, is separated from Ghost, and finds himself so cold he’s unable to move.

He lies there in the woods, no clue where he is for how long he doesn’t know; it could be minutes, it could be hours that he lies drifting in and out of consciousness.

The only thing he registers is at some point being lifted into strong arms and suddenly feeling warmth for the first time in what felt like forever.

When he wakes the storm has passed, and he’s lying next to a campfire with several people in light grey and white furs stood around him - he recognises them as wildlings.

A tall man with a ginger beard explains that they found him half dead in the woods, and when he asks why they didn’t just leave him he gestures at the Valyrian steel haninging from his belt.

‘You’ve got a pretty sword, and if your fighting skills are anywhere near as good as your weapon, we could use you beyond the wall’

Jon panics at the thought of going beyond the wall, of the wildlings wanting him to be one of them. He’d heard from the northerners that they were feral, rapists and thieves and murderers.

But when he sees a red headed girl elbow the tall man and whisper ‘his sword isn’t the only thing you thinks pretty’ to he met with a shove and a laugh, he doesn’t see how the people that saved his life could he that bad.

In a fit of impulsivity he decides to go with them. He’s always been too much of a Stark for Kings Landing; despite how much he loved it there the people of Winterfell all see him as a Targaryen; maybe he can find where he belongs beyond the wall?

As they’re setting off on their journey north, they ask Jon his name. He almost tells them, but then thinks better of it, knowing that his family could be known beyond the wall and he doesn’t want his name getting him sent back, or worse killed.

He settles on ‘Jon Snow’, the surname of Northern bastards, and is slightly ashamed of himself to find it feels more like his name than ‘Jon Targaryen’ ever has.

The further North he gets the more he finds he enjoys life with the wildlings- or free folk as they call themselves.

Tormund, as he finds the tall man is called, tells him all about their philosophies, how they’ve chosen their leader unlike the kneelers down south, and they become very close on their journey.

Despite being a King’s son, and in the line of succession, he actually agrees with what they say thinking that if the people of Westeros chose their own leaders, a lot of suffering could easily be avoided.

He didn’t think he’d be this happy with the free folk but he is.

Climbing the wall is a whole different story.

The Wall is the tallest thing he’s ever seen, at least twice the height of the top of the Red Keep, and with no stairs in sight.

The only thing that keeps him going on his ascent is Tormund’s occasional teasing remarks and the knowledge that the only way he’s making it alive is if he follows them up.

The horrendous climb is almost worth the view at the top. He feels like he’s on top of the world and when he turns to share his grin with Tormund, that’s when the wildling kisses him for the first time.

Jon’s so taken aback he nearly topples off the wall, and very may well have fallen to his death if not for Tormund’s strong arms catching him.

The taller man apologises, saying he knows that sort of thing is frowned upon in the south and promising that since Jon clearly doesn’t feel the same he’ll never do it again, etc etc....

While Tormund is rambling in an uncharacteristically nervous way, Jon thinks about the kiss and how much he enjoyed it. He knows that the Southerners wouldn’t approve but he’s not a southerner anymore is he?

Tormund is still talking when Jon shuts him up by kissing him again. They stand there, hands grasping each other tight, lips locked together, and wind whipping at their faces until Ygritte shouts over at them that they better wait until they’ve climbed down the wall before they fuck.

Jon blushes the entire time he’s climbing down the wall, thinking about Tormund’s body pressed against his own, and Ygrittes crude words, and everything that waits for him beyond the wall.

When they finally have their feet on the ground Tormund grabs him again, kissing him hard, and whispering ‘when we get to the camp I’ll kiss you properly Jon Snow’ before walking off with the rest of the group.

Jon’s knees go a little bit weak at the thought of the kisses he’s experienced so far not even being proper kisses, and Ygritte seems to notice this by the way she smacks his ass and shouts laughing ‘Come on Jon Snow, leave your innocence behind that wall!’.

Once they reach the wildling camp, some of his excitement leaves him and is replaced by fear and anticipation at meeting the King Beyond the Wall.

If it wasn’t for Tormund by his side on his way there he might have run the other way at the site of giants or the Thenn as Tormund calls the wildings with scarred faces who look at his as if he’s food.

Meeting Mance Rayder isn’t as scary as he first thought it might be, but what he tells Jon exceeds any sort of terror he’d ever felt before.

He understands why they took him beyond the wall with them- if he had known about the army of the dead marching south he may have suggested they stop to collect more. But he doesn’t truly believe it until a stray wight stumbles into their camp.

Mance tells him that they need to get everyone south of the wall, or the hundreds of thousands of free folk gathered will die, and become part of the dead’s army, who will inevitably then march south, and take all of the seven kingdoms. He says that they’re to begin marching for Castle Black immediately, ready to kill all the brothers of the Nights Watch if they must.

Jon offers him a different solution, knowing the Jon Snow may not be able to help, but Prince Jon of House Targaryen can.

He reveals his identity to Mance, and the other free folk (Tormund is smug to find out that he’s been fucking a Prince the entire time and doesn’t stop mentioning it until Ygritte threatens him with an arrow through the eye if he doesn’t shut up).

Jon, Mance, Tormund, Ygritte and a select few others all head to castle black ahead of the rest of the Free Folk in hopes that when they arrive they’ll be able to walk straight through with no bloodshed.

It’s not a smooth journey unfortunately- Jon sees his first White Walker and feels fear grip him in the way the Wight never did. The look of understanding in the walkers eyes makes him feel colder than any snow storm, or wall of ice ever has.

They tell Jon to run, that without fire or dragonglass they cannot kill the white walker. Jon falls down in his efforts to escape, and in a desperate bid he swings his sword. The walkers body shatters then and there, and Jon feels relief like he never has before.

“Valyrian steel, you’re full of surprises aren’t you little prince” Tormund says, before pulling him into a fierce hug, and planting a desperate kiss on his lips. “Now, never scare me like that again” he says deadly serious and Jon laughs in spite of himself.

At Castle Black however there is no time for laughing. They’re immediately met with drawn swords and notched arrows, until Jon shouts his name and hesitantly the brothers withdraw their weapons.

Lord Commander Mormont says they will have to be kept in the cells until they can get proof of Jon’s identity, which the hastily agree to.

He explains the situation beyond the wall, and Mormont seems to believe him, permitting him to send ravens to his Uncle Ned in Winterfell who can come to identify the supposed Prince.

Days later he’s led out of the cells to the courtyard of Castle Black, still in chains, only to be knocked over by Ghost and shortly after, Arya, who’s no longer the little girl he remembered.

When he gets back to his feet he’s embraced just as aggressively by his Uncle and Robb, who almost shed a tear at the sight of him.

They tell him he was presumed dead after he went missing and Ghost showed up at Winterfell alone. Arya plasters herself to his side even as Mormont is unchaining him, and Ned tells him fondly that she couldn’t be persuaded to stay at Winterfell when there was a chance he was alive.

[His little cousin had supposedly ran away to Braavos once Jon had gone missing, returning a more skilled swordsman than anyone at Winterfell - Jon was proud of her even if both Robb and Ned looked torn apart at the memory of her leaving.]

Mormont and the brothers apologise profusely for keeping him in the cells - “I hope you understand your grace, but we had no way to tell who you were.”

Jon politely asks that his companions be released and at this the men of the watch bristle. They’ve been fighting wildlings their whole lives, they say, they aren’t about to just let a bunch of them free in Castle Black.

He’s angry at their response, but he somewhat understands, and he heads down into the cells to apologise. He presses his forehead against Tormund’s through the bars and touches his hand with his own, promising he won’t be left their for long, he just needs to convince the watch.

He starts with Ned and Robb, telling them all about the wights, begging them to believe him. They trust him, and so vouch for him to Mormont, saying that the wildlings can stay in the lands surrounding Winterfell, and Mormont reluctantly agrees to open the gates for the free folk when they arrive.

Jon tells Ned about the army of the dead, how they need to gather all the living and defeat them. Ned agrees to call his bannermen, and tells him that his father will agree to call all the Houses to march North, but that they will need proof before they do so.

So Jon arranges an expedition beyond the wall, himself (much to Ned’s disapproval), Tormund, Ygritte, and three brothers of the watch, Edd, Pyp, and Grenn. Mance stays at Castle Black awaiting the rest of the Free Folk so that he can lead them south with Ned.

While beyond the wall they manage to capture a lone wight, despite all the tension between the Free Folk and the watch- but it doesn’t come without cost.

Jon, Tormund and Edd return to Castle Black sombrely with the rest of their party gone, and the smell of smoking bodies still on their clothes.

There’s no time to mourn however, as soon as they’re back, Jon, Ned and Tormund (who refuses to leave Jon) head for Kings Landing with a select few northern guards, leaving behind a Night’s Watch who are now convinced of the army of the dead, and all the wildlings now safely south of the wall.

It’s a long journey to King’s Landing, even by boat, and Tormund complains the entire time of the ever increasing heat. Jon thinks his uncle can tell from the fond way he smiles at Tormund, and the gingers hungry gaze what’s happening between them, but he’s gracious enough not to mention it. All he says one night before they retire is a whispered ‘be careful’, a small smile, and a pat on the shoulder.

Jon feels guilty to say he hasn’t missed Kings Landing, not the smell, or the heat, or the millions of people confined in a tiny space.

But when his father clutches him in is arms, shedding tears with no shame, saying how he’d missed him while he was gone- that he had missed.

It’s evident from the lack of reaction (for Rhaegar the tears and shouting had barely scratched the surface of a reaction) that Ned hadn’t told him about the months Jon had been missing, and he tried his best to avoid it.

But when trying to explain why he had gone beyond the wall, there was no way to phrase it without getting his Uncle into trouble.

Jon’s sure that the only thing stopping Rhaegar from hitting Ned is that 1) Ned had spent the entire time out searching and 2) Jon had insisted that his uncle didn’t authorise him to leave.

Then they get onto the important stuff.

They reveal to the King the wight and he immediately responds with ‘how do we stop them’. Jon tells him about their plan, of meeting the dead with an army as large as they can get, and Rhaegar immediately sends the order for all the armies in the seven kingdoms to march north.

He also says he will write to Daenerys, who’s been in Essos since Jon went to Winterfell, liberating Slavers Bay, and becoming a ruler in her own right. She now supposedly commands an army of Unsullied, the Dothraki, and has three dragons.

Rhaegar sends them back up north, saying he’ll wait for Dany and that the armies should be shortly behind him, taking with them all the dragonglass they can find (thankfully his Uncle Viserys had long since found the stores below Dragonstone, where he became Lord as soon as he was of age).

Jon is shocked by how clingy Tormund is with him for the entire trip back, but Tormund tells him that despite the huge army they’re building and the possibility of three dragons, there’s still no certainty they’ll win this war, and he wants to make the most of every last moment with Jon. (If Jon tears up a little at this Tormund never tells anyone.)

He’s stood on the battlements at Winterfell with Sansa, now a woman grown, Arya, Robb, Ned, and of course Tormund, looking out at the armies of free folk, northmen, and the rest of the noble houses who arrived not long ago, when he first sees a dragon - or rather three of them.

They’re huge, magnificent creatures, and Jon can just make out Dany on the back of the largest one, and his father and Viserys on the other two. Out in the distance he can see the thousands of Unsullied marching in perfect formation, and the stomping of thousands of dorthraki close behind.

With them comes Jorah Mormont, who announces himself as Queensguard to Daenerys. When Jon tells him of meeting his father he looks away in shame, telling him he has dishonoured his house, and hopes to make up for it by serving his Queen loyally.

The dragons finally land, and Jon ventures over to reunite with his family and meet the dragons. They’re even more amazing up close, and they don’t seem to mind him, his father, and uncle, but they huddle around Daenerys like young children with their mothers. (It makes sense when she’s announced as Queen Daenerys of the Bay of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons).

Jon wants to desperately to hear about how his aunt came to be a queen beyond the narrow sea, but they have more immediate problems.

They hold a war council, with all the great lords, the three eldest Targaryen siblings, all the Stark children but Bran and Rickon, Mance Rayder, Tormund and of course Jon.

They decide upon a preemptive strike- if they can wipe out the dead before they cross the wall and avoid a battle they sure as hell will.

The decision they come to is that Dany and Viserys (riding on Drogon and Viserion) will fly across the wall and destroy as many wights as possible with dragonfire.

Rhaegar tries to insist he go as well, but everyone refuses to allow the King to go with them due to the risk.

They all wait while the two of them fly north, holding their breath for any sign of them.

After what feels like days, there is a lone screech, and a singular flying figure on the horizon.

Dany and Drogon land, and she’s stood looking angry as Jon had ever seen her.

She chokes out that the leader of the White Walkers, who she dubs the Night King, killed Viserion and Viserys with him.

They know now they will have to face them in battle, on their side of the wall, so they immediately begin forging weapons made of dragonglass and fortifying Winterfell.

They receive a message from Last Hearth, clearly written in a rush, reading ‘the dead are here, they are coming’.

They send Dany out as a scout, to estimate how long they have before the dead are upon them. Once she returns, telling them they have days at most they all ready for battle.