#i wrote this in an hour can you tell

[angeldreamsoffanfic]

content warning: this took SUCH a turn to dom eddie munson wanting to make steve harrington just absolutely one, turn his brain off, and two- realize that his interests aren’t stupid. like it’s not… necessarily explicit on here but when this gets a bit more fleshed out… it’s gonna have to be posted on ao3 😂

-

The thing is, Steve Harrington knows hair- okay?

And he also knows that his friends completely like to tease him about it, that they think that most of the time his affinity for it is a bit narcissistic. That he shouldn’t spend as much time as he does on it and he should “let go sometimes��, but he can’t.

He can remember watching his mother years ago in the bathroom mirror teach him how to style his hair, with little spritzes of water and a just a few puffs of sweet smelling hairspray. He can fully and thoroughly recall flipping through magazines when he was younger, back when his parents had started to travel, and taking beauty tips from the pages in regards to detangling. He’d spent three days with a knot at the nape of his neck, after a few days of swim practice, and he had too much pride at the time to ask anyone for help.

But anyway, Steve Harrington knows hair- and it’s not that he thinks other people don’t… but he also knows that some people don’t care as much as he does. And that’s why watching Eddie Munson take a brush to his curls (completely dry which is painful in it of itself) is absolutely heartbreaking in the weirdest way possible.

Steve also is completely and totally aware that his face must be doing… something, because Eddie has turned around to fully face him- instead of glaring daggers at his own reflection.

“What, Harrington?”

Steve shook his head quickly, fingers drumming against his thighs as he diverted his attention to the tv again. He hadn’t had a television in his room before actually, had figured it’d be a bit too much of a distraction from trying to sleep. Steve is sure there’s some study about the light too, a study Robin had rambled to him before.

That’d been before Vecna though, before the year 1986 and all of it’s horrors that it brought along to the town Hawkins once again. In Steve’s mind? A small tv and a couple of VHS tapes was probably the least of his worries after surviving everything. The tv itself had some poorly made horror movie on, something Eddie had brought along from his government provided home, while the two waited on Robin and Nancy to make their way over.

“Stevie?” Eddie had moved closer, brows slightly furrowed as his dark eyes widened. “What’s on your mind, man? Not getting like…” Eddie mimed wiggling his fingers at the side of his own head, and Steve couldn’t hold back the laugh that made it’s way out from his throat. “Okay so Vecna is not getting his creepy hands on you… so what’s up then?”

Steve took a moment and shrugged, before he let himself card a wide-splayed hand through his own hair. The hairspray was just ever so slightly crunchy under his fingers, and Steve huffed as he shrugged again.

“It’s so stupid man, like don’t even worry about it.” Steve flapped a hand in Eddie’s direction, and Eddie was quick to click his tongue against the back of his teeth as he moved closer.

“Nuh uh, big boy.” Eddie eased himself onto the foot of the bed, and Steve forced himself to not scrunch his nose as Eddie’s dry curls swished a bit around his shoulders. “C’mon I can see it in your eyes! Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell m-”

Steve cut Eddie off with a press of a flat palm up against Eddie’s lips, and Steve tried to not think about how soft Eddie was up against Steve’s skin. Steve groaned as Eddie’s tongue swiped against his flesh, and Steve hissed as he reared backward away from the older teen.

“Fucking gross dude!”

“Usually I’m the one doing that, big boy!”

Steve and Eddie both spoke up at the same time, and the two eyed each other warily, before they split into soft laughs between the two. Eddie then shifted further up onto the bed, back pressed up against the footboard, before he knocked his leg against Steve’s.

“C’mon dude, what’s up?”

“Your hair!” Steve finally answered, before he then folded his arms over his chest. “I know it’s stupid, but watching you tear a brush through it dry is actually breaking my heart, Munson.” Steve groaned, and ran a hand over his face before he continued. “And I know it’s stupid and everyone always says it’s stupid of me to care about hair so much-”

“It’s not stupid.” Eddie’s firm tone cut Steve off, and Steve glanced back toward the man through his lashes. Eddie’s jaw is set, firm and unyielding, and Eddie let out a dry laugh. “Fuck man, what has everyone in your life done to you?”

“Huh?”

“You’re… fuck sweetheart, you’re allowed to enjoy things.” Eddie’s voice has gone saccharine sweet, soft and gooey- and the tone has an immediate effect on Steve, making his brain feel all fuzzy and soft. “So, what has everyone in your life done to you?”

Steve doesn’t answer and instead just shrugged again, and it draws a quick intake of breath from Eddie- before the man has pushed himself up and off of Steve’s bed. He’s quick and methodical in his movements, scraping his curls up and off of his neck into a low bun at his nape. Eddie then pulled his boots back on, before he checked his pockets for a moment, and then proceeded to nod to himself. Eddie then extended a hand out to Steve, and wiggled his fingers with a small grin on his face.

“C’mon then, dude. We need to go to the store.”

Steve let his hand meet Eddie’s, and is quick to ignore the flutter in his stomach at the touch. His hands, Eddie’s, are larger than his but the fingers skinnier and calloused from what Steve knows to be years of guitar playing. That, and Eddie now has a pretty decent job at the local mechanic shop, and Steve knows that Eddie enjoys the job. Knows that Eddie likes working with his hands, and Steve tried to ignore the idea of Eddie getting those hands on Steve—

“Stevie?” Eddie snapped his fingers in front of Steve’s eyes, and Steve shook himself out of his revere. Steve sent Eddie a nervous smile, and he tried to ignore the flush of heat he can feel under his cheeks at the soft coo that Eddie let out. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” Steve bobbed his head in a quick nod, even when Eddie hummed before he moved as to grab the pair of Nikes that Steve had on earlier in the day. “Where are we uh, headed?”

“You and I-” Eddie moved back to Steve, and he curled a hand around Steve’s right ankle before he pulled- which caused Steve to unsteadily rock back, before he clamped a firm hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “I gotcha don’t ya worry baby-” Eddie murmured, soft and saccharine again, before he continued on as if Steve’s heart isn’t about to beat out of his chest. Eddie worked Steve’s Nike onto his foot, methodical in tying the laces tight, double-knotted just like Steve does. “You and me are gonna make our way out to Anderson for the afternoon.”

“But why?”

Eddie just sighed, soft and slow at Steve’s softly asked question, before he grabbed at Steve’s left foot, and set about slipping the other shoe onto it. Eddie took a moment, made sure to tie the laces of the shoe tight, before he stood back up so he could peer down slightly at Steve. Steve doesn’t move as Eddie pinched Steve’s chin soft in between his thumb and pointer, before Eddie slightly shook Steve’s face from side to side.

It’s enough that something in Steve just burns.

“Because Anderson has a nice and big hair supply shop in it, and we’re gonna go spend a little bit of government hush money there.” Eddie cooed, his voice soul-achingly sweet again, and Steve forced himself to swallow down the saliva that had been quick to pool in his mouth at Eddie’s tone. “And then when we’re done, I’ll drive us back here and you can do anything you want to my hair.”

“Anything?” Steve croaked, eyes wide as he kept his eyes on Eddie’s from under his lashes. Eddie’s smile is gleaming, and Eddie hummed quietly as he nodded himself.

“Absolutely anything, sweet thing.”

Steve Harrington knows hair, and he knows that.

And he also knows that his friends completely like to tease him about it, well, it’s seems like except for Eddie. So Steve let himself smile and nod, and he reveled in the way that Eddie grinned- a quick flash of teeth as he pinched a little firmer at the meat of Steve’s chin, before he let go.

“Atta boy.”

-

just a little sacrifice to the tumblr readmore gods

[deoidesign]

"what do hands mean about a character?"

Their hands mean they love eachother

(webcomic)

[braceletofteeth]

Leave it there.

Where? In your heart?

But I guess that's not possible.

[sierrabravoecho]

Words won’t be able to express how pissed off I’m going to be if George Reorge Rartin Martin decides to double down on the literary parallels between Dunk/Rohanne and Jaime/Brienne and writes in one measley farewell kiss before Brienne rides off into the sunset on her knightly quests

[thenamessparkplug]

guys guys guys look its the character we dont know the name of

that will not stop them from being one of my favorites ever

alt versions :D

w/ text

no text or music notes

[mumms-the-word]

in honor of that one post I can’t find for the life of me that’s like “not Gale with Tav but Gale with the Blackstaff librarian” please have this snippet of a thing I will never finish you’re welcome

Gale x fem!OC, no tags, just two academics being snarky with each other

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

When Gale approached the library, he found his way blocked by several—no, many whispering students and annoyed-looking professors all blocking the way. They were pressed as far as possible in tight packs around an open doorway, the library visible beyond, but not a single one would go inside.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, looking at one of the students he recognized.

“Oh! Professor Dekarios, it’s the new librarian. She just arrived today and she’s not letting anyone into the library.”

“No one? That seems a bit antithetical to the point of a library, don’t you think?”

“She says she’s reorganizing,” another student broke in, looking delighted by the chaos. “She’s already thrown out anyone who crosses the threshold and is threatening to seal the doors if anyone else enters to disturb her.”

“Is that so,” Gale said, raising his eyebrows. She sounded horrible. He couldn’t help but picture a matronly old woman, set in her ways, her hair in a strict and severe bun of gunmetal gray, jowls nearly to her shoulders. “Well, allow me to have a word with her.”

His announcement, though spoken at regular volume, sent a wave of tittering and excited whispers over his students. He ignored them as he waded between them to get nearer the door. One of the other professors saw him coming and quickly arranged the students around the door to get out of his way.

“You’ll not get through to her, you know,” his colleague warned. “She’s on a rampage in there and she seems to have focused all her magical study to the art of marching people directly out of her space.”

“Then I’ll try to be diplomatic and charming,” Gale said, a spark of his old hubris coloring his smile. He stepped over the threshold and into the library.

It was utter chaos, for lack of a better word. Nearly every shelf was empty of books, completely bare, while mage hands with dusters and cloths were busy dusting and cleaning the centuries-old wood. The books themselves were arranged in stacks of no real order or sense, some just three books high but many others towering as nearly as high as the first landing of the four-story room. Solitary books flew through the air at random intervals, coming to rest on top of one stack or another. The towering busts and statues of previous Blackstaffs and other wizards of note were also being thoroughly cleaned, though their bases also served to collect all the furniture in the room, apparently, save for the tables that were all but groaning under the weight of stacks of tomes. Gale had never seen the library in such a state of disarray.

No sign of the enigmatic librarian, though. He ventured further inside, glancing here and there to try and find her, again picturing the strict, no-nonsense older woman with a face like thunder.

At last he found a younger woman floating midway up a three-story set of shelves, her open robes billowing gently as her flying spell kept her aloft, her trousers tucked into her knee-length boots. She pulled a book from the shelf and turned it to examine the title on the spine, and then opened it to the first several pages.

“Excuse me,” he said, “I’m looking for the new librarian?”

She sighed and snapped the book shut with one hand, turning to peer down at him with a frown. “Yes?”

“The new librarian. Is she about?”

She looked at him as though he were being willfully deaf. “She’s floating approximately three feet and seven inches above your head, saer. Can I help you or are you simply here to complain about my methods like everyone else that has made it past those doors today?”

Gale blinked. “You? But I thought—”

“Did you need something, Professor?” she asked, cutting him off. “I’m assuming you’re a professor and not a student, since you’re wearing the academic stole and all that. Is there a book you require?”

A quick flash of irritation passed through him at being interrupted, but he quelled it. He’d traveled with more abrasive people in the past, he reminded himself, who were also prone to interrupt.

“Not one in particular,” he said. “I’m here to discover…well whatever it is you’re doing in here.”

“Whatever it is I’m—Oghma guide me,” she muttered. She sent the book floating away with a flick of her wrist and lowered herself to stand in front of him. “I am cataloguing. What does it look like?”

Gale paused. Now that she was properly before him, he couldn’t help but notice that she was rather lovely. And young, for someone put in charge of the entire library of Blackstaff Academy. She was several inches shorter than him, but that didn’t stop her from frowning up at him behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, her dark hair swept up into a mass of tight curls at the back of her head. Little curls were escaping here and there to frame her face or trail down her neck, but she didn’t seem to notice. Behind her glasses, her eyes were a curious shade of green and gold, the color changing slightly as she shifted her weight and a soft shadow from one of the shelves fell over her. The rest of her was still bathed in the warm light of early afternoon, a shade that complimented her dark olive skin.

She looked particularly irritated now and Gale realized he had been staring, rather than answering her question.

“I, um…” He quickly tried to recall her answer, and as he did, it struck him how ludicrous it was. “Sorry. Cataloguing?”

“Yes.”

“This library was already catalogued. Thoroughly.”

“Correction,” she said, turning to pick up two books from a stack and glance at their titles. She sent them floating away in different directions. “This library was already poorly catalogued. I’m cataloguing it properly.”

She walked away, moving to another set of shelves that she hadn’t yet touched. Gale followed after her, speaking as he went.

“With all due respect, it looks as though you’re doing a great deal of unnecessary shifting around. The current system has served us well enough these past, oh I don’t know, three or four hundred years or more. There’s no reason to change a system that works.”

“So I’m to believe we should just let old systems lie rather than improve them with new ones?” she asked, tucking a few books into her arms. “Come now, saer, that goes against the very spirit of academic and magical progress. And you call yourself a professor?”

“I am a professor,” he said, irritable. “Professor Dekarios. And I have enough sense to know that Mordenkainen’s Magical Theory Across the Twin Worlds goes in the M section.” Here he grabbed a book from the shelf right before she could collect it, holding it up as if it were proof.

“In the old system, perhaps,” she said, snatching it from his hands. “But in this new system it will go under section 300, subsection 20, sub-subsection 4 point 17 for non-practical magical theory from authors located outside the realm of Toril—”

Gale’s jaw dropped. “Non-practical? How—”

“—and I’ll thank you to cease disturbing me so I can put it in its proper place,” she finished with a huff, blowing some of her curls from her forehead. She sent the book away, arcing it high over his head so he couldn’t make another grab at it.

“Now see here,” he said, struggling to remain diplomatic.

“No, Professor Dekarios, you see here,” she said, bowing up and shifting her books to one arm to poke a finger in his chest. “Blackstaff Varja has tasked me with the revitalization and re-categorization of this library, a job I take very seriously, and I won’t have pompous, big-headed wizards swanning about telling me how to do my job!”

Gale could barely get the words out. “Pompous? Big-headed? Madam, you—”

“If you require a specific tome to study, by all means, let me know so that I can locate it for you, but if your business is simply to bother and berate me then I’ll be forced to eject you from the premises.”

“Eject me? You wouldn’t dare.”

“You wouldn’t be the first, I assure you,” she said, her eyes flashing.

He shook his head, irritation warring with something like awe in the face of her ability to be unrelentingly annoying. “You are—infuriating. How will the students and faculty here get any study done if all the books—” he pulled another one from the shelf, using it to gesture, “—are in the wrong places?”

“They will learn,” she snapped, reaching for the book, but he held it high overhead, just out of her reach. She nearly crashed into him, nose-to-chest, reaching for it. She quickly stepped back with another huff. “Return The Many Multiple Uses of Mordenkainen’s Magnificent Mansion to me at once.”

“Only if you put it back in the M section,” he said, keeping it aloft. “Where it belongs with the other Mordenkainen works.”

“But Mordenkainen didn’t write—oh for Oghma’s sake.” She slammed her armful of books down on a new stack and snapped her fingers, whispering a spell he didn’t catch. The book tugged away from his hand. Surprised, he let it go, and it flew directly into her waiting arms.

“I think that’s quite enough library time for you, Professor Dekarios,” she said sharply, hugging the book to her chest. “You are to be banned from this library for the remainder of the evening. Good day, saer.”

“You can’t—”

But apparently she could. All of a sudden he felt the back of his robes pull taught, as if an unseen hand were grabbing his robes like a tressym might grab the scruff of their kitten’s neck. The force pulled upward, nearly lifting him off his feet, and he was forced to take several awkward steps away, back toward the entrance of the library.

“I—you—unhand me!” He struggled against the hold as was about to cast something to dispel the magic when he felt something suspiciously like an invisible boot give him a kick on the arse. “Hey!”

“Good day, Professor Dekarios,” he heard her say behind him.

He was forcibly pushed out through the open doorway, nearly falling over into the waiting crowd of wide-eyed students. He adjusted his robes in a hurry, ready to march back in there and try again, but the library doors shut with a loud bang and soon the magical sigils to an arcane lock illuminated the surface.

No one would be getting inside now.

There was a hush behind him as he stared at the library doors, hot embarrassment turning his ears pink while his pride, unable to suffer total defeat, looked for ways to make light of the situation or diffuse it. After a moment, someone started to snicker and it caused the entire waiting audience to struggle to hold in their delighted snickers and giggles.

“Well,” one of his colleagues said, folding their arms, but Gale held up a hand with a sigh.

“Don’t,” he said. “The mortification speaks for itself.”

“If it makes you feel better, you’re the sixth faculty member she’s done that to today,” they said, unable to withhold a chuckle. “Though out of all of them, you’ve lasted the longest.”

“And we’re to endure her being our new librarian?” Gale asked, as other professors began to shepherd away the students, reminding them of their homework and studies. “Is it too early to consider a new teaching placement?”

His colleague just laughed and walked away. Gale was left standing in the hallway, watching the arcane lock sigils glow and glimmer against the wood of the door.

He wanted to be angry, even offended. The entire re-categorization of a library as old and complex as Blackstaff Academy’s would spell chaos and slow down every pursuit of study for months. But as he watched the sigils, as his minds eye placed him back among the stacks of books and empty shelves, his memory lingering on one dark curl resting against the curve of the librarian’s olive-toned neck, another bouncing at her temple, he realized he wasn’t exactly angry or offended.

He was intrigued.

[anna-scribbles]

h-how do you ever finish any of your work? genuine question because you seem to be productive despite your agreste syndrome and I need to learn your ways. but also how do you ever finish any of your work

unclear. last night i stayed up and finished a report worth 25% of my grade at about 5am, arrived on time for my 9am lecture, and spent about half of it zoned out while thinking about seventeen year old emilie agreste. and i was one of the most active participants in the class discussion

[fishhateme]

okay fine let's address the elephant in the room i've abandoned this blog BUT i needed to cope after singapore yall after a good two months of no contact with any media of my pookie danny and the subsequent exposure to THE maxiel paddel date (ft. temporarily adopted paddel prodigy??) i'm ready to be back on my bullshit

this time? angsty introspective danny and max comforting him, aka ao3 hasn't been hitting and im in crisis

if it sucks it's because i haven't written fanfic in ages (started uni and it kicked me in the teeth, the only reason i can justify spending time on this is because at this point it's a Coping Mechanism™)

also i know the whole part things is a pain in the ass but tumblr wont let me write posts as long as i want them to idk i hate technology i was born in the wrong century (id rather die of the black death at 20 than have to deal with hyperlinks again thanks for asking)

read it here

[rinmession]

Feeling a little sad for Rozenmarine in Lebkuchen/Freya's endings ngl. Spoilers and rambling below:

Of course to start, Not Being Gruesomely Sacrificed is always for the best in the scheme of things, but also: imagine living so much of your life with fate as a compass, being so thrilled to be with your soulmate after years of dreaming about her to the point you know her intimately without having met her, guiding her through a dream you're willing to die for-- and then out of nowhere, in only a week's time, that fate, that dream, is totally averted at the last minute.

Either Elise chooses someone else to die in Rozenmarine's stead and leaves to become a depressed aristocrat, is burned at the stake, or she abandons the ritual altogether and leaves Kieferberg with someone else, and in any case Rozenmarine's whole raison d'etre is gone... I wonder if it's almost worse on a personal level for her if Elise rejects the ritual and chooses someone else, because then what was Rozenmarine even there for? To give Elise the push she needed to leave I suppose, but then what's Rozenmarine to do with her life afterwards? Elise has a different soulmate who she wants to fulfill her dreams with, not her, and the person Rozenmarine says makes her whole is gone.

She says she's not necessarily Elise's soulmate even if Elise is hers, and that fate is something than can be changed, so she's certainly aware of other possibilities, but I wonder if she knows what to do with herself if the fate she's been chasing is so directly rejected.

Even with her happy ending in Star-Crossed where Elise says Rozenmarine 'broke free of her fate' after abandoning the ritual, she feels the need to go out on her own for two and some years and 'grow', learning new skills and taking on a whole career as a chimney sweep before she's ready to meet Elise. It's a bit vague, but she's certainly lost without the same fate that chained her, and needs to find new grounding for herself. As Elise needs to go out and find the world outside Kieferberg, Rozenmarine must go out and find things for herself that aren't Elise before she's ready for their new beginning. Even though she's with Elise as she's always wanted, this wasn't the plan! How much more disruptive it must be to lose that sense of fate without Elise, without any purpose or person to rebuild herself for.

And just to twist the knife a bit, Rozenmarine in her own route--as happy as she is to be with Elise at last--expresses her remorse that she couldn't have come to Kieferberg earlier, or even been born there to make memories with Elise and feel like she's part of a community. She pointedly compares herself to Leb and Freya here, which makes me wonder how that envy must extend to endings where they're the apple of Elise's eye. How much more bittersweet an experience it must be to only have that happiness for a week before it's snatched from your hands...

So what then becomes of her then when she doesn't show up at all in Leb or Freya's endings (besides, strangely silent, in the background of Auto-da-Fe), when she doesn't have Elise as a tether? Lebkuchen and Freya both appear in one another's happy endings at least, so I think it's intentional. Lost without fate and without her soulmate to aim towards, perhaps it's too much for her to stay on in Kieferberg without Elise after having reached the end of the line on her star-lit path, and so she returns to her nomadic life as a now aimless wanderer, knowing nothing else. Maybe as Elise could never feel like a part of Kieferberg without Holle, Rozenmarine cannot feel a part of them without Elise. More hopefully, perhaps her experience in Kieferberg allows her to reinvent herself as in Star-Crossed, however hard the heartbreak. Rozenmarine characterizes the scales of her treasured pinecone in one of her dates as all part of her path to Elise, but maybe in that same metaphor there's a dot of hope for her she says herself, and there are more scales for her yet to find...

[thychesters]

wave after wave. zolu ; 4k ; post-thriller bark

“Zoro’s been asleep for a while,” he says, more to himself than his audience of one. Zoro always sleeps, that’s nothing new—he’ll twitch when Luffy pokes him in the cheek, crack an eye open right before he can yell ‘lunch’ in his ear—but never like this.

Zoro’s always run warm and now his hand is cold when Luffy touches it. 

“I don’t like it,” he says. He waits for an eye to crack open—an eye that’s green in the early morning sun, or gunmetal gray when the sun’s setting.

He wants to reach out and touch him—his arm, or his hand, something solid, something that tells him Zoro’s still here and tells Zoro he isn’t alone. But there’s barely a part of his body that isn’t bandaged, and with what exposed skin there is he isn’t sure if a simple touch would hurt him even more.

Now he sits beside him, and he is not a patient man, but he will wait for Zoro.

read on ao3.

[skyward-floored]

Ohhhh hoo hoo so @/writing_prompt_s posted this prompt: “You were the only child that didn't have powers in a family of metahumans. Today you got kidnapped by a supervillain… and none of your family came to the rescue.”

Imagining Four… pre powers… having nightmares…

Bc of course his family would never, but intrusive thoughts and a scary young mind…..

My muse grabbed me and I wrote something for this in a few hours and it’s not the exact same as the prompt but it’s pretty darn close so! enjoy.

Tw nightmare, also I teared up writing this so be warned it hits kinda hard but it’s hurt/comfort so dw. Sorry Four.

——————————————————————————————————

Four didn’t know what was chasing after him, but he was too terrified to look.

Something grabbed at his back and Four frantically shook it off, wishing not for the first time that he had longer legs. He bolted down the street, no traffic around to stop him, or even people to ask for help, and finally recognized his house in the distance.

Four charged, relief sweeping over him at the sight of his family out in the yard.

They’ll help me, they’ll stop it, they’ll save me—

Something shot out and grabbed him right as he reached the mailbox, and Four cried out, falling to the ground as his family looked over at him in surprise.

“Help!” Four cried, but his siblings merely glanced at each other, then went back to what they were doing. “Wh— no wait! Wait help!”

His brothers began to walk away towards the house, not appearing to care a bit that their younger brother was in trouble. Four watched in disbelief as they strode away, hurt striking him even harder then the pain from falling on the ground.

“T-Twi?” Four whimpered.

Twilight didn’t even give him a backward glance as they all filed in, Wind closing the door behind them.

More hands grabbed at Four, beginning to pull him backwards, and he looked frantically around for help, his gaze landing on his mother standing nearby.

“Mama! Don’t let them take me!” Four cried out, but she merely shook her head, Time walking up to stand beside her.

“Sorry Link. You’re just... not useful,” Malon sighed, giving him a disappointed look.

“If only you were born with powers,” his father said with a shake of his head. “Maybe you’d be worth saving.”

The arms tugged Four further away from his family and he clawed against them, his eyes stinging as panic and horror shook through him.

“Wait!” he shrieked, but Malon merely turned away, Time following after her. “Please don’t— I can be useful! I promise I can, I— don’t let them take me!”

Time glanced back at him as Malon paused, his bad eye glowing slightly as they watched Four struggle.

“No you can’t,” he said simply, voice emotionless. “You’re not special, Link. And this family has no need for useless children.”

And he and Malon turned to head inside.

“No, no wait!” Four screamed, more arms clawing at him, pulling him back into the darkness. “Daddy, Mama please, please—”

A hand tried to cover his mouth, but Four thrashed away from it, and he managed to let out one last scream for his parents before he was pulled into the darkness.

“I’m not useless!”

“Four, Four wake up!”

Four’s eyes shot open, and he didn’t even realize he was screaming until he it suddenly cut off into a sob, his face already damp with tears.

Something touched his arm, and Four stiffened, blinking the tears out of his eyes just enough to see the blurry figure of his father next to his bed, eyes wide with concern.

Another sob burst out of him, and Four closed his eyes, shaking with the want to throw himself into his father’s arms, but unable to forget how he’d looked at him in his dream.

This family has no need for useless children.

Four heaved in a whimpering breath, and before he could figure out what to do next, his father had moved forward and pulled him into his arms, holding him tight.

“Link, shh, it’s okay,” Time whispered, Four shaking with remaining terror from his dream. “You were having a nightmare, it’s all right.”

Four sobbed, his father running a hand over his head, and didn’t speak for several moments.

“I-it, it felt real,” he finally hiccuped, barely able to speak through the lump in his throat and terror constricting his chest, “you, you a-and M-Mama said I’m—”

His voice broke, and Time shushed him again, still trying to calm him down.

“You s-said ‘cause I don’t have p-powers, I’m useless,” Four sobbed, and he heard Time inhale.

“Oh Four, no, you’re not useless,” he breathed, tucking him securely under his chin. “Me and your mother would never say that.”

“But I am,” Four cried, burying his face in his father’s shirt. “I can’t do a-anything, I can’t run like Wild, o-or turn into things like L-Legend or Twi, or e-even—”

“Link Smith Forester, you are not useless,” Time said firmly, holding him tight. “Having or not having powers doesn’t have any bearing on that. You’re not useless now, and you never will be. Powers or not.”

Four felt more tears drip down his face.

“You d-didn’t try to save me,” Four whimpered, his words interspersed with sniffling. “In th-the dream, you didn’t bother.”

“We’ll always bother, Four,” his father whispered back. “If you’re ever in trouble we’ll come save you, I promise. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Sure?” Four whispered.

“I’m sure. I promise.”

Time slightly eased his grip, leaning back to grab something, and Four wiped his eyes, feeling a little better, but still miserable. His dream still lurked at the forefront of his mind, the faces of his family uncaring and indifferent, the words they spoke holding nothing but disapointment and annoyance at having to deal with him. Time leaned forward again as Four let out another sniffle, and handed him the stuffed bird he usually slept with, tucking him back into his arms.

Four squeezed it tight to his chest, and Time began to lightly rock him, humming something under his breath that Four could barely make out.

“Don’t leave,” Four whispered when Time shifted how he was sitting, and his father nodded, wrapping him more securely in his blankets.

“I’m staying right here,” he whispered back, and went back to humming the soft melody.

Four relaxed a bit, still sniffling and shaking, but much less terrified, his dream finally fading to the background of his mind. Time’s hand ran through his hair, the soft rumbling of the melody in his chest comforting under Four’s head, and he closed his eyes.

The last thing he remembered before drifting off was his father holding him tight.

[pagesupinflames]

last night i blacked out in my car. and i woke up in my childhood bed. (pt.1)

(seven years on testosterone, an eternity of sibling love, and a million tears shed over someone that was once thought to be gone forever; someone who had changed completely).

— a sam and transmasc sweetheart sibling renunciation fic ft. my ver. of all the pack listeners (also maybe ooc sam ?? it’s been a while i miss my cunty southern man)

“repeat who’s all gon’ be there again?”

marcy sighed. was sam always this curious or did he just wanna piss her off today?

“david. his mate, willow. asher. mate, kato. milo. ray. amanda. christian. arden. bailey. kelsey. ansel. there’s too many of the fuckers to actually list off their names all at once, but those are the main guys. again. got it?” the wolf listed off in a stern voice laced with annoyance, counting with her fingers at every name said. of course, she wasn’t truly annoyed with sam— but she’d never admit that out loud.

after repeating the names in his head once more (as if he hadn’t done so thirty-three times in the past hour), sam raised an eyebrow at marcy.

“and ray is who again?”

“milo’s mate. are you good now?”

recalling the man, he nodded his head, cutting the engine as he made his way out of the car. he was only a couple steps out before he turned back around to open marceline’s door for her.

she scoffed at him, biting her lip in an attempt to keep her composure from faltering as she hopped out of her seat — unaware of the slightly smug grin sam shot behind her back as they both began trailing towards the cabins.

———————————

raymond sat on one of the coolers next to milo, red solo cup in hand as he quietly observed the atmosphere that surrounded him. voices. people. he’s already met all of them.

he knew he was going to meet someone new today. marceline’s mate. mate? boyfriend? friend she’s fucked? friend with benefits? milo didn’t really specify, possibly because he didn’t even know himself — but no matter the title, ray prepared for their arrival. partially because he wanted to see marcy again (friend crushes were weird), partially because he was curious about this new guy. vampire. his curiosity peaked.

his thoughts were interrupted by a gentle nudge on the shoulder from milo, who smiled at him and motioned towards a random direction in the giant cabin full of people. ray’s gaze followed the gesture, a familiar head of wild, wavy blond hair seen from afar bothering another set of blond hair, this one nearly styled and darker than the beta’s. ray ignored the pit growing deep in his stomach that triggered his gag reflex.

“ash ‘s shootin’ himself.” milo commented, jutting his thumb over at the (awkwardly conversing) blond pair with a sly grin, slightly easing the tension (keyword: slightly). “wanna go make fun o’ him?”

ray let out a chuckle at the straightforward question, standing with a mirroring smirk. “that’s all you. ‘m no instigator.”

milo playfully rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around ray’s waist before pulling him in to go embarrass asher even more than he was doing himself.

and with each step ray took side by side to milo’s, he felt himself growing weaker; sicker. like he had swallowed an apple seed and it just now started to grow into a sapling in his abdomen. each step was a new emotion. nostalgia. longing. betrayal. relief. anger. was it asher he was feeling this way about? but ash didn’t do anything. why were his knees starting to give out from underneath him?

“you stickin’ your foot in it already, ash?” the curly haired wolf questioned in a teasing tone as he approached, keeping ray close.

asher stammered at milo’s ask, already deep enough in eating shit. “u-uh.. mmaybe? ahah…”

the beta paused, exasperatingly gesturing back and forth between the other blond and the power couple. ray looked up with a friendly smile. then the smile dropped. the sapling grew into a full-grown tree, and he was back to being a kid again.

“sam, milo and ray. ray and milo, sam.”

his name was sam.

“sam.”

“sam.”

“sam.”

“sam?” sarah lynn called out, rubbing her tired eyes as she held her blanket close to her body. it was cold out. the heater was broken again. and her older brother was crawling out of his window.

“where’re you goin? are you leavin?”

samuel was frozen in place when her tiny voice hit his ears, his plans being thrown out of the window he was escaping out of at her questions. always curious, was what she was.

he didn’t look back at her. and that hurt him most. he didn’t look at her becuase if he did he would never be able to leave. leave her behind in this haunted house.

“i don’t want you worryin’ about that, lynn.”

“but i am worryin.”

his breath hitched in his throat. he had to physically grab his chin in order to not look at her. do not look at her. look now and you never leave.

with a shaky breath, sam held his tongue to simplify the words that would be an entire journal worth of paragraphs that he wanted to say to her.

“don’t. be a good girl, ‘kay? be good. i-i’ll.. i’ll come back. for you. i promise that. you gotta promise to be good, you swear? i’ll—“ the accent croaked, and sam sniffled into his inner sleeve.

“i’ll come back for you, sarah lynn, i promise. i’m comin’ back. i’ll love y.. you always, yeah? no matter what you do, i love you. a lot.”

his words didn’t make sense to her. so he was leaving. and he wasn’t taking her with him. why? she could pack quickly. she could fit all of her things in a grocery bag. she could go with him. they could stay close like the other brothers and sisters at school.

but she was like sam in that sense. sarah lynn bit her tongue.

“i.. love you too, sammy.”

he repeated his past words. “swear you’ll be good?”

the six year old girl let out a breathy sigh, heavy and thick from the tears swelling in her eyes. “mhm. i swear.”

at sarah lynn’s oath, sam pressed his lips together, pinching his eyes to wipe his sorrows away before nodding in response, dropping his belongings down the second floor window.

“good.”

and then he jumped out.

and he never came back for her.

“pleased to meetcha.”

“i’ll come back.”

“likewise.” milo smiled at sam, only to pause at his mate’s paled face in his peripheral vision.

springing to attention, he squeezed ray’s waist, his reaction immediately being to squirm away at his touch and curl in on himself. eyes dead set on sam. sam.

sam.

his tone came out worried, confused as he turned to face his mate with a frown of concern. “sweetheart? are.. you okay?”

“i..” ray swallowed, just now realizing the blond was staring right back at him. same look. different eyes. new face? new person?

old face. dead stories. dead brother. dead name.

“i have to go to the bathroom.”

[street-corner-felines]

Zero Day (2002)

[charles-simmons-fanfiction]

Late summer nights - Todd Anderson / Neil Perry

Description: Neil is a summer person, and Todd is a Neil person. That's the story. 💛 [fluff, 800 words]

By the way, this is based off of this post! It's a headcanon by the super cool and awesome @perksofbeingpoet <3 This was so fun to write, I might write more summer fics with dps <- me projecting how energetic I get during summer on them

Todd could swear he would pass out from the heat any second now. Neil, on the other hand, hadn't been this energetic it's been weeks.

"Physics homework, done!" Neil exclaimed victoriously, closing his notebook and throwing it on his desk.

"Already? How?" Todd had just finished the first half of his work, and he hadn't even started the one for chemistry. Soon summer break would start and the teachers weren't taking it easy on them, not that they ever did.

"It looks like it'll rain tomorrow, explains why today's so hot," Neil ignored his question. The window was wide open and he had half his body out of it, only a small push away from falling. "We should go outside! While we still can, y'know."

"What? No, I still have way too much work to do," the physics assignment in front of him was pushed aside before he could protest.

"I'll give you the answers and explain them to you tomorrow. C'mon!" Neil grabbed him by the arm. Todd wanted to insist, but he wanted to go with him a lot better.

They had to be silent while they sneaked out, so, naturally, they couldn't stop laughing. It was quite a struggle and they had to be constantly shushing the other.

Once they got outside, the hot wind blew on their faces. Todd considered going back in again.

Neil smiled and, without any warning, took off running to the woods, laughing way too loudly as Todd tried to catch up with him. They didn't stop running for a while, to not risk getting caught.

"Oh my god, shut up!" Todd covered Neil's mouth with his hands, pushing him against a tree to keep him quiet. "Are you crazy?? There's no way no one heard us!" Despite his heart beating quickly from the adrenaline, he could only laugh with him.

"Carpe Diem, my dear," Neil's voice came out muffled and he gently took Todd's hand off his mouth. "We'll be fine."

For a few seconds, neither of them said anything, looking into each other's eyes, close enough to feel their hot breath on their already warm cheeks. A light breeze wiggled the trees and everything felt silent, except for the crickets probably not too far away.

Neil's deep brown eyes seemed to shrink when he smiled, almost sparkling as he looked at him so contently. His pink lips were slightly parted and a strand of hair had fallen on his face. He had an image of graceful disarray, and the night suddenly didn't feel as half as warm as his presence did.

"Your hair is getting long," was all that Todd managed to say.

Neil was caught slightly off guard and chuckled. "Yeah, I have to get a haircut soon."

"Please don't," Todd asked, maybe a little too fast. "It looks great like this."

"Thanks," they broke eye contact awkwardly, not knowing how to continue a conversation, and also not really wanting to.

It was way too hot. Todd couldn't understand how anyone could even like summer. He had always hated the way his hand felt sweaty, and how hard it was to fall asleep even with the window open. Also, any class outside was insufferable if there was sun.

At the same time, Neil seemed to be doing so well. And let the truth be said, it only took a little attention to see how depressed he could get some days. But not recently. No, Neil seemed to be genuinely doing fine.

Todd smiled at the thought, and for the first time, he hoped summer would last as long as possible. "Next weekend, if we finish our homework, we should go get ice cream. To make the heat more bearable," he shyly suggested, mentally repeating "carpe diem" to himself.

"I was thinking about that! I'm sure the other's would be super down for i-"

"Wait, no," Todd stopped him. "I meant like, you and me."

"Oh," Neil was taken aback, but nodded slowly, a smile creeping on his face. His tone was soft when he spoke. "Yes, I think we should."

The two went silent again, and Todd did his best not to smile like an idiot. The next hour wasn't anything but mundane chatting and walking around, but they wouldn't rather be anywhere else.

At some point, Neil tried to take his hand as they walked, but Todd pulled it back. "It's way too hot for this," he complained, yet eventually gave in and took Neil's hand back. Neither of them mentioned it.

"I love summer," Neil stated matter-of-factly. "It's easily the best season. To me, at least. What's your favorite?"

"You"

"What?"

"Autumn"

Again, neither of them mentioned it. Although Todd briefly considered hitting his head against a tree and just staying there forever.

That night, Neil fell asleep as soon as he got back to his dorm, without even changing. Todd didn't, it was too hot. He sighed, and looked at his roommate, who was smiling in his sleep.

"He's crazy," Todd thought, still not getting why anyone would like summer, but suddenly not feeling so bad about it. He fell asleep with a soft smile too. At least they'd get ice cream.

💛.

[tj-crochets]

Hey y'all! Another work tip for you: If you are on the phone with the person who is your point of contact at a business and you want to swear about them after the call, make sure you hang up BEFORE you start swearing. Like. Double check you actually hung up This work tip brought to you by the contractor who thought he'd hung up but didn't and the incredibly awkward silence after he started swearing when I said "Are you aware you haven't hung up yet?"

[vally-vall-vall]

Hello, Forgive me for spamming your blog. I saw your pfp was tfp megatron and then realized your blog was as high quality as the pfp. 👌

My ask is whats your fave transformer and from what universe?

Ah, no worries! I'm glad to hear my blog is filled with scrumptious content! About who is my favourite tansformer. Well, it would be easier to answer who isn't my favourite ifbvkdjfv

I'm a TFP girlie through and through. Prime has been my comfort show since like 2011 and I continue to rewatch it year after year even now. I have indulged in other Transformers media, too, most notably the Bay movies, War for Cybertron, Robots in Disguise and the OG series, tho nothing would come even close to my love for TFP. I truly do think this is the best Transformers incarnation in franchise ever created.

About the fav character (aside from the obvious picks like Optimus and Megatron), this is mega hard for me because all of them are so good dfhvbihvfb. I think I could narrow it down to a few, neither is placed higher or lower than the other because I love them all for different reasons.

Ratchet. Absolutely love this grumpy old fart. He's what started my love for the "grumpy character who pretends they don't care but actually care A LOT" character archetype. He's everything I love and nothing I don't, plus I do think that Jeffrey Combs was made to be his VA in a similar way Robert Downey jr. was born to play Iron Man

Starscream. I will be honest, it actually took me some time before I started to like his character instead of just seeing him as an annoying bootlicker. I mean, he's still an annoying bootlicker, but I came to enjoy him! OG Starscream walked so TFP Starscream could run. He's all of his old traits but amplified and made better. His scheeming, cunning nature, inability to shut up to the point the show itself calls him out for it (Operation Bumblebee) but at the same time, he's a pathetic coward. A wet cat of a man, soggy af. I do think if the show came out in recent years that tumblr would have a field day with him. 10/10 I miss Starscreams like him

Smokescreen. This may or may not be a hot take because he's apparently pretty unpopular with the fandom?? At least he was in like 2012-2015 when I was most active in the fandom. I actually really do enjoy his recklessness and immaturity, it makes him feel more like a youngster that's yet to see the horrors of war. I love how quickly he grows throughout the episodes when he comes to realise their fight isn't about personal glory, it's about survival and about doing what is right. 9/10 because I hate the updated painjob he got in season 3

Miko. Also kind of a hot take, since she seems to be the least favourite among the kid trio. I gotta be honest, TFP is the only Transformers incarnation where I actually like the human companions, and Miko I love the most. She's reckless and bold and immature, like any "punk" teenager of her age would be, and I also absolutely adore the bond she has with Bulkhead.

KnockOut. My first ever experience with a character that was so violently queer-coded it rearanged by neural pathways. Loved him since his very first scene. The sass, the execution, his mad doctor persona, obsession with looks, surprisingly scheeming nature, he's just so full of personality. I also love how he's actually canonically married to BreakDown. My only gripe with the character is that I wished he was depicted to mourn BreakDown more instead of, like, just mentioning he's annoyed that he now has nobody to buff him. But also this was a pre-Steven Universe show back when queer characters weren't as prominent in kids media, so I get why it wasn't implimented. I'm still salty about it though

Arcee. Arcee I had to grow to love, and it didn't happen until several years after the show has ended. At the start, I found her to be a deeply unenjoyable character, grumpy and cold and dismissive towards everyone (and especially Jack) and not in the fun way Ratchet was. However, as I aged, I came to realise that she's not just being an asshole, she's grieving. This is one of the key reasons why I love TFP. It tackles serious topics like death and grief very well for an animated kids show that was mostly made to promote a toy brand, and Arcee's character really shines here. I deeply enjoy seeing her come out of her shell after Cliffjumper's death and slowly form a deep loving bond not only with Jack, but with everyone else too. Also how she helps Miko out with her own grief after Bulkhead gets seriously injured. You know what that is? Growth. Nothing but growth and healing for my sassy two-wheeler.

"Funny. At first I never thought I'd get used to Cliff's constant chatter. But now? Now there's nothing louder to me than the silence."

Bro, this sentence is burned into my memory. Forever. It altered my brain chemisty, I swear. Arcee and her grief over Cliff and Tailgate are so well portrayed and it makes one of the best written characters on the show and I will die on this hill!!