#look i wrote something for this au!!!

[imaredshirt]

Give me a Stan who thinks Fiddleford doesn't know how to throw a punch, much less defend himself in a fight with your average goon, so one morning he takes it upon himself to show the nerd a few basic jabs and hooks and maybe an uppercut or two behind the cabin, because let's face it, there's gonna be a time when Stan can't be there to take a hit for the guy or defend his nerd butt. So he's gonna teach him some stuff for his own peace of mind.

Fiddleford just kind of genially goes along with it, following Stan around the back of the cabin and watching with hands on his hips and a smile as Stan gets into position.

"This is one of the most basic punches in the world, so pay attention, 'cause I'm not gonna show you again," Stan says, knees slightly bent and fists up.

Fidds nods. "You've got my full attention, Stanley."

Stan isn't sure if he's imagining the way Fidds is eyeing him up and down, but he automatically flexes his arms a little more than he needs to. Up ahead, Ford is sitting on a tree stump and taking samples of the air or something (Stan had stopped listening to Ford's explanation once his words went from interesting to Big Science Shit that Stanley Does NOT Care About) and he's watching them with this amused grin, rolling his eyes skyward when Stan won't stop flexing and showing his arms off.

Stan ignores him and rolls his shoulders before jabbing his fists forward in a quick one-two. "There - you catch that?"

Fidds has got his arms crossed now and gives Stan a thumbs up. "Sure did!"

"See, just like this," Stan says, and shows him again despite saying earlier that he wouldn't.

He shows him a few more punches, going over each one a couple times before telling the engineer to mirror him, even getting in close to adjust the guy's scrawny arms and balled fists. He's being real professional about it and everything and doesn't understand why Ford keeps grinning and shaking his head at them, which is making him a little incensed but he stamps it down because Fidds is watching him with this nerdy, dopey smile while letting himself be maneuvered around and he's gotta learn to defend himself 'cause Stan can't stand the thought of some jerkwad wiping that smile off the nerd's face.

"See," he says near the end of the lesson, tapping his fist right against Fidds’s chin. "Do it right and your fist'll hit right here."

Fidds tilts his head a fraction at the touch. "Well alright then, seems easy enough."

"Yeah, like I said, if you do it right. Gimme your hand-" he takes Fidds’s wrist and taps the guy's balled fist against his own stubbly jaw. "Right here. You got that?"

Fidds nods. "Sure do!"

"Good." Stan drops Fidds’s wrist and gets into position again. "Then come on - lay one on me."

Fidds pulls back and blinks at him. "Come again?"

"Hit me!" Stan taps his jaw. "Right here!"

The guy suddenly looks nervous and galnces over at Ford for help. "Hit you? Stanley, I don't think-"

This is what Stan means. Fidds isn't always gonna be able to look to him or Ford to save him. He gets this weird, uncomfortable feeling in his chest at the thought of Fidds facing off against some asshat on his own, and that alone is enough to keep him from letting the guys off easy, if only to get rid of the weird feeling. Maybe a bit selfish but he doesn't care.

"Ah, come on, one little punch ain't gonna hurt ya, Fidds."

"I'm not worried about me," Fidds says, and then frowns when Stan barks a laugh.

"You think you're gonna hurt ME?"

Fidds is still frowning when Ford calls over in an amused, warning tone, "This is not a good idea, Stanely!"

"Just worry about your air test or whatever and leave us alone," Stan calls back. Ford shrugs and scribbles something in his journal, and when Stan turns back to Fidds, Fidds is finally getting into position.

He looks unsure, watching Stan nervously as Stan stands before him with his arms crossed.

"Hey, not bad form - you ready?"

"Well, I suppose so," Fidds says, accent coming in a little thicker than before. "Stan, if you're sure, I should probably warn ya-"

"Don't tell me nothing, just punch me!"

Fidds presses his lips into a line and throws his fist - and jabs Stan on the chin just hard enough to tilt Stan's head half an inch to the side.

"That's it?" Stan guffaws and shakes his head. "That was barely a tap!"

"I don't wanna hurt ya!" Fidds says, sounding so conflicted that Stan gets this urge to pull him into a headlock and ruffle his hair and drive the worry away.

Instead he riles him up.

"Please," he says. "Fidds, look - one of these days I'm not gonna be there to take a hit for you, and then what're you gonna do? Just let some jerk punch ya around?"

Fidds looks slightly perplexed. "Where is this all comin from? No, Stanley, I am NOT gonna just let some jerk punch me around."

"Good! So you gotta learn to defend yourself!" Fidds still looks unsure, so Stan tries a different angle. "Okay, how 'bout this - what if some jerks are beating up on me and Ford, huh? You're just gonna let em?"

Fidds looks up. "What? No, I am not!"

"You're gonna defend us?"

"Dangnabbit, Stan - of course I am!"

"Not gonna let us get our teeth kicked out?"

"What!? No!"

"Then show me!" Stan slaps a hand against his own chin. "Right here, come on! I'm some jerk who just threw your friend Stan to the ground and I'm about to kick him in the gut, what're ya gonna-"

The blow lands hard. Stan's head jerks to the side and he's thrown off balance, and he sees actual stars before his vision clears again and he realizes he's crumpled on the ground. His head swims as hands pull him around onto his back.

"Mother o pearl!" Fidds gasps. He's got his hands on Stan's face, careful touch at complete odds with the punch he'd just landed in the same place. "Are you alright? I am so sorry! I hit ya and you weren't even ready and - you just got me so riled up and I tried to tell ya and I shoulda said earlier instead o just lettin ya show me all those moves, but I just wanted to, well - goddangit, Ford, this ain't funny."

Ford's laughing as he comes up behind them, looking down at where Stan is staring kinda dazedly up at Fidds, who's kneeling by his side in the cool grass. "We did try to tell him, Fiddleford."

"Tell me what?" Stan demands. His jaw is already aching but Fidds’s hands feel kinda good so he doesn't tell him to move.

"Fiddleford was a boxing champion back back in his hometown," Ford says.

Stan blinks. "Bwuh-?"

"Not much of a champion," Fidds says with a wince, but he's blushing a bit as he goes on, "It was never anythin official, but - well, I did win more than a few matches at some backyard parties, see, and - well, people usually don't think I got any hittin power or can defend myself, but my Ma's been all too happy to teach me since I was little, and-"

The guy's rambling, and Stan quits being able to understand what he's saying half way through cause the accent is coming in thick and Ford’s chuckling and standing there looking proud of his best friend and Stan’s a little worried that he's still jarred from the hit, cause when he looks at Fidds kneeling there, one hand one Stan's chest and the other bashfully rubbing his neck while he rambles on - he's still seeing stars.

Later, while Stan sits in the living room with an bag of ice in his jaw and Fiddleford sitting next to him, still rambling about all the times he'd knocked a few guys into the mud in some backcountry hoedown get-together or whatever, Stan can lean back and relax and grin, knowing Fidds is gonna be just fine.

He can't wait to teach him wrestling.

[nomsfaultau]

Lord what fools these mortals be!Philza is a little silly shall we say

[phoenixtakaramono]

🔞 ‘The Price of Milk’ Butchlander Threadfic 🥛

For Butchlander Week 2024, DAY 2 PROMPT: Milk

SUMMARY: Have you seen Karl Urban’s obscure New Zealand 2000 movie: The Price of Milk? That’s it; that’s the plot. The gist of this short 🔞 oneshot threadfic is Butcher has been working undercover as a devastatingly sexy but unremarkable dairy farmer, and the main twist is the handsome amnesiac “John” who’s been temporarily lodging with him “until he regains his memories” might be hiding a little secret of his own. I am agog that seemingly no one’s written this fever dream of an AU before, where Butcher’s actor is a literal dairy farmer and you got Homelander with his milk fetish?? …Very well. I volunteer as tribute!

(The rest of the threadfic can be read here!)

If you don’t have a Twitter account, I have screenshotted the rest of the spicy half below the line break:

A/N - Thoughts? Opinions? I'd love to hear them! Sorry for the somewhat abrupt ending but this was 67 tweets long when I'd originally planned around 25, haha. If I'd do anything differently, I think I'd keep Butcher's alias as "ordinary civvie dairy farmer who immigrated from England" when the lovers reunite. That way it's even more fun(ny) when the truth comes out that Butcher is actually a badass secret spy working for the US government.

I want y'all to know he goes from this 👨🏻‍�� ➡️ to this 🔪 (iiiiit's the contrast)

(Now that you’re done reading, you can read my other 🔞 “milk” threadfic here. They’re unrelated alternate universes.)

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

AU where Zane Ninjago is the previous master of ice. like when he transferred his elemental powers over he also transferred his soul and he low-key reincarnated into this robo-body. cool beans. this means there's the potential of Zane starting to glimpse bits and pieces of past and not knowing why he can see it. the things master Wu talks about--why can he see them as if he were there?--he feels like he has experienced personally. give Zane a whole other crisis on top of after he finds out he's a nindriod not a human. this also means Zane in old clothes and styles from Master Wu's time whenever he has flashbacks which is a neat visual. like heck you could have someone other than Wu have previous villains that show up! you could balance that out a bit! Master of Ice's previous nemesis shows up ready to throw down when they discover he's technically still alive but also not. Zane questioning if this is his life at all. if he's Zane or someone else. If he was Zane before or if he was nothing. If he's Zane now or if he never was to begin with

[kinaesthetiqueer]

"no, wait, we were just trying to find a viable back up pulse point–! we were only practicing–! i mean, we were experimenting–! we were just testing something new–! we just didn't want to try it on the bed–!"

nora... there is no hetero explanation for this.

and once she comes down from that bloodhigh? weiss is gonna have a fucking fit.

[no, this scenario is not series canon for 10,001 reasons. yes, there are still a variety of later-series easter egg spoilers because i am incapable of shitposting inaccurately. yes, the femoral artery is located on one's inner thigh. no, this really isn't a euphemism; it just looks super suspicious to third parties. it actually is just the usual arterial blood drinking.]

[brutal-nemesis]

big question!! dude can we please see a scene in the AU where castys has his tongue cut off and he has to deal with that? like man, the shock and the pain and the fuckin grief? and neteri just being herself ofc

anyway the latest erebus chapter was heartbreaking you’re so good at being awful to these lads (i can’t stop reading)

Thank you I try,,,,,

Okay strap in fellas I think this is banger as hell I had a great time and let me know if you have any other requests for the AU!

Castys & Terror AU Masterlist - Castys Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: shockingly, tongue gets cut off! some suffocation as well

Castys wasn’t great at sitting in chairs normally, something his parents had always reprimanded him for, but, hey, they’d never taken it as far as to fucking tie him to one, and Castys was grateful. This shit was uncomfortable. Like, yeah, the rough ropes around his wrists and ankles were tight and itchy, but also the position just sucked. Not that he’d rather be standing or something-

“You must be Castys!” The door had swung open, and now this little lady with a white coat on was walking up to him. 

“Yes, I’m Castys,” he said flatly as she scurried behind him before coming back without her bag. And then she just…stared at him. Castys wasn’t sure what she was looking at, since there really wasn’t much to see, just, like, him. Eventually her eyes wandered up to his, and she jumped in place a bit.

“Oh, right, I’m Neteri.” She stuck her hand out like she expected him to shake it.

“You know I’m tied up, right?”

“Ah. Yeah.” Her skin was dark enough that it wasn’t immediately obvious that she was blushing, but Castys was pretty sure she was. She ended up awkwardly grabbing his right hand and shaking it a bit. “I, um, I’ll be preparing you for this afternoon. Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Well, you’re not tied to a chair so I think you’ll be okay.”

She laughed. “You’re right, you’re right, but I’m just…I think I’m going to do something I’m not supposed to do.”

Castys raised an eyebrow. “Let me go because I’m funny?”

Neteri rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, so clearly she did think he was funny. “No, you’re staying put, sorry bud. But I think I’m going to keep you. You’re kind of perfect.” She tried to cup his cheek in her hand, but Castys leaned away, staring at her with wide eyes.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” His mouth was really dry all of a sudden, he wasn’t perfect, he was a fuck-up, a useless heir, that had been his goal, he wasn’t good at anything he was supposed to be good at, he wasn’t well-mannered or polite, he had a huge fucking scar on his face and a lopsided smile because of it, he was filthy and vulgar and didn’t have any interest in getting married he was absolutely anything but perfect. So why the hell did she want him?

“It’s not important right now. You’ve got a big day ahead of you!” She clapped her hands, dismissing the subject entirely. He wanted to press her further, but after seeing the lovely object she pulled out of her pocket, everything else was forgotten.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Aw, what are you gonna do about it, Castys? I thought you were tied to a chair!” Great, now it was his turn to feel his face grow hot, because, yeah, what the fuck was he gonna do?

Normally, he doubted he’d immediately recognize it for what it was, but today, right now, after just being told this lady wanted to keep him, it was instantly clear. And Neteri was right, he was only able to squirm uselessly and lean away as she wrapped the collar around his neck without much trouble. His first swallow after she’d sealed it shut felt horrible, and he absolutely did not want to get used to it.

“See, it’s not so bad. It looks cute on you!” She ruffled his hair, which only made Castys more uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to be cute. I’m not a fucking dog.” He wasn’t sure whether the collar was part of Neteri’s weird desires or just to humiliate him, but either way he hated it.

“No, you’re not, but you’re also not a prince anymore, and you’re the property of the Xernan Empire, and this is a good reminder of that,” Neteri said as she walked around behind him, probably to her bag. Castys rolled his eyes. He didn’t need to be reminded that he wasn’t a prince, since it was his favorite new development in all of this. Unless…unless it wasn’t just a reminder for him, but for everyone else, too…He really, really hoped there wasn’t going to be some sort of public display, but given how Neteri’d said he had a “big day” ahead…fuck, that was probably the case, huh?

“Now, I’m going to…oh, I might get in so much trouble for this,” Neteri muttered as she stared at the floor, standing in front of him once again. She had leather gloves on, which would have been nice earlier when she was touching him, and she was holding…a pair of shears? He didn’t think she’d put on gloves if she was just going to cut his hair, and given that she thought she might get in trouble for it, it seemed like she was going to…maim him somehow. Castys curled his hands into fists as Neteri slapped her cheeks with her palms, still talking to herself. “No, I’m going to do this. I deserve it. It’s not that far off from what the emperor wants. Okay,” she held the shears up and gave Castys a concerningly bright smile. “Any last words?”

For once, Castys didn’t take the opportunity to speak.

Instead, he locked his jaw shut tight, teeth clenched so hard it hurt, lips pressed together, walls of protection around his tongue. 

That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it?

Neteri cocked her head, watching him. “Nothing to say all of a sudden? No jokes?” Her smile disappeared as her eyes narrowed. “You figured it out, didn’t you, Castys? What I’m going to do to you.”

He didn’t bother nodding.

Neteri stepped up to him, her knee on the chair in between his legs, leaning over him, her face right above his as he craned back to avoid her. “You’re going to have to get used to obeying me, Castys.” The cold metal of the shears rested on his cheek. “So open your mouth.”

If there’s one thing Castys was good at, it was disobeying orders.

After a few moments of neither of them moving, Neteri pinched Castys’s nose shut with her free hand, not saying a word. Fine, he could play that game. Hold on as the pressure in his chest built, as his head started to spin, as his vision started to darken, every fiber of his being screaming at him to just give in to the inevitable and take a breath. He could do it quick, a little gasp, fast enough that she wouldn’t be able to do anything. Okay, three, two…

The exhale was shaky, but it was fine, just a quick inhale as he snapped his mouth shut-

His teeth scraped against metal, the sensation sending shivers down his spine.

Neteri stared at him with a detached coldness as she rotated the shears, forcing his jaw open wide, wide enough for her to stick her hand in and grab his tongue, pulling it out despite his attempts to pull it back, turning the shears to the side now, opening them up, the cold blades-

Snip.

Castys’s mouth was hot it was burning he was choking the smell of blood was so strong he was suffocating on it her hand was still in his mouth her fingers pressed against his wound magic piercing through his jaw he’d scream if he had the air and then that was it her hand was gone he lurched forward coughing and spitting blood and saliva all down the front of the threadbare shirt he’d been given and once he saw the discarded little piece of pink flesh on the floor he couldn’t look at anything else he couldn’t believe that was it it was gone it wasn’t in his mouth his mouth was empty there was only the blood still dripping out and when Neteri laid a hand on his back he wanted to growl at her not to touch him but he couldn’t he couldn’t say anything anymore he was quiet nothing to say no thoughts or opinions of his own just how his parents had wanted him-

“It’s alright, Castys, just breathe. It was a little more difficult than it needed to be, but you did it.” And why did it need to be at all? “Just two more things left today and then you can rest. And then hopefully…” Her hand slid up, resting on the back of his neck, on that awful collar, and Castys wanted to scream. He never, ever wanted to belong to her.

But what he wanted didn’t matter anymore.

Castys was dragged out and whipped and branded and left out on display, brought back and patched up by Neteri and given soup that he couldn’t taste, and when the door slammed shut behind her, he finally allowed himself to cry.

His back and chest hurt, of course, the wounds aggravated no matter how he moved or what position he laid in, but he could deal with it. It was nothing compared to what he’d lost, the little pocket of empty space inside his mouth.

Words were all he’d ever have to really fight back, complaining when he was forced to do things he didn’t want to, scaring off all the suitors his parents picked out, jokes keeping him calm when he was scared or upset, even when he couldn’t do anything he could still say something, make sure everyone knew how he felt, and now he was more helpless than ever before and he couldn’t say a single fucking thing. 

He didn’t even know where he was going to end up, either sold off to some asshole or left in Neteri’s clutches, and no matter what, he wasn’t going to be treated like a person. The collar made it pretty clear. He was less than human now, a pet, a lab rat, property, something that didn’t need to have thoughts or opinions anymore. 

He’d rather be a prince after all.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump 

@starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump​ 

@painsandconfusion @i-can-even-burn-salad @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds​ @whump-queen​

@whumpedydump

[illusion-of-sea-axes]

Your eyes used to be brown, right, Tucker?

[sailing-through-hawkins]

okay i originally wrote this for the steddie microfic challenge but failed epically when i realized i was way over the word count 〒▽〒 still i really like this so i'm gonna tag @wynnyfryd and hope you enjoy it regardless! it's set around steve's senior year i'd say idk

So here's the thing.

Eddie knows he's not supposed to be at the pool after-hours for like, security or whatever but -

But sometimes you drop one of your lucky guitar picks while watching swim practice (respectfully of course) and only realize it halfway through your Hellfire session, which means after-hours sneaking in it is.

And he expected to have to double back and bring Frank along to pick the lock but the doors aren't even locked.

Is this a good idea, Eddie thinks, to wander unsuspectingly into an unlocked sports facility frequented by assholes who would probably half-drown someone if they thought it'd be funny?

No.

But Eddie's always been down for bad ideas.

He sneaks his way in, barely makes a sound, and is immediately shoved up against the wall by -

"Munson?"

Steve Harrington.

"What -" Eddie chokes, Harrington's arm making for a heavy pressure on his neck that is definitely cutting off his air supply. "Dude -"

Harrington blinks at him, any sliver of that predatory gaze melting away, before letting go and stepping back. "Oh, sorry. You okay?"

Bent over, hands on his knees, Eddie tries to catch his breath and stare up at Harrington as incredulously as he can at the same time.

"Sorry, stupid question, right." Harrington rubs the back of his neck with a wince and Eddie - realizes he's shirtless. And wet.

"Are you - are you seriously swimming right now?" He coughs out, straining to keep his eyes up above that jawline. "In the middle of winter?"

The guy just shrugs.

What the hell.

"Also," Eddie stands up straight, crossing his arms with a squint, doing his best to hide the shivers racking up his spine. Harrington's eyes catch on something behind him. "What the fuck was that, man? Your first instinct at getting caught under the bleachers is to fucking jump people?"

No response from the King, who apparently finds Eddie's hair more interesting than a damn conversation, considering how fucking unfocused his eyes are. Probably just wants to get back to whoever he's sucking face with, the dick.

"Whatever, man, just let me find my shit and I'll get out of -"

"Here," Harrington says, swiftly taking Eddie's hand, leaving him zero time to react, and pressing his guitar pick into his palm?! He pushes Eddie’s fingers to curl over the pick, patting the fist gently. "Try to stay out of here after school, Munson. Shit gets dangerous."

"Wha - how - what the fuck?" Eddie snatches his hand back. He stares.

The pool water reflects across Harrington's face, a blue glow that makes him look...otherworldly. Ethereal, even. Brown locks of hair turned damp, stuck to his skin, framing his face and curling around his eyes that look too dark for the evening light, barely distinct from the dilated pupils they hold. Water drips down his nose, fingers, chest, audibly splashing onto the wet pool floor, echoing out into the empty space.

"What..." Eddie hesitates, looking back up at those deep, void-like eyes. "What are you doing here, Harrington?"

The guy smiles, tilting his head at Eddie, eyes half-lidded. "Go home, Munson."

He steps closer to Eddie, leaning in, flooding the air with an acrid smell, some combination of chlorine and smoke. He stares at Eddie, giving a small nod and smiles again.

There's no light reflecting off his eyes, Eddie realizes before he steps back, keeps stepping until his back hits the exit door.

Harrington waves a hand, fingers bending up and down one by one. "Try to stay out of the dark."

The door shuts in Eddie's face and he runs.

[stevieraebarnes]

No Brakes This Time, I Slit the Line

jaydick | T+ | 8k words

Here it is: the F1 au I've been working on for years. Finished with the help of @justtoarguewithyou and the @jaydick-week WIP bash 🎉🎉🎉

[cowgurrrl]

Raining in June

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: I’m as surprised as you are tbh

Summary: “Nothing is better than to live a storyless life that needs no writing for meaning— when I am gone, let others say they lost a happy man, though no one can tell how happy I was.” - Missed Time by Ha Jin, aka you and Joel get married

Warnings: none but this is unedited and is going straight from my notes app to tumblr so good luck

Unlike most things in your life, there’s not much to the story. There are no nitty-gritty details or descriptions of gore to tell. No names said with a reverence reserved for the dead. No emotional distance. It was just a Tuesday morning. It’d been raining and small mudslides near the mountains made some people nervous. Not you. You and Joel were tucked away in your bedroom as Ellie slept down the hall and cold rain knocked on the windowpanes like an uninvited guest.

You woke up around the same time, each with your own little gasps and starts as you breached consciousness. He wrapped you in his arms and hummed contently when you kissed his jaw. You talked quietly about how you slept, the rain, Ellie’s parent-teacher conference, and whatever else was on your mind that early. It was normal. You didn’t think anything was off when you got up to go to the bathroom.

The orange light of the vanity was too harsh for your eyes and you had to squint as you washed your hands. You remembered thinking you needed to go to the store for toothpaste or a new set of razors for Joel. You were about to ask Joel what else he needed when you stepped out of the door but the look on his face stopped you. He shifted from lying down to sitting on the edge of the bed, the weight of the world seemingly heavy on his shoulders. Big, emotional eyes stared into yours and something in the air shifted. You couldn’t describe it. Something was just different. He was different.

“Marry me.” He said so softly you swore you misheard it.

“What?”

“Marry me,” he said again and opened his hand, beckoning you to him. You went to him, took his big hand in yours, and his thumb immediately rubbed against your skin. “I don’t have a big, fancy ring or anythin’, but I’ll work and I’ll get you one. I’ll give you whatever you want. I will, I swear it. And I know I’m not a half good enough man to get to marry you but I love you,” he smiled big and crooked. “And I kinda think you love me too. Unless I’m crazy?”

“Not about that.” You laughed and he did too. It was bright and happy. You remember the way it made your heart flutter.

“So, whaddya think? Will you marry me?” He finally asked. You must’ve nodded or said yes or something because suddenly you were both smiling and kissing and the world felt like yours.

There’s not much to the story. There wasn’t a ring or a secret party waiting downstairs. You cried and kissed and laughed. But it was just you two in your bedroom surrounded by the sounds of a thunderstorm and warmth. That’s all you needed. When Ellie woke up, you told her the plan. She was just excited she got out of school for it. Together, the three of you went down to the George’s metal shop and asked him to make rings. Nothing special. Just simple gold bands to fit on your left fingers. Still, when you tried them on, both of you smiled like idiots.

Ellie grabbed Tommy and Maria as you two walked hand-in-hand to the courthouse. Tommy had about a million questions, starting with, “when the fuck did you even propose?” Joel just laughed and clapped his brother on the shoulder. Maria called you crazy. You didn’t deny it. When the registrar called your names, you, Joel, and your posse stepped up with you.

There’s not much to the story. There weren’t any flowers or cake. You weren’t even wearing white. Ellie served as ring bearer, person of honor, and witness. You held Joel’s hands and repeated the vows the officiant fed to you before slipping his new ring on. He did the same, even winking at you when he put your ring on. You kissed. Ellie and Tommy signed their names on your marriage license, and that was it.

So, one day, years down the line, when Charlie asks, “what was it like when you and Dad got married?” You’ll laugh and catch Joel’s eyes from across the kitchen table. He’ll wear his glasses to read and you’ll both be graying. And he’ll wink at you before returning to his book, smirking to himself. You’ll look at your daughter who looks too much like your husband and shrug.

“You know, there’s not much to the story.”

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha

[heich0e]

aran second in command right hand man 🫡 what about suna...

i've said it before and i'll say it again yakuza!aran is the most eligible of all of the inarizaki bachelors because he's the most normal, all things considered.

suna's the same rank roughly as the miyas. like a guard dog that gets sent out to keep problems at bay. but unlike the miyas he's rabid.

[tar-maitime]

rearrange the stars, pull them down to where you are

Rating: G Characters: Maedhros | Maitimo, Fingon | Findekano, Ereinion Gil-galad Additional: modern AU, baby fic, surprise baby acquisition WC: 1k

For @russingonweek Day 4 - Peace Prompt - Fluff

��Finno?”

He could hear Maedhros coming in and shutting the apartment door behind her. “In here, Russe!” he called from the kitchen.

Fingon had gotten a start on fixing supper after she’d texted, during his own commute home, that she’d be a bit late home from work. This was a much less frequent occurrence since she’d gone to work for (of all people) his dad’s firm, so he hadn’t worried, and now he couldn’t imagine what could have her sounding so hesitant and half-guilty.

Then he turned as she entered the kitchen, and lost his train of thought entirely.

Maedhros was holding a baby.

“Russe...” he began, and then had no clue where to go from there. The baby wasn’t theirs, he was almost positive; aside from the fact that he would’ve noticed Maedhros being pregnant, they’d been starting to suspect that she couldn’t have kids, at least not easily. It was wrapped up in a grimy bluish blanket and was fussing quietly, while Maedhros automatically soothed it even as she looked at Fingon helplessly. 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” she said. “There - there used to be a baby drop box down the street from my office, but it moved a few months ago. I was walking home and this woman came along who I suppose was looking for it. But when she couldn’t find it she just turned and handed me the baby. I swear I’d never seen her before in my life; I have no clue why she handed me her newborn, but when I tried to hand him back or even get an explanation, she just said, ‘It’s you or nothing.’ Then she turned and walked away.”

Fingon blinked down at the baby in Maedhros’ arms. It - he - was slightly squashed and red in the way all newborns were, but was fundamentally adorable, with a tiny fuzz of dark curls already. He couldn’t grasp why anyone would be able to just give him up.

Oh, no.

He looked away from the baby for a moment and finally registered the shopping bags hanging off of Maedhros’ arms. “Did you...go load up on baby stuff?”

Maedhros flushed red. “Kind of. Yeah. A lot. I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have --”

“-- tried to navigate all that with a baby and without calling me in as a second pair of hands?” Fingon finished smoothly, and Maedhros did a double take. “Russe, he’s beautiful. Of course you want to keep him.”

“There’s no way it’ll work,” Maedhros said miserably. “We can’t just - sooner or later someone besides us would have to know about it - if nothing else when we take him to a hospital to get checked up - and then there’ll be a pile of legal stuff and they won’t let us keep him. He’ll end up in the system or something and --”

“And then we can do our best to make sure we’re the ones to adopt him,” Fingon said gently, placing a calming hand on her arm. “Or, honestly, we could claim a distant cousin gave him to us because she couldn’t cope; that’d give us a better claim.”

“If they did a genetic test...”

“Adopted cousin,” Fingon added. “Russe, I can see how much you want this baby. Any fool could. And I love you, and I already love him, and I will help you do whatever it takes, all right?”

Maedhros’ shoulders slumped slightly. “You’re insane, you know that? Absolutely ridiculous.”

“Well, you knew that going in.” Fingon wrapped an arm around her to hold her and the baby both. “And I know you were coming up with plans and ideas yourself the whole way home, so why don’t you tell me about them, while I help you clean him up and set things up.”

***

Two months, several legal consultations, and a stunning amount of paperwork later:

“It’s a good thing I went to work for your dad when I did,” Maedhros commented, hoisting their now-official son onto her hip. “Can you imagine Bauglir and Gorthaur letting me work from home this much? And I know for a fact their maternity leave policy was the worst.”

Fingon grinned, leaning over to claim the baby and steal a kiss on the way. “Well, I’m certainly glad it was my dad you switched to,” he returned, “since he’s willing to enforce me getting my share of Gil days. It’s my turn today, remember? And we’ll be just fine. No hair-brained mischief.”

Maedhros blinked. “Is it Thursday? I could have sworn it was Wednesday.”

“It’s definitely Thursday. My day,” Fingon assured.”

Maedhros’ eyes narrowed. “There’s no way it’s Thursday already. Are you sure you aren’t trying to trick me?”

“As generous as Sulimo’s been about my working from home, I don’t think he’d go along with this kind of prank,” Fingon said dryly. “We’ve been getting up a lot lately with Gil and you’re tired, is all. See, look.”

He held up his phone, and they both stared at the date on the screen before nearly collapsing into laughter.

“Well, I was right that it couldn’t be Thursday yet,” Maedhros finally said, wiping away tears of mirth, “but I think we’re both tired from getting up all night.”

“Perhaps,” Fingon conceded. “But more importantly - it’s Tuesday, so I still get Gil for the day.”

“All right, you win.” Maedhros let out a mock-put-upon sigh. “Just for that, watch me bring home another random surprise baby.”

They both snorted at that, but Fingon raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Something you haven’t been telling me, Russe?”

Maedhros shook her head firmly. “Oh, no. I promise. No more for at least a couple of years, remember? I did agree.”

“Fair enough.” Fingon raised Gil’s tiny chubby fist. “Wave goodbye to Amme, Gil. She’s got to go fight the forces of evil.”

“Ah, yes, the dread powers of darkness known as legal depositions,” Maedhros said, deadpan. She kissed each of them quickly. “If I survive the great battle to come, I’ll see you tonight. Love you both.”

“Love you, too. So does Gil, even if he can’t say it yet.”

“That’s all right.” Maedhros smiled down at their son once more before she turned to go. “I know anyway.”

[snowangeldotmp3]

hello, back again with more supergirl robin! this was also written a little while ago, but idk i might actually pick this au back up sometime, just for funsies. who knows.

Supergirl takes a deep breath.

“I spent so much of my life trying to fit in and be normal. Not to draw any attention to myself, to make myself smaller and fit into this box that everyone else seemed to fit in to. And I could never make it work. No matter what I did, or how hard I tried, it’s like everyone knew there was something… different about me. 'Course, they just thought I was a little weird, not that I was a literal space alien.”

Nancy smiles softly, something warm stirring in her when Supergirl grins back at her. She understands, kind of. Of expectations and following them and fitting into a box you’re not meant for. She gets it. 

Supergirl continues. “And it’s hard, you know? All of that weight on your shoulders. Especially at fifteen years old. Like high school isn’t already hell on Earth.

“But then I think you get to this point where the dam just, breaks, you know? There’s a point where you have to realize that you will never fit in, you’ll never be what they want you to be. So you have to make that choice. Do I want to keep pretending to be what I’m not? Or do I live as myself, regardless of others think?”

Nancy nods, humming in agreement. She hadn’t expected Supergirl to be so profound. She’d fully prepared for this to be a ‘never meet your heroes’ moment. That it was all an act with Supergirl, that she put on this persona of hope, help, and compassion for all, that once the cameras stopped rolling, or nobody else was there to see it, she'd be a completely different person.

She's not. 

Nancy wants to be surprised that Supergirl’s so genuine. She should be surprised, especially since she was so worried. But it just rolls off of her. Nancy doesn’t write this down, the whole interview is recorded anyway, but there’s just something so personal about this, that she knows it would take away from the moment. She can’t help but be drawn in by Supergirl’s words, either. It’s magnetic, hypnotizing, and weirdly inspiring.

Supergirl crosses her arms, leaning against the balcony facing Nancy. “It’s not easy to be yourself, but it lifts that weight off your shoulder,” she pauses, and a chuckle escapes her. “Sorry, it’s just… It’s funny, you see it everywhere, too. ‘Be yourself,’ she air quotes. “But they don’t mean it. It’s ‘be yourself’ until you’re too weird or too gay or, hell, not from here. It’s a marketed version of yourself. Which is worse, I think.

“But it’s hard sometimes to be honest with yourself. To figure out who you are and where you fit. Sometimes you don’t fit, sometimes you have to carve out a space for yourself and say, ‘No. I do belong here.’”

And it’s…wow. The emotion in Supergirl’s eyes, it’s raw. Nancy can tell this is not some hokey hope and acceptance speech. This is, was, Supergirl’s life.

Nancy does write that down. 

She wants to say something. Something smart and intelligible and how Nancy agrees with everything and how she understands where she’s coming from. 

Except…

The only thing Nancy’s mind seems to focus on is the fact that Supergirl is gay.

Nancy remains quiet, taking in and processing the information that’s just spilled in front of her, ignoring the way her face heats up the longer she thinks about it. About how Hawkins' one and only superhero, is gay. Supergirl must take this as a bad sign, because she’s quickly filling the silence again. “Sorry. For rambling like that. It’s like my brain just decided to word vomit.” She winces, arms crossing over her chest, caving into herself.

For a moment, Nancy is reminded of Robin, of rambling words and hands moving while she talks. She can see why they’d be good friends. 

“No! No, don’t worry about it at all.” Nancy crosses her arms, forgetting the notebook. “I get it, actually. Trying to be something you aren’t.”

Supergirl quirks a brow. “Really?”

Nancy nods. “Like you said, High school’s hell on earth. I thought I could balance being the perfect daughter and the perfect student and the perfect girlfriend. And I couldn’t. I was living a lie.”

She doesn’t give her the full story. Supergirl might be open and genuine and able to talk about all these things, but Nancy is not. Some of these wounds are still fresh, Nancy’s walls are still up. Besides, this is supposed to be a professional interview, not a sleepover where they share their deepest, darkest secrets.

Supergirl must see through some of it, see some of Nancy’s pain. Or maybe she’s just an empath. Maybe that’s a secret power she has. She places a firm hand over Nancy’s, and whispers, “I’m sorry.” 

And it’s so warm and gentle and heartfelt that Nancy… Nancy doesn’t know what to make of it, but she knows she’s got to change the subject. Fast. She cannot develop a crush on Supergirl.

[justanothergeneralkrow]

The World of Sayuri: A Palace of Humility

Palace Ruler: Humilitas Kitagawa

Yusuke’s palace is a fledged out world of the Sayuri painting made up of colorful buildings and flowing landscapes. Everything is a perfect still, a perfect piece of inspiration for an artist’s landscape painting. Simultaneously made of real, or more accurately realistic seeming objects, and of careful brush strokes. A world that is never static and constantly reconfiguring itself to suit and inspire every single cognition housed within it. The palace was made as a hub of artistic expression with Yusuke encouraging his constituents to work on different pieces of art year round to be presented at the large and ornate Arts Festival where the pieces can be critiqued by other artists. This event is how the palace citizens negotiate their social standing, by 1. Creating iconic, masterful and deeply meaningful pieces of art or 2. Becoming the great critiques of art and helping to elevate the vision of other artists through meaningful advice and critique. The main goal of the festival as stated by Yusuke himself is to celebrate different forms of art and help the artists improve so that they can make better and better pieces.

Unfortunately for Yusuke his palace plans didn’t go as planned, a small group of the artists grew sharper tongues and their critiques became malicious. Rather than appreciating the pieces and looking at the ways the artist has either failed to fully portray their ideas or ways to improve their technique. This new group of artists began to champion Yusuke’s art as the best and deviation from his style and technique was seen as bad form. Their structured mindset became popular and started to spread among the other cognitions and Yusuke responded by sectioning off his palace into different tiers. This causes Yusuke to go from a passionate mentor of his subjects to a lackadaisical artist who only appears during the Arts Festival. To enter the deeper areas of the palace a test was set up where a painting by Yusuke would be presented and the person or people viewing the work would be tasked with critiquing the piece. Those who made critiques that furthered and met Yusuke’s goal for his palace would be allowed to go further. There were three palace segments and of course this means there are subsequently three tests.

The first test presents a painting titled “Of Sun and Wine” which depicts Yusuke drinking wine from Dionysus’ hands and basking in the light of Apollo’s sun. The second test presents a painting titled “Rebirth” which depicts the Shibuya Teikyu Building Accessway with warm sunlight shining through the accessway windows, a black cat with a yellow collar and blue eyes laying on the floor sleeping and absent of people and vehicles. The third and final test presents a painting titled “IS DESTINY MADNESS” which depicts Yusuke and Madarame’s face melding together with Yusuke’s face contorted into a terrified expression and Madarame’s smiling maniacally with sweat dripping from his forehead.

The first test has been passed by a majority of the palace goers, the second test has been passed by a minority of the palace goers and no one has been able to pass through the third test. The test presents the Infiltrators with a variety of ways to explore further into the palace depths. It is possible to get through the palace by never participating in the test instead fighting their way through the guards. However this will prevent them from gaining access to equipment that will let them enter rooms that give access to Yusuke’s will seeds. The rooms are themed around the artists: Yayoi Kusama, Takashi Murakami and Chiharu Shiota.

Within Yusuke’s palace his treasure takes the form of an ornate paint brush hidden under the floorboards of his private painting room. When the Infiltrators arrive to steal the treasure the roof of the room opens and Yusuke snatches the brush away from them, the walls falling to open into a battlefield. The brush grows in size becoming the length of a spear and Yusuke unveils his persona, St Francis of Assisi.

Finally Yusuke himself appears in the palace reclining on floating clouds wearing a painted obi and an elongated Yukata that trains behind him. He wears his hair up with a topper to accentuate the hairstyle and a bit of hair covering one eye. Additionally he wears a face of makeup inspired by traditional Japanese makeup.

[myonmukyuu]

please consider: setsupomu vampire x werewolf AU 🙏

I've been sitting on this idea for a really long time and it's honestly too ambitious to completely draw out so please accept concept art 🙇‍♀️

lore dump:

[peppermint-whiskers]

Lmao I love ironic characters uwu