#love spell no go au

[scoops-aboy86]

More of the love spell no go au, because of course I did. This one is a little more bittersweet, because it covers the start of Steve's reaction to both the Russian torture and creeping dread that the Upside Down stuff will keep coming back.

He and Eddie are still close! But Steve is about to make some reluctant choices about his eating and activity habits, because he views it as his duty to help keep everyone he cares about safe.

Part 1, part 1.5, part 2

The day Eddie walks up to Scoops Ahoy and it’s still shuttered, he immediately knows that something is wrong. He has Steve’s schedule memorized, and even if he’d called out Robin would still be here. Uneasy, he goes back out to the parking lot and tries casting a locator spell in his van, sweat dripping into his eyes because the AC is still on the fritz. 

According to the spell, Steve is miles below the mall. That can’t be right. And usually when Eddie’s magic is a flop he keeps getting different wrong answers, like a math problem that you know you’re forgetting a step somewhere but can’t figure out what it is no matter how many times you do it over. This is consistent: below the mall. Or, below the mall and shifting gradually towards the left at a reasonable walking pace. 

It’s so weird that Eddie speeds home and wakes Uncle Wayne, which is usually something he avoids doing but this feels important. Wayne helps him with the spell, but the result is still the same. All Wayne can do is shrug and tell Eddie to trust his intuition when it comes to magic, because making it work through the earth like that can be tricky but Eddie must have at least been casting strong to get such consistent results, and goes back to bed. 

Eddie’s confidence in his magic has frankly been shattered ever since the love spell backfired, and he’s actually woefully out of practice for that exact reason. But he drives to approximately directly above where Steve is (a field maybe a mile or two from the mall) and starts casting whatever protection spells he can think of. One of them might only protect Steve from getting cavities, or it might prevent the loss of entire teeth and/or finger and toe nails. He’s not sure. But hey, the dude works in an ice cream shop, better safe than sorry right?

The downside of being so out of practice is that Eddie wears himself out. He keeps at it for most of Wednesday night and Thursday morning, but passes out around afternoon and wakes up in the back of the van after dark drenched in sweat from laying in the van all day even with the windows cracked open, probably lucky he didn’t get heat stroke. At first he can’t figure out where he is or what woke him, but he stumbles outside and sees a plume of smoke rising from where Starcourt Mall used to be, and…

Steve is just walking over to check on Nancy and Jonathan when Eddie’s van screeches up and Eddie himself jumps the barrier that’s supposed to keep civilians out. That’s the first word that comes to Steve’s mind—civilian—because for a few months there he’d managed to forget. But his head hurts, his face hurts, he’d nearly had a fingernail pried off until Robin had blurted out about the code, and the military guys still had yet to find his car keys that the Russians had confiscated. Steve is tired and hungry and still waiting to find out how bad the car crash (which he hadn’t mentioned to the paramedics, one too many things to remember at the time) fucked up his neck, and he forgets to self-moderate. He drops his shock blanket to grab Eddie in a clingy hug, eyes shut tight as he huffs “Don’t ask what happened, just don’t” into Eddie’s shoulder. 

The scents of leather and weed have never been more comforting before. 

“Hey Munson,” Robin says tiredly, wandering over. “We’re friends-in-law now.”

“What?” Eddie manages over Steve’s disheveled, unwashed hair. 

“Steve and I threw up together and became platonic soul mates,” she explains. 

“Trauma bonded,” Steve adds, still into Eddie’s jacket. Which kind of explains it a little better. Sort of. 

“Not asking,” Eddie decides after a confused moment. “Platonic soulmates, got it. Uh…” He looks around helplessly, recognizing Nancy and Jonathan in the background but no one else in the crowd and he’s just. Standing here with a magnificent hangover and an arm full of Steve Harrington in a bloodied sailor suit. “Anyone need a ride home?”

Only Steve and Robin take him up on the ride, which is fine. He drops Robin off first, and as he’s pulling out of her driveway Steve says, “I don’t know if it’s okay to go to sleep with a concussion.”

Eddie eases the break back on and turns to stare at him. “You have a concussion?”

Steve blinks slowly back at him. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Well… didn’t the EMTs tell you what to do? Like, how to tell if you should go to a hospital or something?”

He shrugs. “I don’t remember. Um… my parents aren’t home though, so I don’t know… Could I stay with you?”

Immediately Eddie thinks of Steve’s big house in Loch Nora, which he’d skulked around a time or two to sell at parties and pine from a distance, compared to the single-wide Munson trailer in Forest Hills. “I don’t know if you’d be comfortable—”

“It’s too much empty space,” Steve says, and there’s a look in his eyes that Eddie hasn’t seen since the first few times he bought weed. Like he’ll sit up all night jumping at shadows. And Eddie gets not wanting to be alone after being in a mall fire (apparently?), but what had put that look there before Starcourt?

“… My place it is.”

Medically, Steve is actually fine to stay alone. He hadn’t been the last time around, after Billy had cracked that plate on his skull, and that’s why Hopper had sent him home with Dustin once the gate was closed; Mrs. Henderson had been a nurse before turning to telemarketing as a way to stay home more with her son. As sure as Steve had been at the time that the Russians had beaten him harder than that, he’s much better then than he had been in November. 

Except he’s not. Because Hopper is dead, and even with the gate closed this shit had still managed to come back, and that makes Steve the man of the group but he’s too scared to sleep in his own house, which is full either of dark ceilings for monsters to crawl out of or light bulbs that could start flickering at any moment. So instead he’s here lying on his side, freshly showered and back to back with Eddie on a twin bed that feels like it’s seen better days. Staring at the bedroom door because the thought of sleeping with his back to it had made his throat feel tight. Maybe that was the whiplash, but he doubts it. 

Steve knows in his bones that the Upside Down isn’t done with Hawkins yet. He needs to train, to get ready… There’s Robin and Erica to think about, freshly drawn into this, one basically all his fault and the other too young to be dealing with horrors like this no matter whose fault it was. There’s Dustin (electrocuted that Russian doctor to death) and Max (watched Billy die) and the rest of the gremlins (Eleven, fuck, she just lost her dad), freshly re-traumatized and just two months out from entering the meat grinder that was freshman year at Hawkins High. If nothing else, he has to be strong for them. Which means…

Steve sighs, hugging himself tightly under the thin sheet. This whole summer he’d been leaning into doing whatever he felt like, and it hadn’t exactly prepared him for an emergency situation. He’d gotten lucky knocking out that one guard, sheer body weight leaning an extra oomph to the hit he’d landed, and that had ended the fight pretty quickly. But it hadn’t gotten him into the room with vent access fast enough to avoid getting himself and Robin captured. Being on the verge of needing to order the next size up in his work uniform hadn't lent him any protection against that Russian truth serum. All his summer of indulgences had led to was eating multiple bags of trash corn while trying to comprehend Back to the Future, which… not his proudest moment, really, but he had been drugged. 

Anyway. The point is, he needs to get back in shape. He is not going to turn into King Steve again, but maybe if he could just get some of it back. Start jogging and working out again, and not indulging his sweet tooth all the time. It’ll suck, but he’s gotta protect his friends—protect Eddie, who hopefully will never have to know about monsters and Russians and little girls with mind powers.

So Steve spends a sleepless night mourning the ice cream cones on his lunch breaks, and extra burgers or slices of pizza whenever ordering takeout, and the way Eddie watches him sometimes. And that last one… Maybe it won’t go away entirely, because they’re close now. Close enough that Steve can apparently just invite himself over and Eddie just lets him without protest, and Steve likes the trailer, likes that it’s small and cozy and actually looks lived in and loved. 

Around dawn, he rolls over and tentatively snuggles up against Eddie’s back, tucking an arm around him when Eddie moves unconsciously towards him rather than away. 

It’ll hurt to lose any of this. But he knows that Eddie will be some amount of disappointed in him for falling back into the jock mold, so… he just wants to hold on a little longer.

Tag list (comment to be added): @hotluncheddie

Part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11

[starry-bi-sky]

*points at bruce and danny in 'late at night when the nightingale sings'* THESE TWO MFERS MEAN SO MUCH TO MEEEE

no thoughts head empty just these two socially inept fools finding family in one another. like yes you go you funky little death omens stole that one from a comment on the fic, so if you see this you know who you are, discover that family isn't only tied in blood.

bUT onto less mushy stuff: these two being shenaniganizers; tomfools. Bruce realized that Danny didn't actually know he was Bruce Wayne and instead of going "oh actually im bruce wayne" he went; "hrm... how long can i keep this going until he realizes...."

like. i think they deserve to be the sillies. just utter goobers the both of them. like, danny makes the wittiest side comments, dry quips, under his breath towards Bruce while they're out in public (Danny covering his face with a face mask) and Bruce is trying not to laugh. Meanwhile if Bruce makes one sly comment about someone to Danny, Danny's gonna collapse with laughter.

Bruce plays straightman in most of their bits, he has the best fucking poker face. But also I firmly believe he does actually enjoy Danny's puns. Look me in the eyes- look me in the eyes. Try and tell me that a man that willingly agrees to call a car "the batmobile" even after his eight year old ward grows up (thus negating the need to go along with his antics) doesn't enjoy a good, well-placed pun. Look me in the eyes and try to tell me that. That's right you can't.

He's gonna spit out a well-placed pun in the driest, most boring Batman Voice Ever one day while he's getting ready for patrol, and Danny's gonna fucking die of laughter. He's gonna lose his mind. Bruce is going to have a half-dead sickly teenager laughing his lungs out in the chair. That's a new core memory right there, every time Danny thinks about that he's gonna start giggling.

just!!! these two making each other laugh! That's so important to me. So so much. I nEED Danny to get Bruce to smile and laugh and I need Bruce to make Danny do the same. Danny's all snark and sass and Bruce is all deadpan and dry quips. Do you all see my vision.

[raindropren]

I love DL!Pearl because She's Sad. Because nobody in the situation that caused her Loneliness was completely in the wrong. Scott and Cleo had their Reasons for not wanting to be with their soulbound/mates and while I would personally disagree with those reasons, that's not my choice to make, y'know? and to me, Pearl understands that in a way, but She's still sad, maybe alittle mad but more at the situation then truly at them. She plays up the anger slightly cause it's more fun to jokingly be angry and unhinged then just actually be sad.

Pearl was never in the wrong at first she was Sad, less-so angry at them, even if she had a right to be.

She's Sad, She's Lonely.

I love DL!Tilly(DL! instead of just Tilly cause my AU has her being a bigger part of everything) because to me, Tilly is the Mad one. They're Loyal. She's Loyal to Pearl and doesn't exactly like how Not-Angry Pearl is at the people causing her sadness, and Thus, is Angry for her. To me Tilly considers What Scott did as Pearls Soulbound to be a betrayal, and as an inherently loyal creature, That's maddening to them already.

[lunarharp]

revamped looong mermaid orufrey au :')

[funkyfreshinthebuilding]

look at this TERRIBLE drawing i made3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! also i hate jax and definitely have never drawn him

[fineapplequeen]

Just a lil silly thing.

[ladytauria]

Oh I see what we are doing now *ahem*

-Abyss left the ask box-

-Person with the most perfect Mustache you've ever seen-

*Strokes it* Trick or Treat my fine lady

*squinting* that’s a very fine mustache you have there, dear, but I SWEAR I’ve seen your face before

hmmm… well. while there are still several ideas hidden in my documents for some reason I feel compelled to give you my OTHER idea I had for my dear friend @deepwithintheabyss

jumping into this one without a lot of worldbuilding to try and curb the length dfghjk also this is a little rough/messy… i’d love to flesh it out a little more perhaps. call this a first draft version haha

It’s not until after Zatara has left that Tim gets to process how odd all of this is.

Alvin and he stand across from each other in Tim’s living room. It’s almost like looking in a mirror—both of them dressed in the same loose sweats, the same ratty Gotham Knights sweatshirt.

Alvin tilts his head. “So… are we going to fuck?”

Tim chokes. “What?” Of all the questions he could have broken the silence with—

“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.” Alvin’s lips twitch. “I know better.”

If Tim is always this smug-looking when he’s right about something, he can understand why Steph says he has a ‘punchable’ face. “You don’t have to be so blunt about it,” he grouses.

His objection is mostly on principle. In a world of alternate universes and time travel (proven multiple times over now, Bruce), it’s hard not to consider, to think about, what might happen if Tim was faced with another version of himself. Hell—Tim has met another him. Though, granted, that meeting didn’t go particularly well.

But. There was always the possibility of meeting another him, someone who wasn’t a fascist asshole. Someone, well—

Someone more like Alvin.

A magical doppelganger, created by an artifact related to Tim’s latest case. A perfect copy of him, down to his last memory at the time of creation. It answered a lot of questions Tim had—but more immediately… it opened up entire realms of possibilities.

Alvin steps closer, and then closer still, until they're almost touching. “Do you really want to keep arguing?” His voice is low. Husky. Tim has heard himself sound like that before, but always—always from inside his own head.

No. No he doesn’t.

But Alvin knows that already.

There is no hiding from him, Tim realizes. Alvin knows him better than anyone ever has—or ever will.

The thought is equal parts terrifying and thrilling.

Rather than answer, Tim steps even closer, crossing the distance between them. He tangles his fingers in the hairs at the back of Alvin’s neck, gripping his nape. Their mouths crash together, both of them making the same soft sound. They almost harmonize. Tim feels his belly tighten—his nipples harden, rubbing against the soft cotton of his sweatshirt. He shivers, his skin tingling.

Alvin’s hands slip under his shirt. Tim gasps. Alvin’s fingers are cool against his skin; his grip steady, firm.

The slide of their lips is slow, unhurried. It’s good. Not the best kiss Tim has ever had—their lips are chapped in just the right way to catch against each other. But… even despite that, it stokes the steady warmth growing in his belly, making him sigh against Alvin’s mouth. He gives into the urge to lick into Alvin’s mouth and Alvin lets him, slackening his mouth so Tim can lick into him and taste.

Alvin tastes like nothing at all.

It would be disappointing if it the reason why wasn’t so thrilling. Of course Alvin’s mouth doesn’t taste like anything—it’s Tim’s mouth.

His grip tightens in Alvin’s hair. Alvin moans. He sucks on Tim’s tongue, pulling an echo of the sound from his own chest. He steps forward, slotting his leg between Alvin’s. His thigh presses against his groin. He can feel the shape of Alvin’s cock, hot and half-hard, through their sweats. It makes his mouth water. He swallows—Alvin’s tongue chases his back into his mouth as his hips roll, grinding against Tim’s thigh and groaning. His nails bite into the skin of Tim’s waist, and Tim gasps.

“A-ah—” He has to break the kiss to pant.

Alvin takes the opportunity to bury his face in Tim’s neck, biting at the delicate skin there. Tim is sure that he’s leaving bruises. It’s something he loves on a good day, but the idea that the bruises would match the shape of his own mouth—

“Fuck,” he says, his twitching, cock rutting against nothing, nothing at all.

In all of his elaborate fantasies, Tim had never imagined rutting against his doppelganger like he’s still a teenager. But now that it’s happening—

Why not?

Why not get off just like this?

Like Alvin is thinking the same thing—and fuck, he probably is, because they’re the same—he slots his own leg between Tim’s. They’re tangled together, pressed so close they’re almost one person.

Alvin bites—Tim shouts, his hips stuttering forward, and moans breathlessly when this time, he meets the hard muscle of Alvin’s thigh, the friction sending a wave of feeling skittering over his nerves. He pulls at Alvin’s hair, good and hard, the way he knows makes his nipples feel tight, his scalp tingle. His other hand drops down to Alvin’s ass, gripping the swell of it, pulling him forward to rub against Tim’s thigh.

Alvin gasps, moans. He scratches at Tim’s back, his waist, and abruptly, Tim needs to be naked. He lets go of Alvin to grab the hem of his sweatshirt and pull it off, over his head. He tosses it aside carelessly. Nothing crashes, so wherever it landed is probably fine. Alvin makes a soft, eager noise, then he follows suit.

They’re identical, of course. Lean and wiry and covered with a dark dusting of hair, thickest at his belly. Scars litter their skin—some of which only they can see, too faded for anyone else to find without serious exploration. There’s a mole next to one of his nipples. Tim’s only really ever seen it in the mirror before; it’s too far down for him to pay much attention to when he’s lying in bed, touching himself.

Right now—

Right now, it’s like his vision has narrowed down to it, and he shoves—gently—at Alvin, until his knees hit the back of the couch. Alvin lets himself fall, lets Tim crash on top of him, gripping at his shoulders while Tim trails a rough, wet path from his neck to his chest. His knees hit the floor. Alvin’s legs lock around his middle, ankles crossing at his back.

He knows just how to touch himself… with his hands. With his mouth—

With his mouth it’s clumsier, messier. He doesn’t know quite how roughly he can bite, how hard he can suck. But he figures it out, letting the gasps and moans Alvin makes guide him. Alvin’s fingers find his hair. He tugs, that perfect way that Tim likes, and he moans. His hips rut forward, against the couch.

He feels dizzy with want.

It reminds him of his task, just a few moments ago. He pulls off of Alvin’s nipple and shucks his pants. The position makes it awkward, clumsy. He would feel embarrassed if he didn’t know that Alvin was just as messed up as he is.

He reaches for Alvin’s pants next. Alvin’s belly tenses, showing off the muscles in his abdomen as he lifts his hips, letting Tim slide them over the swell of his ass and then down his legs. Tim doesn’t bother with their socks, climbing back up to plaster himself against Alvin instead. They move, the two of them, until they’re horizontal; Alvin lying under him, his head propped up slightly on one of Tim’s throw pillows. The other one is kicked to the floor. He can feel Alvin’s cock against his belly, hard and hot and leaking precum.

Alvin looks up at him, his face flushed, his eyes dark, hazy. This is what Tim looks like when he’s having sex. His cock pulses. He needs— He needs to see what he looks like when he comes.

He holds his hand up to Alvin’s face. He doesn’t have to say what he wants—Alvin knows, licking over Tim’s palm, holding his gaze as he does. Tim’s mouth is dry.

As soon as his hand is wet, he shoves it between their bodies, wrapping his hand around both of their cocks. They moan in perfect unison; the exact same breathless, desperate pitch. Tim starts slow, smearing spit and precum over their cocks until the glide is slick and smooth. Then he speeds up.

If he was masturbating alone, he would alternate between slow and fast; keep himself hovering over the edge until it was almost too much to take. Then, and only then, he would let himself cum.

Later, he’d be more than happy to test both of their limits. To act out every filthy fantasy they’ve ever had, but never had anyone else to to try it with.

Right now, though—

Right now, he’s getting an outsider’s perspective of his own orgasm and he wants nothing more than to see it through. So he does, hitting that perfect speed, that perfect tightness, twisting his wrist—pulling out all of the stops until he can almost taste his peak. Alvin writhes under him. He claws at Tim’s back, leaving streaks of red over the smooth skin there. Tim will look at them later; compare the spread of his fingers to them and flush at the idea that anyone else would look at him and think he’d found some random hook-up to take home.

Only Tim would know the truth.

Well.

Tim and Alvin.

“C’mon,” he whispers. “C’mon, baby—wanna—I wanna see you cum.” He shifts slightly, bracing more of his weight on his knees. He gets his other hand involved, then; tugging and twisting at his nipples, starting with the neglected one from earlier, the one without the mole.

Alvin grips Tim’s shoulders so tightly Tim is sure he’s drawn blood, and then—

He arches, mouth opening, panting their abdomens in white. Tim barely refrains from following him over the edge—staying as present as he can as he drinks in every detail. It’s not the same as watching himself on video. Even his highest definition camera can’t capture the rush of blood under Alvin’s skin, the glisten of sweat on his skin, the way his eyes move under the lids and his lashes flutter against his cheeks.

He gentles his hand, stroking Alvin until he collapses against the couch, chest heaving as he pants. He looks up at Tim with hazy eyes—his expression lazy, fucked-out. If Tim cared to psychoanalyze himself, he’s sure he could think of several interesting notes about the way he leans down to capture Alvin’s lips in a kiss.

Tim isn’t interested in digging that deeply.

Not this time.

Alvin only lets the slow, lazy kiss continue for a few minutes before he threads a hand in Tim’s hair and tugs him off. His lips curve upward, and then his legs tangle with Tim. He’s suspended in the air for one breathless moment before his back hits the couch, knocking the remaining air out of his lungs.

“Your turn now.” Alvin’s voice curls around the words in a low, dark promise.

Tim shudders, arching into his touch.

He can probably get away with taking a few days off. If anyone asks— He can just tell them it’s for science.

[possibilistfanfiction]

for surgeons au.,, perhaps some hurt/comfort :,)

[hbd @gohandinhand. sorry but tbf... u asked for this lol (also so many of you asked for 'what if bea gets hurt' bc we all share one collective grey's anatomy-ass braincell // also on ao3]

//

‘dr. silva is still in the tumor resection?’

it’s only, like, your fifth week being a doctor, so there are so many things you don’t know all the time; you add dr. villaumbrosia asking this question to the list. still, she’s kind of the scariest person you’ve ever met in your life — unflappable and a little mean to everyone but her patients and their families, talented and whip-smart beyond belief, willing to take on the hardest cases — and so you answer anyway with a nod. you only know this because zaire promised he would come find you just after he’d finished with dr. silva — to celebrate at the bar down the street and hopefully more than that too — but you don’t add that; you don’t think dr. villaumbrosia would appreciate it all that much.

‘okay,’ she says, more shaken than you’ve ever seen her.

‘is something… did something go wrong, or?’

‘with ava’s surgery, no, i don’t think so.’ 

ava is new; you’re not embarrassed to admit that you and basically your whole intern class has been keeping track of who’s with whom amongst the attendings, so you know they’re all either dating or friends or some kind of family. still, dr. villaumbrosia never uses first names at work. 

‘there’s a trauma being flown in,’ she continues. ‘there was an avalanche, and dr. choi was skiing in the backcountry today. i don’t — i don’t know more details.’ she worries her hands for a moment. ‘she hasn’t answered her sat phone.’

‘oh,’ is the best you’ve got, disarmed by the obvious fear that lingers around every inch of her.

‘dr. silva can’t know, if she does come in. not until after he’s finished the hardest part of the procedure and can pass it off.’

not that you were going to be the one to randomly decide to go to dr. silva’s OR and say any of this, but you nod. ‘of course.’

‘i need you to go check on tai; she’s in daycare.’

‘uh, i don’t — i’ve never —‘

dr. villaumbrosia waves you off. ‘she’s cute. looks like choi, acts like silva.’ 

when you don’t respond immediately, dr. villaumbrosia just glares. ‘yeah, of course,’ you hurry to say.

‘and then i need you to go to the ER for the trauma. dr. masters already knows you’re coming; you’re going to see what’s going on and tell me and no one else. got it?’

‘yes, dr. villaumbrosia. will do.’

‘great.’

to be honest, you have no idea where the daycare even is, and this certainly isn’t what you went to a bazillion years of school for, but whatever. maybe this will get you on dr. villaumbrosia’s good side. 

‘and dr. al-najjar?’

you nod.

‘i know this seems ridiculous. but dr. choi is — she’s my favorite person. it’s important.’

you understand in your own way: you facetime your little brother every day, no matter how tired you are, no matter how late or early it is for you. ‘i’ll tell you everything as soon as i can.’

‘good.’

/

tai is, apparently, a fourteen month old, very cute toddler, who really does look like dr. choi. when you explain, very briefly, to one of the daycare teacher that dr. villaumbrosia sent you to see how she’s doing, make sure she’s okay, she nods and shows you over to an area of the room with soft mats and some wooden blocks. tai smiles at you, all baby teeth and big cheeks, and says mostly nonsense but a few words — blocks, doctor, mama — and then promptly knocks over her block tower with definite glee. 

you snap a nice, cute picture of tai smiling in her little giraffe hoodie and send it off to dr. villaumbrosia. you’ve never been a baby guy, and you’re certain she isn’t either, because there’s no way you could ever possibly choose her specialty if you were, but she loves the photo anyway — the first and only time she’ll ever respond to a text from you like that, you’re absolutely certain — and it makes you smile, just for a moment. when you wave goodbye to tai she laughs, and you hope, very concretely, that she goes home with both of her parents tonight, or soon, at least, that her family stays as full and happy and warm as it had been this morning.

/

you feel genuinely nervous and way too invested: you’ve met dr. choi in passing a handful of times, and she’d assisted on one of dr. villaumbrosia’s surgeries once that you’d gotten to hold a retractor for, but according to emma — the best gossip and also dr. choi’s favorite intern, allegedly — says that dr. choi is kind and quiet and a wonderful teacher, patient and skilled and efficient. you’d been looking forward to being on her service soon, honestly, and, even in the past few weeks, you’re starting to understand that the people here, that you spend so much time with, are starting to feel like family.

dr. masters nods at you, her braids already tucked away beneath a cap, trauma gown on. you’re on peds, so you don’t know if you’re really here to help with anything — dr. villaumbrosia wasn’t called down for any consults, still set for the routine bowel repair she’d been scheduled for this afternoon, so you’re fairly certain there weren’t any children coming in — but she gestures toward the gown and gloves anyway.

‘just in case we need more hands on deck,’ she says as way of explanation. ‘there’s four people, and we don’t really know the extent of their injuries.’

you nod — what else is there to say — and things are very, very still until dr. masters gets a page and then everything is moving — loudly, organized, seamless — and you’re in awe, for a moment, of dr. masters’ ER. you love trauma surgery and she’s, like, kind of the biggest badass in the country, and it’s pretty fucking cool to watch her very quickly get everyone exactly where they need to be in the amount of time it takes for her to walk to the elevator that leads up to the helipad.

the wind whips from the blades when the doors open, rainy and miserable, and your heart is caught in your throat when the door opens. you see dr. masters’ hands shake, although you’d never, ever mention it, locked behind her back in tight fists, until dr. choi’s face — a bruise along her jaw, a scrape that runs underneath her eye, all the way into her hair, the tip of her nose and the tips of her ears a painful red, probably from frostbite — comes into view.

dr. choi, strapped into a stretcher, covered in a blanket and hooked up to an IV, immediately starts talking, before the stretcher is even fully out of the helicopter. ‘the three coming out,’ she starts, ‘i dug them out as much as i could. i did an emergency thoracostomy on david, you need to push a ton of antibiotics. anna needs to go to the OR immediately for her pelvis, make sure cam —‘

‘—beatrice,’ dr. masters says, rushing to her side and, if you were to bet, wanting to sink to her knees in relief. ‘oh my god.’

‘i’m fine,’ dr. choi says, annoyed at being made to stay on the stretcher. ‘i properly deployed my avalanche airbag. but mary, listen —‘

dr. masters holds dr. choi’s face in her hands and then kisses the top of dr. choi’s head. it’s tender, and you wonder how long they’ve known each other to afford that level of intimacy, that level of care. ‘i got them, bea. i promise. we gotta take care of you too or ava will kill me.’

dr. choi relaxes, just minutely, but you can tell — maybe because you would trust dr. masters with your life or anyone else’s, maybe at the mention of dr. silva, maybe some combination of both — and she nods.

dr. masters rolls her eyes and kisses the top of dr. choi’s head once more. ‘stupid hero. let me go make all your hard work worthwhile.’

dr. choi smiles, definitely reassured now. ‘you better.’

/

you’re not surprised, exactly, that chief superion is waiting to take over dr. choi’s care, but you are a little surprised when dr. superion squeezes her shoulder gently and smiles, a little sad. 

‘ava is still in surgery, so let’s get the worst of it taken care of before she’s done, yes?’

dr. choi nods, growing more exhausted by the minute. which is fair, you think, as she tells dr. superion — and you, because you’re stuck in this room until you have a real report for dr. villaumbrosia beyond the text you’d sent that just said Dr. Choi is talking and moving, no head or neck injuries — about how the avalanche airbag had worked, even if it was frightening; about how her transceiver, according to SAR, had helped them get there faster than they would have otherwise.  

‘ava always teased me about how expensive the gear was, but look who’s laughing now.’

‘well, to be fair,’ dr. superion says, looking at dr. choi’s x-rays, ‘i don’t think either of you are laughing.’ 

‘oh, yikes,’ dr. choi says, looking at the films too. she’s on a fair amount of pain medicine at this point, but she’s right: there’s a few nasty fractures along the bones in her left wrist. but, other than those and a few cracked ribs and some mild frostbite on her nose, ears, and the tips of her fingers, it seems like it’s just cuts and bruises: nothing she won’t heal from, and far better off than the others who came in with her.

‘i, uh — sorry,’ you say, feeling like you’re interrupting, but they both just shake their heads, waving off your apology. ‘dr. villaumbrosia sent me to see if you’re okay, and i’m supposed to go talk to her once i know. which, i guess i know now.’ not your best work, and in front of the chief, but oh well.

dr. choi smiles fondly. ‘thank you for telling me. i’ll never let lilith forget it.’ 

dr. superion doesn’t smile, but it seems like she wants to. ‘go ahead, dr. al-najjar. you can tell her that we’re admitting dr. choi to ortho; dr. alvarez will operate tomorrow, once the swelling has gone down.’

‘and tell lilith i love her too.’

‘i — uh—‘

dr. superion laughs. ‘go, dr. al-najjar.’

/

you’ve just finished your report to dr. villaumbrosia — in the middle of a surgery, but it’s clear her shoulders relax immediately, continuing to operate smoothly — when dr. silva flings open the door of the OR.

‘hello ava,’ dr. villaumbrosia says, not even looking up from the stitch she’s putting in. ‘she’s okay.’

dr. silva, breathing so hard her mask is getting sucked into her mouth and nose, doubles over, her hands on her knees. ‘i gotta do more cardio, oh my god,’ he mumbles, then takes a deep breath and stands. ‘you’re sure?’

‘yes,’ dr. villaumbrosia, ‘i had dr. al-najjar make sure personally. he also checked on tai; she’s doing great.’

‘very cute,’ you say and then debate just quitting residency here altogether, but dr. silva smiles at you.

‘thanks man,’ she says. ‘sorry you missed this surgery.’

‘the bowel was perforated,’ dr. villaumbrosia says. ‘it was quite disgusting, to be honest.’

‘well then,’ dr. silva says, ‘hey, you’re welcome! you got to see my adorable kid and my sexy wife. who, as lovely as your company always is, lil, i’m gonna go see now.’

‘she deployed that avalanche airbag, dug three other people out, and did a field chest tube by the time SAR got there.’ 

‘hot.’

‘insane, actually,’ dr. villaumbrosia says. ‘but give her my love.’

/

two days later you’re back on shift — after drinks and truly, genuinely great sex with zaire that still ended up happening despite everything, god bless — and you swing by ortho before you go up to peds. you’re not friends with dr. choi or dr. silva, but you do want to see how things are going anyway. your mom always says it’s better to be kinder than necessary, and you’re starting to believe it.

they’re an adorable family, you think, tai showing dr. choi her lion stuffy and babbling excitedly, sitting on the hospital bed between her legs, turning every now and then toward dr. silva in a chair by her bedside. dr. choi, her arm in a brace and a sling, looks pretty good overall: her eyes seem clear, the bruises along her jaw are already starting to turn green and yellow, a great sign of healing, and the redness on her nose and ears has lessened considerably. 

also, she’s sitting up and talking animatedly, clearly happy with her daughter and her wife there. from her chart — you looked it up in the system before you came, whatever — you’re pretty sure she’s going to get to go home today, which you suspect is what the small duffle bag by dr. silva’s feet is for. 

‘all i’m saying,’ you hear from dr. silva, ’is that your nose could’ve fallen off.’

‘ava,’ dr. choi says, exasperated and laughing.

dr. silva sits back and pouts, exaggerating with crossed arms. 

‘i will be more careful,’ dr. choi concedes, but it doesn’t feel much like a concession the way she smiles at tai and then runs a gentle hand over her wispy hair. emma — who is an incredible gossip but you’re starting to think she also just has a giant crush — had told you and zaire that dr. choi is, like, an experienced outdoors person with certifications in all kinds of different safety courses and activities; you know she and dr. villaumbrosia have done stints with MSF together too. 

‘good,’ dr. silva says. ‘because lord knows i cannot raise tai by myself.’

dr. choi frowns, then offers her good hand to dr. silva, who scoots closer and takes it with a kiss to her scraped knuckles. 

‘plus, while i would deal, obviously, you’d probably be less hot if your nose fell off.’

‘“probably”?’

dr. silva shrugs. ‘i love you.’

‘i love you too.’

‘would you still love me if my nose fell off?’

‘ava.’

/

‘good morning, dr. al-najjar,’ dr. choi says when you knock lightly on the open door of her office. it’s impeccably neat, a few pictures of dr. silva and tai on her desk. she’s wearing the brace on her wrist still but no sling; her bruises and frostbite have faded. in her scrubs and white coat and clogs, a fresh buzzcut and a cup of coffee in her good hand, she looks exactly the surgeon you’ve looked forward to working with. 

‘good morning, dr. choi. welcome back.’

she smiles and closes her office door, starts leading you down the hall. ‘thank you. and, apologizes in advance that you won’t have any surgeries with me for the next two weeks until i’m officially cleared.’ she rolls her eyes. 

‘that’s okay,’ you say. ‘more sleep, honestly.’

‘true. and,’ she says, opening a door to the most incredible, brand new lab you’ve ever seen, ‘i can promise that the research we’ll get to work on will be worth it.’

‘i always thought i would go into trauma,’ you tell her, ‘but i think i just fell in love.’

she grins. ‘the heart wants what it wants.’

you pause a moment but then you can’t help yourself: you laugh.

‘in that case,’ she says, ‘let me show you around, and let’s get to work.’

[hylianane]

I know it doesn’t have the same drama or canon-backing as the idea of Zoro being trained and even raised by Mihawk since young, but I’m still a little surprised that there’s practically no fan works playfully referencing the fact that Zoro was originally going to be a Buggy pirate. Walk with me here. Here’s how we could make this AU fall in line with Zoro’s final, canon characterization.

Yes, Zoro was hesitant to become a pirate with Luffy at first because being a criminal would limit his freedom of movement in his search for Mihawk. However, let’s look at the reason he ended up joining anyway: blackmail and the fact that Luffy was offering a real, tangible way to achieve his dream

Crazy thing is, Buggy is kind of the only other pirate in the East Blue who could offer him a similar thing. Though he would rather die than freely discuss his connection to Shanks, he is a pirate with connections (and a connection to Mihawk even this early in the story isn’t too much of a leap if we take in his interactions with Buggy and Shanks, as if they go way back). Buggy could very much use this fact to get what he wants. And what does the cowardly Buggy want? Protection, of course. Security in his place as the top dog pirate of the East Blue. A spot that the arrival of an upstart demon bounty hunter could threaten if he doesn’t play his cards right. And of course, his troupe could use a sword swallower.

Now, would Buggy be genuine in offering Zoro an easy way to reach Mihawk? Probably not. I mean, I’m sure he’d fail his way upwards into making it look that way so Zoro stays around, but what I’m getting at is that he wouldn’t have to be. Because Zoro, specially bounty hunter Zoro who only has himself to lose, can be just a liiittle bit naive. Because he has so much pride in his own word, he takes other, less deserving men at theirs. We see this when he expects Helmeppo, despite all his faults, to honor their deal. He’s genuinely shocked when the deal doesnt go through and he’s stuck tied up in ropes. We even see it a little with his blind faith in Luffy from day one. Yes, Luffy is a more than worthy Captain, but also for someone who had to be swindled into swearing himself to Luffy’s side, Zoro’s sense of honor and honesty led to him going to immense lengths to protect him before he really started to prove that, specially considering he’s someone who was already causing him way too much trouble within days of knowing him.

And mind you, it’s not like Buggy would give him no reason to stay loyal, either. His influence over the East Blue wasn’t anything to scoff at, and even though as a man he’s pretty corrupted, as a Captain he’s kind of brilliant. It’s a running gag how much the Buggy pirates are in love with him. He’s got wits and charisma and ways of gaining loyalty. He and Zoro wouldn’t be too bad a match.

And when Luffy does make his way to this Buggy Pirate Sword Swallower Zoro, and is taken in by his skill, determination and overall cool factor? Baby that’s the most exciting part about this. We’d get rivals to lovers Zolu but Zoro is dressed like a clown

[scoops-aboy86]

I imagine that if Eddie could do magic, he would (as a young teen and therefore a dumbass with a poor grasp of the possible repercussions) try to cast a love spell to make Steve fall in love with him. It's the start of his sophomore year; Steve is just an incoming freshman who no one's really noticed yet, but Eddie is instantly smitten with the impeccable hair, the soulful hazel eyes, and that cute dazed look on his face he gets whenever surprised.

Does he dare even try to talk to Steve? No. Eddie already has zero social standing as a weird nerd who lives in a trailer park and Cannot Sit Still to save his life—which on other people would make them funny class clown material, but for some reason on him makes teachers angry and classmates roll their eyes. Just talking to Steve, Eddie is sure, would be a disaster. And even if he could, chances are Steve is straight and at best Eddie would eventually get punched in the face for admitting his feelings for the other boy.

So. Witchcraft. Chant chant chant, a possession of Steve's dropped in a bubbling cauldron, a blown out candle, and boom.

Only Eddie muffed the spell. Instead of Steve falling in love with Eddie, everyone falls in love with Steve. The spell isn't even strong enough to cause obvious problems; all the girls want him, all the boys want to be him, but there aren't, like, mobs forming over the guy's affection (or lack thereof). Eddie resigns himself to (a) being shitty at magic and (b) never getting Steve.

From Steve's perspective, his whole life changed overnight. Suddenly he's on the map at Hawkins High in a big way. He makes varsity basketball as a freshman, and at the same time is allowed to join the swim team despite the conflicting schedules. Girls are falling over themselves to go out with him. And it's great!

For a while. In some ways.

It gets him his parents' approval right up until November of 1983, when he starts to realize that maybe he hasn't really learned how to build a real relationship with someone, because all he knows is dates falling into his lap and girls looking for the social status that comes with bagging King Steve. That prowess on the basketball court doesn't mean very much when monsters crawl out of the walls and all he has to hand is a baseball bat full of nails. That a girl died in his pool because of a party he threw and him and his friends doing stupid teen shit like shotgunning beers. That the friends he's had since he became King Steve are, actually, pretty much all assholes.

After that first brush with the Upside Down, Steve stops trying to be popular. He stops throwing house parties, drops swimming, stops funding the basketball team's beer and weed purchases, and really tries (with Nancy's help) to buckle down and study.

But the spell is still in effect, so even with all that, everyone still wants a piece of him. He still goes to parties, and whenever Nancy isn't free to tag along there are always girls trying to hang off him, no matter how many times he reminds them that he's already seeing someone. Eventually he gives up, and while he doesn't cheat (he might have dated around a lot, but never with overlap; he is not his dad) he stops putting in the effort to shoo them away.

(Eddie, meanwhile, watches all of this from the sidelines and kind of hates the person he thinks Steve is now. He's not entirely wrong, because the popularity did go to Steve's head for a long time, and there are plenty of ways in which Steve's really isn't a better person for it. But Eddie also isn't close enough to see who he's trying to become now, and he's also still a little bitter in nursing his own bruised heart.)

After breaking up with Nancy and falling in with the Party, Steve starts to get even more frustrated with his lingering popularity. The rest of his senior year is still all girls fawning over him and guys being jealous (sometimes with a nasty edge to it now, like Tommy and Billy). On top of the nightmares left over from encounters with demogorogons and demodogs, it really brings out Steve's bitchy side. He stops dating, stops going to parties, stops trying to achieve in his classes in favor of coasting (and hating that all his teachers let him do it, while picking on kids like Eddie who are actively trying and just not very good at it).

One day, Eddie finds King Steve at the picnic table in the woods, looking to buy weed. Steve doesn't bat an eye when super-senior Munson names his price (double what he usually charges, but it's not like Steve has ever bought directly from anyone before so it's not like he'd know), and says that if it helps him sleep he'll start buying regularly.

Suddenly, Steve is in a slightly better mood at school all the time. He still brushes pretty much everyone off and only hangs out with middle schoolers, but he's nicer about it.

And he starts going to parties again. But he doesn't dance, and he doesn't drink all that much. A lot of the time he doesn't even stick around very long. He'll turn up and people watch, bopping his head in time with the music if it's a song he likes, and park himself by whatever food the party has to offer. Chips, popcorn, the occasional pizza—nothing extensive, most of the kids who come to these parties are there for the booze and the makeout opportunities. Sometimes Steve buys from Eddie if he's there, offers to share joints with him that Eddie, still wary, turns down. When the food runs out, Steve leaves.

See, the weed definitely helps him sleep. It also gives him the munchies, and Steve has sort of gotten into the habit of just... eating. It's not like his parents are around to notice, and Dustin and the other kids don't care as long as he springs for extras so they can have some too. No one at school would dare say it to his face, and somehow it still doesn't manage to fully tank his slightly flagging reputation, but Steve is definitely starting to put on weight.

Then he graduates, and... nothing. King Steve drops off the map.

For everyone except Eddie, anyway, because Steve still buys. And Eddie has started to relax his no-smoking-with-Steve policy lately. Between the weed and the public eye no longer pinning him in a spotlight, Steve has become an incredibly chill dude. He doesn't even mind that he didn't get into any of the colleges he applied to (or any of the ones his parents insisted he applied to either, but that's a more clear-cut relief), something he confides in Eddie around the time they start hanging out outside of sales because his dad is demanding that he get a summer job. Pros include more money for weed (although Eddie has relaxed his prices as well), but cons include less free time. Steve says Eddie can visit him at work though, and he'll hook him up with freebies and discounts.

Visiting Steve at his Scoops Ahoy job is both a visual treat for Eddie and how he finds out that he's basically Steve's only friend his own age. Those shorts, man, and even with the extra weight Eddie still thinks Steve looks great. Everything that first attracted him to Steve (the eyes, the slightly comical dopiness, and the hair, regardless of the little sailor's hat) is still there, plus big hands, broad shoulders, an endearing grin, and just... Steve.

Maybe, Eddie realizes, if he'd never done that spell at all, he could have gotten to know Steve like this years ago. He never feels like Steve's last choice when they spend time together, and definitely doesn't mind that Steve seems to forget how much space he takes up these days and always sits a little too close, whether it's on the picnic table bench or on the couch at Eddie's trailer or in a Scoops booth. Steve is goofy and sweet and a little lame, but he brings his own snacks and lets Eddie talk straight through the Star War movies and the animated Lord of the Rings film, reeling off every bit of trivia and his own personal opinions he can. Every now and then, Steve even goes out of his way to ask questions about d&d and listens to the answers.

Forget smitten, Eddie Munson is in love.

(… Okay, I thought about it some more, here's part 1. Now tagged as #love spell no go au. And there's also a part 1.5, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11.)

[dapper-nahrwhale]

Sad that I cannot find my old old old post Abt leverage but DND world anyways. Here I go again:

They are all different subclass of rogue multiclassed with other things.

Sophie is a Dispater tiefling bard college of eloquence (wordplay and theatrics) and an inquisitive rogue (disguise, lying, and perceptive). Bigger focus on character and backstory (or lack thereof) than build. Definitely has disguise self.

Nate is a high elf former investigative rogue turned mastermind rogue (manipulation and misdirection tactics) and eventual multiclass of undying warlock (makes a risky pact).

Parker is a classic lightfoot halfling thief rogue (sneaky and quick) and a battle master fighter (multiple attacks to deals lots of damage). Absolutely optimized build.

Hardison is a half elf alchemist artificer (support with creating useful magic items) and a swashbuckler rogue (charisma). His comms are definitely magic items he made.

Eliot is a mountain dwarf turned slightly undead former oath of vengeance paladin (strong offence and damage) turned oath breaker paladin (harms anyone) and assassin rogue (infiltration and sneak attacks), turned way of the long death monk (defensive tanky and damaging) and assassin rogue multiclass.

Breanna is forest gnome a battle smith arcane trickster rogue artificer.

Harry is a human inquisitive rogue multiclassed with something, idk what yet.

[yume-fanfare]

*hits you with a magic school shoujo beam*

[absurdumsid]

OUGFH TY MANN TYSMM i love ur outer i am SOBBING

one more pseudoanswer this time for @dzasterdumpterfire !! just realized the colour for saejun might be a BIT too light pff

Farm! Sans/Saejun belongs to GuinongTale_AU Colour! Sans belongs to superyoumna Space Dust belongs to CopyVerse! Outer/Nebula (its mine now though MWAHAHAH- FOREVER !!)

[saphstories]

I think Droid Sonic deserves a service animal after all he's been through

(Angst warning ⚠️)

Since Sonic fell into the Android Copier, the Cyber components and software were not matched to his brain and nervous system correctly.

Sonic's nervous system is not compatible with the Droid components now fused to his body. They don't interface and work together, which lead to glitches, and in worse cases, short circuits... better recognized as blackouts and fainting spells. Sonic could be standing perfectly still, and in the next second, his body fails him, and he's on the ground, out of it or unconscious. The short circuits affect his heart rhythm, leading to an arrhythmia and low blood pressure, which causes the fainting. It's difficult to tell when these episodes occur, as the 'misfires' happen seemingly at random.

Then Sonic experienced an episode out in public one day. A service dog in training alerted to the danger accordingly and was able to prevent Sonic from getting more injured when it happened. Since the dog had successfully alerted to the medical emergency, it gave Team Sonic the idea for a service animal for future events until Tails can successfully turn Sonic back.

Sonic now has a service dog, a gorgeous basset hound called Daisy.

[emily-mooon]

Imagine if Stacey and Neil actually met in high school except they didn’t go to the same school: they met through Kid Chameleon.

One night, Scott brings Stacey to one of their shows and it just so happens that Stephanie (or Steph) brought Neil with her.

Since they were both the youngest people there (Neil’s 17, Stacey’s 16 till December), they decided to talk to each other and they hit it off.

Stacey also develops a bit of a crush on Neil and would always ask Scott if Steph was going to bring her brother with her again, as she wanted to see him and didn’t know if there was another way.

Then one morning, she discovers that they take the same TTC bus and from then on they talk before and after school and become sorta friends. At this point, Neil also starts developing a crush on her.

Things stayed like that for about two months until Neil and his mom moved places (as I agree with the headcanon that the Nordegraf siblings have divorced parents) so they would no longer take the same bus in the morning or after school. They still have Kid Chameleon shows to meet up and talk at right? Ha ha wrong cause at New Years, the famous break up between Scott and Envy happens which in turn, also breaks up the band.

That whole break up was the nail in the coffin that strained Neil and Stacey’s kinda friendship. They didn’t have the others phone number cause they were both too shy to ask and also cause they both kept forgetting.

There also wasn’t a whole ton of opportunities to ask either of their siblings for their phone numbers so they just gave up and went on with their lives.

But then why didn’t they recognize the other in the like three times there were in the same room together? Easy answer: Stacey was distracted by everything around her to even notice Neil, who in turn, was slowly disappearing into the crowd and fully did by the time it was Lisa’s going away dinner.

So when they see each other again properly at the Chaos Theater, something clicks and they fall back into where they once were two years ago. To them it felt like a decade, but no it was just two years. They catch up on what they missed in the others lives on the walk home.

After that these dorks start dating cause the feelings were still there, just buried deep, left dormant, and forgotten. They came back but slightly different as people change.

[weirdenbyferret]

ANYWAY just gonna put my shock because of err recent events aside, new au. Another mafia au

So in this au, animatronics are still considered just that and dont have any rights or anything. Though the industries that have them have definitely grown.

But there is one thing that no one has really noticed.

There is a casino in a big city that is mostly a normal casino, other than the fact that the performers are animatronics with several different themes, controlled and owned by a mafia.

But it isnt known that three of the animatronics performers have taken the role of the boss.

This came from the thought 'what if mafia boss but mafia boss who people dont know is a mafia boss and wears cutesy clothing and is a performer.' Anyway wip of Eclipses ref lmaaoooo