#party of chaos

[dark-nimbus]

When in doubt, lick random shit

[lenbryant]

Empty

[aroacesetitoff]

not romantic not platonic but a secret third thing (in the same adventuring party)

[sonicexelle-junkary]

The favourite~

[dancingbirdie]

Some goblin Astarion things.

He pinches you when you toss and turn too much in your shared bed. “Wake up and stop flailing! Gods. I’ll have bruises from your pointy elbows in the morning.”

He sews “kick me” on the butt of Gale’s trousers in dark, dark gray after the Wizard pisses him off. Karlach sees it with her dark vision when they’re in the Underdark and promptly knees him in the ass.

He steals all of Halsin’s wooden ducks and plants them in Wyll’s tent, for shits and giggles.

He tries to line a tripwire across the front of Lae’zel’s tent entrance, but ends up pricking himself on a blow dart booby trap he failed to perceive. Incurs -3 hit points and the bleeding condition for 10 turns.

He nips your neck like a disgruntled cockatoo when you tease him in front of the other party members.

He puts swamp green clothing dye in Shadowheart’s bottle of hair dye when she’s not looking, causing her to endure some sickly green highlights for a fortnight.

He steals Wither’s staff while he’s speaking with Jaheria and hides it among Lae’zel’s armory. Gets hauled over by the ear by Jaheira to apologize to Withers. And Lae’zel.

He hides in the bushes near camp and makes god-awful wailing noises to keep Scratch and the owlbear cub barking while the party is trying to get some sleep.

He fabricates some ridiculous story about how the Weave is really a hoax designed by Big Magic to control the masses, just to see Gale go purple in the face while arguing against this “utter tripe.”

He loudly proclaims that he overheard Shadowheart telling Wyll she could beat Lae’zel in unarmed combat with a hand tied behind her back, then scampers away cackling when the two lady warriors start yelling at one another.

[bluerosefox]

Courting Chaos (to Balance)

A KlarionxDanny brain worm that has spawned

Tim Drake, aka Red Robin gets kidnapped suddenly and very randomly by Klarion in the middle of a JL and others meeting.

Leaving with a

"I'LL RETURN HIM WHEN HES NO LONGER USEFUL JUSTICE LOSERS!"

And fire and chaos in his wake.

While the JL, and others scramble to figure out what Klarion has planned this time, Tim manages to break free of whatever Klarion had used to kidnap him only to find himself on a couch and Klarion nervously petting Teekl on his lap while also sitting in a chair across from him.

When Tim goes to demand to know why Klarion kidnapped him Klarion finally speaks.

"Okay, I wanna strike a deal. I won't bug you or your little Young Just US buddies if you help me ask someone out..."

"...What the fuck Klarion?" Was Tim's only response.

-x-x-

So it turns out, every so often the three main entities and actual factions of Order, Chaos, and Balance get together to well discuss things happening in certain Realms, worlds, and timelines. Basicly to touch base, see where everyone was at. Etc etc.

Order was Order. Chaos was Chaos.

Very simple.

Both could be bad. To much order caused restraint and could snuff out growth. To much Chaos could get out of hand and cause ruin.

Both could be good. Order help stabilizes worlds and builds their future. Chaos allowed creativity to roam and brought forth wonderful things.

And Balance.

Well Balance was the very scales that kept both sides in check. They were neutral grounds. The ones that normally oversaw the meetings as well. And despite their low numbers they held powerful entities that more than made up for it.

Balance did their best to keep things in check, sure they do have their own preference sometimes and allowed the scales to tip a tiny bit but always corrected it later if it tips to much.

It was at this meeting, a meeting even Klarion knew better than to do anything too chaotic, pranks were fine but nothing too much, and had been chatting with a newcomer to the side of Chaos (Danielle, call me Ellie, Phantom. She did some heroing on the side but liked causing chaos in her wake to do so, he liked her so far though.) When the bells for the side of Balance to appear announced them.

Ellie had smiled brightly and said her brother was coming with his mentor, turns out her brother was apart of the Balance group which meant that he was strong, strong enough to need a mentor.

He watched as the members of Balance walked, teleported, flew, and other means into the meeting halls. And then froze when his eyes caught sight of him.

Floating next to a blue skined being that was switching ages was a beautiful otherworldly person.

Snow white hair that wisped upwards oh so softly. Glowing green eyes that were cat-like with their piercing glance. A galaxy cloak hanged around his shoulders and seemed to shift with each movement. Star like freckles decorated his face and seemed to glow a soft bluish white. A crown made of ice and aurora lights floated above his head as well.

All in all Klarion couldn't keep his eyes off of the being at all. He nearly spat his water out when Ellie commented that was her brother Danny, or rather.

High King of the Infinite Realms, Daniel 'Danny' Phantom. The Great One. Defeater of the Tyrant King. The Halfa. The Peaceful End. The Balance of the Undead. (And his mentor was the Ghost of Time itself. THE very Keeper of Time, Kronos original form himself.)

Klarion honestly didn't know what to think or rather what emotions he was feeling when he spotted Danny, nor why his face felt so hot and red when the young man looked over at them and smiled. (He was smiling at Ellie but Klarion for some reason hoped it was for him as well)

It wasn't until halfway in the meeting when a rather ingenious prank that Klarion, Ellie, and a few others had set up went off... thing was it strong enough that it had hit Danny's side of the meeting and had hit him.

Now, again pranks were okay but only after the meetings. It was one of the few rules many, even those in Chaos, took seriously because once it was done and over they could go do their things. So for it to happen in the middle of a meeting means someone set their time on the prank wrong and add the fact it hit a person on the Balance side...

Yeah not good.

Only...

Only instead of getting angry, even Clockwork who was seated next to Danny was chuckling, Danny threw his head back and laughed about it. And his laugh... was very cute.

And before he knew it, Klarion had already fallen.

-x-x-

"So yeah.... Since you have a boyfriend and know how to date in this modern age, I need your advice."

".... Klarion just because I'm dating Bernard doesn't mean I know how I did it..."

"Bernard? I thought you were dating that one Supes?"

[dimension20official]

The Adventuring Party is BREAKING DOWN! SEND HELP!

[ao3-shenanigans]

In my (very nerodivergent, very queer) dnd group, we have a singular neurotypical cishet guy who plays a character that’s just him- very much Just Some Guy™️ energy, he likes horses.

Each week we are blessed with teaching him a new aspect of queer culture, last week it was the word ‘Twink’ (“oh! I thought you were talking about twinkie’s!”), this week it’s Ru Paul’s Drag Race (“like with cars??”)

What we talk about next week? No clue, but it sure won’t be the session that I had carefully and meticulously planned

[egguv]

d̷͙̅͋̈́̅̚͠e̷̢̦̦̗̘͎͕̗͛̉ȁ̶̢̦͕̭̌̌͒̽̑́̉ţ̸̬͚̣͒͑̂h̴̹̟͕͉̟̥͕̞͎͌̔̏̚͘ ̴̧̢̻̍́̂̓̎̽̽͌̄p̷̯̲̙̥̺̤̪͍͔̈́̕͘ĕ̶̢̗̣̲̗̭̗͈̣̈́ṉ̷̠̰͖̂͂̆̍̓̋ͅą̸̧̖̣̳̲̖̺��̈́̓͂͜l̸͔̮̊̏́͌͋̏̐̎t̷͔̝̖͝y̸̝͕̩̲̻̘͉̣̹̅̋̐̈́

[prints here]

[in-my-loki-feels]

I can't stop thinking about pairing this guy:

with this guy:

Just something about the absolute goofball energy of the first, running into the megalomaniac energy of the second. I feel like President Loki would be all "I am here to rule and nothing's going to stop me!" and the Mobius variant would be confused but on board and also distracted by a dish on another table: "Oh yeah? Cool, cool, tell me more. Hey, are you going to eat that?"

ETA: I ended up writing a short thing for this idea. Adding a link here in case the one in the reblogs isn't obvious.

There is now a 4+1 expanded version up on AO3!

[kaeyachi]

Kaeya, despite being a sickly and gentle child, was his own kind of nightmare for Crepus and the other Dawn Winery staff.

See, Diluc is prone to mischief and chaos, dragging along his younger brother and a couple of other children into his plots and messes.

But Kaeya? Kaeya is the type to end up in the most random, and I do mean most random, of places. He would vanish for several hours, only to be found in an unexpected location such as, oh let's say that one time, he was found eating fruit with some friendly hilichurls...IN LIYUE.

He was such a curious soul that would easily get distracted by the wonders of Teyvat, but since he is so silent in both words and movements, whoever is watching over him would lose sight of him just as quickly.

He has caused several search parties in his youth, only for people to find out he was following a seelie to a treasure chest or napping with a young wolf cub in Wolvendom.

Crepus swears that Kaeya and Diluc are competing on who can give him gray hairs the fastest (so far, Diluc is winning, but Kaeya sure is catching up with every scream of panic from a designated babysitter and Diluc)

[g-xix]

🔞Mask + Knife Kink | George Clarkey

Summary: You hadn't anticipated that telling George to wear a Halloween costume for your party would have such an effect on you... But with a few drinks and horny thoughts, you were acting on the kinks that you never thought you'd let see the light of day.

CWs: smut, cussing, mask kink, knife kink, mirror sex, degrading + praise, pet names, v rough, blowjob, borderline cnc but not, drinking

Notes: last kinktober post - fittingly a Halloween post on Halloween. Enjoy your trick or treating tonight and enjoy your last kinky October fic x

When you'd told your best friend George to get a Halloween costume for your party, you hadn't expected have felt your heart drop, breathing become shallow and eyes glaze over as you looked across the kitchen island - mounted with red plastic cups and drinks galore - music blending and becoming as unintelligible as the bodies that moved in the background, as your eyes fixated on your best friend. Red cup in his hand with the other tucked into his pocket, black shirt fitted ever so slightly more than you'd seen him wear  and matching the dark cargos that hung loosely around his hips, a thick belt wrapped around his hips and embellished with a prop knife, holstered in - he looked inhumanely good, and had you feeling a gentle thrum between your thighs...

Although the pièce de résistance of his outfit wasn't the clothes that fit and stretched around his thick muscles that you'd never looked at in such a way before...

Rather, it was the mask that was strapped around his face.

A ghost mask - hard, white plastic with the curves and contours resembling the timely character Ghostface - the dark black holes about his mouth and eyes covering all facial features of the handsome brunet, focussing your attention instead to the hard, unmoving plastic that faced you - and you could tell that those eyeholes were burning straight into your own eyes.

A few drinks later, you found yourself outside. On the porch that was decked with an outdoor sofa, and George on one of the seats.

A drunken, dopey smile spread over your lips as you stumbled to the sofa, receiving cheers and greetings from the other friends that lounged across the cushioned seats - though you only had one mind and one thought for where you wanted to sit.

George's arm wrapped around your waist, hand planting firmly on your thigh to keep you supported and grounded whilst you were clearly unbalanced - sitting yourself in George's lap and wrapping your arms around the neck, covered with silky black fabric from the ghostface mask, blending into the black of his tee and giving you a lifeless, unmoving face to focus in on with a disorientated smile. Though you couldn't see the eyes of the man behind the mask, you could watch his head move - the mask lowering and indicating that his eyes looked down and scanned over your body - not being at all subtle whilst he took in the fat of your ass and thighs that spilled from beneath the delicately stringed fishnets on your legs which stretched over his lap and across the sofa, all the way up to the cleavage that spilled and showed perfectly to him from this angle, where you looked up at him from his lap - low-cut bodysuit revealing your delicious bust and bunny ears that extended over your hair giving George's other hand something to wrap around.

 A wolf whistle was heard from behind you, and you let a giggle pass through your lips, though you didn't turn around, your mind churning and whirring horny thoughts as you couldn't rip your gaze away from that mask.

A horny mind really was your own worst enemy.

"You're so fucking hot with the mask on," Fell from your lips uninhibitedly. "I don't know why I've never seen you this way until now... But you look so fucken hot..."

A laugh was heard from beneath the mask. The sound was as crisp and intelligible as if George wasn't even wearing the mask, and yet the plastic made the soundwave bounce back and had the effect of quietening his voice. So that whilst you heard him perfectly - his noise was insulated and only kept for you and him to hear.

"Thought you might like it." That smirk in the voice was evident. And you loved it. The fact that you couldn't tell or see the emotion behind the mask, so you had to listen to every sarcastic word that fell from the man's lips to try and hear how he felt. Like some temperamental guessing game that could go wrong at any moment. Without caring about the fact he'd be able to feel it, you clenched your thighs to satiate the pressure building between your legs at the flirty talk you could feel building. "I've seen your for you page enough times to know what you have a little kink for..."

A mock gasp fell from your lips, pulling away and looking at your friend with mock offense with a large grin across your face. "I do not have a mask kink-"

"Is that so?" He leaned in, shortening the gap between you two. You couldn't help the embarrassed grin that came as you shook your head, denying what was quite obviously true.  George didn't stop, and he spoke with such a low voice, deep and husky that you felt your thighs clenching again. "So if I told you I would take you up to your room and fuck you in this mask right now, you'd say no?"

Your jaw loosened, eyebrows slowly raising in surprise, blinking rapidly to try and focus yourself and make sure that this wasn't some dazed dream in your stupor that you were just imagining.

No. Your best friend really was rocking you in his lap and saying that he'd fuck you. With the mask on. Right here and now.

You couldn't even look into George's eyes and tell whether he was just joking - some sick and twisted flirtatious joke that he was just saying hypothetically... OR whether he seriously meant it. That unmoving mask, emotionless, remorseless, merciless slab of plastic that spoke volumes to your horny subconscious was all you could look into.

And so leaning forwards, you pressed yourself to the mask and lay a delicate kiss on the bridge of his nose - just above the inverted heart of the nasal concha. The ghostface mask tilted to the side as you pulled away, George's hand scaling from your fishnetted thighs to the plump of your ass that spilled from the side of his jeans.

"What's it gonna be then, bunny?" His head was still cocked to the side as his hand tugged against the bunny ears on top of your head, his little petname meant to mock your costume, and yet instead making your heartrate quicken as you were pushed to make a decision. Your best friend who played into your kinks just to wind you up and get a rise out of you, forcing you to tell him whether or not you were gonna cave and tell him to fulfil your libidinous wishes.

You picked the obvious answer.

His arms threaded beneath your body, picking you up effortlessly and letting him take your weight as he carried you through the party and up the stairs the long route - giving everyone a fair look at the host who had fallen trap to the ghostface mask and muscles that carried her to a bedroom.

The moment you reached your bedroom, your hand dived into the bedside table and frantically ran through it, searching for a little foil packet within it which you could use for protection. George stopped your search, however, his hand - worn and roughened with hard spots - firmly grasped as your wrist, his other hand wrapping around the other wrist and pinning them together, grasping them in just one palm as he forced them back and pushed your down into the mattress - pinning your hands above your head and making them sink into the bed under the force with which he pushed you down.

His body then came up on top of yours, not giving you a fraction of breathing space as his chest pressed up to yours, your tits pressing into his muscles with his stomach flat against yours as his masked face was a mere few centimetres away from your own, one hand besides your face supporting him whilst the other held your hands above your head.

"What you doin' there, sweetheart?" George questioned your search in the drawer with a low voice.

"L-looking for a condom," You stuttered under the intense scrutiny, and was only met with a laugh - George's chest rumbling against your own, letting you feel the everything from your close proximity.

"Oh no, I wanna do something with you that doesn't require any of that," George's voice came out so low it was almost a growl - fuelled solely by his own lusts and thoughts which countered yours. "I think I want you to put that smart mouth to use first."

"Well what if I don't want to?" You had the nerve to grin up at the mask and challenge it.

And a laugh fell from your lips as George reached behind him to his belt, pulling out the knife that he'd holstered into the outfit. A "cool accessory", plastic prop that he tried to threaten you with, pressing up to your throat.

"What are you gonna do with that prop," You derided. "Those muscles are big Georgie, but I don't think you could use them to take me out with a plastic kni-"

You were cut off as your strap was sliced through - the "prop" blade cutting through the material effortlessly. Oh.

The tip of his blade was cold, you realised, as it pressed into soft skin beneath your chin after that - applying pressure and forcing you to raise your gaze up to the mask which tilted to the side as you made eye contact. "Not real?" He repeated mockingly. And as you exhaled slowly - shakily - feeling a mix of fear and confusion and adrenaline coursing through your veins, your breath misted over the cold metal. 

George didn't need to use his other hand to hold your wrists down, because you were paralysed in shock - unmoving as the masked man removed his hands from around your wrist and pulled the front of the playsuit away from your body, revealing the braless cleavage beneath the material and letting his hands fondle the soft flesh, his fingertips circling the darker skin and peaking your nipples before roughly pinching and tweaking them, making a whimper leave your throat as your thighs wrapped around his legs and clenched around him, pressing his rough jeans into your core that begged for stimulation.

He dipped, allowing himself to press the blade of the knife into your sternum, the cold and sharp edge just blunt enough to apply pressure into your skin without cutting it - making you gasp as he brought it to the other strap of your playsuit, cutting it away from your body and brushing it away so that all you were really in was a pair of fishnets, whilst your ghostfaced friend was still fully clothed and yielding a very active weapon. Though the first part changed as the mask pressed itself back up close to your face, almost making you flinch and try to withdraw a bit as he hissed from behind the mask "Now suck my cock, bitch."

You were unparalyzed in an instant.

His back against your headboard and trousers frenziedly unbuttoned-unzipped and pulled-away with the boxers, you didn't give yourself a moment to even think or pause as your hands flew to his cock, grasping the shaft and pulling it up to your plumpy lips that George had looked at for so long, wondering how they'd feel massaging his cock and dumbing that smart mouth. 

And by fuck did you feel amazing.

The mask tipped back, low groan exiting George's lips as his hand threaded through your locks and grasped the back of your head whilst you did absolutely every little thing you could to fit your best friend into your throat. Tears jerked in the corners of your eyes as you reached the bottom of George's cock, his tip blocking your throat and suffocating you for a moment. And George's hand pressed into the back of your head - holding you there and making your eyes widen in shock and horror as you struggled to breathe around the blockage in your throat, George's grip on the back of your head unyielding.

You let out high whines and noises around his length, your palm tapping frantically tapping against the thigh on the right side of your head, hoping George would get the idea that you were trying to tell him "You're choking me, I can't breathe right now!!"...

When George finally let go of your head from the base of his cock with a low groan, you gasped and withdrew with tendrils of spit still connecting your panting mouth and lips to his thoroughly wet length, slowly stretching and detaching, landing cold and wet against your bare tits as you looked up at the mask with a look of both fear and disbelief. "What the fuck was that - I could've suffocated!"

"Sorry sweet, just couldn't help myself-" One of this hands made its way to your cheek, cupping the side and letting his thumb penetrate through your open lips and sit over your tongue. He pushed his thumb down onto the muscle and stopped you from saying anything, giving you no option other than to close your mouth around his digit. "Your mouth just feels too good... I'll try not to be too hard, yeah? You be a good girl and keep going..."

The name brought a blush to rise to your cheeks as you tentatively reached out and let your hand wrap around the base of his cock, noticing how much slicker it now was from your spit. His thumb withdrew from your mouth, patting your cheek and letting you return to his cock, deciding not to take him into your mouth in fear he'd remorselessly choke you again.

Instead, you let your tongue explore his cock - lathering up and down the side and looking up with wide eyes at the unmoving mask. The underside of his cock was defined by a vessel that furiously pumped blood, and caused George to elicit a lewd noise as you traced your tongue over it.

"You keep doing that and I'm gonna cum all over your pretty fucken' face..." George's words came out a low groan as you watched the mask tip down to speak to you before rolling back, your tongue flicking over his bright red tip that ached and begged stimulation - his length twitching in your hands. His words felt so degrading - so diminishing- admitting he'd cum all over your face. The same face you'd spent over an hour decorating with eyeliner and various brushes and pens and glitters earlier. The way those words devalued all of that had the pit of your stomach burning and heart beat synchronising to the feeling between your legs.

"Is that where you wanna finish, Georgie?" You let your hand work on the base of his cock whilst you talked, working painfully slowly to ensure he didn't finish before you wanted him to. "Because I can swallow as well..."

The man laughed. "Oh I'll be inside of you soon enough. I wanna see your face covered by me first.. Get off a sec-"

You took your hands off as George got up from his position - leant back against the headboard - pushing himself up and onto his knees, raising his hips from the backs of his heels as you sat in front of the man with wide eyes looking up to see what he was doing. And as his hand attached to his cock, other one opening your mouth - you stuck your tongue out for him whilst he furiously fisted his cock in his hand, those biceps tensed and whorishly defined, forearms a work of art as his arm pumped to fuck his cock in his hand - every thrust of his hand accompanied by an involuntary jolt of the hips as he got closer and closer to finishing - his silky tip pressing against your tongue with each twitch of his cock that brought him closer and closer to finishing, until-

You closed your eyes, a gasp leaving your throat as you felt something slick and hot spurt onto your face - touching your forehead before coursing down the nasal bone and curve of your eyehole - another spurt landing above your lip and dripping down onto your open tongue as you felt a few more dribbles with less kinetic energy dripping down onto your tongue.

You jaw slowly raised to try and close and swallow the cum that'd landed on your tongue, but George's thumb pressed down onto your lower lip, holding your jaw open a moment longer.

And opening the eye that wasn't squeezed shut to prevent anything slipping into your eye - you were blinded with a flash, causing you to squint your eye before seeing the phone that George held in front of your face - the flashlight shining having taken multiple photos.

A gasp fell from your throat as you realised what he was doing - wiping away the remnants on your face and looking indignantly up at the mask. "You delete that photo right now - I don't want that being sent anywhere to anyone-"

"Or else what?" The mask tilted and his voice came out a taunt, and you hands scavenged the sheets, hoping to find the cold metal of a blade within your grasp as a defense against your best friend-turned psycho. You were unlucky. And the coldness of metal against your thigh told you that. "Looking for something?" 

You looked down to the knife between your thighs before looking back up to the mask and gulping. 

"Don't you worry, princess," George's hand found your hip, his hand pushing you over and turning you so that you lay with your stomach flat against the bed - looking opposite you and into the mirror to see George with the knife still between his fingers and between your legs - watching and feeling as George used the sharp blade to slice through the fishnets with ease, his hands wrapping around the fine thread, and using the bulk of his muscles to rip the rest of them off. He looked up and caught you staring at him in the mirror, head tilting to the side as he slot himself between your legs - pressing the weight of his body down onto yours whilst his cock landed between your cheeks - still hard despite finishing only moments prior, and slick spit lubricating his motions as he humped and fucked himself between your plump cheeks.  You could feel a whimper forming at the back of your throat at the aching between your legs that made you want to beg for George - to just push himself in and stretch you out.

Your gaze had fallen from the mirror - eyes screwed shut and hands bunching up a pile of duvet close to your face for comfort. But George's knife against your throat pulled your gaze up to the mirror, where you saw that the ghostface mask was pressed right besides your face, so that the words that came from behind it were absolutely crystal.

"I won't hold onto this pictures forever sweetheart - I'll delete them... On one condition-" His hand tugged the locks at the back of your hair - lifting you from the mattress as he held your body up and made you hold eye contact with him in the mirror as he pressed his lips to your ear. "Every round you can go, I'll delete another picture. And I'll give you an extra clue - you have five photos to work through..."

THAT'S A WRAP ON GRACIE'S KINKTOBER 2024!!!! I hope you all enjoyed and we ended it with a BIG BANG 🫶👏🎬

Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

To see more, here's my MASTERLIST

And here's my WATTPAD, with 100+ more oneshots to read

p.s. Customise which Oneshots YOU want to be tagged in by submitting your preferences on THIS GOOGLE FORM + join the taglist!!!

Massive creds to @mrschrismd for this fic idea + SO MANY MORE, bc she's been doing god's work when it comes to giving ideas for fits istg

G Clarkey taglist:

@clarkeysbog, @springholland, @mrsnoclue69, @martini4lyfe, @xxkatxgracexx

@sunshinesunny, @danric03, @zandrax, @lyssaluvs, @mekselinaurr

@junodz, @scassty1202, @2themoon-and2saturn, @megaprincesscakes

@softanic, @lilyyxoii @kennysimp101, @anaaye7, @insomniac4000

@musicalburrage. @Ajcs150, , @x-d1vine, @lordzzz, @lilyyxoii

@amberrrx, , @imredjack, @beanhardy, @wh4theduck, @raekensluver

@ajshabsxxwife, @thankunextx, @x-d1vine, @raekensluver

Litr me after writing this fic:

[andi-o-geyser]

comedy gold at its finest

[thisisnotthenerd]

i'm assembling the most chaotic intrepid heroes party:

at the end of this, the chaotic characters will be assembled into the ultimate chaos party, so choose wisely!

feel free to share your reasoning/propaganda as you please!

[natamouche-art]

Word on the street is tumblr's the place to be for posting our art from production and after.... so hi! I'm Natalie, and Chaos Theory was my first gig as a board artist, a huge honour honestly.

Over the last several years I've found it incredibly educational and fun to see what boards and development art other board artists share online, so if I'll be adding to that pool of online materials. Aaaas well as some production memes and fanart, of course. Shoutout to everyone who worked on this wonderful project!

[libraryofgage]

A Place Like Steve in a Boy Like This

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One (you're here!)

The Mummy (1999) is one my comfort movies, actually, and I realized Rick and Steve are very alike actually. It's the looks, it's the hair, it's the loyalty and devotion.

Anyway, here's an AU where Rick and Evelyn O'Connell are Steve's parents lol

If there are any other people you think would make good parents for Steve, let me know! I'll take them into consideration and see if inspiration sparks :D

Anyway, if you'd like a tag on any future parts, let me know!

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P

-----

After being relegated to the open-air portion of some ruins in Crete, Steve entertains himself by slowly moving closer to the cats nearby in the hopes of petting them. His parents said he couldn't go into the ruins, but they didn't say a thing about playing with the ruins' inhabitants. Said inhabitants are gathered in a circle, some standing and some stretching out in the sun, but sticking together as though they're waiting for someone to begin a discussion.

He takes a piece of jerky from his bag, tearing it into small pieces as he peeks around the corner of a column. A few large stones are scattered around it, nearly reaching his shoulders and helping to hide him from the view of the cats on the other side. Though, in all honesty, they're probably only sticking around because they smell the jerky in his hand.

Steve grins and tosses a piece of meat over the stones, watching as it lands in the middle of what he's dubbed the Cat Council. A calico cat jolts, ears perked as she stares at the meat before taking a tentative step forward. She sniffs the meat, decides it's an acceptable offering, and eats it.

When it's gone, Steve tosses more pieces. He feeds a few more of the cats now, and he's practically buzzing with excitement. Deciding they're less likely to scatter, Steve clambers onto the huge boulder in front of him, managing to find little footholds to boost himself up. With a grunt, he makes it to the top and looks down on the Cat Council, ready to throw the last of his jerky when he hears the stone beneath him shift.

In the time it takes to blink, the ground crumbles beneath the rock, scattering the cats and dropping the stone out from under Steve. He falls with it, momentarily and terrifyingly weightless before gravity takes over and he drops. A yelp escapes him, followed by a pained cry as he lands feet-first on the rock, his ankles taking the brunt of the impact and, if not breaking, severely spraining for the effort.

Grit, dirt, and dust coat Steve's tongue and throat, and he coughs up as much as he can while taking in his new surroundings. Thankfully, sunlight filters into the underground space, allowing him to see the tiled floors and walls covered in a carefully carved and painted frieze that has, somehow, survived the centuries since its creation. Several figures wearing togas and carrying baskets line up outside a darkened arch. They don't exactly look happy to be there, but they seem resigned to their fate. Steve can even see the tears meticulously carved into several faces.

When he follows the frieze, he realizes the space he's in is really a hallway, one that seems to stretch forever on either side of him. Amazingly, there's no other sign of aging in it. No spiderwebs crowding the walls, no erosion from wind or water damage, and no sign of people having walked the passageway in centuries. It's the kind of perfectly preserved discovery Steve and his mother lose their heads over while his father waits for something to go wrong.

Steve is about to try standing (if he can stay upright, maybe he can explore a little and find something to show his mother before they realize he's gone missing) when he hears...a snort? Maybe it's more like a heavy puff of air. He tilts his head, twisting around to squint down the corridor to his right. Something glints in the darkness, close to what he assumes is the ceiling, and Steve grabs his flashlight.

He clicks it on, aiming the beam at the ground and slowly moving it down the corridor. He stops when the light shines on cloven hooves, a bad feeling beginning to build in his chest. With a now somewhat shaking hand, Steve slowly raises the beam, that bad feeling growing as it shines over furry hind legs and a furry waist that seamlessly blends into scarred skin just below the navel. Despite everything, he keeps going, only confirming his worst fears when his flashlight finally reaches the top to find the head of a bull staring straight at him, the horns cracked and nearly scraping the ceiling, the black eyes undeniably trained on Steve, and a glimmering golden ring looped through its nose, as untarnished by time as the friezes.

For ten seconds (Steve counts while trying to control his panic), he and the minotaur stare at each other. Then, it puffs out air again, the force strong enough to sway the ring in its nose. Steve grips the flashlight tighter, swallowing around the wariness threatening to choke him and briefly wondering if, maybe, centuries have somehow soothed the minotaur's anger.

And then it roars, deep and loud and powerful enough to shake the corridor and bring more dust and grit raining down on Steve from above. It lowers its head, aiming its horns straight at Steve, and charges with all the fury of a creature that's been denied centuries' worth of sacrifices.

Steve screams as the minotaur's hooves shake the ground with each step, too scared to do anything more than sit there and wonder if there will be enough of his body for his parents to identify when the minotaur is done with him.

He's just about accepted the answer (it's no; the answer is no) when something grabs the back of his shirt and yanks him up just before the minotaur crashes into the boulder. Strong arms wrap around Steve, holding him close as his father's familiar voice says, "I gotcha!"

Steve blinks, his heart still hammering as he clings to his father's neck and looks at his mother over his shoulder. She's staring at the hole, a frown on her face as the minotaur's enraged roar sounds from below. "Rick, I think we should go now," she says, grabbing the back of Rick's shirt and yanking him back just in time to avoid the minotaur's giant hand slamming into the ground next to the hole.

"Great idea, Evie," Steve's father says, his voice a little strained as he passes Steve over and pulls out a gun. "I'll cover you. Get Steve to the car, get it running, and I'll meet you there." The minotaur screams again, and Steve is still close enough to see it realize it can climb the stone to reach the surface.

"You have three minutes, or I'm coming back for you."

Rick looks over his shoulder, flashing a grin at Steve and his mother. "I'll be right behind you," he promises.

And he was. With a minotaur right on his heels and another week added to their time in Crete while they tried to get the whole situation straightened out without too many casualties or Steve's uncle Jonathan ruining more than one good pair of trousers.

-----

Steve doesn't think he'll grow used to the smell and sounds of the hospital. The antiseptic, sterile atmosphere isn't too bad, but the constant background noise has the potential to drive him up the walls. It helps that he, Eddie, and Max were finally moved to a room together, mostly muffling the beeps and PA announcements with each other's chatter, snoring, and other noises.

Right now, everything is drowned out by the kids arguing with Eddie about their next campaign. Eddie wants to do a sequel of their current one while they've been gunning for something sci-fi-themed if Steve is understanding their debate correctly. He's not sure why it's so important, but their voices are creating nice background noise, and Robin's rhythmic, habitual tapping of her fingers on his arm grounds him, so he lets his mind wander.

Honestly, Steve thinks they'd all benefit from a nice trip somewhere. Maybe Paris. They can't possibly run into anything in Paris, right?

Well. The catacombs do exist, and nobody knows what's down there. So they'd have to stay well away.

But still. Paris. The food. The Louvre. The history. And, you know, maybe they could just pop into the catacombs just so Steve can take pictures and show his mother later. Following a strictly regulated guided tour should be perfectly fine.

Steve drops his head back against the pillow, wincing slightly when the action tugs at the stitches along his throat. They hurt, but his worst injuries are on his sides where the demobats bit and feasted. The doctor said they'd scar permanently, looking somewhat apologetic about the fact until Steve waved her off. What's a few more for the collection?

Besides, at the time the doctor was giving him a rundown of his injuries, another had been doing the same for Eddie. His list was pretty similar to Steve's, and it only took him a few seconds to realize something very important: if Steve hadn't been there to share the demobat burden, Eddie would be dead.

That fact had sat with him for a while. Death is no stranger to Steve. In fact, he's intimately familiar with the concept. And all the ways it can be subverted. Steve doesn't want to think he'd be the kind to pull out the Book of the Dead after everything his parents have told him, but he also knows he'd do anything for the people he loves. Like Eddie. Like Robin. Like the kids.

Steve has risked his life for them numerous times, and he'd do it again without a moment's hesitation.

"I can't believe we're only just finding out!"

This statement comes from the hallway on the other side of the room's closed door. The voice is achingly familiar to Steve, one he's only heard over the phone for the past few months, and he sits up straight. The conversation in the room falters for a few seconds before picking up again after the kids decide it's probably not relevant to them.

And then comes hurried, angry footsteps outside the door and a doctor's voice saying, "I'm sorry, but only authorized visitors are allowed to see patients."

"I wouldn't stay in her way," a man's voice says, his tone teetering between amused and genuinely sympathetic toward the doctor.

Apparently, he doesn't heed the warning, and the room is silent enough that everyone hears the following tirade. "Authorized visitors? Authorized visitors?! Are you stopping me from seeing my son? Who on earth do you think you are? If you don't get out of the way, I will make you move, mister."

"I wonder when she'll realize she's got the wrong room," Dustin says, sounding amused.

"Ma'am, I ca--," the doctor's words are cut off by a sudden yelp and the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor outside.

The door is thrown up to show a woman, her shoulders heaving and her curly hair in disarray. She's covered in grime like she dragged herself out of a grave and came right away without stopping to clean up. Which, honestly, might be the case. Behind her is a similarly disheveled man, a fond smile on his face as he looks at the woman. "That's my girl," he says, the smile becoming a full-blown grin when the woman smacks his chest without turning around.

The sight is so familiar that Steve nearly tears up. He hasn't seen his parents in months, and their appearance suddenly lifts a weight that he didn't even realize was on his shoulders. Whatever else happens, they'll take care of it.

Finally, Evelyn's eyes land on Steve, and the anger on her face melts away into relief and worry. She rushes over, sliding around Robin before she can move, and cups Steve's face in her hands. "Oh, my poor boy, are you okay? What have the doctors said?" she asks.

Steve's father hovers behind her, giving Steve a once-over with his eyes before determining he's fine. "Better question," he says, placing a hand on Evelyn's shoulder and leaning closer, "Where in the hell were your guns?"

Steve is about to answer when his mother whirls on Rick. "His guns? Our son is in a hospital bed, and you're asking where his guns were?! Are you daft? Have you lost your mind?" she asks, poking her finger into his chest.

He sighs, takes her hand, and wraps his other arm around her waist. "Evie, he's fine. He's awake, and nobody in here looks like they're preparing for a funeral. Clearly, he's gonna be discharged soon. So, I think asking where his guns were is reasonable because maybe he wouldn't be in a hospital bed if he'd had them."

"Dad is right," Steve says, getting his parents' attention. He grins at them. "I'm fine. Doctors said it would just be another scar. Or, well, like three more scars. Doesn't matter. I should get discharged later this week."

Before Evelyn or Rick can say anything else, Dustin asks, "What the fuck is going on here?!"

"Language!" Steve shouts, turning his head to glare at Dustin.

"Did you seriously just call him out on language?" Rick asks. "You?"

"His mom gets upset when he swears, so I've been trying to set a good example," Steve mumbles, slumping down in his bed. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Everybody, these are my parents. Evelyn and Rick O'Connell. Parents, this is, well, everybody."

"Oh, let me see if I can name them," Evelyn says, her eyes lighting up some at the challenge before pulling away from Rick. She points to each child as she correctly names them. "I already know Robin. So nice to see you again dear--"

"Nice to see you, too, Mrs. O'Connell."

"--Now, you must be Dustin. I've heard plenty about you, young man. And based on the haircut, you're Will. You've got to be Mike, and you two are Lucas and Erica. This must be El, and you're Max, right? I'm sure you'll get better soon, dear." When Evelyn turns and sees Eddie, she gets a softer smile. "And you're Eddie. I've heard quite a bit about you, too. All good, I promise. It's so nice to finally meet you."

"Wait," Lucas says, frowning slightly in confusion, "Eddie and Steve have only known each other for, like, a week?"

Everyone looks at Steve, and he shrugs in response. "Eddie was pretty impossible to ignore in high school," he says, brushing off the questioning looks until only Robin and Eddie are left staring, the former with a knowing glint in her eye and the latter with a confused one in his.

"Sorry, I still can't get over Steve having parents," Mike says, his nose scrunched up like this entire thing might be some hallucination.

"Did you think he was an orphan?" Robin asks, shooting him a similar scrunched-nose look.

"I don't know! He's never talked about them! I thought his parents were, like, absent assholes or something," Mike says, his shoulders raising defensively.

"That's our fault, I'm afraid," Evelyn says, smiling apologetically as she moves to stand by Steve again. She places a hand on his head, gently carding her fingers through his hair. The motion is familiar and reassuring, and Steve leans into the touch, unaware of Eddie staring at his mom's hand.

"Our work is pretty, uh, need-to-know," Rick says, shrugging as he reaches behind Evelyn and places a hand on Steve's shoulder. "As in, nobody needs to know."

Steve is nodding in agreement when more footsteps sound from the hallway and his uncle slides into the doorway, nearly tripping on his own feet. He clears his throat, adjusts his jacket, and looks up to find a whole room staring at him.

He blinks and tugs on his collar, shifting his gaze to Evelyn and Rick. "Well, after you lot ran off, I got us visitor passes," he says, holding up three stickers.

"You stole them," Steve and Rick say, their voices in synch and nearly indistinguishable.

To his credit, Jonathan doesn't question it. He just scoffs, walking into the room and slapping a sticker on Rick's chest. "I am offended. How could you possibly think I stole them?" he asks.

"Should I remind you how we met?" Rick asks, raising an eyebrow at Jonathan.

"Fair enough. Carry on," Jonathan says, looking away and moving to Steve's side. "Good to see you, old boy. Glad you aren't dead, and sorry it took so long to get your parents here. It's not easy making phone calls to the Amazon Rainforest."

Steve shrugs. "I figured," he says, watching as Evelyn pulls her hand from his hair to place the visitor sticker on her chest.

There are going to be endless questions later. The kids are definitely going to try to grill Evelyn and Rick about their work and about Steve as a child. But there's plenty of time for that later.

For now, Steve is happy to just relax and let his parents take over. He doesn't have to be the responsible one anymore, and he can finally breathe with that weight off his shoulders.

----

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@badgerburrows