#scar's junk drawer

[scarthefangirl]

Me everyday: *gets a fic idea* Yes I need to start this!

My 45 wips:

[boojersey]

lmfao if u want to know the shit i get up to in the middle of the night i just carved that elementary school S into my thigh with a knife bc ...idk

[silassinclair]

Let me Take Care of You

Yandere Boxer x Injured Reader

Summary: It’s always been you taking care of Viktor and the other fighters. After all you’re the gym’s doctor! It’s your job. But what happens when it’s the other way around and you’re the one with the injury this time?

CW// Injuries, Blood, Personal Space Invaded

Masterlist Here!!

The gym was packed with fighters training for the upcoming fight this weekend. This weekend Viktor was going to be fighting a German fighter named Iron Klaus; the famous Iron Claw of Berlin. One punch from him and the opponent will be out like a light. So Viktor has been training especially hard in dodging and weaving for the past month.

While everyone was focused on training you decided to clean up a little bit around the clinic. The last doctor who worked here had no organizational skills whatsoever and it peeved you. So why not use the spare time to tidy up a little?

The top cabinet was pretty dusty. The dust was pretty annoying too because the fighters with a dust allergy would always be sneezing whenever they came in. Wetting one of the paper towels you look for something to stand on so you can reach the cabinet. There’s no stools or four legged chairs, only your swivel chair.

“This idea a terrible idea.” You think to yourself. But you have to get rid of that dust for the sake of your patients. So you wheel the chair over and put a foot on it. The wheels immediately feel like they want to slide out from under you. But you ignore it. You stand to your full height with both feet on the chair and begin dusting off the cabinet top.

But suddenly one of the six plastic wheels burst off the chair, throwing you completely off balance and sending you falling to the hard tile floor.

“AH-!” You scream and hit your head on the counter then fall to the floor with a loud thud. Groaning in pain you massage your tail bone. But then something gets in your eye. Something wet.

Tapping your forehead you flinch with a hiss when you accidentally touch an open wound.

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit.” You mutter repeatedly and rush to grab a mirror. Shuffling through the junk drawer of your desk you find a compact mirror and flip it open. And to your horror you see that the top right of your forehead as a long bleeding cut. Luckily it isn’t too deep but without proper care it could scar.

“Great…”

Getting some rubbing alcohol and a cotton pad you spurt some onto the pad. But just as you’re about to dab it onto the cut the door slams open causing you to drop the wet pad.

“Can you knock-?! Viktor?” You calm down when you see it’s just Viktor. If it were Alexi you would have thrown the alcohol bottle at him.

“I need some ice..” His words fall off his tongue and his eyes widen when he finally looks at you. Viktor takes large hurriedly steps towards you immediately.

“What happened kroshechnyy!?” He asks worriedly. “You’re bleeding so much. It may scar your simpatichnyy (pretty) face.”

You roll your eyes. “It looks worse than it feels. It’s alright. I was just about to disinfect before you came barging in. And don’t slam my door open anymore, you’ll break it.”

Viktor just grunts and takes you by the arm and pretty much forces you to sit on the bed. “I will help you.” He says and looks through your cabinets and drawers for supplies. He gets some hydrogen peroxide, cotton balls, gauze, and medical tape.

“You really don’t have to do that, go back to training Viktor. Don’t waste your time with me.” You say earnestly. He needs to spend his time training, not taking care of you. It was your own fault for getting into this mess anyways.

With all the supplies in hand Viktor turns to you with a shake of his head. “Any second spent with you is a second well spent, not wasted. So let me take care of you.”

And he wasn’t asking. He goes to work immediately and dabs some of the hydrogen peroxide onto a cotton ball and dabs it onto your forehead. When you wince in pain he shushes you calmly like a baby. Cooing and reassuring you that everything is going to be okay.

“Shh shh kroshechnyy, it will only hurt a bit.” He whispers and cleans the wound. The bleeding has stopped now.

His eyes are calm and focused as all his attention is on you. Helping you, taking care of you, loving you. It feels so domestic cleaning your wound. It makes him feel like the two of you are lovers. He gently lays a square of thin gauze over the cut and tapes it down with some of the medical tape.

“Sorry if the job is… sloppy. I am not used to attending wounds.” He mutters with disappointment in himself.

But you reassure him with a light smile. “Hey it’s a better job than what I would’ve done with just a compact mirror. I appreciate it, thank you.”

Viktor nods softly, he turns away from your gaze as pink blush dusts his pale cheeks.

You sit still for a moment. The sting of the cut is slowly fading away thanks to Viktor’s first aid. But then you remember why Viktor came into the office in the first place; you retrieve a bag of ice from the mini fridge.

“Here. Thank you again for helping me.” You say and hand him the bag.

Viktor nods with a small grunt and accepts the bag.

“So what’s the ice for?” You ask. “Did you get hurt?”

Viktor nods. “Olēg hit me pretty hard in the ribs. Old bald bastard still packs a mean punch.”

You chuckle. “Well it’s good practice for you against your upcoming match with that German guy. Anyway, you can rest here while you use that ice.”

Viktor smiles slightly. “You’ll let me rest here? Usually you always try to shoot me away kroshechnyy.”

Well he had a point. It annoyed you when Viktor would come in here on the daily and just watch you while you worked. But for the past few weeks he hasn’t visited due to his rigorous training regiment. Deep down you missed his calm presence and his awkward attempts at making small talk. So what if you missed him a little bit? He was the only decent company here. All the other fighters have no manners.

“This time is an exception, think of it as a thank you for patching me up this time.” You say whilst organizing some drawers.

You feel warmth press up from behind and turn your head slightly to the side. Viktor’s gotten up from the bed and came up behind you, pinning you to the desk with a hand on the hardwood on either side. His front is right against your back and you can feel his warm breath on the side of your cheek. He leant his face down lower; his lips just barely graze the shell of your ear.

“Viktor what did I say about personal space-”

“Sorry, I can’t help myself. I just really miss you.” He says with a low hum. His voice is rich and deep like honey, but also dark and dangerous like the night.

Shivers shoot up your spine. What was he trying to pull? “Viktor I said I wanted to take it slow with the whole becoming friends again thing…”

His hand slams down on the desk making you jump with a yelp.

“Well I’m getting impatient.” The growl in his voice makes your blood run cold.

“O-Okay okay j-just calm down for a sec.” You say wobbly. The feeling of his nose on the top of your head makes your train of thought stall. He inhales your scent slowly, reminiscing in the nostalgic smell of your lavender shampoo.

“Just let me hold you close… please. Think of it as your gift to me for patching you up.”

You nod your head in understanding. Viktor is a damaged man. He’s touch starved, affection starved, and had a rough up bringing. If he wanted some semblance of comfort from you then you’ll happily give it. Even if it’s awkward and slightly uncomfortable for yourself. But hey, maybe the uncomfortable feeling will go away soon once you two re-bond overtime.

“It’s alright.” You whisper and pat his back. “I’m here now… Just don’t fuck up again okay? Or I really won’t forgive you ever again.”

He hums lowly. “I’ll never. Never again.”

His arms wrap around you into a warm embrace. And you welcome the embrace. His exterior is cold but his arms are warm. You can’t help but put your arms around him in return.

The two of you bask in a couple minutes of calm silence. But shouts from outside the clinic yelling for Viktor can be heard. Said blonde grumbles in annoyance as he lets go of you, much to his distaste.

“Be more careful next time kroshechnyy. And take care of yourself.” He says while petting your hair. You bag his hand off your head with a grunt.

“Okay okay personal space breaking time is over. Now get out there and train.” You say and push him towards the door.

He rolls his eyes and opens the door. But before leaving he turns quickly to kiss your cheek, then shuts the door immediately and runs off.

“Bastard…” You mutter to yourself.

[ateriblewriter]

Butterflies (t.z)

Continuation of I’m Here

TRIGGERS: self harm, self worth, hinting at other things (if you or anyone ever needs help please do reach out)

a/n: sorry this a year late. but here it is! read with caution.

Enjoy?

"Do you have any sharpies? Or a permanent marker or something like that?" Trevor untangled himself from around your body when he felt the time was right. He didn't wait for your answer before he started to rummage through the drawers of junk that were in the kitchen.

Trevor wasn't about to act like he all the answers in world or like he was going to be the one to fix you. Because in reality that would be impossible, you needed someone trained in that field to help you long term. But that didn't mean that he couldn't help in the moment or at least try.

And he had an idea, something that he had seen when he was younger. A reminder for when your feelings got a little too big for you to handle by yourself. It also a place holder until he was able to help you find the correct help you needed. Because he wasn't going to leave you alone to deal with this on your own.

"Um. I think there might be one in the cup next to the sink." You mumble trying to remember where they were. You knew you had some. "Or else it's in with my art supplies. I don't know. I'm sorry."

"Hey now. There is nothing to be sorry about y/n." Trevor carried you over to your couch and making his way to your art corner to start scrounging around for that marker.

It took him a minute to find your collection, it turned out they were with the art supplies that hadn't been touched in months. He picked out two colors, purple and blue, your favorite color along with one of his.

Returning to where he had left you, he made himself comfortable. He snagged a blanket from the bin and laid it across the both of you. Trevor wasn't

"Give me your arm" He said, not asking. You didn't have the strength to question what his motives were, so you presented him with your wrist full of healing scars. He grimmaced seeing them, wondering how long this had been going on and why he didn't notice earlier.

Trevor took the purple marker starting to draw something. He started off with the body, adding some sort of antenna to what was supposed to be it head. He then took the blue marker and made wings on either side of its body.

"A butterfly?" You question rubbing and tracing over the temporary tattoo with the tip of your finger.

Your friend nodded and explained the simple rules: you want the butterfly to live by letting it fade naturally and reapplying it when you feel that certain urge. Oh and if you do act on those urges the butterfly dies.

You could do that. Or at least try. It seemed easy enough.

"You think she's gonna like it?" Trevor asked peeling off the bandage that once covered his newly acquired tattoo that laid on his right shoulder. He was looking to get something new to add to his collection of art in his body and he chose a butterfly design.

"A butterfly?" Mason scratched his head. He was a little unimpressed and a bit confused. But that's because he didn't know the significance of the creature. "I don't know man, it just seems kind of-"

"Perfect, right?" Trevor finished his sentence. He had grabbed a warm wash cloth to clean the remaining goop off.

"I was gonna say weird. But whatever floats your boat." The younger man shrugged. He didn't care what Trevor decided to put on his body.

Trevor groaned, quickly finishing up his tattoo care so they could go meet up with you. You would like the new ink, he was pretty positive of it. He just needed to show it to you know.

You weren't paying attention to what you were doing. Sometimes you do things and it just sort of happens and you don't really remember it. It was almost like you were in some sort of trance. A trance that had you acting upon some of those heavy feelings that had been plaguing you lately.

"Shit" You mumbled when you heard the knocking on the door. You had completely forgotten that Trevor and Mason were coming over. There was a fresh mark on your arm that you needed to take care of.

You hurried to the bathroom in search of some sort of bandage for your arm. Maybe you could play it off as an accident. You didn't need to tell Trevor what had happened. It would be fine right? Oh god you hoped Trevor wouldn't notice.

You just found a bandage, when you spotted the butterfly you had just drawn on your arm the day before. You panic a little, the drawing didn't have a purpose anymore and had to go. You drop the band-aid to reach for a nail scrubber and start to get rid of the butterfly.

"Come on, Y/n, open the door!" Trevor banged on the door again.

"You think she forgot?" Mason crossed his arms. It wouldn't be the first time it slipped her mind that they were supposed to hang.

"No we were talking about it earlier. I highly doubt she forgot so soon." Trevor frowned unsure what to do. Should he wait for you, maybe you were still getting ready. But he had a sinking suspicion that wasn't the case.

Trevor fished the key you had given him out of his pocket and opened the door. He suggested Mason stay there. Mason had no idea what Trevor had walked into last time something like this had happened, so he agreed to stay put.

Cautiously he entered your apartment and started to look around for you. He found you in the bathroom scrubbing away. He notice the red on your arm and put two and two together.

"Hey, Y/n?" He called out. He wasn't fully sure if you had completely heard him so he tried reaching you again. "Can you hear me?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry" You continue what you were doing.

"Hey. Listen to me. You're okay. It happens. I'm not mad." Trevor wanted to grab onto your wrists to get you to stop scrubbing at the butterfly that had already been cleanly washed off, but you swore you could still see a piece of it. Instead he grabbed onto your shoulders and turned you to face him so wrap his arms around you and pull you in close. "It's okay. Wanna draw a new one?"

Let me know what you think! Anything is appreciated!

[scarthefangirl]

I want to write but I don't want to write

[littlemessyjessi]

“Couple of Chaos” : A Kim Namjoon/RM Commissioned Request: Plus Size Reader, Messy Reader

Kim Namjoon x Reader, Plus Size Reader, Messy Reader, Established Relationship

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Prompt: Namjoonie and his partner who is just as much of a mess as him. A darling. A lovely person. Love of his life. But just as much of a chaotic mess as he is, lol.

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“Life is the messy bits.” - Lisa Friedman

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Headcanons:  How Namjoon and Reader deal with the both of them being messy as hell. 

First and freaking foremost, you’re both disasters

just full on

You’re both equally chaotic

one as bad as the other

and yet ya’ll will get on each other’s nerves so bad with messes

like…. ya’ll both do it and yet when it’s the other person it’s somehow terrible

hypocrites, the both of yuns

that being said, in a way, ya’ll kinda complete each other

Namjoon is a perpetual passport loser right? 

And I’ve lost count of how many times he’s lost his air pods

Well, cue…. you

His personal storage locker… or purse.  Whichever you want to refer to it

If you carry a purse, just snatch his shit from him and keep up with it so this man can actually board a plane

If you don’t carry a purse but wear a bra, stick it in the boulder holder

If you don’t do either, put it in your pocket for him

If you don’t have pockets then you have bigger problems to worry about that Namjoon-ah and his lack of ability to keep up with his shit

Now, assuming that you do have these things, you do this so often that Namjoon just knows you have them. 

Needs chapstick? If you’re in a relatively private company, he just goes into your pocketeses for it

Passport? Ok, so Namjoon is smart as fuck. We get it.  However, he do be having some primo himbo energy at times.  

Picture this: Airport.  Namjoonie lost passport.  “Oh, wait a second.  I know where it is!”  Just turns and sticks his hand in your bra and deep sea dives in the titties until he has found what he’s looking for. Assuming that you have titties. If you don't, well again- homeboy is just deep sea diving in whatever area you're currently keeping his belongings.

meanwhile, the eyes of everyone around him have been scarred and you’ve just been violated in front of the entire airport 

he realizes this in about 3 seconds and all he can do is give you that cute dimpled smile

of course he’s forgiven.  It’s Joonie.  If you don’t forgive him then I’ll be along directly to deliver an ass whoopin'. Let's not play with sweet Namu's precious feelings. He's an angel and a perfectly wonderful person. Fuck with him and you fuck with me. And I have raged stored from the age of three. I am now in my 30s. I have it and I will use it.

so yeah

and going back to ya’ll getting on each other’s nerves

doom piles

There.  I said it.   

Ya’ll both got doom piles and junk drawers and whole ass closets just full of random crap

and you nearly kill each other over it on a regular basis

“Jagiyaaaaaaaaaaa! Come on! There is a full on mountain of stuff here and you can’t even close this drawer.”  

“Namjoon, would you like to discuss the entire guest bedroom full of figurines? Or perhaps, the closet full of books?  Or maybe, just maybe, you would like to explain to me why there is an drawer in our bedroom full of baby things when neither one of us has any plans of having children anytime soon?” 

“....” *Joon bites lip and narrows eyes

“....” *you lift a brow*

“Alright, jagi. My mistake. You hungry?” 

“Yes, I’m starving.” 

“Wonderful.” he smirks.  “Where would you like to eat?” 

Your head slowly turns around. 

You narrow your eyes at his smug ass face. 

“How fucking dare you, Kim Namjoon?” 

And he has the audacity to smirk at you because he knows he bested you cause you can’t decided where to eat to save your life.

Jokes on him though because you just needed a project.  It was sorting through your doom piles but now that he’s pissed you off it quickly changed to annoying the ever living hell out of him. 

Lowkey though, jokes actually on you because Joon loves it when your fiesty and sometimes purposefully does this shit just to rile you up. 

You also know this about him though.  Which is why you left the junk drawer open and also why you got sassy.   

He likes that you’re a mess and you love that about him too.

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"This is the stuff that drives me crazy This is the stuff that's getting to me lately In the middle of my little mess I forget how big I'm blessed"

- This is the Stuff, Francesca Battistelli

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Members Reaction to the Deities of Destruction and Disaster: 

Seokjin:  (A/N: omfg Seokjin you did not have to be so aggressively attractive. And that goes for you too, Namjoon)

Long suffering sigh.  The hyung energy is strong here.   It’s part frustration and part pure bewilderment as to why, how and what even is he going to do with the both of you.  That being said, Seokjinnie thinks the two of you are super cute together.  You definitely get scolded but also, he cracks easily because come on.  Look at ya’ll.  Thanks God every day that Namjoon uses you as his purse though.  He is so tired of standing around in an airport, lol. 

Yoongi:  (A/N: Cue the dreamy sigh. Just look at them. Look at the smiles. Look at the damn ARMS!)

I’m gonna be so for real with you right now.  He does not give a shit about the mess. I mean, don’t get his things in a mess but if you roll up in a 2003 lifted Tacoma, open the door and a bunch of shit falls out… I mean, maybe he might give you a little bit of a lecture but honestly?  That’s ya’ll’s problem, lol.   But also stop losing ya’ll fucking airpods, the both of you.   If a bra works then do that because he will not be loaning you another pair ever again.  And he refuses to talk about why. 

Hoseok: (A/N: Mother of God. I have the fattest crush on Hoseok. Also peep that cute little Kookie. And how DARE you attack me like this, Namjoon?!)

Never in the history of ever was anyone annoyed more by this than Hoseok, lol.  However, he doesn’t bitch.  Oddly enough, he never complains about it.  He never bitches.  He never lectures.  He does, however, come over to hang out and help the both of you clean your mess.  Hoseok is great for body doubling if you have ADHD.  However, if you have an issue with him doing the cleaning it might be an issue.  It makes him itch and he needs to scratch it.   

Jimin:  (A/N: It's unspeakable how much handsomeness is in this gif.)

An actual ANGEL for body doubling if you have ADHD and you’re trying to handle the depression hoarder situation in your bedroom.  Super respectful and understanding.  He just enjoys spending time with his loved ones so he would gladly come help if you want it or just keep the both of you company.  Because clearly body doubling does not with you and Joon together. You just make it a bigger mess.  Acknowledging this: Jimin finds this chaos hilarious and doesn’t do anything to stop.  Ya’ll are wild and unkempt and honestly? Jiminie is here for it. 

Side note: I am particularly attached to Jimin in this gif. Look how beautiful. Look how handsome. I swear, that man is dangerous. We are all very, very, very lucky that he's such a sweetheart because don't act like if he asked you for a kidney that you wouldn't immediately start looking for something to carve with . And if that happened to be a spoon, we'd all just accept our fate. Don't lie.

Extra Sidenote: Namjoon be looking extra delectable. *chef's kiss*

Taehyung:  (A/N: First of all, damn Namjoon. Those arms. Sweet lord. I'm looking, Joonie. Respectfully, of course..... but I do be lookin. Second, does Taehyung not look like the most precious creature in all the land?)

A precious darling. He does not give a shit about the mess.  He just loves his hyung.  He loves his hyung’s love.  Ya’ll are special to him and that’s how you are.  He thinks it is part of ya’ll’s charm and your charm as a couple.  Ya’ll are a messy couple but not in the having your dirty laundry out for everyone to see way. In a “aw, Jiminie, look at them.  They are such tragic disasters but they’re disasters together.” kind of way.  He will find a way to make it romantic no matter what. 

Jungkook:  (A/N: Just Jungkook out here living his best y/n life, honestly, lol. )

Ok, so here’s the thing, lol.  Jungkookie has had his own issues with messes here and there. Also, let's be honest.... he's got the fattest crush on Namjoon, lol. His crush on Namjoon may even rival the crush I have on Hoseok. Like, I kinda doubt it because there ain't much I wouldn't do for that man but still. Jungkook loves him's Namjoonie. He loves all that Namjoon-ah is associated with. He's his biggest fan, lol. With you, it is honestly the same. Like... his hyung is in love? Who is this person that has captured the heart of the most magnificent Namjoonie? If you managed to do that and Namjoon is happy.... honestly Jungkook adores you. Regardless of the hopeless fucking messes that the both of you clearly are. He and Taehyung share this but in addition to this, Jungkookie will literally help you with anything you need. He just wants to hang out with you both so he'll do like his Jimin hyung and either just chill while you sort or he'll help you. Or just hang out in the chaos and not solve anything, lol. He just loves his hyung and he loves his hyung's love as well. It's as simple as that.

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading my content and thank you so much to @alisoncdariel for commissioning this piece! I hope you enjoy it!

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[bloodredfountainpen]

The Gift

Masterlist

My very first official whump piece, I hope it’s not absolute trash lol.

Contains/CW: bbu adjacent, pet whump, institutionalized slavery, caretaker new master, referenced past abuse, mention of noncon body modification, brief mention of whipping and resulting scars, brief nudity (non-sexual), nonhuman whumpee (kinda), self hatred of one’s body, brainwashed whumpee, morally dubious caretaker, accidental bad caretaker (Anthony has no tact), fear of torture/punishment, self dehumanization, self deprecation (both verbal and in thought), begging for mercy (granted)

Ella, if you’re actually reading this, please for the love of God don’t skim over the CWs, they’re really important! Also, and I know you already know this about me, but none of this is a sex thing no matter how bad it looks. I am a sadist, but not that kind of sadist.

I know that’s a lot, but I promise it’s not as bad as its sounds 😭, but lmk if I missed anything.

Premise: Anthony, a young man living alone who is generally ambivalent to the practice of keeping Pets, is suddenly gifted a dog boy that he doesn’t quite know what to do with.

(Pet capital P = a person who has signed away their personhood to ModiPets Inc and is now legally an animal, usually physically modified to take on animal characteristics, hence the ‘modi’ part. pet lowercase p = the standard definition of the word.)

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Anthony liked living alone. That simple fact frustrated his mother to no end, which, he suspected, was the reason that there were two MP employees at his door asking him to sign for a Pet. Now, Anthony never really knew what to think of the whole Pet thing. Sure, they had their memories wiped and were dumber now, and sure they had consented beforehand, he just still couldn’t see himself ever owning one. Besides that, he didn’t know what he would do with a whole other person in his house. He had the space for it, sure, but as an introvert by nature, the thought exhausted him just thinking about it. Still, he knew that refusing to sign and sending the package back to wherever it came from would earn his mother’s ire and probably prompt a visit, which he wanted to avoid at all cost. And so, he signed. He hoped he would not come to regret it. 

The employees helped him drag the box into his living room, and before they took their leave, they handed him a copy of the proof of delivery form. The form specified that the Pet was a hybrid Guard Dog/Platonic type with Level 2 Canine Modification and one previous owner. He hoped whatever was wrong with them to make their previous owner send them back had been fixed. He hoped that the ‘Platonic’ bit meant that the thing wasn’t feral. He hoped that the Pet hadn’t been modified to be too canine, since Anthony rather hated dogs. So many hopes for the Pet; Anthony felt kinda bad for expecting so much when he hadn’t even met them yet.

Also in this form, under the ‘other instructions/messages’ section, there was a note: 

Happy belated birthday sweetie! I know this is a bit extravagant, especially along with the rest of your presents, but it was on sale and I couldn’t resist! You know how I worry about your safety, living on your own in the big city. This good little guard doggie aught to keep you safe and keep you company in that lonely apartment of yours. 

Just like he thought; his mother’s meddling had once again inconvenienced him. Anthony scrunched the form out of frustration, before gingerly smoothing it out and sticking it in his kitchen junk drawer, reasoning that he might need it later.

Cautiously, he approached the box, and began to open it. 

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Light streamed into G-22985’s box. This was it, he thought, this was the moment of truth. He had spent his entire time retraining waiting for the day when he would finally have a new Master to protect, a second chance, and now that was coming true. He couldn’t wait to have nice grass or dirt to sleep on, to be fed again after days in transit. He really hoped that he would be good enough to earn all that. After all, he didn’t deserve anything that he hadn’t earned. More so, he couldn’t wait to defend Master from any and all harm. If I guard Master well, he thought, then Master might keep me around this time.

He knew better than to look at Master’s face, and so he kept his gaze fixed on a point on the wall of the box, even as Master looked him over, scanning his body. Assessing his worth, he assumed. He wanted Master to think well of him, and that was a scary feeling. He knew he wasn’t supposed to want, that’s the reason Master Liam had sent him away, but this was different, because it was for Master’s sake and not his own selfishness.

After what was really only half a second, but seemed like hours to G-22985, Master turned away and exclaimed, “Oh god, you’re naked! Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare, I’ll go grab some clothes. Wait right there,” and with that, Master left. Having received his first order, G-22985 excitedly stayed put in the box, or at least he hoped dearly that that’s what Master had told him to do. He thought he might have heard Master wrong, because he seemed to have apologized to G-22985, and people don’t apologize to Pets. Even so, he stayed where Master had (probably) told him to. If he was wrong, he would be punished, and then he would know.

G-22985’s heart broke that his body was so revolting to Master. Pets don’t wear clothes, so if Master wanted him to, there must have been something really disgusting about him to be covered up. He had the sickening feeling that the whipping scars Master Liam had given him hadn’t faded as much as he thought. He often wished that those scars would disappear altogether, though he knew they never would. He wished he could forget everything about Master Liam, really, every curse ever shouted at him, every bit of pain caused to him. More than that, he wished to be good for New Master, wished so badly it hurt. This body belongs to Master, he reminded himself, whatever Master wants to do to me, he has that absolute right.

———————————————————————

Anthony’s heart was beating out of his chest as he rummaged through his closet looking for something the might fit the Pet. From the split second looked he’d got at him, Anthony estimated that the Pet was maybe a few inches taller than him, but significantly skinnier and yet somehow more muscular. With that in mind, he selected a soft hoodie and pair of sweatpants, his cheecks turning red with guilt at having looked at another man nude without his permission, and also embarrassment that he’d found the Pet attractive. Did that technically make Anthony a zoophile? He didn’t think so. 

He hurried back to the Pet, tossing the clothes into the box while turned away, and nearly shouted, “Put these on! It’s ok, I’m not looking.” 

He heard the sound of cloth shuffling, which quelled after around a minute. “Are you done? You can come out of the box if you’re done,” Anthony said, throwing the sound over his shoulder. He heard the Pet stumble out of the box, and turned to face him, only to find the Pet kneeling with his head to the ground. Anthony sighed. 

“Would you mind standing up? I want to get a look at you,” he asked, trying his best not to let his frustration show. He would rather be doing literally anything else right now, but that wasn’t the pup’s fault. The Pet seemed to tremble for a moment, before scrambling to his feet. Anthony looked him up and down, finding he was correct in his estimation of the Pet’s height. The Pet’s pitch black hair had been buzzed short, and of course, a thin white collar had been fastened around his neck. Sitting atop his head were a pair of fluffy dog ears, those of a German Shepherd, if he were to speculate on breed, and the outline of a tail stuffed down one leg of the pants was visible. The sides of the Pet’s head, where his human ears would normally be, was smoothed over and covered by hair. How intriguing.

It bothered Anthony that the Pet still kept his head bowed, so after taking a moment to gather his courage, he took the Pet by his chin and tilted his head foreword, but the Pet flinched and his eyes remained squeezed shut. Anthony quietly commanded him, “Look me in the eyes.” 

———————————————————————

G-22985 flinched as Master grabbed his chin. He knew he wasn’t supposed to react negatively to Master’s touch, so he braced for a strike to correct his error, but no such strike came. He mentally scolded himself, since the Handlers weren’t around to do it: Bad Pet! You’re a worthless excuse for a Pet! You’d better hope Master doesn’t send you back for being so useless! You’re nothing but a defective disappointment!

As much as G-22985 hated to think of himself that way, he knew that he had to remind himself somehow. He always had a hard time remembering his place, thinking he was a person, sometimes even trying to escape. I tried to escape from Master Liam, and look where that got me. Refurbished and resold, like an object. He didn’t know why the thought of being an object made him so mad; that’s what he was, after all. He knew he probably needed more retraining, because even after the Trainers had taught him how to be good again, he had only been at this new place for a little while already been bad! What a disgrace of a Pet he was.

He shut his eyes tight as Master tilted G-22985’s chin upwards, he didn’t want to accidentally look at Master’s face. 

“Look me in the eyes,” Master ordered him, but that was bad! He was never to look Master in the face, never mind the eyes! But, Master had commanded, and he had to obey Master’s commands. 

Making up his dumb Pet mind, he reluctantly obeyed and looked into Master’s eyes. Instead of the coldness, anger, or blow to the face that he was expecting, he saw an analysis that he recognized. Master was studying him, which was good as far as G-22985 was concerned, it meant that Master hadn’t made up his mind yet. It meant that maybe he still had a chance to be good. 

———————————————————————

God, the Pet was even hotter up close. Anthony felt extremely wrong for thinking that, but it was true. The Pet’s deep brown eyes captivated him, so full of fear. He made note of a scar on the Pet’s lips, a small vertical line which started above the top lip and finished below the bottom lip. Considering everything that Pets went through for their training, it was a miracle that that was the only defect. He suddenly didn’t think he could bring himself to treat the Pet like, well, a pet. Which raised the question: what in the world was he going to do with him? He certainly couldn’t send him back, both for fear of his mother, and for fear for the Pet’s safety. 

Anthony broke eye contact and removed his hand from the Pet’s chin, causing the Pet to fall back to his prostrated position. Anthony chuckled under his breath at the Pet’s ridiculous display, causing the Pet to flinch, and Anthony to recognize his mistake immediately. “I’m gonna order Pizza for dinner. You can eat Pizza, right?” he asked, making an effort to be gentle. 

“Whatever pleases you, Master,” the Pet said automatically. This unnerved Anthony, but he didn’t have the energy to address it right then. Whatever conditioning the Pet was under, Anthony wasn’t even sure it was his place to undo it. The Pet had signed up for it, so clearly he wanted to be like that. Though he supposed that the Pet belonged to him now, so he could do whatever he wanted with him. 

That thought sent a pang through Anthony’s chest as he looked down to the Pet, kneeling loyally on the floor before him, not daring to raise his head.

“Listen, you can sit on the couch until the Pizza gets here, ok?” he told the Pet, not really expecting an answer, but surprisingly, the Pet’s trembling voice quietly rose from below. It was a pitiful sound, like a scared dog during a thunderstorm. 

Anthony didn’t know what to do, he wanted to comfort the Pet, but how? How in the world does one comfort a person they a) just met, and b) literally own? He supposed that, if the Pet had been trained to act like an animal, maybe petting him would work. And so, as much as he was dying of embarrassment to do so, Anthony crouched down and caressed the Pet across his head, finding his hair (fur?) quite soft and pleasant to the touch.

———————————————————————

G-22985 couldn’t take it anymore. Yet again, Master had ordered him to behave as a person rather than a Pet, and yet again, memories of his time in training flashed through his mind. Memories of electricity coursing through his neck, memories of his Handlers’ voices in his newly sensitive ears. He remembered a lesson he had, one of the first he had ever been taught, that he was never to sit on furniture because furniture is for people, and he was just a lowly Pet. He remembered being beaten within an inch of his worthless life when he had forgotten this rule while serving Master Liam, he could have sworn he could still feel the blows land even months later. He just couldn’t bring himself to break that rule again. But still, Master had ordered him, and he couldn’t disobey. Master Liam had given him double binds like this too, and he hadn’t known what to do then. Now he knew though, he also knew he was being a coward, not able to take a beating like a good Pet should. He just couldn’t bring its body to move, knowing what was coming. He was being so bad! Bad, bad, bad, bad…

G-22985 didn’t realize he had been whimpering until Master crouched down and touched his hair, petting him right between his ears. He was glad, he finally had the opportunity to be good. He leaned into the touch, careful not to deviate from his position while still demonstrating the required level of appreciation for Master’s affection.

He felt good to be touched kindly after his intense refurbishing. He dared to think that maybe he would be ok here, if Master was touching him like that. This meant that Master wanted a pet and not just a guard dog, that maybe Master would give him more of these kind touches, if he was good. There was a reason he was part Platonic, right? But Master was being so confusing, one minute ordering him to cover himself because he couldn’t stand the sight of his repulsive body, the next touching him so gently. Master had given him a trick order, but then when he had been bad, as he was doomed to be, Master had touched him like only a good Pet deserves to be touched.

The horrifying realization struck G-22985 as Master continued to pet him; it hadn’t been a trick order, it had been a test, which he had failed. He had failed by putting on the clothes, he had failed by standing up, and only when he remembered his place and stayed on the ground had Master rewarded him with affection. He had been so caught up in being good and obeying Master, that he had forgotten how to be a proper Pet. He knew that Master knew this too, and he knew he was in for the punishment of a lifetime. Still, Master was touching him so kindly, so maybe if he begged, he had a chance of lessening the inevitable hell.

———————————————————————

Suddenly, the Pet stopped his shaking and completely froze. His whimpering turned to sobs, “I know ah-I’ve b-been bad-d, I have f-failed Master’s tests-ts and n-know I deserve p-punishment. I w-will be a good P-Pet, I pr-promise! I will d-do anything to m-make Master happy, I will f-f-follow-w any order g-given, I will n-never be bad, only good! I will k-keep Master ab-absolutely s-s-safe and ha-happy, I swear. I beg of you to-to h-have mercy on-n this-s pathetic cr-creature!”

Anthony was perplexed. He wondered what in the world he’d done to make the Pet think he was in trouble. Had it been the petting? He wished his mother had warned him before sending him the Pet, at least then he could have read the damn online manual. But no, now he had a crying Pet kneeling at his feet, begging for mercy over some perceived infraction. Anthony sighed, and the Pet flinched and went silent. Anthony couldn’t help it, he sighed again, and predictably, the Pet flinched. He would have to get that habit in check.

“Pet, what do you think you did wrong?” Anthony asked, hoping to get a better idea of what was going on in his head.

The Pet’s voice was quiet and strained, but still he answered, “I p-p-put on clothes, Master, which-ch is bad. I st-stood up on my h-hind paws, Master, w-which is bad. I fl-flinched at your t-t-touch, Master, which i-is bad. I know what I did-d w-was bad an-and I d-d-deserve to be p-punished, yet I b-beg your m-mercy, Master.”

Oh, Anthony realized, this is my fault.

He whispered softly to the Pet, trying his best not to be frustrated, and just now getting the inkling that he might have been in over his head, “Hey hey, it’s alright. You’re not in trouble, I’m not going to punish you. You don’t have to sit on the couch if you don’t want to, I just thought it might be more comfortable than the floor. Just, please stop crying, ok?”

The sobbing abruptly halted, and Anthony resisted the urge to sigh again, as he knew he’d been anything but comforting. Also, his plan of ‘Pizza at the table and talk about what the fuck we’re going to do’ would have to be adjusted, seeing the Pet’s reaction to being invited to sit on the couch. Anthony had the sinking feeling that mealtime would be an even bigger hassle. He had no idea what he could possibly do to get the Pet to, if not trust him, then at least give him the time of day without expecting retribution. He decided to give the Pet some space while he thought things over.

“I’m just going to sit over there and order the pizza, you don’t have to go on the couch, but you don’t have to stay kneeling like that either. Just… sit how you’re comfortable,” Anthony instructed as he slowly got up from the floor.

“I remember my pl-place, Master, a lowly P-Pet like m-me knows not-t to sully the f-f-furniture, I’ll b-be good,” he declared in more of a plea than a statement, his voice barely above a whisper and still clearly choked up from crying.

Anthony shrugged and moved to a nearby armchair. He made a point of not looking at the Pet, even though he really wanted to, but even so, the Pet didn’t dare move a muscle from his position. Well, if the pet didn’t want to move, Anthony wasn’t going to force him. He ordered the pizza, and then went to the MP website and brought up the online Owner’s Manual. What he found was, in one word, sickening.

Anthony didn’t live under a rock; he knew that Pets didn’t have it easy, but this was nothing but gratuitous cruelty. The ethos of the manual seemed to be all stick and no carrot, to put it nicely. The manual specifically advised to punish behaviors which were person like, such as sitting on furniture, which really put the past half hour into perspective. That poor pup. There is no way in hell I’m doing any of that, thought Anthony as he read further and further, but the question remained, what am I going to do then?

[scarthefangirl]

Mine has to be Sun to me by Zach Bryan

reblog or reply with your love song. you know, the one that you think is what love sounds like

[werewolfsister]

This is the comics "junk drawer" ! Anything that's reader submitted but not canon to the comic, or things I made that are either not canon or didn't quite fit in anywhere in the official timeline, goes here.

💜 Here's LoZ art & artists I really like!

🌊 GENERAL

[BATTLE OF WITS] [MAKING BABIES] [SIBLING RIVALRY] [FAN MAIL] [HADAL PRINCESS] [SERVI & OCOSSU] [SCAR] [SCAR 2] [DIPLOMAT REQUEST] [BON] [BON MEME] [HUMANIZE EM!] [HUMANIZE EM 2] [MAKEUP 1] [MAKEUP 2] [DEATH RITES] [SULANE] [SULANE & LUVAN] [POOL FIGHT] [DOLPHIN] [FIGHT!] [VIKING AU] [EXES] [LINEUP] [AWKWARD] [BABY BATTLE] [POKEFUSION] [CLOSED EYES] [DATING SIM] [HUMANIZE EM 3] [CASTOV/CASPER] [THRESH & CASTOV (explicit)] [DAYDREAMY] [LICKIN ROCKS]

❓CHARACTER PROMPTS [LIST 1] [LIST 2]

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16]

🔨BREAKING THE 4th WALL

[THANK YOU!] [STRUGGLE] [EXPECTATIONS] [ARTIST RECS] [COLLABORATION...?] [COMIC DRAMA] [#ZORA OC] [THANK YOU AGAIN!] [SUFFER]

🦐 TEENIE TINY ADVENTURES

[CHARACTER REFS] [1] [2] [3] [SHENANIGANS] [REFERENCE: SIR BEPPE] [THEY'VE GOT WEAPONS!!!]

<- [MASTER DIRECTORY]

[the-interidiot]

i got you, DAVIDSON HC'S PLEASE - favourite animal? - music taste?? any favourite bands or genres? has he ever been to any concerts and if he has, how was the experience? who did he go with? - does he play any instruments? how good is he? - hobbies and interests outside of work? how and why did he get into them? how much does he enjoy them? - favourite places to go/favourite things to do with carol - favourite tv shows/movies? do any of them make him cry? any characters he relates to? - is that man autistic and if yes info please..... (also any other disorders/illnesses?) - any cool scars? what's the story behind them, is he embarassed by any or does he like to show em off? - ever gotten into trouble with the police? if so, how? (not counting that time he punched Sam in the nose) - favourite food? can he cook, and how good is he? what's his favourite thing to cook if he can? - any guilty pleasures? - does he have anything he likes to collect like plushies or figurines? - is he a hoarder or more of a minimalist guy? :)

He likes dogs - especially lanky boys like Salukis, as well as large cats like lions (he takes way too many photos of them at the zoo). Counterwise, he likes big birds but is terrified of small ones like budgies.

I actually made a music playlist for Mr. Davidson which you can find here on YouTube! His music taste is mostly positive stuff, especially older music with big bang style. (Though the big band element is not well shown in the playlist).

He never took any kind of musical lessons, but can play the drums pretty well. Unfortunately he’s not gifted in the instrument department and had trouble trying to pick up electric guitar.

He is a huge theater nerd, and does karaoke at bars with his wife on a lot of days off. He watched the Mystery of Edwin Drood once because the tickets were cheap and his whole brain went ‘THAT.’ And it became a hyperfixation.

[I had no immediate ideas for these two, I will get to them!]

Mr. Davidson is autistic, as well as having ADHD. He also does have little bit of issues with hypermobility, but it doesn’t affect him enough to get any medication.

He also doesn’t know what Adderall is. Somebody should tell him. /silly

He has quite a few burns on his right arm from very frequently spilling coffee on himself a lot. He gets too excited and doesn’t put his cup down, and after time it left some permanent damage. He also has a raccoon bite on his leg from trying to pet a feral raccoon.

He’s never been in trouble with the cops… that he’ll tell you. As an adult he’s never had any reason to have an issue with the cops, though when he was a teenager he definitely did. Some of the older cops don’t fully trust him still.

He can cook really well, but he never does. In fact, the first time most people had seen, heard, or even imagined him cooking was when a virus went around the office and he made everyone Eggdrop soup.

What Do You Want Paul. /ref

He collects expired coupons and sticks them to his fridge with magnets. He loves his weird paper mache looking fridge, so does Carol.

He’s surprisingly not a hoarder, other than the coupons. He somehow always has a weirdly convenient item, but his house is super clean and he has half-empty closets from how little he carries. He does keep a lot of small things in his desk junk drawer though.

[scarthefangirl]

My sister is a teen mom (okay 19 but she's living at home so-) and she isn't dating the baby daddy (she was, its a long story) but her life isn't that different. Obviously she had to make changes but she isn't giving things up, she's just making more time for a baby.

Her baby was unplanned and when she found out she was pregnant her and the father had already broken up. Easiest way out would've been to abort the baby and never let anyone know. She was 18. But she didn't. We have a very religious family and go to church. She went through with telling our Christian family (im also a Christian) and everything. And now we are living with the cutest baby ever and I love him so much and she does too, and our family does. It won't always be easy and it definitely wasn't ideal but the baby makes everything worth it. I know its not the life for everyone but if you're having sex think about the possibility so you don't have to get an abortion. My sisters pregnancy affected our whole family, yes, but we don't stop loving her or expect her to give up her life.

When I hold my nephew I don't know how anyone could ever kill such an innocent thing. At least give it up for adoption. I can't imagine being pregnant in a rough situation and I have so much respect for mothers who raise their babies under hard circumstances, and I wish their was better support. But I promise, there are people out there who care about those babies.

I love my nephew. And he was alive since conception.

Motherhood sounds genuinely awful though. You can no longer follow any other life goals, you have to give up all your hobbies, and you have to lose 98% of your entire personality to conform with other families.

I believe that’a kind of a sexist and narrow minded view of mothers, but it’s true that parenthood comes with a lot of sacrifices not everyone wants to make. It is up to each individual whether or not they engage in reproductive activity and risk pregnancy, or keep the baby afterwards. Society needs to do better at creating a safe and stable support system for mothers; we have failed in that area

[roslamm]

"Counting the stars on your body, I don't say words of love"

(This is my first attempt to write fan fiction. so there won't be something brilliant haha)

Blake liked to sleep.

She could lie in bed and doze. Take a long nap. Although life on the run and eternal danger has left an indelible mark on her.

But after all these years. But right now. Today. Tomorrow. Maybe for the rest of her life, Blake will remember that sleeping in bed always beckons her.

Sleep beckons in bed with her.

Their morning was just breaking through the windows of their room. The sun's rays played, touching the chest of drawers, several bookshelves, a recently purchased painting on the wall, floor boards and various small junk on it.

The day only comes on the heels of the night, replacing it.

Blake was already awake. She is lying on the white sheets of her bed. Their beds. Her chin is on her left hand, the other girl is also lying on her back, her head is turned the other way, her hands are behind her head, and her back is slowly rising and falling. Blake gently tracks down the freckles on someone else's back.

She's counting.

91...

92...

93...

The golden eyes of the faun cling to a path of scars, scratches and small burns on the shoulder blades, sides and neck. God. Her hand runs her palm over the warm skin, over the chiseled muscles of her back. She likes it so much. But she lost count. We'll have to count again. What a pity…

Blake giggled, squinting her eyes. This is the absolute laugh of a schoolgirl in love.

Her fingers trace the lines over her freckles again. This time she reaches the neck and the number one hundred and forty-one, when her brain sees a golden shock of hair. When Yang sleeps, she rakes her hair into a bun. No matter what she pulled.

Blake touches, kneads, strokes and combs this hair with the most gentle movements she is capable of. They always smell delicious. Grass and fresh apples. Blake can taste it on his tongue.

Suddenly, the back moves. Hands and head move behind the back. Blake only has time to make an embarrassing squeak when a strong hand pulls her under him.

-Yang?

Blake is pressed, feeling the warmth and heaviness of the blonde's naked body. It's hard for her to breathe, but it's not that bad.

Yang mumbles something, sending a vibration down the neck and the heat in them of Belladonna's stomach. The faun's ears twitch. The face turns red.

Blake stretches out his hands and puts them on Yang's shoulder blades, now she practically can't see where the freckles are, but surprisingly, it seems she already knows the exact location of each one. As well as the place of any scar or burn.

-Blake - the voice is hoarse, sleepy. On exhalation

-Mm? - Blake doesn't want to lose count again. But she is already being heard by Yang's voice.

-How many freckles do I have on my back and shoulders? - this time the voice is hurried, strong, as if giving a command.

-One hundred and seventy-five. Ninety-three on the back. Fifty-eight on one hand, twenty-four on the other.

Blake feels Yang's lips stretch in a smile on his neck. She moves again, this time rising above the girl. Yang's look is sly and cunning. The smile is ready to split the face in two, and the cheeks are flushed with happiness.

-Blake, do you like counting freckles so much?

For some reason, Blake blushes. Golden eyes look anywhere but at the girl's face.

-They're beautiful…

-It's just freckles. Pigment on the surface of the skin, if you want.

Blake still looks at Yang and can't help himself. It's always been that way. It's impossible to lie to Yang Xiao Long when she looks straight into her eyes.

-Because they look like constellations!

The faun seriously blurts out these words, frowning, and immediately shuts up when the blonde's eyebrows fly up. Blake picks through the Blonde's fallen strands and looks as if trying to burn a hole in them.

-What?..

-It's true, you have the constellation of the dragon on your left hand, the Ursa Minor on your right, and the Ursa Major on your back. I can't tear myself away from your freckles…

The more Blake talks, the quieter it gets, but her confidence doesn't leave her.

And Yang is watching.

Just looking.

Yang has no words because that's the sweetest thing Blake could say to her. The blonde looks thoughtfully, her face is no longer a silly grin, but a soft expression. If it were possible, hearts would appear in her eyes.

-This is the most snotty and sweet speech I've heard from you in my entire life... I love you, Blake Belladonna. - Yang interrupts the girl's tirade. The faun looks at her seriously again.

-Yang Xiao Long, counting the stars on your body, I'm not saying words of love. Because that's not enough to convey how I feel.

And when Yang falls on Blake again, choking with laughter and hugging her tightly, Blake realizes, kissing her face, that yes.

She likes to sleep in bed with her.

Not sleeping in bed with her.

She likes just being with her.

And just for the rest of my life, count Yang's freckles.

(I'm not sure that Yang and Blake will behave that way. But most likely, bees will say the cutest, sweetest things about love with a serious face. because it's them)

[scarthefangirl]

Dude i need them to watch things.

i love subtitles i can actually understand what's happening

[aryanightshade]

XXIV.

Restless Hours

-

Steve spends the next handful of days drifting between nightmares like a ship lost at sea. The only relief he finds are icebergs of wakefulness that leave him jerking upright, panting, vision blurry with panic as his sweat-soaked sheets tangle around his legs, leaving him confused and hazy at the jumbled way time is slouching onwards, despite everything.

Robin’s absence hurts worse than the aching wounds on his side, rawer, leaking more than blood, and he finds himself reaching for where she should be laying even though he knows that she’s safe in her own bed at home with her parents.

Steve doesn’t want to be alone. He wants Robin. He wants Max and Nancy and the rest of his friends where he can see them and know that they’re safe. He wants to rustle Dustin’s hair and call him a shithead and make sure nothing dangerous comes near him ever again.

He wants Eddie. Wants to trade places with Eddie, just a little.

His mouth is dry and tastes like something crawled into it and died. He stumbles to the bathroom and shoves his mouth under the tap, gulping down water until he feels like he’s about to burst. It doesn’t make him feel any better, and he braces his hands on the side of the sink fighting back a wave of nausea. The stitches in his shoulder ping at him spitefully, but Steve ignores them as he stares at his reflection in the mirror.

He looks… awful. Like he’s aged a thousand years in a week. Robin wasn’t joking when she said he looked terrible. He has dark hallows under his eyes from lack of real sleep, and his hair is deflated and greasy, flecked with ash and spores and dried blood.

There’s something else, too. Underneath all the physical stuff. Something in his eyes. Steve stares at his reflection, and a stranger looks back at him. One older and colder and broken beyond repair. Gently, he prods his cheek with his fingertip, scraping a little crescent moon with the tip of his nail, like he can peel back his skin and look right inside, can paw through the junk drawer of his skull to figure out what’s different now. What specific part of him has gone missing. Individually, the little bits that are him all still seem to be there. The moles dotting his cheeks and jaw, hooded hazel eyes, the little hooked scar swooping through his eyebrow, another one, flat and shiny, on his temple. So many souvenirs from their brushes with the underworld, all telling a story across his skin.

You can ask. I know you want all the sordid details.

That’s okay.

Steve swallows around the golf ball-sized lump in his throat. He can almost see it, playing out like a reel from a film projector across the back of his eyes. The soft afternoon sunlight spilling in from the trees behind Eddie, draping him gold dust and lighting up the edges of his frazzled curls like the filament in a lightbulb as he stared at Steve with those big, gentle eyes, and Steve realized that he, like most people, had Eddie Munson pegged totally wrong. That Eddie was kind and sweet and funny and doesn’t make Steve feel like shit about himself. That he’s loud and brash and flows to fill the space around him like water with all his noise and energy. That he fills the empty spaces inside of Steve, too. Fitting neatly inside him like he was meant to be there.

There are too many ghosts here, in this house, and now that he’s up and restless, not high enough to sleep and too anxious to do much else, Steve finds himself pacing the hallway between the kitchen and the base of the stairs, socked feet wearing tracks in the carpet. Outside, night begins to fall, draping the world in layers of violet shadow, and Steve realizes that he has no idea what day it is. How long has he been slipping in and out of sleep? One day? Two?

Read on A03

[scarthefangirl]

I think of reading fanfics as research for my writing, so really its just for the benefit of my followers. Its almost like I have to do it, for the good of the whole

[sophie-i-guess13]

Any chance I could get a hint, a snoop, a sneak peak of the Happy Birthday Lori fic?? 👀👀👀

You screw the lid back on and pull the refrigerator open again, sliding the carton into place on the shelf next to the birthday cake. “It’s a nice cake,” Tim says casually, commenting on your icing handywork. All you can do is smile and nod when the three others erupt into similar praises, peering over your shoulder to get a look before the door closes. “Better tell the kids it’s time to dig in,” he jokes, “don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold these assholes back now that they’ve seen it.”

“Why don’t you find some candles then?” You say. One of the boys, one you remember as Ricky Valdez, slaps Tim on the shoulder before turning to rifle through the junk drawer behind his hip. “Gimme a second to get the table cleared off, yeah? Then you can play Uncle of the Year-, light the candles ‘n’ everything.”

Tim rolls his eyes while the boys laugh, his scar rippling when he raises the bottle to hide the small, tight-lipped grin spreading across his lips. “Get goin’,” Tim huffs, his soft scoff following you from the kitchen into the living room. The low, rumbling voices of gang politics quickly turn to excited chatter when you cross the threshold, raking your eyes around the room.

Curly and Angela sit side by side on the sofa, Tommy Barlow perched on the arm beside the younger Shepard brother. To the right of the sofa, still angled towards the small silver television, your cousin balances Loretta on his lap, carefully dragging his blade across the plastic ties binding her new dolly in place. She’s smiling wide, teetering on his lap and holding onto his wrists for support. Buck chuckles, tsks before breaking through the final plastic bond, smoothing out the wrinkles in Miss Molly’s skirt before Lori pulls her into her arms and wiggles off his lap.

[party crasher | part ii of Homecoming]