#shakes you like a fucking snowglobe

[that-cu-fan]

"you dont think krupp is actually aesthetically pleasing, do y-"

YES I DO AND ILL BE LOUD AND PROUD ABOUT IT.

im so fucking attracted to him it is NOT EVEN FUNNY. he may look stupid to you but i get a RAGING boner whenever he comes on my screen like oh my GOD.

YOU CANNOT TELL ME HES NOT FUCKING SEXY LOOK AT HOW ABGRY HE GETS. LOOK AT HIS FACE. IS IT NOT KISSABLE.

hes so FUCKING STUPID looking but im actually so FUCKING infatuated with a fat 45 year old man. hes literally so attractive in my eyes and no one can make me think OTHERWISE.

look at how happy and evil he is.

holy FUCKING SHIT KRUPP. whyd they go so hard on an elementary school principal im seething so bad.

[tommybowefuneralattendee]

💛Smoshblr December Asks Day 1💙

Who are your top 3 cast members, that you always hope to see in a new video?

oh hi !! well.

i will actively click off a video if i want to see spencer agnew and my guy isn't there.

i will watch a video just for the honor of looking at olivia sui.

if this were months ago, i would have said jackie uweh. in our time of great loss (and great gain for jackie i hope she's having a fucking blast), i would probably say tommy bowe.

[euclydya]

hhey so that failed authority check w the hardies & kim's gun. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. h. hey. holy shit. hey. hey. h

[bulletbilltime]

"Did you hear the stupid bigoted thing this known outrage farmer said? What a stupid thing he said! Let's post it everywhere and make the news 24/7 about that thing and make him the center of attention so more people can see the shitty things he said! There is no downside from giving the stupid bigot more of a platform!"

"What do you mean he is the president now. What do you mean he's the president a 2nd time. Nobody could have predicted this."

[xfindingtrouble]

❝  on some level I think I always understood, that these hands of mine were clumsy not clever. ❞ //pikey @ percy :)

He leans back into his chair, cradling his drink in between gloved hands. The night had gone by too quickly, full of jokes & good company. As the night passed before them, the tavern they had inhabited was beginning to empty. The corner table they had nestled in was feeling more personal by the moment. With all the noise gone, it was easier to think, to get swept up in sentiment & linger on the mistakes that stained their hands.

It was hard to imagine Pike with shaking hands when those hands wrought so much life. Pike was a grounding presence, a literal light in the darkness… but all light casted shadows. It's daunting to be presented with her truth, though he cannot help but revel in the fact that he's trusted with it.

He wants desperately to reach out, to comfort her, but it was not in his nature. Percy's heartbeats feel too tight as he turns her words over in his head, each ' thump agonizingly slow as he chooses his words. His instinct is to push, to avoid the emotions woven into the divulgence. He could dance around the words, he could shift the subject & look to something easier to chew on until they too filtered out of the tavern. But he won't disrespect her like that, despite his instinctual aversion to sentiment.

Even now, he sees it in her eyes. That light that dances in them relentlessly, the shadows that linger beyond. Percy thinks Pike may have the deepest understanding of life & death out of all of their friends. Sure, they were all well-acquainted with the concept. But she knew what it was to give life, take life, lose life. It would change anyone by the end of it.

Perhaps if she felt anything like he did, she knew how those concepts could tangle uncomfortably. She had to sift through the threads of good & evil & make that choice. It was one she seemed relentless in, unstoppable in her quest to be better than she was yesterday & the day before. Determination aside, they were still prone to mistakes.

Mistakes could make a man, but Pike was better than any man Percy had ever known.

" Clumsy or not, those hands do an awful lot of good. " Percy peers over the rim of his drink, taking a sip to wash down his aversion to emotion. Percy didn't have the most reliable philosophy on good…but he tried to be when circumstances allowed it. Good was just fine when the opportunity presented itself, but it was hardly his priority. But Pike tried, even when it was hard. Even when she couldn't be. That was more than Percy could say about himself. Those instances didn't change her at her core. She was a rock, an anchor, an unstoppable force in an unyielding world. maybe he's getting a bit sappy, maybe the drinks are hitting him a bit harder than he expected.

" Besides, if you were too clever you wouldn't have kept me around." His features split into a crooked smile, sarcasm dancing off his tongue. He washes it down with another sip before he softens, just a bit, " Clumsy isn't so bad. Clever gets you into trouble anyways. "

[timeclipsed]

— ;; Recalcitrance swiftly turns to acquiesce, and as he watches the other gorge brazenly. Of course, he’s filled with a sense of relief at the sight, but his heart twinges with sorrow all the same. How long, he wonders, has it been since the poor kid’s last meal? Curtailed, he sees himself, young and helpless, sitting there scarfing down any kind of sustenance he could scrounge up after running out of food in the cabin.

❝Nah, don’t know you,❞ confirming with the added shake of the head, Tails finally moves to sit with legs crossed, peering out into the dusty emptiness around as he tries not to ogle Kit during his moment of vulnerability, ❝I think I’d remember someone as cool as you.❞

— ;; Plicating arms allow fingers to tap against their opposing biceps, and he finally splays out to rest his back against the hut. Should he interrogate the kid? Absolutely he’s not going to let him walk off on his own with no food or shelter again, but judging by his initial reaction, he doesn't seem too keen on trusting Tails.

Well— maybe lightly prodding about his circumstances could be inoffensive enough, as long as it doesn’t get personal. 

❝So… you’re out here by yourself, huh?❞ Inconspicuously as possible, chilling his stature further by resting his arms behind his head, he quizzes, ❝how long’s it been since you went off on your own?❞

▸ // The pain subsides and in its place a deep exhaustion settles. The pangs were getting worse, Kit notes internally as trembling arms struggle to lift that small form. Through messy bangs a sullen gaze shadows Tails, an invisible reticle readied itself as brows practically threaten to scar that face from their incessant scowl.

“ W-what? “

▸ // He stammers vocally, then once again as wide eyes focus on the tray before him. For just a moment hardened features soften.

. . .

‘ Little buddy ‘?

The words replay in that frazzled mind.

‘ Little buddy ‘??

▸ // He could feel the figurative bile rise to his throat. The audacity to speak as if he were senior to him shook Kit to the core and yet the boy felt betrayed by the relief settling in that thundering chest.

▸ // Though everything about the other felt different… This kindness was familiar. A kindness he knew better than to trust… and yet a dampness blurred his vision just before a swift forearm rebelled against the weak display, wiping it away.

“ You would never call me that… ” Kit squints, pinching an apple slice between jittery fingers. A vulnerable ( hurt ) gaze rises to meet the strangers.

" Y-you don't know who I am... do you? "

▸ // A childishly defiant bite is taken from the offering and in that moment that tough demeanor crumbles. The relief of something- anything, in his system urged Kit to stuff his mouth. Evident as rice clung to the edge of busy lips he didn't care about Tails at that moment, just shutting up his stomach and it was clear there would be no crumbs. Oops.

[inkdrinkerworld]

May I request a Cowboy!James x reader where R is sick but trys to push through it and help out around the farm so she doesn't tell James but randomly when they're feeding the horses (Its a cold day) she passes out because she's got a really bad fever and she hasn't been eating properly because of how ill she feels

You probably should’ve told James that you hadn’t been feeling well.

Your room hadn’t had enough heating last night and the first chill of autumn was rolling in all night. You’re susceptible to the change in weather and you should’ve really really said something when you’d woken up.

“I’ll clean with the horses and organize the feed for them.” You say to James but you’re sluggish and the coffee you’d had earlier hasn’t kicked in yet.

You don’t think it will.

Snowglobe and Landslide are easy to deal with, older and much calmer than some of the fillies and colts.

Some of them buck and give you a bit of attitude when you’re brushing through their coats and mane but you get through it before your first wave of nausea hits.

“Fuck,” you groan, wondering if you should call James or if you can manage.

You swallow hard and push through. You already feel like enough of a burden to him now that you’re in your off months- there’s only a month again till TSG is ready to reopen for Winter- you’re not gonna shrink away from this.

You’re halfway through feeding the horses when you wobble. There’s a cold sweat breaking out on your upper lip and your heels feel like they’re off the ground.

“I’m coming Snowglobe.” You murmur, reaching for the bucket of feed to put in the feedbox when you feel unsteady. You feel like you’re floating before you hit the ground.

“Hey, darling, you’re scaring me.” You’re not sure how long you’ve been on the floor but James had your head in his lap and his hand cupping your face.

“I’m sorry, I never fed Snowglobe.” James chuckles, Snowglobe’s laying next to you, head at your side.

James had actually found the horse nudging at your side. “I think he’s more worried about you, darling.”

You reach a hand to him, Snowglobe’s nose butting your palm. “Why didn’t you say you weren’t well?” James keeps his hand on your forehead and neck; you’re burning up and from the wetness on your shirt you have been for hours.

“Thought I could do everything and then crash.”

James sighs, “How’d you get a fever, darling? Slept with wet hair again?”

You shake your head and nibble on your lip. You’re afraid James will be upset but you can’t lie when he asks you a question straight up.

“The heating in my room is busted, so I opened the window and the cold air really fucked me up.”

He groans, his lips to your forehead. “Silly girl,” James helps you sit up and pushes Snowglobe’s head away from you. “Could’ve just came into my room.”

You nod, “Sorry for getting ill Jamie.”

He only rolls his eyes, “I’m not upset. You can’t help it. Let’s go inside, I can make some soup for you.”

You smile, leaning into him as you stand on swaying legs. “And a grilled cheese?”

James laughs, “If you want to chicken soup and grilled cheese you’ll get it. You can take a bath while I fix everything up.”

[transformers-spike]

Hello ummm can I order a uhh wholesome Starscream x human!SO with the SO being into praising him and caring for him? And he of course is drinking it all up because he needs love and reassurance more than he could ever admit

Yet again my brain decided to go for a full length novel, so I had to pull back and came up with this. Think of this as them before they got together:

“Are you alright?” “Of course I am! Why would you think otherwise?” he snarks, puffing up like a disgruntled cockatiel. You squint and look him up and down with the most “dude, just admit it” expression you can muster. He glares at you for what feels like ages, ridiculous brow plates knitted into a “fucking try me” V. You sigh, take off the welding mask and put down the torch. “I’m worried about you.” Those very same brow plates shoot up to the sky. “Pah! I don’t need your worry!” he scoffs like he isn’t bleeding out in the middle of the woods. “Sure you don’t, but I’ll have you know there’s only so much I can do! We should call Ratchet.” His fist slams to the ground, you stumble but manage to catch yourself before falling face first into the deadly spikes adorning his stiletto. Death by high heel isn’t on your “appropriately ironic deaths” list, but you should add it. If your brain didn’t slosh inside your skull like a snowglobe in the hands of a petulant two year old, you could have sworn the mighty ex-commander of the Decepticons looked apologetic for a split second. “I would rather not deal with the likes of the Autobot medic,” he declares in a slightly softer voice, although not without his usual amount of scorn. “After all, you’re doing just fine,” he croons in a sly, buttering tone. Maybe you could have believed him if he hadn’t been constantly berating you for fucking up the impromptu surgery. You are not a medic, goddammit! Much less well-versed in the art of welding shut a metal alien from a planet light years away! You’re just some car junky with pyromaniac inclinations! But seeing him this way… covered in grime and energon, wings hanging low and servos shaking. You’re glad you didn’t send him to voicemail.

You pat his leg. “Thanks, but if this happens again I’m calling Bulkhead to haul your ass back to base whether you like it or not.” Putting on your welding mask, you keep working. Starscream stays oddly quiet, not even bothering to beep at you indignantly when your torch falls out of line. It’s no Picasso, but the bleeding has stopped. After you step back to give him some space, he tests out his leg, standing up and shifting his weight from side to side. The injured leg strains but does not collapse. “Good?” you ask. “Manageable,” he mumbles in his typical “it kinda sucks but I have to be grateful” way.

Pride fills you up like a single mom downing martinis during happy hour. Although not the best compliment, it’s a Ritz-Carlton coming from him.

“Do you want to go back to base? Or just… hang out here? In the middle of the woods?” He wrinkles his optical ridge at you but doesn’t answer.

“Okay,” you drawl out, taking a seat on possibly the most comfortable rock in Nevada. Years pass by – or so it feels like – waiting for the usually extremely bitchy (thus chatty) bot to break the silence. He does not. “I think I should go,” you sit up and thumb at your car, parked all the way across the woods on the main road, a good hike from where you’re currently at. “Don’t,” he hisses. His expression is almost… forlorn if not for his angry brows. Oh fuck off, the emotionally constipated airplane war criminal can’t ask you to hang out without hurting his pride. Which makes you the responsible adult of the situation compared to the billion year old metal chicken. And by God, you are the least responsible person you know (excluding Starscream).

So you sit your ass back down and lock eyes with said chicken. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what happened?” you ask, fully expecting him to shut you down by calling you fleshling and waving your humanity over your head like a shitty “begone” charm.

Instead, he thinks about it, averting his gaze from you and turning it to the vast wilderness beyond the trees. “Vehicons,” he states bitterly. “Either it was a purely coincidental dogfight or… Megatron is after me.” His whole frame shudders, wings sinking as low as they can go.

“I see.” You pause to take a deep breath. “Do you want to tell the Autobots?”

He shakes his helm and loosens a self-deprecating chuckle from his vocalizer. “Like they would listen to me.” You scrunch up your nose. “How about I tell them? Would that be easier for you?” His optics widen for a brief moment before returning to their perpetually conniving state. “I’m not delighted with the option, but it’s preferable considering their propensity for gathering unsolicited information.” The silence returns. “Hey, I know it’s not the best time to bring this up. But you don’t even have to answer, just please hear me out.” He peers at you wordlessly. “You’ve been through-” you gesture at dry neon blue energon adorning his frame “-a lot lately. I’m not asking you to talk about your feelings or anything like that, but if you ever need someone to just… be around, I’m here.” His expression hasn’t shifted one bit. It’s completely unreadable. You continue on with gritted teeth. “Personally, I’ve never defected from an extremely violent faction and been hunted down through the sky, but I find it’s easier to suffer around friends and family. They help shoulder the pain.”

He arches a metal brow. “Are you implying we’re friends?” “I mean-” you stammer, “I definitely consider you a friend. If you don’t, that’s fine, I’m not forcing you or anything. To each their own. But that’s beside the point-” A lengthy chuckle cuts you off. “Does a friend answer their comm in the middle of the night cycle and perform surgery with sub-optimal tools?” You’re not sure if he’s insulting you or trying to make a meaningful point. Maybe both. “If so,” he continues, lips quirking into an intimidating but somehow genuine smile, “we are friends.” Your brain flatlines. “Oh,” you whisper. “OH,” it hits you like an F-15 Fighting Falcon at full speed. “I… okay. So, um, if you want to hang out and stuff, I can stick around until five o’clock. Then I’ll have to leave and get ready for work.”

“Good enough,” he scoffs good-naturedly, having returned to his bitchy old self with slightly less bitchiness. But the smile he doesn’t bother hiding betrays something deeper. Starscream is your friend. Starscream called himself your friend. Holy shit, you think you’re going to have an aneurysm.

[nitrowyverine]

I thought playing Obscura would help me get rid of my brain worms. no, it just gave me new ones. For Obscura, specifically.

I'll be adjusting the format from my TOUCHSTARVED expanded thoughts post. Brain dump after the cut!

[Demo/CH 1 spoilers are included]

(Header Image from Itch.io page! All images in this post are either from there or the Rotten Raccoons tumblr page)

Design/gameplay thoughts:

In full honesty without fluff: this game fucks immensely.

The setting for Obscura might be my new all-time favorite, like, ever. Mystery underground scandalous marketplace??? Under a mountain???? it's a diverse and vast city that's still elegantly contained and claustrophobic, but in a spicy way. The worldbuilding and flavor is excellent. I really want to run a TTRPG in a similar setting now, since its an area with so many possibilities.

CH. 1/the "demo" has a LOT of meat on it. It's got different endings, variations, a whole soundtrack. Speaking of sountrack-

Obscura is also one of the few games I've put on the soundtrack to just to vibe to. The soundtrack is SO good, and sets such a strong mood/tone. I think it complements the game perfectly.

Allot of people have mentioned it, but I am also a fan of the Safeword pause menu. It's a nice and comforting touch, especially when the game can get so intense. It lets players take a breather if they need it, but also doesn't interrupt the intensity/mood of the game for someone who doesn't want a break from the narrative.

Now, onto character specific thoughts!

Cirrus:

IN MY HOUSE WE DON'T BELIEVE IN NOT STARTING OUT STRONG

Shout outs for having your asexual option in the dating sim be. The kinkiest guy there

Cirrus is a bit too intense for me, however, that is NOT a bad thing in the slightest. I think his route is well done for those who are up for his brand of intensity.

I might still play his route because. damn this boy's issues got me curious about his backstory. ($10 on mommy issues)

I had the hardest time getting to Cirrus's good end during my playthrough because having pretty much any self-preservation instinct around Cirrus gives you a bad/neutral ending. He's the only one I had to pull the guide out to get the best ending. (I think I'm just too sassy)

I get medusa vibes from Cirrus. The snake imagery is more likely tied to the lunar church, but his staunch reluctance to take his own mask off makes me wonder (this is mainly referenced in asks answered by the Rotten Raccoon studios). Refusal to let people see his eyes + snakes + power + slightly unnatural abilities to influence is, something.

I am shaking this man like a snowglobe WHAT IS YOUR DEAL I MUST KNOW MORE

(I am. metaphorically shaking him like a snowglobe. I would never shake this man im terrified)

CONCLUSION: Most likely to shame you for your anime choices. Least likely to be normal about it when you ask for help peeling an orange.

Keir:

HERE COMES BIG MAN

yeah he's tied for favorite right now. the slow burn in his plot is just too good? big man....freckles...secret soft side...im weak

he's so nice I keep forgetting. He kind of kidnaps you? not even kind of he just drags you off the street and goes "you live in my house now". Even Griff calls MC a stray early on. My man really said "Here's a convenient lost human I'm dragging them home now"

oh my GOD they were ROOMATES

I definitely was too nice to him in my first playthrough until I realized he does need (and want) to be sassed to death.

this man is like 6'6 and the canon-ish Vesper height from the CG is 5'4. THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE. This kills the man (me)

The sprite of Keir's ears blushing SENDS ME INTO A FRENZY

I quite liked the gameplay style of Keir's route. I was so focused and invested as soon as I realized I needed to remember specific directions to save the heist group during timed decisions

Something I haven't seen discussed yet: I'm mega curious about the dagger Keir has on his outfit. It's specifically pointed out in text that it's high-quality, and I vaguely remember an ask that Rotten Raccoons answered that said it's a status symbol. (The dagger also just looks SO cool. and....it looks like Francesco's...?)

(My bet is that he either 1. stole it. or 2. got it from Oleander during their tryst (WHICH WE ALSO NEED TO TALK ABOUT-))

CONCLUSION: Most likely to be gifted a "WORLD'S BEST DAD" mug from his similarly-aged peers. Least likely to live down that one time he ate soap because he thought it was edible.

Francesco:

someone keep the "silver dust" away from this lad im scared

Originally, I was least looking forward to playing Francesco's route since I just wasn't interested in his initial concept. After playing his route though? It was excellently done, and I genuinely had fun. It was refreshing to have a character more naive than Vesper, so more cultural aspects were explained and we got a good alternate perspective on the marketplace. Also, it got REAL spicy in new and exciting ways the other chapters didn't. I'm really looking forward to the next chapters with his route!

I totally love the contrasts in his design and his character. He's got both bright red and blue highlights in his design, his outfit is very pointy and angular while his hair/smile is soft and flow-y.

And in his personality, he's both sweet and open, but extremely cagey about some information, and quite pragmatic when he wants to be. I think he's way smarter than he lets on.

that doesn't mean I don't want to bridal carry him and tuck him into bed at night after a all-nighter party

I do think Fran's slightly looser demeanor could lead to him being even more brutal than the other LI's. Remember that one anime clip (Found it, it's this one from Danshi Koukousei) where a group of friends wants to fight for fun, but one of the friends asks why they need rules in a fight? And said friend is shown like secretly holding a rock and was ready to use it? that's Fran. He would not have chill and does not heed the rules.

"Protect the boy", but mostly to prevent him from tasting blood. Because if that happens we're all fucked

CONCLUSION: Most likely to eat that M&M off the ground because you dared him. Least likely to beat the puppy allegations.

Oleander:

Oleander is tied for favorite with Keir. Oleander is just *chefs kiss* LOOK AT HIM. inscrutable......

Somewhere in an ask answered by Rotten Raccoons studio, they mentioned that for Oleander's route, they were going for a "Sexy boss situation that doesn't feel like a work safety violation". They hit that right on the nose; there's intrigue and a power imbalance, but in a non-restrictive or terrifying way.

I love being involved in the business part of his route. I keep making decisions like "Hmm yes my primary goal is to romance Oleander. But what would be the smartest business move here? How do we advance our agenda?"

Also, I do love playing a sexy evil secretary in a vn. love having a job and being evil at it AND being paid money. 10/10

That dance scene is everything I could have ever wanted no notes

I am fascinated to find out more about what he's been up to since his last trek into the marketplace. Seems like people are trying to kill him all the time anyway, so what would be enough to cause him to leave?

he's like an angler fish, but the lure is his booba

I relate to Oleander in that. I have too many online usernames because I can't stick with one. People get my 800 online names mixed up often. He has the same problem, we're basically twinsies

This man is pretending to be a himbo like his life depends on it (It probably does). He's too smart though, I know for a fact he has at least three different schemes going at any given time.

CONCLUSION: Most likely to be able to help you properly lace a corset (this man knows the boot-to-the-back necessity of the process). Least likely to be allowed to be banker during monopoly night.

Vesper:

black mask enjoyer 4 life

(all three are good I just wanted to say which one I picked. And to add my conclusion section)

CONCLUSION: Most likely to get their shit rocked by a falling piano. Least likely to survive an argument about pineapple on pizza.

Concerns:

With how separate the four routes are, the game could potentially feel like four separate visual novels all in one universe. Maybe I haven't played enough VN's, but there is a feeling of separation between the routes.

In the very beginning of the game, when you're picking your route, I wish there was a bit more heads up/information between who you're picking. For example, I had a rough idea that going into the church is where you'd find Cirrus, but only from information outside the game. I didn't know sticking around for the brawl would push you into Kier's route. It's overall pretty vague to which route you're going based on only in-game information.

Misc thoughts:

Vesper: "How are you going to keep me?? ;)" Keir and Oleander: "crimes" Vesper: "Wh-" Keir and Oleander: "you're an accomplice now congrats we're in this together. wanna get drinks"

catch my socially anxious ass wanting to be under the mountain and wear masks so I don't have to make eye contact with strangers all the time. at least its a fun thought to have when I mask for covid

OKAY FRANCESCO AND KEIR'S DAGGER MATCH? AND ARE RED/BLUE LIKE FRANCESCOS OUTFIT? DOES IT MEAN ANYTHING??? probably not but I do like the pretty knives....

For real, I got the brain worms for this game, I'm on the edge of making a big ol playlist. the headcannons? They go on my friend. they go on. I'm laying awake at night thinking about what each character would order at a coffee shop

by the time I publish this post. I did start working on the playlist

yes, I've also designed my own vesper, its such a prime opportunity for character design.

Obscura also may or may not have inspired me to get involved with an otome jam game team, more on that in the future possibly.....

OVERALL: I got the first chapter/demo of Obscura for free from Itchio/steam. High marks for writing, sound, art, game design, all of it! I am on the edge of my seat waiting for CH2.

TL;DR: If you haven't played it, and love spicy and dark stories, go play it! Part one is free! and fantastic.

Itch.io

Steam

[cupophrogs]

ADIE THE WAY I AUDIBLY GASPED WHEN I SAW HIM AUUFGAHRHAGRHAGRHGARGAR MSUNNY MY BELOVEDDDDDDD AKJSDHFGHALEWUFBQERUFGOYVBEFVBQO4U5EYTQP87REVBIWRHBV

first art post in god knows how long bye MOSTLY ACTIVE ON TOYHOUSE NOW - popsiskull on Toyhouse !

[that-cu-fan]

"im scared to talk to u in dms, moot.. ."

my fucking personality

DONT BE SCARED TO TEXT ME BRO I DONT BITE 😭😭😭 pls lil ol me gets lonely too i want to talk to you guys

[novacorpsrecruit]

Hi a quick lil read: I did a poll the other day because I was thinking of creating Steddie fic recs and so I decided I’m gonna do 5-10 fic recs a post based on some sort of theme and here’s the first installment! Please feel free to ask for themes, I can’t promise I’ll fulfill them but I’ll do my best.

Theme: my favorite fucking idiots

single / taken / pining by 96tears (Ao3) @pizzaqueen (tumblr)

T | wc 4,435 | no cw

Summary: When a girl Steve’s trying to flirt with starts flirting with Eddie, Steve says the only thing that comes to mind: he tells her Eddie’s married. It’s not his smoothest moment, but it works, and Eddie goes along with it. It's not like Eddie was interested, anyway, and he figures Steve wanted the ladies to himself. So, Steve figures that must be it, too.

But a little later it hits him: he doesn’t want to keep the ladies to himself. He wants to keep Eddie to himself.

Ugh!!! I love it when the dumbasses don’t understand why they’re jealous, or that they’re jealous in the first place. Post season 4, Steve and Eddie work at Family Video and the Arcade respectfully, and come and bug each other during slow times. Steve gets a little jealous when a girl starts hitting on Eddie.

‘cause tramps like us, baby, we were born to run by stellapoint (pettifogger) (ao3) @heybluechild (tumblr)

T | wc 9,308 | no cw

Summary: Realization #1: Steve is wearing a costume. He’s dressed as Springsteen on the cover of Born In The U.S.A. The album cover is staring at Eddie from the stack of records by the speakers, and he flicks his eyes between the cover and Steve, almost laughing at how obvious the resemblance is.

Immediately after that, revelations two and three slam into him like an eighteen-wheeler.

#2: Bruce Springsteen is kind of hot.

#3: Steve Harrington is really hot.

A fourth and much louder thought echoes through Eddie’s brain: oh, shit.

(Many months ago, I wrote a tumblr post about Steve Harrington being a Bruce Springsteen enjoyer. This fic is about that.)

Takes place after season 4, Eddie and Steve are friend. Eddie’s love language is music. He’s a bit of a music snob, and doesn’t understand why Steve wants him to like his music. It takes a moment for it to click to Eddie what’s really going on. I love Eddie but sometimes you want to shake him like a snowglobe and oh my god, I’m shaking him so hard.

wasted crying by MixAddams (Ao3) @mixsethaddams (tumblr)

T | wc 6,471 | cw ow (light angst)

Summary: Steve just wants a buddy.

So why does it hurt so much when Eddie introduces everyone to his new girlfriend?

There’s a happy ending I swear! You’ll just want to bundle Steve up in a few blankets first. Post season 4, Eddie gets a girlfriend, and Steve is not jealous. Not at all. He just … misses being in the honeymoon phase of dating? No that can’t be right… is it? There’s a lot of good heartaches in this fic. I do want to share one of my favorite lines:

“I think so. Stuff like this is supposed to scare you, I think,” said Eddie. “It’s supposed to feel….”

Eddie took a breath and Steve watched his eyes move around as he searched for the words. Steve thought he might wait forever for him to find them.

“It’s supposed to feel like a leap, right?”

I can be pretty (why don’t you think I’m pretty?) by starsdontsleep (ao3)

T | wc 8,942 | no cw

Summary: When Eddie comes out as gay, he assures Steve that he doesn’t find him hot. Steve tells him it’s fine, he even teasingly asks what he should do to change that. It becomes a thing. A way to always make Eddie laugh, blush and relax around him—but as the days and weeks pass, Steve begins to realise that maybe there’s another reason why he cares so much that Eddie Munson finds him pretty.

Remember when I said I’m shaking Eddie like a snowglobe? I’m shaking Steve now. Steve, please tell me why you think you want Eddie to think you’re pretty? Why do you need to know what Eddie’s type? Steve’s only worried that Eddie doesn’t fully trust him with his sexuality. So Steve works to be the best ally… and definitely does not fall in love with his friend along the way.

clown music at the disco by fragilecapricorn (ao3) @fragilecapric0rnn (tumblr)

M | wc 3,717 | no cw

Summary: “What the fuck are you doing here?” He nearly squawked, meaning for it to come out anyway other than that. The man turned around, and here he was. In a stare down with ghostly pale Steve Harrington, who was not only supposed to be straight, but was also in a MESH TANK TOP at Frankie’s on a Wednesday night.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He pauses, glancing around the room, small voice. “It’s disco night.”

Post Season 4, Eddie, Robin and Steve move to the Chicago. Eddie has a new habit of going to the bar on gay disco night, finding another brunette ex-jock to fill the Steve shaped hole in his heart. Until he runs into said brunette ex-jock at the same gay bar on disco night. 10/10 no notes I’ve read this like 5 times.

of all the gin joints by genesisofrhythm (Ao3)

e | wc 4,016 | cw: they fuck | spice level: I read this at my work desk in between meetings

Summary: “So, do you come here often?”

Steve choked at the familiar voice, turning abruptly. “Munson?”

“What’re you doing here?” Eddie asked, his mouth gaping open as he looked over at Steve.

Steve was surprised to see Eddie here as well. What were the odds of them both driving out of Hawkins to come to the same gay bar?

Or: Steve goes to a gay bar to support Robin, when he sees Eddie Munson. He can't tell Eddie the real reason he's there without outing Robin so he tells him he's bisexual. But Steve's totally straight... right?

Steve [Evan Buckley voice]: “I’m an ally ✊”

This is a fun fic, definitely Steve Harrington speed running a sexuality crisis. Good for him. (also I have a soft spot for fics that use fob lyrics as a title, forehead kisses for that)

Exactly What It Looks Like - BilbosMom (Ao3) @bilbosmom-belladonna (tumblr)

E | wc 31,517 | cw | spice level: I should not have read this at my desk 😳🥵

Summary: Steve makes a face at Eddie. “You've imagined doing stuff with a guy?”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie replies, spreading his hands wide. “Doesn't everyone?”

Steve tilts his head to the side as he thinks. Maybe not very often, but his freshman year when Davey Riggs had been swim team captain? Yeah, he had definitely imagined some stuff that had made trips to the locker room kinda awkward.

“Yeah, that's true,” Steve answers, nodding. “I wonder why everybody acts like it's so gross, though.”

In the summer of 1986, Steve and Eddie have some perfectly normal fun between a couple of perfectly normal dudes.

I’m honestly insane over this. Like, I’m going to be thinking about this for a long time. Post-Season 4, Eddie and Steve find themselves watching porn together. And it’s not weird at all if you jerk off next to your new best friend. And maybe it becomes a habit. And helping them out every once in a while isn’t weird. And maybe sucking his cock isn’t weird. Or fucking his thighs —

Please remember to leave kudos and comments on the fics you read/enjoyed! Support your writers 🖤

[aerialflight]

fic rec list (in other words, i need a list for my neurotic brain and its obsessions, f me)

Yeah, everything said above. also, the deadpool and wolverine brainrot is real. i only watched it a week ago. nfeiwofpewafe.

-

[Deadpool and Wolverine] (i'm still desperately searching for more. i just need a list for the ones that won't leave me alone fyufivuohbjl)

How To Pay For Rent 💸 by fictionfeast

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson (i still can't believe this is the ship name, they actually put worst wolverine as a specification. it's such a unique dynamic and relationship that we NEED that differentiation. amazing.)

To pay for rent, Logan and Wade take odd jobs on Craigslist.

(listen, LISTEN. just from the fact craiglist is involved, you KNOW it's gonna be off the walls crack and hilarity. i swear, this fic went in directions i never in a million years would've predicted, it's amazing. the voices for these characters are impeccable and i, too, would like to shake deadpool like a snowglobe so some goddamn honestly will barf out. logan, you have my sympathies. please read, i'm literally going insane.)

shattered glass by anarkissed

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

At first, Wade is pretty sure it all starts with the bullet- the one Logan had held in his teeth and spit out like it was a prize. Or maybe it starts in the Honda Odyssey. Or maybe it had started way back with Logan's smile. That first sardonic one when they'd met. Or maybe it's the way Logan is always staring at him. Or maybe- "I think you're enjoying this too much." "Maybe you're not enjoying it enough." It’s more bite than kiss, more claim than caress, but it’s their mouths connecting all the same, and Wade gasps, hoarsely, as blood wells up from his lips and Logan tongues it away like it’s his god-given right. Oh, oh oh, oh- he’s crazy. He’s so crazy. Wade has never wanted anyone so badly in his entire life. Wade tries to figure out where whatever he has with Logan started. (And he's kind of hoping he never has to see how it ends.)

Part 1 of dying engine (poolverine/deadclaws)

(i'm not fucking kidding when i say this is my favorite d&w fic. i want to gnaw this in my mouth and develop vampire canines as i sharpen them every fucking reread. there are passages here that i reread like a fucking lunatic and i use the find in page option for the word 'crazy' just so i can go to my favorite part. and the fact there's a freaking part 2? that has logan's pov in it??? and it makes me feel just as unhinged??? it makes me want to go apeshit. please read. for the love of god.)

how easy you are to need by Patricia_Sage

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

Wade smiles when the doctor opens the door. "Hi, we have a vet appointment at 2:00. Please tell me he doesn't have rabies because I have been scratched and bitten plenty." *** Logan gets treatment for adamantium poisoning. Wade helps.

Part 2 of he has risen, babygirl

(i fucking CACKLED reading this, omfg. also, wade's version of helping is both sweet and freaking hilarious, i love this idiot so much. and this fic! addresses the fact logan probably has ptsd medical trauma and i love that. it's hardly ever addressed and i appreciate how it's shown here. also, it's a series! part 1 is great too, you don't need to read it to understand part 2 though, dw.)

Void by RovingOtter

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

After a week without contact, Logan leaves Wade a weird voicemail.

(i'm religiously checking in on this for updates. i know the summary doesn't say anything, so i'll say it here. logan becomes aware of the fourth wall and it's so fascinating??? a genuine look on what happens if the wolverine becomes aware that he's a fictional character and the exploration of that premise here is *chefs kiss* delicious. and how wade reacts to it and how they both deal with the aftermath of this development is so interesting and god, i NEED to know how this fic will go. genuinely one of those fics that have a premise i've never thought about before and it's GLORIOUS!)

where soul meets body by Edgebug

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

"I'll probably see you around?" "Probably not," Logan says, something in his spine still shaking even now, and Wade looks at him with those huge dark eyes that look--hurt, maybe, heartbroken, and Logan knows he has to get up and leave before he can't. Each step is agony increasing, the thing in his spine trembling ever-harder and then Wade calls his name and he stops, turns, sees those eyes again; pleading, desperate. A rush of emotion slams into his hindbrain, it feels half foreign and half his own; don't do this can't do this without you please stay please stay stay stay stay let me stay stay stay "Come home with me," Wade blurts out, and Logan finds that he's taken steps toward Wade without realizing it, closing the yawning gap between them, and the thing in his spine relaxes just a little. "Okay," he says. (In which something very interesting happens underneath the Time Ripper, and Wade and Logan deal with the aftermath.)

(they vulcan mind melded and now can't live without the other. i just love this author's writing and i read every one of their d&w fics. i'm in love with their characterization of not just d&w but the rest of the cast as well! and the banter and genuinely fun interactions between d&w has me kicking my feet and giggling like a school girl. please read, i totally recommend this fic and the rest of the author's other fics XD)

your fool in this game for two by abillionstars

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

“Have you ever lived with anyone before?” At Wade’s question, Logan pauses to think. Scratches his balls for a second, and says, “I lived at Xavier’s school for a while, before I left. Lived in a clapboard boarding house about seventy years back. A couple of times, I slept in a park with other people nearby. Do those count?” “That was a rhetorical question,” says Wade. “Some might even call it an accusatory one. Mostly because—dude. I’m a fucking mess. But you’re even worse.” (two loser loners, falling in love.)

(this is crack. the peak of romance, the very height of big squishy feelings. it's perfect. god, i am utterly trash for this fic, it's so fucking good fnewiofpew)

Love You All Over by FinelyDressedSpacemen

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

The bad guys have love spells now, apparently. Logan gets nailed. Wade tries not to. With great power over your sexiest friend comes great emotional responsibility.

(where wade tries his best to respect logan and logan makes this, so freaking hard for him lmao. lovesick logan is truly the most flirty version of wolverine and it's incredible. it's like if hugh jackman himself is trying to romance the shit out of you. wade really is the stronger person, incredible. anyway, this was a joy to read and if you like musicals, this is definitely for you <3)

I'm the worst at what I do by Thestarvedghost

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

Logan finds out from Wade after everything is said and done, universes saved and friends met, that most hims across the multiverse have some sort of memory issue, one way or another. Logan wishes he was that fucking lucky. He remembers it all.

Part 1 of No end and no beginning

(i recommend this entire series, the progression on d&w's relationship has me singing! it's so sweet and fluffy! well, as fluffy as 2 murderous, self-hating bastards can be anyway lol.)

-

[Dimension 20] (Fantasy High, A Court of Fey and Flowers, A Crown of Candy)

interchange by fangirl_squee

Fandom: Fantasy High

Oh, the Bad Kids? Yeah, in that group they have [checks notes] a pirate cleric, a goblin bard, a Helioic fighter, an elven barbarian, a tiefling rogue, and a half-orc wizard.

(it's so interesting how different yet the same the bad kids are even with their class changes. man, the idea of fabian being a freaking cleric still makes me want to cackle. he'd be so much more Exasperated by the bad kids, especially freshman fabian X'D. also barbarian adaine has my whole fucking heart.)

yeah you held me the whole way through, when i couldn’t say the words like you by zedif_y

Fandom: Fantasy High

Ship: Riz Gukgak/Fabian Aramais Seacaster

When Fabian is ten, his Papa tells him the story of how he married his mother. It’s a gory tale, one that involves a cut eye and bodies hitting the deck. He tells Fabian of a love that sent him to his knees, that leads a man like him– fearsome and powerful, the greatest pirate to ever live– to start a family. A love that gave him Fabian. --- A study on Fabian, grief, and, ultimately— love.

(an exploration on fabian's idea of what love is. god, it's so well written. i love this fic and absolutely recommend it! <3)

white knuckles by thathastu

Fandom: Fantasy High

Ships: Fabian/everyone (but all unrequited)

His ex-fling’s little sister. Two people in committed relationships who also happen to be in the same mega famous rock band. A heartbroken lesbian who doesn’t want to be involved with men in any way. And Riz fucking Gukgak. Fabian Aramais Seacaster, son of Bill Seacaster, finds himself falling for all of his friends.

(seeing the bad kids through fabian's eyes made me realize why the bad kids would be considered attractive to people who know them! it's so sweet how much fabian cares and pays attention to them and the constant feeling of 'oh no oh no' both made me want to laugh and coo at him lmao)

life in a wallflower garden with my friends by sickoflosiingsoulmates for lesbiansweetflips

Fandom: Fantasy High

Ship: Ayda Aguefort/Figueroth Faeth

This is what Ayda has spent her entire life searching after. This is what she built the friendship section in the library in hopes of, what she spent long, lonely nights dreaming of. A night with a friend, a true friend, laughing and talking about nothing in particular. [or, ayda finds friends in the bad kids]

(ayda has friends! ayda has frieeenndss!! i'm so so in love with her and this fic is so fluffy and sweet! gah, instant shot of endorphins, guarantee!)

allies and fealty, or, on finding the first knight of the new Court of Craft by fangirl_squee

Fandom: A Court of Fey and Flowers

Ship: Binx Choppley/Captain K. P. Hob

The enemy of my enemy is kind of my friend. Or something.

(i'm always a sucker for rare pairs and man, this is something i didn't even know i wanted. i love how slowly and carefully they build trust in each other, especially binx who is so secretive and initiated this relationship in the first place. by the end, i completely bought this ship and the potential for it.)

I've walked a fragile line and I've fallen down by jadeandquartz

Fandom: A Crown of Candy

Anger is burning in Lapin’s chest. It is bitter, and it is bloody, and it shines brighter than any Bulb the church might care to invent. Normally, he leaves his emotions be. He cannot afford to let feelings drive him forwards. Remaining logical is the only safe way to play the game of politics - and if you do not play it safe, you die. And if you die, then what was the point? But nothing about their predicament is normal. So, fuck playing the game safely. Fuck that. The world will not play safe with the lives of those he loves. *** In which Belizabeth Brassica is looking for a heretic, and Lapin confesses to his apostasy to protect the House of Rocks.

(one of the first crown of candy fics i read and i never looked back. lapin survive stories makes me so feral and god i love this cantankerous bunny so so much fnewiofewp)

to leave this all behind (halo round his head) by grumpyhedgehogs

Fandom: A Crown of Candy

Lapin blinks slowly at Brassica as she steps up to the bars of his cell, the guards splitting around her like so much water over a stone. He inclines his head, trying for regal and probably failing. “Heretic.” Her voice grates against his eardrums. “You have awakened.” “Zealot. You haven’t killed me.” Lapin replies, dry.

(another, much longer fic where lapin survives and i'm so in love with how much detail and fantastic characterization this fic has, not just for lapin but for the whole cast! the day i stop loving the lapin survives trope is the day i die.)

-

[The Terror] (yeah, i know, extremely random, and yet here we are. it's due to this animatic here that i was introduced to this show in the first place. def recommend both the show and this artist *thumbs up*)

I'll be Homeward Bound in Time by clandestinegardenias

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

Back in the Arctic, stuffed two to a sleeping sack and trying to keep each other alert, he and James used to name every good type of thing they would eat when they got back, knowing–as they thought–the time would never come. 'Cream puffs', James had sighed one frigid night in a partial feverish delirium. Francis could hardly see him but for the lightest starlight, yet he had heard the smile evident in his voice all the same. That close, he had nearly felt it. --- Hailed as heroes on their miraculous return to England, Francis and James fail to cope, but nonetheless manage to fall together.

(i love how warm they are here, how clearly these two depend on one another and find joy despite the fact london is trying it's best to stamp out this closeness. post-rescue is always such an interesting time where they get to reflect and be traumatized by what happened in the arctic and the lack of understanding that is found when they go home. it's done so well here and man, i just love these two together. the ship that sails their ships lmao)

death is a sailing ship by Maleann

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

"James had died knowing that his heart, the core of his very being that no biographer would ever know, would carry on in Francis Crozier. Would be protected, cherished even, because Francis deemed him worthy of such care. Oh, how he had loved Francis then. He had been at peace with this being his last living thought. It’s his only thought now. In this undead life, his love has nowhere to go."  ___ James Fitzjames wakes up in the Afterlife. It looks strangely similar to his cabin on Erebus. (Updated with amazing artwork by Marella!)

(the fic is so!! kind!!! to all its characters! and fitzjames is in full form here, i love how it's him that's trying so hard to take care of his men, despite sir john and his lack of empathy. to have fitzjames damn what is proper and trying to do his best as always even in the freaking afterlife, god. you can just see how much fitzjames changed from the beginning of the show to his end in this fic. how all the characters changed, really. every character here is given room to heal and face the consequences of their actions and there were moments that it seriously made me cry. this is my fave fic in this entire list, it just does an amazing job of showing compassion to all its characters and i love it.)

there but for the grace of- by TheGoodDoctor

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

“I wish you would stop being such a martyr,” a languid voice says quietly, drawling as well as a man can with two missing molars and a glassy, bloodshot eye, leaking all the while from open chest wounds. Francis is rather impressed with his dedication to the role, somewhere under the roil of fury and exhaustion. “You know as well as I do that you could have this bed sometimes, if it didn’t suit you to stomp about with blacked eyes and a put-upon expression.” “And what should we do with you all the while, Commander,” he says, all on a great sigh, “wrap you in sailcloth already? Come, man, you’re either well enough to cease bleeding on my sheets or too ill to get out of them, you can’t have it both ways.” “Francis,” Ross began, “I did not undertake to accept the position of second on Franklin’s expedition for you, as you asked.”

(this fic scratched a brain itch i didn't even know i had. it's so interesting to think about, the idea of crozier not being on the expedition and instead being the person who rescues them instead. fitzjames and crozier actually developing a relationship based on this premise, without the shared trauma, is so so intriguing to me and i wish i had more of this. also, the fact crozier is so much more mentally healthier than canon due to ross makes me want to laugh and cry. god, if only.)

out of the sea came he, still hid in mist by dazydaisy for shortcrust

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

You make bargains you cannot keep. You make promises you plan to break. You give things that are not yours to give.

(a haunting, magical realism fic that feels like a gothic fairy tale. exactly my kind of fic! and if it's yours? definitely a good read *thumbs up*)

At Civil Twilight by lieutenant_iceberg

“Well,” said Francis. “Jopson, will you see what you can do with this three-year-old peace offering? A cup for each of us, and one for you.” “Sir,” said Jopson, collecting one of the bags. “You’ll be up all night if you take coffee now.” “I’ll be up all night anyway. Go, Jopson, go.” When he was gone, Francis got up from the table, and they stared into the depths of the bag together. Finally, Francis cleared his throat and said, “All right, then, James. How have you fared since I hit you?” A few days after Carnivale, Crozier and Fitzjames make a faltering attempt to talk things over.

Part 1 of Civil Twilight

(oooh, the very start of their friendship! how to make peace when their entire relationship is based on animosity and contempt! the dialogue and characterization of these two in this series is so good and i absolutely recommend!)

rebuilding by wildcard_47 for 20thcenturyvole

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

Once they stepped ashore, a fey dark-haired man burst through the crowd a few heads down from Jane Franklin. When Fitzjames saw his brother, he startled, and when Will surged forward in the first press of the crowds around the returned—elfin face wet with tears as he swept James into a fierce embrace—only then did Fitzjames release his grip on Francis’s arm. Only then did Francis feel as if he could step away at last. Written for the 2023 Fall Fitzier Exchange, for the prompt: "Post-canon AU where, once they get home, Crozier and Fitzjames are riddled with guilt and trauma, and deal with their feelings by throwing themselves into caring for the surviving men..."

(i'm always so fascinated by post-rescue stories that actually deal with the aftermath, the logistics of it all. how the characters struggle to handle their own traumas, how they help one another through their experiences, all of it. and how both crozier and fitzjames step up for their men even now, even when they're no longer captains in the arctic and have to deal with london and all it's trappings. this fic handles all that so very well, i love it <3)

As Bullet Speaks to Gun by pointyshades

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames, Thomas Jopson/Edward Little

Against all odds, they are rescued. Cornelius Hickey is court-martialed for his mutiny, and the whole mess of the expedition is unfurled in front of the public. With their names being dragged through the mud, Francis Crozier and James Fitzjames reach out to each other. Meanwhile, Thomas Jopson seeks revenge for what he believes is his captain's betrayal, and Edward Little tries to come to terms with the truth.

(yes!! edward little my beloved gets to shine here! and jopson is so bitter and angry and messy, it's great! again, i love fics that tackle what would happen post-rescue and how london would react to it. the trials, both actual and mental, they have to face in order to move on and be happy (oh please oh please) is handled expertly and i love it! crozier/fitzjames ship is a little more background in this fic compared to jopson/little, but honestly? i'm so sucked into the latter ship that it doesn't matter. both ships are written very well here and again, my beloved edward little is glorious in this fic and i love it! you go edward! woohoo!!!)

Principles of Magnetism (a Comedy of Manners) by acaramelmacchiato

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

The one where they're married but it's still Victorian times and also it's an accident.

(you don't understand, this fic is so fucking funny. it's so goddamn victorian and sir john is so jane-austen-silly-characters coded. i want to both shake his hand for making this premise happen in the first place, and punch him in his punchable face. and crozier is perfectly characterized here, i can visually picture his disgruntled expressions so clearly in my mind, it's incredible.)

Thaw by orphan_account

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames, Past Captain Francis Crozier/Sophia Cracroft

Courteous, charming Fitzjames, whittled down to maturity by the North, and being there, very obviously, not as Francis's right-hand man or as his comrade, but as his mate; a soulmate. Sophia had no need to look at Francis’s face, at the discoloration that would have turned one of his blue eyes into the good-coffee brown of Fitzjames's, to know it, so blatant and luminous a thing it was.

Part 1 of A Victorian Soulmate AU

(very interesting fic where one can choose their soulmates, choose who they want to bond with for life. and the fact it's sophia's pov and how she deals with this fact is handled so carefully and full of goodwill. it makes me want to applaud. i love how clear it is that they're grown ass adults willing to discuss and make peace with one another because they're all genuinely good people who want happiness both for others and themselves. this fic feels like a flower that you hold in your hands to admire it's beauty and delicacy.)

And It Is Now, And It Is Here by 20thcenturyvole, pointyshades

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

Before the ships are trapped in the ice, James Fitzjames sees a terrible vision of the future, a harbinger of his own death. Before the ships are trapped in the ice, Francis Crozier is visited by a tender apparition, an angel wearing James Fitzjames' face. They are both seeing the same vision. Whether they can heed its warning is another matter entirely.

(when the ghost of your future haunts you, you better believe it changes to the plot. i love the dichotomy of how crozier and fitzjames reacts to ghost fitzjames! it's so interesting and i was on the edge of my seat the entire time i read this. if you want to know how it all ends, please read! i promise this fic is a ride you want to get on.)

Waistcoats! or, Life Before the Passage by sadsparties

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames, Lady Ann Ross/Sir James Clark Ross, Lt Henry T. D. Le Vesconte/Original Character

Commander James Fitzjames of the Royal Navy is the Best Man that a best friend could ever ask for. A chance meeting forces him to share his arctic expedition duties with one Captain Francis R. M. Crozier, and perhaps other duties as well.

(listen, the terror is a horror show and i both want and need lighthearted fics in order to deal with all the horrors lol. but seriously, this fic was genuinely just fun to read and i love the banter and slowly developing friendship and relationship between crozier and fitzjames! truly the romantic comedy fic in this fandom. XD)

[swifty-fox]

Would you be happy to share a little bit of John's head space when he was arrested, unable to reach Gale (not even knowing if he was safe) and then when Curt told him he'd got in touch? LOVEEEEEED this part. Prison tropes are yummy #chapel au

(p.s. I hope he was loyal in jail too!)

ask and ye shall receive (sometimes)

Now on Ao3!

The cops chip his tooth clean off throwing him over the corpse of the Corolla. He watches the white bone bounce away as pain blooms vivid and sharp across his face. Cursing before the sensation truly registers, still processing the sharp crack he cusses out the hands roving over his body, dragging his arms roughly behind his back, cold metal clinching tight around his wrists.

“It was a con. It was my fuckin hand in my pocket! There’s no goddamn weapon if you’d listen to me for just a second you stupid fuckin’ pigs.”

There’s a gun pointed at him. He’s not used to the reversal. His side throbs in phantom memory.

Folded into the back of a cruiser like dirty laundry he leans back uncomfortably on his cuffed hands and runs his tongue over the jagged edge of his tooth again and again, shuddering at the pain of it. 

He pictures Gale on a bus to California, staring out the window and playing with his braid until the flyaways outmatched the hair tie. Usually, he was frowning slightly, unless he had a gun in his hand or he was looking at John, and John imagines himself pressing a thumb to the imaginary furrow of Gale’s imaginary brow. 

It’s soothing enough as he breathes and watches the cops rip apart the car, scattering his and Gale’s entire life across the roadside. 

He shouts, knowing they won’t hear him, “There’s no fucking gun!”

-*~*-

They don't quite rough ride him but a few of the red lights have his chest hitting the front seat for how he can’t catch himself with anything but his already sore face. He cusses them out for it every time.

-*~*-

He’s given some fresh from the bar bushy-tailed lawyer who can’t be any older than he is. Veal’s convinced he’s saving his life, arguing for time served on account of his lack of a permanent address and he smiles at him with teeth and tells the judge to go fuck himself. 

It’s stupid. He can hear Gale sighing in his ear. Gale with his serious face and eyes that went electric and feral with a gun on his hand, a mask over his face. Quick clever Gale who had only ever missed a single camera in all their time together. Gale who is in California, waiting for a partner in crime who will never show up now. 

They hit him with the full fifteen months, of course. John sits as the courtroom slowly clears, eyes fixed unseeingly at the desk and thinks he’s made the worst mistake of his life.

-*~*-

Gale, Gale, Gale. 

If he were a less secure man he’d be disgusted with himself how often he spent thinking about his partner in crime. The whip of his braid in the wind and the white slash of his teeth when John got him to truly smile. The taste of his sweat and the way he was slow to wake in the morning. Quiet and unspeaking as John slowly coaxed him from bed with his lips and soft murmurs. Sweet and slightly vacant until they got a cup of coffee in his hands. 

He runs over the last moments of them together, the animal panic in Gale’s face, the soft growl behind his kiss as John drank him down in the shadows. The stiff broad line of his shoulders as he boarded the bus.

Tucking the snowglobe into his bag when he wasn’t looking, John’s fingers shaking. 

He’s used to leaving. He’s left his family and he’s left friends and towns and places all over. He’s left girls in bed and boys in rest-stop bathrooms and he’s left a fair few morals at his father's grave too. 

Leaving Gale, or Gale leaving him, feels like it had been the most enormous thing he’s ever done. He’d waved the bus away and then sat in their car until the sun rose, trying to convince himself to turn the ignition and put the car in a direction that was not after Gale.

It was a good plan. 

It’s not Gale’s fault that John never knew how to keep his mouth shut, never believed this stupid little car that had been his home, and then their home, would ever give out on him.

John wonders how long Gale will bother to wait for him. He wonders if he’ll try to make his way back to their usual haunts, if he’ll cut and run like he’d been ready to do before John had whisked him away. 

He calls Curt every few days, leaning against the phone booth and working his teeth over the inside of his cheek. 

“Ain’t heard anything, Bucky,” Curt says voice as tender as it ever could be. 

“You’ll tell him?” John asks, as stupid as the question was, “If he calls you’ll tell him I didn’t mean to not be there.” 

-*~*-

The worst part, aside from the fact his heart is outside his body and somewhere in California, is that prison is boring. It’s not awful, Nebraska isn’t exactly a hotbed of violent crime, but even so John is sure to carry himself with every inch of his size, turns up the swagger in his step and drapes himself into chairs with a sprawl that shows off how little he cares, how confident he is in his place. He doesn’t start anything, but he doesn’t frame himself as someone easy to push over either. 

A lot of time is wasted away with physical activity. Basketball or wall ball with himself or teaching himself how to do chin-ups until his arms shake. It pays off. He wonders if Gale would like it.

He calls Curt, and Curt tells him he’s heard nothing and John spends his nights fantasizing about breaking out and somehow finding his partner in crime in the vastness of America to deal with it. 

-*~*-

His bunkmate is a rail-thin man named Hamilton. He’s got a gold tooth and a fucked up face and looks like the sort of guy who carries a knife just to show it off but he’s friendly and easygoing as they come and found a way to bring up his wife in every conversation. It’s charming until it gets annoying.

“The hell’d he even do?” He asks another inmate even though it’s considered bad manners. 

Douglass shrugs, carefully sketching his way through a letter, “His sister’s boyfriend put hands on her, so Ham took a hammer to ‘em.”

John taps out a cigarette,and offers one to Douglass because it’s the universal way of making friends, even behind chain-link fences, “Is his wife really in the circus?” 

“Fuck if I know.”

-*~*-

“Anything?”

“John, I promise you’d be the first to know.” 

-*~*-

Sometimes, rarely, and only late at night, John prays. They’d taken his father's crucifix with the rest of his personals and its absence was heavy around his neck. It’s more to his father that he prays anyway, rather than God. Asks him if he’d be proud – doubtful. Or if he’d think there was still time to save John – more likely. 

Remembers his big hand wrapped around John’s small one, tugging his balking form towards the church.

“Why can’t I just confess to you? Why do I have to do it with Pastor Coyne?

“Because as your father I’d be tempted to discipline or lecture you, Bucky. This is for you to be forgiven; for you to forgive yourself.”

He preferred his father’s God. But that God had been lowered into the ground right alongside Pastor Egan’s casket.

Look after him dad, he doesn’t have anyone doing it now. Needs it more than I do that’s for sure. Just make sure he’s among friends.

-*~*-

In the less romantic sense, he thinks about Gale a lot. It’s a gentleman's understanding, taking care of one’s needs; quiet and unobtrusive as possible. He’s heard Ham’s hitched breathing enough times during night or knowingly squeezed a few extra moments in the showers to allow the other man privacy. What a man does under the rough wool blankets they’re given is his own business. 

John thinks about Gale. About the wild pout of his lips that were the first thing John noticed. The hollow of his neck and collarbones, the way both fit perfectly between his fingers. How Gale’s eyes rolled as John squeezed tight, uncompromisingly trusting. The flushed curved of his cock sliding down John’s throat, splitting John open as Gale slipped elegant fingers into his mouth and made him suck the flavor of the leather wheel off them. 

Pulls himself off to the image of Gale’s broad tanned shoulders, speckled with water and braid tucked teasingly to one side. He’s smiling at John, glancing over his shoulder with the sun turning his lashes wispy and clear.

-*~*-

He gets prison ink, bored and reckless and maybe a little angry. Thick black stars on the front of his hips, and the constellation of the moles on Gale’s face on the inner corner of his elbow. Nonsense dots to anyone else but he knows they’re accurate down to the millimeter. 

It should be. He’s had three years to memorize them.

-*~*-

“John.” Curt says, voice short and shocked and clipped. He’s breathless, a little giddy in the pitch of his voice and John’s stomach drops right down through the concrete floor. 

“Is he okay?” are the first words out of his mouth.

-*~*-

Five minutes he speaks to Curt, five minutes before he hands up and dials the number he’d said aloud until he had it memorized without risk of failure. His hands don’t shake, but his heart feels like it’s about to give out and he’s worrying the inside of his cheek like a dog with a bone, the flaws gone raw and bloody. 

Gale Gale Gale.

It’s a mantra in his mind, a hail-fucking-mary and for once he barrels right past the memory of his father and thanks the big man directly. Because Gale is alive and Gale is whole and Gale has fucking found him. His fingers slip on the numbers, the phones connecting before it barely has the chance to ring and then John’s suddenly unable to breath as he hears a quiet exhale that’s as familiar as his own face in the mirror.

“Gale?”

A quiet sound of confirmation, thick with breathless emotion. The creak of plastic as the phone is gripped too tight. John presses his forehead against the top of the booth as if he might escape through the line itself and be back at his partners side.

“Hi doll,” He croaks, unable to keep the first smile in four months off his face, “Hi sweetheart.”

[snoopledrooplecheesedoodle]

Day 3: Snowglobe: Fromaggio

TW: yandere behavior, Formaggio is seriously messed up, suggestive words and undertones, reader is in danger, read is half naked (poor Muslim readers and modest readers), torture, use of manga color palette on Formaggio, reader is not male or female I just used masculine terms because fuck romance languages and their gender bullshit.

You wake up to the feeling of cold wet drops falling on your bare skin. You sit up after the last drop falling with a thick plop onto your exposed arm. Shivering you flutter your lashes to see something you never seen besides on mountains: snow.

Standing up you feel the cold wetness on your bare feet, damn your captor couldn't be bothered to give you shoes. Wait why was it snowing indoors? Looking up you see the glass sealing you into this icy prison. No, he couldn't have shrunken you on Christmas, you'd been a model "bambino" for him. You grit your teeth in frustration as you grip the long white shirt that barely covered your nakedness.

Sick pervert undressed you and redressed you only in his shirt before sentencing you to freeze in a "cheerful" snow globe. You fume further thinking how long he was going to keep you in here while he drinks and parties with his coworkers at his "company". You sit on the "snow" not caring how cold it was. How did you ever find yourself in this situation.

You remember bumping into a sleazebag at the bar you went to unwind at and smacking he bastard in the face. Before the drunkard could retaliate a lazy arm slung around your shoulder pulling you into a firm chest. The man holding you was quite handsome with tan skin and short auburn hair in a messy buzzcut. An easy smile came to his face as he looked at the man in front of you both.

"Sorry signor, but this mignolo is with me." He looks down at you with cheesy wink on his dumb face. What did he just call you?! You couldn't retaliate as your "savior" is punched in the face. The auburn-haired man barely flinches before hitting the man square in the jaw, causing the old geezer to go flying out the window. Formaggio yawns as the old guy struggles to get back up.

"You want to fight; eh it can't be helped."

You never really saw the man after that or learned the man's name. You only saw him a couple of times out and about. You never would have imagined such a laidback guy was capable of kidnapping until he told what his job was. You were horrified as the assassin in front of you pats your back awkwardly. "Hey at least you've got a house, and I don't care if you adopt a stray or two, just don't make me clean up its shit."

Bastard

The door opens to the shabby apartment as a boisterous person stumbles in, clearly not at all sober. Obnoxiously laughter scares off the cat that was watching your shrunken form with a predatory gaze. "Fuck off you useless cat, can't you see I'm trying to find carino!" No why?! Your drunk "lover" stumbles over towards the couch and curses when he trips and lands on it. His eyes are glazed until he sees the snow globe. "Oh, that's right, I remember where I put my bambino." Formaggio talks like he forgot a sock in the washer and not his shrunken lover.

"Hey sugar boy you really are mignolo! Did you miss me?" The man's brown eyes rove your barely covered form lecherously as he peers in the snow globe like a cat watching a goldfish. "Aw you're wearing my shirt; you really must have missed me. Don't worry I missed you too!"

You glare as you shiver in the globe as the gears in Formaggio's head spin. "Oh, you must be cold in that snow globe all alone on Christmas Eve." Tutting as you back away from the assassin who somehow could shrink you. You want out but not if it means this man will be the horndog he normally is.

"I've got a proposition for you bambino, we get you out of there and I'll warm you right up~" Gross he's so gross. You shake your head as you know what "warming you up" entails. Thin brows lift as you refuse his "generous" offer. Formaggio's flirtatious demeanor drops as he eyes you with a calculated expression. "No, hm maybe you're just not cold enough."

Cold water fills you lungs as Formaggio furiously shakes the globe harshly slamming your body into the sides of the globe. You hoped that would be enough to kill you but no Formaggio knew how to keep you barely alive so he could toy with you further. Formaggio laughs at your wet form. "Ha ha, wet for me already sweetheart but we're just getting started?" You once again are submerged in water as he shakes the cursed snow globe again and again. Your lungs are on fire and your whole body shakes furiously delusionally grasping to some form of warmth.

Formaggio puts the souvenir item down before staring intently down at your wet white shirt that leaves nothing to the imagination. "Aw mignolo look at you, how could you be so careless you might get sick." Fuck this horrible bastard why won't he just leave you alone. You feel a faint warmth as tears stain your cheeks. "Hey you don't have to cry, I'm only playing with you, no need to be such a baby."

"Fuck you!" You shout with all your might causing the perverted man's mocha-colored eyes to light up. "Gladly bambino but you seem to be a bit cranky, maybe I should give you a little more time to-"

"NO PLEASE LET ME OUT I WANT TO BE WARM, I'M SORRY!" Pride be damned your lips were turning purple. You'd give in just to finally stop being cold. That was what Formaggio was counting on.

"Will you be a good bambino for me?" You bob your head up and down furiously causing the lazy man to chuckle. "Alright I'll be nice it is Christmas Eve after all." You find yourself growing as the glass of the snow globe shattered leaving faint cuts on your face. You stumble causing Formaggio to catch you. Fading in and out of consciousness as you feel warm and cold at the same time.

"Aw look how perfectly you fit into my arms, I'm so glad I didn't use antifreeze, you'd be way uglier dead." You feel his warm hands begin to rove your cold flesh but you lean into it.

You want to be warm again

Yes another one bitch, feel free to ask for a character. I'm definitely making the hero reader and villain Idia this Christmas as your full fic treat. I also can do platonic for oc or fandom which might be one of these days. I also am finishing two other fics right now, but the young ones must be fed

bambino: baby (term of affection)

mignolo: Southern Italian way of saying cutie, often referring to short people and children (Formaggio is teasing you using this)

carino: Darling

[valeffelees]

oc asks pls tell me about jenna im begging you 2, 6, 15, 20 and 29

LMAOOOO i always gotcha for the best girl 💛

2. Can they take care of a plant? What about a pet? What about a child?

the answer to all of this is a resounding GOD NO jenna can barely take care of herself. carlos is her caretaker (and i do mean that Kind Of seriously). if she were to have a pet or a plant carlos would end up taking care of it anyway. unless she decided to do the thing her mothers did with her and magically adopt a child (which, she wouldn’t she’s not really a fan of kids they… overwhelm her) she wouldn’t have one anyway 💀

6. Who will they take advice from, no matter what it is? Who won’t they take advice from, no matter what it is?

jenna is pretty trusting if you hold a good position in her mental frame of mind. this being said she only takes advice seriously from (1) kashmira (2) adunni and (3) carlos. everyone else she usually doesn’t ask bc they don’t mean as much to her

15. What would they consider a waste of time– other than school or work?

bathing 💀 and cleaning in general really she hates doing it. she’s like a cat and refuses to get in the water. usually kashmira and carlos have to ambush her to get her in a bath and she complains the whole time. but ig, she’s kind of like a ragdoll cat bc she goes limp if you pick her up LMAO

20. What do they like that nobody else does?

one of her special interests is pin up models and burlesque and pinup magazines generally. they’re really aesthetically pleasing to her & she has a huge collection of magazines from various time periods in her room. gender also doesn’t matter but she’s lesbian (for all intents and purposes) so she does tend to prefer female magazines. she mostly says there isn’t enough good male ones so that’s why she doesn’t get them.

29. What recurring dreams do they have?

she doesn’t dream too often but her dreams are usually about her and carlos. she doesn’t admit to being scared often (she doesn’t really feel emotions strongly so it’s kind of hard for her to tell a lot of the time) BUT she is terrified of him dying so her dreams usually delve into that territory if something bad or negative happened recently :((