#she has been since she was 18

[merge-conflict]

and the second ask for the mighty Chuck <33 stillness, canvas, arms, and change

I'm sorry it took me so long to answer lmao I answered the valentine one and forgot about this one after. <3

Questions here

stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?

Chuck is extremely lazy, and extremely good at making herself comfortable. There have been times when she has startled people by suddenly moving when she was just chilling in the background. But when she's at work, she does think about how she is presenting herself, and is pretty good at threatening people by just making herself known. She presents herself the same way whether she's stripped down to a tank getting her workout or wearing a suit and working a door as huscle– it's a little more understated than some folks are, but no one tries her twice. She's not particularly impressed by someone putting on a show, no matter who they are, unless they can back it up.

canvas: Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all?

She doesn't have any piercings or tattoos, but she does have a variety of scars that she makes no effort to either hide or particularly display. It comes as part of the territory, and she would be dismissive of anyone trying to "peacock". Her nose has been broken too many times to count, and she does have facial hair from taking testosterone . It's blond, so it's hard to tell unless you get close to her, and she does normally shave– from time to time though she will maintain her mustache, which she is fond of.

arms: Does your OC have any weapons? What weapons do they carry, and how do they wear them when they're not fighting?

Chuck can operate a wide variety of heavy weaponry, but most people hire her to either ward people off or make a certain impression, which usually means just using her arms. Sometimes clients just want an Animal with a sledgehammer, which is also a specialty of hers. If she's in a firefight she'll usually have a shotgun and use that unless she's close enough to get into melee range, but she does have a revolver she carries with her everywhere which is her go-to if someone bothers her outside of a job, or if she can't close distance.

change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?

When she left Wisconsin for the first time she buzzed her hair down and wore it like that for a long time. Gave up skirts and blouses for body armor and exercise gear. She loved feeling in control of her body for the first time, and picking fights with anyone who had a problem with her. Since then she's grown her hair out again and usually keeps it in a simple braid. After moving to Night City she's gotten her new set of fuck-off arms and also a new set of legs that make her taller and faster, and she loves those new parts of her without reservation or regret.

[groverapologist]

no one can convince me annabeth isnt creating a New Athens project. literally no one

[thefreakandthehair]

(don't bother) calling me when you're sober | rating: m | wc: 1.5k

content warnings: future fic, parental alcoholism ("falling off the wagon"), past parental neglect, minor character death (i've committed wayne crimes i'm so sorry but it's not shown, just mentioned), emotional hurt/comfort, ends on a happy, hopeful note despite the tags

“My dad called.” 

Eddie walks into the room, pinched eyebrows and flared nostrils lit up by the multicolored Christmas lights they string on the tree every year, one hand balled into a fist. The reaction  wouldn’t surprise Steve so much if this happened years ago, when Al Munson was still living in the bottom of a bottle of Jack, but now? 

It’s been eighteen years since he’d gotten sober, nineteen years since his last stint at Hawkins County, and fifteen years since making a genuine attempt to right the wrongs of Eddie’s childhood and build a relationship with his son. 

Fifteen years after Eddie let him in, let him try, let him earn Eddie’s trust. 

Fifteen years is a long time and to see Eddie so vitriolic in the doorway of their apartment’s living room— hands shaking, body shaking— Steve knows something must’ve gone wrong. 

“What happened?” Steve asks, standing from the couch and meeting Eddie where he stands, holding the hand not curled tightly around itself. 

“He’s drunk. He called, and he was drunk.” 

Steve’s chest pulls tight, his heart racing. What does someone say to that? What can someone say to assuage that kind of deep anger, pain, and betrayal? His thoughts are scattered as they try to make sense of what Eddie just said, and he’s even more grateful now that Ronnie wanted a sleepover with Aunt Robin tonight. 

“Eddie, fuck. I’m so— ” Before he can finish his thought, Eddie leans back against the doorframe, ripping his hand out of Steve’s and tangling his fingers in his hair, tugging. 

“How could he? How fucking could he?!” Eddie bellows, eyes squeezed shut. “He knew! He knew that if he ever did this again, I’d be done. For good. For forever. And he did it anyways! After eighteen fucking years!” 

His eyes fly open and Steve stands still and nods him on. There are just no words to fix this, and trying for the sake of filling the silence has never served him well.

“He did it anyway! Two days before fucking Christmas, a week before the anniversary of—” He chokes and cuts himself off. 

He knows what Eddie was going to say. A week before the anniversary of Wayne’s death. It’s been on his mind, too, of course. On his mind and in their conversations over breakfast with eccentric mugs of coffee, over the tangled lights that Wayne could always figure out. The year hasn’t been the kindest to them, particularly Eddie, and Steve wants to protect Eddie as much as he can from whatever he can. 

But he can’t shield him from this. Al Munson skips to the top of his shitlist.

“That son of a bitch!” Eddie rams his fist sideways against the door jam, leaving a sharp, red mark along his pinky. “He promised, and I believed him. Why the fuck did I believe him, Steve?”

Steve takes a step closer and grabs both of Eddie’s hands, carefully soothing the angry mark. “It’s been almost twenty years, babe. Trusting him with so much time invested makes sense. Hell, I did, too.” 

“I’m— I’m in my 30s, hurt and angry about the same shit I was hurt and angry about as a fucking kid. All the nights I slept in the backseat of the car because he blew his money at the bar, all the car accidents and court appearances and jail time, all the mornings I missed school because he didn’t know what fucking day it was,” Eddie rants, stopping to take a breath before picking back up, Steve’s own heart cracking and raging the more he speaks. 

“And every time he’d get sober, he’d always promise. He’d promise it would be the last time, and it never was. Not once could he choose his fucking son and I didn’t understand it then, but now that we have Ronnie, I understand it even less. If I was sick enough to walk away from her, I’d walk my happy ass to the nearest fucking rehab. I get that it’s a disease, I get it, I get it, I get it. But I can’t— I can’t do it again. Not this time. Eighteen years just down the fucking drain because of his company’s holiday party? How can I ever believe him again? Or trust him again?” 

Eddie’s voice grows raspier, breath shallow and quick, eyes watery. “Every time this happened when I was a kid, I always had Wayne. He’s the only person who really got it, y’know? The only one who lived it with me and now, I don’t even have him. My dad’s drunk, slurring his way through who fucking knows what on the phone, and no one else can fully understand the magnitude of what that feels like for me.” 

He squeezes his eyes shut again and drops forward toward Steve, forehead on his shoulder and arms loosely hung around Steve’s waist. Steve still doesn’t have words that bandage this up, but he knows how to show his husband love in other ways. Ways that, over the years, have become a language all their own. Steve pulls him in tight, one hand near his waist, the other cradling the back of his head. Fingers slide carefully beneath the hem of Eddie’s tee-shirt and rub little, repetitive circles into the small of Eddie’s back while he cards his other hand through Eddie’s hair, scratching his scalp and holding him to his chest to feel the rhythm of Steve’s own heartbeat until his breath returns to a steady pace. 

It’s only then that Steve speaks. 

“I don’t know what to say, Ed. It’s fucked up, and if you want to me like, hit him with my car, you know I’m game.” Steve feels Eddie laugh— just a few puffs of air through his nose but it’s a laugh all the same. “But I’m here, and we’re gonna figure it out, okay? Whatever you decide to do, we’ll do it together.”

Eddie nods and lets himself be led to the couch, Steve tucking Eddie into his side and pulling the afghan up over them. 

“I never want to be what Al was to me to our daughter,” Eddie whispers, not looking away from the tree. 

“Well, you’re ahead of the game, because she’s already older than you were when he started hitting the bottle hard. And I know there’s the genetic piece to it that everyone talks about, but nurture counts for a lot of who we become, too. Shit, I owe Joyce Byers a huge thank you for being more of a parent to me than my own were because she’s probably the reason I didn’t turn out like Dick Harrington. Ronnie’s never going to have an Al Munson in her life, because you weren’t raised by Al Munson. That’s not whose legacy you’re passing down. You’re passing down love, not pain.” Steve presses a soft kiss to Eddie’s temple and feels his whole body sag into him. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Eddie’s voice is quiet now, a far cry from his earlier venomous edge. 

Silence nestles onto the couch with them, a comfortable addition, as they watch the basketball game Steve had on before Eddie told him about the phone call. Watch is a loose description, actually. They're more just looking at a moving, flashing screen. 

“My hand really hurts, by the way,” Eddie announces, holding up the hand he’d used to punch the doorjam. “That was fucking dumb.”

“Maybe a little bit, but I get it,” Steve untucks a hand from beneath the blanket and outstretches his palm. “Lemme see?”

Eddie plops his hand into Steve’s and Steve takes a look, mentally working down the check list he’s memorized from his decade plus of EMT work. No obvious breaks, nothing looks crooked, Eddie’s able to move each finger and flex his hand without severe pain. 

“If anything, it’s just gonna be bruised tomorrow. But I’ll fix it,” Steve grins and lifts Eddie’s fist to his lips, carefully kissing each knuckle and paying a little extra attention to the pinky that delivered most of the blow. 

“I’m so in love with you, Steve.” Eddie rests his temple on Steve’s shoulder. “You know that, right?” 

“I know,” Steve agrees, chest fluttering despite the circumstances. “And I’m in love with you, too. You know that, right?”

Eddie snuggles in and wraps Steve up, full koala, as though he’s trying to get as close as possible without actually cracking Steve open and climbing inside of him. 

“Definitely.”

The next morning, Aunt Robin brings Ronnie home and together, they decorate the gingerbread cookies that only vaguely look like people but are good enough to pass for a seven year old. Halfway through, Eddie’s cell phone rings and the caller I.D. reads Al. Steve watches, worried that Eddie’s going to answer in the middle of their decorating. That he’ll forget Ronnie’s having the time of her life, and that in his righteous indignation, Eddie will leave the table to go fight and argue.

There’s so much to be said, and Steve wouldn’t blame him, but he breathes a sigh of relief when Eddie simply declines the call and sets about pouring more edible glitter onto his design with a smile down at their daughter. 

[taiturner]

MARI + her sweaters

[forestgreenlesbian]

.

[barflovski]

who took it out on you this time?

[angelstrawbabie420]

in my quest to quell my pain ive only hurt myself worse. damned if i do damned if i dont.

[kuromi-hoemie]

hhhh talking about my writing was fun but 30 tags is not enough.. yes i have 3 major influences but i have minor ones too.. it is a lovechild of my favorite things.. writing is so fun and i have no self control or a concept of pacing myself i will sit there for 16 hours and get hit with every status effect but by god does it all just flow out of me. I've always been a music person yes but i also used to write a lot into early adulthood until The Incident™

but i am ready 2 jump back into it. i think comics are a great middle ground between the two mediums so i don't get As into writing bc i kind of started going crazy last time 🫡 i can take a more structured approach to it that forces me to pace myself and think about it differently. i love art.... i love making things i love knowing how to do things i love knowing how to play things i love having so many creative outlets, even if i don't do a lot of them regularly lol. it is enriching 😳 and nice to know that it's always there to come back to when u want.

[yakny]

"Growing up may be featured by separations and reunions. As long as we retain faith, however, we will meet again."

[lovelornnobodyknows]

.

[xcziel]

i don't think i can watch the substance just because horror movies are *really* not for me

but i am fascinated by the styling of sue - the incredible 80s-ness of it

from the contrasting dayglow legwarmer-esque socks, to the very obvious 'fun!' makeup, the aquanet-sprayed hair, the poufy baby blue dream-barbie "gown", even to the cut of that iconic leotard

and contrasted with elizabeth's more modern - as of ten years ago - look with the 'natural' or 'classic' makeup and hair: shades of the gwyneth paltrow-style health guru

like i've only seen gifs and photos but sometimes the details are even more obvious - the way sue's front teeth are whitened but when she smiles big you can see the rest of her teeth are yellowed like

that is so obvious it's absolutely on purpose but what is it? it looks normal to me because in the 80s they hadn't hit on 'high def' beauty yet

very likely that's what ekizabeth's teeth looked like back when she started out - isn't sue supposed to be 'better'? or is it purely just 'younger'?

i've really never seen a recent movie get the tiny imperfections of an 80s styling so right before - down to sue's slightly off lipstick application that only someone that young and pretty could get away with

it's amazing and so very clearly directed by a woman

(and also i may be projecting but i feel like demi moore probably had input into some of the detail - they have that vibe of someone who had *been there*)

[surskip]

well i posted that post like 4 months ago how 2024 will be good, and so far, just reaching 3 months in, my grandma died and my uncle got cancer and my sibling's apartment flooded so bad they had to move back here. so well. only up from here really 👍 in less than a week my other uncle will be here for 2 weeks (booked the tickets before the flooding) but there is little room to spare so lets see how that goes

[softquietsteadylove]

official spicy time for the runaway bride AU pleaseee <3

Gil closed the door behind him as he came back into the cabin. He was done washing up after what was a harrowing day for them, and that was keeping in mind that they had already experienced plenty before now.

He had given Thena a foot bath as soon as they got back, and she had all but dozed off then already. It would probably be for the best if she was dead asleep by now.

He couldn't imagine what it must have felt like for her. She had been faced with her past in her own home twice now. Had they dragged her off the porch? Did they break in the door and bruise her ivory skin like monsters? The thought made his stomach turn.

Gil sighed, seeing Thena lying on her side in their bed.

There had been a time when he hadn't wanted to lie with her. He wanted her to remain a proper lady, with him on a straw bed so he could respect her independence (newfound and fragile in the beginning). Now, they cuddled every night. Well, now they did more.

It was still a lie that they were married. No one had officiated anything and her father hadn't approved any bans. But they lived together, for more than a year now, they laid together, their hands were on each other most nights, now.

He certainly felt that if he had a wife, surely it was Thena.

He walked over to the bed, no shirt, just his cotton trousers rolled up to his knees. He tossed the cotton he used for a towel over one of the bed posts. He thought of the proper bath room he had wanted to build. Now, it was possible that the best thing to do was leave their home all together.

Thena rolled over. She was awake.

"Hey," he whispered, leaning over to kiss her forehead. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

She said nothing, reaching up with her hands to bring his lips to hers. He granted her request, always happy to offer a sweet kiss. She asked for more, though.

Gil braced himself on the bed, hands on either side of her as she kissed him deeper, her tongue venturing further. As tired as he was, he felt himself ache for her. He groaned.

Thena rose in the bed to sit up. Her shoulders were bare. She kept the blanket pinned under her arms around her. "Gil, lie down."

His hair stood on end. He couldn't be sure, but he could feel something in the air. Thena made room for him in the bed, still holding the sheets around her. The fire in the hearth was waning but the light and deep shadows bent and stretched over her bare skin.

Once he was in the bed, Thena moved on top of him. It wasn't unheard of for her to position herself this way. It was easy for them to please each other in this position. But Gil blinked as she sat up, letting the sheets fall around her. His eyes travelled around the globes of her breasts, down between them and over her pale stomach.

She did nothing to stop his eyes from roaming her body. She did eventually tip his mouth closed and his chin back up to look in her eyes. When she had his attention again, she leaned in for another kiss.

His hands slid over her. His palms glided over her soft, warm back. He had never touched her like this--or this much of her. He would become addicted. He was already a little too excited about it.

But Thena moved deftly, grasping a handful of him and pulling him into the open air, even holding him upright in her palm. "Gil, I do not know what the future holds."

He held his breath as she looked at him. She moved smoothly, adjusting her hips so she could take him into her. They both moaned as first contact was made.

"But I don't want to wake up tomorrow and know I have never truly made love with you."

Gil grunted as she slid herself the rest of the way down onto him. Her soft bum met his pelvic bone and he grasped her hips to keep her still for a moment. He looked up at her, trying to grasp the expression on her face. "Thena, a-are you okay?"

She wiggled some on top of him. She had no idea the enticing effect her bouncing breasts had on him. But she took in a breath, dignifying herself the way a princess would. "It is far more pleasurable than horse riding."

Something about that, and the way she was so perfectly poised atop him, made something connect in his mind for the first time. He lifted his hips, enjoying and admiring the way her jaw dropped and her lips uttered a soft moan. He puffed through his nose.

Thena moaned again as he lifted his hips higher. She leaned forward, bracing herself against the headboard of the bed. Her unbound breasts swung into his view.

Gil happily took one into his mouth. Thena squeaked, her spine snapping, but he dragged his teeth along until the nipple left his possession by force. He looked up at her. She blushed.

Gil moved more rhythmically. He thrust up into her, in a way he had only done in his dreams. Even Thena's palm on a lazy morning didn't compare to this. He kept her leaning forward, looming over him in all her glory.

Thena made a sound for every thrust. Her hips began moving to match him, instinctively, her needs matching his. Her knees dug harder into the bed, spreading her legs more to let him go deeper. He hit the frontmost walls of her, and she mewled as if enjoying a good stretch in the morning.

"That's it."

Thena bit her lip as he started moving at his newer angle. She picked her head up, her blonde hair swinging around her with their movements. Her chest flushed pink and a sheen of sweat glistened on her skin.

Gil let his eyes wander again, travelling over Thena's body--the body of an absolute siren, apparently. Watching their connection, their hips meeting, her legs spread to either side of his drove him in a way he had never experienced before.

Thena cleared her throat. "This is not some brothel display."

He chuckled, directing his eyes back up to his love's. His moved his hands from just above her buttocks to running over her back, tapping his fingers where he felt her ribs. "Sorry, sweetheart."

Thena had to crane her neck to do it, but they kissed again, tongues nearly meeting before their lips did. He moved more feverishly than ever, and her voice rose in pitch. "Gil!"

He was nearing his end. His nethers tightened and he didn't think he was being hopeful and imagining hers doing the same. He took one of her hands from supporting her weight, moving it down. Her brow furrowed, her eyes shut and focused on finding the conclusion they had only begun achieving for her recently.

"Here," he whispered, guiding her hand to where they were joined. "Feel it?"

She bit her lip again. But he trusted her to feel around her own body better than he could. It did hinder his view somewhat, but there was a completely different pleasure to watching her do this for herself.

"It's okay, that's it," he encouraged. Her fingers began making a circular motion, assuring him that she had found what worked for her. He picked up his pace again. "I'm close."

"Close," she either asked or repeated, it was indecipherable. Her hand moved faster, the flush in her skin spreading quickly. "Gil, I-I-I-!"

Thena came quickly. She could teeter on the edge for some time but when she came, it was with her whole body. He let her bear down on him, all her weight moving to her hips grinding against his.

He groaned as he released not seconds later. It was an easy thing to do, with Thena's warmth encompassing and encouraging him. She made a purring sound as she felt him shooting into her, pump by pump. Exhaustion had no meaning to the organ dominating his actions currently.

They took time to catch their breath, the day and what had just taken place catching up with them. Thena's occupied hand had moved to using him as a support, right in the middle of his chest, the heel of her palm pressing into his sternum.

She whimpered as he moved her off of him and onto her side. He grasped blindly for the towel he had abandoned, moving it between her legs. She grumbled in quiet protest of it but he still thought she didn't quite know that such things did not simply dissolve after they were done.

He rolled over her somewhat, kissing her cheeks and lips more gently than they had been doing. "You okay?"

"Hm," she mused, although she sounded awfully contented. Her hands pawed at his chest, as they liked to do when she was satisfied. "Quite. You?"

He liked it when her lovely and eloquent speech left her for more singular statements. He kissed her again. Her tongue chased him but even if she could endure more tonight, he could not (deeply unfortunate). "I love you, Thena."

Her eyes opened, and the lovely flush in her cheeks deepened to a proper blush. She bent her head, nuzzling it against his neck. "I love you, too."

He smiled to himself, letting her curl into him as she liked. He was happy to hold his wife - in not so many words - as she desired. There was still the matter of what they would do. He could ask her how she felt about finding a spot for themselves in the village. But that could wait.

He had to find some way to get a ring, first.

[cloudsoffire]

sometimes stories present a character and want you to think they're a good guy with asshole tendencies when really they're an asshole with good guy tendencies

go ahead and ignore the tags they don't say anything important

[drawredasdawn]

Day Five -> July 20th: Role Swap, Secrets, Trust

Read More For (Very Tame) Nakey Ladies (Coriane Jacos/Elara Merandus)

I, your best kept secret,

Whisper into your shadows

With heated breaths, gentle sighs.

You, my best kept secret,

Moan as I enter

Eyes roll back, muffled cries

-Onur Taşkiran