#so I've been finishing up whatever else i can in the house instead but now they're the next best option

[izzy-b-hands]

Should I be sleeping by now? Yes

am i looking up restaurants in CT and NY and Massachusetts to go visit with my friend there instead and making myself hungry lol? Yes, yes i am

[in-my-feels-probably]

Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

I Feel So High School (Every Time I Look At You)

Request: Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

and: art being 10ish years older than reader? that’s all i got. go crazy

Hi! Challengers has been on my mind literally since the day it came out, and I think I've read every single fic on here about it, so I figured I’d give it a shot writing one myself. First of all, I combined your requests, hope that’s ok. Second, this is my first time writing for Art, so please bear with me while I try and get the hang of writing his character. I haven’t written a fic in weeks, so my skills are definitely a little rusty. Please be kind! Anyways, I hope you like this. Let me know what you think, and thank you for the request :)

(Warnings: none? idk, maybe very vague mentions of sex, art is divorced, swearing, i guess the age gap taboo. let me know if i missed anything)

—

You should have known trying to explain your situation with Art to someone else would’ve been difficult, but finally telling your roommate everything was just as humiliating as you thought it would be. She always had a knack for nosing her way into your business, and not even you were immune to her federal level detective skills when it came to getting information out of someone. 

“And I’m seeing him today,” you finished your rant as you sucked in a breath, wincing as you waited for the bomb to drop.

But it didn’t. Your roommate just grinned, standing up and walking over to your closet. You watched with a confused look on your face until she turned to you, already elbow deep in your clothes.

“So…you have a sugar daddy?” your roommate asked, trying to stifle a laugh as she rifled through your closet to help you find an outfit. “No judgment, I’m honestly jealous.”

You picked a pillow up off your bed, launching it at her when she smirked as you flushed. “I don’t have a sugar daddy! I have a…well—ok, I don’t know what we are. But he’s not my sugar daddy.”

“No, he’s just an ex pro tennis player with a famous ex wife who was also a pro tennis player that he had a perfect little girl with, complete with a house in the Hamptons. Now, he’s…what, exactly? A coach? A commentator? Part of Stanford’s glorified alumni? No, I’ve got it! I know what he is — hot. In a beekeeping age, recently divorced, kind of way.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up to help her look through your closet. “He’s only in his thirties. You’re making him sound archaic and washed up.”

“Look at you, gushing over him,” she grinned as she finally landed on something for you to wear, quickly handing it to you. “At least he has good taste. You’re hot, too.”

Your roommate turned around while you quickly changed, sitting down at the foot of your bed. She talked over her shoulder as you got dressed, her voice full of curiosity.

“So, how did this all happen anyway?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Remember alumni week with all the guest lectures and presentations a few months ago?”

“You met Art Donaldson during alumni week? What the fuck! Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have skipped all my classes that week if I thought I was gonna pick up a trophy husband instead of being forced to sit through a mind-numbingly boring presentation from some guy who used to go here that I’ve never heard of.”

“Sucks to suck, babe,” you grinned, finished getting dressed. “I’m good, you can turn around now.”

She quickly turned around, patting the spot on the bed next to her.

“How did this even happen? I’ve never seen you step foot on a tennis court in your life, and I know they wouldn’t have asked him to speak in a graduate lecture.”

You sat down next to her, nodding. “He did a seminar down at the courts for the kinesiology majors or something like that. They were learning about sports related injuries and how to treat them. He told them about how he hurt his shoulder a few years ago during a match, and he talked about all the physical therapy he had to do.”

“You’re telling me you sat through a kinesiology lecture? On a tennis court? When you don’t even study kinesiology?”

“Absolutely not,” you laughed, leaning back against the headboard. “He told me about it that first week while he was here.”

Your roommate giggled, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Oh my god! Okay, okay. Spill. Now. I want to know everything.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, but started ranting again anyway. 

—

In truth, you didn’t really know what your relationship with Art was. You’d met when returning alumni who’d gone on to excel in their fields came to campus for guest lectures and demonstrations.

In a total mortifying cliche, you ran into Art in a hallway while you were rushing to a lecture that had already started ten minutes earlier. You would have been on time, but your roommate accidentally locked herself out of your dorm, and the RA wasn’t answering their phone. She had an exam she needed to get to, which—in her own words—“trumps your boring book lecture.” You had no choice but to turn around and save her, making the trek back across campus to let her in. That’s how you ended up running face first into Art, your bag and all your things scattering across the floor. By some miracle, at least the halls were empty.

You quickly kneeled, scrambling to pick up all your things. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m late for class.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, kneeling to help you.

It was then when you looked up, and you felt your heart jump into your throat. Art Donaldson—famous alumni and world renowned tennis player—was crouched right in front of you, handing you half empty tubes of chapstick, a pair of headphones, and a stray pack of gum. Oh god, you thought to yourself. Why me? Why today? You quickly cleared your throat, standing up.

“God, sorry. Thanks…Mr. Donaldson.”

You cringed as you said it, the title of Mr. feeling off as it rolled off your tongue.

“Mr. Donaldson?” he raised a brow, shaking his head. “No, just call me Art. Uh, you know who I am? Am I actually still recognizable here? I figured no one off of the courts would have any idea who I was.”

You glanced down at his shirt, pointing. “You’re wearing a name tag.”

Art paled, raising a hand to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck. Good one, he thought to himself. Very humble. He cringed to himself as his cheeks flushed, a small smile on his face.

“Right. I knew that.”

You smiled, pulling your bag back over your shoulder as you let out a little chuckle. “I know who you are. Stanford never lets us forget about their prized students.”

“Ah,” he nodded, grinning. “In my day, it was Reese Witherspoon and Jennifer Connelly. Although, Reese dropped out halfway through her degree, so they don’t talk about her much—”

“And Jennifer left Yale to come study here,” you finished. “That’s one they do still brag about.”

Art smiled, leaning back against the wall as he looked at you. You suddenly became very aware of your situation, tearing your eyes away from him to look down the hall where your class was. Art’s eyes followed, and he straightened up, clearing his throat.

“Am I keeping you?”

“No!” you said all too quickly, biting your tongue for a second before you forced yourself to calm down and continue. “Uh, my class already started. It’s not really important, he doesn’t count attendance anyway. And, to be honest, he’s pretty dull. He managed to make Jane Austen boring.”

“Not Bazin’s class, is it?” Art asked, making you raise a brow.

“Yeah, it is. How’d you know that?”

Art smiled, letting out a little laugh. “That’s why I came this way, I wanted to see if Professor Bazin still taught English here. He was a dinosaur even when I graduated. I’m surprised they still let him teach.”

“If they actually read the end of term course evaluations they make us fill out, they wouldn’t,” you mused, making Art grin wider.

“I guess I should let you go then,” Art shrugged, glancing down the hall. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out on something you could use in your scathing evaluation.”

You glanced back down the hallway at your classroom, but you couldn’t get your feet to move. You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t want to go just yet. 

All you did at Stanford was go to and from class and stay on top of your studies. It was monotonous and boring, and you were always up to your neck in papers and projects. Other than your roommate, you hardly had any people left you talked to or hung out with. They all graduated with their undergrad degrees, and you moved on to your graduate studies. Your education was important to you, but it got lonely. You almost never took risks anymore. But as you glanced back at him, that’s what you did.

You took the risk.

“Or…you could save me from my misery?” you stuttered out, an awkward smile on your face.

Art looked at you with an amused expression, tilting his head as he waited for you to continue. You swallowed, fiddling with the strap of your bag.

“My classes are almost all entirely in this building. I’m sure you’re sick of talking about tennis, but between here and my dorm, I don’t think I see enough sunlight in a day to keep me going. Maybe you could walk with me somewhere that actually sees the sun? Doesn’t have to be the courts or anything, although I can say with full confidence that I’ve never actually seen that part of campus and I’m in my graduate studies. Uh, maybe you’ve got somewhere in mind? Or you could let me buy you a cup of shitty cafeteria coffee? I promise I’ll refrain from asking you about your career. But, as I’m sure you can tell just by looking at me, I don’t really know enough about tennis to ask anyway.”

As you rambled on, horrified by your own rambling but determined to put yourself out there, Art smiled. 

He’d met a lot of girls over the years. Some girls who had a genuine interest in him but didn’t last, and some who saw his fame and fortune as a one way ticket to an easy life. 

None of them mattered. 

He had married Tashi, head over heels from the first moment he saw her. He had a kid with her, a career with her, a seemingly picture perfect life with her. It didn’t even occur to him to look at other girls until his marriage started to strain under the weight of his career, and he’d almost forgotten what it was like to look at a girl for the first time and feel that sickening but addictive feeling of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. After the divorce, it felt so foreign to him that he didn’t even try. He had resigned himself to being a single father who co-parents and lives the rest of his life comfortably and quietly.

But here you were, rambling on with flushed cheeks and bright eyes trying your hardest to ask him out, and he couldn’t be more captivated.

There was just something about you. You were pretty, obviously. Anyone with eyes would’ve been able to see that. But there was something else, too. You were still young and not entirely pessimistic yet, with your whole career ahead of you. Probably no more than a few heartbreaks under your belt, able to muster up some sort of courage to fight for what you wanted. He used to have that, and he missed it — admired it, even. As you finally cut yourself off and looked up at him with mortification written across your face, Art saved you from further embarrassment with a smile. 

“Um…coffee sounds good,” he said with a shy smile. “Not from the cafeteria, though. If it’s as bad as it was when I went here, I’m not gonna let you waste your meal card money on it. There’s a cart outside of the athletics center, I stopped by it this morning. It’s still good.”

Trying your best to mask the shock you were feeling by his answer, you quickly nodded. “Oh, okay. Sounds good.”

You spent the entire afternoon with him. Coffee turned into lunch, and lunch turned into a long walk. Although you both had things to do, neither of you wanted to say goodbye and go on with your day. You skipped the rest of your classes for the day, letting Art show you around campus. He took you to all the places you had never been, and you kept quiet and let him show you anyway when you passed somewhere you had already been a hundred times. He was polite and asked you about your major and career goals, even managing a graceful smile when it was his turn to tell you about his career and how it unfolded after he graduated. He was careful to leave out the end, but he found himself comfortable enough to tell you about the first few years. You asked what you could, but you really didn’t know enough about the sport to ask much of anything.

“I’m boring you to death, aren’t I?” he asked when there was a lapse in silence after you passed a poster with his face on it for a Wimbledon campaign.

“No, not at all!” you replied, tilting your head up towards the poster. “I’m just wondering how you managed it.”

Art cocked a brow, turning towards you. “Managed what?”

“Not becoming a complete asshole,” you shrugged, making him burst out laughing. “I’m serious! You’re not the first celebrity to come here during alumni week. The difference between you and them is that you didn’t show up and immediately start bragging about how successful you had become. As far as I can tell, you’re the same as when you graduated. That seems pretty rare.”

“There’s not much to brag about,” he shrugged, too humble for his own good.

“A career Grand Slam isn’t worth bragging about?” you asked, turning away from him when he gave you a confused look. “Okay, fine, I may or may not have Googled you back in the restaurant while you were in the bathroom. I was running out of things to ask you, and I figured I should know something about tennis. Anyway, I was impressed.”

Art just chuckled. “I’m flattered.”

After walking a few more minutes, the street lamps turned on. It had gotten late enough in the evening that they were starting to light up around the darker parts of the campus. It was your cue to stop walking and look around, both of you realizing how long it had been since you started talking.

“I guess I should be headed back to my dorm,” you said, a hint of disappointment in your voice. “My roommate is probably freaking out by now. She knows I never really go anywhere after class without her—and yes, I heard how pathetic that sounded as it came out. She’s probably gonna call campus security if I don’t show up soon.”

Art nodded, knowing you were right. And yet, his feet didn’t move. Neither of you made any attempt to leave, still standing under the soft light of the street lamps. Art looked at you with soft eyes, absentmindedly reaching to fiddle with his wedding ring with his thumb before he remembered it wasn’t there anymore. Finally, he cleared his throat. 

“Well…I guess this is the part where I ask you for your number.”

“It was nice meeting you, too—” you started, doing a double take once his words registered. “Wait, what?”

Art let out a nervous laugh, shrugging. “You bought me a coffee, it’s only fair that I do the same. I’m here all week. Maybe you’d want to do this again sometime?”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, that sounds good,” you replied, trying your best and failing to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Art smiled and pulled out his phone, opening his contacts. He handed it over to you, watching as you typed in your number before handing his phone back to him. You fought the heat pooling in your cheeks, fiddling with the strap of your bag. Art grinned, breaking the silence. 

“Go find your roommate. Tell her to call off the search party.”

You chuckled, nodding. “I’m on it. Well…bye, Art.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll text you,” he replied, enjoying watching you shuffle back and forth on your heels. 

He made you nervous. And for some reason, he liked that. He’d spent practically the last decade of his life perpetually nervous. It was nice to know someone else felt the same way. 

He watched you go as you turned around and headed back to your dorm, a distant but still familiar warmth in his chest. He’d only known you for a few hours, but he could already tell he liked you. By the time you made it back to your dorm and managed to come up with an excuse for your roommate who immediately interrogated you the second you stepped through the door, your phone was ringing. You excused yourself to the bathroom with a bashful grin on your face, answering the call.

—

You spent the better part of a week with Art when you both had time between your classes and his seminars. 

It felt surprisingly easy and normal talking to him. Your small talk about your careers and plans turned into more personal topics, and then you were talking about anything and everything. You were fully aware of the age gap between you two, but it didn’t bother you nearly as much as you thought it would. If anything, it was part of the draw to him. He was also kind and friendly, with a surprisingly self deprecating sense of humor that made you laugh. Not to mention the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous. You had to actively make sure he didn’t catch you staring at him when his head was turned. He made you want to actually giggle out loud, which is something you never thought you’d do over a guy.

By the end of the week when it was time for him to leave and go back to New York, you both were dreading saying goodbye. 

It was late in the evening, about an hour before he had to leave to catch his flight. He’d finally taken you to the courts, once again only lit by the street lamps overhead. It was the first time all week he’d stepped onto the court and actually wanted to be there, not surrounded by onlookers who knew every nook and cranny of his life and career. Instead it was you, the sweet pretty girl who made him genuinely laugh when you asked him why the points system would ever use the term love to describe a lacking score. 

He fiddled around for a while, teaching you a few serves and how to hold the racquet to hit the ball. Eventually he was on the other side of the net, watching you giggle and chase after the few balls he’d softly serve your way. He could hear you panting and the sound of your shoes skidding across the court, but your laughter was too sweet to make him stop. 

Finally, you stopped to take a break, sitting down on the bench. “Don’t look at me, I might cough up a lung.”

“Very impressive,” he smiled, passing you his water.

“Thank you,” you grinned, motioning between him in the court. “Go on, let’s see what you’ve got. I’m down for the count, but I’m sure the ball machine will be more than happy to fill in for me.”

Art smiled, watching you grin at him with flushed cheeks and glowy skin. If anyone else was asking, he wouldn’t have done it. He wasn’t interested in showing off his skills, or lack thereof to put it more accurately as of late — he’d stopped training as intensely after the divorce, no new tournaments waiting for him to come and win. But the look on your face when you asked was just one he couldn’t say no to. Plus, your knowledge of the sport wasn’t that vast. You probably wouldn’t notice if he slipped up anyway. And if you did, you’d be too kind to make him feel bad about it.

“If you insist,” he groaned, but he was still smiling to himself as he moved to the other side of the court.

You watched him play for a few more minutes. He really was something to see. Every movement he made was smooth and graceful, a far cry from the stumbling around and huffing and puffing you had been doing. Every ball hit its target, every serve lining up exactly where he wanted it to. As silly as it sounded, you actually had to prevent yourself from clapping once he finally slowed down and turned the machine off.

“Look at you go,” you smiled from the bench, handing him back his water as he walked back over.

His cheeks flushed pink, and he was silently praying you couldn’t see it from under the low lights. He was too busy getting all flustered to reply to you, and it made you smile. It was silent for a long moment as you stared at each other, before he finally stood up. You followed him, a sinking feeling in your gut as you realized that it was probably time to say goodbye.

It had been a week you had never even dreamed would’ve happened to you, and yet it did. The one risk you decided to take had led to the most fun you’d had in your entire time at Stanford. You didn’t want to see him go.

As you looked up at him with soft eyes and a melancholy look on your face, like you were looking to him for all the answers, Art felt a sharp tug in his chest. He found himself immediately wanting to fix it, wanting to make you smile again — smile because of him. He’d have done anything in that moment to get you to laugh again.

So, against his better judgment, he leaned in and kissed you. 

It was a spur of the moment decision, one he almost immediately regretted. But then he felt you sink into the kiss, your hands coming up to his waist to steady yourself. He cupped your cheeks and pulled you into him, unable to stop the smile spreading across his lips. 

And that was all it took — he was falling, and falling hard. 

—

That was months ago now, and yet, Art still found reasons to visit you. 

When there was lapses in tours, or it was Tashi’s week with Lily, he always somehow found himself ending up coming right back to you. He’d pick you up from your dorm, and you’d spend the entire day with him. On weekends, you ended up in whatever hotel he was staying at, telling your roommate you were going back home for a few days. When you weren’t together, you were constantly texting or calling. He even sent a postcard once when the ATP took him to Europe. It was cheesy, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face all day when you got it in the mail. 

You hadn’t exactly put a label on the relationship, but it was clear to the both of you that you meant more to each other than either of you cared to admit out loud. Quite a bit more, actually.

And Art wasn’t stupid — he knew what your relationship looked like. 

Recently divorced, a younger woman by his side. If they knew, the media would paint him as one of two options: an easily manipulated victim of a gold digger, or a washed up athlete who split with his wife that was now taking what he could get, the younger and prettier the better. 

But that wasn’t it at all for Art.

It wasn’t just sex, or a new pretty face. You were something different. A breath of fresh air. Someone who didn’t care about his career or money or fame. You had no interest in what he could offer you, or what you could get out of him. You never made him feel pressured to do anything or talk about anything he didn’t want to. He’d spent so many years craving a sense of normalcy and peace. Time and time again, he’d wanted to go to Tashi and beg for a break in his routine. But, always too afraid to disappoint her and everyone else watching him, he stayed quiet. He never got a break. As odd as it was to say, that’s what you were to him when he met you — a break. A minute to breathe, a moment to relax. He always felt that way around you.

Simply put, he was head over heels for you. He didn’t think he’d feel like that for another woman after Tashi until he met you, and it shocked him how easily the feeling came to him.

And it wasn’t just him that had fallen. 

You practically hung on every word he said, and soaked up every ounce of praise he gave you. You had never been with someone like him before. Someone so experienced and sure of himself, but just as gentle and patient as he was sure. He made you laugh and smile, and he made you feel safe. For whatever reason he had taken interest in you, you didn’t care, you just didn’t want it to stop. You clung to it, enjoying it while it lasted.

And if either of you had anything to say about it, it would last.

—

By the time you finished explaining your relationship with Art to your roommate, she was already pushing you out the door. 

“Go, go, go,” she squealed, tossing you your keys. “Wait!”

She wrapped her hand around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks as she glanced down at the outfit she chose. “Is that a new dress? Did he buy you a dress? Oh my god, please tell me he has a brother.”

“Not sure,” you grinned, smoothing your hand down your front. “Show up to alumni week next time and find out.”

You were already pressing a kiss to her cheek and rushing down the hall before she could get out another word, giggling as you made your way to the stairs.

On the drive over to the hotel, the nerves in your stomach were making you nervously tap your fingers on the steering wheel. You must’ve got caught by every stop light, making the trip even longer. You were practically vibrating once you finally pulled into the parking lot, grabbing your bag and hurrying inside before your nerves got the better of you and made you stand like an idiot in the lobby, trying to muster up the courage to get in the elevator. You coasted on autopilot as you forced your feet to lead you upstairs to his floor, all the way down to his door. You only came back into your body when you raised a hand to knock on the door, pausing to take a deep breath.

Just knock, you thought to yourself. You’re a big girl. Just knock.

You had barely even knocked twice on the door before the door swung open, and you came face to face with Art. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you took a second to take him in. Still as pretty as you remembered, and every bit as alluring. You could feel yourself melting. 

The feeling was mutual. 

Art let out a sigh of relief, like it was the first good breath he had taken in weeks. A genuine smile crept onto his face as he reached for you, practically making grabby hands like a child. 

“Come here, pretty girl.”

You tried and failed to stifle a giggle, immediately burying yourself in his chest. You let out a hmph as you pressed your cheek against him, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. You could feel his thumb running along the bare skin of your arm, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He nudged the door closed with his foot, tugging your bag from your shoulder and setting it on the floor without even letting you go. He was warm to the touch, and steady against you. He hummed into your hair, squeezing you tighter.

“There she is,” he murmured, letting out a small laugh. “My girl.”

“Hi, baby,” you giggled, the sound making his heart soar in his chest. 

He slowly walked you backwards to the bed, supporting most of your weight as you laid down. He was quick to follow, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder. His arms hooked lazily around your waist, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

This is what you both had been waiting for. This feeling, this moment. Just this.

“You look very pretty today,” he whispered into your skin, pressing a kiss where his lips rested. “All this for me?”

The humor in his voice made you grin, your fingers running through his hair. “Couldn’t let you be that pretty all by yourself.”

Art smiled, pressing his face further into your neck as he let out a breath. You tightened your grip around him, holding him close. You let your eyes close, resting your cheek against the top of his head. 

A comfortable silence fell over the both of you, as easy as it ever was.

—

A/N - Hi! So sorry this took so long to get out, thank you for your patience. I keep rereading this and editing it over and over, I’m not totally happy with it. But something is better than nothing, and I’m tired of staring at, so here you go! Hope this is ok, let me know what you think :)

[sku-nk]

I've been inspired Skunk. Do you lnow that TikTok trend where it's like "When they're all up on my girl in public but she thinks they're just being friendly" and it's that audio that's like COME HERE.

Can I request that.

Come Here.

Synopsis: Some guy's getting a little too close for comfort. Unfortunately for Sam, you're oblivious to it.

Warnings: Language, jealous Sam, Not really controlling but bossy Sam, Just funny shit

A/n: i got your other ask clarifying who u wanted :))

Nothing is ever simple. Never.

Actually, there are a few things that are simple. A lot even. Things that are exactly as they're supposed to be, things that never have any extra complications.

With you nothing is ever simple. there has to be at least billion things that actually prove themselves to be what they should be, yet anything regarding you just can't be one of those things.

Like shopping.

It was supposed to be a boring little shopping trip. It was supposed to be quick. Pick up some things you need around the house, stuff you've ran out of and stuff you've suddenly realized you need. Maybe convince Sam to take you to Victoria's Secret and leave a dent in her wallet.

Honestly, Sam would prefer that to what's going on instead. She'd prefer anything over this. Like sleeping in, or watching a movie, or maybe punching that dude who's got his hand on your back.

What's worse is that you don't even seem to realize what he's doing. You've clearly been standing there for a while now, speaking to some stupid guy with a stupid chain and an even stupider fake deep voice.

At first Sam didn't even know where you were, you'd just wandered off. She'd assumed you were going to get something else on the list. When she caught up to you, finding you at the other end of the baking isle, she wished she'd followed you.

"Just need to start looking right, you know?" This guy says, standing much too close for comfort. "Pull a ten, maybe."

You nod, smiling. "I'm sure you will, Ryan," you say politely.

Sam can see the way his eyes rake over you, the look on his face so clearly filled with want it's actually ridiculous you're oblivious to it. Then again, you always have been. That's how you were with her.

"Shit, if I was like you, I wouldn't need to do all this. But you're just mad pretty," Ryan says, laughing for whatever reason. You're smiling kindly but Sam's got what's probably the dirtiest of looks on her face.

"Oh, thank you," you smile. Sam rolls her eyes. This dude's not your friend.

"Y/n," she says, making her presence known. Your eyes widen and an even bigger smile graces your face, head whipping in the direction you heard the voice. Ryan looks too, though his face is more curious than anything.

"Sammy," you say, as Ryan's hand drops from your back. Sam feels herself let out a breath despite the fact that you're still a little too close to this guy.

"Come here," she says, arms crossing.

"Hold on, this is Ry-" you begin, pointing at the guy who's now a good two and a half feet away, though you don't get the chance to finish.

"Come here." Sam points at the ground in front of her.

You tilt your head, glancing between Ryan and Sam, but you don't protest. You make a face, something between confusion and annoyance. Sam doesn't notice, or else she doesn't care.

"Now," she says, something in her voice possessing an odd sort of finality. You let out an exaggerated sigh and glance at Ryan, who seems to be just as confused as you.

"Sorry, Ryan," you say as you speed up. For some reason, this causes Sam to sigh and roll her eyes again.

She's irritable all of a sudden, you think. She shoots the not so poor guy a look, a look that has him stepping back even further.

"Let's go," she says impatiently as her eyes land on you, urging you to hurry up. You give her a look of your own.

"Why'd you do that?" you ask, despite the fact that you're doing exactly as she's told you to, glancing back like that dude's actually stupid enough to still be standing there. Sam grabs your sleeve and pulls you little closer even though it really doesn't benefit her in the slightest (besides making her feel better) and leans onto the cart.

" 'Cause I did. When you're shopping, you're shopping with me," she tells you, tone suggesting that you doing otherwise is an insult or something alike. "Not some weird ass dude."

"Ryan's not weird-"

"He's weird!" Sam cuts in, throwing a hand up. "Weird and wants you. You're with me, you're shopping with me."

You almost laugh. It's funny. What is she even talking about? Ryan wants you? That guy you just met? Sam notices your little smile out of the corner of her eye and scoffs.

"It's funny 'till he wants a smooch," she says, dead serious.

That does it.

You can't hold it any longer. You burst into a fit of giggles, smacking Sam on the arm. "He was being nice, relax," you laugh, as Sam rolls her eyes for the millionth time.

"He doesn't need to, he's being a little too nice."

"It's not that deep, I promise!" you tell her, grin unwavering.

"It's always that deep! Everybody wants you! All the time! I do!" Sam shoots back, instinctively straightening up as you grab the cart, shaking your head and beginning to push it down the isle. She nearly pulls her hair out when you start fully laughing at her again.

"Made me forget what I was over here for," you say to yourself as Sam follows behind you, saying something about the elderly crossing guard across the street checking you out.

"So you need to stay with me all the time!"

I dunno how to end this guys

[lavenderchqn]

Congrats on 300 followers!! Your works are so lovely, and theyre so fun to read!! 💕

For the library expansion special event, i'd love for a hurt/comfort written fic with tighnari that involves the reader being injured? Like, reader survives but barely, and then nari is so worried taking care of them 🥹

(I have no idea if I did the request right but regardless, congratulations on the milestone again!! And thank you for your hard work 🩷 drink lots of water and take care of yourself!!)

"BELLIS PERENNIS"

synopsis — An accident happens while you're preparing Gandharva Ville for Sabzeruz Festivals' celebrations, luckily Tighnari is there to nurture you back to health... pairings — tighnari x gn!reader warnings — hurt/comfort; mentions of an injury (nothing graphic stated); notes — tysm for this request as well as the kind words! tighnari is a very special boi, so I'm absolutely delighted to be writing for him~ I've actually had something of this caliber in mind for text/written scenarios so I'm delighted for your request. Please also make sure to be taking good care of yourself, anon 🫶

As soon as the calendars mark the start of October, the people of Sumeru begin preparations for their cherished tradition: the Sabzeruz Festival, a celebration honouring their beloved archon. Sumeru’s City streets and squares are adorned with vibrant decorations, fragrant flowers and colourful lanterns light up the bustling markets. Music can be heard everywhere as musicians practice for the grand performance on the day of the archon’s birthday. 

And you? You’re in charge of dressing up Gandharva Ville instead of Tighnari, as he’s on the committee related to the Parade. Thanks to your position as his partner, all forest rangers are eager to help whatever vision you wish to bring to life. To them, it’s somewhat refreshing to be under the guidance of someone else other than their resident Valuka Shauna. 

Currently, your beloved partner is out assisting with yet another brilliant idea of the equally brilliant Madame Faruzan and Kaveh. With no commissions relating to Sumeru’s ecosystem to be done by your friends, the time to decorate the tiny city comes. In all fairness, you all want to get done with it as soon as possible — flora-related issues can pop up out of nowhere… and you promised Tighnari not to over-extort your body.

With the help of Collei, who is surprisingly joining you in the decorating process, you split the tasks among the rangers, assigning each of them to different areas of the village: some will gather additional flowers, others will craft garlands, and a few will set up the lanterns. In your mind, you can envision the vibrant flora adorning the trees and houses, illuminating the Ville like a shimmering and colourful garden. 

At first, everything goes smoothly, allowing you and the younger girl to assist each group in completing the tasks. The garland-making process is by far the most time-consuming, requiring much precision and some “aesthetic” knowledge. The longer it goes, the more and more people join in creating said wreaths, taking over for people tired and with hurt friends. 

As time goes on and on, it gets relatively close to the time Tighnari is supposed to return from Port Ormos. By this point, you’re hanging up the flowery decorations on the trees, balancing on a ladder. Unlike the early morning, people now scatter chaotically. Everyone is hurrying up to finish their part, wanting Tighnari to witness Gandharva Ville in its most beautiful state. With everyone being everything but organised, concentrating on getting the job done is less than easy. Now you have to put up with people knocking into you on accident, messing up your balance.

Just as you’re about to secure another garland, a murmur spreads through the crowd. The word is that Tighnari has been sighted approaching the Ville. This news sends a ripple of excitement — and panic — through everyone. Collei, standing nearby, shoots you a wide-eyed glance before you break into a grin. 

“Alright, everyone!” You call out, clapping your hands to draw people’s attention. “Let’s finish strong so Tighnari can see the full splendour of our hard work!” 

In the rush that follows, people are hurrying to put the finishing touches on the decorations. Rangers are darting back and forth, carrying last-minute additions and adjusting already hung to ensure everything looks flawless. You return your focus to your task, carefully tying the last garland to a branch, breathing steadily to keep your balance despite the chaotic movement below. 

But as you’re about to tie off the final knot, someone below bumps into the ladder, sending it into a wobble. It sways beneath you, throwing you off balance. Your hand instinctively reaches out to grab something, anything, to steady yourself, but there’s nothing within reach. Your heart is pounding as you brace for a fall, feeling the world tilt as the ladder tips further. 

As there’s nothing to catch you… you have an unfortunate meeting with the ground. You can feel something breaking, as you’re knocked out. Darkness envelops you, swallowing the sounds of bustling rangers who now gather around you worried. Slowly, consciousness returns in fragments — voices now hushed, a gentle touch, and a dull, throbbing ache pulsing through your body. 

Blinking your eyes open, you’re greeted by the leafy canopy roof, blurring and swimming in your vision. It takes a moment to orient yourself and take a deep breath, only to feel a sharp, burning pain in your chest.

“Hey, hey, don’t move too much,” A familiar voice says gently. You look up and see Tighnari’s concerned face hovering above you, his brows knit in worry.

“Nari…” You manage to murmur, wincing as his fingers graze your shirt. You can notice a stash of makeshift bandages on a stool nearby. Collei is nowhere to be found, leaving you as the only two in your partner’s abode. 

“You took quite the fall,” Tighnari says softly, his voice both reassuring yet stern. “We’re still waiting for a doctor from Bimarstan to arrive and asses your situation further. We’re quite lucky nobody else was injured. What I cannot explain, however, is why you were climbing ladders without anybody spotting you.” He tries to keep his tone light not to worry you, but it’s easy to tell he’s genuinely concerned. 

You open your mouth to explain, but all that comes out is a cough and you try to grab your chest in pain. Your partner is right in front of you, catching your hands — worried that your fall might’ve resulted in some injury there. 

“Having trouble breathing?” He asks, crouching with your hands still in his. As soon as you reply with a slight nod, his expression changes to a one of worry. Perhaps the situation is worse than he initially predicted. 

“Master! The doctor is here, can we come in?” Collei’s voice echoes, gathering the attention of you both. Gosh, you hope the young girl doesn’t blame herself for your injury. You don’t even want to think about potentially adding more stuff onto her plate of worries. 

“Oh,” Tighnari leaves you be for a second, opening the door to the hut. “But of course. [Y/N] is also awake now.” 

With a quick nod, the doctor enters carefully not wanting to startle you. He can overhear the whispers of your issues with breathing. Regardless of what happened, a thorough examination is in order. According to the words of the young forest ranger, your fall was quite brutal. 

“Mr. Tighnari,” The doctor calls out to your partner as he steps outside. “I’ve concluded my check-up.” 

Tighnari’s ears perk up, focused as he nods for the doctor to continue. He’s trying his best to keep his composure, but you can see the worry in his expression as he waits to hear about the findings. 

The doctor’s done is steady and professional as he speaks. “Your partner has a broken rib. That can explain the chest pain and difficulty breathing. Fortunately, your partner hasn’t fallen all that bad, otherwise rather than a patient… you would’ve had a dead body on your hands.” Despite uttering such words, his posture is unnerved. 

That cannot be said about Tighnari. His eyes are wide with shock, as he tries to comprehend if the doctor is trying to make a joke. Nobody, not even Cyno, would been so brave as to joke about a person dying — his soulmate dying, most specifically. 

“It will take careful attention and time for the rib to heal properly. I’ve wrapped their chest to provide some support, but they’ll need to avoid any strain for the next few weeks.” He pauses, giving Tighnari a meaningful look. “They should take some time off work, heaven knows what you rangers do to patrol Avidya Forest.” 

Tighnari releases a quiet sigh of relief, nodding as he absorbs the information, deciding to omit the thought of your death from his mind. “Thank you, doctor.” He says, voice steady but softened by gratitude. “I’ll make sure they rest and follow your instructions.” 

The doctor gives a small, reassuring nod before leaving. Collei, however, hovers nearby, visibly anxious. Tighnari, picking up on her distress, gestures for her to come closer.

“Collei, it’s alright,” He says gently, giving her a comforting smile. “They’ll be fine, they just need time to recover. Don’t worry — it was an accident, nobody is at fault here.” 

Her shoulders relax slightly, though she still looks at you apologetically. “[Y/N], I… I’m so sorry. I should’ve kept a better eye,” She says, her voice shaky. 

Despite the dull ache in your chest, you manage a small, reassuring smile. “Don’t blame yourself. I’m,” You pause to take a breath. “I’m not upset… and neither should you.” 

“Oh, um— o-okay…” 

Tighnari places a hand on her shoulder, giving her a supportive squeeze. “You’ve done everything you could. I’m very proud of you for taking charge. Now that everything is in order, you can rest as well. We’ve all put in a lot of effort, you know.” 

With a hesitant nod, Collei finally allows herself to relax. She murmurs a quick farewell and leaves, casting one last concerned glance your way. 

Once you’re alone, Tighnari sits beside you, his expression soft as he takes your hand. “You had me worried,” He admits quietly, brushing a thumb over your knuckles. “You’re not getting out of my sight for a while, I guess?” 

You cannot help but chuckle, which immediately turns into a wince as pain flares up in your chest. Tighnari’s grip tightens ever so slightly, brows furrowed in concern. 

“See?” He says. “This is why you’re under strict bedrest. No adventures until you’re fully healed AND approved by the doctor.” 

You sigh in response, resigned but comforted by his soulmate. “Fine, fine. I guess I have to behave now.” You reply, meeting his gaze with a hint of a smile. 

No more than three weeks pass by as you realise being bedridden is quite boring. Sure Collei, Tighnari and even Cyno are here to keep you company while you get better, yet you're still aching to go out to witness the Sabzeruz Festival in person. You’re quite certain that at this point, every place of Sumeru is decorated to the nines and yet you’re stuck in your silly little bed. 

“Drink slowly,” Tighnari says as he settles a glass of water on your nightstand. Over the past few weeks, your partner has truly evolved into his final form — a mother hen. Ever since the first day of your recovery, he has been granting your every wish. Fluffing over pillows? He’s done it. Feeding you? Complied with an eye roll. And yet, there was one thing he wouldn’t allow you to do… Leaving the hut. It has been so long since you’ve been outside, you were unsure if you knew how to walk still. 

“Oh, thank you,” You pick up the glass and slowly bring it up to your mouth.“You shouldn’t have.” You say, taking a sip. 

Tighnari’s watchful eye doesn’t leave you for a second, ensuring you’re drinking slowly enough not to cause yourself any harm. “Oh please, darling,” He rolls his eyes, scoffing at your preposterous comment. “It’s my pleasure to help out my soulmate in their time of need.” 

“I know, I know…” You sigh, taking a look outside. 

The garlands are still hanging in the branches, adoring Gandharva Ville’s trees with beautiful shades of pink and blue. Oh, how you long to witness this beauty in person, rather than from the confines of your bed. No matter how much you tried to hide said desire from Tighnari, there was simply no use. The male knew of every single one of your thoughts, whether you liked it or not. 

“You know,” Tighnari sits next to the bed, resting his head on his hand. “Maybe we could take a walk today? I think it would do you good.” 

Your eyes light up at his words, though you quickly try to compose yourself, not wanting to appear too eager. After all, Tighnari’s been strictly enforcing your rest, and far too much excitement might have him second-guess the idea. “A walk?” You ask, trying to sound calm but failing as a hint of hope slips into your voice. 

He chuckles, eyes warm as he observes your expression. “Yes, a short walk,” Tighnari emphasises, “Only around the village, and only if you promise to let me know if anything feels off. We don’t want you taking any more tumbles.” 

You nod, lifting your pinky finger. “I’ll take it easy.” 

With his support, you ease out of bed, feeling the cool, earthy air of Gandharva Ville wash over you. The decorations are even more enchanting up close, just as they were on the day you put them up. Villagers and forest rangers greet the two of you as you pass by, each offering a smile and words of encouragement — relieved to see you up and about. 

Tighnari keeps a steady pace beside you, his arm linked with yours as he leads you through the village. He looks at you every so often, making sure you’re okay. He cannot risk you any other injury so quickly, otherwise the doctor’s cruel joke might come to fruition. 

For all this time, he had been keeping up a front of being worried… in moderate amounts. On the insides, for the past few weeks, Tighnari had been a nervous wreck. Juggling preparations for the festival while taking care of you was no easy feat. And yet, seeing you up and moving at least fills him with a deep, quiet relief.

“Are you okay there?” He asks softly. There’s a tenderness in his eyes, one that shows how much he’s missed seeing you this lively.

“Better than okay,” You reply with a smile, though you do your best not to overdo it, worried about the ache in your chest. “Everything looks so beautiful. It’s like… exactly how I’d imagined it.”

Tighnari chuckles. “Good to know the work has upheld the planner’s expectations.” He sighs a little. “Though I’d much rather have you safe and sound than climbing ladders. Please… leave the high work to someone else next time, you hear me?” 

“Okay, okay—“ You nod, feeling gratitude mixed with guilt. “I never meant to make you worry.” 

“I know. There was just…” His expression grows serious. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt as helpless as when I saw you there on the ground…” 

The admission hangs in the air, as does the silence that comes soon after. Stopping for a second, you reach out to Tighnari, to wrap yourself around him in a gentle hug. “You took amazing care of me… I couldn’t have asked for more.” 

He nuzzles his head with yours, not wanting to put any pressure on your body, grounding himself in said reassurance. “Well,” He says, his voice lingering. “You’re gonna have to let me fuss a little longer. I’ll watch you like a hawk until that rib is fully healed.” 

“As if you weren’t doing so already…” 

date of posting — november 4th 2024

[bitterbutblue]

august 1998

~ hii guys sorry for dying! but here is the first chapter to our new series for all our robin lovers, called remember me, 1999! ermm in case u guys r confused where this is set the answer is unclear its a fun little combination of east asia cultures

summer evening is perfect for falling in love, right? so let me show you a world you've long lost before.

tw asian parents idk~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

The familiar ding! of the bell hanging above the door has you heaving out another sigh as you put down the book you were reading, looking up to see whichever customer had walked through the door. An old man- was he here yesterday? He came here once in a while, always got a pack of sweets and cigarettes. You don't ask him much, you always just smiled at him. But today he only gets the cigarettes and you decide it's just best not to ask.

"Thank you."

The gravelly voice cuts through the humid air, hitting you with this chill you can't quite put your finger on but you just nod, swallowing.

"You're welcome. Have a good day."

Scoffing, the man turns to leave and you wonder what you did to piss him off but whatever. With an eyeroll, you lay your head down on the countertop again, flipping open a new magazine to find something entertaining. The flashy photographs of random celebrities really didn't catch your eye, nor were you fully interested in it. But what else can you do when your mom asks you to man the countertop of the convenience store instead of letting you go out with your friends for like, the eigth time this week?

"Again?"

The cheeky voice is like a disruption of your silence, but you can't stop the feeling of your heart leaping slightly.

"Shut up, Stelle."

A tall figure walks in, throwing a bag over the counter and you feel it plop down right next to you as she moves to lean against the counter.

"Seriously, you never go out anymore."

"I'd love to be able to, seriously. How about you ask my mom and tell her to let me out?"

"Oh please." Stelle scoffs "I'd rather jump off a bridge than confront your mom."

You look up, head propped up against the palm of your hand as you eye the girl up and down, a suspicious feeling growing in your gut.

"What's in the bag? Why are you here?"

"Summer's almost over. Bag's full of the stuff I borrowed from you earlier. I just finished delivering newspapers." She shrugs "Got nothing to do now. March is busy. Dan Heng is... god knows where he is."

"Library?"

"Makes sense."

Pause.

"So you don't need anything?"

"Why would you assume I need something!"

She got way too overprotective, pushing herself off the countertop and staring at you with eyes that just screamed 'oh FUCK'. You groan, burying your head in your arms.

"Again?"

"Please, it's the last time I’ll ask you to come with me!”

Another familiar ding, a customer walks in and Stelle pipes down. Her voice quieter, but still holding the same pleading tone as she now throws in the bonus puppy-dog eyes that have you cringing in disgust every time physically but inside you hated how it made you feel rather... warm.

"Please?"

"Oh fuck you, fine." You curse, shoving Stelle away as she whoops and cheers, pushing herself off the counter and you shush her before the customer starts seriously judging you two. "So am I meeting you at 8?"

"Yeah! Same as always, my house. Love you! You're the best!" She calls out as she dashes out the door, the bell ringing through the now empty store once more. You don't realise you're smiling until your face drops at the voice behind you.

"She's always so eager."

You turn around at the sound of your mother's voice, not saying anything as she helps the customer pay for their snacks.

"You shouldn't get distracted-"

"I know, I won't." You mumble "I've been looking at universities already, I swear."

"You apply next year, don't fool around." She warns, her purple eyes narrowing at the magazine in your hands, and you feel a stirring irritation in your stomach you try to suppress. "School's in two days. Pull yourself together."

"Yes ma'am." You mumble as you stuff the magazine under the counter, moving away.

"You have training tomorrow, by the way!" She calls out after you as you head out the door, and you just do throw a thumbs up over your shoulder before shoving the door open.

The humid air hits you before anything else and you half-regret leaving the safety of your very much cool and well ventilated shop that your mom runs. You huff, forcing yourself to walk up the hill across the street up to where Stelle resides as the sun begins to set over the view of the city over the railings. You take in the sight, the city tucking the now-tired sun in for the night as the moon prepares itself for another day of watching over the city. Watching over you.

Stelle had always told you about wanting to travel beyond the skies one day, and you've always just laughed at her or teased her for her antics but you can't shake off this twinge in your chest as she discusses what lies beyond the stars. The idea of growing up haunts you, every day feels like a ticking time bomb and you feel like it's about to implode inside you. Lost in your thoughts, you feel your eyes glaze over slightly as you just move your body, one foot forward, another foot forward, another-

"Hey!"

A sharp tug on the back of your shirt has you letting out a choked cry as you stumble back. With your left foot tripping over your right, you fall to the ground with a dull thud, a searing pain shooting up your back as you land comedically onto your butt.

"What the fuck-"

Roaring, a car speeds by along with a gust of wind that slaps you right across the face. You scramble to your feet, pushing yourself away from the edge of the road you hadn't even realised you reached.

"Are you okay?"

A soft voice next to you causes you to flinch slightly, turning around with a quick whip of the head.

The girl that stood in front of you adorns the greenest eyes you've ever seen, like a lake on a summer day. The same green eyes you saw almost every day as a child, lilac hair now much longer and a shade darker.

Maybe it is best to pretend to not recognise her.

"I'm fine. Thanks." You say hoarsely, quickly getting up onto your feet. You wince at the quick movement, feeling the sharp pain on your lower back and you just know there's gonna be a bruise forming there tomorrow.

"Y/n?"

"Yep. Nice seeing you again, Robin."

You straighten up, looking the girl dead in the eyes now. She looks much more mature, but to be fair the last time you saw her, she was nine. She holds herself with the same elegance and grace, in a way you never could do yourself. She's still the same child you played with at the park, that you saw after school, that you shared snacks with on the swings. You never thought you'd see her again after that day. You never thought you'd want to talk to her after that day but-

"What are you doing here?" You ask awkwardly, shifting your weight from one foot to another. Her face darkens slightly, shock fading into a look that you can't fully decipher.

"I live here now. I just had a meeting with the school."

You take a small step back, taking in her full appearance. She's wearing school uniform- your school's uniform with the same badge adorned on the left patch pocket.

"You- what? I thought you moved to the states."

"Things happened." Her tone seemed much sharper, much more strained now. She looks at you in a way that makes you feel like apologising for no reason and it's very unsettling.

She was nothing like the Robin you knew.

But it's been years.

"I'm sorry."

A soft look quickly returns to her eyes as she shakes her head, holding her hands out in front of her apologetically.

"Ah- that was too harsh, wasn't it? I'm sorry. I just don't like talking about it."

"It's alright, I'm sorry for asking."

Silence fills the space as you awkwardly look around you- taking in each tree and each rock, each flower that blooms, anything but her.

"I'll see you around?"

"Probably."

Robin nods, shooting you a soft smile that you think hasn't changed since she left, before walking down the path you came from.

"Fuck."

Out of all people to have saved you from a speeding car, you didn't expect it to be your childhood best friend who left to the US one day. Out of everyone, she was the last person you expected to see back in the city. Something must've happened that brought her back, and it was best not to pry.

Stelle is still waiting for you, so you quickly make your way up the rest of the hill, crossing the road that almost killed you before reaching her house.

"Bitch, what took you so long?"

You fight the urge to throw a rock at her when she opens the door.

"I ran into Robin."

Her eyes widened.

"Robin? The Robin who left before middle school started?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t she in the states? I thought her family was loaded.”

“Who knows” You shrug, kicking off your shoes as you step into her house, Stelle moving aside quickly before shutting the door. “What’s the plan for tonight?”

“Same as before. We can just sneak in through the back up to the roof.”

“Why can’t you do this yourself?”

“You’re telling me you don’t want to see the full moon at it's brightest? Come on!" Stelle groans, throwing herself onto you. You wince, stumbling forward with a small smile on your face as you shove her off you. Stelle shoots you a grin, indicating how she's fully aware of how she's succeeded already. "Oh, you wanna see it so bad."

"I don't! I'm just coming to spend time with my friend." You mumble softly.

Stelle's favourite place to go to was this abandoned building that was technically off limits and would be trespassing if they were ever caught, but she loves seeing the stars from that building so you always accompanied her because you can't deny how beautiful the sky can look even on the days where it's believed to be bad. You can't deny

"Yeah yeah, whatever." She takes your hand, pulling you into her room. You just follow her as she throws the door open to reveal her messy room. A small room, made even more cramped with how she throws her stuff around. Clothes strewn across the floor and books stacked in places it shouldn't be stacked in. The actual bookshelf itself is neglected, filled with random junk Stelle definitely has not touched since she was twelve- and one too many raccoon figurines.

She moves to pull out a backpack that was hidden beneath her pile of clothes, opening it up widely and moving to stuff a blanket inside alongside a notebook and whatever else Stelle needs on her astrology days.

"Should we bring snacks?"

"We're not watching a fucking movie."

"Might as well be." She shrugs, throwing a bag of chips into her bag as well before zipping it up "You hungry? I have leftovers in the fridge."

"I'm good." You nudge some of her clothes away with your foot to clear a space on the floor for you to sit down as she throws herself onto the bed with a grin.

"I'm so excited."

"If I get kicked off the archery team, I'm fucking you up."

"If we get caught, kicking you off the team would be the least of your concerns."

The only sound echoing through the nights was the sound of cars zooming by on the street across the old, abandoned building, and the cicadas singing under the lamp lights. The peaceful sound of a summer evening coming to its end is so graciously ruined by Stelle kicking down the back door to the staircase up to the roof.

"That was so unnecessary." You hiss as she tugs your sleeve, motioning for you to follow her up. You sit on the edge of the roof as Stelle sets up her equipment.

"Shut up. I looked cool as fuck."

"No you didn't."

As the headlights of cars zoomed by like laser pointers on a map, you take in the last of the summer days- the cool evening air brushing by and your heart is racing in your chest. The thrill of your feet dangling over the edge, the thrill of this moment with Stelle, the thrill of falling. You breath in deeply, letting out an audible sigh as you look up at the starry night. It's rare to get such clear nights, and you really would rather not be anywhere else.

"Dude, come take a look."

Quickly, you turn to move yourself off the edge as you walk over to Stelle's telescope set up. It was a rusty thing, something she got at a yard sale but she fixed it up herself with duct tape and whatever screws she could find. It creaks whenever she adjusts it and looks like it's on it's last limbs but she loves it with her whole heart. You can't help but swallow slightly when you take in the sight of her, grinning like an excited child in her oversized tee with a fiery look in her eyes that you only see in the dark when the stars are out.

Looking into the telescope, you smile. The moon itself isn't very clear, and given the status of the telescope you understand why. But its beauty still somehow prevails through it all.

"Looks nice."

"That's it?"

Stelle scoffs, pulling you away from the telescope as she quickly moves to look back at it.

"It's perfect."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You stand next to her, watching her as she looks through the telescope with the softest smile on her face as she mumbles whatever astrological science stuff to herself. The way she's been making you feel for the past couple weeks has you feeling sick to your stomach, because you know you're not supposed to look at your best friend like that.

The sound of a door creaking open has the two of you whipping your heads around to the source of the sound- fuck, did someone see you sitting on the roof?

Stelle looked like she was about to bolt for it until the person behind the door walks out, revealing the girl you saw earlier today. Revealing Robin.

"Oh, I didn't realise people were here."

Her voice is quiet, softer than it was earlier today. You just sorta nod at her and Stelle's eyes widen.

"Robin?"

"Hello. You're...?"

"Stelle, same fourth grade class?"

"Ah, right."

It's terribly awkward.

"You're not actually allowed to be here."

"You're here too."

"Ah, right."

Stelle looks away, clearing her throat as she looks at you desperately, clearly wanting you to take over the conversation before it goes wrong.

"Stelle just likes dragging me up here for the stars." You say softly, gesturing at the telescope "Why are you here?"

"Needed space." Robin shrugs, not looking at you, but at the telescope. "It's suffocating at home. I've been coming here for a bit the past few days. I don't know why I'm telling you all this, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise." Stelle smiles, and Robin forces a smile back. It feels weird knowing that you can't read her as well now, even though frankly it doesn't matter. "Wanna take a look?"

She just hesitates, looking to you before looking back at Stelle.

"It's okay. Sorry for intruding."

Before you can even say anything, Robin closes the door- leaving you and Stelle alone on the rooftop once more.

"She's different."

"It's been nine years."

Stelle shrugs.

"I know, but still. Change is weird."

"You've changed, haven't you?" You raise an eyebrow

"I guess. I don't see it though." Stelle fiddles with a part of the telescope that's sticking out "Have I changed?"

"Of course. From when I met you to now, yeah. But it's just hard to recognise exactly what the change is."

"Hm."

Stelle just leans back down to look at the moon.

"The moon changes once in a while to us, but at it's core it's always the same."

"Philosophical bitch." You grin, shoving her lightly as she laughs. And in this moment you want to take a photo of her smile under the beam of the moonlight, the last days before you're thrown back to a cycle of endless burdens and weights. The last days where you can just smile at the stars too.

Days pass by like hours when you can barely register your own thoughts. You find yourself standing with a backpack and archery bag in hand, standing right in front of the convenience store door as your mom crosses her arms.

"You need to-"

"Yes, I will talk to my coach about the competitions."

"And the-"

"Yes, I'll talk to Ms. Ruan Mei about the bonus credits in second semester."

Your mom heaves out a sigh, nodding.

"Good."

You don't look back at her, feeling her gaze on your back as she steps forward.

"Please start taking this seriously."

You grip the bag in your hand tightly.

"I have been."

You hear her footsteps, before her hand rests on your shoulders. You fight the urge to tense up.

"I'm just looking out for you." She whispers "I don't want you to end up like me."

You swallow.

"I know."

People are walking to school, shooting you weird looks and you notice a flash of lilac before your mother steps into view, forcing you to look into her eyes.

"I love you."

"Love you too." You mumble, looking down.

"Ms. Yukong?"

The voice has you frowning as your mother looks up in confusion, turning around.

"Robin!"

Robin smiles her perfect-girl smile.

"It's been so long, how are you?"

"I'm good." She nods "Transferring back is a large step, so I hope adjustment will be alright."

You just stand there, fingernails digging into your palms as the weight of your backpack starts a slight ache in your lower back but your mother talks and talks, and Robin smiles and responds happily in a way that you didn't see her doing earlier with you.

"Mom, I need to go. Robin, we'll be late."

"Right, yes. Please remember to ask-"

"I will! I will." You didn't mean to snap but fuck, that was the last straw. Robin hesitates at the sound of your harsh voice, looking between you and your mom quickly before bidding farewell with a polite half-bow.

"Why did you come up?" You hiss quietly at her as soon as your mother is out of ear-shot "Seriously?"

"What? You looked so uncomfortable, I was just trying to help." Robin whispers back as you both walk up the hill you almost got ran over yesterday.

"I don't need help." You grunt as you heave your bag onto your shoulder.

"Sorry."

The two of you just walk up in silence, chatter echoing around you but the two of you stay silent. The entire walk has you feeling like the bag on your back is growing heavier, and by the time you reach the school you feel exhausted. Your muscles ache, and you feel the searing pain of the strap of the backpack digging into your shoulders as you gently drop your archery bag down onto the ground.

"God. Fuck. This is a terrible start." You curse to yourself as you catch your breath. You feel this presence standing next to you, and you look up to see Robin just looking down, staring at you. "What are you looking at?"

"Uh- well." Robin shifts slightly, playing with a ring on her finger "I'm technically new, so... where do I go?"

You want to say no. You want to walk away from her.

"Follow me." You grit your teeth, picking up the bag. "We're taking a detour first. What class are you in?"

"4A."

Oh, just great. Same as yours.

"Wonderful." You mumble as you shove your bodyweight against the door to the locker rooms, throwing your archery bag in there before leading her out. "We're upstairs. I'll let you talk to Ms. Ruan Mei."

By the time you arrive, Stelle has already sat down in her usual seat, an empty one next to you. Her smile fades into a look of shock when she sees Robin walk in next to your very much disgruntled looking form.

"Robin?"

"Hi, Stelle."

You force a smile at Stelle.

"It's gonna be great. Great year. Just wonderful."

[fgmetanoia]

Just finished watching Heartbreak High 2, here's my thoughts that no one asked for.

Warning, spoilers ahead

In no specific order:

I deeply appreciated the lack of drama for Harper this season. I was worried, ngl. Also, her enthusiasm for her own house was so cute and relatable. Living in chaotic households (of whatever kind, like going from living with her schizophrenic(?) father to the packed house of her bestfriend... 100% better, but still chaotic) and longing for your little corner of peace... Yup.

Malakai Mitchell the BI ICON that you are

Too bad that his experiences with men always end up badly though

Cash and Darren, my sweet little babies. They better get back together and find a way to make their asexuality and hypersexuality work or I might KILL SOMEBODY

Now, Spider. I've been wanting a redemption arc for him since that scene with Amerie at the concert in S1. Honestly I thought he and Amerie would end up confronting but the storyline with Missy was equally good. Completely unexpected but good.

I also liked that they give us a background story of why he is such an asshole. Like somebody else said (can't remember who it was sorry, if I remember I'll credit), would've been better if it was something more realistic like bad role models, peer pressure and so on, instead of an unrealistic feminist mom.

That said though, I deeply related to the put-downs and constant criticism from a parent as a reason for his assholishness. It makes you feel like you won't ever be enough, so you might as well be as bad as you can. He is still an asshole tho, I'm not excusing him.

Also liked that they put Missy in an equal position of not being able to overcome her own prejudices

And finally doing it TOGETHER! I'm a sucker for these kind of tropes

I clocked Rowan immediately and picked up on the psycho vibes. Then changed my mind because it seemed like he couldn't possibly have a reason to hate Amerie. And it seemed almost too obvious to me... But when they ruled out Zoe, yeah. It could only be him.

I really hoped that they didn't give Amerie another triangle this season, but the fact that Rowan turned out to be a total psycho made up for the lack of originality

But but... The letter 😭 next season better start with a text to Malakai from Amerie.

Finally, IS IT ENOUGH OF TRAUMATIC EVENTS FOR AMERIE AND HARPER?? Let my girls alone, thank you!

[dairyminki]

elle congrats on 300!!

i'm thinkin about cooler weather at the moment; could i give you autumn with mingi for a prompt? tysm and congrats again!! <33

✨️part of my 300 milestone event 🪄

title: pumpkin spice and everything nice

pairing: song mingi x gn!reader

genre: slice of life, coffeeshop au

warning/s: none

wc: 888

a/n: hello orion!! ♡ tysm for requesting ahhhh i rlly enjoyed writing this one esp the descriptions. i hope this one is to your liking tho ><

* reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated!

—

The sky is quite gloomy as you saunter through the wet asphalt road. A mix of yellow, orange, red, and brown leaves are scattered all over, the previous downpour having them glued to the pavement.

You got quite lucky that the rain stopped when you got out of work, or else you've been stranded at your workplace with nothing but the smell of leather and the sight of your almost robotic-like coworkers surrounding you.

It's a good thing you're out of that hellhole now, and approaching a quaint coffee shop, instead.

The bell by the door jingles as you push it open, the warm and nutty aroma of coffee and sweet caramel welcomes you, beckoning you towards the counter where the barista stood donning a brown apron over his head, his hair, a striking yellow and orange ombre.

The shop was bare, and you're betting, with all of the pennies currently in your pocket, that it had been this way since earlier today and the barista himself wasn't expecting any customers anymore to suddenly pop up.

You, being that unexpected customer, offer him a small smile as you proceed towards the counter.

"Hi! May I please have one pumpkin spice latte?" You state after carefully reading through their menu.

"Anything else?"

"No, that would be all, actually."

The barista merely nods in reply, and as he starts punching buttons on the register, you can't help but stare at him. Now that you think about it, his overall fit including his hair color actually resembles the colors of autumn. A giggle slips out of your mouth all of a sudden, making the barista give you a look.

Fortunately, he doesn't comment on it and just simply hands you the receipt, saying that he'll have your drink ready in a few. And so, you went to pick your seat by the shop's glass windows.

The sky is looking a lot gloomier than before, you take note. Although, not long after you've sat down, the rain came.

The sound of the barista's movements and the whirring of the blender and espresso machine accompanies your view of the falling rain and the dropping leaves from one tree branch to another.

The scene of the colorful leaves gradually forming a carpet on the road seemingly occupied you to a great extent that it took you a while to notice someone clearing their throat.

"Uhm, excuse me?" The barista, who was now standing by your table, says, finally earning your attention.

"I've been trying to get your attention for a few minutes now but you seemed to be engrossed with whatever's outside," He says while he puts your pumpkin spice latte on the table. Embarrassed, you mutter an apology.

"Thanks. It looks pretty, by the way," You tell him with a smile after admiring the aesthetically pleasing drink in front of you.

"Thank you, please enjoy," The barista says, mirroring your smile and then off he goes back to the counter.

—

"Hi, I don't want to bother you but-"

"Oh my god, have I overstayed?" You panic, glancing at your wristwatch and finding out it's already been over an hour since you've sat down in this coffee shop, your drink perfectly empty. "I can leave now, I'm sorry. You probably have to close up already, right?"

It's not like you didn't plan to leave after finishing your drink. It's just that the rain is still pouring hard, you didn't get to bring your umbrella with you, and your house is quite far from here. You're not sure if you're ready to go out and battle it out with the ongoing wetness outside.

"Oh, no, no! I can't let you leave in this weather," The barista had the same panic lacing his voice and he's quick enough to make you take your seat once again.

"And, uh, I actually came here to ask if you'd fancy a few slices of this apple galette…" The barista rubs at his nape, giving you a sheepish smile.

For a minute you look taken aback, and just when you were about to say something, he speaks yet again, exclaiming, "This is on the house, by the way!"

"Wow, that's so…sweet of you."

"Nothing biggie, really. Just figured you'd want something to accompany you since your drink's already finished and I don't think this rain's about to stop any sooner, so," He shrugs, placing the galette in front of you. An aromatic mixture of cinnamon and baked apples wafts through the air, and it awfully smells like home, fall, and everything warm.

"What's your name?" You ask just when the barista makes an attempt to retreat into his spot at the counter.

"My name is Mingi," He answers, pausing for a little bit before he asks you the same question, quite politely.

"I'm Y/N, and if you don't mind, would you like to accompany me, Mingi? We could share these pastries while we talk or something," You say, already standing up to pull up a chair for him, because you're not one who takes no for an answer.

"Well," Mingi drags out the word while he looks down at his feet, one foot lightly tapping against the floor. "Alright, I guess there's no harm in doing that." He gives in finally, taking the additional chair from you.

"Good choice."

[knullanon]

REDO: Symbiotes being assholes Part 2

yaya! I'm finally finished with this! I'm really tired rn and this week has been very hectic for me, so I'm happy that I was able ti finish it on time! I tried to base it around the work that I've done previously and stuff, so I hope you guys enjoy it :)

words: 4194 (not including the bonus at the end \^o^/)

warnings: kidnapping, arguing, yelling, blood, somebody dies, basically no privacy in the carnage household btw, lmk if I missed any!

summary: the aftermath of being taken once again has finally simmered down, and you live your life (mostly) peacefully.

~~~

“________?”

You had opened your eyes, trying to see who was talking to you, but you only saw darkness. When you tried to respond, the only thing that came out was some kind of raspy breath. You internally cringed, but tried again, this time muttering out some gargled nonsense. 

“_____! My baby, you can hear me. Where are you?”

What? You couldn’t focus on anything, even the strange voice, and you covered your face with your arms. You could hear the voice say something else, something about where you were. But it was too late. Suddenly, everything around turned into nothing, and you felt yourself falling for a second, before “landing” on your bed. 

Your eyes shot open and you leaned on your elbow, trying to get rid of the dizziness in your head. What was that? Who was that?

“________, if you don’t open this damn door!”

Your mind suddenly remembered where you were, and you quickly jumped out of bed, ignoring your headache, and rushed to the door. You took off your makeshift ‘lock’ that was basically a bungee cord attached to your bedpost, before the door swung open, almost hitting you. 

Cletus stormed into the room, obviously very upset. “What the hell were you doing in here?” You wanted to roll your eyes. He took you, and now you’re expected to just do whatever he says? “I was having a bad dream. Couldn’t wake up.” He gave you a look, and you reiterated, “I’m serious! I couldn’t hear you!”

He gave you another look, before asking, “Are you sure that you weren’t just ignoring me?” You knew he was going to go this route. He had… control issues. Ever since you got here, it was not what you couldn’t do, it was what you could do. You could walk anywhere you wanted in the house, except the front room. You could watch TV anytime you wanted, or play any of the games that were there from the previous owners. Anything else was either off limits, or he needed to be with you to do so. 

“I’m not ignoring you, I swear. I didn’t know you were at the door, if I did I would’ve answered it.” You tried to plead with him, knowing that he would get angrier if you just argued with him. “Even if you were asleep, what’s with the lock? Do you not trust us?” He held the cord in his hand, letting it hang loosely from it. You shook your head, “I just want some privacy… Like, what if you had walked in on me when I was changing?”

He scoffed, and walked over to your bedpost, where the other end of the bungee cord was attached. He lifted it up, pulling it out from underneath. He dropped the bed with a loud bang. “Oh, don’t give me that. I knock, you know.” He wrapped the cord around his arm, before he pulled it off and began to walk back to the door. 

“I made you breakfast. If you don’t want it to get cold, you should put on a robe and come out.”

He closed the door, and left you to get ready, and let your thoughts simmer. You were angry. Not to the point you would show it, but more rather your mind was making fantasy arguments with itself. 

He can’t take it! It was ours, we made it ourselves! He’s violating our privacy! We just want some peace once in a while, is that too hard to ask?

You knew that making these little scenarios in your head wouldn’t help with your mood, so you tried to drop it. Instead, you wondered what you could do that day. You could clean up around the house a bit, or you could try to convince him again to let you cook something, maybe a small snack. 

Maybe you could even talk him into letting you outside. 

You took back the thought as soon as your mind brought it up. There was no way in hell he would ever let you outside, even with his supervision. He had too many people looking for him, too many people who would have no problems hurting you either. Of course, this is what he told you. You knew that he didn’t want you outside in case you tried to call for help or anything similar to it, but it still made you pissed that you were in the same situation as you were when you were with Eddie. 

Putting on your slippers, you quickly rushed out the door, not wanting to make him any more mad than he already was. 

---

The food Cletus had given you was good, you had to admit. You knew it wasn’t him who had cooked it, as he had stated he couldn’t cook very well, but probably Carnage, his own symbiote. You picked at the hashbrowns he had given you, not really eating, but also making it seem like you weren’t spacing out. Since Carnage had heightened senses that also passed to Cletus, it was hard for them to miss something about you. It reminded you of Venom, in a way.

Both Venom and Carnage were both extremely similar, both being symbiotes, having pretty much the same abilities, but that's really where their similarities ended. 

While Venom was much more patient and usually let you be in peace, Carnage was impatient and was even more controlling than Cletus. Carnage would sometimes just sit on his shoulder, and whisper into Cletus’ ear, telling him what he should do, what he should say. Sometimes, if you listened carefully you could hear it tell him random little things.

Carnage was also very much more present than Venom was. While you had assumed Venom just didn’t make himself appear because he thought you would be scared of him, Carnage had no such worries. They would sometimes just take over and talk to you randomly, usually about what you were doing or what you wanted to do. At the beginning, when you would try to argue with Cletus, they would take over and make you submit through sheer size, and lock you in your room using a chair. They wouldn’t let you out unless you apologized to both of them.

“Are you going to eat, or are you going to pout over your little lock?” 

You looked over, seeing that carnage was making more food, probably for you. You turned back to your own plate, and continued to eat your food. You heard a little ‘hmm’ from Carnage before they continued to make whatever they was making. 

Looking around, you saw the remote sitting on the other side of the table. You reached over the table, trying to grab it, but to no avail. You were about to get up to grab it, when it was taken from your sight. Carnage raised it above your hand, asking, “You could’ve asked us, you know.”

You shrugged. “You are busy making yourself breakfast.” Carnage rolled their eyes at that. “I’m making all this food for you, and all you can do is still be mad about that stupid lock. You know, we take care of you for free, and you treat us like this, all the time, every day.”

They walked back over to the stove, and grabbed the pan they were using. “Here, I hope this makes your attitude better.” They tilted it to your place, and a pancake slid off onto it. They walked back to the stove, putting the pan down, and pouring more of the mixture onto it.

You knew that they wouldn’t give you back the remote unless you apologized, so you quietly muttered, “I’m sorry.”

They stopped and turned around, still holding the remote. “What did you say?”

Trying not to grit your teeth, you said, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

Just get it over with, _____, it won’t help for you to be petty. “I’m sorry for putting a lock on my door without asking you first.”

They smiled, their teeth gleaming in the light. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Apology accepted.”

They handed you the remote, before they turned back to the stove. You faced the TV, turning it on to the first channel.

“-and tonight, we have news on the supervillain Doctor Octopus, who was defeated with combined efforts, both Spiderman and Venom bringing him down. While Spideman was present after the attack for questions and the police, Venom quickly disappeared and officials are asking for any info on him to be reported to the police, or call this number-”

“Change it!” You didn’t think twice, changing it to the next channel. Another news program, this time showing some weather report on the city. You heard them grumble something, before Carnage said, “Better.”

That was another thing you had noticed from both Eddie and Venom, along with Cletus and Carnage. They both hated each other. While you weren’t aware of Carnage when you were with Eddie, you sure knew about their hatred towards each other when you were with Cletus and Carnage. They had told you their origin story about how Carnage was left behind by Venom and Eddie, and how Cletus had found them all alone, and they had joined together. You weren’t sure if it was true, but you were sure of their rivalry to each other.

However, it was also strange to see Eddie and Venom work so closely with Spiderman. You remembered Venom saying something about him, how he didn't know what he was doing. 

Suddenly, Carnage dropped another pancake on your plate, before they started putting all the dishes in the sink. When they was done, he turned back to you, asking, “Could you clean the dishes today, _____?"

You nodded, and they gave a small pat on the head. Carnage dissapeared, going under Cletus's skin. Cletus walked towards the coat rack, and grabbed his usual jacket. “We’ll be back, don’t worry: if you need any food, there’s snacks in the cupboards. Don’t use the stove or oven, you might burn yourself.”

With that, they walked to the door. “We’ll be back in a few hours!”

“Bye.” You said, more to yourself. When you heard the last click of the locks, you let out a sigh you didn’t realize you were holding. You finished your plate, and put it with the rest of the dishes, before you went to get ready.

---

He sat on his throne, angry, frustrated… a little fearful.

His baby was on some planet, with someone who was a known killer! He had no idea if they were alive, or if they were hurt, and the worst part was that no one could give him any damn answers. 

He looked down at the photo he had of you. It wasn’t even a good one, solely of your face. It was blurry, but he knew what he saw. His baby.

He placed the photo down in his lap, before he quickly summoned one of his guards. “Get ready.” He stood up, walking down the stairs from his throne. 

“Today is the day we will return to Earth, and take back what is ours.”

---

You knew something was up when Cletus came back earlier than expected. He had come back from his usual afternoon outing with groceries and the like, to tell you he hadn’t eaten anything all day (meaning he hadn’t eaten anyone that day). So he left again, making you your favorite sandwiches. He had promised you that he would make the both of you some pasta when he got back. So when he came back 3 hours early, and was an absolute mess, you knew something was wrong.

He was mindlessly putting things into different bags, and grabbing random things only to move them somewhere else. Carnage was on his shoulder, whispering things into his ear. He was muttering things back to them, still moving things frantically into bags.

You tried to talk to him, “Cletus, is something up?”

He had turned to you, saying, “Pack a bag or two. We’re leaving.” 

“What? Why?” You walked up to him, trying to see what Carnage was saying to him. You listened closely, “he’s coming here, they told us he was here, I don't care if it might be a fake, he is not someone to be messed with-"

He turned to face you, and you realized he looked like hadn’t slept in a week. You straightened your posture, trying not to act like you were just eavesdropping. “Pack a bag or two. We are leaving tonight, around 8 or 9. Sooner the better.”

You wanted to say something else, but he went back to packing. So you decided fuck it, if he wants to move so bad, they can. 

You grabbed the biggest bag you could find, and started picking clothes and belongings to bring with you.

---

The road was bumpy, and certainly not comfortable when you were trying to sleep. It was obvious that neither Cletus or Carnage wanted to see anyone during this trip, so they decided to go on the backroads, ones where you might see one or two other cars the whole way down. It also helped that it was nighttime, and there was barely any light to see in front of you, so even if there was someone else, they wouldn't really notice either of you, and just think of you as another car.

The whole time, Cletus was focused on the road. Carnage wasn’t even on his shoulder like they usually would. The whole time it was simply silence from the both of you. You didn’t know what Cletus was planning on doing, or if he even had a plan.

He was worried about something. You’ve never really seen him worried like this. Sure, he could get antsy or anxious when something was about to happen, but he was never actually fearful of anything. But you couldn’t tell from what, either. 

It might be the police. It might be someone who is after him. It might be Eddie and Venom. The thought of them suddenly brought you back to them, to the times you had shared with them. You could remember them arguing over something minimal while you ate whatever they had made for you that morning, listening to them bicker and sometimes silently laughing at their antics. 

It made you… sad. Not much. But just enough where your mood was brought down a little. Apparently, it was very noticeable to them.

“What are you frowning at? Don’t tell me you were attached to that place.” 

You looked out the window, trying to see if there was any light at all from the empty valley road you were driving on. “I’m not mad.”

He scoffed, “Well, something’s bothering you. What is it?”

You knew he wouldn’t be happy if he knew your real reason, so you quickly thought of something else that wouldn’t piss them off immediately. 

“Why are you so stressed?”

“About what?”

“This whole thing. Is someone after you?”

As soon as you said it, you knew you messed up from the simple shift in tone of the conversation. Cletus didn’t answer for a few seconds, opening his mouth and closing it again. Before you could ask him anything else, he said, “There… is something after us, yes.”

You turned to look at him, and you could see he was trying to avoid your gaze. You took the hint and turned back towards the road. “Do you know who?”

Cletus rolled his shoulders, and it was obvious he was extremely tired or strained.

“I do. It’s not someone who’s easy to avoid.”

The road was becoming less rough and janky. You realized that you were on a highway, the nearby areas completely flat, with some rock formations here and there. It was a stark contrast to the forests you had seen on the way there.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Deciding to move on, you realized that making him talk about it would make things worse. You could at least try to find out everything else.

“Other side of the country. I know a safe house. Not really a house, but Carnage says it's still there.” 

You didn’t realize that you were going to be so far from home. You tried to remember your family, your real family. There were bits and pieces, but in the months that you’ve been gone, it was harder to remember anything about your family. In fact, you’ve barely thought about them. It made you wonder if they even remembered you at all. Were they still looking for you? Did they even care at this point? 

“Get some sleep: It’s almost one in the morning. I’ll wake you up when I find a place to rest.”

Looking around and realizing that there probably wasn’t going to be anything for miles, you closed your eyes and slowly fell asleep.

---

When you woke up, there was blood over the windshield. That got you up pretty fast. You turned to ask what happened, but Cletus nor Carnage wasn’t there. You peeked out from the window, and saw that he was over someone, probably dead already, and he was eating them. 

You pulled yourself back down, and sighed. You wanted to just fall back asleep, but you realized that you had to go to the bathroom. While your mind was just telling you to ignore it, you saw that there was a bathroom in view, just a few meters away from where the truck was parked. 

Fuck it, you thought. There wouldn’t be a spot to stop at for a while, right? You opened the door slowly, hoping he wouldn’t hear you. Unfortunately, he did.

He turned towards you just as you hopped out and quietly closed the door. You both stared at each other for a second, before he said, “Let me just finish this and we’ll take a break at this place. There are snacks in that store behind you. Grab whatever.”

You nodded, and he went back to his meal. While he was busy, you went to the bathroom and did your business. 

When you got out, he was still eating, so you decided to explore the place a bit. You were quick to realize that it was someone's little shop, with 2 gas pumps out next to it. The store was quiet, and you put two and two together to realize that the guy he was eating was the one who probably worked there. That didn’t stop you from taking a few snacks and drinks. You knew that you would be hungry, if you weren’t just sick from watching some guy get eaten. 

When you walked outside, Cletus was dragging the body away, probably behind the store to hide, leaving behind a very prominent trail of blood. You ignored him, and walked towards the truck to put the items in the back seat. Organizing them so they wouldn’t fall, and so that they would be easy to grab if you needed anything, you leaned back to make sure everything was ok. You felt thirsty, and looked at the food to see if you had gotten any water, but you realized you didn’t grab any. Groaning, you closed the door and walked back to the store. Cletus was still hiding the body, you would’ve presumed, as he wasn’t back from hiding it. 

You walked around the store, trying to find where they put the water, when you heard something outside. You looked over the stands, trying to see if anything was outside or if Cletus was just messing with you. But there was nothing. You continued looking, thinking it was just the wind or some animal. When you found a few bottles of them, you grabbed some and walked to the door.

When you reached the truck, you opened the back door again, and threw the bottles into it, and closed the door. You heard someone behind you, and you turned to ask Cletus if he was done. 

“Are you done with your m-”

The first thing that gave away that it wasn’t Carnage or Cletus was the pure height of the person. They had to be at least 8 feet tall, if not more. They were huge in comparison to you. You backed away, hitting the door of the truck as you slid around it, trying to get as much space between you and whoever this was. 

They didn’t seem to care, as they moved with you, around the truck and then behind it. You turned, trying to sprint away, but you yelped when you were suddenly pulled off the ground and into the air. You kicked your legs behind you, knowing it was them who had you, but it was no use.

Suddenly, you were dropped right back onto the concrete, and landed right on your nose. As soon as you hit the ground, you heard a crunch, and you were able to tell that your nose was broken after a few seconds. For a minute, you didn’t do anything, your mind still reeling being dropped a few feet face first, along with the upcoming pain of your nose. However, the noise of a fight made you roll over onto your back and lift your head up to see Carnage and the stranger having their own little fight.

Your eyes widened, seeing how effortlessly he was just batting Carnage away with his hand. Everytime Carnage would try to strike, or even just go near them, the attacker would just swat him down and away. It was like some game to him: it would’ve been amusing to watch had you not been terrified.

Carnage, on the other hand, seemed enraged. Like whoever it was, had pissed him off so much that he didn’t even care about you at that moment, and all he wanted to do was kill them. You could even hear Cletus every time he yelled or screamed, meaning that even he was irate about whoever it was as well.

However, it seemed that even the man, as you had figured out by then, was getting bored of his attacks. His movements seemed to be more lazy and disinterested: he was irritated. 

Suddenly, he grabbed Carnage by the neck, like he did with you, however much more aggressively. Carnage started to kick and bat his arms around, almost trying to scratch the stranger's face. 

“I am done with this childish game, Carnage.” They said it with such annoyance and malice that even you winced at their tone. They moved him to the side, just for a moment, before they threw him away, at least a few couple meters away. Carnage was thrown so far away, that you couldn’t even see them through the darkness. 

You lifted yourself up onto your arms, going to see what the hell happened to him, when you realized that your sudden movement attracted the attention of him. 

“Oh, fuck.” you quickly tried to scurry away, looking around for places to hide. Before you could even think of the best place, you were picked up (again) by the man. He cradled you like you would break at any moment. You tried to say something, but he shushed you. 

“It’s ok, my dear.” he whispered, trying to soothe you. You didn’t listen to him, instead kicking and trying to push away from him. You saw his smile falter, but only a little. 

He began to walk away, carrying you towards the woods, opposite of where Cletus and Carnage were. You realized what was going on, and you were starting to panic. You started to scream, but he placed his hand over your mouth, and rubbed your cheek with his thumb. 

“Oh, don’t cry _____, I promise that we’ll be home soon enough-”

The sound of an agonized, irate scream broke his sentence. The man rolled his eyes, and turned around. Carnage was there, his own ‘skin’ falling down from his face, revealing Cletus underneath, who seemed to be passed out.

“Give them back!” Carnage trudged along, and it was obvious something was wrong with their legs. Looking at it further, it seemed to be the knee bending inwards. Even still, they continued on with, stumbling towards the both of you. 

With a scoff, the man raised his hand. “Rumble. Deal with them.” he began to turn, just as carnage was getting ready to strike. However, that moment never came. A blur of purple and orange appeared, slamming Carnage into the store through the window, a loud burst of shattering glass being thrown everywhere, including towards you. 

You raised your hands, bracing for the tiny little pieces to hit you, when you felt the hand be removed from your mouth. You opened your eyes, realizing that the man was shielding you from the glass. He wasted no time, either, turning back around to the woods. 

As he walked away from the brutal carnage (heh) behind you, he looked down at you with such adornment and endearment that you almost thought that he was out of it.

“My name is Knull, little one. And you are my child.”

.

.

.

BONUS:

Eddie leaned against the car door, already pissed that he had to wait. He knew that he was a kid, and that his symbiote wasn't even really grown, but he didn't know them very well. For all he knew, it could be some ploy by Carnage and Cletus themselves.

Give it time, Eddie. He might still show. He could already hear Venom sympathizing with them. "I know, I know. Just tired."

Right before he decided to just get in and drive away, he heard a small thump from behind him. He turned his head, and saw him. He was wearing a hoodie, and almost ran towards Eddie.

"Where the hell were you?" He scoffed, not wasting any time. He got in the drivers seat, while the kid got into the passenger.

"Hey, do you know how hard it is to sneak out when your parents are watching you like a hawk? Besides, I got some info."

As he started to drive, Eddie quickly asked, "What kind of info, trustworthy?"

The kid sighed, before saying, "I know you don't trust me very well because of the whole 'spawn of carnage' deal, but I don't like him any more than you do."

Listen to him! Even his own, uh, child doesn't want to follow him!

Eddie sighed, knowing that he was wrong. "Ok. I understand." he leaned in closer, making sure that the kid knew he heard him. "But if I find out your lying to me, it's over for you."

He could hear Venom berating him, but he quickly became quiet when the kid responded, "Hey, that's a deal. Besides, if anyone's gonna kill him..."

His hand morphed into something red and black, shifting into the symbiote before shifting back into a human.

"It's gonna be me and Toxin."

~~~

I did it! happy christmas to those who celebrate! and yes, one of the main reasons I decided to rewrite this whole series was because I wanted to include a lot more symbiotes that would make their own part and plays!

also, personally I think Carnage is portrayed more in a feminine way, so originally I gave the she/her pronouns but I looked it up and it was 50/50 so I decided to just change them to they/them, so whatever you view them as can be portrayed here!

love you all sm, thank you for such a great year, and for being so patient with me! I love, love all of you so much o(*￣▽￣*)ブ

[canthavetoomuchchaos]

Quiet houses.

Platonic Asher +David.

This will be set during the Quinn problem, as I can't think of something else to make David tense enough for this.

Tw: yelling, flinching, avoidance,

David is tense at work, Asher tries to help. It doesn't go over well. Tank being Tank has kept their crazy ex boyfriend being loose a secret, so now he doesn't know who is safe and who isn't. (Tank is not in this fic.)

David ran his hand through his hair for the millionth time in the past half hour, his other hand filling out some contracts for the next few upcoming jobs. He blinks and slams the pen down harshly with a loud growl, Angel hasn't answered their phone for 15 minutes and they usually answer right away.

"David?" Asher pokes his head into the doorway of his office, a concerned grin on his face.

"you okay buddy? Sounded a lot like you just threw something just now" he takes a brief look around the room, finding nothing, he makes his way into the office. As he takes the few steps to get behind David he can see the tenseness of his shoulders. He doesn't realize it's not stress tensing him up, but anxiety, which would have changed his course of action drastically. He approaches slowly, gently reaching his hands to his best friend's shoulders and squeezing.

Asher barely gets a few rolls of his thumbs in David's shoulders before he is pulling his hands away, David's hands had slowly gotten more and more tense, gripping his desk as he tries not to snap at Asher. Ash takes his hands away and leans forward to check on his friend, a concerned look to his eyes.

"hey buddy, you alright? You're real tense today.." He uses a quieter tone, maybe David has a headache?

"you need me to do anything? I can get you some meds, or maybe some cold water? Oh! Milo showed me a cool pressure point by your ear for headaches! Do you think that will-" Asher is cut off by David's fist slamming against the desk, a fiery glare in his eyes as he stares straight forward, his mouth spouting words he never, ever, wanted to say to his best friend ever again.

"Asher! Just shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life! I've got too much shit going on for you to be rambling in my ears, especially not right now with fucking Quilt or whatever the hell his name is! so just leave me alone for one Goddamn minute before I fucking hurt you"

David's breath was labored as he finished speaking, Asher was frozen, his face blank and confused as he tried to will the heavy lump in his throat to go away. He nods, picking his lips nervously, and swallows. He takes a breath and walks back to the door.

"okay. I'm sorry." His voice is quiet, hardly a whisper of his naturally loud voice. And he leaves the room.

A week later and David has yet to figure out why Asher won't speak to him, he's confused. Asher will stand next to him like normal, though he seems more tense, more like he's trying to appear professional. He won't come into David's office anymore, instead texting or Emailing him for whatever he needs. It's unbearable. Finally David corners him after a job, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling him into his office. Asher stands there, bewildered and very, very tense.

"....David? Why'd you pull me in here..?" David stares for a moment as he registers his best friend calling him by his name. He never uses his name, it's always one of those nickname she comes up with.

"why aren't you talking to me? I've been trying to figure it out all week, and nothing I can think of would make you avoid me like this. So, you and I are staying here until we figure it out." He says, a concerned look to his eyes as Asher shifts his weight, looking almost....is he uncomfortable?

"...David, it's fine, I'm just having an off week or something. Really we don't have to stay here-" he tries to move toward the door, though he is cut off by David's body.

"I know you Ash, if you were having an off week you wouldn't be avoiding me and only me. You would be pretending you were fine and giving me half hearted innuendos right now. What's going on?" He pauses

"did your partner break up with you?" A very offended "no!" In response.

"did you do something and you're going it from me?" Asher shakes his head. David pauses again.

"....did I do something?" His voice is lowered, now rethinking the past week as much as he can recall. Asher doesn't respond and David says nothing, getting all the confirmation he needed from the silence. It hits him like a truck when he remembers the words he said in his heated stress. His eyes widen and his heart drops.

"Ash, I didn't-" he's cut off by a suspiciously wet, sad voice from Asher.

"it's fine David, really. I get it. Can I go? Please...?" David huffs a breath, feeling helpless. He then, no hesitation, shifts on the spot. A large wolf appearing in front of Asher, head hanging low as he allows himself to let out quiet whines.

Asher wipes his tear filled eyes, a confused frown on his face.

"what're you-" he laughs briefly

"what're you doing David? Shift back" he only gets a short growl in response.

"why not?" He says, fighting the smile trying to grow as he kneels next to David. David has done this to cheer him up since they were kids and he couldn't shift yet. David would shift so Asher could play with the 'puppy' when he was sad.

David huffs and puts a paw over his muzzle, hitting himself multiple times. Asher huffs and sits in front of David.

"okay. I'm not upset anymore. It just hurt. Words hurt a lot sometimes..." David whines loudly, almost like a husky yell. Asher laughs.

"I'm fine big guy. I know you were stressed. I didn't realize I was avoiding you." David snuffs and headbutts Asher in the stomach, knocking him over.

"what- David! I'm fine now buddy, you don't have to keep doing this, I know you hate it." He gets a growl in response as David plops his head onto Asher's chest. Asher lifts his head to pet David.

"really? This is how we're resolving this? A cuddle?" David huffs, closing his eyes and letting out a grumbly sound. Asher snorts and relaxes onto the floor.

"alright. I guess this isn't so bad."

______

TOOK ALL DAY BUT ITS DONE!!! HOPE YOU LIKE ITTTT!!!

@miya-akiko

Ta daaaa~

[griefabyss69]

Ample Fire Within

Hello everybody I hurt my feelings about Steve and so I've decided to inflict that on all of you as well <3

[AO3] [ Tip / Commissions post ]

Platonic Stobin - Rated: G - 1.7K

Angst with a happy ending It's short enough the full thing is under the cut!

"For all of the late night wishing on a star type of bullshit he does, when he's alone in the dark and doesn't even have to properly face himself, let alone anyone else, you'd think he'd be able to handle it when he finally gets what he wants."

You'd think that all of the near-death experiences and injuries and horrible secret knowledge they’d all had would make a group of people like, forthcoming about their feelings.

But when most of those people are hiding deeply under too many layers of irony, insecurity, and maybe an affected teenage distance, feelings come out in stupid little arguments and the decision to be as annoying as possible instead of like.

Talking about it.

The affection is just like that too – drenched in demands - and just like anything, Steve has to assume that being asked for shit means that someone somewhere cares about him.

If they need him, that means they'll think about him, remember him.

It means they won't leave and won't spit his feelings back in his face, drunk off of either expensive wine or spiked punch – he's since forgiven Nancy, and they're good friends, though she could never love him.

Forgiving his mom is something he thinks he'll get around to one day, if she ever gets around to deciding he exists again.

His dad is a lost cause, so he doesn't bother.

---

Robin's hand is tight around his, her nail polish alternating between a shimmery blue and a stark black. It works on her, makes her look cool in the way only she can be.

He studies the difference in their fingers, his nails are neatly trimmed out of habit, though the skin around them peels like he hasn't been taking care of the skin. Hers are doing pretty well, considering she's once again trying to fully kick the habit of biting them.

Despite how much smaller her hands are, he feels like the one who's protected, a bracing grip that keeps him grounded as some of his neighbors head out of the store, the sour feeling of being degraded by nothing but polite conversation about where he might go to school next year and “What are your parents up to these days?” sitting heavy in his guts.

"You want to pick the movie?" Robin asks, adding her other hand into the mix, squeezing his tightly.

He shakes his head, can't stomach the thought of having an opinion on anything right now, on being some kind of real boy who has to make a decision harder than breathe in – good – now breathe out.

She lets go of him to go wander around the shelves, and he misses the comfort deeply, but doesn't say anything about it because he needs to find a way to earn the next one, this one finished with it’s job even if it’s prematurely. He’ll find the next emotional punch he can take and will hope it makes someone notice he could use a hug or something.

He wants to think he's got people in his life now that notice him at least some of the time, really notice him, not like before when he'd sat concussed through his exams and managed to pass because the teachers didn't want to face down the wrath of Harrington Sr.

He tries not to mope, tries to shake everything off, and goes to poke fun at Robin for whatever movie she picked.

---

For all of the late night wishing on a star type of bullshit he does, when he's alone in the dark and doesn't even have to properly face himself, let alone anyone else, you'd think he'd be able to handle it when he finally gets what he wants.

But maybe it's the unexpected timing, or just the way he didn't think they'd ever be those people – but when Robin hugs him goodbye one night, the last one out of the house as Nancy waits up outside to take her home, she murmurs a quiet "Love you" into his shoulder and he only manages to hold himself together by a fucking hair until the door is shut behind her.

He wouldn’t have ever imagined that it would make him crumple to the floor beside the neat rack of shoes he never wears, but he finds himself flat on his ass with his forehead on his knees like someone's packing him away in a box.

Ugly tears already brimming and spilling down his face as his throat closes up around what might just be a banshee's wail.

He knows he's supposed to be happy, and he knows there's a part of him that is, but the rest of him is just hurt – there’s an empty hole that had dug through him until it had grown into a deep well of loneliness, and every little offering of care and attention and love drowns in it.

About thirty minutes and a big pounding headache later, his phone rings, and his voice is rough when he picks up.

"Steve," Robin gasps, out of breath like she'd run to the phone. "What's wrong?"

He frowns, wondering if he sounds that bad.

"Nothing, why?"

"Oh, you just sound… And I'd thought – I just had a feeling in the car and then it got worse and I got worried and I'm sorry I'm sure you're so ready to go get your beauty sleep and I know we'll see each other at work tomorrow – but you sound terrible, Steve. Are you really okay?"

Robin's voice is as soothing as much as it picks at him, all the little threads he'd found on the floor to put himself back together get snatched back up by her soulmate premonition feelings or whatever, and he feels his sore eyes start to sting again.

"Rob, everything's fine," he says, heading to the sink, stretching the phone cord so he can get a cold glass of water. "Just took a little nap."

"Oh, that's good," She sighs, clearly relieved. "I guess… I'll let you go?"

Steve's heart feels full of something that aches, but maybe it's not really in a bad way. He can't tell right now, but he blinks and blinks and blinks until his eyes aren't threatening to un-convince Robin of his fine-ness.

"Yeah, I'll see you in the morning," he says, and pauses, digging his toes into the tile floor to brace himself. "Have good dreams, love you."

Robin's voice is warm and thready when she replies, the phone doing a bad job of replicating it but he can still imagine she's speaking into his shoulder again.

"Love you too, goodnight Steve."

---

He does more crying in the shower, though this time it’s more of a relieved thing.

The little worry in the background of his mind that Robin had said it accidentally earlier is gone – and the larger worry in the front of his mind that he'd somehow ruin their friendship by saying the same thing back at her is gone too.

He's almost excited to get to work tomorrow, though his self esteem hasn't been doing all that great lately, with summer vacation and everyone he went to high school with coming back home from college.

Logically he doesn't care about the judgmental questions and the superior airs they put on, as if surviving another year of schooling could hold a candle to the crazy shit he's survived, but it still like, hurts.

At least the store’s been too busy for them to be scheduled for solo shifts, so he's mostly just working his full day with Robin, and aside from the retail hell of it all, it's been kind of nice just getting to hang out together for hours and hours.

---

Robin's too good at reading him, and he regrets his excitement to see her so soon after his weird love induced meltdown on the welcome mat.

"Oh my God, you lied!" She hisses as he takes his place behind the counter, leaning beside her. "Clearly something was wrong last night."

He knows his eyes are slightly fucked up still, but he's had nights of bad sleep that had him looking worse, so he's truly confused for a moment, and lets her know that, his perplexed frown out in full force as she sets her hands on his shoulders.

"C'mon, the puppy dog eyes aren't going to work," she says, squeezing and shaking him a little bit. "You let me think I was an over-worrier! That I was thinking too much. Tell me, Steve."

He sighs, closes his eyes, and wishes desperately they weren't at work for this.

"Any chance of letting me talk about it in eight hours?"

Robin scoffs, and digs her fingers into the meat of his shoulders.

It's probably meant to hurt, but it's a pleasant pressure, his muscles feeling a little sore from all of the tension he’s been carrying.

"No, tell me now before we have to flip the sign," she says, the little crack in her voice betraying her whole pissed off act.

"Fine just. Don't laugh," he says, wondering if it's more pathetic to ask her not to or more pathetic to experience it if she does.

She raises her eyebrows, eyes lasered in on his as he opens them, and she just looks sad.

"It hurt, you know, in the car. I just… I knew something wasn't okay but I had no idea what it was, but I was sure it was something to do with you," she says, subdued.

The soulmates thing gets pretty freaky sometimes, but Steve's heard of this happening to like, identical twins. So why not him and Robin, honestly?

"Sorry," he says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "Just uh, when you. Said you loved me."

Robin winces, loosens her grip on his shoulders.

"Not good?" She asks, and Steve frowns.

"No, it was good," he says quickly, doesn't want her to feel bad for saying it, or worse, take it back. "I'm…"

He thinks about it, the little bright spark in his chest that's been flickering, fighting against all of the heaviness and general stress he's been feeling. It grows a little stronger every time he sees her, and he hopes that one day it can be a proper flame.

"It's just been a while," he whispers, thinks that this isn't fair to even tell her. "Since someone's told me that."

It sounds depressing as hell, and truly, despite whatever his 3AM wallowing would have to say about it, he's been doing fine, has a full enough social calendar with his friends.

"Oh," Robin says, the way it hurts as plain as a clear day on her face. "Well, I love you."

Steve finds himself blinking back tears again, and the smile that sneaks up on him feels like the lightening of a burden, an unpacked suitcase.

"I love you too."

[mrvelocipede]

I spent some time this afternoon in a slightly cold-ish haze, applying stain samples to pieces of wood. Some of the resulting colors may end up on the floorboards, eventually. The weird blue-greens are in there because I want to mix small amounts of them in with some of the browns, to make better shades of brown.

It's absolutely mind-boggling how many different individual components go into building a house. There are obvious materials, like framing lumber and drywall and bricks. (There are so many different kinds of bricks. We got to go to a neat warehouse and look at hundreds of samples of bricks, in many shades of red and orange and brown and yellow and off-white, with and without speckles, spots, textures, kiln-firing marks, and so on and so forth.) But then basically every single visible surface and fixture has to be chosen, and they all have to work together and look reasonably harmonious.

Floorboards. Tile. Faucets. Cabinet doors. Room doors. Doorknobs. Cabinet handles. Sconces and various light fixtures. Window trim moldings. Stair railings. Roof material. Countertop material.

I've learned that kitchen countertops can be made of laminate, like old-school Formica, or else slabs of stone or stone-like materials, and there's very little middle ground in terms of aesthetics or cost. It's either way low-end or way high-end. I mean, there are cheaper and more expensive kinds of stone slabs, but it's all stone, with significant fabrication costs on top of the base material price.

For most of these things, you have to go to showrooms and deal with sales people. And at that point, I begin to run into difficulties.

See, on the internet I get to be the fascinating and mysterious Mr. Velocipede, and talk about whatever projects I've been working on, and post pictures of things I've made. People are willing to think of me as competent, or in some categories an actual expert to some degree, and it's a fairly comfortable persona to inhabit. It's very easy to forget that in the offline world, I'm a very ordinary-looking middle-aged housewife kind of thing. It's not how I think of myself, but it's definitely what I look like to any outside observer.

During the house-building project, I've been constantly, incessantly reminded of why I became Mr. Velocipede in the first place: being a girl in this culture sucks.

I don't actually mind being female (although I often feel like I'm kind of crap at it), but the kinds of assumptions made about you are so fucking insultingly stupid that I've never really figured out how to respond to them. You're supposed to use Pinterest boards and read magazines full of fairy-tale cottages and have a "dream kitchen" that you've been fantasizing about since you got married and stopped fantasizing about your dream wedding.

You're supposed to want to hide all your appliances neatly in tasteful cupboards, so as not to offend guests with your unsightly refrigerator or microwave or washing machine. I've lost count of the number of times I've had to explain to people that I don't want a special board that attaches to my cabinets, to hide the side of the refrigerator. "But you'll see the side of the refrigerator!" they admonish me. "It's not finished the same as the front! It doesn't match the cabinets!"

Yeah, okay, but what if I like having a magnetic surface to stick things on? What if I don't want to spend money on a random unnecessary board that basically dangles from the upper cabinet?

And there is always, always the assumption that you cannot possibly know anything at all about materials and how they work. I got to listen to quite a long speech about how window screens actually block a certain percentage of the light. Did I know that? Well, yes, as a matter of fact I did. That was why I was asking about getting half-screens, instead of ones that cover the entire window.

It turns out that color is a very stressful subject for a lot of people, which I guess I sort of knew, but am now having to cope with more directly. Our architect is all stressed out because I haven't chosen a stain color yet, and I scared him by buying a bunch of sample bottles of weird bright colors of stain. I've been trying to reassure him that I'm very happy to figure out how to mix a custom stain color myself, out of whatever stock colors exist, but this is apparently unheard of.

But I am flat-out refusing to just pick one of the existing stock colors, because they are all too jarringly harsh and simple, and not at all the effect I want. And I can't figure out how to convey the idea that I know how to work with color, I understand that it's going to look different on different kinds of wood, I know what I'm doing, and I'm not going to burst into tears if it doesn't look like some reference photo in a brochure. Those brochures all look awful, and I know I can do better, if only people will stop calling me "little lady" and let me fucking get on with it.

[mysticmjolnir]

thinking about jaws of hakkon in particular and how it contains depth and richness and world-building and story and just good fukcing writing that i've only glimpsed dregs of in dav.

the shrine of andraste adorned with halla statues to make it one to ghilan'nain as well, both mortals raised up by the gods. something that would be considered shameful heresy by dragon age-era dalish and andrastians alike but seems to have just been very normal in ameridan's time. this shrine fucked me up so bad i think about it often still, it healed and wounded me at once.

how important it is that some of your companions hate each other - or are at least so ideologically opposed that their only point of connection is the protagonist and they are constantly in simmering conflict with each other.

the avvar being the only sensible people in thedas but still having strong rules about magic and spirit companions, the culture's existence in stark contrast to basically everything else you've seen so far in thedas. they're earthy and grounded and don't really give a fuck about how weird everyone else is but do want to try and trade a bit.

ameridan, the elven mage with dirthamen vallaslin who was best friends with emperor drakon and led the goddamn inquisition, a time before the racism and divisions of dragon age-era thedas, proof that nothing is immutable, things can get worse and therefore they can get better too. ameridan, who was dalish in that he was a citizen of the dales, the elven homeland that to us is a lost tragedy and to him a beloved frustration as he tries to get his fellow elves to work with humans against the second blight instead of coldly watching orlais burn.

solas is there or possibly long gone, but his shadow remains, someone who knows more someone who is outside of all of this someone who is enraged and enchanted and embittered by the way everything has had the nerve to change in ways he did not anticipate or permit. solas the maker who turned away from the world he made but is now back to cast his aloof gaze over all and decide to start again.

in dav I walk through an underwater elven ruin called the ossuary. at first I was excited for some kind of gothic bone palace but there are no bones. it is very unclear what the original purpose of the ruin was, there are no codices for me to find and read, no half-written diaries no poems no manuals no letters no supply lists no descriptions of the wards holding the water back. the wards are failing in places, actually. i watch the water trickle through and wait for one of my companions to comment, even to simply raise the tension by suggesting we need to finish our quest near before the water fails and we're crushed by the sea. i eventually give up waiting. i cannot deduce why this place is called the ossuary - this is not an elven word, and while it has been taken over for some time by the venatori it is a laboratory, not a charnel house. my companions call it a prison, but i can't tell if it was a prison originally built by the elvhen, or only repurposed recently. why is it called the ossuary. i visit the necropolis later, which is full of bones, lots of bones.

it is very beautiful under the sea, but it is also proof that whatever dav is, whatever merits it otherwise has, the levels of history and world-building and depth of lore that were present in the previous games is utterly gone.

[morgan-weston]

and now i find, we're both alone || self-thread

WHO: Morgan Weston & Granny Weston

WHERE: The Weston Farm, Montana

WHEN: Wednesday the 13th of November

WHY: Morgan gets the most useful advice from his granny.

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of heart attack, illness and death.

SONG INSPIRATION: Jeanette Nolan - Goodbye May Seem Forever

Morgan sat at the kitchen table, staring at the half-empty cup of coffee in front of him. The house was quiet except for the occasional groan of the old pipes and the distant clucking of the hens outside. His grandmother, Evelyn, moved gracefully around the kitchen, making biscuits from scratch like she had every morning for decades. The rhythm of her movements, the sound of flour sifting, and the scent of butter sizzling in the cast-iron skillet made everything feel achingly familiar.

Evelyn glanced over her shoulder at him as she worked. “You’ve got that look on your face,” she said lightly, not unkindly. “The same one you used to wear when you got into trouble as a boy and didn’t know how to confess.”

Morgan huffed a quiet laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe I did,” he muttered, not lifting his eyes from his mug.

She didn’t press him right away. Instead, she slid a plate of fresh biscuits in front of him, patting his shoulder as she took the seat across from him. Her hands rested on the table, fingers laced, and she gave him that patient, all-seeing look that only grandmothers seemed to master.

“You haven't talked to me in a long time, bubba,” Evelyn started, her voice gentle but with an edge of concern. However, there was no judgment to be found in her tone. “You've not been doing well.”

Morgan shifted uncomfortably, running a thumb over the rim of his cup. He didn’t know how to explain it all - how he’d felt like a man trying to patch up a sinking ship with band-aids. “I've been chasing after people, tryin' to prove my love to 'em. I sent them flowers, and made them their favorite meals, and everythin',” he admitted, feeling a heaviness press against his chest.

Evelyn sighed softly, her eyes studying him like she was searching for something deeper than words. “Morgan,” she began, her voice steady, “you’ve always been good at trying to make things right. You get that from your granddad, always thinkin’ that if you just worked hard enough, you could fix whatever was broken.”

He swallowed, feeling the truth of her words cut deeper than he expected. It was true - he’d always tried to do just that. Whether it was his career or his relationships, he worked himself to the bone to set things straight.

“But sometimes,” Evelyn continued, leaning forward slightly, “all that work isn’t fixin’ anything. It’s just keepin’ you busy so you don’t have to face what’s really wrong.”

Morgan opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. She wasn’t finished anyway.

“I don’t doubt your heart’s in the right place,” she said softly. “But you need to understand that love isn’t about grand gestures or trying to prove somethin’. What you’ve been doin’- all those flowers and whatnot, bubba, they’re not gonna erase the pain you caused.”

The words stung, but he knew she was right. He lowered his head, staring at the grooves in the wooden table, trying to ignore the way his chest ached.

“I didn’t mean to hurt them,” he whispered, his voice sounding small and lost.

Evelyn reached across the table, placing her hand over his. “I know you didn’t, sweetheart,” she replied. “But intentions don’t always keep people from getting hurt. You were tryin’ to hang on to somethin’ that was already slippin’ away.”

Morgan’s throat tightened, and he clenched his jaw to keep the emotion from spilling out. “What was I supposed to do then?” he asked, his voice thick with frustration. “Just let them go?”

Her fingers squeezed his hand gently, and she gave him a sad, knowing smile. “Sometimes lettin’ go is the kindest thing you can do for someone else, and for yourself. You’ve been chasin’ after them like if you run hard enough, you can outrun what happened. But Morgan, you can’t.”

It finally clicked for him in that moment - the weight of her words sinking into his bones. He’d been chasing something that wasn’t there anymore, trying to fix what was shattered, not realizing that in his desperation, he was only making the cracks deeper.

Morgan took a shaky breath, feeling like the ground had shifted beneath his feet. It wasn’t just about the flowers or the meals; it was about him refusing to accept that some things couldn’t be fixed. And in trying so hard, he hadn’t just hurt Eva and Puck - he’d hurt himself too.

“What do I do now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, like he was afraid of the answer.

Evelyn’s expression softened, and she reached up to brush a stray lock of hair off his forehead like she used to do when he was a kid. “You start by forgivin’ yourself, Morgan. And you give them time and space to heal too. And maybe, you find a way to heal on your own.”

Morgan nodded slowly, feeling a strange mixture of relief and sadness wash over him. He didn’t know if he was ready to let go completely, but he understood now that he couldn’t keep running himself ragged, trying to piece back together a story that had already ended.

Evelyn squeezed his hand one last time before getting up to tend to the stove, her movements graceful and sure. “Life has a way of teachin’ us lessons,” she said, her back turned to him. “It’s up to us whether we’re willing to listen.”

She turned off the stove, and moved to the coffee pot, grabbing it and went to pour more coffee into Morgan's cup - the dark rings under his eyes could tell anyone that he needed it. “I'm gonna go and check on your granddad.”

Morgan sat there for a long time after she left, staring at his coffee, thinking about what she’d said. For the first time in weeks, he felt something loosen in his chest - a small sense of acceptance. It wasn’t the happy ending he’d hoped for, but it felt like the beginning of something else.

His thoughts were quickly interrupted though, the small footsteps from his grandmother hurrying into the kitchen. "Morgan, come quick, something's wrong!"

[fandoms-in-law]

The Deed

Summary: Steve's parents come home while he's hosting a pool party and try kicking up a fuss. Hopper asks 1 question before much can be said.

Authors Note: I posted this on AO3 a couple months ago but was unsure about posting it here. Got a new sideblog just to share this and other fics for series I've not seen or at least not fully seen.

...

Hopper was the one to arrange it. Actually, he was fairly sure he was the only one to know about it other than Steve.

He'd been aware of the neglect of the boys parents for, well, the entire time since they started leaving him home alone, thanks to the nosey neighbours. The fact that the hospital not only failed to get through to them during the first incident with the upside down due to the injuries that they'd seen but on later occasions both asked him to do so or to suggest Steve choose someone else to be his emergency contact said worlds and nothing good.

So yes, Hopper arranged the change of name on the deed to the Harrington mansion and let Steve pretend he'd forgotten all about it.

Now though he mentioned it. “Show me the deed to the house, Harrington.”

3 people turned to stare at him, one very ready to yell. Everyone else remained glaring at the two people forcing their way into the pool party Steve was holding.

After a moment though, Steve nodded. “It's in my room. I'll go and fetch it.”

That got Richard storming after him. “You never had permission to remove anything from my office, Boy! You better put that and anything else-”

“I never took anything from the office.” Steve's words were calm, but Hopper having followed them saw what everyone still outside and waiting to yell at his mother couldn't. That Steve had instead of going straight to the stairs stopped at the closet and grabbed his nail bat out, holding in ready to use but not in threat as he spoke. “Go and check if you don't believe me.”

“I'll prove you're a liar quite happily!” Richard snarled, barging past his son to go up the stairs, Steve and Hopper now in pursuit.

Hopper glanced over, quietly asking, “Was bringing this up wrong of me?”

“I'd forgotten about it in everything that's happened since that first time, so no, definitely not.” He confirmed, going straight to his dresser once in his room while Hopper hovered in the doorway, listening for anything happening downstairs, though it seemed Mrs Harrington knew better than to say anything when alone with a whole party of people who loved Steve.

Steve didn't wait for his father to finish whatever search he was doing of the office, just heading downstairs calmer than he had been when his parents first arrived. Hopper hoped that was because he'd remembered that he had both the legal power and the police chief on his side for this confrontation, but suspected it was more to do with taking a few moments to breathe away from the pair.

“I have the house deed here, Hopper. Do you want to wait for Richard to return?” Steve stated, as if he hadn't been the first of the pair to return to the garden where everyone remained.

“We'll wait.” Nancy was the one to reply, coming further forward with Robin, Eddie and Jonathon so they formed some type of guard around Hopper and Steve. “You still have that thing?” she teased a moment later, gesturing to the nail-bat.

Steve shrugged, “Got us through some difficult times, figured it could be good luck fighting less flower headed threats too.”

“HERE!” Richard yelled, storming out of the door and shoving a document into Hopper's chest. “The deed to my house.”

Everyone seemed to take a breath in at that moment, but Hopper just nodded, catching the page and reading over it. “Definitely in order, well, except for this date.” He gestured to the top of the page. “It says you brought this house in 1965, correct?”

“Yes, that's when the deed's were signed.” Richard agreed, huffing as if expecting Hopper would roll over now and start doing as he demanded.

“Steve, can I see the deed you brought down for us?” Hopper calmly asked, refusing to get annoyed at the attitude of Harrington.

Steve silently handed it over and Hopper barely glanced it over before nodding.

“As I recalled, this one is from 1983, all titled, signed and correct, with an additional letter even from the government confirming that the house and all it's contents belongs to Stephen Harrington. If you want to claim any control over who stays here or visits, perhaps you should take it up with the Department for Control and Exploration of Communications Methods. They are indeed both cosignatories and the department who provided this letter.” He smirked over at the Harrington's before adding, “Steve, do you permit these people to be present on your property? I can arrest them for trespassing and civil disturbance if they're uninvited.”

Mrs Harrington spoke up then, “Now Chief Hopper, there's no need to be hasty. Richard and I were just -”

“Leaving.” Steve cut her off. “You were both just leaving. Whether that's in your own car to a hotel or the police cruiser to the station, I care about as much as you cared for me when you've left every other time.”

[boffeeceans]

I finished flight of icarus last night, and I like it, I really do, but uh... [EXTREMELY LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER]

My biggest complaints aren't even about the new characters, I liked both Ronnie and Paige and Eddie's dad, too. I'm not mad about Eddie's characterization, it fine fine, good even. What I'm most upset about and kept throwing me off are the inconsistencies with canon: making Jeff the bassist when we see him playing guitar in the show, Tommy Hayes instead of Hagan, and most of all, having Eddie move in with Wayne in "84 instead of sometime before November of '83 making Eddie's room in the upside down the way it is in ST4 impossible.

Okay, so, characters.

The romance with Paige was... something. Didn't hate it. Didn't love it. It felt insignificant and the book could've done without it. Overall she's an okay character and did really care for Eddie and wanted to get him that deal unlike some people thought. Their breakup was something else entirely, it's unresolved and I don't like that. She bailed him out and they'll probably never talk again but it's whatever.

I liked Ronnie quite a lot, I've already said how she's similar to an OC I've made and that might have something to with it but Idc. Her relationship with Eddie throughout the book is fun and I enjoyed every interaction between them, but it kinda blows up at some point and then they make up and it just... ends. It's goodbye, she's going off to NYU and Eddie's staying in Hawkins. I wonder if they still had contact after that, if they were still friends during ST4 or if that was really just it.

Eddie's dad is probably my favorite new character, I like his personality, he's funny and charming and a lot like how I imagined him to be, not completely though. At the end, it's revealed that he's been using Eddie all along and then leaves him behind. He's not the way I would've written him, but it was interesting to read.

Love Rick too, Rick was great.

Now Eddie, I feel like he should have cried at least once, like when he was having his speech in front of the trailer or maybe in the jail cell, he just lost everything, his band, hellfire, his best friend, his dad, his house, his mom's records, his maybe record deal, his girlfriend, and he dropped out of school. He has nothing. And sure, some of these things are resolved by end of the book, but he didn't know that yet. I just really feel like he should've cried, let it sink in just how deep in shit he is. I mean, the guy started down the barrel of a gun multiple times...

I'm not taking this book as canon, I've already made up a backstory for Eddie in my head, I'm sticking with that and I encourage you to do the same. Just go [EXTREMELY LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER] and move on, write your little fics and have your headcanons. We already pretend Eddie didn't die, we can pretend this book doesn't exist.

[convexicalcrow]

Woke up with some inspiration for how to finally finish the oasis room in Cub's pyramid, and then spent the evening procrastinating so hard on it that I built a mortuary temple for the late Pharaoh instead. bc no pyramid is complete without a mortuary temple. It's not quite got finished interiors? But the external stuff is finished enough.

(and yes i have just noticed the missing quartz block on the far right pharaoh statue. I will Fix That later.)

The purpose of mortuary temples was like a memorial chapel, if that description helps at all. The dead were rarely buried here; that's what the pyramids were for. Instead, there was a ka statue in place to receive offerings, usually ritually enlivened in some way so that the deceased could still experience the living world through the senses of the statue. Offerings were given so that the deceased had all they could ever want or need to access. They often had a lot of other buildings attached to them, as well as shrines for various deities, storage rooms, other ka shrines, etc.

The design for this temple was kind of inspired by Hatshepsut's mortuary temple, but I mostly just built what made sense. I didn't want to build the whole complex, because that would get way too big. So instead, I kept it small, and it's a couple of terraces with one building on the top, divided into three spaces.

The outer flat walls I want to decorate further with hieroglyphs or other Egyptian art, but I haven't decided what yet, so I'm leaving them for now. I do have Cub's name in SGA thrown around the place bc why not lol. And the back has a slightly squished copy of the Pharoah art and the cartouche that he put in the farm section of the pyramid. bc I was too lazy to make it 23 blocks tall, so. XD I may still fix that and move things up a lil but idk we'll see if I can be bothered.

This is the ka shrine. This is what you see when you enter the temple. I moved all of Cub's stuff from where he left it near the shopping district and placed it here as offerings. So he has everything he needs. I used a second armour stand to get the elytra behind the main statue, and ofc I wasn't going to turn off my vex elytra for this so. XD He has his vex wings. <3

There's some storage opposite this that I put in to house offerings or whatever else might be needed for the temple to function. The centre part of the wall clearly needs some kind of decoration but idk what yet.

I haven't decided what to do with these two side rooms though. I have been thinking of building a Boat of some kind, but idk. I may fill the space with more hieroglyphs or build some small shrines or maybe even do a Vex thing idk. I'll think on it some more and see what inspires me. And maybe get around to doing the oasis room eventually. XD

Also, since I forgot that I initially opened this world in 1.19 instead of going back to 1.16.4 (I suspect bc I hadn't figured out mods and old installations at the time so D:), I figured I'd just play this in 1.20.1 so I can throw some camels at it just to complete the picture. What the hell at that point, you know? :D But that's for later as well. It's midnight rn and I've done more than enough for today.