#so in three years or so someone NEW can come in and take the momentum built by rtd to bring the show into a new era

[lilydvoratrelundar]

I think Church on Ruby Road has finally firmly cemented my opinion that Murray Gold should not have come back.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

18 & 63 for the trope mashup please! <3

18. Circus AU and 63. Everybody knows, mistaken for a couple ^from the prompt mash ups game!

This is a Cirque du Soleil AU where Norris and Piastri are two trapeze artists who made huge names for themselves in their individual countries. They get paired up for new show, and it involves a really tricky sequence that people are convinced is not possible and has never been done before, let alone by two guys.

They have a couple of near misses on the attempts to nail the trick, and the whole gang is watching carefully from the safety nets. People are biting their nails, and george is totally double checking the insurance papers and trying not to freak out.

Anyway, Oscar hangs upside down on the bar, totally chill. on the platform, Lando shakes the last of his nerves from his fingers. he slides a firm grip down his own bar, the one place that’s been so familiar for so many years, and he takes a breath. It’s beyond conscious thought, it’s just muscle memory, stepping into the air. With faith that the other man will meet him, in that millisecond between complete connection and the plummet.

Hands. It’s all in the hands. Lando's own fingertips moulding to the floor the first time he nailed a handstand, someone else’s careful hands that taught him his first few balances and tucks. The way his hands bled bloody and blistered, until he worked up the requisite strength.

Now, Lando grips the bar steady with both hands. Now, the steady rhythm in the pit of his stomach. Once, three times, four — the pendulum hits the peak of the apex.

Lando jackknifes through the air, and he’s twisting, house lights blurring in his vision.

Oscar waits, hands outstretched.

Then, a firm clasp from a smaller hand. Callouses pressed against his own. Years of practice, leading up to this point of contact.

His body knows before his mind does. The snap of gravity into the right place, when moving object meets opposing force. It’s Oscar’s counter-rhythm that stops him falling, Oscar’s nimble strength that matches his own. The way they do this in silence, carefully cultivated trust. In that moment, their bodies are a marvel of physics.

Below, the cast erupts in whoops and cheers. Lando wants to run around, wants to scream, but in that moment there’s not really an option - he just clasps Oscar’s forearms, and lets himself be swung.

“Well.” Oscar says, wry. “That was easy.”

Lando looks up. “Yeah. Only took fifty four tries.”

Lando can tell Oscar’s trying not to laugh. Oscar's hands stay steady though.

Someone captures the footage and it takes a while to get going, but then they’re doing numbers on socials. Cirque marketing figures this could get momentum and gradually shares more behind the scenes footage of them both: heads bowed together to talk about the tricks, tightening their wrist wraps, dusting chalk off each other, and laughing as they sip their energy drinks. They even get a portmanteau: landoscar.

The final show is obviously a massive hit. Lando and Oscar’s segment ends up being a lyrical interpretation of the life of a papaya or something. It’s Seb Vettel’s show about the lifespan of plants and bees so they’re just rolling with the vision.

When Pride comes around, the two of them step out to get coffee and a snack at their regular spot. The barista waves at them and says: “a year's free coffee for the happy couple! thank you so much for repping queer excellence in the arts.”

And Oscar’s like, “oh, uh. I mean. I am. But we– we’re not…”

Then Lando turns to him. The morning light looks good on Oscar. Oscar who always lends him sports tape, always lets him order lunch first, and always, always leans forward to catch him. In or out of the ring, he is the partner Lando trusts more than anything in the world.

So Lando tugs on Oscar’s hoodie sleeve, and is like: “actually, I’d meant to ask you…”

[bcacstuff]

STELLA MCCARTNEY dress and GIVENCHY boots.

There’s something about Izzy Meikle-Small. It’s not just the delicate cheekbones or the quintessential Englishness that makes her a favorite for period dramas. It’s not even her enviable resume which includes her stepping into the shoes of some of the UK’s most luminous stars. No, there’s a quiet but resolute determination to claim her own narrative—shadowy beginnings, a taste for the unconventional, and a new era of artistic self-possession.

For years, Meikle-Small was cinema’s favorite time machine—a younger Carey Mulligan, a pint-sized Vanessa Kirby, a teenage Charlize Theron. Yet, there’s something deliciously ironic in her being cast as the precursor to these screen giants. “I don’t really look like any of them, but I’ll take it!” she laughs. “It was amazing to learn from them.” For a young actor finding her footing, the sets of those films were both playground and classroom. “Being on set as a kid can be really intimidating,” she admits, “but all three of them made an effort to make me feel really comfortable.”

Indeed, while her face was a canvas onto which casting directors mapped their favorite leads, Meikle-Small was watching, learning, absorbing. Working alongside the likes of Mulligan and Kirby wasn’t just a brush with greatness—it was a kind of mentorship. “We would have big conversations about the characters and the plot, and that helped me understand their process, which therefore informed my own and taught me how successful actors created their characters. I really appreciate the time that they took with me because it really helped shape my view of the industry and what it means to be an actor and a filmmaker.”

SACAI jacket and shirt.

Meikle-Small is no longer standing in someone else’s light. With her role as Rachel Hunter in season seven part two of runaway success historical drama series, Outlander (streaming now on MGM+ in the UK and Starz in the US) she’s stepping out of the shadows and into her own spotlight. “I’ve never joined a show which had such a pre-existing fan base,” she says. The Outlander fandom is nothing if not passionate, and Meikle-Small knows she’s shouldering the expectations of readers who’ve cherished Rachel on the page.

“Rachel is so sweet and pious and all of these things. She’s sassy, but she’s a really kind person, which is lovely to play, but I’d love to play someone with maybe a bit more edge. Maybe somebody in comedy could be fun, or something modern, where I could wear jeans,” she laughs. That’s not to say she doesn’t appreciate the role’s intricacies. “Rachel wears a bonnet, and that’s a lot to do with her religion but also feeling bound in. Doing period dramas, I feel like the history informs your character, and with Rachel being a Quaker living in the 1700s, all of these layers of history do add to your character.”

SACAI jacket, shirt, and boots.

And the audience reception has been equally rewarding. “The Outlander audience connects so deeply with every episode, and they’ve really welcomed me in with very open arms,” she says earnestly. “I was worried that people might not love me as [Rachel] as much as I would want them to.” For someone who spent her youth in roles that were more scaffolding than centerpiece, this level of engagement is a revelation. “When I was younger, I didn’t have a fan base in the same way. Because I was a kid, my exposure was different. Coming and doing this now is such a blessing.”

If Outlander marks Meikle-Small’s coronation, her ambitions reach well beyond bonnets and bodices. “I would love to do an indie British film,” she says. “In the last few years, we’ve seen some amazing films coming out of the UK. I think the new year will bring new freedom. I just started auditioning, so we’ll see what happens.”

This isn’t her first time coming out of the shadows and shaping her own destiny. “I got my first job at nine and my first movie at 13. By 18 or 19, I’d missed a lot of school. It got to the point where I was like, ‘What if I just went away, lived my life for a few years, was able to kind of grow up and mature physically but also mentally, and have some life experience?’”

UNDERCOVER dress.

She’s also drawn to the unexpected. “Genre isn’t really that important to me. There are genres that I prefer to watch as a viewer, but in terms of acting, I always want to do something different. I tend to be cast a lot in period dramas, and I think I just look very English, and that’s why that happens,” she chuckles at the inevitability of it all. “If I haven’t done a genre before, I’m more likely to be drawn towards it because it’s something that I’ve not done yet.”

For example, Meikle-Small is a dark comedy-fan, and since she specialized in medieval dark comedy in school, she’s grown incredibly fond of them. “I think that probably is one of my favorite genres to watch,” Meikle-Small admits. “It’s funny, but also it really normally packs a bit of a sucker punch message. It’s a clever way of concealing the emotional message to make it more palatable.”

While at university, Meikle-Small fell in love with producing, a role that seems perfectly suited to her thoughtful and measured approach. “I tend to work with a lot of writers who were actors who’ve turned to writing,” she says. “Because I am also an actor, they trust that I will understand and can see their point of view and that I can lead them behind the camera in a way that they’ll understand.”

If there’s one thread tying together Meikle-Small’s eclectic pursuits, it’s her deep love of stories. “I definitely would say I am a book lover,” she says, noting her background in English literature. “Doing period dramas feels natural because I love adaptations. It’s kind of my niche.” But she’s not content to simply bring existing narratives to life—she’s crafting her own.

UNDERCOVER dress and shoes.

“I have started writing, which feels a little bit scary,” she reveals. “There’s a short that I co-wrote with my friend—it’s not ready at all, but there’s something really interesting in the idea. There’s also a book that I’m trying to adapt to be a film screenplay.” For someone who has spent years embodying other people’s characters, the act of writing is an exercise in autonomy. “Whenever I’m writing things, I’m imagining myself playing the character that I would like to play, which always makes it more fun.” 

Her dream? To merge her passions into one cohesive whole. “The aim is to kind of get bigger and welcome bigger things. My absolute dream would be to act in something that I’m also producing and be able to have a kind of creative say in front of and behind the camera, especially on Outlander like watching Caitríona [Balfe] and Sam [Heughan] do that with such grace. It feels more tangible now, and I think I’d have less imposter syndrome.”

As Meikle-Small looks ahead, she’s taking stock of what she’s achieved and where she wants to go. This self-assurance radiates in her ambitions. Whether it’s an indie film, a dark comedy, or something completely different, Meikle-Small is ready to embrace whatever comes next. Izzy Meikle-Small is no shadow; she’s the whole picture.

All seasons of Outlander, including 7 Part 2, are available to stream on MGM+ in the UK and Starz in the US now. 

UNDERCOVER dress and shoes and JAEGER-LECOULTRE watch.

Photographed by Lee Malone

Styled by Karen Clarkson at The Wall Group

Written by Lily Brown

Hair: Grace Hatcher using Sam McKnight

Makeup: Irina Cajvaneanu at Caren using Lisa Eldridge Beauty 

Stylist Assistant : Maïlys Pereira

[uncleasad]

how do you deal with writers block?

Hello, Anonymous friend, and thanks for this fun (and timely!) Ask.

The first thing I want to mention is there’s a difference between “normal” writer’s block and a persistent and wide-ranging writer’s block, which might be burnout instead. For burnout masquerading as writer’s block, I don’t have any good answers, but the recovery takes time.

For regular cases of writer’s block, can’t finish this scene, can’t figure out where to go next, and things like that, there are a wide range of strategies that I employ or have employed in the past.

When I got stuck on my very first fanfic, I started writing other ideas that came to my head. The 9 months between chapters on that fic spawned both the initial one-shots of the Tales from the Salvatore Kitchen series and the first three of my WIPs as I got stuck on each one, in turn, and started another 😂

I was always successful in getting writing again…just not in finishing the work I was stuck on in the first place 😳

On the first of those WIPs I mentioned before, when I got stuck at a certain point, I jumped ahead to the next scene I knew I could write, and I used that tactic fairly effectively; that fic is both one of my most-complete WIPs and also roughly 5 disconnected sections 😂

Another both effective and productive thing I do often is to go back and reread prior sections—paragraphs, scenes, chapters, sometimes even the entire fic—and/or edit. It refreshes my memory of what I’ve written and in a strange way rebuilds momentum, so that when I get to where I was stuck, I have everything in mind again and can plow through the wall.

Something I’ve used quite effectively recently is to take a prompt and write a very short fic from it, which has the benefit of switching my mind to a new context without getting me caught up in a whole new, full-fledged work. I think this has worked best when I know generally what I want to write but have gotten stuck on the specifics (actions or dialogue to fill out a scene); this seems to kick-start the creative juices, plus leave me feeling good (endorphins) from “finishing” something.

Those are the tools for breaking writer’s block that still involve writing and you the writer taking action on your own. The next set of tools are more passive and involve taking a break of some kind.

If you’ve poked around my blog much (and it’s perfectly fine if you haven’t!), you might notice I often post about getting ideas—both for new fics and for things I’m working on right now—as a result of doing mundane things.

So many ideas (often the craziest!) come to me in dreams! (Be sure to write them down/take a voice memo/whatever as soon as you wake up!)

Then there’s brushing my teeth…

And showering…

Working in the garden…

Or mowing the lawn…

Even taking a walk…

(Once again, try to keep something with you so that you can record these ideas in case you can’t immediately go back to work on your writing!)

The commonality between these is both that you’re taking a break from thinking about your project and also allowing your mind to wander while doing something mundane (though perhaps stimulating in a different way…light, smell, temperature, visually). It’s paradoxical how not thinking about your writing leads you to have breakthroughs about your writing, but there’s some actual science behind it.

The final thing that I’ve found useful is to talk to someone else about where or why you’re stuck. One of the great things about being here on tumblr this year is that our little community of active Hosie authors has reached critical mass, so there’s always someone around to talk to if we’re stuck on something. Sometimes that takes the form of a post and I get comments from others; other times it’s a chat in tumblr Messages. You can also engage a beta reader or IRL friends, or the like, too. (And sometimes just figuring out how to explain to someone else how or where you’re blocked on a work is enough to get you unstuck.)

There’s another article I’ve posted about which is a summary from an academic paper on writer’s block with a list of strategies employed by writers surveyed for the paper. I’ve broadly covered most of them here, but it’s worth glancing at the list I quoted in my post for a few other specific variations.

I hope some of this is helpful. We’re all different as writers, and how and why we get blocked on various things we’re writing are also different, so don’t worry if what works for me doesn’t work for you…keep trying things.

Thanks again for the Ask, and happy writing! (And feel free to follow-up if you have more specific questions about anything I’ve mentioned.)

[deathjitsus]

wrestledream predictions

mark vs jericunt

if mark doesn't win this someone will have to die

darby vs brody

if they really are trying to build darby as the chosen one and actually want him to hold the world title someday i feel like he really needs to win this match. feels like a very put your money where your mouth is type thing because if he's talking big only to get his shit rocked by brody then i dunno man. I just don't know

jack vs shibata

i think this match will be good but the build has been unimpressive which is kind of the theme of 95% of matches on this card. i get it we're screaming hot off the tails of the all in/all out double team but it feels like not nearly enough love was given to putting together this show. ANYWAY that being said i don't think it's shibata's time. i think he would be a great tnt champ whenever that day comes and potentially elevate it a lot more than jack has been doing with his reign (no offense) but i don't see the title changing hands here.

ospo vs takeshita vs ricochet

okay i know okay but listen. REALISTICALLY do i feel like ospreay is probably retaining? yeah. HOWEVER i think takeshita winning the belt would be amazing for him and also further will's feud with the dcf especially if there was some interference (maybe from a certain new member?). plus it's a three way match which iirc means will doesn't need to be pinned to lose the belt which protects him for a rematch in the future. i just really really want a takeshita singles run ok

bucks vs private party

see jack vs shibata i don't think this match has been built particularly well for either team. private party has been booked like shit basically all year if not longer and to rocket into the tag team title sphere again seems very sudden for them so i don't really see them taking the titles off the bucks at all but i do hope that this will serve as fuel for the fire and they'll start getting taken a little more seriously again.

mariah vs willow

i want willow to win this so bad but i know it's not her time. but i have to have hope that one day she will get her time in the sun

hanger vs jay white

i feel a little conflicted about this match. jay white has been gone since what june? july? this is his first match back from injury in months. my problem is i feel like hangman has built a lot of good momentum for himself coming off his win at all out over swerve and i think a loss for him here would kind of cut that off at the knees, but i think jay is similarly trying to establish some new momentum coming off of injury. i think at the end of the day jay white will take this one—whether swerve is somehow involved or not i don't know, but hangman has a history of taking losses and further working them into whatever he's doing so i guess we'll see what happens.

as for what happens when swerve returns he's said we're going to see a new evolution of him and his character—i fully expect him to ditch nana and align with mvp and his new faction (whether they're calling it the hurt business or whatever name they go with). maybe i'll be surprised who knows! but that certainly seems like the direction they were headed

hologram vs mortos

this feels like a weird choice for a ppv match but i won't complain because i'm sure it will slap. i know tony has put a lot of stock into hologram but i'm just not necessarily on the train yet is all. hologram is undefeated in aew as of today so i'm kind of back and forth on whether or not this will be the end of that streak—i think a 2 out of 3 falls match is a good way to do it and paint mortos as a bit of an underdog but tony also might be looking to get hologram his first ppv win so who knows. right now i'm saying hologram wins but it's really a 50/50 for me i don't necessarily care but i do think it will be a good match either way

bryan vs mox

can i be honest with you guys. i don't know if i'm feeling the intended emotion over the build to this match. a lot of the promotional materials have painted it as a fight for the future of aew and while on one hand yes, conceptually i understand that mox is going for the title because he wants power and is attempting to make change to aew and the culture of the company, i also feel like this is much more personal than that and the world title belt has simply got caught in the crossfire because bryan has it right now. it's not about the belt, it's about bryan danielson and jon moxley. and on one hand i think that's a good thing because i really do feel like there's a lot of tension going into this match but i also feel like a lot of the build has actually been focused on wheeler yuta rather than mox and bryan. and i get it, bryan can't wrestle and mox is busy doing whatever the fuck he wants, but i feel like these two haven't really spoken at all in the build to this match its just been mox shitting on bryan and bryan laying down and taking it. i dunno i just feel like its been set up really weirdly and idk if i like it. that being said i think all of this would make it a very weird time to retire danielson. imo it would have been a much more satisfying conclusion to have him finish at all in (when he was clearly in kayfabe Ready to Go) instead of dragging things out even more to give him a month or two with the world title. this world title reign feels like a sequel to a book that never needed one.

[lamuradex]

40K In 42 Days Update: Week Two

@the-wip-project

Alright, Week Two Update. We're one third of the way through! Let's go!

Last week I was at 4,140 Words, 10.35%.

This week I'm at 17,995 Words, which is 44.9875%

Okay! From being a bit under target last week, I have seriously picked up the pace. I've managed to find my feet with this book a lot more, even adding in some fun new chapters I didn't originally intend, and keeping up the momentum of writing a decent amount each day.

I hope I can keep this up, but I'll likely wind up taking a bit of a break at some point. I am enjoying this though.

Anyway, as with last week, I'll post an excerpt of the last bit I've been writing. This time, Gideon and Madeline are being questioned by a detective that Gideon has known for a long time.

Enjoy below the break.

They got about three steps outside the door before someone shouted.

“Mr Tailor,” the voice beckoned.

Gideon knew the voice. He turned, wearing his best smile, to the pleasant if slightly older face of Detective Holida.

“Johnny! Always a pleasure,” he greeted with a deliberately false grin.

“Mr Tailor. Miss Anthorne,” he greeted them in turn, lighting a pipe and taking a puff. He was the sly kind of man who, in perhaps a few more years, could carry off a pipe.

“Hello, Officer Holida,” Maddy said meekly, trying to remain invisible.

“What brings you here, Johnny?” Gideon said brightly. “And how’s the husband. Marriage counselling going well?”

Holida puffed his pipe. “I’m not here to discuss my love life, Mr Tailor.”

“I’m just trying to work out of there’s an opening.” Gideon shot him a wink.

“Really. Rumour has it you’re with Miss Scarlet, right?” Holida countered.

“Oh, Miss Scarlet doesn’t date anyone. Any of her regulars could tell you that,” Gideon parried. “But you? I wouldn’t kick you out of bed.”

Holida chuckled in a sour way. “You really think the gay jokes are doing you any favours?”

“Whose joking? You’re a good looking man,” Gideon answered. “But, anyway, what brings you to my door, Detective?” he continued, their pleasantries out of the way.

“Potentially a pair of handcuffs,” Holida said sharply. “I got an anonymous tip that you, Mr Tailor, were involved in a robbery earlier this week.”

“Me? A robbery? Which one?” Gideon put a hand to his chest in an offended way.

“How many robberies have you done?” Holida challenged. “Ever heard of Efram Malik?”

Gideon shook his head. “I’m not really a tech person.”

“But… how would you know he’s a tech person if you don’t know who he is?”

“What else would he be?” Gideon shrugged.

With that unassailably stupid reasoning, Holida moved on. “Mr Malik’s home was robbed last week of almost a hundred grand in art and electronics. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”

Gideon glanced around. There was a cop car waiting nearby, but this wasn’t an arrest. Not unless he confessed here and now. This was just so he’d lie and entrap himself.

“Why do you think it was me?” Gideon asked.

“Because the tip we got specifically named you,” Holida answered flatly.

Gideon paused. That was a ill omen. Still, Holida’s partner was still in the car. This wasn’t an arrest.

“And you believe them, this anonymous voice?” Gideon thought about that more. “And the tip didn’t come from this Malik gentleman himself? That’s weird, right?”

“It is odd, yes. You wouldn’t happen to have an alibi, would you?”

“You haven’t told me the date or the time, Detective.”

“Thursday, somewhere between eight o’clock and five in the morning. That’s when the cleaners found the place in disarray.”

“I would have been at home in bed,” Gideon said innocently. “I get to bed early these days. Busy with work.”

“And you wouldn’t happen to have a witness for this?”

“Well, there’s Madeline here. She can vouch for me. She goes to bed at the same time. Different beds though, of course.”

“Can confirm,” Maddy said simply.

“Right,” Holida rolled his eyes. The alibi was as strong as tissue paper and everyone knew it. “What do you two do for a job nowadays, Mr Tailor?”

“Currently unemployed but freelance,” Gideon answered confidently. “Maddy got fired from her cleaning job just this morning actually. Tell me, is it illegal to fire someone because they have a disability?”

“Are you looking to report someone?”

“I’m just wondering,” Gideon shrugged. “But, if that’ll be all, we do need to get going. Nice seeing you, Johnny.”

“And where are you going?” Holida asked, narrowing his eyes again.

“My niece’s sister’s birthday. It promises to be a big affair,” Gideon smiled. They were back in their obvious lying game.

“And you're sure you were nowhere near the robbery?”

Gideon caught that one. “You haven’t told me where Mr Malik lives, Johnny.”

"Right." Holida smiled in a frustrated way. “You realise I know you’re full of shit, Gideon.”

“I’m not inclined to argue,” Gideon said calmly.

“First of all, I know you don’t have a sister.”

“A hasty marriage in the family.”

“You don’t have any siblings whatsoever,” Holida asserted. Then his face creased. “Wait, wouldn’t your niece’s sister also be your niece?”

Gideon let false revelation crest his face. “You know, you might be right. Huh. That would explain the salty Christmas card last year. Oh well, I’ll apologise next time I’m round. I think I owe my uncle’s brother an apology too.”

Holida glared him down, acid in those eyes. Finally, he took a deep breath.

“Don’t leave town, Mr Tailor. We’re currently looking into DNA evidence found at Mr Malik’s home, and if your name comes up, then your little jokes won’t save you.”

“Well, let’s hope it won’t match then,” Gideon countered. And he knew Holida was confident about the DNA. The officer had snuck a bottle from the trash years ago for a sample. Too bad it was actually a bottle belonging to one of Fey’s patrons.

“I’ll be seeing you, Mr Tailor,” Holida said and returned to his car.

Gideon watched him go. Someone had tipped him off, and he suspected that was making Holida nervous too. People usually only tipped off the authorities about brown people looking suspicious on their street, being suspicious being code for them existing. They didn’t anonymously tip off the police about massive art heists. Especially not by name. But beyond the name there wasn’t enough proof to link anyone to it, they’d been sure of that, so he wasn’t too worried.

“That was… odd,” Maddy considered. “And do you always need to flirt with him like that?”

“Yet another oddity,” Gideon agreed, as they went on their way. “And yes. It’s how we communicate.”

[veryace-ficrecs]

Gen Stranger Things Fanfic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)  

This list is only General Audience Fanfic! enjoy (*￣3￣)╭

He Can Love Three Things by Capriciously_Terminal

“I think you’re beautiful,” Steve tells Eddie when they’re standing on a basketball court in the middle of a day that’s so hot you could practically skin your knee against it. It’s a moment of stillness like a snapshot. Like freeze-tag, when you had to thunder to a stop at the slap of a hand and just do nothing with all that momentum you’d been in the middle of using.

(AKA Steve Harrington can love Eddie Munson AND basketball as a treat)

Dustin Henderson and the Lovebirds by pukner

"You look like you've been mauled, dude," says Lucas. Then, after a beat, "Oh, ew."

"What the fuck," says Dustin, cottoning on, "What the fuck. This is hell, you didn't."

"Oh, I did," says Eddie, with the air of someone who's won something. He looks like the proverbial cat who's got the canary, if the canary wore polos and listened to Blondie.

"Shut up," Steve mutters, flushing as he seems to register what's happening, "Guys, it's not what you--uh, this isn't what it looks like--"

Or, five times Dustin Henderson was subjected to Eddie Munson being gross and sappy and in love with Steve Harrington, and one time Steve didn't even have to be there.

truly the angel's best by unkreativstermensch

Because he is only human after all, a gay human, actually, with a huge, embarrassing gay crush on Steve Harrington (just a crush though, no real feelings, no because that…hahaha, that would be a real fucking problem and Eddie has enough of those, seriously) and now…

Now that exact Steve Harrington is standing there, in the middle of the living room, in front of the sofa all the gremlins are scrambled on together and- and he’s holding a baby.

Eddie feels like the breath got knocked right out of his lungs.

Or: Steve with babies is the cutest thing in the world and you cannot convince the author (or Eddie) otherwise.

Always Look on The Upside (of the Tip Jar) by Capriciously_Terminal

Steve, the new one who was distinctly crown-less except some pin on his apron with a French quote from Le Morte d’Arthur, which Robin read in actual French and had given him for Christmas even though they’d all been forced to provide a separate twenty-five dollar gift for the staff white elephant exchange, generally hid in the walk-in when people he’d generally been dickish to walked in.

But this time, the long-haired guy Steve had at one point terrorized, walks right up to Steve and has an incredibly odd request.

(AKA Steve Harrington, local barista, forgets a guy's name but does remember their past).

Make Me Look Good by Elle_dubs (avril_o)

A Life For Every Year (And One For After) by Kedreeva

Eddie works in a tuxedo rental shop.

Steve rents a tuxedo for prom, he's taking Robin.

Light shenanigans. 

Steve meets her when he is nine years old. She is skin and bones, and fits in the cup of his hands like a tiny, furry tennis ball and her purr rattles against the skin of his palms.

----

Or, the one where baby Steve adopts the same stray kitten as baby Jonathan.

come and rest your bones with me by MacksDramaticShenanigans

“We’re making a fort.”

Steve is barely even halfway through the door when he is accosted with the declaration. His slick raincoat is still zipped up, his wet umbrella still wide open and dripping onto the porch behind him.

“What?” He asks, fumbling to close the umbrella and shake it out before a stack of blankets are being shoved into his arms.

“We are making a fort,” Eddie repeats, grinning at Steve. He’s got his own heap of blankets bundled against his chest, and when Steve glances past his shoulder he can see that the bones of said fort are already mostly established — Wayne’s armchair has already been moved from its cozy corner of the room to now sit directly across from the couch, and the coffee table has been pushed to the side so as to not be a nuisance to the building process.

And, well, it sounds like a lot of fun, actually.

“Yeah, sure, alright,” Steve replies with a huff of a laugh.

hash brown, egg yolk (i will always love you) by MacksDramaticShenanigans

Six months is a long time to be apart. A long time to go without seeing Eddie in the flesh. Without hearing his laugh, low and melodic, right against the shell of his ear. Without hugging Eddie around the middle and hooking his chin over Eddie’s shoulder while he stands at the stove and pushes something delicious around a pan. Without kissing Eddie.

But so is the way of being married to a hotshot musician with a band that has more than made it big.

Because that's what Eddie is. And, god, Steve couldn’t be more proud.

Even if it does mean that sometimes he and Eddie have to go long stretches of time without seeing each other.

But that doesn’t matter anymore. Because Eddie is home now, and he’s going to be home for a while. Corroded Coffin just wrapped up the European leg of their tour (“Fucking Europe, Stevie! Can you believe it!”) and they’ve been given a month before their North American leg is set to start. A whole entire month that Eddie already promised he will be spending at home with Steve.

Starting today.

Hey, Jude by Sharpbutsoft (BuckysButt)

 The phone only gets a chance to trill once before Eddie snatches it up from the cradle.

 He’s been waiting for this all day.

 “You’ve got Eddie,” he says, even though only a handful of people know what hotel he’s staying in, his room number. Even fewer would risk calling him right before a show, but he’s got a car on standby to collect him once he’s done, and this is a very important phone call.

 “Is that how you’re greeting your husband now?”

To Get A Recipe by Catnerys

Seven months after the apocalypse literally tore through Hawkins and his miraculous not-death, Eddie does the second bravest thing he ever did and calls Steve.

I Don't Have to Leave Alone by Capriciously_Terminal

Eddie Munson's "European Tour" (i.e. running away to Germany) had hardly been glamorous and he'd expected the same from his homecoming.

Count on Steve Harrington to ruin that by picking him up from the airport.

(AKA There's nothing softer than someone getting you from the airport)

i’ll stop the world and freeze with you by wynnyfryd

Eddie promised he’d take Max ice skating, only… Only he doesn’t actually have a single solitary fucking clue what he’s doing, alright? Good thing there’s a very helpful Hot Guy who can assist. 

 Phantom Scent by CrystalDragonette

Nancy was only supposed to check on Steve since he wasn't answering the walkie-talkie. Instead she hears him giving Barb a life update

With surprise visitors

your Midas touch on the Chevy door by sarcasticassian

last night his fiancee had blurted out that she was a lesbian and Steve’s perfectly built up walls came crashing down and a tidal wave of feelings rushed in reminding him of his own not so straight sexuality as well and now he’s stood in a side room in the town church and his gay fiancee is waiting just outside the doors to walk down the aisle and he can’t do it

----

a sort of arranged marriage scenario but also some freedom fighting

eddie munson's foolproof test (to see if a guy is sticking around) by loverboysteve

Eddie has a test.

It took some time to formulate, a few too many times with guys careless with his heart, who leave behind more heartache than happiness littered in their memory. It’s fucking hard to tell.

More than once, there’s been a dude who promises between kisses 'i’m not going anywhere' and takes more than his fill during a night which Eddie desperately hopes is passion and not some misguided lust. Only to wake a familiar empty side of the bed, them gone — skipping town, back in the arms of their parent-approved girlfriend, or back to spitting his name out with the word freak.

It’s what the test is for.

Secret Sweater by Maybird315

Eddie learns how to knit so he can make Steve an ugly sweater

A Kiss in the Snow by Sparkle_Fiend

Eddie is going all out for Christmas - there's a lot to celebrate this year. He survived the Upside Down, he and Wayne have a new house, and Eddie has a boyfriend. Unfortunately, his plans are derailed when the weather turns foul and Steve doesn't show on time. 

 What the hell are you wearing? by thebridgetonarnia

Steve and Robin wear matching ugly christmas sweaters, Eddie is confounded by them. 

The Perfect Team by MixAddams

Steve doesn’t hate DnD, he just doesn’t get it. 

Harrington Family Reunion by damnwellworthit

Steve gets the chance to take a plus one to the family reunion so he takes the opportunity

[skiimbii]

> dead stars + the 1st law

I've saved up a couple of these over the past few months in a notebook, but it's sometimes hard to remember the entire idea when it's been so long. This one came to me eating breakfast, thinking about all of the different fandoms I've left over the years. Fond memories! Except for the embarrassing ones, haha.

The first law of thermodynamics states that energy can't be created or destroyed, simply converted from one form to another. I'm sure this is something that many people learn in grade school and then forget. Additionally, if you somehow took a class or watched a documentary where they talk about space, you might know about the star death cycle (or, if you watched, like, interstellar. I'm not sure if they discuss that there). This is about writing, so why am I mentioning physics? I wasn't even very good at science - but it's because of fandoms. Dead fandoms, specifically.

I don't believe that dead fandoms are as common as people make them out to be. To me, a fandom is only truly dead when it has reached a complete zero - no fans, no new material, no attention or movement in any way whatsoever. As long as one person is still there, being a fan of something, it's still kicking! Someone still loves it. And that takes a very long time, for the most part. If it's on the internet, it's going to find its way into someone's view, even if it's been years since it was released. Plus, social medias have a way of making the most random bullshit trend, so who's to say that it won't have a resurgence years or decades after the fire has died down (think about things like remakes)? Not to mention that creators are also often fans of their own works.

So, if what normally constitutes a 'dead' fandom doesn't apply in these conditions; then what exactly are these 'dead' fandoms? If they're not dead, what sort of fucked up schrödinger's cat are we keeping in that box? I've created a couple of different categories, because just saying that they're not dead isn't enough for me.

They're not dead, just colder (Neutron Star): you were used to seeing this fandom always at the top of the trending tabs, fans always popped up under the most random shit, and now? It's like they never even existed! Once in a blue moon you'll see a profile picture of it, but it's rare. That doesn't mean that the fandom is dead. A lot of fandoms are like fireworks; they burn hot and bright, only to fizzle out fast and suddenly. It usually results from that fandom having an unnatural boom in popularity. Most people don't fixate on things for too long, and move along with the trends. Not dead!

They're not dead, just older (White Dwarf): the most common type of dead fandom, but the quietest. Usually, it stems from the lack of new content from the creator(s). Nothing crazy, and it's just part of the natural cycle that fandoms take - nothing can keep intense momentum forever, after all. The dedicated fans stay, but there's less overall hubbub. Not dead!

They're not dead, just cancelled (Black Hole): I've seen a crazy uptick in fandoms that end this way over the last few years. The creator does something that causes them to be cancelled en-masse online, and as a result many people jump ship, or the media becomes really shit. Funnily enough, this type is the closest to death. No one wants to stay in company that has been written off by most of the internet, and the ones who stay usually support their wrongdoings or are just children (ie. easily manipulated). Unfortunately not dead!

There's usually a mix of these three types that make up the reasons why a fandom 'dies' in the public's view, because death isn't an easy thing to figure out the cause of. I'll circle back to the title of the post now, so this all makes sense; new energy cannot be created, only converted into other forms. A star will die, but how fast that end comes is decided based off of its size. What the fuck have I brought these two ideas to the table for? (I promise it's not just to give my categories cute star-related names.)

Fandoms don't really die. I mean, you think about whatever kid's show you were really into as a kid, and you might not be a fan, but you still think of it fondly, no? Death is such a difficult thing for a fandom to reach, because it's less about dying and more about forgetting. Whatever old enthusiasm you had about that thing doesn't die, either. You don't forget how to feel excited over things that are up your alley, do you? It just changes forms, into a new fandom, into something that might be similar but better. It's not a new concept I'm talking about here, it's just thermodynamics.

Stars die, but it's not like they cease existing. They don't poof away - there are different forms they can take, but they're all corporeal in some way. They're all still there. It's the same way with fandoms, I think. The content is still there, so it's not really dead, because it's not really forgotten. The form that they take in the end, whether cancelled or hated or beloved, it's different but it's still a star. Their remains might be used to build new stars, new galaxies that needed that fuel source that will eventually become long forgotten. It may make a vacuum that consumes everything in sight, until something else comes to fill its place. The process to that death takes millions of years. It's all so interesting and terrifying and makes you think that maybe it's not worth it to be near a star at all.

I'm leaving this off with a note of encouragement, as someone who's written a lot of original stories that never got attention, characters that were scrapped or dumped on me 'divorce-custody of the kids-style', fandoms that I've left; it's so worth it to waste that time. There's no such thing as destroyed energy and there's no such thing as wasted time when it's something you enjoyed doing. Join whatever fandom you want at whatever dedication level you wish to give it. It's all here to have fun with, anyways. Art is here to make us feel. It wants to be remembered. Your art isn't dead, as long as you're still a fan of it. Your OC doesn't die until you tell them to.

I got the last half of the title of this from the last two songs on Muse's The 2nd Law album. The first half comes from Muse's song Dead Star, on an EP album of the same name. Give them a listen, if you want!

[bllsbailey]

NEW: Internal Tensions Roil Kamala Harris Campaign Even As Press Declares Nothing but 'Joy'

The thing about putting lipstick on a pig is that underneath the lipstick, you've still got a pig. That's the Kamala Harris campaign right now, at least according to a new report on the internal tensions roiling her operation. 

There's no doubt the vice president turned presidential nominee without winning a single primary vote has some momentum. There is a sheer jubilance among Democrats simply because they have someone other than Joe Biden to vote for. Much of what is bolstering Harris isn't organic, though. It's the result of a relentless press campaign to redefine her as a talented, likable politician full of "joy." MSNBC even compared Harris to Taylor Swift.

But while the propaganda machine is hitting on all cylinders, Kamala Harris is still Kamala Harris, and that's apparent behind the scenes. 

Kamala Harris’ campaign is navigating internal tensions as a team of new senior strategists take hold of an operation largely staffed by people hired when Joe Biden was the Democratic nominee, according to six people, including aides familiar with the dynamics. Longtime Harris loyalists are also chafing at the continuing presence of some Biden aides known for disparaging the vice president, three of the people said. The unfolding friction is the result of an unprecedented overhaul of the Democratic ticket less than three months before the election, a daunting task that requires integrating two political worlds while at the same time selecting a vice presidential nominee and battling former President Donald Trump.

Keep in mind that we are talking about a person who had 92 percent staff turnover in the last four years. That wasn't by sheer chance. Harris is a deeply difficult person to work for, with reports painting her as borderline abusive to her underlings. 

In the case mentioned above, the situation is a bit more complicated. When Biden dropped out of the race, he left behind a fully staffed presidential operation. The last thing Harris wanted to do was start firing people because that would lead to dissent breaking out into the open. That's left the vice president desperately trying to hold a house of cards together that is chock-full of operatives who hate each other. 

The question is how long she can keep this charade going. She has the press on her side, and that's a big asset as far as tamping down leaks.

What Harris does have in her favor right now is time, not because there's so much left before election day but because there's so little left. Given enough time, she would self-destruct as she's always done. Harris has not suddenly become an excellent politician, but if she can stay away from the off-the-cuff situations that have historically haunted her, she may be able to run the clock out. 

Still, there is at least one debate coming up, and that is probably the best chance Donald Trump will get to knock Harris off her astroturfed sugar high. If her campaign begins to falter at all, you could start to see cracks form, given how weak the foundation is. 

[x3rrorx]

Carrying on from the anon who was saying about the momentum slowing down.

I know this will probably sound like criticism but I don't mean it that way.

For me, I think the TDOPOM cycle has just felt overly long, but I think part of that is because of the blow up in their popularity and them taking advantage of that which is understandable.

They released TDOPOM early 2022 and if you look at what they were doing around that time they were going on tour as support for Underoath followed by In This Moment, then spent the summer opening for A Day To Remember before announcing their headliner, A Tour of the Concrete Jungle. All of that was pretty standard for them at that time with where they were in their career and fanbase size.

Around that time is also when they started going viral on tiktok and entered a whole new world of craziness.

Start of 2023 they did A Tour of the Concrete Jungle Europe and went to Australia, but then when they came back to the US they announced Will We Both Go Home Alive? (Was it called that? Did that tour really have a name?) for May and then Concrete Forever for September/October.

Now we're into 2024, coming up to the two year anniversary of TDOPOM release, and we're on Concrete Forever Europe, still got a few Concrete Forever US dates that were rescheduled and added in, and we've not seen the TDOPOM Deluxe yet!

So for one album cycle we've had three headling North American tours, two headling European tours, a trip to Australia, a cycle of American festivals, upcoming American festivals and a summer of European festivals, and the supporting shows they've done with Underoath, In This Moment, A Day to Remember and Bring Me The Horizon. That's a lot!

They've made the most of their rapid growth by packing in tours and shows, but that's obviously not leaving a lot of time for creating, especially when part of their time will be taken up by creating the production for the next tour since their production has grown with every step.

Out of the tours and shows mentioned I think Australia and In This Moment are the only two I haven't been to (Concrete Forever EU is upcoming), so clearly I enjoy watching them perform but I'll admit it's definitely time for something new because the past two years hasn't seen a whole lot of variation in their set list, and I'm not someone who can get out of my mind excited over a few key changes.

Kudos to them for taking advantage of their new success, but there comes a point where you need to say 'enough, enough now' and move on to something new in order to keep enough people engaged with you, and to keep momentum. I know V.A.N is obviously something new, but I do wonder just what the Deluxe is going to give us because it's bold to be that confident that you've kept people waiting two years (possibly more) and that enough people will still buy into it. Obviously looking at their fanbase you know the complete die-hards are going to eat up whatever they get given, but they're not enough to sustain the success Bad Omens have achieved thus far, and I've seen a lot of people question the time frame on the Deluxe. There's also the question of whether we'd even be getting a Deluxe on this speculated scale if they hadn't enjoyed the success they have, or if it might have been more like FGBGFM, or if there would have even been a deluxe at all.

Personally, I'm more excited for the fourth studio album, and I think then we'll have a better idea of where Bad Omens could sit in history and how sustainable their current popularity is. Plus, I'm just looking forward to completely new music from them and a new performance cycle.

[shirecorn]

how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?

Long post warning.

Art block...

I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years

I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?

Maybe... I'll just start rambling.

There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.

Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.

Method 1: Rest

Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.

Method 2: Action

I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.

Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.

The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.

Art block causes and solutions:

- No Inspiration

Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.

Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.

Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.

Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.

Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.

Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.

Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.

Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.

- Everything Sucks

You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.

Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.

Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.

So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.

Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."

Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.

- No Motivation

The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.

You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.

Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.

Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.

Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.

Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.

- Haven't Drawn in So Long

A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.

Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.

Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.

Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.

Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.

Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!

Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.

TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.

Art is a process, not a product.

[honey-lemonz]

Kokushibou [Satisfied smut]

Xmale reader

3rd

Warning! Sexual Content!

Includes: stress sex, fight then fuck, koku being a bratty bottom, biting,blowjob, marking, multiple orgasms ,multiple rounds, over stimulation,  dirty talk, fighting during sex, degradation (heavly). Hiding, slapping, spitng, and a spite fuck. Goodness..Enjoy!

Kokushibou pushed the archer against the wall as both were fighting.

For almost 7 hours.

(M/n) or the archer was happily living on his land and was fine but. The dam fake Samurai had other plans to upset that. Like attacking him. Gods they hated each other..

To the point it was not comical.. no no.

Sexual almost.

Two strong men grunting and groaning, one with blood all over him..for being the one with more hits. Sweat on their bodies and one with his hair arrayed. Kokushibou was losing it.

Internally and externally.

Internally he could not understand why he was feeling slightly aroused in battle, especially with this fucker. The archer demon named Yasumebu (M/n). A demon he hates because he reminds him of his late twin.

Someone who is superior and most likely would be superior to him.

He felt his cock trying to poke in his hakama pants. His kimono was sticking to the sides on his body as he was forced on to the ground. Yasumebe was about to prepare an arrow until..

Kokushibou moved his leg to reveal he was aroused but no on purpose or on invitation. But (m/n) was the only other demon around who could have done this to him. To him it was weird. He froze the arrow and squinted at the Samurai.

He but his foot on Kokushibou's growing hard on and moved it without any sign of being gently. 

Kokushibou groaned and hissed at him. About half of his eyes, the three on the left pinched shut. It was not out of pain but only pleasure. This made Yasumebe..disgusted to say the least.

But also he wanted to kill the upper rank for what he had done...but torture is always a better cause.

"Look at you..you pervert. Getting aroused with me in a fight you picked..how promiscuous..really are that much of a bastard you need a dick in you to make you feel whole?"

He moved his foot more vigorously, it made the upper rank squeak but not moan. No! He will never get any sign of pleasure from him. "I-I am not, aany an c-can get aroused. Never for oor from you-"

"Oh cut the bullshit you bastard. You attack me in my home and demand I die so you an be the best? Or is it jealousy? Jealous of me to the point you want me to fuck you? Make you a proud man with my cock stuffed into all your slutty holes?"

Kokushibou's six eyes widen. He dropped his sword from the feeling. What feeling is this? He asked himself. Demons cannot blush or anything but he could feel his ears burn and his cock ache and throb.

He hated him to the point it turned him on? Is that possible? No.

He hated Yoriichi but they were brothers and that is just wrong...but this dam archer..

Before he realized his mistake of thinking to deep, he got an arrow into his wrist and an arrow shot his sword far away from him.

"Well took you too long to answer the question so it is a yes, isn't it? Gods, I hate you but I always give whores like you a chance. By now you'd probably be satisfied sucking a cock and dying. The great upper rank one? Such a fucking slut.."

The arrow glued his wrist together so he could not move em, he could make another sword but he had to concentrate to do that.  He needed his full energy to do it but his energy was focused on..him..the archer and how he needed t̶o̶ ̶k̶i̶l̶l̶ him.

The archer pulled Kokushibou by his hair next to a stool, he was gracious or caring about it.  He hated him and as did he.

But goodness did he remember how they fought. How strong he looked and how much strength it goes into an arrow. Not that he thought the sport was worth this time, oh never. But him...it made his condition worse. His cock was probably leaking streams of precum.

"Must you fight, I am helping you. Trust me I do not want a whore like you anyways, a good one can shut up and take it..you..most likely are a brat or bitch about it.."

Kokushibou hearing this moved his combined wrist up to scratch the shit out of his arms like a fucking cat.

"Goodness if you want to mark me already! Dam, such a needy bastard...beat how many times you sucked your masters cock all these years...most likely didn't make you choke or gag for the hell of it..but now worries like defeat and death.."

He brought his up to his face. Both were around the same height, so it worked. But Kokushibou was now on a bedding and he was looking up at him. So he felt smaller. He hated it. But it aroused him.

Hate what pleasures you. But between you and I..is not the first he gotten aroused at the thought..

"I make sure to be the one to make it your first.. now if you bite he I cut you cock off too. Got it?"

Hell to Yasumebe it was an excuse to just make him feel a better or worse pain.

"Tsk, as ever I would do as you ask yo-"

He got fucking bitched slapped in the face. "Now I'm going to say this again. You were the one who got to be a perv right? You can suck your masters cock for all of eternity then you can suck a real mans one and not a cowards. Something you need to do. Bite me and you can burn in the sun with my cum all over and inside you. Now be a good brat and suck."

He stood above him with a tight grip on his head and hair. (M/n)'s own cock was out and the marvel it was had the upper rank's mouth salivating.

He just stared at it, like it was something new to him. "What you never seen another mans dick before? Always ready to ride and suck one for you life, so be the slutty brat you are and do what you know best. Go one you need help is my cock to big for your mouth? The one you use to pledge and talk shit? "

In his head he muttered, probably eat it too.

Kokushibou opened his mouth to rebuttal..dumb move. A thick and long length was shoved down deep into his throat. Making his gag on spit and the length. H opened his lower eyes to see not even all of it was in his mouth. The hell?

(M/n) hissed and moved his hips back and forth, he was fucking his face. "Good little slut, do what you know best bastard. Then maybe I can fuck your other hole, maybe even be nice and let you cum.:

Kokushibou groaned on his cock and moved tied wrist to get a grip and move on his own accord, but no avail. His own cock was in need of help. His mind was erasing with how much pleasure would come if he would get fucked like a whore.

Which he is.

His tongue lapped at the lip and it moved in and out his throat. He was pumping his cock with his hands at the same momentum. So feverish and so tempting, it make slick warm between his thighs. His ass flexed at the homewreacking feeling.

His large cock pushing in and out of his made him close two sets of his eyes and let where his true ones stay open. (M/n) hissed and pushed his head all the way to the hilt of his cock and made his stay there. Groaning as Kokushibou's mouth filled with an ocean of cum he swallowed.

The taste wasn't as bad as he imagined. His cock spurted some ropes of cum but he knew with how his luck was playing it would not be the first time tonight. He was allowed to breathe and swallow the rest. 

(M/n) looked down at him, his eyes were glossy and he was gasping for air.."Goodness you really are that bad.."

Kokushibou didn't care about his pride or his will, or even the envy. He felt hatred and pleasure. He needed to feel more, it was so addicting. It was like a slow burn he loved. The fire in the pit of his stomach burned for more. To be full , imagining that amount of cum stuffing his tight entrance or making his abdomen bulge..

To be breeded like a mating whore for him..

(M/n) pushed the Samurai to the side of the bedding and for him to be on his front. Ass up, he pulled the rest of his clothing off him. He would often scratch him or put marks he knew he could heal over..if he was concentrated enough.

His plump ass had goosebumps as his breath glazed across it. No kissing rather biting. He bite down on his ass. "For such a plump ass, you and kiss a lot of it aye? Sluts like you can be so troublesome but in the end.."

H sat up and got close to Kokushibou's ear. He moved his already messy and disheveled hair. His lapped his ear lobe and bite down to make it bleed.

"All of you are just bratty whores who need to be taught their place..." Two fingers were pushed into his slicked up entrance and they clung onto (M/n)'s fingers like glue. Kokushibou moaned out curses as he slumped down. He turned his head to the side to he the rest of his.

It felt too dam good. His fingers were so close to his prostate and so close to making his mind wipe to pure ecstasy and pleasure, even if he wasn't at it already. He moaned out without a care in the world. Asking no begging for more. It made (m/n) want to torture him more..

They did hate each other, but to one it was just funny.

"M-more, please fuck me more gods..please..fu-fu~ck.." he cursed as he spread his legs wider to make his fingers go deeper to touch or even at least brush his prostate.

His eyes were closed except the true ones, the only one he could keep open. Upper rank one was glossy and also looked like a bunch of whores eyes. He bucked his hips when his own forgotten and needy cock was slowly getting pumped.

"Wait- WAI- no ahh~" As soon as he pumped his length and pushed deeper into his hole, feeling for his prostate. He came again onto the bedding. He gasped loudly and slumped over. Kokushibou's cock twitched but was still erect.

"Well, what was it you were saying bastard? Or were you too busy cumming like a little whore to even finish? Hmm well it guess my cock can satisfy your perverted self, disgusting."

He spat on his gasping hole and moved his fingers out. The amount of slick or cum on his fingers made him laugh at the pathetic state of the upper rank. "Wow, such a slut for all this? Wonder how easy it is to break your ass and see you go silly."

He yanked almost his hips back up to his waist, Kokushibou swallowed thickly at what was about to happen. (M/n) stroke himself and placed the tip of his cock on Kokushibou's gaping whole.

"One more thing pervert.."

He leaned forward to upper rank one, Kokushibou felt his chilling breath on his ear. All his eyes widen as his cock slowly pushed into him. 

He whispered:

"I win slut.."

He slammed his cock into him, pushing harshly onto his prostate and making the upper rank yelp and moan loudly. He almost screamed, (M/n) gave him no time to adjust. Rather he fucked him ruthlessly. He used his hair and yanked it, making him look at the ceiling and also to feel himself hit deeper and deeper.

Kokusibou was babbling about more and more. Or how he hated him. Just either 'fuck me' or 'i hate you'. The archer demon did not care. He was a slutty pervert who got what he wanted. A good cock with a good fuck.

"Such a tight- little slutty whole..gods, im going to loosen it up for you and make sure no one couuld fuck you like I- ah~could..you'd like that Kokushibou? To be a slut and ask others to fill you with their cocks like I do?"

He thrusted faster and harder, Kokushibo's prostate was abused and he felt himself cum again and again. Due to his unlimited stamina and would be fine. But he was feeling drained, he felt so fucking stupid. He was getting fucked stupid even more.

(M/n) hissed when Kokushibou tightened around him, he groaned and growled as he shot thick ropes of cum into his ass. Filling him over his opacity and making his abdomen stretch to accommodate to the amount. 

All his eyes, closed with tear stains. Kokushibo's head was let go and he fell straight into the bedding. (M/n) looked at him and didn't bat an eye to spit on his face. His lower half was with filled with cum or covered in it. He cleaned himself and took his arrow out of his wrist and gathered the rest.

He looked one more time at the upper rank. The most feared of them all, looking like a slut in heat. He pulled the hair that would have been a neat pony tail but now is just out and disheveled. He made him look him in his eye.

"See now upper rank? Such a pathetic fighter and warrior, you did do one thing. Your were a decent fuck, not the best but decent." he patted his head and walked out the destroyed house.

Soon it was lit on fire. To destroy what ever was left.

Kokushibou luckily got away and out of the suns fury. But he did hate the archer demon with all he had, and envy him so much. But fuck... he sighed as he stroked his cock from the memory.

"He was right.."

His licked away the cum from his ass as he pulled away his fingers and from his hand. His cock throbbed at the dull feeling. The lackluster feeling inside him only his enemy gave him.

"I am such a whore for yasumebe.."

[teklarn]

𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾 (𝓹𝓽. 2)

 character(s): katsuki bakugou x gn!reader 

a/n: ok so i just started writing on tumblr and honestly in my opinion for my first time posting smth on this the first part did really well thank u for all the likes :) (told from second pov; e.g you, your) reblogs are greatly appreciated :))

summary: bakugou x gn!reader. they have feelings for one another but have no idea how to express them, however y/n has someone pining for their attention. 

genre: a lil bit angsty 

warnings: cursing, jealousy, mutual pining, slow burn romance, aged-up to third year, love triangle (square?), physical injuries, kirishima gets a little toxic, also shirtless bakugou (awooga), a crap ton of time skips bc i can’t write action scenes for shit, bakugou is a flirt (lowkey but yeah), mentions of blood 

word count: 2112

pt 1 , pt 3

- - - 

kirishima had broken the skin on his lower lip with how hard he was biting it. he stood in the bathroom, rinsing his mouth, ignoring the slight sting the water brought. 

y/n was currently being blasted by bakugou, and they were fighting back. 

jealousy panged in his chest. 

bakugou had never let him know about how he felt about you, however kirishima was sure he felt something for them. you and bakugou were both a jumble of prideful and longing stares towards each other from across every room. the tension was thick enough to slice through. and while kirishima would never make a move in fear of ruining the friendship between him and bakugou, as well as him and y/n, gosh it didn’t stop him from wanting to. 

he’d stood on the side, cheering you on to no end. the sports festival last year, the year before that, training exercises, he was always there. kirishima was always there. 

whenever you needed him, whenever you wanted his company. so what did bakugou have over him? sure, the blond was strong and had bigger goals than kirishima, but why should that matter? 

what did bakugou have? why would you want him more when he was never near you? never made an effort to see you to be there when you asked for help. 

it was popular belief that bakugou was a noisy idiot, but he was actually quite a quiet boy. he didn’t bother to raise his hand in class, however he always knew the answer. he spoke rarely and only made conversation with those he was close with if they were the ones to make the effort to converse with him first. 

jealousy, jealousy, jealousy. kirishima despised it. 

whenever did he begin wanting to beat bakugou at something? 

the cloud of guilt welling up in his chest was going to become unbearable, and soon everything he ever wanted to say was going to come up like word vomit at the worst possible time. 

- 

you swiped at your cheek, brushing off the crumbling dirt. your timing had been off, and their flip backwards had landed you in an awkward position. a vulnerable one. 

honestly, though, it wasn’t like it really mattered. bakugou was a bit transparent himself. he wore a smug look like a golden medal, and held back his power just enough to keep you on your feet. 

his cocky attitude was irritating and it drew you in like a moth drawn to a lamp. 

sweat was beading down your temple. the day was exceptionally hot, the sun beaming down on your back like a proud child. 

you and bakugou had been at it for a while. with anyone else, you would have quit by now. it’s not that you gave up easily. no, not ever. but fights could get boring, especially if you were just smashing away at them with your quirk and they were acting like they could take it. 

perhaps you were being cocky. 

this fight, though. this was interesting. not only because it was bakugou; also because you knew so little about him. 

it was likely he never shared anything important to anyone. he was quite introverted. 

it was interesting for another reason. 

it was hot, bakugou sweats a lot. gosh, he looked delicious without a shirt on. he had a built figure accompanied by strong arms and a broad chest. 

he’d filled out quite nicely the past few years. you hadn’t noticed until now how much he’d grown. 

“don’t get distracted.” 

your eyes snapped up from his chest to his eyes. bakugou became a blur, shooting himself off the ground and flipping once in the air before propelling himself back down. 

before you could do anything, bakugou had you pinned, one leg pinning yours, both his hands wrapped around your wrists. he’d ditched his gauntlets, leaving the metal assistants in the sweltering heat, claiming he wanted to give you an equal fight. 

he panted atop you, hands tightening. 

tokage didn’t bother to leave her dorm today, thank goodness. it had just been the three of you. you, bakugou, and kirishima. 

the red head had suspiciously vanished halfway through the fight, though.

bakugou’s crimson eyes bored into yours. neither of you blinked for a moment. perhaps just a small eternity each of you silently reveled in. 

his erratic breaths slowed, and so did yours, although you stayed the same. unmoving, faces neutral but eyes giving away long-held secrets. 

your ears flushed, and butterflies came rising up uncontrollably. you should have pushed him off. instead you gave him a wicked grin, which earned a look from him and you couldn’t tell if he was confused or annoyed. 

“your big ass forehead is blocking the bright-as-hell sun. stay like this,” you mocked, wrenching your wrists from his grasp and snaking your arms around his neck. 

his cheeks burned red. “w-what?” 

“you heard me.” 

he scoffed, tugging you off his neck and standing. “shut up, shitface. we aren’t even done yet.” he readied himself in a fighting stance once more. 

“i thought you said you wanted to stop when you won?” you brushed yourself off as you stood. 

“i know what i said. you probably weren’t even giving it your all.” 

“’course i was.” you cocked your head. “why wouldn’t i?” 

“you’re strong, damn idiot.” 

you feigned surprise, pressed a hand to your fluttering chest. “the bakugou, dynamight himself, complimenting a humble soul like me? oh, i really must be good, then.” 

“not as good as me.” his face dropped from a smile. bakugou never got enough training no matter how early or late he stayed up, or how many hours on the weekends were spent kicking a bag or sparring with friends. hard workers did all of the work there was a still wondered if they were doing enough. the number one spot wasn’t empty, but it was still reserved for dynamight. 

- 

y/n had collapsed on their bed. kirishima was itching to tell them how he felt, however he was stuck at the doorway. 

they weren’t even dressed for bed, nor were they showered. 

he settled with leaving his friend alone, and shut the door softly to find bakugou standing right behind him. 

kirishima jumped back, closing his eyes in relief. “bakugou. what the heck man?” 

“you’re creepy as shit.” 

“i- what? you were the one staring at me while i-” 

“while you peeped in on y/n?” 

“i wasn’t peeping. i walked them back after the fight and they just collapsed. you were off doing something else and you worked them too hard.” 

it wasn’t a shock that bakugou was still riled up from the duel. this boy had the energy of a mad man. 

when bakugou didn’t say anything, kirishima said once again, “you overworked them.” 

bakugou swat away the comment. “only because they’re not working hard enough.” 

kirishima raised an eyebrow. “they work hard. they’re perfectly fine.” 

“fine?” 

“they’re amazing.”

“i know that, shitty hair. you think i’m blind?” 

“everyone can make improvements at their own pace.” kirishima’s voice dropped. 

“you train with me.” 

“it’s an hour before curfew.” 

bakugou jut a thumb in the direction of the door. “so? maybe you need some more practice, too,” he joked. 

“you’re an ass, bakugou,” kirishima released a breathy chuckle. 

the two wandered off to one of the training grounds. it was open, a wide court where they’d both kicked someone else’s ass. 

the sun was just setting, a new cool breeze coming to fill the spot of the violent sun rays. 

it was routine to fight each other out of nowhere. kirishima was usually quite playful, spewing jokes once in a while and taunting his friend. 

this fight was different. his face was stone-cold. kirishima often took the defensive role, as his quirk didn’t allow him to project any direct attacks to bakugou.

it wasn’t like kirishima was angry at bakugou, but as soon as they started charging towards one another, he couldn’t hold back. his chest tightened, arms hardening and joints becoming strong and stiff. 

with one clean sweep of his arm, bakugou was backing away from kirishima, propelling himself to the edge of the arena with a small blast. he’d always been up for a challenge. kirishima was willing to give him one. 

his sudden competitive demeanor seemed to be egging on bakugou’s. the blond tongued the inside of his cheek, grunting as he shot forth, hair flying wildly. 

swiftly, kirishima dodged, just barely missing a blast. his torso wasn’t hardened, so if he’d dodged any later, his stomach would have been scorched. 

bakugou always took their fights seriously. he knew better than to underestimate the boy who had put together his very own rescue mission. 

kirishima’s opponent stumbled from the momentum. he took his chance and brought a hardened elbow down on bakugou’s back, hearing a satisfying crack. 

bakugou was crushed to the ground with the hit. his face smashed into the sandy ground. he coughed, turning over and spitting dirt to the side. 

it took a moment for him to register what he did, but kirishima was at bakugou’s side within seconds. the sun was nearly gone, a pale blue sky flickering with the first sights of stars. 

it was hard to make it out at first, but not impossible. kirishima saw the blood dripping and smeared just above bakugou’s lip. he groaned, cupping his face in both hands as he sat upright. 

“argh” bakugou gasped. “shit, kirishima. what the hell?” 

“i...i’m sorry dude, i didn’t mean to.” i wanted to, but i didn’t mean to. 

bakugou raised an eyebrow and let a smile seep through his pain. “you’re improving, though.” 

“are you alright?” kirishima traced the small cut on his lip from earlier with the tip of his tongue. 

“i’m fine, i’m fine.” bakugou swatted his hand away. he struggled to get up, refusing kirishima’s help. 

“we should head back before this gets any worse.” 

bakugou kept his large hands hovering under his chin to catch the dripping and occasional chunks of blood.  

although he wanted the duel to continue (it was finally interesting) bakugou wasn’t stubborn enough to keep going. so he nodded, once again denying kirishima’s efforts to help him out. 

- 

you were in the common area, fiddling with a rubik’s cube. it was just you, as everyone else was spending the night among each other. ashido had invited you to her dorm a while ago, but you’d denied, wanting to spend a few more giddy moments to yourself. 

the door rattled, and in came your two friends, one with furrowed brows and the other with blood drenching the front of his shirt. 

bakugou’s head was tilted up in an attempt to stop the blood from flowing down. his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the blood trailing down the back of his throat. 

“oh my gosh,” you gasped out, racing to the bathroom. you came back with sanitary wipes in one hand and tissue in the other. “what happened?” 

“we were training,” kirishima started, taking a few tissues from the box and handing them to his friend, “and i accidentally hit him too hard.” 

“you didn’t hit me that hard. you barely did any damage!” bakugou objected. you approached him, and through his fingers, bakugou peered down at you. 

you asked him with your eyes, and he gave you silent permission to pry his arms away from his face. “are you okay?” 

“i’m just dandy,” he scoffed. 

“dude, i’m really sorry—” 

“shut the hell up kirishima. i don’t want your pity. i swear this is the only time i’ll surrender to you, you asswipe.”

you didn’t laugh, not even a chuckle. “bakugou, you need to see recovery girl.” 

“what the hell? no way. all she’s gonna do is give me one of those shitty slobbery kisses and scold me for being careless.” 

“your nose is broken,” you said gently. 

“so? can’t you fix it?” 

you raised a questioning brow. “you want me to help you?” 

“can you or can you not?” 

“i can try to set it but you’re better off going to recovery girl instead of settling with―” 

“all i need is possible. i don’t want to deal with that old lady’s shit right now.” using the tissues kirishima had stuffed into his hand, he caught the remaining blood dripping down his nose. “let’s go.” 

you were more than unsure. he would end up with a crooked nose if you made any small mistake, but he didn’t think twice as he grabbed your shoulder and led you in the direction of your dorm. 

- 

kirishima wished he hadn’t broken bakugou’s nose. not because he felt bad, though. 

[minahoeshi]

you were loved the most the most of all.

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader | breakup angst

Summary: You should've known that when Ushijima Wakatoshi found it easy to fall in love with you, it might be even easier for him to fall out of it. But who expects the worst when it comes to loving someone as seemingly perfect as him, anyway?

Chapter 1 of 2

Chapter 2 of 2

Middle schooler Ushijima Wakatoshi was already more special than the kids around him. This, he was made to believe. It’s not exactly like it was wrong either. When a child is raised the way he was, with so much support that it’s suffocating, one can only grow to be good at what they were told they were meant to be doing. Volleyball as a toddler was meant for the happier times, a memory locked away as nothing but a feeling of nostalgia, never to be completely remembered again. Volleyball as a middle school player was an endless beginning, the very first point of a journey with no real possible end. Volleyball as one of the best among kids of his age, proven by the strength his high school team was known for and the fact that he was already on the world stage as well, could only ever spur him on to keep the momentum. Keep climbing, he would be reminded. Never stop. That’s how you reach the peak. Whether he would break after all that or rise to the very top was never even a matter of discussion. The way to the top was the only one there was. Looking back down and allowing himself to just freefall until the top becomes a distance almost crossed but never reached wasn’t ever an option. Wakatoshi could only ever aim for the very peak.

So, Wakatoshi, how’s volleyball as a pro?

The feeling of a dream-come-true that never was a dream, he might say. But him and sentimental descriptions simply didn’t really mix much. You were the one filled to the brim with those kinds of words. Maybe flowers laced the walls of your chest, maybe when God kicked Adam and Eve out of Eden, he left the garden to grow and flourish within your lungs, maybe you unknowingly raised every single Godly creation and so you were blessed with the power to create as well. You were full of flowery words, that’s what he knows. He would listen to every single one of them, count every petal, water every plant, kiss every one of them in their full bloom, and watch as sunlight filtered orange sets on all that you are. He’s always liked plants. But yours were his favourite.

So he wonders why the point where he could no longer listen to your words had to come. Why he looked at you and only felt the kind of fondness that comes with familiarity but not exactly love. Why the way your hands entwined with his no longer fills his chest with warmth. Why the abyss he spent trying to fill before you arrived (and made him realise maybe empty spaces were never meant to be filled to feel full but instead filled to feel warm) now feels extremely cold again. So maybe things like love do end. And maybe he made promises too soon.

So maybe when you told him about your mother and father and about how they made promises too but couldn’t come through, and when Wakatoshi thought you won’t ever be the same, he was wrong. Maybe one of them realised letting go when love no longer feels the same is better than letting their hands stay entwined when there’s only numbing coldness left to be felt. So maybe it’d do you better for him to let things end. From this point onwards, whatever he does will only ever hurt you. Because you crave the kind of affection that won’t ever end, and how he wish he could keep giving that to you, but he just no longer can. And staying with him who, for whatever fucked up reason the cosmos came up with, can no longer find the love he spent years sharing with you, is something he would never wish upon you.

This fucking hurts. How he fucking wants to keep loving you. What the hell happened?

After you left, Wakatoshi skipped training. He felt bad for eating the omelette when you cooked it to wish him luck. But he ate it anyway, wondering if he will ever see you again. And if so, will he feel find himself feeling the way he used to? And if yes, would you want that?

How do feelings work anyway?

--

You get to work right away. Still feeling heavy and hurt, sobbing at times, you keep collecting Wakatoshi’s things from your apartment. There were a lot. You were both comfortable with sharing your spaces with each other anytime you both wanted. Sometimes leaving things behind caused problems like that time Wakatoshi left his jersey in your apartment and only realized on the day of a game. You had to head to the gym earlier than you usually do, thankfully having washed the clothing a few days before. It’s actually there again, you find. His Schweiden Adler jersey in your closet among the pile of his other shirts and pyjamas. You put all that and other things into a box and close it up. For now, you’ll clean your place and get some sleep. You slept late last night and you woke up too early. Dealing with lack of sleep and the taxing feelings of ache after a breakup was too much. You were exhausted.

The moment you lie on your bed, you feel yourself falling asleep. And then you do. World gone.

You wake up at around lunch and take a short shower. You dress up, carry the box of Wakatoshi’s stuff, head out, lock your door, and go on your away to Tendou’s chocolate shop. You weren’t friends with him before you met Wakatoshi. So, you guess, maybe this will be the last you see him too. When people lose others, they either prefer to keep remembering or completely forget. For your sake, you’d rather be the latter.

Tendou’s shop isn’t close enough to the train station. You have to walk a few more minutes before you reach it. The box you’re carrying isn’t exactly heavy but you still feel sluggish even after that nap. You stop by a café to gather your wits and rest a bit. When you meet Tendou, you know he’ll greet you brightly. Toshi wouldn’t have told him that you broke up just yet. You realised long ago that unless asked by people, Toshi would rather not say anything most of the time. His silence was one you grew used to. Now you have to get used to not being around it anymore.

When you enter the chocolate shop, you see his red hair behind the counter right away. Quite the opposite of Wakatoshi, he’s lively and loud when he wants to be. Like right now, as he’s talking to a costumer, excitedly helping them choose one of the products they’re looking for. You wait until he’s done, just sending him a wave when he sees you, smiling. When the costumer leaves, you head for the counter and place the box you’ve been holding on top pf it.

Loudly, as you expected, he says, “hello! What brings you here? Haven’t seen you in like, three days, I think? You need anything? Where’s Wakatoshi-san? He’s not with you? Why?”

His barrage of questions won’t be left unanswered. But first, you nudge the box toward him. “Uhm, yeah, haven’t seen you in days. I… uhm, I’m here to ask you to do something. Related to Toshi-kun, of course, and well, why he’s… not, uhm, here…? With me?”

You stutter a lot mainly because you don’t exactly feel like announcing that Wakatoshi broke up with you. Tendou simply seems extremely excited to see you and even hopeful to see his best friend too but right now, you just feel like crying all over again It’s like you just can’t run out of tears. You just know that after this, you’ll go home and sob the rest of the day away. Breaking up with Wakatoshi hurt you a lot.

The redhead urges you on, concern beginning to appear on his face. What with the way you’re stuttering and fidgeting when you’re usually so comfortable around him and other people, it’s easy to tell that you’re not feeling too well. Clearly, something must have happened between you and Wakatoshi.

“So… we… kind of broke up…?” the lack of certainty in your voice makes it seem as though you’re still unsure if things really did end between you and the pro-athlete you’ve spent years with. But with the way Wakatoshi told you his reasons for breaking up last night, and how he didn’t want to keep hurting you because you’ve already talked to him about two other people who met and fell in love and did many things and yet still fell out of it but tried to hold on for too long that they ended up tearing each other down until even their daughter started to break with them until it’s just one tiny family with sharp shards for hearts, only capable of hurting each other and nothing more (some daughters grow up wanting to be anything but their mothers and fathers). Of course, Wakatoshi never mentioned that story, but you both knew that when he said he knows he can only really hurt you even more if he lets things run as they always did, he meant, we’re not your parents. We won’t tear each other down. If you go now, you’ll be okay enough to not be the person you’ll come to hate.

The only thing you allow Tendou to know is that you and Wakatoshi are no longer dating and that you’re both okay with it. You leave it at that, and when Tendou gives you a hug, the pain in your chest runs up your throat and you start crying again but that’s alright because Tendou reminds you that you’re sad and hurt and crying makes sense and crying helps and crying is fine and maybe crying makes it hurt a little bit less. He pats your back and says nothing after that, simply letting you calm down.

Before you leave, you purchase a few sweets because Tendou told u it’ll help. Chocolates and sadness work too well with each other.

–

The last time Wakatoshi remembers talking to you was around a year after your breakup. He and his team known to be one of the bests of Japan lost against the bests of Argentina in the Olympics. The world stage wasn't a strange new world to him and neither was loss, but for the first time in many years, the man found himself burdened by the weight of too many regrets.

He knew then that maybe it wasn't exactly losing against Argentina that made him feel this way. Maybe the emptiness he so desperately filled by pouring too much of his days into training and playing was finally there to break him. Maybe the whole time he was thinking he was getting there, not knowing where, only hoping to keep going because he just doesn't know where he can stop to lay his pieces down, he was only distracted enough to not miss the warmth you brought with you which you took with you when he broke your heart. And so when he lost that game, he questioned what could possibly keep him going. When does this journey end? Until when must he keep going? His parents never told him when he was younger. All this time, he only knew to keep forward. Now that he has won one too many games and finally lost one of the most important games he could play, he finds himself wondering if he should stop here now.

And because you knew him too much, you just had to, you know, be that rock that kept him steady even after he hurt you. He went and broke your heart for reasons he himself still cannot really explain, like how the fuck he knew he was no longer in love with you, and why the fuck is he still missing you, and is God playing with him right fucking now? So you just had to call him when he was all alone in his hotel room, mind messed up in so many ways. Your voice just to had to be there. To tell him, you did so well today. To be honest, I haven't watched much of your games recently but I felt like I just had to watch this one. And it was so awesome. It makes me wanna start watching you play again. You're amazing, Wakatoshi-kun. I'm so proud of you.

And then a year later, Wakatoshi finds out that you finally published the novel you’ve been working on since way before he met you. In the first message you sent him, you attached a picture of your book, saying, look at the name on the cover. are you proud of me yet? I am too<3. Better grab yourself a copy before there's none left, right? He couldn't say for sure why you decided to message him about it. It wasn't like you stayed in contact, both of you aware of how much you preferred not facing the past if you had the choice. That time after he lost against Tooru Oikawa's team in the Olympics and you gave him a call was because you're just that kind. You're just that amazing.

But like many things he'll never understand, he just lets this one be. So what if you told him about your book? He should be thankful enough that you even decided to tell him about it. So he goes and buys a copy and reads it as soon as he gets home. It's not like he's big on reading. But he just really likes your words.

Epilogue

...and if someday we find ourselves in a universe where soulmates are filled to the brim with not only stardust but also pure serendipity, I wonder what kind of mark we would have. I kinda wish it'd be that one where ink on my skin gets inked on yours too. Then maybe it'd be so much easier to tell you all the secrets I've been trying to keep. Like how I spent too many years regretting not succumbing in that green lake back home or how sometimes I bleed all over in red angry lines running down like red angry tears, and how much you made me just want to live because you just made me feel loved the most of all. Because maybe you were my finallyfinallyfinallyfinally before you were my whywhywhywhywhywhy.

The End

A/N

Hello. I deeply feel how flawed this fic is but that's fine. I'm still learning how to write stories because I've been writing prose more than anything else. So stories like this do kinda scare me. But I still hope you liked it and thank you so much for reading it!!!!

also, not proofread. it's p hard for me to reread my own works so im v sorry for any mistakes and stuff. if u find any mistakes and whatnot pls pls pls tell me. thats all i hope u enjoyed this v much shouldve stayed in the drafts fic. mwa!

taglist:

@lordmypantsaresocool

@annoyingpessimist

@ushijimacentral

[abundanceofnots]

a little (just under 2k) playground scene with Lip and Ian as dads, as per @pink--and--white's request. i apologize to all actual parents in advance.

“How the fuck did we get here?” Lip asks through a huff of incredulous laughter.

Ian shades his eyes from the sun, turning to his older brother with a look of mock concern. “Your memory that bad already, old man? We drove here.”

It earns him a stinging smack on his thigh.

“Asshole,” Lip retorts back. “You know what I mean.”

Ian’s eyes flit back to the scene before them. “Yeah, I do,” he confirms a beat later, his voice more earnest this time.

This, by far, isn’t a new feeling. Lip’s had the exact same thought pass through his mind countless times in recent years, always in a momentary flash of warmth that filled up his whole chest. It happens all the more often now over the most mundane shit, though.

The first time was, probably, when Freddie was born. Then Ian got married, and Al came along, and Liam got to a good school—and after that followed every other quiet (not literally) evening when the whole family gathered up in the kitchen.

In those instants, Lip would stall himself for just a second, getting lost in the overwhelming sounds and visuals, and think, what the fuck.

He’s getting soft. That’s it, most likely. He’s getting soft and sentimental, going on with his extremely unexceptional life, wondering how in the hell did a piece of shit like himself get so lucky, and slowly becomes someone he’d gladly punch in the face not too long ago.

It hits him hard again, this strange sense of pride and wonder, as he sits next to his baby brother on a bench overlooking a kids’ playground.

This one’s the real deal. Everything here is child-proof and clean, with no syringe or dogshit in sight. Frank or some random homeless guy aren’t lying in a drunken coma by the swing sets. There’s not even one bullet hole in the slide. And maybe it’s not so hard to admit that this is actually pretty nice. That this is them now.

Still, the whole thing is, without a doubt, totally ridiculous. Here they are, Lip and Ian—the college dropout and the ex-con, the true sons of the South Side—sneakily munching on their kids’ packed afternoon snacks.

“Dumb luck, I guess,” Ian answers Lip’s question after some musing and takes a sip from Toe’s pink-colored juice box.

Lip hmms before he bites into a baby carrot. “For us, or them?”

“For us. Definitely.”

They’re just two regular dads who carry around lunchboxes and always have a wet wipe or a pack of tissues at hand, ready to blow noses and wipe off residue chocolate from chins and hands. There aren’t enough words in the English language that would describe how incredibly ridiculous this is, because once upon a time, not too long ago, still, Ian wore a jumpsuit with Dav on the nametag and believed this was it for him, and Lip thought the only way to get through life was by drinking himself through the ordeal.

How the fuck did they get here?

“Freddie! Hey, Freddie!” Lip calls out to his oldest, who hangs upside down from the monkey bars, effectively ignoring him. “Fred!” he tries again with an annoyed sigh, and the boy finally remembers how his ears work. “Can you help your cousin on the slide?”

“Okay!”

With a swift motion, Freddie pulls himself up again to grab hold of a bar, unhooking his knees in the process, and jumps down into the sand with practiced ease. He then immediately gets into a run, coming behind the red-headed girl in black overalls who’s been trying to climb the gentle ramp on her own.

“What was that about?” Ian inquires amusedly.

“Early puberty, I think. He doesn’t want us to call him Freddie anymore. It’s Fred. No Fredster, no Fredtastic, definitely no Fredosaurus. Just Fred. Apparently, I went to bed, and my son turned into a middle-aged man overnight.”

“Oof. That’s rough.”

“Yeah. The next thing I know, he’s gonna get a neck tattoo and his first STI. Al, buddy!” His younger son Alvin, at least, seems to have no trouble with hearing. “You need help? Want me to push you?”

“No, I’m good!” the blond kid shouts back from the swing, and to prove his point, he pushes himself harder off the ground to gain momentum.

Lip scratches his forehead. “They don’t need me anymore,” he comments darkly. “I am officially a bother.”

“You’ve always been a bother,” Ian notes before he stuffs his mouth full of grapes. “Come on, Lip. Freddie’s eight. He’s not exactly packing his bags to leave home. He’s still very much a daddy’s boy.”

“I don’t know, man. When I remember what I was already doing when I was his age….”

“Yeah, but that’s different. They’re not like us. They don’t need to be, and that’s a good thing.”

Ian’s right, but the concept of normal as something desirable, something he doesn’t necessarily need to rebel against, is something Lip may never fully come to grasps with. And neither does Ian, even if he says otherwise.

“We might be getting a dog,” Lip says after a while, pausing before he sinks his teeth into a cheese stick.

“No way!” Ian smirks at him. “Look at you, perfect American family and shit.”

Lip snorts at that. He and Tami are pretty damn far from perfect. “You not thinking about getting a pet? A friendly rottweiler for Mickey, perhaps?”

“No. First, I gotta talk him into having another kid.”

That takes Lip by surprise. He knows Ian absolutely adores his little girl, his mini ginger twin that everyone got to call Toe, short for Tomato, but he also knows the whole story behind how she came to be.

“Oh, yeah? You’d like another?”

“Yeah,” Ian admits, and as his eyes drop to his lap where his fingers fiddle with a paper straw, Lip realizes he sounds ashamed about it.

“Not as easy as poking holes in condoms with you guys, huh?” he jokes to release the sudden tension.

“Hah. No.”

“You told Mickey yet?”

Meeting his brother’s eyes again, Ian gives a noncommittal shrug. “I hinted.”

From experience, Lip knows that hinting in Ian’s case almost exclusively means Mickey is fully aware of his intentions and just chooses to ignore them before Ian confronts him head-on.

“Hopefully, you’ll have another girl,” he tells Ian after a quiet moment filled with children’s high-pitched screams and the steady screeching of a swing set. “It’s a lot more physical with boys. These two are already fighting like we used to.”

“Doesn’t really matter when you’re raising a Milkovich,” Ian remarks before yelling: “Hey, Toe? You wanna have a sip of your juice for me?”

The girl waves at them eagerly as she slides down the bendy chute. Getting to a run right as her feet touch the ground, she comes to a jolty halt in front of them, taking a good, hard look at the juice box as if only now realizing what’s expected of her.

“No, thank you,” Toe then peeps and skips off again.

“Polite,” Lip appraises.

Ian gives a low chuckle. “Fuckin’ weird, huh?”

“With Mickey as her dad? A little.”

They watch the kids play for a few minutes. Ian offers to exchange a cheese stick for three grapes, and Lip negotiates it up to five before agreeing.

“You think he’d be against it? Having another kid?” he asks Ian mid-chew.

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame him, after all the shit with Terry. Maybe with a second kid, he’d think there’d be twice the damage he could do. Dunno,” Ian surmises uncertainly. “I know how hard it was for him to even want a kid, and I get why he was scared. Don’t get me wrong, I’m shitting myself every day when I think of the ways I could fuck this up. But he’s a great dad. You saw him with Toe. She’s obsessed with him. The way she laughs at everything he says makes you think he invented comedy or something.”

Lip’s aware that their conversation turned sort of serious once again, but he can’t help not breaking into a smile. “Sounds like you’re kinda jealous of your husband there, Ian.”

“Oh, I hate his guts,” his brother confirms, only partially kidding. “I’m a fun dad, too, you know.” As if on cue, a figure coming their way catches his attention, and Ian nods to where his daughter’s playing, telling Lip: “Okay, watch this.”

Mickey gestures at Freddie with a finger to his lips, coming around the slide just in time to catch his daughter in his arms with a victorious roar.

“Daddy!” Toe announces the good news to everyone around with a loud squeal.

Ian gives his brother a pointed look.

“Fuck, man,” Lip huffs with mock seriousness. “You tellin’ me she loves her dad? What a nightmare.”

“Yo, lunch ladies.” Mickey suddenly approaches them with Toe at his hip. “How ’bout less chit-chatting and more kid-watching? Think I’d remember if I left my kid with a giant fuckin’ bruise on her forehead this morning.”

“Yeah. She’s had a bit of a scuffle with Alvin earlier,” Ian says, reaching out to soothingly rub Toe’s calf as if said scuffle and the tears it brought weren’t already long forgotten.

“The hell’s he doin’ fightin’ someone half his size?!”

“She started it!” Lip counters weakly.

“Okay.” Mickey’s mouth hangs open for a minute before he finds his figurative footing again. “I guess she had her reasons for that. And you should teach your kids to not fight dirty.”

“I go play now,” Toe informs him then, putting a stop to his rant and his bad mood in one go.

“Yeah! You do that!” Mickey replies as he puts her down, matching her level of enthusiasm. She heads for the extensive pirate-ship-like construction this time, watchful cousin Freddie already on her heels, and Mickey drops heavily next to his husband, letting out a prolonged groan into his hands.

“Tough day?” Ian asks needlessly.

“Igor’s a fuckin’ idiot.”

“Told you he was.”

“And I agree, so drop it, a’ight? Hey, by the way.”

“Hey,” Ian echoes before they exchange a quick kiss.

Mickey notices the juice in his hands then and perks up. “That raspberry?” he checks after he’s already snagged the box for himself, taking loud slurps from it to get every last drop. He finishes off with a belch. “Fuckin’ love raspberry.”

Lip finds that anything he’d say at that moment would only spoil the natural fucking beauty of it, so he just appreciates with a private snicker.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Toe yells from the top of one of the pirate ship’s smaller slides. “Come play!”

Mickey pats at Ian’s thigh. “That’s on you, man. I’m beat.”

Putting his fun-dad face on, Ian heaves himself up without a complaint. “Hey, jellybean! Do you think your dad can fit on the slide, too?”

Toe shakes her head vehemently, giggling as she watches Ian jog toward her. “No, daddy! No! No!”

“What, you don’t think I can?” Ian asks again, halfway through his climb up on the board. “Well, take off your socks now because they might get blown off! I’mma fit!”

“Daddy!” Toe howls with laughter as he bumps his head on one of the low railings.

Beside Lip, Mickey imitates the reaction, both his hand and the phone he’s holding with it to record a video visibly shaking. When he notices Lip staring, his grin falters a little.

“These two jokers,” Mickey complains after he ends the recording. “She always laughs at everything he does like he invented comedy or some shit.”

Lip answers with a knowing smile, his chest feeling full of warmth.

Seriously, how the fuck did they get here?

[cozycottagetarot]

Pick A Pile: Your Next 6 Months

July - December 2021

Disclaimer: All readings and tarot/blog games are for fun and entertainment purposes only. It is in no way meant to act as or replace professional advice of any kind. You know yourself and what’s going on in your life best so I asks that you trust yourself above all else. Finally please take only what resonates from the reading which may be some of it, all of it, or none at all.

Reading Specific Disclaimer: Keep in mind this is just for fun and ultimately your actions and things you can’t control are the factors that will truly determine how the next 6 months pan out for you.

PILE 1

Theme // The Lovers Rx — Hello Pile 1! The theme for your next 6 months are all about finding your passion and building a relationship with yourself. Are you going through a rough patch right now Pile 1? Because I’m seeing you getting out of it or having a major shift by the end of the year.

July // Knight of Cups — With the knight of cups, I see you need to get your mood and mindset in check during the month of July. The energy you are in right now could be sooo much better my love. I feel like you’re holding back, there’s this brooding energy I’m picking up on. Focus on expressing yourself in some format (creatively, journaling, when talking to others) because if you do so I see you can allow yourself to begin this journey of transformation.

August // Seven of Pentacles — I’m picking up this energy you may potentially have of “when will things start to get better?” The answer— when you start putting in the work. That’s what August is about. Take some time during this month to really check your strategy at whatever it is you’re brooding about and come up with a game plan.

September // Ten of Swords Rx — So far if you’ve taken the tarot’s advice, then in September you’ll find yourself finding your momentum and strength again as the Ten of Swords Rx can signal getting off of rock bottom in a sense.

October // Ace of Pentacles — To me aces represent new beginnings. During the month of October something you’ve been manifesting (remember August?) is going to start coming thru. I’m also picking up on your financial situation improving or new financial opportunity coming through.

November // Ace of Swords — Your are going to be able to think and see things much clearer during November Pile 1. I don’t see a major ‘aha’ moment, but I do sense a subtle "oh my gosh look how well I’ve been doing" type of energy. 6 may also be a number of importance for you here too.

December // Death — Finally we’ve made it to December and I feel so much good vibes. The previous months may have been… challenging and have pushed you to grow, but when I look at the cards I see something beautiful, and I see progression. You started out, Pile 1, with the knight of cups riding forward with his/their white horse, cup in hand (an intention of sorts) and end with Death on their white horse but now a skeleton holding a flag of what we’ll call victory. I know, it sounds morbid, but the point I’m trying to make is that Death represents transitions and endings, and that is what December had in stored for you.

Oracle Card — Chant//Invoke

Yogi Tea Messages — “In every moment of life, you should be what you ought to be.” | “If we are happy, everybody looks up and shares our happiness.”

PILE 2

Theme // The Fool — Pile 2, I’m not sure the cards wanted you to know what’s in store for you over the course of the next three months. Therefore your reading is kind of short so if you have specific questions just send it in an asks. The general energy is very guarded. The fool here represents, beginnings and potential.

July // Ace of Cups — Ace of Cups is mainly about love and peace. I felt inclined to draw another card and out popped the Ten of Swords. Maybe you’ve had a not-so great experience happen recently, and July is about healing from it and trying to find a place of love and peace within yourself.

August // The Hermit — On this idea or energy, I see The Hermit as hinting that during the month of August you may find yourself doing a lot of self reflection Pile 2. I wanted to know what you were potentially doing self reflection on and out came the Six of Wands which, summarised, is about success and recognition. Self reflection on your progress maybe?

September // Death Rx — During the month of September beware of being resistant. Alternately, things maybe moving slowly and in wanting things to move faster, you maybe creating resistance to your blessings coming thru. Ultimately going with the flow.

October // Eight of Wands — I moved the eight of wands and under it was The Star which I hadn’t realised and was pleasantly surprised. With these two cards, I’m hearing if you heed death’s advice of being aware of your resistance to whatever is going on, you’ll see a sudden improvement in your situation. In October things are picking up and the things you’ve been wishing for will come to you.

November // The Chariot — One of the first things to come to me with this card was ‘faith, trust and pixie dust’. I have no idea why but maybe you do Pile 2. I see you having lots of motivation with The Chariot, finding balance, and success with a problem or situation you maybe having.

December // Four of pentacles Stability will be yours by the end of the year pile 2. However there’s an energy I’m not feeling. I pulled a card to clarify and got the Knight of Swords. Things are coming through for you in December but there is also a message to be aware that the chariot energy you’re carrying from November to December doesn’t morph into an energy stemming from greed and superiority.

Oracle Cards  — Mystery//Dream & Align//Ignite

Yogi Tea Messages — “Think seriously and think honestly.” | “We are born wise, we are born complete.”

PILE 3

Theme // 10 of Swords — Have no fear pile 3,   I’m reading this card as the next 6 months marking completion to a rough  phase in your life.

July // 6 of Wands — Success and   victory you’ve been growing and working on yourself or a creative endeavor. During July you may find yourself acknowledging your progress,  or other’s may comment on how well you’re doing.

August // 8 of Swords Rx — If you have been feeling powerless or trapped Pile 3, that is going to change. You may be opening your eyes to a situation or a truth maybe revealed.

September // King of Swords — I’m seeing you stepping up and being in-charge... being more levelheaded. With the butterflied on the throne, I’m thinking maybe you were more erratic in thought or and emotion? Or maybe during September butterflied will be of importance. Honesty and good communication is also key.

October // 6 of Cups — During October you maybe taking a trip down memory lane, or indulging in old/childhood enjoyments. Someone from your past may also be showing back up in your life.

November // 10 of Pentacles — I see you coming into abundance. It could be material abundance but it doesn’t have to be. There’s also a message of keep doing what you’re doing.

December // 9 of Cups — To end the year off you maybe feeling more content and satisfied with the things you’ve been doing. Keep up the mindset you’ve seemingly come into and enjoy the good things life has to offer.

Oracle Card —  Love//Empathy

Yogi Tea Messages — “People who love are giving.” | “Let your energy be used to build not destroy.”

PILE 4

Theme // 6 of Swords Rx — Pile 4, my chaotic little bunch. With the 6 of Swords reversed I feel you maybe regressing if you’re not careful.

July // 5 of Wands Rx — Here this card represents the end of conflict and moving on. I don’t know if it’s working out for you... I feel like you might just be like ‘screw it’ and move on. Throughout the reading I kept feeling like it was related to familial disagreements so for some of you that could be it.

August // The Fool —  The fool is about fresh starts, potential and being carefree. While I do see that, in this reading the dog by the fool’s foot jumps out at me as a warning of sorts. While new beginnings may be in the works, be careful of making rash decisions and not thinking things through.

September // Justice — I see things as balanced for you during September Pile 4, maintain that energy of balance going forward.

October // Queen of Wands — For me this is one of my favourite cards because I see it as being in your ideal energy, being your own muse. It’s time to come into that healthy, attractive, confident, creative energy.

November // Queen of Cups Rx — Why would you be wallowing Pile 4? You were doing so well and now the cards show me you finding yourself in an upset and moody energy. This is where familial disagreements really came to me since depending where you live the holiday season really kicks off in November and potentially so does family tension. Regardless of what it is, during November you may need to show yourself some extra love and prioritize self care.

December // 5 of Swords — You’re fiery Pile 4, and I don’t see you as they type to take crap from anyone. You know your situation best and the people around you best so there are two main messages with this card. The first message being one of ‘the world doesn’t revolve around you’. While you need to put yourself first, you also need to understand your actions and decisions affects those around you. Alternately — you need to claim control your rights, your power... whatever you want to see it as. If someone is taking advantage of you, you need to break free and be able to choose yourself.

Oracle Card —  Spiral//Cycle

Yogi Tea Messages — “Life is a flow of love; your participation is requested.” | “An attitude of gratitude brings opportunities.”