#this is going to be part of a longer fic

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 1

Or: a secret Admirer AU

Less than a month into the school year, and Steve’s already making use of the library. If Mrs. Click could see him now, she’d be proud–until she caught sight of the blank notebook page in front of him and the lack of textbooks on the table. 

He feels stupid; he’s hunched over his notebook, trying to make his thoughts transfer onto the page in any coherent form. But, he’s not like Eddie with his impassioned speeches and clever English papers.

Words flow through Eddie in fully-formed, concrete ideas. For Steve, it’s more of a drip. Each word has to be scaffolded onto the previous one with blood, sweat, and tears. Even then, it’s never quite right. Too abrupt, never what he was actually trying to say.

He’s just never been good with words.

By the time he gives up, there’s more crossed out than left written, so he gets a clean page of paper and transcribes it as best he can. He’s left with:

       Your hair is pretty. Do you use conditioner?

Steve tears it from his notebook and lays it flat atop his table in the library, smoothing out any crinkles in the page. It feels like the start to something, sure, but there’s more blank space on the page than words. By a lot.

He leans back over his work, adds a little wonky heart in his blue pen and signs the whole thing—

       ❤ your secret admirer

—the way all the girls who leave notes in his locker do. Their notes are usually on pretty paper, written in sparkly gel pen that smells like strawberries. The i’s are sometimes dotted with little hearts he’ll never admit to finding cute. And there’s envelopes involved, and usually more than eleven measly words.

His looks like something Eddie’ll toss out before opening, mistaking it for trash.

Steve grimaces. How do girls do this? Do they all take some sort of class on how to write pretty letters on pretty enough paper that boys will fall in love with them? Is that what they teach in Home Ec? He should have never let Tommy mock him into switching to shop class.

Should he ask a girl?

Under no conditions will he ever ask Carol. She’d have far too many uncomfortable questions and tell the whole school all of his embarrassing answers. He’d be run out of town within days, Carol holding the sharpest pitchfork.

Steve leans back in his chair with a groan too loud for the library and fists his hands to rub tired eyes.

“Are you okay?” Steve jerks, sending his pen and paper careening to the ground in his attempt to cover the compromising words upon the page. “Oh, sorry!”

Steve watches, horrified, as Chrissy Cunningham bends down to pick his supplies up off the carpet before he’s had time to scramble out of his chair. She’s in her cheer uniform, white zip-up Hawkins hoodie covering her arms. She looks perfect and preppy and just like all the girls who’ve ever left a note in his locker.

She’d be able to write something that Eddie would want to read.

“Steve?” Chrissy’s hovering over him, lips pursed, eyes big and worried. “Are you okay?”

“Shit, sorry,” he replies. She’s got his note clutched to her chest. He curls his fingers against the urge to reach out for it—that’ll just draw her attention, and that’s the last thing Steve wants right now. “Just got lost in my head.”

“Anything I can help with?”

He knows what she’s going to do before it happens. Chrissy’s sweet—if there’s a way to help, she’ll want to. So, she holds out the paper and begins to read, probably expecting an assignment she can tutor him on, and there they are: Steve’s damning words written in still-wet blue ink.

Her brow furrows as she takes an obscene amount of time mouthing out the words before she looks back up to meet his eyes. “Did someone give this to you?”

Her eyes are still big, but they look sad now, like just the thought of someone receiving the note he’d slaved over is enough to distress her. Unable to help himself, Steve snatches it from her hands and crumples it into a ball, damning words hidden in his fist.

Chrissy gasps at his abrupt movement and takes a halting step away.

“I wrote it,” he mutters, no longer able to meet her eyes.

She’s silent for long enough that he’d think she left, except the library’s quiet, and he hasn’t heard her take a step. He stares at the grains of the wood in the table, empty hand rubbing against the smudged top as he waits for her to do something.

“Are you…” she starts, trailing off for a moment before picking her thought back up, “…picking on someone?”

Steve clenches his fist tighter, note crinkling beyond repair beneath his nails as he mutters, “no.”

Chrissy’s quiet again. Steve doesn’t dare to look up, even as he hears the chair across from him pull out, the sound of her weight settling into the wood. The table’s just so interesting. Nothing has ever been as intriguing as the little chip out of its edge, the ring on the wood where someone had let their drink condensate against all the library’s rules.

“Who’s this for?” Chrissy’s voice is soft now, like he’s some sort of horse, prone to bolting when spooked. “Steve?”

Steve looks up. Her eyes aren’t sad anymore; they’re piercing.

He’s always liked Chrissy. She’s the nicest girl in the school, until someone does something she doesn’t like. Then, it’s all disappointed eyes, and pouty lips. It’s like disappointing his Mom, but worse, because his Mom’s never around to stare balefully at him.

The point is, Chrissy’s nice. She’s not like Carol. If he told her, there would be no lynch mob, or fleeing Hawkins in the dead of the night with nothing but the clothes on his back. Probably. Maybe.

Steve tries to smooth out the page, and scowls down at it when the wrinkles refuse to disappear. It’s even worse now, words made illegible by the deep creases his fingers have pressed into the paper. There’s no way Eddie’d ever want a note like this.

So, he says, “Munson,” looking up to try to watch his meaning land on her face.

It doesn’t. Her foreheads all scrunched up as she looks down at the note. Only then does Steve realize he’s caressing the wonky little heart. He pulls his hand back, curling his fingers in so she can’t see the smudge of blue on his pointer finger.

“And you aren’t making fun of him?”

Steve can feel his shoulders drooping. He wants to disappear into the floor, melt into the carpet and become one with all the other mysterious stains upon it. “No.”

“Oh,” Chrissy replies, drawn out and low as she peers down at the crinkled note with a confused frown. But something must click because she straightens, eyes wide beneath her bangs. “Oh!”

It’s loud enough that they both reflexively flinch. But, when no librarians come skulking around any corners, Chrissy turns back to him, gaze uncomfortably intent. Steve wonders, somewhat horrified by the turn his life has taken, if he’s about to get hate-crimed by a cheerleader half his size.

But Chrissy’s nice—always has been, always will be. So, she bites her lip and looks furtively around like she’s only just realized this is a conversation that shouldn’t have any witnesses. “But you like him?” she whispers.

Steve leans forward, matching her energy and pitch as he replies, “yeah,” quiet enough that it’s barely a breath. Chrissy smiles at him, warm and small, just like her hand as she reaches across the table to put it over his and squeeze comfortingly.

The note sits, damningly soiled beneath their linked hands, wrinkled, and smudged, and barely-legible handwriting. The weight that’d lifted with Chrissy’s smile sinks back into his gut.

“But it doesn’t matter,” Steve says, letting go of her hand so he can pull the note closer to himself. “I’m no good at this stuff.”

Steve crinkles the note back up. It’s unsalvageable—a stupid idea executed badly.

He’s in the middle of stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans to keep his keys company until he can toss it out in the comfort of his home when Chrissy says, “maybe I can help?” voice lilting up, like it’s a question.

Steve meets her eyes, hand still half-shoved in his pocket. She’s all earnest now, the way she usually is when there isn’t a sad boy infecting her with his own ineptitude. Eyes shining with conviction, bangs curling sweetly around her face. She’s no Carol, that’s for sure.

“How?” he asks, and when she smiles, it looks a bit like hope.

***

 “I can help you write a better letter,” Chrissy starts. He perks up like a dog the moment its owner gets home. “If you do something for me.”

She feels like scum when he curls back into himself, gaze forlorn.

When she’d caught sight of the note he’d spent what seemed like a full hour pouring over, this isn’t what she’d been expecting. And when she’d finally made out his chicken scratch scrawl, she’d been sure Steve was picking on someone, no matter how unlike him it would have been. But then his shoulders had curled in, and his ears had turned red, and his voice had gone all soft and squishy when he’d said Eddie Munson’s name.

And she’d just wanted to fix it.

So, even as he asks, “what?” all sad and droopy again, she knows she’s going to help him, no matter what he says.

“Date me,” she asserts. It’s only as Steve blinks stupidly at her that she realizes how that came out of her mouth. “No, wait, not really!”

Her hands are waving around wildly and she can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. In contrast, Steve seems to come back into himself, shoulders shoring up as he smirks across at her with his signature raised brow. The one he’d used while leaning on Nancy Wheeler’s locker last year, or holding her books as they walked to class, and all the other assortment of stereotypical boyfriend activities.

He’d worn it all the time, like it was part of the uniform. 

“I just meant, we could fake it?” His right eyebrow raises to meet his left, forehead scrunching up with his incredulity. “It’s just, Jason and I broke up? And he won’t leave me alone.”

It takes all her strength to keep meeting his eyes as the seconds tick away. But then Steve nods, swings his letterman jacket off, and tosses it across at her. Unprepared for his sudden movement, it hits her in the face and drops into her lap.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he says with a cheesy wink that somehow manages to feel more genuine than any of his actual flirting techniques. “Gotta sell it somehow.”

“What a romantic,” she replies, deadpan, but she pulls his jacket on anyway, something that feels an awful lot like relief steadying her heart rate as she smooths down the too-long sleeves.

Jason’s going to freak out. But after that, maybe he’ll stop calling her house, and trying to put his arm around her at lunch, and trying to pick her up for school every morning. She’d do almost anything to get it into his thick skull that she’s not interested.

So, here she is, hashing out the details of a secret admirer letter from Steve Harrington to Eddie Munson, of all the unlikely pairings.

“What’s wrong with what I wrote?” Steve whines, running his fingers through his hair until it’s all mussed up and falling into his face.

Chrissy snorts. “It sounds like you’re telling him his hair is frizzy and dry.”

“I said it was pretty!” He throws his hands in the air before crossing them and pouting his lower lip out.

Chrissy can’t help but laugh. She’s always liked Steve. He’s nicer than most of his friends, and he’s easy to talk to. But this is a side she’s never seen of him. She’s not sure anyone has; can’t imagine Carol or Tommy seeing him put his whole heart into something and not tearing it to shreds.

“Do you use conditioner?” she asks, throwing finger quotations around it as she reads it off the crumpled page.

Steve’s blushing again, cheeks all blotchy and red, rather unbecoming for the shoo-in for this year’s prom king. “Well, I thought you said you’d help!” he says, a little too loud for the library.

So, that’s how she ends up spending the next hour painfully turning Steve’s earnest thoughts into words on the pretty baby blue paper she’d carefully removed from the back of her daily planner.

In the end, they’re left with this:

       Eddie –

       I wish I could say this to your face, but I’ve never been good with words, and you’d probably think it was a joke.

       I can’t even get myself to talk to you, you’re so distracting.

       I like how pretty your hair is. How do you get your curls so shiny? I want to run my fingers through them.

       I hope this note brightens up your day. You deserve all the smiles you can get.

       Yours,

       Your Secret Admirer

It’s not what she would write, but still, it’s leagues better than what he’d started with. She slides it across to Steve, and he smiles down at it. He reaches his hand out, fingers almost brushing the page before he pulls his hand back, curling his fingers into a fist.

“What if someone sees me?” he asks, voice so quiet she can barely hear him even in the resounding silence of the library.

They’d managed not to talk about it, the dangers of Steve liking a boy. But it’d been present in the hesitancy by which he shared each of his thoughts, looking up at her like each remark would be the last straw before she recoils in disgust.

If someone finds out that Steve has a crush on a boy, it won’t take long until he’s getting beat up between classes or heckled straight out of school. Heck, even with all the rumors floating around about him, Eddie might be the one to throw the first punch.

“Do you want me to deliver it for you?” she asks.

“You’d do that?” he asks back, because apparently no one ever taught him not to answer a question with a question. “For me?”

“What else are fake girlfriends for?” she asks because they’re all questions now, no answers to be had between the pair of them.

Steve laughs, all tension leaving his shoulders as he throws his head back with amusement, eyes downright twinkling as he beams across at her.

“You’re the best, Chrissy,” Steve says, smiling even brighter as she replies, “I know.”

She leaves school that night after pushing Steve Harrington’s love note through the slats of Eddie’s locker, Steve’s letterman jacket keeping her warm from the cold.

This might be the best relationship she’s ever had, fake or not. Eat your heart out, Jason Carver.

PART 2

Welcome to my new AU! This will be posted in 21 parts. It is complete, so there will be a new update each morning until it's all posted. I've elected not to do a tag list, but it will be added to my pinned post each day as well. If that's not your speed, it will be added to Ao3 once it's all been posted here.

Special shoutout to @queenie-ofthe-void for not only their usual fabulous beta work, but also both the original idea and the writing of some of the secret admirer letters. You not only make me a better writer, but this work literally would not exist without you. <3<3

Title of the fic from the song Eyes in the Sun by Florist

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

[lunarharp]

What led to this (orufrey comic, cw an uncomfortable/creepy scene)

[needle-noggins]

Where do your roots start

And where do your roots end?

Something about seeing only the worst of yourself in the mirror. Something violent and terrifying, but knowing you only grew that violence in response to violence against you. Knowing your power comes from a place of trauma, something you don’t remember but wish had never happened. But it did, and here you are. There’s something new in you that isn’t the you that you understand and you wish it wasn’t but it is. Violence begets violence and you are unable to control what grows from the seeds that were planted. So you have to live with it and try not to let that violence spread.

You’ve already failed once.

And you see it every time you look in the damn mirror.

—

For Body Horror Week’s final day, prompt: Roots by In This Moment

[seiwas]

HI MY BELOVED ANGEL!!! i am sending u mattsun + campfire as well as kisses n hugs <33

SAINTTT hello 🥺 thank you for sending a prompty!! 🥹 idt i've ever written mattsun fully before so this is something new!

help me get back into the writing groove! send me a character + any word and i'll write a short blurb about it!

contains: exes, stranded-y situation, feelings are complicated, some expletives

mattsun + campfire

"i told you we should've brought the spare—"

"yeah, let me go back in time for a sec and do just that."

"asshole."

lesson #1: nothing good ever happens when you're stuck in a car with your ex on the way to somewhere remote.

you blame iwaizumi for this one. who the fuck chooses to spend their birthday weekend in the fucking wilderness?

(okay, you don't actually think it's so bad. to be fair, he did plan this a year ago. and it did sound like a good idea. then. at the time. anywhere with the boys was always guaranteed fun―at least, until you and matsukawa broke up.)

"can you pass me the flashlight?" he points at the backpack behind you. when you hand it over, your fingers brush over his as he takes it away from you.

and you hate it, because―

lesson #2: you should never be alone with your ex when you still have feelings for them.

you'd agreed to take two cars to the camping spot: iwaizumi's with oikawa and hanamaki and matsukawa's with you. there was no way you'd fit in one, and hanamaki ultimately decided to ride with iwaizumi because, "you and mattsun have shit to sort out," he'd said.

with night setting and the two-hour headstart they managed to get ahead of you, the best thing you and matsukawa can do is to set up camp temporarily and wait for them to come back for you come sunrise.

you sigh.

leaves crack underneath your feet as you maneuver around your camping space. the light from matsukawa's flashlight tells you where he is, just a bit deeper in the forestry as he looks for wood to help set up the fire.

you unload the car in the meantime, bringing out some snacks and sleeping bags while waiting.

matsukawa eventually comes back with arms full of wood, and you help in whatever way you can, clearing the space and fetching more twigs when needed.

the entire car ride here had been quiet, so it's not surprising that this entire process has been equally as silent. until―

"did you already pull out your tent?" he asks, half of his body disappearing into the trunk of the car.

"huh?" you go closer, "i only brought out the sleeping bags."

then he sighs, ducking out from the trunk with a hand on his hip, "we only have one tent."

"what?"

"makki must have gotten yours with his when he decided to move cars."

his hand runs through his hair, a habit you know well. it lights up all sorts of weird feelings in your tummy

you don't know how to feel―

"i can sleep in the car."

―but you know that you definitely don't want him to do that. all things considered, you were friends first. and you've both been trying to be friends again since the breakup. you wouldn't want to cause him discomfort like that.

so, with a deep breath, you say, "it's okay, we can just share."

"are you sure?" he stares at you.

you nod.

after setting up the tent, you eat a few energy bars and clean up from the day's events. the campfire provides ample enough heat, but with how fast the flames are burning, you're doubtful it'll last the two of you the entire night.

it’s much later on, past midnight, that your doubts are proven right when you and matsukawa are cramped together in a tent made for one. it started to get cold a few minutes ago, and you've found yourself inching closer and closer to the warmth you’ve gotten used to laying against for the past two years.

he's only pretending to be asleep, you know that much, too. the rise and fall of his chest is hardly there; you can see it, how he's holding his breath being this close to you.

"issei," you whisper.

he opens his eyes, eyelids lifting lazily as he meets your stare. the vibration of his hum reverberates to you.

"it's cold."

for a moment, your stomach drops at the thought that he could ignore you; how it would make perfect sense for him to. you broke up with him after all, and he doesn't owe you anything, much less favors as intimate as this one.

but he closes the already dwindling gap between you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulls you closer. it's near, far too near for exes to be―noses touching and all.

"warmer?" his voice comes out hoarser through the whisper.

you nod, your head shifting up and down—which, truly, is where you ultimately fuck up. you feel it, a little chapped but still pliant against your lips.

in your carelessness, you accidentally brush your lips against his, the sensation alone surprising you enough to inch your head back as you mutter your apologies.

"sorry? really?" he asks, eyes half-lidded still as he chuckles.

his question settles into the small space you're in.

your vision trails from his eyes, down to the slope of his nose, until it lands on his lips again. a little split like you've always known, but still your favorite. still the only lips you want against yours.

when you lean in again, you know you're fucked, because―

lesson #3: the number one rule is that exes shouldn't kiss each other anymore.

[measurelessdreamer]

Part II of my musings about my scogan kid fic idea (read part I here)

It’s very delicate. And Logan doesn’t deal with delicate. He can deal with force and dangerous and what-doesn’t-kill-you-makes-you-stronger. A four-year-old girl calling him “dad” is nowhere near any of these things.

And Summers must know how much of a deal this is because he’s quiet the whole time they walk to his office to talk, for which Logan didn’t ask but Scott offered anyway, without the typical stoic composure Logan was used to seeing on him.

Then they get there and neither of them can really sit down or start because where do you start after seeing something like this? After apparently living in a universe where time-travel is possible and it happens to be your damn luck that you have to live with its consequences?

And Logan realises that Scott could ask first. He wasn’t there when Logan talked about his timeline with Charles and as far as the little girl goes, calling Scott “papa” is on the same spot of “urgent” as calling Logan “dad” is.

But Summers speaks in the end and, surprising no one, he decides to be unselfish and asks Logan what he wants to know. Logan gives him a look that must speak for itself because Summers clenches his jaw but still waits and Logan hates him but not really and so he asks, “The girl. Who is she?”

And Scott says that her name is Kayla (because I happen to be a big fan of Wolverine: Origins and I always have been ever since I saw it when I was, like, thirteen, and despite all the sad stuff about Kayla, I loved the message of her words to Logan that he’s not an animal and I think it would be nice to have that message survive in a little girl who at some point learned to love him enough to call him dad because if that doesn’t say he’s not an animal, then I don’t know). It might warrant a reaction from Logan right away. He might know what the name means, the Logan of this timeline probably didn’t (but it’s possible he doesn’t know either).

So he asks who gave her that name, to which Scott replies that he chose it and Logan asks why they would let him and Scott says because he was the one who found her. There is something Summers isn’t saying, though, and although Logan can tell, he lets it go this time.

Found her? he asks next and Scott says I assume you’re familiar with the name “Stryker”, to which Logan lets out one of his claws, the middle one, akin to all those years ago on the Liberty Island and he doesn’t know what he expects, but the soft smile that graces Scott’s face before it is squashed down by the cold calculated look was definitely not it.

Then Scott reaches under his desk and unlocks one of his drawers and pulls out a thick file with the huge red stemp of “classified” written over it and he pushes it closer to Logan. It says “Weapon XII” on the front and Logan bristles and almost lets out all of his claws.

He doesn’t reach for the file and Scott probably didn’t even expect him to because he goes on, unprompted, and says that the project was meant to be a continuation of the previous one, of designing a mutant who would be able to hold and control multiple abilities at the same time. The previous project made them aware they could change one mutant. Now, they wanted to know whether they could fully create one and raise them to be their perfect soldier.

For that, they needed a suitable collection of DNA from mutants they knew existed because it turned out that not every ability was compatible with the rest of them.

When Logan asks how they found out, Summers says it’s in the file and then clenches his jaw when Logan just says he’s not reading it. Then Scott says there were multiple test subjects that were biologically engineered in different ways so they knew where to push their limits. At the time, Kayla was being referred to as “12.9” and she was the only one they found at the facility. The rest were defined in the file as “failed” and “closed” and Logan really feels slashing through something right now.

Scott says she was merely six-months old when she was found by them. They didn’t know who she was but the following days were a bit self-explanatory when she teleported a meter away right in front of their eyes and shot red beams from her eyes at a toy she didn’t particularly like.

Her powers were meant to manifest early so Stryker’s people knew if she could harness all the powers they engineered her with without dying. It was a long process of deciding which ones she had to have and which ones she didn’t. All of the children had Logan’s, though, and as much as there indeed is no adamantium in her body, it was the plan to put it into her once she grew up. Putting it into her now would prevent her from her natural development and result in her death. Logan says, “Don’t tell me they found that out the hard way,” to which Scott replies, “What do you think?”

So, what, is she a clone? Logan asks after Scott explains the rest and Scott says, Yes, in a sense.

What do you mean? She either is or she ain’t!

Clones are usually of “something” and are meant to resemble that something to perfection. She has so much of other people in herself that no one would be able to pin point what she is a clone of.

As much as it clears up a few things about her to Logan, there is a lot Scott doesn’t mention that day or the ones that follow. He doesn’t say that it was actually the two of them together who found her and not just Logan. He doesn’t reveal that her first days here were a pretty accurate depictions of hell and that Logan’s healing factor came especially in handy and she also sort of seemed to cry a lot less when she was in Scott’s arms compared to everyone else’s. And he doesn’t say anything about the fact that, yes, as much as her DNA is comprised of DNA of other mutants, the percentages vary and there are two sets of DNA she has more of than from others and there is a reason why her eyes are so blue and why she purposefully has weaker versions of all her mutant abilities aside from her healing factor and heightened senses.

Part III

[quicktimeeventfull]

hymns: a post-kira fic

There was a god once, not too long ago. You tell this to your daughter, who is ten years old, and born after. A decade to her is unimaginable, the sum of her entire existence, and it is a lifetime to you, too — her lifetime, soft and fragile, unprotected, a life like an egg without a shell. Anything could prick the yolk and break it. 

Did you meet the god? she asks you, her hand in yours. 

No, you tell her. No, you didn’t. No one did. But you knew he was there because you saw the shadow of his hand pass across the world and judge it. You felt his warmth, his life, the wrap of his arms which kept you safe. 

She hums, unsatisfied. She had asked you this question many times before — she likes to hear the stories, which to her are like things from a fairytale. But lately she has been asking more. She is rushing faster than you realized was possible to the day when her mother’s voice might not bear the weight of its own stories. 

Kira is not like the other gods, whose existence must be taken on faith. He is in the papers and the death registers; his voice, distorted, was on TV. Still. People tell stories. People doubt. They say he was not who he said he was. Just a man, they say. Someone with a weapon, human and fallible.

Your daughter, you resolve, will not grow up to doubt. She will know his work. She will be ready for when he returns again. 

You are taking her, as you do each week, to his temple. 

[ghost-bxrd]

Mr. Freeze is someone Dick and Bruce have fought before, back when his owlet still had to stay in the safety of the nest while Talon and the Bat took flight together.

Disturbed, is the word that came to Dick’s mind then, though he hadn’t been able to voice it. Disturbed, and sad. Lost in the throes of a grief so profound it had ripped all the goodness right out of him.

Now, years later, that grief has become twisted and all Dick can see when he finally lays eyes on the man is the same kind of shell the Court had reduced so many of Dick’s fellow Talons to.

Cold, empty.

Void.

Dick wonders if he looked like that, before his owlet.

[reading-writing-dying]

Finished editing next chapter of the Hotguy/Cuteguy Love-square fic, now the question is do I post now or wait until my original planned date of Friday/Saturday?

[overly-verbose]

If SIkuna will get the Heian era form later, can he change his appearance? I mean, it will be weird to see a guy with four arms hanging in public.

Assuming he were to do that,

(who knows, not me (I do lol) , if the hypothetical timeline where he and Yuji get separated is gonna be Canon to the Series *HeeHee HoHo's mysteriously*)

yup!

His alternate, 'human' form would be strongly based off of Yuji still, but with some differences.

(I've kinda drawn that as well, but I can definitely imagine it not exactly being clearly explained lol)

For one, he's significantly taller than Yuji (at least for now, the kid is most likely gonna grow to be not as much shorter lol) - although he can be shorter.

He usually isn't much 'shorter', because it's more comfortable - any much lower and it'd feel a bit like a too-tight shirt, but for your whole body lol

('down' to 6~ft/182~cm (wherein he usually stays at 6.4-5ft/193-195~cm) is the min. of proper comfiness)

He also wears earrings (I usually imagined some simple black ones, but he could just as well wear something Hello Kitty related lol (both for the Meme and just because) or just cute, or more colourful), and his left eyebrow has two slits - to kinda connect him visually to his Big Form heh

(I'm kinda contemplating adding some other things but yeah that's the bigger things heh)

And, although usually he only has these whilst in the Bigg form, he can have four arms, stomach mouth, and such whilst 'small' as well - but yeah, that's not exactly something that'd be useful/possible to use in public 😂

As shown in Chapter 2 of Visuals (although it is a different timeline, SIkuna is SIkuna lol), he can sometimes forget to close his secondary eyes, especially at the beginning of the Separation or when kinda mentally tired - it's just much more natural for them to be open

Some random person is more likely to assume they imagined it or he just had good cosplay than actual four eyes though, so hey at least there's that saving him

Not to mention interference from the kids he's likely hanging out with lol, Nobara is a quick-thinking Queen when her older familial figure is being a dum-dum and forgoring 💀 how to Human properly and we love her for it 👏

Since I imagine her dragging SIkuna out for clothes shopping relatively often, perhaps with other kids as well - and SIkuna doesn't mind it at all, he loves actively participating in the kids' hobbies 🥺 - she probably had to cover for his spookiness and such quite often lmao, even if he tries his best 😂

He is very respectful and polite to any workers they might encounter during their shopping though (well, assuming they aren't being unreasonably rude themselves but that's rare, especially in Japan I'd imagine), so fortunately even despite his Vibes being Very Off the two (or more) usually end up being a nice surprise to them actually lmao

- the fact that SIkuna likely takes everything that isn't chosen back perfectly into place whilst waiting for Nobara/other kids to put another outfit on probably makes their spookiness easier to deal with as well 😂😂😂

(He's not 'spared' from dressing up, but he can lighten the load on the workers' shoulders a little bit while he waits his turn, you know - he might be partially old as hell and from a time where that would have been unheard of to do for the sake of 'servants', but he also is partially someone from the 2020's lmao, he gets the pain)

(Imagine crossovers with Canon whilst he's in this form though lol, I feel like one Quite painful Misunderstanding that could happen is that This Other Sukuna apparently completely took over an older Yuji or something (since he clearly isn't there but Sukuna looks. like he looks.) OOF-)

.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

if you don't know, cosmic lost and found is my andreil soulmates au where andrew knows but neil doesn't

i keep getting comments asking if it's discontinued 😭 it's not i'm just always working on other things

[varpusvaras]

Coruscant gets its own Guard. With his new position right at the center of the Republic, Fox comes across many difficulties Kamino had not prepared him for. He does his best as the Commander of the Guard, while his brothers are out in the Galaxy, fighting the war. He finds out he isn't alone, though. He has his Guards, and soon he realises that the Senator and the Queen of Alderaan have decided to become his friends as well. There's just a small problem with that, and that problem is Fox's growing feelings towards them. But maybe, just maybe, there isn't a problem after all.

Chapter 1 of Part three of Up that Mountain is up!

[prince-liest]

hope you're having a great day! saw your posting about radiostatic week and was curious if you're planning to write for all the prompts or just the ones that really scratch your brain?

That actually wasn't for radiostatic week! Unfortunately none of the prompts for that week caught my eye, plus I learned about it relatively short notice. After being in approximately thirty fucktillion (read: more like three or four dozen) zines and getting sick of the process, I've actually made a rule for myself to not write things for scheduled events if it runs a risk of turning the writing-of into a chore for me, haha. But I have written a little radiostatic something for both prompts of Day 2 of Hellaverse Kink Week, and the piece I'm contemplating writing, if I do write it, will be more radiostatic for the "dirty talk" prompt of Day 4 of Bottom Alastor Week. If I'm motivated to finish the appledust sequel in time, that'll be for Day 6 of the Hellaverse Kink Week as well!

I really like the kink week prompts! They feel, like, very much in the spirit of properly kinky prompt selections!

All of that said, I'm really fucking excited to get fed next week when radiostatic week actually runs, hahaha. I know @spoondrifts has some GOOD SHIT cooking for what might be literally every single fucking day of it?? Absolutely wild, I cannot WAIT.

[autumnfangirler]

WIP Wednesday

its actually wednesday when i post this guys, its a christmas miracle. i got ganged up on by @hyper-pixels @localcryptic and @b33tlejules for my wips 😔 im gonna tag @heartbreakincident @idlenight @aurrieattorney and @musicismymoirail if yall want?

ive mostly got writing wips so far, i havent had as much time to work on art lately :') but! have these:

Chen: “Huh,” Ricardo says, looking at him thoughtfully as he starts heating up the leftovers. “Shouldn’t you be at home by now then? You always said training with Herald wore you out.” He shuffles enough to sneak a mournful glance at the microwave. Whether or not Caine notices is anybody’s guess. He just looks over his shoulder– the first time he’s acknowledged Chen’s presence. Ortega: “Huh.” Ortega takes the chance to shift closer, watching his leftovers heating up. Internally, he smiles. Prick. “Shouldn’t you be at home by now then? You always said training with Herald wore you out.” He never bought Caine’s complaints, of course. He still remembers the brutal efficiency Lycan had taken Daniel down with at the gala. At the very least, Caine was exaggerating how winded he was. Caine: “Huh. Shouldn’t you be at home by now then?” Ortega asks, moving next to them. “You always said training with Herald wore you out.” That wasn’t a lie. They never specified whether it was physically or not, and their head still aches.

this is the multipov fic i keep talking about, its probably one of my favourite, most indulgent fics ive worked on so far. look at these idiots. so many thoughts running through their head 24/7 and all of them are wrong. utterly fantastic to watch i love it so much.

also the rat king!! my girls!!!

this bit technically counts as spoilers for dunmeshi. i think. im gonna put it under the cut anyway since idk whos currently watching/reading it hsdjjf

"Your spell book," he says. The words are quiet, eyes boring into her bag. "What?" "Your spell book," he repeats, louder this time, nearly slipping on the blood as he takes a staggering leg up. "You've revived people using black magic before. You can do it again." "It's not bla- I mean, we don't have-" She chews on her lip. "... I don't have a spell for this. It only worked on Falin because we were in a dungeon. This is..."

some very rough dialogue for a fic i probably wont finish about marcille waking chilchuck up from a nightmare. ive seen versions of it with laios and falin, but i think with marcilles whole everything going on there her having to deal with chilchucks nightmare would be really interesting to explore. also because i miss marcille and chilchuck. my beloveds.....

[camgoloud]

one small detail that stood out to me about this latest episode that i haven’t seen anyone else talking about yet is that when the commentators are calling colin “inspiring” and the “man of the match,” they are celebrating him not for actually scoring the goals himself, but for providing the crucial assists to make both of them happen. and i really love that because for me it’s the absolute perfect wrap to his character arc across all three seasons!

like, we know that colin’s job on this team has never been to score goals. in fact i’m pretty sure we’ve never heard about a single goal that he has scored. colin is and always has been a team player, not a star—and we’ve seen that crop up over and over. notably, we’ve seen the fact that he’s not entirely at peace with that crop up over and over: see the way he was affected by nate’s entire holidy-inn-painting monologue, being benched to make room for zava, etc.—like, this is the thing he’s sensitive about! this is where all of his insecurities come from!

but at the SAME TIME it’s also tied very intimately with all his struggles re: hiding his sexuality— “colin’s a chameleon,” etc. it’s fascinating because there’s SO much tension there between colin 1. feeling bad about the fact that he never stands out on the pitch the way some of his teammates do, because of who he is on the team, and 2. feeling like he CAN’T stand out, ever, because of Who He Is As A Person. etc. it’s like. he’s filling this role in the background. he’s afraid he’s not doing it well enough. he’s afraid that what and who he is isn’t good enough and isn’t worthy of recognition. he wishes he were someone different. trying to be someone different in the locker room is clearly making him so unhappy and stressed out. it is All Connected and my thoughts have been doing laps around it at an ever-increasing rate since i watched episode 2.07 ‘headspace’ if not before!

and all of this is why it’s so incredible to me that in the end, colin’s big moment comes from making assists and not goals! because on the one hand i understand the fandom desire for the colin post-coming out glowup that we all knew was coming—to see him, like, ~prove everybody wrong about him~ and inspire people by suddenly becoming a standout player and scoring goals left and right, even though that never used to be his role on the team before. and don’t get me wrong, i was 100% on board that train, and would have loved it for him if that was how it went down in the end, also. i think he should get to score here and there! as a treat! especially now that richmond are playing total football and there’s been so much emphasis placed on how it’s not just jamie/dani/occasionally sam who are making all the goals anymore!

but i don’t know! especially after the events of the last few episodes, there’s something very special to me about getting to see a colin who, rather than becoming someone entirely new in the moments right after coming out, just feels free to become, and be at peace with, the best version of the same self he’s always been. he’s still a team player first and foremost, but now that he’s not as weighed down by the need to chameleon/hide/pretend to be someone he’s not, he’s so much better at it. and everyone sees this! he gets to be celebrated for his contributions within the role he’s always played! he (and everybody else!) finally recognizes the value that he adds to the team just by being himself—fully himself! it resolves all the tension and insecurity that we’ve seen him struggling with this whole time, on every level. and so this moment was genuinely the perfect ending for his journey in my opinion—i’m so so happy that we were tall enough to join him on the ride here, and so excited to see what he does going forward these last few episodes now that some of that pressure is off him <3

[astronicht]

tortured by the knowledge that writing fiction has made my prose overall WORSE despite teaching me many many things. like it's worth it but oh my god. i used to be a society.