#this means every little thing is causing freakout. again.

[thevoiceofdesertbluffs]

sorry I'm having an anxiety™ moment rn

[tiredfox64]

Hi! I love your work, especially your Bi-Han writings. Not sure if you're taking requests, but would you write something for Mavado x Reader? Honestly any prompt is fine, there's literally no Mavado/Reader content and we need some 😭

It Only Takes 7 Días

Yip notes: Everybody stfu and let me cook. Gotta make something sweet for the fuckin people. (PS I actually had this set up in my drafts before and this encouraged me to finish it seeing that others are desperate).

Pairing: Mavado x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: Suggestive kinda?

Everyone knows Mavado dedicates himself to the Red Dragon clan. He’s a man who listens and obeys Daegon’s command. A man who will bring hellfire upon anyone who disturbs his clan such as Kabal and Kano. All he knows is his duty and his clan. He is uninterested in such things as dating.

Or so everyone thought.

Mavado isn’t dumb. He could never allow anyone to know about you. It’s for your own safety. Heaven forbid Daegon finds out about you, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you just to keep Mavado’s attention. Kano and Kabal would do so much worse. They would probably hold you hostage to force Mavado into giving up every piece of information about the Red Dragon clan. He would never forgive himself if he let the one person he truly loves get hurt. He had to be all hush hush, sometimes meaning he spent little time with you. He’ll make it up to you. He’s a man of his word. This whole week will be for you.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You heard tapping on your balcony door. Little taps as if rocks were being flicked against the glass. You got up from your bed and slid open the balcony door. When you looked down below you saw Mavado holding a bouquet of flowers just for you. He had a smug grin on his face. He knows how to capture your heart.

“Trying to make up for lost time?” You asked.

“I think it’s obvious, mi reina.” Relax, papi chulo.

You smile as you begin to back away from the railing of the balcony. You knew Mavado wouldn’t come up the regular way. You saw his grappling hook wrap around the railing before he flung himself up. Of course, he landed perfectly since he had done this a thousand times. He handed you the bouquet before placing a kiss on your cheek.

El domingo empieza el juego de seducción

It’s never just one kiss. It’s always more. On your cheeks, on your forehead, on your lips, and on your neck. His stubble lightly scratches your skin, causing you to giggle. His arms wrapped around your waist so he could pull you in close. You jokingly told him to stop but you knew he never would. In fact, he started placing quick kisses on your neck before returning to your lips.

“We should get you back inside. I’ll help warm you up.” He whispered in your ear before picking you up.

Anyone with a somewhat developed frontal lobe knows what’s about to happen. Mavado was being truthful. He would help warm you up…without any clothes on. Body heat does count. It worked, didn’t it? You were sweating and panting by the end of the night. Knocked you out and left you curled up in his arms.

Monday night, una velada entre tú y yo

By the morning, Mavado was already gone. That’s not unusual. What was unusual was how early you got to see him again. He was back by the early evening. The sun hadn’t fully set yet.

The moment you walked through the door he came up behind you to give you a hug. You were spooked at first before you felt that familiar scratch when he kissed your cheek. You immediately relaxed from his touch and he chuckled about your tiny freakout.

“What? You didn’t expect me to come back?”

“Not really. You’re not really a man who stays for two nights in a row.”

Mavado acted like he was shocked but his face did not portray that. He still had that devilish smirk on his face which meant he had plans for you and him.

“I did want to make up for lost time.”

“Does that mean we are going for a second round?” You asked with a grin.

“If that’s what you want. But I was thinking of something more romantic. Whatever you want, mi reina.” Good heavens, Mavado. You’ll strike the hearts of many.

That evening was romantic, Mavado made sure of that. A nice dinner and great music. He literally swept you off your feet. If you didn’t know how to dance bachata before you surely did now. You can’t live your whole life without knowing how to dance bachata.

And as you requested, you both had a second round in bed. The Devil’s Tango.

Martes, te hago mi novia en París

You were surprised to see Mavado still in bed with you in the morning. He really was staying to make up for lost time. His hands traced up your body as your eyes adjusted to the morning light. You looked so majestic to him with the way you looked so relaxed and the only thing covering you were the sheets.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. You ready for another day with your favorite man?” He asked with a cocky tone.

“You plan to spoil me like you usually do?”

“Of course. And what better place to do it but in Outworld. The culture is rich I can assure you.”

A trip to another realm? Fancy. He’s not wrong either. He has traveled around Outworld and knows the best spots to find goods. The finest pieces of jewelry and best-designed clothes will be yours. Just say the word and Mavado will give it to you, one way or another.

Get ready, put your best outfit on, and don’t leave your place without a smile. Mavado wants that smile to stay on all day long.

By Wednesday, you'll love me the way it should be

Y el jueves, el anillo down on my knees te propongo matrimonio, dices que sí

The first half of the week was amazing. You couldn’t remember a time when you weren’t smiling or giggling. You thought that this week couldn’t get any better. You are wrong and for once, that’s a good thing.

You were standing outside on your balcony, watching the sunset. The sky was painted with yellow, pink, and orange. The golden light illuminated you beautifully. You were like a shining star in Mavado’s eyes. He came up beside you and you immediately rested your head on his shoulder. His hand rested gently on top of yours. You thought this was another romantic moment before you felt him messing with your ring finger. He was trying to lift it slightly and you felt something cold against it. You turned to look at him before pulling your hand away.

“Heh, I thought I was better at being sneaky. Well, guess I should be upfront with you.” He said.

You were confused about what he meant till you saw him get down on one knee. In his hand was the ring of your dreams. The band was the metal you wanted, shining in the light. The gem was your favorite and cut in the shape you desired. The ring was beautiful. This moment was beautiful. What do you have to say about this?

“Yes!”

Friday, we'll marry wherever you want

You guys got married in secret. No paperwork or the pope’s approval. Your love was true and that’s all that mattered. You guys killed two birds with one stone by having a destination wedding. Wherever you wanted, you went. It could have meaning or it could be fun. The choice was yours. Mavado would make it happen and follow through. All for his lovely bride.

Luna de miel es el sábado, hermoso final

The day after your makeshift wedding you two spent your time enjoying a new destination together. It’s a dream come true. But you did have one question for Mavado.

“I’m surprised you’re not quick to return to the Red Dragon. I would have thought you’d return to them sooner.”

“I am still loyal to my clan of course. But I am also loyal to you. The clan could wait, I couldn’t make you wait any longer.” He brought your hand up and placed a kiss on it.

Your new husband is truly loyal to you.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

“Where is Mavado!” Daegon yelled in frustration.

This was unlike the cruel crime lord. He doubted Mavado got killed since he was always super careful. So where the heck was he?

“Maybe he’s got a girlfriend now.” Hsu Hao suggested.

Daegon snapped his neck to glare at the idiot. His eye might have started twitching as well.

“Hsu Hao, you’re a bigger idiot than my brother. You’re loyal, but an idiot. Never in a million years would Mavado waste his time by dating. Don’t say another word to me.”

Unfortunately for you, Daegon, Hsu Hao is right. There ain’t nothin you could do about it.

Yap notes: unfortunately we never had a chance 😭. I mean when his name is basically malvado (literally accidentally call him that all the time) could we really expect him to love?

This feels satisfying to do and finish. This may be very headcanony but what can you do when we haven’t seen him in a long time. I can’t even find much for him when it came to the 3D era so I can’t figure out his speech patterns. I did my best and I hope this makes some people happy. Adiós!

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Screen Protector Works!

I decided to see if I could draw my characters without painstakingly rendering their heads in another doc and then copy-pasting them wherever I needed them. Also without erasing or touching the line tool. I guess so? But I still need to look at my cheat sheets. I may have a bit of an imagination deficit, autism-related or no. Situations, yes. Objects in space? Ah, no.

I dunno if that reads as John, but that's certainly how he feels. I am, indeed, completing his narrative arc - for now. I will not stop. More character development is coming! But maybe he can have a doughnut when he's all done with his latest freakout. If the lion doesn't eat them all. (I am not kidding, there is a lion and he will totally eat the doughnuts.)

The spouse says "just trying my gay little best" is T-shirt gold. Maybe I'll do you some printable designs when I'm ready to art for serious.

I get way better art results if I make a reference and trace it. I have a lot of ways to generate references, but I mainly cut and paste public domain stuff. I used to steal stock photos, 'cos I started out making my references and then drawing them on paper, but tracing might get me in trouble if the end result resembles the original too much. After an attempt to pay for photos like a good consumer, I got annoyed with the cut corporations take. And now that there's all this AI shit in the public domain, I'm looking into buying a digital model. I probably won't find one with, like, a toaster, but hands, bodies and some basic props are possible.

In other news, I'm trying to clean and organize my shit on this new computer and:

I MISS SHADING! WAAAH!

I used to be so good at making things look wet! And hair! I know why I quit, and the eyestrain is still a factor, but I wanna do it that way. I don't like shadow puppets anymore! I'm pretty sure I stole the shape of those headphones off some Amazon product information, but all the shading and texturing is me... and pattern-fill, but... Look! I even did some freckles! I can do that if I cause myself pain, and pain is so fleeting! I don't even remember!

*sigh* I'm not gonna try it. I'm not. Not right now. I don't have the stamina. I WANT the stamina, but that means eye exercises, every day, for I dunno how long. Probably forever, though I must assume they won't hurt as much later. But I dunno if I'll ever be able to put the time into an image like that again. I got, like, a half hour drawing time right now, max. That's not even long enough to remember how I used to do that in Paint.net. It's barely enough to get used to the screen protector.

God, I know every smooth line in that is the shape tool or the line tool. That's bonkers. Maybe if I get used to GIMP again I'll be able to draw faster. Even with the screen protector, Paint.net captures my wobbles - as is evident. What a difference a digital assist makes.

[c0rpseductor]

i’m so fucking angry actually. like about just the state of it

like being encouraged to develop unhealthy habits about food since childhood. getting criticized about my weight as a little kid, and long before i was ever even fat. having a psych hold my medication ransom and threatening to take me off it if i didn’t try to lose weight, not because my weight was causing any health problem but simply because i was not thin. going into treatment for my eating disorder and having it called a weight problem, being told to pay more attention to what i eat in the middle of intense calorie tracking and restriction and being prescribed benzos. having a therapist that tries to convince me i’m not as ugly as i think instead of treating the underlying problem. being so sick i can barely think and hearing nothing from coworkers and family except how great i look and how jealous everyone is i’ve lost so much weight so quickly. ���i don’t care if it’s unhealthy as long as [he’s] losing weight” from my own dad. getting mocked for being so deep in anorexia i had to weigh everything i ate to do math about the calories. still having periodic freakouts about food in remission and only eating once a day. having a body that is so damaged i physically can’t feel hunger anymore almost ever. absolutely every fucking corner of society praising and enshrining and encouraging this behavior and the self-loathing and mortification of fatness it stems from. “Dieting is good for you actually! Have you tried intermittent fasting? Have you tried juice cleanses and detoxing? What do you mean that’s not meaningfully different than your having severely limited your own food intake and making yourself throw up? It’s just a diet, everybody should want to lose weight! Besides, like, you’re fat anyway so how bad could it possibly be to have an eating disorder like that? You looked better when you were sick tbh.”

i’m so tired of it i could scream. i’m so tired of being hungry i’m so tired of being fucking anorexic i’m so fucking tired of living in a world where being anorexic is seen as a good thing if i ever hear about a fad diet again i am going to start ripping out jugulars with my teeth

[thinkatoryprocess]

do you have any thoughts on how mencken matsson and roman are doing in the YKWniverse after mencken's four (or eight) years are up?

I've thought about this a little bit, but let me spin out some post-fic thoughts.

Mencken runs for president again, but not how you might think. His ultimate goal in the primary race is to aggressively out every shitty piece of rhetoric and policy that the other candidates are doing - not in order to win, because he knows he won't, but to basically do his best to shame them into better behavior or to frontload a ton of ammo for the only decent people in the race. He cuts a few throats on his way out of the party and as soon as he loses the primary he actively leaves the Republican Party to become an independent.

Despite the impression someone might have with the timeline of Roman and Mencken that it's a quick flash in the pan affair that might flame out, they actually become very comfortable and happy together and are actively inseparable within 4-5 years' time. They live in Manhattan together after the presidency is over with Aurora, while occasionally dropping in to stay at Mencken's home in Albany, a sort of pilgrimage that Mencken seems to need and matters more to him than he's willing to admit. Mencken invests his time in political activism on several surprising fronts and maintains a strong social media and online presence, no shock there.

Roman and Matsson develop a very strong bond, though a year or two in Roman has a commitment meltdown because he becomes very aware that this is serious and he doesn't want to curse Matsson with his presence forever. It's a whole thing that the three of them have to untangle and eventually Roman has to reckon with how fucked up he is about feeling so weak to Matsson. It's one thing to love Mencken, because Mencken insists upon himself. Matsson is a purposeful surrender on Roman's part, and surrender is bad, obviously.

Mencken and Matsson become very close friends - no sexual vibes, beyond verbal domming in scenes with the three of them. It's a big deal for Mencken, who doesn't have a lot of people in his life. Eventually it's not just about Roman connecting them, but an actual connection of their own that Mencken is very eager to maintain. Matsson appreciates the attention, because Mencken is a more supportive person than most.

Re: Mencken, deradicalization, and the Roys. Over the course of four years, Mencken has more than a couple of freakouts with regards to his deradicalization and whether or not anything he does means anything or is really genuine. And he is doing things - his presidency is full of weird hybrid shit (as usual) informed by Eavis and activists against most isms and phobias that still has to have the conservative tilt he needs, leading to hard centrist moves, effectively. He gets shockingly upset about the idea that he's lying to himself and he can't get any credit for getting better because this is all fake. Roman pulls him back, because the key Mencken was missing before was that he didn't view people as human; he very much does now. A whole new well of empathy opens up in him eventually and he can't bring himself to believe that it's genuine because he hates himself for being what he once was.

The Roy fam situation is complicated, because it's clear Mencken's changed, but it doesn't erase the scars he caused. No one has forgotten that dinner. Even while Ken and Stewy hang out with Roman and Mencken, even when Shiv goes to hang out with Roman and Auri and Mencken is around, it hovers in the air between them all. It hurts Mencken more than you can imagine to realize he can never fix it, but it is what it is. He can't undo what he did.

Mencken winds up being a pretty great uncle - especially to Lilah, Stewy's baby - with all things considered, though Sophie has good reason to be distant. Eventually, she's old enough (16, let's say?) that she actively addresses Mencken about the situation, and he actually almost breaks down in front of her, giving a painful and sincere apology with full awareness that she doesn't have to take it. It doesn't change what happened, but it causes a shift, and she adjusts her idea of Mencken, starts to talk to him independently. It's a weird relationship, but it gets stronger over time, even though the weirdness hovers.

I think that's it? That's a lot, but that's what kicks around in my head when I think about it.

[prorevmakeouts]

im considering my other set of OCs today

MISS rhys (no relation) and lee they are like. well budget blake / eve i suppose rhys kind of has blakes body type but eves personality while lee is the opposite. but this is just me having types and i do not accept criticism for this

lee is likeeee super buff with Some fat while rhys is a scrawny little guy... lee tries 2 get her to work out with her but rhys is a noodle-armed little emo girl she would not thrive in a gymbro environment.

lee has a more Chill personality rhys is very high strung. theyre in a band together lee is the drummer and rhys is the rhythm guitar / singer / manager who constantly bosses the Official manager around / marketing guy / PR guy. lee is kind of just along for the ride she didn't even play percussion before rhys started the band she learned it specifically for her. just kind of goes with whatever life throws at her even if that involves now being in an insanely popular alt band

theyre both furries also but Can be human in my mind world (im bad at drawing humans. this is the only reason theyre furries lol) lee is a leucistic spotted hyena and rhys is a brown mutt doggy... lees got some tattoos while rhys likes to dye her fur/hair different colors and takes the showmanship / performance aspect of her job Very seriously. lee just wears ratty wifebeaters and cargo shorts on stage

and of Course they fuck bc this is the entire point of any story i have ever written the "themes" and "message" and "plot" all exist to lead to 2 women fucking. every single time. i cannot change my heart. rhys is basically the exclusive "top" cause her mindset in all things is Check This Off My List Get Shit Done with a sort of intensity to the Finish This Task part even if she does love lee. but shes also impulsive enough to simply initiate WAYYY more than lee does and again, lee just Goes with whatever shes chill like that. she does enjoy it but just doesnt get the chance to initiate often because it's either not the right Vibe or rhys has already beaten her to it. or shes just lazy tbh thats the main reason they don't typically do mutual shit: plus their size difference (lee is tall and beefy while rhys is shorter and scrawny) makes that difficult. lee Would occasionally initiate i think but as a like Special Treat i think rhys also has some insecurity that leads to her not wanting to "bottom" as often (:[)

i say top and bottom in quotes bc i dont rlly think those terms make as much sense for lesbians but when i say "top" i mean "the one eating out / strapping / fingering the other one" for Clarity's sake. and again they dont tend to do mutual shit like scissoring or any of the other hundreds of possible options bc 1. lee is kind of lazy and won't bring it up unprompted and 2. size difference makes it difficult. lee is scared of hurting her lol. also i dont find that shit as hot Sorry i like there 2 be focus on One Person At A Time

their story takes place in a time generally analogous to 90s-2000s usa (though its NOT just normal usa like in sanctuary this is a different Location bc its easier to justify the furry shit that way) erm lots of typical homophobia especially in their Scene and theyre also dealing with not being taken as Seriously by peers and critics as an all-female band with a Very eccentric and gnc frontwoman. lee has slightly Less internalized shit than rhys i think but she still wants to stay closeted just so she doesn't have to deal with the media circus, rhys has Internalized shit where she hates being gay so so badly and wants to stay closeted as to not negatively impact her career. internalized shit leads to things like randomly crying during sex, flipping into emotional coldness on a switch, not wanting to be seen around lee in public but then Also having a freakout because she misses her and has separation anxiety, "i hate myself for liking you too much" shit, etc. i think she gets over it eventually though especially when their band goes on hiatus and she learns to focus more on what she Actually wants to do as an artist instead of maximizing her reach (not necessarily sanitizing herself... she does wild shit for attention all the time, including being openly supportive of gay people which is why she gets the gay accusations thrown at her to begin with. she just doesnt want to be ACTUALLY out because its too personal: the eccentric way she behaves on stage is a persona, and coming out for real would weaken the divide between Stage Rhys and Real Rhys which is scary for her). also on said hiatus lee is basically an unemployed bum living off of savings she had from when the band was super popular and selling out venues selling out of CDs etc. but it also gives them time to have a more Normal relationship since theyre out of the spotlight (well. not FULLY out of the spotlight because the media and fans dont just forget about shit like that, but theyre under less scrutiny). moving in together etc etc. and they can fuck more 👍

[hollandsmushroom]

Cum and Cookie Dough

Synopsis: Late night sloppy and sweet encounters. 

Masterlist

Send Me A Request

Word Count: 2,841

(Not my Gif)

Your phone brought you out of your sleep, its constant buzz for the past few minutes on your night stand, reaching out. The first thing you saw was the time, in big white text it said '3 A.M.' Below that was the contact photo of your boyfriend. You swiped across, answering the call and bringing it up to your ear.

"Why are you calling at 3 a.m?" You groaned, scrubbing a fist into your eye to try and remove the sleepy fog.

"Can I come over?" Cals shockingly perky voice responded.

"I mean, I guess, I'm fucking tired though, and I look terrible, why do you wanna come over?"

"I just wanna see my baby, is that illegal? And I'm sure you look stunning" You mumbled a no in response to the first question, although it was rhetorical, a blush spreading on your cheeks at the compliment. You listened to the silence before You heard a door click closed in the background of the call, alerting you to the fact that he was already getting in his car. "Can we bake cookies?"

"Sure, I'll get the stuff ready" you mumbled, pulling back the covers and shaking your head, trying to wake yourself up. "I'll see you when you get here, love you, bubba" you hummed

"I love you too, Bubbaloo" he responded in a sing-song voice before hanging up.

Your bare feet slid against the cool hard wood, sending a shiver up your body causing goosebumps to spread on your skin, you suddenly missed the comfort of your bed but you were excited to see your boy in a couple minutes.

Stepping into your kitchen you opened the cabinets, grabbing the ingredients for gooey chocolate chip cookies and setting them out on the counter and setting the oven to preheat. You put the kettle on to boil, digging through your cabinets to find your most caffeinated tea, knowing how Cal was and that you were not going to sleep for a long time. As you waited for the water to boil you started to doze off where you stood.

The click off of the kettle brings you back to the world, tearing the tea sachet open and putting it in the cup, pouring the boiling water over it tugging on the tab, watching as the water changed to a darker color as it sloshed softly at the side of the mug.

The sound of knuckles on wood made its way to your ears, shaking your head to perk yourself up again as you reached to the door handle, flipping the lock and opening the door, on the other side stood your boyfriend, loose sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a plain black tee shirt gracing his toned torso. You were wearing one of his shirts that you had stolen months ago and a small pair of sleep shorts, nothing underneath either piece. His soft chocolate eyes drank in your appearance before stepping over the threshold and engulfing you in his muscular arms. His lips met yours messily, sleep evident in both your beings. He pulled back, breath fanning across your face, brushing the hair out of your eyes.

"I've never seen anything more beautiful," he mumbled making you smile and giggle softly holding him close. The oven beeps from the kitchen alerting you to the fact it was now preheated.

"Ooh, the oven is ready!" He spoke excitedly, pulling your hand and guiding you to the kitchen.

"Here is the recipe," you giggled at his childlike demeanor, handing him the cookbook that you had set out earlier. The two of you began to bake, you chose to measure the ingredients because you didn’t trust him to do it right and him sifting them altogether in the bowl. When it came time to mix the wet ingredients in with the dry you put your hands in the bowl as Cal chose to stand behind you, hands slipping under your shirt and cupping your breasts as you worked. You moaned softly at his cold rings on your hot flesh, but the moan got louder as he tweaked your nipples between his fingers, lips going to your neck and sucking gently at the skin, you knew that he was going to leave marks but you were enjoying it too much to tell him to stop. You felt his teeth scrape over the marks he had just made as you started to form the dough into balls and place them on the baking sheet. 

“Cal” you groaned as his hand slid down your body and into the front of your short, dipping the calloused tips of his fingers into your rapidly dampening heat, he began to rub slow circles on your clit, your knees buckled under you as you gripped the counter, but Cal took your hand, sucking your fingers clean of all the cookie dough, his mouth was warm and wet, his teeth gently bumping into your knuckles, a slight pain rapidly soothed but the gentle suck of his mouth. You imagined it must be how his cock feels in your mouth. He took your fingers from your mouth, his lips returning to your neck, biting your earlobe. 

“You gonna cum? You gonna cum on nothing as my fingers grind your clit, let it drip down your leg?” 

“Fuck, Cal!” you screamed, as he ground his bulge into your ass, sucking harshly on your sweet spot and moving faster against your clit, your orgasm rapidly building. “Cal, more” you needed just a little more to send you over the edge and he immediately obliged, his free hand sneaking back underneath your shirt and tuggin on your nippled, rolling it between his fingertips and that was it for you, you came with a scream, your fingers gripping on to the counter as your legs shook, Cals hand between your thighs held you up as your legs couldn’t. Your abs clenched, body lurching slightly forward as his rough fingers kept you at a high for longer than you thought you could. 

“Cal, fuck, Cal” you spat out as you finally came down from your high, your breath coming in pants. Cal took his fingers from your pussy, they glistened with arousal in the low kitchen light, catching your eye, you watched his movements intensely.  He reached for the cookie dough bowl, scooping the final bit of leftover dough onto his two fingers and splitting them apart, cum and cookie dough on each finger. He brought one finger to his own mouth, sucking it clean and releasing a satisfied noise before offering you his other finger which you gladly accepted. It tasted of chocolate and sugar but there was the slight tang of your cum mixed in with the uncooked ingredients. 

You turned around in Cal’s arms, looking him in the eye as you felt his dick press against you, you felt the need to have him, nearly insatiable, the way his pubes tickled the tip of your nose and how soft he felt in your mouth. You held up a finger, signalling him to give you a moment as you slipped from his grasp. Grabbing the baking sheets and placing them in the intensely hot oven before turning back to your wonderfully horny boyfriend who had jumped up and was now sitting on the counter, legs spread and bulge evident as his eyes devoured every inch of you, the rapidly darkening marks on your neck that he had given you, the glisten on your thighs from where you had began to drip, god it all made him want you more. You positioned yourself between his thighs, nails scraping along his sweatpants covered thighs as you got nearer his cock. You looked up at him from between his thighs, eyeing his lip caught between his teeth, holding in moans that built in his throat. You stood up, his face covered with confusion as you tugged his lip from between his teeth. 

“I wanna hear you moan, baby” you whisper, your eyes boring into his, leaning in to kiss him gently, eyelids fluttering closed as your lips meet. “Never hold back again, okay?” you hum as you fell back down so you were mouth level with his cock. You felt the heat radiating off of the warm ove, the cookies baking inside releasing a delicious smell but all you could think about was Cals cock in your mouth. You ran your hand over his bulge, a small whimper coming from the back of his throat at the tender touch. You bit him gently through the cloth, eliciting a moan from him, encouraging you to do more. You reached for his waistband hooking your fingers and pulling down, letting his cock spring free in front of you. Reaching for his hard on, you traced a gentle line up one side, following the pattern of his veins before getting to the tip, you felt as he squirmed under your touch. Without warning you took him into your mouth, tongue swirling around the tip before you went deeper, his tip touched the back of your throat causing you to gag, the sudden contraction of your throat around him made his hips buck upwards, cock going even further down your throat. Your fingernails dug into his hip bone as you saturated to bob your head up and down, his dick hitting the back of your throat with every downward movement. 

“Fuck, Y/n you feel so good, so fucking good,” he moaned, his head falling back and hitting the cabinet, but he didn’t care, his fingers going through your hair. You felt him twitch against your tongue, alerting you to the fact that he was close to cumming. You pulled back, wiping the built up spit from around your lips and look at Calum through your eyelashes. 

“I want you to cum in my pussy” you groaned.

“I want that as well” Calum hummed and just as he was slipping off the counter and grabbing your waist you jumped back. 

“FUCK” you screamed making Cal freakout

“What? Are you okay? What happ-”

“The cookies!” you yell grabbing the oven mits and opening the oven, a cloud of smoke exiting the oven and tainting your vision. You reached in once you could see well enough and pulled the tray of charred treats out. 

“Did you set it on fire?” Cal asked, trying to look over your shoulder. 

“No, they aren’t on fire, they are just burnt to all hell,” you mumble, greatly disappointed at your failed baking endeavor, “Also it wouldn’t have just been me who set them on fire, this” you gestured between the both of you and then to the cookies “was a team effort.” Calum laughed as you set the cookies down, turning the oven off. His hands found your waist, squeezing your hips and pulling upwards signaling for you to jump, which you did. 

“I can think of another team effort I want to do with you” he spoke, leaning into your lips.

“That wasn’t as hot as you thought it was but I love you anyway” you giggle, crashing your lips to his swollen pink ones. His hands on your ass, squeezing the supple flesh and holding you tight to his chest, he walked you both to your bedroom, never leaving from the fight between lips, teeth, and wandering hands. 

The both of you fell onto the bed, Calum hovering over you as his lips stayed on yours, fingers slipping underneath the fabric of your shirt and pulling it up to just above your breast, as soon as the mounds of flesh were uncovered he ducked his head down and took a nipple into his mouth while you finished removing your shirt, as well as awkwardly wiggling out of your shorts, while treasuring the feeling of his lips sucking your pebbled nipples. He pulled back, taking in your naked state, his cock somehow getting even harder as he took in your swollen lips, dazed eyes, and hickey covered neck. He quickly removed his pants, leaving him in just his shirt and you couldn’t help but think of Winnie to Pooh, you giggled as his eyes looked at you to as if he was asking what was funny but instead of answering you stuck your foot out, bunching the fabric between your toes and pulling upwards, effectively removing his shirt from his body. 

“I didn’t know you could do that” he mumbled as he leaned down reattaching your lips with his. 

“I am full of surprises” you mumbled against his full lips. You felt his cock press between your lips, the head teasing your entrance and a moan escaped your lips. His hips eased slowly till you were hip bone to hip bone, every inch of his cock sheathed inside of you, you could practically feel his cock pulsing against your walls as you clenched around him. 

“Fuck, baby, so warm and wet,” he groaned against the shell of you ear as he drew his hips back before pushing forward and into you again. It almost felt like it was too much, how his skin felt slick with sweat as his body gilded against yours, how hot his breath felt, how your walls stretched around him as he pulled in and out of you. You felt like you were on fire, every nerve in your body aware of his gentle touch as he continued to thrust, a familiar heat developing in the bottom of your belly, right where it met his, where your gentle flesh touched. Your toes curled as you dragged your nails down Calum’s back. 

His hands explored your body, running up and down, feeling every curve and bump of your soft body beneath him, there was exhaustion on your tongue and the faintest taste of cookie dough. He felt your nipples rub against his chest, their hardness tugging against his taught flesh as he felt muscles in his lower belly clench. 

“Baby, I’m close” he hummed, continuing to thrust in and out of you, his rate picking up ever so slightly as he felt your pussy clench around him more rapidly. 

“Cum with me, Cal,” you cried as you arched your back into his chest, your fingers tugging at the hair at the nape of Cal’s neck. You felt Cal cum within you, it felt warm and in an odd way comforting, you felt closer than you had ever been. After you had both rode out your highs Cal rolled off of you, both of you in silence as you caught your breath.

As you both lay exhausted in your bed, the smell of burnt cookies still wafting throughout your house but it mostly reeked of sex now. Reaching out you intertwined your hand with Calum’s, turning your head to look at him and finding him already looking at you. 

“Hold my hand and don’t let go” he said in nearly a whisper, squeezing your fingers between his.

“I'm going to have to go to the bathroom at some point, Cal” you giggled, his face mocking extreme hurt. 

“Why can’t you promise me forever?” he cried dramatically, pulling you into his chest and laying on leg over both of yours so you were fully engulfed in his embrace. You laughed at his dramatic antics, enjoying simply existing with him. His fingers traced up and down your back gently soothing you into a nearly asleep state. 

“Baby,” Cal whispered into your hair and you hummed in response. “We have to get ready for bed” he reminded you, pulling you up into a sitting position. You nodded your head slightly before standing up, reaching out for Cal and he grabbed your hand standing with you. You stood in front of the mirror when the dark marks on your neck caught your eye.

“CAL!!” you shouted as you spun to look at him, your hand on your neck touching the tender flesh with the tips of your fingers. 

“Yes babe?” he asked sheepishly, as though he didn’t know what you were talking about.

“How am I supposed to cover these up? There are so many of them and they are so dark!” You exclaimed, slightly exasperated but also very entertained. 

“I'm sure you will figure out a way” he spoke, wrapping his arms around you, continuing to look at your reflection in the mirror. 

“So when can I see you again?” he grinned at you through the mirror, you turned around to meet his gaze, raising your hand and covering his eyes with your palm.

“Right now.” you giggled as you pulled your hand away causing him to laugh at your childish antics. You finished brushing your teeth in silence, Calum using the toothbrush that he kept at yours, the occasional glance to one another making you both smile widely. Once you were both ready, you wandered back to your bed, the sun peeking from beneath the curtains as you finally settled down, falling asleep in each others arms right as the world began to wake up.

Hope yall enjoyed!

@major5sosstan​

[lunmelia]

Listen I know that Jack had to “grow up fast” because the world is a “dangerous place” or whatever but if he was born a baby?? I would’ve watched the hell out of that show. Just two dudes, their mum and an angel raising the devil’s baby. Because I say that they kicked Lucifer’s ass to the alternate world and everyone lives (except Kelly. Sorry.). Could you imagine? 

You have Mary; the woman who has experience in raising two babies, even if one was only for six months.

You have Dean; the man who basically raised Sam and has vague memories of helping out when his brother was a baby. Helped Lisa with her son and baby niece. Took care of a shapeshifter baby for a day. Also had a daughter for a couple of days but didn’t interact with her much. 

You have Sam; not much experience. Also took care of a shapeshifter baby for a day. Strong in research, might manage to find them at least a paragraph of how to raise a nephilim. Killed his niece. Not a great sign but he promises he won’t do that this time. 

You have Castiel; the angel expert. Is a literal angel. Has no experience with babies apart from that one night he babysat for his co-worker. Kind-of-sort-of-not-really a dad to a teenage girl. Only times he’s had to interact with a nephilim is when he’s been ordered to kill one, so, not a good sign but he promises he won’t do that this time. 

Together, they make do. But holy shit is raising Jack tough. 

He may not have a true form like Castiel but he does have wings and a true voice. Which he can’t control. So the tantrums. The tantrums. When he was born he made their ears bleed from the crying, and the lights exploded. Cas was miraculously able to calm him down before further damage was done, but the humans always make sure to have earplugs on them from then on. They also had to buy a large supply of lightbulbs to replace the ones in the bunker every time he cries. 

They had to baby proof the bunker. And I mean baby proof the hell out of the bunker. You think a normal house can be dangerous for a baby? The bunker is huge. And full of knives, guns, spellbooks, ancient artifacts, and just about a thousand other things that are not. good. to have around a baby. The baby proofing took a week. Two days of exploring the bunker and recording everything that needed to be baby-proofed, two shopping trips in a day to buy the things needed, and another three days of installing everything. Cas had to stay with Jack in his room while Mary, Sam and Dean did all the baby proofing. 

(also yes this is an AU in which Dean and Cas get their shit together, confess their feelings, build a house and raise Jack as his dads. the build a house part comes in when Jack is like 3)

The absolute freakout Dean had when Jack flew the first time. It happened when he was five months old, and Dean was changing his diaper. He turned around for a second to throw out the wipes. Heard the flap of wings, turned back around with a greeting for Cas on his lips, and Jack was gone. It went like this: Dean, staring at the empty table: ... Jack? Jack- *realisation* Cas! Cas, the baby’s gone! Cas! The baby can fly! Baby’s flying- Cas, appearing in front of him with a giggling Jack in his arms: yes, I am well aware Dean: oh my god- Jack: *disappears again* Dean: *yelps in alarm* Cas: *simply reaches up and just. plucks Jack out of thin air. one moment there’s empty air and the next Jack is just in Cas’ hands* Cas: this may become... difficult Dean, leaning over with his hands on his knees: I’m gonna have a heart attack

Turns out, baby Jack can heal! Which is what Mary discovered when once she had held Jack after coming back from a hunt with a few scrapes, they miraculously disappeared. 

You know when toddlers will get into the flour and leave a mess that you have to clean up for the next two hours? Yeah, well Jack got into a box of spellbooks and opened one which released monsters from fables. So that was a very panic-filled 6 hours that included Sam, Dean and Mary researching how to put them back / kill them while Cas held Jack close to make sure he didn’t fly away. Turns out, baby-proofing a bunker is pretty useless when said baby can fly through walls.

Apart from the many mishaps thathappened during raising Jack from infancy to toddlerhood, he’s just a weird kid. And kids are usually weird, but Jack is weird. 

Sam basically sprinted back to the car with a five-year-old Jack in his arms after Jack had held a woman’s hand in his at a playground and gently told her, “the events that lead to your father’s death were never your fault. He is in his Heaven now and although he is at peace, he begs that you make room in your heart for forgiveness of his wrong doings.” Yeah, they were very close to moving town when that happened. 

One day when he was 6, he walked outside into the back yard and just sat down in a random spot and stared at the ground. After a couple of minutes of glancing out the window to check on him, Dean walked up to him. Dean: whatchu up to, kid? Jack: there is a daisy that is going to grow and bloom here in 15 days. I’ve never seen a flower grow. I would like to watch it, if that’s okay? Dean: you want to sit here, in this exact spot, for 15 days so you can watch a flower grow? Jack, still not taking his eyes off the spot: yes Dean, who’s honestly used to this behaviour after witnessing it for the past two years: ... alright, sure. I’ll bring you dinner in a couple of hours, that sound good? Jack, finally looking up with a beaming smile: yes, thank you! (Cas and Dean did not let him sit in the same spot for 15 days. They did sit next to him for like two hours when the daisy did bloom, though. And despite the creak and buzzing ache in his knees and back, Dean can’t find it in himself to regret it.) 

he had a phase when he was 7 where he would say hi to everyone he came across. Everyone. Dean and Cas cannot make one shopping trip with him without everyone in that store knowing Jack’s name. He says bye when they leave too. 100% every time they get at least 5 people saying bye back. 

On the year he turned 8 they decided to enrol him in school. After weeks of telling him not be “weird” and teaching him to be as normal of a kid as he could be. When the 4 of them are confidant that he won’t go around using his powers, they enrol him. They did not anticipate the school calling him the first day, telling them that Jack had explained to the other kids that Santa isn’t real and they should “learn to not set themselves up for disappointment or believe what their parents say” which caused the entire class to burst out into tears. It was another “maybe we should move town” moment.

Another kid: my dad broke his leg. he has to walk with crutches now. sometimes he lets me use them! Jack: both my dads have died. one of them was torn to shreds by hellhounds who then dragged his soul down to hell where he was tortured for 40 years, but then father rescued him, that was how they met. but then father was blown to bits by my biological father. but then my grandfather resurrected him! they’re fine now.  Their teacher: uh, wow... Jack. sure sounds like you have some very vivid dreams Jack, remembering he’s not supposed to talk about this kind of stuff: ah, yes, of course... dreams. I woke up... crying. a lot. the dreams... scared me. 

I have... so many other little moments in my head, but this post is already so long so let me know if anyone wants more. 

[qslovebot]

Nobody: Spencer Reid

Summary: After an accident on a case, the reader is left with trauma and anxiety. A miscommunication between her and the person she needs most (Spencer Reid) begins to eat her alive and he just so happens to be the only one there when she breaks again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Includes: mentions of kissing, mentions of traumatizing events (not specified), depictions of anxiety, fluff, miscommunication, angst to fluff

A/N: The song is Nobody by Mitski. Read with this for the ultimate experience.

Sometimes things felt too literal. Words start to sound weird and feel weird when you say them, clothes feel too much like clothes against your skin, the texture of any food in your mouth becomes too prevalent while eating.

These things started happening after you witnessed and endured something awful on a case. You wouldn't dare bring up the full memory in case it took over and killed you all over again. It wasn't PTSD, but it was the cause of your anxiety attacks most of the time when they occurred.

After that case, you spent a week in the hospital where they happened nearly every day and the doctors weren't much help, to be frank. The only people who really ever helped were your friends and the person you were so close to dating, Spencer Reid.

It was a long story. To dumb it down, the case event happened and you and Spencer thought you were about to die so he confessed his feelings for you and of course they were reciprocated. He asked, then and there through stuttering words, 'If we make it out of here please go out with me?" As his last bit of hope, and he kissed you before you were taken away by the unsub. He didn't endure nearly as much as you did which was why he wasn't as affected. But you had said 'yes' to that question and three weeks later, you still hadn't talked about it.

When the anxiety attacks happened, you often felt like you couldn't breathe, like the walls were pressing in on you. Sometimes you'd be with JJ when it happened. She would immediately ask you what you needed and often that would just be a hug.

Emily witnessed one at your house when she came over to check on you. She rushed over, caring voice and soft hands and told you to put your head between your knees, stroking your hair until you felt better.

Penelope made the 30-minute drive from her house every Friday night she wasn't working on a case to bring you dinner she had made and chat with you about anything you wanted.

Your friends cared for you, it was so prevalent. It was almost always that fact that was getting you through this as you continued to get better. You would return to work in two weeks because now the anxiety attacks were only once in a while and better controlled by you and Spencer still hadn't spoken to you since.

It was now nearly two weeks later. You would go back to work on Monday.

"He did come to visit you in the hospital before you woke up," Penelope said, stirring her cup of ramen. It was just another Friday and she sat across from you in your chair, cross-legged. "I don't know what's up with him if he isn't speaking to you, he seems fine at work."

You sighed, swallowing your bite. "I'm just scared that he regrets what he said and did before I was dragged away. It was those words and that kiss that got me through what the unsub did and I keep thinking about it and him..."

"It was romantic," she noted, waving her chopstick in the air. "I think you should call him, rather than just text him. It'll catch him off-guard and in-the-moment."

"Now?"

"Yes, so I can listen!"

You smiled a little, pulling out your phone as your heart began to race. What if he did pick up? What if it was awkward? What if he somehow didn't remember?

You pressed on his name, then pressed call. It began to hum quietly with pending rings. One ring, two, then five, then seven, then there was a small beep.

'You've reached Dr. Spencer Reid, uh, leave a message,' his voice said through the machine, still as sweet and youthfully scratchy. You bit your lip and nodded.

"I should have known that he didn't want to talk. Penelope, I can't stop thinking about him and he keeps ignoring my calls and I'm... frankly I'm afraid that nothing will ever happen and he'll ignore me forever."

Penelope cringed, "(Y/N), uh... there's... it's gone to voicemail and you're recording."

"Shit!" You panicked, looking at your phone. "How do I stop it?!"

"The red button!"

"That's the end call button I-" you pressed it by accident. Oh my god, the message went through. You just sat there with Penelope, both of you frozen in shock. That did not just happen... did it really just happen? Your one moment of self-pity and worry was one moment that Spencer would hear if he touched his phone on a Friday night.

The rest of the night was spent with you fighting off panic, pacing your room. Penelope agreed to stay overnight, but you could not handle the fact Spencer would hear what you said. It was humiliating to think about him hearing you stress over something like that.

This is what nagged at you all weekend, threatening the impending anxiety that was building up. Every second was agony, spent pacing and overthinking. Sleep was hard to get, so you took melatonin and your dreams taunted you with it all over again.

Monday morning you rushed to get dressed. You needed to see Spencer, no matter how hard it was to face him. You pulled on dress pants and a navy blue cotton v-neck shirt with bell sleeves. Laundry was forgotten through two days of panic, so this was pretty much the only shirt you had.

You brushed through your hair and applied your regular makeup and there, you were presentable and didn't look like you'd lost your mind over the weekend. You were going back, finally. It was somewhat refreshing if you dismissed the Spencer ordeal.

The drive there was fine. Music helped to calm you down and you listened as long as you could. Stepping into the BAU was different, it felt like you were being crushed the moment you stepped in.

"There's my girl!" Derek Morgan was the first to notice you walk in and he greeted you with open arms and a crushing hug. You smiled, letting him. It had been a while since you last saw him. He let you go after a few seconds, but his hands stayed on your shoulders. "We missed you here, things weren't as fun without you."

"I bet," you grinned, heading to your desk. You could hide your freakout well. "I missed the smell of coffee and paper in the morning."

"(Y/N), glad to have you back," Hotch said, walking down the steps. He did seem honestly glad to see you as there was a small twitch of his mouth when he approached you and Derek. "You're sure you're alright to work again? I assume today is a file day, but we'll be back out there soon."

You nodded, smiling back. "Getting there, but it's controllable now," He narrowed his eyebrows. "I'll be fine for the field and if I'm not, I can always stay at the precinct to work things out there."

Hotch looked to Derek, then back at you. "Sounds good. Again, glad to have you back, agent." Hotch shook your hand and passed you, heading into JJ's office.

"Morgan..." You started, fiddling with your fingers. "Have you seen Spencer?"

"Yeah, he just went to the washroom, why?"

"I need to talk to him..."

The day went on and of course, you saw Spencer, but he paid you no mind. Not even a 'welcome back' or anything. You were just there and it was like you never left, except Spencer didn't even look at you. He was busy with his work and you constantly found yourself watching him. Maybe he'd heard your voice mail, maybe not, but either way, he didn't seem to care anymore.

That month and a half you spent recovering- was it possible that he used that time away from you to get over you? The idea was haunting and tugged at your heart. To be the only one all-in was such an incredibly painful idea. What he said before you were dragged away into the depths of hell meant something to you and it kept you alive... and to think he probably didn't mean it...

You needed to stop thinking about it before it made you burst into a million pieces. To be surrounded by everyone who you loved and loved you back wasn't enough if you couldn't have Spencer, too. Selfish, it sounded so selfish, but it shook you to the core that he wasn't amongst them.

The day continued and more pain was endured. More overthinking, more fear, more insecurity. The day was nearing its end.

Everybody seemed like nobody when Spencer was out of the picture. You had spent so much time thinking about him in the hospital and at home in recovery, who were you without wondering you could make it work? Nobody. Without the fantasy you could be his, you stranded on some sort of island. You were nobody if not Spencer's.

So you were nobody.

It was that thought that keeled you over the edge in the parking lot of the BAU. So much fear, so much pent-up emotion, it was too much to contain and just... spilled over onto everything as your hands began to shake, followed by that godawful feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your knees gave out and you fell conveniently onto the curb next to your car.

There was nobody there, either. You were alone on the concrete curb, face in your shaking hand and the other shaking hand gripping the curb so hard your knuckles turned white. Too much, too little, everything was wrong and you couldn't face Spencer.

You looked up for a brief moment and there was a brief look at someone in a beige cardigan and khaki pants and your heart fell to the pit of your stomach- as if you were humiliated enough. Footsteps, closer.

"A-are you okay?" His voice was a little panicked, definitely not as bad as yours, though. Overall, you were just glad he was within six feet of you.

Of course, you were pretty much unable to reply. Your face stayed in your hands and you felt light fingers on your shoulder, his, and they were somewhat grounding. God, he was here and you couldn't even talk to him, you couldn't even raise your head.

"What do you need, I- what happened?" He cared. But to what extent? His hands felt frantic- they shook a little (again, not nearly as bad as yours) and they moved from your shoulder, to upper arm, to near your neck, to the side of your head. "If this is my fault, I-"

He stopped himself. How could he possibly know that it was the thought of him that sent this into motion? The voicemail didn't entail much other than he was on your mind. You hardly even noticed that you were crying from the anxiety attack until you felt how wet your hands were. Your words kept piling on your tongue and the panic rose again in an entirely new wave.

"Do you- do you need help? I can get Hotch or... Derek, Derek knows, I know, but I don't- I don't think you like me very much and I won't be of help-I-I-I-" His voice continued to ramble and you were flooded with new thoughts. How could he possibly think that you didn't like him? In those moments before you were taken, you had said yes to going out with him if you both made it out. You kissed him back then before the arms grabbed you and dragged you off. Where did the idea of you not liking him come from? It was you who was afraid he didn't like you back.

You wanted to speak, you wanted to say something but you were stuck in your own mind, desperately trying to fight this off, trying hard to calm your breathing. The most you could do was take your hand off of the curb and frantically grab his. You took his hand and you held it tight, trying to slow the sharp intakes of breath. That's when Spencer squeezed your hand and you began to feel better.

And when you did start to feel better and your breathing was still harsh, but better and you could finally move a little more, you did what you had wanted to do every day in the hospital. You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around Spencer, your arms resting around his shoulders. You needed it and apparently so did he, because he squeezed you back the same. Either it was that or he knew pressure helped. All you could do was hope it wasn't the latter.

Spencer of course buried his face in the crook of your neck like he had before and you knew now that this feeling was coming to an end. The tide was washing out and there was calm after the storm. No words, just your breathing becoming more natural and the wind over your ears. This was all that you needed.

He stayed like this with you for a good five more minutes before you could finally release him, pulling apart and your hand coming up to wipe under your eyes. He didn't speak then, either- he just watched, his face furrowed in concern.

So you spoke, "Spencer wh-" your voice cut out from still being in that state of anxiety. You coughed into your arm, tried again. "Why would you think I don't like you?"

"I-I- don't think that's the question, I- are you okay?" His hands went back to your shoulders bracingly.

You smiled a small smile, "I'm better, it's passed, but Spencer...' You slid into a whisper with the crying coming back. Had it really passed?

"Yes?" His reply was wary. As if afraid to break you, he tiptoed.

"Answer me, please."

He bit his lower lip into his mouth, sighing. "I don't know if I should, you're- you're upset."

You looked at him, dead-on, determined. "Please."

"You didn't call. Not once and I-I-I was worried and then I started to think about it and everything t-that happened before you were taken and that you probably only said and did that because you were about to-to-uh, die." He rambled, words spilling out. "So I thought maybe you didn't really like me and-"

"I was waiting for you to call, too," you actually let out a laugh. He smiled in realization. "Because I was afraid of the exact same thing. I was afraid you didn't mean it and I worked myself up- I called Friday night, though-"

"I didn't- I didn't know that-" he fumbled to bring his phone out of his pocket and he must have seen that he had a voicemail from you and nodded, a little smile appearing on his worried face. "So you did mean to say yes?"

"And you did mean to ask?" You inquired, head tilted.

"Y-yes, of course."

"Then yes," you replied, smile widening to a grin. "How is Saturday night? I think I'll be better by then."

He was positively beaming as he helped you back to your feet. "Saturday is... great. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Much better.... truthfully." You nodded excessively and Spencer began walking back to his car, but then came back quickly to kiss your cheek.

He was like a child excited to go run and tell friends, "Goodnight!"

"Night, Spence." You stood there, basking in the glory that was solved miscommunication. You weren't nobody, you were in fact, somebody. And you were soon to be Spencer's.

Tags: @ellyhotchner, @softhairedhotch, @laurakirsten0502

REQUEST HERE

[twstedrabbithole]

I have this self insert where since the arrival, the Dark Mirror told them they cant get sorted to any dorm, but they have a ‘role’ where they are required to move around and live in each dorm. How long and which dorm they want to move around is their freedom given by Crowley. Can I have an interaction with dorm leaders, where this reader wants to move in to another dorm, and asked the permission from the dorm leader but this time they also asked “oh by the way I have a pet snake”

Hmm, I think I get what you're saying!! It is a very interesting idea too! Especially since if they take the place of MC their role is essentially being the therapist XD

But I think I'm gonna focus on the pet snake aspect, since that will allow me to write hcs that are more general for everyone! Hope that's okay!

Again like your last ask I'll do headcanons since it is all the dorm leaders! I hope you enjoy this one as well!!

The first thing his brain registers is the pet snake, he's gonna freak out. Especially since the hedgehogs have a tendency to break out and run around the dorm

You would have to calm him down and console him over how you take care of the snake and how well behaved your pet is.

Once he's calmed down, he'll say he'll think about it. It might take awhile because he may have ordered the students to reinforce the hedgehog's pen-

But after while of you and your snake being in the dorm, he'll slowly but surely warm up to the slithery thing. He is an animal person, so he may ask questions about it.

Will freak out if you put the snake on him, but as soon as the snake is on him he'll just stand still until he's calm again. Once the snake is off he's gonna order you to never do that again, or at least give him a warning.

Does this guy look like he cares about you having a pet snake? Sure he may be surprised at first but generally he's not gonna care.

All he'll tell you is to keep the snake in check and make sure it doesn't cause a freakout, since that would disturb his naps.

He's not really gonna pay attention to the snake, unless it's near him. He may not show it but he's not gonna let the creature have a chance to bite him.

After some time he would get used to it, maybe even somehow take naps with it. Since he is very warm I'm sure the little guy would love to rest on him.

You really have nothing to worry about if you're in Savanaclaw, just don't lose it and cause the others who are scared of snakes to freak out.

Azul would be very curious, he's surely seen sea snakes at some point. So he wouldn't be too surprised nor scared.

He would have you make sure the snake can't wonder around the dorm or restuarant, would be bad to lose customers!

If your snake is a sea snake, he may let your snake live in the aquarium in Monstro Lounge. As long as it doesn't risk the marine life in it though!

He'll also make sure to keep Floyd away from the snake, for I'm sure Floyd would want to try to eat it. Jade would help as well.

All in all you have nothing to worry about really!!

Kalim would be excited with you having a pet snake! He may even get some so your snake can have some friends! Jamil will stop him....hopefully-

Kalim is gonna want to lift and have the snake on him no doubt. Jamil will definitely stop him every time if the snake is poisonous or venomous.

Since a snake is the symbol of The Sorcerer of the Desert, he would want to make sure the creature can live really well in the dorm! Trust me he's gonna pay for anything your little buddy needs.

Surprisingly even Jamil would take a liking to the snake, especially if he saw it eat a bug or two that was close to him. So don't be surprised if Jamil and the snake got along really well, or if Jamil doesn't stop Kalim from spoiling the creature.

I would say this dorm is the best dorm for your snake to live in!! Since I'm sure most of the dorm would love it and make sure it lives it's best life!!

Vil would definitely be surprised by the fact you have a pet snake, he may even forbid the snake to be in the dorm.

But it's not because he hates the snake, oh no. It would be for the snake's safety! Since I'm sure there are peacocks running around the dorm, the snake would not be safe at all!

If you can somehow convince him, he would only allow it if the snake lives in a terrarium. And have his dorm make sure no bird gets in the building. Since the peacocks would actively search for the poor little guy.

Maybe even warn you about Rook, but even he knows the Hunter wouldn't necessarily hunt your companion....maybe-

In the end he would highly advise for the snake to not live in the dorm. But if it has to live in the dorm he can manage some way for it to live there.

Idia would initially freak out over the thought of a snake in the dorm. Since he doesn't know if the snake is poisonous or venomous or not.

If you manage to calm him down, with the help of Ortho, he may let you bring the snake in.

Ortho would definitely search for loads of info on how to take care of a snake! He would want to help, like any kid would!

After some time Idia would warm up to the snake, especially if he sees Ortho helping to take care of the snake.

Just don't let him see feeding time, he'll hide in his room for a couple of weeks.

Malleus would be intrigued about your pet, being a reptilian fae himself. He may already even know things you yourself may not know!

The rest of the dorm wouldn't really be too afraid of your little buddy either! I mean who's more scary than Malleus?/j

He would definitely be like Kalim and make sure the creature would have the best life in the dorm, such compassion for the animal would cause Sebek to cry!

Speaking of the others, I'm sure they would be curious about the creature. May even help you out if you cant provide for certain things!

Your snake friend would most certainly be a good fit in the dorm!

[resident-leevil-old]

RCW's RE7 CONTINUITY:

RCW: Biohazard

in the re7 continuity of Raccoon City Winters i feel like Mia was more sympathetic towards Eveline considering her and Ethan had strikingly similar upbringings; minimal socializing, constant tests ran on them, the needles.

I feel she was torn between taking Eveline away and staying with the Connections in order to help Ethan and it made her feel like shit the entire time. Especially when she had been lying to Ethan about working with the Connections.

She justifies it in her head, saying it would hurt Ethan more if she told him she had been working in a similar place his father had been working in, for a reason almost the same. She knows it's a shit thing, to lie to him like this, but she really wouldn't be able to stomach the look he would give her, and maybe that's selfish but she hates to see him hurt.

And then Eveline, who was young and only wanted a family ("like Ethan did," her brain yelled at her) to grow up with. Eveline, who smiled up at her even after going through the worst tests imaginable and finds comfort in her presence, like Ethan did, every time. Eveline who cries because she knows she's too dangerous to have a real family, but wants to try- hopes she could anyway, like Ethan did.

Mia considers it, running away with Eveline, back home to Ethan and Kyde and stay as far away from California as they could. She planned it out, the whole situation, down from the moment she got Eveline out of that basically a cell for a room to buying a house under a different name in god-damned Romania if she had to.

She accepts her plan as half-baked but the overwhelming guilt and sympathy in her heart allows her to forget about that.

Then the ship, sprung on her that they would be moving Eveline somewhere. The hurricane, Eveline's freakout, Mia's promises of taking Eveline with her and being her mother, the mold.

That night, before the two of them were knocked out of that ship, Eveline cried in Mia's arms for the destruction she caused, and Mia held her and cried for the feeling of failure weighing on her soul.

And when Mia hits the water, when she starts to fall unconscious, she only thinks of how Eveline said she hated storms before, just like Ethan does.

-

And Mia wakes up at the Baker's, and they tell her they rescued her, she deliriously asked if they also found a young girl, if they found Eveline. They tell her not yet, tell her to rest and they promise they'll help find her little girl. She rests, but wakes up again later, unable to keep her eyes closed. She writes on a paper she found just about everything she knew about Eveline and herself, trying to recollect her thoughts when she noticed them fading.

She falls unconscious again before finishing the paper, and she's unable to defuse Eveline's fear and anger before the Baker's are under her control.

-

The years that pass, Mia spends trying to convince Eveline that they can leave the Baker's and start anew. Eveline refuses, too scared that the Connections will come for them if they leave this house. She compromised with the shots that slowed her aging, why couldn't Mommy compromise with her? Did she hate her? Did she secretly want to abandon her? Whenever Eveline asked the answers were always, "No, no Evie I don't want to abandon you but we can't stay here forever, eventually we'll run out of resources for your shots, I don't want you to die, and you'll die after too long without them."

Eveline is content with it, with dying, if she gets to stay with Mommy the whole time. When she told her that, Mommy cried and apologized to her. Eveline never knew why she kept saying sorry, but she stopped saying she would be okay with dying because Mommy crying made her cry.

As the Baker's become cannibalistic and murderous under Eveline's control, she becomes more prideful of herself. Mia doesn't know what to do, how to stop these people from dying, falls under a state of depression. She tries to talk to Eveline, tries to tell her to stop, though Eveline only tells her that she wants to find her Mom someone to be with since she was so sad all the time. Mia knows its a part of Eveline's powers, but the look of innocence in her eyes breaks her down and she stops opposing.

Eventually, Mia tells Eveline about Ethan. Talks about how Ethan loved her more than anything in the world, laments that she shouldn't have lied to him when she only wanted to help him, tells Eveline she only wanted to leave this house so they could be with him. Eveline listens, asks her if she misses Ethan a lot, latches on to the reason she gave for wanting to leave.

Mia tells Eveline she did, that she missed Ethan more than anything in the world, and before she knew it she was unconscious again.

-

Ethan's arrival sparked something in Eveline's soul. She felt angry, at first that this man was the reason Mom would be willing to risk herself and her freedom to be with. She makes Mom fight him a few times, so angry at him for being the reason her family almost broke apart.

Then she watches him cry. She watches this man sit next to his wife each time they fought and cry, even holding her at the risk of her waking up again and hurting him. Eveline sees a man who loved her Mommy so much he would risk dying to mourn her hurt.

And, the final time Mom falls because of Ethan, he didn't move at all, crying on his knees as he held her in his arms. He hardly looks away from Mom when Jack attacks him and even when he kills him.

Eveline realized, when he woke again, his thoughts now shared with hers due to their new connection through the mold, that he loved Mom just as much as she did. She tests him, makes him fight with Grandmother and Grandfather, watching over him as he stumbled through Lucas' puzzles.

Eveline starts to like this man, who loves her Mom so much he'd died and came back to life with her as the only thing on his mind.

-

They nearly escaped, in that stupid little boat. Eveline cried when they both fell in the water. She hadn't mean to do that, hadn't meant to hit the boat directly. She panicked, pulled them both out of the water. She may be angry at Mom and Dad for nearly leaving her but she didn't want them to die.

She helps Mom remember things she forgot, everything that lead up to this. Mom cried again, and Eveline cries for her too.

She talks to Dad, in his head, and she scared him but he doesn't let that get in the way of talking to her. He shows her kindness, sympathy, tells her he doesn't want her to hurt.

Eveline cries to herself, as Mia frees Ethan and pushes him away, afraid she would hurt him. Eveline doesn't make Mom do anything except sleep, lets her rest for all that these years and this day has troubled her.

She talks to Ethan in person again, cried because he was so much more than nicer than he had to be. Cried because she understood now, why Mom wanted to be with him again, cried because she kept them away from each other for so long. Ethan convinces her to let her control of the house go, and she collapsed into the hug he gave her, so so tired.

-

Ethan held Eveline protectively in his arms when he met Redfield, not letting this child who has been through so, so much out of his sight. He doesn't trust these people, but they're helping Mia despite what she'd done so he held back his hostility.

He refused to let them take Eveline from his arms, she was tired and none of them looked like they knew how to carry a tired child.

They have to do check-ups every month during the first year, but they're allowed to stay together. They have to move to Europe, "Romania, huh?" Mia thinks to herself when she heard it, realizing that she'd gotten her wish- just differently than she expected, and no one could know where they lived but otherwise they would be fine. They keep in contact with Zoe, and Kyde (who doesn't wait to say "I told you so," to Ethan but still shows he's happy Mia was found and well,) throughout the years.

Eveline gets a final shot that was able to stabilize her aging process, and she's able to go with no more needles unless absolutely necessary. Mia tells Ethan everything she had been there for, promising to never keep another secret from him again, and he forgives her (he would do it either way). The three of them live happily in Romania, for all of three years.

And Eveline doesn't tell anyone that Ethan isn't Ethan like he used to be, waits for everyone to notice by themselves. They never do. And Re8 begins.

And that, my friends, is the RE7 Continuity of Raccoon City Winters; Raccoon City Winters: Biohazard!

[vagrantblvrd]

Really though.

Hero of the Rebellion and all-around golden boy Luke Skywalker with a price on his head everyone’s always reminding him about like he doesn’t know.

And also, it’s not as bad as everyone seems to think it is because he’s just a farm boy from Tatooine, not a sort of almost former smuggler - “I’m getting better about it! Ask Chewie, he’ll tell you!” Or a princess/senator “Politics are just like that, Luke,” or other assorted people he could name.

“Well maybe if we didn’t have to rescue you from certain death every other week, we wouldn’t continue to have these conversations, Luke.”

And then, like.

This random Mandalorian who picks up a bounty on some planet or other where Luke was seen committing crimes...because reasons.

(Tied to his own death-defying shenanigans or swooping in to help Han or Leia or whoever with their death-defying shenanigans, whatever.)

The local equivalent of some hooligan blowing into town and partaking in hooliganery or what have you.

Small-time stuff, but the bounty’s still out on him or whatever years later, rright? Forgotten in the face of the whole...Death Stars nonsense and also death of the emperor and subsequent fall of the empire, and look, they just had bigger problems to worry about, right?

But then - again - this random Mandalorian shows up and the pickings are slim and his ship needs new parts and so on.

Sure, the bounty’s a few years old by this point and no one’s expecting anyone to pick it up, but it’s still a paying job.

So anyway, anyway.

That’s how Din picks up a bounty for this blond-haired idiot and it’s like.

Starts out as this regular job, right? Nothing super time sensitive, and also because this is Luke - and, okay, also Din - Complications arise.

Things like Din getting sidetracked by other, bigger matters - a small, green gremlin child at one point, just as an example.

Luke and his, well, everything.

Not to say hat Din doesn’t try to catch the blond-haired idiot, he does, just.

Stuff happens.

Things where he shows up just a little too late to catch Luke, but the local baddie’s base of operations is literally on fire and the locals - while grateful, are still reeling because wow, okay, wow.

New Republic will be by soon to help with the clean-up, but until then there’s work to be had.

Henchpersons and such hiding in the hills above a nearby town causing trouble and maybe there’s something in it for the Mandalorian if he helps out? (Payment, of course, what little they have to spare and so on, but also wide-eyed kids and a community in need and Din’s not heartless, alright?)

And so on.

Once or twice he actually runs into Luke, but it’s the kind of situation where they have to work together for survival and maybe one of them is injured so the other has to tend to their wounds.

Some bickering that turns to bantering and friendly-ish conversation and mutual respect that has Din looking the other way while Luke ~escapes because of course he does.

Other similar situations where Din’s not all that bothered about collecting the bounty on Luke’s head anymore because it’d just be awkward, what with all the times Luke’s saved his life and the like?

But still.

He uses the bounty as an excuse to get Luke out of some local authority’s hands a time or two, pretends they aren’t enemies or whatver people think as he drags Luke out of a cell and marches him through town to his ship, Luke’s head lowered, shoulders slumped and looking like a properly defeated criminal in the hands of a renowned bounty hunter to keep from laughing himself sick.

(Din all >:(((((((((((((((( because he hates Luke so much, seriously, so much and maybe this time he really will bring him in and collect that bounty because it would serve the smug bastard right.)

Other such shenanigans, and the whole goddamned time Din never realizes Luke’s a Jedi - Luke doesn’t hide the fact, but he’s always disarmed or unable to use his Jedi powers or Din’s unconscious and therefore misses the part where Luke is seriously OP and not a little terrifying??? So yes.)

Also?

Flirting.

So much flirting and Din is like “...” because usually they are in a Dire Situation in which someone/something is actively trying to make them super, duper dead, and maybe now is not the time, okay!!1!

(Maybe, though. Maybe a kiss, that one time it really did look like they were going to die on some planet no one remembered the name of, and Luke’s tired laugh as Din pressed their foreheads together, moments before a battered freighter - the kind smugglers tended to favor - roared overhead and one hell of a dramatic rescue took place, Din slipping away before he could draw too much attention to himself because Luke’s people and anyway, anyway, he had pressing business elsewhere and. Just. Yes.)

AND THEN.

The thing with Gideon and rescuing Grogu and what looks like a last stand before an X-Wing shows up Din is like “No....but maybe? No.

(...but maybe?)

Because Luke’s proven to have impeccable timing in the past and it’s been a while (years, and maybe some other bastard of a bounty hunter less likely to have a soft spot for Luke caught up to him, and really, what are the odds?) since the last time their paths crossed.

That whole thing where Luke was like not today, assholes, and tore through a platoon of Dark Troopers because Skywalkers are nothing if not dramatic bastards at heart, but also Din and that call for help and just -

“You’re a Jedi?”

Because they’ve known one another for years by that point, and Din should probably be more surprised about that revelation?

But also, okay, also.

Luke is just that guy, the one who just goes and does shit like that like it’s nothing, and Din is so very tired at the moment and maybe he’ll have a freakout later, but for now -

Yes.

...And then he and Grogu go off to train with Luke, because really, what else would they do? Grogu needs to be with his kind - and wow, okay, the look Luke gives Din when he says that, like his heart isn’t in his throat and all the love he has for that tiny green gremlin child of his and Din’s everything, and just.

Luke is like, “Why am I not surprised you’d say that?” because Din, but also Luke, and they’re too alike in that way, and anyway.

Din thinking he’ll have to leave, because attachments and dangerous and better that way, but then Luke asks about the Darksaber, and Din tells him - still confused, bewildered, because why and ugh no, and really, no, someone else take this stupid thing.

Which means - naturally - Luke has to train him how to wield it - “Laser sword, Din. I have one” - and Din shouldn’t accept for all the reasons he listed off above?

But.

He’d be stupid to turn Luke down, and he’ll leave as soon as he’s able, but of course ,of course, because it’s Din and Luke (and Grogu) Complications arise.

Things like the whole being in love with Luke even though he delights in being a smug bastard and other things and just.

Look.

When Leia comes to Luke to ask his opinion about rumors floating around of the new king of Mandalore and so on and how they could entice them to join the New Republic only to find her brother shacked up with the man in question and helping raise his green gremlin of a child?

Well.

(She was never keen on the forming alliances by marrying people off deal? But hey, if it works it works, right?)

[bangtan-sonyeonddaeng]

-BTS Reaction-

You were sitting at a cafe, sipping on your favorite drink and people watching from your window seat. You saw a group of individuals wearing their hats pulled low, sunglasses, and face masks. You knew clearly they must have been someone famous and didn’t want to be recognized. And you also weren’t going to spoil their cover so you minded your own business. You watched them walk up to the counter order their drinks, and then glance around the cafe. It was then you noticed the table next to yours was the only one open but it still wouldn’t be enough room. They all walk over and 4 of them are able to sit, you see them looking around for an empty chair so you clear your throat to get their attention.

“You can push the table together with mine and 3 of you can sit here if you need to. It’s okay I don’t mind.” You offer the friendliest smile you can muster and that seems to set them at ease. The one with the black snapback smiles back at you, and you can’t help but think that his eyes look oddly familiar. 

“Thank you! That’s very kind of you.” He says. Okay now you know you have heard that deep voice somewhere before. Could it be? No. Absolutely not, there’s no way. You tell yourself. You shake your head to clear your racing thoughts. 

“Oh it’s no trouble. I’ll just be working on a few things here so I won’t bother you all.” You scoot over so the one with light brown hair can sit next to you. A tall man with black curly hair sits across from you, you thought you saw tattoos on his hand but he quickly pulled the sleeve down on his shirt to cover them. It’s then that he looks at your shirt and smiles happily. The man with light brown hair takes his glasses off and you finally realize who it is that just sat with you. You’d recognize those warm brown eyes anywhere. You nearly have a freakout before you scold yourself. They’re just people. Just like you. No need to get all worked up. You take a few deep breaths and try to focus on your work when the one next to you pokes your shoulder. 

“Hmm?”

“You like BTS?” The man you now know is Jin asks. You try to appear nonchalant and shrug your shoulders.

“Yeah I mean, everyone knows who they are and likes them right? I’ve heard a few of their songs and they’re pretty good.” Lies. You’ve listened to them for years now and know nearly every song by heart because you listen to as many as you can in a day.

“Ah really? What’s your favorite song you’ve heard?” Jimin questions further.

“Hmm the song about Spring time? Spring season? What was it called?”

“Spring Day!” Taehyung chimes in. “That one is my favorite too. That’s surprising though I figured one of their songs from the Love yourself era would have been your favorite.” Taehyung is staring at your shirt but you don’t notice, having completely forgotten you were wearing their shirt from the tour you went to last year. Hoseok decides to tease you a little further.

“Ah do you have a bias?”

“I don’t think I’ve listened to them long enough to choose. They all have their charming points.” 

“Oh really? Hmm I would think you would be Hoseok biased. He’s really handsome you know? And you have a warm smile just like him!” Hoseok says. 

“Yeah he is. They all are though to be honest. And all of their smiles could light up the world, I swear.” Okay y/n dial it back a bit. Be chill. 

“Is that why you have a photocard of all of us in the back of your phone? You just love us all that much?” You freeze and immediately become so flustered you think you’re going to pass out. Jungkook reaches across the table and rests his hand on your own and now you can clearly see his tattoos.

 “Hey it’s okay! Don’t be nervous.”

“Oh my god I am an idiot how could I forget the photo card.”

 “You’re also wearing our tour shirt.” Yoongi adds with his eyebrow raised.

“Can a sink hole just form under my chair and end my misery please?” You ask to the forces of the universe. The members all laugh at that but Namjoon speaks to put your mind at ease.

“Hey like Jungkook said. It’s okay you don’t have to be nervous or try to hide from us.”

“I know that I just... was trying to keep my cool and not make a scene. I honestly didn’t even know who you all were when I offered you my table.”

“So how about we start over then?” Taehyung suggests. You nod.

“Okay. Hello. I am y/n. I have been your fan for years. I listen to your music everyday and would all day if I could. Your music helped me get through so many hard times and I respect and admire you all so much. No, I don’t have a bias because you all are too damn perfect and sweet and kind and beautiful. How could I possibly pick just one?” You let out in one breath and are huffing by the end of your little speech causing the maknae line you giggle at you.

“You’re adorable y/n. But really thank you for not screaming and making a big deal about this you’re.. surprisingly calm.” Jimin says as he studies your expression.

“Really? Well I am glad I have been able to come off that way to you because inside I am screaming and feel like I could jump out of this damn seat because holy shit my favorite group is just sitting here chatting with me like it’s nothing.” Jin laughs loudly at that and several of the other cafe patrons stare at you. He immediately ducks his head and covers his mouth to quiet his laugher. 

“Thank you for saying all that though. It’s always nice meeting army, especially when they are as kind and cool about it as you.” You can’t help the wide smile that spreads across your face. Suddenly Namjoon’s phone goes off and he’s talking in a rushed manner to their manager it seems. He sighs at the end and hangs up the phone. 

“We gotta go now guys. They want us early for the meeting.” The younger members plus Yoongi all let out a groan.

“Can’t we stay for a little while? Finish our coffees and talk to our new friend here?” You blush at Yoongi’s words and him calling you their new friend.

“Afraid not. We gotta go now. I’m sorry.” They all stand at once and let out grumbles. All of the members wave goodbye to you, and thank you for supporting them and hope you continue to do so.

“Of course I will. l signed up for this BTS shit for life.” Jin laughs again, this time not caring if someone recognizes them since they are leaving now anyway. They are all heading out the door but Jungkook stays behind for a moment longer. He slides into the booth next to you and tugs you into a tight hug. You’re shocked, but not unhappy. In fact you think this moment might be the happiest you’ve ever been. The hug is over much to soon for your liking. But when you pull away Jungkook ruffles your hair playfully. 

“You seem like a really nice person y/n. I am really happy we have someone like you as our fan. We usually come here on Friday afternoons if you ever want to join us again?” 

“I think I would like that very much.”

[thelastspeecher]

A Kiss From a Nixie

Here’s a follow-up to the ficlet I posted the other day, where, in a Mystery Trio-style AU, Stan meets a frog-lady and falls in love with her.  In this ficlet, we learn about the origins of Stan’s frog-lady, as well as the proper term for her species.  I’m very happy about this scenario and have been enjoying it a lot.  Hopefully, y’all enjoy it, too~

——————————————————————————————

              Stan and Angie stared silently at each other. Angie suddenly turned beet red.

              “Stanley.  I’m naked,” she whispered.  Stan felt himself flush at the reminder.  He spun around so that she could get dressed without him watching.  “Thank you.”

              “What- how-” Stan stammered, still with his back to Angie.  He took a deep breath.  “First question.  Is Fiddlenerd a frog too?”

              “No.  He’s not.”

              “Did the frog gene skip him?”

              “I wasn’t born like this.  It happened while I was at college.”  A million more questions immediately formed on Stan’s tongue. “You can turn ‘round again.”  Stan turned.  Angie was now wearing a flannel top and some jeans.  She pulled on a pair of boots.  “And no, Fidds don’t know.  Actually…”  There was a beat.  She looked up at Stan.  “Yer the first person to know.”

              “Wait.  Really?” Stan asked.  Angie nodded. “Geez.”  He stuffed his hands into his pockets.  “I…I wasn’t expecting that.  I mean, you and Fiddlenerd are annoyingly close.”

              “You’ve known Fidds fer a lil while.  How do ya think he would react to findin’ out his precious baby sister is sometimes a frog?” Angie asked dryly.  Stan winced, already imagining the freakout.  “That’s why.”

              “Fair enough.  How’d you turn into a…I dunno, merfrog?”  Angie snorted.

              “Merfrog.  I like it.”

              “I don’t know the real word for…”  Stan gestured vaguely at Angie.  “…whatever you are.”

              “I don’t know it, either.  The person what turned me didn’t exactly share that information.”

              “Who turned you?”

              “A full-time frog person what lived in the pond just off campus.”  Angie scowled.  “They befriended me, then offered to kiss me.  That kiss was what did me in.”

              “Why’d you agree to kiss a frog person?” Stan asked. Angie turned pink.

              “I sometimes have poor impulse control,” she said quietly.

              “Been there.”  Stan frowned.  “Hang on. A kiss from a frog person turned you into one?”  Angie nodded. “I feel like it’s supposed to go the other way around.  At least, according to fairy tales.”

              “Well, I know the kiss was what did it, ‘cause immediately I started changin’, and the frog person told me that they were excited fer me to live with ‘em.”  Angie sighed heavily.  “I’ve been a frog ever since.”

              “But you can turn human.”

              “Yessir.”

              “Huh.”  Stan looked at Angie thoughtfully.  “Y’know, Ford would have a field day with this.”

              “Oh, hell no.  I ain’t tellin’ yer weird brother.  No offense.”

              “None taken.”  Stan walked over to Angie.  “You got somethin’.”  He pulled a clump of mud out of her hair.  Angie turned bright red again.  “Want me to give you a ride back to the house?”

              “That would be great.  Thank you.”

              “No problem.”  Stan headed back towards the Stanleymobile, Angie close behind.  “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

              “I wasn’t expectin’ to be here very long. Certainly not long enough that I would have a reason to tell someone my secret.  But, I don’t know, somethin’ ‘bout Gravity Falls makes me feel pretty content.”  Stan glanced back.  Angie was looking around, admiring the surrounding trees.  “I might want to move up here, to be honest.  I can do my research or even help Stanford with his. He was tellin’ me the other day that he wants to hire a biologist.”

              “Gravity Falls is nicer than I expected,” Stan agreed. He cleared his throat.  “Do you have to go to the pond every day or something?”

              “Geez, yer full of questions, ain’t ya?”

              “The frog-lady I’ve been chatting up for the last two weeks just turned into my brother’s partner’s little sister,” Stan said dryly.  “Duh.” Angie chuckled softly.

              “Fair enough.”  They emerged from the trees and made a beeline for the Stanleymobile.  “I have to shift into my frog form and submerge myself in water fer at least an hour every day.  Ideally, I spend more time like that.  That’s just the bare minimum to keep myself healthy.”

              “Did the frog person who turned you tell you that?”

              “Nope.  Figured it out through trial and error.  Since I got to Gravity Falls, I’ve been sneakin’ out of the house after everyone’s asleep and goin’ to the lake to sleep in there.”  They came up to the car.  Stan pulled out his key to unlock it.  Angie got into the passenger seat, beaming.  “I even made myself a nice little hole in the mud to sleep in.”

              “You’re not worried about Fiddlenerd wondering where you are?” Stan asked, getting into the driver’s seat.  Angie shook her head.

              “I’m a deep sleeper with a specific sleep schedule. Fidds knows better ‘n to mess with that.”

              “Makes sense.”  Stan started the car.  “So, you-” Angie sighed loudly.

              “Look, I understand that ya have a lot of questions. I’ll answer all of ‘em at some point, but right now, I can only answer one more.”

              “Fair.”  Stan pulled out of the parking lot.  He frowned thoughtfully.  “Okay. I know what I wanna ask.”

              “Hit me.”

              “Did you eat my bait?” Stan asked.  Angie looked away hurriedly, though Stan could see a flush spreading across her features, down to her neck.  “When I opened my tacklebox after you returned it, the fresh bait was gone.”  He held up a hand.  “I’m not judging you for eating worms.  You’re part frog.  But I just wanna know if you ate them.”  Angie stayed silent.  “Come on, you said you’d answer my question.”  After a long pause, she finally replied.

              “No comment.”

-----

              Angie giggled at Stan’s joke.  He grinned proudly, warmth spreading across his cheeks. After spending the day moving Angie into her new house in Gravity Falls, he was happy to have quality time with his sort-of frog sort-of girlfriend.  They were at the lake so that Angie could be in her frog form, though Fiddlenerd and Ford thought they were still at Angie’s house.

              “Still can’t believe Stanford actually supported leaving us alone together,” Angie remarked.  To Stan’s amusement, it wasn’t just the tone of her voice that changed in her frog form.  Her thick southern accent was also nearly nonexistent.  At first, he thought it was because she was disguising herself.  But even after coming clean about who she was, she didn’t have an accent in frog form.

              “Ford thinks that I’m more responsible and take better care of myself when I’m dating someone,” Stan said with a shrug.  “I’m not surprised he’s encouraging me to ‘woo’ you.”  Angie giggled again, a sound like a babbling brook.  Stan dug around in the bag of snacks they’d picked up at the gas station on the way over.  “Hungry?”

              “Yes,” Angie said eagerly.  Stan pulled out the container of live bait and set it on the wood of the dock.  He lifted the lid.  Angie reached out a webbed, frog-like hand and daintily grabbed one of the wriggling worms.  Stan opened his bag of chips, smiling fondly at her.

              A few days ago, Angie had finally confessed that, since becoming a merfrog, she had developed a taste for bugs and worms. Stan had already known, but he appreciated that Angie trusted him enough to tell him.  After all, she was visibly embarrassed by her cravings for creepy-crawlies.

              It’s probably ‘cause she was raised to be a proper southern lady or whatever.  Angie popped a worm into her mouth.  Good thing I don’t care about that.

              “Stanley?”  Stan looked over his shoulder.  Ford was walking down the dock towards him.  Angie gasped softly.  There was a splash.  Without looking, Stan knew she had gone underwater before Ford could see her up close. “What are you doing here, talking to a nixie?  I thought you were helping Angie settle in.”

              “Nixie?”

              “Yes.”  Ford sat next to Stan.  “That was the creature you were speaking with.”  His eyes widened.  “Is she the frog-lady you were talking about a few months ago?”

              “Duh.”

              “I would have believed you if you told me she was a nixie!”

              “Wh-”  Stan scoffed. “Do I look like someone who knows what a nixie is?”

              “Did she not tell you?”

              “It’s racist to ask someone what they are, Sixer,” Stan said flatly.  Ford let out a soft laugh.  “Angie sent me out to grab some snacks, so I figured I stop by the lake to talk to Rana while I was out.”

              “Her name is Rana?” Ford asked.  Stan nodded.  “Fascinating.”  He stared at the spot where Angie had been.  “Would you be willing to tell me more about her?”

              “Nope.”  Stan stood up.  “You didn’t believe me when I first asked you, and now I’ve learned that she’s an actual person, not some weird ‘anomaly’ for you to study.”  He pulled his car keys out of his pocket.  “And Angie’s probably waiting for me at her place, so I better get going.”

              “You’re forgetting something,” Ford said, pointing at the bait still sitting on the dock.  A webbed hand quickly grabbed the bait and brought it underwater.  Ford’s jaw dropped.  “Remarkable.”

-----

              It was yet another peaceful, misty morning at Lake Gravity Falls.  Stan sighed.

              “Enjoying the quiet?” Angie asked from her spot in the lake.  Stan nodded. “Have the Fords been especially loud lately or something?”

              “The Fords?”

              “It’s shorter than saying their full names,” Angie said.  Stan snorted in amusement.

              “Nah, they’ve actually been quieter than usual. I don’t trust it.  They’re up to something.”  Angie snickered.  “Have you finished the research Ford wanted you to do?”

              “Oh, yeah.”  Angie floated on her back, staring up at the dusty blue sky.  “I finished it real quick.  It’s pretty easy to get information from magical creatures when you’re one of ‘em.”

              “Maybe you should give Ford a big smooch.  Turn him into a frog.  He’ll finish his research in record time,” Stan joked. The only response was a soft splash. Stan looked over.  “Ang?”  Angie was gone.  “Something wrong?”  Nothing happened.  Stan sighed.  “What did I say?”  Angie slowly surfaced.

              “I…”  She took a shuddering breath.  “I love you.” Stan’s heart stopped.  “But I-”  Angie covered her face with her large, webbed hands.  “I can’t- I can’t act on any of my feelings.”  Stan scooted closer, his legs dangling over the edge of the pier.

              “What do you mean?” he asked quietly.  Angie let out a sob.

              “I want to kiss you more than- more than anything. But if I do, then you’ll- you’ll be like me.  And I don’t want to turn you into a- into a frog!” she wailed.

              “Hey.”  Stan took one of Angie’s hands.  She looked up at him.  “That’s my decision to make, okay?  If I wanna risk turning into a frog so that I can kiss you, I’ll do that.”

              “R-really?” Angie asked in a tremulous voice.

              “Remember how you said you kissed that nixie ‘cause you had poor impulse control?”  Angie nodded. Stan grinned.  “You’re not the only one.”  He pulled Angie close.  Just as his lips met Angie’s, there was a loud shout.

              “Wait!”

-----

              Further attempts to pry information out of Stan about the nixie he’d befriended had failed.  So, Ford had to resort to collecting his own data.  This translated into watching from afar as, every day at dawn, Stan sat on the dock and spoke with the nixie.  Fortunately, Ford was skilled enough at camouflage by now that he wasn’t seen.  Unfortunately, he was unable to get close without risking being spotted.

              That morning, he wasn’t alone at the lake.  He had dragged Fiddleford out of bed to come see the nixie for himself.  Fiddleford wasn’t pleased.

              “Stanford, yer lucky I ain’t the kind of sleeper my sister is,” Fiddleford groused as they hid in the bushes, watching Stan talk to the nixie.  “Last time someone woke her up ‘fore she was ready, they got a broken nose fer their trouble.”

              “Yes, yes, I’m very lucky,” Ford said.  “Now, please, be quiet.  It looks like they’re talking about something serious.”

              “You won’t hear any of it, no matter how quiet I get.  We’re too far away,” Fiddleford pointed out.  Ford ignored the logical argument, focusing intently upon the conversation at the dock.  The nixie seemed emotionally distraught over something.  Stan leaned in, visibly affected by her distress.  He grabbed her hand and pulled her close.  Then, to Ford’s horror, Stan kissed the nixie.

              “Wait!” Ford shouted, bursting out of the bushes. Stan and the nixie jumped.  Ford sprinted over to his brother and the magical creature, his heart pounding in his chest, his mind racing.

              No.  No. This isn’t good.  Ford hadn’t had the chance to study a nixie properly yet, but he had read enough about them and other water sprites to know that even touching one could have serious consequences.  Stanley, you idiot!  Aren’t you dating Angie, anyways?  I didn’t think you were the kind of person to cheat!  Still frozen in shock, the nixie and Stan hadn’t moved by the time Ford arrived.

              “Stanley, what was that about?” Ford demanded. “You shouldn’t just kiss random magical creatures!”

              “She’s not random,” Stan said.  His articulation was sloppier than usual, almost like he was slurring a bit.  The nixie looked at him with sudden concern.  “I know her.”

              “Yes, but-”  Ford ran his hands through his hair.  “Kissing a nixie can have unforeseen side effects!”

              “I know!”  Stan’s speech was definitely slurred.  He gestured drunkenly to the nixie.  “That’s how she got stuck in this situation!”  Ford looked at the nixie.  His fingers itched for a pen and paper.  Up close, she was just as eerily beautiful as she’d seemed from a distance. Her green, mottled skin glistened from lake water.  Large, webbed ears poked out from her short, black hair.  But most distinctive were her kind eyes, a soft shade of blue that Ford immediately recognized.  He saw those eyes every time he looked at Fiddleford.

              Everything clicked into place.

              I was right. Stan would never cheat on Angie, even for a magical creature.

              “Angie?” Ford croaked.  Angie, for he was certain that the nixie was Angie, ignored him. She pulled herself onto the pier, revealing the same hourglass shape she had as a human, but lacking any mammalian features.

              That makes me feel much more comfortable with the fact she’s unclothed.  

              “Stanley, are you all right?” she asked.  Stan grinned at her.  His eyes were unfocused.

              “Yeah, babe.”  He leaned closer to her.  “I liked that kiss.  Go ahead and give me another one, okay?”

              “Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

              “What?”  Stan seemed blindsided.  “Why not?”

              “You’re acting either stoned or plastered and I’m not sure which one,” Angie said.  Ford’s eyes widened.

              “Your accent is gone!”

              “I- yes- it- I don’t know why, maybe it’s ‘cause when I first turned frog, I was hiding my accent a lot.  But that’s not important right now!” Angie snapped. “Something happened to Stan!”

              “Well, you kissed him while in nixie form,” Ford pointed out.  “If you’d kissed him in human form, I doubt there would have been any reaction at all.” Angie stared at him.  “I’ve never heard of a nixie being able to switch between their native form and a human one.”

              “I- my native form is human, you dingus! I wasn’t always part frog!”

              “Fascinating,” Ford breathed.  Angie groaned loudly.  She took Stan’s hand.

              “Stanley, sit down for me, okay?” she said.  Stan sat down heavily.  He grinned at her.  “Oof.  Uh. Your eyes are dilated something fierce, darling.”

              “You’re fierce,” Stan slurred.  He winked.  Angie grimaced.  Footsteps sounded on the deck.  “Ang, you’re the prettiest frog in the world.”  The footsteps stopped.

              “Angie?!” Fiddleford shrieked.  Angie immediately dove into the lake, disappearing into the depths.  Stan leaned over the edge of the pier.

              “Come back, Angie!” he called.

              “I have to agree,” Fiddleford said, quickly catching up to Stan and Ford.  “Banjolina Quinn McGucket, get back here!”

              “Heh.”  Stan giggled. “Banjo.”  He leaned further.  “Banjo!” He fell forward.  Before Ford or Fiddleford could grab him, a webbed hand shot out of the water to nudge him back onto the pier.  Angie emerged from the lake.  Fiddleford fell to his knees.

              “Oh, Lord,” he breathed.  “I’d recognize that face anywhere.  Angie, what happened?  How did you become this?”

              “I…”  Angie swallowed.  “Stan can tell you.”  Stan leaned over the edge of the pier again.

              “I heard my name,” he purred.  Angie surfaced further until she and Stan were face-to-face.  She stroked his cheek.  “Hey, gorgeous.”

              “I’m- I’m sorry I did this to you.  Rest up.”  She looked at Fiddleford.  “Take care of him.”

              “Angie, you can’t just leave without explainin’ anything!” Fiddleford protested.  Angie closed her eyes.

              “I need- I need a minute.”  She sunk underwater.

              “Angie, no!” Stan cried out.  Ford and Fiddleford grabbed him before he could jump into the lake. “No!”  Stan slumped back and began to sob.  “She’s gone.  Forever.”

              “Stanley, once she’s had some time to collect herself, she’ll be back,” Ford said calmly.  “Now, we should probably find some sort of antitoxin to counteract that kiss.”  He pulled Stan to his feet.  Stan immediately leaned against him.  “Fiddleford, a little help?”  Fiddleford was still staring at the lake.  “Fiddleford?”

              “Oh, yes.”  Fiddleford came over.  He looped one of Stan’s arms over his shoulders.  “Don’t worry, Stan, Ford’s right.  Angie will be back.”  He scowled. “If I have to drain this whole godforsaken lake to find her.”

[idiopath-fic-smile]

a World Ain’t Ready coda

so i’ve been writing short fics in exchange for donations to black lives matter or a related cause (more info here), and @anditsnotoveryet requested something about the next ABC meeting after prom in World Ain’t Ready. i thought some folks might be curious so i figured i’d post it here:

Right before the first ABC meeting after Prom, Grantaire has a minor brain cyclone, a freakout, whatever. He’s done some tentative Googling since he talked to Mr. Myriel, just in case, y’know, just on the off chance that the way his brain is broken isn’t some terrible unnameable rot from within but instead a real and diagnosable condition experienced by millions of people, with real and workable treatments also experienced by millions of people, and the shitty stunts his mind can pull on him does, well, kinda sound like an anxiety thing.

But it’s easier to believe that at his computer in the dark, checking out sites in between looking up pictures of kittens and puppies for stress relief, the whole time messaging with Enjolras.

It’s a little harder to keep things together alone in Ms. Hucheloup’s classroom as he waits for the other kids to trickle in. 

The trouble is this: he and Enjolras are so obvious now. 

Like, way more obvious than before when they were trying to look obvious, and every gesture of affection was a scripted and choreographed little piece of theater. Grantaire knows (because Eponine won’t shut up about it, any time the three of them hang out) that he and Enjolras have kind of a smiling problem whenever they look at each other. They hold hands without thinking about it. Even now, in the middle of his brain cyclone-slash-mini anxiety spell, Grantaire’s main cheer-up weapon for trying to ease his way out is remembering this stupid pun Enjolras made about going to the art museum.

He was so proud of it, is the thing. Enjolras is a nerd, and Grantaire likes him so much, and when the rest of the ABC gets here, they’re going to take one look at Grantaire’s helpless beaming face and immediately know that something is different, and from there, they’ll be able to deduce that everything between Enjolras and Grantaire before now was a lie, and then, Jesus, then the shit will hit the fan so hard that the fan will never work again, metaphorically speaking, and then--

“Hey, weirdo,” says Jehan at the door. He’s wearing a T-shirt covered in super heroes, except that for each of the guys (and they’re all guys, notes a voice in Grantaire’s head that sounds weirdly like Musichetta’s), Jehan has sewed a little ribbon bow to their head.

“Hey,” says Grantaire. “Nice shirt.” 

“You okay?” Jehan asks, stepping farther into the room and eyeing the chaos where Grantaire had tried to channel his nerves into wrangling the desks back into a circle. He has not been, like, super successful yet.

“Yeah,” says Grantaire. Then, “No. I just, like, I dunno, what if, uh--”

Somehow, Jehan manages to run the translation. “It’ll be fine,” he says.

Grantaire laughs and it sounds, maybe, possibly, a tad unhinged. “We’re so ridiculous together,” he mutters. “People will--”

“Listen,” says Jehan, “kiddo,” which should be illegal for a sophomore to say to a junior but Grantaire barely cares, “You were ridiculous before.”

“It’s different now,” Grantaire insists. 

“Nobody’s mind is gonna jump where you think it will jump,” says Jehan firmly. “I mean, shall we count the mental leaps?”

Slowly, the fact seeps back into Grantaire’s head that maybe, just maybe, “You baldly deceived us about pretending to date for over three months purely for reasons of social justice” won’t be top of mind for any of their friends.

“If anything,” says Jehan, cheerfully untangling a chair from the pile, “they’ll just think you two finally got laid.”

Grantaire is still choking on that when the rest of the group starts to filter in.

Enjolras is last through the door. “Hey,” he says. His unguarded face is so beautiful. 

‘Oh nooo,’ wails Grantaire’s self-control.

“Hey,” says Grantaire, already feeling lighter. He can feel his mouth pulling into a smile.

Enjolras grins in response. “Hey,” he says again, “why are you smiling?”

“I don’t know, why are you smiling?” Grantaire manages.

“Oh my GOD,” says Molly, “this again?”

Jehan shoots Grantaire a look that says, “See? See?” Even Batman looks triumphant from beneath his giant hairbow.

“Welcome, everyone,” says Combeferre, advancing to the board. “Great to see you all again. We have a lot of work ahead of us, so let’s try to keep the shenanigans to a minimum today.”

“What about tomfoolery?” asks Bahorel from the back.

“Also right out,” Courfeyrac cuts in. “As are funny business, horseplay, and hinjinks.”

“And capers?” Grantaire asks before he can stop himself.

“Capers are fine,” says Enjolras. “In the sense of a heist. Because what we’re heisting today is our rights, from under the nose of an uncaring institution.”

Courfeyrac mimes applause. Grantaire joins him.

The corner of Enjolras’s mouth tilts towards a smile, then he seems to collect himself. “Alright,” he says, full of purpose and direction in a way that used to make Grantaire think of movie characters. The truth is, Enjolras is not some golden apparition removed from the rest of the world. He’s not a movie hero at all, he’s a living teenage boy who yesterday cracked himself up suggesting that a whale’s favorite paint would be acrylic (a-krill-ic, get it?) and in a way, it’s terrifying because if they’re both just people, it means Grantaire has no excuse not to try to change the world with him. In that same way, it’s giddying. “Let’s begin.”

[ghostnebula]

Sincere and Dignified

“Eddie's twenty-first birthday + The entire Losers' Club + Las Vegas + Being in love with your best friend = Well, exactly what you'd expect.”

[read it on Ao3]

(or here)

    Eddie’s birthday is in November. Which makes him the youngest member of the Losers’ Club. Which makes him the last Loser to turn twenty-one.

    Which means they go all-out to celebrate, since it’s the first time they can all (legally) celebrate together. And because they’ve kind of forgone “proper” twenty-first birthday festivities for everyone else, so no one would ever feel left out. Finally, no one needs to be left out of it.

    They’ve all been living together for over three years now, they’re all getting close to graduating from college, and they all saved up for this one, because this is pretty much it. The last big, fun, tangible milestone in their young lives. The last “new” thing they’re earning the right to do (legally) after driving and voting. You bet your ass they go ham on Eddie’s birthday plans.

    That’s how they end up in Vegas. Several long weeks of planning, lots of money they scraped together into jars over the last few years ready to be spent, checking and double-checking every class syllabus to make sure no one misses anything important on Friday (they have to be at their hotel in time for check-in or, between Stan and Eddie, someone will pitch a fit). Then they’re all piling into Ben’s station wagon with as little luggage as they could manage to bring for a weekend trip (the station wagon is “spacious”; it is not a fucking miracle vehicle).

    Roughly ten hours later (five hours for driving, two for check-in plus cramming all their crap into the motel room and then attempting to organize it, one for figuring out and agreeing on where to even start with the partying, two more for getting ready) Eddie Kaspbrak has his first legal drink as a proper twenty-one year old, on this night of November third, and there’s no aftertaste of guilt like usual. He’s got Richie pushing shots into his hands, Mike making sure he’s eating some snacks once in a while so he doesn’t get too trashed too fast, Bev directing bartenders to make the most delicious fucking drinks he thinks he’ll ever taste in his life (Porn Stars, or something else inappropriate like that).

    He has Bill, the oldest, practically under oath to stay sober (at least for tonight) so there’s one semi-coherent Loser present to keep the rest of them safe and sane until he can drag them all back to the motel.

    He has a wad of cash in his pocket, a chunk of his savings from the past year, ready to blow on booze and gambling and whatever the fuck he wants, because it’s his birthday, so he’s allowed to do whatever the fuck he wants.

    It’s safe, and more importantly, it’s legal, and most importantly, it’s Vegas. He never thought he’d ever have the balls to set foot in a place like this -- the kind of place his mother would demonize when he was a kid. Drinking, before he left Derry and his mom and the vice grip she had on his life, was completely out of the question, let alone getting hammered in a casino in Sin City, of all fucking places, under the care of the “evil little shits” he calls his best friends.

    He more than lets loose. He lets twenty-one years of virtually non-stop anxiety unwind in one night.

    When he wakes up the next morning, hung over for the first time in his life, it’s almost worth it. Bill’s the only motherfucker awake already, being that he’s the only one who doesn’t have several bottles of vodka et al. to sleep off, and he’s draped across the ratty arm chair in their ratty motel room, channel-surfing with the television volume as low as it can get. The light burns Eddie’s eyes, still, when he lifts his head and -- instead of turning, his head just kind of lolls on his shoulders until he can look at Bill properly.

    He wants to ask him to end his suffering, which he can only assume he has yet to see the worst of. Suddenly he understands why aspirin exists. He wants Bill to pump him full of painkillers until he stops feeling like he’s made of electrified cotton. Instead, he says, articulately, “Guh.”

    Bill turns his attention from Scooby-Doo to where Eddie is half-lying, trapped under the weight of Richie’s arm and half his chest. Richie is snoring away, glasses askew on his face, a cooling puddle of drool soaking Eddie’s shoulder. It’s gross, but he can’t really complain at this point. He’s accustomed to it by now.

    “Ah, he lives.”

    “Ugh,” says Eddie.

    “I bet,” says Bill. “So, do you want a recap of the events of last night, or did you keep your promise and remember every life-altering decision you chose to make?”

    Bill’s voice, which he’s hardly putting much effort into keeping down -- owing to the fact that all his effort is being channeled into trying not to laugh, and Eddie can’t even begin to fathom what’s so funny -- is causing the other Losers to stir. His splitting headache doesn’t want him to try to figure out what’s funny. He must have fried a metric shitload of braincells with all those Porn Stars last night, or whatever the fuck sugary booze Bev was pouring down his throat before everything went hazy.

    “Life-altering?” he repeats after a few moments, as Richie’s arm finally stops crushing him. It’s the only word that really stands out to him in the jumbled mess of hangover discomfort his brain is fighting, and it should cause him anxiety but he’s more worried, right now, about drinking some water. Richie sits up beside him, yawning.

    Bill hums. He looks terribly pleased with himself, which can be good or bad depending which side of the story you’re on, and Eddie’s got this sneaking suspicion he’s on the wrong side, here. “Yeah, that life-altering thing I tried to talk you two dipshits out of for longer than the actual ceremony took?”

    “Ceremony?” Eddie asks, trying to feel back through his poor, poor brain to remember anything after slot machines and vibrant chatter and deceptively sweet beverages being passed to him. Richie’s head drops onto his shoulder as his arms wrap around Eddie’s waist. “Guh,” he says into the fabric of Eddie’s rumpled shirt. Habitually, Eddie reaches up to pat him consolingly on the head. Richie’s not one for mornings.

    “Why don’t you take a look at your ring finger, birthday boy?” Bill says, but Eddie’s already frozen, because there was a flash when he raised his hand and he’s not entirely sure he’s believing what he’s seeing, and where the fuck did he even get the ring anyway, let alone a ring as nice as this? “Or, sorry, I should say: Mr. Tozier?”

    Eddie... mostly ignores him, in favour of smacking Richie a few times on the skull to get his attention, hangovers be damned. “Richie,” he hisses, heart going a mile a minute. “The fuck did I do?”

    Richie grumbles some kind of complaint, lifting his head from its safe space on Eddie’s shoulder, and when he follows Eddie’s gaze he lets out a kind of... laugh? More of a squawk, really. His left arm jerks off of Eddie’s waist lightning-quick, and then he’s holding up his own hand beside Eddie’s to show off their matching rings. “Oh my god,” he says, quiet (for Richie). A little bit of tension melts out of him. Then, “I think you mean, ‘the fuck did we do?’”

    “Oh my god,” Eddie squeaks, and Bill loses his battle and dissolves into peals of laughter, remote slipping out of his hands and landing somewhere on the floor. “Bill, you were supposed to be babysitting.”

    It takes a while, but Bill manages to regain his composure long enough to say, “Well forgive me, but you were a man on a mission. I distinctly remember a lot of, ‘we’re practically dating anyway’ and ‘no time like the present’ and ‘Bill, if you don’t step the fuck off I’m gonna shove this ring so far up your nostril you’ll be sneezing gold until you’re ninety.’ What was I gonna do about it?”

    “Oh my god,” Eddie says again, red-faced, mortified, heart still going-going-going. They aren’t dating, though, is the problem, and yeah, he’s always had this stupid little idea in his stupid little head that they might as well be, but he’s never asked, because he wasn’t sure if he should. Wasn’t sure if it was safe. Wasn’t sure if Richie wanted something proper or to just stay very, very close friends until the grave. They weren’t dating, and now they’re married, and ohJesusMaryandJoseph why did he let himself get so drunk last night?

    He doesn’t expect Richie to be resentful or anything, but he’s also an anxious mess by default, and post-drunken-haze Eddie is a different, apparently less chill person than mid-drunken-haze Eddie, because he doesn’t remember having this freakout last night.

    He doesn’t think that Richie will be pissed about it, necessarily, but he’s terrified that Richie’s going to want to... undo this, somehow.

    He expects regret.

    He doesn’t expect Richie to slide his hand against Eddie’s so that their rings clack together, letting out a soft little, “Aw,” as he does so, or to press his scratchy, stubbly face against Eddie’s cheek to plant a kiss there, or to say, just as quiet and soft as ever, “We’re married, Eds.”

    “Is that okay?” Eddie asks, heart in his throat, wondering if he somehow forced Richie into this when he wasn’t in full control of his faculties.

    “More than okay,” Richie says. “Is it okay with you?”

    Eddie nods dumbly, staring at their rings again, wondering what the fuck possessed them to make such a rash, life-altering decision like this, yet understanding all too well that his love for Richie is too big to contain and it has to spill out in little doses like this, or it’ll probably kill him, or make him go crazy. “Yeah,” he says finally, nodding perhaps too fast. “Yeah, Richie, it’s more than okay.”

    He turns in Richie’s arms to kiss him properly, apparently not for the first time, and just the action brings a couple snippets of last night’s escapades abruptly to the surface.

*

    “$25 Weddings,” a pink neon sign outside a squat white chapel proclaims, “Sincere and Dignified.” And below that, in smaller, baby blue lettering: “Can provide: Flowers, Rings, Witnesses, Transportation, Attire...” The list goes on. It’s a wonder Eddie is coherent enough to read it, let alone comprehend it, but he’s rounding on Richie, whose arm he’s hanging off of, with the best fucking idea already leaping from his lips.

*

    “Ffffffuck Kaspbrak,” Eddie slurs as a reluctant Bill helps him slip on a suit jacket, fiddling with the purple clip-on bowtie Richie threw over the divider at him. “Fuck Kaspbrak, right, Rich?”

    “Right,” Richie says enthusiastically -- probably too enthusiastically -- from the other side of the thin wooden divider that separates their “changing rooms.”

    “Fuck that name,” Eddie decides, nodding to himself. Bill takes the bowtie out of his hands with a sigh, and Eddie lifts his chin to let Bill fasten it to his shirt, grumbling all the while about how stupid they both are. “And fuck my mom.”

    “Fuck your mom!” Richie shouts. There’s a beat of relative quiet, then, “Not, like, fuck your mom, obviously. Fuck... you, maybe?” And then Bev’s raucous laughter echoes through the whole room.

    Eddie can’t help laughing with her, even though Bill’s insisting he stay still “so you can at least look semi-presentable for your pictures, c’mon, Eddie, this is a big moment for me, too.”

*

    “How are you the bridezilla, here, Bill?”

    “Could you please just work with me here, I swear to-- agh!” (More laughter from Bev. Stan saying something incomprehensible but loud and boisterous. Mike trying to shush them.) “I’m just trying to make sure this is actually special since you absolute buffoons refuse to just wait and do this right.” Is Bill fucking crying?

*

    Richie’s tongue down Eddie’s throat, over and over and over: in the chapel; in a bar; in front of the bar; just before Bill drags them away from the casino they’re trying to sneak back into and instead towards the station wagon he’s doing his best to herd the Losers to; in the station wagon; in front of the motel.

    Bill prying them apart with minimal assistance from a piss-drunk Ben who insists he’s “helping,” telling them once again that they are not allowed to consummate their fucking marriage in public, and especially not allowed to do it in the motel room all seven of them have to sleep in--

*

    He hears Bev’s little “aww” behind him somewhere as he and Richie break apart, and Stan’s grief about how fucking early it is “for this shit.” Eddie can hear something like a smile in his voice, if not just plain old amusement.

    “We’re married, Rich,” Eddie repeats incredulously, and Bill is saying something about their marriage license in his wallet because neither of them can be trusted, but Eddie couldn’t care less about licenses or whatever, because Richie’s smiling down at him in that way that makes his heart feel too full. And he doesn’t mean to, but a choked noise bubbles up out of him, almost a sob, maybe a laugh. Tears burn in his eyes.

    But that’s alright, because Richie’s crying already, and he wraps himself bodily around Eddie, rolling them over so he’s squishing him into the mattress while he kisses all over his face and his throat until Eddie’s squealing with laughter despite his agonizing hangover. He almost feels too good to care about it now, but he’s definitely getting some water and painkillers into his system the second the weird high he’s feeling subsides.

    “Okay, okay,” says Stan, standing above them suddenly, swatting at Richie’s shoulders. “You’ve had your fun. Noisy assholes. We were too drunk for proper congratulations last night. Move over.”

    All the Losers squeeze themselves onto the queen bed, somehow, and water bottles and aspirin get passed around. At some point Bill gets up to start the coffeemaker and comes back with (good fucking lord) their “wedding photos” in a crisp manila envelope. They’re just as gaudy as he expected. Leave it to Richie to find the ugliest possible outfit for his literal wedding.

    Eddie gets hugs and shoulder-squeezes and cheek-kisses from everyone, over and over, and Bev actually cries for about ten full minutes while she holds him, then at least ten more while she holds Richie, and then Ben cries, and... well, they all end up crying all over each other, but it’s awash with joy. “We’re happy for you,” they keep saying, and Eddie’s happy for them, too. He didn’t expect to accidentally do things this way, but he has to be glad it happened.

    “God,” he says a while later, shaking his head as he sips sugary coffee from the mug he and Richie are sharing (this room is meant for four people, max, not seven, and is equipped accordingly). He’s still examining a picture of Richie attempting to give him a piggy-back ride out of the chapel. Bill is visible in the background, eyes red and puffy, a wad of tissues clenched in his hand while Mike tries to console him. Eddie has been making fun of him for about half an hour now. “My mom would flip if I told her about this.” But the thought doesn’t scare him. He doesn’t get scared of her anymore. Not like he used to. Not when he’s so far away and he feels so safe with these six idiots who bring so much joy to his life.

    Richie’s thumb rubs over the skin of his lower back where his hand has crept up Eddie’s shirt. “Good thing you don’t have to,” he says, and that familiar mantra of “You never have to see her again,” bleeds through, plain as ever.

    Eddie hums. Passes the coffee back to him. “I know. But... I kinda want to. Just to watch her head explode,” he says with a shrug and a grin, earning a chorus of easy laughter from his friends. He stares at the ring on Richie’s finger as Richie throws back the rest of their coffee, something warm and familiar blooming brighter in his chest.