#this year is a lot of firsts. like first con first monster first everything

[eudico-my-beloved]

GUESS WHO WENT TO THE WILL WOOD CONCERT TODAY (yesterday. it is currently 6.11 am) :D

[tinfoil-jones]

Tate Pines AU 

(aka Tater McGucket is an oops baby Fiddlestan kid)

Note: LONG POST. This is me hyper fixating on a brain worm because the Gravity Falls Fandom roared back to life. This is probably misspelled in a lot of areas, and not the clearest or most concise post because this is me rambling at 2 in the morning. Also the characters are maybe OOC. Also, this is written without accents because I'm not from the Midwest or southern United States.

In this AU/Scenario, Stan is a transgender man, and 'encountered' Fiddleford during his vagabond years. It was a heavily drunk/high one-night-stand, so they never properly met or even knew each others names. This happens after Ford graduating Backupsmore University, and for this scenario to work let’s say that Fiddleford went to BMU for his undergraduate program, but then went to the local university in Palo Alto for his graduate studies.

Years later, just like in the OG show Fiddleford is Stanford's research partner in Gravity Falls, and married to Emma-May Dixon; but they don't have any children together at this time, and they got together *after* his encounter with Stan. So this isn't an affair baby scenario.

Tatum "Tate" Pines is 5 years old, living on the road with his dad, currently staying in a motel but they're about to move into a real apartment for the first time ever because Tate needs to start school soon. Stan is still a drifter and a con man, but he recently came upon a large sum of money because Tate accurately guessed the lottery number for the state they were currently in.

Stan still receives a postcard from Gravity Falls that says "Please Come", and is allegedly sent from his estranged Twin who he hasn't seen in almost 12 years. But this is roughly a few months before it would have happened in-canon.

Given Stan's disownment, no one knows that he even has a son, not even Ma Pines. Not like he'd want them to know. Having his own son and loving him unconditionally made him realize that his own dad Filbrick was a monster, who he didn't need to prove himself to. But he still wants to reconcile with Ford, so he decides to go just like in canon.

This post card, however, wasn't sent by Ford. It was sent by Fiddleford, who was watching Ford spiral in real time and hoped that if anyone could convince Ford that he was acting crazy and unstable, it was his twin brother.

While Stanford doesn't greet Stanley with a crossbow like in the original because this is before the portal test with Fiddleford, he's definitely shocked to not just see Stanley there, but Stanley with a tiny gap-toothed child in tow.

Stan doesn't know that Ford wasn't expecting them, and excitedly introduces Ford to his nephew.

Ford: Stanley, are you sure this child is yours? Stan: ...Ford, did you forget we're not identical twins?  Ford: ...Oh! Oh my, Stanley... Stan: *thinking* 'I don't know if I'm touched that you don't see me as anything other than a man... or insulted that you forgot something so fundamental about me'

Flabbergasted, Ford lets them both in; Fiddleford is welding something downstairs so he doesn't see or hear any of this. Ford plants Tate on the couch in front of the TV and practically drags Stan to the kitchen to talk to him privately; he's too surprised by Stan having a child to question why they were there in the first place.

Ford: Is there a... another parent..? Stan: ...It's just me and Tate. Always has been. Ford: How did...? Stan: I didn't plan a pregnancy... but I had no money for T-shots for months on end, and without the T, everything down stairs went to factory default.  Ford: Do you know who it is? The father- I mean, the other father? Stan: Not exactly, some southern guy, don't think I ever got his name. Ford: What happened? Stan: Funny you should ask. (FLASHBACK) Fiddleford, high out of his mind: -and that's how I won a golden fiddle. Stan, drunk out of his mind: That's crazy, dude. *grabs him aggressively by the shirt collar to pull him close* Now shut up and fuck me until I can't walk. Fiddleford, horny out of his mind: Hoo-whee, well don't you diddly-darn mind if'n I do. (END) Ford: Stanley? Stan: Hmm? Ford: Are you okay? You just said 'its funny that you ask', and then stared off into space for 10 seconds. Stan: Let's just say I never touched tequila ever again.

Eventually, Fiddleford does come upstairs when he notices Ford didn't come back downstairs, and see's the brothers in the kitchen just as Ford asks Stan why he even came here.

Fiddleford admits it was him who sent the postcard, that someone needed to 'talk some sense' into Ford, and then introduces himself to Stan.

While Stan isn't perplexed by Fiddleford because he was too drunk to remember a face- Fiddleford, who has very good memory, immediately knows he met Stan somewhere, he just can't quite place where, when, or why.

Ford does show Stan the portal, saying it's his life's work and he'll need to test it soon, and casually asks Stan if he wants to stay and help. Before Fiddleford can protest that's a bad idea and Ford should just stop, Stan agrees because he wants to reconnect (and also keep a roof over Tate's head, what were the chances they'd win another lottery?), it did hurt his feelings that Stanford hadn't reached out out to him after all, but maybe they could work on that.

While Ford hasn't exactly forgiven Stanley for the science fair incident, he can't just let his brother, a single father be homeless with a five-year-old (Stan had to drop the lease with their intended apartment to come to Gravity Falls). And... well, Ford gets attached to Tate quite early:

Tate: ... *staring at him* Ford: Can I help you with something, Tatum? Tate: Uncle, is your name "Stanford"?  Ford: Yes, but if you prefer you can call me Uncle Ford. Tate: Oh. Okay. It's funny, Stanford is my middle name. *later* Stan: Kiddo, why has your uncle been sobbing in his room for the past thirty minutes? Tate: *shrugs*

Not realizing the gravity (hehe) of the situation, Stan gets settled in the house and helps Ford and Fiddleford where he can (usually just moving heavy objects or punching paranormal creatures, or forcing Ford to shower). He does notice that Ford seems a bit... unhinged, and weirdly obsessed with some new geometry based religion, but people change after college right?

He does get unnerved by Fords weird episodes where his personality seems to shift and he goes into town to act like an absolute menace. Stan can't help but think that isn't Ford; its been years since he saw him but damnit he knew his brother and whatever entity possessed him just to slap a cops belly, *that* was not Ford. But Ford always brushed him off when he tried to bring it up, and one time 'Ford' even coldly reminded Stan that he could remove Stanley and his son from the home at any time if he wasn't going to be useful.

During this time, Stan and Fiddleford get to know each other, they get along quite well actually; Fiddleford is fond of little Tatum, who along with Stan enjoys listening to him play the banjo. One could say, given Fords obsession with his current passion project and prioritizing work over his relationships, that Stan and Fiddleford become close. 

Fiddleford picks up, however... that little Tate is a genius. Although he's a quiet kid, he has an advanced vocabulary for his age. He's able to read and write at what must be a 2nd or 3rd grade level despite not even starting kindergarten yet, and... one time Fiddleford left an 8x8 cubiks cube unattended, and came back no more than five minutes later to see that Tate had already solved it. And Stan had told him that Tate has actively predicted lottery numbers before.

He brings it up with Stan, who admits that he already knows Tate is a genius, but he also knows what academic pressure and high expectations can do to someone (referring to Ford), and he just wants Tate to live life by his own terms, not let other people dictate that for him based on his IQ.

Fiddleford... also see's resemblances between himself and Tate. Sure, Tate has browner hair like Stan, but the wavier texture is just like his own. And while Stanley does have a prominent nose, it's not as prominent as Tates, which is much more similar to Fiddlefords. 

Fiddleford begins to ask Stan about his past, specifically bringing up that he believes they may have met before.

Fiddleford: Say, Stan, did we meet before you moved here? You're so familiar to me. Stan: I wonder where you could have possibly seen my face before? *glances at the lab* Fiddleford: No. I feel like we've met before - you ever been to Palo Alto? Stan: That city in Cali? Yeah. I'd say about six years ago. I was just passing by, resupplying, and selling weed to college students. Fiddleford: You were a weed dealer? Stan: Among other things, yeah. California's *the* place to go to for weed. I don't do it anymore. Fiddleford: Did you... ever visit the university there? Stan: A couple times. Hated going there because it reminded me of... well, I think you know. Why? Fiddleford: I did my graduate studies there, maybe I met you there? Stan: You think so? I only saw buyers, did you buy weed from me? Fiddleford: No... I had a dealer, but it wasn't you. Stan: Other than that, I did get invited to a frat party once. Think they were called "SigEp" or something. Fiddleford: That's 'Sigma Phi Epsilon'. That was the fraternity I belonged to. Did I see you at that party? Stan: Probably - oh man that party was crazy. I made so many bad decisions that night. Fiddleford: Stanley... how old did you say your son was? Stan: Five, why? Fiddleford: ... Fiddleford: Stanley... *reaches out* Stan: *jerks back, before pointing away* Hey look over there, a distraction! Fiddleford: What- *looks away* Stan: *jumps out the window and makes a run for it*

Stan does not entertain any further discussions with Fiddleford about his past, and goes out of his way to keep Tate with him and away from Fiddleford. Given his criminal past, he's afraid that if Fiddleford is correct, he could make legal actions to take Tate away from him.

Fiddleford eventually goes to Ford about his suspicions.

Fiddleford: Stanford I'm going to tell you something, and I need you to promise you'll stay calm. Stanford: *doesn't look up from microscope* Are you going to tell me you suspect you're Tatum's father because you slept with my brother around the time he would have been concieved? Fiddleford: ... Stanford: Because you are. Fiddleford: What in tar- Stanford: *tosses a file folder towards Fiddleford* I have all of our DNA on file - Fiddleford: You do???? Stanford: Of course I do! I store the DNA profile of everyone who's entered my residence, just in case there's a shifter afoot. Comparing yours and Stanley's DNA to Tatum's, there is only a 0.001% chance that he isn't your biological child. Fiddleford: ... *speechless* Stanford: Congratulations, according to science you're a father.

Fiddleford does eventually manage to talk to Stan about it, and clear the air between them. Stan is apprehensive because Fiddleford is married, but he's at least relieved that Tate happened before Fiddleford was in a relationship with Emma-May. Stan allows Fiddleford to spend more time with Tate (supervised), but they agree Tate doesn't need to know just yet what Fiddleford is to him.

Fiddleford also holds back on telling his wife about Tate, he'd prefer to tell her face-to-face.

But then the portal test happens and Fiddleford gets a glimpse of the horrors beyond the portal, which traumatizes him just like in the original. This doesn't convince him to leave, because Ford is becoming dangerous and Fiddleford is worried about what would happen if Stan and Tate were left alone with him. He invents the memory gun, but holds up on using it on himself.

The relationship Ford has with both Stan and Fiddleford  becomes more explosive. Stan and Fiddleford are both telling Ford that he's messing with forces beyond his control.

To get Fiddleford off of his back about the portals, Ford instead lashes out at him about something else.

Stanford: Fiddleford... you know you're my best friend right? Fiddleford: ...Of course. Stanford: Stanley and I don't have a good relationship... we haven't in a long time. *puts a hand on his shoulder* But don't you dare hurt my brother, or nephew. I don't care how strained things are between Stanley and myself, or how close you and I are... He's my brother, and I'll always protect him, even if it's from you. Fiddleford: Do you think I would try to steal Tatum, Stanford?! *Pushes him away* Also, if you're going to threaten me, you could at least not be such a hypocrite. Stanford: How dare- Fiddleford: You say you care about Stanley? That you'd protect him? He's been homeless for over a decade! You SAW him get kicked out of home when he was still a minor! He escaped three different prisons, had extremely shady black-market top-surgery, chewed his way out of the trunk of a car, and gave birth by himself in an alleyway! He had walking pneumonia for nearly a year straight and almost died from it because he had to choose between himself and Tate over who needed treatment more!  But you didn't know any of that, did you? Because you don't talk to him or try to reach out. You still avoid him. You still treat him like he's your enemy. You're still resentful about that damn science project.  You don't know him or what he went through. You didn't even want him here, I called him up here so maybe somebody could set you straight!  Working with this portal, messing with these forces beyond comprehension and control- the only threat to Stan and our son is you! Ford: Get the hell out of my lab- and stay the hell away from my twin.

But this 'Mystery Trio'-esque era of their lives has a Bad End:

After Ford gets sucked into the portal the same way as he did in the original, Stanley decides to take over his identity; Fiddleford helps him with everything up until Stan fakes his own death.

As Tate's biological (other) father, and Stan having recently altered Tate's birth certificate to add Fiddleford, the boy is given to Fiddleford right away following Stan's 'death' and not put into foster care or an orphanage. This window of time is also when Fiddleford establishes the Society of The Blind Eye, but he chooses a leader after he founds it rather than leading it himself.

When Stan makes it clear he's going to dedicate himself to fixing the portal and bringing Ford back, Fiddleford makes a drastic decision. 

Knowing what the portal obsession did to Stanford, Fiddleford doesn't want Tate to be around if- no, when, the same thing happens to Stan. 

He uses the memory gun on Stan to make him forget about their son entirely. He does the same thing to Tate to make him forget about Stanley, legally changes his name to Tater McGucket, and takes him back to California with him.

He makes this decision because in this scenario he never used the memory gun on himself, so the memory of what's on the other side of the portal still haunts him, making him more desperate and callous, especially with a child involved.

It breaks his heart that he did this, but he doesn't want Tate to be dragged into Pines drama. He takes the boy home and tells his wife that he was conceived before they were together (looking at Tate's age, he was born at least a year before they started dating), and uses the news clipping about Stan's death to explain how he got custody without any trouble, and Emma-May adopts Tate. Tates memory gaps are excused by his young age, and the trauma of losing a parent at such a young age, so Fiddleford and Emma-May decide not to tell him about Stanley.

Stan forgets about both Tate and Fiddleford, but he has this deep sense of loss and betrayal that he can't place. He figures over the years that maybe it's just some of his feelings about Ford having gone through the portal...

Decades later, and after a divorce, Fiddleford moves back to Gravity Falls, bringing Tate with him so Tate can start his Bait and Tackle Shop somewhere quiet. Fiddleford is there to check up on the Society of the Blind Eye, and also to check on Stanley because he feels guilty about what he did. Although he knows that this is Stanley pretending to be Stanford, he says nothing to anybody about it, it's the least he could do.

When Stan see's Fiddleford again - he doesn't know why, because he's 'never met the guy', but just looking at his face pisses him off. And every time Stan see's Fiddleford from then on, whether its across the street or at the shops or what have you, he is openly hostile towards him even if he can't adequately explain why he feels this way about Fiddleford. Also strangely attracted to him, particularly his banjo playing, but its overshadowed by his hostility.

Stan meets Tate shortly after the Tate and Backles Bait and Tackle shop is opened... and he doesn't know why, but this young man he's never met makes him feel sad. But also... Relieved? Elated? Proud?? He comes by often, sometimes not even buying (or stealing) anything, he just chats with Tate (and Backle to a lesser degree).

Tate himself feels strangely fond of this frequent flier customer. Like he's met a dear old friend. He is awfully confused why Stan will sometimes call him 'Tatum', seemingly without noticing, and why he never feels like correcting him. 

Fiddleford knows why, because he never erased his own memory, and he feels so guilty. But it's been 30 years, he can't say anything without ruining his relationship with Tate (which became strained after the divorce, which in this timeline happened maybe around Tate's late teen/early adult years). 

One way that this whole thing can be revealed is when Dipper and Mabel deal with The Blind Eye society, they find two memory tubes, one labelled "Tatum S. Pines" and another labeled "Stan Pines" take it with them because it has their last name, and Grunkle Stans name, on them.

They play the one labeled Stan Pines at first, and realize it's Tates early childhood memories of Stan.

When they play the one labeled "Tatum S. Pines" they see it's all of Grunkle Stans memories of Tate, leading up to his confrontation with Fiddleford.

(MEMORY) Stan, backing up: Wait, what is that thing? Fiddleford, what are you doing with that?! Fiddleford, pointing the memory gun at him: I'm sorry Stan, I truly am. But I can't let you drag our son into this... I do care for you, and I wish things could have been different. But you're just like him!  **BLAST** (END OF MEMORY)

This horrifies them, and they have a real moral conundrum of if they tell Stan and Tate, or if they keep it to themselves to keep the peace. 

They deserve to know... but it'd be so painful. And this would take place before "The Tale of Two Stans" so they don't even know what Fiddleford was talking about to justify stealing Tate, or who 'him' is.

Eventually, it's Wendy and Soos who confront McGucket and tell him that he better be honest with Stan and Tate, or they're going to do it for him. That he's a selfish coward who ripped someone's young child from their arms.

Or, an alternative scenario; Fiddleford never stored those memories in the first place, or at least didn't store them with the Society of the Blind Eye, and it's Ford who brings this all up to Stan. Ford was already through the portal when Fiddleford decided that parental abduction was totally okay if there was amnesia involved.

Ford: Are these Tatum's children? *motioning to Dipper and Mabel*. Stan: They're Shermie's grandkids, and - who? Ford: ...Tatum? Tatum Stanford Pines? Your son. Stan: ...I don't- I don't have a son. *tears gathers in the corner of his eyes, but he either doesn't notice, or chooses to not react* And if I did, I wouldn't give him your name as a middle. Ford: Yes you do, and yes you did. You introduced us right before the portal incident. I even DNA-sequenced him to confirm that his other father was Fiddleford. Stan: WHAT? And- who?? Ford: Here, look *pulls up his DNA files from ones of his secret safes in the lab and shows it to Stanley, which not only has the DNA results but also pictures of Stanley, Fiddleford, and Tate from the time* Honestly Stanley, how could you forget a child you car-.

Ford realizes something is wrong when it's clear that Stanley is distressed, but also confused, like having a son is legitimately a surprise to him. He's so shocked he has to lie down for a bit. His eyes keep leaking tears but he doesn't know why 'Fords cruel and oddly elaborate joke' is making him so upset, because 'clearly it's not true'.

When Ford hears Fiddleford lives in Gravity Falls, he seeks him out and demands answers.

At first, Fiddleford tries to play it off like maybe Ford was remembering things wrong - but with enough pressure, and a ray gun pointed at his chest, Fiddleford finally comes clean. About what he did. Why he did it.

Ford is still angry at Stan for getting him trapped in the Nightmare Realm Multiverse for 30 years; and then stealing his name, identity, and house, but that's still his twin brother. And what Fiddleford did was to him was horrendous, especially after Stanford had already warned him years ago to not to hurt Stan or Tate. This was a crime against the whole Pines family. 

So Ford beats him up. No, he doesn't kill or maim him, but he beats the living dog shit out of him until Fiddleford promises the glass tubes of Stan and Tate's memories in exchange for mercy.

Mabel, Dipper (and Soos/Wendy) are clearly confused (because they wouldn't have seen the memories in the "The Hall of the Forgotten"). Although, this whole revelation does bring Dipper closer to Stan, because Dipper had no idea he wasn't the only transgender person in the family.

Ford shows these memories to Stan first, who is going through all kinds of emotions especially after getting Ford back and their bitter reunion. This allows Ford and Stan to somewhat reconcile early; just like how Ford lost 30 years of his life to the portal, Stanley lost 30 years with his own son because of his conviction to fix it.

Ford also has to physically stop Stan from hunting down and murdering Fiddleford (who Stan only knew as McGucket up to this point) with his bare hands. Reminding him that it's more important that he reaches out to Tate.

But Stan is conflicted. He wants to be Tate's dad again but... Tate is in his mid-thirties, he doesn't need him like he did when he was 5. And Tate already has two loving parents, both of which don't have an extensive criminal record, and who provided him with a stable home, which Stan never did because they were homeless the whole time.

Does he really want to uproot Tate's life and/or peace of mind with a revelation this big?  

This goes all the way to Weirdmageddon, where everyone gathers in the Mystery Shack for security; faced with a possible end of the world, Stan takes Tate to the side, dragging Fiddleford with them, and tells him the truth. Fiddleford confirms it all, ashamed and apologetic. Finally, they give Tate his memory tube, which he watches.

For a moment Stan and Fiddleford have a moment of solidarity; Stan can see that Fiddleford really did want to spare Tate from whatever unknown-at-the-time fate had befallen Stanford because of the portal.

Fiddleford finally faces his past mistakes, and apologizes for what he did. That what he did was wrong, and he can never make it up to them, but if they survive this maybe he could try to make things right.

This is their last family moment between the three of them pre memory-wipe.

The mind wipe thing still happens. Gravity Falls is saved. Mabel and Dipper manage to jog Stan's memory but there's no way to make him remember Tate - the glass memory tubes have already been used, and Stan didn't keep any photos from his homeless era because he couldn't afford it most of the time, and when he could he always managed to get kicked out of whatever state they were in before the photos were done developing.

Once again, Ford comes in clutch. Throughout his last journal, just like how he made entries about Fiddleford, he also made entries about Stan and Tate, including detailed sketches. How Tate liked to get into high places, exasperating Stanley who was afraid of heights. How Stan would take him to the woods to follow the creeks because Tate was intrigued by waterways. How Tate said so few words but Stan always seemed to know exactly what he wanted or needed at any given time. How Tate only liked eating the green M&M's but Stan was fine with it because he got to eat the rest. 

Now while Stan's heartwarming memories of his son come back, so does his desire to break Fiddlefords neck. 

Fiddleford still buys the Northwest Mansion and converts it to "McGucket's Hootenanny Hut", but because the Pines families are the heroes of Gravity Falls, they (Ford) manage to convince the local government to put Fiddleford on house arrest for an indeterminate amount of time as punishment for 30-something years of parental abduction and alienation (also the whole starting a Cult thing). Fiddleford accepts this, and Tate still lives with him.

Post memory-wipe Stan still reconciles with both of them, and his relationship with Fiddleford is... weird, but not entirely bad. It's like they're dating, but with a lot of emotional distance. Like, Stan still tells Ford he wants to murder him... but also tells him to never, ever, check their texting history. 

Stan still goes to sail the world with Ford on the Stan O'War II. They do invite Tate, who declines because "He'd rather just live the simple life in Gravity Falls, and not get involved in whatever supernatural gobbledygook his dad and uncle are sure to get into".

And Stan is so proud of him... because just like he said thirty years, there's nothing he wanted more for Tate than to live his life by his own terms. He video chat's with him as often as he does with Dipper and Mabel. 

Tate ends up keeping McGucket as his last name, but he changes his first and middle back to what it was originally.

And that's the end of this tale, thanks for sticking with me. Here's a passage where Ford teases Stan while they're on their sea adventure;

Ford: It was so sweet of you to give your son my name. Stan: Poindexter, I swear to Moses. Ford: Even after a decade apart. Admit it, you missed me so much. Stan: *rolls his eyes* Of course I did. Stan: Stan: But the real reason that's his middle name is because he was conceived at Stanford University. Ford: I- Ford: I really didn't want to know or think about that.

The End... Go home.

[cartoonsinthemorning]

I really like your marchil and stancest arts! Do you have any opinions on toudencest (laios x falin)?

Thank you so much! Anon, let's officially connect the suspicious dots, because I ship Toudencest hard, and I do have, in fact, a lot of opinions. Most likely, the unpopular kind. But before I go into my deranged details rant, here, have a sketch.

Ok, let's go! Laios and Falin have the BEST relationship in Dunmeshi. They understand each other like no other does. It was used as a gag, but: the party getting mad at Laios for saying 'hadn't Falin got eaten, they would have never savored the delicious exorcism sorbet'...and Laios thinks to himself Falin would had understood what he meant-- OOHHH that hit my heart so hard!! That scene meant so much to me! It's TRUE. Everyone, even his friends, misunderstand Laios constantly. But Falin would understand him. It's beautiful. It moves me. Another thing that shakes me to the core: Falin is the only one showing genuine excitement about Laios' passions, interests and discoveries. Like, what I mean is, Senshi does share with Laios an interest about making monster's edible, and later on basically everyone in the story gets mind-boggled about how useful Laios' bizarre knowledge can be- BUT! she is the only one that geeks out with him about monsters. And not out of functionality. No, she's genuinely excited about him sharing new knowledge with her. When she's brought back to life and Laios tells her about monster-eating, her first reaction is basically jumping up and down, overjoyed.

And this is so downplayed. How similar they are, in this regard, I mean. Because most people portray Falin as a poised, soft-spoken normal girl, who's got this unhinged monster-fucker as a brother- ahah- and they seem to forget she is HIGHLY weird too, that her interest and methods are VERY unconventional too! Did people miss the flashback episode showing how she did homework in magic school, basically going into wild, forbidden areas to be in direct contact with the creatures living in there, even if it's considered dangerous, almost blasphemous? COME ON, Laios and Falin share the same approach, no wonder they are best friends! People tend to downplay it, I think, because Laios is the one getting gag-worthy reactions from people- getting yelled at, glared at, etc. But in fact, Falin is just as weird as he is. And it's so sweet how that brings them together, even when they are apart... I also think the fandom largely downplays how much of a bro-con Falin is: she was so clingy as a child lmao, but seriously, she was heartbroken when Laios left home without her- and the thing is, you would expect, after she grew up some more and went to study magic, things would change, her priorities would change. BUT NOOOO, no Sir: Laios pops into her life again years later out of the blue and she drops everything to run away with him. GOD that's so ROMANTIC, she is in LOVE, she is down SO BAD for Laios. What would I give for a detailed fan fic about their travels alone together. Sigh. I think I'm gonna end it here because I went well off the rails-- BUT ONE MORE THING!!! When she was a child and she SO PROUDLY bragged how good her brother is at imitating a dog's bark. God. God my heart. her love is so sweet so precious so immaculate so pure. Ok now I'm done for real byeeeee

[embroiderling]

Embroidery for the @monsterfucktoberbingo - Square: Cyborg.

Original artwork by @designtheendless (which is art for A Waking Nightmare by the amazing @kydrogendragon)

Ok, a note for this one. First, of course I know that people in wheelchairs are not monsters. This is a free interpretation of the prompt. I think that's pretty obvious, but just in case.

And keep reading for a few words about being disabled, pain and mental health.

I was talking with my friends from the discord Dreamling con Ñ about the definition of cyborg —a creature composed of organic elements and cybernetic devices usually intended to enhance the capabilities of the organic part through the use of technology.

We were thinking about Dream or Hob with an orthopaedic leg or arm, but we didn't find any Sandman drawing like that (I hope someone do it, because it deserves representation!) And then I remembered this beautiful art. So we have Hob here, using a kind of technology that helps with his organic living...

I had an accident two months ago. I had to wear an orthopaedic boot for a month because I wasn't able to walk without risking worsening my injury. My body had to learn to walk differently, and I went (still go) through a lot of pain because my body posture changed and I lost muscle strength in my legs. My sense of balance was affected and I still walk like a pirate —quite useful for a costume party. I had 30 kinesiology sessions (and there'll be more). Rehabilitation isn't linear. There are ups and downs. One day you get up and feel like new. And the next 5 days you feel terrible. And when the body hurts, it's easier for the mind to hurt, too.

As you might suspect, this isn't about me. This is about anyone reading this who isn't having a good day/week/year/life. Life isn't linear, and I can't promise you that everything will be fine, but I can tell you that tomorrow will be a different day. That you're not alone. And you are loved. If you feel like the sadness won't leave home, ask for help. If you think someone you love is feeling that way, try to be there because maybe that person doesn't have the energy needed to ask for help.

Please, be safe. Take care of yourself. You're loved. And the world is better because you're here.

[shadow1515]

Too Sweet

Pairing: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard/Female, Surface Reader Word Count: 5,138 Warnings: a lot, rape/non-con, older man (he’s a zombie basically)/younger woman (reader is 20), monster fucking, size kink, rough sex, gun play, blood kink, glove kink?, loss of virginity, dacryphilia, forced orgasm, orgasm denial, creampie Summary: Your father dead, brother gone in search for his killers, mother gone in search for him, you were left alone in the wilderness. You thought you knew how to take care of yourself, but that idea is challenged when a certain ghoul in a cowboy hat shows up at your dining room table. Tags: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. READ THE WARNINGS. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. Please, read the warnings, if any of this triggers you do not continue!!!!!!!!!! Note: first post here, but i also posted on ao3 where i have posted fics before... just... bear with me, the brain rot was real for this one. I have never written anything at this level of depravity but this yucky looking man without a nose took hold of me and I had to write this. I did most of it when I should have been studying for a quiz, but it's fineeeee. Anyway, please enjoy this 5k word piece of filth that was only read through once…… (And yes the title is based off Hozier’s song Too Sweet.)

You were born and raised on the surface with its sandy horizons and burning sun, but your life was definitely better than most others who live on the surface of this godforsaken world. Your parents had found a nice place with tons of supplies, the ability to grow plants, a water filter, and it was hidden fairly well. You weren’t entirely sure how they had found such a haven in the wasteland, but honestly you couldn’t complain too much. Alongside your older brother, you grew up knowing how to grow your own food, hunt, defend yourself, create booby traps, the normal things every kid grew up learning. You were also one of the lucky few that was taught how to read and write as your mother had been taught by her parents and passed it onto you and your brother, something you were forever grateful for. 

Books were a solace for you, one of the few you could find, especially after your brother ran off to god knows where and your mother went off in search of him just a few months ago. After your father passed away three years ago, your brother felt it necessary to be the “man of the house” and make sure you and your mother were taken care of. It wasn’t that you were ungrateful for his protection and watchful eye, but he could be a little extreme at times. Your father died just over a year ago, and it was hard on all of you. Perhaps your brother took it a bit harder since he never showed his sadness about it… only his anger. See, your father was killed by some raiders on one of his outings to get more supplies. Your brother was with him when it happened but managed to escape. You were almost one hundred percent sure that was where your brother had gone; looking for your father’s killers.

Unfortunately, that had been just over four months ago. A few days ago your mother grew sick of it and went to try and find your brother, leaving you all alone. You knew how to protect yourself and make sure the house was protected and hidden, but that didn’t mean you liked being alone or that you didn’t worry every day about your missing family. In fact, it made it worse.

You felt your patience and sanity wearing thin as the days went on and you heard nothing from your mother or brother. You were worried sick, the only things keeping you from running off by yourself were tending to the farm and the chickens, checking on the water filter, reading your books, really anything to distract you from the inevitable truth;that your family was dead. 

One day, you were out tending to the livestock and farms for most of the day. It was starting to get dark and mostly everything was done, so it was about time to head inside for the night. As soon as you opened the door, you could tell something was off. Maybe it was the slightly larger, sandy footprints through the hallway, or the way that everything around you seemed to stand still, either way you knew something was wrong. Unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough. Even with your added paranoia from being alone for a few days, your reflexes couldn’t have prepared you enough for the sight of a man… no, a ghoul, lounging at your dining table. Seat pulled back, feet on the table, fingers lazily playing with the trigger of the sawed off shotgun that was pointed directly at you. 

Part of his face was obscured by a ragged hat, but you could still tell that he was a ghoul, his face covered in scars, red and shiny from the radiation. He slowly lifted his head, dark eyes shining in the setting sun streaming through the window, the black hole where his nose should have been even more prominent as his gaze slowly trailed from your muddy boots up your bare legs (you wanted to wear shorts, it was hot out), across your curves until they finally landed on your face, lingering on your parted lips for a moment too long in your opinion. 

Your eyes, on the other hand, kept on moving between his ruined face to the gun pointed at you in quick succession, not knowing which to focus on more. Before you could think of doing anything else, he finally spoke.

“Well, sweetheart, seems you found yourself in quite the predicament here.” The words roll off his tongue easily, like they were practiced, used, normal for him to utter. That nickname too, so antagonizing and belittling with just two syllables. It made your blood boil… not like that… right?

You attempted to speak, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, your eyes still flicking between the barrel of the gun and the ruined face before you. Your very apparent lack of thoughts and speech only made the ghoul chuckle. It was a deep sound, like a rumble of the earth during a thunderstorm, the vibrations running all through your body, unyielding to the forces that surround you. 

“Cat got your tongue, darlin’?”

The question was not meant to be answered, in fact it made all semblance of words leave your mouth entirely. He stood up then, the spurs on his boots startling you as he took step after step closer to you, the gun in his hand hanging loosely at his side. At first, you didn’t move, but as he got closer, you took a fearful step back, not realizing until it was too late that he maneuvered you in such a way as he was getting closer so now your back was flush against the wall. The ghoul was close now, too close, so close you could feel his body heat, the stench of his breath from his yellowed mouth, the gunpowder and cigarettes and booze that lingered on him like a haze after a fire. He was terrifying. 

You let out a pathetic squeak as the end of his shotgun found its place underneath your chin, tilting your head up to make sure you looked him directly in the eyes. His eyes weren’t an evil yellow or filled with contempt, they were a deep brown, a soft brown, and they were filled with an emotion you really could not place. The position you were in was compromising, with his face inches from your own (his hips inches from your own). And that look in his eyes. Why couldn’t you figure it out?

The cool metal of the gun felt as if it was burning you as he tipped your head back just a bit more, his dark eyes focused on yours, “Ain’t you just a sweet little thing, all alone, no way of protectin’ yourself.” You did have a way of protecting yourself, it was called booby traps that he somehow managed to get by, but you bit your tongue. 

“What do you want with me?” You managed to speak that one question that was burning in your mind in spite of the shivers of fear that ran down your spine as your chin moved the shotgun touching it.

At that little comment from you, the ghoul smirked like the bastard he was, “Well you see, missy,” You felt a surge of relief followed quickly by terror again as the gun left your chin only to trail down your neck and land on the collar of your tank top, a collar that was already pretty low cut (again, it was hot). The barrel caught in the fabric as he continued to speak, “I have it on good information that this little abode of yours happens to also be the home of a stupid boy who crossed paths with the wrong man.”

Your heart sank. You knew exactly what he was referring to. Your fucking brother, off doing who knows what, stirring up the worst kind of trouble. He wanted to avenge your father, you knew that, but did he not think? Of course he didn’t. He thought it would be all unicorns and daisies as he tracked down a pack of murderers. Why would he think twice about the trouble that would bring onto you?

“Look, I–” You gave a dry swallow as the gun at your chest pushed further beneath your shirt, just shy away from tugging it to the side and taking a peek. “You’re looking for my brother, right? I-I don’t know where he is. He left months ago and then my mother–” You cut yourself off, you didn’t want your mother caught up as this bounty hunter’s prey as well.

The ghoul cocked his head to the side, eyes never leaving your face even as the gun moved the fabric of your tank top to the side, your cleavage very obviously there for the looking. “Don’t let me stop you, sweetheart. Please, tell me more about your dear mama.”

You felt the tears on your cheeks before you realized they even formed in the first place. Why did this have to happen? You were blessed, you knew that, with this home and your family, but that didn’t mean you had to have horrible things happen to you as well. You already lost your father, your brother and mother were gone, but you didn’t do anything. 

The ghoul’s gaze followed the tears as they trailed down your face, a twisted pleasure running through him as he watched them. You were too sweet for this world, too sweet for a man like him to find you all alone like this. 

Without much extra thought, you felt the ghoul position his leg between yours, the rough material of his pants around his thigh immediately rubbing against the cloth covering your bottom half. The movement caught you off guard and another gasp of surprise left your mouth, a fresh wave of tears trailing down your face. So that was what he wanted… Growing up you learned what it was that made babies, the simple things like that, but you were sheltered, never leaving your home or the confines of your land, much preferring to stay with your family and not venture out into the dangerous unknown. And it was made dangerous because men, of things, like him.

“Awh, what is it, darlin’?” You heard the gun click into its holster at his side, one hand moving to grip your hip with a strength that really shouldn’t have shocked you, the other moving towards your face, his gloved thumb swiping at the tears gathering there. You mewled again as his thigh moved, the rough fabric causing unwanted friction in an unwanted place. “You scared of little ol’ me?”

“Please,” The fear you felt before only grew as the realization dawned on you. He wanted information and he knew the only way of getting it out of you would be to hurt you… but that didn’t have to mean just cuts and bruises, especially for a man like him. “Please don’t do this. I- I don’t know anything else.” 

You knew it was a lie, he knew it was a lie. You just wanted to protect your mother, and maybe you could convince him of that. At least, you hoped you could. 

The ghoul moved the hand on your face down, resting on the collar of your shirt, “Sweetheart, you really don’t know how the world works out there, do ya?” His face moved closer to yours, his breath hot against the shell of your ear, “It’s eat or be eaten, darlin’, and you ain’t telling me what I wanna know.”

“But-” You hiccuped as fresh tears left your eyes, “But I don’t know anythi–”

A sharp gasp that bordered on a scream escaped you as the hand at your hip left to join the other one and a loud ripping sound invaded your senses, your tank top now ripped clean down the middle, exposing your breasts to him.

Damn, your skin was so soft. Not a scar on your body, just some dirt and scrapes from working outside. The sweat from the sun still lingered on your skin, making it glow, and that scent, it alone was enough to make a ghoul go feral. But he could stave off that feeling if he found a way to get rid of it. 

The ghoul’s eyes found yours again in spite of your breasts being right there. “Sweet thing,” God you hated how small his nicknames made you feel. “I don’t think you’re understandin’ still. I got a bounty to find, you know how to find ‘em, and, well, I know a fun way to get it outta ya.” 

At that last comment you felt the rough leather of his gloves finally touch your breast, squeezing and toying with them in a way you never thought possible. His hands were everywhere, twisting, rough, strong, it made your skin sweat and your back arch. You whimpered as he tugged at your nipples, the pain mixed with a different feeling, one that didn’t feel that bad. As your back arched, your hips unintentionally bumped against his and you felt something hard poke at you. Your eyes widened in shock, the nice feeling from before immediately dissipating as your situation dawned on you again. With that thought, a renewed vigor filled you, your hand clenching in a fist that was raised and swung at the monster’s face. 

Your punch landed with a loud thud but to your horror he didn’t even flinch, just stopped his ministrations on your breasts to glare at you, his anger radiating off of him in waves. 

A cruel smirk grew on his scarred face, “There’s that fight I was looking for.”

His sentence was punctuated with a harsh slap across your face, the force making your vision blink out for a couple of seconds as your head swung to the side. You tasted blood in your mouth and felt a strong hand grip your jaw, harshly moving your head so that it faced him again. 

“You wanna try that again, sweetheart, or are ya gonna tell me what I wanna know?”

Despite your fear and the knowledge that this man, this ghoul, could kill you in a matter of seconds, it would take more than that to get you to give up your mother and brother to him. With that thought in mind, you gathered up some of the blood in your mouth and spit at him, the red liquid splattering over his already reddened face. 

The hand at your jaw moved to grip your throat, squeezing just enough to cause discomfort and fear that he could do much worse. You watched in horror as his free hand then moved to gather up some of the blood on his face, the finger now sticky and shiny with it moving to his mouth as he licked it clean, a face of pure pleasure overcoming him as he tasted you. 

“You taste sweeter than apple pie,” Your throat was squeezed tighter as his face grew closer to yours, his missing nose making it easier to invade your space. “And that just makes me wanna taste you even more.”

His head immediately moved to your neck where you felt his hot breath on your shoulder, his hand moved to grab at your face to keep you from moving. You squirmed in his grasp as you felt a rough tongue drag against your skin, the feeling foreign to you. It seemed like he really was tasting you, licking at the sweat and grime that coated your skin, savoring the taste. Your body tried to wriggle free, a scream warbled by the grip he had on your cheeks as you felt the blunt ends of his teeth bite deep into the juncture of your shoulder and neck. The force in which he bit down was sure to leave a mark, the abused flesh turning red and irritated almost immediately. 

You wanted to pass out right then and there, your mind racing with thoughts of what he might do to you next. He lingered at your neck for a moment before giving it one last swipe of his tongue and returning to look you dead in the eyes, a wicked smile on his scarred skin. Your face was smushed together by his gloved hand and you watched as his gaze traveled back to your neck, back to the mark he left there. His hand quickly followed that gaze, trailing over the mark before gripping your throat again. You saw as the thoughts and emotions raced behind his eyes but you didn’t know where they would lead.

Without any more warning, the ghoul used the hand on your throat to swing you around, slamming your back onto the table. You tried to get out from under him, swinging your arms and legs wildly, screaming (not that anyone would hear you), trying to land a punch or a kick, anything to get away. The ghoul grabbed a hold of your wrists in one hand, pinning them to the table above your head as his free hand went to his waist, grabbing the shotgun from its holster and pointing at your face once again. 

Your struggle stopped the moment you heard the holster pop open, your terror growing tenfold as you knew at this distance, one simple slip of his finger would cause your entire head to explode off your body. The ghoul’s smirk was horrible, devilish, and it turned your blood ice cold. He moved the barrel of the gun closer to you until it brushed against your pursed lips still stained red from your blood.

You knew what he wanted you to do, but you couldn’t, the thought making you want to die on the spot. The ghoul didn’t seem to like that, though, the barrel pushing against your lips more roughly.

“Open wide, darlin’” His voice was dark, gravely, filled with irritation but also wild interest, or perhaps lust. “You really don’t wanna make me even more angry.”

You looked deep into his eyes, the flakes of red across his face from your blood making him appear even more frightening, even more like a monster only seen in children’s stories. You knew if you hesitated any longer he’d be more than happy to pull the trigger and blow your head clean off. Your vision grew blurry as more tears formed, your mouth opening just the slightest amount to allow for the gun to slide past your lips. The taste of metal and gunpowder made you want to gag, your eyes finding the dark ones above you as a slow exhale of breath left the ghoul’s mouth, his gaze transfixed on the way his gun slid deep into your mouth.

“Ain’t that a sight,” He spoke in a low tone, voice filled with fascination.

The gun moved deeper into your mouth, the taste giving way to pain as it pushed against the back of your throat, your mouth wrapping painfully around it, stretching it in uncomfortable ways. You felt it begin to leave your mouth before pushing back in, the slow fucking of your throat by a gun making your tears only increase, the gaging sensation becoming more prominent. You tried to move your arms, to get the gun out of your mouth, but his grip was too strong, his fascination with the scene he created too enticing for him to stop. You felt a hard poke against your thighs as they draped over the end of the table and were pinned by the ghoul’s strong body. You continued to gag around the gun as he fucked it faster and rougher into your face, his breaths becoming louder above you. The hard poke from before rubbed against your thigh as he continued, unprovoked, or perhaps more enticed by your tears and the pathetic sounds attempting to leave around the thick barrel of his gun.

“It’s a damn good thing you ain’t out in the real world, pretty lady. You woulda been eaten right up the moment someone laid eyes on ya.” 

His final comment was finished as the gun was shoved further down your throat, a garbled scream rising from you only to be smothered by the metal. He finally removed the weapon from your mouth, saliva making the metal glisten in the dying light from the sun outside. Your cheeks felt burning hot, covered in your tears and sweat as you were given some reprieve from his assault. 

The ghoul looked over his gun, that same bastardly smirk still prominent on his face as he placed it back in its holster, leaving your spit still on it. “Now that was fun, wasn’t it sweetheart,” You tried to glare at him, but didn’t dare speak, your mouth too sore and abused. Your small fight made the ghoul chuckle again, the hand holding your wrists dragging you up from the table with a harsh yank. His face was inches from yours again as he held you in the air, the only thing keeping you from falling was his grip on your hands and his hips digging into yours against the table. “Wanna tell me where you dear mama is now?”

So this torture was still to get information out of you. You loved your mother, you couldn’t bear the thought of giving her up so easily just to save your own skin. 

“Fuck you.” Your voice was strained, your throat throbbing in pain at each syllable. 

“I hoped you’d say that.” With a shove, he threw you to the floor, moving to stand over you. With your limbs finally free, you scrambled to get away, but he was too quick, one heeled boot slamming down on your leg with enough force to stun you. You screamed out in pain, eyes going wide as you watched him reach for his belt, foot still pressed against your leg, keeping you from moving. His hands worked slowly, the terror building up in you at each passing second. His belt came off far too quickly followed by the button of his pants. 

You closed your eyes, not wanting to see where this was going. You heard the rustle of fabric as the ghoul removed his foot from your leg and went to straddle you, strong thighs on either side of your hips, one hand slammed against the floor beside your head, the other grabbing your jaw in a vice-like grip. 

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” You hesitated before giving in as his grip strengthened to the point of pain, making you gasp and your eyes fly open. “I want you to watch as I ruin you.”

The tears never seemed to stop, his hand leaving your jaw only to rip your shorts and panties down your legs in one harsh tug, the fabric burning against your too sensitive skin. You didn’t dare look down, your gaze staying fixed on his, hoping that if you didn’t look then it wasn’t actually going to happen. 

In spite of your prayers, you felt the rough leather of a gloved finger run through your folds, a sharp intake of breath the only sound you made. Your attempts at staying quiet were soon overcome as his finger found that secret spot just at the top of your cunt, the roughness of the glove and the fear that was coursing through your blood made it even more sensitive and a small mewl of discomfort left your lips. 

The ghoul continued to rub at your clit, your thighs beginning to shake, the sounds escaping your throat enough to make your skin boil in shame. “C’mon, pretty lady, do ya really wanna make this harder on yourself?” He went to whisper in your ear again, his fingers working magic against you. “I can make this feel so good for ya, just tell me what I wanna hear.”

Your hips began to buck against his hand, your moans growing louder as his thumb remained on your clit, one finger entering your cunt and it was like you were seeing stars. You had never done anything like this before, never really had the chance to. You experimented by yourself of course, but having someone else do it to you? It was on a whole other level. 

You chased your peak like it was the only thing standing in the way of your survival, your hips shaking, mouth agape, eyes still fixed on the dark ones above you. You were so close. You could feel it building, boiling over–

A pathetic cry left you as he removed his hand, bringing it up to his face as he inspected the wetness now coating his fingers. With that same hand he gripped your cheeks, your own fluids coating your face, the scent invading your senses. 

“I said I could make ya feel good, but you haven’t given me anythin’ in return yet.” His tone was so cocky, so arrogant, and yet it sent warmth shooting down to your core, unbidden and unwelcome to your mind, but it was received with exaltation as it fueled the slowly dying fire within you. 

“Please–” It was pathetic, you knew that, and you weren’t even sure what you were saying please to, please stop, please don’t stop, please let me come mr ghoul sir?

Your desire was partially snuffed out as you felt something large and warm slap against your stomach. The suddenness of it made you forget to not look down as your gaze landed on the ghoul’s cock. It was big, the skin red and irritated, scarred from the radiation, just like the rest of his body. As much as the pleasure he was giving you before felt amazing, you couldn’t take that thing. 

“That can’t fit,” You spoke hurriedly, the fear taking hold once more. “Please, I-I don’t know anything! I can’t help you, just please don’t put that in me.” Your sobs grew hysterical, tears free flowing, incoherent mumbles leaving you. “Sweetheart, you really think I care?” 

He was cruel, he was a monster, a horrible, despicable monster.

The ghoul reached for his discarded belt, using it to tie your wrists together above your head as you tried to squirm away from him again. And you watched in terror as one of his hands guided the head of his cock to hit against your opening, the other hand roaming down your neck to grab at your breasts again. The tip of him tried to get inside of you and you already felt like you would die right there.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you are tight.” His gaze left his cock and moved to look at you again, “You never been fucked before, have ya?”

Your blabberings and the fear in your eyes was enough of an answer for him. “Damn, didn’t think I’d find a cunt as sweet as yours in this place.” He finally managed to push in, the pain was horrible, it made your insides burn, your mind going blank. “Makes me wanna stay here just a bit longer, still gotta know where your little shit of a brother is afterall.”

Your mind was gone, overcome with pain as he pushed more of his length into you, heedless of your squirming, your tears, the resistance he felt as he kept on going deeper and deeper. 

It was horrible, you were glad your brain tried to block out other thoughts, albeit in vain as he pulled out just to slam back into you, fully sheathed in your tight cunt. 

“You’re gripping me like a vice, darlin’, I dunno if I can even get out.” He gave a soft chuckle at that, punctuated with a sharp tug from your warmth only to shove it back in at a brutal pace. 

You couldn't take it, couldn’t comprehend how this was happening to you. Distantly, you heard as his gloves came off, the rough skin of his fingers grabbing your hip with enough strength to form bruises while the other other arm braced against the floor beside your head, using it as leverage to rut into you. Your legs were splayed around his, your back scraping against the wooden floor, digging sharp lines into your skin. 

You could faintly hear quiet sounds escape the man above you as he fucked you, his arms moving to grab your legs, bending them until your knees were beside your head, allowing him to reach even deeper into you. The head of his cock felt like a nail was being hammered into your cervix with each thrust. Your glazed eyes wandered down to see where you were joined and a jolt of horror ran through you. Each time he rammed into you, your belly bulged up a bit, it was like he was rearranging your insides to make more room for him. 

The ghoul’s gaze followed yours and a louder grunt left him, one hand leaving your leg to press against the bulge on your belly. “Darlin’, you’re just too good for this fucked up world.”

The house was filled with the noises of flesh meeting flesh, your eyes were blank, staring up at the ceiling his thrusts continued. You didn’t want to think, to feel, to exist anymore. But the ghoul has other plans. Your face scrunched up as you felt a textured finger find your clit once more, rubbing it in all the right ways to make your mind snap back into focus. The pleasure was building again, each snap of his hips mixed with the bundle of nerves at your center being played with and you were reaching that peak again. Your moans intermingling with the slapping of flesh on flesh, you didn’t want to reach that crest and fall over it, you didn’t want this encounter to feel good for you too, but by god it did.

Your voice was raw as it screamed out, your pleasure pushed over the edge as you came, your thighs coating with your fluids, the noises becoming even more obscene as he continued to fuck you harder and faster.

“Goddamn, you are just too fucking good.”

His hands gripped your hips as his pace quickened but lost its rhythm. You knew he was getting close and the overstimulation of being fucked through and beyond your orgasm was making it hard to think of anything other than him. His hips finally stopped pistoning into you, giving one last, rough thrust as something hot and sticky filled you up, leaking out around his cock that remained in you. 

The ghoul braced his hands on either side of your head, his eyes zeroed in on yours, breath heavy, sweat on his brow. “You gonna help me out now, sweetheart?”

Your head lolled to the side, eyes closing as you passed out. 

[withlovewriting]

All I Ever Knew, Only You 18: The Graduate

Chapter Eighteen.

I tapped on your window on your darkest night, The shape of you was jagged and weak, There was nowhere for me to stay, but I stayed anyway, You fire off missiles 'cause you hate yourself, But do you know, you're demolishing me? And then you squeeze my hand as I'm about to leave, Are you really gonna talk about timing in times like these? And let all your damage, damage me? And carry your baggage up my street, And make me your future history, it's time, You've come along way, open the blinds, let me see your face, You wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody.

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits, and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything.

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 8,024

Chapter Warnings: Underage drinking, explicit language, fluff, allusions to cheating (not main character related), violence, protective-but-still-an-idiot!Steve, mentions of vomitting.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize… ‘wait a damn minute…’, eventual sexual content, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

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Taglist: @kezibear

Chapter Eighteen: The Graduate

A bead of sweat trickled down your temple, the motion of wiping it away both autonomous yet otiose, since another would replace it soon enough. It was only early June, but the Mid-west summer was back with a vengeance this year.

“How long is this gonna take?” Mike huffed, pushing his ever-growing hair out of his face, “It’s as hot as Satan’s ass crack out here.”

The boy had been scowling since he’d clambered into your car and immediately noticed the lack of air-con.

Condensation from your bottled water dripped down your hand as you passed the boy the drink, knowing that although it wouldn’t do much to cool him down, at least if he was drinking he couldn’t be complaining at the same time.

“They just called his name,” Lucas noted, catching a glimpse of the boy from his elevated seat on the bleachers as your small group — bar Mike — stood, applauding and hollering the older boy’s name.

The noise caught Steve’s attention as he shook Principal Higgins’ hand, a beaming smile stretching across his face as he sauntered across the stage like he’d been class valedictorian. Sure, Steve had only graduated by the skin of his teeth, and he hadn’t been able to secure one college place, but he had graduated nonetheless.

The rest of the ceremony seemed to pass quickly, and despite the raging beat down from the sun and the kid’s complaining — as if Max didn’t hail from California — you could hardly wipe the smile from your face.

Pushing your way through the large sea of students, you practically had to tear yourself away from the boy’s tight grip as he hugged you, “You came?”

“I mean, you kinda saved our asses last year. Would be rude to not show our faces.” Max smiled, slightly perplexed, as the boy pulled her into her own bone-crushing hug. He made his way down the group, Eleven and Lucas being the only ones to seemingly enjoy it.

“Yeah, it uh… It means a lot.”

You’d been able to wrangle the kids — bar Dustin, who had left a week or so before for some summer camp — to the ceremony, but you knew you didn’t have long before they grew bored and even more annoying than usual.

“Oh, there he is!” A loud, shrill cut through the already noisy atmosphere as Mr. And Mrs. Harrington made their way toward the boy, the former pulling her son into an embrace, “Oh, look at you! You look so smart in your robes.”

Mr. Harrington rolled his eyes as his wife continued to fawn over their only child, “Well, don’t get used to it. You won’t be seeing him in them again since he didn’t get into one damn college.”

“Honey, not here.”

Her voice was stern and her eyes sharp as she sent her husband a pointed look, almost daring him to try to continue this conversation in public, though the man merely turned and began to fiddle with his pager.

“Thanks, Mom,” Steve mumbled, his cheeks flushed — from the sun, or the embarrassment of his mother gripping his cheeks, you weren’t sure — as he peered toward you, the snickers from the kids only deepening his blush.

“Oh, hello again,” Mrs. Harrington had seemingly just noticed you, her smile appearing more strained as she looked around at the small ragtag group surrounding her son, “We didn’t know any of your... friends were coming, sweetheart.”

It took everything in Steve to not shake his head and deny that he was friends with actual children, to explain why they were all so prominent in his life. But he didn’t want to look like an asshole, nor did he want to be shipped off to some insane asylum, or worse… taken away by the government. So instead, Steve sent a tight-lipped smile to his mother as he simply nodded.

“You’re going to have to head out to dinner without me tonight,” Steve’s father sighed, shoving his pager back into the pocket of his tailored black pants, “Stacy said there’s an emergency meeting in Indianapolis, I’ll be gone for the night-”

“I’ll ring Enzo’s when we get back, let them know we’ll reschedule.”

“You two can go on without me. I don’t-”

“You understand, don’t you Steven?” Mrs. Harrington cut off her husband, turning her attention back toward her son, missing the moment his face dropped.

“Yeah, I, uh… It’s fine, Mom.”

Pressing a kiss to the boy’s cheek, Mrs. Harrington returned her gaze to her husband, “We’ll go home and pack. I’ll ring Enzo’s, and you can tell Stacy to book a dinner at the hotel for two tonight.”

Steve watched as the two made their way out toward the parking lot, the noises around him blurring into one sound.

“-And there’s a new movie out tonight, I can totally try to score us some free popcorn at the Hawk unless you wanna try out the new one at Starcourt? Or if you don’t wanna head out, we can rent something at Family Video. I can grab us a pizza and-”

“Party at mine, tonight,” Steve shouted, causing the large crowd of teens to turn in his direction, “8 O’clock.”

“There’s already a party planned for tonight, Harrington. Must have forgotten to post your invite, so sorry.” Carol’s all-too-familiar snarl sounded much too close as she approached you.

“Yeah, well… I have a pool.” Steve shrugged. It wasn’t often he’d laud his parent’s wealth over people, but tonight… Tonight was an exception.

A loud cheer sounded from the crowd, some hollering and chanting Steve’s name, reminding him of the past few years of high school. Carol, however, was less than pleased, scoffing before making her way back to Tommy.

“What time should we get there?” Lucas asked, eyes wide and shining, only to be quickly shut down by the older boy,

“Yeah, not a chance in Hell, Sinclair.”

Despite Steve’s offer to help him set up — he had made his bed, therefore as far as you were concerned, he could sleep in it — you had other plans. You’d dropped off the kids at Mike’s house where they could irritate Mrs. Wheeler instead, and after a pathetic attempt to make yourself somewhat decent for the party later, you headed to your destination.

It was already dark by the time you’d made your way to Forest Hills trailer park, but the summer air remained a few degrees above comfortable, and you begrudged the fact your mother had all but whipped the car keys from your grasp the moment you’d opened the front door. She didn’t have a shift tonight, so you could only assume she was headed out to whatever bar would allow her in.

Throwing your bike down on the patch of grass in front of the steps, the door rattled under your slightly too zealous knock.

“Alright, alright, hold your damn horse- oh, evenin’.” The door swung open, causing you to step backward down the large concrete stairs as Eddie’s uncle, Wayne, appeared, mug in one hand and an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“Is Eddie here?”

The man nodded, letting out an exasperated sigh as he placed the mug down on a small table inside where you could see a small TV set up before moving aside and letting you enter, “He’s holed up in his room, maybe you can get a bit more sense outta the boy than I did.”

Wayne made his way outside and shut the door behind himself, mumbling under his breath as he left. You could already hear the thumping bass from down the small hallway, so you kicked off your shoes and knocked a few times on his door.

“Go away, Wayne.”

Pushing the door open, you leaned against the door frame and waited for the boy to notice you. Laying prone on his messy bed, Eddie Munson looked a little too pathetic for your liking. He was dramatic at the best of times, and cocksure at the worst, but the sight of the young man laying face first into his lumpy pillow as he loudly bemoaned his future was something else altogether.

Clearing your throat, you watched closely as he let out a long, annoyed huff of air and turned only his head, a glare already set on his features that was meant for his uncle quickly fell into something that resembled a baby deer trapped in headlights when he realized that it was not, in fact, Wayne, who was trying to rouse him from his evening of desperation and depression.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Munson,” you smirked, turning your attention to a book haphazardly thrown onto the boy’s desk.

His bed squeaked as he rolled over, quickly pushing himself to his feet to snatch the book, the blue cover slightly torn and bent along the edges, indicating how often it had been read, “You’re not Wayne…”

“What gave it away?” You cocked a brow, still ignoring the boy as you continued to look around his room, the boy feeling a little too abashed at the state of his room, “the lack of plaid? Or the fact I’m not a 50-year-old man? Pick your words wisely, Munson.”

“Stop touching my shit,” Eddie grumbled, taking away another item — this time, a comic book — from your grasp and placing it precariously on top of his ashtray, his brow still furrowed slightly as he ran a hand over his hair, a futile attempt to straighten out the mass of curls on his head, “What are you doing here? Heard Harrington was having some big, stupid blowout to celebrate graduating by the skin of his teeth. Assumed you’d be with him since, you know, you're attached at the hip now, or whatever.”

Eddie was hurting, which was the sole reason you swallowed down the venomous response that had tasted a little too sour on your tongue for even you. You were here to check in on the boy, not make him feel worse that he, once again, was not a graduate of Hawkins High, and would instead have to repeat another year under the watchful, exasperated eye of Principal Higgins.

“Wanted to see you, see how you’re doing after… you know.” Eddie sent you a halfhearted glare before flopping back down onto his bed, this time facing the ceiling with a huff, “Which I guess isn’t good, since you’re blowing both your own and my ears out with this shit.”

Eddie sat up quickly, holding his weight up on his elbows, “This isn’t shit, it’s Black Sabbath, and Ozzy Osbourne is thee-”

“Yeah, yeah, the prince of darkness, I know, Eddie. I’ve heard the spiel before. But can you please just turn it down a little?”

Eddie leaned over his bed, turning down the dial of his boombox in defeat as the room felt a little too quiet now, “Look, I don’t need checking in on, alright? I’m a big boy, and this isn’t my first rodeo.”

Throwing yourself down next to the boy, laying side by side, perpendicular on the bed, your eyes gazed over the posters that lined his walls, including his homemade ‘Corroded Coffin’ banner. Rolling on your side slightly, you dug around in your back pocket, searching for the notes you’d shoved in there earlier, “Hey, you got any pre-rolls?”

“I’m not really in the mood,” Eddie huffed, only to be cut off when the money floated down onto his chest. Sighing, he pushed himself up once more and grabbed his metal lunchbox from the bedside table, “I normally charge extra for pre-rolled, you know?”

“Friends discount?” you shrugged, eyes turning to watch the boy as he plonked the box onto his desk, sitting in his old, barely still standing chair, and got to work, “You know, you’ll get caught in school with that one day. It’s a little obvious you’re not exactly carrying around a sandwich in it.”

Ignoring your barely there concern, Eddie shook his head, “Oh, we’re friends, are we? You know the assholes at school would shun you even more if they heard you declare that.”

Rolling your eyes, you rested your hands on your stomach, “I’ve watched your shitty band play live. By choice. I’d definitely say we’re friends, Munson.”

“You know, I’m starting to think you refer to everything you like as shitty. Black Sabbath, but I know you know at least two of their albums, my music, but you’ve seen the band live…” After securing the joint, Eddie gently fell back onto the bed, elbow a little too close to your ribs as he rolled to face you, “Tell me how you really feel about DND.”

Shoving the boy away from you, you checked around the small table to the side of his bed for a lighter, tossing the magazine from earlier onto the floor in search of the ashtray, stopping short when you came across the blue box innocently placed next to it. Tossing the boy the lighter, you moved back from where you were leaning over Eddie, blue box in hand and a wide smirk on your face.

“Lubricated, for her pleasure, right?” You couldn’t help the cackle that escaped you as Eddie choked as he inhaled a lungful of smoke, sitting up quickly to grab the box, despite the fact he was certain he was about to die.

“Give that here,” he glared, throat scratchy when he finally managed to catch his breath, allowing you to take the joint only once you’d passed him the box of condoms, “God, you’re annoying.”

Finally settling down, you returned to your original place on the bed, taking a large toke or two before handing the joint back to the boy, “Hey, I think it’s great that you care about that shit-”

“It’s important,” Eddie glared, his cheeks burning in lingering embarrassment, “Can’t just ram it in there, and-”

“Christ, Munson, I don’t actually care about your sex life. I’m just glad you’re being responsible, even if that is an unopened packet.”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie sighed, releasing a long cloud of smoke as you continued to pass the joint back and forth, “I’m the only Munson Junior in town. Wouldn’t wanna make this shithole hate me more, right?”

Halting in your actions, joint halfway to your mouth, you looked over at the boy who despite putting on a pretty decent front in school and around town, was only able to let his walls down, even slightly, in the comfort and safety of his own home. A home that he was forced to share with his uncle.

“You’re nothing like Al, you know that right?”

“What, charming? Charismatic?”

“You know what I mean, Ed.”

And he did.

Word around Hawkins traveled faster than mono in high school, and all of the charm in the world wouldn’t make Alan Munson a better man. Whether or not the death of Eddie’s mother had devastated the man or not, he was the only one to blame for the life of gambling and theft that he began to lead.

But grief was a funny thing. It could wreck even the strongest of men, even the kindest of them, and Al Munson was neither of those things to begin with.

After finishing the last of your joint, you pocketed the rest and once you were certain that Eddie was going to be okay, you decided to take your leave. Eddie gave you a ride to the Harrington residence, offering to drop your bike back home on the way through, offering you a ride home later, if you needed it.

You knew what he was getting at, a Cheshire cat grin pulling widely at his cheeks as he sent you a sleazy wink, only to receive a joint thrown — unlit, thankfully — to his face. For his troubles, you’d assured him.

By the time you’d arrived at Steve’s house, it was already full of half-cut teenagers celebrating their newfound freedom. Steve was lucky that he didn’t really have any neighbors in close range, because you could hear the music blasting from the sound system, along with the screams and laughter and chanting coming from the backyard before you’d even exited Eddie’s van.

“You sure you don’t wanna come in? Just for one drink? You might make a sale?”

But the older boy shook his head, the now tight smile that tugged almost uncomfortably across his mouth not fooling anyone, “Nah. We smoked the last of the shit I got from Rick, plus I gotta tie up some loose ends on my next campaign. It’s a big one.”

Eddie waved you off, his van making more racket than the house party as he drove back up the driveway, and you only hoped he wouldn’t get pulled over for the inevitable speeding he’d be doing back through town.

Pushing open the large, red door, the house already seemed much too cramped, full of people who were practically strangers.

A familiar song was playing through the speakers, something you were sure you’d heard on the radio in Steve’s car recently, but you didn’t care enough to place it. Either way, people were dancing up a storm.

You felt a sharp pain in your side as you pushed through the crowd, hoping to find someone you recognized when a loud shout of your name caught your attention.

Finally breaking out of the sea of people, you met Steve in the kitchen where he was pouring what seemed to be another round of shots, a gaggle of now ex-students surrounding him at all sides, accepting their drink with gusto. You waited for the boy to down his own, watching as he shook his head in an attempt to drown out the burn that the liquor left in his throat. He was obviously drunk, you realized, as he rounded the kitchen counter and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into a one-armed hug that felt a little more like a headlock.

“I’m so glad you came! I thought you were gonna bail.”

“Yeah, well… There’s still time,” you only half-joked, patting his back before he let you go, only to drag you back to the group he was standing with. You recognized a few of the girls, all of them fawning over the man of the hour the last few years of high school, especially Debbie Rein. Ex-head cheerleader, and one thousand percent Steve’s type. Before Nancy, at least. God, you thought to yourself, she must have been absolutely infuriated that Nancy Wheeler of all people had their taste of Steve before she did.

“So, you know these guys, right?” Steve asked, his hand flailing in the small group's direction.

You sent them an awkward smile, despite being practically ignored by them all. Cheerleaders and jocks were not aware of your existence in school, of that you were sure, but you still tried, “Uh, yeah. We had Chem together last year, I think.”

Debbie — who had returned to her previous state of clinging to Steve’s arm — merely looked you up and down, shrugging her shoulder as if to prove a point that you were all too forgettable. You knew she was counting down the seconds until you left, and Steve’s attention could return solely back to her. Steve, however, had a different plan.

“Here you go,” he handed you the small plastic cup, a shot full of what was likely the most expensive vodka in his parent’s liquor cabinet.

“Oh, uh, no I’m good thanks-”

“C’mon, it’s graduation! Just the one, I promise.” Steve interrupted, holding the drink closer to you, big brown eyes peering down like a too-excited puppy, only making it all that harder to turn down.

You would’ve, though, had Debbie — whose nails were practically digging into Steve’s bicep — not scoffed, lips pulling into the same smirk you’d seen grace her annoyingly pretty face countless times in the school hallways as she hit books out of freshman’s arms and tripped the band geeks as they lugged their heavy instruments to practice.

Instead of asking her what her problem was, because you knew damn well what her issue was with you, you accepted the drink from Steve’s sticky, vodka grip, swallowing it down in one, trying — and failing — to keep a straight face. Turns out, even expensive vodka tasted like paint stripper.

Steve let out a cheer as you placed the small cup back onto the counter and quickly downed another of his own, tongue sticking out at the taste. You watched the blonde roll her eyes before turning her attention back to the boy, “Oh my god, I love this song. Let’s dance!”

Steve nodded enthusiastically, even though he honestly had no idea what was currently playing, but the girl’s smirk quickly fell from her face as he grabbed your arm, trying to drag you toward the makeshift dance floor,

“No, Steve, I’m not…” shaking your arm from his grip, you tried your best not to glare at him, “I don’t think that’s what she meant.”

The boy’s head tipped to the right as he frowned, “What who meant?”

Sighing, you patted the boy on his cheek, eyes softening at his dopey, drunken expression, “Debbie. You know, the girl in the… You know what? Never mind.”

“You want another drink?”

Shaking your head, you stepped closer to the boy attempting to avoid an all too passionate couple that seemed to be attached at the mouth, “Shots aren’t really my thing. Look, Steve, I think I should-”

“C’mon, there’s a keg out back.” The boy didn’t stop to make sure you were following, instead grabbing your hand and dragging you back through the kitchen, past Debbie, who sent you one last bitter glare, and into the back yard where he snatched two clean solo cups and poured a little too much beer into each.

You followed him toward the lounge chairs, a heavy weight settling on your chest as you took note of the last time you were here. The last time you’d seen Barb alive. Sending a quick glance to the boy, you wondered if the memories hit him just as hard, if not harder. Because at least you could go home, he couldn’t even look out of his window without the painful reminder of what happened that night, and who was — unrightfully so — blamed for it all.

Steve tipped back his cup, gulping down a large mouthful of the bitter drink before looking around at the groups that had gathered, some people cooling off in the pool, others relishing in the early summer heat.

“It’s a good turnout, right?” He questioned, his wide eyes turning toward you, once again seeking your validation, “better than anything Tommy or Carol could’ve pulled off.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know? Not for them, and especially not with me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was obvious that Steve was lying, his focus quickly returning to the crowd around him as he took another sip, “I’m just being a normal teenage guy on graduation, right? I’m allowed to do that, right?”

Releasing a long and irritated sigh, you tried your best to ignore his tone, knowing it wasn’t really you that he was upset with, “I’m not saying you can’t, Steve. I’m just saying you don’t have to.”

“Look, you just… you wouldn’t get it, alright? Tonight is the most normal I’ve felt in a long time. I mean, I was someone in high school, you know? People cared. You were just a…”

You were sure your heart physically ached as the boy’s sentence dwindled off, a sip of his beer to wash down the harsh words, regret obvious in his features.

“Just a what, Steve? Just some loser who you didn’t know existed until you were dragged into this shit? Or rather barreled headfirst into it because you couldn't mind your own damn business.”

He wanted to remind you that his barreling had, as a matter of fact, saved your life that night at the Byers' residence. He had the blood stain on the backseat of his Beamer to prove it. But Steve wasn’t here to burn bridges, despite being drunk enough to light the match,

“I didn’t say that-”

“You didn’t have to,” you were trying, and failing, to keep your cool as your voice amplified, “Jesus, Steve. I really thought you’d gotten over this shit, but one stupid comment from Carol earlier and… You know what, forget it. Enjoy your night down memory lane, Steve. I’m sure Debbie’s still in the kitchen if you’re that desperate to relive your glory days.”

Standing, you handed your cup a little too forcefully to the boy who didn’t seem bothered at all that some of the beer spilled over the side, most likely staining his shirt, as he struggled to stand in his drunken stupor,

“Have a great graduation party, King Steve.”

“Oh, wow. I didn’t think you’d turn up, considering you’re not in the graduating class.” You were sure that Carol’s voice was the background music in Hell, “Any of your other loser friends get a pity invite, or are you just Harrington’s special friend of the moment?”

Steve called your name, almost completely unaware of Carol’s presence, too occupied with your sudden halt, watching closely as you turned back around,

“You know, Carol, I think it’s really great that you and Tommy are so secure in your relationship that you trust each other to go to colleges in different states. I mean, I know Tommy didn’t exactly get his pick of the crop, but considering what happened at Sally’s party last weekend? Well, you’re a better woman than me, that’s for sure.”

Tommy’s ears — as well as the large group that had formed outside — perked up at the mention of his name, splodges of red from the tips of his ears, spreading down his neck as he sent his girlfriend an ingratiating smile, “I promise, babe, nothing happened at Sally’s. I was barely even there an hour-”

Rumors spread around the school like a forest fire, and being all but invisible had its perks if you knew how to use them, but you decided to leave the boy to his fumbling as he tried his best to explain himself, ready to shove your way back through the crowd.

Maybe you would call in that ride from Eddie.

“I don’t even know why you’re here, the only place you’ll be going to after graduation is Pennhurst.” Tommy’s biting tone stopped you mid-step, and as you turned to face him, you could see that for a split second, he was unsure if he’d gone too far. And if looks could kill, he’d be six feet under already.

“Maybe you should be more concerned with why your girlfriend wasn’t at Sally’s party, and who she was with, instead. I’ll give you a clue, it starts with Har, and ends with Grove.”

“You crazy bitch,” Tommy spat, any amount of uncertainty for his previous comment now gone with the wind as he quickly approached you, and you realized that maybe this time, you had pushed too hard and the boy might actually hit you.

Your chest bumped against Steve’s back as he slotted himself between you and the incoming, hot-headed idiot that he used to call a friend. Despite being obviously drunk, Steve’s words were much clearer than before, “Back off, Tommy. Just go, and take her with you.”

“What happened to you, man?” The boy questioned, his dark eyes peering into Steve’s as if he was genuinely perplexed by Steve’s change of personality this past year. Then again, he didn’t know half the shit Steve had been through. Half the shit you had been through together, “She got a beer-flavored pussy that’s got you whipped or something-”

The crack was loud in the silence of the yard, a few gasps escaped some of the spectators as they watched Tommy stumble back slightly, hand pressed to his nose as he felt the first trickle of blood run over his knuckles.

Unfortunately for Steve, Tommy had a lot less to drink and seemingly recovered much too quickly, throwing his own punch and catching Steve across the cheekbone, the boy’s body stumbled into you slightly as you gripped the back of his shirt. Steve’s face forcibly slammed in the other direction as Tommy landed his second hit, taking full advantage of his inebriated state, and it was only when you forced yourself in between them that Tommy stopped.

“Your reign is long over, Harrington. Don’t you get that? All anyone will ever remember you as is some loser has-been, who peaked in high school. C’mon, babe. This party’s lame, anyway.”

The crowd's whispers soon faded out as someone turned the music up, the sounds of Madonna’s ‘Material Girl’ enough to recapture the ever-fleeting attention of teenagers, and you turned around, eyes wide as you watched the bruise on Steve’s cheekbone blossom in front of your own eyes, “Steve, I-”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, not quite sobering up, but definitely no longer in the mood to parade about as if he were having fun. So instead, he made a beeline to the trusty bottle of very expensive vodka.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you waited until the swirling colored squiggles faded behind your eyelids before opening them back up and peering through the large sliding glass door trying to spot the boy. You couldn’t leave him like this, not when you felt partially responsible for the showdown that just happened. So begrudgingly, you pushed back through the overcrowded house, trying to find him.

It wasn’t too hard, surprisingly, as all you had to do was follow the loud cheers that seemed to echo around the house. Steve stood in the kitchen, all but chugging the bottle of vodka. With pinched brows, you marched toward him, yanking the bottle from his grip and causing some of it to join the beer stain you’d left previously.

The chanting came to an abrupt halt, loud boos and shouts aimed in your direction as you kept the bottle away from Steve’s grabbing hands,

“Give it back, it’s mine.” He slurred, eyes not quite able to focus on you. The bottle seemed much emptier than before you’d made your way outside, and you could only hope that other partygoers had taken their fill because if not, Steve was going to be left with one hell of a hangover in the morning. Ignoring the bottle you’d taken from him, Steve made a move to grab a solo cup, half filled with a red liquid that he wasn’t entirely sure of. Too drunk and too emotional, Steve knocked the cup before he was able to grab it, the contents spilling all over the kitchen counter, and yourself.

“You’re being way too dramatic right now, Harrington, and the only way this is gonna end is with your head in the toilet.”

“Oh, Harrington this, Harrington that,” he huffed, his brow wrinkled as he peered down with a look you’d never seen him give you before, “Jesus, you don’t have to be here. You can go at any time! Just because shit happened last year, and I’m gonna rot in this town for the rest of my life doesn’t mean…”

The boy stopped mid-sentence, almost freezing in place, “It doesn’t mean…”

“Steve? You good?”

“It doesn’t mean… I’m gonna puke.”

Desperately, you grabbed the boy by the back of the neck and pushed him toward the kitchen sink, all but sticking his head into it so he wouldn’t throw up over the floor. A few disgusted guests groaned, quickly evacuating the kitchen, but the music drowned out the boy’s gagging.

Once Steve’s stomach had finally settled, his shoulders no longer heaving as he retched, you grabbed an empty solo cup from the side and filled it with water from the tap, leaving it running to clear the sink.

“Sip, don’t gulp. Or you’ll be sick again.”

Steve nodded and slowed down his drinking, his eyes looking anywhere but at you.

“I wanna sleep,” he mumbled, sounding a little like a toddler who was overdue for a nap.

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but you kinda have a house full of people. If you go to bed, you might wake up without a couch, and I think your parents might notice.”

A childlike pout settled on his lips, brow pulled together as he finally looked at you, brown puppy dog eyes all but begging you for something he really didn’t need your permission for. Squeezing your eyes closed, you let out an annoyed sigh but nodded regardless, allowing the boy to place his arm over your shoulder for balance.

“Let's get you upstairs, and I’ll deal with the rest.”

“I can take it from here-”

“Fuck off, Debbie,” you huffed, pushing past the blonde from earlier and making your way toward the boy's room, ignoring the drunken wolf whistles and whooping from the crowd who’d noticed you leading Steve upstairs, wondering if Steve felt as embarrassed at Tina’s party last year when he’d helped you — too drunk, and much too upset — safely into his car.

Despite being on more than one of the athletic clubs in school, Steve wasn’t an overly muscular guy, yet his lean body was still heavy to assist — or rather, drag — upstairs, especially as with every step, Steve leaned a little more weight onto you.

Making your way down the hallway, and toward his room, you raised your voice slightly to catch the attention of the overly zealous couple making out against his door. Thankfully, Steve had locked the rooms upstairs, bar his own, and the bathroom in an attempt to keep this kind of thing from happening. He wasn’t a prude — obviously — but he wasn’t sure how he’d explain cleaning his parent’s bed sheets when they returned tomorrow.

“Hey, move it. Go find somewhere else to swap saliva. Preferably one of your own bedrooms.”

The couple scoffed, sending you a glare, but headed downstairs nonetheless.

How you managed to open Steve’s door and keep the boy upright took nothing less than a miracle, and you couldn’t help but feel relieved when he stumbled into his room and fell backward onto his bed, the frame creaking slightly under his sudden weight.

“Are you gonna throw up anymore?”

Shaking his head, Steve tried to take off his sneakers, giving up when the task seemed too strenuous. Making your way over and sitting at the bottom of his bed, you grabbed his shoes one at a time, tugging the sneakers from his feet and dropping them to the floor, “Steve, I need to make sure that you’re not going to choke on your own vomit if I leave you alone for ten minutes.”

“I’m fine, I’m good… I’m great,” Steve sighed, rolling onto his stomach and nuzzling his pillow.

Deciding that he would survive for the foreseeable future, you made your way downstairs, a plan already formed before your foot hit the bottom step. Pushing your way through the crowd in the living room, you cut the music suddenly, shouting out over the crowd,

“Cops!”

The crowd dispersed quickly, knowing that although they had their newfound freedom from school, that wouldn’t stop the long grounding most of them would receive from their parents if they were escorted home in a police car. The suddenly silent house made your ears ring as you looked around at the mess that was the Harrington’s family room.

Locking the front door, just in case any stragglers made their way back, and began the clean up in the kitchen. You found a black trash bag under the sink and began to bag up the red solo cups and empty bottles of beer that were littering downstairs. You had no idea what time the Harringtons intended to return home, but you doubted that Steve would be awake before midday, and cleaning up this mess felt like the least you could do.

Maybe tomorrow, when Steve was a little more sober and hopefully feeling a lot more forgiving, you could sort out the rest. Or, maybe, he’d forget that it had even happened, and you’d never have to talk about it again.

Somehow, you didn’t think you’d be that lucky.

Eventually, all of the cups inside and outside of the house had been collected, and the remaining bottles of liquor had been refilled with water and placed back into the large cabinet where Mrs. Harrington kept them. Couch pillows plumped, and sticky counters wiped, you left the trash bag outside the back door, eyes avoiding the pool as you locked up, hoping that Steve’s parents wouldn’t be home before he threw it out. Somehow, you weren’t sure he’d be that lucky.

Turning off all the lights except the small lamp by the door after you’d made a futile attempt to wash the red stain from your shirt, you made your way back upstairs, needlessly knocking on the boy’s door before entering, intending to check on him one last time before you left.

Placing the glass of water on his bedside table, you turned your attention to the boy, still lying prone on his bed, hair falling onto his sweaty forehead. Moving to sit next to him, you gently carded your fingers through it, carefully untangling any parts that were slightly knotted from too much hairspray, and pushed the long strands away from his slightly bruised face,

“Hey, Steve… I’m gonna get going.”

Like a house cat in desperate need of attention, Steve nuzzled into your touch, practically purring, a soft sigh falling from his lips when your fingers finally left his hair, “I don’t wanna.”

“You don’t have to, Steve. I’m going home. You need to rest, you’re gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

“Stay,” he mumbled, his brow furrowing, before he managed to open his eyes, blinking a few times before looking right at you, “I didn’t mean what I said earlier. Please, stay.”

And maybe, if you’d have left, everything would’ve been okay. But those soft eyes peered up at you with such hesitation, as if he was waiting for you to decline, to sneak off and leave him alone in his big, practically desolate house, and you felt your refusal dissolve on your tongue.

“Move over, and stay on your side of the bed,” you glared, making your way around the bed, awkwardly settling down on top of the duvet and kicking off your sneakers.

“Scout’s honor,” Steve raised his hand, waving it slightly in the dark.

Scoffing, you kept your eyes on the ceiling as you felt Steve shuffle onto his back, his head turning to look in your direction, “I bet you weren’t even in scouts.”

“You’ll never know,” Steve tried to tease, his eyes feeling heavier with each passing second until finally, they closed.

You stayed stock-still until you were certain he was asleep, the soft snoring giving him away almost instantly. Every fiber of your body was telling you to leave, that he’d be fine sleeping off the drink, and his parents would never know what happened in the morning. Yet, you felt your own eyes drooping, staying closed for longer each time, unsure if it was from a long, stressful day, or from the weed you’d smoked at Eddie’s trailer.

Either way, you fell asleep soon after, the warmth emitting from the boy next to you pulling you into a peaceful, dreamless slumber.

Considering it was only June, the air around you felt too thick and humid. If this was any indication of the summer to come, you might just sit in the Slushee machine at the arcade and never come out.

Your body felt warm and clammy, and you imagined the sun was beating down on your body already, but it seemed much too dark. Had you closed the blinds in Steve’s room the night before? Honestly, you couldn’t remember.

Either way, you felt much too warm, sticky, and uncomfortable to remain in bed all day, feeling like you had your body pressed against a heater.

Your eyes flew open, the blurry image of a freckled back staring right back at you, causing you to jerk backward. Unfortunately, your legs had seemed to entwine with Steve’s, the fabric of his jeans feeling scratchy against your ankle, where your own pants had rolled up slightly, and instead of peeling yourself from the boy’s back, you woke him with a jolt.

“The hell are you doing?” Steve grumbled, finally moving his legs and releasing your own as you scooted up in the bed.

Glaring down at the boy, you realized that it wasn’t the sun that had been causing you to overheat, it had been Steve’s body. Steve’s shirtless body, “Where the hell is your top?”

Steve groaned as he rolled over to face you, and if his brain wasn’t about to pound its way out of his ears, he might’ve laughed at your expression, “Jesus, calm down. It’s just a body. You’re lucky I still have my jeans on-”

“You’re lucky you still have your jeans on,” you said through gritted teeth, slapping the top of his arm, and trying to keep your eyes at a respectable level, “What’s the time?”

Lifting his arm toward his face, Steve squinted slightly as he looked at his watch, “9:15, God, did you not even pull the blinds last night?”

Steve’s arm fell over his face, ignoring your scoff, “Forgive me for thinking that making sure you didn’t choke on vomit as you slept was a little more important than closing the blinds.”

“I think I like you more when you’re asleep,” Steve sent you a childlike smirk before he scratched at his chest, the smattering of hair catching your attention, “you’re much nicer to me when you’re not awake.”

Pushing yourself from the bed, you tried in vain to keep your eyes anywhere except a shirtless Steve Harrington, and his disgusting wallpaper that for some reason, matched the drapes, “I should get going. I don’t know if my Mom came home last night, and if she did and she doesn’t know where I am, then I’m in big shit.”

“Wanna get some breakfast? I mean, if she knows you’re out, then you can’t really get in more trouble, right?”

You considered his offer for a moment, stomach groaning as if to make a point that you hadn’t eaten the previous evening, “I can’t exactly go in this.”

Steve’s eyes dropped to where you pointed, the red stain on your shirt now matching the one on his cheeks. Scratching the back of his head, at least he seemed remorseful, “Yeah, sorry about that. I was an idiot,”

Cocking a brow, you remained quiet as you watched him shuffle from his bed and open up his chest of drawers, “But you can totally borrow something of mine, and then I can take you home. I mean, breakfast kinda seems like the least I could do after last night. But please just… let me make it up to you.”

You took in Steve as he stood, hand stretched out toward you, gripping a random shirt, eyes downcast and begging for forgiveness. A forgiveness you didn’t feel he needed to ask for. But you weren’t one to turn down a free meal.

“Sunny Side diner. I want extra pancakes.” Grabbing the shirt from his grip, you made your way toward the stairs, “Oh, and shower. You stink of beer.”

Steve had arrived at the small diner just outside of town 40 minutes later, and if you were hungry before, you were ravenous by the time you’d sat down, eyes skimming over the menu despite knowing exactly what you were going to order.

Steve had looked a little green as a plate of eggs passed by the table, but by the time his own pancakes came, his stomach had settled.

“How's your head feeling?”

Placing his glass back on the table, Steve gulped down his orange juice as if someone were about to steal it, “It’s okay, could be worse.”

You nodded, taking a long sip of coffee, staring at the boy, “You know you look like a total dick with those on inside, right?”

“It’s too bright,” Steve moaned, and although you couldn’t see his eyes, you could tell from the lines that appeared between his eyebrows that he was glaring at you.

“And yet, you wouldn’t let me drive.”

“I don’t let anyone drive my car-”

“Max did,” an amused smirk pulled your mouth up to one side as Steve finally lifted his sunglasses, perching them on his head just to give you the full effect of his scowl.

“Maybe, but I didn’t let her.”

Shrugging, you cut up another piece of pancake before popping it into your mouth, “Semantics.”

Steve, despite now having to squint throughout his meal, kept his sunglasses on top of his head for the remainder of your time at the diner.

After a moment of comfortable silence, filled only by the sounds of other customers chatting and cutlery scraping plates, Steve returned his attention to you, “Thanks, by the way. For, you know, cleaning up. And taking care of me. I was an idiot, and you didn’t deserve anything I said. I took it out on you, and I really shouldn’t have. Tommy just… He just knows how to get to me, you know.”

“It’s fine, really. I’m kinda used to the whole cleaning up after someone else’s drunken escapades, you know? Plus, it’s not like you didn’t do the same for me last year. Call it even. And Tommy… I mean, he just wants the reaction out of you. He’s an asshole, and he’ll always be an asshole. But you, you know… You’ve changed, and he doesn't have enough brain cells to realize it's for the better.”

Steve watched you carefully as you pushed around the last piece of pancake on your plate, worried that he’d caused you to lose your appetite, despite having already demolished most of your meal.

“You think I’ve changed in a good way?”

Picking up your coffee mug, you stared into the dark brown liquid, wishing you could drown in it, “I mean, obviously. I don’t hate being around you anymore.”

“I can work with that,” the boy nodded, before stealing the last slice of pancake from your plate, “I am sorry though, that I put you in that position last night.”

Taking Steve’s empty plate and stacking it on top of your own, you avoided his eyes as much as possible, “Really, it’s fine. I mean, you kinda threw a punch for me. And, you know… took two.”

“I was drunk, Tommy had an unfair advantage.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure that’s it. Totally.”

Steve scoffed as you stood, the boy throwing down enough notes to cover the bill and tip before quickly catching you up, “I could totally win a fight if I wanted.”

“I’m sure you could, Steve.” Your voice was a little too condescending for Steve to take seriously as if you were trying to pacify an infant.

“I totally could,” Steve grunted as he settled into the driver seat, connecting his seat belt and turning his attention to you as you began to fiddle with the radio, fingers quickly being slapped away, “You know, I already had that set to a station I like.”

“You didn’t get your fill of Madonna last night? Tell me, are you a ‘Holiday’, or a ‘Material Girl’ kind of guy?”

Steve merely glared before finding the station he wanted, his hand flying forward to turn the radio off when the familiar chorus kicked in, “Silence is good too.”

“Ahh, a ‘Like A Virgin’ kind of guy. How ironic.”

“That was pure luck, alright?”

Holding up your hands, you sent the boy a winsome smile, “Hey, no judgment here.”

“Really? Because you sound awful judgmental over there.”

“Everyone has their vices, Harrington. Cheesy pop music is yours.”

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

🧚‍♀️ Anon

I have spiders on the brain, help (I’m thinking about Driders, lots and LOTS of them) 😭

Drider Johnathan would be so scary, mating season is coming and he’s busy with preparations as he wants everything to be perfect only to be surprised to see a Human! (He’s only ever seen Males) So he begins to quietly stalk until he gets the chance to pounce his next prey!

Only to be surprised that this human is a Woman! (He becomes embarrassed and begins to apologize as he’s never encountered a ‘Young Lady’, showing his gentleman side)

He ignores Darlings struggles as he takes her to his den to make it up to her with some supper and to check to see if he accidentally harmed her (He becomes fascinated by how small and dainty she is compared to him and his kind, as Females are known for being bigger, but he’s an exception since he’s as big as a female *Real Spider Biology, in most species the Females are mainly bigger than the males*)

OR

Darling and Drider Johnathan met when they were children?

Darling got lost in the woods, only to be found by Johnathan (Who was only a bit bigger than her) who wants to help her because he’s trying to become a Gentleman!

Darling was fascinated by his appearance as she’s never met a someone with so many legs! (They’re covered in blue fluff)

Darling and Johnathan became friends during the years, with JoJo getting big and strong as an Ox (Keeping their friendship a secret) as he gifted her many animal pelts during the years as well as offerings of food like meat and berries (As part of a mating ritual)

However when Johnathan learns Darling is engaged and getting married he becomes upset (No doubt thinking she’s being married against her will) so he intends to find the man and get rid of him (Turn him into his dinner) and take Darling away and off into his Burrow (A big cave) where they can start a family together!

I can see Johnathan be a Goliath Birdeater as a Drider (As well as Joseph and Jotaro being Goliath Birdeaters too because of their size)

I’m having another weird idea for a Drider Johnathan or Risotto (I’m picturing Risotto as a Great Huntsman Spider for a Drider)

Oh boy, one thing about. I hate spiders, too many close calls with spiders. And huntsmans, don't even get me started with those bastards who just like to drop right in front of you for no reason.

But I love my monsters!

I can't say much on species as even looking at pictures gives me goosebumps.

Warnings: NSFWish, non con elements, Somnophilia

I like the first idea of him seeing darling in the middle of the forrest. Now I propose a language barrier. He sees that darling has already been injured and takes her back with him. He's trying to calm her down as he takes her back to his den but she doesn't understand a word he's saying and vice versa.

Only when he uses his webbing to close up a big cut does she somewhat understand what's going on. Still she's terrified.

She does through her hiking bag to grab her phone only to find it smashed beyond function. Eventually she offers dried berries to try and gauge his temperament. Unfortunately he takes this as a sign of courtship. He denys them as darling needs them to heal up, but inside he's a giddy mess to have such a cute human propose to him. He's working like crazy on preparing his den for her as well as making sure she's healthy.

Then one night he undresses her and wraps her tightly into his web while she sleeps, something that was customary due to how aggressive female driders could be, not that he was afraid of her hurting him.

He takes his time to trail his hands over her, admiring her form. If any of his kind found out about this he'd be labeled a creep but he didn't care.

[needtoloveoutloud]

Just... let people do with fictional characters what they want?

Idk if this is a hot take of mine or something but:

I just saw a TikTok that was like: OMG guys do you remember the dark times of the MHA fandom when the following things were a thing:

Chloe Takami

Bakugo Poster

DabiHawks Video

Dekubowl

"How do you feel about your ship with Eri?"

TodoBakuDeku

Todoroni and Cheese

"Somebody once told me it's your power, Todoroki"

Deku x All Might

Yagami Yato

Erin Clover

"Hey UA, Bakugo Katsuki is NOT a monster!"

"Todoroki is a real person!"

Angry pomeranian

Ship Wars

Todoroki gives birth series

"Kacchan, we were five"

Smol bean deku/Broccoli boy

"It's bigger than All Might's!"

Layla Todoroki

And, like ????

Okay, first of all, I have no idea what they mean with like half of that stuff, tbh - must have completely went past me

I don't know what DabiHawks video they're referring to, what/who Chloe Takami, Erin Clover, or Layla Todoroki is (I assume they are OCs?). I have no idea what "Todoroki and Cheese" is about or what "Somebody once told me it's your power, Todoroki" is about. Same with the "Kacchan, we were five." Or "It's bigger than All Might's".

The thing I definitely agree with that's crossing a line is when that one person, during a comic con panel, asked the VA of Midoriya what he thinks about "his" ship with Eri. That's involving a REAL person and made the Voice Actor very uncomfortable. That is not okay.

The Bakugo Poster incident is also... yeah, well, very unfortunate.

The thing about Todoroki being a real person was satire in my eyes? But I could be wrong about that lol

So first of all (I'm going on a little rant here, please excuse me):

If people make fun of other people's OCs, that's absolutely appalling. I get that OCs aren't for everybody, that's completely fine. But just let people do and write whatever they want? As long as it doesn't hurt you, literally: what's your problem? Don't like, don't read?! Simple as that. People put in a lot of time and effort for creating content with OCs and coming up with them and literally, they do it for FUN. To COPE. Or simply because they felt like it. What the hell does that have to do with you? Just, like, grow up and chill out?

About the ships: DabiHawks, Dekubowl, TodoBakuDeku, All Might, etc. - again: don't like, don't read?! I get that not every ship is for everyone, but nobody is forcing people to read stories? So, if you don't want to... just... don't? Just look at the tags, think "Oh, mhm yeah that's not my cup of tea" and move tf on? Find a story with a ship that you DO like and be happy people are sharing their thoughts, stories, fanart, content, etc. with you FOR FREE? I truly don't get it. The amount of fanfic authors that leave fandoms because they literally get bullied in the comments (and receive death threats, like ???) is scary. I swear, every other day someone in the AO3 subreddit feels so incredibly disheartened by the vile shit people comment on their stories simply because the commentor doesn't like the ships or think they're wrong? I get it when it makes people uncomfortable when it's a ship that involves, let's say teacher x student relationships or something. But then again: don't like, don't read. Move on with your life. Nobody has to like everything. Also, some stories literally exist to make people uncomfortable. To make them think. To help cope with something that might have happened to them (looking at the dub con/noncon tag here). I mean, has media literacy taken such a downfall in the past few years that people lack critical thinking skills? Some books solely exist for the purpose of giving you an icky feeling — take Lolita for example. It impacts your life in no way whatsoever, that stuff exists that you don't like if it does.not.hurt.you. IT IS FICTION ffs

Same with Yagami Yato. Don't like, don't listen, don't engage. Don't make fun of her/them or the people who like the stuff. Simple as that? Why do people have to shit on things that bring other people joy or a form of escapism? I truly don't get it.

"Hey UA, Bakugo Katsuki is NOT a monster." Okay, we get it. I get if you think that video kinda came out of nowhere (saw it for the first time a few months ago, so I was late to the party) but that creator just had some fun with a story and even created a fan video of it including their OC in the video. People bullying someone simply because they have fun doing something they deem as "cringe" is not okay, and I have no idea when people started thinking it was?

Just... in general. I don't get why people bully people about stuff that literally has NO IMPACT on their own lives. Especially if it's about a fictional story, with fictional characters, in a fictional setting? Just... have some fun, be creative, and have a good time? I can promise you, the people who make fun of others for things they deem "cringe" do plenty of shit others think is "cringe", too.

Sorry for the rant. It just really rubs me the wrong way if people make others feel like crap for things they like. Just let people be, maybe?

And all the comments on that tiktok agreed, too.

If you ask me, making people feel like shit, publicly shaming them, and bullying them out of fandoms (which are supposed to be safe and fun!) is actually what's real "cringe" here.

[sarah-yyy]

what: modern cdrama // completed // 38 eps, roughly 35 mins each where: wetv (also on the app) // viki why: desert supernatural adventure with ni ni and bai yu, this had "sarah is going to lose it over this show" written all over it right from the start tbh, zero percent of people are surprised i enjoyed it. the characters are all well done and ni ni and bygg were great in their roles, the worldbuilding for the society inside yumen was interesting, and the cgi is well done for the genre (i mean...this is basing it off cdrama cgi standards okay!!)

meet my girl ye liuxi:

GOD... xi-jie... 😘 where do we even start

brains: 10 brawns: 100 memory: -300

xi-jie woke up in the middle of the desert, hung on a tree, with no idea who she is, v fragmented memories of the past, and a satchel with some v vague clues. she spends about a year working odd jobs in a town nearby to survive and to work out a plan to find out about her past.

her investigations lead her to chang dong:

dong-ge!! 😍🤤

brains: 10 brawns: 10 memory: 10 (but like 95% of it is tragic)

dong-ge is a desert guide, used to be one of the best (and certainly one of the most famous) in the region until he led an expedition (which consisted of his fiancée and their friends) into the desert and all eighteen of them except him died during a freak sandstorm. major survivor guilt on this boy. ultimate goal is to find the remains of his friends so that their families can move on in peace.

anyway, xi-jie ropes dong-ge into taking her into the desert. it's heavily implied that pre-memory lost her knows where the remains of his dead fiancée is, so the deal is: help me find my memory, and i'll help you find your friends.

they travel to the Yumen Pass together with three others - fei tang (who tags along for an opportunity to steal this priceless artefact he saw on xi-jie), and xiaoliu & gao shen (xiaoliu's godfather is sponsoring the trip for ~reasons, gao shen is her bodyguard with a crush on her), but soon realise that the pass leads to a parallel world where xi-jie is originally from.

in that world, there are spiritual beasts and monsters and all that jazz. the parallel world is governed by three ruling families who fight against a rebel organisation the Scorpion Eye. the gang navigates through the parallel world trying to solve the mystery behind xi-jie's past and the Yumen Pass prophecy. that's p much the gist of it.

the cons: this show moves a little slowly at times, but once you get invested, everything is all good. i'd say the first 2-4 eps needed a bit of getting into, but it does pick up. meng ziyi is in this as well, but i was a bit :/ about her performance - her character needed a bit more nuance and would've benefitted from a better portrayal than what mzy delivered. not something that really put me off the show, tho!!

the pros: ye liuxi is such an excellent character!! she is super fight fight fight and has Minimal impulse control. if a fight can solve problems, that's the way she's going. she starts off a bit "stick close, because if y'all die in the desert i'm not going to care" but just...grows so invested in everyone's wellbeing. chang dong is a nice contrast to ye liuxi - he's level-headed and is more focused on plans and trying to get everyone in and out of the Pass alive. the chemistry between them is great, like i didn't think i would be into this for the romance but GOD DAMN look at my dongxi couple

ni ni and bai yu aside, the rest of the gang were great also - they provided a lot of laughs to cut through the seriousness of the show, and the growing friendship between them was really fun to watch.

the plot was decent!! you can sort of guess the direction it's going, but it doesn't stop it from being a super fun show to watch. i binged like the last 10 eps in one sitting. i also really did appreciate the show giving me the finale i wanted: everything wraps up nicely (*stares at mlc*), there're no loose ends for me to lose my shit over (*stares at my journey to you*).

all in all, a p strong 9/10 for me!! would enjoy if y'all are into those desert adventure cdramas. would enjoy if y'all are bygg fans.

[flippinpancakes64]

Hey, idk if you've written this yet but how do you think the Cullen's would feel about turning their SO into a vampire?

The Cullens turning their S/O

I haven't done this yet so don't worry. I did something similar for my first post but that was the Cullens with a Newborn

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

Absolutely fucking not

You saw how much convincing it took for him to turn Bella

And that was after she almost died like 20 times

So if you're perfectly healthy, not in any immediate danger, and doing well in your life then he is not touching a single hair on your head

He won't do it

Of course, we have also seen that he can be convinced

I think with enough pushing and maybe one or two near death experiences you could negotiate something

Now if you're about to die?

He doesn't even hesitate

Well actually he does

But only for a little bit

You're dying, he needs to help you

He is so apologetic though

He feels like a monster for weeks

Or maybe even years

For as long as you're going through the newborn process he is tearing himself up on the inside

He legitimately wants to die he feels so bad

But he does get over himself lol

He has pretty good self control overall so as far as the actual process of turning you it would be pretty smooth

In general, though, he wouldn't want to do it

He's scared of killing you, of losing control, of you hating him, of everything that could go wrong

He's gonna need a while to be okay after you get turned

But he'll come around :)

Alice:

She doesn't remember her human life

As a result she doesn't feel too connected to humanity

So there's a pretty good chance that she would turn you if you asked her

Of course not before some arguing

While she doesn't feel connected to humanity, that doesn't mean that she wants to strip you of yours

But she is just a twinge selfish

It wouldn't take too much convincing for her to change you

She loves you and wants to spend eternity with you

She explains her challenges and gets Carlisle to weigh in with the pros and cons

But she would turn you

And if it was a life-or-death scenario?

Absolutely no hesitation

Maybe she saw that it was about to happen and couldn't stop it or for some reason she didn't see it

All she knows is that you are on the ground dying and she NEEDS to save you

She feels bad afterwards when she sees all of the pain that you're in

But she can also see that you'll be fine in a couple months

She just encourages you to be strong and wait it out

Is there for you every step of the way though

Jasper:

There's actually zero chance

He hates newborns

And he doesn't trust them

And he knows the pain

He remembers seeing other newborns writhing in pain, he remembers his own transformation, and he would never inflict that upon you

He cannot be convinced

Similarly to Edward, if you are happy, healthy, and content, he will not turn you

But there's no negotiation

Like end of story

He won't do it

Now if you're in danger and about to die, he'll do it

Actually he won't

He'll get Carlisle or Edward or literally anyone else to do it

He doesn't trust himself

He is convinced that he will kill you if he tries

And in his defense he probably would

But he is beside you every step of the way afterwards

He's very wary of you, though

Does his best to keep you calm and make sure you don't hurt anyone

Also feels very guilty

Even if he's not the one who made you

He feels like it's his fault

Rosalie:

Again, she wouldn't change you

We all know how she feels about humans being turned

She's probably the one who would be the least likely to do it

So again, if you're healthy and not on the verge of death, she will not change you

And it's sort of the same story when you're about to die

In a lot of ways, she wishes she had died instead of being turned

Now instead of being able to move on, she has to live with her regrets and with the fact that she will never be human

But she's a little too selfish for that

If somehow she managed to fall in love with you even though you were a human, that means she must REALLY love you

She spends so much time deliberating with herself that she has to turn you herself

Breaking her "never tasted human blood" streak

She gets a bit upset at that but she gets over it

She keeps debating with herself even after you've been turned

She's convinced that you must hate her now and that surely you want to be dead right now

And she feels terrible for having been the one to do it

But it's okay you have eternity to convince her that she made the right choice

Emmett:

He's another one who would just do it

The whole reason he was turned in the first place was because Rosalie fell in love with him

And so he figures that you being in love with him and him being in love with you is a good enough reason

You don't really have to beg him

He will insist that you know all of the risks first

He'll ask Carlisle for some tips on how to change you safely

And boom all done

But if you were about to die?

Same thing I guess

Literally no hesitation

Well actually let me back up

If someone or something attacked you he is killing their ass first

Doesn't matter who or what it was

Now if it was an accident or something he just goes to you straight up

No detours

I feel like he would struggle a bit with turning you

Right after he was turned the Cullens had to move multiple times in the span of a couple years because he kept getting out of control

So if he didn't have the time to properly prepare I feel like it might not end well

Hopefully for your sake Carlisle's there...

Esme:

She's another one whose life has only been improved by being turned

She was always captivated by vampires

And she didn't really have a happy life leading up to her death

So for her, one of the best things that's ever happened to her was being turned

Now, that does not translate directly to her turning you, no questions asked

Even though she loves her new life, she knows Rosalie's and Jasper's stories

And she wants you to think about it

You would have to ask her pretty consistently for at least a couple of years before she would say yes

She needs to know that you are absolutely sure

And that you know what you're agreeing to

So after a while you could get her to agree to it

Now in a life or death of course she would turn you

That is the exact scenario that Carlisle found her in

And she sees it as okay to turn someone then

She honestly might ask Carlisle to do it

When you're already in such a fragile state she doesn't want to jeopardize you even more

She doesn't really feel bad either way after you've been turned

As in like with herself

Obviously she feels bad seeing you in pain

But she doesn't feel like a monster or anything

You asked for this

Carlisle:

The man, the myth, the legend

He is responsible for turning at least four vampires

So he totally could

But if you're perfectly healthy then he's not going to

His moral compass is too high

I mean, his pattern is only turning people that are about to die

So good luck trying to convince this guy

Now if you ARE about to die...

Well then you have the perfect guy

Does not hesitate at all

He knows what to do, how to do it, and the best way to go about it

And who knows maybe he might get the morphine right this time (sorry Bella)

Very attentive after you've been turned

He knows everything that you need and is very patient

Another one who doesn't really carry the mental burden of turning you

You were about to die, he saved you

He does of course feel bad if you struggle more than normal with being turned

Or if you express hatred with some new aspects of yourself

But he does his best to be there for you and reassure you

Vampire! Bella:

So

She's got a bit of a complex

Before she got turned, she heard all of these horror stories about newborns

And then she got turned

And she didn't feel any of it

Logically, she knows it's because of her shield

But it doesn't stop her from thinking that surely it can't be that bad

That coupled with the fact that she LOVES her new vampire life

And that she hated being human

She doesn't hesitate

If you were to literally even mention it in passing that you wanted to be turned you are bitten that very night

#1 Enabler

And it's the same scenario if you were about to die

She loves you

Of course she's not gonna let you die

She does feel really bad though once she sees you struggling

Like if you're not adapting well or if you show obvious longing for your old life

She feels really bad

And she tells you that

Just give her a couple kisses and tell her that you love her

[worldsokayestmagicalgirl]

The first batch of pictures for Amoré's character journal are here! Also I have been so super sick that I've literally had nothing to do but to work on this for like almost 2 weeks so...

The cover to cover tour officially starts here. All I can say about the front & back is that I lament my lack of experience with my Cricut when I made these decals. I only had 2 "fun" colors to work with at the time & I was still getting comfortable drawing in Procreate, so my silhouette art leaves a lot to be desired compared to some stuff I've made recently. I also found it's incredibly easy to burn this leather book.

But she's volume one, everything with her is a learning experience, & I realized as much as it helps to have a mini heat press for tight corners & small spaces, the cloth barrier they suggest you use between the vinyl & the iron tends to make things harder to press on this scale. So instead I gotta quickly tap straight on the transfer film & hope I don't burn anything around it :(´◦ω◦｀):ﾟﾟ

So at the risk of thoroughly exposing my inner theater kid, Amoré set the precedent with how I went forward creating campaign characters. I started off collecting 5 songs to make a mini story arc (almost like a show choir set list 🙃) that helps me figure out an outline for the kind of story I wanna give them.

Somehow Amoré ended up with a truly horrendous blend of rock & theatre. Absolutely incredibe. No wonder she's always such a dramatic bitch.

It was a lot easier to go in & add little decals around these lyrics. I'm definitely cursed with the Too Much™ gene, but I enjoy the little pops of color they give ✨ plus it justifies me hoarding all these vinyl scraps printing stuff this small lol.

Stat sheet!

In all honesty, as my first character I had no fucking clue what I was doing when I placed these & if I could go back & change one thing I'd probably swap her Intelligence & her Wisdom. She’s definitely more people smart than book smart.

But everything else is...very accurate. She has all the upper body strength of a chicken nugget. Plus on top of the (already) negative I traded disadvantage on everything DEX for magic crystal shoes that can be periodically harvested. Just a way for her to carry around the family fortune without actually having to return to the vault✨

For something that started so average, her CON became a monster & always comes in clutch for her alcohol tolerance. I've played variations of her across a few different one shots & I always manage to roll well for anything alcohol related. The dice do respect a bit 🤣

Spells on the other hand, I floundered with a lot at first because we’re not a combat heavy game, but then I found Chaos Bolt & that was that. It’s essentially Amoré in spell form & I’ve had a ton of fun with it over the years. Also Mage Armor cuz my girl is SO DISTRESSINGLY SQUISHY.

Cantrips were more or less a bit of a toss up. Message was fun for the sheer idea of her using it to talk shit during social events without being caught. But aside from Light serving fun backstory purposes the other 3 are kinda just what looked fun ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ unless you count the idea that she would absolutely delight in zapping handshakes.

From there, I wanted to extend the world map made by our wonderful DM @cappierong into a full scroll. Ya know, for the aesthetic ✨

Our campaign started in Civania, where Amoré's main Estate is. I just wanted a quick mock up to reference, so I edited a preexisting picture I found that checked all the boxes (large, on a plateau, accessible only by bridge) and then absolutely smothered it in flowers.

But anyways... This is primarily where Diana & Amoré grew up together in their decade of backstory ✨

There was probably waaaay to much back & forth trying to keep the continuity between stuff I've already drawn & this big reference. But I think it turned out pretty ok? Not like if I make a mistake anyone will really know lol.

Scaling was also another big issue I had, & I moments where I thought something was too big I just kinda handwaved it away like "ehhhhh she's from a stupid rich family." But now I have a NEED to draw baby Diana & Amoré around like, the statue gardens or something cuz I feel like certain parts of this place are definitely ominous 👀 especially for children...

And lastly we have the back cover & the High Noble political relationship map! I normally have this closer to the front but for layout purposes it'll be here. I kinda feel like I need to do more for the decoration of it but I can’t think of anything else to add at the moment.

Sam if u read that no you didn't.

But now! Other than a family portrait that I've always wanted to draw, I think I'm ready to move onto the art for Season 1 : Arc 2. It's a pretty hefty amount of art in comparison to others, so I gotta get busy. Especially since I think I'm gonna have to draw a few comics *sobs*

If you made it this far, thanks so much for reading! I'm always excited to talk out our little idiots so thanks for indulging me ❀(*´▽`*)❀

[not-a-unique-snowflake-blog]

2023 was fun! It’s my first year reading fan fiction so it’s been one of the horniest and the thirstiest years of my life!😁 I found a lot of amazing people here and this hellsite truly became my home in 2023!💖

I want to say ‘thank you’ to people who made this year very special for me and wish them all wonderful 2024!😘 I came up with some categories so here they are!💖

✨The “OMG” fic of the year

This one goes to Promise /a dragon!Ezra x f!reader/ by @criticallyacclaimedstranger I’m a proud monster fucker but holy hell I surprised myself when I loved this fic so much!🥵 it’s hot and also very sweet and beautifully written!😍❤️ After reading it I had long and thorough discussions about the logistics of dragon fucking with a few people and had the best time!😄

✨The series I love with all my heart

Stay In Bed /pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader/ by @psychedelic-ink is amazing, touching and beautiful! I felt a ton of emotions reading about Joel and reader’s journey to each other. Thank you for writing it, Sil!🫶

✨The “I’m too old for this, my heart nearly stopped” fic of 2023

Every Inch pt 3 /m!ghostface x f!reader/ by @toxicanonymity was so hot that it nearly killed me😅I had to open the window to get some fresh air cos reading it made me dizzy with hyperventilation. I survived thus I strongly recommend to TRY THIS AT HOME‼️

✨The loveliest co-writer of 2023

@milla-frenchy my friend, my twin, my co-writer💖 your support gave me confidence to come out with my own writing which wasn’t easy😅 thank you!🫂 It’s always a pleasure to write with you and I hope to continue our creative journey in 2024. I love you, baby! Check out her masterlist! It’s gold!🥵🥵🥵

✨The most unhinged reader

@gracieispunk created a reader so unhinged, badass and hot that she sometimes overshadows Maintenance Man!Joel himself!😍 Tenant Girl takes what she wants and I love her for it‼️💖

✨My man, my love, my everything

Do you have an emotional support character who can make you feel happier, safer, calmer when you simply think about them? I do thanks to @toxicanonymity ! Nightwalks Joel is my most favourite fictional man! The first, the best, the hottest! HELL YEAH!🍆🧎🏼‍♀️🐆

✨“If horrible, why so hot” character

Joel from the Wrong Way series by @romana-after-dark wins this one! This Joel is one of the darkest I’ve ever read and he makes me feral and I love him!😵‍💫🥵

✨The most read fic of 2023

Liquid Gold /Joel Miller x fem!pregnant!reader x Tommy Miller/ by @gasolinerainbowpuddles is my breastfeeding kink Bible and simply an extremely hot fic! no joke I thought of pinning it on my blog cos I searched for it that often. Just thinking about it now makes me feel like a reread is due!😵‍💫🫠

Also thank you, Puddles, for your hilarious memes!😆👏 you’re a treasure!💖

✨The most unique series

Muddy Waters /Ezra x F!Reader x Joel Miller/ by @bonezone44 blew me away this year! Its characters are complex, the plot is fascinating and unique, it’s like a diamond that shines differently when you look at it from a new angle❤️

✨DDDNE fic of the year

Whatever You Want /Comandante Veracruz x Reader/ by @iamasaddie is a non-con masterpiece! It’s not easy to keep the realism of the situation and still make it hot, but this story has a perfect balance of both!🥵🖤

Also Aly, thank for being such a great friend!💖 You’re hilarious, kind, gorgeous and a super talented writer and artist!😍👏 I love you!😘

✨My favourite writer of 2023

I dearly love many writers on this site. But this title goes to @toxicanonymity without a doubt❤️

You made this year for me, Toxy! I’ll never be normal about your writing, your talent, your characters, your kindness, your heart😍 Every series, every story of yours is perfect! Thank you for everything you gave me and all of us this year! I love you, friend!💖🫂😘

✨My favorite people in 2023

My moots, my lovelies, my friends! Y’all made me laugh, cry happy tears, thirst, FEEL things like I’ve never felt before! I LOVE YOU ALL💖 @missannwinchester @milla-frenchy @toxicanonymity @iamasaddie @neverwheremoonchild @lumoverheaven @multiversed-daydreamer @beefrobeefcal @lunitawrites @rubyfruitjungle @xdaddysprincessxx @ellasinnombre @princessanglophile @romanarose @gasolinerainbowpuddles @noxturnalpascal @gracieispunk @ghoulettesinspace @janaispunk @funnygirlthatgab @jupiter-soups @seratuyo

Special smooches to my wifey @missannwinchester who has to deal with my nonsense every single day😅😘😘😘 LOVE YOU, SWEETIE🫂❤️

If you feel you should be on the list and I missed you, you’re absolutely right and I deserve a good spanking for not including you!😏

HAVE AWESOME 2024 Y’ALL!!! WOOOOOO!🥳🎊✨💖💖💖

[biomecharnotaurus]

Do you have any tips for people who want to get into cosplay? It both sounds and looks really interesting but I’m too nervous to try/start.

First off:

Don't worry about the acting part, it's less stressful than it really seems, and I'm saying this as somebody who suffers from anxiety since his teen ages and had an history of pretty frequent anxiety attacks. I started cosplaying in the year 2014, made my proper first "heavy duty" cosplay in 2016.

But do keep in mind, cosplaying comes with its ups and downs and I won't sugar-coat things, so I'll start with them.

Pros

RP in real life is very fun.

You'll probably be stopped by a lot of people if your cosplay is easily recognizable, so be ready. Pictures. A lot of pictures. Which seems a bit awkward but it's often pretty wholesome.

Interacting with other cosplayers (without bothering busy people) is fun.

Going with a buddy definitely makes the experience a lot better. D&D party irl with weaponized autism

Meet new people! Sometimes.

Do fun activities! You can even swordfight your friends and other random cosplayers in small arenas sometimes. FIGHT THE GENSHIN COSPLAYER WITH A FOAM AXE ANON

You can win a Tekken tournament with a full rotting rabbit animatronic costume on!

There is at least one Dance Dance Revolution machine. I don't need to say more.

Cons

Cosplaying is often expensive. You can cosplay on a budget but it comes with lots of in-place reparations.

Bring water and food with you. Drink. A lot. Especially if you have a full armor or a monster fullsuit. You could literally die from exhaustion and/or from overheating.

People are gonna probably take pictures of you without asking. Yell at them with rage because that's illegal

Awkward interactions do happen. Yours truly had to scold a child and her mother at the age of 16 because I was resting my cosplay head next to me (Springtrap cosplay) and the child was trying to pop the eyes of MY cosplay head while I was talking to my friends.

Bring a reparation kit. A little sewing kit, some strong glue, hot glue gun, a piece of cloth you don't have a problem using to keep things in place with, make-up wipes and the make-up you are using as well, if you have any on. That and an emergency kit with bandages and band-aids. Shit can happen.

You are gonna sweat. A lot. Take breaks.

If you have something like a helmet on you are gonna have blind spots. You are probably not gonna hear nor see people calling you sometimes lol

Conventions are expensive. But that's not a cosplay-only thing, keep that in mind tho.

People often forget you are a person outside of the character you are cosplaying as. Which could be both a pro and a con honestly.

Now, I'm not nor a woman nor feminine presenting, but if you are one of the two...gamers are fucking weird sometimes, so be prepared in case.

The actual making the cosplay part:

Do your research on the kind of cosplay you want to do. A partial armor? A full armor? Clothing/make-up? A full monster/animal suit? YouTube is full of good tutorials. Techniques are universal for any typology of cosplay, so don't worry.

If you need cosplay parts you don't know how to make, just look up for "pepakura template *insert thing*". Download a program called "Pepakura viewer" on your PC and look up for Pepakura tutorials if you need any help, there are plenty. You'll probably find templates for the specific part, maybe for free, but mostly for like 10-20 bucks on Etsy. You can also just straight up buy props. Keep in mind 3D printed props can be very fragile tho.

You don't need to make every single part, buy premade things if needed. Hell, you can even just buy a premade cosplay from a seller, doesn't matter.

Improvising is important to find solutions to cosplay making problems. Any technique is a valid technique if it works for you...but please, for the love of everything that is good, DON'T. USE. CARDBOARD. It's gonna absorb your sweat, get moldy and the fumes from the mold CAN KILL YOU. Not joking.

Important: buy a mask with interchangeable filters and safety glasses when you use paints. Also, wear gloves. Your health comes first.

If you are making an helmet...buy at least 2 small fans and install them inside vents below or next to the visor inside the helmet. Believe me when I say this. They do sell ones with premade circuits on Etsy, if you are not particularly good with wiring and stuff.

AliExpress is unironically good for supplies, if you don't want to spend too much.

Sewing and using strong glues makes things last for ages, hot glue does not and it sucks, as much as people use it. Use safety equipment while using glues, of course.

Again, YouTube is your friend in this case. Search for anything you'll need help for.

...you should probably look up at reviews if you plan on buying anything from sites like XCoser.

That's it!

[kick-a-long]

Forgot to explain antisemitism to my husband for the hours and months and years required for an interfaith relationship before marriage,

But he believes me unconditionally. I’m lucky I picked a good one. We even talked honestly about where we would run to (and what would happen to his law license) which he usually laughs off. The difference this time? He works at a very leftist ngo and has seen the statements his colleagues have been making.

Not all Jewish/goy unions are like this. I’m very very relieved that I got lucky.

For example:

Alice Walker, deeply and unapologetically antisemitic, was not always that way. her first marriage was to a Jewish man who worked in tandem with black organizations to legally dismantle black discrimination in the south. His family hated her for not being Jewish and for being black. They were awful. But their marriage ended many years later when she became very conspicuously antisemitic and refused to listen about its history.

My own mother converted to Judaism and was FAR more observant than my Jewish father but later in life became what I would generously call “Jewish hostile” when their marriage began breaking down.

I always knew there was a possibility of me becoming more Jewish or marriage related friction causing that same kind of situation. But we’ve been married 5 years and together 13. He has spent his time, body and soul helping poor renters protect themselves from being evicted. He doesn’t have illusions about the poor being “innocent victims” or even expecting his clients to be “worthy of help.” Some of them have threatened to kill him, one spent everyday spending hours yelling at him and then got her mother to call to do the same. He doesn’t need “good” clients to help him. I know that he’s a believer that all people are capable of switching between monsters and humans but that doesn’t diminish his work to help the vulnerable. In some ways he has a more Jewish perspective on humanity than I did.

If you’re Jewish and losing friends because they were easily converted into conspiracies and antisemitism try to keep your partner in the loop without letting your anger and suspicion get between you.

If your partner is Jewish and you aren’t, remember there is no Jewish history about finding lasting safety. Believing that you (Jewish) must be kind and respectful of others culture and defending peoples rights and also that at any given moment you (Jewish to any 1/2, 1/4, 1/8, degree) will have to drop everything and RUN because the people you helped, the people you loved, want you dead, are the twin beings inside almost every Jew.

One of the reasons why you don’t see a lot of Jews attacking the character of “good” anti Zionist Jews, is we all get it. They think they can bargain their way out of antisemitism. Just like house slaves that thought they could escape being a “real” slave by fully buying into racism (and maybe getting off on the power of being the slaves elevated by slave owners for hating blackness.)

It’s a lot to ask of any person to “get” the cultural history let alone the cultural trauma they partnered into. Forgive, forget, but don’t be shocked if either of you sounds a little nuts sometimes. I sometimes go full doomsday prepper on him. And he lets peoples shitty behavior slide when I would go full flaming sword. It’s important to remember the daily reality.

Politics is NEVER as important as deep love between two people. It’s essential to remember that and remind loved ones you want to keep of that. Politics is theory and your life together is reality.

I used to like the idea of relationships as romantic and dreamy, now I thank god it’s reality. It’s hard as a rock and just as flexible sometimes. That has its cons but I’ll take every single one for the pros.

Ride or die for each other is what it means. Be ride or die and expect nothing less from any partners in your life. Ask them for it but only if you can truthfully tell them they have it from you. You can’t be the singular unique person that anyone loves if you are only your identity and vise versa.

[dndeceit]

Today was my birthday, so I'm going to do a rare thing and treat myself by posting a bit of a teaser for a fic that I've been working on for about a year and a half (at least April of 2023). The story is very close to being finished (I'm on the last chapter!) but it's going to take a lot of editing, so I don't know when it will be ready to start posting it properly on AO3. Overall, the fic will run twenty chapters (about 100k words by the time it's ready to post).

The story is called Salt for Salt. It's a Janus-focused supernatural AU about friendship, family, and finding home (and also sea monsters).

Cover art and the first half of the first chapter can be found below the cut.

(This sneak peek is rated T for mild swearing. The full fic may carry a higher rating due to its horror elements.)

Janus's father had been a con artist and a thief who—in his son's expert opinion—never failed to ruin everything he touched, Janus's life included. When the handling of his father's will revealed that his identity had been built upon forged documents, Janus had watched the life he had worked to build for himself fall disastrously apart. Expelled from university, burdened with debt, and barred from most employment, Janus was left almost aimless in the aftermath, with only the support of his closest friends to keep him afloat. Years later, stuck in a rut and with little left to lose, Janus decided to take a gamble. Following the trail of one of his father's old stories, Janus set out in search of clues about the other side of his family—whoever they turned out to be. That search has led him to the cold, remote island of Inch Murrough. Now it should only be a matter of navigating the social complexities of a small town and the colorful characters that lived there… (Needless to say, drawing the attention of the local sea monsters had not been part of his plan.)

Chapter One: Stars in the Sea

The moon was a narrow sliver, casting just enough light to frost the wispy, fast-moving clouds with a delicate silver glow. Patches of the night sky peered through where their cover was broken, lit with more stars than Janus could ever recall seeing in his life. Yet as beautiful as it was, the sky held nothing to the wonder that stretched out before him. Dark, frigid-looking waters roiled with a fraught energy, tossed by winds that felt only a breath shy of a storm. And somehow, it seemed the sea was on fire. The peak of every wave was capped in a brilliant, pale blue light. Sparks scattered as they crashed and broke against each other, twinkling softly as they dimmed, turning the black waters in front of him into a second field of stars...

It was captivating, and magical, and so alien to his experiences that at first Janus felt sure that he was dreaming. But the wind whipping those waves was strong and cold. It tugged at the fabric of his clothes and stung his cheeks and nose where they had grown damp from the sea spray. The roughness of the wood beneath his bare feet was very real, and his wonder shifted quickly, first into confusion and then alarm-

Because Janus had no idea where he was, nor any idea how he had gotten there.

Pulling back from the sparkling waves, Janus crossed his arms against the cold sea air and tried to take stock of himself and his surroundings. He stood alone at the end of a wooden pier overlooking a modest harbor which, beyond the boats rocking fitfully where they were moored in the rough waters, appeared to be basically empty. It was night time, and it was cold, and he was dressed in nothing but his pajamas. His feet were bare and they were sore—the soles tender and his toes freezing—like he had been walking around barefoot for a while. And it may have been the sudden shock of coming to awareness the way he had, but his blood felt like it was buzzing, like he had just stepped off of a roller-coaster. His throat burned, and he felt lightheaded and shaky-

And Janus supposed if he was going to be wandering around at night barefoot and half-frozen he might as well get sick from it. But seriously, fuck his life.

He didn't have his watch, so he couldn't guess how late it was, and he didn't happen to have his phone in his pajamas pocket because when had he ever been that lucky? The harbor was silent except for the wind and the waves and the sound of the boats at their docks, illuminated where the water lapped at their hulls by the same strange blue light that had held him mesmerized. There was nothing familiar about it, which only meant that it wasn't the same harbor where the ferry had docked when he first arrived at the town of Tam's Landing. On an island the size of Inch Murrough, there would of course be more than one, but at the same time it was hardly large enough that he imagined there could be that many...

There was only so lost one could get on an island with just the single town, right?

He would hope that he was still on Inch Murrough, at the very least, because finding himself elsewhere would make this whole alarming situation a much bigger problem than it already was. The last thing Janus remembered was lying down to sleep in his bed at the boarding house. He had booked his room for the week, assuming it would take him at least that long to find what he had come all this way for. There was supposed to be a resort hotel on the western side of the island, but he had learned that it was unfortunately seasonal and wouldn't be open until the summer. Though it was just as well, truly, given his limited assets. On his voyage out, the ferry captain had offered his recommendation for the bed and breakfast on the north side if he could afford it, or Greene's Boarding House to the south and it's...colorful landlord, if he couldn't.

(As it turned out, people didn't exactly trip over themselves forgiving student loans after you'd been expelled halfway through a degree for enrollment fraud. He was more than used to seeing his choices dwindling before him by this point.)

For better or worse, Janus found himself shaken out of this dreary thread of recollection by a tap on his shoulder. Then another on the top of his head. Sure enough, as he looked out over the strangely-glowing waves, the dark water became speckled with glimmering ripples as the thickening clouds the wind had drawn in from the sea began to release their burden. Janus cursed the weather, cursed his luck, and cursed his father on top of both for good measure because why not. If he wasn't sick already, he definitely would be if he stayed standing out here like a fool.

Questioning how he even got there was something he could worry about once he got himself out of the damned rain.

By the time he escaped the waterfront and reached the shelter of an awning on an adjoining street, the rain had begun to fall in earnest. The flannel of his top was damp and heavy on his shoulders, and was rapidly wicking away what little warmth it had previously allowed him to hold onto. Poorly dressed for it as he was, in the chill of a late autumn night the rain had just shifted his situation from uncomfortable to genuinely dangerous. And whatever the hour, Janus only knew that it was late. Late enough that it was probably early. The streets were that eerie sort of empty, and the clatter of driving raindrops chased every other sound out of existence. He shivered in his sad, isolated little pocket of misery, closed off from the rest of the world by a curtain of hissing rain.

Consequently, he was so caught up in that misery that he missed the approach of someone else arriving to intrude on his pathetic little scene.

A flash of movement and color at the corner of his eye was what finally caught his attention, and Janus looked up to find himself being watched. The man looked like he sat on the early border of his thirties or thereabouts. He had brown hair and brown eyes—currently wide with surprise—that stared back at him from behind a pair of black-framed glasses. Though, perhaps the most pertinent detail—or at least the one most pertinent to Janus—was that the man was far better dressed and equipped for the weather than he was. In particular, Janus found himself looking at the man's green, frog-eyed umbrella with an almost violent amount of envy.

"Oh, gosh," the man stammered suddenly, clearly trying to shake himself from his earlier surprise. "Are you-"

"Freezing," Janus answered through clenched teeth before the other could finish.

He imagined the question was likely meant to end differently. Still, in his mind, his answer was the only truly important one in that moment. His throat pinched on the word, reminding him once again of its soreness. He chose not to elaborate further.

With a surprised blink, the man winced sheepishly.

"Of course! I-" Looking around the empty street, perhaps expecting the rain to offer some solution, he stumbled toward the awning. "How-"

He cut himself off shaking his head.

"Never mind, it doesn't-" he said, mostly to himself, as he held out his umbrella. "Here. I- I'm not sure what we can do about-" His eyes flicked down, taking in Janus's lack of shoes. "But I- I mean- We're not far from where I work. You can wait it out there—or at least get dry."

Janus might have bothered to stutter out a thank you, but he doubted there was much he could meaningfully express through chattering teeth and a tortured throat. Still, as he ducked silently under the offered umbrella he was grateful nonetheless. He was even more grateful that the man, clear questions aside, did not stick around to chitchat once he had.

"It's just down the street."

[cosplayinamerica]

by Anna-Neko

Before all the endless online, digital everything, before FB and Insta, the “don’t u know how many followers…” & influencers nonsense, there was this man!

Kevin would take your photo, make small-talk & drop encouraging comments and make you feel a star! A former cosplay partner still fondly remembers how he would always know what she was cosplaying as! No matter how obscure! If he didn’t know the cosplay – he would ask about it! The interest always genuine. He seemed to remember everyone from con to con, and in later years when instead of running around he would set up a corner with a backdrop and do photos this way – he would jot down file numbers & email me full-size images after the event if asked.

So just a quick scene setting up. It is very easy to forget, but back then (1999 to maybe 2002~ish) there was waaaaay less conventions. There wasn’t an event happening every weekend, much less multiple events at same time! Digital cameras were not a thing. Well, obviously they existed, but your average otaku heading to an anime con might bring a cheap 35mm disposable camera (or maybe 3, if CVS had a multi-pack sale!).

Kevin’s FansView website was THE cosplay/cons site. He updated multiple times throughout the event, 2 or 3 times each day! There weren’t just photos of “hot people”, he tirelessly took photos of regular attendees, cosplayers of various ages and skill levels, guest & panel highlights…. If you weren’t lucky enough to be at the convention itself, seeing all his photos was the next best thing! In a few years we’d have con report galleries on Cosplay.com, Geocities and LinusLam …. but all these were _after the fact_, not during. Not quite the same, ya know?)

Even my mom knew his website, and during cons I’d call home during the weekend and she would excitedly tell me she was just on Kevin’s site and saw my photo!

Like, seriously…. we’d joke a con wasn’t a con until you either a) saw House of Anime truck in the parking lot, or b) ran into Mr Lillard.

Over the years there’s been all sorts of amazing run-ins with him. He would always make some jokes, and go above and beyond helping a fellow nerd – like the time my brand~new digital camera (in 2000! quite the expense!) suddenly died (6 AA batteries the monster ate) and he kindly tried to help me with both fresh batteries and advice, and when it looked like the camera wasn’t coming back he straight up took out his FILM CAMERA (again, this man was a pro! He always had a backup) and took photos of my cosplay and friends’, and handed me the finished roll

OR that other time my memory card was already full within literally first few hours of the convention (circa 2000, CompactFlash. Gigs? ha! Your PC might have 2 gigs hard drive and be a luxury. Memory cards ran in the Megabites) and this SAINT of a man helped by using HIS LAPTOP to let me clear out the card, email the zip file to myself then and there, and thus have memory space to take another 30~40 photos

or this Other OTHER time we were talking about shitty hotel hallway lights… And asked if he would mind popping with us outside real quick? He took the time to go! Outdoors into the sunshine! On the lawns by the hotel for a good 30 minutes! Thus giving us our first ‘proper’ cosplay photoshoot no less!! (freakin 2001, people!! pro~photoshoots or sheduling time-slots with an online-famous photog was not a thing. Not yet, not for another few years)

He made all us awkward weebs feel welcome from the get~go! Nobody had internet once left the house. No cellphones. Especially not a phone that could double as a hi-res camera. You came to the convention with a cheap disposable film camera, or none at all – hoping your friends brought one. Conventions didn’t have photo suites, no staff photogs… it was not a thing yet.

The other joke used to be “oh you’re at so-and-so con? Did you run into Kevin yet??” or “no no no, don’t change yet! We need to find Kevin!! You must be documented” (and if you had insane luck, you may even see that photo as convention cosplay coverage in an issue of Animerica months later!) For some of us, the only photos of those early costumes only exist because Kevin was there to take it.

#cosplayhistory