#waffle fic

[jztr-77]

nap time with the cocoa puffs

[pan-kojiwa]

𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠?

𝐑𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 -> 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝, 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲. 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡.

CW: Sfw. (A little bit of tension)

WC: 2k

Waffle’s Note: Rin is aged up here, even this it’s not mentioned. It’s my first time ever writing for Rin so he might be a little ooc. A bit of self insert. Also you have a pet owl? Kinda proofread. (I literally had to stop cuz I kept changing/adding things)

You sigh, lost in your thoughts.

You and Itoshi Rin have been acquaintance for two years now. Yes acquaintances. It’s ridiculous right? You’ve been trying to convince him ever since but he just ignore you every time.

You two are friends— if not even best friends because clearly, if it wasn’t the case, how could he explain why ‘acquaintance’ are constantly glued together like you two? How could he explain how well you two know each others so well, to the point where he could see when you were faking a good mood? And come on now— what sensible person would crash at their acquaintance’s apartment out of the blue just to see their pet owl? 

Still, no matter what proof you could possible give him, he simply refused to acknowledge the truth. Yep. Even after two years of friendship—or should you say “acquaintanceship”, you still are a lukewarm nuisance.

Actually, he said pest at first… But you like to think of it as an auditory hallucination on your part. You know— for the sake of your ego.

To be fair, you do annoy him on a daily basis anyway, so you kinda see where he’s coming from. But whatever, he likes to yap about how much you annoy him but never takes action. That man loves your company.

You giggle, your eyes drifting to the ceiling, while your fingers idly tap one of your thigh. Lazily slumped on the couch you sink even deeper into it, your head resting against the armrest as you yawn. Yep, you’re bored.

Last week you needed cleaning supplies for your apartment. So you decided to go to the mall. But you don’t have a car. And you hate the lack of space and the pace of public transportation. So you asked you so generous and awesome friend that happens to have a car to drive you there. But of course he said no. You weren’t surprised though. That’s why you innocently mentioned needing to buy bedding and food for Hoo’ster your pet owl. And of course, as soon as you mentioned your pet, he changed his mind— begrudgingly but you didn’t care about that! 

Terrible mistake. Like people say karma’s a bitch, because you got yourself a ticket to a Friday movie night. Again. ‘Yaaay…’ You keep forgetting about the local video store on the way to mall, that for some reason, always have a display of their most recent arrival of horror movies. Seriously, how it’s only the horror section that gets displayed??

Oh, of course Rin immediately went to buy a copy. 

‘We’re watching in next Friday. You better show up.’ He said. You facepalmed.

A movement to your right jolted you out of your thoughts, making you turn your head. Rin, sitting beside you slightly shifted in his seat, slowly leaning forward. Eyes a little bit widened and the tip of his tongue sticking out. His head is even moving along with the scenes shown on the TV screen. 

You blink. ‘Wow…’ you were definitely used to this sight by now— yet you still look at him with the same fascination you’ve had over the year, dripping in your eyes.

The first time Rin invited you to watch a movie with him, you were ecstatic— well at least until you realised it was a horror movie. But anyway, at first you thought that he was finally warming up to you! You thought that you could ask him a bit more about himself and his hobbies! That you two could chat while watching the movie, even! Oh boy, how wrong were you. It’s also when.. you discover this— quirk, of his? You remember being a bit weirded out back then. You even tried to punch him. You know… to bring him back to reality.

Yet now…

Now, seeing him so fully immersed in the movie this way is… quite endearing.

“ - Rin?” You called out to him.

He doesn’t answer. 

… And that’s all you’ve been waiting for. The game begins.

In this game, you just need to shift Rin’s attention on you. Even if it’s for one second. The moment his eyes leave the screen, you win.

A cunning smile creeps up your face as you gently bite your index finger while trying to contain your excitement. When Rin is in this state, you can do pretty much anything you want to him and he won’t mind. Well not that he won’t mind— he’s just so focused on the movie that he’d basically ignore or let most of your shenanigans slide. 

It’s only fair anyway. Since Rin seems to have a passion in forcing you to watch movies that bore you to death, you’ll certainly enjoy your new passion: annoying the hell out of him when he’s hyper focused.

Of course at times it was pretty challenging, because the movies he chooses are generally pretty good, so nothing you did could really break his focus. But right now you’re confident. A gut feeling tells you that you can do it. 

You shifted on the couch straitening up yourself back into a sitting position. Your lips pressed together in a suppressed smile while your right hand discreetly makes its way to Rin's head, poking it.

“- Rinrin?” 

Of course he shows no reaction. You knew he wouldn’t. It takes more than that.

“- Rinrin~ I’m bored…” You say poking at his left cheek again and again.

“- Rin?” Poke. “- Riiin!” Poke. “- Rinrin.” Poke, poke.

Nothing.

Rin’s eyes are still glued to the screen. It’s as if nothing happened, like you’re not even here. Normally he’d have already smacked your hand away, scowling at you to stop that. But you refuse to let his lack of reaction stop you.

You raise your hand again, about to poke at his side, but he stops you before you can do it, simply grabbing your hand before placing it back on your lap.

‘Hehehe… it’s working’

You start to poke his side again, changing location often to avoid hurting him. And you even shamelessly move closer to him, little by little as you poke him. Until there’s no space left between you two. Then, you place your right hand on the back of his neck.

His head twitches slightly at the touch of your cold hand.

Now, now you just got a big reaction. A sly smile tugged at your lips.

Okay. So now you have to be careful, because breaking someone’s concentration could get them mad somtimes— like really mad. And in Rin’s case, it always result in a fight— not a physical on though. He would just spend days ignoring you, and you didn’t want that.

So to make sure that scenario doesn’t happen, you try to ease him a bit by gently rubbing his back. Your hand slipping further down tracing a line along his spine until you reach the small of his back, making him shiver.

You tilt your head a bit. It’s the first time he’s reacted like this— then again, it’s the first time you touch him like this… ‘Did that tickled?’ you ask yourself. 

Without pulling your hand off his back, you use your left hand to poke his shoulder repeatedly, letting it slide down to poke at his side again.

With a low rumble, Rin slaps your hand away. ‘Oh! There you go!’

You stare at him, trying to meet his eyes, but they’re still glued on the TV. It’s usually at times like this that he gets mad at you and demand you to stop. But right now he just slapped your hand away! You totally have a chance in winning! You almost want to get up and bounce around the room.

When you glance back at him, you immediately notice something. Something important. His tongue. He tucked it back into his mouth! Oh~ You are so winning this little game of yours! And for the first time ever!

Now, you just have to deliver the final strike.

 ‘A kiss on the cheek.’ You thought, internally cheering your victory already. 

You never kissed him on the cheek before— for obvious reasons, it’s Rin duh he won’t let you— so you’re hoping that this bold action would be enough to break the remaining bits of his already thinned concentration. So you went for it, placing just a little peck on his cheek.

But, the second your lips brushes his skin, he spins around, grabbing your arm with his left hand while shoving you a little bit roughly on the couch. You closed your eyes due to the impact.

When you open your eyes again, the first thing you see is Rin on top of you, pinning both of your hands above your head with his left hand, while supporting his weight with his other hand, placed right next to your shoulder. Suddenly, time freeze as you lay there, completely stunned. How are you supposed to react to what is just happening now?

‘What the hell is he doing??’

And what the hell is this situation? Rin Itoshi currently has you pinned down on the couch? This is completely new to you. Rin has never been like this— like grabbing you and shoving you against a wall to cage you between his arms? Never. Why would he even do that? Rin never really touch you. And if he does, it’s to push you away. So yeah, never. You almost thought he was playing a prank on you, for some reason. That is at least, until you meet his eyes.

His gaze on you is cold. Chilling you to the bone. Yet, you can feel the intensity of his stare burning a hole your face.

‘What—’ From then, you desperately try to look for a hint that he’s messing with you. You search desperately in his eyes some form of anger caused by your little game. In vain. There’s not a single drop of hostility or even his usual annoyance in his eyes. Just an intense and fiery gaze piercing through your defence, leaving you speechless.

You try to steady your breath as your eyes start to water from being open without blinking for too long. Your senses went numb yet at same time, you can still feel his hand slightly brushing against your shoulder, his knee pressed on your hip, and every single pore on your face, trying to regulate the rising temperature of your cheeks.

You can feel Rin’s shallow breath matching the rise and fall of your chest.

All the noise in the room disappear, filtered by the intensity of the moment. Your heartbeat is going crazy as he lets go of your hands, still staring you down. His, now, free hand makes its way to your cheek, gently brushing his thumb on your jawline.

He’s still looking at you, with the same burning intensity, which is now way too intense for you as time passes— intense to the point where you’re no longer able to withstand his gaze.

You avert your gaze, turning your head away from him. You feel dizzy, as if the room is spinning. Seeing your reaction, Rin’s hand slowly stoking your cheek, leaves abruptly, making your breath hitch. You got used to its warmth and now the cold sensation of its absence bites your cheek painfully.

You desperately want to say something. You want to ask Rin what has gotten into him, however the lump in your throat is forcing you into silence. It’s the first time that you’ve ever been this shy in front of him. But it’s also the first time that you can’t figure out what he’s thinking at all.

You just know that him pinning you under him this way, makes you feel so tiny— like a little mouse trapped in the paws of a cat. All you can do is to pray that he doesn’t eat you whole.

You finally muster up the courage to face him, turning back your head to face him. And right at that moment, you catch him staring at your lips. Your eyes widen instantly and your breath hitches. You try to say something. Anything. Yet nothing but a quiet squeak comes out, which makes him look back into your eyes.

Though, it’s too late. Your brain has already crashed.

You’re no longer present, well yes, you are because your body is here, but your mind? Long gone—literally evaporated.

Rin just looked at your lips…

You’ve never imagined yourself with him before. It never even crossed your mind once. He’s just a friend, that’s all he’s ever been to you. A friend— well okay a fucking good looking one. You can’t lie about that. And even if his personality can be quite the challenge, once you get to know him he’s not that hard to deal with. So… why does the idea of being in a romantic relationship with him doesn’t bother you at all? Like at all. If he asks you to go out on a date with him, like right now, you’d definitely accept right away.

Now that you think about it… since when did you even started to feel this way about him? Since when do you want to him to hug you and kiss you so badly?

And Rin? Does he feel the same way as you do? Does he feel something more than friendship for you. Is it for this very reason that constantly refuses your hugs and your affection? Was it why he looked at your lips?

As those questions swirl in your head, Rin gets up and turns off the TV, making is way to the kitchen. You bite the inside of your cheek, hearing him sigh softly while one of his hand runs through his hair.

“- Let’s get something to eat. I’m hungry.” He says.

You only nod, still a bit shaken up by what just happened.

In every movie nights, you’re in charge of the food. Rin tells you what he wants to eat and you either make it—when you feel like it, or you order it. But this time you didn’t even ask him what he wanted to eat. You can’t verbally face him yet, a ton of question still spinning in your head making it impossible to focus. Well, to be completely honest, you’re also being too shy to voice any of your questions. Which is really not like you.

Rin sits down on the dining table and looks at you briefly. It’s quiet. You’re quiet. Too quiet. You’ve never been this quiet ever with him, and that seems to bother him deeply. He tsk in annoyance, a frown tugging at his brows as he seats down at the dining table.

“- For someone who’s always pestering me, trying to get a reaction out of me, now that you’ve got it, you’re this quiet? How tepid.”

Your heart begins to race again as he brings up what has just happened. You never expected him to be the one to mention it first.

“ - I was just… It’s weird! You’ve never done that before, that’s why!” You blurt out defensively.

“ - Keep messing with me like that, and I’ll do it again.”

There’s a brief silence and you blink, processing what he’s just said. Did he just...? You tilt your head and raise an eyebrow, well you were used to Rin being bossy— but not like this? Feeling more confident thanks to him, you smirk, your true self slowly coming back out.

“ - I’ll just have to get used to it.” You retort with a challenging tone.

Rin locks eyes with you, and for a brief moment, you spot that same intense look he had earlier when he pinned you down on the couch. And, just as quickly, his gaze shifts to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“ - I’ll just have to shut you up.”

Rin’s phone suddenly rings, cutting through the silent stare down, the building tension between you two had created. And not without glancing at you one last time, he gets up, heading out of the kitchen to answer the call.

You’re left sitting here, heart racing like a wild horse in your chest. A big but dumb grin plastered on your face, your cheeks and ears burning hot, as you couldn’t help but think out loud.

“ - Guess we’re still not friends then.”

GOD… this took longer than expected. I KEPT ADDING STUFF THATS WHY 😭 I yap a lot when i write. I swear it was supposed to be a 700/1K drabble . But anyways I really had fun writing this!! I Got inspired by my interaction with the Rins RP blog! (I love them so much! Shout out to the mods!) I might do one for Sae but Idk yet.

Well thank you if you read till here!

[averagegtenjoyer]

Yeah i think constantly amused giant is scary but i think bored giant is probably scarier. Probably scarier when they look down at you with lazy and glazed over eyes, when they drum their fingers on the table, when they cock their head, clearly trying to find something to do with you. Or even giant who’s boredom was not caused by you but they use you as a method, a toy, to cheer themself up. You’d better perform, silly tiny, or they’ll have to get creative.

[duckimate]

" If it weren’t for the fact that Solara had to pay attention to the sun, he’d never want to look away. "

hey so would anyone believe me if i said this was grian lmao (alt caption: dont you hate it when you mention grianmc and the camera pans to some celestial being)

here's my near-annual offering fanart to!! grumbo Solar Eclipse au by THE iconic @mochiwrites ofc, but the POV's been switched?? :O

BIG SPOILERS GAP DO BRIDGE WITH CARE !!!!!! .

Mumbo's POV during their eclipse ceremony tgt :D

since in the original fanfic, the eclipse ceremony was in Solara's POV, so most of the focus was on Proteus's movements and how Solara was oh so entranced by them, and would've been even more so had he not been focused on his own duty of raising the sun as well

SO!!!!! i've always wanted to see this, but in Proteus's POV :D I'd imagine that Proteus was in the same predicament as Solara lol but the other guy was just too entranced to even notice he's being admired right back as well <3

also yes if you look closely he is smiling >:( cant make his swooning look too obvious now lmao they still got a job to do

anyways. mochiwrites. i hope you know that im so ever grateful for this fic that has gotten me through BOTH highschool and now, college!! hehe <3 everytime im reminded of this AU it's like im being taken over by an art spirit or smth

[nart-is-a-monster]

Ya know me I'm not normal Abt the fic, so here you go THE BLOODY MARRY SCENE BC I've been thinking of it lately :3333

AAAAAAAAND here's the link of the fic :D

And if you see this and have no idea why Varian is in that situation

Go read the fic so we can be not normal Abt the fic together U__U

And go follow @glitter-lisp @eggmuffinwaffles bc they have written the thing and I love them (and you should too) :333

[magicalrocketships]

You talked in the author's note about having more thoughts on Max's sexuality in Breaking every rule for you. I'd love to hear more about that, if you want to? 🤍

Oh, thank you for asking!! I did a whole disassociation thing after I posted the last chapter and I was like "it's very important to reply to comments and asks about this fic which meant a lot to me to write and to receive" and then I simultaneously thought orrrrr, alternatively, you can keep putting that off because you won't be able to properly tell people how much all the comments and asks meant. Anyway, that's a perfectly sensible series of thoughts to have, which brings me to this ask.

So, Max in Breaking Every Rule For You. This is half brain-dump, half director's cut of Max's POV. Either way, I accidentally wrote 3000 words about my beloved, feral Max. Sorry? Not sorry. I'll always want to talk about him 🧡🧡

He has literally no conception of this (and neither does Daniel), but he's very much on the asexual spectrum. He's demisexual, which is a word he's never heard and wouldn't know to use even if he had. 

He continues to tell the truth about his experience of life, but Daniel doesn't know enough to understand what Max is accidentally telling him, and Max doesn't know that his experience isn't universal. So! This fic is basically Max experiencing sexual attraction for the first time.

OBVIOUSLY this does not excuse Max behaving monstrously to Zoe and being hopelessly cruel to Daniel. He is, however, experiencing a lot of stuff for the first time and he didn't know! That he could feel like this! He is horny about someone else for the first time in his life! He'd be feral anyway, and he and Daniel stay completely feral after the fic's done and long into the future, feral and horny and all over each other, but there's this whole extra layer to it that's just Max being like... you can feel like this about another person? You can want someone THIS MUCH? You can want to fuck and come and kiss and touch another human being? Everybody in the world isn't lying about wanting it?

So on the one hand you've got Daniel's much more linear experience of oh, fuck, I've been bisexual all along, and the person who's opened my eyes about it is Max, what does this mean for my life and am I allowed to have something with Max for the longer term? In contrast to Max being so fucking thirsty to experience all of these things he's wanting for the first time, and barely understanding what it is he's wanting and the impact on the lives of the people around him who love him. He's so fucking needy and he barely understands the reasoning behind that, but that's partly why he keeps bringing Daniel back and reminding him of everything he's promised, everything Max is dying to experience but hasn't yet.

Even like, right back at the beginning when Max wants pictures of Daniel, it's because he's literally never felt attraction to another person. He's never looked at someone's body and wanted to touch it (or, in Max's case, to come all over him over and and over again and make him fucking filthy and his and have him show Max how he touches himself and how he looks soft and hard and horny and everything in between).

And all the things he wants to do to Daniel, he's never done to anyone else because he was horny about it. Everything he's done is because he thought he should, because he thought everyone was faking it when they said they were horny for touching other people. He can't slow himself down. He wants all of it. And then he'll do things like just warm Daniel's dick because he didn't know it felt good, and it feels so good.

On the other hand, Max has a fixed conception of love and relationships and they are work. They are a job. He has had girlfriends because he was supposed to have girlfriends and he's literally not figured out he's gay because he's not been close to a man long enough for attraction to develop, and with Max it takes a lonnnnng time, he's known Daniel for years and it's only been in the past few months it's started to change how he feels about him, ever since Daniel said he was going to leave and Max realised he not only wanted him to stay, he wanted him. And he doesn't want what he has with Daniel (something good) to crossover into relationship (something bad, something that's work, something that's always been a to-do list item) because then it will be bad. Max is getting every single thing he wants for the very first time in his life, of course he wants to keep things exactly how they are and ringfence this space in his life where Daniel is and he's getting everything he wants. The downside is that it's horribly cruel, but he doesn't entirely understand that, because he doesn't entirely understand either how he feels or how Daniel feels, and because he thinks that what he experiences is the universal, which is that relationships and love are bad and work. 

I kind of love that Max at the beginning isn't a great kisser - Max kisses like he jerks off, fierce and unimaginative. A race to the finish line. One day Daniel will make him slow it down. And part of that is literally because he's never enjoyed it before. He's never kissed anyone he wanted to have kiss him back.

But also, Max loves to jerk off. He loves to jerk off. Masturbation is the one thing he's always loved to do, because he's never been low on sexual desire, just attraction. He's jerked off thinking about Daniel before, too. Even before being really attracted to him. It's sort of why he wants Daniel in his bed, not because it's where he shares with Zoe when she's in Monaco, but because it's where Max jerks off, which is the one hugely positive sexual thing he's ever had in his life. Yeah, there's also some kind of "having a girlfriend is boring and work and I'm beating the system by having a better time in the space where that boring work happens" but Max isn't pre-meditiatively cruel in this. His cruelty is a by-product. 

Also: Max doesn't know that things can be better than what he has. 

He's barely managed to get his shirt off before Max is launching himself at him, making some Max-like attempt at human touch by cupping Daniel's face in his hands and pressing their mouths together. It's not romantic. It's not anything, other than fast, and maybe a little furious.

"You talked about kissing me," Max says, pulling away just enough that Daniel can feel the heat of his breath against his mouth. He's still cupping Daniel's face, and Daniel wants to cover Max's hands with his own and keep him there, make him stay still, make time slow down for them just this fucking once. "You said you thought about it. Kissing me. I've never kissed anyone like that, Daniel. I want it."

Max is telling Daniel the truth but Daniel doesn't pick up on it. Max hasn't ever kissed anyone like this before. And he wants it. 

Daniel spends a lot of time thinking about Zoe. Max doesn't think about her at all. He buys Daniel gifts because he's wild about him, because he needs to, like, put some of what he's feeling out into the world but he just— doesn't know how to do it. He's overflowing with it. 

"Think all the time about kissing you," Max tells him, still kneeling over him, leaning in so that he can mouth at Daniel's neck, kiss him so that Daniel will have a fucking love bite he'll have to cover with concealer if he wants to leave the house. Daniel doesn't stop him. Max can mark him up any way he wants. Daniel will take any scrap he can get. People shouldn't live off scraps, but Daniel will take anything Max throws at him. He'll judge himself later. "You have a good mouth, Daniel, I think about it so much." He kisses Daniel's jaw, along the line of it, over his stubble and up to his ear. It is not foreplay. It is just Max, taking what he wants. Daniel giving it because he wants the whole fucking lot of it and to drown in it afterwards. Better drown than starve. Max kisses his cheek, the corner of his mouth. Once, twice. The side of his nose. Is this Max, trying to be gentle with him? Trying to give something he normally only takes?

And then Daniel changes things, he tries to break up with Max and Max goes insane with it. For Max, Daniel really is ruining things. He is being a stupid motherfucker. This really is just sex because Max doesn't know how to understand what he's feeling. And he doesn't want to feel! Feeling is bad. He keeps trying to make the feelings stop. Of course Max just keeps trying to take things back to the space where things were working, because he wants it so much. Of course he's jealous, because he's fucking feral and a mess and he has no idea how to feel things like a real boy, because he never fucking has, and how he feels about Daniel is really fucking easy if only he knew how to identify or name any of the feelings he's feeling. 

So yeah: Max is heartbroken for the first time in his life, but he also just doesn't understand it. His chest hurts. He wants Daniel back in the space where it was all working. Daniel isn't the stupid motherfucker, Max is, for not managing to keep it so that Daniel would still kiss him and want him and touch him and text him, and Max is for not being able to stop himself from feeling stuff he doesn't understand. And then Zoe goes, and he doesn't feel anything. Not really. The only thing he's thinking about is Daniel. And then you get Max's entirely pragmatic, ruthless side, whereby he just makes sure Daniel is safe. He pays whatever he needs to pay to make sure Zoe is satisfied. He tells her the truth about not feeling about her the way he feels about Daniel. He doesn't mean to be cruel. It's a by-product again. It still is hopelessly cruel. He still only wants Daniel. He's the stupid motherfucker, not Daniel. 

And all the time, Max thinking he can get Daniel back to what they had before if only he keep trying. He knows Daniel wants him back. And he thinks he's getting it. He thinks he's getting Daniel back. It's want like he's never wanted. He thinks he's managed it, and then Daniel just— shuts him down. And Max just… breaks. It takes him by surprise as much as it takes Daniel when he sees Max crying, like he's crying and he didn't mean to start but he also can't stop. He loves him. That's what this is. 

"You are not listening," Max says, wiping his tears on his shoulder. "All of this time I am trying and I am trying not to want you and not to feel things but it did not work and I do and I did and I feel it in here and it won't stop." He presses the side of his fist to his chest, like Max is referring to his own fucking heart, which he can't be, because Max is Max, and Max doesn't feel anything, and he doesn't fucking feel anything for Daniel. "It is not fair that you won't listen. Always I am asking how do I make it stop, because you are just supposed to be sex, you are dick and that is for the dark and instead you are always just here, in my head and you have made me go mad thinking about you. Everything I do is very insane and it is all about you and my girlfriend left me and I do not care because she is not you and you tell me that you miss me too but now you are saying no when I want you more than I want anything and it is not okay."

It's the first time in his life he's ever been in love, and he's trying to make sense of it because he couldn't stop loving Daniel if he tried, but here's Daniel telling him he doesn't, and that he's stopped, and that is just— so far outside of Max's understanding. It's not fair and it's not okay and he doesn't know how Daniel could stop loving him if love is what he feels back for Daniel. 

And then he stays. He tells Daniel that no one kisses him like Daniel does. He says: "Nobody touches me like you do," Max says, which is probably a lie since Zoe loved him and wanted him and probably would have touched Max any way he wanted if he'd only told her. "Nobody, Daniel, nobody makes me feel like you do."

Daniel makes a soft, unholy noise in the back of his throat.

"It's true," Max says, urgently. "It is true."

Daniel doesn't realise how true. That no one has ever made Max feel or want like this. That this is the first time he's ever been attracted to someone. 

And for Max it's so clearly worlds apart from him and Zoe. They're not comparable. 

"She was my girlfriend," Max says. "But I didn't love her like I love you."

For a moment, Daniel's brain judders to a halt. It's felt like he's been on a constant spin cycle since last night, but for a moment, everything's still. "Yeah?"

"With you it is very different," Max says. "Everything is very different."

He keeps stroking the inside of Daniel's wrist. Daniel can't think of anything to say. He just watches Max touch him.

"Of course I kissed her, Daniel. She was my girlfriend. I did all the things you're supposed to do with your girlfriend. You cannot be tearing yourself up into knots about her when she is gone and you are here."

And

"I thought about your dick a lot. I thought I would like to see it. I jerked off and used my fingers and thought about you jerking off. I thought if I was going to suck a dick then it would be nice if it was yours."

"You had a girlfriend."

"Yes. I had everything I was supposed to want. Red Bull and Zoe and one day I will have my World Championship. But not you because you are a stupid motherfucker and you left me."

And Max loves jerking off. It's his favourite thing. 

But like, Max finally gets what he didn't know he wanted, which is more than just having sex at regular and irregular intervals, he gets a boyfriend, someone he can actually love and want to be with and it's all turning his conception of relationships and love upside down and he has to re-evaluate how that fits into his life, because relationships have been a boring part of work before, and now they're not, so he just has to… figure that shit out. 

This conversation where Daniel asks Max if he's gay: 

"Max," he says softly, after a minute. "Max, do you like girls?"

Max shifts on the pillow. He rolls his eyes. "Of course I do, Daniel, do not ask stupid questions. They are 50% of the population."

"I'm not—" Daniel searches Max's face. He wants to find something there that Max isn't showing him, some measure of understanding, of common ground beyond the fact that they're fucking and in love. "Do you like dating them?"

"I am dating you," Max says, as if he's talking to someone who barely understands English.

"Yes, but. Before. Did you like having sex with girls?"

"Zoe was my girlfriend. Of course I liked having sex with her."

This isn't Max just obfuscating. He hasn't defined himself as gay. He is, but he didn't necessarily— need to know it or define himself as such? It just wasn't important to him. He didn't really want to have sex with anyone so not wanting to have sex with girls less than him not wanting to have sex with guys he wasn't attracted to didn't matter so much? And now there's Daniel so it's even less of an issue because it turns out he can ferally cheat on Zoe for months and still not intend to ever be with anyone who isn't Daniel. 

Honestly it's more of a journey than Daniel will ever know to get Max to this: 

"I will do better," Max says, when there's nothing else coming, and Daniel's about to step out into the road. "I will learn, Daniel. To be a good boyfriend." 

It's not something he ever even considered before, and now not only does he want to, he's going to work on it too. 

Max smiles at him. He still fingers Daniel, because Max likes to multi-task and do it efficiently, but he lets his gaze rest on Daniel's. He looks happy. He looks so, so happy. "It has never been like this," he says, and Daniel doesn't say because you've been having sex with girls and you don't like them. He'll believe it's just about him. That Max feels like this about him and him alone.

Max telling the ultimate truth - it never has been like this, not a single element of it. Not kissing, not sex, not loving somebody else. Daniel doesn't entirely hear it, but then why would he? Even Max doesn't realise how much of a truth it is. 

"I always thought people were lying about kissing," Max says, without moving or looking at him or anything. "It was so boring. Everyone had to be lying. Nobody could like it unless they liked boring things."

What the fuck.

"So boring," Max says. He still doesn't move or look at him "Sex was boring too. I didn't know why anybody went out of their way when they could just jerk off. Masturbating was so much better than sex, Daniel."

Christ. Daniel's fingers twitch in Max's. "Did you ever think that was because you didn't like girls? And you kept having sex with them?"

"Eh," Max says, and shrugs. "I kissed boys too. Two of them. It was still boring."

Daniel's never thought sex was boring. He's liked it pretty much every time he's had it. He's been kissing girls since he was 14 and could make them laugh enough to kiss him over bags of crisps after school. He thinks about the two boys Max has kissed. What he did with them. When it was. Who it was. If he really thought it was awful. "Do you still think it's boring?"

Max shifts at that, twisting so he can look up at Daniel with the most insulted, don't be fucking stupid look on his face. "I have just licked my come out of your ass, Daniel. I want to have sex with you all the time. All of the things I jerked off thinking about doing I want to do with you. I want to kiss you forever."

Anyway. TL;DR, Max is demisexual and is new to sexual attraction and wouldn't be able to label himself as that if somebody paid him. 

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 77

Part 1 Part 76

He’s growing – Steve can feel it eating away at the pathways in his brain. He can almost feel the way the connections drop, making way from something else, something more. It’s like he wants Steve to be able to see the paths he’s carving out of his brain so he can.

They’re dark, and winding, and there’s nothing in there at all. Steve’s being hollowed out, for a holy purpose he can’t quite grasp, but he can feel it, coiled cold and hard in the back of his skull, waiting to give him his own divine prophecy. When the time’s right. 

But the time’s not right, and he’s lost in the tunnels of his mind, winding fast, fast, fast through corridors he doesn’t recognize. 

It’s like, double vision. He’s looking at Eddie sitting beside him, twirling his frizzy hair in front of his mouth, but it’s dark, too, and the tunnels are winding. Winding, and empty until they’re not.

It’s not until he sees the man that Steve wonders if he’s looking at something internal at all. Because there’s a man he doesn’t recognize walking inside them. He watches him stumble, he watches him fall. 

Steve doesn’t recognize the man. But, still. Something twists inside as he watches him collapse, He’s supposed to collapse. Steve knows, he can feel it.

But there’s still something pulling in his sternum. He can feel it, sometimes, when Eddie’s looking at him with big, sad eyes. He wants to wring the sadness straight out of him but can’t – he doesn’t know what’s wrong. 

“Something’s wrong.” he says, but he’s not sure if he means the man or the look in Eddie’s eyes, or the way he’s not sure where he is right now.

“What is it, honey?” 

The woman who says it looks frazzled from where she’s kneeling in front of him. He doesn’t know her, but she’s holding Will’s hand. He looks at Will, and his eyes match hers – both wide and worried and trained on him.

“There’s a man,” he says. There are vines circling the man’s wrists, legs, trailing up his neck. Steve rubs his own throat, esophagus convulsing in sympathy pain. And just for a second, there’s a flicker of that same man smiling down at him, settling something over his face, letting him breathe. 

“Where?” the woman asks, at the same moment Eddie asks, “who?” and reaches out his burning palm to clutch Steve’s knee. 

He turns back to Eddie. Eddie who’s touch burns straight through him, who he can feel pulling pulling pulling him in like he wants to incinerate him whole. Steve would let him. 

So, he ignores the woman’s question and focuses on the man. “I don’t know him,” Steve whispers. He’s not sure it’s true, he can still feel the way his warm hand had cradled Steve’s jaw as he breathed life back into him.

Eddie’s boring his gaze into him, like maybe he can scoop out the images and muddle through them on his own. “But he’s in trouble?” 

Steve nods.

The woman stands up with a grunt, hands braced on knees as hauls herself up. “I’ll try Hop again.”

The name twinges. “Hop, Hop, Hopper,” Steve murmurs, looking back down at Eddie’s hand on his knee like it’ll tell him what he’s thinking. Like it’ll make his brain work better.

“What about him?” Will asks quietly. He’s watching the woman pick up the phone, turning the numbers by rote. 

Steve doesn’t know Hopper, but there’s a man with a dirty name plate attached to his dirty chest that reads the same name. “The vines,” he starts, before stalling out, unsure of what to say. “They’ve– they’ve got him.”

Eddie sits up, squeezing Steve’s knee tight, the bite of his fingernails into burnt flesh aching. “Hopper’s who’s in trouble?”

He nods, and sits, watching Hopper struggle, watching Will and Eddie trade looks around him, watching the woman hang up the phone with a sigh.

“Where?” Eddie asks.

Steve doesn’t know. He doesn’t know, but it’s Eddie who’s asking, so he closes his eyes. He closes his eyes and focuses. “There’s dirt,” he says, “and vines, and—” 

There’s nothing else. No discernable features of the landscape he both can and cannot see, but he’s squinting into his own mind hard enough that the back of his skull starts aching like it’s splitting open and that’s when he feels it: a pull.

It’s coming from the back of his head, like a migraine, aching at the join between his neck and skull. He lets his head sway with it, then points with the sway.

He closes his eyes, focuses on the man, and lets the pull take him. 

It’s like walking through purgatory – following the lines in his mind. He’s going the right way, can feel it just as surely as he can feel Eddie’s burning hand on his elbow and Will’s burning fingers on his ankles.  

He doesn’t open his eyes, just walks, and walks, until there’s nowhere to walk anymore.

It’s not until he stops that the implications of the pull yanking him down sink in. He wants to drop to his knees and scrabble at the ground with his nails. But he’s down too deep, and time’s running out. 

He opens his eyes and looks down. There’s a rotten pumpkin under his shoe, foot turning it to mush. Beneath that, there’s dirt. Dirt and vines. Steve points down to it, and looks up to meet Eddie’s worried eyes.

“He’s running out of time,” Steve says, watching both Eddie’s eyebrows furrow, and the way the man’s fingers are still flexing on the vine around his throat, keeping it at bay. 

“He’s down there?” the woman asks, unhelpful in her hysteria. 

Steve watches the reality unfurl in Eddie’s eyes and then looks down at the dirt beneath his feet and watches the man struggle.

People flit around him like ants. He doesn’t pay it any mind. Will and Eddie are here, and everything else is just killing time.

Part 78

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren

[kazepng]

do you guys think ari would be taylor swift level famous or kinda underground question mark

also reference

[55cdfc-f7a8b8-ffffff-f7a8b8-55cd]

Some art based on some Thousand_Spring's works on Ao3

[s1llycilantro]

havent posted on here in forever because i have chronic "start one piece get halfway through then begin another-itis" so. here's a bunch of wips ^_^

(ariana n mumbo is from "i am weary with contending" it fucks so hard GO READ IT.)

and the rest is aus. I have an actual drawing of scar lying around somewhere in my dms. not digging for that shit though.

[frozenjokes]

can you guys stop slandering the clowns. they’re not assassins, nuns, deities of corruption, victims, or anything of the sort, they’re just clowns in the circus called hermitcraft.

ao3 link

Mumbo had always held a distinct awareness of life, a sixth sense almost, and he wasn’t so sure anyone else was the same. He felt the roots of trees under his feet, the tender pulse of want eminenting from every living thing wisping up his ankles and sinking under his skin. He’d see dogs on walks and feel the scratch of their nails on the sidewalk like marks on his bones, he held their hot breath in his lungs, felt the sting of bright sunshine on their dark eyes. He did not have to see the fox to know its teeth in his own mouth, nor did he have to hear the squealing mouse to feel fangs in his own spine.

All the same sensations he shared with humanity, no weaker, no stronger. That had always been a point of distress for Mumbo; growing older, it seemed so clear that people shared an inherent connection with each other, stronger than their link with the rest of the world’s life. Species preference did not come naturally to Mumbo, it was a trait he had to learn, and it was not one he learned quickly.

He learned adults didn’t like when he hit other kids. Arguably, they were more horrified when he threw rocks at squirrels and sparrows and cats. Mumbo was not allowed to peel the bark off trees or gouge them with sticks, but this was not a crime deemed abhorrent, so he often found his caretakers would rather look the other way than fight with him.

Mumbo was always fighting, with adults, with other kids. He could not identify with them, and as a little kid, he did not understand cooperation was necessary for his own wellbeing. The world should bend around him, or at the very least he should be able to fight to make it that way- all the social hoops just got in the way.

Mumbo loved animals. There was one foolproof way for his many various caretakers to quell him, knowledge passed from one to the other, that Mumbo was partial to bribes, and payment by any nature related book or magazine would be acceptable. He wasn’t a particularly talented reader, but he didn’t need to be, not when the pictures painted worlds infinitely better than this one, when he had memorized his favorite passages to the point where his eyes only skimmed the words, lost in the scape of his own imagination. He watched the same documentaries hundreds of times, and in foster homes it wasn’t uncommon for one to always be playing, Mumbo’s only problem being that he wanted to be outside, and the TV could not come with him.

One of Mumbo’s favorite hobbies was running away, and faced with the smallest inconvenience he would be gone, out the front door without those pesky shoes everyone always wanted him to wear. Animals didn’t wear shoes, and humans were animals, so they ought not to be wearing shoes either! The local fire departments got to know Mumbo well, and honestly, were the source of most of Mumbo’s positive adult interactions. He was not a nuisance, he was never yelled at or scorned, he was Mumbo, running around without his shoes on again, we should probably make sure he doesn’t get hit by a car or abducted. Mumbo got to ride in multiple fire trucks, he got to wear their big hats and chase several firemen around the station while waiting for his guardians to pick him up. In elementary school, when Mumbo was not allowed to be a tiger shark or a jaguar or a peregrine falcon for career day, he relented to being a firefighter.

Sometimes Mumbo still thought about that. It felt too late, sometimes. He never went to college, didn’t have a clean criminal record, and had a history of job instability. He struggled with commitments, struggled being trapped inside. Maybe a career like that could work for him regardless. As far as physical fitness went, he could probably pass a test.

He kind of didn’t want to, though. He didn’t want any job at all. Though if he had to choose an animal, his answer would probably change. Little Mumbo had great ideas, sure, and adult Mumbo’s answer at the current moment would probably be something like an albatross, what cool birds, though his ideal animal could change on a whim. It didn’t matter too much, Mumbo was pretty sure he could be happy as anything so long as it wasn’t human. Maybe that was an exaggeration. But fuck, life would be a lot simpler, wouldn’t it.

Mumbo never understood why people had to do things so differently from the rest of the world. Like- he understood, he got it, but did no one else feel like something was so deeply, intrinsically missing, that if they could just beat the shit out of someone from time to time, everything would be better? To take a life in your fingers, feel it break, Mumbo felt crazy just thinking it, but there had never been a time in his life where he hadn’t been this way. He’d always been one of the bigger kids in foster care, he’d always been stronger, but physical violence always got him in trouble, even when the other kid clearly deserved it. The adults in his life were always appalled, as if not everyone in the world had that innate instinct to hurt.

Everyone in the world did not, in fact, feel instinctually driven to hurt others. That was not normal. They were not pretending.

That was a dizzying realization. Mumbo was nineteen, just before he was about to be forced to leave his final foster home. Now, maybe that was late, but late grade school and high school were easily the worst years of his life, and kids did not have to be physical to be vicious, so. Though, those ‘worst years’ were only the worst before twenty and twenty-one when he was homeless and lost, and ‘escaping’ to the wild didn’t really work out like he’d dreamed for so many years in foster care. At twenty-two, prison sounded deeply appealing, but he didn’t get the chance to go before being bailed out by a stranger pretending to be his cousin, promising to take him home.

And he did.

Mumbo was so fucking desperate, he didn’t care. He didn’t even ask his ‘cousin’s’ name. Mumbo was shown a room, of which he locked himself inside, determined never to leave. This stranger would either kill him, acceptable, or call the police and have him thrown in jail, also acceptable, but Mumbo would not spend another night on the streets.

Grian did neither of those things. He did not push when Mumbo refused to leave his room for over twenty four hours, not to eat, drink, or go to the bathroom. Mumbo was really animal now, and there was no world in which he imagined coming back.

Grian felt differently, it seemed. Sitting outside Mumbo’s door, talking through it, chatting like they’d known each other their whole lives. Traversing the house loudly, letting Mumbo get used to the noise. Going to work, trusting Mumbo in his place alone. Gifting him the power to stay, leave, hide, or poke his head out the door of his bedroom, peering into the living room down the hall where Grian sat reading on the couch, the TV on, but muted.

Mumbo wanted to know what he was reading. What kind of books he liked, the TV he watched, what job he had, and the other things he did in his free time. Those questions burned hotter than the ever-present bloodlust at the back of his mind, at least in those early days.

Grian was receptive. He wanted to know about Mumbo, too. It felt like a trick, but all these years later, Mumbo had to relent his suspicion. At a certain point, did it really matter if Grian had ulterior motives when he’d given Mumbo a life he could live at his own discretion for this many years?

He still didn’t know where Grian came from. He never asked, not even now, twenty seven and having grown into his own. Mumbo was afraid to ask, to question anything about this happenstance, like doing so would cause the illusion to crumble under his fingers. It had been almost a year ago when Mumbo suggested he move out; he had money, he had a job, even if he’d been planning to quit in favor of something new, something to suit his atypical needs. That violence, the drive, always crawling under his skin. That was the day he told Grian, craving his rejection.

Mumbo was going to be an assassin- however you went about doing that. He was going to kill people, an idea that was impossibly exciting, regardless of the life he’d lose in the pursuit.

Grian knew Mumbo was the one tearing up the leaves of the old oak in their backyard, stripping the bark with pocket knives. Grian had seen him pull up flowers and weeds alike. He had caught Mumbo with blood on his hands more than once, and turned the other way.

Grian knew.

Mumbo knew Grian knew, and he could not stand to wait for the blow of his rejection to land any longer, red hot and smoldering. Mumbo wanted it now. He needed it now, for his savior to see just who it was he’d picked off the streets, to see the mistake he’d made.

And Grian loved him anyway. Begged him to reconsider. If not to reconsider, just to stay.

Mumbo had never been wanted before. Loved, unconditionally. It was truly the most horrible, gut wrenching thing, like having sand thrown in his eyes, his windpipe being stomped on, a vice crushing his lungs. He cried so hard, chest heaving until he hiccuped, then wheezed, he truly thought he was going to die. He had never hated himself as much as when someone else loved him. He had never wanted to be truly human so badly, to feel that connection everyone else seemed to share. Maybe then he would understand. Maybe he’d be able to love Grian back.

It had only taken five months to be injured severely enough to kill Mumbo’s dreams, as well as most other work opportunities for the foreseeable future. Recovery had not been kind to Mumbo, the concussions leaving him with unbearable vertigo and nausea that kept him hunched over a toilet seat for hours at a time. It seemed like every form of entertainment was off the table when your brain was this fucked, and Grian enforced the hospital restrictions relentlessly, only allowing Mumbo old freedoms once he got the okay from a doctor. Even then, Mumbo felt lost. He was suddenly, unfathomably uninterested in everything that used to bring him joy, like his failure to chase what he really wanted hit so deep, he would never be fulfilled again so long as he laid to rot in bed.

The incident with Cub made month four of Mumbo’s recovery, and since then, Mumbo couldn’t stop thinking about him. How was he doing- bad by the look of it, but how was he doing at home, was he as restless as Mumbo, as miserable? That was assuming Cub liked being an assassin, that he was driven to hurt, and the time without had him spiraling in all the same ways, but Mumbo couldn’t help but project, not when Cub had been so helpless, just as frantic as Mumbo had been for so long.

He tried to talk to Grian about it. Tried to explain with none of the words he needed, since those words were dark and bloody, and the rate at which Mumbo was starting to want was enough to disturb even himself.

It wasn’t Grian’s fault he didn’t know how to help. Hopefully, he tried to suggest Mumbo ease back into working, just part time to ease the stir craziness of bed rest. That they go on walks despite Mumbo’s new disinterest in being outside at all, that they take a cooking class, or do yoga, or learn a random new hobby.

Mumbo got so frustrated with him. He didn’t know why, and it frightened him just how angry he was, how rage boiled over into hate some nights, laying alone in bed, wide awake, hyper aware of every sensation across his body, every brush of blankets, the draft from the old windows, his own hairs standing on end. Mumbo had always had violent impulses, he’d accepted them as part of himself, as thoughts he could not act on in accordance with the law, and he would not feel guilty for them, but it disturbed him how intensely they were starting to turn in on Grian, how detailed his fantasies would get if Mumbo indulged them, and nearing month six of his recovery, Mumbo did indulge them.

He isolated. What else was there to do?

The world was far too overwhelming, Grian was too much to face most days, and Mumbo didn’t think he could take being in his presence for too long. Grian was pushy, he was scared, he didn’t know what was going on, but even he relented dinner at the table together after Mumbo screamed he wouldn’t do it any more.

Mumbo wouldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t do this anymore.

///

Cub had run in to the grocery store around ten minutes before closing, not one of his finest moments, but he’d had trouble getting out of bed after his mid afternoon four hour nap, he was disoriented and a little weak, and he really didn’t want to go. Unfortunately, he’d run out of the frozen toaster waffles he ate most every morning for the past thirty years of his life, and he didn’t want to go tomorrow, so he had to go tonight.

Most people pushed their shopping carts at a walking pace, so while the banging of a high velocity shopping cart was unorthodox, Cub was far more focused on his waffle buying at the end of the frozen breakfast aisle. Did he go for the blueberry or the regular? He liked the blueberry, but he got them last time, so did he really want them again? Maybe he could just buy actual blueberries and put them on top, that was always good, but produce was all the way at the front of the store..

The rampaging shopping cart screeched as it turned into Cub’s aisle, the bull at the helm red and angry, Cub momentarily frozen in place before grabbing a random box and scurrying out of the way.

“AaAugh-“ came a belated noise of distress as the driver anchored the cart with deadly precision to block the easiest path of escape down the aisle, then abandoning their vehicle to trap the second path with their body, blocking Cub in. Recognition hit, and with it, terror.

“You.” Grian hissed, and despite being similar in stature to Cub himself, he looked twice as big, puffed up like an angry cat. “I owe you an apology.”

Cub was frantic in his brief search for any escape at all, but it seemed he and his waffles weren’t getting out of this one unscathed. “I’m sorry, then. I have to go.”

“No- I’m sorry, listen to me, won’t you?” Grian was still talking at Cub like he was mad at him, so this made nothing clearer.

“Why are you sorry. What is happening. You look like you have a lot of groceries, you should check out before they close.”

“I do not think I overreacted given the circumstances, but hindsight has made me believe you were probably more innocent than I initially gave you credit for. I know it’s not easy. This could happen to any of you, and it does, all the time, to no fault of your own. It’s not like you have anyone else to turn to.

“I- hey. You’re making a lot of assumptions about me. I have other people in my life.” Cub crossed his arms, a little awkwardly with the cast, to which Grian pointed, lamely.

“I only see one name.”

Cub looked down. Scar’s name was the only one visible, written large enough to cover the entire front of the cast. Cub had been so mad at him for that. He huffed, showing Grian the other side, covered in the names of most all the clowns in the clownvent. He had friends. Even if it was Scar that had made him go around collecting the signatures… and Cub didn’t know half their names… and he only talked to one or two of them a couple times a month…

Grian raised his eyebrows, looking more surprised than he had any right to be. “Other.. victims..?” he said, looking more disturbed than anything- come on!

“No! They’re the clowns! Do you guys seriously not know about the clownvent, it’s where the clowns live!”

“The. Clowns. Right,” Grian dismissed the subject as if the clowns were imaginary, and moved on before Cub could defend himself, “I need to know what it’s like.” The sudden switch in intensity caught Cub off guard, holding his waffles close as Grian suddenly advanced, “Mumbo’s sick, really sick, and I don’t know why or what to do. Scar-“

Cub snorted, “Well now you’ve gone and done it. He’ll be on his way now.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“He hears. If he’s given you permission, he’ll know every time you speak about him. His name, at least. He’s nosy, he always wants to know what the fuss is about.” Cub sighed, deeply relieved. Grian was on a timer now. “You have five minutes, ten at most, but coming from you, he’ll definitely want to know what you’re saying about him. You didn’t know?”

“No one- Fuck! We need to get out of here.” With one hand, Grian grabbed his cart, and with the other, Cub’s wrist. “What does he know, just the location I said the name, or will he be able to follow me?”

“What- What are you doing!?”

“Answer me!”

“I- Just the location you said it, I think- Let go of me?”

“I’m not done with you.”

Cub was too frightened to fight, too bewildered and still too unsure on his feet to put up a proper resistance, even if Grian was really as weak as Scar insisted he was. Grian hadn’t seemed incapable when he’d shoved Cub out on his doorstep, and his grip was like a vice, tight and determined. Grian maneuvered his cart with impressive dexterity, especially for how fast he was moving, and the way Grian bulldozed through the self checkout had Cub mesmerized, up until Grian snatched the waffles out of his hands, scanned them, and shoved them unceremoniously into his reusable shopping bags, taking all four in his arms and sprinting out the sliding doors without his receipt. His- He took his fucking waffles!

Panicked, Cub pushed the cart Grian had just left back to the return, and scrambled after him. Grian whipped back, already halfway in his car.

“Get in.”

“I don’t really-“

“Get in the fucking car!”

Cub wasn’t sure at what point in his life that he lost his spine, but he was starting to believe as he fell into the passenger seat of Grian’s car that it might be a problem. He considered calling for Scar, but with Grian in the driver’s seat, it was unlikely that’d do anything but piss him off. Given the maniacal way Grian screeched out of the parking lot, Cub wasn’t trying to test his luck.

“As I was saying.” Grian spoke through gritted teeth, eyes dead forward, “Mumbo is sick. And as much as I would like to suspect the corruption’s influence, I am not so sure it’s to blame. We, uh.. We have an arrangement-“

“I know about the sex.”

“He told you!?”

“He told everyone and their brother, so like, all the clowns and some of the other circus people. He’s kinda pissed. Mostly he’s pissed it was good. If it wasn’t good he would’ve eaten you, that’s what he usually does at least. I guess he might not have eaten you, not with Mumbo around. He’s just mad he agreed not to bother you for so long.”

“For fuck’s sake! Are the clowns all spawn of corruption?”

“No, they’re just clowns. He just doesn’t give a fuck. It’s pretty obvious to everyone but the ringmaster he’s evil incarnate, but he’s fun and makes good cookies and he’s a pretty good clown. They like him well enough.”

Grian snorted, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he crafted some kind of spell, curse, or otherwise on the whole circus if that’s the case.”

“No. They’re just normal clowns. They aren’t-“

“Whatever. Point is, I don’t think the corruption is behind this- not that I trust it to uphold its end of our arrangement, but I haven’t sensed his or your presence anywhere for months, and Mumbo hasn’t been speaking to ghosts or anything. I’m worried the concussions have messed with his brain chemistry, he has no interest in anything he used to care about, he sleeps all day, he’s miserable, he-“

“Oh, thank god.”

“Wh- What?”

“He looked so put together. Like, completely normal. Coping. Perfectly fine. I thought I was crazy. Like, I’ve been this depressed since I took my first steps, that’s just a given when you’re like us.”

“That- I know he’s depressed, Cub. But this is new.”

“For real?”

“Yes for real!”

“Fuuuuuuck.”

“Chronic depression isn’t uncommon mind you, unfortunately you’re genetically predisposed for failure in about a hundred different ways, but this isn’t the main issue- I mean- it’s the start of the problem, but ever since he’s stopped doing all the things he does to cope, his condition has magnified to a level I’m concerned is getting to be unmanageable- I can tell, I can tell by the way he looks at me, and I- I was thinking about hospitalizing him, but that’s a worst case for normal depression, and this is- I’m not into purity, Cub, I know he needs outlets. Antipsychotics aren’t going to fix him. I just. I want to do what’s best for him, but I’m.. It just got so bad, so fast. I don’t want him to suffer.” Grian trailed off, and even looking straight ahead, Cub could see him squint against panic, could hear him strangle the quiver in his voice.

Cub knew in some ways what Grian was, what he was here for. Scar was never very concrete in matters of the supernatural, but he’d dropped a few vague remarks in regards to the nature of Grian’s kind, old spirits, victims of the Earth’s scars. Scar framed their meddling as a matter of revenge, simplified to a war of ‘good versus evil,’ when in reality they were sticking their noses in business that didn’t concern them. Corruption’s spawn belonged to their fathers, their nature could not be changed, and trying to do so was an unnecessary cruelty, prolonging a miserable life that could instead be free. Scar dismissed them as spiteful. Selfish. Which was not to say Scar himself was not selfish and cruel, but in his words, he did not pretend to be anything else.

Cub believed him. Before Scar, most all of what he’d ever wanted was to die. At least now he had something to be. Mumbo as he was now was just suspended in a state of endless wanting, having inhuman needs left unfulfilled, stuck because Grian would not let him go.

He did not care about Grian. Cub did not want to help him. His allegiance was to Scar, and despite everything, it would always be to Scar. However, kinship with Mumbo drew a new line of loyalty, almost stronger, bound by the kind of shared agony that not even Scar could ever know. Cub did not want Mumbo to suffer like this, not if he didn’t have to, not if Scar was right there, when Scar could take his pain away, facilitate the violence that would ease Mumbo’s aching heart. Cub wanted Mumbo to feel that relief, that explosive, rushing weightlessness he himself had experienced when he’d curled his hands over his mother’s throat.

So that was that then. This needed to run its course. When Mumbo killed Grian, he would be free. If Mumbo’s state was as dire as Grian seemed to think, it could be a matter of days.

Good. Good..

Cub stared straight ahead, watching the yellow lines of the dark road blur past, Grian similarly fixed to the empty street, eyes glazed. Cub had no allegiance to Grian. His kinship was to Mumbo.

And Mumbo could not go to Scar.

“What’s your endgame.” Cub only breathed the words, yet the silence still shattered, Cub squinting against the discomfort. “What’s your plan with Mumbo? What are your intentions?”

“I don’t understand.” Grian’s voice was just as quiet.

“What do you want. Why are you here when you know he could snap and shred you on a whim? If all of this resolves, if everything goes your way, how does it end?”

For the first time, Grian took his eyes off the road, he looked at Cub for a long time, too long, only for the light of another car to catch his eye, in which he turned his attention back.

“Mumbo gets to grow old. He gets to live.”

Cub’s lips were gently parted, body rigid, but Grian didn’t see. He was too concerned with the road ahead, with his fingers trembling on the steering wheel. Cub might’ve forgotten to breathe, he certainly wasn’t taking in any air, chest taut, constricted. What a simple thing it was, that could bring his whole world crumbling down.

“You think that’s possible? For him?”

Something impossibly sad fell across Grian’s face, tensing his jaw, clouding his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

[mushgloomz]

Dead of Night

Joel Miller x F!Reader Series WIP

• an: SCREAM i can’t believe people actually READ the first chapter?? i just wanna say i love y’all and also there will be a smidgen of smut in the next chapter (but between who? oooooh) to get your tastebuds a-tingling. i will confess before we go any further that as i write this i am very much basing additional character’s appearances on my irl friends (with their consent) because i simply cannot imagine faces <3

• chapter warnings: language, weapons mentioned (guns, knives), threats of violence, descriptions of anxiety, mentions of pregnancy/motherhood (not mc), brief mention of drinking

• wc: approx. 2.5k (i told you they’d start getting longer y’all)

Chapter 2: Confrontation

You were on autopilot. Sable sprung into a canter beneath you and carried you toward the pair, rifle not leaving your shoulder. Alex, as expected, had lost all sense of bravado as he followed your lead, dropping back several feet to fumble with his own gun.

As you made your ascent up the valley, the pair before you came into a hazy focus - one considerably smaller than the other, childlike in stature but with a disconcerting stillness in the hands above their head. The larger figure was tall and broad, hands also raised but no higher than waist height; almost definitely armed. “Weapons at your feet where I can see them!”, you echoed as you continued to close the distance. You hoped the fear coursing through your veins wasn’t detectable in your tone.

Two guns and a small switchblade were discarded at the feet of the pair, now entirely in focus before you. Their eyes never left yours as you stood a mere ten feet ahead, rifle still poised and ready in case they decided to try anything. You observed them, taking in their features.

The girl, no older than fifteen years if you had to guess, had mousy brown hair thrown haphazardly into a low ponytail. A scar split her right eyebrow, and her eyes, so dark they almost appeared black, stared right through you. Her clothing was stained and aged; a long-sleeved army-brown undershirt paired with a maroon and white plaid shirt, worn open over the top. Blue denim jeans covered her legs, patched up in certain areas with duct tape. She remained expressionless, which was all the more disconcerting considering her current position at the end of your barrel.

The man’s expression on the other hand was full of contempt as brown eyes bore straight into yours. Loose brown curls peppered with streaks of silver sat atop his head, matching his moustache and patchy facial hair. His face, lined from time, deepest between his brows from what you could only imagine was a lifetime of scowling at people much like yourself.

He’d not uttered a word, remaining tight-lipped the entire time - a part of you wished he would speak; wished he would express some indication of humanity behind his unfaltering gaze. A gaze, you realised, that harbored a concoction of emotion far beyond the film of resentment they currently held. Scar tissue adorned his right temple; his bottom lip split but not swollen, perhaps serving as reminders of hard-earned victories.

“What are you doing here?”, you queried, trying to maintain an authoritative tone despite your now shallow breathing. Why did it feel like you were the one under trial? Hooves crunching on churned earth and debris behind you alerted you to the fact that Alex had finally decided to resume his position as your patrol partner. You’d forgotten he was here to be honest; he’d never been so quiet, so meek and reserved. Your question remained unanswered. You cocked your rifle, swallowing hard, and went to repeat yourself before the girl spoke, nudging the man at her side with her elbow as she hissed.

“Joel, fucking say something man.”

The man, Joel, remained unwavering in his silence, scowl deepening. His eyes never left yours. “I’ll only ask once more before I put one between your eyes, what the fuck are you doing here?”, you breathed, hugging the hilt of the gun to your shoulder and cheek. Any suggestion that you weren’t scared had certainly left, your delivery shaky. In the silence that followed, your index finger creeped slowly toward the trigger.

“Wait… did you say Joel? As in, Tommy’s brother Joel?”

Alex’s voice had returned, catching you off guard as your finger retreated from the trigger to glance ever-so briefly at your partner who had now appeared at your side. Tommy has a brother? Your eyes dart back to the pair, a salt-and-pepper eyebrow now raised in Alex’s direction.

///

The pair walked a few feet ahead of you as Alex explained himself on your way back to the gates of Jackson. It had taken some persuasion on Alex’s part, but you had lowered your gun eventually.

“Essentially, this Joel guy rocks up with the kid, Ellie I think? There’s some big reunion in the square between him and Tommy or whatever, and come the following afternoon, they were gone. Tommy said he was returning her to her family, but clearly he’s fucked that one up…”

Joel peered over his shoulder at Alex, who was all too oblivious to the daggers being thrown his way by the man ahead of him. Apparently, the pair had shown up all but two months before you had. You’d assumed they were father and daughter at first. A pang of concern that left your mouth dry washed over you when you considered the fact that Joel may have been smuggling Ellie, but the teen seemed decidedly at ease in his presence, so the thought didn’t linger for long.

Approaching the wooden gates, a group stood in front of the doors, one holding the same dog that had determined your own fate a few months prior. Tommy stood amongst them, distinct with his dark black hair and double denim getup. He took the dog from its handler and walked toward Joel and Ellie with his usual swagger, pausing to let the animal assess them but never loosening his grip on its leash.

Maybe Joel was his brother after all; Tommy seemed intent on not letting the dog get too close, perhaps out of fear that he’d watch the man be mauled before his very own eyes. The dog settled shortly after its greeting, sitting at Tommy’s heels to indicate that the pair were indeed not infected.

A brief one-armed hug between the two men ensued, followed by a gentle nod to Ellie. The gates were opened after the brief interaction, and you followed the group toward the town square. A huddled mass of bodies hovered around, each person itching to catch a glimpse at the cause of such a commotion. Deja vu clouded your mind temporarily, thoughts flashing back to the crowd of spectators as you made your own entrance just a few months prior. As Joel and Ellie neared, hurried whispers were exchanged between neighbours and friends alike.

“He’s brought her back? I hope she’s okay?”

“Another person to keep an eye on I ‘spose, you heard ‘bout what he used to do to folk like us when he was smugglin’?”

“He’s so far removed from Tommy, there’s not a shred of kindness in that man - you can see it in his eyes.”

You didn’t know what to think as you continued at a measured pace behind the group. What did the Joel character do to people? It was well known that there were no saints amongst us post-outbreak - people did what they had to do in order to survive; what could possibly be so heinous to warrant such a reaction?

Shaking the thought from your head, you glance at Alex who was now deep in a rather animated conversation with Tommy. He flagged you down and beckoned you over to join the two.

“Alex told me about how it all went down out there, glad y’all are alright. Perimeter sweep ought to be done by now anyway, so feel free to go about your day - oh, and Maria asked to speak with you if you wanna head her way.”

Tommy nodded at you as he rounded off his sentence, his voice holding tightly onto the last dregs of a southern twang from his time in Texas. You nod in acknowledgment, throw a quick see ya at Alex, and turn toward the Miller household.

///

It was located at the far end of town, nestled between adjacent homes and facing the town hall. Tommy had always claimed the house’s location was ideal for raising the child Maria was carrying due to the peace and quiet, but you weren’t a fool. You knew well enough it was because Maria, despite being fit to bursting with their unborn baby, was too stubborn and strong-willed to temporarily relieve herself of her position on the town council, and instead had decided to simply minimise the effort required to participate. You often caught her in a near-waddle stepping from her front porch and almost directly into the doors of the town hall.

The house was much larger than your own; not something you begrudged at all, considering the Miller’s status both within the town and as a soon-to-be family unit. White shutters adorned the windows, and a rocking chair rested on the porch - you couldn’t help but envision Maria coaxing a tiny newborn back to sleep whilst gently swaying back and forth whenever you saw it. You’d personally never considered having children; you felt less than capable of taking care of yourself most days, and more to the point, you feared a day would come where you’d have to protect them, and that you would fail. You breached the steps of the porch shortly after curtailing your self-inflicted pity party and rapped your knuckles against the door.

“Door’s open, I’m not getting up again.”

Muffled by layers of wood and brick, Maria’s voice granted you entry as you stepped through the doorway and turned left into the lounge. Maria sat slumped in a plush leather armchair with her back to you, belly swollen to such an extent that you questioned whether she could actually make it another few weeks without physically popping. Her head lulled over the back of the chair, long box braids nearly reaching the paisley rug on the floor beneath. By the disgruntled expression on her face, you could only assume that she too was unsure of how she was supposed to make it five more weeks in this condition.

“Hey doll, thanks for swinging by. Come sit.”

A small smile crept across the woman’s face as you perched on the sofa. You hesitated before asking, “Everything alright? Tommy sent me over, did you know his brother-“

“Joel is the exact reason you’re here right now. Thought I’d fill you in on the essentials since I doubt any of these boys have given you the courtesy.”

Relief washed over you as Maria adjusted herself in her seat, groaning under her breath and leather squeaking, as she positioned herself upright and facing you.

She looked at you with soft eyes, both kindness and reassurance emanating off of her, just like she always did. You were taken under her wing when you had arrived, skittish and afraid, like a puppy that had just been scolded for the first time. She had been the one to ensure your name was added to the fortnightly rotation of therapy sessions hosted by Helen; she had been able to tell you were troubled from her first impression of you, and had acted with nothing but grace and goodwill regardless. You smiled at her and nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“You’re going to hear a lot of things about Joel Miller these coming weeks - some of them will be no more than rumours, but some will be truths. To start, Joel is a dangerous man…”

Oh. This was not where you were expecting this to go. “How so?”, your words tumbling out in an unintended interruption.

“He’s killed people. Lots of them. Not just infected, not just ‘bad guys’ - all in the name of protecting his own. I can’t sit here and say that all of it was unjust, but that young girl with him? She wasn’t meant to return to Jackson. I don’t know what’s occurred since they’ve been gone, but I can only guess that Joel had something to do with it being the pair of them that came back today.”

Her words hung in the air, pungent as she condemned the actions of a man that had committed the same sins as yourself. Your stomach knotted with unease, breath hitching in your throat. Would you receive the same scrutiny, the same level of disdain, if you were to reveal your own actions? “So… don’t engage?”, you offer, attempting to break the uneasy silence you had allowed to fall between the both of you.

“Joel is a complex man. He’s blunt and he’s withdrawn, but he’s not an inherently bad person. I… I just can’t sit here and condone the extent of his past actions, and I can’t offer reassurance that he’s a changed man either. I’d advise a wide berth, but I know there’s no changing the will of others.”

Maria shoots a playful wink in your direction as the last words leave her mouth. You catch it with a small smirk, acknowledging her hint to your own previous disagreements - after all, you had been a massive pain in the ass for the woman.

“Thank you Maria, I really do appreciate the heads up. Now, I best return my rifle before someone accuses me of stealing it again; you take it easy okay?”, the smile on Maria’s face mirroring your own as you took to your feet, planting a peck on her cheek before heading toward the door.

You stood on the porch and collected yourself for a time; replenishing your lungs with air that your anxiety had denied you during your chat. Despite her best efforts, Maria’s warning had left you with more questions than answers. Taking off in the direction of the armory, you decided your current conundrum would be best resolved with company and a drink in hand; the town’s bar practically calling your name.

[westenraskiss-ao3]

I updated my Avatrice dick waffle truck AU.

This is likely my last Warrior Nun fic. I hope it's a gentle goodbye.

I'll try and write the last chapter as planned, but just in case I don't, I hope you're happy with where I left them off in the story. Again, thank you for joining me on this ride. I had a lot of fun with this fic, and I can only hope you had fun reading it, too.

[customboytoyz]

Earlier at eork I had the divine revelation that you can just fetishize your shitty minimum wage job and no one will stop you, anyway waitress -> line cook forcemasc when?

WAIT LMFAO. the way I know at least 2 trans guys who have lived this exact pipeline.

[stitchwraith-stingers]

in honor of the new year heres all the hazel-centric fics i could find bcuz its a desert out there u should definatly read them btw

link 1 - link 2 - link 3 - link 4 - link 5 - link 6

[necrotic-nephilim]

in lieu of having posted any writing/headcanons/asks in the past few days because i have been *so* busy and unable to do anything fandom-related which is terrible and evil, i have a poll out of morbid curiosity and self-indulgence. i've been meaning to ramble here about how i feel about DC's lack fo Deaf representation and which Batfam members i would personally make Deaf, but i am mildly curious about the larger opinion and now i will subject you all to the question, i would love to hear thoughts/opinions/headcanons on any specific choices. (would love d/Deaf/HoH opinions esp but i'm mostly expecting this to reach the hearing crowd, so opinions from hearing ppl are ones i'm very curious about. if you've never given it thought before you are going to now or else /lh)