#now go write your fics...

[da-janela-lateral]

It seems that 'popular', 'athletic' and 'bright blue eyes' aren't their only similarities.

[kokiriri]

Yumalia + some pocket-sized Yugo’s sketches!

I’ve been so lazy this past week ahh

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

thinking of a new steddie fic/au hmmm.

It’s just the classic, Steve buys weed from Eddie in season 1 era, he and Tommy meet him at the bench in the woods behind school. Steve and Eddie have some playful banter and clearly get along, but it’s dismissed as just a drug deal and they go on about their lives.

Next time they meet is when a frantic Steve comes and finds Eddie after he’s just fought off the demogorgon for the first time. He’s rattled, and skittish, wearing a nasty black bruise on his eye, and just overall not acting like himself. He snaps at Eddie multiple times to just ‘hurry up’ and ‘get him his stuff’, and sure he’s being an asshole, but more than anything Eddie is just concerned. He has never seen The King Steve Harrington lose his cool like this. So Eddie cautiously gives him the weed, making sure not to give too much, and lets him go about his day, but not before asking if he’s alright. Steve clearly wasn’t expecting this and brushes it off defensively, but that doesn’t mean he’s not thinking about it for the rest of his week. How the hell did Eddie Munson notice something was wrong, when his own parents didn’t? Nor his “friends”?

They cross paths again a year later, the beginning of season two. Steve is still with Nancy and has freshly dumped his old douchebag crew of superficial friends. He is still sitting quite comfortably on the higher ranks of popularity, but there is no denying his status is not what it used to be. He comes to buy weed from Eddie in the first week back at school, and it’s a casual interaction. He’s still as charmingly stuck up as he ever was, but now without Tommy there to judge his every move, he seems a little more at ease when making casual conversation with Eddie. Eddie doesn’t mention the year before and Steve is so glad for it, secretly very embarrassed that he went to Eddie for some refuge after arguably his most traumatic experience to date. He gets his stuff, giving Eddie a smirk when he notices he’s dropped the price significantly for Steve when it’s just him alone. Eddie gives him a challenging smile back, almost daring him to call it out, but he doesn’t. They both just laugh and part ways.

The next run in is tina’s halloween party. They notice eachother when Steve first arrives, making eye contact and giving a polite nod. Maybe Eddie lifts his drink up to Steve in a silly salute. They don’t speak at all or make any effort to hang around eachother. That is, until Steve storms down the stairs in a rage after he’d gone up there with Nancy Wheeler. But then are those- tears? Eddie was standing on the front porch smoking a cigarette, trying to discreetly hide from one Billy Hargrove to avoid having to sell him anything, but staying visible enough that he won’t lose all chances of making any money tonight. Steve storms right past him and hits his shoulder. Eddie whips around and is about to call him a dick before he sees who it is.

Steve tries to quickly wipe his face, he won’t make eye contact with Eddie, and he’s clearly trying to get out as fast as he can. Eddie doesn’t let him, though, since he’s obviously not thinking very clearly and is most likely about to do something emotional and stupid. He asks if Steve’s alright, and his answers are all short and rushed, so he’s definitely not. They’re not really friends, but Eddie’s not an asshole.

— “Did you drive?” Eddie asks

“Yeah”

“Well, you’re drunk, Steve. You can’t get behind a wheel right now. And if I knowingly let you, then that makes me an accomplice. I’ll take you home.”

Steve tries to protest, attempting to push past him, but Eddie interjects. “Yeah, yeah, alright! Don’t thank me yet, Steve’o. This is not for you, see, I’m not trying to get a criminal record, here. I cant go to prison, Steve. Do you know what they’d do to a pretty guy like me in prison? Nope, let’s go hot stuff.” —

Eddie takes Steve home. They don’t talk much. By the time they reach Steve’s drive way and Eddie has put his van in park, Steve is making no attempt to exit the vehicle just yet. Eddie doesn’t know what to do, he didn’t really plan this far, so he’s just tapping away awkwardly at his steering wheel while Harrington stares down the dashboard so clearly lost in thought Eddie fears his head might explode. Steve tells Eddie what happened, says it’s ‘relationship troubles’, and he’s not quite sure what compelled him into being so honest with Eddie Munson, but he’s blaming the alcohol. Eddie wasn’t expecting that. They chat for a bit, Eddie makes Steve laugh and considers the whole night a success after that. Then they start cracking jokes about their shared hatred for Hargrove, and Steve looks and sounds a bit more ok to go inside. He thanks Eddie, quite sincerely actually, and it throws him a bit. He stutters a ‘yeah, for sure. It’s no problem.’ And Steve goes home.

After that, it’s a little different. Steve, doesn’t actually really have anyone, anymore. When they go back to school he’s now greeting Eddie here and there in the hallways, making conversation when they find themselves alone together, in the lunch line or at the bathroom sink. He doesn’t approach Eddie when there’s too many people around, though. As much as he’s grown, Steve Harrington still carry’s some prejudice in him about how certain things may make him look. But it doesn’t bother Eddie too much. It’s not like they are really friends, they’re just like, strange acquaintances. And Steve would never deny that they get along, that really Eddie’s ‘not so bad’. So that’s a win.

Steve finds Eddie again not long after the party to buy some more weed, a plan that sparked purely out of boredom. Eddie says yes, of course, but tells him if he wants it today he will need to wait till after school and meet Eddie at his place, since he was busy. So Steve takes a trip to the Munson trailer to make his deal. Eddie invites him inside and they sit together on the couch as he gets Steve’s bag ready. They end up making quite pleasant conversation, joking around and ultimately finding they are really enjoying each other’s company. They enjoy it so much so, that Steve ends up smoking there, with Eddie. So now they are kind of like, hanging out? And it’s fun, so they do it again. Still they’re not, friends friends, they just get along. Eddie just sells Steve weed sometimes and they keep it civil.

He doesn’t hear from Steve for a while, and the next time he sees him it’s from a distance, in passing. The man has the most roughed up face Eddie has ever seen, bruised and swollen in multiple areas, stitches and bandages all over. It’s really, concerning? completely metal, but alarming. This is the second time Eddie has seen the guy all beaten up like that. He knew that boys fight, but surely not that bad? As worried as he was, Eddie doesn’t approach him to ask questions, because they don’t know eachother like that. So he goes on about his day, and he doesn’t see Steve again after that for quite some time.

Then it’s summer, Eddie isn’t graduating again, and he’s not really sure what to do with himself over the break. The new mall has just opened up, and there’s a cool music store up on the second floor that he likes to visit sometimes with his band friends. And wouldn’t you know, working at the Scoops Ahoy located directly across from his favourite store, is Steve Harrington. The guy hasn’t come to Eddie for any weed since last year, and then there was that sighting where he looked like he’d just fallen face first into a flying fist or two, so it’s been a minute since Eddie’s seen him. And he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a nice surprise. He only goes into scoops once. He’s curious, okay? Sue him. And, he knows the girl who works with him, Robin. So he plays it off like he had no idea he’d see Steve there. And to his surprise, Steve actually acknowledges him. He doesn’t act like Eddie is a total stranger just because they’re not in school anymore. The interaction is quick, they make very casual conversation, Eddie says hi to Robin, grabs his milkshake and goes home. That’s all. He doesn’t go back, and he doesn’t really plan to. Steve’s nice, and he knows Eddie’s around if he needs to buy from him again, and that’s really as far as their relationship goes. That’s all it ever was. It’s been fun getting to know Steve Harrington a little bit better, even if it was just for a short time. Eddie liked having the chance to see in past the quaffed hair and pressed polo shirts to learn that Steve was really just a person under it all. He never thought he’d say it, but Harrington wasn’t so bad. It was a nice little eye opening experience for Eddie.

Eddie was ready to write off his little blips of interaction with Steve Harrington as a thing of the past, no hard feelings, and move on with his life. That is, until he gets a knock at his front door in the middle of the night afew days after the big mall fire. And it’s Steve on the other side. And he looks awful, his face is the worst Eddie’s ever seen it. And he wasn’t really knocking, more like pounding. He says he needs Eddie’s help.

What the fuck?

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[minzart]

Beggars can't be choosers

Ao3 - Next

Decepticons & Reader(GN), Megatron & Reader(GN)

You find an "automatic" tank busted in the middle of the night, and as the good millitar Mechanic that you are, you fix it.

Or, the Decepticons don't have a trained doctor(yet), and you just volunteered as a substitute by their leaders' logic and standards

The sky turned purple as the sun set behind the mountains of the lonely isolated drylandscape, almost like a pure desert, the millitar base of operations growing ever small as you turned your bike gear to 6, letting go of the handle and sitting straight, enjoying the fresh wind around you and the adrenalin of steering the fast motorcycle with only your hips and balance

Some people would call you crazy to accept working at a job from 2 hours of your apartment, in the middle of nowhere, from morning to evening, but you weren't some people and it was a one life time opportunity, after all, how many people can say they work directly in fixing military tanks and jets

Exhausting as the journey to work and back was, you enjoyed your job immensely. Working with machines was your passion since small, from the radios you fiddled with to the second-hand car you first bought, to this bike you saved so much money to have, and finally to all the machinery you could fiddle with at work, some are even experimental builds, those always gave you a headache, the manuals were always so shitty, to build a machine is not the same as to fix it and the engineer seems to always forget this, but also a sense of pride, you were the first to work on them after test release, you were the first to write a good manual for them, a pioneer even

It's not like your superiors would allow an idiot to use said experiments out of training cam- a trail of smoke catches your eyes out of the main road, blending with the night sky, if you weren't so used to watching for signals of a broken engine you wouldn't have notice the fine line twirling with the wind

Now, it's in the middle of the desert, far away from any civilization, anyone with a brain would just call a tow truck... if they had a signal... wich is very unlikely, you would know, and there is a possibility to be a work colleague... ah fuck it, you grab your bikes handle with purpose and drive out of the road, ready to lend a hand, or a ride, to the poor idiot that didn't check their car before coming to the middle of nowhere

It was in fact not a car

It is worse, it's like you asked the universe when you thought about it earlier actualy, like a curse and a goddamed blessing

It was a tank, silver and black, with hints of purple, beaten all around like someone ran it over mud or a very small tunnel, so small it made scratches and dents all over, imposing, really big, one of the biggest tanks you have seem... still not the biggerst tho, with an exasperated sigh you get out of your bike and immediately pull your entry card out

"Alright, get out there, rookie who let you get out of camp in the middle of the night," you say loudly as you use the small flashlight in your keys to light the warmachine "with this unfinished beauty right here eh?!"

The top lid does not move an inch, you get closer and knock the vehicle "anyone in there?"

"I'm a mechanic buddy not an officer, if you don't show me whats wrong I can't help you" you circle around the silver tank, looking for sighs of humans foot steps, maybe the dumbass tried to walk back to camp and left this here-

A high piched sound startles you, looking around franticly until you see it came from the warmachine, the commander's hatch now open

"Oh thank fuck I though you went back to camp by foot do you know how far we are from civilization right now?!" You shout to the open lid, waiting for someone to get out...

No-one does

You look around ankwardly, noticing how alone you truly are in the middle of the night, only you, your bike and the silver tank...

"What the hell..." You wisper and start climbing the machine, noticing how it doesn't have ladders, one thing to put in its reports when you get back to work, one maneuver after another you get to the lift finally looking inside it's hull... no-one was there "what?"

You drop in, looking around, it is the inside of a tank alright, down bellow the drive seat, around valves and pistons and... oh wow, this tank did not have a gun handle, which means it's probably automated linked to a computer, the drivers seat or remotely, you have heard of tests being made for those

"Remote controlled..." You breath out, reaching for the drives seat, looking around for a radio

"And they decided to take you for a ride this hour of the night big guy?" You tap the metal wall gently and chuckles "whose idea was this..."

Finding exactly what you hoped for, you get the radio off the handle and press the signal button, a red lamp lights up, you wait for the signal to pick something... static comes through and you state your name and ID as a greeting, repeating until someone answers

"I hear you loud and clear mechanic..." a gruff voice answers, not your superiors voice, probably the night shift guard "what is your... problem... and how did you found this line?"

The voice seems to think over his words carefully, you sigh softly, a new recruit then "reporting from inside a test tank for the new automatic build, it seems to be busted, awayting orders"

"Ah..." the voice answer amused "I see the problem, due to an... incident, we are not able to send a retrieve crew immediately, would you be able to repair... it... enough to move?"

You roll your eyes, taking the radio far from you briefly, and groaning annoyed at having to work past your hours because you though someone needed help, bringing it back you answer politely and professionally before ending the transmission "I'll do my best"

You sigh again, this is going to be a long night "better start then"

You look around the hull for a tool box, and found out it doesn't exists, another thing to add to the ever growing list of notes of this model, you huff and take out your back pack "fine I'll make do with what I have"

First, the outside, lucky the road weels and track were in good conditions, if slightly damaged, but nothing that a smooth road would break, the motor tho, off that looked nasty, how did it get that bad in the first place, all dented and tubes twisted, with your hammer you did your best to put it in working function again, sometimes you hit it so hard it felt like the whole tank trembled

Untwisthing wires and mending tubes, you spend an hour only on the outside and finally go back to the hull, and there goes another hour checking the other side of the machines engines, and there you find it, along the way a piece of metal broke and is dangerously close to a fuel tube, that was already pierced and dripping a large amount of blue fuel, whatever were the tests they were performing in this thing it looked brutal

"Shit..." You crawl closer, tentatively poking the blue fuel "and even experimental fuel too... well, you didn't explode till now"

First you hammer the pointy dislocated piece back into place and away from your face and the tube, then you can finally crawl all the way in and sit properly, assessing the damage, you grab the piece of metal that pierced the pipe, breathing deeply you ready yourself and with one powerful pull you get the thing out, you hear what sounds like compression pipes working and in a panic you rapidly envolve the leaking pipe in duct tape and scrambles out back to the crew hull

The lights around you start working properly, giving a faint purple hue to the place, you feel the tank moving, and quickly, you pick up the radio forsaking formality for the sake of your mensage "wait! Wait! I have my own bike! I can follow you back to base, stop the tank!"

Then, the weirdest shit happened

"Oh I know human" came the gruff voice, but not from the radio

"But you see, I have other plans for you, little medic" it came from all around you

Like the tank itself was alive... you scream"no, no! NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

Trying to climb up you twist the valve to open the lid, but it doesn't bulge "this is not happening"

You slam your fist in the metal "let me out!"

"I suggest you take a seat and rest" the voice says "we still have 3 arcs untill our arrival"

"Were are you taking me? what the fuck is this? Who are you?" you glare at the radio

"You will see" and he cackle in amusement of your despair "as for me, human, call me Megatron, and soon your Lord and superior"

You buff and tremble, as much of fear as anger, you were trapped, kidnapped even, all because you wanted to help someone else, what a great way to end the night... AND A FRIDAY NIGHT AT THAT TOO, shit... how long would it take for anyone to notice you are gone... two business day maybe? Hopefully? After all you don't have anyone waiting for you, and it's not like you have actual friends in the city or even in your neighborhood... oh you are fucked fucked

As the time passes and realization sinks in you coil in yourself, trying to keep your panic at minimum, you still had yet to meet your kidnapper and you didn't knew what was worse, if this is a matter of war or just a very good hacker

..................

Megatron was livid, absolutely fuming with anger, at the Autobots first and foremost from destroying yet another potential energon extraction mission, at himself from not calling retreat sooner, at Starscream for... every Primus-forsaken thing, honestly

This all boils down to the seekers attempt at killing him in the middle of the battle, one good shot and the warlord could feel the Crack it made inside his frame, and yet he stubbornly chose to keep fighting, if only to show his second in comand he would never fall down so easily, but his pride has yet again show its consequences in the worst way possible

Now stuck all alone in his transformation mode, energon leaking from Primus knows where, without energy to make a COMM signal nor move, the leader of the Deceptcons can only wait for anyone to find him, and he knows someone will, if not Lazerbeak then autobots, either way he knows death is not waitting for him, he still has a mission, a war, to win, he will get out of this as he did many other, worse, times

And find him someone does, a human, stupid little squishy thing, but oh so convenient it even gives him perfect covers, a rookie in the middle of the night, he waits and the thing persists it's attempts at coaching "whoever" was inside him to come out, that's when realization hits the silver mech, of course, mechanics... human mechanics are how vehicle fixers were called by your race, you, to him, were a glimmer of hope, a medic

He had to be careful, this was his chance, if only he convinces you to work him out his worse damage he could crush you after and go back to his makeshift central tower Soundwave and his surviving soldiers were working on not that far from here

He opens his lid, ignores the weird feeling of a moving thing climbing and walking inside of him, and holds a booming laugh as you, yet again, creates the perfect cover for the tyrant, to redirect his voice to only the small radio device in your hands was rookies play for him

And so he waits and watches you work your magic, holding screams of pain from your indelicate work, all in proll of him being able to move again, all a means to an end, and when you finaly gets out the part that had him critically stuck? Oh, the relief, he couldn't hold back the sigh, wich startle the little medic, but your dedication pleased the warlord, you bandaged his energon tube directly connected to his transformation cog, he was finaly able to move and transform

He though about it, transforming right now, crushing the little human inside, destroying their backwaters vehicle, and going back to his Decepticons like nothing had changed... however... the more he thought about it, about your work, your adaptability, your words

Experimental tank, you had called him, you worked with new human technology then, and was versatile enought to work in this mix of human looking but actualy Cybertronian engines, with a basic understanding you would probably be able to work wonders in his cybertronian mode or even outside the vehicle modes

The truth is... it's been two months since his awakening in this strange planet, resources were limited, his soldiers were not even close to top shape, no doctor was in his crew when they crashed into this Primus-forsaken planet, but the Autobots, oh they had their ship, every fight they could be beaten to almost scrap and would be back in perfect condition for another round, it may be not a working ship but it still had Cybertronian parts and halls, and also, they have a doctor

His Decepticons need a doctor, he needs a doctor, there is just so much vague memories and basic instruction can get you by, not one of his surviving soldiers were trained in the arts of surgery or medicine, they were no were near in finishing this second attempt of a base and building a teleportation bridge was out of question while the base was not finished, he had engineers and a spy crew not healers

But you... you were an opportunity, a better chance of survival, a first contact with the potential that humans had for servitude, the Silver warlord locked his lid, taking amusement in your despair, oh this would be his worse and yet brilliant plan yet, if he didn't know better he would think it was proposed by his own second in comand by it's insanity... however, for more that he hates it... beggars can't be chosers

[alzrite]

Theres something falling from the sky and its falling fast.

So, what does Jon do? He catches it. Only it is not an it that he caught but a she. And she is dripping green all over. And boy does the green sure looks like its blood with all the gashes it was oosing out of.

Jon panics and does the only thing he can think of.

"DAD!"

Superman appears beside him near insantly.

"Jon, what's-"

He stops mid question as he spots the girl in his arms.

"Let's get her somewhere safe."

[poppyseeds-and-coffeebeans]

Chapters: 24/25 - 18+ ONLY chapter (This update >16k words...) Rating: Explicit Relationships: Shadow the Hedgehog/Sonic the Hedgehog Additional Tags: Aged-Up Character(s), Winter Olympics, Alternate Universe -     Sports, Slow Burn, Ice Skating, Snowboarding, the slow burn isn't that   slow tbh, Those Olympics village beds are not gonna survive this, Porn With Plot, Mutual Pining, Praise Kink, unsportsmanlike behavior, destruction of Olympics property (again), Unethical Journalism, Anointing, Fluff and Angst, chest fur job

fSummary: or: Sonic and Shadow at the Winter Olympic Games

The penultimate chapter!

All eyes turn to the men's solo skating final as tensions rise, alliances are formed, and plans are brought to fruition...

Shadow commission art because he’s so pretty!

Commissioned fic art by @bionic_xei on Instagram <3

[ghostbeam]

Mech pilot yuuta and his mech that’s incredibly possessive over him. He takes to you as a handler almost immediately, excited for the help after his last few handlers were scared off. You’re not allowed inside, your constantly dodging malfunctioning limbs and faulty wires, but you’re not one to back down, and gaining her trust is just as important as gaining his.

Rika only realizes how important you are to Yuuta the day after you spend the night with him, and he’s left alone in the morning with an empty bed and a broken heart. You’re his handler. You’re not supposed to leave him. Not ever.

She lures you into her chest one night, faking some sort of lighting malfunction and allowing you inside for the first time. She keeps you inside all night, enduring all your yelling and banging on her insides to be let out, a nice gift for Yuuta.

[disgruntled-rat]

Annabelle and Butch almost kissed once.

Really, you could say they almost kissed several times, when one of them let their thoughts drift just a little too far and very nearly went for it. But there was only one that really counted.

It was night. The two sat outside, watching the stars. Butch was talking. Telling a story, maybe. Annabelle was staring at her friend. She was awful handsome, with the way her hair curled over her forehead and the way her hands moved about as she talked, and something about the gleam in her eye is just so enticing, and really it's not Annabelle's fault that she couldn't help but lean in. She just had to capture that spark in Butch's eyes, the one that seemed to appear whenever she saw Annabelle. Butch wasn't talking anymore, she noticed, just staring at Annabelle with a look of surprise and adoration and longing that made Annabelle feel warm and fuzzy all the way down to her toes. They were very close, suddenly. Butch's face was red. Annabelle's heart was thumping out a steady beat saying kiss her, kiss her, kiss her. Butch let out a shakey breath and Annabelle opened her mouth to say something along the lines of I love you. But what came out of her mouth instead was:

"Butch...do you wanna rob a bank?"

And just like that, the moment broke. But neither of them ever forgot that moment, that almost-kiss under the stars.

[meanderingstream]

Eliot at peace with being Damned

One of the things that makes Eliot hard to write for in-character (but also such an interesting character to explore) is that he believes he is damned to Hell and he is at peace with that. He has a lot of guilt, oceans of guilt, but it's not so much the tortured, anguished catholic guilt à la Nate or like, Daredevil. 

He has done monstrous, unforgivable things. But, on his own, he came to a realization of what he had done, and pulled away from that world. On his own, he left the worst person he ever worked for, and stopped using guns, and stopped killing. On his own, he switched from wetwork to retrievals. This all occurs before we ever meet him, so while there are many hints and inferences, the specifics of how that happened, how he came to those decisions, are left up to the audience’s imagination. 

Eliot wants to make the world a better place, and he works everyday with the team to help people, and he genuinely enjoys helping people and the work he does on the job. But he does not believe that he can be redeemed. (Not my own personal belief about him, but it is what he thinks). When he dies, he will go to Hell for his sins, and there is nothing that can possibly be done to change that. He doesn't need to angst over it, because it’s just a fact. It is what it is. There is no point agonizing over whether his soul can be saved, because he knows it cannot. This is both a keystone of his character, and also something he doesn't spend a lot of time thinking about day-to-day, because it’s a settled matter. 

And as much as we love Eliot the character, he has a point that lives are not tradable for equivalent exchange. If he killed a specific family 25 years ago, that was snuffing out the light and potential and future of those particular parents and children. The surviving extended family lost those particular relatives. Saving a family now does not balance that ledger, because each person is a unique life and not interchangeable for another. While I may have different beliefs about Hell and redemption than Eliot, I still want to acknowledge that he has a point. That changing now doesn't necessarily help the people he hurt in the past, and unlike Harry, he can’t work down a list of making amends, because almost all of his victims are dead. There is no atonement to the dead. 

Eliot’s redemption is in seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, and helping others get to it. Particularly the team, and particularly the pair he’s going to protect until his dying day. He will stay down there in the dark forever (he believes), but getting the others out is his redemption. 

I do not believe that Eliot will actually go to Hell when he dies, but his belief that he is damned is fundamental to who he is as a character, and he is going to believe that for the rest of his life. It can be really challenging to balance that when writing his POV, particularly when delving into events that dredge this stuff up for him (which we writers love to do because it’s so delicious). Eliot doesn’t exactly have a low self-esteem. He knows he has many skills and is exceptional at them (cooking, fighting, grifting, guitar, sports, etc). He pretty much knows his teammates love him, and care about him, and want him to stay alive for them, and spend the rest of his life with them. He has professional pride, and he will argue when he wants something. He is certainly not a doormat. However, he also believes he is fundamentally and irrevocably a bad person. Balancing between him not being too self-deprecating in normal situations / about his usefulness to the team, with his inherent belief in his own moral depravity can be a thin blade to walk without falling to one side or another. But it is also one of the biggest aspects of his psyche that makes him such a fascinating and complex character to explore.

[bubblybloob]

I don’t know if this is common knowledge now and this post is redundant or not, but I’ve seen it enough to where I want to say something. Do writers know what star-crossed actually means?

It’s doesn’t mean like- soulmates or whatever everyone thinks it means. It means bad luck; you aren’t approved by the stars and so bad things will happen to you. Comes from the belief from way back when people thought the stars had some sort of power and would dictate outcomes.

I think most just assume it has to do with love because the original line in Romeo and Juliet have it relate to love, but you can slap most anything at the end of star-crossed and it would still make sense.

Star-crossed lovers: two lovers fated to fall out of love or die or something.

Star-crossed enemies: two rivals fated to die by each others hands most likely or they stop being enemies and become friends instead (their rivalry doomed to fail?)

Star-crossed moths: “ooo what’s that pretty green light Timmy?” “I dunno Patrick, let’s go look at it.” *Flies into a bug zapper*

[geddyqueer]

listen. you all know me. i'm a guy who is very pro-weird and toxic dynamics. that's great to explore in fiction! love it! but i'm going to be honest. the fact that every day i have to scroll past fics in the bucktommy tag where the writer has cast tommy, a canonically gay man, as this abusive violent piece of shit only to have eddie swoop in and rescue buck, while in reality ryan guzman is out here consciously playing eddie as getting violent against buck, is really fucking irritating. and i'm never going to tell people to stop writing whatever they want, but i wish i didn't have to fucking see it lmao

[melodious-madrigals]

one of my personal headcanons is that buck has a spotify premium account (or, like, insert your preferred music streaming platform) that he shares with chris (and eddie, but eddie doesn't really use it) and like. a couple weeks after eddie gets to el paso, things are slowly starting to improve with chris, but things are still awkward until one day:

"Dad, is Buck okay?"

"Yeah, buddy. Why do you ask?"

"This is the third day in a row that he's been listening to Taylor Swift."

(Eddie vaguely remembers Buck saying something about the playlists Chris had been preferring while in Texas, even if he doesn't really understand the ins and outs of seeing the playlists other account users are listening to.)

"Well, yeah, Chris, Buck likes her music. You remember how he was when her last album came out."

"No, but like, this is a SAD playlist, not a regular Taylor Swift playlist. Did he break up with someone?"

"I don't think he's dating anyone." (But it's been weeks. He's not there to know every inch of Buck's life anymore. Before he can examine that too closely, Chris is speaking again.)

"Well, the fact that loml has been playing on repeat for the last hour and a half says otherwise. Please check in on him before he slits his wrists."

"Suicide jokes aren't funny, Christopher." (It's possibly the sternest he's been with Chris since arriving, but the mere consideration makes his stomach turn; Chris, meanwhile, just levels him with a Look.)

"You know what I mean." Then, "The playlist isn't even the upbeat sad ones. It's shit like How Did It End? Can you just — make sure?"

(Eddie will take any excuse anyways to call Buck, and if this is something that he can do to show Chris he's listening, well—he won't say no.)

"Sure, kiddo. I'll call him when I drop you off."

(Chris shuffles awkwardly.)

"Or—maybe I could stay tonight? I could — say hi to him? And then you could tell me right away after the call?"

(And — yeah, that sounds even better.)

[yandere-yearnings]

Absume. (Yandere!Best Friend x GN!Reader)

feat. sui's ai

♡ oneshot, approx. 1k words

♡ post-specific warnings: melancholy (?), angst (??), angst w/o happy ending (???)

♡ a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOML SUIIIIIII❤️ i did not have as much time on this as i would've liked but no matter, i wasn't gonna exist on suiday w/o a suiday celebration dar style. i present to you ai angst❗❗(it was meant to be fluff but i'm a fucking dumbass who can't write lmao) ai belongs to @suiana and is from her stellar, absolutely fantastic game, Anything Will Do. sui i want you to know you make everything worth it and i wouldn't still be here on tumblr if it weren't for you. all my love to you mwah mwah <333 unedited, not proofread.

♡♡♡

This life was strange to you.

Sometimes it went by so fast, you’d wake up with no recollection of the days passed; staring at the ceiling with open eyes. It’s the same crack in the paint that had always been there, long and thin and unnoticeable if it weren’t for the fact you sought it out unconsciously. You remembered it, even if you didn’t remember crawling into bed that night, or having dinner at the table, and what exactly it was that your mother fussed over. 

There was a growing emptiness since you first noticed. No matter what you did, or how many people you were surrounded by, inside of you something was caving in. You didn’t know who you were. You didn’t know your place in this world without landmarking it by your achievements — and yet, when you looked back, there were none. How had you gone on so long? What had you been doing all this time?

Perhaps you lived in your head a little too much. Everything could be a little lighter if only you’d let it be. Sweeping every thought aside, you rolled, trapped your arm under your own weight and looked at your reflection in your mirrored bedside table. You were as you had always been. This was you, and this — whatever it was — was yours.

Lukewarm air, no temperature gradient, it should’ve made it easier for you to leave your bed, but you stayed there some long minutes before moving. Your clock was broken. Not conventionally. It only moved by the hour. Time was yours and you could waste it. There was security in the feeling that you had a choice to not start your day.

Morning, mundane as always, slathered you in its hues. Washed browns jittery under your feet, like there was no ground beneath you from wood to tile. The bathroom mirror had your fingerprints. You’d touched it many a time. Left a mark. This too, belonged to you. You could no longer believe this wasn’t real. Maybe it was that you were sensationless at your soles, treading carefully over loosely carpeted steps, trying to feel the tickle of those familiar fibres. When had you lost it all?

Your mother was in the kitchen, you don’t remember a time when she wasn't. It’s as if she can’t leave this lower floor, like she cannot rest, like her duties do not end. The door to her room never opens or closes, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen her without that plaid apron. She never notices you unless you speak to her. She never says anything different.

At the table it’s fruit, and it tastes like nothing. No texture, nothing to chew. It feels like you’re eating air. Play-pretend at a plastic table with a plastic knife and fork. You’re young again and your sister ropes you into her fake kitchen. You don’t have a sister. Not here, at least.

There’s a knock at your front door. It’s light, like the person on the other side is afraid to be heard, but wants your attention still. When you open it, there he stands — the only thing in this world that you can reach out and touch, that thrummed beneath your fingertips, as alive as you were desperate to feel.

Ai takes your hand, and the breeze picks up just like that. Ever so easy. You watch your feet and every step they take to the pavement, nothing skips; you can commit it to memory. He’s speaking to you but you can’t hear the words just yet, there is only wind and the rustle of leaves. His hair billows, bleeds out heavy cyprus that blends into the backdrop of trees. He has always given you these beautiful bits of him, and you had let yourself go blind.

Letting go was something you should’ve done long, long ago, but you guessed he was your comfort. Solace. A shelter you could run to. Leaving never felt right, not when you knew he’d stay waiting. Ai told you once, he loved you beyond all of this. Outside the street lights would flicker, and in the flashes it was his face illuminated, tucking you in after a dreary day. You could never hold onto those scenes, in your mind they were fragmented, and you forgot about them as quick as they came. If you asked him why, you knew he’d tell you that this was the price, whether either of you could pay it, whether either of you could even endure it anymore.

On a deep inhale, you finally resolved that it was no fairer to him as you found it was to you, that now was the only right time. Now would be the only time you’d have him by your side like this again. This moment alone, he was real and he would not slip through your fingers.

You had set out for school, but with your textbooks weighing what your heart could not, you had no intention of going there with him. Instead these empty streets faded, and quickly noon set over the park you ended up at. The swings did not creak, but they were old. You wondered how they could carry the two of you — you and Ai, and everything you’d both been piling up inside. 

Back and forth you went, here and in your head, trying to find the words to say you don’t think you could do this anymore. If you said sorry, would it make him mad? His due returns weren’t meant to be apologies. You were meant to fill him up just as he had done for you, you were meant to make everything worth it, every sacrifice, every stilted interaction from the day you understood that you were losing him. It was meant to get better. All this was meant to pass. Your mind was blank, and you were waiting for something but your clock was still broken, so nothing would ever come. You wanted to say I love you. You wanted those to at least be your final words — you just didn’t know how.

Ai was kind to you. He had always been. So he took your head in his hands, didn’t cry a single tear though it should’ve gone with that smile, and made the cut clean.

He said: “anything will do.”

[bookwormbardbear]

have some shameless mcdanno touch shit.

i love that steve touches danny without thinking.

sometimes, it really feels like he does it because he realizes danny is there and he can, so why not?

danny has never shied from it. he seeks it himself.

my favourite example, though?

that damn couples trip. the dinner, with the ladies across from them and steve opts not to sit next to lynn, but next to danny.

where he proceeds to just hold his neck and pet under his ear.

while they talk to their partners.

and no one makes a thing of it, because this is the man who cuddles with danny to watch movies, and who can't have one conversation without ending it with an i love you.

sure. it's not that deep and a beautiful example of nontoxic masculinity.

but it is deep. because it's exactly that.

love.

he loves danny and danny loves him.

we know, because danny openly tells steve that.

even though it means something when he says it.

[al-luviec]

I got so insanely mad while drawing this

+ closeup and normalness