#I do my research for my fics

[tmnt-obsessed-ace]

Oh did I mention that Eclipse Across Dimensions will be a much BIGGER crossover than When The World Crumbles

We're dragging the 1987, 2003, 2007 and last Ronin versions into this mess. (Might add Mutant Mayhem into the fire because by the time I actually get to the sequel the movie will probably be out)

All because of Rise Leo's little mistake he not only doomed the alternate future timeline he ALSO doomed the alternate versions of his family.

Big oof

[aitadjcrazytimes]

[fictionadventurer]

I love libraries.

I'm browsing the WWI shelves (as you do) and notice a very old book about the war. I glance at the first pages that talk about how one day the war will be over and we'll look at this place and not see any signs of the battlefield.

Then it hits me. And I check the publishing date.

This book was printed before the war's end. Not written. Printed. The physical object was created in 1918, while the war in question was raging and the end was as yet uncertain.

Now I'm standing on the other side of the apocalypse, with this physical link to that era in my hands. I'm living proof that the war did end and life did go on and we can all look at the end of the world as a long-ago memory.

Reading old books is cool enough, connecting our minds and hearts through the ideas of people who lived long ago, but there's something extra profound about holding a copy of the book that comes from the time that it was written. It's a physical link between the past and the present connecting me to those long-ago people. A piece of the past come into the future that gives me the chance to almost take the hand of some long-ago reader, to hold something they could have held, connecting not just mentally but physically to their era, a moment of connection across more than a century.

Excuse me while I go weep.

[lucky-fy]

For the Laicion nation (aka, me and three other people)

I had this illustration commissioned (a big thank you to @lunehowls) for my werewolf AU Laicion fic (still a WIP).

The general pitch is as follows :

AU in which Laios never got to meet his sister again, putting his life on a whole other path, a more desperate one. A military deserter with barely a coin to his name, Laios hitches a ride on a boat to one of the elven continents, where he learns about magical tattoos that binds one’s soul to a wolf’s, effectively making them artificial werewolves. Illegal magic be damned, this feels like the answer to… everything.

In the process, he learns about the existence of an illegal fighting ring in one of the elven cities, where beastmen gladiators gather. Freshly tattooed and without anywhere else to go to, Laios decides to head there, where he meets Lycion, an elf and artificial werewolf gladiator. If they first bond over a simple shared meal, by spending time together (sharing the same room in the barracks, maybe the same bed? gasp) they find that they have a lot in common, notably a shared distaste for the body they were born in, a dysphoria partially remedied by becoming a werewolf.

They bond :)

NB: I commissioned another piece, go take a look :D

[smileysvech]

jeremy swayman saying “fuck she’s a good girl”

[zishu-arts]

drawing GATBTY instead of writing it like i’d planned

[faeriekit]

Ghosts of Those We Once Knew

a phic phight fill for @silverwing013

Warnings for: implied child abuse, accidental death, dead parents

**💚**

“Oh yeah?! And what are you going to do about it?!” Aunt Alicia snapped into the phone. 

There was a sound on the other end of the line, but Danny couldn’t make it out all the way. There was another solution, but it was…risky; it would require going into his aunt’s bedroom— a well known, forbidden domain— to pick up the only other phone hooked up to the landline. 

…There was no other time to find out what Aunt Alicia was putting off. It had to be worth the risk. Danny crept up the worn carpeting of the stairs, hoping that his sneakiness would hold up to Alicia’s discerning eyes and ears. 

Her bedroom was dark. Carpeted. …Pink. 

Whatever. Danny took a deep breath, lifted the phone off the hook, and tried not to breathe too loudly into the mouthpiece.

“You have no right to keep Daniel in your dismal, miserable, isolated hovel,” someone shouted on the other end. Danny had never heard this voice before. He sounded like someone around Dad’s age, maybe? Maybe a little…smoother, despite the blistering anger coming through the line. “You live with no human contact for nine months out of the year. You speak to no one. Do you— is Daniel even enrolled in a school? Did you get any sort of educational provisions for him whatsoever?” 

“What, so he can get cocky and blow himself up in the garage like his parents?” Alicia snapped. Danny had to clap a hand to his mouth to hide his gasp of dismay. 

“You know full well that punishing your sister’s son by restricting his access to an education and basic human companionship is not a solution to your grief for your sister. You are out of your mind.”

Aunt Alicia’s voice got low. Aunt Alicia’s voice got mean. She sounded like how she looked when Danny had fumbled the water pail from the well or stepped two steps too close to the rhubarb patch out back. “Vladmir Masters, you listen here,” Aunt Alicia muttered. “That boy is everything left of my sister in the whole damn world. He is not going anywhere. Do you understand? Not for you to fill his head with her stupid husband’s supernatural hoo-ha, and not for you to snatch up and teach himself how to kill other people the way those two killed each other. Danny stays here. If you ring me up one more time, I’m going to do more than just mail dog crap to the front step of your stupid castle in Wisconsin.”

The phone cut off. It would be an innocuous end to a phone call, except Danny can hear the clatter of plastic cracking on plastic in the downstairs kitchen.

There was a moment of silence.

“Daniel Jackson Fenton, you get your butt in here right now!”

Danny jolted, heart pounding. He—he went downstairs.

Aunt’s Alicia’s lips were pursed, her eyes tight. “What did I tell you about missing all the sticks in the yard? It looks like a wreck!”

Danny felt his breath stick in his throat.

“Well?”

“Yes, Aunt Alicia,” Danny mumbled. He looked down and away. He wasn’t caught out eavesdropping, but…was this any better?

“If those sticks aren’t piled up beside the woodshed for kindling in half an hour, you can kiss your dinner goodbye.”

Danny hadn’t had dinner in three nights. He was very lucky he didn’t need to eat as much as living kids. “…Yes, Aunt Alicia.”

“So?”

…Danny went outside to collect sticks. It took until nightfall to get all the refuse from yesterday’s storm off the ground.

Aunt Alicia ate canned corn and carrots and butchered rabbit with hot sauce for dinner. Danny ate nothing.

Danny went to bed thinking about somewhere else he could go. Mom and Dad were dead—smithereens in the blast that had killed him and brought him back to life simultaneously. Jazz was in the hospital. He had no grandparents. He had no other aunts or uncles other than Aunt Alicia.

…Who was Vladmir Masters?

*

It took two days for Danny to decide to run away.

Or. Well. Fly.

He’d figured that if he wanted to find out who Vladmir Masters was, he’d need an internet connection. His cell had been on the Fenton Fone Plan™ and had been disconnected from the Fenton Family Patented Ghost-free Satellite™ for almost three months now. But, you know…what was a public library for, if not getting information?

The two-day waiting period was mostly just Danny getting his stuff together, making sure he didn’t leave anything behind, finding anything worth stealing…

…There was a picture of Mom with her big hair at graduation, a black robe thrown over her Hazmat suit. Her hair had been so big. Lots of people were beside her, including Dad, and someone with a matching hair stripe. They looked happy.

It didn’t matter that it had been Aunt Alicia’s photo. The picture had gone into his backpack next to Bearbert Einstein and a filched pocket knife.

Mom was Aunt Alicia’s sister, but Madeline Fenton had been his mom.

…Was still his mom.

Would…would always be his mom.

Danny wouldn’t cry. He wasn’t going to cry. Still, the flying and everything was still new to him. It took almost ten minutes to get himself off the ground without floating off willy nilly.

It took another half an hour to remember how to go through walls.

By the time Danny fell (as in actually, literally, leaned up against the wall and then realized he’d not made contact the way he’d expected to) through the house wall, it was almost eight at night. Aunt Alicia was still listening to Prairie Home Companion downstairs on the radio.

Whatever. He was out of there. He was sure he looked crazy—his hair was white, which was almost impossible to hide—but all he had to do was get out of there fast enough that no one connected one teenage runaway with a backpack to Danny Fenton.

It was fine.

It was all going to be fine.

…And if there wasn’t someone who’d help him. Well. Being homeless didn’t sound…so bad…?

…Or maybe he’d just squat in the burnt out ruins of Fentonworks. That sounded fine too.

*

Morning broke. Danny ended up in a tiny town somewhere in Mississippi.

A nice guy at the coffee shop gave him a cup of water and told him where the local library was. A librarian plugged her login details for him on a public computer, and Danny was able to look up one “Vladmir Masters”…

…CEO and owner of DALVco, millionaire, and Green Bay Packers megafan.

Holy crap.

Like… There were hospital wings with his name on them. Charities operating out of his company. Every picture of the man was perfectly taken in perfect lighting with perfect suits and precise smirks and bright-white magazine article paper.

Danny went back up to the librarian. “Do you have any articles on…uh…Vlad Masters?”

The librarian smiled warmly. “Ah, school project?”

“Sure,” Danny lied, milk on his tongue.

Vlad Masters was a self-made millionaire. He lived in a castle in Wisconsin that used to be owned by a dairy empire kingpin. He went to—

Danny read the line again

—He went to the same college as Mom and Dad. The year looked right, too. They might have even graduated in the exact same year. If only Danny could still check Dad’s college ring in the bottom of their junk drawer.

Wisconsin. Vlad Masters lived in Wisconsin.

…Danny was really lucky he was never all that hungry anymore.

Danny got another cup of water at the coffee shop, washed his face in the bathroom, and got ready to fly another night.

He was no sextant, but he could probably figure out how to get to Wisconsin after a couple of hours of flying, and a little time to gauge the sky.

It would be easy.

…Danny’s white-topped, pale face stared back at him from the restroom mirror.

It had to be. It would have to be easy.

*

So, a cheese castle looked a lot like a regular castle.

Danny squinted up at the stonework. Nah, that looked like…a castle. That being said, it looked more specifically like the castle he was looking for—the one that had been featured in Vlad Masters’s house tour in Architecture Daily magazine two years ago.  

Same…roof bits. Same big door. Danny swallowed. Same…tower? Were there better words for these? There were definitely better words for all the tricky stone bits in the castle.

Whatever. Danny was praying that the man was actually home today, as opposed to flying across the country on some kind of business trip. Rich people did business trips, right?

Danny floated up to the front door. There was no doorbell.

…Danny bit his lip. Okay. So there was no doorbell. There was a very large, brass door knocker. It looked kind of like a big monster face, with a ring held in its teeth.

The knocker was just high enough off the ground that Danny had to float to get there. Lifting it was a struggle.

When it knocked, the whole door buzzed with sound.

Danny waited.

…He waited.

And…Danny waited.

No one came.

Danny picked at the skin of his lip. What if he just…went in?

Like. It was a big house. Maybe Vlad Masters just hadn’t heard him at all? Maybe he was just…in the basement or something…?

Danny paced midair. On one hand. He’d come all this way. He had to follow through. He had to see if there was…something. Anything. Anything at all—anything that could possibly connect Masters to his family.

Any connection that wasn’t Aunt Alicia would be worth breaking and entering.

On the other hand. Home invasion was and would remain illegal.

Danny grimaced.

He…stuck his head through the door. 

There was a hallway on the other side. A little end table. A guest book. 

…Okay. Danny slipped through the door. He was breaking and entering now— or at least…entering. 

Inside was dark. Gloomy. Comfortable, sure— lots of soft furnishings, curtains, couches, pillow, lounging things— but very…opaque in atmosphere. 

He was glowing, he noticed. That probably was pretty bad on the “trying not to get caught” scale. 

There was no one upstairs. Danny drifted through room after empty room and up into floor after empty floor. There was a kitchen, and the food therein were largely preserved items. There was nothing in the fridge. 

Danny’s stomach cramped. There was no one here. 

…Maybe he should look downstairs? 

The castle got colder the further down he went. The windows that at least allowed the minimal light that escaped through the tree cover in the castle vanished. The only light left was Danny. 

Danny floated down deeper. 

There were doors made of metal in a long, stone hallway. Each had different numbers on them. Danny followed the rows of doors.

There were wires on the floor. They were organized by color and bound by little ties, until they weren’t, and Danny eventually ran out of tangled webs of red and blue plastic to follow. 

They ended at a closed door. 

Danny hesitated. He poked his head through. 

On the other side was a ghost. 

Danny jerked back. He’d— he clapped his hand over his mouth. That was—! And sure, Danny was something like that now, but he’d never seen—!

He should leave. Danny should leave. 

Danny barely made it three doors down. 

Going somewhere? something asked him. Danny shivered. 

The ghost appeared on his left in ethereal white, black hair pulled behind him in some sort of half-halo. Unlike Danny, who was in something like half-hazmat, half-hoodie, the ghost wore a long, glowing labcoat, appropriate PPE beneath. 

Danny’s breath fogged up in his mouth. He flinched. “Sorr—” he tried. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to be here.”

The ghost looked at him with bright red eyes. Danny floated a few steps back. Spying, are you?

Danny shook his head. “No!! No, I just— I was looking for— I wasn’t spying! I’m sorry! I didn’t know you li— died here! I’ll leave!” 

The ghost’s head tilted. For a second, Danny thought that he was going to throw a punch. And then—

You’re already here, the ghost pointed out, and opened a door. Beyond it was…something similar to a doctor’s office. An examination table with the paper on it. One of those blood pressure cuffs, attached to a printer for the readout. A sink. Sundry tongue depressors. You may as well consent to be helped. 

“...Helped with what?” Danny asked nervously, fingers flexing. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

The ghost hummed— not in the way voices hummed, but in the way high voltage sang in distant powerlines. You are newly formed, aren’t you? Most can tell a ghost’s nature from its presence alone.

Danny looked away. “Um. You know. You might be the first ghost I’ve ever met.” 

The ghost’s feet almost touched the ground. It stared down at him. It was taller than he was, and when it stared, it made Danny want to run away. 

…Truly, the ghost asked(?), and it took Danny a second to realize it was a question. 

“Maybe I died a little recently…” Danny tried, trailing off into a mumble. Was there a right answer to this? 

…I see. That would make this check-up more urgent, then. Might I encourage you to come this way? 

Danny followed him into the room. 

It felt… It looked and felt exactly like any other doctor’s appointment, excepting that the doctor involved in the process had blue skin and fangs and a hairstyle that defied gravity. The ghost still wore gloves and didn’t poke him or prod him too hard, though, so that was a bonus.

Danny got his pulse taken. (None.) Danny got his lungs checked. (Not breathing.) Danny got his resonance? looked at? Whatever that was? It was a big scanny thing that looked like an X ray and took pictures of his chest. 

The readings were real pretty, whatever they were; the whole film print was taken up with splotches of white and clear blue. It kind of shimmered when Danny tilted his head. 

You’re quite powerful for a newly formed ghost, the ghost offered, overlooking papers Danny couldn’t quite see on his clipboard. It flipped through once. Twice. You’re clearly not attached to your place of death, so that’s not why… Are you aware of any compulsions to follow an Obsession yet…?

A ghostly obsession? Danny knew what that was— it was one of his parents’ theories on why ghosts persisted after death! Was it was true? 

“Um,” Danny said, unsure. He hadn’t…had he? “Not that I know of?”

The ghost paused. It clicked its pen. It marked something down on Danny’s chart. Interesting.

Ominous. 

May I quickly test something? the ghost asked, looking up at Danny. It would only take a moment. If it does not work, there will be no other side effects other than mild discomfort and an activated flight response. 

Danny shifted. The paper crackled underneath him. “...Does it hurt?” 

No.

The ghost added nothing more. 

Danny’s…head jerked up and down. It was fine. It would be fine. 

The ghost’s hand circled his wrist. Its touch burned like fire. 

And then light, like how Danny burned away one form for another—

—Danny was left on the table, no longer weightless, no longer breathless. He was flesh. He was human again.

Vlad Masters stared back at him. 

…Huh. 

Mr. Masters— Vlad?— licked dry lips, staring at Danny, whose wrist he still held. Danny…didn’t know if he could move. Danny didn’t know if he knew how to move. 

“...Daniel?” Mr. Masters’s voice cracked. His eyes moved up and down Danny’s body, from his raggedy hair to his dirt-stained clothes to his beat-up shoes. “Daniel Fenton?”

Danny winced. “It’s just Danny,” he offered hoarsely. His throat bobbed. “You…know me?” 

Mr. Masters moved his grip to Danny’s hand, apparently moved to tears. Without the red in his eyes, he just looked…human enough. “Daniel— Danny, how did you— Are you dead? What happened?” 

Danny felt the weight of everything push down on him again, as if it had ever let up on him since the portal incident. Mom and Dad’s funerals. Jazz in the emergency room. Being resuscitated by the EMTs. Getting shipped out to Aunt Alicia’s house without warning. 

“House blew up.”

That was succinct enough, right?

The man’s face turned devastated. “I heard— I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry, Danny.”

…It was more concern than anyone had shown in a long time. His eyes were wet before he knew it. When he wiped his face with his sleeve, the dampness was enough to leave little streaks of mud on his face— and, ugh, he felt filthy. 

“It’s okay,” Danny lied, because it wasn’t. He pressed his sleeve to his eyes. “It’s…you know my parents?”

Mr. Masters took a deep, surprised breath. “Yes. We…weren’t in contact after we graduated from school together, but Jack always… He asked me by email to be your godfather, right before you were born. I said yes, but I have no idea if he ever filed the paperwork.” 

Oh. 

…Oh. 

There were clearly more secrets here. Mr. Masters was a ghost, and so was Danny. He lived in a giant castle that was clearly haunted, which was made obvious by the owner. He was Danny’s godfather, and Danny had never once met him. 

And he wasn’t Aunt Alicia. 

Danny sucked the spit off of his teeth with his tongue. “Can I stay here?” 

Mr. Masters made a wounded, desperate expression. “I would rather you did.” 

“Can you teach me how to be a ghost?”

The man persevered through what were clearly heavy feelings. “...If I must.” 

“Can I have dinner?” was Danny’s final question. “Like. On the regular?” 

There was a second where Mr. Masters’s eyes went red. The castle suddenly felt taut with anticipation. Fury crawled on Danny’s skin. He could feel the pressure digging in search of some way to burrow into his flesh.

And then it was gone. 

“Of course you can. You are a growing boy.”

Danny smiled shyly, barely showing his teeth. When he smiled for real in the mirror, he had fangs. It was better not to. “Cool.”

Mr. Masters nodded. And when Danny looked down at the floor, he changed his grip so that Danny could hold his hand and hop down like normal. 

“It will be alright,” Mr. Masters promised quietly. It seemed to be just as much for him as it was for Danny. “Or…I’ll take care of it. Whatever happens. You’re not alone, Danny.” 

Danny had been alone for almost half a year. It had felt like forever. “Thanks.” He sniffed. 

They walked upstairs from the basement laboratory together, in a way Mom and Dad never would again. 

[choccy-milky]

OK SO I DON’T KNOW HOW MANY OTHER READERS REALIZED THIS BUT I HAVE TO SHARE IT…

LEIGHTON LAWLEY IS CANONICALLY INFERTILE

so y’all remember how sebastian stepped on and twisted that rat’s dick? and do y’all also remember how lasagna’s from a pure blood family? well, by the year 1930, there were only 28 pure blood wizarding families left (the sacred 28), and the lawley name ain’t one of them! lunchbox never had children. if he had ANY children at all, regardless of gender (at least i think so? but anyways purebloods were basically guaranteed to have at least one male child bc of the family pressure so my theory still stands), the lawley name would have made it onto the sacred 28 list. this also confirms that locomotive died before the year 1930! maybe ratticate did some more whack shit and seb murdered him?🥰🥰🥰

LAWLEY IS INFERTILE ALL THANKS TO SEBASTIAN! what a fucking king 👑 seb did the world a service, forever ridding lamppost’s blood from the gene pool. everyone say thank you sebastian 😊😊😊

thank you all for coming to my ted talk

THANK YOU THIS IS CANON NOW RIP TO THE LAWLEY BLOODLINE 🪦🪦🪦🥰🙏

[flowercrowngods]

thinking thoughts™️ again about another fic that’s way too real, and pictured eddie giving steve that understanding smile, saying , “yeah, changing the world gets a little old, doesn’t it, when the cost is your sanity.”

and steve mirrors him with a slight nod, “and when you realise you just wanna live your own life, not change everyone else’s. i feel like people shouldn’t need to take this long to realise that.”

“it’s the system, steve-o.” eddie fishes a cigarette from the pack, offering one to steve, who shakes his head with a polite smile. “people living their lives. what a rebellious thing to ask.”

steve watches him for a second, and it’s like he’s piecing together some kind of picture around him. eddie lets him; somehow he trusts steve not to get it all wrong. “you going to rehab to stick it to the man, hm?”

eddie takes a long drag of his cigarette, his eyes far away as he lets the smoke fall from his lips. “no. ‘m going to rehab because it took me too long to realise that i just wanna live my life. and because i think… because i think i’m actually ready. sounds so dumb, doesn’t it?”

“nah.” and steve sounds like he means it. eddie gets the feeling that he does. steve strikes him as someone who’s too genuine for his own good. maybe that’s his own way to keep changing the world even without that job. “sounds like you actually know what you’re talking about. that’s a good quality, you know? to get better. wanting to get better. for no one but yourself.”

“now you’re the one who sounds like he knows what he’s talking about.”

steve huffs and stuffs his hands into his pocket. “nah, man. i’m just the homeless guy who’s hot for your apartment and wants you out of the house asap so i can start my life. with your cat.”

eddie laughs as he snuffs out the cigarette beneath his boot. the keys dangle in his hand as he holds them out to steve, who looks at him, surprised.

“well, she’s yours, then.”

[lunarharp]

hehe. almost christmas!

[axel-ambassador]

Mute!Vaggie AU that's been relentlessly rotating in my brain

[matchingbatbites]

break the ice (i can't take anymore)

Explicit | 2.2k | Read on Ao3

This is a gift for darling Emily @judasofsuburbia as part of the STuad server gift exchange! Emily, I hope you like this, because I know nothing about hockey. <3

Prompts included are A Really Good Kiss, Hockey, and The Pet Name "Princess". CW includes semi-public sex, D/s undertones. Full tag list over on Ao3

This isn’t the first time they’ve been pitted against each other, not by a long shot. 

It’s something that comes with the territory of being athletes, especially when you’re as good at the game as Steve and Eddie are. They haven’t been on the same teams in years, and it’s something they’ve learned to navigate - balancing their professional careers and their personal life.

This is their first time facing each other down during the fucking Stanley Cup, though. 

It’s been a surreal experience. They’ve spent the entire game having so much fun with each other, just taunting and teasing back and forth whenever they have the chance, playing up the rivalry their fans love to see. Skating circles around each other while trying to keep their heads in the game, both wanting to win but needing to have fun with it, for their own sanity - and for the sake of their relationship.

They use the fights that break out to their advantage, flying into each other’s arms and holding on tight, whispering while they wait for whatever brawl to finish. Eddie proves that he isn’t afraid to play dirty, that he’s willing to get under Steve’s skin to try to throw him off his game.

Steve had to recover quickly from Eddie’s muttered “Can’t wait to jack you off when I get my shiny new Stanley ring, princess,” just the thought of getting cum all over a twenty thousand dollar piece of jewelry making Steve reel. 

The last few minutes of the game are tense. Eddie and another player get sent to the penalty box, and Steve barely has the chance to mourn the loss of his boyfriend’s presence because there’s two fucking minutes left to bring the score out of a tie. And somehow, some fucking way, Steve’s team does it. 

He doesn’t even realize they’ve won until the buzzer sounds and his teammates are swarming the ice, helmets and padding and sticks flying everywhere as they converge into a mass of euphoria.

The arena is filled with the sounds of cheering and yelling, cries of joy and outrage, all of it so loud that Steve barely hears his own name being called through it all. He turns just before Eddie slams into him, sending them both gliding a few feet across the ice and into a fit of laughter. 

“You did it! You fucking won, baby!” he yells, and Steve feels so fucking giddy because they did. 

Steve doesn’t get a chance to respond before Eddie is hauling him into a kiss, something electric and ravenous thanks to the adrenaline pumping through their systems. Steve responds so easily, ever eager to let Eddie take and take whatever he wants, to let the man devour him in any way he seems fit.

One of Eddie’s hands settles on the back of his neck, pulling him ever closer, and it’s all Steve can do to clutch at his boyfriend’s jersey, just hanging on and hoping that his knees don’t give out. The cheers around them get even louder, and that’s what makes Eddie pull away, a beaming smile on his face. “Guess the secret’s out, sweetheart.”

Steve just laughs. “It’s only eighteen-thousand people plus the other thousands of fans watching the broadcast.”

“So just a few people, then.”

That sends them into a fit of giggles until one of Steve’s alternate captains grabs him, pulling him back to reality and his duties. “Time to face the media. See you after?” he asks, and Eddie nods, pulls him into one more brief kiss.

“See you soon, baby.”

As captain of the team, Steve spends the next God knows how long dealing with the media. Most of the reporters do a good job with sticking strictly to the game, to the win his team managed to eke out, but that doesn’t stop a few of them from trying to drag his and Eddie’s kiss into the story.

He shuts them down immediately, not wanting to say anything until he and Eddie actually have a chance to talk about it, and eventually he’s able to leave.

The locker room is basically empty when he gets there except for a few stragglers still packing up the rest of their stuff. Steve feels exhausted as he makes his way through the room, he accepts the congratulations from the few people still there and gives his own in return, but otherwise keeps to himself.

He doesn’t expect to see Eddie sitting on the bench in front of Steve’s stuff, still in uniform and his own duffel at his feet. 

“There’s my winner,” he says, grinning at Steve’s approach. “How was the circus?”

Steve hums and moves to stand between Eddie’s legs. Hands settle on his waist, resting just under the hem of his jersey, and Steve’s own hands find a home on Eddie’s shoulders, just in the crook of his neck. “Could have been worse. I managed to keep the us stuff at bay until we can talk about it.” 

“God, you’re so good at that Captain shit, baby. I love watching you command a room of reporters.” Eddie’s hands slip higher, moving under the edge of Steve’s undershirt until he can feel skin, and the younger shivers. The locker door slams shut nearby and the room goes silent, a sign that it’s finally just the two of them alone.

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” Steve says as he leans into Eddie’s creeping touch, the little bit of contact more of a tease than anything. “Thought you’d be back at the hotel by now.”

Eddie grins up at Steve and tugs him closer. “And miss the chance to congratulate you properly? To show you how proud I am of you?”

Steve full on shudders at that, his mouth drops in a soft gasp and his hands push up into Eddie’s hair. “Eddie…”

“I am, Stevie. So proud of you, my baby.” He leans in and presses a kiss to Steve’s jersey-covered sternum. “Tell me what you want, princess. Anything, and it’s yours.”

When Eddie says anything, he means it. The possibilities are endless and Steve knows that, is almost overwhelmed by the sudden thoughts that flash through his head. In this moment though, as exhausted and worn out as he is, there’s really only one thing he wants.

“I want a shower, and I want you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? That's all, honey?”

“Yeah, please Eddie.”

Eddie nods and says “Of course. Let’s get out of these clothes, then.”

They work together to strip down, pulling and tugging at each other’s clothes, but not with any rush, any urgency. They simply move in tandem as two people familiar with this specific dance, until they’re both bare and heading to the showers. Steve has the brief thought that he’s glad they’re separate from the rest of the locker room, that Eddie will be able to give him what he wants without anyone surprising them. 

The water is blissfully hot. Steve basks in it as Eddie’s hands work magic in his hair, as he scrubs Steve’s skin clean, every touch tender and adoring. Steve would start drifting, if they were doing this at home, or even in a hotel. As it is, he just leans into the touch, silently showing Eddie just how much he enjoys it.

At some point, Eddie tugs Steve back into his chest and slides soapy hands down his torso, and Steve can feel the shift in the air as he goes from cleaning to touching.

It’s nice, the way Eddie’s hands feel as they make their way down, slipping lower and lower until they find their prize. Steve is already half-hard when Eddie takes him in his slick grip, and he moans as his hips buck into the touch.

“Fuck, Eddie…”

It’s slow, almost torturous, the way Eddie strokes him. Steve honestly enjoys it; he loves when Eddie takes his time, when he makes Steve savor every touch, like they have all the time in the world. Right now, they’re technically on a time crunch, and Eddie’s hand leaves him far sooner than Steve would like. 

“Hands on the wall, princess. Gotta get you open for me.”

Steve just nods and steps out of the water, sets his hands on the white tile while Eddie rummages around in his shower bag. They started carrying lube for moments just like this, these little slices of time that they can spend together during the regular hockey season. Steve is incredibly grateful for it now as Eddie rubs a slick finger over his hole before pushing in. 

It’s euphoric. They haven’t had the chance to do this recently, and Steve’s own fingers pale in comparison to the way Eddie stretches him open, careful but eager. He swiftly goes from one to two, to three, until he’s fucking Steve with four fingers and the younger is shaking with desire.

“Eddie, please, I’m ready. Need you to fuck me.”

“I know, baby, I’ve got you.”

The fingers vanish and Eddie crowds up behind Steve until they’re pressed front-to-back. One hand grabs hold of Steve’s hip, holding him steady as Eddie lines up and finally pushes in. 

If Eddie’s fingers were euphoria, then his cock is fucking heaven. The stretch of it sends tingles up and down Steve’s spine, and he can’t help but push back onto it, needing more faster.

Eddie must be as needy as Steve is at this moment because he doesn’t comment on it, doesn’t slow him down. He just wraps his arms around Steve’s waist and tugs, burying the rest of his cock in one swift motion.

Steve keens at the sudden fullness, and he barely gets a chance to adjust before Eddie is fucking him properly, hips snapping at a steady but eager pace. It’s such a contrast from how Eddie has been touching him, that gentle touch all but gone, like he isn’t able to hold back any more.

It’s so fucking perfect, and Steve’s cheek presses into the tile wall as Eddie just uses him.

“Fuck, Eddie. Missed this,” he says, and Eddie groans.

“I’ve missed this too, baby. Missed touching you and fucking you, just like this. Wish I had time to spread you out and take you apart, treat you like the princess you are.”

A high whine escapes Steve as he nods. It’s been so long since they’ve had more than a few hours together and he misses it, he needs some down time with his boyfriend.

He tries to remind himself that the end of today’s game marks the end of the season, and they should actually have some time together if all of the post-season shit wraps up like it’s supposed to.

Steve is ripped from his thoughts by Eddie’s cock nailing his prostate dead on, and the man hums at Steve’s surprised moan.

“Stay with me, Stevie. Want you to feel everything I do to you, yeah?”

All Steve can do is nod and sink further against the wall, basically along for the ride as Eddie fucks him so so good. His orgasm creeps up on him; he can feel it building with every thrust, every smack of Eddie’s hips against his ass, until he’s right there, close enough to taste it.

“Ed, gonna come!”

It only encourages Eddie, who groans and slides a hand down to wrap around Steve’s dick. “Come on, then. Wanna see you come on my cock, baby, wanna feel you. Let me have it, Stevie.”

Steve gasps; the hand on his dick is almost too much but he bucks into it nonetheless, and that’s all he needs. He knows he’s being loud; his moans echo off the tiles as he spills over Eddie’s hand, but neither of them care too much right now. Eddie just fucks him through it, then chases his own orgasm once Steve is sated and sagging against the shower wall.

It doesn’t take long. Eddie’s teeth sink into his shoulder as he comes, marking Steve both inside and out as he rides out his high. It takes them both a moment to catch their breath, and even then Steve doesn’t dare to move, worried his legs might give out if he tries.

Lips brush over the bite on his shoulder - a quiet apology - before traveling upwards, dotting kisses along the column of his neck and ending just below his ear.

“We need to get out of here before you pass out on me, okay sweetheart?”

Steve hums in response, still hesitant to move from his spot, but does after another moment. They rinse off again and Eddie helps him clean the cum out of his ass before they finally turn off the water and dry off. He watches Eddie get dressed, watches as his athletic body is covered by comfy sweatpants and a shirt that absolutely used to belong to steve.

The thought of not sharing a bed with Eddie, of not being able to just hold him and feel him for a while, is almost nauseating. He needs to be close to his boyfriend tonight, and he can’t help his soft “Will you stay with me tonight? Wanna sleep next to you.”

Eddie’s form sags in relief, like he was waiting for the question. “I was hoping you’d ask. I’ve been dying to cuddle you for weeks.”

That makes Steve chuckle, and he reaches out to grab Eddie’s shirt and tug him closer. “I call little spoon,” he says, and Eddie just beams and leans in for a quick kiss.

“Deal! Let’s get out of here, little spoon.”

[love-toxin]

did they rlly have to make ganon criminally hot in this game....like y did u have to go so hard zelda team....this is DISTRACTING !!!

[bebagerie]

I envy the rose that you held in your teeth, love / fanart for an upcoming fic by krill_collins on twt

[every-ogata]

I refuse to believe Ogata is as muscular as Noda draws him. He spends most of his time sitting

I'm going to answer this one seriously cause I actually have thoughts on this. I agree about him not being as muscular but he doesn't just sit around. Firing a rifle actually requires core strength, you need it to properly aim and fire with accuracy. We know he's a good marksman, so it'd make sense his core is strong.

He also literally treks across Hokkaido and then some carrying military gear. The Type 30 was almost 9 pounds; that alone would give him a light workout, but also think about the rest of his gear! Japanese soldiers carried equipment that was around 52lbs heavy.

I just don't think he'd have a six pack, but it makes sense that he is strong. Though, Satoru Noda is allowed to draw his men as caked up as he wants. As a treat.

[iknowwhereyousnoozeatnight]

light found misa’s bra (wip that i’m not going to finish)