#OH!! i forgot to draw his backpack!!!

[qalrey]

my kirby gijinka!

[garlicisgodsbestinvention]

perfect dimensions

(Carmy x Designer!Reader)

Summary: The Bear is weeks from opening, and Sugar hires an interior designer to bring the vision to life. Part 1/3.

Warnings: cursing, WILL contain smut later 👀NO use of Y/N because this is the 21st century. Carmy x female!reader, reader is described as having longer hair but that’s it for physical descriptions. NOT EDITED because I’m lazy girl tehe

—————————MINORS DNI——————————

“I hired a designer,” Natalie tells them in passing on Thursday, waving a vague hand when both Syd and Carmy open their mouthes to ask, “She’ll be here in like, twenty minutes.”

“Okay, heard, but we already have a design,” Carmy says, gesturing to the wall covered in layouts.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you had a degree in architecture and engineering. Those are fake dimensions, Bear; we don’t know shit about anything, so someone is going to come in and make sure that we’ve got the right fucking shade of white!” Natalie shouts before the office door slams shut, leaving Syd and Camry to stare after her with equal confusion.

“Pregnancy is making her…” Syd starts to say.

“Mean?”

“Yeah, mean. Definitely a little mean,” Sydney sighs, “She’s right though. Vibe doesn’t get us to opening night.”

And that’s how Carmen finds himself stuttering through an introduction from a now much-more-pleasant Natalie when she shows a woman through the front doors.

Carmen extends his hand to you, clearing his throat, nodding like a fucking idiot when you tell him your name.

“Yeah,” he says, “I’m uh, I’m Carmen.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say, mouth spreading into a smile that makes his heart beat a little faster. “Walk me through?”

Natalie takes the lead while Carmy and Syd hang back. One glance at the look on his partner’s face should have sent Carmy scrambling for something else to do, but he’s not fast enough to remove himself from her presence before a laugh is bubbling from between her closed lips and he’s desperately hoping his face isn’t turning red.

“Im, uh, Carmen,” Syd lowers her voice in a mocking tone.

“Fuck right off,” Carmy shakes his head at her.

“You literally forgot your name!”

“I didn’t forget my fuckin’ name—“

“Like oh my god, a pretty girl with pretty eyes appears and you forget how to talk!”

“Are you done?”

“Absolutely not. I can’t wait for Richie to meet her.”

Carmen wishes the day would never come.

Ten minutes later you appear back in the dining room, Fak following close behind with a shit-eating grin that makes Carmy wish he had never gotten out of bed this morning.

“Carmy! Did you know she likes to bake?”

“No, Fak, we’ve only just met. Would you let her do her job?” Carmen sighs, rubbing his fingers into his eyes to stop an oncoming headache. Syd snorts.

“We’ll chat more later, Neil, I promise,” you say.

“You might have just made yourself a new best friend,” Syd laughs.

Carmy looks away the moment your eyes swivel over to his, trying to disguise that he’s staring as best he can.

“So,” you say, “Natalie said you had drawings. May I see?”

Camry’s fingers itch in a weird way, but he manages a nod before striding over to his backpack to pull out the notebook while you scan the wall of swatches and inspiration photos. You nods your head a little, like you’re concocting an idea.

Carmy wants to twirl a finger through the strand of hair hanging loose out of your updo.

“So, uh, this is what I’ve come up with so far.”

He then spends the next ten minutes walking you through each of the drawings, explaining himself a little too thoroughly, and making random comments about lighting and booth fabric. You look intent the whole time, brow furrowed at the page, occasionally pointing and you don’t even have to say anything—Carmy just starts to over explain immediately following the point of your painted fingernail.

When he’s done, you nod your head slowly, the corner of your mouth twitching up. You’re wearing some sort of lipstick that reminds Carmy of the stain of touching a cherry pit.

“These are amazing,” you say finally, and Carmy feels his face heat. “I like the vibe. I love the vibe, actually. Are you a sensitive person?”

You look up at him and Carmy short-circuits.

Syd says yes, at the exact time he says no.

“Conflicting signals,” you say, “Anyone else to weigh in?”

It takes a second for him to realize that you’re making a joke, and he has to shake himself out of a stupor caused completely by the sight of your smile.

“Uh, no, no I’m good. Gimme feedback,” he says, and you reach out to flip the pages back, landing on the entry.

“Great. I’m going to tell you what we need to fix,” you say, straight to the point. “This entry is too small. Either we need to extend out into the sidewalk, or we need to push the kitchen back by at least five or six feet. The bar is going to create a bottleneck right here, and we need to inset these shelves to give you a little more working room. The lighting here needs to be sconces, and the bathroom doors need to slide to maximize space—this is too small for a swinging door.”

Carmen is fully intent on taking in every word you’re saying, but out of the corner of his eye he can’t help but see Syd’s face transform into something mildly resembling devious.

“Heard,” Carmy says, nodding his head as you looks back up. “Let’s rock.”

——————————————————————————

You become a fixture in Carmy’s life in the same way that Sydney or Richie or Nat are, appearing every time he turns the corner and whispering a hello in passing before you start barking orders to the contractors who listen to your every word. Strangely, he can relate. A week ago you told him, Carmen, please decide which side of the bar you want the ice machine on, and do it quickly so I can tell the water guy when he gets here. He’s never made a decision so fast in his life.

Even Nat had popped an eyebrow when he replied, on it, before you’d even really finished your sentence.

Usually, he’s on autopilot—walking in and straight back to the office or the kitchen and hardly ever stopping to notice what’s going on. He’s the first one in and the last one out by design, so he doesn’t even see everyone else arrive until they’re already there.

This morning, though, Carmy walks into the kitchen to see you already there, writing something out in a notebook as Natalie talks, waving her hands wildly.

“Okay, I got you,” you’re saying only glancing up when Carmy’s shoes shuffle too loudly on the floor. “Oh! Good, you’re here. I need you.“

Carmy raises his eyebrows. “Need me?”

“To look at paint swatches,” you say, ushering him into the main dining area. The words ring in his head like bells as he follows you, the scent of your perfume surrounding him as he walks through the crowd of it. You smells so good, and it reminds him of New York City somehow, the faint scent of rain.

He figures that you must have come in even earlier than he and Natalie both, because you’re dressed more casually than usual, and there’s a charm necklace dangling over your tee shirt that he tries to identify when you turn without you realizing he’s staring. He makes out a paintbrush and nothing else.

“Right, so,” you start, gesturing to the wall. There’s a beat of silence with them both staring at the three swatches on the wall, and then Carmy turns towards you.

Your words overlap.

Carmy says, “I hate them.”

At the same moment, you say, “They’re horrible, right?”

Carmy laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, not it.”

“Okay, so hear me out.” You say, leaving his side to pull something from your folder. “Pink.”

“Pink?”

“Like, oyster shell pink. Neutral enough that in the low light it’ll look pale, almost indiscernible from white. And this wall—“ you point to the back where the booths will be and shake your head. “Has to be a mural. It’ll look unfinished if it’s bare.”

Carmy nods along with everything that you say, trying to envision it. “What kind of mural?”

You tilt your head, chewing at your lip. Carmy completely short-circuits for an embarrassingly long second.

“I might have some ideas,” you say in a soft voice, crossing over to the table where you’ve set your things and pulling out a black sketchbook.

“Two artists in residence, huh?” Carmy jokes, his stomach fluttering when you smile.

“Do you draw anything other than food and restaurant interiors?” You ask.

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” you repeat, looking up at him. He knows that you want him to elaborate—he would never admit out loud that he spends the hours he’s not cooking trying to replicate the way your necklace hangs off of your neck and the curve of your wrist.

Occasionally he doesn’t do weird, obsessive, borderline creepy things—sometimes he sketches the buildings outside his window as the sun goes down, or tries to remember what the boat in Copenhagen looked like, or that one place he used to drink coffee at in New York.

Your eyes narrow at him just a little, like you’re trying to read all the things he’s not saying.

He dips his head, half to look at the page you’ve opened the notebook to and half to get out from under the scrutiny of your pretty eyes.

“That’s insane,” Carmy finds himself saying, looking down at the waves of color on the page. “It looks like, almost like wood? Or marble. That’s—fuck, that’s so cool.”

The page is covered in shades of brown and deep green and black, melding together into something that reminds him of tree rings or stained wood panels, muted like an old chinoiserie river painting.

“You could hire someone to change it out seasonally maybe, it’d be cool, but I think something like this would look nice with the color of the wood we picked for the tables—“

“Will you do it?” Carmy asks, fingertips tracing over the edge of the paper and coming away brushed with color—oil pastels. “Could you, I mean, I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it like this.” He tells you, rubbing the tips of his fingers together and watching the color meld together before meeting your eye.

Your mouth is parted, eyes wide as you look at him, and he gets the urge to flick your bottom lip to see if it’s as soft as it looks.

“I,” you start to say, “Yeah. I can do it. If you want me to.”

“I do,” he says, too quickly. “Want you to. Paint it.”

Because what else would he be asking you to do? He wants to throw his entire brain into the blender on high.

“Okay,” you say, “I’ll start tomorrow.”

He makes a mental note to make sure he’s there all day to peer through the windows and watch you work.

[linawritestwst]

HCs for The third-year squad when they find a little doodle of them with hearts around it in the reader's notebook?

third years finding your doodle of them with hearts around it headcanons (gn!reader)

YAY I HAVE ONLY ONE REQUEST LEFT i saved the sad one for last <3 so yeah, enjoy these cute hcs while you can!

cater diamond.

♡ cater would take a look at your notebook simply because he was curious. he knows that it's not a good thing to do and he respects your privacy, but come on, your drawings are so cute, please let him see them! but then he opens your notebook and sees.. this. he sees a small doodle of a guy that looks a lot like him and it's.. um.. surrounded by hearts?

♡ cater wants to think that it's just a coincidence that this guy looks so much like him, maybe it's just your art style, haha.. though a small part of him wants to believe that this really is him. but why did you draw so many hearts too? maybe you just thought they were cute and decided to add them? surely there's no deeper meaning to any of this..

♡ he tries his best to forget what he saw, it's not a big deal, it's just a random doodle that he saw in your notebook, it's not him. it can't be him, right? i mean.. if it was him, that would mean you most likely have a crush on him. and he just can't imagine you falling in love with him. why would you even think of drawing him? nah, that's just not possible.. though his heart does beat a bit faster when he's thinking about it.

trey clover.

♡ oh, it looks like you forgot your notebook in class. there's no need to worry though, because trey will bring it back to you! he's so kind and caring, isn't he? okay, let him just take it and.. oh, it looks like it's open actually. well, that would be rude of him to read it, so he's just gonna- wait, is that him? trey wouldn't be surprised if it turns out that this guy isn't supposed to be him, his vision is not the best after all, but.. he still can't help but feel like this is actually a drawing of him.

♡ he won't ask you about it, he will just simply bring that notebook back to you, like he planned to. he doesn't want you to know that he saw that drawing and also, he has no idea how he'd prove that it wasn't intentional and he didn't actually want to read your notebook. sorry, y/n, this man isn't always honest with you, even though he really hates lying to you.

♡ .. he has to admit that he thought that doodle was cute. he almost laughed because you only drew his glasses and didn't draw his eyes. and the hearts.. he has no idea why they're here, you probably just drew them to make the drawing look ever cuter. it almost looks like you have a crush on him or something.. you don't have one, right?

leona kingscholar.

♡ this guy doesn't care about what's in your notebook. he looked at it only because he was bored, he had nothing to do, he didn't want to sleep (shocking, i know!) and then he saw your notebook lying on the floor. did it fall out of your backpack or something? he probably should bring it to you, even though he's too lazy to do that.. but again, it's not like he has anything else to do right now.

♡ .. now, what's this? this notebook is filled with doodles (you really don't pay much attention to classes, don't you?) and the one he's looking at right now looks a lot like him. your art style made him look too cute though, it's.. kinda gross. and what's with the hearts? ugh, you're so weird.. he shouldn't think too much about it.

♡ he brings the notebook back to you and doesn't say anything about seeing that one drawing, but he says that your art style is so cute that it makes him want to throw up. you just roll your eyes and thank him for the "compliment". right when you're about to leave though, you realize that it means he saw your drawings and you throw that notebook in his face. you sure hope he didn't see that drawing..

vil schoenheit.

♡ your notebook isn't that interesting to him. really, he would look at it only so that he can bring it to you and say how irresponsible you are. your handwriting is so messy.. you've been drawing in class too. you're not just irresponsible, you're lazy too. he should go and find you already- wait.. now, vil is most likely wrong (and he hopes he is), but.. is that him?

♡ he sees a little doodle of him in your notebook surrounded by tiny hearts. something is telling him it really is him, like the hairstyle, the pomefiore dorm uniform.. but also, he wishes this drawing would be more detailed. like, no, y/n, he's not okay with simply having dots for his eyes. and where is his nose? where is his makeup? wait, maybe he's wrong and this isn't supposed to be him.. no, it really is him. he's not like other characters, he's not in denial.

♡ when he gives you your notebook back, he doesn't mention that drawing (and he doesn't understand why he didn't do it), but he tells you that if you're gonna draw in class again instead of paying attention, you should at least try working on your art style more. no, these cute little doodles won't do, if you have something more important to do instead of studying and working, it should look like something important. you just look at him and after a minute of silence you go ".. did you just call my doodles cute?".. okay, that's it, he's leaving.

rook hunt.

♡ of course he would go through your notebook. of course he would. why? well.. he just wants to know more about you! he goes crazy when he sees it. your handwriting is so unique and beautiful! the way you take notes is so interesting! everything about your notebook is so aesthetically pleasing to him. he likes those little doodles you draw while taking notes too. they're so cute, so adorable, you're so creative! hm, now what do we have here..

♡ forgive him for this, but.. why does he feel like this little drawing is supposed to be him? like, this is definitely his hat. this is his haircut. this also looks like pomefiore dorm uniform.. oh my, it really is him! now excuse him, he's about to go JDHSJDNBSJHNDJDSKDSK 💖💓💗💞💕 HE LOOKS SO CUTE HERE!! you've done such a great job, how did you manage to draw him so well even though it's just a tiny doodle?

♡ yes, he will compliment your drawings when he finds you. no, he doesn't care if you go "WAIT, YOU READ MY NOTEBOOK??". yes, he did exactly that, y/n, give him a minute, this man wants to tell you how talented you are and how honored he is to be drawn by you. now, he has to go. oh, wait, he almost took your notebook with him- here it is.

idia shroud.

♡ ah, it's your notebook.. well, it's not like he wants to read it. no, really, he's not interested. but then, as he about to leave, he notices your drawings and.. okay, they're cute. he wants to see more of them. he really hopes you don't come back for your notebook because if you appear right behind him and see what he's doing, he will die.

♡ your doodles are so cute.. he just can't stop turning the pages, he doesn't care about your notes and your handwriting, he just wants to see the drawings. he especially likes the ones with cats. wait, what's this drawing supposed to mean- OH SEVENS THIS IS HIM. he knows that it's him, this is obviously his hairstyle and his hoodie and- Y/N I'M SORRY BUT THIS GUY IS SO CLOSE TO JUST THROWING YOUR NOTEBOOK OUT THE WINDOW HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THIS INFORMATION

♡ when you come back to get your notebook, you see this pathetic (affectionate or not) man lying on the floor and trying to hide how red his face is with his hands, but his hair turning pink gives everything away. you have no idea what happened here, so you just take your notebook and leave. maybe it's better not to ask him, it doesn't look like he will give you a proper answer right now anyway.

malleus draconia.

♡ oh, looks like you forgot your notebook. hm, he knows that it's rude to read someone's notes without their permission like this.. but he can't deny that he's curious and wants to see what you've written here. maybe this will help him get to know you better. and why is he so excited about this? like he's just reading your notebook, this is not something special.. but it's special to him, because it's your notebook.

♡ he likes everything about your notes. your handwriting, the way you take notes, your drawings.. hehe, they're so cute. now that he thinks about it, he doesn't remember ever seeing you draw before. he wishes you would show your art to him more often, you really are talented. even if these drawings are small and not that serious, they still feel like a part of you and he loves them just as much as he loves- wait, is this what he thinks it is?

♡ .. it really is him. these are his horns, his eyes, his ears, his hairstyle.. this is your drawing of him. he accidentally drops your notebook when he realizes this. he's just so shocked, he doesn't know what to do. like, how is he even supposed to react to this? when he calms down a little, he realizes that he's actually.. very happy about this. other diasomnia students don't understand why their dorm leader keeps smiling like something good happened today and it honestly scares them a little.

lilia vanrouge.

♡ like rook, he's unashamed to admit that he read your notebook. look, he was bored, okay? also he likes you and he always wanted to learn more about you, so <3 he would love your doodles a lot, they're so small, they're so silly! hehe, they say so much about your personality and you probably don't even realize it. but then he turns a page and.. he sees a drawing of him.

♡ like, he knows that this is him. he can feel it, okay, his intuition never fails him! it's because of his hairstyle. he recognized himself because of the hairstyle he looks so cute in your art style, he can't stop smiling when he looks at that drawing. oh, wait, you added some hearts too.. haha, does this mean that you have a crush on him? you're so adorable. well, lucky for you, he likes you back~

♡ you find him hanging upside down as always and reading your notebook. you tell him to give it back to you and even though he really wants to play with you, he agrees and you get your notebook back. but later that day, while doing homework, you notice that one page is missing. if you're not wrong, it was a page with that drawing of lilia.. you really hope that lilia won't find it, you just know that he won't leave you alone if that happens.

[aurorawhisperz]

that’s the thing (e.l)

I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THE DRAFT AND LOST THE ASK 😭😭😭 (but here u go anon if u find this 🙏)

contains: swearing, fluff, smut 18+ (oral, fingering, slight overstimulation)

spiderman!ethan landry x fem!reader

based off you’re here that’s the thing by beabadoobee 🙏

•

Ethan definitely screwed up.

He swings across the city in tight spandex. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Ethan exclaimed, speedily typing on his phone, but you wouldn’t respond.

Being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman, he always had priorities—but that didn’t stop him from spending time with you. Knowing this, you forgave him every time he’d miss something.

Well, that jinxed it. On the lookout, he had completely forgotten about your date, Ethan—being the dork with the heart of gold, thought this would be the last straw for you.

Ethan often thought about this every time he’d be swinging around New York just to make it up to you. One reason why he’d always make it up to you is because he felt like he should, or must.

The second reason why is because it always ends in something wonderful—whether it’s him sleeping over, or the other way around, or something else that would have the boy completely whipped.

Then he spotted you, wearing his jacket you ‘forgot’ to return. His whole world seemed to stop—that was until he remembered the fact that he left you waiting.

A bunch of people backed away when Ethan took you with him. “It’s the spider dude!” Someone near you exclaimed.

“What? Oh my god!” You exclaim, swiftly sliding your hands around his neck. “I am so SO sorry that I left you waiting, okay? I was on the lookout, I completely forgot about our date, I’m really sorry, I REALLY AM!” He exclaimed, talking fast, then you pointed at a pole that was about to hit his head.

Once Ethan was about to dodge it, it hits the top of his head instead. His grip tightened till he swinged back to your dorm—though weakly.

He yanks his mask off and leans back on your bed.

“Less talking, more swinging.” You sigh, grabbing the sides of his face—then you kissed him, your lips moving in sync. He could taste the fruity lipgloss you had put on. Ethan's eyes widened in surprise as you pulled away. He blinked a few times, trying to process the unexpected turn of events.

Then a smile was on his face, pulling you back. Deepening the kiss.

“Being a superhero’s girlfriend isn’t that hard,” You frown, then he kisses more again before you continue, “But seriously, you have to change out of this shit.” Ethan kept a hand on your waist, “Actions speak louder than words, right?”

You jump as Ethan quickly jumps under your bed, your roommate bursting in. “Hey, I’ll be leaving you alone here for a while since I’ve got somewhere to go.” You nod, then they wave, “See ya.” And leave.

Quickly falling on your bed as Ethan uses his webs to lock the door, “This is really cute,” He holds up your diary, the drawing of Spider-Man you made on a sticky note during a lecture. “Can I keep it?”

“Change first.” He rolled his eyes at your command.

He quickly changed into his normal clothes after slipping off the spandex. “Dammit,” He exclaimed as he checked his backpack for flowers he was gonna give you—there were flowers, but only a few, the petals flying away instantly.

Walking into the living room, Ethan uses his webs to snatch the remote from your hands, “We’re watching a movie, because I have to make it up to you,” Then handing you the somewhat ruined bouquet of flowers. “Eth, you shouldn’t have.” You teased then grabbed his camera from the table.

“Try and take a picture of me holding these, that’s how you can make it up to me.” Ethan takes the camera from you then more words come from your mouth, “Although you’re already here, that’s how you can make it up to me.”

The camera flashes in your face as you cover the lower half of your face with the flowers—then laying down on the couch with Ethan as the movie starts playing.

“You know,” says Ethan, “I’m really glad I forgot about our date today,” You frown, then he chuckles, “It led to this and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You both chuckle at his words then you shower his face with kisses. Ethan quickly pulled you down to kiss his lips. The movie was long forgotten soon after that.

His lips crashed into yours once again, then his nails dig in your thighs as you straddle him.

“Maybe because you knew it would lead to this,” You mumble against his lips, his other hand running down your spine like an instrument. Ethan broke the kiss to move down to your jawline—then your neck.

His hands tapping on your lower back as you pulled away. “You’re a sneaky one.” You pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, then Ethan let out a breathy laugh, “I’m Spiderman, of course I’m sneaky.”

“But I love Ethan Landry more.” Right after Ethan takes quite a few minutes to process your words, he pulls you in by your waist to kiss you once again.

You wrap your arms around his neck as his fingers dig into your hips.

He mumbles against your lips, “I want you,” He starts to smoothly put a little tongue in the kiss, then when your lips part even more for permission, it slips in. You hum against his lips as Ethan slowly grinds into you.

You pull away and smile, he drags his thumb over your bottom lip, you try to kiss him again, but he keeps a hand on your chest to stop you. “Can I go down on you?” The question makes your eyes widen as you turn beet red. Ethan’s stupid puppy eyes made you nod, and the smirk felt good to kiss off.

His arms placed you back on the couch, the needy boy got on his knees. Ethan gives you a deep kiss, then he moves down your jaw, he leaves a mark on your collarbone.

It goes from your chest, to your belly, and he reaches your clothed core. Ethan looks up at you and you lick your lips.

The boy pulls down your panties and starts with kissing your inner thighs. The sneaky little thing was always a tease, it pained you slightly but you know you love him.

Ethan presses a wet kiss to your left thigh, sucking on it. His breath fans over your core and you shudder.

He presses a kiss to your clit, then makes his way down to your entrance—licking up then burying his face in between your thighs. Your back arched at the pleasure.

In the early stages of your relationship, you had always told him what felt good, and he made it feel even better.

Your legs threaten to lock around his head, but his big hands hold your hips down. You were basically squirming, and he was only trying to drive himself away from the spot you wanted him to stay on.

Ethan harshly sucks on your clit, circling it with his tongue. You feel like you’re close, VERY close. Without warning, his middle finger enters you and that makes you lift your head up and whine in pleasure, you could feel him smile against your core.

“God, don’t stop.” You say breathlessly, and while muffled, you could still hear him, “I won’t,” He pulls away with a pop, “Trust me.” He dives right back in as soon as he finishes.

When his ring finger enters, your body felt limp and like everything slowed down for a minute.

The hot feeling down your stomach was heating up.

When his nose bumped into your clit, along with his ring finger entering the chaos, that feeling hit it’s peak.

Though Ethan didn’t stop, he kept lapping up your juices—it felt so overwhelming. Your hips were basically jolting up out of instinct.

You shuddered under his touch, he reaches up for your hand and laces his fingers with yours.

When Ethan finally pulled away, he crawled back on top of you and pushed away a stray strand of hair. He didn’t say anything, he just smiled. You know you’d forgive him for missing a date either way, the only way he could make it up to you is just being there.

He presses a soft kiss to your lips, then he mumbles in between kisses, “I’m not done yet,” Your eyes blink open as he pulls away, the taste of yourself lingering on your tongue. “I wonder how people would feel if they find out their friendly neighborhood Spiderman was a pro at not only superhero-ing, but this.” says Ethan.

You chuckle and pull him back in for another, when he breaks the contact he takes the square foil out of his pocket and smirks at you, then places it on the table next to you both. He tries to kiss you again

You grab it from the table, “I’m not on the pill, babe,” You assure him, he shrugs then takes it from your hand. He sticks the tip of his tongue out when he struggles to open it. You laugh at Ethan, and open it yourself. “I’ll be your walking stick tomorrow,” he whispers to your ear.

You were in for a long night.

[sadcatprince]

I forgot I already started drawing this and wrote out the whole scenario... uh oops?

I did a combination of the two prompts for day 6 (which I'm surprised I didn't do more ngl). So this one is Time Travel AND Protectiv rolled together. Enjoy the doodle and bonus(?) pentadrabble below the cut.

This is implied to be a hate crime and Vlad kind of gestures at the AIDS crisis if your sensitive to things like that.

This was bad, Danny was supposed to be keeping contact to a minimum and keeping an eye out for the ghost trying to undo his existence. Now he was following a college aged Vlad, who was trying his absolute hardest to ignore Danny. After a few blocks he reeled on Danny though, wincing and letting out an audible grunt of pain as he landed on his injured ankle. 

Danny could see the damage to his face more clearly now as if glared up at him. Vlad's right cheek was swollen and already an ugly mottled purple. His lip was split but it had stopped bleeding already. “Look, man, I'm glad you helped me but you need to stop following me!” 

The idea made Danny tense and he rejected it down to his core. “No way. That was like five guys. If they jump you again they could kill you. I'm not leaving until I see you get into your dorm.”

At least then he knew dad would be able to keep an eye on him. Probably help him with that nasty black eye. Danny pushed away the thought of doing that himself. Vlad probably wasn't even going to let dad help, honestly. Vlad was giving him a suspicious look, his other eye narrowing to match the one neatly swollen shut. “Wait, how do you know I live in a dorm?”

Oh, fuck. Vlad looked ready to bolt. He needed a lie. Fast. He looked around and smiled sheepishly, “I guess I just assumed, you're the right age, you have a backpack… we’re heading toward the campus?” 

Vlad looked unconvinced. “Okay. I still don't need a bodyguard. I'm perfectly capable of getting back home myself.” 

“You can barely walk.” Danny countered. 

That seemed to make something snap in Vlad. He took an aggressive step forward then swore in pain and stumbled. Danny caught him easily. That just made Vlad more irate. He shoved at Danny hard, “Why do you even care? You don't even know me!” 

It was true. At least from Vlad’s perspective. It wasn't like Danny could tell him the truth. If Danny was honest with himself it was true in the “present” too. It seemed like the older he got the more he realized he didn't know Vlad at all. Even worse was the fact that it hurt more every time it hit him. If only he could go on pretending he didn't know why.

Danny sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, you're right. I don't know you but I think I want to.”

Vlad shifted uncomfortably. He looked ready to try running again and his cheeks were getting redder. He’d started pulling his backpack between them like a shield. “I… I don’t know what you heard those guys saying but I’m NOT like that okay? Even if I was watching the news, I'm not going to sleep with some stranger!” 

“Wait that isn't what I m-” It was too late Vlad had thrown his backpack and started running, despite his clearly sprained ankle.

Danny followed him out of sight after that.

End

[idanceuntilidie]

Oh yea, i forgot somwthing its yandere male x oblivious gn reader and make the yandere slowly fall in love with the reader :")

Yeah it’s okay, and thank you sugar.

And it’s a-okay I understood everything, I hope what I wrote was to your liking it is probably the longest request I have written so sorry about that but yay 1054 words! I will add a cool song as a sorry-

I liked this, and so Kyu will be appearing more because I think I fell inlove myself. I will even draw him. Small side note he has only one eye--

Yandere Male x Gn! Oblivious Reader

Enjoy! Requests are open don't be shy :D

Kyu doesn’t know what’s worse, his precious darling not paying any attention to him or YOU.

You see during the last years of high school Kyu has developed a crush on someone and everything was going according to plan. He even started to slowly talk to them more, and got the special room in the basement for them ready.

But when everything seemed to go according to the plan. You appeared out of nowhere! Then his plan went to shit, his little darling came fluttering back to you every chance they saw you even if they were in the middle of conversation. He grit his teeth in frustration when you were around him. How dare you act so clueless and steal his future spouse just like that. He was watching you, noting where you went or what you did. He needed to find out how you apparently were better than him.

You weren’t even that special, sure he has to admit you were cute and your whole personality was quite charming but that changed nothing.

His hands gripped the wall as he watched both of you, talk and giggle, from around the corner. His knuckles turned white as his face twisted into a scowl. You will get it he seethes. You have no idea why this person came up to you. You learnt was something that started with V. V-....V-... someone. You actually think that they are following you, but then again they are actually nice and don’t ask for much. Being friends with them couldn’t hurt you right? Yeah, you suppose but you have a feeling they only hang around for homework and such. You try to keep up with their rambling as you try to find the notes V wanted. You added something now and then, laughing at little jokes they made.

As you finally find the slightly damaged math notes you smile as you hand them over to them. They squeak in happiness as they thank you over and over in happiness. They even promise to buy you a drink for helping them. They skip away as you.

You sigh in relief as another human to human interaction seemed to actually go as planned. Man, this was tiring.

As you were about to get up you felt something burning your skull. You look up to meet a very noticeable white haired man watching you. Oh, wasn’t he Vs boyfriend? You stare at him back, eyes squinting as you try to remember his name. You saw his eye widen as he scurried away. Shrugging you pick up the backpack and head to your next class. You yawn, limbs stretching as you finally get out of that shithole. You saw V a few times and they in fact went to buy you something. Redbull and a few snacks, even if you tried to decline they still kept on insisting that you deserve it. You saved the snacks for later. You slowly dragged your body to your house. You cut off the world and just listened to your favourite songs. You didn’t notice someone running up behind you and hitting you in the head with a bad, successfully knocking you out. 

You woke up with a very bad headache, blinking to make the blurriness wash away you take notice of your surroundings. You were in a bathroom, a very small pinkish bathroom. Your body rested in the bathtub.

Well this is original.

You turned your head to be met with that same blue eye you saw earlier today. Vs boyfriend?...What was his name again..? Something that started with D? Or K?

You aren’t sure since the headache you are experiencing is horrible. From what you know he is actually all cutesy and shit, very soft spoken, maybe he found you unconscious and carried you to his home..? But then again, you are tied up in the bathtub. “You rat!” he squeaks, pale face turning red.

You raise your brow in confusion. “You wanted to steal them away! You wretched rat!” “Huh..?” You squint your eyes at him, despite being absolutely scared shitless. You try to understand what he even wants from you. Steal them away… is he talking about V? “Dude your boyfriend? No way in hell, they just want notes usually” “Not true! I will fucking skin you alive” He was about to grab your face. “Do not threaten me with a good time, good sir.” You were trembling with tears in your eyes as you forced a cheeky smile. You saw him pause, his face red but you are not sure if it was from anger this time. He got up and left. Your eyes widened, as tears that were pricking at your eyes rolled down your cheeks, man. Did you just fluster him or… by the squeal you heard from the depths of the house you assume you did. Somehow. You laid your head against the cold tile wall, trying to calm down your breathing.

You heard him come back so you close your eyes to actually not see what he brought with him. You expected everything at this point, your skin shuddered at the thought of him looming over you with a knife. You expected to feel cold metal but instead you felt his hands on your cheeks wiping away the tears. He gave your cheeks a little squish. You whined in confusion. He chuckled at that and played with your cheeks some more.

“I still think you are a rat, a very cute one I have to admit. I think I like you” He got closer, you could practically smell his strawberry perfume.

“I will give you a chance to redeem yourself.” “Really? Listen my notes are not the best but-” “I don’t want them, I want you.” “I-I don’t even know you!” You felt his cheek against yours, slowly nuzzling as he hummed. “We have all the time in the world, after I get rid of my last crush so they won’t try to get close to you again.” Your heart sinks, but you don’t dare to open your eyes. His name is Kyu, you finally remember but at what cost. “You sure you don’t want the notes..?”

Meanwhile V panicking because they think the amount of candy mixed with that red bull killed your ass.

[akixa]

Dearie || lookism

The story is about Y/N, a mysterious girl in the Lookism world where she doesn't belong. With her average height and charming or adorable face, she seems fragile-looking, but once you know her dark side, you will see a manipulative and dangerous lady, yet her appearance makes everyone want to protect her in their cruel world. Will she team up with Daniel to take down the four major crews and Charles Choi? Or does she team up with the enemy side along with other geniuses? Will she finally go back to her real world? Let's find out in the next Dragon Ball Z! Enjoy!

(Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/361532555?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=justakixa)

CHAPTER 1 ˚୨୧⋆.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪ ⊹Part 1

The girl on the bed let out a groan as she lazily reached for her phone to silence the sudden ringing of the alarm. She sits up on her bed and glances to the side, spotting a tall mirror reflecting her messy bedhead. 

"ugh, what a mess..." She muttered to herself as she let out a long sigh, ever since she got into the lookism world around 1 week ago and now she was stuck there for now. 

When she found herself in that unfamiliar place, she awoke in a room filled with furniture, clothes that suited her, a key house, and even her birth certificate. Questioning her sanity, she pinched herself to no avail before exploring the house, which was charming in every way. In the living room, she discovered an ID from J-high with her face on it. It appeared that she had been randomly taken, placed in a house, and enrolled in a school that was completely foreign to her. However, it was becoming clear that she was not in her world, especially after she researched J-high and her old address, finding no trace of them on any maps. Till she realised She was in her friend's favourite webtoon "Lookism".

She finally gets up and starts heading to the bathroom to take a shower, after that, she wears the uniform and combs her hair as she lets it free then ties it to buns. She then heads her way downstairs, grabs her backpack, phone, key house, and lastly she goes near the door and wears her shoes before going out of the house and locking the house.

While later she finally arrived at a gate at J-high School, she guessed this would be the start of a new life. Once she steps inside, all the eyes are on her making her feel nervous and awkwardly walks away from the stares as she finally arrives in front of the principal office. She knocks twice on the door as someone shouts to come in.

A few minutes later, she got out and started heading to the fashion department room in the other hall. When she arrives at her class, she braces herself and takes a deep breath before she enters the classroom and suddenly stares at her again.

"oh! I forgot to announce that we will have new students today. So, Kindly introduce yourself dear." The teacher looks at me and gives me a gentle smile.

"Hello, I'm Y/N and im 18 years old. My hobby is drawing and please don't ask me to draw you for free. That's all." She stutters a bit but she did great anyway. After that, the teacher signed her to sit next to the blond boy covering his both eyes. Can he even see anything underneath those hairs?

She smiles at him before turning away and grabbing a book to write down notes, while the blonde guy keeps staring at her and seems to fantasise about her in his mind as he smiles back a little bit making his ears turn red. As she keeps writing something in her book, the blond keeps watching her till the three classes are finally over and break time starts any second.

Upon her arrival in the cafeteria, everyone looked at the new student aka her but she didn't notice the new guy behind her making everyone gasp for a second and think they may be a couple? or Model? or Idols? She turned around to meet somebody's chest as she looked up and saw a handsome man who also looking at her. 

"Hi! You're Y/N, right? Im Daniel Park, am also new here and same department as yours." He smiles widely at her while. Right beside him, it was the blonde boy again, he kept looking at her as if he wanted to devour her or something.

"He mentioned that his name is Jay Hong." He gestured towards him.

"Is he mute?" She thought.

Daniel and Jay keep smiling down at her. She tilted her head looking at them before turning around and walking away to get snacks in the vending machine. Before she put the coin in, someone raced into it she looked to her side and saw Daniel with Jay leaning on the vending machine other side.

She feels nervous because of those two who keep getting closer to her. She hurries to click the options button and takes a leave with the strawberry pocky in her hand.

While strolling down the hallway and munching on her pocky, she ponders why Daniel and Jay are behaving so differently in this world compared to the webtoon. Did something trigger this world? Will others also act out of character? Lost in thought, she accidentally bumps into someone, causing her pocky to snap in half. As she looks up, she is met by a man with tattoos and a jumpsuit tied around his waist. His chest feels as solid as bricks - why does it seem like she ran into a wall?

As she observes the man in front of her, she can't help but think that he might be a bully due to his appearance, especially the tattoos on his hands. She regrets not reading about Lookism with her friend, but she was too busy with school. Now, as the man walks towards her and stops right in front of her, she begins to tremble on the floor with fear.

What will happen to her next? Will he hit her since she bumped into him? Is he a bad guy? She prays silently till the man starts to reach his hand to her.

In just a blink of her eyes, she's in the clinic room. Just a second ago, she was in the hallway sitting on the ground with a man standing in front of her, and suddenly he carried her in the bridal way and ran. Then a nurse came up to me and checked if my knee got bruised or something while the guy was looking down on the floor, looking all guilty like a sad giant dog... A big-ear guy suddenly came to his side and comforted him and said she was fine; in reality, she was fine since the fall didn't cause her to hurt her knee or get sprained. The only one that got her hurt was her pocky, which broke in half and was left in the hallway.

A while later, a nurse told those two that she was alright and as they kept talking, she decided to check the phone that she was bringing since it wasn't hers in the first place. She opened the phone and saw the lock screen looked normal as she swiped it up and had a password in it.

"Eh, it has a password? how am I gonna open this?" she whispered to herself before she quickly hid it in her jacket uniform pocket as the two guys finally approached her. The guy with big ears tries to push the big tattoo guy toward me and keeps telling him to apologize to her for bumping over me.

"Hey, he would like to apologize to you for bumping you and carrying you without your consent." The big ears guy smiles at me as he points to the tattoo guy.

"My name is Jace Park and his name is Euntae Lee but call him Vasco instead. We're members of Burn Knuckles while he is a Leader."

"Well, that's ok but may I ask a question?" she tilts her head as she looks at Jace.

"What is it?" He looks down at her and starts to examine her body head to toe as he snaps out his thoughts.

"Are you guys a bad guy? you two look like you can kill a fly..." She asks both of them.

Jace let out a chuckling sound as he pointed to Vasco again "Believe it or not he may look like a bad guy but he's a big softie."

" And I wouldn't dare to hurt someone as precious as you little lady," Vasco said with a tint of blush on his chick.

"Little?!" She thought. She feels offended since her height isn't that small compared to theirs. Is she? Last time in her world she was 5'6 but this time she shrunk.

"Also, are you new here somehow? Your face is unfamiliar around this school." Jace turned to ask her as she nodded and decided to stand up and dust her skirt.

Later they start to head out of the clinic room and part their ways in each department. She pulled out the phone again and decided to guess the password of the lock screen. She put her birthday code, 1234, password, and everything she thought of but sadly for her everything was incorrect. As she arrives at her classroom she feels the intense atmosphere, she looks up from her phone and sees in the middle is Daniel and the random guy. Slowly walked around and sat on her chair while others were getting crowded around Daniel and that guy and cheering loudly.

She overheard the guy's name was Zack and a Boxer. She couldn't bear to look at the fight so she returned to the phone and guessed another password while everyone kept making a crowd with outsiders too. Then suddenly she heard someone get punched, she took a sneak glance and saw Zack guy was on the floor clutching to his stomach. She felt bad for him but she didn't know what had happened before she arrived so she went back to the phone and she noticed the girl with brown had left the room.

Everyone lowers their eyes and avoids Zack who is still clutching his stomach as he tries to get up from the floor, she lets out a soft sigh and puts the phone in her pocket once again. She walks to Zack and then crouches down to him as she pokes his shoulder.

"Do you need help?" She asked him as she held him up on her shoulder before Zack answered her. But when she asks him if he needs help, he looks up at her and everything goes in slow motion around him till flowers bloom behind her. A goddess. While he was daydreaming, she dragged him out of the room but before that, Daniel came up to her and helped her hold Zack to the clinic, little did she know Daniel was glaring at Zack when he noticed Zack was staring at her and getting held by her.

When they arrived, they laid him down on the bed and she told Daniel to stay there with him as she went to catch up with the nurse. When she said that Zack snapped out of his daydreaming and shook his head as he muttered that he had Mira for him, then she walked out of the clinic leaving the two alone inside and walking through the hallway. She was not going to call the nurse since she saw the letter on the desk that the nurse would come back any minute. She walked around the hall and checked her surroundings. Everyone seemed busy minding their business so she went to the library, pulled out the phone once again and tried one more password.

Finally, she successfully guessed the password of the lock screen. It was the exact day when she arrived. Lowkey is suspicious and feels it was set up just for her. Her expression drops when she notices the wallpaper on the phone. Unfamiliar man and a woman that looks like her...

Is that even her? She can't even remember anything about that guy, mostly she just woke up last week ago in a random house and felt like an amnesia person. Yet she still believed that this world wasn't hers since she remembered everything in her 'world' so that's why that man and that woman are not related to her. Hopefully not. If it was, then her 'world' was just a dream and everything she knew was fake blurry people.

She shook her mind off of all the questions. Then she decided to look further, she checked the gallery and it was empty. There were no pictures or videos in there so she went to check the files but it was also empty. When she clicks the music app, she notices there's an unnamed folder only and it is full of voice records. She was about to play one but the bell interrupted her, she headed back to her classroom grabbed her backpack and quickly walked out of the school. She was so curious about what was in the voice records that she hurriedly walked, she even felt the soft gaze at her but she just ignored it and continued walking.

Part 3!

[temptingfatetakingnames]

The Last Steve Harrington Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Dinner had been a truly harrowing experience that Steve never wanted to repeat. He would rather fight a horde of Demobats than sit at that table as they all tried to act normal and light and happy. He wanted to scream in their faces or bang his fists on the table – anything to get a real reaction out of them. He was also becoming increasingly terrified of Joyce and her seemingly unconscious need to offer comforting touches to everyone. Get up for a napkin? Pat Eleven on the head. Oh, forgot to get the milk? Rubbed Will’s shoulders on her way to the fridge. The third time she got up, Steve had to grip the table to keep from running. She hesitated for a moment beside him but didn’t reach out, probably because she could see the tension in his posture. He only relaxed when she sat back down again.

Hopper was quiet, but the kids and Joyce kept up a constant stream of conversation, only occasionally trying to draw him in. They failed; he was too on edge to even attempt to speak. The food tasted like ash in his mouth and he excused himself before finishing, doctor’s orders on calorie intake be damned. The silence at the table as he left was deafening. He sat down on the bed in his room and wondered how the hell he was going to do this. He wanted to sink into the floorboards and pretend he didn’t exist. He wanted to run.

Not yet.

He grabbed his backpack from under the bed and counted his canned goods and went over his supplies. The steak knife he had slipped into his sock at dinner when no one was looking was added to the pile. He had plenty of food and could refill his canteen easily, but he needed money.

A knock on the door sounded loud in the quiet of the room. Steve shoved everything in the backpack and put it under the bed before he called, “come in.”

Joyce opened the door, carrying a steaming mug in one hand.

“Tea,” she said as she walked over. “With lots of milk and sugar.”

She set it on the table before sitting down beside him. Steve couldn’t help but bristle at her presence.

“I wanted to ask how you were doing?”

Steve blinked at her. In terms of how he was doing physically, he couldn’t deny that he was better. In terms of how he was doing mentally? He had no idea how to answer that. His thoughts were a messy tangle of grief, anger, guilt, and shame. He thought his feelings on surviving were bad before, but that was nothing to what he felt now – now that he knew what he had done.

He went with the easiest answer, “better.”

It was both the truth and complete and utter horseshit.

“You don’t have to be alright, Steve. I’m going to keep talking to you and asking you questions because I want to get to know you, but you don’t have to answer. I know that you don’t know how to talk to us, and you’re overwhelmed. I guess I just hope that if I keep talking to you like normal, eventually it will be normal. Hopper thinks I should back right off and leave you alone but I think if given the choice, you’ll isolate yourself. So, I’m going to talk and you don’t have to listen and I’m going to ask questions and you don’t have to answer. Is that okay?”

She was right that he would isolate himself if he could. He really didn’t want to talk to any of them. Steve appreciated her explaining her thought process, though. It helped to make sense of why she kept trying to engage with him when he rarely responded back.

He nodded in answer.

There was something he could ask for that would ease his mind more than knowing he didn’t have to talk to her if he didn’t want to. He figured she would want to know if she was serious about making him comfortable.

“Don’t touch me,” he said and after a brief pause added, “please.”

“Of course, Steve.” She held his gaze, projecting sincerity. He remembered his Joyce always being frazzled and stressed… but she had been looking for her lost son and even after she had found him, Will wasn’t okay. This Joyce was calm and… motherly. “I won’t touch you.”

He nodded again and she got up to leave.

“Drink your tea. The green toothbrush in the bathroom is yours when you’re ready for bed and there’s lots of towels if you want to have a shower in the morning. Good night, Steve.” 

She left the door open when she left, which didn’t bother him as much as it probably would have before their conversation. He drank the tea, enjoying the feeling of the warm beverage in his hands, and started re-reading The Hobbit for the thousandth time. The evening passed slowly into night. Steve stayed in his room, enjoying the quiet. He was still reading when Will and Eleven stopped in his open doorway.

“Good night, Steve,” they chorused together.

“Night,” he replied and they scampered away.

It took awhile longer for Joyce and Hopper to settle into bed and even longer before he felt sure that everyone was sleeping deeply. He waited in the hallway and listened patiently for any signs of wakefulness or movement before he slipped downstairs and out the door. The hospital had felt like a prison and Steve needed to know he could leave if he wanted to. Needed to take back the autonomy he had lost when he had walked through that portal.  

He didn’t see anyone, no people or cars, as he made his way down the street and it reminded him so viscerally of his Hawkins that he shivered. He exited the suburb and turned onto Main Street. Passing the theatre, he saw that there were new releases for movies called Predator and Spaceballs, reminding him that time had passed here. That life had moved forward. He had a year to catch up on… along with everything else. Continuing on his way, he passed the middle school and high school and arrived at the playground. Steve sat on the swing set and looked up at the sky.

It was a clear night and the stars shone brightly. He wished he had paid more attention in school so he could know if they were the same ones from his universe. This Hawkins didn’t seem any different from his, so he figured the stars were probably the same too. Steve wondered again what the hell had made him so different? What had affected him or changed him to make him so catastrophically different from all the other Steves? What was wrong with him?

He didn’t have any answers.

The summer heat had gone with the sun, and a cool wind played with his hair. It was beautiful and quiet and he could almost pretend that he was the only person in the universe. That the past week hadn’t happened and he was still blissfully unaware of parallel universes and he only had his own failure to be guilty of. He sat there for hours. Sometimes swinging, kicking until he was as high as he could go, feet pointing at the sky before falling back down to Earth. Sometimes just sitting calmly and looking up at the sky and listening to the crickets sing. When he could see the sky start to lighten off in the distance he made his way back to the Hopper-Byers’ house.  

Hopper was in the kitchen when Steve walked in the door. Standing in front of the coffee maker and waiting for it to finish dripping. He expected him to yell, shout, ask where he had been all night. Instead, Hopper silently grabbed another mug out of the cupboard above him and set it down next to the one already on the counter. When the coffee was done, he poured two steaming mugs and handed one to Steve.

“Milk or sugar?” he inquired.

Steve shook his head and Hopper nodded before jerking his head to the front door. Steve followed him out and they sat together on the porch swing. Hopper didn’t speak again and Steve sipped his coffee and watched the sun finish rising on a new day.

---

Time passed slowly for Steve over the weekend. He mostly stayed in his room, reading or sleeping. He emerged for mealtimes, which didn’t cause him as much stress now that he and Joyce had an understanding. She would sometimes ask him easy yes or no questions that he could nod or shake his to and the kids told him about their summertime days - biking and swimming and visiting the arcade with the others.

When dinner was over, he went to go back to his room but was stopped by Eleven and Will blocking the stairs.

“We are going to watch a movie, do you want to come?” Eleven asked.

A movie could be… nice. Easy.

“What movie?”

“Empire Strikes Back!” Will declared and Eleven glared at him.

“The Breakfast Club,” she argued back.  

They turned to look at him, expecting him to choose. He wouldn’t mind watching both, he loved those movies. He wondered if they chose them because they were Other Steve’s favourites… It didn’t matter, he decided. He wanted to watch them.

“We could watch both?”

They smiled and nodded.

He followed them into the living room, where they began setting up the television and VHS player. Empire Strikes Back was put in because Will had said it first, a rule that Eleven seemed to abide by. Steve settled into the corner of the couch, Eleven beside him and Will on her other side. The iconic music started and the text was rolling down the screen when Joyce came in with drinks and popcorn. Eleven held the bowl in her lap so he and Will could both reach it. The popcorn was cooked perfectly, salted and buttery and Steve had never tasted anything so good.

They finished Empire Strikes Back and were watching The Breakfast Club when Steve started to drift in and out of consciousness. He would wake up, watch some teenage shenanigans, then his eyes would get heavy again. He tried to stay awake, but he was always so tired. Maybe the kids would watch it with him again tomorrow night?

“Code red. Over,” Dustin’s muffled, staticky voice came through the walkie-talkie on the table.

Steve jerked, instantly awake as adrenaline rushed through him. Will leapt off the couch and grabbed the walkie. He hissed into the receiver, “Dustin, you can’t keep using code red to check on Steve. Over and out!” He turned the button on the top, turning it off before tossing it on the couch.

Steve was breathing harshly and staring at it like it was a snake that was going to bite him. He closed his eyes tight. Code red. Code red meant The Upside Down. Code red meant monsters and danger and death. He couldn’t do monsters and danger and death again. It was supposed to be safe here. It was supposed to be over.

“Steve!”

He couldn’t breathe. He needed his bat or his fucking gun.

“Steve!”

His heart felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest, and his breathing was out of his control. He clutched desperately at his neck and sweater.

“Don’t touch him. Back up,” the voice sounded far away.

What the hell was it now? Had Vecna found out about the parallel universes? Did he follow Steve through the portal? He was going to kill everyone. He was going to kill everyone again.  

“You’re safe, Steve. There is no code red. Everyone is safe. There is no code red.”

He knew he was hyperventilating when a prickling sensation started in his fingers and made its way up his arms. He couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t watch it again. He couldn’t do it!

Please… Please… Please… Please!

“You’re safe, everyone is safe. There is no code red. Look at me, Steve.”

Hopper? What was he saying? No code red? He had heard Dustin say it over the walkie! Steve shook his head.

“It’s okay, Steve. Dustin has been radioing Will for updates, he’s used code red a few times to get a response. Nothing bad is happening, I promise.” Hopper’s voice was even and calm. So calm. Why was he so fucking calm?

Steve slowly opened his eyes. Hopper was kneeling in front of him, his large body taking up all of Steve’s frame of vision. He smiled when Steve met his eyes.

“There you are. Take a deep breath for me if you can.”

Steve tried but couldn’t do it yet. His heart was still pounding but the panic was starting to subside in the face of Hopper’s calm. He let go of his sweater and flexed his hands. He took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out slowly. He did it again, and again, and again.

“No code red?” Steve finally managed to ask after his breathing had settled.

Hopper shook his head. “Nothing to worry about, Steve.”

“How do you know? For sure?”

Hopper stood and grabbed the walkie from the couch where Will had tossed it and turned it back on.

He held down the button and said, “Dustin, it’s Hopper. What’s the code red?”

Silence. Steve’s panic slowly started to rise again.

“How’s Steve? Over.”

Hopper looked up and shook his head, exasperated.

“You used code red just to ask about Steve? You can pick up the phone, ya know?”

“I radioed all day but Will and Eleven never answered!” a pause and then, “over.” Dustin’s voice sounded smaller, ashamed. 

Hopper sighed and pushed two of his fingers into his eyes.

Steve reached up and took the walkie out of his hand. It was the same one they used in his universe. He pushed the button and said, “roll call,” with the strongest voice he could muster. 

There was silence for a moment, before their voices all started coming in.

“Dustin. Green. Over.”

“Robin. Green. Over.”

“Lucas and Erica. Green. Over.”

“Max. Green. Over.”

“Mike. Green. Over.”

The longest pause came next before a sleepy voice crackled through.

“Eddie. Green. Over.”

Instant relief. He sagged back into the couch, exhausted.

He looked up at Hopper. “Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle?”

“All out of town. We can call them if you need to hear that their okay.”

Steve shook his head. He didn’t want to bother them late at night. They were safe if they weren’t in Hawkins.

“El? Will?”

“We’re here, Steve,” Will called.

They were standing in the hallway with Joyce, both of their eyes wide and terrified. Steve swallowed down the guilt at causing that expression on their faces.

“El, Will and Steve. Green. Over and out.”

He put the walkie down, closed his eyes, and leaned his head against the back of the couch. Sensing them all staring at him, he opened his eyes again. Now he was just embarrassed that he had overreacted so aggressively.

“I’m alright now. Sorry for freaking you all out.”

“Nothing for you to apologize for. It’s Dustin who’s going to be sorry,” Hopper stated with frightening certainty.

“I’ll make everyone tea,” Joyce said and left the room. Hopper followed her out. He could hear them talking quietly in the kitchen.

Steve was wide awake now, still coming down from the adrenaline rush. He wanted to run to his room and curl into a ball under the bed. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. Will and Eleven came over and sat back down on the couch, their gazes heavy as they watched him. Probably for any sign that he was going to freak out and scare them again.

“We can start the movie over if you want?” Will asked quietly.

He wasn’t going to be able to sleep anyway, and the movie would be a good distraction from his thoughts. He nodded and Will went to rewind the tape before they all settled back down. Eleven sat a lot closer to him than before, and after a moment she reached out and took two of his fingers in a loose grip. Steve had never been so grateful for such a soft and grounding touch. He looked down at her tiny hand and adjusted so their fingers intertwined. She squeezed gently and he squeezed back. Joyce came in a few minutes later with a tray of steaming mugs for everyone.

Eleven and Will were fast asleep before Bender raised his fist in the air, their heads resting against each other.

Steve held the walkie in a tight grip and watched over them, the static from the television flickering in his eyes.

Part 5

@vampireinthesun @just-a-tiny-void

[munson-blurbs]

IT'S SPOOOPY HALLOWEENIE!

Dum-Dum.* Kit Kat. Eddie.

*"I don't know what that is" - in an Australian accent.

Idiots in love/Artist!Reader/Eddie Munson

Warnings: drug use (weed), reader can be read as gender neutral, mention of Billy Hargrove, sitting on Eddie's lap

WC: 778

Divider credit to @saradika (also, Dum-Dums are a brand of lollipop)

Knock knock.

The sound of someone at the door startles you, drawing your attention from your unfinished sketch and to the curly-haired boy clutching a piece of paper in his ringed hand.

“Sorry, uh,” Eddie says with a nervous laugh, “didn’t mean to scare you.” When you don’t reply, he looks around the otherwise-empty classroom. “Is now a bad time, or…?”

You gather your thoughts, heart pounding a mile a minute at the sudden interruption. “N-No, you’re fine,” you stammer. God, he’s so cute. Cheeks tinged red with bashfulness, free hand shoved into his back pocket, frizzy curls brushing against his denim-clad shoulders. “Something I can help you with?” you ask when he remains standing in place.

“Oh! Um, yeah.” He shuffles over to you, as though reminding himself to put one foot in front of the other. “You draw, right? Like, sketches and stuff?” He winces at his stilted attempt at an opening, especially given the fact that your sketchbook is open right in front of you.

“Mhm.”

“Cool.” Eddie nods. “Could I ask you to draw this? It’s for my uncle’s birthday next month.” He hands you the photo, and your heart instantly melts. It’s a picture of him and who you assume is his uncle, and Eddie can’t be much older than ten years old. He’s wearing a blue shirt with an S in a diamond hastily drawn on the front. A faded red towel is tied around his neck in a makeshift cape. The older man stands behind him, half a KitKat bar hanging from his lips like a cigarette. “It was my first Halloween with him.” The first time I ever celebrated Halloween, actually, he thinks, but keeps that information to himself.

You carefully study the photo, careful not to leave fingerprints on it, even though there’s already a smudge in the corner. “I, uh, I don’t know what those stains are,” Eddie mumbles. “I can’t offer a lot of money, but if you smoke…” he mimics taking a pull from a joint, “I can hook you up for free.”

“You sure?” You wrinkle your nose. “I don’t want you getting in trouble or anything.”

Eddie dismisses the notion with a wave. “What’s he gonna do, call the cops?”

“Fair enough,” you agree with a smile.

You hadn’t realized that when Eddie had offered to smoke you up for free, he’d meant smoking with him. Over the next few weeks, any free time that wasn’t spent drawing the photo of him and his uncle–whose name was Wayne, you’d learned–you spent with him in a haze of marijuana. Sharing giggles, splitting family bags of potato chips when the munchies inevitably hit, snuggling up on his couch and sleepily watching sitcom reruns consumed your afternoons. To an outsider’s perspective, it looked like you two were together. Truthfully, you had no idea what you and Eddie’s status was.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” you sit up suddenly, shifting under the blanket and reaching for your backpack. “I finished this last night.”

Eddie’s bloodshot eyes go wide, and you swear that their glassiness is fueled by more than just pot. “This is…wow,” he breathes out, shaking his head in disbelief. “This is even better than I imagined.” He doesn’t know the technical terms for what you’ve done, but you’ve perfectly captured their enthused expressions, the joy in their eyes evident even just through pencil shading. “You’re amazing.”

And maybe it’s the compliment, or the high, or the way he’s been nestled into you for the last forty minutes, but you tilt his head towards yours and kiss him. Your mouths collide clumsily, and he seems shocked at first, but he quickly eases himself into it to deepen it. One hand cups your cheek while the other pulls you onto his lap so you’re straddling his lithe waist. 

“Wanted to do this for a long time,” he murmurs into you, not wanting to fully break the kiss. “Ever since I first saw you, I thought you were so goddamn pretty.”

“I’ve had a crush on you since you jumped on the cafeteria table and called Billy Hargrove out for leading all those poor girls on,” you admit with a laugh. “He turned bright red.”

Eddie inhales, shrugging his shoulders haphazardly. “Earned myself a pretty little black eye for that.” His nose nudges yours as he leans in to kiss you again. “But it was totally worth it if it meant you noticed me.”

You pull back slightly, taking in his beautiful brown eyes, the tiny patch of stubble where he’d missed shaving, the flyaway hairs on his temple. “Can I keep noticing you?”

“I’d be sad if you stopped.”

--

[kbthebearcat]

“…. Oh, wait… Am I in your way?” 

After having a jog in the forest (or some other kind of workout) Troy decides to take a rest. It looks like a hiker just came from his trek and didn’t quite expect to have this particular encounter while heading back to camp, but fortunately it’s just a big’ol dork. 

Once Troy realizes he’s in the path, he’ll get up and move, and maybe he could even give a lift!

This is art from 2022!

Also I just noticed that for some reason I forgot to draw a visible backpack strap on the hiker??? Like.. WHERE DOES IT CONNECT? Maybe it has one strap and it’s on the other arm… we’ll go with that.🥲

[bigstupid69]

I do tend to draw the choir similar to some of the actors, but I honestly just wanted to make my own designs and make them more greasy teenagers since I love them.

They all have braces (plus Constance) because why not!

Additional hadcanons below!!

Penny

𓃬 I wanna preface before I say anything, I absolutely LOVE CDplayer! And me making them exes is in no way hating on the ship! I just like angst and I basically made them both have a falling out from the JK-47 incident. I don't think Tammy would break up, I think Penny just genuinely avoided everyone and everything after that happened with barely any additional communication. Dick move to practically ghost her I know, but my Penny Lamb is not the most mentally healthy since-, I don't think she would be given all the shit she's been through...

𓃬 Sad note I forgot to add to the backpack is that she keeps a cross necklace in the pocket of her school uniform that Tammy gave to her, ouch!

𓃬 She keeps a mask in her bag since she tends to wear a face mask to try and blend into the background and escape the relentless bullying she faces at St Cassian, it works most of the time.

𓃬 Her blonde streaks in her hair is not dye. When she came back life part of Jane still remained in her, that being the porcelain doll's blonde hair. She can't remove it whether by cutting it off or dying, she's just like that permanently. I touched on my personal headcanons with Penny's sense of identity when it came to Jane in a very old fanfiction, that I discontinued. It's definitely gonna come back in the ghost AU I'm currently working on.

𓃬 She constantly looks like she's been pushed down the stairs. Usually not the case she's just very clumsy, definitely concerns the choir that she just shows up covered in bandages and bruises and acts like nothing happened.

Ocean

✪ Non ginger Ocean is still too cursed to me so I'm just gonna go with her dying it since no one probably wants to be ginger. (no offense)

✪ She keeps any random item Penny gives her. Even if it's like a paperclip she found on the ground, she treasures it. (Reason why half of the crap is just rocks, Penny is like a bird that picks up shiny things and gives them to people.)

✪ She's only an inch shorter than Mischa, (yeah I made him tiny). They have a worse sibling rivalry than Noel at points since the height difference isn't intimidating.

✪ She constantly keeps trying to fix Penny's loose tie in the hallway or whenever she notices it not as perfect as she wants it to be. (because she is insane)

Noel

☠ Again no hate to frenchrap?? I think that's the ship name? (Noel and Corey) I think it's cute! Also means my man has the worst taste in men imaginable since he's fallen for SoundCloud rappers twice now.

☠ We need more hairy Noel designs so I shall provide. Sue me I like facial hair! you're probably gonna have to get used to it in most of the male designs.

☠ I accidentally gave him a mullet (technically was intentional). I thought him growing his hair out would be neat, unfortunately left him with a mullet, but oh well.

☠ I am very defensive about what I think the rtc cast would listen to when it comes to relevant time dates. Imo he listens to the cure, the smiths, scissor sisters, the cardigans, carpenters, strawberry switchblade, and Depeche mode. He also is a fan of most upbeat pop music from any era but he wouldn't tell anyone he actually likes that genre.

[ourbeloved1011]

Just something that's been on my mind lately.

Imagine having a personal graphic designer boyfriend who design your logo & geniusly leaving behind his initial xz & a red star cos he's claiming that you're his most beloved lonely star 🙄 despite his busy schedule as a famous actor.

Also, he still manage to fold your shirt & of course you need to take a selfie for that (no one will know who fold it for you or the real owner of the shirt that you stole anyway 🤡) And of course, you need to show off your motor goggle when your boyfriend's drama had the same drawing of it. Well, people need to know that it's you in that drawing.

Imagine having a handsome boyfriend who is 6 years older than you but a sunshine through & through that make you forget his age right away. The one who chooses his project carefully & each of his character is somehow related to his real life situation.

For example, a character who is fully aware of his sad tragic ending but still choose that path & trust his decision with no regret. A character that can overcome the age gap & proves that he is worthy of his love- both the older & younger have something that each other don't have.

Imagine that he's having an in-depth discussion with you about it & using your unwavered love for years as a reference. Imagine him missing you when he's acting the recharge battery scene.

Most importantly, he keeps emphasizing in his interviews that he will trust his decision in life 🥹 & believe in good things will come with working hard.

Imagine the effort to be with you therefore hide you under that ridiculously huge black curtain but somehow failed cos your rabbit knot scarf on your backpack was so obvious & somehow you forgot that your bodyguard is famous too.

I tried so hard to keep minding my own business but I swear you guys keep giving hints on purpose. I mean. What am I gonna suppose to do?

You guys, please get a room. I feel so single ugh. Oh you guys did. A hotel room in inner mongolia hahaha

I swear this is too good to be true like some fictional manhwa plot but I really believe that it's true 😂

#cpn #🤡myself

[wheels-of-despair]

Under Pressure | Eric x You vs. The Apocalypse | Series Masterlist

Chapter Two: The First Thanksgiving Summary: Eric gets to experience his first American Thanksgiving! Words: 2.6k

Turkey, check. Stuffing mix, check. Cranberries, check. A ridiculous amount of potatoes, check. Oodles of butter, check.

Three light knocks interrupt your Thanksgiving checklist. You toss the notepad and pen on the table and walk to the door, looking through the peephole just in case.

Eric's in the hall, and he appears to be even more nervous than the last time you saw him: at dinner, two months ago, when he was squirming under the intense gaze of his disapproving father. You open the door and greet him with your warmest smile.

"Hi!"

"Hello," he mumbles, forcing a smile of his own.

"Come in," you say, stepping aside. Eric crosses the threshold, carrying a backpack and a bouquet of fall flowers. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

You'd insisted on inviting him to spend Thanksgiving with you. Your husband had protested, because they are not at all close, but you were not about to sit around and let a family member spend a holiday alone. Especially one who only lives ten minutes away.

"Thanks for having me," he smiles, less forced this time. "Oh, uh, these are for you." He holds out the bouquet awkwardly.

"You didn't have to do that," you gently chide him as you accept them. "But thank you, they're beautiful. They'll make a great centerpiece for tomorrow. Let me put these in some water, and I'll get you settled in."

You hurry to the kitchen and dig a vase out of the cabinet, filling it with water and putting your pretty flowers in it. When you turn back around, Eric's still hovering by the door.

"Pardon my mess, I'm trying to take inventory for tomorrow and I feel like I forgot something," you explain as you cross the room.

"All this is for tomorrow?" Eric asks with a quirked eyebrow.

"Oh, you sweet boy," you grin, hooking your arm through his. "It's not every day a young English gent gets to experience his first Thanksgiving."

He looks skeptical, almost frightened, as you lead him to his room.

"It'll just be the three of us," you assure him. "We're gonna wake up and watch the parade while the food cooks. Very laid-back. No pressure whatsoever. You don't even have to change out of your pajamas, if you don't want to."

Eric lets out a sigh of relief.

"What'd you think we were going to do to you?" you laugh.

"I dunno," he shrugs.

"It's just food. We're gonna hang out and eat. Dessert and all," you wink. Eric blushes. "This is you," you gesture to the freshly cleaned bedroom you've arrived at. "Make yourself at home. Bathroom's right across the hall. If you need anything at all, just let me know, okay?"

"Okay," he says quietly, carefully dropping his backpack on the bed.

"Evan had to work late, but he'll be home by dinnertime. I promise this one will be less painful than the last."

That draws a smile out of him.

"I'm gonna go start organizing that mess I made," you nod your head toward the kitchen. "If you're feeling adventurous after you get settled, come join me."

"Okay," he says again. You've talked at him enough. You head back to the kitchen and start organizing. Eric wanders in ten minutes later.

"Thank you again for the care package."

You smile at the memory. Soon after your first meeting, you'd done some investigating, found his address, and sent Eric a care package containing food that helped you survive your college years; Ramen noodles and Pop-Tarts and snack cakes. Brain food, you'd explained in a note. He'd texted a thank-you.

"My pleasure," you chirp, turning around to face him. "I can't believe you were living ten minutes away for almost a month without us knowing. Why didn't you tell us when you got here?"

Eric shrugs. "Didn't want to be a bother."

"To your own brother?"

He shrugs again. This relationship baffles you.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" He hesitates. "I promise, it's no bother. I've been living with an Englishman for so long, I can make a perfect cup of tea in my sleep."

Eric chuckles at this and nods, and you gesture to the table and start to make the aforementioned tea. A comfortable silence falls over the room while you wait for the water to boil. No words are spoken until you sit next to him, steaming cups of tea and a plate of cookies on the table in front of you.

"I'm sorry if this feels overwhelming, or like I'm badgering you. You can tell me to cool it at any time, I promise I won't be offended."

"It's alright," he smiles.

"Good," you smile back. You each take a sip. "How's school?

He squirms, almost like that night at dinner when his father embarrassed him. You immediately regret asking.

"Can we…" Eric looks up and bites his lip. "Can we not talk about that?" His voice is barely a whisper.

"Okay," you nod with understanding.

"It's just that I… I don't…"

"It's okay," you tell him, reaching out with a reassuring squeeze to his forearm. "I want you to be comfortable here. We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. In fact, if you want to make me a list of approved conversation topics, I will abide by them."

Eric sits back in his chair, eyes teary, and lets out a sigh of relief. You focus on your tea to give him a minute.

"Thank you," he whispers.

"Of course," you smile. "What would you like to talk about?"

Eric's cheeks puff as he blows out a long breath, contemplating. What else do you two have to talk about?

"Can you tell me about Thanksgiving?"

"Absolutely," you grin. "Where should I start?"

You ramble about Thanksgiving for ages, answering all of Eric's historical questions to the best of your abilities. He's only ever seen Thanksgiving celebrated on TV, and he's quite excited to experience a real one.

You talk food, family, and traditions through two cups of tea, then start preparing a simple dinner together. When the key jingles in the lock and Evan enters the apartment, Eric stiffens like a board. His comfort level with you had been rising so subtly all afternoon, you hadn't even noticed until the abrupt change in his posture.

You have to put forth a little effort to make them interact over dinner, but the conversation is pleasant, and they seem to be getting on alright. Eric starts to relax again as the evening goes on.

The next morning, your husband situates himself on the sofa to watch the parade, and you get to work on the food. Eric wanders in soon after. He's the only one of you who bothered getting dressed.

"Good morning!" you greet, closing the oven door on the turkey you just checked on. "How'd you sleep?"

"Okay," he smiles.

"Coffee or tea?"

"Whatever's easiest," he shrugs.

"Stop being so agreeable, you're going to give your brother ideas," you joke.

"I heard that," Evan calls from the couch.

"You were supposed to!" you yell back.

You wink at Eric, who looks confused.

"You can help yourself to the coffee over there," you gesture to half a pot, "and the kettle's right next to it if you'd prefer tea."

Eric sidles over to the coffee pot and hesitates. You point to the cabinet above it, and he opens it and extracts a mug. Smart boy. He makes his coffee, turns around, and looks lost.

"You can watch the parade if you want," you nod toward the living room. "It's not that far away, but you can't see anything from here. That's why I told you to come last night. Traffic's going to be a nightmare all day."

Eric nods and walks to the living room, sitting as far away from his brother as possible. You roll your eyes and get back to work, quickly losing track of time as you measure and chop and season and stir.

"Do you need any help?"

You whip around to find Eric standing awkwardly in the doorway behind you.

"Not a parade fan?"

"Not really" he says quietly. "And Evan's asleep."

"Of course he is," you chuckle. "Thanksgiving is my holiday. Evan takes care of Christmas. This is his day off."

Eric nods in understanding.

"But I'd love an assistant. Or you can just sit and keep me company?"

"I'll help," he offers.

"Are you any good at peeling potatoes?"

"Um…"

"C'mon, I'll show you," you offer.

You reach for a sack of potatoes, but Eric beats you to it. He hoists them to the counter, and you open the bag and show him the quickest way to wash them. He's bulky and unsure, like he's never been in a kitchen before… has he ever been in a kitchen before? Evan's a great cook, but only because of that brief period where he wanted to become a chef. You'll save that conversation for another day.

You stand together over a bowl of freshly washed potatoes and demonstrate the proper potato-peeler technique. He picks it up in no time, but still seems unsure. You wash a bag of carrots and start to slice next to him with a knife, not wanting to go too far… or let him know that you don't quite trust him with sharp objects yet.

You work alongside each other, Eric with his potatoes and you with your carrots, in a comfortable silence. On your very last carrot, the knife slips. You drop the blade with a hiss and a thud. Eric has a towel around your hand before you can even see the blood.

"Medical supplies?" he asks quietly.

"Bathroom cabinet."

"C'mon," he says, leading you away from the sink. You follow, a little shocked at how he's taking charge of the situation. Is this the same guy who needed to be rescued at dinner? Has to be guided through conversations with his own relatives? Never peeled a potato before?

You point to the cabinet where the first aid supplies are located, and hop onto the counter while Eric fetches what he needs. You could do this yourself, but watching him work is fascinating.

He washes out your cut. Pats it dry. Applies ointment. Unwraps a band-aid and carefully sticks it around your finger. Even cleans up his mess and puts everything away after.

"Better?" he asks.

"Yeah," you say in surprise, looking at him curiously. He gives you a shy smile and steps back, leaning against the wall.

"Got scraped up a lot as a kid," he mumbles. "Mum had to patch me up all the time."

"She taught you well," you smile. "You've earned a five-star review, for a quick and nearly painless procedure."

He smiles in a way that transforms his whole face, from his chin to his hairline. He looks like a completely different person from the miserable boy you had dinner with a few months ago.

"I should get back to it," you say with a groan, sliding off the sink. "Can't believe I'm the one who caused bloodshed, and not the boy who's never peeled a potato before."

"I've peeled potatoes before," he protests.

"When?" you ask, stopping to look up at him.

He blushes, opens his mouth, and closes it again.

"Are we going to finish cooking, or not?" he asks.

You laugh, hook your arm through his, and return to the kitchen.

Two hours later, you have quite an impressive spread on the table. Eric puts the last bowl in place, and you stand together with crossed arms and admire all your hard work for a moment.

"Wait!" you suddenly remember, grabbing the vase of flowers Eric brought and clearing out a spot for them in the middle of the table.

"There we go," you smile, coming back to stand next to him. The table looks perfect. "I know it's probably illegal to allow a Brit to help with an American Thanksgiving… but you did a great job."

He ducks his head a bit to hide his grin, then looks to you with twinkling eyes.

"Thank you," he whispers.

"Ready for the best meal of your life?"

He nods.

"Let me go wake your brother up."

You walk to the living room and find your husband already awake, watching an old black and white movie.

"Pardon me, m'lord," you say in your worst English accent, "but the peasants hath finished their kitchen duties, and invite you to sup with them on this sacred day of giving thanks."

"Ehhhh…" he whines, looking like he's weighing his options. "Do I really have to dine with the help?"

"Get your ass up and come eat," you laugh, reaching for his hands. He grins and lets you pull him up off the couch, throwing an arm around your shoulders on the way to the table.

"Wow," he says. "This looks great."

"Couldn't have done it without my fabulous assistant," you grin. Your fabulous assistant blushes. "Eric's just so easy to work with. Unlike some people, who shall remain nameless, who have to measure things down to the milligram."

"It's called a recipe!" Evan growls, taking his arm away from your shoulders so he can properly convey his frustration with flails. "It's a set of instructions that you follow to achieve uniform results!"

"Yeah, yeah," you laugh, shoving him towards his chair. You and Eric take your seats, and all stare at each other for a moment.

"And now we're going to go around the table and each say one thing we're thankful for," you tease. Panic flashes across both of their faces. "I'm kidding," you laugh. "I'm thankful to be here with the two of you. Let's eat."

The dinner discussion is all food-related, which is nice, because you don't have to steer the conversation at all. Eric tries a little bit of everything, and while he has clear favorites, does not appear to be repulsed by any of your classic American Thanksgiving fare. (Take that, British Christmas Pudding!)

You all pass out on the couch afterwards. You've always hated that sectional, but now that there are three of you to spread across it, it seems pretty great. Eric is quite a fan of the Turkey Nap.

You're sad to see him go. But on Friday afternoon, after more lazing about and a few more rounds of leftovers, he stands by the door with his packed backpack and a tote full of food at his feet. He and his brother have already shared a few quiet words and shaken hands. Now it's your turn to say goodbye.

"You don't have to go yet," you remind him. "You can at least stay through the weekend and help us destroy these leftovers."

"I should get back," he protests. "I've got a lot of work to catch up on before term starts again."

"Okay," you smile, pulling him in for a hug. "I'm so glad you came."

"Me too," he mumbles. "Thanks for having me."

"Of course. You're coming back for Christmas, right?"

"If you want me?"

"Of course," you smile, pulling back and putting your hands on his shoulders. "You're always welcome here."

He nods gratefully, and you give his shoulders a squeeze.

"Take care of yourself, Eric," you smile and let him go. "Call us if you need anything."

"I will," he mumbles, picking up his bags. "See you."

"Not if I see you first," you counter, opening the door for him. You really are sad to see him go.

But Christmas isn't that far off.

[windwardstar]

Had a bit in a scene that I decided would be fun to try and draw myself using my non-dominant hand.

-

Lan Huan decides to draw Maa-maa a picture of them. So, he retrieves the art supplies from the cubby, and from his backpack, and they spend the afternoon drawing. A-Zhan makes a drawing with stick figures that Lan Huan can tell are meant to be them, but only because Lan Huan told him to do it. And Maa-maa takes it before a-Zhan can scribble all over it. She does give him another sheet of paper to do that on instead.

Lan Huan spends longer on his piece. And Maa-maa can tell it’s them without him having to say, although he does tell her, “A-Zhan looks like he’s grumpy, but that’s just what his face does. He’s actually happy because he’s with me and you.”

“And where are we?” Maa-maa asks.

“We're outside,” Lan Huan says, and stops himself before he tells Maa-maa that is why she’s smiling too. Because she’s not allowed outside, and reminding her of that will make her sad. 

“In our socks?” she asks, teases, as Lan Huan draws in the lines on the heels and toes, because he forgot those earlier.

He didn’t forget the dirt or the flowers. The brown and purple of the garden bed. Even if it’s too late in the year for them to bloom and mostly dirt right now, he still drew them like they are in spring. But he drew the people as they are now, in socks.

 “Oh, they’d get muddy…” 

They’d have to put on shoes to go outside.

(Bonus Baby A-Zhan's drawing)

Scene is from Chapter 3 of A Man in Time You'll Be (what if several of the characters were trans guys). Which I'm still working on. But chapters 1 (focusing on Wei Wuxian) and 2 (focusing on Nie Mingjue) have been posted.

Edit: Chapter 3 is up!

[cheesysoup-arlo]

Goldfish

Janis x Reader (janis has adhd)

Its study hall the last class before lunch Janis is hyper, she definitely forgot her meds today and energy practically exploding out of her, calm and still are physical not possible for her. “Psst, y/n, hey hey psst” Janis says trying to get your attention, bouncing in her chair a little “hmm?” You say not completely giving her your full attention because you really want to finish this assignment “I’m bored can I borrow one of your fidgets, please?” She asks reaching over your shoulder and pointing to your fidget pouch on your desk “oh yeah of course” you say passing it to her “yay thank you” Janis says looking through it and picking out something. She sits behind you in this class so you don’t know what she’s doing but she’s quiet now so that’s new. You finish your assignment and turn around to check on Janis. “Hey, whatcha doin?” You say with a slight head tilt “nothing just uh drawing” Janis says with a shrug not looking up at you, fidgeting with one of the toys with one hand and drawing with the other, while bouncing her leg a little “nice, want some goldfish?” You ask “Oooo yessss” Janis says excitedly putting down her pencil and giving you her full attention “what’s the magic word?” You ask playfully “if you don’t give me goldfish I’ll bite you?” Janis says in a bright tone “um no the magic word was ‘please’…but I’ll give you some any way because you’re cute” you say with a smirk “yay goldfish” Janis says as you hand her a baggy of goldfish, you always bring extra snacks to share with her. The rest of the period you two draw and eat goldfish. The bell rings and you two pack up then head to lunch. You get to the table and Damian is already there. “Hey gays” he says with a little wave “hi Damian” you say with a laugh plopping down at the table “oh um J are you good? Are you off your meds again?” Damian asks with a little concerned look, Janis fidgeting with her hair “huh?” Janis was completely spaced out not paying attention “I asked if you are off your meds?” Damian said “oh um yeah but just my adhd ones this time, I ran out again and my mom is getting the refill today after her shift” Janis said with a thumbs up “oh ok…so how are you guys doing? any new gossip?” Damian says trying to make conversation “ooo yes I heard Karen and Gretchen got caught making out under the bleachers” you say trying not to be to loud or obvious when looking over at the plastics table seeing Regina talking aggressively at Gretchen and Karen “No fucking way!” Janis says suddenly interested in the conversation “yeah apparently Regina saw them and like lost her mind, my friend shares gym with them and got the whole thing on video” you say tossing a handful of goldfish in your mouth. The rest of the lunch period Damian talks about the theater drama, those theater kids are crazy. “Janis come on, we have art” you say grabbing her backpack “fuck yeah, art, this is gonna be tits” Janis says standing up and holding your hand as the two of you walked to class.

Art class was going well the teacher decided today was free choice so any medium and prompt all up to you, Janis decided to paint and ended up painting on herself instead of the canvas while you worked on a project you’d started a few days ago, “psst, y/n, psst” Janis says trying to get your attention “yeah baby?” You say not realizing what you called her “woah um uh” Janis blushes forgetting what she was going to say “oh shit” you say realizing what you said “J um uh you’re face is a little red” you joke “oh shut up, it’s your fault” she says embarrassed “aw don’t be embarrassed, I know you have a crush on me and now there’s no denying it” you say setting down your project and making your way over to her “woah woah wo-AH” she yelps as she falls off her chair “OH SHIT are you ok?” You say laughing a little “yeah just uh fell…for you” she says with a wink “oh you’re such a dork” you say helping her up “I could be your dork” Janis say with a wink and some new found confidence “oh yeah?” you say pulling her in so your faces are only a few inches apart and the gap could be closed with very little effort…

But the bell rings startling you both and causing you both to looking away from each other “meet at my locker after school?” You suggest “uh yeah” she says, you exchange a quick side hug and grab your stuff before heading to your last period of the day.

Class was going by pretty quickly, you finished your assignment early and were on your phone when Janis texted you

little gay bitch👾: have to talk to my teacher :(

little gay bitch👾: I’ll be out a little late

[gay] snacks (y/n) 🫡: don’t die

[gay] snacks (y/n) 🫡: I’ll meet you at your locker instead 👍

*ring* the bell rings and you head to your locker to grab what you need and leave what you don’t then heading to Janis’ locker to wait for her.

About 10 minutes pass and you see a frustrated janis walking down the hall “J what’s wrong?” You say brows furrowed and a concerned tone in your voice, gently placing your hands on her shoulders “my stupid teacher got mad at me for fidgeting” she said looking down at her hands “what the fuck that’s so stupid, you literally have so much information in your file stating all your accommodations” you say getting upset “I know and I reminded him but he said that I was just making up excuses” janis said tearing up a little “ok that’s it, we’re going to the principal right now and I’m gonna fix this” you say grabbing her hand “wait no, y/n it’s fine, I’ll be fine” janis says wiping away the tears that fell from her eyes “nope I’m gonna fix this, you’re so important to me janis and I’m not gonna let you struggle with an asshole teacher all year, there’s no way you’re gonna make it without your accommodations that’s why you have them, so please let. me. help. you. …please” you say cupping her face “…ok” she says eyes filling with tears again “don’t cry, I’m gonna fix it, I promise” you say pulling her into a hug as she hides her face in your chest.

After a long argument and a little yelling, Janis had a new schedule, no more asshole teacher, and significantly more classes with you, you wanted to be able to protect her and it’s kind of hard to do that in separate classes. “Thank you y/n, I- I really appreciate you” Janis says fidgeting with her sleeves “of course…wanna go get ice cream?” You suggest “um absolutely yes” Janis said, sadness quickly replaced with excitement. The two of you spent the rest of the day together, ice cream then headed back to her place to hang out in her garage, movies snacks cuddles and…

“So about earlier…” Janis starts “mhm earlier” you say turning to give her your full attention “so obviously you know I like you but um…well what I guess I’m trying to say is-“ Janis anxiously fidgets “Jay breathe, I like you too, I just didn’t want to make things weird till I confirmed you felt the same” you responded hoping to ease her anxiety “re-really?” Janis says surprised “Yes Janis ‘Imi’ike, I have a big crush on you” you say with a giggle “holy shit holy shit! This is so fucking tits” she says with a big smile “oh god you’re so adorable I could just-“ you cut yourself off and avoid eye contact “oh?” Janis teases “shut up” you say with a playful smack on the arm “hey!” Janis says poking you…you two are quiet for a bit till you both slowly lean in for a gentle passionate kiss filled with longing and desire, you both pull away after a bit “wow” “wow” you replied with a bit of a giggle “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time” you admit “me too” Janis says looking at you “soo…does this mean we’re like dating now?” Janis asks “mmm if that’s what you want hen I’m absolutely up for it but let’s go slow? I like our friendship a lot so I don’t want to ruin that by rushing into an intense relationship, so slow? Is that ok?” You say a little hesitant “yeah slow is fine, can I kiss you again?” Janis asks you nod, she gives you a quick peak on the lips then just holds you close “this is nice” you say trapped in her embrace, both of you giggle and cuddle closer

What a day… what a day…

AN: it’s been a little while since I’ve written/posted lol, this is also just like a draft I found and finished because I caught the writing bug randomly and couldn’t waste the little motivation I had I hope y’all like it idk if it really has plot but i really wanted to get something out

[the-french-belphegor]

Every room in Scanlan’s mansion existed for a reason, as a conscious choice. He often changed the setup, and sometimes forgot to make a room, but a random chamber just popping up into existence for no reason was unheard of. (A few decades after Vecna, Kaylie comes across a room that doesn’t make sense in her father’s magical mansion.)

(Shout-out to @mythtaker, whose post last March about Scanlan probably keeping Vax's room in his Magnificent Mansion nudged my brain until I could finally do something with it 💜)

Still Life

Scanlan had changed addresses again since last time.

Kaylie let herself into the house after disarming the few traps he had told her about in his last letter. Just like he’d said, they were nothing fancy: just small precautions to avoid disgruntled former customers (or worse, the local competition) barging in unannounced.

The new house was small, but looked cosy, with high windows and whitewashed walls painted a light blue. The Marquesian sun flooded the coloured cement tiles of the study with a golden late afternoon sunlight. Her father, sitting with his feet on his desk and browsing through papers, didn’t appear to notice either the beautiful light or his unexpected visitor.

Kaylie shrugged off her backpack and let it drop to the floor. The thump made Scanlan look up; the next second, he hopped down from his chair and ran to her, smiling from ear to ear.

“Kaylie Shorthalt, apple of my eye, light of my days, vegan cream in my coffee –”

“Hey, Dad.” Tiredness kept Kaylie’s voice somewhat short, but the first thing she did after carefully putting down her violin case was give him a hug he happily returned. It had been a while since they’d seen each other. “How’s tricks?”

Even after all those years, the nugget of warmth curling in her chest when she met her father’s grin still caught her off-guard. She’d missed him, she could acknowledge that at least, but just how much she had still surprised her every time it hit her.

“Tricks are going swimmingly, thank you for asking. Did you get Juni’s letter?”

“I did, yeah, just before I left.”

“Oh, good. Well, it means Wax lost the bet, but she was worried.”

“Wait,” Kaylie asked with the start of a grin she couldn’t quite hold back, “which bet?”

Juniper and Wilhand’ildan Shorthalt, even after leaving home for places of higher learning, still made a point of staying in almost constant contact with each other, their big sister, their Grog, and their parents, by means of letters, second-hand messages, or Sending Stones. Their correspondence included a lot of teasing, bets, and dares, some of which bafflingly silly sometimes. It had dumbfounded both Kaylie and Scanlan somewhat until Pike and Grog had assured them that it wasn’t that unusual between siblings.

Scanlan waved a hand, drawing the suspense, of course.

“You know the kids. I think this time a… goat was involved? I’ll tell you all about it at dinner. In the meantime, shall I fire up the mansion? For old time’s sake?”

“‘Old times’, yeah. Sure.” Kaylie rolled her eyes, but her smile stayed. It had barely been six months since the last time they’d treated themselves to a nice stay in the Magnificent Mansion. Okay, it felt longer, but still. “I could do with a day at the spa anyway after all this heat.”

“Then it’s settled. Give me a minute.”

Scanlan rummaged in his pocket for the components, closed his eyes, and started to hum a tune Kaylie recognised as one she’d been working on the last time they’d seen each other. As always, the air around him went shimmery and warm, citrus and coriander with a dash of purple, and the door winked into existence.

Gnome-sized, of course. And flamboyant and magnificent and ridiculous in an endearing way, just like him.

He opened it for her with a bow and a flourish.

“Ladies first.”

“Show-off,” snorted Kaylie, and walked in with her violin case, trusting Scanlan to bring her bag inside. Which he did, after a double take.

It was always easy to tell, from the look of the mansion, if Scanlan had spent time in Tal’Dorei recently. The layout was different, the ceiling a little lower, the hues a little softer. Some of Wax’s drawings he’d made while inside the mansion hung on the walls in frames; there were touches here and there in the decorations of Pike’s blues and Juni’s golds amongst the pinks and purples. In the foyer, a sheet of paper covered in awkward letters bigger than Kaylie’s whole hand held pride of place on a sideboard along with a plate of cookies. She immediately pilfered a couple on her way inside.

“Where’d you put my room this time?” she asked, rolling her head on her neck. Gods, it had been a long day. Make that a long week. Or a long fucking month, to be honest.

“Ground floor, west wing, couple of doors to the hot springs. I’ll make the servants get started on dinner. Give me a yell if you need anything?”

“Sure thing, thanks.”

Kaylie recognised her bedroom immediately: the door was open, welcoming her in. Scanlan had styled it the way she liked, cool and cosy but not stifling, light on the frills, with plenty of space to put her things away and all the tools she needed to take care of her violin.

The bed looked way too comfy. It was tempting to just faceplant in it and crash. But then, she reasoned, it would still be there after a long soak and a nice dinner.

She threw her bag over her shoulder, padded barefoot out of her room, and opened the second door to the left.

And paused, puzzled.

Every room in Scanlan’s mansion existed for a reason, as a conscious choice. He often changed the setup, and sometimes forgot to make a room, but a random chamber just popping up into existence for no reason was unheard of.

That… wasn’t the hot springs. It was a bedroom, by the look of it, but a bedroom that didn’t make sense.

“Hey, Scanlan?” Kaylie called out, frowning. “What’s this room for?”

She didn’t wait for an answer and stepped in slowly, taking in the dark furniture, the elegant carpet, the plants in large pots scattered across the room. The circular bed was unmade, like its owner had just stepped out. She ran her palm over the quilt, a light, fuzzy fabric meant to look like it was made from black feathers. Or maybe stylised leaves.

Something tugged at her memory.

“What room, Kay—”

The footsteps behind her came to such an abrupt stop Kaylie thought Scanlan had Dimension Doored away elsewhere. But when she looked over her shoulder, there he was, framed in the doorway like a painting and about as motionless.

He looked nothing less than stricken.

And that… was all the explanation she needed.

After the dust settled, after that last big fight, as she was recuperating in Whitestone in a bed too big for her –

(from her wounds, from dying, from coming back to life in her father’s arms with his tears in her hair and her blood on his chest)

– he had come back, bone-tired and too quiet, the smell of booze on him stronger than some of her best and worst benders, but alive. They had talked a bit about what she wanted to do, now that the world wasn’t ending any more. She had pulled him into a hug, the only way she’d found to say everything she’d wanted to say without having words pulled out of her mouth like teeth.

It was only when she had come back from a much-needed nightly stroll and found him passed out at the foot of his own bed that she had realised he hadn’t said a single word about how the fight had gone down except We won.

What they had lost – who – had come up later.

Kaylie didn’t have many clear memories of Vax’ildan. The other members of Vox Machina she’d mostly learned to know after they disbanded. With the exception of her father – and a memorable conversation with Vex’ahlia, still vivid despite the fog of alcohol (But there’s a chance we can bring him back, if you’re willing to help) – the shape they had in her mind was a product of time in a new world, one that no longer involved escaping from dragons or being kidnapped and brainwashed by an asshole god. Vax would forever belong to that former world. The only remnants she had of him were a vague silhouette in dark clothing, a sharp grin, a surprisingly soft voice.

And the taste of blood in her mouth.

The last and strongest memory Kaylie had of Vax was his scrunched up face, contorted by guilt with tear tracks on his cheeks, open hand thrust forwards as Gilmore whisked her and Cassandra de Rolo away to safety. To this day she still viciously hoped some of that guilt was for her, too.

After all, she was the one he’d killed.

And then he had died (or perhaps before and it just took a while to really take, she had never been clear on the timing), and in the process had somehow gained the power to crack Scanlan’s heart right open.

So maybe Kaylie had ambivalent feelings about the guy.

But she was also very aware that saying fuck ‘im would not help at all in this situation.

“Oh, Dad.” She shook her head, but purposely kept her voice gentle, filing down some of her sharp edges for once. “Still, huh?”

Shock rippled on his face at the sound of her voice. It made him look a little less like someone had just punched him in the stomach.

“…I meant a couple of doors on the right,” he said in a small voice.

He’d sounded worse before – hell, he’d looked worse before, she had once seen his lifeless body laid out on an altar after getting ripped apart by a dragon – but something still tugged at her heart at that.

“Yeah, well. The spa can wait. What’s up with that?” She stepped towards him, telegraphing her movements, like he was a horse who might bolt if spooked. “Why did you make that room? You know that’s… that’s not a good idea, right?”

“I didn’t make it make it,” Scanlan protested with a little more life. “I just… didn’t not make it.”

“Okay, but why now?”

Silence.

Kaylie stared at Scanlan.

“You mean you don’t make it on purpose? It just pops up every time?”

“No! …Yes. Kinda? Look, the mansion’s a complicated spell, okay? It’s not even proper bardic magic in the first place. I’ve been casting it for years and I’m still not a hundred percent sure how it works.”

His eyes stayed mostly on her, but every now and then they strayed to the left, to the coverings, the bed, the plants. However his body still seemed rooted to the spot, and Kaylie was suddenly struck by a flash of insight.

“Dad, did you – have you ever actually stepped foot in there? You know, since he died?”

Scanlan went very still.

(How the hell did he manage to fool anybody, Kaylie wondered as her heart sank in her chest. How good a liar did that make him, really, that she managed to see right through him every time?)

She shook her head again.

“You haven’t, have you. Decades of making this room without even thinking about it and you never… Godsdammit, Dad.”

“I can’t, Kaylie,” he said, barely audible. “It’s not… I wouldn’t…”

Scanlan Shorthalt at a loss for words was a unique phenomenon that could be two things: downright hilarious or powerfully awkward. A very rare third kind of outcome, the instances of which Kaylie could count on the fingers of one hand and a half, was snapping your heart clean in two. And for someone like her, who prided herself on always keeping that soft, vulnerable part of herself safe from all hurt… Well, it sucked. To put it mildly.

Kaylie sighed.

Then she took her father’s hand.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot,” she said gently, and pulled him into the room.

She didn’t have to tug very hard. Scanlan stumbled after her easily. The next moment he absent-mindedly straightened his vest and looked around at the room as though he was seeing it for the first time.

The room, not the contents. It was obvious, from the way his gaze lingered on this and that, how he snorted at the sight of an armchair pillow embroidered with two tiny figures inside a giant black dragon, or smiled at a painting that depicted a bunch of cows and a giant bird, of all things, that the objects that populated the space were familiar, or at least brought up memories.

Kaylie gave him a moment, then climbed onto the human-sized (or rather half-elf-sized) bed, letting her feet dangle over the edge. The movement must have caught Scanlan’s eye; he turned, and after a while shucked off his shoes and clambered up, too.

The silence between them lasted long enough that Kaylie started to wonder whether she should summon one of the mansion’s creepy ghost servants to get herself a drink. But she had cut down on daytime drinking a lot these past few decades, particularly since Juni’s birth. Putting the kibosh on Scanlan’s meat consumption had been a gag at first – plus chicken for breakfast, lunch, and dinner got old fast – but the excuse of eating healthy to live longer had had some truth behind it. Behind the sarcasm she’d actually wanted her father to stick around, and you kinda had to stay alive for that. It had taken her a few years after that to realise that getting too fucked up too often would make her less inclined to stay alive, too.

Scanlan had stuck by the vegan diet, and Kaylie had cut down her drinking rather dramatically.

But damn if her fingers didn’t still itch for a pint, sometimes.

“So,” she said, if only to hear something. Dammit. She had counted on Scanlan being the first to open his mouth – he usually was. “That’s a nice bedroom. This bed’s comfy.”

“I should hope so,” said Scanlan, his voice almost normal by now. Almost. “Nothing but quality in my Magnificent Mansion.”

“No mirror on the ceiling in this one?”

“Nah, not this time. But I think everybody had one at some point? Gods, it’s been ages. Anyway, I made up for it. Look in the… I think it’s in the bedside table on the left.”

Against her better judgement, Kaylie shuffled to the bedside table. Inside it was a book with a title in Marquesian which in Common translated to The Lotus and the Butterfly.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Isn’t that the one with—?”

“—with beautiful traditional Marquesian illustrations going back two hundred years from the best artists in Yios, yes.”

“I was gonna say ‘the sex positions guidebook’, but sure, let’s go with that.” She shook her head. “I thought you couldn’t leave anything from the Material Plane in the mansion?”

“You can’t. I had the servants make it special from a copy I picked up once at a casino.”

“The one you got scammed in?” Kaylie asked with a grin, making Scanlan roll his eyes. She leafed through the book idly, gaze quickly flitting over text and pictures, neither really registering. “And you just. Left that in your friend’s bedside table. Like that’s not fucking weird at all.” Her head snapped back up as a thought hit her. “Wait, did you… Did you ever hook up with him, back in the day?”

In the two seconds it took for Scanlan to open his mouth, eyes wide, she decided she didn’t need to know the answer. Those two had been good friends and clearly loved each other a lot; whether sex had been involved or not was irrelevant.

She steered clear of sentiment, though, out of habit.

“Wait, don’t answer that. Sorry. Gross, shut up. Still, what the hell? Was it supposed to be some kind of prank?”

“Well, no, I… Okay, maybe just a little. Once I finally got that he and Keyleth were actually, like, A Thing, I put the book in there whenever I made the mansion. Mostly I figured they might need, uh… not exactly something to help them get it on, but just… ideas, you know? It took them long enough to realise they both wanted to boink, just thought I might aid a little in that department.”

Kaylie stared at her father, not knowing whether she might facepalm or laugh herself sick.

“Seriously.”

“Hey,” Scanlan pointed out, “it was them or Vex and Percy, and once they figured out their own shit they didn’t need any incentive to jump each other’s bones! Man, I’m still surprised they stopped at five kids and didn’t go for the full baker’s dozen.”

Once upon a time, this would’ve been a golden opportunity for her to say something scathing about accidental children. The Kaylie from three decades ago would have verbally eviscerated present-day Kaylie for letting that opportunity pass by. But then again, being her three decades ago had been fucking exhausting. Sure, she sometimes missed the viciousness she had let go of over the years, but she’d also lost some fears and gained a little peace of mind. Overall, not a bad bargain.

She settled for a snort and put the book back in the bedside table. Then she made herself comfortable on the bed, leaning back and kicking her feet a little.

Surprisingly, Scanlan didn’t add anything. He rested his elbows on his knees and his chin on his arms and gazed vaguely ahead with an odd expression, for him.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hm?”

Godsdammit. Pike would be much better suited for this.

Kaylie resolutely kept her own gaze in front of her and didn’t look at him.

“You do realise it’s… okay if you don’t make this room? Maybe not next time, but like… the time after that. I don’t think he’ll mind, I mean… It’s not… It wouldn’t be betraying him is what I’m sayin’.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him turn his head towards her a little, but he remained uncharacteristically silent and still.

“It’s nice that you kept his stuff. No, I know, it’s not really his stuff, but you know what I mean – it’s, uh… it’s a thoughtful gesture. Wherever he is I’m sure he’d appreciate it. But…”

How did people do this? Say words that weren’t even spells and fixed things somehow? Her music could break and heal alike, but that last part felt closer to tying a tourniquet on a bleeding limb: a tiny thing that might keep you from dying just now, but a far cry from magic that knitted bones back together or breathed life back into corpses. She had sung away the hurt from Juni’s scraped knees or Wax’s scratched elbows a few times when her little siblings were kids. She might as well be trying to do the same now on a decades-old wound that somehow still found a way to bleed every now and then.

“But… But there’s better ways to remember him by. This is like… frozen in time. Like a museum, almost. Somehow I doubt that’s what he was about.”

“It’s not,” Scanlan muttered. Then he cleared his throat and added, without the crack in his voice this time, “I mean, yeah, he was… He was, uh.”

She pretended not to see him wipe his nose on his sleeve.

“He had… a lot going on, once he got into his thing with the Raven Queen. That messed him up for some time. But even with all that, even when he went full emo goth chicken with one foot in the grave talking about death all the frickin’ time, he was… he was alive.”

Pause; a small snort of a laugh. When he spoke again he was smiling, but his voice was less than steady again. “Never seen a dead guy so alive, when I think about it.”

Kaylie waited for him to continue. When it became obvious that nothing more was coming, she bit back a sigh, then shuffled closer.

And closer. Just close enough to lay her head on her father’s shoulder if she slumped a little.

(Ever since she’d first laid eyes on him she’d always been a little taller. That he’d never been there while she was still small enough to hold and carry was one of the things she still was angry at him about occasionally – and angry at herself for it. She was tough and strong and a grown-ass adult, godsdammit, not a bloody child.)

After a while, Scanlan laid his head against hers, giving her time to slip away if she wanted, like he usually did.

“Didn’t you want to go to the spa?” he asked quietly.

Kaylie gave a one-shoulder shrug, careful not to jostle their skulls against each other’s.

“I will. In a while.”

“I included the steam room again.”

“Good. It’s nice. Also pretty.”

“Well, you deserve the best.”

“Damn right I do,” she murmured.

Maybe he wasn’t the best father. But he certainly wasn’t the worst she’d thought he was for the first two thirds of her life. Sure, the space between their souls had its share of broken things, but in time they had built trust, and affection, and unspoken words that warmed rather than hurt.

She shifted, just enough that she could kiss his temple just above his ear – a little smaller than her own, one of the few physical traits he didn’t pass on to her – and give his hand a squeeze for good measure, lightning-quick.

Then she settled against him again before he could say anything.

The room was not haunted. In two dozen hours it would disappear, along with the rest of the house; one day it might cease to exist altogether. And maybe, between the two of them (beating hearts, warm bodies, lungs drawing breaths in tandem with one another), they could lay some old ghosts to rest.