#but mostly because it's a buddie ficlet

[shares-a-vest]

Just a Shirt (Read on ao3)

wc: 1.9k | Rated: T | cw: Mild descriptions of Steve's s4 injuries (mostly the scar on his neck), Hospital mention, Brief mention of nightmares

Tags: Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Post s4 Fix-it (Everyone Lives), Hellfire, Fluff and Angst (Happy Ending), Love Confessions, Injury, Cuddling

Eddie makes Steve a customised Hellfire shirt, just for him. Based off this ficlet/headcanon. But the BIGGEST thank you goes to @tangerinesteve (formally babydollbaron) for their incredible tags below. They gave me the biggest and softest brainworms. I hope I did your wonderful ideas justice!

“Here-p,” Eddie mumbles, pushing a too-neatly folded shirt into Steve’s hands.

“Uh, thanks,” his boyfriend hums, quirking a brow in confusion.

Eddie shrugs the whole thing off for good measure because it’s just a shirt – that’s all it is.

... But not really.

Like, at all.

He looks away, avoiding Steve’s gaze. While their relationship isn’t too new for gifts, it might be too fresh for a t-shirt that screams, ‘You are part of me and I can see that you are in pain and I think I can fix it. Nay, I need to make you comfortable’.

Yeah… it’s perhaps a little too premature for something that says all that.

So Eddie looks at the floor, his beige sock blending into the similarly-coloured carpet that lines Steve’s bedroom. His foot really only looks like an actual foot and not a patch of carpet thanks to the hole in his sock that is currently exposing his pinky toe.

It’s just a shirt, he desperately reminds himself as he catches Steve unfurling it out of the corner of his eye.

It’s just a shirt.

A customised Hellfire shirt he made especially for Steve.

One that is two sizes too big, made of the softest cotton and led to an emptying of his wallet to obtain. A Hellfire shirt that has short sleeves and a loose, scooped neck Eddie fashioned himself after borrowing a sewing book from the library. A neckline he sewed on Mrs Pemberton’s machine after crossing the trailer park and answering a slew of questions from an all too inquisitive Max Mayfield.

It’s a Hellfire shirt in its logo only – despite what his friends might think. Or the fuss all his pea-brained lost little sheepie buddies kicked up along the way.

They have been a total nightmare these past few weeks, scheming and plotting and sabotaging like a little hoard of gremlins. But Eddie supposes he can really only blame himself.

He should have never said anything, never asked Gareth for the original master copy of the Hellfire logo he knows his best friend keeps filed away in secret on the rare occasions they let in new members. Or to get new t-shirts printed in instances of spilled beverage-based stain emergencies. But then Gareth of course squealed to Jeff, who teased Eddie mercilessly before blabbing to Freak, who, well… Freaked about the possibility of a jock joining Hellfire.

The shock. The horror! Oh, the humanity!

And then came what was nothing short of a campaign via Dustin, Mike and Will, all collectively working to not only prevent Eddie from something he wasn’t even going to do in the first place but to also create a drama so seismic that rumours got around the whole of Hawkins that one Eddie Munson would no longer be running his little ‘demonic’ social club.

Or at least that’s what Wayne said Ernie at the plant had told him that his son had said.

The only thing is, Eddie feels more than a little sorry for Lucas Sinclair, a kid now sulking around, utterly crestfallen that his favourite Laundry Basket Friend isn’t also secretly a full-blown nerd.

It’s just that Eddie wanted to give Steve a nice, soft, comfy shirt he had hoped he would look at just like he is right now.

Besides, Steve had admitted that he liked the Hellfire logo months back when they first started dating. Told Eddie it was, “So creative, man”, after expressing some mild disappointment that he hadn’t shown up for their first date wearing it.

He smiles at the memory, Steve’s eyes lighting up as soon as he hopped into the Beemer, far too eager to head off to Benny’s Diner that he hadn’t even bothered to let Steve chivalrously walk up to the front stoop of the new and improved Casa de Munson.

“Eddie…” Steve says, his voice just above a whisper and sounding just as soft as the too-important shirt in his grip.

“Don’t worry,” he snorts, “I’m not making you join or anything it’s just… You said you haven’t been sleeping well…”

He gestures with his hand, searching for the right words. Better words that won’t sound so monumental and weighted as Steve’s eyes trail right along the shirt’s scooped neckline.

The hem is probably a little flimsy, but hopefully, Steve won’t fucking claw at it like the old Tigers gym shirt he almost tore in two a few weeks back after bolting upright in a sweat after a nightmare. That is what did it – really set Eddie on his mission. Seeing Steve’s sniffles turn to tears and how he tried to hide them away, shrugging Eddie off before rushing to the ensuite bathroom.

He had come back a few minutes later, eyes red as he hugged his arms across himself, appearing small and frightened but acting cold as ice.

“Yeah…” Steve nods before mouthing what appears to be the word, “soft”, as he balls the fabric between his fingers.

“Hell, I know you haven’t been sleeping,” Eddie continues to ramble, “Just… tossing and turning. Also your… Y’know…”

He gestures to his own neck, referring to the still-reddened scar around Steve’s. One that Eddie knows leaves his throat scratchy and hoarse at the slightest provocation. A mark that nosey townspeople gawk at when Steve is at work, leaving him all embarrassed and well, not like Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington at all.

And Steve hadn’t even told Eddie about that part. Nope. He found out from Robin, who swung by the mechanic one afternoon, inconsolable about her best friend spending their shift at Family Video hidden away in Keith Anderson’s stinky loser palace of an office.

“Mhmm,” Steve nods, pursing his lips.

Eddie knows he isn’t mad – it’s just something his boyfriend doesn’t talk about. That he doesn’t like talking about.

He needn’t ramble anymore, really – fill the silence between them or attempt to explain himself because, in a flash, Steve slips off his tight-fitting navy polo and replaces it with his new Hellfire shirt.

And Eddie can’t help but beam at a job well done.

It hangs nicely. Loose enough to sleep in, but not billowing so much to swallow that physique entirely. The neckline sits just where he had hoped too, much lower than the regular Hellfire shirts, scooped below Steve’s collar bones so that even if it stretches in his sleep, it couldn’t possibly pull and tug at his scar.

It’s perfect.

Exactly what he wanted to give Steve, who looks down at the devilish, very metal logo – a sight that is sure to scare off his snooty parents for good if they ever see it.

Before he knows it, Steve lunges for him and Eddie feels his cheeks squish against his boyfriend’s hands as he is kissed.

And kissed.

And kissed some more.

Kisses that last for long enough and grow softer with every peck that Eddie soon feels his legs buckling and he forgets altogether what they are even doing up here, in Steve’s bedroom, in the middle of the day on a warm summer afternoon.

It’s just the he –

“ – I love you,” Steve smiles when he comes up for air and – 

His eyes blow wide in an instant.

And Eddie is sure his own do too – maybe even pop right out of his goddamn skull with an audible gasp in there somewhere as well as they both fully realise what has just been said.

Steve loves him?

Just the same as he loves Steve. So much that he is blurting it out now, in the middle of his bedroom on a warm, mid-summer afternoon – perhaps months too early when they are probably, most likely still in the honeymoon phase.

All because of one perfect t-shirt.

Steve’s brow pinches together and his jaw goes slack as he looks away.

“I…” he trails off, drumming his fingers on Eddie’s shoulders.

“Stevie...” he tuts, smiling back at him.

He steps closer still, closing any remaining space between them as he loops his arms around his partner’s middle and squeezes him tight.

Eddie backs them a step back, then another. Then another until he is at a safe enough distance to rock Steve back and collapse onto the bed.

They fall with a conjoined, “Hmphf” – one that knocks the wind out of Eddie’s already breathless lungs and has Steve momentarily distracted away from whatever inner turmoil he had going on a moment ago. As he lands on top of his boyfriend, Eddie gets a feel of the shirt, now warmed by Steve’s permanently hot body temperature. A feeling that makes it seem even softer.

Like it is already worn in and loved.

He wants to ball a handful of it up in his fist and never let go.

But Eddie forces himself to sit upright, settling down in a straddled position to hover over Steve’s clothed form. He smiles down at the sight beneath him, his giddiness short-lived and quickly fading as a big, brown and now glistening set of panicked eyes return.

“Stevie,” he whispers, running his hand up Steve’s torso.

He ghosts his fingers with a featherlight touch over the printed logo, an illustration he had first scribbled on the back of his math book in his junior year.

Eddie leans forward and takes Steve’s hands, clasping them tight and one by one, he brings them to rest above his head where his super-soft signature swoop is sticking every which way, mussed by the bedspread.

He can’t help but chuckle a little at the sight – momentarily giving into the greedy feeling he gets when he thinks about how this Steve is the one he gets all to himself.

But Steve frowns, those expressive brows looking positively pained now as if only one thing could possibly soften them.

“I love you too,” Eddie says, freeing a hand to delicately pluck at Steve’s loosened neckline, “Obviously.”

“You do?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods as a visible relief washes through Steve’s eyes, leaving his brows to soften up so much he wonders if his boyfriend might now cry.

And before he can say or do anything more, Steve bolts upright, once again leaving Eddie feeling winded and more than a lot flushed this time as he wraps his arms around him and buries his face in his neck, snuffling close like the world’s cuddliest puppy.

They stay like this for a long while, simply breathing in sync as they hold each other. And soon Steve begins to sink, his body going lax as his head slips down onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“I really wanna sleep,” he hums as tears seep through Eddie’s own plain black t-shirt.

“You wanna try now?” Eddie offers, pulling back enough to give an encouraging little smile.

Steve nods, refusing to let him go as they lower down together as one, his eyes fluttering shut when his head meets the bedspread.

“Wanna get all cozy under the covers?” Eddie continues, nudging at the bedding.

He really doesn’t want to move too much more – not when Steve looks like this.

Relaxed.

Loved.

Comfortable and wrapped up in a softness Eddie would like to keep him cocooned in forever.

But as he always does, Steve moves for them and rolls to the side. He snuggles in close, burrowing his head between the crook of Eddie’s neck and the mattress all protected and safe. Eddie palms around for the blanket and haphazardly wraps what sliver of it is free around them, shielding his partner a little more for good measure.

It’s good like this.

Calm. Warm.

Soft.

[silverskye13]

That ficlet of “How long can Helsknight and Wels go without wanting to maul each other to death” gives me the idea of like. Yknow that trope where two characters you assume have never met each other turn out in fact to be buddies who like play pool together or something. That’s Helsknight and XB. Wels gets shunted to Hels and finds XB just chillin in a bar with Hels and goes “WHAT THE FUCK BRO”

"Hels Kitchen, huh?" xB asked, looking up at the sign and raising a spined eyebrow. "This new?"

Helsknight shrugged, leading the way inside. "New enough."

xB sauntered behind him, taking in his surroundings with an easygoing smile. Hels was a little hot for his tastes, but he knew from experience he would get used to the heat after a few minutes. He watched Helsknight toss the bartender (who seemed to be just a very large, contained ghast) a handful of diamonds to cover their tab, and the two made their way to the pool table in the back of the little bar. xB swiped up a couple beers, snapped the cap off one with his teeth (those sharp guardian teeth were good for something after all) and set it down on the side of the table while Helsknight prepped the game.

"It's been a hot minute," xB observed, carefully checking over pool cues for one that wasn't bent. "Been busy busting heads in the Colosseum?"

Helsknight shrugged. "Nah. Mostly just caught up with life stuff. You know how it is."

xB, who had forgotten their meet up last month because he was busy digging a hole to bedrock, knew exactly how it was. "So you haven't been practicing pool while I've been gone?"

"I'll still beat you," Helsknight grinned challengingly. "Guests break."

xB snapped the cap off the second beer, took a drink, made a face that Helsknight laughed at, and then got to work aiming his shot. It was a good break, though the eight ball danced by one of the side pockets, a little too close for comfort. He got one of the striped balls in, and claimed the stripes for the rest of the game. He took his second shot, missed, and stepped aside for Helsknight.

Pool was such a weird game for them to settle on as their friendly competition. Helsknight was a pro at PvP, all things swords and axes and shields. But xB wasn't, and even if it was, swords was Helsknight's job, more or less, and xB could appreciate wanting to do something that wasn't your job, no matter how much you enjoyed it. It was for the same reason he was grateful Helsknight hadn't suggested they go build train cars when they hung out, or terraform movie scenes. He enjoyed it, but this was his off time. The first couple times they met up, they tried playing TCG, but Helsknight was a little too competitive, and xB got tired of debating rules minutiae (and being forced to stomp home and ask Beef a thousand questions). Then they played just normal cards, which lead to the discovery they both appreciated good beer, which lead to barhopping, because hels had bars. Hermitcraft didn't. And eventually, barhopping lead to playing pool, and pool was just the kind of low-stakes game they could both enjoy. Plus both Helsknight and xB were just prickly enough that most folks looking for a fight passed them over, and any who didn't, xB and Helsknight could solidly knock around. xB wasn't a PvPer, but he was big and thorny, and his sharp teeth were good for more than just popping bottle caps.

"You're up," Helsknight told him, leaning against the wall and chalking his pool cue.

"Does that really help?" xB asked, lining up his next shot. He cracked the cue ball into a bunch, breaking them apart. None of them sunk.

"No idea," Helsknight shrugged, putting the chalk back on the side of the pool table. "If it does, it's not in any way I can see."

"So why put it on?"

"That's all this game is good for. Knocking things around and getting chalk on your hands."

"It's also good for avoiding things," xB smirked. "Left the cue by the eight ball for you."

"Rude."

"Just keeping your life interesting."

Helsknight danced around the table, trying to find a good angle and making increasingly frustrated faces. xB smirked and took another sip of his beer, and then grimaced, because he forgot how bad it was. He needed to make sure he remembered this brand so they never got it again. Helsknight had just about lined up his shot when the lights in the already dimly lit bar space flickered ominously. xB raised a questioning eyebrow in the knight's direction.

"What was--"

"XB!" Welsknight came stumbling out of nowhere, all tin-can-armor-clatter. Stumbled into the pool table, shaking the eight ball into the side pocket.

"Hah! I win," xB grinned.

"You did not," Helsknight snapped, slamming his cue in the pool table. "That wasn't fair and you know it!"

"He's your other half dude. It counts."

Helsknight's eyes narrowed, and xB held up placating hands. (He forgot how much Hels and Wels hated each other sometimes. Really it was like watching brothers argue.)

"What in hels is going on?!" Welsknight demanded, re-injecting himself into the conversation. "xB, Hypno said you--"

"See, I told him not to tell you where I was," xB huffed, crossing his arms. "That was just rude of him."

"What are you even doing here?!"

"Playing pool," xB smiled, at about the same time Helsknight spat, "None of your damn business!"

The two knights glared at each other.

xB quietly wondered if he should interrupt their spat or egg them on.

The large ghast behind the bar counter hissed, grabbing all of their attention. It wafted a tentacle over to tap a sign, that said: Anyone caught fighting must buy a round for the bar, or be thrown out. xB looked back at Helsknight, watching him count first the other patrons in the bar, then the diamonds still left in his coin purse, do some mental math, and decide rather magnanimously that decking Welsknight wasn't worth it.

xB offered Welsknight a pool cue, "Care to join us?"

Welsknight eyed the pool cue like it was a snake, before begrudgingly taking it. xB went to get a new stick for himself while Helsknight begrudgingly reset the game.

It really was a good game when you wanted to avoid things.

[glorious-spoon]

For the Spotify ficlet: buddie aaaand number 2? :)

hello, and thank you! i return 3 months late, bearing fic. number 2 was the funeral by band of horses, so please enjoy this odd little meditation about eddie and grief and second chances

to know me as hardly golden 1631 words | buddie | emotional hurt/comfort, pre-relationship

-

Eddie is six years old when he attends his first funeral. A great-aunt, on his dad's side—he has a vague memory of a frail white-haired woman with hugs that smelled like baby powder. His abuela was the youngest of her siblings by far, and he remembers her standing in the sunlight by the gravesite, iron-gray hair neatly pinned back, eyes dry, mouth pressed to a thin flat line as she watched her sister's coffin sink slowly into the earth.

At six, he doesn't really understand it. But he understands enough to hug her, and he feels her press a kiss to the crown of his head and murmur, Eddito, Eddito, in a soft, shaking voice.

It's an old, hazy memory. He's surprised he's hung onto it this long, but it lingers even now that he's lost count of the number of funerals he's been to. Shannon's should have been the one that hurt the worst, but the truth is he barely remembers it; he moved through that entire day like a wind-up toy, dazed and distant, registering almost nothing other than Christopher.

He didn't attend the funerals of any of the people he saved in Afghanistan, because there weren't supposed to be funerals. That was supposed to be the one thing that made it all worth it—ruining his marriage and missing his son's first steps, the nightmares and the guilt and everything else he stomped down into a deep dark hole where he'd never have to look at it. At least, he always told himself, at least there were four people living in the world who wouldn't be here if it weren't for him.

It takes a while to get past that one, after he learns the truth. A smashed-up wall, a frightened son, and a lot of therapy. A week of Buck sleeping on his couch and wishing he had the courage to ask him to share the bed. Not in the way he sometimes half let himself imagine, but just to have another person there. The solidity of a living breathing body, a person he loves, a person he can still keep safe.

In the hospital after the lightning strike, he haunts the hallways like a ghost, watching his family come in and out of Buck's room, unable to make himself come any closer. He can't stop imagining the funeral: Maddie's white face, the woodenness of Margaret and Phillip Buckley. Bobby and Hen and Chimney. Christopher. He can't stop imagining what Buck might look like in a casket, how much like the way he looks now: silent and white and still in a way that Buck never is.

Buck wakes up, and Eddie hugs him and teases him and lets him sleep on his couch, and he doesn't shove all the rest of it into a deep dark hole because he knows better than that now.

But it lingers, like a wound. Like something he doesn't know how to touch, to handle, to even think about let alone talk about. He moves around it, mostly. He lets Buck cheat at cards and cook him steak and ramble about bioluminescent octopuses from the latest wildlife documentary he watched, and he doesn't say, I imagined going to your funeral.

Buck knows, is the thing. That fear, that lingering directionless grief, Buck knows it. He's careful with Eddie, as if Eddie's the one who was wounded, and it would irk him more if he didn't remember being careful with Buck after the shooting in exactly the same way. 

It's a terrible thing to understand about a person, but the alternative would be worse.

It doesn't come to a head so much as unravel the night after a bad shift a few months later, Buck sleeping on his couch even though he's never stopped complaining about how uncomfortable it is, because it's better than being alone. If Eddie were a better person, maybe he'd protest.

(If Eddie were less of a coward, maybe he'd ask Buck to share his bed. He's not even sure what he's so afraid of: at this point, he thinks it'd be a relief if Buck could see through him to the love he's been bleeding out for months or maybe years now. But he remembers Buck so quiet and still in that hospital bed, and he remembers the feel of Buck's chest unmoving beneath his hands, and the words strangle themselves in his throat every time.)

It's a dream that brings him out into the living room in the dark of night, or half a dream, anyway. Half a memory. The night Buck started breathing on his own, Maddie called him, and he woke up immediately and almost let the call go to voicemail, because if she was calling to tell him that Buck was dead then at least there'd be a few minutes more when he didn't know.

He answered, anyway, and Maddie was crying, and it took Eddie several gut-lurching seconds to figure out that they were good tears.

He wakes up now with the echo of his phone's ringtone in his ears, and fumbles it to him, half-asleep and chilled, to stare at the empty screen for several minutes before he realizes that it must have been a dream.

He swears under his breath, puts the phone down, drops his head back against the pillow.

Probably, he should just close his eyes and try to go back to sleep. That's what he usually does, albeit with extremely mixed results. It's not like he's going to call Buck in the middle of the night and wake him up just to reassure Eddie's sleep-scrambled brain that he's still alive.

But Buck is here, and Eddie is a weak man, when it comes down to it. He shoves his feet into his chanclas and makes his quiet way through the house, pausing first at Christopher's door—his noise machine is quiet now, his breathing heavy and peaceful—before heading into the living room. Buck is sprawled across the couch, long limbs everywhere, the throw blanket he always sleeps under tangled between his legs. Eddie's got a painfully affectionate impulse to tug it loose and drape it over him properly, but instead he lingers in the doorway, watching Buck's chest rise and fall, his soft, steady snoring. If he turned the light on, he knows that Buck's skin would be pink and healthy, aside from the minor bruising where the hydraulic rescue tool slipped and whacked him across the arm at that multi-car pileup that kept them out an hour past the end of their shift.

Buck's already been checked over. He's fine; he wasn't even wincing on the ride back home. Eddie stays where he is anyway, watching Buck breathe for several quiet minutes, until Buck shifts on the couch, brings a hand up to rub clumsily at his face, and mumbles, "You gonna just loom in the doorway all night, or what?"

"Sorry," Eddie says, flushing. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's okay." Buck levers himself upright, yawning, before Eddie can tell him not to. On the couch, he hunches over, rubbing at his eyes, then blinks up at Eddie with such sleepy affection that something twists sharply in Eddie's chest. "Come on. Come sit down."

Eddie takes a breath, then lets it out, then crosses the living room to sit on the other side of the couch. Buck turns toward him; his knee bumps Eddie's thigh, and he doesn't pull away.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," Eddie says back, and he finally exhales quiet laughter. Buck's just looking at him with a crooked little smile on his face, sympathetic eyes, like he knows exactly what brought Eddie out to the living room.

"You wanna check my vitals?" he asks.

His tone is teasing, soft. And it's that, maybe, or it's the quiet and the dark and the way that Buck still hasn't moved away, that has Eddie reaching across the space between them to press his fingers to the side of Buck's throat. Warm skin, faint stubble, and Buck's pulse beneath that, strong and steady. He can feel it when Buck swallows.

"Better?" he whispers.

Eddie nods. It is better. Proof of life, in the most basic of senses. The way Buck is looking at him, intent and knowingly fond in the shadowed living room, is better still.

"You want to talk about it?" Buck asks, still quiet.

Eddie shakes his head. "Tomorrow?"

"Sure."

"I'm sorry." He's not really checking Buck's pulse anymore. His hand shifts, flattens, until what he's doing is a lot more like cupping Buck's jaw the way he would, maybe, before leaning in for a kiss.

Buck's hand comes up to cover his, warm and steady. Alive, alive. "It's okay."

"No, just—it's late."

"Yeah. Still."

Eddie almost leans in. Almost. He's pretty sure at this point that Buck would let him. But they only get one first kiss, and he doesn't want it to taste like fear, even if that is fading now. He rubs his thumb against the edge of Buck's jaw, and suddenly finds that he can say the words after all. "Would you come back to bed with me tonight?"

Buck's smile takes on a mischievous tilt, and Eddie sighs. "Just to sleep."

"Sure."

"I mean it."

"Okay," Buck says. He squeezes Eddie's hand. "Yeah. Just to sleep, for now. But later…?"

Eddie swallows hard. Cards are already on the table. He's still cupping Buck's face like a lover would. It's too late to backtrack, and he doesn't actually want to anyway. "Later, yeah."

"Cool," Buck says, like a dork. His smile turns bashful, and he hesitates, then turns Eddie's hand to brush a light but definite kiss to the back of his knuckles. "I'm good with later."

[half-bakedboy]

4, 11, and 17 :)

4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

Ooh, I love this one. I find inspiration a lot of different ways. Often, it's just from talking out loud to my wife. But mostly it's from something a character does that gives me a deeper look into them. I thrive on internal/external dialogue so a lot of my inspiration comes from things they've said!

11. Link your three favorite fics right now

Oh gosh. This is hard. I hate all my fics a;lkjsdfkl;asd No jk, here are three.

deserving - 670 word bucktommy set at the madney wedding

everything stays unsaid - 1500 word buddie set after the bucktommy kiss

tell me what’s worse (losing you now or later?) - 30k word buddie fic i wrote for the 911 reverse bang last year with @killiarious who created an INCREDIBLE video trailer for me to work off if. This is probably the fic I am most proud of. 🥰

17. What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

I'm the worst person to ask because honestly I just... don't write... 🤣 I will say that one thing I will do is write more like meta-y posts or little ficlets so that I'm at least keeping the characters fresh in my brain.

Send me get to know your fic writer asks!

[fazedlight]

mel!!! your cat grant & max lord interlude ficlet got me to thinking - i was wondering if you had any thoughts on if they had kept maxwell lord in national city when lena luthor had arrived, what would that look like if he were a ‘tech industry’ foil instead of/in addition to morgan edge?

Oohhh yes!!! (Ficlet for reference.)

I honestly really liked Maxwell Lord’s character on the show. I was not digging the Max/Alex romance that seemed to be brewing (I just don’t think it’s possible for Alex to develop interest in someone with such clear disregard for her sister), but I really liked him being the tech foil. I think he makes a far better one than Morgan Edge, who was just a boring old out-for-himself psychopath.

Maxwell Lord, on the other hand, did feel driven by a mission. He had a deep distrust of the government due to his parents’ deaths, and I do genuinely believe that he wanted to do good in the world. But unlike Kara, he is much more cynical and practical in his approach. And much more willing to allow for collateral damage.

It kind of reminds me of the difference between Lex and Lillian. Lex is just power tripping (Jon Cryer absolutely kills it in this role, otherwise I’m not sure I’d like Lex nearly as much as I do). But Lillian is the much more interesting Luthor villain, because she genuinely thinks she’s doing good for the world - her view of the “world” is just very narrow, because it only focuses on humans, and she’s perfectly fine being a bigot. If we take it a step further with Lena’s villain era, she really served as an anti-villain - Lena’s cause was fundamentally good, but her methods were deeply misguided.

I’m trying to imagine how Max and Lena would’ve gotten along. I think, like with the Daxamite invasion where Lena and Lillian kind of team up, we could see reluctant teamups between this pair as well. But unlike Lillian, Max doesn’t really have a reason to hide the truth of Kara’s identity from Lena. Would she have figured it out sooner? Would he specifically have left clues that led Lena there?

He might even have walked in assuming that Lena knew, before realizing that she really didn’t. And from there, maybe he would’ve driven a very different type of wedge, maybe try to sow distrust. Canonically he starts out as a powerful business man, and eventually becomes involved in Cadmus...

Hear me out, but it might’ve been interesting to watch Maxwell Lord sliding into darker territories (working with Lillian, Cadmus, etc) and trying to take Lena with him. We know he’s attracted to powerful women (like Cat), and he’s smart enough that Lena might’ve found him initially interesting (like, let’s be real, this would’ve been a far more interesting romance arc than Lena/James… though in this case, I’m imagining more of an antagonistic FWB where Lena starts to see some of his points).

Lena would never join Cadmus, she’s not anti-alien. (Max might not be overtly anti-alien, but it's not important enough for him to avoid either.) But she has blind spots that it takes time for her to see (eg the alien detector), and maybe she feels more and more sympathetic to Max’s positions over time.

That puts Kara - who is more than a little in love with her best friend - in the tough spot of knowing that Max joined Cadmus, knowing he’s basically trying to seduce Lena into darkness (Kara is definitely not jealous about his other successful seduction nope nope nope it has nothing to do with that!!), and while she knows Lena would never set out to cause harm... she’s falling into a trap.

So what does Kara do? She tells Lena she’s Supergirl, and Lena now knows that both her best friend and her fuck-buddy-sometimes-romance have been lying to her all along.

I’m not imagining a villain era for Lena here, because I still think that was mostly prompted by Lena’s murder of Lex (you can see a clear delimination in my fics of when she is vs. isn’t angry about the secret, and when her anger is vs. isn’t leading to a villain era).

But she might try to go it alone, close up again and avoid people. She’d dive deep into her lab work, trying to cure cancer or something, improve humanity without interacting with anyone. The lab is safe. Science doesn’t betray you. Statistics don’t lie to you. (Statistics do lie, but she has character flaws.)

She’s content to live her life as a science-inventor-hermit…

Until Kara shows up bloodied at her door, and says “I need your help”.

[profoundbondfanfic]

Fourth list with our favorite aro/ace/demi fics 💜

Part 4

Ace=/=Aro by Unforth [Mature, <1K, Aro!Dean]

Ficlet written to the Tumblr Prompt: Aro Dean calls Cas "buddy" and "pal" and "devastatingly handsome friend" because he really believes that and the guy's really, really hot and always licks his lips because they're so chapped and dry. Dean obviously has to kiss him to get him to stop. Only problem is, Cas thought Dean was ace, not aro (thank you very much, small town gossip, for mixing everything up), and he is very confused by this.

Halflings by Unforth [Explicit, 103K, Demi!Cas]

Ever since his wife Lisa died, Dean Winchester has been willing to do anything for his son Ben. When Ben decided he wanted to adopt a halfling, Dean said yes without hesitation - provided they did so the right way, by giving whichever half-human they decided to bring home the respect and dignity it deserved. Half-octopi Castiel isn't exactly what they were looking for in a pet, but, then, they aren't exactly what Castiel was expecting for owners, either.

honeysuckle by sharkfish [Teen, 3,9K, Demi!Dean, Ace!Cas]

“Your omega’s here, ok? Everything’s ok.” Cas closes his eyes and leans a little into Dean’s solid warmth. His omega is here. He can smell them all over each other already. “You made me such a nice nest, too.” Dean’s voice is low, honeyed and soft. He smells sweeter, it hangs thick and heavy in the air. “Show me.”

Never Trust a Skinny Baker by mnwood [General, 11K, Aro!Dean]

Dean owns a bakery. Cas is a patron who can't hear, and Dean happens to know sign language. This fic has all the tropes you know and love so get reading, fuckos.

Smells Like Love by shiphitsthefan [Teen, 1,5K, Aro!Dean, Aro!Cas]

Five times Sam tried to tell Dean he was aromantic, and one time Dean told someone else.

Dear Virgo by K_K_TiBal [General, 9,9K, Ace!Cas]

Dean Winchester is a journalism major planning to coast his last year by mostly just sticking to writing the campus newspaper's daily horoscopes, and he almost succeeds. Enter Castiel Novak, captain of the soccer team, and his next interview appointment. It's obvious from the start that there's something between them, but things don't quite go as Dean first hopes, and he ends up learning a lot more about Castiel than he ever planned on - luckily for him.

Sparks by vipjuly [Explicit, 21K, Demi!Dean, Demi!Cas]

The creepy house on the corner has been abandoned for years, everyone says. It's ramshackle and decrepit, the yard overgrown, the wrought iron fence bent and broken in some places. The adults in the neighborhood have asked the city to do something about that eyesore for so long, but the city insists that someone is paying property taxes on the house, therefore they cannot do anything about it. So, everyone ignores it and pretends it doesn't exist. They definitely don't go anywhere near it, either. Dean, though. Dean is drawn to it as if by gravity. Little by little, Dean repairs what he can. The monster inside the house ain't so bad, either. Y'know. For a monster.

Decompression Therapy by TheAuthorGod [Explicit, 6K, Aro!Dean]

For AroDeanWeek 2015 Dean is a sex therapist. He's good at it; he helps people. He doesn't get attached to people romantically, so he's a better fit for the job than most. Complications don't arise until he starts to feel something totally new for his best friend Castiel Novak. I mean, it's not like he hasn't been around Cas his entire life or like he's not living with him and helping him raise his niece turned daughter. Dean just needs to deal.

[momotonescreaming]

I've cross posted some of my tumblr ficlets on AO3!

study buddy | 1379 words | Eddie & Nancy | Tumblr Post | Character Analysis, Relationship Dynamics, Studying

Eddie was really starting to regret everything that led him to this point. Hunched over books and flash cards at the Wheeler’s dining room table, Nancy trying to grill fact after fact into his brain.

there's no other | 1676 words | Steve/Barb | Tumblr Post | Established Relationship, Fluff, Domesticity

Despite everything, despite the monster with no face taking her from outside Steve’s house, it’s where Barb feels safest. Although, she concedes, it’s mostly because it’s Steve’s.  If he lived in Forest Hills, or on Cherry Lane— she’d feel safest there. 

Breakfast | 1957 words | Steve/Barb | Tumblr Post | Established Relationship, Domesticity, Flirting

Barb wakes up slowly, lazily, eased into it by the sun peeking through the curtains and not the blaring of her alarm clock. Rolling over, she blinks and finds Steve’s side of the bed empty. The sheets are cool, but they’re still rumpled in a vaguely Steve-like shape. Her glasses are neatly resting atop the bedside table, next to what looks like a yellow blur. Putting on her glasses, her vision clears, and Barb finds that it is in fact, a note. Steve’s left her a message in his familiar, scratchy, handwriting. Gone for a run, back by breakfast. Love you! <3

[whatgaviiformes]

Ficlet: Cryptids and Toast

Based on the youtube channel Jazza - I Remade Monsters EXACTLY as described in the book...

And my own headcanon that Gordon’s love for Into the Unknown with Buddy and Ellie means that he also follows cryptids because one day that cryptid could be a real species discovered. Add in a bit of voracious reader John and you get the StarFishTank trifecta that I, at least, know and love. <3

This is so stupid, but I love them. 

Word Count: <1K

~*~*~*~

“G’morngh,” Virgil grumbled, sinking heavily into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. He’d passed by the lounge on the way down to the lower floor and waved wearily to Grandma, who was working on her embroidery at their Dad’s desk, as well as John’s hologram hovering above the main table. The thing about John being up in Five and with comms access in most locations throughout the villa was that it was too easy for him to follow, and so, when Virgil stepped into the kitchen, John’s silhouette was already emitting from the center. His grin was suspiciously wide. It was too early for shit-eating little brother grins today. 

“It’s noon,” John advised matter-of-factly.  

It wasn’t John who was pulling Two into her hangar at 4AM island time that morning, so as far as Virgil was concerned Noon was lucky to see him conscious. He yawned and grabbed for his toasted bread, warmed to a healthy golden brown. As he buttered one side, he realized there hadn’t seemed to be the buzzing energy of a rescue underway, so glancing around at the mostly empty room, it seemed the Island inhabitants were all dispersed among the villa and their home’s surrounding jungle environment. All except his brother’s image and their most mechanical of family members. He gave MAX a light pat on the head as he rushed by him with the broom and a pleased whistle. 

“Gordon’s on his way back from the lagoon,” John offered, nibbling at a small finger sandwich. “Scott and Alan are working on Thunderbird One sims today. And all’s quiet on terra firma, so far. What will you be doing today?”

“Hmph.” He coughed to clear his throat of sleep. “Brains had some tests to run on Two. But no rush.” 

“I have some new descriptions if you want to warm up your hands.”

He didn’t need to ask what he meant; it was a tradition they’d started back when they were both away at college, an exercise that really warmed up his brain, clearing it of fog, rather than his hands. He nodded for John’s benefit, maneuvering his tablet to his left side while picking at his breakfast at his right. 

The rules were simple. John would provide a character description from his reading, offering only visual cues, and Virgil would try drawing based on the description only, having no knowledge of the book or the character. Virgil had appreciated it for the chance to keep his skills fresh while he was deep in his engineering coursework, and John enjoyed it as a study in the interpretation of language. And sometimes, they still played their little game just for a laugh. They’d had a good chuckle recently at the description of Aragorn that turned out to look like a musician of the hair metal variety. 

“Okay, we have a large,  humanoid silhouette. Scaly, rubbery skin with claws on both feet. Face with a mass of feelers. Long, narrow wings behind.” 

“The hell have you been reading?!”

“Can’t tell you that.” 

Virgil shook his head while he selected a digital brush, then tapped a few buttons to allow for his work to stream up in outer space so John could add his screen to the list of things he was watching. First, he wrote down the list of prompts. The easiest way to approach the challenge was to break down each of the descriptors and start sketching, so he started with roughly drawing the shape of a human in a corner and shading it. 

“So obviously we are talking monster or alien.”  He started a second silhouette, playing with the proportions to emphasize the largeness of the being. “Is this a creature out of one of your Star Trek novels?” But he knew John wouldn’t answer. No questions was a rule, otherwise once Virgil started to figure out the character, it was easy to be influenced by what he’d seen and already knew. “Okay, so we have wings and feelers.” Alone, wings were fun and varied - bird wings, bug wings, faery wings, dragon wings, and so many varieties of each of those. The word ‘feelers’ made his skin crawl, and he couldn’t help but to think of insects, the kinds of wings that adorned the types of creatures with antennae. But then... “Rubbery is a strange word.”  

John smirked, a knowing glance back over at his brother’s confusion as he glanced away from the artwork. 

He lost himself in a few wing designs, ultimately deciding on a combination that was more dragon-like, with strongly defined joints along the expanse - with more length than width. 

“What exactly is a mass of feelers?” he shuddered, softly brushing away a few crumbs that had fallen on the tablet. 

They looked suspiciously like toasted bread. He glanced over at his empty breakfast plate. 

“Dammit, Gordon!” 

The blond hovering behind him and reading his prompts, with his toast still in hand, said “You’re drawing Cthulhu.”

“Gordon!” John squawked. 

“What?”

“You’re not supposed to tell him.” John shook his head in his hand.  

“Wait, really?” Virgil scanned the prompts again.

“You’re missing that he’s octopus-like, but yeah really.” Gordon raised an eyebrow at the hologram. “Probably would’ve helped with the - ya know…” He lifted the back of his hand to his chin, his fingers dangling and wiggling. 

“Jesus, John! You had me drawing a dragon bug!”

“It was an excellent dragon bug,” he laughed. “Gordon stop with the hand thing.” 

Virgil ducked under Gordon’s mocking of face tentacles. “I’m getting more breakfast.”

It might have been a bad idea to leave the two of them together, but watching Gordon consume the rest of his breakfast had reminded him how long it had been since he last ate and his stomach had been rumbling. By the time he returned, Gordon and John both were beaming at him. 

“We have another one for you…”

“Oh no.” Between Gordon’s cryptids and John’s sci-fi novels, he was done for.

[combatfaerie]

Ficlet: Tag, You're It

Story: Tag, You're It Word count: 1,096 Relationship(s): Liv Morgan/Rhea Ripley Also available at: AO3 and Wattpad Summary: Rhea makes a proposal to Liv on the beach. (A wrestleprompts throwback!)

Logically, Liv knew Rhea must have gone out in the sun at some point. She was from Australia, after all, and while Liv had seen pictures of her in shorts, those were mostly gym shots. Somehow, though, seeing Rhea Ripley in any colour but black just seemed wrong.

Seeing Rhea Ripley in a powder blue bikini with white flowers on it should have been an abomination, yet there was something strangely right about it. Liv had started the beach days for the women's roster back when Ruby and Sarah were released and she was feeling lonely and wanted to connect more to the rest of the locker room. Since then, they had grown from a handful of girls to full-out events. Now Becky even brought Roux to some of the gatherings, and the little girl was a big hit with all the women. Rhea was playing with her now, tossing her high in the air and making her squeal, but when she noticed that Liv was off by herself, she passed Roux over to Sonya and headed over. "Hey." Her Australian accent almost reminded Liv of a drawl. "Why are you all the way over here? The fun's happening over there," Rhea said, pointing to where most of the women were gathered.

Liv shrugged lightly. "I know. I'll join in later."

Rhea had started to sit beside her, but stopped and straightened up. "Oh. Cool. If you want some time to yourself—"

"No, no. That's not what I meant. I'm just not… in a crowd mood, I guess." Liv had considered staying home. The beach days had taken on a life of their own far beyond their humble beginnings and no one was able to attend every gathering, but she tried to get to as many as she could. So many of these women had, through no fault of their own, intimidated her at first, and now they were her friends; Liv never wanted to take that for granted again.

Rhea pointed down to the sand. "So you don't mind…?"

Liv shook her head and scooted over, making more room on her towel. "Be my guest."

"I'm fine with a bit of sand," Rhea replied, but she still sat on the edge of the towel anyway. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just a bit… tired, I guess," Liv said at last. She was tired of saying she was fine, even after finding a coffee cup with the word made into an acronym as Fucked up, insecure, neurotic, and emotional. Lately, that was the epitome of It's funny because it's true for her.

Rhea leaned back on her elbows. "Not sleepy-tired, I take it? More… I need a change tired?"

I need a change, Liv repeated to herself. I need a CHANCE. She thought she was over the survivor-like guilt of not being cut from the roster when her Riott Squad sisters were, but she never quite seemed to gain any traction. "Yeah, I guess that's a good way to put it."

"Want a partner for the ride?" Rhea tapped her chest for emphasis. "I'm talking about me, in case it wasn't clear."

Liv blinked in surprise—and did her best not to stare at Rhea's breasts. Dropping her gaze didn't help much, because then she just got lost in the details of Rhea's sternum tattoo. "You mean... like a tag team? I thought you were over that after tagging with Nikki last year."

Sighing, Rhea glanced over to the cluster of women. Nikki was launching herself into the waves with abandon, making Roux giggle. "I was. But I kinda miss having a teammate, and I figured if you weren't on track for anything and I wasn't on track for anything… well, maybe we can give the tag team division a boost, yeah? We're both going to be in the company for a while, so we need to help build up the women's division. Becky and Bayley can't do it all on their own. The Horsewomen won't be here forever; Mercedes leaving just proves that."

"I… I just thought that since Buddy's gone… well, I don’t know. I thought you might not renew." Liv shrugged, digging her heels into her towel. If Rhea ever wanted to leave WWE, she'd have other companies courting her. It was an enviable position most of the women on the roster didn't share.

But Rhea shook her head. "I'm good here. And he's good doing his thing. So… what do you think?" She rose to her knees—which had the unintended effect of making her taller than Liv yet again—and grabbed Liv's left hand. "Liv Morgan, will you be in a tag team with me?"

"June wedding!" Becky yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth. "June weddings are the best!"

Liv started blushing, but she didn't pull her hand away from Rhea. "Well, I mean it's not really up to us. But if you think Creative would go for it… sure."

"Awesome." Rhea kissed Liv's knuckles before letting go of her hand. "Then that just leaves one last thing," she said, "but you'll have to take off your sunglasses." Before Liv could move, Rhea reached up, slid her sunglasses off, and set them safely on the towel.

"Why? What are you do—?" Liv yelped when Rhea scooped her up and stood, heading towards the ocean. "What are you doing?"

Rhea just grinned, carrying her easily. "Well, we're going to be road wives now, right? So we have to do this right. I have to carry you over the threshold and all that."

"We're not married!" Liv squirmed, but only a bit; she didn't want Rhea to lose her grip on her—and, in all honesty, she didn't exactly mind being carried.

"Details, details." Rhea stopped at the edge of the group and grinned. "She said yes!" Then she made a break for the ocean as the other girls started to clap.

Liv tightened her grip on Rhea's shoulders. "If I'm going in," she yelled, "I'm taking you with me!"

Rhea didn't look bothered in the least. "I was going in anyway. We're a team, right?" Liv didn't even have to try to drag her under the waves; Rhea dived sideways, launching them both into the water. When Rhea resurfaced, her hair was slicked back, making her grin seem even wider. "There. Now it's official. Now we're partners."

Back on the beach, the rest of the girls were clapping; someone was singing the wedding march horribly out of tune. But all Liv's focus was on the woman in front of her. "Partners."

[shamelessler]

Ice bear headcanons!

Tickle, agere, extra/random hcs

Tickle headcanons

- He's very touch sensitive and hates being touched unless its by someone he's extremely close to, so only his brothers (and chloe at times) are allowed to touch him so therefore only they can attempt to tickle him

- His brothers have tickle fights all the time! Well...they're more onesided because of ice bear. he absolutely destroys his brothers in tickle fights because of how agile he is, not to mention his brothers are all nerves and hes only ticklish in a select few places.

- ice bear simply does not allow tickling in public. He won't let himself be ticklish if his guard is up but if hes relaxed with close friends he'll accept the touch and he might huff out a couple giggles if your lucky

- Chloe and ice bear hang out every sunday, and ice bear does tend to get playful with chloe resulting in a couple tickle fights. very one sided. although chloe tries her best, nothing is more powerful than a polar bear trying not to get tickled by a 10 year old girl.

- He's not a very teasy ler, he gets straight to business and likes to listen to the lee's laughter

- His favorite part about tickling his brothers is he gets to hear them laugh and that's his favorite sound because it reminds him of when they were kids

- He was more ticklish as a kid

- His laugh is still slightly monotone but a little more bubbly

- Not actually a squirmer, he freezes when he's tickled

Agere headcanons

- Ice bear regresses from time to time mostly because his brothers sense that hes stressed so they baby him until he accepts his fate

- He gets tickled more often when he's regressed because he's more comfortable acting childish which is the whole reason he regresses in the first place

- Sometimes he tries to tickle his brothers back if he feels playful, and often Panda and Grizz let their baby brother win the tickle fight

- He normally doesn't like the spotlight, but when his brothers are smiling and taking care of him he adores the attention

- He goes completely nonverbal when he's regressed, so thats a big hint to his brothers that he's smol

- Grizz calls him "bud" "champ" and "buddy" and Panda calls him "cub" and "kiddo"

- Ice bear obviously doesn't cook alone when he's regressed but considering cooking is his special interest, Panda and Grizz supervise him and are amazed at his skills even while small

- He's slightly more clumsy than usual and has this bouncy walk

- Just an overall happier aura

- Chloe only recently found out about his regression and was completely supportive and went out with him to buy him a stuffed animal which amused and embarrassed Ice bear since they went out while he was big. Part of a ficlet i wanna write abt that, "Chloe showed the plushy duck she'd purchased and Ice bear huffed out a small laugh as his cheeks flushed."

- Chloe isn't a care giver for him, but likes to hang out with Ice bear when he's small anyways. She thinks he's really cute and likes to imagine this is what he was like when he was a baby.

- Chloe's right, Ice bear is nearly exactly like when he was a kid just a bit more...baby.

- Grizz and Panda sometimes sing Ice bear some Russian lullabyes to make him smile because they always trip over the Russian words

- Refuses to go anywhere while smol out of embarrassment

- Loves playing pretend and is a very creative kiddo and loves making up stories and drawing

- He doesn't regress very often due to his multiple jobs around the house and only is small when everything is taken care of

- Things that make him slip are being cooked for, read to, being held, and just little actions of love. no words. words make him nervous.

- Panda and Grizz found out about his regression relatively sooner than you'd think, they know him a little too well

- Panda was very quick to understand and told Ice bear about his friends who were littles and that it was completely okay and normal

- Grizz was excited when he'd learned. maybe a bit too excited. He loved the idea of having a baby brother to look after again and would do literally anything for Ice bear

- Ice bear is extremely embarrassed to use paci's or bottles and would rather just cuddle up on the couch with a big fluffy blanket and a small inconspicuous stuffie

- Ice bear can quickly come out of little space if needed, but on some occasions he can be...very stuck. His brothers don't believe in forcing him out of his little space, if he's little for a little longer than usual than he must need it

- Normally he's only small for an afternoon every month but on some rare occasions he's also little in the morning

- His favorite food to have while he's smol is sweets but he doesn't get them too often, he cannot handle sugar very well and gets some pretty crazy sugar rushes. Like he's buzzing, quaking, because of the pent up energy

- He LOVES going outside and playing in the snow! He's smiling and giggling and making little dens in the snow. Panda and Grizz don't get the appeal, and stand there trying not to freeze

- He doesn't exactly need cg's but his brothers love to take care of him so he accepts their help to make them happy

- He does indeed have a nap time. which is whenever he gets sleepy. (he's always sleepy)

- Normally he's the cg for literally everyone so it's really weird when the roles are switched but the change is appreciated

Random headcanons

- Ice bear is afraid of heights, he'll deal with heights if he has too but he really doesn't like them

- He definitely had an imaginary friend as a kid and played pretend

- He finds back scratchies very comforting

- Loves hugs but too shy to admit it

- Loud crowded places trigger him

- Doesn't do well with new situations or new people

- Winter is his favorite season because of the snow and how comforting it is

- He talks in the 3rd person because he picked it up from Yuri

- Likes doing that thing kids do when they take your phone to look at filters and take a bunch of pictures

- He is not a force to be reckoned with on April fools day. He won't prank anyone unless he's pranked first, then he goes crazy with pranks and makes them regret existing near them

- The only two things that make him laugh are his brothers and maybee tickling:P

- Never ever gets sick, he's only gotten sick 6 times throughout his whole life and most of the times were when he was a cub

- Totally babies everyone he likes (Chloe, Panda, Grizz, ect..)

- Chloe made a playlist for Ice bear and he listens to it while doing literally anything and his brothers tease him about it since theres really bubbly songs on there

- He couldn't speak english very well and pretty much only knew Russian so he didn't really speak until he was around Panda and Grizz enough to the point where he understood a little better how to pronounce certain words

- Really liked paci's as a cub, in picture albums he often has one

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

You know what I would love? A Grog and Pike focused ficlet. Maybe they are out for a drink, or he's practicing lifting weights by lifting her instead. This isn't an AU thing so you can ignore it if you want. I just feel like I see so much Percy and Keyleth (WHO ARE GREAT) but I'd love to see more Grog and Pike!

because it's me of course I had to make it angsty

Pike and Grog sleep in the same bed, always. They have since they were little and Wilhand could only afford one bed but it was okay because Pike was really little and able to fit along side him. Tonight though, when Grog comes into their room, Pike isn't curled up in his bed, she's in hers, the barely used bed closer to the window. Mostly they use it when they're folding their laundry.

"Pike?" Grog asks gently as he shuts the door. "What are you over there for?"

The gnome doesn't respond, tucking herself deeper into her blankets and turning her back to him. Grog frowns, Pike never ignores him. Toeing off his shoes, Grog sits slowly onto the edge of Pike's bed, not wanting to jostle her too much. "Buddy?" He asks softly. "Are you bleeding?"

Pike laughs a little but it doesn't sound right, "No, I'm okay. Just sad."

"You're not okay then," Grog says sadly. He wants to put a hand on her but he knows that sometimes when he does that it makes her feel trapped. "Do you...want to talk about it?"

Pike shrugs, "Do you ever feel like-like you don't fit in?"

"All the time. I'm really tall."

Pike laughs a little again and sits up. She's curled in on herself and as she looks up at him he can see that her eyes are red rimmed. "That's not what I mean. More like out of place, like you don't belong where you are."

Grog frowns as he thinks, "I don't think so. I mean some people look at me funny or laugh at me but I don't think that's the same."

Pike swallows, wrapping her arms around herself. "I feel like that all the time, like I don't belong. I feel like I'll lose my place if I'm not useful."

"With Vox Machina?"

Pike nods, tears welling in her eyes again. "It's just hard sometimes, like no one wants to talk to me unless they need something. And it's so stupid but-"

"You're not stupid," Grog tells her quickly. He knows that he is, everyone tells him so, but not Pike. Pike is very very smart. "You belong with me and if everyone else doesn't think like that then...then you and I can leave and find somewhere better."

Pike smiles a little and wipes her tears, "Thanks, buddy." She stands and curls herself into his arms, letting him hug her, but not too tight. He's an expert at Pike hugs by now. "I know my head is lying to me and that's the worst part. I know they love me but it's hard to believe it sometimes."

Grog frowns and he lifts Pike up so he can speak directly into her ear to talk to her brain, "Hey. Leave my friend alone. She's so nice and very smart and a monster who will fuck you up."

Pike chuckles and hugs him around the neck, squeezing her eyes shut as a few tears slip out. "That made me feel loads better." Grog hugs her gently and walks over to his bed, laying down with her hugged to his chest, just like always.

[artsy-hobbitses]

So aside from art style and some other things. What are some of the big differences between humanformers 2007 and humanformers present?

Oh man where do I even begin

Race. Lots of it. 2007s was a LOT whiter than 2020s.

Names. Omar Parvez was formerly Owen Pryce. Hanley Riordan was Hayden Read. Red Alert was Rhames Allardyce. Kopisha Prasad was Kip Patterson. Stefan Scavarro was Stane Schuyler. The Honourable Meirion Emrys Rodric was Maverick Roswell. Fatima Adnan was Finn Aodhan. Brandon Shen was Brian Stadler. Aillard Toussaint was Alfred Travern.

2007s was very USA-centric. 2020s is much more of a global effort.

Morgan and OP were formerly Peace Corp buddies.

OP adopted Benjamin Bane from when he was a baby. Ben had nice parents who died a Disney Death due to Cons.

OP and Elisa (Elita-1) are on-off dating, mostly long-distance because of their work. He, Elita and Morgan were actually the Three Caballeros/good friends in their young adult days with the Peace Corps. Morgan liked Elisa, but could see how much OP liked her too and decided to step out of the way. Here's some rough art and here's a trade ficlet from an old acquaintance based on them!

2007 Cons were, as a whole, much bigger bastards than they are in 2020s. Most of them weren't sympathetic in the least.

Despite that there is no war! Skirmishes yes. The Autobots were a direct answer to what the Decepticons were doing. They function as more of a specialized strike team.

Sentinel Prime lives. He's a government asshole in the same vein as TFA Sentinel.

Thus a lot of them actually have proper jobs when they're not on-call. Haille (Hale) Donovan was an anthropologist. Jace Zayden ran a club where Blaster would DJ on many nights. Hayden Read was a NASCAR driver. I believe OP was something like a hostage negotiator.

No Quintessons in 2007!

Per the time that the 2007 draft was made, Perceptor and Drift were dating (they were my first gay couple, so to speak).

[glorious-spoon]

Fic author interview! I was tagged by @what-alchemy - thank you! No-pressure tagging @phdmama, @incognitajones, @alessandriana, @lynne-monstr, and anyone else who wants to play.

How many works do you have on AO3?

349 publically, maybe a dozen more in anon collections, and two or three that I've orphaned for various reasons.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,349,113, ye gods.

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Calamity's Child (Stranger Things) - 7249 kudos

Body of Memory (Shadowhunters) - 5029 kudos

Star of the Masquerade (Stranger Things) - 4923 kudos

lost souls and reverie (The Witcher - TV) - 3118 kudos

So Newly Charming (Stranger Things) - 2274 kudos

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I used to, but I've been really bad about it in the past year or so. I do read and cherish every comment I get, though.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hard to say! There are a couple of Supernatural ficlets from ~13 years ago with fairly fucked up endings. Of my somewhat recent fic, probably either Empty or Bonny Mad Boys (both for Shadowhunters), with a special mention for my zombie apocalypse Buddie fic, where the dead men lost their bones, although that does at least allow for the possibility of a happy(ish) ending.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Honestly, the vast majority of my fic has happy endings, even when I put them through the wringer first.

7. Do you write crossovers?

I've written a few, mostly for various fic challenges. It's not something I do all that often though.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Oh, yeah. Death threats, even! Shadowhunters fandom was weirdly unhinged about this.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Um, yes. XD

I used to write smut very rarely, and feel extremely awkward about it, and then I decided to write 100k words worth of fills for the Clowntown kinkmeme, and that pretty much cured me of that.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know?

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, several, into a handful of different languages. Always very exciting! I link back if I know about them.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not one that ever actually got posted.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I have been in fandom wayyyy too long to answer this, lol.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I have a really angsty Reddie cheating fic that I wrote like 20k words of and then abandoned. I sometimes think about returning to it, but honestly I probably won't.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I think I write pretty good dialogue - it's definitely one of the things I enjoy the most. Also action and smut, which IMO are pretty similar from a logistical standpoint.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I am so bad at anything resembling plotting. SO bad. And frankly I always feel like my fluff is stilted and saccharine; I do much better with angst, generally speaking.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I've done it before, but I probably wouldn't now, not the least because I'm really not fluent enough in any other language to be worth it.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

That I actually posted? LOTR RPF. Thankfully, that's been lost to the defunct forums of 2002. I've been writing fic just for my own entertainment pretty much as long as I've been able to read, though.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Good Omens! I've read a fair amount of fic, but I didn't really get immersed in the fandom until after season 2. I have a couple of ideas that I'm playing around with, but I don't completely feel like I've got the character voices down yet.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written

This changes OFTEN. I think right now, So Newly Charming is the fic I've written most recently that actually came out exactly how I wanted it to. I can reread it without cringing, which is a rarity for me.

[wikiangela-fanfics]

The one with groceries and bad coffee

Fandom: 911 Ship: Buddie Words: 1361 Note: So, this is just a silly little ficlet, while I'm kinda having a writing crisis and beginnings of a writer's block rn, and I really don't feel all that creative, so as always, I'm trying to write through it haha Enjoy this fluff before all the delicious angst in tomorrow's episode destroys us all haha 😅❤️

Ao3

***

It’s fucking coffee, of all things, that finally does it.

It’s a regular Tuesday morning, they have a day off, Christopher is at school, and Eddie’s on his way to Buck’s place – lately they’ve been spending all their time together, and Eddie’s not complaining. When he gets there, Buck’s not home, which is not a surprise, since he texted Eddie that he’s going grocery shopping, and Eddie should just let himself in. 

He’s there for maybe five minutes, when Buck walks through the door with multiple bags of groceries

“Hey.” a smile automatically pulls at Eddie’s lips at the sight of his best friend, as he walks up to him to take some bags from him. “How much stuff did you buy?”

“Had to stock up, I was out of basically everything.” Buck chuckles, putting the bags on the kitchen island. “Last few times I did groceries, it was with you for your house, so.” he shrugs. It’s true, they usually hang out at Eddie’s place, Buck cooks there, and sleeps there more often than not, and it’s almost perfect – would be, if he was there permanently, preferably in Eddie’s bed and not on the couch. It’s basically Buck’s home, too, at this point – and even though it’s unreasonable, it does sting a little, hearing it referred to as Eddie’s house, because for a long time now, in his head, Eddie’s been thinking of it as their home. Which is just silly, but he can’t help it. 

“Right. This still feels like a lot.” Eddie eyes the bags, as Buck starts to unpack one of them. Without saying anything, Eddie grabs the things, and puts them into the right places, because of course he knows where everything in Buck’s loft goes, which is a perfectly normal thing to know about your best friend’s house.

So that’s what they do for the next few minutes, Buck unpacks things onto the counter, and Eddie finds their right place, while they talk easily about everything and nothing – well, it’s mostly Buck who talks, currently going on an annoyed rant about prices, and Eddie just listens and responds where appropriate – he loves listening to Buck, whatever he talks about, and it’s difficult not to get distracted and just stand there and look at him, instead of putting things away.

Then, Buck gets to the second to last bag, and when Eddie goes to grab the few things he already put on the counter, he stops in his tracks. 

“What- uh, you don’t drink this brand.” he says, looking dumbly at the package of his favorite coffee, which Buck claims tastes disgusting, and always says that it’s an atrocity and an insult to coffee.

“Yeah, it’s fucking awful. I’m pretty sure your taste buds are broken.” Buck laughs. “But you like it, so.” he shrugs, and out of the corner of Eddie’s eye, he can see a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Why did you buy it?” It's a stupid question. But, to be fair, Eddie never complains about the stupidly overpriced coffee Buck always makes at his place, he doesn’t need to drink only one brand.

“So that you can drink your coffee here, obviously.” Buck sounds confused. “I have my coffee at your place, too, it’s no big deal.” he continues to unpack the bag, and Eddie notices a couple more of his and Chris’ favorite snacks, and cereal, some of which Buck likes as well, but wouldn’t normally buy for his apartment, not that much of it, anyway. “You guys are here pretty often, I figured I might as well have some of your favorites.” Buck adds, seeing Eddie stare at all this stuff. 

He’s mostly stuck at the coffee, though. Because Buck bought it specifically for him. As if he wanted Eddie to spend more time here, to feel as at home here as Buck feels at Eddie’s, with half of the pantry stocked up by Buck anyway. He’s never going to drink it, it’s only there for whenever Eddie is over, and he never said he didn’t like Buck’s coffee. 

Eddie’s not sure why he’s making such a big deal out of this, but there’s just something there that he can’t quite put his finger on.

“So, you bought my favorite coffee. And generally my and my son’s favorite things. Just so it’s here.”

“Yeah. It’s no big deal.” Buck chuckles, and Eddie feels his gaze on him. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” Eddie murmurs, still staring at the coffee, his thoughts going a mile a minute. This, buying things he won’t even use most of the time. Going grocery shopping with Eddie all the time. Cooking for Eddie and Chris multiple times a week. Having half of his clothes at Eddie’s place. Co-parenting with Eddie. And, now that Eddie thinks about it, also all the weird, indiscernible looks, touches, and smiles, that Eddie’s been convincing himself he was just imagining. But what if… what if it’s all there? What if it all means something? Something Eddie wants it to mean. 

Something in him snaps. Suddenly, he turns towards Buck and looks him in the eyes. Buck looks confused, and a little nervous, and he’s blushing and looks adorable, and Eddie can’t form words. Instead, his legs take him across the space between him and Buck, as if on auto-pilot.

“What are you-” Buck starts, but then cuts off, and takes a shaky breath, when Eddie invades his personal space, and, still looking Buck in the eyes, slowly leans in, giving Buck all the time to move away. 

He knows he should probably just say something first, they should talk, he should make sure he’s right about this. He can’t find any words, though, all he can think to do is to just kiss Buck breathless. He’s nervous, he feels like he’s looking at this whole scene from outside his body, and wonders what the fuck he’s even thinking. Then, something like understanding flashes across Buck’s face, and he closes the gap between them, joining their lips. It’s delicate, tentative, and unhurried. Eddie wraps his arms around Buck’s neck, and feels Buck’s hands on his hips. It might last seconds, or minutes, or hours, Eddie can’t tell, because time stops, and it’s just him and Buck. It’s a damn perfect first kiss. When he imagined and fantasized about what it would be like, he always assumed he’d freak out over how their relationship would change. But, strangely, he’s overcome with a strange calmness and completeness, as if everything just slotted into place, and it’s as it should have always been.

Eddie can feel when Buck just can’t contain a smile anymore, and starts grinning into the kiss, inevitably breaking it. He leans his forehead against Eddie’s, who also feels a goofy smile on his own face.

“Hi.” Buck whispers. “Gotta say, I did not expect today to go like this.”

“Me neither.” Eddie chuckles, pulling away just enough to look into Buck’s beautiful eyes. “I didn’t plan this, it’s just…” he sighs, feeling his cheeks get hot. The coffee is such a silly trigger for the realization that Buck might love him back.

“How about we finish unpacking all this, because there’s still some stuff that needs to go in the fridge, and then I’ll make coffee, and we can talk about it?” Buck suggests with the happiest smile Eddie’s ever seen on him, and he can’t resist, he leans in for another short kiss.

“Yeah, okay.” he responds into Buck’s lips. Now that he got a taste, he knows he won’t resist kissing him every chance he gets. And it’s a thing he can do now, because it seems like Buck feels the same way, and Eddie thinks that he hasn’t been this happy in a very long time. 

And it all happened thanks to the shitty coffee he likes. It’s so ridiculous, he almost feels like he’s dreaming, and has to pinch himself to make sure it’s real. And it is, and he already knows that he’ll spend the rest of his life bickering with Buck over that stupid brand of coffee, and he can’t imagine anything better.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Patience is a virtue

This is a celebration of my wonderful crack anon! (I love you, buddy)!

As I cannot thank them enough for their amazing Incorrect quotes, I have decided to combine two of them. (This one and this one) into a mini-ficlet!

Special thanks to @eunoiaastralwings and @sorisooyaa for enabling me and always having my back...💖💖💖

WORDS: 2k

WARNINGS: Dyslexic character, slight anger, potential innuendo

CHARACTERS: Celegorm, Caranthir x Reader

“Come on, Tyelko, you can do it,” you encouraged your friend gently.

“It all looks the same to me,” he groaned, sweeping the book he had been focusing on off the table in a desperately impatient gesture that he regretted almost instantly.

As he walked across the room to pick it up again, setting it down carefully on the table as if to apologise for his outburst, you struggled to keep your overflowing sympathy – that he’d misunderstand as pity – off your face.

Despite his rough exterior and his flighty nature, Celegorm was a good friend and hence, you had been tutoring him – in absolute secret – for a few weeks now; shame and petulant stubbornness had wrought a cage around his generous heart, and you were decided to free him from that burden that tortured him so.

Being the son of a man who had come up with his own writing and the brother of some of the most creative Noldor in existence, he felt that it was impossible to confess that he still struggled with basic reading comprehension.

Given ample time and a space where he felt safe, he could decipher the irregular handwriting of different authors – even though it took immense efforts that left his head spinning and his mood sour – but, if pressed or surprisingly confronted – he often flew into a rage and outright refused to so much as look at the document.

“They all think I’m an odd idiot anyway,” he had grunted during one of his frequent breakdowns; periodically, he would grow tired of doing his best without seeing the immediate results, an intemperate creature such as he was needed to keep going.

Ever the hunter, Tyelko was reliant on stalking and following his prey, but skills such as reading were notoriously elusive.

“It’s getting better,” you promised earnestly, “you’re doing so well.”

With a frustrated grunt, he closed the book – its pages glaring at him accusingly with their blurring, squiggly characters – and hunched over on his chair, leaning heavily on his forearms and all but hiding his handsome face, as the exhaustion from fighting an invisible, untouchable enemy washed over him.

“I’ve wasted your whole day,” he moaned as he realised how late it had become, “and for what? I should just give up…or swallow my pride and ask my father or Curvo for help.”

Putting your hand on his shoulder cautiously, you just waited; his younger brother was one of the very reasons why you had started helping Tyelko. He was unwilling to rely on Curufin all his life; as the older one, he wanted to be a haven of safety and solace to his younger siblings, not a burden.

“I think it would do you a world of good to talk it over with him,” you agreed slowly, “but not until you’re ready. He won’t think less of you.”

“Are you sure? Nelyo and Káno would be so disappointed in me, and I guess Moryo would just laugh at me,” he muttered dejectedly.

At the mention of Caranthir, you flinched a little; it was true that he was impatient, imperious, and – at times – unkind, but you knew that he cared deeply for his brother and you doubted that he’d ever be able to mock Tyelko’s misery.

You might have been wrong though, especially because you were – undeniably and irrevocably – in love with that ill-tempered but utterly sweet wallflower.

“Is Moryo home?” you asked casually.

“Where else would he be? Outside? In the sun? Where people are? Besides, it’s really late, my friend, and I guess the others are all in bed already.”

He pondered for a moment and then said: “I would be a terribly ungrateful friend if I let you leave a house made up of mostly unmarried males in the middle of the night; allow me to fix the guest room for you. Be my guest. Our guest. You might even get to see our red-faced poison-monkey in the morning. I’m sure he’d like that very much!”

“Tyelko!” you cried, swatting his arm playfully and breathing a sigh of relief when his usual, wicked smile returned to grace his sharp, angular face.

You were so relieved to see him return to his usual cheerful carelessness, you didn’t even bother to point out that spending the night in that house, chock-full with young men, would be even more disreputable than to simply slink out under the cover of darkness.

“Don’t hit me,” he laughed, “he’s a pest. You, my dear, are too good for this world and for this house, teaching the family idiot and admiring the family beast.”

“You are not an idiot,” you protested, pulling his hair in an act of childish annoyance, “and Moryo is not a beast.”

Being serious once more, you cupped his face in your hands and pressed a kiss onto his fair brow.

“You know, friend, ‘different’ does not equate ‘bad’,” you said fervently, “and because you’re all brilliant and gorgeous in different ways, you never consider – in your obsessive need for comparison between yourselves – that you’re invariably better at everything than anybody else.”

Celegorm made an unconvinced sound and led you down the corridor, only to freeze and roll his eyes when loud laughter resounded – muffled by the door and probably a pillow – from one of the rooms further down.

“Behold,” Tyelko hissed, “Nelyo, the donkey-tamer. It’s one of the Kános and – seeing that the hour is late and the house is dormant – I venture to claim that it’s Findekáno who snuck in through Nelyo’s bedroom window.”

“Neither your brother nor your cousin deserves to be compared to a donkey,” you reprimanded him patiently, “and you just gave me an idea.”

It was true that there were some humorous, satirical, disparaging pamphlets out there that – more often than not – liked to take a dig at the Fëanorian brood.

“I think I know just the thing to make you enjoy reading more,” you grinned.

“Porn?” he asked hopefully.

“Satire,” you replied sharply, giving the back of his head another affectionate slap.

“About my brothers?” His eyes flashed with interest now.

“Wait and see,” you smiled mysteriously, “you better reread the pages we looked at today, remember the small tricks I’ve shown you, and try to apply this to the next few pages.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he hooted under his breath and shoved you into a dusty room that had once been a playroom and was now used as a cemetery for discarded and unloved garments, or at least, that was what it looked like.

“Good night,” Tyelko whispered, cocked his head, grinned, and then sauntered away whistling.

You had just settled on the old mattress that smelled like the boys you had known all your life when your phone pinged.

♥Dogboy♥

-      Moryo is not only home. Hes awak. I know bcause I threw dirty socks @ him.

-      Why? -.-

-      Because! Shoot him a msg!

You shook your head and turned around – decided not to give in to the temptation of reaching out to the object of all your secret desires – with a stubborn set to your jaw that would have put even Tyelko himself to shame.

You managed exactly 10 minutes of tossing and turning before groaning and fishing out your phone from under a pile of mismatched shorts once more.

☻His Dark Majesty☻

-      Hey!

With an exasperated moan, you threw your phone across the mattress and buried your face in an old shirt that still held a distinct aroma of grass and mud.

And then…your phone chimed.

☻His Dark Majesty☻

-      Hey?

-      I can’t sleep… ☹

-      I can. Good night!

So much for that, you thought, cursing Tyelko for putting you up to this, but – just as you were about to cry out of sheer humiliation – you heard the unmistakable creaking of a door being opened.

Curious, you stuck your head out of your own sanctuary and glimpsed the pale ray of light falling onto the well-worn floor of the hallway like the beacon of a lighthouse.

Pondering whether this was an invitation or just a coincidence, you paced around the graveyard of a forgotten childhood for another few minutes before creeping down the landing to the open door.

A bedside lamp was on and – in its weak light – you could see Moryo, propped up against the headrest, reading a book settled on his lap. 

From your vantage point at the door, you could see the light and shadow play on his enchanting face as he moved his lips soundlessly around the words his slender index flew slid along fluidly.

Everything about him looked so soft and inviting in this moment and the intimacy of the moment - getting to see him in a washed-out shirt, already comfortably tucked under the covers - made your skin prickle with earnest longing and a dash of raw desire.

“Tyelko should not keep you here so long,” he mumbled without looking up, “you have to be careful; otherwise, he’ll take more than you’re willing to give. He’s greedy like that.”

One of his hands fell on the mattress and patted it thrice in sharp, slightly awkward motions, but his gaze - immobile now - did not turn to you even though he had clearly stopped perusing his tome.

“Awwww, you worry about me?” you teased, climbing onto his bed and shuffling closer to his welcome warmth; he made a face – rolling his eyes at you – but also lifted his arm to let you snuggle into his embrace almost instantly.

Heat was creeping into his cheeks now as if that single look he had allowed himself to throw at you had been too much to bear with solemn dignity. It was true that you had discarded your sweater and your heavy pants to go to bed, but this was far from the first time that Moryo had seen you in your underwear.

Maybe, you thought, he also felt how different it was to be alone in a room, at night, without a chaperone or friend in sight. The silence of the house was both titillating and somehow threatening, and you found that your hands trembled a little as you clasped them coyly against your own stomach.

“Of course, I do, you little fool,” he huffed and very purposefully returned his attention to the book on his lap while you lay – motionless so as to not startle him into pushing you away – enveloped in the fragrant warmth of his sturdy body.

“Do you want me to read aloud to you?” he asked after a moment, turning his gaze upon you once more questioningly while you were playing with a stray thread of the worn shirt – the once vibrant black faded into a murky grey – absent-mindedly.

“Hmmm,” you hummed, already sleepy, and tried to put the awareness of how incongruous and indecent your presence here – in his house, in his bed, in his arms – truly was out of your conscious mind lest it make you do something reckless and unforgivable.

His voice was soft and low as he started reading what sounded suspiciously like a treatise on economics; at some point, he even tightened his hold on you as you started falling asleep, burrowing deeper into the warm space between his body and his bedding.

Comfort and solace flowed like golden starlight through your veins and set your blurry mind at ease; you could have stayed like this forever, his body against yours and his voice in your ear.

“Good night, darling,” he then whispered – barely audible – and pressed a kiss onto your relaxed brow, “you should not have to do this alone. I shall read to Tyelko too, I swear.”

“You know?” you mumbled hazily, too tired to even pretend to be shocked as you knew him to be perspicacious and shrewd to a fault.

“He’s my brother,” he laughed melodiously, “of course, I know. Now, sleep. And from tomorrow on, we'll all encourage our most savage sibling the way we know best.”

“Please don’t,” you protested weakly, your hand scrabbling across his body so you could cling to him as the world fell into drowsy waves of cotton wool, “you’d only anger him.”

Again, he chuckled softly and set aside his book with a tremulous sigh.In the following silence, torn between fatigue and excitement, you couldn’t help but feel as if he was explicitly waiting for you to say something. Unfortunately, you had no idea what.

I hope you find this, dear crack nonnie, and I hope you like it.

The end is consciously a bit...open, because...one never knows 😁

Lots of love from me <3

[tacobellabeanburrito]

Welcome To My Blog!

Hey! I’m making another pinned post because the one that I originally did got lost to my reblogging so yeah. 

Aloha! I’m Raina (or Raine) and I draw, sing, dance, write and act! But I don’t really post a lot of the stuff I write or draw, although I have finally gotten around to posting my writings, I don’t think I have the confidence to post my art yet. I’m also 18! (Thought it was about time I put my age in my bio)

Fandoms I’m Into ATM: Gravity Falls, Sonic, Hunter x Hunter, Ducktales, The Three Caballeros, Ouran High School Host Club, Fullmetal Alchemist, Buddy Daddies, The Millionaire Detective: Balance Unlimited, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Hazbin Hotel, FNAF, The Umbrella Academy, My Little Pony, Sanders Sides, Clarence, Wander Over Yonder, Craig of the Creek, Mario, Kirby, Hamilton, Dan Vs, Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, Villainous, Minecraft: Storymode, Ace Attorney, Hazbin Hotel, Sk8 The Infinity, SpongeBob SquarePants, Stardew Valley, Good Omens, Vinesauce, Markiplier, Undertale, Total Drama, Deltarune and many more!

I’m mostly just into books, musicals, cartoons and video games in general!

Most of my posts are reblogs, but sometimes I’ll post random shit that happens to me (especially rants, vents and school related stuff) and some of my drawings and writings, so don’t mind that. (Also, sorry if my reblogging is too much, I reblog ALOT of shit, so sorry if it’s annoying) and if you want someone to talk to or wanna be friends, just hit me up! My blog is also a safe space for everyone (except for the usual gross people like p*dos, incest shippers, the like) I hope you enjoy your stay! (I also don’t usually tag my reblogs, sometimes I will but only for little comments I make)

And in case I don’t see you, good afternoon, good evening and goodnight! (PS, if you are the IRS or are sent by the IRS just know that I will not be paying taxes)

Oh also, if you ever get on my blog on the computer, tell me what song you got on my playlist! Whatever song you get is you if you were a song.

Oh right, here are a few of my fanfics if you’re interested.

Experiment 47: The Copier Machine: Ford is lonely. Very, very lonely. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it... He missed his twin. So, what’s the most logical way to deal with repressed emotions instead of sucking up your pride and actually trying to make up with your twin? Build a cloning machine, of course. (Basically my theory on how the cloning machine in the Mystery Shack came to be)

The New Look Turnabouts: As time goes on, Miles and Phoenix end up changing their iconic looks (Either by accident or on purpose) and every time they end up falling more in love with each other.

Restless In Los Kyoto: After Phoenix sends his radio message to Miles, he doesn't exactly expect anything to come from it. And he especially doesn't expect to get a response back.

Hijinks & Shenanigans Will Ensue: Little snippets in the lives of our favorite Ace Attorney characters. Some stories will be based on official artworks, others are based on my own ideas. Some will even be Aus. All of them will be drabbles and little ficlets.

Fic requests are always open! It just might take me a while to get to them because of motivation, school, theatre, work and other stuff.

Here’s my sideblog btw, it’s the one I use for my more explicit fanfics and when I have to say explicit stuff that I don’t want on my main: https://www.tumblr.com/cowabungaits-drshrimppuertorico.

Also, here’s some quizzes I made! 

https://uquiz.com/fZWBsK (what do you live for?)

https://uquiz.com/eCH3HW (which member of my family are you?)

https://uquiz.com/v2O6Sp (would i let you introduce me to a new type of media i haven’t seen and that you like)

https://uquiz.com/m1NZOq (you answer stuff and i decide what unknown media i like that i think you’d like)

https://uquiz.com/2ulAQQ (which character from a musical/play that i was in are you)

https://uquiz.com/payRQj (what character are you but it’s my original story characters that will most likely never see the light of day)

Also here’s some of my art (I’ve been posting it recently and it’s been sooo bad I promise I’m good at art guys look)

(It’s a pencil drawing of a photorealistic balloon)