#it is fine and streaks can be restarted

[mattyknees]

how's winter north of the 46th going?

i just broke my sobriety streak, so. about that well!

[doll-for-you-11]

Fantasy I can't stop thinking about:

I slip on a short skirt and crop top. I just got rejected and need to get some validation of men stating at my ass. I walk around and take a few different trains in random directions.

Almost every guy ive passed has either blatantly stared, or catcalled and Im feeling better about myself. Ready to go home, I realize I don't know what train Im on, and Ive never been to the station we're approaching.

The train is basically empty. Theres one guy accross from me, but he's ignored me most of the time so I feel fine. I stand to wait at the doors for when we stop. Feeling him stand and get very close. I try to step forward but theres no space. "Theres no running bitch". I freeze unable to get away. I feel his hand on my hip, rising to my chest, groping me as he grinds against me, pressing me to the door.

As we stop I see other people on the platform and sigh hoping he'll stop when the doors open and I can run. As the doors open I try to take a step but am stopped by a hand grabbing my ponytail. Getting dragged off the subway by my hair. My clothes ripped off as Im being degraded and abused. The man that grabbed me loudly saying disgusting, humiliating things as he drags me along like a ragdoll.

By the time he gets me to the middle of the platform, Im naked and sobbing. A crowd gathering around, all the men who have been "working late" and the creeps stalking the subway for new prey.

He throws me to the ground, laughing as I try to crawl away. Wrenching me back again by my hair, as I scream out in pain. Looking around hoping someone will help, but all I see are buldges and hungry eyes.

He wips me around, slapping me, threatening my life if he feels any teeth as he pulls his cock out, shoving it all the way down my throat as I violently gag around him. "Fucking good little whore, take it".

You moan as you wrap your hand in my hair and begin to face fuck me so harshly my lips and throat are bruised before I even run out of breath. Drool and precum pour down my chin, dripping onto my tits turning them into a shiny, sticky mess. You fuck my throat like you're trying to destroy any brain cells I might have left. I feel your hot cum spew down my throat. You hold your cock balls deep telling me to swallow, but I gag, dripping some onto my already dripping tits. You rip your cock out and slap me accross the face, throwing me to the edge of the crowd.

I look up at the man in front of me and he just laughs, kicking me back towards you and following, pulling his belt off as he goes. I feel your hand come from behind me, gripping my throat and pulling me to my knees as the other man binds my wrists with his belt. My mind is still reeling from your raping of my throat, I dont even fight back and you remove your own belt, pushing my face down into the other mans still clothed crotch.

He humps my face, humiliating me as the crowd laughs. He holds my head down as you begin whipping my ass with your belt. Im trying to get away as I scream in pain, but he's too strong. You ask the crowd for a number, someone yells 50 and you tell me to count. It hurts so bad I lose track and you restart again and again and again until my ass is black and blue and my eyes have clouded over from the pain, my tears soaking the mans pants.

He flips me over onto my back, pulling out his hard cock and straddling my head. He slaps me with his cock, his pre cum joining the streaks of mascara on my cheeks before forcing himself down my throat and pushing down with his full weight sitting on my face, grinding his hips as his cock fills my windpipe.

Struggling to breathe I dont notice your belt trailing up my legs until you whip my cunt with it. I jump, forcing his cock impossibly deeper as I choke and panic. You altrinate between my pussy and tits, whipping harder and harder as I writhe, my hands pinned and bound under me, the other man on my face.

He pinches my nose and laughs as I begin to lose consciousness. Just as I'm about to black out he pulls me upright and savagely fucks my throat, pulling out to coat my face in his hot sticky cum. I cough and sputter but before I'm able to catch my breath you're pushing my face into the ground and ramming balls deep into my cunt. Using my hair as a handle you pull me to my knees.

The other man sucking and biting my nipples. Groping my bruised tits hard enough you can see his finger prints. "Look at you, you disgusting cum dump. Your cunt is dripping, theres a fucking puddle under you and you want to act like you didn't want this? That cunt is an open invitation when it drips like that." He slaps me, rubs my clit, slaps me with his cock and fucks my tits all while youre animalistically fucking my dripping pussy.

You join in growling in my ear. "Little bitch thinks it can get on the fucking train wearing a skirt that barely covers its ass and not get used? You that stupid you little whore? Or did you want this? Huh? Was this what you wanted? Get raped and ruined in front of a crowd ? Put on a little show? Yeah?" You fuck me harder and faster, my eyes rolling back as I cum around you harder than I ever have before.

"Did you just fucking cum?" The man abusing my tits asks. "Did you just cum from getting raped? Are you that much of a dirty rape whore?" You pull out throwing me to the ground as the other man pulls me on top of him pushing me down on his cock and thrusting up using my tits as handles to slam me up and down painfully.

You get behind me pulling my hair and whisper in my ear "we're gonna see just how disgusting of a cunt you really are". You ram your cock into my virgin asshole with no preparation besides the slick from my cunt already on your cock, matching the other man in speed as you thrust in and out, your cocks stretching me out like a used fleshlight.

The pain shocks me enough that my jaw drops in a silent scream, my eyes rolling back as my body goes limp. My mind shutting off as I become a living sex doll. You reach around harshly rubbing my clit. I scream as I arch against you cumming, but you keep rubbing my sore oversensitive clit. Making cum non stop over and over. My whole body shaking uncontrollably.

I hear laughter and see other people recording and jacking off. It feels like forever before you both cum and you stop rubbing my clit. Your seed flooding inside of me as you both groan in satisfaction. You pull out and I whine at the feeling before you pull me off of the other man and toss me to the ground.

I can barely open my eyes but I begin to feel something falling on me and look up to see the crowd gathering closer, coating me in cum and piss as I lay broken on the platform.

I feel disgusted with myself, how could I have cum from that? But I can't help but moan as I feel the cum dripping from both holes and the showers of it coating my body. Soon enough I feel more hands on me, I hear men saying what I know are disgusting perverted things but I can't make it out.

The sun is starting to come up by the time they all finish with me. Im too broken to move, but some part of me is okay with it. After all, If I stay here, they'll know where to find me when they want to use me again.

[difeisheng]

Fang Duobing wakes up with the dawn on the five thousandth morning since his life fractured, then restarted, and there is silver in Di Feisheng's hair.

"Go back to sleep," he feels Di Feisheng rumble, where Fang Duobing's chest is pressed to his back. His hand doesn't pause, continuing to feel through the long river of Di Feisheng's hair. He can't help it, that it's still striking even after these years since the first hint of grey appeared. Early light glows through the window, glinting off the streak woven in through the dark strands. Vein of precious metal set in stone.

Di Feisheng has survived four decades of defiant existence in this world, and now he wears something proud to show for it.

"You're getting old," Fang Duobing says, and smiles into the back of Di Feisheng's neck. "What happened to rising with the sun to train every morning?"

"You and your sleeping in happened, you spoiled brat." The words are softened by the fact that Di Feisheng doesn't counter the hand Fang Duobing moves from his hair to his waist, only letting out a deep sigh. "And now you won't even let me do that."

"It's called having variation. Keeps you sharp."

"Keeps me tired."

"You'll start getting slow next if you settle into your ways like this, lao-lang."

"If you insist on calling me old, then you should have some respect for your elders," Di Feisheng declares, and now Fang Duobing can hear the glare in his voice. "Be quiet."

Fang Duobing has cheerfully never listened to this particular request, and isn't about to start now. "I show my respect for you nearly every day. Maybe you'd even call it appreciation." He lets his hand on Di Feisheng's waist drift lower, under the blanket thrown over both of them. "I could demonstrate again though, if you'd like?"

This time Di Feisheng catches him, gently dragging his hand away before Fang Duobing can reach for his trousers. "Later," he says, and the words are low enough to be a growl. "Go. Back. To. Sleep."

"Fine." Fang Duobing replaces his hand, arm reaching over Di Feisheng's torso instead. Di Feisheng's own hand stays curled overtop his, stilling as Fang Duobing settles down again behind him, sword calluses rough against his knuckles. "But I'll hold you to it."

It's impulse that causes Fang Duobing to brush at Di Feisheng's hair one last time, sweeping the silver aside to touch his lips to his neck.

Di Feisheng is, seemingly, by the fall of his breath and the curve of his body into Fang Duobing's, already asleep once more.

[everydayyoulovemeless]

You should do the no nut November and destroy dick December thing with Ulysses lmaooooo that would be so funny(please I’m on my knees for this please please please)

Ulysses, Joshua, Dean, Christine, and Follows-Chalk Reactions To No Nut November

➼ Word Count » 0.5k ➼ Warnings » MDNI ➼ Genre » Romantic, NSFW ➼ A/N » The second part will be up tomorrow, love! Also, I figured I'd throw in a few other dlc characters because I love these

Ulysses is a little disappointed as he has a fairly sporadic sex drive (which is going to kill him during this challenge), but he'd be on board for your sake. There are days when he truly struggles to stay focused, and he may end up dropping hints that he'd be fine with breaking the streak, but he'll force himself to keep at it if you encourage him to. 5/10, he fails the second you do. Honestly, just depends on how determined you are to complete the challenge.

"It's just the two of us living here in the Divide. No one would know."

Joshua thinks it’s a great idea, however, he agrees for a different reason than how you might’ve intended it. He takes this as an opportunity to prove to God that he is not controlled by lust but by his desire for a relationship with the Lord. Even asking him about it has made him certain that you feel the same way, and he'll only feel more devoted to building a relationship with you. All he's ever wanted was someone who pushed him to be a better Christian. 12/10, the fire inside burns brighter than his need to cum.

"This is a wonderful idea. Abstinence is a powerful tool to becoming closer to God."

Dean considers the entire practice to be for the common folk who need to practice controlling their primal urges. He doesn't know any poor people and, quite honestly, he just doesn't like losing. Why would he sign himself up for something he knows he won't pass? And in front of you too - it's embarrassing. 2/10, he'll do the bare minimum to show he's not a dog in heat, but after he thinks he's done that, he'll quit.

"I'll pass, thank you."

Christine couldn't care less what the two of you end up doing. If you want to go a whole month with no sex, then so be it. She's not very picky when it comes to intercourse, and her libido isn't crazily high either. She personally finds it quite easy, however, if you decided you wanted to go back on the challenge, she'd be incredibly disappointed. She's under the impression that once someone says they're going to do something, they should stick with it. 9/10, she does her best to push you through the rest of the month but doesn't actually take it that seriously.

"Uh.. sure, I don't mind."

Follows-Chalk fails almost as soon as he agrees because he genuinely has no idea what you’re asking him to do. He'll just laugh it off and ask if you can restart instead. You'll end up finishing the challenge on a completely different day because he does want to do a full four weeks of this. He's pretty average at it, but his excitement at trying something different (and the praise Joshua gives him) keeps him going. 6/10, he treats it like a sport.

"Oh! I understand, I understand! Let's do again!"

[gretagerwigsmuse]

and even when we’re wrong in every way, we come out the other side okay (part 1.5/2)

Summary: in which bradley is getting honored with an award and his girlfriend tries to be there for him…even though her feelings towards the navy are complicated to say the least

OR you take on the pacific fleet’s awards gala

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader

A/N: listen…even spunky, smart aleck girlfriends get down sometimes! so this little snippet is literally just angst (sorry!). but our favorite slutty couple will be back at it (literally) in all their depraved glory soon enough in part 2. takes place 6 months after Part 1. i wasn’t originally planning on showing anything from our best girl’s pov, but lord she needed to get this one out 😭 thanks to sol for all the encouragement and help on this one! (2.5k)

would it be enough if i could never give you peace?

After you and Bradley finished watching another episode of some HBO show you were both obsessed with, the two of you dragged yourselves off the couch to clean up the kitchen before you headed off to bed. Naturally, you had argued in favor of cleaning the kitchen before decompressing with two episodes worth of this year’s favorite Sunday night drama, but Bradley had other plans and you’d made it about thirty seconds into the initial cleanup before he had streaked some excess flour across your cheek, teasing you by licking it off.

“There’s no way raw flour tastes that good,” you’d let out between your giggles, but he was relentless.

“Must just be you then…”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down towards you for a kiss while he backed you up against the kitchen island. He bunched up your pencil skirt that you hadn’t yet changed out of after work and slid his knee between your legs. 

“Okay, fine, fine,” you said breathlessly, “we can clean up later…” 

Once you’d finally made it into the living room, you had to restart the episode three times before he managed to keep his hands to himself for longer than thirty seconds. Not that you’d really tried that hard to stop him. 

But now, you were both a little tired and a little messy as you’d cleaned up the dishes from the homemade pasta you two had made. You’d gotten the recipe from your favorite food influencer - this unbelievably cool girl around your age who was based out of LA - and had been on Bradley to try it for weeks. While you had originally planned to make dinner at your apartment - a far too impersonal two bedroom high rise in the Gaslamp Quarter near Petco Park - you didn’t have a pasta maker attachment for your Kitchen Aid mixer - yet for some reason Bradley did. He had looked so pleased as he’d unearthed it from one of the upper kitchen cabinets, still in the box, a wedding gift he’d forgotten to give someone ages ago.

Ever the team, you had made the sauce while Bradley had made the pasta, humming along to music as you both worked in tandem. He had given a rousing performance of Hall & Oates’ Rich Girl, dancing around the kitchen with you as he professed the song always reminded him of you whenever he heard it - in a good way, I promise! - he had been sure to clarify. You chose to take it as a compliment.

The food had been delicious, along with the wine you had picked up after work. The only downside was that homemade pasta unfortunately made for a lot of dishes and cleanup. While Bradley was putting the last of the assorted mixing bowls and plates in the dishwasher, you grabbed the carton of eggs and the wine off the island to put back in the refrigerator when something caught your eye as you closed the door.

…invited…October 15th…

“What’s this?” 

You slipped the thick card stock invitation off Bradley’s fridge, a teasing smile on your face. It was wedged behind a picture of Bradley and his parents, an old save-the-date from a wedding last spring, and a picture of Bradley and Pete, as you knew him, from last fall. You caught a glimpse at the words Pacific Fleet…awards gala…Hotel del Coronado…October 15th -

“- Bradley, this is next weekend?”

“Is it?” He leaned over your shoulder to read the invitation.

“Yeah, next Saturday.” You kept reading, a smile lighting up your face as you noticed his name on the invitation. “No way! It says you’re getting an award, too? Bradley, that’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Bradley shrugged and avoided eye contact. “It didn’t seem - important, I guess?”

He was getting an award. Bradley, your boyfriend, was getting an award along with two others in the entire Pacific Fleet. And he hadn’t even told you. Why?

“It sounds pretty important…” Sadness quickly crossed over your face as realization dawned. “Wait, you - do you not want me to come? Is that why you didn’t mention it?” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could think better of it. 

“No, no, I - I just - I just didn’t know if it was something you’d want to do? Like it’s a Navy thing and I didn’t think you’d want to go -”

“- Oh.” You glanced down and shrunk in on yourself. Oh. You were right - he didn’t want you there. Probably didn’t want you there to embarrass him. Worried about what you might say - and to who. 

You suddenly remember how awkward you had felt the first time Bradley had come home from a longer deployment. He had been on the detail for the Speaker of the House’s visit to Taiwan, on stand-by should naval air support be needed. It was for ten days, nothing major. But you had been on edge the entire time, not helped by the fact that the visit was so public and renowned that it was all over the news. You’d set up push notifications for practically every newspaper - one from the Economist had practically given you an anxiety attack - and had taken to working longer hours when he was gone, pushing yourself to the limit to think about something, anything other than the fact that you hadn’t told your boyfriend of five months that you were in love with him yet. 

And what if you never got the chance?

But then the call came in - he was coming home. You’d quickly called Natasha, who hadn’t been chosen for the mission due to a prior commitment, and asked if you were supposed to meet Bradley down at the base after. You’d never gone before, didn’t even know which gate to go through. But Natasha just laughed you off, telling you how to get there, where to park, and the best spot to stand to ensure Bradley would see you right away.

And so maybe it had been the nerves or reading obsessively about the Speaker’s visit, but you had gotten chatty as you were waiting with all the other families and loved ones. You didn’t know how it happened really, one minute you were telling the man next to you that you were waiting for your boyfriend and the next you were ranting about the EEZ, advanced microchip exports, the futility of the US government’s One China policy, and the big dick exercise that were Chinese military drills in the Taiwan Strait. 

The man had been a retired Rear Admiral who was waiting for his son. His son, who flew with Bradley as you found out when the two of them came up to you both. Amidst all your hugging and kissing and welcome home speech, the retired Rear Admiral had patted Bradley on the back and said that one’s got quite the mouth on her. Neither of you knew quite what to say. With the mood effectively killed, you didn’t even say I love you to Bradley as you originally had planned. 

Instead, you’d merely blurted it out as he was making you coffee the next morning. He’d just smiled and said I love you, too - like it was so obvious that you were ever in any doubt and that he even needed to say it. Soon, the mean old Rear Admiral’s comments were long forgotten as you showed Bradley (again) all the different ways you had missed him while he had been away - protecting the free world and all that jazz.

Until now.

You swallowed, hoping your voice didn’t sound too thick. “I mean, my boyfriend’s getting an award, seems like kind of a big deal - but it’s cool. I can - I can always see what the girls are up to that night, maybe see that new -”

That was a lie. You knew you’d just hang out at your apartment all night - alone. 

“- Sweetheart - ” 

You shook your head and stepped out of his arms, leaving the invitation on the kitchen island. “It’s okay, really. I think I’m - I’m just gonna shower and get ready for bed. I have that early meeting tomorrow morning, so…”

It wasn’t even ten yet, but Bradley didn’t push it. “Oh. Yeah, I’ll just finish cleaning up then?”

You pulled him down for a kiss, which was far too brief for either of your liking and dashed out of the kitchen and to his bedroom before he could notice the tears forming in your eyes. You shut the door behind you, squeezing your eyes shut as a few wayward tears trickled down your face. God, you were not a girl who cried easily. 

(Lies, you just didn’t let anyone see you.)

As you absentmindedly grabbed a pair of shorts and a t-shirt for bed, you whipped out your phone, searching the event and pouring over the official website, looking at pictures from years past, and marveling at how fancy everything looked. You closed the bathroom door behind you and sat on the toilet lid while you waited for the shower to heat up. Scrolling further down the page, while you noticed that the aggressively patriotic decor was a bit much for you, contrary to popular belief, you did understand how important Bradley’s job was. And you understood what it meant for him and his career to be presented with an award at something like this. It wasn’t quite a Medal of Honor or anything like that, but it was still important. It would still mean something. 

Something to Bradley. Which meant something to you.

You hopped into the shower, a little dazed, realizing that you were now crying in earnest. You started shampooing and conditioning your hair on autopilot, going over what happened in the kitchen. Were you making too big of a deal out of this? No - it was completely valid for you to be upset. Especially with how different things had been between you both lately. 

The bottle of face wash you were using almost slipped out of your hands as you realized something. Natasha had asked you last week - early last week - if you had anyone you could set her up with for an event? You hadn’t thought much of the event, itself, just that Natasha - one of the coolest girls you had ever met - had wanted you to set her up with someone, someone from outside the Navy. That she had trusted you enough to do this. 

This was the same event. 

The same event that Bradley had to have known about for over a week now, that plus-ones were clearly invited to, that Natasha had assumed you’d be invited to attend. You leaned your forehead against the shower wall.

Why didn’t Bradley want you to come with him? Was he going with someone else? Someone who - no. 

No, no, no. He would never do that. You couldn’t believe the thought had even crossed your mind. Bradley loved you. Bradley wanted to be with you. Bradley put up with all your neurosis and your late hours at the office and made you cum so hard you occasionally cried and held you in his arms all night. 

Bradley loved you.

(Didn’t he? He’d said he did.)

Maybe you just wanted Bradley to love you like you loved him - openly and without restraint or abandon. You wanted him to love the you that he had first met. The strong, confident girl at the bar, who wasn’t afraid to call him out on his shit. Not the one who was so scared her boyfriend was going to break up with her that she had taken to savoring every last kiss, touch, and I love you between the two of you because you just knew it was going to end. He was going to end things. 

You knew you weren’t like all the other girlfriends and wives and partners. You wanted to be someone he didn’t have to second guess about bringing to Navy events or even after work drinks at the Hard Deck. Baring Natasha, you had only met Bradley’s friends twice - via a dinner party at his place and then out for drinks once in San Diego proper. You had originally thought that that was an accident, but now you weren’t so sure.

You didn’t want Bradley to have to choose between you and the Navy. You would never ask him to do that and what was worse, he would never make you feel like you had to or that he resented you for it. 

Bradley loved you.

(Didn’t he? He had told you a couple weeks ago.)

So, why hadn’t he asked you to go to this awards gala with him? Why didn’t he want you? 

You put your face directly underneath the shower head, hoping the water would make your face less puffy. You had always been an ugly crier - always one to let your emotions drive your actions. You thought that was one of the things Bradley liked about you - your strong convictions - but maybe he had changed? Maybe he didn’t want that anymore? Maybe he wanted someone he wasn’t embarrassed about? Was he always wondering if you’d say a snarky comment to the wrong person? He probably got teased about it at work. 

That one’s got quite the mouth on her.

You heard the sound of the bathroom door opening and Bradley’s footfalls on the tile a few seconds later. For the first time since you had started dating, you desperately hoped he wouldn’t join you in the shower. He’d take one look at you, your puffy, red rimmed eyes, and turn the other way. But luckily, he simply called out:

“You okay in there?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and hoped your voice wasn’t too choked. “Yeah, fine. My uhh - my shoulder just hurts. Wanted to keep it under the hot water for a bit.” Your shoulder had never bothered you in your life. 

You practically held your breath as you waited for Bradley to respond from behind the shower curtain. “Okay. Well, I’m just gonna brush my teeth…”

“Okay, I’ll be out in a few.”

You didn’t move the entire time he was brushing his teeth and even for the few moments after he’d left the bathroom. Fuck. You had to get it together. This was getting pathetic. With one last wipe of your eyes, you turned off the water and dried yourself off a bit before stepping out of the shower. 

Bradley had moved your clothes from the vanity to the hooks right by the shower so you didn’t have to tiptoe across the room, tracking water along the way. The silly and inconsequential, but still stupidly thoughtful, action made your heart clench. Then, you went through your nightly routine almost on autopilot, putting on your pajamas, brushing your teeth and hair, doing your skincare routine, all while trying not to cry again.

Eventually, when you saw that Bradley had turned off the lights in the bedroom, you left your bathroom sanctuary and made your way across the other room, crawling into bed beside him. You burrowed your face in his chest, clinging onto him desperately as if you could will him to love you more. 

Neither of you said anything, you just laid there, holding each other, his hand slowly rubbing your back, until you eventually drifted off into an uneasy sleep, the steady beat of his heart reminding you that he was still there with you. 

At least for now.

[Part 1] [Part 2.1]

taglist: i added a couple people who mentioned they wanted a part 2 to the taglist, but def didn’t add everyone, so if you’d like to be added let me know!

@sunderlust​ @seasonsbloom​ @ticklish-leafy-plant​ @ponyboys-sunsets​ @lass-that-is-gone​ @2fabul0us4​ @daniellef89x​ @double-j @bradshawswife @thedarkinmansfield​ @sithbelova​ @edensbuttercups​ @mavencalorers​ @m-1234​ @fav-rooster-fics @thebeautifullydamnedone​ @unordinare​ @callsign-valley​ @pricklepearbloom​ @browneyedboys​ @cloudederin​ @cherrycola27​ @whatblogisthis216​ @agentofkrypton​ @kyliesalvatore​ @jocsrecs​ @noellreadfiction​ @coyotesamachado​ @heartsofminds​ @notroosterbradshaw​

[internetgremlin-writes]

hi 🫶🏼 what a weekend to be a carlos sainz fan! so incredibly happy about everything because he deserves it. I am happy you are accepting request for the man of the weekend so I would like to request this:

carlos is starting to feel the pressure of the weekend with winning pole and being on the edge of winning his first race that he is starting to doubt about his abilities and himself, so he asks to put the reader through the radio so he can listen to her voice and words of encouragement.

I hope its not that cheesy lmao. truly throttled book vibes but I would like to read something like this with carlos. thank you!!!!!! 🫶🏼 ps: can’t wait for a flat spin update hihihi. happy sunday!

WHAT A WEEKEND RIGHT? Will I ever recover from this? Probably not. In my books he deserves the WORLD

Warnings: wee bit angsty, but then we get to the good stuff

I have not read throttled yet simply bc i cannot find a cheap copy anywhere and it's so high on my reading list its making me sad. BUT THIS is such a good concept. If you didn't enjoy the level of drama in the last 20 laps I'm sorry but you're gonna have to go through it again

Carlos was panicking.

He felt the furthest thing from calm and in control, he had the whole weekend. And that was saying something, given his accidental pole (okay, it wasn't an accident but Carlos really did think that lap was nothing special, and he was still reeling from the shock of hearing that "P1" down the radio) and then the mess that had been the race so far.

It hadn't started great, and not that Carlos ever enjoyed red flags like that, not when he spent most of the time in the pits feeling silently sick in his worry for his fellow driver's health, but he was grateful it had happened early enough to allow him a restart from his pole. That meant he hadn't lost to Max straight away. Carlos always said he was fighting for the win, but he knew that when it came to raw speed the Ferrari typically paled in comparison to the Red Bull, but still, it would have been embarrassing to have had the lead snatched from him in the first corner.

So he got his restart, and that went well. He kept his lead for a few laps and was settling into his race proper, feeling like he was handling the pressure from Max behind him well until he found himself off track and Max was in front of him. And okay it wasn't ideal but it was fine, but there were still the pit stops and if he could stay within DRS- and then Max was slowing down and he was back in the lead and he couldn't quite believe his luck.

And it had been going so well until Charles came on the radio saying he was better and faster and Carlos knew he wasn't entirely wrong. He liked the car best on soft tyres and the mediums hadn't felt great but after his swap to hards, he felt like he was driving on ice. So forgive him for doing his best to keep his lead by not throwing the car into a barrier. He didn't have time to register the team orders until he'd already slowed and Charles was past him, streaking off into the distance and leaving nothing but a bitter taste in Carlos' mouth.

And then he was in P3, and that shiny trophy with a number one on it was slipping further and further from his view and Carlos found himself driving with nothing but despair and hopeless desperation pushing him on. He figured the faster he could get it over with the better; the sooner he could be at the hotel with you, and you would stroke his hair and hold him close and tell him all the nice things he didn't think he deserved to hear when he couldn't bear to even look at the smaller awards he'd been bringing home recently.

The yellow flag felt like a golden ticket. Especially when he found himself pitting ahead of Hamilton, and finally he was on soft tyres and the car was snapping up into his hands the way he liked it and that fire was back and Carlos felt ready to charge.

"When the green flag comes, let Charles go. We need you at least 10 car paces behind him to hold them off,"

Hold them off? Carlos felt himself spiralling. Why did they give him the soft tyres to offer him up like a sacrificial lamb for slaughter? This wasn't Monaco - he couldn't block the whole road. If he hung back to try and give Charles the lead he'd be eaten alive, there was no way he could keep the one-two podium hopes up. Hamilton and Perez were already too close for comfort, jostling in his mirrors, and behind that, he'd noticed Alonso sneaking into the mix.

Carlos wasn't above begging. He didn't like how his voice was cracking, but there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't like how he was suddenly struggling with his English, it made him sound dumb when he was trying to outsmart his strategist. He couldn't lose the win - not like this. Not on shitty team orders that didn't have a hope of working. It wasn't even a case of pride, he'd argue, it was just wrong. It wasn't racing.

"I need-" there was only a lap left under the safety car. "Guys c'mon,"

"Ten car lengths, no more between you,"

"I want to talk to Y/N,"

"Carlos-"

"I have a lap of safety car left,"

Carlos had no idea what he was doing. He was frightened, his mind racing and his chest was tightening. He was suddenly aware of every ache in his body, how tired he was. The only thing he could picture was you, he had to talk to you. He felt very much like a child in a go-kart, who didn't understand why he wasn't allowed to just take the win being offered up to him.

"Carlos? It's Y/N," you sounded different on the radio, but it was you. Already he was breathing easier. Your voice was warm, tinged with concern but not worry. You were steady, calm. You were an anchor in this mess.

"Amor," he breathed, not caring who this was being broadcasted to.

"Hi," you softened at the nickname. He could imagine the way your eyes shone and your smile relaxed and you would lean into him as you relaxed. He felt himself responding reflexly.

"Tell me not to do it," he sounded desperate, but he didn't care. "You say follow orders, and I'll lose. No questions. You tell me to fight, then I go,"

"Carlos-"

"I don't have time. I don't know what it looks like outside. But I can't lose because I'm told to, not unless you trust them. You trust - you tell me to listen, then I lose for you,"

"They're telling me to tell you safety car is ending in 30 seconds,"

"Tell me what to do!" He cried. He didn't mean to sound snappy, but there was no time to think, and all Carlos needed in that moment was your opinion. He trusted you more than anyone, even if you weren't a strategist, you would never let him suffer for nothing. You were smart and that was enough. He saw the ten-second warning.

"Y/N!"

"Win for me,"

It was all he needed to hear. Charles shot forward in front of him and without giving a moment's hesitation, Carlos hit the throttle too. He didn't care how much trouble he would be in later with the team, he was a new man. With the soft tyres playing into his driving style exactly as he needed them to and your voice ringing in his ears, the fire in his belly rose back from the ashes and the only thing that mattered was crossing that line first.

It was almost too easy to take Charles. He could hear a radio complaint, but he didn't care. There was no way Charles could hold the lead on used hard tyres and with the damaged wing, Carlos could. Charles could at least try to fight for a second.

He felt fast too, finally felt good.

When he saw the flag he thought it was a dream. His engineer gave a curt well done, but Carlos didn't care. He was feeling so many things he didn't feel anything at all. And then you were back, screaming, down the radio at him and Carlos was grinning and shouting back because he won.

"For you!" He managed, voice thick and eyes wet as everything sank in all at once. "I won for you!"

"I love you!"

Carlos almost crashed the car. You'd been together for the best part of a year now, but between long-distance stints and the steady start, you'd not said it out loud to each other yet.

"I love you too!" He heard you let out a small sob down the radio, and somewhere in the back of his mind the thought about how much the Netflix team would love this.

He thought he was floating on the podium. He couldn't contain his grin, and the sight of you right at the front of the barrier, in his Ferrari jumper and flushed, tear-stained cheeks was enough to keep the look he'd gotten from Mattia as he clapped him on the shoulder on his way to the cool-down room at the back of his mind.

Besides, he had a few ideas of how he could avoid the team meeting for a little bit longer and most of them involved you, more champagne and his driver's room where the door woud lock.

[adrift-in-thyme]

Day 19: Time Loop (Time)

Ao3 link

Cw for temporary major character death, and blood and injury

——————

Twilight dies as the sun rises.

Time knows he’s gone even before Hyrule turns to him, tears in his eyes, shoulders slumped in defeat. He can feel the change in the room, the emptiness that the absence of Twilight’s presence leaves. Strange that after witnessing so much death, so much destruction throughout his life that it still hits him with such breathtaking force.

“I-I’m sorry. I tried—” The traveler croaks, swaying dangerously on his feet.

Time brings him into his arms before he can collapse.

“Don’t blame yourself,” he says, with a steadiness so different from the raging tumult within. “You did everything you could.”

And yes, Hyrule did everything he could do. But Time has hardly been able to do anything more than stand by and watch.

His gaze drifts to the bedside table where his ocarina lies.

No, he could do nothing while his descendant faded away. This isn’t over, however. Not in the least.

Gently, he guides Hyrule over to his chair. The traveler slumps down into it, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“We have to tell the others,” he says, looking up at Time almost pleadingly. “We have to tell them.”

Time doesn’t reply. He crosses the room, movements almost mechanical, and reaches out, grasping the ocarina. The cold, smooth surface feels comfortably familiar in his hand.

This instrument has saved countless lives. Now, it will save one more.

Taking a deep breath, he lifts it to his lips.

“Time?” Hyrule’s frowning at him now, a question in his eyes. “What’re you…”

He trails off as Time begins to play.

The notes of the song are carved into his heart and soul, and they flow effortlessly, weaving their magic through the air. One second, two, and the air begins to shift, his surroundings blurring as time itself rockets backwards.

The inn falls away, walls turning to trees, wood floors becoming soft dirt. Hyrule rises, tears cleared from his face, sword and shield in hand. The bed disappears and Twilight with it; the other heroes emerge from their rooms, to stand beside him, weapons in their grasps, faces set in varying expressions of strained determination.

He’s there once more, standing on the battlefield with his boys, facing hordes of monsters. He’s there in the seconds before the disaster, watching Hyrule give a wave of gratitude to the champion, hearing Warriors grit out a thoroughly annoyed, “Doing just fine!”

And then Wind cries, “He’s back!” and his body kickstarts back into motion.

Ignoring the monsters lunging at him from all sides, he whirls around. It’s not hard to catch sight of them, streaking across the field, Twilight inches from the Shadow’s tail. He leaps at the beast’s throat, and they go tumbling, head over heels, splattering blood and saliva and hair on the ground.

Time drives his sword into his nearest opponent and breaks into a run. Twilight is all the way across the field and countless enemies stand in his path. He has mere moments in which to reach him, mere moments to act. And still the monsters close in, on him, on Twilight, on all the heroes who fight to stay out of their clawing, skeletal hands.

Twilight lunges once more, and Time reaches out for him, even as the Shadow morphs and swings its ax in a wide arc. Blood flies, his pup falls.

Time lifts the ocarina to his lips once more. The world careens backward, stops, reorients. Time itself slows to a crawl. He runs.

A stalfos raises its sword behind Warriors’ back, and he cuts it down in one, swift stroke, never stopping in his headlong sprint towards the rancher. But he’s still not fast enough.

The Shadow’s blade comes down and Twilight crumples.

The ocarina comes out again, indigo gleaming in the setting sun. He plays the song. He restarts.

Once more, time warps. Once more, Twilight hits the ground.

His heart is pounding out of his chest now, throat constricted so he can hardly breathe. His movements are panicked, hurried, everything done almost faster than his body can take.

“Old man, what’s going on?” It’s Warriors’ voice, drifting to him as the cycle starts anew.

Time shakes his head and starts off once more across the field separating him from his descendant.

“Just handle these monsters.”

The captain’s gaze bores into his back as he goes.

Again, he’s not fast enough. Again, his pup falls, and he is not there to catch him.

Running does little good. There are too many obstacles in his way, obstacles that tear at his face and lunge at his neck and bring their swords down on him.

He’s bleeding, he realizes, dully, staring down at fingers stained red. He wonders when that started.

It doesn’t matter. Stopping isn’t an option.

He promised Malon he would keep Twilight safe. He promised himself he wouldn’t let even one of their little group die.

No, he cannot give up now.

Time resets the clock, slows it down, and instantly grabs his bow. Nocking an arrow in the string, he aims at the Shadow and fires. It hits home, piercing the monster in the back of the head, and it turns to him, fury blazing in its crimson orbs. Time shoots it again as he races forward, two times, three, the arrows sticking grotesquely out of its face.

The Shadow lunges for him, fury at Twilight forgotten for the moment. But the monster’s ability to hold grudges rivals Ganondorf’s, and Time doesn’t expect it to last long. Especially now that Twilight has decided to take advantage of the Shadow’s brief distraction and has leaped at it from behind.

Everything seems to slow, as the world holds its breath. In the seconds before they collide, Time drops into a roll. He’s back up again almost instantly, tackling the rancher before he can make contact with the Shadow. The monster whirls to face them both, and clutching the wolf to his chest, he throws himself sideways.

There’s a beat of silence, in which Twilight’s eyes meet his, anger and questioning in them. Then, the wind whooshes in Time’s ears and he hunches down, curling protectively around the rancher just as a giant blade carves through the air. It hits him with such force he goes flying.

He hits the ground, blood filling his mouth, pain turning his vision spotty. Twilight slips from his grasp, and immediately transforms, heedless of his brothers’ eyes upon him.

“Why?” He chokes, dropping to his knees beside Time. Time raises his eye to his, trying to focus, trying to breathe through the agony. “I had him–why?”

It feels like his body is on fire. He’s almost certain he’s drowning in his own blood. Only a few seconds have gone by, and yet breathing is already an impossible feat. But Time smiles.

“Our opponent is strong, pup, and unpredictable. Don-don’t let him surprise you again.”

The sound of running footsteps echoes through his head, shouted orders and blurted questions accompanying it. A tear trickles down Twilight’s cheek, and he brushes it roughly away.

“We’re gonna get you out of here. You’re gonna be okay.”

He turns to Warriors as the captain arrives at his side. “We can deal with the Shadow later. Help me carry him.”

And as they lift him off of the ground, and the pain increases a hundred-fold, Time lets his eye slip closed.

He will survive this, more likely than not. After all, he’s dealt with far worse wounds than these. But even if he loses the battle, at least he’ll drift off knowing he won the fight.

Twilight is safe and alive, and that’s all that matters.

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 3- Part 9

Igglybuff, I see. But that’s fine- I’ll just have Streak lower its Defense a bit with Tail Whip, and then we’ll-

…Oh yeah, Igglybuff can Sing. First Gullet with Yawn, now this Singing Igglybuff? Just when I was feeling proud of myself for being able to Poison my enemies right back, Sleep comes along- and the shop in Grand Hall doesn’t even sell Awakenings!

And she’s switching into Ducklett! Well, fine, two can play at that game- I’ve got a Water-type of my own!

Have fun spamming Water Gun against Riptide!

Indeed, Riptide takes care of the Ducklett, forcing Igglybuff back out. In the end, I decide to use Glare because of the type advantage, which works out very well because Glare isn’t put to sleep and defeats Igglybuff!

And a new move to boot! A Dark-type one, too, and with the chance to flinch- I like it!

No thank you.

(on a related note, happy Ace Week everyone)

Now that the way down 3rd Street is clear, let’s see those cops by the sign again.

A base…are they talking about those Team Meteor guys those two in Grand Hall were talking about? 

See, they do exist! Take that, nameless female NPC!

Anyways, behind the Pokémon Center is this small alleyway, and one of the NPCs…looks like the guy who stole the Magikarp! The salesman did mention he’d probably be somewhere in Peridot Ward, but- I mean, he also said the guy would probably be at the end of the ward’s train tracks, and this is not that. 

Still, even if this isn’t the thief, I still wanna see what’s going on back there. But just in case he and his blonde buddy wanna pick a fight, I’m gonna save (plus, I haven’t saved in a while anyways). And my Pokémon are already healed up, so- let’s see.

Just walk past the Pokémon Center and-

…So- funny story.

After I saved, and like right as Xera walked past the Pokémon Center into that alleyway, my laptop sorta…crashed? In a way? The entire screen just cut to black like the power had been cut, I couldn’t do anything, but I could still hear the in-game music. When I tried closing my laptop and opening it again- yeah, that stopped the music (like it would if my laptop had gone into sleep mode), but the screen was still black even after I opened it again.

So, I had no choice but to restart my laptop. That did fix things, luckily, and it is a VERY good thing I saved out of paranoia before that happened, because otherwise we would be having some ISSUES. Just goes to show that being a spastic saver in video games is always correct.

I still don’t know why that happened, my laptop was a little laggy beforehand but to just break like that? Just go to black, nothing else? That was really weird.

So, with no other explanation, I’m gonna blame…YOU TWO!

Those two broke the fabric of reality itself to try and stop Xera and her team from getting anywhere near them! Well joke’s on them, we have technology!

Excuse me? A Pokémon in an abandoned house, not even in a Poké Ball? I mean- that was how we found Echo earlier, he was just kinda sitting scared and alone in an empty house. Is that what these two are talking about? Or is there some other event involving a wild Pokémon in an empty house we haven’t seen yet?

There’s another house right there. If they’re not talking about the Whismur event, maybe this could be it?

Ah, nope, just an old lady.

Wait, what? They reversed the priority on Ally Switch? Isn’t the whole point of Ally Switch, like- in Double Battles, the one Pokémon can switch sides with the other, so moves that would have hit the Pokémon on that side will instead hit the one who used Ally Switch? Like, sure, I haven’t seen it used that often at all, and I’m sure there are better moves and strategies that effectively do the same thing, but- that is what Ally Switch is for. Making it go at the end of a turn- doesn’t that defeat the entire purpose?

And even ignoring all of that- why Ally Switch? Out of all the moves that one could consider lackluster or underwhelming, why did they choose to edit Ally Switch of all things? That’s just- that’s such a specific change, I’m so curious as to why that was done.

Let’s head back out and touch some grass, geez…

At least this street has a cool name- “Spitrail Street.” Also, I’m certain that lady is a Trainer we can fight, but I’m not gonna worry about her right now, we’re still exploring.

Previous

Next

[keerysquinn]

You Be Me and I’ll Be You

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Summary: Inspired by a tiktok that I saw a few nights ago and can’t stop thinking about  by user: ladythugs - Steve and Eddie decide to dress up as each other for Halloween and turn it into a competition.

CW/TW: None. This is pure fluff and silliness and oblivious pining

Word Count: 3K

* * *

“You’ve lost your mind, Munson,” Steve said with a small laugh.

The group had been discussing their upcoming Halloween plans, and when Steve admitted that he didn’t have a costume planned out, Eddie had the brilliant idea that they should dress as each other.

“C’mon. It’ll be fun,” Eddie said as he nudged Steve with his elbow. “And haven’t you always wanted to get in my pants anyway?”

Steve didn’t know if he wanted to slap the smirk off of Eddie’s face or kiss it away. All he knew was that the way Eddie was looking at him was making him blush, and he hated it. Or he hated the fact that he didn’t hate it. The metalhead had always been somewhat flirtatious with his banter, but he’d grown more and more bold with it lately. Steve was surprised to find that he wasn’t completely opposed to flirting with him, but he was too chicken to actually act on it in any way.

Before his brain could restart and come up with an adequate response, Robin interjected herself into the conversation.

“He’s right,” she said. “It would be hilarious, and you could turn it into a competition.”

“A competition?”

“Yeah. The best costume of the other wins something. We could all vote on it. And, think of all the joy it would bring your friends to see this precious face pretending to be a badass.” She reached over to lovingly pinch Steve’s cheek.

“Okay, so if I agree to this,” he started after swatting Robin’s hand away, “And I’m not saying that I agree to this. But if I were to agree to this, and we did turn it into a competition, I think we’d need to set some ground rules.”

“Such as?”

“Well, I don’t think either of us really wants to have to go out and buy clothes for this, so it only makes sense that we’d be able to raid each other’s closets for our costumes. And, we wouldn’t be able to show what we’ve chosen to anyone until the party because it would be more entertaining if it was a surprise.”

“Does that mean you wouldn’t be allowed in your own room while I’m going through your clothes?”

“As long as you’re not doing anything pervy in there, yeah. Our costumes should be a surprise to each other, too.”

“Relax, Harrington. I’m not gonna steal your tighty whities if that’s what you’re thinking. I can agree to your conditions though. Anything else?”

“What do I win when I end up having a better costume than you?”

“How about a dare?”

“A dare? Are we still in middle school?”

“You’re just scared of what I’ll make you do when I win.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Then you’ll have no problem agreeing to this competition.”

“Fine,” Steve said as he stuck out his hand for Eddie to shake. “You’re on. But, when I win, you’re streaking across the football field during the next home game.”

“Aww, Steve,” Eddie said with a devilish smirk as he gripped his hand, “If you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask.”

* * *

Two days before the Halloween party, Eddie showed up on Steve’s doorstep.

“I’m here on a mission to collect my costume Harrington,” he said as he leaned against the doorframe. “Lead the way to your room and then make yourself scarce so I can grab what I need.”

Steve stepped aside to make room for Eddie to enter his house before making his way upstairs and down the hall to his room. He hadn’t realized it when he initially agreed to it, but the idea of Eddie having unsupervised access to his bedroom made him nervous for reasons he couldn’t fully explain. He was pretty sure he didn’t have anything to hide, but that didn’t stop him from worrying about what Eddie might find.

“Okay, so pretty much everything is in the closet,” Steve said as he opened his bedroom door, “but there’s some stuff in the dresser, and there’s a basket of laundry I haven’t put away yet, too.”

“Anything off limits?” Eddie asked. He tossed the duffle bag he was carrying onto Steve’s bed and made his way over to the closet.

“I’ve gotta work tomorrow, so you can’t take my Family Video vest, but anything else should be okay.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall.

“Noted. Now get out so I can get started.” Eddie made a shooing motion with his hands.

“I’ll be down in the den if you need anything. Just let me know when you’re done.”

Once he was back downstairs, Steve tried to focus on the movie that he’d been watching, but his mind kept wandering back upstairs to where Eddie was combing through his closet and drawers looking for who knows what to make his costume. This definitely wasn’t what he’d imagined Eddie would be doing the first time he entered his room. Not that Steve ever thought about that. Or at least, he didn’t think about it often.

So, instead of following along with whatever was happening in the slasher film in front of him, he thought about Eddie finding the drawer full of sweaters that his mom bought him to wear for the family Christmas card every year, and Eddie making snarky comments about how neat and organized his closet was, and just Eddie.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize that Eddie had made his way back downstairs until the older boy had gripped his shoulder from behind, causing him to jump at least a foot off the couch.

“Jesus, Munson. Don’t do that.”

“You’re jumpier than I thought you’d be for someone who’s battled monsters on more than one occasion,” Eddie said as he climbed over the back of the couch to take a seat next to Steve.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t hear you coming, and it’s only because I’m watching a scary movie. If it had been anything else, I wouldn’t have reacted that way.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

"So, did you find what you were looking for?" Steve asked, trying to change the subject.

Eddie held up his duffle bag. "Got everything I need right here. Get ready for the dare of your life, Harrington. I've got this competition in the bag."

"In your dreams."

Steve watched as Eddie turned his attention toward the TV. Nightmare on Elm Street was playing, and the scene where Nancy's boyfriend was about to meet his demise had just started.

"You know, if we hadn't made this bet, I'd suggest you be him for Halloween," Eddie said as he pointed at the screen. "I think you could pull off a crop top."

"I'm pretty sure my crop top days are behind me. The demobats kinda ruined the appeal."

"What are you talking about? You could still pull it off. Besides, ladies love scars."

What about you? Do you love scars? Steve was surprised by his thoughts, but he was still too afraid to say them out loud. He didn't understand what he was feeling, and he didn't know if Eddie was even actually into him anyway. He couldn't tell if it was flirting or if that was just the way that Eddie was. He didn't know if Eddie even liked guys. Hell, Steve didn't know if he liked guys himself. All he knew was that he was starting to think that he liked Eddie.

So, instead of saying what he was still too afraid to say, he turned his attention back towards the TV again, and watched the rest of the movie in silence.

* * *

The next day, Steve headed to Eddie's trailer as soon as his shift at Family Video was over. He realized that he probably shouldn't have waited until the last minute to come and get a costume, but he was never all that great about planning for things in advance, so it was a late night visit to the trailer park for him.

“Finally come to pick out a costume?” Eddie asked when he saw that it was Steve at his door. “I was kind of hoping you’d forget to come over and let me win by default.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Steve said with a shrug as he stepped into the trailer.

“Don’t be. It’ll be more fun for me when I win if you actually try.”

Eddie led the way back to his bedroom and stood aside to let Steve enter the room.

“Anything off limits?” Steve asked.

“Go nuts.”

Steve shut Eddie out of the room and stood back trying to determine where to start. There was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to snoop around the room and see what he could learn about the boy who wouldn’t leave his thoughts. But it looked like Eddie hadn’t snooped through his room when he’d left, so he was trying to give him the same courtesy.

Instead, Steve moved about the room grabbing the clothes that he needed to put together the look he was going for and shoving them in his backpack. Despite the chaos that was Eddie’s room, he found pretty much everything that he needed relatively quickly. There was just one thing he still needed.

“Finished already?” Eddie asked from his spot lounging on the sofa when Steve exited his bedroom.

“Almost.” Steve walked towards the couch and stood over Eddie. “Give me your hand.”

“You wanna hold my hand, Stevie? I didn’t realize you were such a romantic.”

“I just wanted your rings,” Steve said, trying not to let his brain short circuit.

“You wound me.” Eddie feigned offense and placed his hands over his heart. “I guess you can have the rings, too. But, if you lose any of them, I might have to kill you.”

“I promise I won’t lose them.”

Steve watched as Eddie slowly took off his rings trying to memorize where he wore each one. On his right ring finger, he wore a simple silver ring, and in order from his index finger to his ring finger, he wore a cross with skulls, a hog’s head, and a fanged skull on the left hand. He had never been so mesmerized by the simple act of someone taking off their rings, but then again, no one had ever really caught his attention in the way that Eddie had before.

Eddie took Steve’s hand in his and placed his rings on Steve’s upturned palm before curling his fingers around them. Steve felt a jolt of electricity surge through his body as their fingers brushed together, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he was the only one feeling it.

He took the rings and carefully zipped them into the front pocket of his backpack.

“I’ll guard these with my life,” he promised.

“You better. So, you wanna stay and hang out for a while? Maybe watch a movie?”

“As much as I’d like to, I probably shouldn’t. I’ve gotta open tomorrow, and I’m sick of Keith yelling at me for coming in late.”

“Yeah, I get it. I’ll see you at the party then?”

“Definitely. Prepare to lose, Munson.”

“In your dreams, Harrington.”

* * *

When Steve arrived at the Halloween party, Eddie was the only one left to arrive. Somehow, Robin had convinced Nancy to dress as the Magenta to her Riff Raff, and the two were deep in conversation with Will the Wise and Jonathan who had once again dressed as a guy who didn’t care about Halloween. El was wearing a witch’s outfit that would have looked somewhat juvenile on anyone else but suited her perfectly, and Mike was dressed as Luke Skywalker. Lucas was sitting in the corner pouting next to Max. Both of them were dressed as Han Solo.

“All I’m saying is that if you’re going to ask me to wear a couple’s costume with you, you should maybe specify which part of the couple you wanted to be,” Max said with a smirk.

“And all I’m saying is that it’s pretty obvious that I would want to be Han Solo when given the choice between him and Princess Leia.”

Steve had to suppress a laugh at that one. Only Max would choose to mess with Lucas in that way.

“Alright, let me see the costume,” Dustin said as he approached Steve, grabbing the attention of everyone in the room. From the amount of time he’d spent with Dustin and Eddie, he knew that his friend was dressed up as some sort of DnD character, but he couldn’t have told you which one if his life depended on it.

Steve took a step forward and slowly turned in front of friends. He had Eddie’s look nailed perfectly. He had started with a pair of Eddie’s ripped jeans and his Hellfire Club shirt. On top of that went the leather jacket and the battle vest. He’d even tried to get all of his accessories in from the chain on his jeans and the bandana in his back pocket to the rings and his guitar pick necklace.

“I’m actually impressed,” Robin told him. “I really didn’t think you were going to be able to pull this off.”

“Your lack of faith in me is shocking.”

“She’s got a point,” Dustin added. “We all kind of figured that you’d forget to go and get a costume.”

“I’m deeply offended.”

“So, when did you remember to pick up your costume then?” Robin asked.

“Irrelevant.”

“I rest my case.”

The general consensus from the group was that Steve went above and beyond their expectations, and he was pretty sure that it was going to be impossible for Eddie to beat him now. What was he going to do? Show up in a striped polo? There was no typical look of Steve’s that could compete with how well he’d nailed Eddie’s day to day appearance. He had this competition in the bag.

And then, Eddie arrived at the party. He took one step into the room and twirled the ice cream scoop in his hand before sticking it in the holster on his shorts. Steve buried his face in the palm of his hand as the rest of the group started to cheer. Eddie Munson had shown up in his Scoops Ahoy uniform.

“You came as Popeye!” Robin said, trying and failing to hold in her laughter.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Steve groaned. “Out of everything in my closet, you had to pick that? How did you even know that existed?”

“You think I never saw you wearing this while you were working?” Eddie asked. “Just because I never actually went into that ice cream shop doesn’t mean I was never at the mall. I just preferred the cheap Chinese food when I was in the food court.”

Eddie adjusted the sailor hat on his head and gave a little spin to show off his outfit before he grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him to the stand in the center of the room with him.

“I think we should put Steve here out of his misery and conduct our vote already. I’m ready to be declared the winner and collect my prize.”

“They could still vote for me,” Steve insisted. “I still have a chance.”

“No, you don’t,” Dustin said. “All in favor of Steve winning, raise your hand.”

No one moved.

“Now, all in favor of Eddie winning.”

Everyone’s hands shot up.

“Eddie Munson is the winner!” The group applauded as Eddie made a show of bowing.

“Thank you. Thank you. Your votes mean the world to me,” he said. “I have so many people to thank for this award. Robin for suggesting this be a competition in the first place because without her there’d be nothing for me to win. And Harrington over here for not throwing away this gem of a uniform. This honor is as much yours as it is mine because I don’t think I could have won in any other outfit.”

“I don’t know,” Nancy said as she sipped her drink. “I probably still would have voted for you if you showed up in that one yellow sweater.”

“You all are a bunch of traitors,” Steve said as he walked over to where they’d set up the refreshments. “I’ll remember this betrayal the next time any of you want me to drive you anywhere or ignore your late fees at Family Video.”

“I can’t help with the car, but I can also ignore your late fees if he won’t,” Robin interjected.

“Double betrayer.”

“I’ve gotta say,” Eddie said as he joined Steve at the refreshments table, “You don’t look half bad in my clothes. I think they’d look better on my bedroom floor though.”

“I’m pretty sure half of your clothes were already there,” Steve said with a smirk.

“You might be right about that.” Eddie looked down at his hands, and Steve thought that this was maybe the first time he didn’t look confident about what he was going to say next.

“So, I think I know what I want my dare to be.”

“You came up with one that quickly?”

“Says the guy who had a dare picked out the second I said that should be the prize.”

“Fair enough. So, what’s the dare?”

“I dare you to go out with me.”

“Like, on a date?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said as he made eye contact. “A date. I dare you to go on a date with me next Friday. Work schedule permitting.”

If Steve hadn’t known whether or not Eddie was really flirting with him before, he certainly had his answer now.

“Alright,” Steve said. “You’re on. Pick me up at seven.”

“Seven it is.”

Steve took a sip of the drink he’d poured and smirked over at Eddie.

“You know, you wasted your dare. Could have made me do something really juicy.”

“I could have?”

“Eddie, if you wanted to go out with me, all you had to do was ask.”

[allteacher]

Orin remembers that she was black-eyed and nauseous with Queensfoil the first time she saw the door. 

It was a shape cut into nothing: nine holes in nothing which her twice-restarted brain categorized as windows, all shining with a different light. She looked through them, she knows, but when she tries to remember what she saw her mind goes retuning-blank, frequencies her body must obey but that she cannot pick up.

She remembers stepping toward it, that first time, cheeks stained purple with tear tracks cutting clear lines perpendicular to those strange marks Namqi had loved to trace across her eyes. She remembers fine dust on her palms as she had reached out, remembers how it had streaked against Gol’s shell as he had butted against her hands, unseeing, warning her back. 

“Come back to the real world,” he’d said, or she thinks he had. But she remembers how nothing had seemed so real as that door. 

Orin thinks the door was cut into nothing but that nothing had been a spaceship, once. Or maybe it was a forest, and it had been a portal like the ones Sjur had told her about, drunk, stories of a universe Orin could not remember. Maybe the door was there, in that secret place. 

Wherever the door was she kept waking up and seeing it, or maybe falling asleep and seeing it. She kept seeing it and those nine perfect windows and wanting so badly to step through it, to go somewhere where everything made sense, somewhere she could wake up new again and maybe that would fix things. 

And she kept drinking Queensfoil and working her nails bloody against the coin still warm with the heat of Sjur’s anger and talking to dead-eyed Ghosts and other dead things. And she kept seeing the door. 

And one day Gol— she— and Gol— 

And one day there was nothing left to stop her from pressing her stained-purple hands against the door and pushing. And she opened it and saw something or did something, and emerged, and she is not Orin now. Or she is Orin but she is not in her body anymore, or not always, or not really. 

And the thing that was Orin joined the thing that was Nasan (who?) and the thing that was Nasya (who?), selves that are no longer selves, discarded or stored away, somewhere else. She does not know how she feels about being somewhere else, where nothing hurts but she is still so lonely. She has had time to think about it, in the spaces where she can remember who she is or was. 

There are still windows and sometimes there are nine but sometimes there are two, and when she bothers to peer through them she can see through her eyes again, catches glimpses of the world and black void and the strange blue-violet of somewhere else. 

Sometimes she shutters the windows which makes the things outside the door angry. Or most of them— she thinks the her outside the door doesn't care. If it was her she knows she wouldn't care, because she has always kept secrets from herself even when she didn’t know she was. When she shutters the windows she has time to think about the things that she does not want Them to know, the things that are hers and hers alone: 

She remembers Namqi’s hand on her shoulder or on her neck and the way he’d shift his eyes away when they first met, especially when she’d lean close and pretend to look at his ship’s controls. She remembers how he’d send encoded messages through the radio because he knew she loved working them out. She remembers his last message, how he’d been traveling. How he’d promised to bring her a new rifle stock and freeze-dried strawberries. 

She remembers Sjur, her bow and how it would coil with a tension unknown to the simplicity of Orin’s hammer, remembers splitting wood for targets in the archery range or for firewood when they went hunting. Remembers the coin, and how there was no funeral. 

She remembers seeing the Queen of the Awoken again, stark and alone in cold star-space, sitting in her eggshell throne and watching Orin’s black shadow against the white of an event horizon. She thinks of slamming the door open and forcing herself back into herself, leaning down over the Queen, hood falling around her shoulders, asking did you know they would do this to me? Remembers perpendicular tears, remembers Mara’s stricken face. Remembers the answer. 

Sometimes she thinks she will never again open the shutters. Sometimes she thinks that one day she will open the door and walk out into sunlight. She thinks, and thinks, and remembers what it felt like to speak her own words. She remembers the kinetic energy of a downward swing. 

She will feel it again. She is a puppet, but she will not feel it when they cut her strings. She will be somewhere else. She will not let something else be her end, not when she can do it herself, again. 

[leatherrepaircompany]

How To Repair Cat Scratches

Repairing cat scratches on leather can be challenging, but with the right materials and techniques, it can be done. You have to take your time, follow the process and the results will be amazing.

This video will also help you with repairing pet scratches on a leather sofa.

Here's how to fix cat scratches on leather:

Clean the leather: Before attempting any repair work, make sure the leather is clean. Use a leather cleaner to remove any dirt or oils from the surface of the leather.

Assess the damage: Take a close look at the scratches and determine how deep they are. Surface-level scratches can often be buffed out quickly with a restorer cream and a soft cloth, while deeper scratches may require more extensive repairs. They may require a full leather prep process, fillers, glue to glue the lose fibres back down where the cats have pulled at the leather, sandpaper to sand areas and now leather paint, followed by sealer to apply the new clear coat lacquer on the leathers surface once again.

Use a leather cat scratch repair kit: Purchase a leather pet scratch repair kit that includes a colour-matching solution, filler, glue, and sealant. Follow the instructions on the kit carefully, along with a video to give you guidance, where you can pause the video carry out the process needed, then restart and go to the next step in the repair.

Prepare the areas: The first stage is to prepare the areas to be repaired, this involves removing some of the surface colour, so that the new leather paint can bond correctly, this is done by rubbing over the surface with the prep solution in the cat scratch repair kit to remove some of the surface paint and some of the scratches caused by the cat.

Glue them down: Any areas where the cat has left pulls of leather flapping around on the leather skin surface, these will need to be glued down once the prep stage has been done above and the leather hide is dry again. Apply the glue to each pull and push into position to glue them down.

Apply the filler: Apply the filler to the scratches using a spatula or a toothpick. Allow the filler to dry completely, this can be speeded up using a hair drier.

Sand the surface: Once the filler has dried, gently sand the surface with a fine-grit sandpaper to smooth out any rough patches.

Apply the colour-matching solution: Use the colour-matching solution provided in the cat scratch leather repair kit to match the colour of the leather. Apply the solution to the repaired area and blend it in with the surrounding leather. Its best applied using a stippling motion, rubbing on the colour will end up causing streaks.

Apply the sealant: Once the colour-matching solution has dried, apply the sealant provided in the repair kit to protect the repaired area from future damage. This can be applied to the repaired cat scratches using a stippling motion also, being careful not to create to many bubbles on the surface, if you do, just gently dab these out, once this is complete and no bubbles are left on the surface you can dry this with a hairdryer.

Keep in mind that repairing scratches on leather can be time-consuming and require some skill, taking your time with all the process in hand will ensure a fantastic result at the end, watch the cat scratch repair videos, follow them, and seek as much help and advice as possible.

Take a look at this cat Scratch Repair Video that will help guide you to repair cat scratches on your leather items.

[gwydionmisha]

Personal: In Which I Accidentally Freak Out a Guy

Sunday was a trip to the Lake with Millennials. No rich children stole my crutch this time. We had a really good swim, but the current was above average strong and at some point I was like, "Oh shit! There's the swim bouy! We are in the middle of the boat lanes. We swam back. It was fine. They put in an outdoor shower this year, which is a huge help. After we showered we ate finger foods and chatted.

I stopped by the bathrooms on the way to my car and OMG! It was one of those things where there was a perfectly logical explanation from the perspective of the three of us already in the bathroom, but like opening a door into chaos for the other two people involved.

This bathroom is tiny. Three stalls on your left. Across from that a big metal communal urinal. The sink and mirror give an excellent view of the door and also a small bench they jammed in against the door wall. It's almost 6:30PM on a crowded hot weekend. it's a couple hours before sunset, so the park is less crowded than when we arrived 4ish, but people are still arriving and the bathroom is Trashed. The little beach strip is more mud then sand and people have been tracking water and black mud/sand in there for about ten hours and there is tp paper mache all over the ground and the toilets desperately need cleaning.

So I step out of the stall, just as a person is heading to the nasty ass urinal trench thing. Another guy is climbing up on the bench to change, because he understandably doesn't want to be barefoot on that floor and then put on shoes to drive home. Bench guy is soon full on pooh bear over my right shoulder as i wash my hands, which takes a while because the water keeps auto shutting off, so I have to stop and restart every few seconds. Perfectly framed over my left shoulder is the door, which swings open.

It's two gentlemen, one of whom beelines for the urinal. The other freezes in horror and starts yelling, "Wrong bathroom! Wrong bathroom!" I have very long hair. I am wearing a mask because I'm in a small, poorly ventilated place. I have on a black tee and my trunks look like goth shorts. My sandals are of an ubiquitous style worn my any gender in my region in good weather. I'm very androgynous. I think it was my hair causing the initial panic, but his head turned to follow his friend's trajectory to the 2-3 person piss trench and he saw bench guy crouched pantsless behind me like a downhill skier doing the streak, as if he was possibly about to pounce on my back, and his cries of wrong bathroom got a lot more shrill. In my head I'm picturing the Guy in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas who walks in on hippies liking a guy's jacket. His oblivious friend is doing his business, the other guy is about to leave. I turn and head towards the poor panicky guy and am like: It's the right bathroom. I have long hair.

We have accidentally traumatized a guy who was clearly not ready for the PNW weird.

A couple millennials came back for dinner. Once we arrived, I realized just how fucked I was. I'd swum too long and my arms were DONE. Luckily, I'd dropped off New Millennial to get their car and a take 'n bake, so I could just lung and rest up. They ended up staying very late talking. I closed down the apartment for the night and went to bed.

I could have gotten up ninish, but I decided to read Camp Damascus in between pettins and supplemental sleep all day, which turned out to be a good call. I have this thing where I promise the Millennials that if they are ever stranded at one of the further bits of town they can call me and if I physically can, I will come get them. Bus service is even shittier out there and there's a severe lack of shelters to wait in. It was pouring down at a rate that was threatening to flood low lying areas. A Millennial was trapped at the back of beyond with a long drenching slog to the bus. Of course I went, but it turned into a a much longer trip than intended for reasons that were no one's fault. I got them home and reasonably dry though, and I'm not sorry.

It did eat and extra chunk of evening though, and I'm really chewed up from swimming. I am very glad I got the aggregate out Friday, because I'm not up to much posting this evening.

We plan to do lake swimming on Sundays all August, which will effect posting schedule.

[yesitsmewhataboutit]

Using safe words with ttodoriki. it does little damage to the reader in a way. (bdsm,wax,whip not things like cute and soft)

Apology

Todoroki x reader

Note- I wasn’t sure if you meant no cute and soft meaning how Todoroki is acting and how reader gets hurt or if you meant at the end after reader using the safe word. So just a heads up, the smut is all rough but at the end when reader says the safe word he gets all soft

Masterlist

Todoroki holds you by your arm, dragging you to the bedroom and throwing you toward the bed. Your back hits the bed, and you look up at him. He closes the door, undoing his tie and unbuttoning his dress shirt. "On your knees." He says, his eyes glaring at you. "Sho-" He cuts you off, "I said, on your knees." He walks over, grabbing you by your jaw and pulling you up close to his face. "If you're going to act like a whore, flirting with every guy you see, then you'll be treated like one." He spits out, throwing you on the ground by your jaw. "Strip."

You scramble to your feet, stripping off all your clothes and waiting for further instruction. Shoto wasn't wrong. You had been acting out on purpose. Shoto always acted so hot when he was jealous or possessive. Todoroki pulls off his shirt and pants, throwing them to the side. "I thought a slut like you would know how to obey orders." He says in a harsh tone. "On. Your. Knees." He places his hand on your shoulder, using his strength to push you to your knees.

He grabs your hair, roughly pulling it and tilting your head up a little as he steps closer. "Open." You do, automatically sticking your tongue out. "Maybe you do know how to follow directions." He says, sticking his hand in his boxers and pulling his cock out, stroking it a few times, and then tapping it on your tongue. Without warning, he pushes his cock into your mouth, all the way down your throat in one thrust, holding the back of your head as you choke and gag around his thick cock.

He rolls his hips a few times before yanking your hair again, pulling your hair again, pulling you off his cock. "Useless. Can't even suck dick properly. What kind of whore are you?" He says, his voice mean and annoyed. You get up and sit on your knees again. He brings his hand, raising it, slapping you across your face. "Speak to me when I talk to you." He yells down at you. Before you can answer, he yanks you up and throws you on the bed. "Fine. If you want to act like that." He says, walking to one of the drawers and opening it.

He grabs a few items, walking back to you. The first thing you can see before he flips you on your stomach is a whip. "Now, you're going to count each time I strike you. If you mess up, I'll restart. Understand?" He asks. "Yes." You answer. He brings the whip up, bringing it down hard on your bareback. "Yes, what?" He asks. "Yes, sir." You answer, biting your lip, your hands balled into a fist in the covers, feeling the sting of the whip. He brings it up again, bringing it back down on you, leaving a red streak on your back. "One." crack "Two." crack "Three." crack.

By seven, you're lightly grinding into the bed, relishing the pain and pleasure. Once he makes it to ten, you're soaked, clenching around nothing. "Pathetic. You love this, don't you? Of course, you do. Your greedy little cunt just asking for it." He says, throwing the whip aside and flipping you on your back, and handcuffing both your wrist to the bedframe. He hovers over you, his cock rubbing against your core as he secures each handcuff. You move your hips, trying to get more friction on his exposed cock, pouting when he scoffs and pulls out of reach. He brings his hand down, squeezing it tightly around your throat, cutting off your airway almost all the way. He leans his head down to air ear. "You get what I give you and nothing more." He says.

When he pulls away, you take in as much air as you can. He leans over, lighting a candle, and setting it off to the side. He runs his hands down your body, squeezing your boobs roughly before running them further, sticking his fingers into your dripping cunt. He moves his fingers quickly, making you squirm. You start clenching around him almost immediately. "You better not cum." He says, his eyes not leaving you. You whine, feeling his fingers heat up, holding back from cumming.

After a few minutes, you can't take it anymore. "Please. Please, sir. I need to cum." You whine, moving against the handcuffs. "Fine. But only after all the wax is gone." He says, pausing his finger movements and leaning over, grabbing the candle. "I'm going to pour this wax. You will not cum until it is all poured. If you do, you'll make it worse for yourself." He says, his voice almost sounding sweet. "Ok, sir." You say, bracing yourself.

Shoto begins moving his fingers again, a little gentler than before. After a few seconds, he holds the candle over your stomach, tilting his hand and waiting for the wax to start spilling. The second the hot wax hits your skin, your eyes go wide, your mouth opening, screaming in pain. "Ow! Ow! Starstruck! Starstruck! Todoroki, stop!" You scream out, your legs squirming, trying to get away. Shoto immediately pulls away, his whole face expression changing. Worry crosses his face as he puts the candle down. "Hot! Hot!" You whine, tears starting to run down your cheeks.

Shoto's first move was bringing his right hand to your stomach, pressing it down lightly, making sure his hand was cold but not too much. "I'm sorry, Love. I'm sorry, are you ok?" He asks, his eyes wide with worry. You don't answer, only whimpering, closing your eyes as more tears fall. Shoto pulls his hand away, whipping it on a nearby towel and then taking the towel and whipping off the wax that was still on your stomach. After he does, he can see a small burn scar starting to form. "I'm so sorry." He says again, his voice pleading.

Shoto leans down, his cold lips kissing your stomach, around the burned skin. He reaches up, undoing each handcuff, letting your hands down. When they do, you start whipping the tears on your face. Todoroki gently turns you on your side and comes around the other side of the bed, sliding on some boxers before he slips in next to you. "Are you ok?" He asks again as you curl into him. You shake your head no as you sniffle and curl into him. "Hurts." You say, your voice quiet and shaky.

Todoroki scoots closer, placing his hand gently over the burn, trying to soothe it. His hand's cold, but not too much it's almost warm. You whimper a little at the contact but lay your head against him. "I'm sorry. I know how much you wanted to try the wax. I didn't know it would burn that much." You finally say through sniffles. "Don't be. It's ok." He says, kissing your forehead. He puts his free arm under your neck, pulling you slightly closer and closing his eyes. You shift, feeling his still hard cock press against you. You go to open your mouth, but he speaks before you can. "Ignore it. It'll go away." He says. You close your mouth, close your eyes, letting yourself try to get comfortable enough, ignoring the pain, and going to sleep.

Masterlist

[sonnet57]

Feel it.

It was one thing Corsica always said to her when she was teaching her how to shoot. “Feel it, Ant. From your fingers gripping the string, all the way to your elbow, in your shoulders. Feel it?”

When Antiope was younger she used to say, “No, CC, I don’t because you haven’t explained what it is.”

Corsica would get this smile on her face and quirk an eyebrow, “Well we’ll stand here until you do. Go ahead and let that one fly.”

Every time she said that, Antiope’s shot would always fly wide.

Feel it.

It was something Antiope started to tell herself when she realized the parenting style of her mother. She’s allowed to feel it. The anger, the sadness, all of it.

But she was never very good at channeling it.

Feel it.

Jawbone said it to her once, after the palimpsests and Kalvaxus. She had gone to talk to him about how angry she was.

“You can feel it, kiddo. It’s not bad to feel mad. Hell, it’s not bad to feel mad at him. Did I tell you I spent eight hours in that dragon’s mouth? Nasty halitosis, let me tell ya.”

Antiope laughed, “Eight hours?”

“Yeah girl! Kristen stopped time with Aguefort’s watch before I could get out. But that’s not the point. I want you to do something for me real quick. Close your eyes.”

Antiope did, a little confused.

“Alright now keep in mind this is the first time I’ve done this. But I talked to your sister about it because I don’t know much about ranger magic. Alright now, keep your eyes closed and I want you to picture an empty field. And this may seem wild, but picture Kalvaxus in it.”

Antiope did as she was told, a nice golden wheat field cropping up behind her eyes. In the middle, blades blowing around his massive legs, stood Kalvaxus.

She felt a huff of air leave his nostrils.

“Alright that’s good, Antiope. Now stand there, stare him down, and feel that energy coming off of him.”

Antiope focused, so hard she could almost smell it. No… until she could smell it. She smiled. Her favored enemy unlocked in her mind, and she felt the power of her hunter’s mark grow.

“Feel it?”

Antiope felt it.

She felt it in the Baronies, from across the square. Dragon. A brass wyrmling flew above the square, fire flowing from its mouth.

She didn’t have a chance to stop her muscles from moving. An arrow was nocked and streaking across the square before she could blink. The wyrmling fell from the sky…

And Danielle stood up in its place.

No. No no no no no.

She slung her bow back over her shoulder and ran. In the back of her mind, she felt it. The whatever that had been growing in there. She didn’t know what to call the underlying feeling yet, but she knew panic. She knew the panic of seeing Danielle, one of her best friends, with her arrow in her shoulder.

“Yelle!” Antiope screamed in a whisper, something that should be impossible, when she reached her.

Yelle held up a hand, “It’s cool, no harm. I just—”she flinched as she straightened her back, “I forgot. I’m alright.”

“Yelle, I just shot you!”

“Antiope, it’s fine. I’m fine. We’re alright.”

She reached out and placed a hand on Antiope’s shoulder, and the skin there prickled, overloaded with adrenaline and fear and… something else.

They sat around a fire. After a chase. Adrenaline waning. Antiope Druid crafts a flower. Danielle smiles.

Feel it?

“Presenting Empress Anima of the Eidolons!”

Antiope has seen Yelle in her dress already, saw her make it, but right now? Descending these stairs? She has never seen anything more beautiful. The gossamer webs of the silk flow seamlessly around her, and there’s a moment where Yelle stops, and something in her face changes. She stands up just that little bit straighter and she restarts her descent.

The crowd is quiet. The Seven are quiet. Yelle looks right at Antiope. Antiope smiles at her and mouths, “Feel it.”

Antiope feels it. And she has never been more terrified.

[ticklystuff]

Liquid Eyeliner

A/N: i know nothing about makeup lol i just wanted lee!Zhongli

Word Count: 2k

“I really like this color on you.”

“Hu Tao was actually the one that chose it for me,” Zhongli said, giving a slight smile to the other as he looked straight ahead, doing his best not to shift his head or move his facial muscles around too much. Normally, he would be applying the eyeliner under his eyes himself, but for some reason, Childe insisted on doing it this time for him. He wasn’t exactly comfortable about letting Childe put the brush so close to his eye, but the ginger had insisted and Zhongli wasn’t one to say no, especially since Childe bought the eyeliner for him earlier.

“I can tell you’re worried,” Childe said, pulling his hand back and giving the other a small pout.

Zhongli shook his head and gave the other a nervous smile. “Not at all. Just make sure you do it properly.”

“I’ve actually had some practice before,” Childe told the other as he brought his hand back, placing the tip of the brush right under Zhongli’s eye.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, my sister used to ask me to do make up with her when I was younger. I always tried to make her look like a circus clown,” Childe chuckled, keeping his hand steady. “She’d practice on me all the time too and she actually got quite good. I even let her paint my finger and toe nails.”

Zhongli smiled as he listened to Childe reminisce. Childe loved to tell Zhongli different stories about his siblings and Zhongli always caught the happiness in his voice when he spoke of his siblings. Childe always talked about having his siblings meet him and Zhongli looked forward to that day.

“Hmm,” Childe took a step back to examine his work. “I think I might have smudged it a little bit. I think I should just restart. Let me grab a wet napkin.”

“Water won’t remove it,” Zhongli told the other. “The media is oil-based, so the eyeliner is insoluble in water. I have a bottle of sweet flower oil in the drawer next to you that I use to wash the eyeliner off at night.”

Childe nodded and headed for the old drawer in Zhongli’s room. He opened the top drawer and couldn’t help but smile when he found the cologne he had purchased for Zhongli, the bottle half full. It was one of the many gifts that he had gotten for Zhongli during their multiple date nights in Liyue.

He rummaged around the top drawer for a good minute, before moving to the second drawer, making sure not to disturb the neat and orderly way Zhongli had placed his belongings. Thankfully, the bottle was in plain sight in the second drawer, with a piece of cloth conveniently placed beside it. He grabbed the two items before heading back to the older man, pouring a little of the solution onto the cloth and handing it to Zhongli.

“Maybe I should just do it myself,” Zhongli said as he did his best to wipe away the eyeliner, chuckling when Childe put his hands on his hips in defiance.

“I’ve already committed,” Childe told the other as he grabbed the thin brush before Zhongli could. “I’ll just steady my hand this time.”

“Alright, alright.” Zhongli sat back on his mattress, relaxing himself as Childe attempted once more.

Childe leaned in once more and brought the brush to Zhongli’s face again, but this time grabbed Zhongli’s shoulder firmly to help steady himself. This caught the older man by surprise, though, and Childe nearly jumped back in concern when Zhongli suddenly squealed.

“Sorry! Did I hurt you?!”

“No, I’m alright,” Zhongli affirmed to the other as he regained his posture. “Just caught me off guard.”

Childe looked at Zhongli with a puzzled expression. “Is there something wrong with your shoulder?”

Zhongli simply shook his head. “I’m alright. I’m not sure what came over me, but I’m fine.”

Childe nodded in response. He brought the brush back over to Zhongli’s face and brought his hand back to Zhongli’s shoulder, slowly this time, for balance. He carefully traced the brush under the amber eyes. He bit his lips and furrowed his eyebrows as he concentrated on the task before him, something that Zhongli found to be quite endearing.

“Alright,” Childe muttered as he reached the corner of Zhongli’s eyes, pulling the brush away to take a look at his handiwork, his hand still on Zhongli’s shoulder. “I don’t think it’s that bad, if I do say so myself.”

Zhongli gave Childe a small smile as the other beamed over his work. “I’ll judge for myself. There should be a hand mirror in the drawer that you- Ah! H-Hey!”

Zhongli’s body cringed as he felt Childe squeeze his shoulder multiple times, his arms coming up in self-defense when Childe repeated the action. He looked up at the ginger to see a mischievous smirk plastered over Childe’s face, one that usually meant Childe was up to no good.

“Looks like Mr. Zhongli might be ticklish,” Childe teased, his smile growing wider when Zhongli began to stutter.

“I-I don’t- Wait! Ajax!”

Childe had pushed Zhongli back onto the mattress and straddled his waist, looming over the other with wiggly fingers ready for an attack. Zhongli never used his real name, unless he was irritated with Childe, but this was too good of an opportunity for Childe to pass up now. He’s already used to being berated from Zhongli on a constant basis anyway.

“Ahahaha! Childe!” Zhongli squealed as Childe brought his fingers menacingly to the older man’s underarms. Since he was in the comfort of his own home, Zhongli only had a thin t-shirt for protection, the shockwaves traveling from his armpits and hitting his brain like a wave.

Zhongli wasn’t going down without a fight and Childe constantly had to keep swatting away his arms, making it hard for him to tickle the older man consistently. Naturally, the ginger adapted to Zhongli’s defense mechanism and focused on his sides this time, giving each spot rabid jabs, one after the other in quick succession. This caused Zhongli to wiggle back and forth, attempting to avoid the alternating blows to his sides. Each poke resulted in a gasp or whine filled with husky giggles, something Childe considered music to his ears and only drove him to pick up the pace. He had never heard Zhongli laugh so much and it was quite addictive, so he figured

“Y’know, I used to tickle my siblings all the time,” Childe recalled as he began focusing on Zhongli’s hips, smiling as he found another good spot. “If any one of them ever felt down, they could always expect a visit from their friendly neighborhood tickle monster!”

“Ahahahaha! Chihihilde!” Zhongli wailed as Childe continuously pinched his hips methodically, his laughter drowning out whatever Childe was saying to him in the moment.

The only time he had ever been tickled was whenever Hu Tao needed his attention and it was only ever a short poke to his side. Not only was Childe much more aggressive, he was also much more skilled. Every poke and scribble elicited a new stream of laughter and his attempts at dislodging Childe were proving futile. He felt Childe’s hands moving over to his stomach, which renewed Zhongli’s efforts to squirm away. By chance, one of his flailing hands jabbed Childe in the side, pausing the tickling as Childe squeaked and involuntarily protected the sensitive spot with his hands. Zhongli used this brief moment of respite to try and push away from Childe, but the ginger recovered almost immediately.

“Hmm, this used to work on Teucer, so I wonder if it’ll be the same for you,” Childe thought out loud as he eyed Zhongli’s stomach. His shirt had ridden up just slightly to expose the well-toned abs and bare tummy, which only enticed Childe to try a different technique. “Heh, don’t kill me, okay?

“W-Wait! Childe w-what are you— NohohoHOHOHOHOHO!”

Zhongli flopped around on the bed and kicked his legs as Childe blew a raspberry into his stomach. The unfamiliar technique brought tears to the corners of Zhongli’s eyes as Childe repeated the action over and over. The sensation created such a strange feeling that made Zhongli’s mind feel like mush. He didn’t even try fighting back anymore as Childe sent one more his way, before stopping when he noticed Zhongli’s laughter had turned into silent wheezing.

Childe raised his head from Zhongli’s stomach to make sure the other was okay, taking in the sight of the older man. Zhongli’s face was bright red and his eyes were still screwed shut, with his mouth agape as he panted for air. His normally well-kempt hair was a mess and there were even a few tear streaks. When Childe felt he was staring too long, he lightly diddled his fingers along Zhongli’s bare stomach, causing Zhongli to gasp and open his eyes.

“Oh, hey, your eyeliner still looks good,” Childe said as he brought a finger to Zhongli’s eye to wipe away a stray tear.

“I already told you it’s not soluble in water,” Zhongli told the other curtly after catching his breath, looking away from the other as he spoke. It wasn’t easy to embarrass Zhongli, but he could feel his cheeks burning up after the ordeal Childe put him through.

“Hey, don’t be mad at me,” Childe awkwardly laughed as he lifted himself off of Zhongli and helped him up. “Couldn’t help myself.”

Zhongli sat up and fixed his clothes with a sigh, pushing his long hair behind his shoulders. “I’d hate to be one of your siblings, to be quite frank.”

“Maybe, but being my sibling comes with so many pros!” Childe said, smiling at the other as Zhongli rolled his eyes. “Speaking of which, we haven’t gotten to your other eye.”

“I wonder why,” Zhongli huffed sarcastically as Childe picked up the brush again. He crossed his arms as Childe brought the brush to his face, but he let Childe apply the lining to his eye like before, flinching when Childe put his hand against his shoulder again for balance.

“Don’t worry,” Childe chuckled, finishing up the liner. He pulled back the brush and used his other hand to lift Zhongli’s chin so that he could get a better look at his work. “Looks great!”

“Well, this took almost three times as long as it normally takes me,” Zhongli said as Childe went to get the hand mirror from the drawer. He took the mirror from Childe and examined the eyeliner. It was a little messy, but it wasn’t that bad.

“So, how did I do?”

Zhongli looked up to see Childe giving his usual charming smile and Zhongli couldn’t help but return a small smile back. “One could say it’s passable.”

Childe couldn’t help but cheer at the small win. “You should let me do your makeup all the time, Zhongli.”

“Perhaps,” Zhongli sighed, the thought of possibly going through another tickle session with Childe daunting to him. “Next time, though, how about we try some eyeliner on you?”

“I-I mean sure, I guess,” Childe said hesitantly, scratching the back of his head. “I’m not sure it’d look good on me the way it does for you and I’m not sure what my color would be.”

“Well, we can always go shopping for some later,” Zhongli suggested. “Why don’t I show how to apply it properly, though. We can use the one that I have.”

“N-Now?”

“Why not?”

“O-Okay,” Childe said nervously as he sat down, switching places with Zhongli. “Hey, you’re not still mad at me, right?”

“Of course not,” Zhongli said firmly, grabbing a fresh brush from his drawer before returning to Childe. “I want to show you how it’s properly done. Tickles and all.”

“Wait what? W-Wait ZhonglihihiHIHI!”

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

My favorite Yamazaki lives! headcanon

disclaimer: all headcanon's are done with the intention of Yamachi endgame; we all have our favorite poisons and this one is mine, sorrynotsorry 😂 SPOILERS GALORE

Hijikata's route: Look, as beautifully done as Yamazaki's death scene is done in that route, I think we all can agree that there is no way that Yamazaki wouldn't follow his Vice Commander into the darkness as a fury. Dying a noble death is nice and all, but he could never leave his big gay crush Vice Commander behind. Bonus: Hijikata gets a "living" reminder every day of what his decisions cost one of his most loyal followers. Sanan's route: I actually wrote this already, but tl;dr after Sanan comes to Yamazaki's death bed two seconds too late (I cussed a blue streak in this scene much to the amusement of everyone else and we had to STOP, not for the first time, as I outlined fanfic as @sabraeal whispered sweet but considers... in my ear), Sanan decides to test out the whole can't raise the dead thing. Because he's never actually tried it before and trial results are... promising to say the least. A continuation would involve Yamazaki operating from the shadows and only revealing himself to Chizuru in the most fraught of situations. Saito's route: Yamazaki lives (probably via Water of Life again) and joins Saito and Chizuru in the north and because it's v v cold there is the other slice of bread to a Chizuru with short king sandwich. Bonus: This actually gets much further in depth for any modern au because I have a deep need to lean on Yamazaki being a cosplayer and Saito coming with him to conventions only for the merch. Okita's route: The wonderful @claudeng80 is writing her own version of this, but let me tell you about mine because this was another occasion of me interrupting the stream for 30 minutes because I had IDEAS. It is established that the Water of Life does not heal TB; the elixir only gives his body the ability to borrow against itself. Ergo, Okita burns through his lifespan faster than he would have and turns to dust. Chizuru is inconsolable and alone and might've joined him had Kazama not taken pity. He doesn't want anything to do with her personally since she's taken the elixir, but he can't just leave her there to die she IS the lost demon princess after all, no matter how disgraced. So he takes her to the nearest town and leaves her at an apothecary run by someone who would understand her condition: Yamazaki. Who has mysteriously survived a fatal injury. Bonus: This would be the slowest burn because Okita made her promise him that she wouldn't be with someone else after him. Kazama's route: You know.. I was FINE. Just FINE. I swanned through Kazama's route without a single Yamazaki death mention and I was GOOD. Until the EPILOGUE. The EPILOGUE where she's waiting for Kazama to come back and her neighbor tells Chizuru about this new boy who works at a nearby apothecary and is very nice and neighbor-san could totally introduce them and Chizuru says NO. Again I started cussing a blue streak. Again the stream dissolved into laughter because we could not go a single sentence further until I outlined at least 20k of fanfic. SO. AU WHERE CHIZURU AGREES TO MEET APOTHECARY-BOY and by meet I mean she agrees to marry him based on his resume and vice versa. He works at an apothecary; she has her own clinic. They both have very mild temperaments and have no known bad habits. It's perfect. Yamazaki and Chizuru don't know who they are actually dealing with until the wedding ceremony and that's how they find out that the other is alive. Bonus: Yamazaki is still human in this one because Hijikata made him stay in Osaka to take care of Okita until he eventually succumbed to his illness. Yamazaki was on his way to catch up with the Shinsengumi and made it all the way to Edo when word got back to him that it was over and the Shinsengumi were no more. Rather than return to his hometown, Yamazaki decided to settle in Edo and restart his life there. He has probably run into Ibuki at some point and stayed with him and Shizu while he established himself. idk what happens to Kazama, demon stuff probably; maybe he married Sen? Anyways, I'm done now. Thank you for coming to my TedTalk; no harm intended to anyone's faves

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