#not sure if this could count as a mono

[bratzforchris]

Goldfish

Summary: Matt has a chronic illness that the nurses at his local clinic are all too familiar with. The new nurse in town hasn't had a chance to meet him yet, but what happens when she does?

Pairing: Matt x nursefem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of needles and blood, chronic illness, use of medical steroids, flirty nurse!reader (this is all fiction!), Matt is 20/reader is 23, Matt has a service dog!!

Word Count: Just over 2k

A/N: This is lowkey inspired by the experience I had a few days ago with a flirty nurse while I was in the ER (I'm still thinking about him--had me giggling n kicking my feet n shit like I was in a rom com [this is definitely a story time]). ANYWAY, Matt has PFAPA (my chronic illness!) here. It's usually a childhood thing, but some rare cases like myself don't grow out of it. You can read more about it here, if you'd like. Enjoy!!

Matt Sturniolo is all too familiar with his local pediatric emergency room. In fact, he’s been there so many times that the nurses have started to treat him as less of a patient, and more of a friend. “Hey Matt!”, “How’s YouTube going, Matt?”, “I remember you!”,  “I saw you last time!”, and the list went on. Some might ask why he still went there at almost 21, but when you had a chronic illness, it was best to see the people who had been caring for you for years if you could. These nurses had been caring for him at least once a month, ever since he was 12, and were usually quite skilled in how to manage the brunette’s comfort. 

Matt had PFAPA, which left him with high fevers and extremely sore, almost strep like sore throats every month. It was a miserable thing to live, and it really impacted his happiness, especially on days like today when he was having one of the worst flare ups he’d had in a long time and both Nick and Chris were unable to come along with him to the doctor. Luckily for Matt, he had his service dog, Emily, with him, but he still longed for a human companion as well. While some people wondered why he ‘needed’ a service dog, Matt’s disability was invisible. Emily would let him know when his flare ups were starting as well as laying on him to soothe his body aches and chills and helping with his anxiety at doctor visits. 

The nurse tech took him into the back rather quickly, running their usual tests of strep, the flu, and COVID. About 98% of the time, they would all come back negative, but the hospital staff liked to do all they could to make Matt more comfortable. Sure enough, the nurse practitioner stepped in about 30 minutes later, a sad look on her face. 

“How are you feeling, Matt?”

Matt shrugged, grimacing as his throat ached when he swallowed. “‘M not great.” he murmured, petting his pup’s head softly as the anxiety welled in his chest. 

“Well, everything came back negative,” she told, a sad look on her face. “We can test you for mono, though. You have a lot of the symptoms for that. That one is a blood test. We’re also going to give you an IV since you’re dehydrated.”

That sentence alone made him want to cry. Despite the tattoos and piercings he had, Matt hated medical needles. They hurt and they freaked him out. Sensing his anxiety, Emily scooted closer to Matt, whining softly and butting his leg with her head. Matt pet the dog’s head softly, steadying himself to get his breath. “Okay…” he breathed, steadying himself. 

The nurse practitioner patted his leg gently, hurrying out of the room to attend to her other patients. Matt began to panic, his breathing rapidly increasing as tears welled in his eyes. He didn’t want any of this. He just wanted them to tell him what was wrong so he could get some meds, go home, and sleep. Patting the bed he was laying on gently, Emily hopped up, curling into Matt’s side. The pooch rested her head on her owner’s chest, subconsciously working to slow the brunette’s heart rate. 

A few minutes later, another nurse and a lab tech stepped into the small room he was in, holding a tray full of supplies. Matt squeezed his eyes shut tightly at the sight, already dreading the feeling of getting blood drawn. Both healthcare workers were very kind, of course, whispering soft nothings to him as they patted his leg and prepared to draw his blood. They promised him that the procedure would be quick and easy, but those words never mixed well with a chronic illness. 

“Your vein rolled because you’re dehydrated. We’re going to have to draw from your other arm.” the lab tech informed him.

“O…kay.” Matt whispered shakily, trying to get his breath and the feeling in his hand back. 

The brunette knew that it was okay to cry, but that didn’t make it any less embarrassing. He was a grown man, laying here in a kid’s hospital room, trying not to cry while they tried to draw his blood again in his right arm. Unfortunately for Matt, the dehydration he was experiencing from his extremely sore throat caused his vein to roll again.

“Oh sweetheart,” the nurse said sympathetically, patting his leg. “We’re going to give you a minute, okay? Let’s get some water and Gatorade in you before we try again.”

Matt just nodded as he was passed a mini water bottle and a cherry Gatorade. He was hearing their words, but honestly, he didn’t care. All he knew was that he was going to be poked and prodded again, and he didn’t like it. Emily snuggled into his side, whining softly and brushing her sandpaper tongue against her owner’s arm, trying desperately to get Matt to feel better. 

“Alright, honey,” the sweet, older nurse stepped into Matt’s room again, holding a fresh tub of supplies to draw his blood. “Let’s try it in your left hand, okay?”

Because chronic illness never made things easy, the third time was still a failure, leaving Matt with an already bruising hand and tears pricking his eyes. Before he knew it, he was being shoved a packet of goldfish crackers, a popsicle, and more water, being informed that he had to eat before they could try again. The snacks felt like swallowing shrapnel, making the boy cringe every time he had to swallow. 

“Hello, oldest patient of the day!” You cheered, practically walking into Matt’s room on a cloud of glitter. 

Matt jumped in shock, petting his dog’s head to calm his racing heart. “...hi…” he mumbled. 

“They called me in for backup,” You explained, a smile on your face. You absolutely loved nursing, and every day at your job truly felt like a gift. You’d graduated from nursing school last year at the top of your class and had been working in the pediatric emergency room ever since. It wasn’t every day that you had a patient who was 20, but you didn’t mind. “We’re getting this blood draw this time so you can get the fuck out of here,” You slapped a hand over your mouth. “Shit, I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind if I curse.”

For the first time all day, a small giggled made its way out of Matt’s mouth. “No, I’m okay.”

“I see you have a buddy,” You commented. “That’s nice.”

“She helps my…anxiety.” Matt seemingly chose his words carefully, but they still made you smile. It was clear that the boy had a bond with his pup. 

“I’m gonna look at your tonsils first so we can get you some medicine to help you swallow and then we’ll draw your blood, okay?” You asked, wanting to make sure your patient was comfortable with everything. 

At the mention of a blood draw, Matt’s blue eyes widened with anxiety, his body becoming visibly tense. You had become in tune with this, sliding on a pair of pink latex gloves and patting the soft material of the pajama pants on his knee. 

“Hey, look at me,” You murmured softly, waiting for his response. Once Matt had looked at you, you chugged on. “We’re just chilling, okay? I’m not going to do anything yet.”

Matt nodded, letting out an anxious breath he’d been holding. “Okay.” he whispered. 

You grabbed the flashlight to look in his throat off the wall. “Alright, I’m pretty sure you know the drill,” You chuckled. “Open and say ‘ahhh!’...oh yeah, you’ve got an icky throat. That looks like it hurts. Although…did you have a blue popsicle? You’ve got blue tonsils. It’s rather endearing.”

Matt flushed, his ears going red as he nodded. You smiled softly, throwing away the cap and hanging the flashlight back on the wall. You gave the boy the steroidal liquid the nurse practitioner had drawn up for him to ease the swelling in his throat, a blush creeping onto your face as Matt scrunched his eyes up at the disgusting taste, quite literally making grabby hands for his Gatorade. 

“Fuck, that’s gross.” he whined. 

“At least you got it over with!” You hummed cheerfully, in a small aim to make him feel better. “Unfortunately, it’s time for the bad part, but we can make it a little less shitty if you want? Maybe you could play me some music? Something you like, okay?” 

Matt fiddled with his phone for a moment before landing on Dominic Fike’s latest release. You smiled at the lyrics, releasing this was one of your favorite songs at the moment. You prepped the materials needed to finally get Matt’s blood drawn for the mono test, patting his knee gently in an effort to calm his trembling frame as he rubbed his pup’s head. 

“Hey, can I tell you something?” You whispered shyly, setting him up for the procedure. “You’ve got goldfish in your teeth–it’s really cute.” You giggled, your own cheeks becoming red. 

The brunette whined, breathing deeply as you began to draw his blood. “That’s embarrassing.” he grunted. 

A few deep breaths and small, sad noises later, you had finally gotten the sample needed. “We got it!” You told Matt excitedly, placing a Barney band aid across the site. “All done!”

You bustled around the room, making sure Matt was comfortable, throwing away your supplies, and making notes on your clipboard. You helped the boy drink water and got him (and Emily) a blanket, before taking his samples down to the lab to get checked out. By the time everything was said and done, an hour had passed and Matt was asleep against the small bed when you knocked on his door. 

“Hey sleepyhead,” You giggled, stepping into the room. “Nice nap?” Matt fisted his eyes, nodding as you went over his discharge instructions. You always hated releasing patients with no explanations or answers as to why they felt so bad, but in cases like Matt’s, that wasn’t always possible. Your best bet was to make him as comfortable as possible here. “Do you have any questions?”

The brunette shook his head, finally able to speak now that the steroids were beginning to work their magic on his throat. “No, but thank you. You’ve been the best nurse I’ve had all day…maybe even ever.”

You blushed at the compliment, helping the boy stand since you knew he was already exhausted, dehydrated, and lightheaded from having his blood drawn. “Do you need help getting to your car? I actually just got off.” You murmured shyly, glancing at the clock on the wall. 

Despite Matt’s steadiness on his feet and his grip on Emily’s leash, the blue-eyed boy nodded all the same, a quietly flustered look crossing his face. You smiled yourself, maneuvering Matt out to his car with a firm, yet gentle hand on his lower back. Thankfully, the waiting room had quieted down quite a bit now that it was nearing the evening, so no one questioned or pulled you away from walking Matt out. It was a slow trek with your patient being a bit unsteady on his feet, but you didn’t mind. Matt’s presence made you happy in an odd sort of way; you hated that he wasn’t well and that this would continue to happen for him, but you couldn’t stop your mind from thinking about seeing him again. 

“I um…I hope this isn’t weird, but I would really like to see you again. Maybe another time? When you’re not in pain?” You coughed and chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck. 

He smiled as he slid into the driver’s seat, rubbing his aching head that was seemingly getting better just by being around you. “I’d like that,” he offered. “I’d like that a lot, actually.”

Matt didn���t end up leaving his trip to the hospital with many answers beside the usual ‘It’s your chronic illness’, but what he did end up leaving with was your phone number scribbled onto a pink sticky note that he had been given in the parking lot. 

tags ♡: @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxysc-blog @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @spencereidenthusiast @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniiieee07 @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @patscorner @julesgrl @0strawberrysorbet0 @strombolilovr @matt444nixi @remussbitch @devthepoet1221 @mattyblover07 @loisnotaa @mollyquinnxoxo @graysturns @pepsicolapussy333 @ginswife @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @m00n-0n-paws @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @raysmayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @billsslutt @aemrsy

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[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: angstyyy

Notes: Posting a day early - y’all can thank @losa12308 for catching me in a good mood, hope this helps ya feel better hun❤️

Word Count: 2130

Series Masterlist

Reader

Nearly two weeks Jacob Black has not only been ignoring and avoiding Bella, but Quil and I too. Ever since the night of the movies, since his uncharacteristically rude outburst at Mike Newton. Both of my best friends were stressed about it which in turn stresses me out. I’ve called him multiple times to leave voicemails about what he’s doing to his friends, but it was to no avail - radio silence remained.

Bella said Harry Clearwater told her it was mono, but anyone could smell that bullshit from a mile away. Did mono render you catatonic? Unable to communicate with people that care about you?

An uneasy feeling settled in my gut, it had to be more. Something was keeping him from us and I want to know what that something is.

I need to know, I can’t just lose another one…

• March 4th, 2006 • Home •

Reader

“Mom!” I shout through the empty house, trying to locate her.

A rare day we both have off to spend together and I’m about to ditch her.

“Yes, sweetheart?” I hear her voice drift from the laundry room as I make my way downstairs.

Turning as the sound of my approaching footsteps, she raises her eyebrows at my appearance - noting that my state of dress isn’t exactly for a day-in at home anymore.

“Bella called, was wondering if I’d go hiking with her? I think she just needs to take her mind off of Jake and wants company.”

My moms face falls slightly, but I can tell she won’t stop me from running to my best friend’s aid, “Just be careful and take your phone.”

“Thanks mom!” I surge forward and hug her quickly before snatching my keys from the hook by the door on my way out.

“And be back before dark!”

“Of course, love you!” I shout back.

“I love you too, honey!”

I speed almost the entire way to Bella’s - wanting to get her mind off of Jake was true, but she also wanted help finding the meadow.

As in, the meadow.

Her and Edward’s meadow.

• March 4th, 2006 • Ithaca, NY •

Jasper

For months I’ve been feeling with this crack in my soul because of her and I’ve been doing it alone. Admittedly it’s my own doing, but the chafing of not really having my brother in my corner has worn away at me in way that doubles the pain of the loss.

I find myself gravitating towards his closed door, something that before Ithaca would’ve been an odd sight, and knocking on the thin wood.

“Go away.” The words rumble in his distinct baritone just loud enough for me to hear.

“No.” I answer simply, just as tired.

The door whips open in a flash and his eyes send a shock through me. Not because they’re dark with hunger - but dark with anger. And his emotions reflect it threefold.

“What do you want?” His tone raises my hackles, reminding me that my brother isn’t one to be messed with in a mood like this one.

A delicate hand curls up and around his chest, the owner of it completely blocked from view by his massive frame, and he visibly deflates. His anger dialing back a fraction at the influence of just her touch.

A slice of pain lances through me, regret or just plain loneliness at this point I’m not sure.

“Hear him out.” Rose orders him softly, kissing him on the cheek as she slips out from behind him and meets my eyes before disappearing down the hall. “Good luck.”

I reign in the laugh that threatens to bubble up at her throwing me to the wolves, but it’s another thing I’m doing to myself of my own free will, I need my brother.

Holding open the door wider for me to enter, he turns on his heel and deposits himself into the loveseat across from the tv, some muted football game flashing on it.

“I miss you and I’m sorry.” I unload on him with no preamble. No drawn out apology has ever been a requirement of his, short and to the point always a favorite to him.

A dark laugh thunders from him in a way that crushes me even more, “That’s it?”

I nod, I had thought about this conversation for months since he started avoiding me, but all my rehearsed words vacate me.

“That’s one hell of an apology.” The remote emits a small crack as his anger continues to boil. “I got no say, no one wanted to hear me out, and I’m just supposed to suck it the fuck up and just go with the flow of what’s best for the family.” He’s practically vibrating with barely constrained rage, but I let him continue. “She’s not just yours, Jasper.”

A shock jolts me for the second time, his sadness tugging at my heart heavily.

“She’s yours and that’s what makes her mine.” I can tell my confusion spurs Emmett on and he rises from the couch, “As your brother, it’s my responsibility to be her protector and you fucking ripped that away from me. You’re hurting her on purpose and it’s hurting me.”

I’m speechless as his words sink in. Familial-like bonds in a coven as old as ours are strong, but I had no idea.

“She was also my best friend-my little sister. I told her I would be there for her and you’re making me break my promise - something I’ve never fucking done.” Turning away from me to pace in a very non-Emmett move, “Are you going to say anything?”

“I had no idea-”

“You never considered, never noticed, never asked. It’s only been you in pain. You and Edward. You don’t even see what it does to Alice every time you ask her to check on Y/n.”

Her name sends agony anew through me, a thin knife that slices flesh from bone with surgical precision.

“I’m scared.” He would’ve missed my whisper if it weren’t for his supernatural hearing.

“Scared of what?” He’s before me in a flash, gripping my shoulders. “Scared of loving her?”

“Scared of her loving me! Scared of hurting her!” The house falls into dead silence, listening. “You’ve never known terror like this with Rose! You’re not afraid to kill her just from being around her, smelling her, touching her. You have no restrictions, no boundaries!” Tears of venom swirl my vision, but refuse to fall.

I push him off me and turn, attempting to reign in my distress.

“Bro-”

“I can’t do this without you. It’s like wave after wave of grief and I’m at my limit Emmett.” The seriousness in my tone softens him, love and compassion flow from him in a way that feels like his old self and it loosens the tension inside me a fraction.

“I may be angry with you, but I’ll never leave you.” My brother spins me around and engulfs me in his signature bear-hug.

Esme may be the mother of our group, but Emmett is the glue holding us all together. I’d be drowning without my brother and if his death-grip of a hug is any indication, he knows it.

• March 4th, 2006 • Forks, WA •

Reader

“I’m pretty sure we passed that tree two times in the last hour, Bells.” Tromping behind my best friend, I keep my eyes fixed down to prevent myself from tripping over the dense foliage.

“We’re close, I just know it.” There’s a desperate edge to Bella’s voice that stops my teasing and squeezes my heart, I know that feeling. To be grasping for something out of reach to link me back to him.

Pushing through a particularly thick cluster of low-lying branches, I smack face first into Bella’s backpack.

“Bella, you can’t just stop-” Finally my surroundings make sense and I realize we’ve found it. It’s brown and sad as fuck, but we actually found it.

I spin, taking in every inch of the dead meadow as Bella drops to the ground, fingers clutching the crunchy grass. Facing the middle again, I gasp at the figure standing before us, the sound startling Bella into a standing position next to me.

“Bella and Y/n.”

“Laraunt.” His name is a choked gasp on my best friend’s lips.

“I didn’t expect to find either one of you here.” He begins pacing casually in front of us “I went to visit the Cullen’s, but the house is empty? I’m surprised they left you both behind. Weren’t you both sort of… pets of theirs?”

“Y-yeah, you could say that.” Bella answers him as I reach for her hand, a sort of dread sinking in as I think over his words and what he might be getting at.

“Do the Cullen’s visit often?”

You need to leave, darlin’. He’s not safe.

“Yeah absolutely - all the time.” Bella’s lie causes the hair on the back of my neck to raise.

“We’ll tell them you stopped by.” I chime in, trying to make it seem believable and also trying to keep the shaking from my voice - both from the deadly turn of the conversation and from hearing his voice in my head.

“I probably shouldn’t - Edward,” the name rolling of her tongue has her squeezing my hand in pain, “Because he’s pretty protective.”

“But he’s far away, isn’t he? They both are.”

Terror begins to flood my chest, he’s making sure we’re alone.

“Why are you here?” Bella flips the questioning onto Laraunt.

“I came as a favor… To Victoria.” His answer practically stops my heart and I know he can hear it.

“Victoria.” The whisper slips from me without a second thought.

“She asked me to see if either of you were still under the protection of the Cullens. Victoria feels it’s only fair to kill Edward’s and Jasper’s mates, given they killed her’s.” His eyes flicked between us, no doubt sensing the blow of both of their names. “An eye for an eye.”

“Edward would know who did it! And he’d come after you.”

Threaten him.

“Jasper would hunt both of you down.” My emotions fill my voice, the threat not as potent as it could be.

“I don’t think they will. After all, how much could you mean to them if they left you here, unprotected?” The vampire sighs, like he’s actually fucking torn, “Victoria won’t be happy about my killing you, but I can’t help myself - both of you are so mouth watering.”

“Please don’t, y-you helped us-” Bella begins to panic, but he flashes directly in front of us with his speed, fingers reaching for our faces.

“Shhh-shhh, don’t be afraid! I’m doing you a kindness - Victoria plans on killing you slowly, painfully. Whereas I’ll make it quick. I promise, you’ll feel nothing.”

“Edward I love you.” Bella’s confession slips as I close my eyes and squeeze her hand in mine. At least we go together, right?

“I can’t believe it.” The awe in Laraunt’s voice opens my eyes as twigs begin snapping in the tree line behind us.

One large wolf, black as night, emerges from the forest. Large being a gross understatement - more like the size of a fucking horse. Behind the massive animal emerges more of the same, although slightly smaller, but no less scary.

A pack of wolves. A pack of supernaturally huge wolves.

And they’re facing down a vampire, no less.

A vampire on a mission to kill us.

Run.

The command zings through me and takes charge. I yank on Bella’s arm as Laraunt bats away the first wolf like it was nothing, it’s yelp stunning her into action.

The panicked sprint through the woods for her truck is much faster this time than the hike out, neither of us stopping or looking back.

Afraid to see if anything was giving chase.

Afraid to see if the wolves didn’t buy us time.

The ride back to Bella’s was tense to say the least. Too stuck in my own head to even say anything to her, the terror still coursing through my veins keep my mouth shut and fists clenched. What if Laraunt got away from them? What if he was still hunting us?

I never realized until now how scary it is, not having the supernatural protection of the Cullens.

I never realized that I took for granted the safety Jasper surrounded me with. Well, used to surround me with.

The sour thought sends another all-too-familiar painful zap through my chest.

As soon as Bella pulls into her drive, I hop out and climb into my own as she runs inside, probably to tell her dad about the absolutely massive wolves lurking in Forks’ woods.

Wolves that might’ve just saved our lives.

Next

Taglist Part 1:

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[lavender-long-stories]

Writing Advice: Getting Words on a Page

With the 75k word count in November and 90k in August, I have been asked questions like how do I keep focus and what do I do when I get stuck. I am going to compile all the advice I have.

Over the last few years, I have posted 700k+ words of fan fiction and have been posting 3 to 6 chapters every week for the last ten months. This is not how to make your writing better. This is how to get words on a page. 

This is not all my original ideas. This is just a collection of things that have worked for me.

I am not sure I am the person to tell you how to make your writing better, but if people want my thoughts on that. I can make that post too.

When inspiration strikes, write like wild. 

If you have the time and you are bitten by the writing bug, keep writing anything while you are in peak form. You will thank yourself later when you feel like you can’t write everything. I have done the extreme version of this where I have a month (four chapters) written ahead of almost everything on my post schedule (you don’t need this), but this was really nice after I brunt out after finishing out the 90k challenge I destroyed myself with in August.

Write in little pockets of time.

You don’t need to sit down and write for two hours. Write 100 words here and 500 there. It will all add up. When I was struggling at the end of the 75k, I would just open a doc every few hours and write half a page until I got distracted and tried again later.

Change your font.

If you are struggling to edit or even just find yourself drifting while writing, change your font. It helps trick your brain into paying attention. (I like doing a mono font like Courier when I need writing vibes. It looks typewriter-y)

Take a shower. 

Not just for shower thoughts, being clean and fresh helps with focus

Get dressed.

I love being comfy, but something about getting dressed makes me feel like I am working and should finish my task. Extra points for it being fun. (Maybe cosplay a pirate or something.)

Move Locations.

Desk, kitchen table, bed, outside: changing location helps move you out of a brain rut.

Handwrite notes.

I take most of my notes on notion, but when I am struggling with my plot, I write out notes by hand, starting with what happened last and continuing from there, writing even things I know will happen. Then I transfer this to my digital notes so they are easier to move around in order, AND a lot of time, I add details when revising them to digital. Double power.

Always, always write down your thoughts and keep them.

Some of my most popular stories came from me rediscovering a 2 am thought that I wrote down six years ago. Keep a notepad next to the bed if you have to.

Change POV

If something is not working in a scene, maybe it is who you have reacting to it. Try switching POV. It helps you think of the scene from another perspective.

Watch a show in your genre.

I watch a lot of the silliest KDrama’s and get lots of romance ideas. Maybe I didn’t think of sending my character to a park or trapping them in a sky lift. Maybe I should add a stalker that sounds fun.

Take your bathroom breaks.

You should always drink lots of fluids and remember to take your bathroom breaks because the brief moment of walking away always gives me an idea.

Skim through the story and make notes on what HAS happened, not just what will happen.

This helps more with my style of having next to no plot outline. Need your next plot point and don’t know where to go? Remember that time they did x? Let’s build off that. This helps intertwine the plot without losing things.

Just read the story back.

You don’t always need to make notes, but sometimes just reading from the beginning can make you pick up on a detail that was unimportant at the time, and you may not even have meant to put in that could have a lot more meaning now. Then, you can call it clever foreshadowing.  

Explain your problem or the scene you are struggling with out loud.

It doesn’t have to be to someone. It could be a glass of water. This is called ‘rubber ducking. It’s a programmer term (hello, that is my day job). Restructuring your problem in a way you have to articulate it most of the time makes the solution come to you.

Try focusing on the scenery.

If you can’t get a scene to work open with the weather or how the floor is creaking under step, give the world a new feeling. How does the person feel about the weather or the temperature of the room? 

Can’t figure out what is wrong? Rewrite the chapter from scratch. 

Open a new doc and rewrite the chapter from memory. I do this a lot in the beginning of a story that didn’t quite hit the way I wanted it to. I will start the chapter from memory and skim the old one to ensure I didn’t miss anything important. Can’t do it from memory? Read a paragraph and write that from memory. 

Take a left turn.

Sometimes, if you can’t go any further, go back a sentence, a paragraph, a scene, a chapter, and just make a different decision. Turn left instead of right. Change how someone reacts to an argument. It opens a whole new lane to go down.

Excited for a scene that is in the future?

Write it! You don’t have to use it word for word in the future. Sometimes, you can copy and paste it in, and sometimes, you can just rewrite it, and you lose none of those thoughts you originally had.  Writing it might remind you of something that needs to happen first to help you get there.

Have more than one story you are working on.

I don’t think you need to be working on four+ stories like I do, but having something to switch to when your brain really isn’t feeling your main is a great way to keep you writing. Call it productive procrastination. This is the REAL reason I have so many stories uploading.  (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

Other Somewhat Related Advice

Context Switching

I work on multiple projects at a time, and I tend not to mix them up because they have a different vibe to me. It feels like stepping into each world.  If you are struggling with context switching between stories, I suggest finding a song or making a playlist that gives you that story’s ‘vibe’ and keeping a link to it in your writing folder or snagging a section of your story that captures the vibe you are going for and keeping it off to the side to reread when you need to switch.

Don’t edit the same day you write.

You’re not going to catch errors. Your brain is too familiar with what you wrote. Also, I recommend Grammarly or another grammar checker for all your missing comma and period needs. (Word, Docs, and any other text editor simply won't bully you enough.)

If you hate editing, don’t leave yourself with a painful amount of editing.

When people ask me how I edit my work, how many passes I take, etc, I tend to disappoint them. The short answer is one read-through (after using a grammar checker).  I learned a LONG time ago that as much as it would be nice to write a bunch of dialog and then tell yourself you will go back to add all the actions or write without quotes because it takes time, you will save yourself a lot of time and pain if you learn to write it correctly the first time and then editing won’t be as much of a chore. I have been writing for years, and I am used to how I write and edit. If you are newer to writing, give it another pass or two, but try to shift some of that work to the writing process, not the editing process.

Make yourself an editing cheat sheet.

Make yourself a doc or a notion of words you notice you use too much or common words you misspell when writing.  I usually make one when I get back and do a post edit (when the story has been up for a while and I get back with fresh eyes and edit it). Reading through your old work and find things that you don’t like or don’t want to do anymore is a great way to build this list and improve your writing.

Now go write.

Got any advice for me? Reblog and tell me.

[heartfullofleeches]

Sir, really random question, but Wich one of your Yans would have the worst reaction to reader dying?

All of them would be pretty harsh, but let's Speedrun some of the worst. (Heavy Angst. Implied cannibalism for Liu. Implied suicide for a few others)

Marshmallow Milk would fall into such a deep state of denial they would go to sleep and never wake up again, living on with you forever in their dreams

If you were killed rather than dying of natural causes, Mono would hunt for your killer and conduct inhumane experiments on them to try and bring you back. It's likely the ai/android they've been working on for when your time came is incomplete and they'll never have the chance to perfect it. The memories you shared, the notes you leave behind. It's not enough. The finished product always wrong - imperfect. A failure....just like them.

Liu either loses what little grasp of humanity they have, or steals your face and lives out their life as you. If you have a bucket list they'll do everything in the order they're listed and importance. They eat the foods you liked - forcing themselves to replace certain ingredients with human meat when their stomach can't handle the human meals anymore. Those are the nights they remember who they really are. When they remember you're gone. Liu would preserve your body for as long as they could, but at the first sign of decay they have one final meal with you. Their lack of emotions lead to them devouring you whole, but for some reason - they could never eat your heart.

As with Mono, Selene would be unable to cope if your death was not by natural cause. She blames herself the entire time - ghosts of her past and present haunting her for as long as she remained on this earth - without you.

With Daina, you'd likely die at the hands of some slasher while making your escape. She's the final girl, she'll survive, but her heart won't. Daina kills your attacker in the gorest bloodbath possible and when all's said and done she'll turn their machete on herself - waking up in the hospital a week later as the sole survivor.

V's only had one tragic loss in his life that he would count. His grandfather died on his birthday. The aunt that always sent him gifts died on her way to finally visit that faithful holiday. He was bummed, sure - but neither of those deaths mattered to him. Nobody's did, til the death of his beloved childhood friend and pet... and now you. Just like when his cat died right in his arms, V shuts down. He didn't cry then, and he won't now; but his eyes sting everytime he blinks.

He can't look at his computer. He'll think back on all the days you asked him to get off and go for a walk or decide on dinner with you instead. He can't sleep in his bed. He'll remember the first night you held him and he told you he... he... Oh, God. He never told you that did he? Not as often as he should've. Idiot. V sleeps the days away on the floor, clinging onto the only thing of yours that doesn't make him want to put a gun to his head. Your pillow. Even K drops her attitude and tries to get him to eat or even sit up for a while, but he never does.

The Rubik Cube Yans would never know peace again. If you're still breathing they'll probably be able to save you, but either way they blame each other and it's complete hell. White has to front as Blue is too emotionally shattered to go near you without crying so hard they get a headache, Yellow has used up all the bandages in their home and keeps ordering more, Red has probably cause a lot of property damage, and Green aiming to lock you in their basement never to see the light of day again

Pin hates themselves even more. They hate they weren't born a healer or even with the power of creation so they can't bring you back. Pin preserves your body as well and by the mercy of their creator their abilities are able to keep you well for centuries. They stop making dolls of their own and only make them in their imagine. They throw on the body they first met you in and have tea parties and pretend weddings with your dolls. They're never seen outside this body again as behind that smiling face is nothing but a repulsive, pathetic, cowardice creature that couldn't do the simplest job and keep their love safe

Amyas straight up just dies...or becomes an heartless abomination bent on destroying the very idea of love as humans know it... Or an incubus.

Ventri would never be able to detect themselves from the puppet they made of you, and only uses your voice from then on. Overtime their impression loses it's accuracy and the day it loses every hint of you is the day they never speak again

[pantuflitaizquierda]

I haven’t written anything (not school related) in years (since elementary), but I wanted to try it again, feel free to give advice in the comments! (English is evidently not my first language btw, please tell me if there’s an error in the comments 🙇‍♀️)

It’s an LMK/JTTW AU, Wukong and Mac had never met each other… until now!

(Word count : 502)

(English

⬇️

Español)

A Shadow, a King & a Cave

Everyone has already heard the story, the Handsome Monkey King wrecks havoc in heaven after being invited to live with the gods only to be deceived, humiliated and then burned by them, but when he makes them pay, even managing to almost dethrone the Jade Emperor himself! He is imprisoned under Five-Finger Mountain, rendered almost completely immobile and forced to eat iron and drink molten copper, remaining alone, until the end of time or until the gods decide that he has been imprisoned long enough.

He had already come to terms with the fact that he was going to be lonely for all that time, no one had showed up to save him before and he was pretty sure no one was coming now, that’s exactly the reason why he was so confused with the moving shadow that started coming from time to time to the inside of the mountain. Now, he wasn’t a fool, he gained some cool powers a while ago that let him see through lies and stuff like that, so he knew his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him with the moving shadow, it was definitely a demon. A wary one. Not even the servants who force-fed him had noticed it.

Months passed and the shadow seemed to come more and more often, perhaps more confident knowing that the prisoner could barely move a hand, which was a small relief for Wukong since that shadow seemed to be the only entertainment he would have in centuries. So, without much to lose, he decided to start talking to them.

It started with a simple greeting, he ultimately wanted more but was afraid to scare away the cautious shadow, though this took the demon by surprise anyway, getting fluffed up like an angry cat and disappearing from his sight. Wukong tried to stop him, but evidently he couldn't get very far. His only chance to have a buddy in his prison ruined by a damn hello. Just what one needs after a hundred years of loneliness.

But his sorrow would be relatively short, since only a few days passed when the shadow demon returned, this time with a peace offering, a peach. Seeing it, the King's face lit up completely, it seemed that all that time he had spent eating iron and swallowing copper no longer mattered, he could finally taste something other than metal, he had never been so happy to see a peach in his life... so it was very disappointing when the shadow left the fruit on the floor, right in front of him… where he couldn't reach it…

So fucking close and he couldn't even touch the damn fruit. Wukong had had enough, he was lonely, he hadn't spoken to anyone in a century, he hadn't eaten anything edible in years, he couldn't move and when he was so close to having even a little taste of what felt like freedom, HE CAN'T EVEN TOUCH IT.

La prisión del Rey y la Sombra que lo acompaña

Ya todos conocen la historia, el Apuesto Rey Mono crea caos en el cielo tras ser invitado a vivir con los dioses solo para ser engañado, humillado y después quemado por ellos, pero cuando él los hace pagar, ¡casi logrando destronar al mismísimo Rey de Jade! es encerrado bajo la montaña Wuwang, dejándolo casi completamente inmóvil y forzándolo a comer pepitas de hierro y beber cobre fundido, quedándose solo, hasta el fin de los tiempos o hasta que los dioses decidan que ya estuvo encerrado el tiempo suficiente.

Él ya había aceptado el hecho de que iba a estar solo durante todo ese tiempo, nadie había llegado a salvarlo antes y estaba bastante seguro de que nadie vendría ahora, esa es exactamente la razón por la que estaba tan confundido con una dichosa y movediza sombra que comenzaba a aparecer de vez en cuando dentro de la montaña. Ahora, él no era tonto, obtuvo algunos poderes geniales hace un tiempo que le permitían ver a través de mentiras y cosas así, así que sabía que su mente no le estaba jugando una mala pasada con esa sombra, definitivamente era un demonio. Uno un tanto cauteloso, ni los sirvientes que le alimentaban lo habían notado.

Pasaron los meses y la sobra parecía venir más y mas a menudo, tal vez más confiada al saber que el prisionero apenas y podía mover una mano, lo que fue un pequeño gran alivio para Wukong ya que esa sombra parecía ser el único entretenimiento que tendría en siglos. Así que, sin mucho que perder, decidió empezar a hablarle.

Empezó con un simple saludo, él en definitiva quería más pero temía espantar a la cautelosa sombra, pero esto tomó tan de sorpresa al demonio que se esponjó cómo un gato enojado y desapareció de su vista. Wukong intentó detenerlo, pero evidentemente no logró llegar muy lejos. Su única oportunidad de tener a un compañero en su prisión arruinada por un maldito saludo. Justo lo que uno necesita tras cien años de soledad.

Pero su pesar le duraría relativamente poco, pues solo pasaron unos días cuando el demonio de la sombra volvió, esta vez con una ofrenda de paz, un durazno. Al verlo la cara del Rey se iluminó por completo, parecía que todo ese tiempo que había pasado comiendo hierro y tragando cobre ya no importaban, por fin podría saborear otra cosa que no fuera un metal, nunca había estado tan feliz de ver un durazno en su vida… por lo que fue muy decepcionante cuando la sombra dejó el fruto en el piso, justo en frente de él, donde no lo podía alcanzar.

Tan jodidamente cerca y no podía ni tocar la maldita fruta. Wukong ya estaba harto, estaba solo, no había hablado con nadie en un siglo, no había comido nada comestible en años, so podía moverse y al momento de estar tan cerca de tener aunque sea una probadita de lo que se sentía cómo libertad, Y NO PUEDE NI TOCARLA.

[geddy-leesbian]

a while back @highball66 made a post about Leon being a nerd that would probably play MTG, and apparently the concept got lodged in my brain so here's a drabble of Leon and Luis meeting at an MTG prerelease because those two are def nerds like that

I had their twink era RE2 era in mind when writing this, but not sure how much it actually matters

Leon had been apprehensive about coming here, expecting the crowd to be the stereotypical basement dwellers with noticeably bad hygiene. But he still came, because he's brand new to this city and didn't know anyone, or have any other ideas for how to meet people. Well, that's not entirely true. He knows some people, his coworkers. The problem is just that his naive belief that cops are morally upstanding folks that help people has been shattered beyond repair, and he has zero desire to spend any time with them outside of work. (He doesn't want to go to work with them either, but he has to, until he gets another job lined up.)

So it wasn't like Leon had anything to lose coming here, just a faint possibility to gain something.

There were a few of the basement dwellers Leon expected, but there was also something he absolutely did not expect: A very gorgeous man with tan skin, soft gray eyes, and a smile that's just about blinding. He's sitting across the room, and Leon keeps stealing glances at him. He’s clearly very experienced, with how fast he sorts his cards into his piles. Leon looks down at his own cards to sort and when he looks back up the man is already done with his own deck, counting to make sure he had the right amount, quickly sleeving it, and then scooping up the cards he wasn't playing to put them away.

He stands up and starts striding across the room, and Leon has to make a conscious effort to not stare and drool at the man. He's taller than Leon thought. He's got long, lean legs and the most perfect hips Leon has ever seen. And then somehow he's talking to Leon.

“Mind if I sit here?” He has an accent. It's hot. Leon had set his bag on the chair next to him, but moves it so the ridiculously hot stranger can take a seat. “This is your first time coming here? First time playing..?”

“Do I stick out that bad?”

“Not really. It's just that I know I would have recognized you if you'd been here before. I could never forget such a pretty face,” Did this guy seriously just call Leon pretty? In a warm, genuine tone, like it's actually a compliment? Leon is quite used to comments like that, but in a derogatory manner. "Compliments" hurled at him in mocking tones. “But I will admit, you do look a little lost. Do you want help building your deck?”

“Yeah, sure. I've played before, back in high school, but never made any decks. Just played with decks my friends would let me borrow. I wanted to have my own, but my foster parents thought the game was basically devil worship and would've been dragging my ass to the pastor if they ever found cards under their roof.”

Leon worries that might have been a little too personal too fast, but he's not sure Tall Hot Guy was even listening. He doesn't say anything, and seems laser focused on Leon's cards.

“Off to a good start, with your sorting,” In the time Tall Hot Guy made a deck, all Leon managed to do was open all his packs and sort them by color. Tall Hot Guy starts going through the piles, picking out some cards to set aside. “Prereleases are good for beginners. New cards, new mechanics, so even people with experience won't know everything. Besides, you're not even the only new player here. Now, I think you have enough for mono red, so we keep it simple and do that, if there isn't anything else you'd rather do?”

“That's fine, whatever you think is good. You're the expert.”

The “help” is less help and more just him doing everything. But he does talk as he goes through cards and starts laying them out. Leon is fine with the situation.

“Mana curve, it's important. This is your deck laid out from lowest to highest mana cost,” So there is a method to the madness. He figured there was a reason they were laid out the way they were, but hadn't figured it out. “You want variety, because you want to be doing things every turn. You need big win condition cards, but you don't want to just be sitting by idly waiting several turns to get enough mana for them, you need small things too. Of course you can get unlucky enough to not draw your lower cards early, but at least the odds are better if you have a good mix of low and high cards.”

Tall Hot Guy finishes the spells in Leon's deck and gets up to fetch the basic lands it will need from the shop's communal land station, and grabs something out of his bag too. He needs to stop standing up, because every time Leon really struggles to not ogle him. Curse those stupid skintight jeans.

Leon puts away the unused cards, except for one stack Tall Hot Guy made for reasons Leon really can't figure out. It seems so random, cards from every color.

“Hey, what's this stack of cards next to the deck?”

“Oh, those are just cards that I think will maybe be worth something,” After putting the lands on top of Leon’s deck, Tall Hot Guy starts putting the other stack in card sleeves. “These are extra sleeves you can have, to keep these in good shape in case you do want to sell them at some point.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I've already told you that you have a pretty face, right? I'm a sucker for a pretty face. I want you to have fun playing here, so you come back. Now, let me give you some pointers on what your deck wants to do!”

Leon hadn't expected this guy to actually stay and keep talking. He said Leon wasn't the only new player, so he figured once he got Leon's deck together he'd go over and help out the other newbies. But no. The only thing that Tall Hot Guy seems interested in is just talking Leon's ear off. This isn't a general newbie thing, there's something about Leon specifically. He barely absorbs a word he's saying, he's too busy staring at his stupid perfect face and messy curly hair he wants to touch.

Leon jumps up the second a game store employee calls out that deck building time is up and pairings are ready, because he really needs to get the hell away from this guy that's making him feel things his recent ex-girlfriend never could. He gets a slip of paper with his name and the name of his opponent: Dr. Lewis Serra. He looks around, totally lost, because he doesn't know anyone. Of course, Tall Hot Guy approaches him again.

“Do you need help finding your opponent?”

“First my deck, now helping me find someone, you're a real knight in shining armor, aren't you?” Was that flirty? Doesn't knight in shining armor usually have some romantic connotations? Did Leon actually just flirt with this guy? He's pretty sure he did. Christ. “You know who, uh, Dr. Lewis Serra is?”

“You're looking at him. Your knight just so happens to be your first opponent too. Guess it's just you and me, pretty boy,” The words make Leon's face heat up, but thankfully Lewis turns his back to Leon quickly, to lead him to a table. He just hopes and prays the blushing will have subsided before he sits down and faces Lewis. “By the way, the name is actually Luis Serra. The name on the slip is a stupid nickname that just won't die.”

“There a story behind it?”

“I suppose, depending on how you want to define story. Some idiot I played once thought that my name was pronounced like Lewis, and everyone else thought it was really funny. That's it. Like I said, stupid.”

“What about the Dr. part?”

“Oh, that, ah, that actually isn't a nickname. To toot my own horn, I was a real child prodigy. I got my PhD in biology when I was 16,” Oh great. This guy is tall, hot, and insanely smart. Be still Leon's beating heart. “Normally I'm humble and never introduce myself with the title, I don't want to seem pretentious. And I like to keep my work and personal life separate. It being on the slip is not my choice. I've asked them to stop putting it here, but of course they just think it's funny that it annoys me!”

“Well, there are worse nicknames. My coworkers call me Leon Stupid Kennedy.”

“Wow. Okay. You win, yanqui, I have no right to complain about being Dr. Lewis,” Luis lifts his life die up. “High roll? Or I can just let you go first, since you're a beginner?”

“Such a gentleman, guess I'll just go first.”

Leon's deck is as straightforward as Luis promised. He plays mountains. He taps mountains and casts creature spells that he attacks with. There are some instant and sorcery spells in there too, but not a lot and they're pretty simple, mostly just kill spells.

Luis's deck is complicated, which is no surprise. Just about every single card he plays triggers some combo on cards he already has out, and he's constantly drawing cards, scrying, tapping and untapping things, putting counters on shit… It's impossible for Leon to keep up with. But he doesn't really need to. It doesn't matter what Luis is up to, his deck is meant to just keep attacking regardless of what his opponent is doing. And it… Actually works? He thought he was going to get his ass handed to him, but then he gets Luis down to 5 life…

“You got me. There's no way I can win now,” Luis says, scooping his board up and starting to shuffle his deck. “Game two!”

-

“Oye, earth to Leon, you in there?” Jesus Christ. Luis played a card that required him to shuffle his library and Leon completely zoned out staring at Luis's hands. At first he was just looking at his rings, but then he was just watching his hands shuffling his deck, thinking about what else those fingers could do… What the hell is wrong with Leon? “It's your turn!”

“Right. Sorry. Just zoned out.”

Game two does go to Luis. Quite possibly because Leon kept swooning over him and getting distracted.

But somehow Leon gets his shit together enough to win game three. Luis goes up to report the result of their match, and then the other players that are done gather around and give Luis some shit for losing to a beginner. Leon's anxiety suddenly kicks into overdrive and he gets hit with a vision of Luis throwing him under the bus to protect his own reputation, saying something about how Leon sucks and Luis could have crushed him if he tried, but he went easy on him, and Leon would spend the rest of the night questioning if he actually knows how to play. Being an outcast among other outcasts would be a new low for him.

It doesn't happen. Luis doesn't even dignify the comments with a response, just wanders away from them to glance at the ongoing matches. Leon is both relieved and disappointed that Luis doesn't try to talk to him again. Not until the end of the night, after prize packs are being handed out.

“So… Will I be seeing your pretty face around here again? You won three packs, you could save them for a Friday Night Magic draft for free?���

“Yeah. Think I will.”

Leon isn't sure what exactly a Friday Night Magic draft is, but he'll figure it out.

[silvernyxchariot]

Slowly.

I'm slowly building my teams.

And it's working.

For context, follow this link to my previous Abyss post.

It's one more star than the previous Abyss run.

For more context: "Hi. My name is Nyx, and I am a Kavetham shipper. Subsequently, I am determined to make Kavetham WORK. It's mostly because I love them both dearly. . ." Aaaaaaaaand to prove the meta-players¹ wrong, that they CAN be on a team together.

The team is almost perfect. Shinobu is almost perfect, I just need to level up her artifacts. And if I could just r5 all their weapons, that would be greaaaaat.

YES. I KNOW IT'S NOT FLOOR 12, so it's not a "real measure of my teams' strength." (I'm not sure how else to word that sentence. That's just kind of the vibe I get from the "hardcore gamers" and meta-players of the Genshin community.) Tbh, I'm trying to get full stars on floors 9 through 11 first. That's how I'm judging if I'm "ready" for floor 12. You can still get rewards just by surviving a chamber.

On a later note, aside from Thoma for burgeon, I'm building Yao Yao because I was inspired by one user on HoyoLab using a mono Dendro team (Baizhu, YaoYao, Kaveh, and Alhaitham) to create my own mono Dendro team. I don't have Baizhu though, so I'll keep Xingqiu in. Free quicken against Electro enemies./hj Xingqiu is at C4 thanks to Lantern Rite, so his Hydro application is getting better.

¹ Full disclosure, I do not despise the meta. I believe it is a good outline or guide to making easily built and strong team comps. But I do dislike the meta-players who disparage others for choosing characters that they want on a team and claim they're "wrong for doing so." Or telling others it's "spreading misinformation to say X and Y character can be played together." Then tend to disguise their disparaging comments behind "worry" for your team's synergy and damage count.

[mickeys-malarkey]

So, I Think I Know Who Ruth/Noone Is

No, I don't think she's Six nor Alone. But I don't think she's a totally new character like Otto/The Counselor (who, by the way, I noticed upon my relisten also identifies himself as “The Counselor” in his first audio log; an incredibly weird decision for one counselor in an asylum full of other counselors that he mentions constantly to make if it has no significance), either. And, I'm sorry, but this will mean that she is yet another poor child who doesn't get a happy ending.

Point One: Her Name

We… we know that Ruth's other name is “Noone,” not “Six” nor “Alone,” guys. That alone is proof that she's neither of them, just like how knowing Otto's other name is “The Counselor” alone is proof against the theories that he's either The Doctor or Mono/The Thin Man.

From what I can tell, it looks like people who've lived in both worlds get a Human Name and what I'll call a “Nowhere Name” or a “Nightmare Name.”

“The Janitor” is for sure Roger's in LN1.

“The Doctor” seems to be “that celebrity doctor” from TSON's in LN2.

“The Counselor” is for sure Otto's in TSON and potentially LN3 if he shows up there.

“Noone” is for sure Ruth's.

Some might choose their Nowhere/Nightmare Name, some may be bestowed it, but it certainly looks to me like the only time someone gets multiple Nowhere/Nightmare Names (excluding The Candleman/Ferryman because, from what Otto said at the beginning of Ch5, he's like literally some sort of Eldritch god or personification of an abstract concept or something who probably doesn't even have a concrete True Physical Form seeing as he's described very differently by mythologies all over the world throughout history, “‘The Guardian At The Threshold,’ an archetype that parapsychologists have obsessed over for centuries. A mythic entity who's appeared in the stories of innumerable cultures. No matter their description, his roll is always the same: to confront anyone who dares cross into unseen worlds . . . The Candleman. The Ferryman. Indeed, The Guardian At The Threshold. An eidolon [googled definitions: ‘a specter or phantom; a ghost or elusive entity; an unsubstantial image; an image or representation of an idea; an apparition of some actual or imaginary entity, or an aspect of reality’] on the inside, determined to keep. Me. Out.” So, I think we can just assume that, because he's an ethereal being, everyone who encounters him perceives him varying degrees of differently [I mean, just look how difficult Noone found it to solidify her perception of him enough to describe him in the first place] and, unless their perceptions just happenstance into matching up enough or they decide to call him by a name they heard someone else use, they all call him something different and therefore, to use Tumblr terms: he's Spiders Georg and shouldn't be counted) is specifically in the case of kids surviving to adulthood in The Nowhere. Because, then, they transition from having a “nickname” type of Nowhere/Nightmare Name to having a “title” type, like Mono (ain't no way his parents put “Mono” on his birth certificate, that's definitely a nickname) growing into The Thin Man (an incredibly weird title, but a title nonetheless 🤷🏻‍♀️).

Sisi could easily be Six, or Raincoat Girl, or Portrait Girl (more likely Raincoat Girl or Portrait Girl), there's evidence for all three (but stronger for Raincoat Girl and Portrait Girl) and Otto/The Counselor never mentioned whatever her other name is, only “Sisi.” But, as I said, we know Ruth's other name: Noone!

Now, there is an unnamed girl that Noone is a little too similar to for it to be a coincidence: Spoon Girl (aka Girl With Pigtails, aka Nosebleed Girl, aka Hospital Girl, whatever you wanna call her) from the LN2 comics.

Point Two: Narrative Parallels & Matching Imagery

• Ruth/Noone: has an eye-looking “pea-size tumor on [her] right-sided amygdala,” as Otto said (“they maintain it's benign, despite the unusual ocular appearance”).

> Is “helped” to escape the asylum, Otto/The Counselor, and her tumor in the horrible, corrupting nightmare world that is The Nowhere by The Candleman/Ferryman after he brings her back and forth for a while, manipulating her into thinking The Nowhere is the lesser of the two evils.

• Spoon Girl: has a right-side nosebleed, which could mean Ruth/Noone was incorrect that living in The Nowhere would cure her of her tumor (not surprising, given that “ocular appearance.” Of course she couldn't escape it in its own domain) and now the cancer has spread to her nasal cavity (nosebleeds come up as a possible side effect of olfactory neuroblastoma, a cancer of the nerves that allow you to smell which starts growing in your nose and can spread into your brain. They could've researched that and thought it seemed perfectly reasonable that a tumor growing in the opposite direction would do the same exact thing)?

> Is “helped” to escape her hospital cell by an unseen person repeatedly pushing spoons under her door only to find that she's actually dug herself into an identical cell, all the way down to the hash marks she put on the walls presumably counting how many spoons she broke while digging. The door then opens to lure her to where she's found by The Doctor and, presumably, is either killed by him or “saved” from him by The Thin Man (if her Glitching Remains that Mono can find and absorb in the actual game are an indication that he attempted a rescue after the pair encountered each other through The Mall), likely turning her into a monster similar to Monster Six and locking her away somewhere until her tumor finally killed her.

Wouldn't it just wrap Ruth/Noone's story up in a positively hideous bow if, once she thought she'd escaped the horrors of her real life, she literally just found herself delivered into the hands of the very same man who traumatized her and got her face plastered all over the telly in the first place, where she basically lives through a metaphor that makes her realize what a terrible mistake she's made before she succumbs to whatever her final fate was (the latter option would mean also into the hands of someone so similar to Otto/The Counselor that the writers were able to use him to foreshadow how his part of her story would end)? 😬😢

If you need more proof, let's look at the TSON cover art…

Looks an awful lot like those bottom two hands are gripping pigtails, doesn't it (in exactly the wrong place for her to be Alone, might I add. Alone's pigtails stick up, Ruth/Noone's hang down)…? The fact they're also specifically covering the area where her bangs would be is pretty suspicious, as well… Now, let's compare her to Spoon Girl's concept art from the LN2 art book…

…Yeah, I think it's her. The face, head, shoulder, and collar shapes are much too similar for this series whose artists very much do not suffer from Same Face nor Same Body Syndrome when characters aren't meant to just be members of a faceless/masked/cloned throng. Hello, Ruth/Noone… R.I.P. 😔

[leafdrake-haven]

Ok so I’ve been low key trying to put together some sort of modern drake deck because I hate winning and I love pain (and drakes). Izzet makes the most sense but today I was playing with Jeskai. Which made me intrigued…. With making a drake typal deck for commander in Jeskai colors xD

Pros to making a Jeskai drake typal commander deck: Can have all the good Izzet drakes plus thunderclap wyvern plus white buff spells.

Cons to making a Jeskai drake typal commander deck: Not a great commander for it, when we INEVITABLY get a drake typal commander (or second one if you count Alandra) it will likely be mono blue or Izzet colors so I would probably have to take it apart for that.

Drakes are relatively cheap tho and I like them (duh) so I might do it ~anyway~

Right now my two top contenders for the deck leader are:

Now Akim. People who play with me are laughing that I’m choosing a commander that cares about and makes tokens xD I think this works really well with drake tokens tho since they’re fairly small, doublestrike is nice. Downside is really only Alandra and Talrand reliably make drake tokens. It’s commander so I could afford probably to add Drake Haven and Roost of Drakes but I don’t know how much discard/cycle and kicker I’d actually be doing. Also that’s still only 4/100 cards reliably or semi-reliably making drake tokens. I could, however, add a lot of creature copy spells in here and make copies of drake creatures and that might help cover for it. Plus many copies of thunderclap wyvern, tideskimmer, or storm skreelix could be very handy.

Dear Narset. I want her strictly for her first line of text and that’s it. Drakes with prowess. That’s the deck. Don’t get me wrong, her second ability would be helpful too but I feel like I’d rarely attack with her just so my drakes could always have prowess.

So yeah. These are my ideas so far. I’m sure there are other potential Jeskai commanders for drakes but in my brief perusal these seemed the best :3

Tagging local Jeskai deck aficionado @connoissuer-of-fine-vines

[yo-yo-yeonkai]

TO MY ANGEL, ARE YOU WATCHING? - HUENING KAI - SFW

Kai x reader

Genre: angst

Warning list: big ANGST! major character death, mentions of depression, if you squint your eyes ideas of suicide, mention of : hospital, blood, sickness, not proof read!

Word count: 1,080

Summary: Kai can’t be with you anymore, those chances had long passed, but can he see you and read those letters you send him?

Authors note: This was inspired by a piece I read recently by @mazeinthemoon called [6:27pm], which I highly recommend!!!

Dear Kai,

I’m not sure if you still look down on me, I haven’t felt your presence in so long, it’s been a bit lonely without you here. The house feels empty now, and it’s not like you ever left your room anyway. You stayed burrowed up in there, so I’d have to come join you if I wanted attention. I hope you knew I loved you, it’s too late to tell you now.

I regret it, not telling you whilst you were here, but I’m sure you already knew. The way you’d text me and tell me to come to your room, only for it to be lit up with fairy lights, a fort made in the middle and once we entered the cosiest bed for us to watch movies on. You brought all my favourite snacks, you let me pick the movies, I think you even tried to hold my hand. I’m sorry I got nervous and pulled away, I should’ve just let you hold it whilst you could. Was that a date? To me it was…

I have a new confession now Kai. I haven’t felt this way in such a long time. I did get better since you left, I promise. I’m not sick anymore, but, today I feel it. I feel the way it used to feel.

I don’t feel excited, suddenly everything I’ve ever loved feels bland. As if I took a picture and put a horribly monochrome filter on. My hobbies, are a dull grey, no longer a sparking silver. It doesn’t light up my days, nor does it make me feel like I’m living.

My voice can’t even raise in tone, I’ve tried, it just stays at a continuous monotone. No more inflections as I get excited, no more shouting as I get angry, no, I’m not even sure I felt anything but bland today. Even my emotions are mono, is this even real right now? My face doesn’t lift in a smile, doesn’t frown with disappointment, I have held a straight face for longer than I’d like. I wish you were here to make me smile… you’d probably make that dumb Pokémon noise you always replicated, I’d always whine but you knew I loved it, that’s why it always came flying out of your mouth the second I had a bad day.

Isn’t it weird that people are alive. Like, I’m living my life and you aren’t, you were stolen from me, ripped away too soon, it’s just not fair. Don’t you think? Sometimes I wish it had been the other way around, but I know that’s not possible.

I’ve been better for awhile, I’ve taken care of myself, even tried to go further than just being alive, I tried to LIVE, but I’m not great at that. Ever since i made that mistake at work, my life has consumed me, everything felt overwhelming. Like I was drowning in all the endless pain I left behind me. It came back for me when I least expected it. Can you protect me from it Kai? Can you be my angel?

Who am I kidding… I don’t want you to spend your afterlife worrying about me as well, do what you want to do, live the best you can up there. I’d cry if you thought about me the way I thought about you. In fact, I hope you forgot about me, it would hurt, but I could take it if I knew you were happy.

I used to say that health was a lie… that’s because i get sick with a click of my fingers. Now I mean that both mentally and physically. Our friends must think I chuck myself down the stairs each morning with how much physical pain I come to school with.

“What’s wrong today?”

How did they know I was in pain? Oh yes, that’s right, I’m always in pain. Can I catch a break please…

“I have a terrible pain in my stomach”

Do you remember that I actually had that pain for months and it got so bad sometimes that I missed days and days of school. You took me to the doctors because I hate them, they took my blood, but there was nothing wrong with me that they could find. So I was on medication for awhile, but it didn’t help so I got taken off it. The pain comes back sometimes. The worst bit is when my lecturers ask why I wasn’t in, and I have to explain it’s been the same pain since last month. They must think I’m a liar, I see it in their eyes. You told me I was being dramatic, but I know I wasn’t…

But when you fell sick I suddenly realised that anything I went through was just a silly bug, a little thing that would go away. You… you were suffering, true pain, true agony. I wish I could’ve done something, even ease your pain, but I couldn’t. You wouldn’t even let me stay in the hospital with you like I had wanted to. You told me “Go home, keep it warm so when I get back I won’t be cold”. You died that evening, when I was making your bed, trying to convince myself you’d be home soon. It was a lie I told myself, I knew you wouldn’t be coming home, but I didn’t think it would be so soon.

Do you know what it’s like to have your heart ripped from your chest? I imagine you felt a similar pain as your life was coming to an end, that’s how I felt when the nurse called me. She had plunged her hand into my heart and tugged it out with ease, as if my heart knew it was about to be crushed. I wish you were here to make that stupid noise once again… maybe then I’d stop feeling sick, but you aren’t.

I promise this feeling won’t continue, I’ll stay strong Kai, I know you’d want me to. I’ll even go on a walk tomorrow, and try walk it off. You always told me I should get out more. But you aren’t one to talk are you….

Perhaps I should stop sending you these letters, but how can I… when I can’t let go of you. The second I stop, is the second you truly die, because you’ll be a forgotten star, and you could never be that to me.

,Forever the dumbass roommate that fell in love with you…

[brighterdaysarebeforeus]

Think this should be the last movie “recap”, haha so at least there’s that? (>.<) also I’d like to point out that the next part will (finally) be original content, and that it will essentially be rendered “Canon Divergence” once Beyond the SpiderVerse comes out (take that, Miguel). Enjoy!!

Tag list:

@hobiesgender @hadesdaughter2002 @lirulua

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Miles could have cried when he crash landed in his room. It was dark, and (he hoped) the same night as when he left? Fingers crossed at least, though Miles was kind of counting on Spider-Man luck to kick in right around now. Which, incidentally, it did due to the fact that his mom was heading towards his room currently, already lecturing him for making too much noise, and Miles was in full Spider Suit. Granted, no mask, but that wasn’t the point — he wasn’t ready to reveal himself like that, and the suit was plenty familiar even without the mask. He panicked, and just as his mom threw the door open, Miles had jammed himself into sweats and a winter jacket he’d found hanging off his bed post.

He’d gotten so excited recounting everything to his mom, being as vague as possible while still trying to show her he listened to what she’d told him, before. Río looked confused, frozen in the doorway to his room while Miles rambled on and on without giving her a second to process. Something pinged as off, as wrong, but Miles was too worked up to focus on what it was.

With a deep breath and the straightest shoulders he’d ever had in front of his mamí, Miles looked her in her bright green eyes and said, “Mom…I’m Spider-Man.” He pulled his jacket open as proof, showing off his Spider Suit, and there was silence between the two of them. Miles was breathing hard from the intensity of the rant he’d gone on, his eyes darting around the room when his mother continued to stare at him.

The silence was…actually dragging on longer than he’d expected, when he’d imagined telling his mamí before.

Actually, the more he looked around, the more his room looked off. His collection of monos, the one he nearly died of embarrassment a day or two ago (or three? He wasn’t sure how long he’d been gone in his universe) from having Gwen see them were gone. There wasn’t as much artwork in his walls, and his blanket was a different color. He’d been about to ask Río if his parents had started redecorating when his mom finally spoke.

“Ohhhh, this is like your little Comic-Con thing, right?” She asked, speaking over Miles now as she started picking things up off the floor of his room. Miles was stammering over her now, his senses somehow pinging even more, and his mom continued on. “Where you dress as your…favorite character, right? You really had me going there, for a moment.”

“Wait, Mom — ” Miles tried to run after her when she stepped out again, and spasmed in the worst way possible. Dropping to his knees, he barely even heard Río as she admonished him from the kitchen now; Miles was staring at his hands in horror, watching as everything settled into normal again. His senses were going haywire now, both his Spidey senses and his alpha ones as the danger he was in sank in.

He hadn’t made it home. He was in the wrong universe. Worse than that, he was in the wrong universe without a watch and without a way to get home. Where exactly was he? He wasn’t entirely sure yet. Río was still talking in the kitchen, but Miles had tuned her out in his panic. Things started shifting in his mind, like how the house looked similar but smelled completely weird, no alpha scent from his dad or omega scent from his mom. How his room looked different — had his mom had green eyes? Just now? He could’ve sworn they were brown, before, back at home —

Then the door opened and Miles lost his breath completely. He barely heard what his Uncle Aaron said to him when he came in, barely remembered replying to it. Automatically, he slammed into his uncle and wrapped him up in as tight of a hug as he could manage without breaking the man’s back. His Uncle Aaron didn’t push him off, exactly, but he didn’t really return the hug either. Miles backed off, laughing nervously, and reminded himself that he was in the wrong universe.

Uncle Aaron and Río talked in the kitchen for a bit, and then he took Miles…up to the roof? Miles thought his mamí had said something about the groceries, but he wasn’t familiar enough with this universe to contest anything. Plus, Uncle Aaron was talking about plans and getting into position, and Miles had no idea what was happening.

He barely stopped himself from gasping out loud when he saw how run down and just dark the city was, and couldn’t stop the noise when he turned and saw the giant mural for his father, almost exactly like the one he’d painted in that exact spot for Uncle Aaron, with the same message splashed across the side of it in familiar writing. His senses were screaming at him now, and his Uncle Aaron wasn’t exactly helping the situation by standing in silence next to him.

Actually…

He was just sort of standing there. Staring at Miles, his face set and hard in a way Miles had only seen once before, when he’d snuck into his uncle’s house after the first encounter with the Prowler and it turned out to be Uncle Aaron. The shadows on his face were eerie, and Miles had turned to him just in time to get whacked in the back of the head.

When he came to again, he was tied to a familiar punching bag. Not only that, the way he was tied was familiar, mostly; the chains were a weird addition, but he remembered clearly when he’d tied Peter B to this exact punching bag. He’d used the same exercise gear, after all, and the same room, and…

Well. Maybe not the same, exactly, but it was close enough. Right?

Either way, Miles tried to run interference, tried to appeal to his uncle’s better nature and (hopefully) an unwillingness to harm someone wearing his nephew’s face. He even tried to send out a calming scent, like his uncle used to do for him when he was particularly overwhelmed. It didn’t work with him, mostly because his uncle had actually been an omega and Miles wasn’t, and calming scents were usually an omega thing while alphas had to rely a bit more on physical touch, but that wasn’t the point! The point was, he’d made an attempt! Something familiar-ish, in a familiar-ish world, or at least that’s how Miles thought to look at it.

It didn’t work.

Miles felt his breath catch as the gauntlet just barely missed his head. The bag rocked violently, taking him with it, and Miles let out a trembling breath as it sunk in now; he had no way out of this. No one to watch his back, nobody even knew where he went. Not only that, it didn’t seem like his scent was doing anything to calm his uncle down. It smelled off here, too, honestly; the same sterile smell that had permeated his house, not the sort of cool scent that normally lingered in the air around here. It made his nose twitch, honestly, felt off. Made his own scent more potent, at least to him, panic and fear starting to sour it even as Miles tried to keep calm.

When the actual Prowler revealed himself, not his uncle like Miles had thought but the alternate version of himself, Miles tried to appeal to his better nature as well. Who would know better how to handle him but himself? But this Miles was different from him, clearly had different priorities, and Miles was almost at a loss for what to do.

“Here’s lesson number one, kid — don’t watch the mouth, watch the hands.”

God, Miles was tired. And drained. He sort of wanted to lay down and take a nap, because it had been a very long day (very long…couple of days…?) and, honestly, the thought of having to fight off his Uncle Aaron and Prowler!Miles Morales and still find a way to safety…it just seemed like a lot. A lot that he didn’t really want to do right at this particular moment, if only because he’d just finished fighting off an entire Spider Society and he hasn’t even had a chance to take a breather for anything.

But he was still Spider-Man, despite what Miguel said. Not the “One And Only Spider-Man”, maybe, but Spider-Man nonetheless. And like Gwen and Peter B and Noir had all said before, it was up to Spider-Man to keep getting back up, no matter how many times he was hit.

Keeping eye contact with his alternate self, Miles swept his finger along the chain links by his hands, generating a very small amount of power in his fingertips.

[jimblejamblewritings]

the imprint or the blood singer | part 7.

Summary: Y/N Black. All about La Push. Shy girl unless you get to know her. Not one to make friends easily despite the fact that she very well could. Friends with her brother’s friends until one Bella Swan comes back to town.

Warnings for the Series: light violence, light smut

Pairing: Edward Cullen x reader, Embry Call x reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist) 

It was the fourth day Embry hadn’t shown up for art class. Or eaten lunch with you guys. Or answered your texts. You weren’t sure what the problem was. When you went over, Ms. Call told you she was worried too but a visit from your father assured her that it was just mono. However, she warned you to get tested just in case he passed it to you.

Ms. Call was going to her book club but agreed that you could come over to give Embry some soup. You were worried about your friend, boyfriend. You used the spare key to let yourself in.

If Embry was as sick as the mono was making him out to be, you didn’t want him to get up just to answer the door. You set down the soup in the kitchen, confused when you heard laughter and noise. How loud did Embry have the television?

It wasn’t the TV you saw when you entered the living room. It was four shirtless men with short hair, laughing at something. One of them being Embry.

“So much for the mono. You roll with Sam Uley now? Think it’s cool to ditch classes now?”

All of them looked up at you, clearly not expecting anyone to be there.

“(Y/N)?” Embry asked. He made a move to stand up but one of the guys, you recognized as Paul, grabbed his arm.

“And you have a tattoo?” You looked at the arm that Paul grabbed.

“And I thought I was being a good girlfriend bringing you soup and everything. I knew I should’ve stayed away like Dad asked.”

“I thought you said she was chill,” Jared piped up.

Embry knew you were offended at that and Sam gave Jared a look to shut up.

“She is, let me talk to her.”

Paul let go of Embry.

“(Y/N/N)…” Embry stopped as he looked you in the eye.

The other boys grumbled.

“Of course everything works out in his favor,” Paul muttered.

“Embry?”

He quickly snapped out of his thoughts and strolled over to you.

“I really was sick a couple days ago. I’ll explain it soon, Sam’s been helping me.”

You looked at Sam and back to Embry. Something made you feel safe with him. He must’ve been telling the truth, you could feel the increased body temperature. He was probably still fighting off whatever it was.

“It’s like Edward,” you whispered.

“Edward?”

At the mention of a Cullen name, Embry started to shake slightly. He had forgotten they were your friends. The thought of any of them near you made him sick. He only calmed down when Sam abruptly called out his name. Embry centered himself back on you.

“He had some secrets,” you tried to phrase it in a way to keep your friend’s secret. “Weird things I had to accept on a strictly need-to-know basis… is this a need-to-know, Em?”

“Yeah, need-to-know. And I promise you’ll know all soon, once I’m better.” Embry kissed you on the cheek. “Go home now, (Y/N/N).”

“You’re sick and you still kiss me? Your mother was right, I’m gonna need a mono test.”

All the boys laughed. Embry went to kiss your other cheek, you tried and failed to avoid him.

~~

“Quil keeps asking about you. I think he likes you, Bells.” Jacob was putting the finishing touches on the motorcycles.

“Quil’s not exactly my type,” Bella said.

You caught the side eye she gave Jacob and the small smile on Jake’s face. You were wondering when one of them was going to step up to the plate and ask the other out. Jacob tested the motorcycles and once he was satisfied, started loading them up in the back of Bella’s truck. You slid into the back seat so the two of them could talk up front.

“What would you have said if I told you I couldn’t fix the bikes?”

“Hmm?”

“I just… maybe if I was smart I would’ve dragged out the project.”

“I would’ve just found something else for us to do,” Bella said, matter-of-factly. “Besides, I think (Y/N) would like her car finished.”

“Um, yes, (Y/N) would,” you said from the back.

“Is that Sam Uley?” Bella asked as she drove along the bridge.

Jacob scoffed. “Yeah. Him and his cult.”

Bella stopped the truck abruptly, almost making you slam into the back of Jacob’s seat. “Oh my God! Did you see that?”

You and Jacob started laughing.

“They’re not fighting, Bella,” Jacob explained. “They’re cliff-diving. It’s scary as hell but a total rush. Most of us jump from the lower cliffs. Leave the showing off to Sam and his disciples.”

“Is there some kind of beef with them or something?”

“Not really, they just think they run this place. Embry used to call them hall monitors on steroids and now look at him.”

You felt bad. Embry still didn’t hang around Jacob, never came to your house anymore. You only got calls and texts from him. It made you feel like you were in some period piece, only able to communicate through letters. Like no one was yet allowed to know of your secret affair.

You figured he was still in the need-to-know stage so you dropped it and agreed not to tell Jacob you were still with him. But you didn’t like seeing your brother hurt at the thought of losing his friend.

“That’s Embry? What happened to him?” Bella asked.

“Missed some school, all of a sudden we see him following around Sam like a lost puppy. Same thing with Paul and Jared. And Sam keeps giving me these looks…like he’s waiting for me or something.”

You looked at your brother confused. He didn’t tell you that Sam was watching him. You might’ve been on a need-to-know with Embry but you still didn’t like Sam.

“Well, just try to avoid them if you can.”

“I try.”

The three of you piled back into the truck and kept driving to an empty stretch of road. Jacob easily lifted the motorcycles out the truck. If you didn’t spend so much time with him, you would think Bella’s jokes about Jake being on steroids were true. You stood in the bed of Bella’s truck and watched as Jacob explained the motorcycle to her.

You cheered hard for your friend until she gained a little too much speed and flew off the bike, hitting a rock. You quickly jumped out of the truck and ran with Jacob to check on her. Jacob took off his shirt and began gently dabbing at the blood on her forehead.

“What are you looking at?”

“You’re kind of beautiful,” Bella said without much thought.

“How hard did you hit your head?”

“Hey Jake,” you started. “No more death contraptions.”

~~

You and Jacob pulled up outside of the theater in your newly fixed up vintage Volkswagen Beetle, meeting Mike and Bella. Bella invited Jake who asked if you could come. You invited Embry who turned it down when he discovered it wouldn’t just be the two of you. Bella was glad to have you along as a distraction for Mike once she found out all the others couldn’t come: Jessica bailed, Angela was sick so Eric was taking care of her.

“So Face Punch?” You asked, looking at the ticket.

“It’s supposed to be really good.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Mike,” you said unconvinced. “Let’s get popcorn.”

The movie was awful and after countless UFC Nights at Embry’s, the fighting wasn’t even that good. The only good thing that seemed to come from it was Bella leaning her head on Jacob’s shoulder. The movie had maybe thirty minutes left when Mike suddenly got up claiming he was going to throw up. The three of you looked at each other before getting up to check on him.

“What a marshmallow,” Jacob laughed as you guys headed to the stairs to wait for Mike.

“(Y/N), hold out for someone with a better stomach. A man who laughs at the gore instead of vomits.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Jake. But Mike wasn’t looking at me.”

At your words, you watched Bella slip her hand into Jacob’s. Mike finally met you guys.

“Well I need to go home, I’m feeling a bit sick… what’s your problem man?”

Mike confronted Jake who was chuckling under his breath. Something about Mike’s tone set Jacob off and you knew it. Normally he would brush something like that off but his face changed.

“Now? You’re my problem. You feel sick, need to go to the hospital? Maybe I should put you in the hospital.” Jacob stood up.

Bella quickly put herself in between the two of them. “Jake, Jake the movie’s over. Woah, Jake you’re really hot like burning up.”

Jacob looked like he was suddenly aware of where he was.

“I don’t know what’s happening…I’ll see you later Bella, come on (Y/N), let’s go home.”

Jacob pulled you by the hand and Bella was right. He was burning up, just like Embry.

Billy told you it was mono, the same type Embry had. The same type you figured out Paul had. And Jared and Sam. You told that same story whenever you hung out at Bella’s house telling her it was mono. You never hung out at your garage anymore, the boys— who had opened up more to you— asked you not to in case she saw Jacob. You were in the living room when Jacob handed you the pair of scissors to cut his hair and  when he got a tattoo. You watched how Jacob pushed everyone away and felt grateful that whatever had you in with Sam’s gang, kept your brother attached to you.

(Part 8)...

[ask-team-misfit]

( @sweetdreamscafe ) Bubblegum @ Pikavee: “You mentioned having a trainer, correct? Could you tell us a bit more about him? If we know more about how he looks and acts, it’ll be easier for us to know if we’ve seen him or look out for him in the future, and then, if we do see him, we could help get you back to him.”

[ @sweetdreamscafe ]

[ ID: A grayscale drawing of Fenninkou, a hybrid of Fennekin and Litten, with a mono-color background. She is shown from the neck up, with her face slightly angled away from the viewer towards the left. She looks especially cheerful, her eyes closed with a wide grin that shows her pointed teeth. End ID ]

Fenninkou: “Ooh, good idea! Knowing that would help a lot in the search! Right, big lady?”

Pikavee smiled a little, looking more relaxed already. She focused on Bubblegum.

[ ID: A grayscale drawing of Pikavee, a hybrid of Espeon and Umbreon, shown from the neck up, oriented similarly to the previous image. Her expression is rather casual. A meek, shy smile is present on her face. Her ears are upright. End ID ]

Pikavee: “That makes sense. I would be happy to tell you more about my human.”

Lief: “Oh boy… count me out on this one. Nope.”

Lief would turn his back as Pikavee proceeded to explain.

Pikavee: “For how he looks, he’s a man with tan skin and long black hair. He usually has a light stubble on his chin. Oh, and he has brown eyes. Or hazel? And his clothes… I’m not sure what he wears underneath, but he loves having that lab coat on.”

As she described this and more to Bubblegum, her usually still tails began to move and slowly sweep to and fro. She was content just picturing him going about his work.

Pikavee: “He’s a researcher. Or, used to be one? But he knows a lot of things about Pokemon. It’s thanks to him that I know some things about myself.”

[ ID: A grayscale drawing of Pikavee similar to the previous image, but with a different expression. She has a light smile. Her eyes are closed, with a subtle blush present on her cheeks, shown in color. Her ears are upright. End ID ]

Pikavee: “He’s really, really nice. And kind… maybe a bit goofy sometimes, but I don’t mind.”

Fenninkou: “Ooh, a researcher? He sounds a bit like Mr. Livingston. But Mr. Livingston is a historian.”

Pikavee: “Really?”

Fenninkou: “Oh, yeah. Mr. Livingston knows a lot of things.”

[ to be continued... ]

[amethystunarmed]

Entangle

Relationships: Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson, Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson & Corroded Coffin

Warnings: Referenced Child Abuse, Period-Typical Racism

Word Count:   4,789

AO3 Link

~~~

Summary: "Looks like you could use some company."

Harrington sighs as he looks over Eddie with resigned eyes. “I’m still on concussion protocols. If you’re trying to get in a fight, pick a different jock to fuck with. I’m pretty sure another hit to the head will just straight up kill me at this point.”

Or

Eddie looks at Steve Harrington sitting all alone after his fight with Billy Hargrove and sees a lost sheep to add to his flock. So, much to the rest of the Hellfire Club's horror, he makes Steve an offer.

~~~

Entangle

Components: V S

Duration: Up to 1 minute

Range: 90 feet

Grasping weeds and vines sprout from the ground in a 20-foot square starting from a point within range. For the duration, these plants turn the ground in the area into difficult terrain. A creature in the area when you cast the spell must succeed on a Strength saving throw or be restrained by the entangling plants until the spell ends.

~~~

Following November 5th, 1984, Steve Harrington missed an entire week of school. There were plenty of theories as to why: an epic bender in Indianapolis, a mental breakdown following the loss of both his high school crown and his girlfriend, a rough bout of mono after making out with Carol Perkins as revenge against Tommy H. As the school’s resident drug dealer, Eddie heard all of it. The popular kids tended to forget Eddie had ears when they came to buy from him. As a result, Eddie had learned that freshman Abigail Evans was pregnant, quarterback Mike Hampel was doping before state, and no one knew exactly what happened to Steve Harrington.

Billy Hargrove was involved somehow; the guy smirked with malicious glee whenever Steve’s name was mentioned. When picking up their usual weed order, Billy had bragged about their fight to Tommy H. “Put the bitch in his place, went down easy despite all that posturing. You’ll see, if he dares show his face here again.”

Given the black eye he had and the new curve to his nose, Eddie figured he was exaggerating the one-sidedness of the fight. Despite all the shakiness to his reign, King Steve would be back with his cavalier attitude and cocky smile and Hawkins High would hear all about how Steve handed Billy his ass on a silver platter.

Eddie was fucking wrong.

Even a week out from their supposed fight, Steve looked like shit. Both Steve’s eyes were blackened, dark enough to make the one Billy was sporting look like a love tap. Lighter, yellowy-green bruises smudged down his cheekbones to his jaw line, and both his lips were swollen. His nose was puffy too, and there were dark glue patches around the bridge and nostrils where bandages had once been. It must have hurt too badly to scrub it all off.

The darkest bruise was at his left temple. Instead of the rounded marks left from Billy’s fists, this one was a curved, near-black line, like Billy had hit him with the edge of something, hard. Small cuts burst around it, like falling confetti down Steve’s skin. 

Despite how fucked up his face was, it was the state of his hair that gave Eddie the biggest shock. It fell limp and greasy around his face, like even washing it had been too much effort. This from the guy who brought his own miniature bottles of shampoo to the gym showers, which no one even bothered to tease him for, because it fucking worked. Steve “The Hair” Harrington’s iconic locks were an oily unkempt disaster, and that was what made Eddie realize exactly how far the former King of Hawkins High had fallen.

It seemed like the rest of the student body had also picked up on the atmospheric pressure change left by Steve’s rapid descent. The cheerleaders who once fawned for his affections began avoiding his gaze in the hall. Members of the basketball and swim teams who once looked to him for guidance shoulder-checked him in the hall. Even Nancy Wheeler, the once doting girlfriend, had taken to openly leaving with Jonathan Byers after school. The trio was cordial between classes, even waved to each other with seemingly genuine smiles. But still, Steve took one look at Nancy and Johnathan holding hands across the table at lunch and decided to sit alone. Eddie didn’t blame him. 

It all built to one, seemingly impossible fact, something that Eddie wouldn’t have deigned possible even a month ago.

At this rate, Steve Harrington would end his senior year at Hawkins High completely and utterly alone. 

And that was when Eddie got a very dumb idea.

~~~

“Think he’d come and sit with us?” 

Jeff’s head snaps to him, then follows his gaze to where Steve has a lunch table all to himself. “Are you high?” he nearly shrieks and Eddie has to lunge across their seats to clamp a hand over his mouth when people start staring.

“If you want me to get held back again, there are easier ways to do it than screaming to the entire cafeteria that I am on drugs!” he hisses, and at least Jeff has the gall to look sheepish.

“Sorry, sorry... It’s just that... You want King Steve... to come sit with us?” Eddie tries to shush him, but unfortunately all of his fucking friends are eavesdropping little shits.

“Eddie, please tell me you have had a Mountain Dew induced breakdown, and are going to wake up tomorrow and instantly slap yourself for even considering this course of action?” Grant spits, caustic in that way he only is when he’s anxious. Eddie shoots him a reassuring smile.

“‘Fraid not buddy,” he chuckles, “I’ve been thinking about this for a few days now.” 

“Days!” Grant and Jeff shout and Eddie literally cannot believe these are the people he chooses to hang out with. 

“Yes, days, as in a multitude of twenty-four hour periods.” He rolls his eyes. “It really isn’t that big of a deal.” Both Jeff and Grant have words to say about that, both of them breathing in deeply for what will surely become an incredibly irate chorus. However, an anxious rat-tat-tap-thump-thud interrupts them, and they both turn to Corroded Coffin’s newest member.

Gareth is a talented drummer, a freshman Eddie had literally collected off the floor of the men’s room. He is unfortunately still small and awkward enough that his nervous expression still melts Eddie’s heart. Just a little bit. 

“Eddie... It’s Steve Harrington,” Gareth insists, like he thinks Eddie has forgotten just who he is threatening to bring into their lunchtime sanctuary. He may not have been in school during King Steve’s heyday, but he still heard the stories, knew enough to be afraid. He is still tapping out a rapid quick beat with his fingers, always a violent ball of rhythmic energy. Despite himself, Eddie softens; he reaches out and aggressively ruffles Gareth's already messy hair.

“You’re looking at it all wrong, guys. Think about it. I go up to Steve, and he rejects us, we lose nothing. But if he accepts? That is literal proof of the Munson Doctrine. Steve Harrington, going from high school royalty to a member of the freaks? It means that none of them are safe. And they’ll look at us, every day, and have to remember that.” Eddie can tell they're starting to buy into it, so he brings out the big guns. “See the bigger picture, boys! Steve was the former king of Hawkins High! Even after getting his ass beat by Hargrove, none of the jocks fuck with him. It’s solidarity or some shit. Don't you think it'd be nice to have some of that protection for ourselves?”

They're looking at him, and the doubt is still present, but there's hope there too.

"If you really think this is a good idea..." Jeff begins slowly, and Eddie latches onto it.

“Of course I do!” he lies, because this is fucking unprecedented and he has no idea what he's doing. The next part, however, he means with all his heart. "I am not going to let you guys get hurt." If Steve ends up being a dick, Eddie will glad jump up on the table and tell all of Hawkins what a fucking douchebag he is. But... He really, really thinks this could work.

Jeff sighs again, but nods. Gareth's tapping gets louder, but he doesn't say anything against it. Grant just rolls his eyes. “If he punches you, I'm not saving your ass,” he grumbles.

“Wouldn't ask you too!” Eddie cheerfully replies, and gets up from his chair with a flourish. “Wish me luck boys!” He ignores Grant’s mutterings about how Eddie is going to get himself killed and walks over to the near empty table where King Steve has decided to host his solitary court.

Even with the bruises and the swelling, Harrington is still pretty. Eddie knows he shouldn’t, but he always has stared at pretty boys longer than he should have, even absolute douchebags like Steven Harrington. He would never, ever act on his private queer fantasies, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t have eyes . He’s seen the smile, the tiny basketball shorts, the hair. Steve has finally managed to style his hair into an approximation of its usual glory. It’s softer than usual, gentle waves that perfectly frame the cuts on his temple. Usually, the extra primping would make Eddie infuriated, but right now it just makes Steve look like an abused cocker spaniel, and it's so pathetic he can't even bother.

The thing is, Eddie had meant all those things he said to the rest of the Hellfire Club. Adding Steve to the group would shake up the social ladder at Hawkins High. His reputation, no matter how tattered, would give them a much needed boost up the social ladder, even if it only lasted to the end of the year.

But that isn't why Eddie decided to talk to Steve Harrington. 

It's because the way Steve's sitting reminds him of Grant. Grant, who had also been alone at his table, curled around his food tray like he thought someone would once again steal it and dump it in the trash cans lining the hall to the door. The bullies had snorted at him, telling him to eat from a trough like a good little pig.

It's because the way Steve breathes reminds him of Gareth. Gareth, who Eddie had found soaking wet on the floor of the men's bathroom gulping for breath because he couldn't convince his lungs his head was no longer being held underwater. He still can't pass by the door without getting a nervous hitch in his breath.

It's because the look in Steve's eye reminds him of Jeff. Jeff who takes every awful word spat at him in the halls with a blank indifference in his eyes, like this is the way things have always been and will always be. Eddie has taken to punching loud mouth racists, just so Jeff knows at least someone hears what they're saying and cares. It means he's gotten detention more this year than the past four years of school combined, but the shocked gratitude on Jeff's face makes it totally worth it.

(It's because Steve's face reminds Eddie of looking in the mirror when he was eleven years old. Little Eddie Munson, who had a starburst of scratches around the bruise to his temple, where his dad had smashed a glass over his head and finally failed as a father in the eyes of the government. Eddie remembers tracing each scratch with dedicated precision, and wondered when Uncle Wayne would also give him marks to show the rest of the world just how hated Eddie Munson was.)

Steve Harrington reminded him of every little lost sheep he'd collected since starting Corroded Coffin, since founding the Hellfire Club. So Eddie knows his voice is just a little too sincere when he says: "Looks like you could use some company."

Harrington sighs as he looks over Eddie with resigned eyes. “I’m still on concussion protocols. If you’re trying to get in a fight, pick a different jock to fuck with. I’m pretty sure another hit to the head will just straight up kill me at this point.”

Of all the responses Eddie thought he’d get, he can’t say this was one of them. He mentally pinwheels for a second, before deciding to do what he originally planned: ignore all the protests Steve gives and show him a kingdom that will grant him asylum. He pulls one of the chairs out from the table and turns it around, so he can lean on its back as he and Steve talk.

“I bring no challenge to you today, fair sir.” Eddie uses his most over the top Noble voice, the one that made Gareth snort Pepsi all over his character sheet during his first session. He doesn’t get a smile from Harrington, but he also doesn’t tell him to fuck off, so this is already going better than Eddie planned. “The great Hellfire guild in fact wishes to extend an olive branch. A gesture of good will, you could say.”

Steve squints at him like he is trying to decipher a foreign language. “Hellfire... that’s the D&D club, right?”

“Oh?” Eddie genuinely hadn’t expected he would know who they were. Somehow, Harrington keeps managing to surprise him. “The Steve Harrington has heard of us? The king bothers to keep track of his subjects' favorite punching bags?” It’s hard to tell under all the injuries, but he thinks Steve goes a little pink in his cheeks, and Eddie considers that a win. He also doesn’t try to defend himself, which is another point in his favor in Eddie’s book.

“It’s a little hard to miss your posters. You have a rather distinctive logo.” He gestures to the demon on Eddie's shirt. “My kids play D&D, it's why I noticed it, not 'cuz of the punching bag... thing. I am sorry. About that." Steve stumbles over his words, like this is a conversation he has never considered having, but one he desperately wants to get right. "They’re really shitty to you guys.” And Eddie can’t even register the actual apology Harrington is giving him, because he is still reeling from the phrase ‘my kids.’ His face must be going on some sort of unprecedented emotional journey, because Steve is quick to add. “The kids I babysit, I mean.”

“You're a babysitter?” Eddie can’t keep the judgment from his voice. He doesn’t know what parent would dare leave their child with someone who is best known for his kegstand record.

“It's a relatively... New gig,” Steve admits. “They're the reason why I got in the fight with Billy in the first place.”

“I thought you got in the fight with Billy because he fucking hates you.”

“Yeah, that definitely didn't help? But Billy showed up looking for his sister and when he saw her with Lucas Sinclair...”

“The racist piece of shit lost his goddamn mind.” Eddie knows intimately where Billy Hargrove's biases lie. Hellfire has taken to forming a protective ring around Jeff when they walk to class, just to try and keep him out of Billy's line of sight. 

Steve sighs. “I assume he isn't including that part of the story when he tells it?”

“Can't say he does.” 

A small little smirk appears on Steve's face, the first time he's smiled since Eddie walked over. Maybe for the first time since he's come back to school.

“I'm assuming he also left out the part where he nearly pissed himself after his little sister threatened his balls with a baseball bat?"

“Shut the fuck up, that did not happen!” Steve’s grin widens, and Eddie can’t help but return it. “Harrington, if you're pulling my leg-”

“I swear to god, dude!” 

“Oh my god, I wish I could have seen it!” He is laughing harder than he has in ages, picturing Billy’s bug-eyed look of terror as a little girl threatens to castrate him

“Me too. Apparently his expression was priceless.” At Eddie's puzzled expression, he continues. “I was unconscious, the kids told me all about it though.”

“You were unconscious?!” Eddie had seen plenty of fights, but most of them were schoolyard scrapes, where the loser scuttled off with his tail between his legs. He thought knockout punches were something that only existed in action movies and boxing matches. 

“Yeah man.” Harrington gestures to the cuts on his face. "He smashed a plate over my head." Eddie hates that he can guess exactly how much that hurt, but luckily Steve misses his flinch. "Hit me a bunch after that too, but it's all kind of blurry."

“Jesus fucking Christ!” With the bruises on his face, it is all too easy to imagine; Steve, unconscious on the ground, Billy Hargrove above him with bloody knuckles, same sick smile on his face from when he was describing the fight. “It sounds like he was trying to kill you!”

Steve blanches at that, like no one has said the words out loud to him before. Like he’s never even considered the possibility. Maybe Eddie should try and comfort him but he has no goddamn idea what you say to the guy who was a victim of attempted murder and apparently didn’t even realize it. He decides to change the subject instead.

"What did the police say?" Eddie doesn’t know how trials tend to go, but he figures that the accused don’t usually just get to attend high school like nothing happened. Eddie wonders how Billy managed to swing it.

"What?” Steve blinks at him, looking absolutely bewildered. “Why would I call the police?" 

And, on one hand, Eddie gets it. He has a trailer full of drugs and a reputation for demonic rituals and car theft. The cops are just as likely to shoot him as they are to actually arrest any of the assholes harassing him. Calling them wouldn’t be his first thought either. But on the other, more important hand, Steve Harrington, darling of Hawkins High and jewel of Loch Nora, has none of that to worry about. The police would probably actually help him. The Chief has let Eddie off on multiple possession charges, with a shake of his head and a warning to get his act together. Surely, he would actually help Steve after something like this. 

“I know Hopper seems like a hardass-” Eddie begins, but Steve cuts him off.

“I know, man. I spoke to him. He even offered to arrest the guy, but I’m not pressing charges.”

He sounds so dismissive that Eddie feels the need to shake him. Probably would have if he wasn't afraid of giving the guy permanent brain damage.

“Steve, he tried to kill you.”

Steve waves his hand, like he is trying to dispel Eddie’s very concern from the air.

“It’s not worth it. My parents would kill me themselves if they had to deal with a trial. It was bad enough when they learned about the concussion.”

“Your parents were... Mad at you. For having a concussion.” Eddie is getting a picture of the Harringtons in his head, and they are beginning to look frighteningly similar to his old man.

Steve laughs. It's a bitter sound, so different from even cruel King Steve's mirth while his loyal hounds Carol and Tommy were tearing some poor freak apart. No, this laugh was something he'd heard from Uncle Wayne's friends. It reminded him of when they talked about 'Nam, about coming home after. It was the laugh of someone who wished they could still be as naïve as you were.

“Nah, man. If it was just the concussion, they wouldn't even have bothered to call.” And his face is so goddamn serious, Eddie believes him.

Eddie feels pinned like a butterfly. He meant to come over to corner Steve, cajole him into taking the best offer possible. He thought it'd be an easy sell to a washed up jock. He wanted to help, yes, but he's seen Steve aimlessly walking from class to class. Drifting through high school like a balloon some toddler had been careless enough to release. He had thought this sharpness had been burnt out of him. Eddie swallows, but can't look away. Steve grins at him, like he is oh so polite for spelling this all out.

"What the concussion means though, that's a whole 'nother story. I wasn't kidding, you know, when I said another hit to the head might kill me. Between the one I got last year and the severity of this one, even a bad fall could give me permanent brain damage. Which means basketball is out of the question. Which means the scholarship I lined up is also out of the question. And though Boston University is 'Very sorry to hear about what I've been going through', they no longer think I'm Eagles material. I was surprised my dad didn't pop me one right there and put me out of my misery."

Eddie doesn't know why Steve is telling this. Steve has been the subject of more than one of his table rants, and while Steve never did anything in retaliation but laugh, he must know just how low Eddie's opinion of him was before today. So he has no idea why he is the object of this tight stream of vitriol, why he is on the receiving end of the pressure value overloading.

Steve scoffs. “I... It doesn't matter anyways. It's not like there's still any reason to go." He glances over, almost magnetically, to where Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers are pouring over a chemistry textbook, close as matching puzzle pieces.

And Eddie realizes he's hearing this because Steve has no one else to say it too. 

Fuck, does anyone else even know?

Jesus.

And Eddie... Eddie has no idea what to say back to him.

Eddie is rarely a fighter. He has spent so much of his life running from bullies that getting the hell out of dodge is as instinctive to him as breathing. But Eddie has learned that certain things take him out of his body. Possess him with this roiling, unending rage that fills every inch of him, until he can barely recognize the person under his skin. 

The utter filth certain kids spat at Jeff when they passed in the halls. The god awful comments Andy had made about Chrissy Cunningham after seeing her cheer routine in the middle school talent show. The first and only time Uncle Wayne had approached Eddie from behind once he had come to live with him, and Eddie had thrashed and spit like a feral cat, had fought and clawed Wayne so deeply there were still nail marks in his uncle’s forearm because Eddie refused to let anyone hurt him ever again-

Eddie feels that way now. Like if Hargrove or Tommy H. or any basketball team asshole came up to the table and said shit to Steve he would utterly lose his shit and fly across the table in a red hot rage, because Steve Harrington had been decent for once in his life and this was the thanks he had gotten for it. 

As the silence drags on, that intenseness flees Steve, leaving him that sad, lonely sheep that Eddie had wanted to talk to in the first place.

“I’m.. sorry,” Steve sighs. His cheeks carry a bit of that cherry red, but the misery that radiates off him brings Eddie none of the joy he had deprived from their earlier teasing. “That was... A lot, honestly, and I shouldn’t have-”

“So what you’re saying-” Eddie interrupts, speaking over Steve with a calm deliberation. He doesn’t want to fuck this up, wants to get this right with a desperation he is not yet willing to name. “-is that you are free during weekdays after school now?’

Steve looks at Eddie like he just told him the sky was green and Billy Hargrove was looking to apologize.

“I mean, I guess?” 

“Then you can come to the next Hellfire meeting on Thursday?”

“You’re... inviting me to a Dungeons and Dragons club meeting? Like an actual session.”

Eddie shrugs, like he hasn’t once pontificated outside the theater about the sacred nature of their sessions and banned any observers from setting foot inside while they’re playing. “I suppose I am.” 

“You know having me around is gonna make people fuck with you, right? I’m not some cool trophy you can win.”

“Steve. It’s Dungeons and Dragons. None of us are exactly looking to win Prom King,” Eddie rolls his eyes at the very thought, before remembering Steve was the shoo-in candidate before Billy supplanted him. He winces, but Steve just chuckles.

“Guess I fit right in then.” He hesitates a little, before adding. “I’m warning you, I've tried before, I’m not good at the math. I can’t keep all of the stats straight. The kids tried to help me make a character while I was in the hospital but... It was pretty hopeless.”

“Then you had a bad DM,” Eddie shrugs. “It’s my job to make sure you understand the rules and how to play. Otherwise, the club is likely to kick me to the curb.” Steve still doesn’t look convinced, so Eddie tries another tactic. “And you can always watch if you don’t like it, dude.” He raises an eyebrow at Steve. “Don’t tell me you're scared?”

“Oh, go fuck yourself.”

“No, really, I get it. If pretending to fight monsters is just too much for Steve Harrington, who am I to try and change fate.”

“You’re fucking ridiculous.”

“Prove me wrong, then.”

Steve stares nervously at the rest of Hellfire. Eddie follows his gaze and resists the urge to slam his head against the table. He’s pretty sure the only way it would be more obvious they were eavesdropping would be if one of them was holding a sign announcing the fact. Jeff is eagerly reading an upside down history textbook, Gareth is honest-to-god whistling, and Grant is not even bothering to act uninterested, just glaring straight at Steve like he could ignite him with a fireball if he tried hard enough.

"I swear they're nice?" Eddie tries.

Steve snorts. "Pretty sure they're better than any of the assholes I used to hang out with." This is true but Eddie is polite enough not to comment on it. 

Steve's eyes drift over their table and lock onto the Dungeons and Dragons manual Eddie left open in front of his lunch. Somehow he manages to get paler, throwing his bruises into sickeningly sharp contrast. “Seriously, I may not be the best fit for this. With my- with my head and shit, it can be hard to- like, I've been trying to my assignments, and stuff, seriously, but-”

And Eddie finally puts it together. Traumatic brain injury. Huge rulebook with teeny tiny writing. Not a good combination.

"No worries, I can read it out loud or something, if that would help." He started doing it when Gareth joined, sometimes the kid can only listen if he is standing up and moving. Eddie's even had Jeff do it for him a few times, when he is trying to piece together the last bits of an encounter, but can't focus long enough to get it done.

"Seriously?"

"It's not a big deal." And it really isn't. But Steve is looking at him like it is. Like Eddie just offered to carry him to Mordor, offered to carry him since he can’t carry Steve's burden. It's a heady feeling, the full force of Steve Harrington's gratitude. Like being high without the fuzziness. Eddie is already a little addicted to it.

"But... What if I don't..."

"If it's not your thing, don't worry about it. We can just hang out. Like I said, no big deal," Eddie assures him, even as Tommy H. is glaring at them like he is trying to come up with the quickest way to rip their hearts out, and Nancy Wheeler has stood up with her fist clenched, ready to fight him, and Jonathan Byers seems ready to hold her earrings and watch, and the cafeteria has gone dead silent as each and every table has realized Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington are talking and it feels like the whole world is holding its breath waiting for the answer.

Eddie can tell Steve feels it too, the oppressive tension in what they're doing, by the way his shoulders tense and he squirms in his seat. He looks like that abused puppy again, slapped one too many times by the hand that fed him, and he is wondering if now is the moment to finally bite back.

So Eddie tries to reassure him. Puts on a show. He keeps his posture loose, rests his chin on his hands. He gives Steve a little smile, like they're in kindergarten and Eddie is asking to share the one black marker that hasn't run out of ink. Like this is easy.

Steve takes a deep breath.

"Sure," he says breezily, his own practiced smile safely on his face. "Where should I sit?"

[yarnprism]

I have been struggling on how to word this, because this is the first time I’m doing a tickle request, but for Gabriel from Ultrakill, all I can imagine is after Gabriel kills the Council, he runs into V1 again, but doesn’t want to fight cause existential crisis. So V1 starts touching and inspecting Gabriel cause he’s curious, and finds out Gabriel is ticklish. I’m not sure how Gabriel would react to that, I’ll leave that up for you to decide :)

Okay I’m not good at writing fics because I deadass haven’t written like this since 2017 so I’m rusty.

But this prompt seemed cute so uh.

THE LAUGHTER OF AN ANGEL

Warnings : ULTRAKILL spoilers kinda. Fluffy tickles (never would’ve guessed)

Word Count : 1.3k (A short one I know)

Also shoutout to my friend @giggleeclown beta read this and gave me grammar corrections and such!! Please go show her blog some love I beg

Pure unadulterated emptiness. That was a fair description for describing how the fallen Archangel felt as he sat by the fire under a sky full of stars. The blood of the people he once both ordered and followed stained his hands: the council. He mourned not for the loss of the Father and the council, but for the part of himself that died with them. Gabriel stared into the flames, taking in the warm colors of the blaze in front of him. The crackling wood brought a sense of peace, like heavy rain in the middle of the night. He looked down at his hands, clenching his fingers into fists before relaxing them. The armor he wore seemed dull, almost tarnished, through his eyes, not wielding the splendor it was once made for. Gabriel sighed, looking back down at the fire. He thought back to the atrocities he committed under the name of the Lord. The thousands- no, millions he had condemned to suffer eternally. To drown, to burn, to be mauled until nothing remained. To experience death for the last time, in the worst ways possible regardless of how big or small the sin. “All in the name of the Lord.” He used to say, but the name of the Lord had long since wilted, only giving disintegrating petals of dimming light. At that moment, Gabriel felt sorry. Sorry for himself, the souls he condemned, sorry for the dying will of the father. He knew feeling sorry couldn’t change the present, but it was all he could muster.

A sudden whirring sound tore him from his thoughts. His eyes shifted and met with the glowing eye of the machine. He wanted to be angry, furious at seeing the thing that beat him twice in his own game. Now, however, he didn't have the energy for it. Gabriel felt more numb than anything, staring silently at V1. It stared back, the crackling of the fire being the only thing to fill the empty air. “Come to mock me, have you?” Gabriel started, staring the machine down. V1 didn't respond, only tilting its head in curiosity and beginning to approach the archangel. Gabriel looked down at the fire once more, expecting the machine to try and kill him. He’d be dead soon regardless, so what did it matter? Instead, V1 just stood by him, eventually sitting beside the angel, still staring with its mono eye. The silence was awkward, the gentle hum of the machine’s inner workings filling his ears. He grumbled as he could hear the cold metal hand of the machine grazing over his blood-stained armor. Logically, he knew it was just the machine trying to soak up the blood that had splattered onto him.

Admittedly, it disgusted him to think that something could be that focused on survival. Only focused on how much blood it can get. Strangely, he understood, V1 just wanted to survive like anyone else. That was its main objective, after all, its purpose. Gabriel couldn’t help but think back to that word: purpose. What was his purpose? Now that the council was dead, and he had practically gone against everything he was made to be, what now? For the first time since he was birthed from the heavenly light, he felt unsure of himself. “I envy you, machine.” He started. “You seem to have everything cut out for you.” The android looked up and tilted its head at Gabriel, stopping its momentary prodding of the angel's body. Gabriel sighed, staring back aimlessly before he turned back to the fire. He let the outer sights of his vision fade away as the fire caught his attention. The way the fire licked the wood it was given for fuel was encapsulating, he admired the wood as it crumbled and crunched down into— “eEEk?!” A squeak suddenly ripped from his mouth as he wasn’t paying attention. Gabriel felt his cheeks burn beneath his helmet as he realized just how undignified it was. He slammed his hand over his mouth, eyes darting down to the culprit at his side. It was V1’s dull claw that had curiously scraped against his exposed skin. The machine tilted its head at Gabriel, wondering why he had made such a sound. Before the angel could protest or move away, V1 inquisitively scratched at Gabriel's side, earning a yelp from him. “H-hehey!! Quit it!” He objected, quickly drowned out by his own incessant giggling as the V1 started to scratch at his exposed sides and tummy. An odd sensation filled him that he couldn’t describe, one that just made him want to laugh and laugh even though nothing at the moment sparked his humor. In fact this was anything but funny. It was humiliating. He shouldn’t be here, lying on his back laughing because of the machine's dull claws.

Yet, still he could do nothing but squeak and giggle like he were some mortal. He silently cursed the blacksmith who made his armor cropped, and he himself for accepting it. “Stahap thihis insoleNCEE!!” His voice suddenly went up an octave as V1 curiously squeezed a part of his midsection. It made an almost happy sounding whir at Gabriel’s reaction, taking it as a sign it was doing this properly. V1 had seen humans do lots of things, they were very social creatures after all. Though it remembered one specific gesture certain humans would do with each other as a form of playing, it never got a name for the action however. Though the way Gabriel laughed and squirmed, it figured it was doing something right, even if it didn’t originally mean to. V1 curiously kneaded its claws into the soft flesh of the other, earning a squeal. The Angel let out a loud, shrieky cackle as the tips of the machine’s claws provided just the right amount of torturous pressure. “N-NOHOHO!! THIHIS IHIS ABSURD!!” He shrieked as V1s ‘nail’ pressed and wriggled where his navel would’ve been, had he been human that is. As he writhed, he couldn’t help but feel a wobbly, almost dare he say giddy smile cross his originally hardened face. For some reason he found himself..enjoying this? The way the laughter poured from him in a shrieky unstable stream, the way his face felt like it was on fire, everything about this felt so…nice. Though a part of him felt admittedly ashamed, he shouldn’t enjoy something like this, only mortal children like this. And he was far from any child.

V1 curiously continued to prod and poke, seeming pleased at Gabriel’s shrill laughter. As its claws pressed just a little bit harder, it appeared to appreciate the almost screams of laughter he let out at even the slightest scratch. “I s-swehear Machine I’ll tehehear yohou lihimb from liMB—EEK!!” He shrieked once more, his wings fluffing up and twitching. A hoarse laugh poured out of him, a wheeze following suit. Though this was fun, he could feel himself growing tired as his laugh grew wheezy with the occasional shriek here and there. “S-stop-! St-STAhap!!” Gabriel pleaded before grabbing the wrists of the machine, forcibly making it stop its onslaught. V1 stopped, and curiously tilted its head at the now panting angel, making an inquisitive whir. Gabriel huffed and felt his body relax, the tension from before leaving his body. Oddly he felt..calmer, almost happier than before, and he had no idea why. He looked back up at the machine and quickly repositioned himself to sit back up, “I uhm..I’m not certain on what that was but..thank you…” He only got a slightly confused whir in reply, but Gabriel didn’t mind the simplicity.