#old tv. it's a small‚ strange world sometimes.

[inkskinned]

you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.

you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.

he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.

a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.

he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.

you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.

people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.

wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.

also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.

he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."

you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.

"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."

he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.

you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.

is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?

you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.

[jo-harrington]

Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - Prologue: Crossover

Summary: Everyone wishes that they could have an Eddie Munson in their lives. In a strange turn of events, Eddie wishes that he could meet you, his favorite character from a cult classic 80's TV series. And he's about to get his wish.

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: No-Upside-Down AU, Minor Angst, Fluff, Isekai, Mentions of FOI-compliant events

Note: Hello and welcome. I'm very excited about getting to expand on this idea; it's going to be a wild ride. Please note as you head in, and as we get into further chapters...this fic is going to be a little mind-fucky and a little bit self aware. This is my love letter to and my criticism of fanfiction, but at the end of the day, we're still gonna get to fall in love with Eddie and get some kind of Happily Ever After. This is my guarantee.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

May 2022. Such a weird time.

A time of uncertainty, a time of change. A time where the world seemed like it had been torn apart and was slowly being knit back together again.

But then a switch was flipped. Something happened. An old season ended and a new one started and with that start came something new. Someone new. And suddenly, countless people began to yearn for this new person in their lives.

A new, old person. Eddie Munson.

Joy ignited. Creativity sparked. Millions of words written and read. Edits made. Art drawn. Merch bought.

So many voices crying “why isn’t he real. WHY ISN'T HE REAL.”

If there was a god, he would let them have their own Eddie Munson. And if there was a Satan, he would let them sell their souls for Eddie Munson.

That’s just not how the universe works.

At least…not this one...

October 1985. A different kind of place and time. Still weird.

But Eddie Munson was real.

Sometimes to his detriment.

And for the most part, it was alright.

He played guitar, laughed with friends, mocked bullies to protect the people like him that were considered less than. He'd overcome hardships of one sort or another for most of his life, he could keep at it for a little while longer.

It would be his day week month year sometime soon.

Wouldn't it?

But until then, he would bide his time. Hopefully, this year, he'd pass all of his classes and finally graduate. Get to flip that douchebag Higgins off and snatch up a long-awaited, and well-deserved diploma.

What made it all easier, what softened the blow...was you.

It was silly. He knew that. Ronnie used to tease him on Wednesday nights when he needed to run home because he had a "standing date with his girl."

"Your girl doesn't even know you're alive," she'd scoff as he bustled her into the van. "She isn't real."

No...no you weren't.

Why couldn't you be real.

See, for the past...however long Eddie had spent his late nights half-assing homework, planning campaigns for Hellfire, working on music, and watching a television show. His guilty pleasure, a show about the ups and downs and upside downs of living in a sleepy suburban town: Port Geneva.

A show where you were his favorite character.

And crush.

You weren't the main character--in fact, you were just the main character's quirky best friend--but you were a fan favorite, as much as he could tell. You'd only been in the background during the first season, but before long you were front and just-left-of-center. And last year, you'd even gotten a two-episode arc in the season finale as you turned the small town on its head by announcing, a month or two before graduation, that you were quitting school to follow your dream and become an artist.

And man...Eddie had been there.

He'd actually missed those episodes airing when...well, when everything happened with his father and the heist...and the house...and Paige.

He'd missed a lot of episodes that season. Missed seeing you come into your own as he tried and failed to come into his.

Thankfully Wayne--and Eddie wasn't a believer but whatever deity in charge needed to bless his Uncle Wayne--had the foresight to tape those episodes for him.

Those tapes would be cherished 'til the day he died, because they had truly gotten him through those tough days after everything.

He wished he had seen them when they aired, maybe...maybe he would have made some different decisions if he had.

Of course, Eddie had already loved you before then.

Since he had first laid eyes on you, actually.

He was sure that if you were real, you would be the one to understand him more than any of his friends. See the real him. In return, he would understand you, be there for you too.

He already had been. He'd seen you cry countless times, he'd laughed with you, celebrated your successes and mourned your failures. He'd been there for you when you crushed on that dickhead Mark, and then had your heart broken by the careless jerk.

And somewhere deep down inside of him, when he was sitting in that jail cell after he wasted his phone call on Paige and he felt the weight of the world bear down on his shoulders…he wished that you were real so he could have called you instead.

If you were real, Eddie's life would just be a little nicer.

He knew…he just knew.

Of course, in the mean time while he wished with every fiber of his being that you would walk into his life, he brought you to life in other ways. During mid-season and summer hiatuses, he would write you into his DND campaigns. His friends knew, they always called him out for it.

"Are you seriously making her an NPC man?" Dougie would scoff and throw a D20 across the table at him.

"No, what are you talking about?" he defended and threw the die right back at his friend. "This is Spiria the Bold."

"Uh huh," Jeff rolled his eyes. "Sure."

By his imagination and his pen, you became a powerful warrior, a sharp-tongued trickster, a seductive mage. You became anything he wanted you to be--most often with a companion and lover that mirrored him--and everything he knew, deep down, that you were.

And then the unthinkable happened.

September ‘84. He and Wayne were in the checkout line at K-mart. Cart stacked with new clothes and school supplies and groceries. When suddenly...there you were. Right in front of him.

Alright, not you. Per se. But your face, smiling alongside Samantha and Patrick and Scotty and Bill on the cover of the TV Guide.

On Set with the Stars of Port Geneva.

Wayne was the one to snatch the magazine from the rack and add it to their bounty, a knowing smile on his lips as he shook his head.

He knew Eddie needed a little pick-me-up.

Or a big one.

How could he have known this would be anything but one...

Eddie scoured over the pages once they got back to the trailer. He was hoping there would be a big enough picture of you that he could cut out and tape to the otherwise barren walls of his new room. And there was; you were leaning against the back of your signature pastel blue Volkswagen Beetle, arms across your chest, head tilted to the side with the signature scrunched smile you gave when you were embarrassed.

He adored you.

Before he took scissors to the page, he read the interview with your actress.

He wasn't too keen on her, even though she had your face.

The illusion that Rosemary Glass was really you had been shattered the first time he'd heard her voice on a radio interview; instead of your perfect and familiar middle-American speech...Rosemary's voice was accented.

Not to mention, she sounded pretentious.

Gross.

Still, he could look past that annoyance if he got some kind of insight to what the next season would bring for you.

Hopefully not a new love interest. His heart could only take so much.

...gives us a tour of the Patterson and Son's set, one that is forever enshrined as the setting of Patrick and Samantha's first kiss. "Oh I'm actually not fond of that scene," Rosemary confesses. "Yeah it's sweet, and the way I bring Sam in so Pat could confess his feelings but the...when I fell down? It was not scripted. And I was honestly shocked they kept that in. But fans seem to think she's clumsy now because of it. That I'm clumsy. When I just tripped over a wire. It's quite awful, really." We ask Rosemary to tell us what she'll miss most, now that the show is coming to an end...

Eddie went rigid as he read those words.

The show...coming to an end?

"What?" he exclaimed into his empty room. "No, no, no."

He carefully examined the article again, then turned back to the beginning of the feature, only to feel his heart stop in his chest.

The title of the feature was like crit hit.

The final killing blow to his already weak constitution.

One Last Summer in Port Geneva - On the Set of the Final Season

The final season was a sham.

Eddie savored every episode, though. Of course he would!

He would enjoy every last moment with you that he could get before he lost you forever. But...he hated it.

It was lazy writing--seriously what were they thinking--and a quick, cheap means to tie up all the loose ends they'd set up over the years. He could tell they tried to deliver as fulfilling a finale for the extensive cast of characters as they could. Still, he was sure he could have done better.

Samantha and Patrick got engaged after graduation. That was lame.

Bonnie finally quit the bakery to open her own cafe the next town over. Didn't anyone remember that she wanted to quit because she wanted to be a vet instead? That was the whole point of her! She didn't want to follow in her family's footsteps and she was doing just that.

And you? You took a backseat.

Instead of leaving town right after graduation--something that you had followed through reluctantly to make your parents happy even though you had just resolved to put your own happiness first for once--you stayed to help Pat plan his proposal.

Your big adventure, your big push for your dreams, were on hold again. You played second fiddle over and over until the final episode.

Eddie was grateful to have you for a little longer, but...once again annoyed that you were looked over--over and over, just like he was--when you had already proved that you were worthy of top billing.

Worthy of being the main character for once.

Still, at the beginning of the series finale, you packed your bags, cashed in your savings account, and drove out of town. The future was yours, just like it was always meant to be.

And Eddie cried.

The whole time tears streamed down his face as you said your own watery goodbyes. He might have even waved as you stuck your hand out the windshield to say goodbye to your friends as your car idled at the last stop sign. You blew a kiss to everything you knew and loved then started on your way into the unknown, car getting smaller in the distance right before the commercial break.

He held his breath for the final scene: a walk through the house where it all started and then Sam smiled her signature hopeful smile as she shut the door on the audience.

The screen faded to black for one final time and he exhaled.

"It's over," he muttered in slight disbelief, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself.

Port Geneva was over, and you were gone for good.

It was a strange feeling.

Heartbreak, mourning, disappointment? He couldn't really know for sure. Empty was the best way to describe it; the lack of feeling. It was infuriating. Port Geneva was just a television show, he attempted to rationalize for the nth time since he started watching. You were just a character on a tv show; how could you mourn for someone and something that wasn't even real?

You hadn't actually died. He could still see glimpses of you if he wanted, whenever Rosemary Glass' next movie came out or something.

But that wasn't you.

You were gone, for all intents and purposes, and it was a blow that hit Eddie hard.

How could he go on without you?

Devastated, he got high that night after he stewed on his grief. He day-dreamed and monologued to an empty trailer about a universe where the two of you were together, where your travels took you to Hawkins, of all places, and you fell in love with him, just like you were supposed to.

If the walls could talk, they would have a fantastic tale to tell. One with heroes and misunderstandings and love at first sight. One with a horrible, unseen foe and many pitfalls and dangers that exceeded anyone's wildest imaginations. One with a magic door that led to the happily ever that was beyond well-deserved.

Grief did wonderful and terrible things, after all.

He woke up for school the next morning with cotton mouth and a vague outline of a story that did just that: brought you to Hawkins to fall in love with him and all of the other things that seemed like nonsense once he was in a more right-minded state.

The only problem was that it was all in his English notebook. And he didn't need anyone finding that.

"Fuck," he groaned and ripped the page out. He shoved it into his bedside drawer, where it would be doomed to a crumpled and forgotten future.

Or until he needed a condom.

Which, considering how everyone had doubled down on their disgust of him, wouldn't be any time soon.

But there you stayed.

Put away, like old obsessions and childish things, to be ignored and forgotten.

At least for a little while.

Eddie tried.

He did.

He kept you and Port Geneva out of sight and mind as much as humanly possible. It was the most effort he had really put to anything tangible in the past year.

The series ended at a weird time--during the middle of the season--and some investigative journalism show took over its time slot. Barbara Walters couldn't hold a candle to you, so it wasn't difficult for him to keep himself rooted in reality on the nights where he typically indulged in his silly fantasies.

The daydreams that he had were limited to lyrics for Corroded Coffin originals and ideas for Hellfire, and nights were spent alone in the darkness of the living room, with his reflection in the television set to keep him company as he tried his best to do homework that he'd already done before.

Before he realized, though, the school year was coming to a close and he was--big shocker--on the brink of failure. It wasn't until Higgins called him into his office, again, that you made your violent resurgence into his life.

There was a tentative truce between Higgins and Eddie for a while.

Civility was a strange thing for both of them. They actively avoided one another, save for a snide jab here and there, and Eddie tried to stay out of the Principal's Office as much as he could.

That is, until Higgins was forced to tell Eddie that he needed to repeat his repeat senior year.

"Don't act like I want this at all," he sneered at Eddie who tripped over a reaction. "I'd rather have you out of these halls for good. You drop out one year, then you re-enroll and you fail another. Try to make the most of it this time Munson; I don't want to have this talk again."

Eddie grumbled the whole drive back to the trailer, and he fell onto the sofa with his head in his hands once he got in.

"Which one of the fates wrote this stupid plot for me now, as if last year wasn't enough. You can't make this stuff up sometimes."

He laid there, wallowing in his misery for hours, days, years, until it got dark enough for headlights outside to be noticeable as they shined through the window. There was a glint of a reflection that caught his eye and had him turn his head.

"TV," he sighed and reached out as though he could touch the set and stacks of tapes neatly piled below. “The cause-of and solution-to all of life’s problems.”

He contemplated his life for a few more minutes.

He could make the most of the final few weeks of the school year. He could set himself up as a willing and reliable pupil for these last few assignments and tests, even though they wouldn't mean very much.

He could do all of these things so that when he walked into the halls of Hawkins High in the fall, on his absolute last first day of school--whatever deity or powers-that-be willing, because how "getting the hell outta dodge or he would die here" turned into "two extra years in that shit hole" he could only attribute to cosmic intervention--the faculty would already know he would try his best this time.

It would show them he was serious about graduating and that he would succeed despite all odds against him. Finally.

He could do this.

Or...

He could put in one of the tapes from the stack and scrounge for loose bills left over from his last few transactions and order a pizza. Pretend like he didn't exist for a little while.

And given the choice?

Eddie Munson chose the latter.

And he continued to choose the latter throughout the summer and even into the fall.

Nights that he didn't already have plans were spent in front of the television.

They were cherished nights with you.

Aside from his VHS recordings, he found a channel that showed reruns of Port Geneva after 10pm. Two hours of small town shenanigans that might very well be found just outside of his own door--if he only went and looked--with you just there, making your appearance every so often and catching his eye.

Homework was sometimes left halfway done on the coffee table until he needed to switch out a tape, or change the channel, and he spent more time filling his heart than enriching his mind, so to speak; he knew all of this school stuff already anyways.

Third times a charm and all right?

He talked to the screen more often than not, tried to warn you against one disappointment or another. Sometimes, if he was watching one of his tapes, he'd pause right on your face and just talk to you. Mundane things, usually, like Ronnie's last phone call home or some album that got released and a song he thought you might like.

Other nights, like tonight, he got vulnerable. Moments where life seemed a little extra trying, and he'd confess his feelings to your image.

Knelt on the floor in front of the coffee table, warm light bathed his face promising comfort as he spoke, and the din of static emitted from the television set, akin to an angel's voice...beyond understanding of humans.

He'd never been one for church, but this kind of confessional was sacred enough.

An eternal bond, just you and him.

He stopped his ramblings at that thought.

It was a strange moment of clarity.

Where had that come from?

"I..." Eddie looked down at himself, a foot away from the television set, remote clenched in his hand. Then he looked at you, soul-filled eyes just beyond the glass, not looking at him, only...through him, just past him. "What am I doing?"

What was he doing? He was...he wasn't a kid anymore who could hide in his dreams; well, honestly he was always going to do that, but this was different.

One minute he felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders as he told you about his troubles, and the next it was all back, heavier than ever, as he realized how silly this all was.

And here he was, wasting his life knelt at your altar.

It wasn't holy. It was pathetic.

You'd never answer; you weren't real.

"Why?" he asked aloud, jaw clenched. He gripped the remote tightly. "What did I do to not have...someone? Huh? What have I ever done to be alone? That I have to rely on a fucking television character to feel understood. And now I'm losing my mind talking to myself, talking to you, at midnight every night. Why am I here wishing that you're real? Why couldn't you just...be...real?"

If there was a God, he would let Eddie Munson have you. If there was a Satan, he would let Eddie sell his soul for you.

And that's how he knew neither of them existed: you didn't exist either.

Eddie hit the eject button on the VCR and was about to shut everything so he could go to bed, when there was a crash outside.

Crashes in Forest Hills weren't abnormal--someone backing into trash cans, losing traction on the icy roads in the winter, and the one time Mrs. Dawson kicked her husband out and threw all of his things out the window--but it was something he'd gotten used to since he came to live with Wayne.

This crash, however, started a ruckus.

Someone was yelling and that stupid dog across the way started barking.

Eddie was a lot of things...but a dramatic gossip was definitely high on the list.

What else was there to do in the Midwest?

He grabbed his cigarettes from the bowl full of junk on the coffee table and stepped outside, fully intent on plopping down on the old couch on the porch to smoke and watch the scene unfold.

A car crashed into the telephone pole; didn't look like there was much damage but it had run through some trashcans and might have clipped the drivers side mirror off of Mrs. Mayfield's car. The same Mrs. Mayfield who was on her own porch being held back by Max as she yelled.

"Are you kidding me? It's fucking midnight!"

"Mom! Stop!"

"The car, Max!"

Maybe there'd be a fight.

He barely got his cigarette lit when he noticed--really noticed--the offending car: a powder blue Volkswagen Beetle.

He blinked several times and then rubbed his eyes, thinking it might have just been a trick of the light or something.

Or it was a coincidence.

Or a dream.

Maybe he'd had a heart attack and died in front of his television or something?

Plenty of people drove Volkswagen Beetles. He was pretty sure he'd even heard Nancy Wheeler asking her parents for one as a graduation present.

But with the same license plate number?

The same one from the show, the same one that was in the TV Guide all those months ago. The same one on the makeshift poster he had taped on the wall next to his bed, that he'd run his fingers over to "kiss" you goodbye countless times, just like he did to his guitar.

"It's just dark," he tried to convince himself, "and I'm tired, and...and..."

It was a coincidence. It was a dream.

He repeated the mantra over and over in his head like a lifeline.

It was another fan like him who just used fantasy to make their life a little better. That's all he was trying to do too, right? He could understand; hell, if this was a new neighbor, maybe he'd be able to chat with them about the show. Wouldn't that be something?

Eddie was so distracted making up endless excuses for himself that he didn't notice Mrs. Mayfield as she threw her hands up in the air with an exaggerated "I'm calling the police. He didn't hear Max holler at her mom to calm down, or see the tail lights of the Beetle turn off either.

It wasn't until the driver's side door swung open and a sneaker-covered foot crunched against the gravel that he forgot all the excuses he was conjuring.

And his heart stopped as the driver got out of the car and stood in the faint glow of the streetlight.

Because that driver was you.

Next Chapter: Alternate Universe

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[magics-neptunes-things]

Only One

Hi guys!

So this is a short one coming from a request I had several weeks ago.

I hope you will all like it and please let me know what you think about it! Also my box for request is very open ☺️

Enjoy!

TW : None, it’s just fluff honestly

Jana and you were both young when you met her. You were around 13 years old and when you move from Valencia to Barcelona, you find yourself in Jana’s class. She wasn’t the first who came to talk to you, being a little shy. But you can’t hold it against her, you were shy yourself and you didn’t want to bother anyone.

But soon you started to talk, and you find that you have a lot in common. Unless that she was a huge fan of football while you literally preferred staying at home with a good book and listening to music. Jana was already training at “La Masia” when you met her and when she invites you to come to one of her games, you gladly accept.

You remember being impressed by the level of those girls, fighting for the ball and the game. You were scared for Jana at first before realizing that she was one of the best. You were really proud of her, and you didn’t hesitate to tell her when she came to you after the game.

You were passing all your day after school with her, studying while she was training before going to her home in the afternoon. You sometimes sleep at her home but not a lot because your parents will sometimes remember you that “you are not living in a hotel!”.

Your first kiss happened one summer night on the beach during your summer break. You remember how much you were nervous before pressing your lips against hers, scared that you will ruin everything that was existing between you. Because Jana was your everything in your fifteen years old world.

You are not fifteen anymore, but Jana is still your everything.

You are still together, of course, still living in Barcelona. Jana chose to follow her dreams to become a footballer and even if you didn’t understand at first who the hell is that Alexia Putellas who took your girlfriend under her wings and what in the world she wanted from her, you are now the proudest girlfriend in the world.

It wasn’t easy for Jana to make her place in Barcelona Femeni A team, but she’s now a part of the family. You are both very focused in your professional life, Jana in her sport and you were studying to become pediatrician. It was hard because you don’t really have the same timetable at first, so having time together was very complicated. It was strange honestly, because you were used to be with her every single hour of the day when you were both at school and now you have to fight to be able to have lunch with her.

But then she asks you to move in with her and it was better. Your first apartment was very little. Located at the top of a building, under the roof, you had managed to fit a sofa, a TV, a wardrobe and a kitchen-dining area in a single room. Separate from the bathroom. But you were together and that was all you wanted. You loved this place, it was messy and small, but it was yours and it was perfect.

And, at least, you were seeing her every night, unless she’s in other part of the country for a game. You go to see her playing as much as possible, always wearing the jersey with her name and number on it. You are known as Jana’s girlfriend in the team and the girls like you very much too.

You have move in another apartment now, though. Bigger, you have your bedroom separate of the living room and you have a guest room where you putted your desk and computer to study.

You usually study or work when Jana is at training but tonight you lost track of time. You have a big thing to write for the end of the week and you are scared not to be able to finish it. Totally focused on your work, you didn’t hear Jana coming back home.

You almost jump out of your skin when the silhouette of your girlfriend appears on the door of your office.

“Sorry Baby, I didn’t want to scare you” she excuse herself while joining you inside the room. “Are you ok?”

“I’m ok” you smile at her, kissing her softly when she sits on your lap. “How was training?”

“It was great. Have you eaten something?”

“Not really” you answer, scratching the back of your head.

It was your turn to make diner tonight and it’s almost eight o’clock. And you are not sure about what you will find in your fridge. Jana might be starving after running and exercising all the afternoon while you were studying and you really feel guilty.

“I’m so sorry Amor, I didn’t realize it was so late. I’m going to start cooking right now.”

You close your computer while trying to stand up, kind of startling Jana with your abrupt movements. She just has time to grab you by your arm, making you stay still. With her 1m62 Jana is smaller than you but thanks to her exercises she’s stronger than you.

“Breath Baby, it’s ok. I will cook for us, why don’t you go take a bath or something? You look very tense.”

“But it’s my turn” you frown.

“You can cook two times next week” Jana shrugs.

She cups your jaw in her hand, and you could literally melt right now. You are still feeling guilty though, she just had training all day.

“Can we at least order something? So I can pay and you don’t have to cook? Please.”

She seems to hesitate for several seconds, but you give her your best puppy eyes and she finally accept. Not without rolling her eyes. After ordering some pizza, you were thinking about waiting for them in front of television. But Jana seems to have another idea.

She takes you by the hand once again, but to go to your bedroom this time. Without saying one word, she pushes you on your bed before sitting on your lap.

“Have we really time for that?” you smirk, looking at her leaning on her nightstand.

“Silence, you pervert” she smirks putting a finger on your lips. “Close your eyes.”

Still smiling, you close your eyes.

“Can I at least know what will happen to me?”

“Nothing wild. I’m just going to take care of you, that’s all.”

That doesn’t help a lot, but soon Jana is moving, and she just announce you that she will put something wet on your face before doing it. She is very tender while washing your face before putting different types of cream and moister on your face. You let her do it, loving to feel her hands on your face.

She’s so lightweight that you almost don’t feel her sitting on your belly. But you can smell her perfume and you feel yourself being completely relax. You are almost asleep when she kisses your hair, announcing that she’s finish.

“Hug now” you reach for her.

Jana cuddle against you without a second thought and you pass your arms around her to hug her harder.

“How was training mi Amor?” you ask, realizing with guilt that you didn’t even in the first place.

“It was great! I mean, until Mapi…”

You smile, listening her talk about her teammate’s behavior. She then switches for another story, and you keep listening. You take the opportunity to look at her, your cute and precious girlfriend not realizing that you totally are starring at her without really listening. You are together for seven years now, getting together pretty young. But you are still so in love with her, and you don’t want that feeling to fade away.

She was explaining Barca’s next strategy when the bell rings, announcing the arrival of your pizzas. You escape Jana’s arms to go take them before going in the living room.

“What do you want to watch?” Jana asks, looking in your Netflix account to find something.

“I don’t care” you shrug, opening the boxes.

Jana rolls her eyes but manages to find something, before sitting next to you and pick a part of pizza. She seems so relax and happy that you feel your heart pounding harder just while looking at her. She’s just so perfect.

Well, until…

“Jana Fernández Velasco , please tell me this isn’t pineapple on your pizza.”

[valtsv]

asuka and kaworu should've hung out sometime. it doesn't really fit with the themes of the show or the canon narrative at all but in my head kaworu showed up at the apartment one day expecting to meet shinji, only to be told in no uncertain terms by a thoroughly fed up and spiritually crushed asuka that shinji had been called over to do some tests at NERV last minute and she doesn't know when he'll be back, nor does she care. kaworu asks if he can come inside anyway; he doesn't mind waiting, however long it takes. asuka reiterates that she doesn't care, and leaves him standing there to do as he pleases as she turns back to where she was playing a video game on the tv in the living room. kaworu observes silently for a while before asuka tells him to sit down and come play with her because she's getting creeped out by him just standing there. she practically throws the controller at him when he sits beside her. after a few silent, tense rounds of multiplayer, she snaps at him that he doesn't have to let her win. he asks her with a small, strange smile on his face why she thinks that he would try to lose on purpose. asuka realizes that he's being serious, and expresses genuine derision at his lack of skills, berating him and belittling him with a spark of her old passion. she then insists on teaching him how to play properly, backseat gaming him excessively and at times snatching the controller out of his hands in a fit of frustration at his inability to follow what, to her, are simple instructions. by the end of the day he's passable enough to get soundly thrashed by her without offending her by losing, and, for a moment, it's almost normal. they're just two kids hanging out, playing games at the end of the world.

[factual-fantasy]

28 asks! Thank you very much!! :}} ✉️

(Referencing this post)

I was thinking that the world of welcome home and the human world both exist, but they aren't connected by a TV show. :0 The puppet world is very real to them and they are real living people. The thing is is that there's no TV show of welcome home, that's just their lives-

Eddie is from our world/the human world. Which is where his hallucinations of having 5 fingers and human skin comes from-

@candyglumboy (Referencing this post)

Midori is my Meowscarada! :0 He's friends with Grim and Sylvester :))

(Referencing this post)

XDD Just a playful NOM

@fawncr33k

Yes yes! I screenshot them :00 I then paste them into FireAlpaca and add the watermark :) 👍👍

@bellanova137 (Referencing this post)

Oh!- In my AU Eddie was one of the most recent neighbors :00 this was his first time at the yearly Christmas party because it was the first one he was around for! <XDD

Thinking he moved in sometime right after Christmas last year. Which gave him and Frank a good year to get to know each other and be on first name basis :0 Which is why Frank doesn't call him Mr. Dear in my comic! :)

(Of course present day is a few years after this comic--)

Oof, yeahhh that was a comic script that I went to edit but accidentally posted- 💀

Thank you for the name suggestions though! I still haven't decided on what it'll be <XDD

XDDDD Hurray!! (Sorry!!--) I hope you enjoy your stay in the fandom! :DD

Also thank you so much!!! :)) I'm so glad you've liked my artwork!! :DDD

It would be watching anyone that repaired it :00

There was actually an idea that back when Barnaby was going to be the second ever neighbor in the neighborhood.. he almost bought home and restored it himself. The reason why he didn't though is because Home was just too small for him. The front door was too short, he'd have to duck though every doorway and the ceilings were too low..

Why would he wanna spend all this time and money on fixing up an old house that's too small.. when he can just spend that money on buying whatever lot he wants and building a house that actually fits him? So that's what he went with..

But if Barnaby had bought home and fixed it up. it's be the same thing as Wally... weird insomnia, anxiety attacks.. feeling like you're being watched while you sleep... etc..

As for their world, I only really had the forest surrounding the neighborhood in mind. Its a HUGE forest that goes on for miles and miles. I haven't decided how far away Julies sisters/brother live but I should really work on them 💀

As for Home, so far Home is the only creature of its kind :0 none of the other houses are alive and it stands as the only strange entity around the neighborhood.

And when it comes to neighborly mysteries and secrets, so far Eddie being human and Julie's secret past is all i got <:///

Oh yeah for sure! My Barnaby is much more mellow than in canon it seems- in my AU he doesn't butt heads with Julie at all! :0 In fact she's a really good friend of his. She has some pretty flat jokes but Barnaby appreciates her attempts and they usually get a genuine laugh out of him XDD

As for Frank, its like a SpongeBob and Squidward situation. They just have different personalities and different senses of humor.. and that's okay! Barnaby likes to crack some stupid jokes to kind'a poke at Frank for the fun of it, but he never goes too far. And the jokes are never personal or insult his interests. They're just really dumb jokes that make Frank roll his eyes XDD

At the end of the day, Barnaby considers Frank to be his friend. And Frank would never admit it, but he sees Barnaby as his friend too :)

I had a very small brain moment and only realized just now that I cut out the askers name by accident 💀 my bad!

Also hey these names aren't too bad! <XDDD Abaolson sounds kind'a cool in my opinion! :00

Oh- well actually I'm only doing Pokémon from the Unova region with a handful of exceptions. So I don't have to worry about Gyarados, Milotic or Onix. At least for now :00 I might make an exception for Gyarados.. so when it comes to long snakey Pokémon I have Serperior and Eelektross to worry about..

As for Ninjask, I imagine I'll do something similar to what I did with Chandelure :00

@glitchhayden418

WHOMPST??

(In response to this post)

AAA YES YES! :DD A "I thought I lost you/I could have lost you" hug!! AAAA I'm so glad that translated well! :))

And actually- I began sketching out the comic 👀👀👀 although I got hung up on the battle scene and need to go back for some resketching 😅

(In response to this post)

Well of course! :D Angst isn't fun if there's no comfort 😌

@littlemisspostit

ESKJFOSIJFIOSJ HYUCKS??? THATS THE BEST THING EVER XDDD

Upon googling him, maybe I could! :0 Maybe he could be a friend of one of the neighbors that lives a few neighborhoods over?

@viennaarttt (The post in question)

Ohhh I see! :0 That was a joke post mostly <XD But if it did happen I can see Barnaby hanging up and calling back to try to wake up Wally 💀

Awwe <:)) This was very sweet, thank you.. I'm getting a lot of comments saying that people liked my old Gravity Falls stuff. Its helping me feel a bit better about all of it <:)

I will probably keep those posts privated for my own comfort,, but now with no worry of people finding my old artwork,, it clears the way for potential NEW Gravity Falls artwork! :0 This time with better written angst <XDDD

@danman22ful

I've watched all of Markpliers videos on it! :D And I gotta say its.. well its something that's for sure! <:D Its refreshing to see a character with both parents living and in a loving relationship ngl- I feel like I never see that nowadays <XD

I searched around for a bit and couldn't find much info on this actually <:0 I saw a Wally with red hair and a blond Frank..? Is this like an opposite personality's AU..?

@famouslysleepy

In my AU Frank and Eddie are just friends :0 mostly because I don't like writing romantic stuff for characters that aren't my own.. plus exploring platonic bonds is much more interesting to me :)

As for Eddie and Home, this comic shows a bit of Eddies problem with it- just like Wally he has the blood chilling feeling of being watched by something..

And even after the party, going near Wally's house makes Eddie feel uncomfortable and anxious.. its just all a matter of feeling you're being watched by something or someone..

XDD If I had a had a nickel for every time someone told me they were shocked to find out I'm in a fandom they love,, I'd be rich!

Also thank you!! :DD I'm glad you liked it! :DDD

aw <XD well this is bitter sweet to read since I've privated most of my Gravity Falls stuff.. but its nice to hear that you enjoyed it all <:) Thank you!

I use FireAlpaca, its in my FAQ in my pinned post! :0

I'm actually hearing bad things about it believe it or not- talks about Ford acting super out of character and what not.. My curiosity is peaked 👀

[dapandapod]

Particular with nicknames

Why hello there! This was written last september (2023) and has since been sitting in my draft, making me rewatch streams because no pathetic reasons at all i swear. Anyway, here is Jaskier having a Moment TM when Geralt uses a very specific nickname. Thank you @ahh-fxck for helping me beta read <3 much appreciated! Please enjoy streamer!Geralt and Pathetic!Jaskier! <3 On Ao3 here

For all the love Jaskier has of words and language, he is strangely picky with nicknames.

It’s not that he dislikes them, he is just strangely neutral. Alright, that’s not true.

His famously ill-advised and stormy relationship with Valdo came to mind. Jaskier had fallen promptly out of love with him when he was called ‘Snugglebutt’ in front of all of their friends. They were together for another month or so past that, because Jaskier thought himself cruel and wanted it to work.

Well, it did not.

Nowadays he shares a flat with his long time best friend Geralt, one of the few constants in his life and the one who just might own about two thirds of his heart.

It’s not a big flat, but they have a room each, a small kitchen, and a shared living room. That is also where Geralt has his small streaming corner set up, back against the wall and facing the room.

Easier that way to keep it clean if he streams with the camera on, no accidental flashing unsuspecting viewers that way. Something learned by trial and error, as Jaskier tends to run warm and just forgo pants. And shirts. And socks.

They also share their flat with a terrible little cat named Roach, who has never quite warmed up to Jaskier. Took to Geralt the instant she saw him, however, and the two are inseparable whenever Geralt is home.

All of this in itself is not an issue. Oh no, all of this is more than fine.

Watching Geralt be sweet with the terrible little furball makes Jaskier’s heart ache pleasantly, listen to him coo about her fur being so shiny and smooth, what a good girl she is, wow look at that yawn!

No, the problem came up the first time as Geralt was lazily watching TV on the couch, back to their little kitchen where Jaskier had just served her royal highness some very expensive cat food.

Roach does as she always does when Jaskier is involved, and simply walks out. It’s routine by now, and the food is usually gone by morning. It’s more about Jaskier knowing his place at the bottom of the list than not liking the food.

But as she returns to the living room with Jaskier trailing after, considering plopping down on the couch too instead of working on his doctoral thesis, Jaskier finds himself fundamentally changed.

“Hi baby.” Geralt says, voice all sweet and dark and gravelly, and fuck.

It is very much aimed at Roach, who is being a cutie, begging pets from under the table. But Jaskier’s insides do a kickflip, his brain short circuits.

Flushing deeply, Jaskier can’t control the little HRK sound escaping his throat.

He is frozen in his tracks, tongue tied and feeling absolutely pathetic. Geralt turns around to look at him with a questioning frown.

“You ok there?” he asks, Roach climbing the couch and up to the backrest, demanding attention.

“Just peachy,” Jaskier squeaks out, and then flees to his room.

Holy fucking shit and mother of turds.

Baby?? Of all the nicknames in the entire world, that is the one Jaskier is going to have a meltdown about?

Just, the lazy way Geralt said it, Jaskier feels like an old maid, clutching his pearls.

It’s fine. He will be fine.

It was meant for Roach, of course, it’s fine.

It is not fine.

Geralt is streaming, talking with some other players. He is not a big name, but he does have a following, and sometimes gets invited to other streams if it's a multiplayer game.

Jaskier is moving around the living room, untangling the nest that their couch has become recently, blankets and hoodies and socks thrown everywhere. He is also holding a banana, somewhat forgotten in his new mission to make the couch sittable.

Part of his distraction comes from listening to Geralt talking, there is a lilt to his voice when he is on stream. It is unclear if Geralt is aware of doing it, but Jaskier can listen to it forever.

While in the process of moving one blanket over to the footrest, Geralt laughs at something said in his headphones.

“Oh baby, I didn’t know you cared!”

Jaskier drops the banana.

Feeling like a deer caught in headlight, Jaskier is unable to do anything but staring, feeling heat climbing his neck, up to his cheek.

Then Geralt’s eyes meet his over his screen, his face is neutral but his eyes are knowing.

Fuck fuck fuck he is in so much trouble.

Maybe it’s fine to have that many blankets. Perfect for hiding, perfect for pretending the way Geralt says ‘Baby’ doesn’t go on loop in his head, and will be for days.

Jaskier is in a constant state of fear.

Ever since the Stream Incident, as he has come to call it, there is this new tension whenever they are in a room together. Where Geralt will look at him consideringly, where Jaskier will pretend everything is as per usual.

He has gotten better at not freezing, but a thrill runs through him every time Geralt uses That Word, making very unsubtle eye contact as he does.

How is his poor heart to cope?

Sometimes, late at night, when Jaskier is unable to sleep and he knows Geralt is still streaming, Jaskier joins in to watch. It is uncertain if Geralt has figured out it’s him or not yet, he has sneakily named his account to Bardelicious, and doesn’t usually join the chat.

Tonight, Geralt is playing a fantasy game. A monster hunter and his bard, fittingly enough, and he makes light commentary about things in the game.

Until there is a scene where the bard does something noble, stupid and somewhat foolish.

“Oh, baby.” Geralt says sadly, shaking his head.

The chat goes absolutely wild, more than one asking him to say it again, to call them baby, which is a little weird and also absolutely fucking valid.

“Why are people so weird about that?” Geralt says, chuckling. The replies roll in, and his eyebrows climb up his forehead. Jaskier’s heart is beating hard, because this could either be really good or really bad.

“Sexy? Doubt that.”

Jaskier regrets it as soon as he presses send, and by then it’s too late.

‘It is when you say it.’ was all he wrote, but it was the first thing he had written in there. Geralt doesn’t know it’s him.

It should be fine. He is fine.

Some more responses follow, but Geralt is strangely quiet. The game scene plays out, the monster hunter and his bard having a nice bonding moment.

It’s soothing to watch, to hear Geralt’s commentary every now and then. He falls asleep with his phone in his hand, earbuds still in.

The next morning, Jaskier is woken up by the scent of coffee and a hungry Roach yowling in the kitchen. She only does that when Geralt is around, so it is safe to assume he is up.

Which is a little odd, because Jaskier fell asleep before the stream was over, and he feels like death warmed over.

His jaw cracks when he yawns. Lured by the scent of coffee, he manages to get out of bed.

Geralt is indeed up and about, Roach winding affectionately around his legs as he prepares her breakfast.

“Morn,” Jaskier rasps, scratching his stomach and giving another yawn.

Roach doesn’t even look at him, fully focused on her man and her meal. The bowl is placed on the floor for the queen herself, and like the gremlin she is, she eats it without a fuss. Little bastard.

Jaskier joins Geralt at the bench, seeking coffee like a flower seeks the sun. He can stop when he wants, coffee is not an addiction, it is a way of life.

“Were you up all night? Hand me a cup, will you?” he says, reaching for the fruit bowl that Geralt for some reason keeps religiously stocked.

In reply, he gets one of the typical hums, which could mean absolutely anything, and two cups. Jaskier pours for them both and Geralt adds the usual unholy amount of sugar to Jaskier’s, which makes him smile.

“Any plans for today? I really should be working on my thesis, but I can’t be arsed.”Jaskier leans back against the counter and sips at his coffee, which is still a little too hot.

Geralt is watching him over the rim of his mug, sipping on the steaming coffee.

“I have a thing I thought to try,” he says, voice gravelly, eyes locked on him.

It makes Jaskier’s stomach flip, and he takes a too big sip, the drink burning his tongue and all the way down his throat unpleasantly.

“Yeah? Anything you want help with?” Jaskier asks nervously, realizing he is still holding his chosen fruit without eating it, so he puts it down on the counter.

The corner of Geralt’s mouth ticks up into a crooked smile, and yeah, Jaskier is in danger. It is way too early in the morning for Geralt to be such an absolute heart throb.

“If you are willing.” Geralt says, and Jaskier finds himself nodding despite himself. If Geralt asks him if he is willing, the answer will probably always be yes.

“Sure! Uh… What is it?”

Geralt takes a step towards him and puts his cup on the side of the counter. Then he grabs Jaskier’s cup out of his hand and puts that down too.

His heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his throat, his hands now clammy and gripping the counter behind him.

Geralt inches forward, the space between them shrinking fast. He stops just shy of touching him, and tilts his head, white hair falling over his shoulder.

“So I was streaming last night,” Geralt begins, and oh dear, oh no. “And there were some interesting comments that I couldn’t get out of my head.”

“Uh… Oh?” Jaskier says dumbly, and Geralt huffs a soft laugh, breath hitting Jaskier’s face.

“You're particular with nicknames, right? I mean, you are still mad at Valdo.”

With growing worry, Jaskier is starting to realize where this is going.

“He called me snugglebutt. In front of people. That’s embarrassing!” Jaskier defends himself faintly. Geralt leans in an inch more, leaning against the countertop and crowding Jaskier against it. Fuck.

“But that’s not what you think when I say ‘Baby’, is it?” Geralt’s eyes are trained on him, and smiles when he notices Jaskier’s flustered little sound, the way heat climbs up his cheeks.

In a weak attempt to save face, Jaskier looks down, anywhere but meeting the intensity of Geralt’s gaze.

It has the unfortunate effect of noticing how close they are, how Geralt’s t-shirt rides down just enough to reveal collarbones, how his hands flex against the counter.

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong, Jaskier,” Geralt mumbles, leaning close enough for his nose to drag against Jaskier’s cheekbone.

Jaskier pulls in a breath, tilting his head in a way he hopes is invitingly.

“You’re not.” Jaskier whispers, and is rewarded with Geralt putting a hand on his hip, letting his nose drag along Jaskier’s neck. “You really, really not.”

“Is it the nickname? You look so startled whenever you hear me say it.” Geralt asks, one finger finding skin under the hem of Jaskier’s t-shirt.

“Just you. Pretty sure you could call me snugglebutt and I’d thank you.” Jaskier confesses, blurts really, when the rest of Geralt’s hand sneaks under his shirt to find his lower back, playing with the soft hairs there.

“Good to know,” Geralt smiles against his skin and Jaskier braves turning his head, their cheeks brushing together.

“Are you going to kiss me anytime soon, or are you gonna let me keep suffering?” Jaskier breathes, his hands finding Geralt’s and tracing them up his arms slowly.

“Hmm,” Geralt says, considering with a cheeky grin, the absolute bastard, so Jaskier takes matters into his own hands. Quite literally.

Geralt’s face is warm, rough stubble and barely visible scars and imperfections brush against his fingers. Geralt must have turned into it, because their lips slide together, coffee and morning breath mingling as Jaskier finds himself now properly pressed against the bench and Geralt’s body.

Then he is being kissed harder, deeper, and Geralt hoists Jaskier up on the counter, using Jaskier’s thighs to pull him closer, closer still, and presses open mouthed kisses against his neck. With a gasp, Jaskier scrambles to find a grip, to get some control of himself, but it is very, very hard to focus.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me, baby?” Geralt murmurs against his skin, and Jaskier full body shivers. “I can feel you watching me, you are even in my streams.”

“You knew about that?” Jaskier asks breathlessly, stealing a kiss when Geralt shifts to look at him.

“If you wanted to be discreet, maybe you should have chosen something else than ‘Bardelicious’.” Geralt smiles, and Jaskier pouts and pinches his side in revenge.

“Why didn’t you say anything then?”

“Why didn’t you?” Geralt counters, and well, this won’t go anywhere.

“I like listening to you. I like listening to your voice as I go to sleep,” Jaskier says quietly, and Geralt hides his face in the crook of Jaskier's neck.

“Did you get any sleep at all last night?” Jaskier asks when Geralt stays there, melting into his body.

He doesn’t get anything but a muttering grumble in reply, and Jaskier smiles and strokes his hair.

“I need to find a nickname for you too. I refuse to be the only one being absolutely useless as soon as you open your mouth.” Jaskier murmurs into Geralt’s hair.

“Gmmrmgmg.”

“What’s that?”

“I said, ‘like it when you say my name.” Geralt says, and Jaskier is melting all over again.

“Well then, Geralt,” Jaskier purrs. “Let me finish my coffee, and then we’ll take a nap.”

Reaching for coffee without really letting go turns out to be hard, and when Jaskier with some struggle finally gets a hold of his cup, the coffee is still unreasonably hot.

They nap in Jaskier’s bed, both of them crawling in under the blankets and curling up together. Jaskier’s chin resting on top of Geralt’s head, Geralt’s arm slung over Jaskier’s chest.

When Geralt wakes up and press Jaskier into the mattress, it doesn’t take long for Geralt to discover exactly how to fluster Jaskier enough to splutter broken syllables.

It’s alright.

When Jaskier has recovered from being melted goo, he will return the favor.

[pigtailedgirl]

Now I'm curious how you got into due south originally, if you feel like explaining :)

Sure! It's nothing too exciting I guess, but my Dueser origins begin as a wee girl. I know my family must have vaguely watched it because I remember the image of All The Queen's Horses mountie chase pre-dates my series watch beginnings. I know my grandma later confessed as I had it on tv one summer that she watched it. Cause cute Benton Fraser lol.

But real seeing and watch began with a random catch of Free Willie one morning on the Showcase Network. Thank you kindly Showcase.

Yeah, I caught it one morning and stayed to watch because I think I vaguely recognized it, and just fell in love with it's charm and wit and Fraser and Ray. It was the first episode so great timing too. And they had it schedule set to air one episode in the morning, the same at night, five days a week. Perfect for catching up.

Promos were hilarious too. I should see if any are online.

Oh, and it was original edit, so it had extra scenes like the different Victoria's Secret ones.

So I caught up on the series quick. Also, what I think really cemented my season 1 and 2 love was they played that set for months at least before switching to the 3/4 season. That highlighted the difference in tone to my POV too I think, and it's why I kinda view them apart still.

But I really got to experience show first this way.

I think I found fandom when starting Livejournal same time the show hit resurgence there. And I happily caught the tail end of Yahoo Groups so got to back read fan stuff there. Missed most of Ray Wars. Yay. There was the 2000's snippets, but everyone was so fun at content creation and love, that was the best take-aways. It made for a great time. I participated in a watch-along! A big highlight of fannishness for me! That's when I saw The Pilot. Or my fav was squeeing about Pizza and Promises.

Just, some of the many wonderful fans like Nina_DS and movies_michelle and duenorthlaurie for episode discussion, and Sdwolfpup, Belmanoir, Aingeal8C as content creators, or Scotchsour, and Lozenger8 who made some banging icons....Truly, there were so many wonderful people, I couldn't even name them all. Due South provided so many wonderful glimpses of other fans to share with. LJ friends were so lovely.

I fell out in LJ world strangely cause I felt kinda outside the fandom wave as it crested I think, not shipping F/K or really loving those seasons as much. And just personally felt not into fannishness as whole after awhile. It's a me thing across everything, not just Due South. I took an internet break for a long time. I still watched the series on tv, with Showcase and TV Tropolis and DejaView lol, and by then DVD often. Along with new TV of course, although not much cause Tumblr me is not too different from old LJ me. Still kept an eye of forums, sometimes, or such, cause I love discussion as you can see by my screeds versus tech/creative skills, but not actively or with comment.

I return cause, I don't know, seeing people express love for the series again is hitting a happy place of nostaglia I think. I had a rough bout with real-life and comfort fannish stuff is reminding life was full of small good moments. The joy of the endearing nature of the show and the spirit of love for it in the fandom is proof of stuff enduring. Joy that it's still on rebranded Showcase here on the weekends lol, even if you never know which season.

And a new vidder made a wonderful F/V fanvid that, timing again as I hit Tumblr, I stumbled into, and just had me crying when I watched at the beauty and love I remembered in the pair. It spoke to my love of them so hard I think it jolted me into thinking hell yea that love deserves happy expression, I can do it too maybe. Sadly they took it down, but yeah, that was the spark, and that's me fannish story.

[i-llo]

The whole beeing soulmates thing

More informations about this fic here

Chapter 1 and Chapter 3

Summary:

Sophie begins to be haunted by strange dreams, which seem more like memories, but she doesn't feel like they are hers. Your peaceful life starts to be affected, but what does it all mean?

Act 2, chapter 1: Echoes of the Past

Sophie had always taken pride in her simple and stable life. Having lived in a quiet suburban town since birth, everything seemed to follow a calm and predictable rhythm. Her mornings were filled with the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the low hum of the TV in the living room. She had a habit of leaving something playing when she was alone—Sophie didn’t like the solitude of silence. She loved her routine and the security it offered. Her small apartment had everything she needed, and though her friends were few, they were loyal and loving. Her plans were simple, her dreams modest, and that comforted her. Until everything changed overnight—the latest dream made it very clear.

At the beginning, it was just fragments, scattered sensations that faded with the dawn. But as the days passed, they became more vivid. She found herself in places she’d never been before, in times that didn’t make sense. She saw crumbling castles, ancient stone cities, and carriages rolling beneath stormy skies. In her dreams, she could smell something damp and old, almost musty, like she were trapped somewhere long forgotten. And there was always him—a man in the distance, whose presence was constant. He never spoke, but his gaze pierced through her, stirring something between fear and fascination. Every time she tried approaching him, she would woke up abruptly, heart racing and body drenched in sweat. The dreams had started softly, just vague figures, nameless faces. But now… now things were different.

Those visions began to creep into her waking life. The scenes would flash unexpectedly, as if they were etched into her memory rather than mere products of her imagination. The smell of wet earth as she walked past a park reminded her of the streets in the dreams; the sound of wind rustling through the leaves brought back the whispers that sometimes accompanied the mysterious man. Small details, but growing in frequency. Sophie often found herself lost in these recollections, as if living between two worlds.

Then came the first clear vision. It was early evening, and Sophie was returning from a shopping trip, walking the same streets she passed every day when something strange happened. A shiver ran down her spine. She glanced around, and for a brief moment, saw a man standing on the other side of the street. He wore a long, tattered coat, the high collar casting shadows over part of his face. But something about him made her stop. He watched her with a look that was both hostile and calculated, as if he knew something about her that even she didn’t. The air seemed to thicken around him, and her instincts warned her to keep her distance, but curiosity won out. The man smiled—a cold, almost threatening smile, the kind seen on a predator about to pounce. She glanced away for just a second as the traffic light turned red, and when she looked back, he was gone, as if he had never been there. Her heart raced, and a deep sense of danger gripped her thoughts. It was something familiar, but she couldn’t explain it. She walked away, wondering if she had imagined the whole thing.

The following nights brought even more intense, more unsettling dreams, but the mysterious man remained distant. Each time Sophie woke up, the feeling of loss deepened, as if something crucial was slipping through her fingers. Other strange things began to happen, the once subtle feeling of being watched was now constant, she could feel eyes on her, even when she was alone in the apartment. One time, while shopping, she felt a cold breeze pass over her body, despite all the windows being closed. She spun around quickly, but, as always, there was nothing. She started to question if she was becoming paranoid, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to shake off the disturbing thoughts. One other morning, while waiting for the bus to work, the déjà vu feeling intensified. She looked up at the sky and, for a fleeting moment, swore she had lived that exact moment before. The same distant voices, the same clouds, the same cold wind on her face. The sensation was so strong that Sophie had to hold onto a nearby post for support. Her mind whirled, searching for answers. It couldn’t be just coincidence. Something, somewhere, was wrong.

That night, she dreamt of na old, dark wooden house filled with doors and windows covered in dust. She wandered the halls in her dream, feeling the weight of time in the structure, as if the house were waiting for something—or someone. She tried every door, but they were all locked except for maybe one. There was a room at the end of the hall that called to her, a low, muffled sound coming from inside. Sophie couldn’t explain it, but the mere thought of touching the doorknob filled her with dread. It felt as if everything was about to fall apart, yet the door remained, like a promise of na ancient secret. The floor creaked beneath her feet, the sound startling her awake, heart racing too fast for such a cold morning. She woke with the bitter taste of fear in her mouth but also with a strange sense of longing, as if that place held some importance to her. Sophie shook off the remnants of the dream and the unsettling feeling that still clung to her. She had a full day at work ahead and knew she had to focus on her routine, despite these disturbing images becoming more frequent. She dressed quickly and left the house, the cool morning air offering some relief.

On her way to work, the familiar streets passed by, but Sophie couldn’t shake the strange feeling that something was always lurking in the back of her mind. Black-and-white stripes flickered in her peripheral vision, like something moving too fast for her to catch clearly. The color green... for some reason, the green seemed important, as if something very significant was tied to it. Her fingers clenched as she tried to push away the growing anxiety.

At work, Sophie struggled to concentrate. She worked at a small secondhand store, mostly selling books and clothes—a place that usually calmed her with the smell of old pages and the soft murmur of customers chatting. But today, it wasn’t helping. Her coworker, Tracy, was rearranging a shelf of books nearby, muttering about how customers never put them back in the right place. Sophie tried to focus on the task at hand, organizing papers on the counter. “You’re quiet today,” Tracy remarked as she slid a book onto the top shelf. “Everything's okay? Something happen?” she asked. “Yeah... I think so,” Sophie replied hesitantly. For a moment, she considered telling Tracy about the dreams, the strange feeling of being watched, and the colors that appeared in her mind for no reason. But she held back, not wanting to sound delusional. “I’m just having nightmares most most of the nights, but honestly, this mess around here is what’s stressing me out the most!” Tracy gave her a playful smile, suspecting nothing. “Well, I bet you’ll be too tired to even dream tonight!” Sophie nodded, quickly changing the subject. She didn’t want to bring up more questions, feeling that speaking about these things out loud would somehow give them more power.

As the days passed, Sophie found it harder to distinguish between dreams and reality. She woke up with strange marks on her body—scratches she couldn’t explain, bruises that made no sense. One night, while lying in bed, she swore she heard a familiar voice whispering in her ear. “He’s waiting.” Sophie shot up, gasping, but her room was empty. Fear was beginning to take hold of her, but at the same time, an irritating curiosity gnawed at her. Who was he? And how could she stop all this from happening? She didn’t really care about the answers, only about finding a way to get her peace back. Sophie’s once calm and uneventful life was unraveling, each new day bringing more questions, and worst of all, the constant feeling of being followed. Wherever she went, she felt watched—whether by the man from the dreams or something bigger, she couldn’t tell. But the weight of na invisible presence was always with her. Turning a corner, entering a room, lying down to sleep, Sophie knew something was lurking. And every day, she was closer to finding out what it was, or them to find her.

At night, as she tried to relax at home, the TV news barely audible in the background, Sophie lays down, though sleep didn’t come easily. When she finally drifted off, the dreams returned, more vivid than ever. Those eyes... deep-set with dark shadows around them, a strong, guttural laugh echoed somewhere in the depths of her mind. The voice that spoke to her was unmistakable—rough and rasping, but the name remained just out of reach, lost somewhere in her memory. The smile... that distinct smile. It was like everything was hidden in layers of darkness. The next morning, Sophie woke up exhausted, the memory of the man from the night before clinging to her mind. Something was off. She knew it, but still, she didn’t have all the pieces in the puzzle.

[simpy-reader-inserts]

Blood in the Water

Pairing: Plus size, Fem!Reader x Multi

Wordcount: 2900

Summary: A story about hitting rock bottom, in a world that only ever wanted you when you let them walk all over you, and then clawing your way back up out of pure spite.

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), Unreliable narrator, AFAB!Reader, Fem pronouns for reader, hints to past abuse, reader being an absolute pushover and not standing up for herself. Reader has a quirk!

Notes: This is for all the people out there who get nervous about answering the phone, ordering food in person and for those who dread having others disappointed in them. Don't worry though, while it may get worse for the reader at first, it does, and absolutely will, get better.

---

All through your life, you’d been a pushover, soft in every sense of the word.

Soft in appearance, soft spoken, and soft in temperament and actions.

Too soft for your own good, and you knew that all too well.

Ever since your quirk had manifested, people flocked to you whenever they needed help. First, it was the children you played with, small girls asking their friend to make their scrapes better.

“Y/N *sniff* Please?”

“Okay.”

“Can you please make it better??”

“Okay.”

“He HIT me Y/N! It hurts, please help?”

“…Okay.”

Then you were sought out by friends of friends, strangers even.

… was it really so strange that you took it up as a job after all that, because really, it was all you knew by now.

It was familiar, comfortable even.

You helped people, it was something you could manage, despite how nauseating the sight of fresh injuries could be sometimes.

--

Watching the dim, old TV as the same grainy video played yet again, you found yourself stuck in an awkward, embarrassment filled limbo. The talk show was relaying the events that had occurred earlier that day (for maybe the 3rd time)- the screen showing a painfully familiar woman frozen mid retreat, only her blurred figure standing out amongst the grainy footage.

‘As if today could get any worse.’

Growing frustrated at seeing yourself plastered all over the screen, you sighed loudly, trying in vain to get the old and battered remote to work as the scene started up again, the reporters agonising over the footage of the woman who managed to ‘land a hit’ on the Symbol of Peace.

“Stoooooooop!!” Furiously banging the remote against the side of the table, you flushed a bright red, your earlier embarrassment at todays events flaring up as you listened to the host on screen start speaking again.

“She absolutely bit him, though no one has been able to figure out why. I, for one, wouldn’t mind taking a bite out of that man either!” The host drawled out, laughing with his co-star as they began to finally move onto another story. “Did he taste like sunshine, rainbows and all things good in the world? What do you think? Let us know over on our-”

“HE TASTED LIKE SWEAT, BAD DEODORANT, AND TOO MUCH SALT!” Your gritted out, finally getting the remote to work with one last thud against the table. You quickly changed the channel, trying in vain to ignore the heat still lingering in your cheeks as you tried to reason the days events away.

“Let’s just forget that happened okay. Good? Today didn’t happen. At all. Look, I’m sure if I just go and explain why I did that he’ll understand. Just go up and say ‘Hi, I’m sorry I bit you but you literally looked like death warmed over. It totally wasn’t a kink thing, I swear to god. Please don’t sue me!’”

Giving up on finding anything to distract yourself with, you fell back into your old chair, quickly bringing a pillow up as you pressed it to your face and screamed, the muffled sound echoing loudly around your apartment.

Nope.

That was not an option at all.

As you began to run out of breath, you lazily dragged the pillow off your face, your scream trailing off abruptly as you did so, your soft form sprawled across the seat lazily as you blankly stared ahead, regretting even stepping foot out of your home today.

“NO. Not happening. Seriously, what are the chances of me ever seeing him again anyway? I’ll just do as I usually do, and just stay under the radar. He’s a Hero. THE Hero. He’s-”

“-HERE!!”

And with that, your front door was kicked in, your body hastily moving to sit up with a squeak, watching in horror as the Number One Hero stood in the doorway, his large smile suddenly seeming very unnerving.

“…”

“I believe it’d be best if you came with me peacefully young lady.”

“…imsosorry.”

---

“It was an impulsive thing to do, I understand that and I really am sorry! He’s feeling fine right? Better than fine, you’ve seen him, he didn’t even look dead anymore- It was only a bite- and I didn’t even manage to break the skin. Can I go home, please?  I’m sorry. My roommates must be worried sick.” You mumbled out for the tenth time, your dishevelled form slumped over as you used your arms to cushion your head from the hard wood of the table you were seated at.

The room was quiet, plain, and only slightly chilly.

You were fine with that…..this was okay…

(dontcrydontcrydontcry)

You’d been at this for hours now, and though there were no windows in the room, you could tell it was getting late.

Why they took you to a school of all places to interrogate you, was far beyond your (very panicked) thought process at the moment. You were done with life, you just wanted to go find a hole to crawl into and disappear.

“You don’t have any roommates.”

And then if the room itself wasn’t bad enough, there was the man in the ungodly bright yellow sleeping bag. Just…sitting there in the corner. Watching you. Judging.

“…That may be so, sir… but the old lady living next to me will be very upset if I’m not home soon. Really, she would be.” ‘He’s staring into my soul….he can see every wrong I’ve ever done…oh Jesus please don’t let him have a mind reading quirk lalalalalalala-…’

A slight narrowing of his eyes had you stiffening in place, panicking as the drawstrings of the bag pulled tighter- only his pale, sleep deprived face left on display.

Like a very odd caterpillar...

‘So creepy…oh my god…’

“So, you have a healing Quirk?”  He questioned, his voice just as flat as his expression. “Explain.”

“I-I already did…”

“Not to me.”

(dontcrydontcrydontcry)

“All the details are in my file, I think? I was a Nurse? I’m registered to use it in emergencies!”

“And how does All Might walking in front of you count as an emergency?”

“Because he looked like death and I panicked? I’m sorry!”

“How-”

“- I think that’s enough for now! Let’s let the young girl rest!” Ahh, here was the cause of your problems, standing there in all his glory. First, he kicks down your door, then he drags you to a school without even giving you the chance to change out of your PJ’s, and then he ditches you and never looks back.

And here he is again, a slightly uncomfortable smile on his face as Aizawa stared him down for interrupting.

‘At least he’s not staring at me anymore…’ you sunk further into your seat, eyes wearily watching the two stare at each other, even subtle shift of their bodies making you even more uncomfortable- especially with how the air around them both hung heavy with faint wisps on untreated injuries….in Aizawa’s case anyway.

All Might still looked like he was carrying a fog machine with how heavily it hung around his body.

“Look, we need to figure out exactly what happened and why, All Might. We can’t have young women running around biting people, just for the hell of it.”

“No need to fear, I’m A-Okay! Miss Y/L/N apparently sensed that I was unwell yesterday- Recovery Girl has already looked me over and I’m better than I have been in weeks! Thank you again, young lady, but I’d have to ask you to refrain from doing so in the future. Other people may not be as agreeable as I am, and I would hate for anything to happen to you. It’s not good to go advertising that you have a quirk like this, especially since you have no hero training and aren’t signed onto an agency for protection!”

“R-Right…I can do that!” You muttered out, forcing a smile onto your face as you tried your best to just be agreeable and get this whole situation over with.

'You’re almost shrouded in death, so why are you lying?’ You’d bitten him hours ago now, and he still had a heavy air of illness. Of a severe injury. He’d have to have been hurt badly for your quirk to only heal him such a small amount…

But, that wasn’t something you should worry about.

You just needed to mind your own business and never think of today again.

(dontcry dontcry dontcry please)

“Can I…go now?” You hesitantly asked, your shoulders slumping forward as both men fixed their gazes on one another, a silent conversation happening above your head.

“Okay, fine, we’ll be in touch though. We may have further…questions for you later on.” Aizawa finally spoke, though he didn’t sound happy about it in the least. The disapproval in his voice had goosebumps raising along your arms, your nails digging into your palms as you tried to make your smile seem even a little bit more genuine.

“Alright, okay I can do that, I’m sure you already have my number.” Two nods greeted your words, and with them went any hope of a quiet life in the city. “Great! Wonderful! Perfect!”

“Have a lovely day Miss.” All Might smiled down at you, holding the door open as you nervously walked by him, the security guard outside already waiting to escort you out.

“I will, thank you… Sorry again about the biting thing…” And with that, you got the hell out of dodge, running as fast as your legs could take you away from that school.

I’m going to go home, pass out for 10 hours and hope they sent someone to fix my door…

Oh god I hope my landlord understands…

---

You were a puzzle.

A nurse who hated blood, who cringed away from illness, who apologized too much, who only helped so much…

Especially when you could have done so much more, …at least according to others who stood back and watched your every move.

‘Legal issues’, your superiors had claimed.

“We can’t have a nurse who has to bite people to do her job. You’re a wonderful woman Y/N, a wonderful nurse, but that can only help the situation so much.”

You didn’t use your quirk though, you’d gone to school and trained right along side every other person without a healing quirk.

“Okay.”

But as always, it was the cause of your problems.

“I’m sorry, I really am. You’re a wonderful employee, but unless you sign on to an agency, we can’t keep you here. People will claim we’re trying to exploit you, or that we’re willingly holding you back from helping the heroes who need you more.”

“…Okay. I understand. I’m sorry.”

It was always about the heroes in the end, wasn’t it?

--

You tried.

You always tried.

You tried your hardest to be enough for those around you, to give them whatever they needed to make them happy.

But it always came back to the heroes.

Every time someone found out about your quirk, they asked you why?

Why aren’t you employed with an agency? (You didn’t want to be used. Passed around. Only seen for your quirk…. It was already too late for that, but you could always dream.)

Why weren’t you there when an attack happened? You could have saved people! (You didn’t do well in high stress situations…too many people, too many smells, too much blood and you could barely see a foot in front of you if enough people were dying or gravely injured.)

“Why? Y/N, why aren’t you helping?”

“I tried to.” But you weren’t good enough. You weren’t Recovery girl, you couldn’t kiss things better and heal it in an instant.

You…you had to bite, you had to rip and grind your teeth and be uncomfortable with the taste of iron on your tongue for your quirk to do anything more than act as a painkiller- as a temporary solution to a bigger problem that could literally leave you blind to the area around you.

But, your comfort was unimportant to those higher up in the world, and those around you quickly followed suit and took on the same viewpoint, damning your ‘lack of care’

Heroes needed you, they said.

You need to get certified, they cried.

Join an agency and do as your told, they demanded.

You’d never be a hero.

But you were a pushover.

A damn pushover.

(but this…this was the one thing you’d never sway on.)

---

*RING RING*

“Sorry, but your call cannot be connected at this time, please leave a message and try again at a later date.”

*BEEEP* “Ah, Miss Y/L/N, this is To-All Might! It Is I! I seem to have missed you again- if you could please return our call, we have a few matters to discuss at your earliest con-” *BEEEP* “No, I didn’t mean to press that, what-” *BEEEP*

*RING RING*

“Sorry, but your call cannot be connected at this time, please leave a message and try again at a later date.”

*BEEEP* “Hello, is this Y/N? This is Midnight calling from U.A – We’ve been trying to contact you for the past few days with no response. If you could please call back, it’d be appreciated.”

*RING RING*

“Sorry, but your call cannot be connected at this time, please leave a message and try again at a later date.”

*BEEEP* “This is Aizawa, call us back.”

*RING RING*

“Sorry, but your call cannot be connected at this time, please leave a message and try again at a later date.”

*BEEEP* “That was your last chance.”

--

The days since your ‘visit to the school’ had been hell.

First you almost lost your apartment, only a hero’s word being your saving grace as your landlord fumed about the busted door, still billing you heavily for the replacement.

You were already short on cash, but handed it over anyway after he started hinting at their being ‘other ways’ to repay him.

Then, you ate your way through the week’s groceries way faster than your budget allowed- the healing you’d done on All Might having been more draining than you’d first assumed if your appetite was anything to go by.

And now? You’d just realized you’d lost your phone. How long ago? You had no idea, you never used the thing, it was way too old to do more than call with. But the fact was, you’d lost it, and it was necessary for today’s plans.

You frantically looked around, your body sprawled out over your couch as you rummaged through the gap behind it, desperately looking for your phone, the space around you torn apart in your search.

‘Where is it?? God, I have an interview in an hour, please just-’

There was a sudden loud bang as your house shook, your front door embedding itself within the wall behind it as a tall figure loomed where it once stood, backlit as a foggy haze seemed to seep into your home around him.

“I AM HERE!”

Of course.

“…my door…oh god, I’ll be evicted for sure this time…”

“AH, Miss Y/L/N! There you are, we’ve been trying to contact you! I was afraid something had happened after Aizawa informed me that you hadn’t contacted us back, so I rushed over to check on you…I…apologise about your door. Rest assured I’ll have someone fix it.”

“That’s…, well, that’s …”

That wasn’t okay.

This was your home, and he’d invaded it twice now…though to be fair, the first time was understandable.

But this…

“Wonderful! Now, if you’ll come with me, we require your presence for a meeting.”

“H-Huh? What, I can’t- I have an interview! For a job! A job I need! I need it very much-”

“Miss Y/L/N, please rest assured that you’ll be compensated for your time. We’ll send someone over to inform the person interviewing you what has happened and arrange another date for you.” His voice was softer than it usually was, still deep, but understanding and insistent that you listen to him.

Must be from all the years of talking to the victims of villain attacks.

“Is she listening?” Came a tired voice from outside. Ah, sleeping bag man. Gosh you hoped your neighbour didn’t see them come up, she’d never drop the subject- having TWO men at your home Y/N?? How scandalous!

“Please, my friend, give her a moment, this is very sudden.”

“It wouldn’t be sudden if she’d answered her damn phone.”

“Just…Can I meet you later on? I’m sorry, I need this job…” You cut in, taking a deep breath as you tried to calm yourself down, desperately trying to fight off a nervous sweat in hops of staying presentable for your interview.

“Please Miss Y/L/N, I don’t mean to push, but we need to talk.”

They weren’t really asking, you could tell. This was all for show- like so many times before.

You’d always assumed that All Might would be different than the others.

“…okay…” You suddenly felt very small, but that was right, wasn't it?

This was the Number One Hero.

How could you say no to him?

You had no ground to deny him this, especially since he’d already started leading you from the apartment without another word.

You were a Pushover.

And sometimes, in a small part of your mind that you tried your best to ignore, you hated that people took advantage of that fact.

[richincolor]

New Releases

We've got four new YA books on our radar this week! Check out what's on deck for launch this Tuesday:

The Lotus Flower Champion by Pintip Dunn and Love Dunn

It looks like paradise…only it’s not. This was supposed to be a once-in-a-lifetime family trip to Thailand. One last wish for my dying mama. Instead, we’re stranded on a lush, stunning island with ten strangers—held captive as Thai mythology unfolds around us…and within us.

Now we’re being tested. We’re expected to face our greatest fears—and possible deaths—in hopes of awakening some kind of dormant gift…or curse. One by one, we’re transforming, echoing the strange and sometimes wondrous abilities found in Thai folktales. But my mama has only days to live, my papa is missing, and I’m forced to trust a group of strangers…including our evasive, dark-eyed tour guide, who resembles a minor god. Toss me in the ocean and feed me to the naga now.

Only I’m no hero. My days are managed by numbers and the compulsions that used to keep me safe. I have to prove how far I can go. To survive. To protect my family. And to find a way off this perilous island where everything is a lie…including reality.

Carry My Secret to Your Grave (Murder, She Wrote #2) by Stephanie Kuehn

Small town murders. Big time thrills. The second installment in the suspenseful, modern update of the classic mystery TV series. Perfect for fans of One of Us Is Lying, Sadie, and Gossip Girl.

“Someone knows where you live. And whoever they are, they want you to know… you’re next.” Bea Fletcher never met a cold case she didn’t want to solve. So when she finds herself staying with family near Lake Paloma, she’s torn. Sure, she’s not thrilled to be bunking with her moody, taciturn uncle and his wife while her father’s out of town. Being away from Cabot Cove means less time for Bea to work on her true crime blog, visit her great-aunt Jessica, and spend time with new friends Leisl, Leif, and Carlos and the mysterious underground treasure hunting game they’ve been playing.

But Lake Paloma has mysteries of its own, including the unsolved drowning of teenaged Eden Vicente the year before. And when Bea starts to ask questions about Eden’s death, the answers lead her closer to home than she ever imagined. If Bea isn’t careful, she could be the next girl to end up at the bottom of the lake.

What the River Knows by Isabel Ibañez

Bolivian-Argentinian Inez Olivera belongs to the glittering upper society of nineteenth century Buenos Aires, and like the rest of the world, the town is steeped in old world magic that’s been largely left behind or forgotten. Inez has everything a girl might want, except for the one thing she yearns the most: her globetrotting parents—who frequently leave her behind.

When she receives word of their tragic deaths, Inez inherits their massive fortune and a mysterious guardian, an archeologist in partnership with his Egyptian brother-in-law. Yearning for answers, Inez sails to Cairo, bringing her sketch pads and an ancient golden ring her father sent to her for safekeeping before he died. But upon her arrival, the old world magic tethered to the ring pulls her down a path where she soon discovers there’s more to her parent’s disappearance than what her guardian led her to believe.

With her guardian’s infuriatingly handsome assistant thwarting her at every turn, Inez must rely on ancient magic to uncover the truth about her parent’s disappearance—or risk becoming a pawn in a larger game that will kill her.

The Space Between Here and Now by Sarah Suk

Seventeen-year-old Aimee Roh has Sensory Time Warp Syndrome, a rare condition that causes her to time travel to a moment in her life when she smells something linked to that memory. Her dad is convinced she’ll simply grow out of it if she tries hard enough, but Aimee’s fear of vanishing at random has kept her from living a normal life.

When Aimee disappears for nine hours into a memory of her estranged mom–a moment Aimee has never remembered before–she becomes distraught. Not only was this her longest disappearance yet, but the memory doesn’t match up with the story of how her mom left–at least, not the version she’s always heard from her dad.

Desperate for answers, Aimee travels to Korea, where she unravels the mystery of her memories, the truth about her mother, and the reason she keeps returning to certain moments in her life. Along the way, she realizes she’ll need to reconcile her past in order to save her present.

[coraniaid]

For such a small town, Sunnydale has always had too many cemeteries.

This is actually one of the nicer ones. It doesn't house any ancient tombs dating back to before the town was founded. It doesn't have any secret tunnels underground, linking the crypts to musty passageways that lead down to subterranean vampire lairs. It just has graves. Just dead bodies, lying silently under the earth.

She came here alone, almost like it wasn't something she'd been dreading. Just casually walked here from her house, strolling along the familiar suburban streets as if she made this trip every day. As if this didn't mark the end of something. As if she wasn't afraid of saying goodbye.

It should be raining, she thinks. The sky should be full of clouds.

But it's not. The sun is shining, the sky is clear and blue and she can hear birds singing quietly in the trees behind her. Sometimes the weather really has no sense of occasion.

"Hey, Giles," she says awkwardly. "It's been a while."

Giles doesn't say anything in reply, of course. He doesn't raise an eyebrow while he waits for her to finish, the way he normally would have done. Doesn't mutter something old-fashioned and British under his breath while he pretends to clean his glasses. Doesn't make that strange clucking sound with his tongue that he always did when he angry or upset.

He's never going to do any of that stuff again. Because of her.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry," she manages, voice trembling just a little. "I let you down. I let everyone down."

"I was distracted," she says, trying to think of how he'd have put it. "I was irresponsible." I was in love, she thinks, and is surprised by how little it hurts.

She takes a breath to steady herself.

"It won't happen again," she promises.

Season 3 AU.

When Angel lost his soul, people Buffy cared about died. People like Kendra, the only other person in the world who understood what it meant to be a vampre slayer. People like her Watcher, Rupert Giles.

Now they're gone, just like Angel is gone, and none of them are coming back.

But whether Buffy wants it or not, she's still a Slayer, and there's still work to do. The Watcher's Council have assigned her a new Watcher, Professor Diana Dormer. And her new Watcher has brought a Slayer of her own with her to Sunnydale. But are Buffy and Faith ready for what this year has in store for them?

Buffy Summers/Faith Lehane Warnings: Major Character Death Status: Complete Chapters: 27/27 Word count: 277,084

[mrbensonmum]

TV Show - HALO

Since Voyager continues without me for now, and I don't feel like watching movies too much, I looked for some new material. Yesterday, I stumbled upon HALO!

I had started watching the first season some time ago since the second season was on its way. Now it's here and streaming on Paramount+ in Germany.

I've never played a HALO videogame, even though I find the world-building and lore incredibly interesting. Maybe it's because of this that I was so impressed with the first season, even though there were a few points I didn't like so much. But I really enjoyed the lore and world-building, although I have to admit that during the rewatch, I understood a lot more than during the first watch.

So, I was ready for the second season, started it, and was initially very annoyed. A desk jockey leading the Spartans was such a typical "That's lazy writing!" (Deadpool 2) move that really irritated me. Why can't Hollywood come up with something new? Unfortunately, that feeling only slowly faded away, and the weird dude, whose name I've already forgotten, got less and less screen time and even ended up fleeing, coward!

I think the new dynamic between the Spartans is great; they've stepped it up a notch. And in the last episode from this week, I believe, I particularly liked the admiral's speech. It showed me that they're on the right track, and right after that, there was plenty of action plus a surprise, which I don't want to spoil here. I really enjoyed it, and I'm looking forward to the next episode!

I think it's good that I don't know much about HALO because then I have more freedom to enjoy what's being shown, I don't set the bar too high, and I don't have too big expectations! And luckily, the second season isn't released all at once but only one episode per week. I liked that with Star Trek: Strange New Worlds, too, and it makes me feel a little nostalgic because there's something to look forward to, just like in the old days. The glorious time before streaming services, that was nice!

I particularly like, regarding both seasons, Pablo Schreiber (The dude really stepped up physically in the second season, it's quite intense!), Kate Kennedy, and Charlie Murphy. Although Kate Kennedy would be a perfect fit for Samus Aran, somehow I feel like I'm hitting a brick wall. But I don't really care; right now, with what's shown in the second season, I'm even more convinced. A big point, aside from the desk jockey, in season two that I don't like, is Cortana's design. Yes, she still has a relatively small role in the second season so far, but I really liked her design in the first season, and I also miss the dialogues with John, which were sometimes very humorous!

Since I like to fill the time between episodes, I've chosen another series that has been available on Prime for a few weeks now. But more on that in another post!

[zanydreamlandwonderland]

When I was young 1

When I was little, almost 12 years old, during that summer, my mom's sister, Stefania, came to live with my parents.

She had just separated from her husband after a furious argument.

She lived far from our house, and we hadn't seen her for a while. Along with my aunt Stefania, her daughter Emma also came to live with us. My cousin Emma had just turned 10.

We didn't have many rooms, so Emma came to sleep in my room and my aunt went to sleep in the other room nearby, opposite my parents'.

At first, I didn't like Emma very much; in fact, I saw her as a bit of an intruder in my room. My room was my exclusive territory since I didn't have any brothers and sisters.

A few days passed, and I got used to their presence. My aunt helped mom in the kitchen, sometimes in her free time she read, other times she painted, which was her favorite pastime. With Emma, I learned to know her, also because mom had told me to be kind to her because she was suffering far from her dad.

So we spent those summer days going for walks or I helped her make necklaces with beads. She was good at it; she came up with cute necklaces.

In the evening, we went to bed. Before falling asleep, we watched a little TV or rewatched old movies on cassette.

Then we turned off the light. In the darkness, I often heard Emma's breathing become more frequent, but I thought she was a bit agitated because of her family situation. After a few nights I turned on the light to see what was happening, and I saw her sheets moving, her right hand, obviously, moving over her breast, the shape of the other hand, was low over her belly..

I asked her if everything was okay, and she said "yes". Her face was red..and she had a surprised expression, as if I had discovered her secret.

I didn't say anything. I turned off the light but I had understood what she was doing.

Also she was starting to become sensitive in those areas too. To have that strange sensitivity that you don't understand where it comes from, you just know it wasn't there before and then it gradually takes over.

I felt my nipples becoming sensitive, sometimes they were hard that it hurt a lot to touch them, I felt my belly tense, and a caress gave me relief and a pleasure never felt before…but also I was afraid that they would discover my secret so I tried to touch my breast or more in silence holding my breath even if I felt a strong desire to scream.

At a certain point I felt Emma fingers slide on my pubis, go over the last curve, slide inside my lips effortlessly since my excitement was so high. In the meantime we continued to kiss as if there was no tomorrow: with those caresses and kisses the whole world around disappeared.

Emma told me that she didn't care that her parents were divorced that she felt good with me I felt my heart melting, so I felt, in my own small way, that I did a small good deed.

(continue)

[upirium]

The Ghoul Dens: Ghouls and Their Rooms

Below the cut is a fairly large thread of my own headcanons complete with 'illustrations' and descriptions about just where the ghouls stay.

Keep an eye out for any funny tiny little details I've put in my pictures. I recommend looking at the image full size.

The ghoul dens are a sort of vast network beneath the main church, comprised mostly of the same stone and architecture throughout each room. The upper floor of the ghoul dens is reserved for the current band ghouls, and it has a strange aura about it that doesn't quite make sense. The mystery of why a ghoul's room is exactly as large or small as they'd like it has never been revealed.

Ghouls are given the freedom to find what type of style they want for their room in due time.

A majority of their space is in one somewhat long and confusing hallway; a ghoul common room and kitchen is at the center of the ghoul den maze, while a long hallway wraps around in a perfect square to branch off the other ghoul rooms. Suspiciously, it always seems to be the perfect amount. There is a set of stairs that lead to the lower ghoul dens somewhere at the back of this 'maze.

The Common Room

Reserved specifically for the band ghouls, or ghouls of importance. Pretty standard stuff. There's a TV in there, a gaming system, a bookshelf. It leads directly to the kitchen. Ghouls are often found here in piles.

The Kitchen

A largely ignored space for a long while until the Prequelle era. It was mostly used for snacks and storing drinks. While it's still used for this, Mountain sometimes ventures up to the main kitchens to steal ingredients. He likes to cook.

The Flesh Wall

Despite the band having a kitchen they can't subsist on human food alone. This has been remedied by the fact that it wasn't just ghouls summoned from Hell, but other creatures. Somewhere in the lower ghoul dens there is a chilled room crawling with living, self replicating meat. Inedible to humans but has the nutrients ghouls need to stay healthy.

There is a photo that I won't post here because it's quite body horror-esque, but if you want to see it you can click here. It's an old picture that I kind of need to rework but you get the gist.

The Ghoul Rooms

Swiss

From a world draped in excess, Swiss expects no less. He has the largest room and probably the 'fanciest'. Don't let the fancy exterior full you, there's weed hidden in every corner thanks to Mountain.

His bathroom is on the right.

Dew

Dew doesn't care all that much about his room, so he doesn't care about making a mess of it either. The laundry and cleaning ghouls are on high alert with this room and he still manages to throw clothes all over the place before they can get to them. Dew's closet is against the visible wall and his bathroom is on the right.

Dew's Bathroom (a bonus)

The only reason Dew gets a bathroom pic is because I needed it for an RP. The largeness of bedrooms does not really extend to bathrooms and they're usually quite small.

The only reason it's so clean is because of the cleaning ghouls.

Mountain

Mountain is so incredibly large a bed won't do, so he sleeps on a series of pillowy cushions and blankets. The couch is only there for company and he doesn't use it often. Mountain is very into plants and boho aesthetic. His closet is on the left, which leads into his bathroom that sadly does not have a bathtub he can use properly unless he's glamoured.

Aether

Aether likes things clean and neat, so he gravitated to a more modern aesthetic. Having Dew in his room makes his teeth itch because he does not respect the whole cleanliness aspect of it.

If you ever came in here and saw a black tear in space and time and no ghoul, it's because he's trying to be left alone.

He doesn't have a closet, but his bathroom is on the right.

Rain

Rain likes smaller and more enclosed spaces, hence the bed. He also took a page from Mountain's book and really enjoys plants and pretty lights. He reads a lot and can often be found curled up in his bed reading from the shelf that's built into it. His closet is on the right, which leads into his bathroom.

Cumulus

Cumulus fell into the trap of pretty lights as well, but has taken it to a much greater excess. She likes to steal tea from the common room kitchen and curl up with a book in her reading corner.

She occasionally paints and has a surprising knack for it, leading to the paintings that keep appearing on her wall in haphazard states.

Her bathroom is on the back wall. She doesn't have a closet.

Cirrus

Cirrus prefers the dark. She has her light bulb set to purple half the time because it's way easier on the eyes. She enjoys gaming quite often as well as working out in the gym.

She has started collecting pictures and posters, some of them from Cumulus. She has a strange collections of drawings of Dew. It's not that she's collecting them because of him, but because brothers and sisters sometimes like drawing the ghouls. Dew has stated multiple times he wants none of the pictures so Cirrus takes them so they're not thrown away.

The art she has now are from brother Ryuzato, sister Blanche, brother Atlas, and sister Ynlatus.

Other pictures include: a photo of her and Cumulus, a spicy photo of Cumulus, a picture of a celebrity she thinks is kinda weird looking but also kind of hot, a photo of Dew blepping she stole off the internet, and a picture of a cat that fills her with a sense of profound sadness and loss.

The Lower Dens

Though not pictured the lower dens are where the non-band ghouls stay. Retired ghouls that haven't been 'banished' stay here as well, though their rooms are not nearly as nice. Still they're kept to a part of the lower dens that are nicer than that off the staff ghouls and other such beasties. The ghoul laundry room is in the lower dens.

The Lower Lower Dens

There's another set of stairs down in the lower dens that leads to the crypts. The grave ghouls reside down here.

Further still is the dungeons, or the prisons rather. Where bad and naughty ghouls go to have a timeout.

There's also a strange room covered in sigils that every ghoul fears nearing, though many do not know why. But they swear they've heard screaming.

[twilightmalachite]

Machina - Epilogue 2

Author: Kino Seitaro (with Akira)

Characters: Mika, Shu, Makoto, Sora

Translator: Mika Enstars

"I’ve been cheated~! It was a mistake to admire ya, Oshi-san!"

Season: Winter

Location: Machina Stage

Shu: The curtain for our stage is about to rise.

Mika: Mhm. In these moments before the performance… I’m always so tense, or rather, excited. My head is strangely clear, but my body’s achin’. ♪

Shu: That’s good tension. Keep it going for the performance.

Kagehira. The digital art you created wasn’t bad as it seemed.

For Machina, I asked you to take an active part in the stage design so as to not put your creative motivation to waste…

But I didn’t expect to end up bringing in something as old-fashioned as CRT TVs.

If these giant monitors are considered state-of-the-art technology, then this is reminiscent of scrap art. Was that contrast intentional?

Mika: Ehehe, are ya praisin’ me, Oshi-san?

I am real glad ya didn’t yell at me, though. I really like this stage turned out, y’know.

When I heard that we could use video in our production, it all jus’ clicked.

Waaay back, when I’d go to the garbage dump, at times there’d be lots of illegally dumped TVs and such like this.

It cost money to properly dispose of that sorta stuff, right? Some of them would be fully intact, to me it looked like a treasure trove.

I didn’t use ‘em ‘cuz I felt that my work in the Test World looked like worthless garbage to ya, Oshi-san.

Though a world like that might appear worthless to some people. But it was fun t’be able to relax and create a work of art while rememberin’ how I felt back then…♪

I found myself thinkin’ “Ahh, I really do admire Oshi-san” again.

Shu: Hmph. The moment I go soft on you, you get carried away… No matter the means, rubbish is still rubbish.

I allowed it this time because it happened to fit the theme, but I cannot allow you to pick things up from the dumpster.

Mika: Nnah, I-I thought we’ve been over this!

We decided in the end to not meddle with each other’s personal items! Are ya gonna insist that I’m wrong again?

Mika: I’ve been cheated~! It was a mistake to admire ya, Oshi-san!

Shu: Non! I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant for you is—

Makoto: (whispering) It’s about to begin, both of you!

Sora: (whispering) Get into position!

Shu: …Ahem. We’ll talk about this later. For now, let’s focus on the performance.

Mika: …Right. It’d be rude t’the audience if we were arguin’ on stage!

Shall we then, Oshi-san?

We’ve gotta deliver our songs to those waitin’ for our work, right?

Mika: There are those that like us, of course, but there’s also those who hold grudges and those who are skeptical of us.

Especially to those who flamed Oshi-san’s SNS and those who got caught up in the Test World fiasco, we probably don’t look good to ‘em.

Even so, if they try to listenin’ to our songs, even fer a little bit, we’ll do our best to reach their hearts with our song! ♪

“♪~♪~”

Shu: …Hehe.

You’ve improved once again, Kagehira. What a well-tuned singing voice.

You may be clumsy, but I recognize your passion for art.

The electronic world may be built of the binary variables zero and one, but only humans hold the variable of emotion. And the one who makes it shine the brightest right now is you. I hope you will continue to improve.

There is so much in this world—many different principles, ideologies, financial standings, races, and genders.

And there is no small number of those whom I find to be the most distasteful human beings. And alive.

However, art exists to provoke questions of its viewer, putting aside such notions.

Nothing in this world is convenient. It is frustrating, but it by no means is a dead end. In this labyrinth, we can still progress, even whilst asking ourselves the same questions.

Shu: Even if the created world comes to its end conveniently at the hand of a god upon a machine. Reality has us lose our way, sometimes we stray down the wrong path, but we continue on regardless.

Through this miserable reality… I hope we can walk together for a long time.

With you, an existence so different from mine.

“♪~ ♪~”

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[marvelmaniac715]

This is part sixteen (I think) of my Chucky transferring his soul into a human at the end of Seed au. As always, until Glen and Glenda are 14 in this au they’ll go by he/him and she/her respectively, and in this fic I’d place them at about… eight. This idea just came to me like five minutes ago and I’ve finally found a way to incorporate my favourite Chucky character into this au! But who is it? Well, you’ll have to read and find out…

————————————————————-

Chucky finished tying his tie. It was a big night tonight, it was the first time in three months that he and Tiffany had gone on a date. In the old days (before the kids) they’d go out and… hunt. But nowadays, it would usually be dinner and a movie, and tonight Chucky had booked a table in a really expensive and exclusive five star restaurant with a world famous chef and a six month waiting list. He didn’t know what he was more excited for - spending one on one time with his wife or trying the chef’s famous steak dish. Probably the steak. Yeah, it was the steak.

Once he’d finished salivating at the very thought of the steak he’d consume, he straightened his cufflinks and headed downstairs, greeted by the noise and eventual sight of Glenda wrestling a very confused looking Glen to the ground. For one shameful moment, Chucky laughed, but it was only because this was such an unusual sight to be met with. But once he got over his moment of weakness, he gently pulled Glenda off of her brother and took hold of her shoulders, softly yet firmly explaining that Glen was too fragile for her kind of play. 

This provoked a stunned and (slightly) outraged ‘I’m literally the older twin…’ from Glen, but it seemed that Glenda understood, because she hugged her brother tightly (maybe too tightly… was she trying to suffocate him?) and apologised (Glen was turning bright pink, it was definitely suffocation). When that was dealt with, Chucky brushed himself off and launched into his well rehearsed ‘Your mother and I are going out’ speech:

“Okay, your mother and I are going out, so don’t do anything I would or wouldn’t do. There’s a small grey area, that’s where you operate. Emergency numbers are written on this piece of paper that I’ll put on that small wooden table near the front door. Takeout menus are also on that table along with a list that explains in full bullet points your nightly routines - no getting out of homework and yes, that does mean you have to eat your vegetables, Glenda. I went ahead and blocked the channels you aren’t allowed to watch on tv and put a screen limit on all of your devices. The babysitter should be here shortly and I’ll stay to let them in, that all sound good?”

As always, the twins nodded and said in unison: 

“Yep.”

Pleased that the twins were now filled in, Chucky sat down for a couple of minutes before realising that Glenda had left bite marks on Glen’s neck when she was wrestling him. When that situation had been dealt with, the doorbell rang. Chucky answered the door with some trepidation - Tiffany had hired this babysitter because their usual one was sick with the flu, so he had no clue who this was.

He opened the door to find a nice looking young woman in a wheelchair who looked strangely familiar. This girl couldn’t be older than about sixteen, so how could he know her? It had to be a coincidence, he was just nervous about tonight, that was all. Still, he asked her name. Smiling politely, the girl responded:

“Nica. Nica Pierce.”

Pierce. It couldn’t be- oh god, it was. This girl looked like her, and there was a keychain on her handbag that was a family photo of some kind, and Sarah was on it. How could Tiffany have hired her? Did she know? Was this all to get back at him? There were so many options, but the only thing that came out of Chucky’s mouth was a slightly squeaky (sometimes his voice went high pitched when he was nervous):

“Is your mom called Sarah?”

Blinking in surprise, Nica nodded.

“Yeah… how did you know that?”

There was a multitude of things that Chucky could’ve said. But his brain was on autopilot due to shock, so his next response was a quickly blurted out:

“We dated in college.”

They were both surprised by that response. Nica out of genuine confusion because for all she knew that might be true (her mom kept a lot of secrets) and Chucky because he was surprised at the utter bullshit he was spouting. He decided there and then that he couldn’t let this girl in his house and near his children, he just couldn’t. But he couldn’t kill her (Tiffany’s ‘self-improvement’ crap was starting to get to him, and he hated that) so he decided to be merciful.

“Look, I can’t let you into this house. I’m sorry, about this and you being disabled because that might be my fault- ignore that. Bottom line, you gotta leave. Bye.”

Nica was now slightly offended.

“Is it because I’m in a wheelchair or because of your personal history with my mother?”

Chucky shook his head.

“A bit of the personal history and a bit because my wife hired you and didn’t consult me first, we’ll be having a talk about that. Listen, if you knew anything about this situation you’d be grateful I’m letting you go home at all. So just go, please. Do you want money? I’ll give you $20 for making the trip. $75 if you go without a fuss.”

Nica would’ve protested, but her eyes widened at the money (this was her first job, she’d been expecting $50 at the most). So when Chucky produced the cash, she grabbed it before she could change his mind and quickly began to leave, yelling a hasty ‘Goodbye mister Ray!’ over her shoulder as she did so.

Chucky realised with a great deal of sadness that dinner would have to be cancelled since there wasn’t a babysitter to watch the twins. So regretfully, he called up to Tiffany who was still changing upstairs:

“Hey babe? Yeah, change of plans, we can’t go out tonight. Sorry.”

Sighing with disappointment, Glenda discretely tossed the brand new flamethrower she’d ordered to test out on her and Glen’s (mostly Glen’s) old stuffed animals into the trash. Glen watched this happen with a mixed sense of horror and relief.