#on tv I’ve seen hundreds

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

People say scatterbrained but I feel like my brain is shotgun pellets

[luveline]

omg would die for a concussion fic with remus <33

—your concussion causes moderate memory loss, and you forget some very important details about your relationship with Remus. fem, 1.3k

“This is nice.” 

You toy with the ring on Remus’ finger, turning it around and around and around. With your weight bearing down on his right arm and your hand secured around his left to stop him from moving, there isn’t much he can do besides say, “Yeah?” 

“I love when guys wear rings.” 

“I had a suspicion.” 

You wince as stars flash through your vision, pausing in your toying to press your face into his chest. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“I can see black and white spots.” 

“Oh, no,” he says sympathetically. “Close them, dovey. Take a breather.” 

The chair under you is uncomfortable, your back aches, your head twinges, but Remus is comfortable to lean again. He’s wearing one of his big hoodies, old enough to feel like brushed cotton under your cheek and against your nose, decals washed away. He steals his hand back to pat your shoulder, an image of patience. 

“Sorry. This isn’t a good second date.” 

Remus leans down to talk near your ear. “Dove,” he whispers, “this isn’t our second date, remember?” 

“It’s not?” 

“No, sweetheart. But that’s okay.” 

“You’re really handsome so I don’t want to mess it up.” 

“Mess what up, the date?” he asks. “You didn’t mess it up, it went very well. It was a year ago, but.” He smiles, his breath warming your face, his arm hot around you and securing you to his chest.

“A year ago?” 

“Yeah, a year ago. We went to winter wonderland and the bookshop by the train station and you wouldn’t let me buy you any books.” He laughs softly. “But I got you one eventually. A couple by now, at least.” 

“That’s nice.” 

“You’ve bought me a hundred more, it’s awful.” 

You raise your head to squint at him. “I have?”

“So many,” he whispers, dipping his chin down to kiss your nose, to your wide-eyed delight. “But you let me look after you in other ways.” 

“Let you?” 

“Yes, let me. It’s part of…” He cups your cheek quickly. “Sickness and health and everything. I have to keep you happy.” 

“Ah.” His ring is warm on your cheek. “Sickness and health, like we’re married.” 

“Something like that.” 

You straighten up as someone behind you coughs aggressively. A little further down a baby cries against a mother’s chest, and the TV plays a quiz show you’re starting to hate. Moving your head has black haunting the sides of your vision again, the light seeping in from the automatic doors too much to handle. 

“I’ve asked Sirius to bring you some sunglasses.” 

You turn around. “Sirius, that’s the one with the motorbike?” 

“Yeah. He should be quick. But maybe they’ll have called you in again by then and we can go home.” 

That’s right. You’ve been seen once by a doctor for triage, and sent back out again when they deemed you only mildly concussed, no bleeding on the brain, but an X-ray ordered for safety's sake anyways. That’s what you’re waiting for. Remus is waiting with you, because he’s a very nice man. 

“Sorry if I’m ruining your Saturday.” 

Remus’ hair falls from behind his ear as he lifts his head properly. “I think you might be having a worse day than me, so I’ll forgive you. I'm joking!” He tucks that stray strand behind his ear unsuccessfully. “You could never ruin my Saturday. I’d spend the entire bank holiday weekend in here with you, I only want them to look after you so I can finish the job.” 

Heat like a kiss on each cheek. You bring your hand to your nose, overwhelmed. “Really?” 

“We spend a lot of time together, sweetheart. I know you don’t remember right now, but I love you.” 

“You do?” 

“Don’t tell me you can’t feel that.” 

You look at him with the sunshine caressing the side of his face, his three mean scars and his scattered beauty spots. He has thick eyebrows, light brown eyes in the sun like honeyed tea, and a playful smile. More frown lines than smile lines, but the beginnings of crows feet speaks to some joy, at least. You bring your thumb up to a small wrinkle and stroke it, before tucking his hair behind his ear. It’s too short to stay put for long. 

“I love you,” you say surely. You do, even if you can’t remember more than your first date. 

He’s a good kisser, you remember. He’d pulled you back from your door and kissed you like you’d stolen the breath straight from his lungs. 

“I know.” He brings your hand from his ear to kiss. Gentle, he strokes your knuckles, his thumb turning a golden ring where it sits on your marriage finger. 

“It’s really like we’re married, we have matching rings,” you laugh. 

He holds his hand up between you. “We are married, lovely girl.” 

You steal your hand back. He waits without hurry, though a line of concern marks his brow. “Are we? When did we get married?” 

“Only a few days ago, but we’re married. This wasn’t on the honeymoon agenda.” 

He takes your hand with care and shows you the gold ring on your marriage finger to match his own, aligning your hands. The colour hadn’t seemed important a moment ago, nor the placement, but now you’re seeing them you realise you’d made a small misjudgement. It’s not like you’re married at all, you simply are. 

You frown. The way he’s holding your hand feels familiar, though the idea that you’re married is preposterous. You can’t remember any ceremony or reception, a proposal, nothing. There’s simply blank space there, which isn’t very nice. But… 

You’re not scared. You haven’t been worried once all day. 

“You have a concussion,” he says quietly, practised, like he’s said it to you before. “And it’s resulted in some amnesia, but it’s going to get better very soon.” 

“We’re definitely married?” 

“Unless you’ve changed your mind.” 

“I don’t want to change my mind.” You fluster quickly with what you’ve said, looking down at the hospital’s linoleum flooring. 

Remus takes your hand where it lays on your thigh and squeezes it. A thread of memory tugs at the touch; you remember this. His tender concern. His constant support. 

“Then you don’t have to. Whether you remember me or not, I’m here to look after you, okay? I’m right here.” 

You nod without looking up. His hand knows yours no matter what you remember, rubbing at all the best parts, holding with the perfect amount of pressure. 

“You okay?” 

“I guess our second date really did go well.” 

“Better than I could ever explain.” He tugs at your hand until you look at him, his head already ducked to keep you pinned by his gaze. “You’re like my shy girl all over again. I forgot how nervous you used to get.” 

You can see the Remus who became your husband and the one who scared butterflies into action every time he looked at you coalescing. “You’re really good-looking,” you explain. 

“And what do you think you are?” He rubs your hand. “You’re beautiful. Can I have a kiss, dove? Is that okay?” 

You squeeze your eyes closed. You’d been fighting stars in your eyes anyways.

When Remus kisses you, your body responds to his touch like it knows him. Your heart thuds against your ribs, your lips know exactly how to move and when he’s going to turn his head. Love for him shines through it. His love for you makes your chest hurt, his chaste kissing like a straight shot of oxytocin. All your worry saps away. 

“Feel any better?” he asks knowingly.

You remember enough about his teasing to withhold an answer. He kisses your cheek, his smile unmissable on your skin. 

[fruity-phrog]

Okay, I saw someone say that Nimona, while being good representation, “didn’t take the big step forward in queer rep that everyone says it did”.

That is wrong. So wrong, my dude.

Yes, an explicit and open queer relationship in children’s cartoons is not new, per ce. Hell, just this year, two popular kids’ cartoons had the main character in an open, adorable, plot-based queer romance. But this is different for a few reasons.

Reason number one, it isn’t left in suspense. Yes, they had that split for three odd weeks, but they started the film as a couple. One of the very first scenes is them together as a couple, Ambrosius saying he loves Ballister, them holding hands, Ballister leaning on Ambrosius’ shoulder. Ambrosius says he loves Ballister three times during the film, and none of them are any more than halfway in. It’s very clear, from their very first interaction, that they are an established relationship, which isn’t something I’ve seen...at all in other animation.

Secondly, they are the plot. Ambrosius not believing Ballister, Ambrosius cutting off Ballister’s arm, Ballister trying to get the video to Ambrosius - this is what drives the plot. In any other children’s animation with queer relationships, the relationship is not the main focus. Even The Owl House, which is so amazing with its constant representation, would still make sense if Luz and Amity never happened. But Nimona’s plot wouldn’t make sense without Ballister and Ambrosius’ relationship. It, quite simply, can’t be erased. It could work as a friendship, yes, but that’s the point. They could have just been two close friends that fell on opposite sides of a fight, but they weren’t. They were two lovers that fell on opposite sides of a fight. 

Thirdly, they aren’t sanitized for “family viewing”. An emerging trend in children’s animation is to only have mlm relationships as fathers to make them seem more “family friendly”. With the exception of Kipo, there really isn’t many tv shows or films that places light upon an mlm relationship. And if it does, it'll be a teen relationship because teenagers being queer tends to come across as less “dirty” and more “innocent”. But Goldenheart is none of these things. They are adults without the mollifying aspect of having a family. And on top of that, they fight. They wield swords and they get bloody and they shoot at things and get angry and yell. They aren’t “clean” and “innocent”.

As well as this, they are in a film. Films are far more accessible than tv shows. You have to watch twenty seven episodes before Lumity in toh is canon. Troy kisses Benson on the eleventh episode of Kipo. And there are two hundred and eighty three episodes of Adventure Time before Marceline and Bonnie kiss. But with a film, the queerness is much more forward - especially in Nimona, where it’s literally the second scene. Animated films hardly ever display queer relationships, but Nimona did.

Finally - they aren’t perfect. I don’t know about you, but three weeks of thinking your boyfriend/maybe ex is a murderer? Doesn’t sound like a healthy few weeks to me. I have only seen big relationship arguments portrayed in straight relationships in cartoons - think Star Vs The Forces Of Evil - whereas queer relationships either have the massive fight prior to being canonically gay - She Ra - or have conflict, not arguments, that are dealt with quickly - Dead End/The Owl House. But Goldenheart? Goldenheart suffers. Their relationship is pushed to such extreme boundaries as for them to be pretty much exes throughout most of the movie. And yet, they are clearly healthy, happy and very much in love at the end. 

TL;DR - Nimona is amazing with the queer representation, and it is a milestone for LGBTQ+ cartoons. Not only is the relationship romantic for the entire movie, the plot is driven by Ambrosius and Ballister’s sort-of-break-up. In short, they are treated the same way straight people are. They have flaws, they have massive arguments, they have plot importance, they have backstory. They are in love. And that’s what matters more than anything else. 

[strlvvr]

my best friend’s brother (is the one for me) - part two

part two!! i’m so excited for this series guys

word count: 945 words

read part one here !

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all i’ve been able to think about is the interaction between me and matt. the way he whispered in my ear, the hand on my back, the way he played with my hair, how he got up to “go to the bathroom”. i knew exactly why he had to get up. it was kinda hard to ignore honestly.

“i’m going to bed, you coming?” nick asked me as he was getting up and putting his blanket away.

“no, i’m not too tired yet,” i moved over on the couch a bit to grab my drink, trying to ignore matt’s stare.

“well i’m gonna go to my room for the night.” chris said, also putting away his blanket and grabbing his drink, heading down the stairs to his room.

me and matt stayed quiet for a couple more minutes, just watching whatever was on after the crow. 

“just us now…” matt said quietly, grabbing the remote to put something else on. he decided on inception, another one of my favorite movies, which he knew.

“2010 was leo’s best year for movies,” i moved to face matt to debate with him over this.

“oh yeah? and why’s that?” matt asked with a smile. this is a topic we discuss often.

“well he had inception AND shutter island come out that year. arguably two of his best movies.” he just watched as i ranted about leo dicaprio and just movies in general. chiming in with yeahs and acknowledgments, but letting me talk. i swear for a second, i almost saw a look of love in his eyes. 

i quickly dismissed the thought and let myself get lost in the movie after my rant. i moved over to back over to matt, missing the comfort of being in his arms. he gladly pulled me into him and we sat like that for most of the movie, only moving to grab more snacks or our drinks.  

as the movie started ending, i felt matt’s breathing get slower, subtle snores leaving his mouth. i looked around and saw the mess left by nick and chris and sighed, knowing we had to clean it up. i started to get up to get a start on the cleaning, but matt, half asleep, pulled me back down, mumbling something i didn’t quite hear. 

“mmm stay here.” he grumbled, tightening his grip on my waist.

“matt, we have to clean up the garbage..” i whispered, hoping he wouldn’t hear me and let go. unfortunately he did and loosened his grip, letting me get up. he slowly got up, grabbing the candy wrappers around him and followed me towards the kitchen.

“nick’s probably asleep already.” he pointed out, grabbing more garbage from the table. 

“yeah..” i put away our blankets and fixed up the couch.

“you can always come sleep with me.” he said quietly, watching me walk around the living room to find the remote. “it’s over there,” he pointed to where we had just been sitting. 

i chuckled, grabbing the remote and turning the tv off. 

“i think i might take you up on the offer,” i said, searching for any sign of regret on his face, finding none.

he put the last piece of garbage away and started walking to his room, stopping and looking back to see if i was following him. once i grabbed our phones, i headed toward him and his room.

no matter how many times i’ve slept in here, it always feels awkward at first. he always points out how i sleep better in his bed, and i always blame it on how comfy his bed is, even though it has nothing to do with his bed but everything to do with him. 

he walked over to the bed, pulling back the blankets and getting in. i stayed put by the door, just watching him awkwardly.

“are you just gonna stand there all night?” he questioned me, pulling the blanket off the other side of the bed for me.

“i was thinking about it,” i walked over to my side and got in, immediately being met with the softness of his blanket and the smell of his cologne. i grabbed his remote to put on some random show. we debated on a couple before deciding on family guy. staying on our respected sides while intently watching the show we’ve both seen hundreds of times, not daring to move closer to each other. as if we weren’t just cuddling on the couch and falling asleep together out there. 

it was different in his bed though. almost like it was too intimate to cuddle in a bed. we wouldn’t dare take that step in our friendship, even if we would wake up like that anyway. the more tired i got, the less i cared. i moved closer to him, feeling him do the same. he put his arm out, signaling for me to lay on him. none of us said anything, we stayed watching the tv. there was an understanding between us that it was a comfortable silence.

‘this is normal, there’s nothing deeper to this. just two friends cuddling and watching tv.’ i thought, feeling him play with my hair and rub the leg i snuck onto him. i was trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach with every move of his thumb on my thigh and pushing away all the thoughts that snuck into my mind. 

slowly i started to fall asleep in matt’s arms. right before i fell asleep, i felt him reach for the remote to turn off his tv.

“goodnight baby.” he whispered, before kissing the top of my head and falling asleep himself.

tag list:

@beersangel @whoseyouare @wh0schl0 @st7rnioioss @slutsformatt @h3arts4harry

[natalievoncatte]

The storm was blinding. A white torrent fell from the sky in a raging tempest, the likes of which Lena had not seen since she left Metropolis for National City. This was no mere blizzard, but a genuine thundersnow- lighting flashed eerily in the strange pink-white night as thunder buffeted the windows. The Tower’s balcony door was sealed shut against the driving storm.

They were all out there and Lena was here. There was no supervillain this time, at least, not directly- the freak blizzards rolling through Southern California and wreaking havoc on the unprepared people and infrastructure were caused by some asshole calling himself the Weather Wizard, screwing around with the Flash three states away. Lena had seen him on TV; he was a few clicks above a Condiment King-tier villain. One of the joke guys that some cape would take care of on their way to a real fight.

Or he had been, until he got his hands on some tech he wasn’t supposed to have and started punching above his weight class. Lena didn’t care about that. She was thinking about only one thing right now: Kara.

They were all out there. Kara and the others. The city was a mess; people needed heated shelters, the power was out across two thirds of the city, and Kara had already prevent hundreds of deaths on a bridge that was about to collapse from the unexpected weight of snow and the intense cold. The blizzard had come on so fast that the rush our traffic was almost literally frozen right in place.

The city needed its heroes and Lena… Lena was stuck in the Tower. Literally; there was no way to get her home in this mess and she wasn’t going to leave, and she’d sworn off the idea of putting on silly clothes and picking a made up name to go cast spells and deploy gadgets with the others.

She had a feeling… more of a quiet understanding, really, that Kara was against that, even if she never quite said it.

Finally, she saw a shape in the whirling snow as a caped figure walked up to the balcony doors. As Kara stepped inside, a blast of arctic air followed her, chilling Lena to the bone.

Kara was *shivering*.

“Kara?” said Lena. “What’s wrong? I’ve never seen you get cold before.”

“J-just exerting myself,” said Kara. “Alex wants me in the sunbed for a few minutes to charge back up.”

She clearly needed it. Her cape was stiff and crusted with frost and there was snow everywhere, clinging to her hair and brows. She paused for a moment, as she descended the stairs, and looked at Lena. Really looked at her- despite the chill and the frost clinging to her, her eyes were warm, the warm blue of the sky on a summer day.

“Kara?”

“Nothing, sorry,” she said.

Lena watched her pass, feeling a bit off kilter, then rushed to the kitchen. She whipped up some of Kara’s favorite hot chocolate and didn’t spare the whipped cream or a cherry on top, and piled up some donuts and cinnamon rolls beside.

Kara looked haggard, groaning as she laid down under the lamps. Her face lit up brighter than the false suns when she saw the tray Lena carried.

“Oh Rao, I could kiss you for that.”

Lena almost missed a step, smoothly recovering from her stumble instead of dumping it all on Supergirl’s crest. Kara looked at her intently, an unreadable but wide-eyed look on her face.

“I know you’re hungry. Come on, eat.”

“Can’t stay long,” Kara said, between eating entire donuts in two bites, “they need me.”

“I know,” said Lena. “They always do.”

Kara sat quietly for a while, eating, and it made Lena feel more at ease to see some color coming back into her cheeks, even if the snowmelt wetted her hair. Absently, Lena brushed a damp lock out of Kara’s eyes.

“Are you going back out?”

Kara nodded. “I have to. They need me in five places at once. The city is completely unprepared for something like this.”

“I wish I could help.”

“You are helping.”

Lena sighed. “I could do more, you know. I’m starting to master the magic, and now that the Foundation is going strong, I can whip up tech pretty fast.”

Kara sighed and sat up. “I know, but I need you here. I can’t be distracted by worrying about your safety all the time.”

“You wouldn’t say that to Alex. Or J’onn. Or Nia.”

Kara let out an exasperated sound, but her voice was very soft. “It’s different when it’s you.”

Lena tried to swallow but her throat clenched, and she fought down the sensation of her heart doing a backflip. Kara rose from the bed and stood to her full height, and Lena was once again taken aback by how dashing and heroic she looked in her suit, like a modern day knight. It made her feel strangely small in a way that she didn’t dislike.

Kara carefully took Lena’s hands in her own, tenderly rubbing the pads of her thumbs over Lena’s knuckles, sending chilling shocks up her arms.

“Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

Kara nodded and departed, rushing out of the Tower and back into the storm.

She was gone for hours again. Everyone checked in with Lena periodically, and eventually, Lena found a couch to lay on and curled up under a cardigan as a blanket. J’onn made this place much more comfy than the DEO, she gave him that.

Kara breezed back in sometime after dawn, trudging back inside, ice-caked and frost-encrusted, pale and worn down. She headed right for the kitchen.

Lena padded after her in her stocking feet.

Kara sighed. “Alex, Nia, and Brainy at helping with the shelters. J’onn is out there… there’s roof collapses and accordion wrecks and fires and people trapped. It’s going to be days of this, cleaning it up. How does a blizzard start fires.”

Planting a hand on the fridge, Kara leaned on it and sighed.

“How much time do you have?”

“Now that the sun is up, I don’t need the bed. I can just pop up above the cloud cover if I need it. I just wanted to get warm for a minute.”

“Sit,” said Lena.

Kara sat. Lena made more hot chocolate. The donuts had run out, so Lena tore open more of the little powdered cocoa packets and kept on making more until Kara waved her off.

“Are you getting warmed up?” said Lena.

The way Kara looked at her spoke volumes, but Lena couldn’t read them.

“Yes. I have to go.”

“Okay, but after this is over, you owe me some alone time.”

Kara smiled. “It’s a date.”

They both froze. It was a common phrase, an ordinary idiom, but it felt like something had just… unveiled itself, like fog rolling back from an unknown, verdant country. Kara was blushing scarlet.

“I’ll be back.”

“Wait,” said Lena.

She had to do this before she lost the nerve. She rushed around the kitchen island and rushed to Kara’s side, pressing a hand on her shoulder, and rose up on her tippy toes to press a kiss to Kara’s cheek- or rather, the side of her mouth, just this side of a real kiss. Kara went stock still and Lena thought for a moment that she’d done something terrible, misread the moment, but she could roll it back, play it off as a friendly gesture.

A hand, soft as silk and warm as honey, cupped Lena’s cheek and tilted her chin up, so her gaze met the boundless depths of Kara’s eyes, so full of welling emotion that Lena could drown in them.

“Wait for me.”

“I will.”

Then she was gone, giving herself back to the tempest outside.

Lena waited for her. It was hours again. The snow finally slowed, the sky beginning to lighten as the artificial snow weather patterns shifted back to normal and nature reasserted itself. The city would be in for a shock- it was going to be in the seventies by the next day.

Kara looked utterly worn out when she came back, finally, trudging down from the balcony with her shoulders slumped and her hair hanging in ragged wet clumps from her head as her cape drooped with moisture.

“You waited,” she said.

“I did. Let’s get you dry, huh?”

Lena worked a towel over Kara’s head, more than a little jealous as the effortless way her golden hair formed those beautiful lose curls as the water was wrung out of them, giving her a salon perfect finish with absolutely no work.

One that was done, Kara merely had to remove her suit to shed the rest of the water in a puddle at her feet, leaving her standing there in sweats and a cute fluffy kitten shirt that she had first ironically gifted to Lena and then stolen back, but only after Lena had worn it a few times.

“I’m so tired,” said Kara.

“I know, darling,” said Lena. “Plenty of places to get some rest here. J’onn made his superhero hideout cosy.”

“I don’t want to rest,” said Kara.

Lena’s heart began to pound. She knew deep down that she wanted this, but it seemed so distant and remote that she’d nearly given up even fantasizing about it. Now that Kara had revealed her identity, she no longer changed her posture or body language around Lena and stood tall, shoulders reared back and her lithe, impressive physique on full display even in cheesy loungewear.

Kara took the first step, drawing up into Lena’s space and crossing an invisible boundary, once first laid out over a brunch that was both tense and pleasant, and had been pushed and stretched and nearly broken so many times it could hardly be said to exist at all, and yet the moment she did, it was clear what was happening.

Kara was not putting her arms around Lena’s waist in a platonic gesture. The embrace she pulled her into was not what friends are for. The natural way they slotted together and Kara brushed her lips against Lena’s to ask permission was in no way friendly.

Lena rose a little on the balls of her feet and turned whatever this was into a real kiss, and Kara kissed her back. Kara’s hands roamed down over Lena’s backside before she realized what she was doing and the shot back up to a chaste spot on Lena’s back, prompting her to giggle into Kara’s mouth.

“Miss Danvers,” said Lena, “did you just grab my ass?”

“I… umm…”

Lena grinned. “Yes. Just say yes.”

“I actually wanted to ask you out on a real date first.”

Lena snorted. “Kara, we’ve been on a date for five years. Now, pick me up and carry me somewhere private already.”

Grinning, Kara picked her right up off her feet.

[thehorrorsoftheblackbunnymask]

Just curious in the prison AU how did the character yk react when being arrested? I’ve seen a few videos and some people like yk resist arrest or like make it difficult for the cops to load them into the car and others just kinda let it happen? I’m just curious on how much of a struggle did the cops have when trying to arrest the proxy’s/pastas

THIS MAY INCLUDE SPOILERS FOR FUTURE PARTD OF THE PRISON AU, IF YOU DONT WANNA SEE, SCROLL PAST.

I like to think the proxies got raided, so I'm going to take some inspo from my Insane Asylum AU

Maybe Toby left a piece of evidence that led the cops right to them. For this mission, the Proxies were staying in a motel. It was the middle of the night, Toby's watching lord knows what, Hoodie's looking at some photographs he took of the victims, and Masky's smoking outside. But, as Masky's smoking, he sees bunch of cop cars in the distance. He'd run inside and tell them that they gotta leave now.

However, they got caught. Hoodie would probably be the most willing. Hoodie's the most logical of the group and he knows damn well that he isn't going to get away unless they all have a plan. He'd have the most annoyed look on his face but he wouldn't do anything.

Toby almost gotta away. Toby's had so many run ins with the cops, starting back when he was a late teenager. He would've gotten away to if his tics didn't start to act up like crazy. He'd be screaming, maybe bite a cop or two, they wouldn't definitely put a muzzle on him because he'd been sent to jail before, as mentioned in Part 1.

Masky is similar to Hoodie where he's more so annoyed then anything. But, I can see him being extremely paranoid about what the Operator and Slenderman are going to react, not even Kate has gotten caught and she works alone. He'd curse out the cops, but during the car ride, he'd be mumbling to himself, and maybe even have a panic attack.

Now to everyone else!

Ben, Jeff, and EJ were also caught together. They were all hanging out in a cabin where Jeff killing the current residents. However, Jeff had left a piece of evidence at one of his old crime scenes that led the cops to them.

EJ was dissecting one of the people Jeff killed with Ben looming over him, smoking a blunt while asking him hundreds of questions. Jeff would come over and now all of them are looming over this dead guy's body, his stomach cut open with his kidneys ripped out.

I just wanna note that these guys were the hardest to find because they're not always together, EJ eats the evidence, Ben's killings rarely leave a mark on the real world, and Jeff is good at what he does.

When the door got kicked in, the cops stared at the three in horror.

Since Ben was high as hell, he'd start laughing while saying they were fucked. Might I add, if Ben wasn't high, the three of them deadass could've escaped no problem because the cabin had a TV.

Ben was caught first and he'd be laughing, yelling "Fuck the police" while spitting on the floor. The most unserious motherfucker.

EJ killed a good chunk of the cops, but then his hunger kicked in. He ended up eating a cop, but he was able to get knocked out because of it.

Jeff got carried away and got knocked out as well.

Liu's arrest was actually recorded on live TV.

After going on a minor killing spree in a city he was in, he was seen in the background of some guy's livestream.

Liu's identity was roughly unknown by the police, and they had a few sketches of what he might look like, and unfortunately for him, they had one that was really close.

When Liu realized he was being followed by a helicopter and a few police cars, he booked it. The entire chase was live, and in broad daylight too.

He ended up cornering himself after he ran into an abandoned building. When he realized he was caught, he just sat down and waited for the cops to catch up.

When the cops walked in, they saw him sitting on top of a crate, his head facing the floor as he spinned a knife in his hand, humming a lullaby to pass the time. Tbh with you, he let himself get caught. When Jeff found out, he was so fucking pissed off. When he saw him enter the inmates ward, he yelled and playfully hit him for 30 minutes straight, Liu couldn't care less tho.

[cranberrymoons]

that old black magic

prompt: magic au (@steddieholidaydrabbles) word count: 1,000 rated: t tags: fortune telling, witch/appalachian eddie, post-season 2

welcome to Day 20 (!!!) of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

The cards don’t actually do anything.

See, he waves his hand around and says some fancy words over some very old looking cards with very old looking art on them, and people assume that’s where the magic is – and the cards are old! And so is the art! But they just don’t actually do anything.

No, the magic sits in him. It always has. That’s always been the secret.

His mother had it, and his grandmother before her and her father before that and on and on, all the way back as far as the eye can see, right up the family tree to that one person at the top who made a deal with something in the woods one night, something as old as the hills themselves, that lurks behind trees and makes offers to desperate passing travelers.

But all that was hundreds of years before Eddie’s time. 

These days, there are psychics on TV and people who do tarot readings in over-perfumed salons while they sit on a throne made of cheap velvet and clatter around with their bracelets and bangles and shawls. There are people who read palms and sell incense and run little bookshops that sell mass-produced spellbooks. Crystals and incense and moon charts, the whole world awash in fake magic. All of it, all of it, noise.

But Eddie’s one of the rare real ones. He doesn’t exactly go around advertising it, but give him a set of cards and enough money? Sure, he’ll do a little fake fortune telling for you, maybe even give you a real answer or two, nudge something in the right direction so you feel like you got your money’s worth.

All that to say, the first time Steve Harrington finds him after class, one day right before winter break, and takes a furtive look over his shoulder, Eddie’s fully prepared to do the usual song and dance.

“Um, hey man,” Steve says in a low voice. “I heard you uh –” He clears his throat, shuts his eyes like he can’t actually look at Eddie as he says it. “That you can sort of see the future? Or tell people what’s going to happen or whatever.”

He opens his eyes, and Eddie studies him for a moment, raising his eyebrows. 

“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “And?”

Steve makes a face, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder. “There’s some really weird shit going on,” he says, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder. “It’s kind of hard to explain but basically… there’s something that I really hope is over, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to ask or whatever but –” He lets out a breath. “Is it actually over?”

“Harrington, that’s –” Eddie shakes his head, running a hand back through his hair. “So fucking vague. How the fuck am I supposed to know?”

“Okay, just –” Steve lets out a breath. “If you could like… I don’t know, just give it a general look, see if I’m…”

As he continues rambling, Eddie tunes him out in favor of flipping through his timeline like a mental rolodex, just to see what he’s working with. Just to see what he can spin out of King Steve’s future, but –

“What the hell did you do?” he asks abruptly, cutting across Steve halfway through blabbering about something to do with someone named Justin or Dustin or – “There shouldn’t be blank spots, Harrington. Why do you have blank spots?”

Steve blinks at him. “I –” He frowns. “Blank spots?”

“Past and future, you’ve got these weird –” Eddie flaps a hand around in the air, lost for words, because – “Blank spots. I’ve never seen that before.”

Steve’s face goes blank with surprise. “Wait, like… you can actually see my future?” he asks. “Like right now, you’re seeing it? What are you seeing?”

“I’m… just –” 

Eddie shakes his head, shuts his eyes to block out the feedback loop his brain seems to be caught in, because alongside the blank spots – and there are blank spots; what the fuck – he keeps seeing himself standing with Steve, which must be his brain trying to fill in the weird gaps? 

Maybe? 

How the fuck is he supposed to know? He’s never seen anything like this before.

“Did something happen around Halloween?” he asks finally, letting out a sharp, frustrated breath. “That’s where the first gap is, and then the next one is in like… a year or two from now? It’s kind of hard to tell.”

Steve’s expression drops, and his shoulders slump. 

“The tunnels,” he says. “That’s – Halloween. I was in the tunnels at Halloween.” He says this as if it explains anything, but Eddie honestly feels twice as lost as he was thirty seconds ago. “So it’s going to happen again, then.”

Eddie makes a face, sort of aiming for – sympathetic? That seems like what Steve needs right now, probably.

“If it’s any consolation, you’re going to survive.” He shrugs. “There’s stuff after, a long life. I keep –” He takes a breath, considering not saying the rest, but Steve is going to ask for more details if he doesn’t. “I can’t really see a ton of it, because I think the blank spots are messing with me. I keep seeing myself there in your future stuff, but I’m sure my brain’s just filling in the gaps. It’s not like –”

“Like you’re part of my future.”

“Right,” Eddie says. He laughs. “Yeah, that would be –”

“Yeah.” Steve lets out a relieved little breath, and – sure. Fair enough. “Anyway, um – thanks, man. This is… not exactly good news, but I feel a little better, you know?”

“Yeah,” Eddie echoes. “Uh– anytime.”

Steve starts like he’s just remembered, and he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. “How much do I–”

“No, just–” Eddie shakes his head. “No charge. Just get home safe, okay?”

Steve nods, smiling a little. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

[also on ao3]

[delirious-donna]

Ghosts of the Past [Extra Drabble]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

an: I decided that it would be cute to write a section from the POV of the couple that Kento and reader meet in the museum. I’ve grown very fond of this couple and I hope you’ll enjoy this extra little piece of the story.

warning: none, SFW, fluff and humour

Series Masterlist

The museum was full of its usual hustle and bustle, even more so given the holidays, and it was a pleasure to be a part of the hubbub.

Felicity scanned the crowds with a keen eye, smiling at the energetic children—some more rambunctious than others—accompanied by parents trying to corral them into some semblance of order. She well remembered when her own brood were this age, and the hours spent in this much-loved building keeping them amused during school holidays.

A hand slipped into hers, more familiar than any other and Felicity squeezed the fingers of her beloved husband, glancing at him with a love that had never diminished even after all these years together. She counted her blessings for having met her soulmate so young, and for the family they had raised, as well as the fun and laughter they continued to share.

The pair perused the museum that they knew like the back of their hand, winding through the galleries and stopping to spot new artefacts and displays. This was still one of their favourite pastimes, there was always a discovery to make and even on days when it felt like they had seen everything the museum had to offer, there was always people watching to fall back on.

Much to Howard’s feigned disapproval, Felicity adored watching people. Since their children had grown up and flown the nest to build their own families it had become a ritual of sorts to indulge her social curiosities in public places such as these. There was something special about witnessing the complexities of real human relationships that scratched the itch far more than any TV drama or soap opera ever could. Friendships blooming over shared interests, young minds being educated through fun interactive education, families finding their feet with the addition of children in tow, tired parents happy to see their kids entertained to give them a moment of peace, and best of all, romance blossoming in the most unlikely places and ways.

Today was no different, with new delights to be found in every room, but it wasn’t until they neared the new photography exhibition did Felicity feel the buzz of excitement that often signalled a special find.

“You’re like a bloodhound, Flic,” Howard chuckled with a playful roll of his eyes. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and secured his wife’s arm through his own.

“Pfft, nonsense. I’m simply drawn to where the universe wants me to be.” She didn’t believe the sentiment, but she’d be damned to admit he was right after all these decades together.

The pair admired a large mural of a cheetah made up of hundreds of thousands of tiny black-and-white images until her attention was drawn to the room by their left. There were only two occupants, a young man slowly edging around the room and an equally young woman resting on the leather seat in the middle.

Felicity watched whilst the young woman never took her eyes off the man perusing the photos on the wall. Her gaze was intent but there was a softness that infused her features with what appeared to be fondness. Perhaps even attraction? The young man, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to being the focus of the woman. His posture was stiff, hands clasped behind his back with a slight rock on the balls of his feet when something interested him.

If this wasn’t a budding romance, she’d eat her hat. Felicity tugged gently at the cuff of Howard’s shirt sleeve, nodding her head in the direction of the young couple and was met with a sigh of resignation.

“Leave them be,” he hissed, though there was no heat to his tone. Despite the words, he too began to watch as the young woman moved towards the man and started to speak. They were too far away to hear the conversation, but it was obvious after a moment that it wasn’t going well.

The couple watched on whilst the woman’s expression turned to shock then irritation. Whatever the man was saying, it wasn’t going over well, and when she strode off to the other side of the room, Howard could only feel sympathy for the young man. He looked genuinely perplexed, a hand scratching at the back of his neck as if the skin prickled from the exchange.

Felicity leaned into her husband to speak close to his ear. “Doesn’t that remind you of anyone?” She chuckled, turning twinkling eyes up at him and he felt a swell of love wash through him. It did remind him of someone, himself, and the young woman would be Felicity, his Flic.

“He looks as baffled as I felt back then. You always seemed to be mad at me for something I didn’t even realise was wrong,” Howard admitted with a shake of his head.

“I was, though it hardly matters now. The only thing that truly matters is how he deals with it… will he turn on his heel or will he try to resolve the issue?”

It was obvious that the wheels inside the young man’s head were turning at an astonishing rate, but he wasn’t moving, and Felicity’s shoulders slumped sadly.

“Give him a moment,” Howard chastised, pointing towards the man’s hand. “Don’t you see how he wishes to reach for her?”

He was right. The man’s hand was stretching, reaching as if what he wanted was just out of reach. It dropped as quickly as it happened, but only because he took the tentative steps to move alongside his object of affection.

“I always reached out for you, just as he did for her. Maybe they’ll make it,” he whispered co-conspiratorially.

“He’s confused, darling. I don’t think he quite knows what he wants, only that he doesn’t have it yet. Come on,” she said, moving them towards the young couple.

The woman was near yelling, yet the man simply looked on in confusion. So badly she wished to grab them both by the ear and turn them to face one another. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife and it was like stepping into a memory of her past, familiar and amusing. Back then, it had been far from funny but with the advantage of hindsight and a lot more life experience, she could view it for what it was.

“Oh, Howard, look there. Doesn’t that bring back memories?” Felicity called loudly, pleased when the pair jumped in surprise at being interrupted. They jerked apart like naughty children, and it only strengthened her belief that they both wanted something more than their current situation.

“They say that couples shouldn’t bicker, especially in public,” she said with a slight laugh. “But don’t listen to such rubbish. Howard and I used to snipe at each other regularly, and we’ve been married thirty-five years.”

The look of utter shock on their faces, especially the woman, was worth it. Along with the stammered explanations that it wasn’t what it seemed, that they weren’t a couple. So that was where the problem lay. Felicity wondered if it was down to one party in particular, and her gaze strayed to the young man.

A quick assessment painted a detailed picture. Young, handsome, successful, affluent given the timepiece on his wrist but maybe too invested in his work? She couldn’t blame him; society expected all youngsters these days to chase after unrealistic dreams. A career wasn’t the only thing that mattered in life, and from the expression he wore, he wasn’t as happy as he made out. A nudge in the right direction might do the trick. It would be a shame to see a bright young woman slip through his fingers simply because he was scared to try to make it work.

“My dear, when you’ve been around as long as we have, you start to trust what your gut tells you. I won’t say anything else except to offer this one piece of advice. Don’t go to bed angry, and don’t wait to go after what you truly want.”

Felicity offered a kindly smile at the young man, his jaw slack at the offered wisdom. She patted the woman’s arm once more as Howard led her away, but only after he offered his own incline of the head at the man. There was compassion in his eyes, and she knew that it felt like he was staring at his younger self at that moment. She knew that because it was the same for her, a ghost of the past come to remind them both where they started and how far they had come.

“Do you think they’ll make it?” Felicity asked once they were well out of earshot.

Howard sighed, turning his head back for a moment before replying. “If he’s anything like me then he’ll do whatever it takes to make it work.”

“You old softie…”

Taglist: @actuallysaiyan @pseudowho @desiray562 @bloombb @markleeisdabestdrug @kentoslvt @threezzyo @themossiestchick @thejujvtsupost @ratmilk14 @levin4nami @sweetpo1son @dabislilbaby @fandomsfanficsfantasize @hotvinimon @ryomance @justmanu @w-emma-fil @orikuu @sutaagaaru @venjrnjrbhrr19

[xspeter]

TIME AFTER TIME

chapter two ❣︎ cause i’ve got a blank space, baby (and i’ll write your name)

so, hey, let’s be friends

i’m dyin’ to see how this one ends

❧ warnings: none!

❧ wc: 4.9k

❧ Note: yayyy chapter two is here! don’t have much to say about this one… just that i’m happy she’s here! this one covers chapter two and half of three of the og book as well! and let me know if anyone wants a tag list! i’d also really really love to see your guys feedback on the chapters !

❧ masterlist

♥︎

The rain was a light drizzle by the time you reached Steve’s house. You pulled your hood over your head and prayed Steve wouldn’t be an asshole for once in his life and would open the door on time.

You didn’t know how, but everytime you knocked on his door he always made sure to leave you hanging for longer than necessary. How he knew it was you, you weren’t sure.

You knock hastily, and then instantly shove your hands back in your pockets. It was nearing the end of february, but there was still an obvious chill in the air.

You're expecting to have to knock again, and groan and go to do so, but the door opens swiftly and a smiling Mrs. Harrington is standing in front of you.

You didn’t know Steve’s parents too well, but every time you saw them (which was rare) they seemed to be good people.

“Oh, Hi, Mrs. Harrington!”

Her smile grows, “Y/N! I haven’t seen you in years! You’ve grown so much..” She glances at your reddening cheeks, a direct result of the cold. “Oh, come on, come inside!”

You let her pull you in, a shiver running up your spine as she slams the front door shut. “Steve’s in the living room. I’m assuming he’s what you’re here for right?”

You nod, your eyes darting across the house to soak in as much of it as possible.

You'd only been inside once before, when you’d gotten a bad scrape on your knee and Steve’s nanny had to bandage you up. Back then, you’d been too concerned with the pain to even glance around. But now, you can’t help but notice the odd.. coldness to it. There aren’t many family pictures, honestly you didn’t know if there were any at all.

“You’ve got a lovely home.” You murmured.

Mrs. Harrington smiles gratefully, her hands coming up to clench at her heart. “Oh you’re too kind.” She leans in closer to you, “honestly, i’ve told Steve a hundred times he needs to get with a nice girl like you. He just never listens.” She huffs.

You nearly snort but hold back. Steve’s mom wanted him to get with a girl like you? That’s gold. You’d be teasing him about this for the rest of his life.

“Hey, mom, who was at the door-” You spin on your heel to look at him, and you watch as his forehead wrinkles in confusion. “What’re you doing here?”

The tone he says it with makes you roll your eyes. You cross your arms over your chest, “I have a proposition for you.”

He scoffs, “A proposition?”

“Yep.”

Mrs. Harrington glances between the two of you before softly excusing herself. You watch her go, and then shift your attention right back to Steve.

“Let’s talk in the living room.”

Kate & Leopold was playing on one of those retro tv channels that only old people watched, and you couldn’t help but grin as Meg Ryan’s character attempted to evade the charm of a very British and very handsome Hugh Jackman. “Oh, I love this movie!”

“Of course you do.” He gave you a grin that made your stomach churn, a grin that made it seem like he knew things about you that even you didn’t. “What's your.. proposition, or whatever?”

Your cheeks flushed as you realized just what you wanted to ask him. Why would Steve help you? Who’s to say he won’t instantly go running to Jonathon and exposing you? You took a breath, sat on the couch, and said, “Okay. I need your help.”

He started smiling immediately, but you quickly shut it down by shoving a hand in his face, “I know you wouldn’t do something like that out of the goodness of your heart. So I have an offer for you.”

He pretended to grab his heart, shirt scrunching as he did, “Wow, like i’m some mercenary or something. That hurts.”

“No it doesn’t.”

He smirked, “No, it really doesn’t.”

“Look,” You forced yourself to not pretend like this had all been a prank and run with your tail between your legs, “Before I tell you what I need help with, I want to go over the terms of the deal.”

He crossed his arms - when had his chest gotten so wide? - and tilted his head, “Go on.”

“Okay.” You took a deep breath and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, “First and foremost, you have to swear to secrecy. If you tell a single soul about this it is void and you do not get payment. Second, if you agree, you actually have to fulfill your part. You can’t just do little and then blow me off.”

You paused, and he looked at you through narrowed eyes, “Well? What’s the payment?”

“The payment will be full twenty-four/seven access to the parking spot for the duration of our deal.”

“Whoa.” He walked over and plopped into the chair in front of you. “You will give me the parking spot?”

You didn’t want to. At all. But you knew how badly he wanted it, and if he was anything like you, he’d do anything to get it. “That’s correct.”

His smile went big, “I’m in. I’m doing it. I’m your guy.”

“You don’t even know what the deal is.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“What if… I want you to run completely butt naked through the halls during lunch?”

“Done.”

You grabbed the throw blanket at the end of the couch and threw it over your body, “What if I ask you to cartwheel naked through the halls during lunch while singing Madonna?”

“Easy. I love like a virgin.”

“Actually?” That made you smile, even though you weren’t used to smiling at Steve of all people. “But can you even do a cartwheel?”

“Uh, duh.”

“Prove it.”

He groaned, “You’re so high maintenance.” He stood, shoved the coffee table out of the way, and did the worst cartwheel you'd ever seen in your life. His legs were all bent and his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth, but still, he landed it like a gymnast. He gave you a confident smile before plopping right back down, “Now tell me.”

You coughed out a laugh you were trying to hold in and searched his face. You were looking for honesty, or really anything. But you were sidetracked by how dark his eyes were. They weren’t dark like Jonathon’s, they were almost lighter. More honey-like than anything. You thought of the time in seventh grade when he’d given you six dollars to stop crying.

Your dad and his new wife, Monica, had just gotten married a couple weeks before, and they’d decided to remodel the main level of the house. To prepare, Monica had cleaned out the closets and drawers and donated all of the old stuff. Including your moms VHS tapes.

When you had an emotional breakdown over it and your dad explained it to Monica, she’d felt so bad. She kept apologizing the whole time you sobbed. But all you could focus on was what Monica had said to your dad. “I just didn’t think anybody watched those cheesy movies.”

You were resourceful as a kid - still were in all honesty (exhibit A, your current situation at Steve’s house) - and all it took was a phone book and a phone call for you to find out where they’d ended up. You’d snuck out under the premise of seeing Robin, and ridden your bike all the way to the thrift store.

You had every penny of your babysitting money saved up, but when you got there it still wasn’t enough. “We’re selling this as a collection kid, you can’t buy them individually.”

You stared at the price tag, and still, you were six dollars short. The jerk at the store was unyielding and you’d cried all the way home. It felt like you were losing your mom all over again.

When you were almost home, you saw Steve outside bouncing a basketball in his driveway.

“Hey,” he tossed the ball into the grass as soon as he saw you, “What’s wrong?”

You remember not wanting to tell him because you knew he’d think it was ridiculous, but there was something in the way he looked at you that made you break down all over again. Through sobs you explained your situation to him, and instead of laughing like you’d expected him too, he listened. And once your sobs had been replaced with tiny hiccups, he reached forward and wiped your tears with his thumbs. “Don’t cry, Y/N.” He looked sad when he said it, like he wanted to cry too. Then he said, “Wait here.”

He turned and ran into his house, and you stood there - exhausted from crying and shocked by his niceness - and waited for him to come back.

When he did, he’d happily handed you a ten dollar bill. You remember looking up at him and thinking he had the kindest brown eyes, but your thoughts must’ve shown because he immediately scowled and said, “This is just to shut you up ‘cause I can’t stand listening to you bawl for another minute. And I want my change.”

Your mind jerked back to Steve’s living room. Jonathon. The spot. Needing his help.

“I swear on everything holy that I will hire a hitman if you blab about this.”

He sighed, “I very much believe you.”

You had to look at something other than his face, and your eyes shifted to his lap. Which you immediately regretted once you saw the gray sweats he was wearing. So instead, they just made purchase on the spot above his head.

“So, you know Jonathon’s back in town. And I was kinda hoping you’d.. touch base with him. We were close before he moved away, and I want that back again.”

“And I can help you with that how?”

You kept your eyes glued to the wall, “Well, I don’t have any classes with him, so there’s no way for me to talk to him naturally. But you and Jon are already friends. You hang out. You invited him to that party.” You gestured with your hands, “You’ve got the connection I want.”

He pursed his lips and shifted in his seat, “So you’ve still got the hots for Byers, and you want me to take you to the party so you can get him to like you. Am I picking up what you’re putting down?”

You considered lying for a moment, before you conceded and said, “Yeah, basically.”

His jaw clenched, “I heard he’s interested in Nancy.”

God, did everyone now about that? Personal vendetta aside, Nancy Wheeler was totally wrong for a guy like Jonathon. In fact, nudging him to fall in love with you would be doing him a favor by saving him from that.

“Don’t you worry about that.”

An eyebrow went up, “How scandalous of you.”

“Shut up.”

He smiled, “You can’t think going to a party is gonna make him notice you. There’s already gonna be a ton of people there - and i’m willing to bet Nancy shows too.”

An obvious shiver went down your spine at the mention of her being there and you shifted in your seat. “I only need a few minutes.”

“Pretty confident aren’t you?”

“I am.” You had a script ready. “I have a plan.”

He scoffed, “Your plan sucks.”

You tucked your legs underneath yourself, “And how would you know that?”

“Because i’ve known you practically your whole life. Your plan involves some “coincidental” meeting,” He put air quotes above the worse coincidental, “an entire books worth of silly ideas, and someone riding off into the sunset.”

He was nearly right on the money. “You’re way off base.”

He rolled his eyes at you, clearly not believing a word you said.

You sighed, “So…?”

Steve looked way too pleased with himself, “So…?”

“Oh my god, you’re torturing me on purpose. Are you going to help me or not?”

He sucked his teeth and pretended to think, “You know, I’m just not sure if The Spot is worth it.”

You scoffed, “Worth what? Allowing me to be in your presence for a few hours? You’ll barely notice I'm there!”

“What if i’m trying to hit it off with someone?” He retorted, “You being there might throw me off my game.”

You resisted an eye roll, “Trust me, King Steve won’t be thrown off his game by little ol’ me.” You batted your eyelashes innocently, and a scowled formed on his face at the mention of his nickname. “Don’t talk about my game, you perv.”

You groaned, “Are you going to say yes or what? Cause if not i’d like to be going.”

He smirked and kicked his feet up onto the table, “I do love watching you make the walk of shame from around the block, so I guess I'll drag you along.”

🝮

“Y/N.”

You glanced up from your math homework to see Robin climbing through your window, with Barb and her freshman buddy, Max. Robin had discovered years ago if you climbed the roof of the playhouse in your backyard you’d just be able to reach the roof and slide your bedroom window open.

“Hey guys,” You cracked your back and turned around in your desk chair, surprised to see them. “What’s up?”

“Me and Barb just got done with a planning meeting for the senior prank, and we ran into Max on our way out. Her curfews not for..” She glanced down at her watch, “another twenty minutes. So we’re just killing time.”

You hummed, turning back to continue your homework as the three of them plopped onto your bed, “It was basically, like, thirty people jammed into a Burger King saying things they thought were funny. Which they usually weren’t.” Barb snorted and Robin giggled with her.

Max shrugged, “I liked that one kids idea you guys were telling me about. The one that said screw it and just do something terrible.”

Robin groaned and covered her face with her hands, “He said it was ironically funny because it was so not funny and that it'll never be forgotten.”

Barb nodded, “He’s kinda right.”

Robin sighed, “You should’ve been there, Y/N.” She said. You prepared yourself for what came next, a lecture about how you were only seniors once. She was good at those.

But when you finally look up at her, she’s already moved on and started a totally different conversation. You can’t help but feel a tad bit grateful.

Robin walked over to your closet and sifted through it, “Where’s the red plaid dress?”

“It’s buffalo plaid, and it’s on the other side.” You pointed and said, “With the causal shirts.”

“I knew the layout, but I would’ve pictured it with the other dresses.”

“Too causal.”

“Of course.” She snorted and draped the dress over her arm, “So what’d you do tonight? Just homework?”

You blinked like a deer in headlights. But Barb and Max weren’t even paying attention, so you cleared your throat and muttered a quick, “Pretty much.”

Robin hummed and came over to you and began playing with your hair, “Why is only like.. the bottom half curled? Is this a new fashion statement or something?”

You’re reminded of your journey to Steve’s house and how the bottoms of your hair had been nearly drenched by the rain. “No, I just got caught in the rain after school.” A half-lie.

She smiled, “Maybe it should rain everyday.”

“Yeah.” You pictured Steve’s cartwheel and resisted the urge to roll your eyes, “Right.”

🝮

It was nearing seven thirty with still no sign of Steve. You tapped your fingers against the finding table anxiously, legs crossed over each other.

“Why don’t you just walk over to his house?” Monica suggests, craning her neck to see you from her spot in the kitchen. She’s washing the dishes while your dad stands besides her to dry them.

Your dad hums in agreement, “It’s just Steve. I doubt he’d care.”

“In all honesty,” Monica smirked, bumping your dads hip with her own, “Your tapping is driving your dad absolutely crazy and he thinks your date might’ve forgotten you.”

“It’s not a date.”

Your dad ignored your comment, “Actually, I just think Steve Harrington is capable of anything.”

Your dad and Monica began doing their bantering thing back and forth, and you had to fight back an eye roll.

They’d met in a stuck elevator, totally cliche, exactly one year after your mother had died. They’d been in there for two hours. One of your favorite tropes was forced proximity, but you liked to exclude them from that.

It was strange that they had the perfect meet-cute and seemed made for each other, because her and your mother could not be any less similar.

Your mom was sweet, a modern version of Doris Day. She was all baking and fresh cut daisies from her garden. She was the sweetest woman you’d ever known.

Monica was different. She was, I’m-too-good-for-rom-coms, and let’s-go-out-for-dinner and just nothing like the woman you cried for every night.

You glanced outside, no sign of Steve. He was nearing twenty minutes late and hadn’t even bothered to call.

Honestly he was probably already at the party dancing it out with Jonathon as he and Nancy Wheeler gazed longingly at each other from across the room. She probably waltzed over to him all sexy-like and grabbed his arm to drag him upstairs. The thought made you feel sick.

Your dad asked, “You’ll be home at midnight?”

“Yep.”

“Not a second later, got it?” He looked more serious then you usually ever saw him and said, “Nothing good happens after midnight.”

“I know, I know.” You sighed, “I’ll call if-“

“No, you won’t.” He gave a shake of his head and pointed at you, “You will just not be late. Understand?”

Monica groaned half-heartedly and squeezed his bicep, her hand leaving a slight wet mark, “Relax, she gets it!” You both shared a look of understanding, and she easily shifts his attention to something you don’t pay any mind to.

Your dad was always tense when it came to curfew, and you’d always known it’d been because of what happened to your mom. And the only time you’d ever dared to push back he’d just said: If your mom hadn’t been out at midnight, that drunk driver wouldn’t have hit her.

And, well, he was right. So you never said anything about it again.

You practically jump up at the sight of headlights pulling into your driveway, and you’re quick to attempt to give a hasty goodbye and scurry away, but your dad stops you with a look. “I want him to come inside first. He doesn’t get to take my daughter on a date without talking to me.”

You wanted to scream. “It’s not a date!”

Your dad ignored your comment, “Bring him inside.”

So, very hesitantly, you walked outside to a waiting Steve. He was quietly bopping his head to whatever song was playing on the radio, and he instantly stopped once he spotted you. He reached forward and simultaneously turned the radio down while also rolling down the window.

“Hey,” He said, giving you a tight lipped smile. You smiled back, elbows resting on the window cill. He looked confused, “Aren’t you getting in the car?”

You bit your lip, unable to make eye contact. Would he find it weird your dad wanted to talk to him? What if he thought this was some elaborate scheme to date him? Because in all honesty, that was the farthest thing from the truth.

“Um,” You took a breath, “My dad wants you to come inside.”

An eyebrow went up, and his lips parted for a second. Shock flashed across his face, but he was quick to replace it with indifference. “Uh, yeah.” He slapped his knees, “That’s fine.”

You watched with a grateful smile as he stepped out of his car, it shifting a little with the loss of his weight. You both approached the door, you honestly thought you might be more nervous then he is.

“Sorry if this is weird,” you breathed out, placing a hand on the knob. “I tried to explain it wasn’t a date and he just would not listen-”

Steve tsked, hands shoved into his pockets. “Don’t worry about it, your dad loves me anyway.”

You side-eyed him, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “I’m not too sure about that one..”

His eyes went wide, “What are you talking about?”

You just shrugged and opened the door, watching with an amused smile as Steve nervously made eye contact with your father.

“Hello, Mr. L/N.” He said. He sounded way too serious, and it almost made you chuckle. Key word being almost.

Your dad narrowed his eyes at him, “Steve.”

Steve swallowed, adam's apple bobbing as he did. You made eye contact with a smirking Monica, both of you trying (but nearly failing) at holding back your eye rolls.

Your dad gestured to the dining room table, “Have a seat, son.”

Steve glanced at you, palms becoming sweaty. He wouldn’t say your dad was intimidating, no, he was more so just scary. And if there was anything Steve was sure of, it was that your dad would go to the ends of the earth before he let anything happen to you.

He remembers this one time back in the fourth grade, just a couple months before your mom died, and Carol Perkins had been picking on you.

Steve noticed it, but he just thought they were teasing, not full on bullying. No, he didn’t know that until he saw your dad storm into the elementary school lobby with a crying you in his arms. He’d yelled at the principal so loud people could hear it from across the hall. Talk about protective.

He sat at the table hesitantly across from your dad, leg bouncing as he stared anywhere but your dads face.

“What’re your…” Your dad glanced at you, “plans with my daughter?”

You scoffed, “You’re acting like we’re gonna go do drugs or something.”

Your dad glared at you, effectively shutting you up, but not without a few irritated grumbles from you. He nodded at Steve, silently telling him to answer.

Steve took a breath and straightened his shoulders, “I’m taking her to the party, which will be alcohol free by the way, and we’ll be back by midnight.” He swallowed and then threw in a sir.

Your dad leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, “And who will be at this party?”

“Kids from school. It’s mostly just people in our grade. Uh, Jonathon will be there as well, Sir.”

They stared at each other for what you were sure was months, and you were starting to get antsy. Every second spent here was a second Nancy could be using to get closer to Jonathon.

“Um, this was really great and all,” you took a cautious step closer to Steve, slowly pulling him up from the seat, “But we really need to get going!” You practically dragged Steve across the dining room to the front door, hastily saying your goodbyes.

You opened the door, you were nearly outside, but of course, your dad stopped you. “Steve!” He yelled.

Steve paused, and craned his head to look at him. “Sir?”

There was a pause, and then, “If anything happens to her tonight, me and you will be having a long talk.” Could tonight get any more embarrassing for you?

Steve didn’t say anything, instead he just nodded solemnly.

“Okay, whatever, bye!” You huffed.

You slammed the door shut, finally able to take a breath. “God, he’s annoying.” You groaned.

Steve was silent, arms crossed as he stared at the ground. “No, he’s not.” He mumbled so quietly you could barely hear it.

“Uh, yeah, he is. Like it’s just a party, he’s so dramatic.”

Steve didn’t say anything, he just sniffed and walked to his car, not even sparing you a glance. You furrowed your brows. Why was he suddenly acting like this?

“What’s your problem?” You asked as you followed him.

“Just get in the car.”

You did as he said, silently sitting and shutting the door. You knew he’d be pissed if you slammed it, and seeing as he was suddenly in no joking mood, you didn’t.

The car ride was silent apart from the quiet stereo, and it made you uncomfortable. You and Steve didn’t like each other, sure, but you were never silent with each other. You always had some snotty thing to say to start some petty argument.

“Are you.. are you okay?” You asked hesitantly.

Steve didn’t say anything for a moment, knuckles nearly white as he gripped the wheel, “I’m peachy.”

He didn’t sound peachy.

“Look, if it was something I said, or-”

“You didn’t say anything, okay? Let’s just get to the party so you and Jonathon can.. I don’t know, make out or whatever.”

You scoffed, “There will be no making out. Not yet, anyway.” You mumbled the last part, silently smirking to yourself.

Steve scrunched his nose, “Ew, gross, please keep that to yourself.”

You just snorted, spending the rest of the car ride annoying Steve to the best of your ability. Whatever had bothered him before seemed to be forgotten about, and you were happy about it.

“Okay, we’re here.”

You looked around at the drunken teenagers outside, all of them making anything but good decisions. There was a keg stand with a bunch of boys from the football team high fiving each other, one of them you recognized as Billy Hargrove. What a total douche.

Next to them were multiple couples showing way too much PDA, and by PDA you mean practically grinding on each other.

You gave Steve a look, but he just smirked and pushed you out of his car.

You barely made it to two steps out before there was a wolf whistle sounding from beside you, and it didn’t take a genius to know who it was.

“Well, don’t you look nice.” Billy said, voice as smooth as honey. (If the honey had been grounded in a meat grinder and then dipped in glass.)

You glanced down at your dress. You’d gone with a red one to accentuate your features, hoping Jonathon would be impressed.

“Uh, thanks?”

Billy grinned, hand on his hip as he waltzed over to you. “That dress s’real nice, but…” he leaned closer into your ear, breath minty with a strong odor of alcohol, “it’d look better on the floor, don’t you think?”

You gasped, jaw hanging open at his crude comment. “You’re such a pervert!” You glanced to Steve, “Besides i’m… seeing someone.” You winced, and you hoped it sounded more convincing then you thought.

Billy laughed, actually laughed, and looked over at Steve.

He’d already gone up the porch and was talking to his friend, so he didn’t see the situation with Billy. But once he heard Billy’s sultry laugh, he turned and his eyebrows furrowed when he saw you.

He bid his friend goodbye and came over to you. “Is he bothering you?” He asked, chest puffed out as he tried to intimidate Billy.

Billy smirked, “Sorry, man. I wasn’t aware you two were.. a thing.”

Steve looked stunned for a moment, but quickly played it off. “Well, we are. So i’d really appreciate it if you’d back up.”

Billy put two hands up and did as he was told, “No need to get hostile,” He licked his bottom lip, “Jus’ let me know if you ever feel like sharin’.”

You scoffed and Steve just rolled his eyes, effectively pulling you away and to somewhere more secluded. “You okay?” He asked.

You nodded, but couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. “He’s gonna tell everyone we’re dating, Steve.”

Steve just shrugged, “So? We deny it.”

It was then that a thought came to you. Jonathon didn’t know anything about you anymore. Even if it hurt to admit, it was true. Which meant he wouldn’t know how good of a girlfriend you could be.

So, wouldn’t it be a good idea to show him? If you could show him that you were better then Nancy, then he’d obviously be drawn to you and want to date you. The only problem? Steve.

“What if…” You swallowed, “what if we didn’t?”

“I’m not following.”

“What if we let everyone think we’re dating? Then Jonathon would see how great of a girlfriend I could be. And Nancy, who I know you still have a thing for, will see that you’re a great boyfriend.”

Steve’s eyes widened a bit at the mention of Nancy. He didn’t know you knew about his crush on the girl. “I don’t like Nancy.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Okay, maybe I do.”

You swallowed, “If you do this for me, I'll let you have The Spot all the way up until prom.”

Steve’s eyebrows went up. This offer was too good to be true. Get The Spot, get Nancy, all just by pretending to date you?

How hard could it be?

“I’ll do it.”

♥︎

[buckleyreid]

ABC and baiting and whatever...

I’ve seen this be talked about in here in the last couple of days but it’s so glaringly obvious that this is a lot of people’s first fandom. Like I get that it's frustrating to think something will be in the episode and then you find out it got cut, but that's how TV works. Every second counts, if part of what you filmed doesn't significantly contribute to the episode then it gets cut. It's normal. Shit happens.

Do I think ABC purposefully used the buddie scenes as promo because they knew it would bring in clicks and engagement? Yes. Is that kinda shitty? Sure, but it's not a crime. This fandom has been putting ABC on a pedestal ever since the move and listen, I agree they've been better than Fox, but they're still every bit of a money hungry corporation. They'll promote whatever keeps people talking and whatever brings in viewers.

They haven't been allowing buddie questions in interviews as some sort of omen that buddie canon is coming soon. They've been allowing it because it'll keep the online fandom talking, (let's be real, those are the only people taking the time to read interviews, not the general audience). And of course the reporters eat it up, because they also know it'll get them clicks.

I'll also say it's not the show's fault, or even ABC to be honest, if people saw a couple seconds of buddie at the bachelor party and decided to expand on that and theorise that it could lead to a kiss, or them realising they had feelings for each other or whatever else. Theorising can be fun as long as you know there's a 90% chance your theories will only ever be theories and will never make it to canon. But acting like the show owes you something, or that a fanon ship will most definitely become canon, will only ever be a set up for disappointment.

I do wonder if they'll switch up their marketing strategies from now on though. I don't think a couple hundred, or even thousand people yelling at them over instagram comments is that significant or too much of a concern, but I do think it would be wise of them to tone it down with the buddie talk in interviews if they don't intend on following through with it. Maybe take more of a Fox approach in that regard, reel Oliver and Ryan back into PR jail and whatnot. At the end of the day I feel like they got what they wanted, which was for people to follow the show from Fox to ABC so they'll probably chill with the press anyway going into next season.

Just to make it clear, I'm not telling anyone how to feel, just that shit like this happens all the time. It's important to always manage your expectations and, once again, maybe not get so caught up in speculations.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 27 - Blind Date

@wolfstarmicrofic May 27, word count 984

Sirius had agreed to go on a new TV show designed for you to basically pick a blind date. It was hosted by a blonde that he couldn’t quite remember her name. Nita, Tina? 

He was behind the scenes being prepped by a producer or something. 

He was placed behind the stage, ready to go on when he was called. With him was the presenter. He still couldn’t remember her name. She completely ignored him and barked orders at her poor PA. 

“Ready when you are Ms. Skeeter.” A woman with a headset and microphone said.

“Good, let’s get this over with.” She said with a total lack of enthusiasm. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s Blind Date, and here is your host, Ms Rita Skeeter!” The announcer told the audience. Rita burst through from the side of the stage, waving and blowing kisses at her cheering audience. 

“Hello and welcome to Blind Date.” Rita smiled, opening her arms wide. “We have three lovely young men all hoping to go on a blind date tonight and here they are!” She swept her arms to the side and that was the last Sirius saw, as he was promptly spun around so he couldn’t see the stage. 

“He shouldn’t have been left here!” Someone shouted. “He can’t see the contestants, that's the whole point of the show.”

He was rushed to another part of the backstage while Rita introduced the three men he was going to choose between. 

“Right you’re on,” He was suddenly pushed out a little door and onto the main stage. 

There was a single chair in the middle of the stage and a large partition, blocking his view of the others. 

“Hello, Sirius!” Rita gushed. “Sirius is from London and from what I’ve seen, all of our contestants will want to take him home.” Sirius sat in the chair, holding the cards with his pre-written questions. “Right, Sirius, you have your questions, so let’s get started!” The crowd clapped as Sirius cleared his throat.

“I’m a boy who likes a good time. I don’t like to be bored. If you could keep me entertained, what would we do? Er, contestant number 1.” He spoke clearly. 

“What an excellent question, Sirius, but let’s make sure to keep our answers clean gentlemen.” Rita spoke a bit louder over the partition. The crowd ate her words up.

“Well, I’d take you to my favourite spa and treat you to a bit of pampering and then, after that, I have a box at the theatre.” Contestant number 1 answered. Sirius pulled a face, he was bored already. 

“Er, thanks number 1. Number 2, same question.” He hoped it was better than the last. 

“I’d take you to the races and then out for an elegant dinner at the savoy before we head back to mine for drinks looking out over the Thames.” Was the answer number 2 gave. Sirius rolled his eyes, fat chance of that happening. He felt like giving up already. 

“Sounds like fun,” He tried to smile. “Number 3 your turn.” 

Number three took a second to answer. 

“I’d take you on a tour of London,” Oh lord, Sirius thought, all duds. “But the secret London. I know where the hidden passageways are and the gorier stories to tell. I’d probably end up at my favourite bookshop, which has a fireplace and café where we could curl up with a good book before we go out in the dark to search for the hundreds of ghosts that are meant to haunt London.” Sirius was literally on the edge of his seat. He didn’t need to hear anymore. He'd already decided who he wanted. 

“Oooo, such different answers,” Rita cooed. “Next question, Sirius,”

“Dogs or cats? For all three again.”

“Cat,”

“Neither,” That one got a boo.

“Dogs,” Sirius smiled. He shuffled to his last card. 

“How do you feel about motorbikes?” He had his fingers crossed. 

“Love, love, love, them,”

“Sorry, no. They don't agree with my hair.”

“Hate, not a chance you’ll get me on one.” Well, 2 out of 3 at least. 

“Alright Sirius, you’ve asked your questions, do you know who you’re going to pick?” Rita asked, trying to look serious. He nodded. 

“Yes, contestant number 3.” Cheers erupted from the crowd.

“Let’s see who you didn’t pick. Come on over number 1.” A tall dark-skinned handsome gentleman walked around the partition. “Kingsley, such a shame,” Rita shook her head. Sirius shook Kingsley's hand, and he walked off the stage. “Number 2,” Rita called. A blonde man, who’d clearly spent too much time on his appearance. “Poor, poor, Gilderoy. Don’t worry sweetheart, you’ll find someone,” Gilderoy waved at the crowd and blew them kisses, forgetting to shake Sirius’s hand before he left. “And finally, the moment we’ve been waiting for. Sirius’s pick. Let me introduce Remus!” Rita cheered.

Remus walked around and Sirius felt his heart skip a beat. Remus looked shyly at him and rewarded him with a smile. Sirius forgot he was on a TV show and took Remus’s hand before trying to lead him off the stage. “Wait!” Rita called," we have to give you your getaway prize.” 

Reluctantly, Sirius led Remus back across the stage and waited for Rita to continue. “Well, Sirius and Remus, we are sending you on a weekend trip to the lake district. What do you think of that?”

“It sounds wonderful Rita, thank you very much. Now, if you don’t mind, this one’s got a tour to start.” That time he ignored everyone and he and Remus made their escape. 

“Hi,” He said once they were outside. 

“Hi,” Remus said back. Sirius knew just from sight that he and Remus would work out. So, being a bit cheeky, he pushed Remus up against the side of the recording studio and leaned in for a kiss. Remus closed the gap and that was that. 

[youcouldmakealife]

KS Fill: Matt/Aaron; good first impression

For the prompt: Aaron and his mom come to see Matt play on the West Coast.

This was a fill for a Kickstarter supporter; they've generously allowed me to share this so everyone can enjoy.

It isn’t easy, getting his mother to go to a hockey game without telling her that the reason he wants her to go with him is because he’s dating one of the players. That things are serious. Serious enough that he’s trying to get a woman who gets cold in the shade on a summer day into an arena. A woman who changes the channel if any sport is on TV — except baseball, but he’s been assured that’s an exception she only makes when he’s around or if the game is one he’s playing in. A woman who makes sure to watch all the athlete profiles during the Olympics but never watches their actual events.

“I became a bit of a fan,” Aaron says, the first time she throws up her hands and asks him why he’s so intent on driving all the way to LA to see the Leafs play.

“You don’t have to drive hours and freeze your poor mother to death to watch them,” she says. “You can see them any time in Toronto, can’t you?”

Aaron would call her dramatic, but again: shade on a summer day.

“I’ve made a few friends on the team,” Aaron says, during his second attempt. “Thought I might catch up with them at the game.”

“That’s nice,” she says. “Maybe bring one of your cousins instead, go out after the game? I would just slow you down.”

The thing is, Aaron knows that if he told her that he was seeing Matt, that maybe seeing was an understatement, but he hadn’t actually seen him since the Jays season ended, and timezones and the unpredictability of Matt’s schedule means he’s barely even seen him on a screen since then, he knows that she’d be bundling up in her warmest coat and making Aaron tell her everything on the drive, listening avidly when she wasn’t scolding him for not telling her about Matt sooner or demanding that she meet Matt after the game.

But for some reason, Aaron can’t do it. It isn’t that he thinks Matt wouldn’t be okay with it, because he’s more chill about all this than Aaron is, and his family all knows about Aaron, even if they haven’t met him yet. It’s — he doesn’t know. He wants her to see Matt first, maybe. See him without knowing that he means something to Aaron, see him without any expectations, biases, even positive ones.

He wants her to take one look at him and go ‘that one seems nice’, even though he knows that wouldn’t happen, that they’ll be a hundred feet away, Matt just a number, a name too small to read without squinting. He wants her to like him.

It takes a bit of pleading and a night at a nice hotel, a reservation at a place he had to get a friend on the Angels to name drop for him, and offering to go shopping on Sunday, let her pick some things out for him, but when he drives up to LA Saturday afternoon, she’s in the passenger seat.

There’s a dramatic shiver when they do get down to ice level, but they just split a very nice bottle of wine and a good meal at an award-winning restaurant, so there’s some goodwill going on, and she keeps her phone in her purse, which is more than Aaron can say for a lot of the people around them.

Aaron’s still picking things up, but he knows enough by now to see the Leafs look a little slow, getting caught out easily, which probably isn’t a good sign. The Kings haven't manage to take advantage of it yet at least, though they’re pushing, and every whistle seems to happen in front of the Leafs’ net, the shoving matches getting a little more intense each time.

Aaron flinches as Matt starts to get into it with a guy who has some pounds on him, relieved when one of the linesmen intervenes before the gloves come off.

“Is one of your friends out there?” his mother asks. Maybe she saw the flinch. Maybe he’s got some other tell, one he doesn’t even know he’s showing. She’d probably just say it’s motherly intuition.

“You see the guy in the corner?” Aaron says. “The one with 22 on his back.”

“The one who just punched someone?” she says with a disapproving sniff.

“Uh,” Aaron says. “It was more of a roughing—“

“The one who just punched someone,” she repeats.

Matt and the King are both still wearing their gloves, so Matt would get a roughing call at most, but there may have been a punch thrown, gloved or not.

“That’s your friend?” she asks, after a moment.

Matt’s arguing as he gets escorted to the box. Aaron doesn’t know why. He really did punch someone. It may not be fighting, but it is a roughing call. But then he sees that only one penalty box door is open, and he understands entirely, indignant on his behalf. The King was just as involved as Matt was, and there were guys on the ice who dropped their gloves, should be in the box instead, or at least keeping him company in there.

“I—“ Aaron says. “Something like that.”

They’re both quiet. In the box, Matt’s fuming, and it’s hard not to fume himself, especially after the Kings finally break the stalemate with a power play goal. Aaron hopes they turn it around, and not just because if they don’t, Matt’s going to be annoyed all night. Apparently he's a fan.

“He seems nice,” his mother says. “Your friend.”

“Really?” Aaron says. “You seemed stuck on the punching, there."

“Well, they do that, don’t they,” she says. “In hockey.”

“Yeah,” Aaron says. “They do that.”

Not like he’s never been involved in a brawl himself, but in baseball they’re events. Hockey? Matt’s not even considered a fighter and Aaron’s handed over a few ice packs already.

“I’m sure the other guy deserved it,” his mother says, then, “What was that for?” when Aaron ducks down to kiss the top of her head.

“Nothing,” he says. “We’ll make a hockey fan out of you yet, mami.”

“God forbid,” she says, with a shudder that may be for effect, or just from the cold, and leans into him when he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

[luveline]

Craving a postprison!Spencer x stripper!reader fic, please ma’am.

Maybe she gets a daytime job at a coffee shop or a bookstore - to “supplement her income”/ not have to dance as often (not that she’s ashamed!!) and Spencer is just so proud of her for trying and can’t quit kissing her and praising her because I know in other fics you’ve mentioned she didn’t think anyone would hire her because of her profession/self esteem, plus after prison she didn’t want to dance because she wanted to be with Spencer. 🥺

Or really just anything with a proud Spencer x stripper!reader doing anything.

Your work is fantastic and I’m in love with everything you do!! 💕 thank you and it’s totally okay if you think this request is lame or don’t wanna write it!

thank you angel! —you find a new job while making decisions about your old one after Spencer returns from prison, and Spencer would praise you for breathing, so he’s extremely proud. fem, 1.8k

Statistics differ, but estimates suggest that there are around twenty thousand strippers in Las Vegas. With a population of seven hundred thousand people (estimated up), that means that one in thirty five people living in Las Vegas dances for a living. 

It’s more than you’d think. Spencer knew of plenty of women who worked as strippers, exotic dancers, or private entertainers when he was still living at home. And while the numbers are much smaller in Washington DC where he lives now, it’s far from zero. More surprising for the average person to be one, perhaps, but not for Spencer. 

It used to make him blush like a steam train, sure, but it never did any of the things you were scared of. He’s never looked down on you for it, never been jealous (well, never acted like a jerk because of it), never positioned it as anything other than work. His only complaints are in your concern. You don’t like the club, most of the time. You feel unsafe often. The risk of femicide is yards higher for you as a sex worker than it would be otherwise, but who is Spencer to talk about danger? He still has stitches in his leg. 

Your job used to feel more urgent, a red flashing light above your head, because you’d come around with bruises or cut knees, tear stained cheeks, and you couldn’t make ends meet for all your efforts, but things have changed. You’re reluctant to depend on him, but you’ll accept the help when you need it. Nothing keeps you there if you don’t want to be there, and when you do you’re a marvel. You are beautiful, in Spencer’s eyes. Your dancing when you’re having a good night is one of the prettiest things he’s ever seen —more than pretty, sometimes. A hot coal in his stomach. 

But the fact of the matter is that Spencer’s home, and you don’t want to dance. You haven’t been to the club for weeks as far as he’s aware, and he’d consider himself well informed. You spent all your savings and started spending his instead and he couldn’t care less, what’s his is yours, whatever keeps you aloft while you make whatever decision it is you’re working toward. Not that it presented itself that way. 

I’ll have to go back.

Spencer on his back, you sitting with your head turned from the TV and toward him, your hand on his hip, just resting. Where?

To work. I have enough money for the next two weeks, and then I’m all out. 

Spencer wouldn’t do something as unkind as rolling his eyes, but the point of you moving in was to cement that he’d look after you no matter what. He’d turned his head to you on his pillow and reached for your elbow. You’re still resting. 

You’ve been home for two months, Spencer. I’ve rested enough. I… I only managed this long because you haven’t asked me for anything and that’s not fair, we both live here. 

I earn more than you, so I pay more, he’d said, confused. It’s not as though it hurt him to continue paying for an apartment he’s been living in for years. 

I won’t be your leech. 

You’re not my leech, don’t say that.

I can’t just not have money. 

Well… he’d said. He’d never discussed it with you so openly before, always stopped at the first suggestion, but there’s a first time for everything. You know you can have whatever you want from me. Anything you want, you don’t have to ask. 

Spencer… you’re my boyfriend. 

Exactly. 

No, you’re my boyfriend. You don’t have to keep me. I don’t want that. 

He understood the ‘want’ most heavily. What do you want, angel? he’d asked, dragging your hand up his naked chest to rest over his diaphragm, your arm moving up and down in time with his breathing. 

You’d seemed stricken, but not upset. Like the question surprised you in having no answer. Not sure… you’d said eventually. Mostly you. 

A week passed, two. A third and you’d asked him to borrow money, just for a little while, and with the vehement promise you’d pay him back. 

He’s not expecting it. So soon, either. But here you are standing in front of him with a beaming smile and little book in your hands, unzipping one of the book's inner pockets to count out the money you’d ’borrowed’. “Here you go, my angel, there’s everything.” 

Spencer just looks at it. “What is it?” 

“The money I owe you.” 

He presses his hands to his stomach to stop you from forcing the notes into them. “You don’t owe me anything.” 

“No, seriously, please take it.” 

He shakes his head. “Seriously. I don’t want anything from you, I love you. That money was for you to do what you wanted, or needed. It was yours as soon as I gave it to you.” 

You try regardless to put it in his hands. Your hair was done freshly a week ago, your nails manicured but unpainted, your face adorned with some new makeup he’d seen on his (your) vanity a few days ago. It honestly hadn’t crossed his mind why you’d suddenly given yourself a refresh, and he had no suspicions. You would’ve told him if you went to the club, even just via text, because it’s important he knows you’ve had access to your phone or that you’re coming home. (Plus, he’d notice you leaving at night. You’ve spent the last few evenings laying across his lap.)

“Where did you get this?” he asks, smiling softly, wondering if he’s come to the right conclusion. 

You drop the money on his thigh and take a couple of steps back. 

“I,” you say, holding your little book to your stomach, “got a job as a barista. They gave me my first paycheck today, a direct deposit. So I took out what I owe you and the rest of it is in here.” 

“You what?” he asks. 

“I’m working at the coffeehouse by the library,” you say, nodding, parts proud of yourself and parts shy. 

“For how long? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

You bite your lip. “Just this week. And honestly, I didn’t want you to know if I couldn’t do it.” 

Spencer stands up but doesn’t cross the room to you. He could reach out and catch your hand. “How could you work somewhere new all week without me noticing?” 

“You weren’t here on Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday morning, and they gave me Thursday off, so I just told you a very small lie this morning about going to the store. I knew you’d get distracted by your Persian poetry again.” 

He did get distracted, very much so. You’ve been and worked a whole shift without his worrying, which is a bit awful in itself (he really does love you, and he’d like to know where you are), but is also, frankly, a great thing. You should be able to work without worry. You should do anything you want to do. 

Still, a whole week at a brand new job without any support, and to stand there with your paycheck as unmistakable waves of satisfaction melt off of you unkissed is insanity. Spencer’s laughing as he ushers you into his arms, as he hugs your shoulders tightly, “Oh my god!” he says, “Wow, congratulations!” He pulls back just a touch to see your face. “Please don’t lie to me about where you’re going, that’s so dangerous. I love you!” 

He takes your face into both hands with your arms hanging loosely behind his back and begins a reckoning of kisses. The slope of your cheek, the skin between your nose and lips, Spencer couldn’t care less where the kisses land, he just wants them all over you. You laugh softly as he goes, almost stickily, a sound that comes deep from your chest. “I’m so proud of you,” he says, pressing a quick, mildly rougher kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“I might still strip,” you say. 

“Whatever you want,” he says, squeezing your face between his palms. “What’s it like? Do you like it? Is it hard?” He kisses you again. “I wish you’d told me,” he says against your lips. 

You’re quieter than he expected, and warm. He pulls away more sternly to see what’s gone wrong. He could’ve asked the wrong questions. Maybe he’s embarrassed you. 

“I just wanted to make sure I could do it. I didn’t want to fail and… and have you know. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be, I get it.” God knows he’s failed a hundred times for you to see it. He wishes he would have hidden a lot of that from you, spared you some heartache, but he also knows how lucky he is to have you near. “That’s what we’re supposed to do, right? We should be together when stuff goes wrong.” He beams. “But it didn’t go wrong.” 

“I think I’m pretty good at it.” 

“Yeah?” 

You hold his wrist. “And I get tips, did you know that? Not as many as before,” —you laugh to yourself loudly— “but still. It’s really cool. They pay me even if nobody wants coffee, and when people want coffee I get extra.” 

Spencer kisses the corner of your eye. He kisses up to your eyebrow and down again, all over your cheek before turning your face to the other side to kiss circles into the other. “I,” —kiss— “can’t,” —kiss— “believe it.” Kiss. “Actually, I can, but I still can’t.” 

“It’s just a part time job.” 

“That you didn’t think you could do,” he says. “But you can do anything, I knew you could. I’m amazed by you.” 

He grins and throws his arms over your shoulders. 

You squeeze him right back, the two of you swaying, almost falling over. He can feel how proud you are of yourself. You deserve to feel this way no matter what. 

“I like dancing,” you say, “I do, I just wish I could do it in a different… world? Is that stupid?” 

“No. You’re never stupid.” He smiles as your hand weaves into his hair, fingertips scratching along his scalp, his curls caught between your fingers. 

“Do you think you could come on Monday? I can make you a cup of coffee. It’s not as hard as it looks.” 

“Please, I’d love for you to make me a cup of coffee.” His smile presses to your shoulder, where he breathes you in briefly, before remembering something very important. “Hey, do you wear an apron?” 

“Of course I do.”

Oh my god, he thinks. There are more than half a million baristas in the United States, and Spencer will bet his monthly paycheck that you’re the cutest one to ever exist. You look cute right now in your jeans and your button up shirt, but put an apron on top of that? To see you standing behind a bar mixing drinks and pouring latte art? Monday can’t come quick enough. 

[gunpowderraven]

critical role: by someone that hasn’t seen any of it

hi so we recently got into dimension 20 and our friends have been tugging us towards critical role for a very long time at this point but we still haven’t watched any of it nor do we know all that much about anything that actually happens in it. however we do intend to actually start watching soon so we decided it was the perfect opportunity to make one of those ‘all the things i know about this thing i haven’t watched’ posts, show it to our critrole friends, and then actually get into critrole and be able to look back and laugh about it later

also the images are all sourced via friend so this is all one hundred percent no wiki no google knowledge, just from tumblr and discord convos and stuff. and some cast compilation videos that were very funny

update: we are now watching cr3! liveblog tag for silly lb -> #cr3 lb

vox machina

from left to right:

- i have literally no idea who the two halflings are. i’ve never seen them before in my life. what. uh. paladin and bard? im literally just guessing. who plays these characters. what

- grog? grug? this is travis’ pc maybe. also hypothesizing hes a half-orc barbarian or something similar? ive seen like one clip of him

- percival frederick von something something de rolo i think there’s a iii in his name as well, his name is long and very german but he does not have a german accent. or a french one. at separate times i have thought this character was german and french and then i heard him talk and was like. What. anyway i know he’s taliesin’s pc and he invented guns and is also possessed sometimes by big bird demon, and he has a nifty plague doctor mask. also tragic backstory. his entire family is dead i think. no mercy percy! he has a thing with vex? also his hair did a wilbur. the gay people on tumblr love this twink. i also think i love this twink

- vax’ildan! i think i may have actually spelled that right! half-elf? vex is his twin? and he’s... liam’s pc i think. yeah that’s it. he gives me angsty boy energy tho. not as much as percy but this boy has seen some shit. also he might be a rogue or a ranger who even knows. he looks like gay jon snow

- vex’ahlia which i definitely didn’t spell right. i think the next one is marisha’s pc so this one is... uh... laura? i think she’s the ranger actually. i think she has a bear. not like a gay bear like an actual animal bear. though it could be gay too i dunno. she has a think with percy. or everyone wants her to have a thing with percy. i genuinely can’t tell. anyway get that traumatized twink girl

- keyleth... marisha’s pc. some kind of spellcaster? maybe sorcerer? wild magic? she Also has a thing with percy maybe. or vex. or both. who even knows. everyone wants that twink. one time she threw herself off a cliff and turned into a goldfish and almost died and it was hilarious

anything else i know about this:

- there are evil bitches called the briarwoods and they might be vampires

- this is the one that got a tv show and might have also been the first critrole campaign idek

- d. ragons? chromia something. dragons. i hope i haven’t been lied to about the dragons. i hope there are actually dragons in this. there’s like a chromium something with dragon symbols tho

mighty nein

from left to right:

- mollymauk! ...tealeaf? another taliesin pc. the trans people like this one. i don’t know what their pronouns are. but theyre slaying every time i see them at any time. no idea what class but maybe a spellcaster?

- ...beau? i know her exclusively through lesbian ship art so i know her name is beau something bc that’s the ship names but i don’t know if that’s short for something. monk? no clue. also no clue who plays her either. maybe marisha?

- i have seen this character but i do not know their name. or anything else about them

- oh this is the sad wizard boy caleb widogast. he’s gay for essek thelyss (or something. i didnt spell that right) who is a npc i think. yeah. sad wizard. every time i see him he’s just being a wizard and sad. the gays love him too but he’s more of a distraught otter than a sad twink. maybe he and percy should start a club tho. also i think he’s played by liam

- i KNOW this character’s name i think it starts with s but i can’t remember for the life of me. scriv? scrat? no thats the rat from ice age. possibly a menace? i think im getting them mixed up with someone else. they look cool as hell though

- jester!! laura pc i think perhaps. i want to get drunk with her and tell her about all of my problems. yeah. i dont know anything about her actually. beaujester exists tho i know that

- YASHA. CRUSH ME HOLY FUCK. sorry im normal ? her voice makes me a little crazy insane. ive seen a few clips of her. mostly gay shit with beau. uh she’s played by ashley and she could kick my ass very easily

oh my god there’s another photo

- i think there’s only one character different here and it’s caduceus clay fun fact i hated this mfer for really dumb shitty personal reasons for a while before deciding it was very stupid to blame a fictional character for interpersonal drama and now im fine with him. wait does mollymauk die or something. wait a second. no, wait, fuck—

- ALSO WHO’S THAT FUCKER IN THE BACKGROUND I JUST NOTICED THAT

anything else i know about this:

- yeah i got nothing. no idea about the lore or the plot or anything bc i pretty much exclusively see gay ship art of these pcs. love wins i support it

bells hells

from left to right, one more time:

- look my brain is just saying gertrude from dungeons & drag queens but obviously that’s incorrect. so i don’t know who this is

- or this! but she looks very pretty and i love the little... monkey... bird? pls tell me these two characters have some kind of wild opposites dynamic they look like they do

- LITTLE ROBOT GUY . fcg? fgc? i think it was the first one. uh. liam pc? ?????? i think he gets bitches

- orym...? i know one of these characters is named orym. and i think it’s this one. i also see gay fanart of him

- i don’t know who the guy underneath him is

- or the lady with the purple hair god i really don’t know shit about this campaign sorry

- ashton greymoore, taliesin pc, my friend luna loves this guy, he’s. rocks? he’s rocks. groovy.

- someone in this campaign is named like dorian or something and im guessing its this one bc idk who they are either

anything else i know about this:

- flying.......... ship?

- this is the ongoing one i think

thank you for coming to my ted talk, i can’t wait to look back at this in a few months and laugh my ass off. hope u enjoyed this mess

[untitled5071]

can you write a fan fic of lisa & creature being all cute? just fluff. maybe even with her showing him some “new” stuff he’s never seen before, like music and movies etc. pls & thanks :)

Ask and ye shall receive, hope you enjoy!

🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦

“Oh you are gonna love this one, I know it. I have very good instincts about these things.”

Before he could make any noise of objection or question, Lisa clamped the headphones of her walkman down over the creature’s ears, including the newly re-attached one. She gave him a moment to get used to the sensation of artificially drowned-out noise before she inserted the Siouxsie and the Banshees tape into the deck and started the first track. The opening beat of “Spellbound” began to play, and Lisa watched as the creature tried to process what he was hearing, brow furrowing and lips twitching as his 1837 classically-trained brain tried to come to terms with the existence of the synthesizer. 

They were sitting on her bedroom floor; Lisa had come home from school not too long ago to find the creature sitting outside of her open closet doors, her carpet all but covered in piles of modern amenities and technology that the creature had collected during his last several hours of being home alone. When she walked in, his eyes lit up like they always did when he saw her, and he had gestured to his treasures, an inquisitive groan in his throat. The sound was barely out of his mouth before she had plopped down across from him, bag of Corn Nuts in hand and ready to share the wonders of the glorious 1980’s with her newly resurrected companion. 

And of course, Lisa’s first order of business was to introduce him to good music.

“See, I told you you would like it. We have very similar tastes, you and I, and it’s called good taste, trust me.”

Turning away from him as he started messing with the buttons on the Walkman, she looked around at the other household items that had caught the creature’s eye. To her left lay one of the twin fiber optic rainbow light burst decoration…things from the TV shelves downstairs, the ones Janet had always forbidden her from touching since they, like everything else in the pink monstrosity of a home, were meant to be seen and never touched by her unworthy fingers. 

Well, aside from the bloodstain on the carpet underneath them, Janet was gone. 

The were battery-operated, so while the creature unplugged and replugged the headphones on the walkman and marveled at how quickly the sound stopped, Lisa switched the trinket’s lights on and began playing with the hundreds of plastic bristles that made up the light display, giggling softly to herself as she pushed them this way and that, bunching them up and then letting them go, whatever she felt like. She was in the middle of running them in between her fingers like some kind of particularly coarse fur when her hand was suddenly joined by a much colder one, and the creature-now with the walkman headphones around his neck-joined her in fiddling with the decorative plastic piece. 

Their eyes met, and she took just a second to be entranced by how the rainbow changing light reflected in his eyes before looking back down, taking his hand in hers and guiding them both to skim over the top of the bristles, watching them sway with the movement. 

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

The creature looked up, locking his eyes with hers and holding her gaze with a sudden intensity. She blinked, a little taken off guard, but then his gaze softened, and he pointed to her. She blinked again, confused, before her affection-addled brain kicked on and she understood. 

“Oh, me? I’m pretty?”

The creature nodded, smile fond, if not a bit exasperated. Lisa blushed, suddenly nervous to meet his gaze, instead choosing to look down at the fiber optic lights-or anything else besides him-to distract herself from the sudden squeeze on her heart. 

“I mean, thanks but I’m no Geena Davis, my teeth are kinda big and I’ve got this weird snort laugh thing and my hair never listens and..ooh, wait, look at this!”

She cut off whatever noises the creature was about to make to object by fishing out a VHS of the Rocky Horror Picture Show from the bottom of one of the piles, turning it around so he could see the cover. He looked from it to her and back again in a way that clearly told her that he wanted to be excited, but had no idea what he was looking at, so she rolled her eyes and pushed herself up from the floor, offering a hand to help him to the same with his bum leg. His cheeks darkened a little bit at the contact, and Lisa decided to specifically not mention how he squeezed her hand for just a moment longer than necessary for support. 

He was barely on his feet before she was tugging him along, down the stairs and into the living room, where she pushed his shoulders to get him to sit on the couch. She put the VHS into the player and let the trailers roll. The creature’s eyes widened almost comically as he beheld the wonders of television, and he looked to Lisa, clearly with a billion questions. She smiled, and patted him conspiratorially on the shoulder. 

“Welcome to the movies! You were about 50 years away from this kinda thing when you died, but don’t feel bad, the first ones were just about trains and stuff anyway. This is where it really gets good.”

The creature hummed in curiosity as Lisa reached forward to press ‘play’ on the tape, but before she could get back on the couch with him, she got an idea, jumping up  from her crouched position in front of the TV. 

“Stay here, I’ll be right back!”

Leaving a bewildered and bemused creature behind, she sprinted to the kitchen to grab some drinks, and returned with two Sprites, which she popped open while the opening credits started, a disembodied pair of lips fading into existence and beginning to sing to them. She sat down next to the creature and handed him one, clicking their matching drinks together before turning to the screen.

“Can’t have a movie without snacks! We should have enough time before Dad and Taffy get home, so get ready to have your old fashioned Victorian mind blown, buddy.”

The creature tilted his head in question before taking a sip of the drink he was offered, though he sent himself into a coughing fit almost as soon as the beverage crossed his lips. Alarmed, Lisa jumped into action and thumped him on the back, flinching slightly as a centipede dislodged itself from..somewhere and scurried across the floor while the creature composed himself. 

“Damn, I guess I should have warned you about carbonation. Good thing you’re already dead or that might have killed your Victorian ass outright.”

The glare he gave her would have been murderous if there wasn’t so much adoring laughter in it, and after she made sure he was okay, she snuggled into his side a bit more on the couch, taking a sip of her own drink and watching out of the corner of her eye as he took much smaller and more cautious sips of his soda. The opening exposition began, and right before the first song started, Lisa remembered something, turning slightly to watch the creature with a small smirk. 

“Oh I should probably ask, how do you feel about lingerie?” 

The creature’s sputtering coughing fit lasted a lot longer that time. 

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

A Perfect Bad Day

masterlist

summary: you call in sick to the bureau and hughie rushes to you

paring: hughie campbell x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 0.8k

warnings: language, crippling depression

author’s note: there’s not enough hughie fics and i will not stand for that! so here’s one to add to the collection for the most precious guy of ‘the boys’ who’s never done anything wrong ever <3

gif source

“Hey, Rachel, have you seen Y/n today?” Hughie asked his assistant. Campbell was running Supe Affairs but he didn’t want to work without his beautiful girlfriend safe inside the office. You weren’t just his romantic partner, you ran the bureau with him. The ultimate power couple, if you will.

So, when you seemed to be thirty minutes late, Hughie began to really worry.

“Oh, she actually just called in sick,” Rachel replied. “Not ten minutes ago,” she added when the look on Hughie’s face seemed to ask why she didn’t inform him earlier.

“Really? That’s not like her?” He furrowed his brows. “I need to go check up on her, call me if anything big comes in but until then-”

“Keep things running smoothly? I’ve got it Mr.Campbell,” she interrupted.

Hughie nodded in thanks before he left the office. His mind was racing as he drove to your place.

What if you were in real trouble? God he should’ve just moved in this week instead of waiting for his lease to end. Then he could’ve seen you this morning and made sure you were okay.

Hughie was considering calling Butcher when you didn’t answer your cell. Butcher was an asshole, but he’d make sure you were safe until Hughie got there.

“Goddamnit, Y/n, if you die on me…” he mumbled to himself, speeding down the highway.

“You’ve reached Y/n! This is my voicemail. Make your voice a mail!” Your answering machine mocked him. He couldn’t help but smile a little at the way you worded the outgoing message. You always loved that damn Supernatural show and had even gotten him to watch all fifteen fucking seasons.

“Hey, it’s me again, getting really worried here! Please answer the phone! I love you,” he said into the phone before hanging up. “Please, please, please be okay!” he exclaimed.

After what felt like ages and an unlucky amount of red lights, Hughie finally made it to your apartment. Technically his apartment too, his stuff just wasn’t in it yet.

He knocked on the door but you didn’t answer so he used the key you’d given him a few weeks ago.

“Y/n?” he called out as he entered. “Baby it’s me, are- are you okay?” There was no answer so he continued walking into the apartment. He opened the bedroom door and let out a breath of relief when he saw you. “Oh thank fucking god,” he muttered. “I’ve been calling you nonstop, are you alright?”

As he got closer he noticed your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

“I’m fine,” you replied flatly.

“No offense but you’re clearly not okay,” he scoffed a little as he sat down at the foot of the bed. You tucked your knees in before he could reach his hand out to comfort you.

“Just not feeling up to it today.”

“Well, then I’m gonna go change into my pj’s so I can get under the covers with you and we’ll watch TV together, how does that sound?” he asked. You nodded as a slight smile formed on your lips. “Perfect!”

He stood up, walked over to the head of the bed, and planted a kiss on your cheek before he went to change into his pajamas. He came back in his sleep shorts and a Billy Joel tee. Obviously he slept in a Billy Joel tee, he only had about a hundred of them!

He got under the covers and pulled you closer to him so you were almost sitting on his lap. He took the remote from the nightstand and turned on the TV on the other side of the room. (The adults in your life had warned you ‘don’t put a TV in the bedroom’ but honestly? Best fucking investment you’d ever made!)

Hughie didn’t say anything. He just held you tight against his body, arm draped over your shoulders as his hand brushed against your bicep comfortingly. He quietly found the show you were watching and pressed play.

“Ooh season four? Perfect!” He smiled.

A few moments passed, two sets of eyes focused on the Yellow Fever episode playing.

“Thank you, Hughie,” you mumbled.

“I love you,” he whispered back, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

“I love you so much,” you replied and took his hand in yours, kissing it softly. “So fuckin’ much.”

You really were thankful for Hughie. He knew what was wrong and he knew how to help. He knew you didn’t want to talk and that you didn’t want to be alone. He also knew if anything was to make you feel better it was cuddles, cookies (which he’d get for you later), and a Supernatural marathon.