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#the fics got longer
shadowbends · 1 year
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DEEP DISH!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (OVER 15,000 WORDS)
It’s me again, folks. Do you enjoy good fanfic? We’re reaching the end of the line, but I’m here to hook you up! Whether you’re new to the fandom and diving into the ROTTMNT fic scene for the first time, or a veteran looking for content you might have missed, my hope for this project is to point you to something you’ll enjoy!
This rec list is the last of three and focuses on longfic in the fandom, with a word count reaching anywhere over 15,000 words. You’ll find a variety of fic here, from novellas to full-blown novels—some complete, but many still ongoing! Though it may be heresy on the streets of New York, this is the list you want when you’re craving something really thick to sink your teeth into: a sit-down experience exploding with flavor. Don’t have time for that, actually? Then consider checking out my previous rec lists as well!
NEW YORK STYLE, BABY!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (UNDER 5,000 WORDS)
STUFFED CRUST!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (BETWEEN 5,000 AND 15,000 WORDS)
DEEP DISH!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (OVER 15,000 WORDS) — You’re here!
If you enjoy any of these fics, make sure to reblog and spread the love! Don’t forget to check out the other works by these authors; many of them have written multiple wonderful stories not featured here that are just as good. Additionally, consider leaving the authors a comment! I’m not always the best at that myself, but fic writers work hard and deserve all the love in the world.
With all of that said, it’s time for the recs. Let’s dig in!
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Quick note: On previous lists, I separated the recs by the general time period they took place in. I’m not going to that here, largely because—uh. Well. Nearly all of them are post-movie! This fandom’s sure been active in the last couple of months, huh? Given that, I’ll be sorting them by a broader method, but yes. If you’ve not seen the movie, this is your warning that spoilers abound in the recs below. 
➤ ➤ ➤ CANON COMPLIANT
The Aftermath by Starrcrossrose
57,262 words, 9/? chapters (last updated 11/03/2022)
Character Focus: Everyone (Leo-centric)
Genre: Angst, Family Drama, Hurt/Comfort
It would’ve been easier to say what he was feeling, but he honestly didn’t know how. He wasn’t sure why, either. He knew his brothers would understand and comfort him and be there if he wanted them to be. Hell, Donnie’s surprise sleepover and everyone showing up for it in the living room had been proof of that.
Yet he still couldn’t do it. He’d tried to talk to Donnie and the pain on his brother’s face had been enough to make him never want to speak about things ever again. He didn’t want them to hurt the way he did; he wanted them to be okay and normal and happy.
You know they aren’t happy. Why do you keep pretending to be fine when the others aren’t either?
Leo squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face into his knees as he pulled himself into an even tighter ball. He wanted to go into his shell as much as possible, but at the same time, a searing energy was making his legs feel like he could run or swim for miles. He could just go and go and go until he collapsed.
Maybe… maybe that'll help.
Set a few months after the movie, Leo struggles with the long recovery time needed for his injuries to heal, both physical and mental. Unable to talk about it, he turns to unhealthy coping methods instead. The rest of the family is doing no better from the fallout of the invasion, however, with each of their own stresses mounting the longer things go unaddressed. That is until Chapter 8, when things come to a head...
There are a lot of post-movie recovery fics out there, each one unique. The Aftermath’s hallmark has to be in its slowburn foreshadowing, and excellent character writing. Throughout many chapters, we get a glimpse into the heads of just about every beloved character the series has to offer, including April and Casey Jr. Little clues to what’s going to go wrong are set up early on, but just like the characters, I was blind to how serious of a turn things were about to take until the problem finally reared its head. This fic does a good job of showing how important it is to talk to one another, even if it’s hard.
Aftershocks by Katiemonz, McBethins, octolingkiera, theashemarie, and this_kills_the_man
153,543 words, 12/15 chapters (last updated 11/06/2022)
Character Focus: Everyone
Genre: Family Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
“Good game,” Leo said to Donnie, smiling at Mikey in the same sly way as before.
“Thank you, Leonardo, but as I’ve said Uno is—”
“But you still lost,” Leo continued. He swept the cards up and began to straighten them for another shuffle.
“Second place is hardly—”
“Honorary title,” Leo cut in again. “Mikey won, so we owe him.”
“Owe him what? I have—”
“Keep your money, Don. In this game we’re dealing in secrets.”
“Secrets.”
“Yeah, specifically what’s up in that brilliant, big head of yours after all that Krang shit. C’mon. You owe him one secret.”
Picking up from the end of the invasion but spanning the weeks after, the day’s been won, but no one came out of the Krang’s attack completely unscathed. There’s a lot of trauma to unpack here—unfortunately, talking about it is the last thing just about anyone in the family wants to do. 
Another recovery fic, Aftershocks is unique for being a story told from five perspectives (the boys and April), as written by five different authors. As the brothers avoid each other, each arc’s events end up having quite the different take depending on whose POV you’re currently following, even in moments where the same scene is being retold. Truly an ensemble fic that focuses on everyone’s trauma, I’ve especially enjoyed that April was included. As the longest fic on this list, Aftershocks is heavy on introspection and exposition, but the characterization always manages to shine through in the details. I especially love the scene I quoted above; “Trauma Uno” is totally a concept I could see the boys coming up with. 
A Tale of Spirits by unorthodoxx
47,202 words, 6/? chapters (last updated 11/06/2022)
Character Focus: Ensemble
Genre: Adventure, Fantasy, Crossover
"I need to find my brothers," Raph mumbles.  "That's if they're even here."
"And then head back to the spirit world."
"It's not the spirit world!"
"Right," Toph grins. "This so-called 'other dimension' without benders."
"There are no benders in my world."
Toph reaches and places a hand on scaled skin.  Huge muscles twitch under her palm and the spirit stops.  "No benders?"
"Yes!"
She nods.  "Like the spirit world."
Raph throws his arms up with a scream and Toph cackles.
For a crossover, this fic requires quite a bit of investment in the second fandom to follow; you’ll want to have seen all of ATLA Season 1, and potentially even Season 2 if you want to keep track of what’s going on, especially for moments when episodes are retold, but with the turtles added in. Additionally, the POV is solely with the ATLA characters. Is this fic worth recommending despite that? Abso-freaking-lutely. This might be one of the most creative crossovers I’ve seen in any fandom, and I’m absolutely hooked.
The plot is deceptively straightforward—the four turtles mysteriously appear in the world of Avatar: The Last Airbender, separated and with no idea where the brothers are. Their arrival changes everything, with the people of the world seeing them as powerful spirits and guardians. I won’t spoil who ends up with who beyond what’s shown in the excerpt, but it paves the way for fascinating political intrigue and character development on all sides, our fave turtles included. Donatello’s position is perhaps the most fascinating for what may come of it, but everyone’s new groupings have been an utter delight. The banter feels charming and wholly in-character, and I can’t wait to read more. This is definitely a fic to keep your eye on, if you’ve not found it already.
Brother Dearest by Wardenov
69,666 words, 22/? chapters (last updated 11/03/2022)
Character Focus: Everyone (Donnie-centric)
Genre: Drama, Sci-Fi, Horror
“You came here looking for answers, weakling, because you messed with powers far beyond your understanding.” “I’m not-” She doesn’t let him continue. “Our brother may be dead, but the glory of our kind is that we are never truly defeated, not as long as our mark remains.” And as if to make her point, she raises a tentacle and delicately touches the glass - tendrils spawning from the point of contact, rapidly expanding across the surface like a frenzied contagion before freezing in place and crumbling under the extreme cold. “We cull the weak and assimilate those worthy, we bestow the blessing of Krang upon those who deserve it. You-” she spits, remaining tentacles scrambling to climb the glass where Donnie stood, “-you have stolen our gift.”
He says nothing.
“But,” she continues, sadistic smile returning, “your transgressions have ensured our survival. Our continued conquest. Whether you like it or not.”
Set a few months after the Krang’s invasion, things have seemingly gone back to normal for the Hamato family. Everyone’s doing their best to get by, and back to familiar routines and hobbies. Donnie, though? His newest project throws all of that into new chaos, showing that no matter how well-meaning, there are some things man (and turtle) was never meant to tamper with. 
I’m absolutely feral for this fic, and desperate to impress upon anyone seeing this why they should read it. It might be one of the very best fics the fandom has to offer. Seriously. You want plot and worldbuilding on par with the Season 3 we never got? Exploration of the Hidden City, and the Council of Heads that run it? High stakes, suspense, action, and family drama? Look no further, fam. Brother Dearest has it all, and every character (even Mayhem!) has a big role to play. April’s sleuthing, Mikey further develops his new mystic powers, Leo has some heavy choices to make as leader, and Raph isn’t as home free after the Krang invasion as he thought. Make no mistake, though, the star of this show is Donnie in his unwitting supervillain arc. Will his family be able to save him from himself? Only time and new chapters can tell, but this fic dug its claws into my heart and won’t let go, it’s so good. 
Drift and Chemical Reaction by Bronte
26,949 words, 7/7 chapters (split between two fics)
Character Focus: Donatello & Leonardo, Ensemble
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding
"Piña colada?"
"What the—?" Donnie cuts him off before he can finish, cramming a green and yellow striped straw between his teeth. Leo wears some of it, the yellow, smoothie-like drink dribbling down his plastron. "Wait, where did you—what is this?"
Donnie smirks. "Pineapple, coconut, rum. A taste of the tropics."
Leo blinks and glances down apprehensively at the ‘Better Late than Ugly’ mug in his hand. "...does this have alcohol in it?"
"Does this have—pfft, I would never. Do you know who I am? Donatello, upstanding citizen of Manhattan proper?" Donnie barks a laugh, tossing his head back before leveling him with a look. "Of course there is. As the Bard himself said, self-love, my brother, is not so vile a sin as self-neglect."
As two sides of the same story, these fics are being recommended together! Set after the movie, Drift is told from Leonardo’s POV, both during and after leaving the prison dimension, where Chemical Reaction tells the story from Donatello’s POV. 
The real charm of this fic, though? It has to be the banter. Reading this, I could totally hear the character’s voices in my head, which was only made better once the piña coladas came in. You think the twins are disasters; just wait until they’re drunk. These fics would be worth reccing on their own for that scene alone, but there’s actually a little bit of plot involved as well as Leo struggles to regain his ninpo, while Donnie... Well, something weird is going on with Donnie. Needless to say, both of these are a great read!
Every Night the Longest Day by ashtreelane
33,731 words, 13/? chapters (last updated 10/27/2022)
Character Focus: Leonardo & Family
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Medical Drama
“What’s wrong, Leo?” Raph asks from where he is curled around him, the snapper’s chin nestled on the top of his head.
“Can’t sleep,” Leo mutters. He smells worry, sudden and sharp, and when he opens his eyes Raph has whipped around to look at Donnie, eyes blown wide, looking for an answer. Donnie is looking at him too, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.
“We- okay. Raph, don't freak out. This is to be expected, remember?” Donnie is saying, his voice just barely on the wrong side of too calm. He’s freaking out too. Why? What’s happening? Oh, he’s being addressed now, he should probably pay attention.
“Leo, you were cursed six days ago to be unable to fall asleep. Your memory is suffering because of it, but we’re all right here, okay?”
Leo kind of knows what they’re talking about. He remembers it, he remembers that it happened, but the… events are… foggy. What- what had they been talking about?
“What are we talking about?”
When Leo is cursed to be unable to sleep, he and the family must wait for a new moon to break the spell through a ritual. Unfortunately, that new moon is nearly two weeks off. As Leo is forced to stay awake for days on end, his mental and physical condition quickly begins to deteriorate. Through it all, Leo’s family stays by his side to help him through it, beautifully balancing hurt with comfort through the beginning. As the story goes on and Leo’s condition worsens, though... Well. Things aren’t looking good, let’s say.  
I have such a soft spot for this fic, though. It’s grown quite popular lately, so many of you reading this list may have already heard it, but there was a point when I was following early on where the author was debating shifting the POV around or sticking with Leo as an unreliable narrator. I was really proud of them for sticking to their guns and going with the latter, and I think it’s paid off in spades. The way the author experiments with formatting styles and missing scenes really makes the fic stand apart from the standard whump setup, and turns it into something akin to low-key psychological horror. If you’re into that sort of thing it’s a lot of fun; even if you’re not, the moments of family bonding peppered throughout the fic are so wholesome, and definitely worth your time.
Fallout by GauntletKnight
50,677 words, 20/? chapters (last updated 11/05/2022)
Character Focus: Everyone
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama
“We are here. We are alive. Raph and Mikey are downstairs. Dad and April and Casey are on the way. You’re alright, Leo. You’re safe. We are all safe. No one is here to hurt you…or us.” There is no special inflection to his voice, but his words are firm, unmoving. Leo shakes for a moment, squeezing Donnie’s hand…and then he blinks, his eyes clear and he tries to take a breath.
Violent coughs wrack his body as he tries to dislodge the blood that had built up from his sobs. Bright red spatters down his front and across Donnie’s hands as he holds onto Leo’s arm. Each breath is like nails on a chalkboard.
Draxum steps in instantly, checking the monitor for vitals. “I’ve gotta get to that punctured lung…or else getting this blood transfusion in him isn’t going to do anything.” He turns to Donnie, holding out plastic gloves, “Can you-”
Leo shakes his head, finally getting a rattling breath into his chest. “N-no…Don’s…not great with this kind of thing. S’ok…he’s so good at everything else he had to leave some for the rest of us.” He smiles up at Donnie like Donnie hung the damn moon and stars, his eyes still shining with painful tears. It’s…a weirdly genuine moment between the two of them…
Donnie doesn’t like it.
Set between the final fight and grabbing a slice in the movie, this fic follows the immediate aftermath of pulling Leo out of the prison dimension with a bit more urgency and attention to everyone’s injuries. 
As I’ve said before, every movie recovery fic I’ve found has their hallmark, and I’d say Fallout’s is its heart and emotion. By focusing on the aftermath of the battle where everyone’s stresses are still running high, there’s a lot going on here, and it makes for some tense, but evocative moments. The story is lightly focused on Leo’s mental state especially, but everyone is going through it and as the POV shifts every chapter, each character gets some focus as they work through their injuries and messy feelings. Fallout is very satisfying read, and one I often come back to over and over.
hamartia by Punable
40,364 words, 9/? chapters (last updated 10/30/2022)
Character Focus: Donatello & Family
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
It felt nothing like how he imagined dying would feel.
Donatello was a man of science, so it would have been foolish of him to have not, over the years, devised theories around what results certain situations would generate, what or who they might take out of commission, and what he would need to do personally in order to gain the best possible outcome. He would sometimes note down how he believed these situations might affect him or his brothers, both physically or mentally - he wasn’t an expert on emotions, far from it, but he could at least logically assume that getting, say, struck by lightning (one of his planned-for possibilities) would leave its own traumatic scar on any man or turtle that happened to experience it, so he’d dragged in April for those certain emotional areas and promptly abandoned her as a research partner when she’d told him he was being obsessive. He was not obsessive, just thorough.
He couldn’t help but feel as though some of that research time may have been wasted, though, as he lay on his side, his newest project slash rework shattered into almost unsalvageable pieces on the floor across from him. (And really, that felt almost like the harshest blow - how was anyone except him supposed to salvage that hunk of junk? Was that all that he was leaving behind?)
He felt it had been time wasted, maybe, because dying didn’t feel at all like the soft, slowing breaths of passing peacefully into sleep, or the fast tight gasping of someone going out from a bullet wound. If anything, it felt like he was breathing too deeply, every breath filling his whole body and stretching out every wound and puncture and fracture, oxygen making his head light (or maybe that was the blood loss). He didn’t feel at peace, and he certainly didn’t feel as scared as he thought he should’ve been, as he had read he should have been.
Mostly, it just felt like an inconvenience.
Donnie almost dies, and that’s just the start of this angsty tale. What follows is an interesting exploration of what Donatello thinks of himself and his role in the team, and his family’s growing concerns when he won’t give himself time to recover. Donnie’s brush with death has lasting consequences, and a large part of the fic is dedicated both to how much they affect him and how long he can hide it from his family (and the audience). Once the truth comes out, though? Oof. 
The newfound disability is handled well, imo, and you really feel for everyone involved. There’s a lot about mental health that the author just does really well in general, actually. The focus on family and everyone’s concerns for their brother is where this fic really shines, though, and there’s a lot of emotion that hits just right. Basically, the hurt is done so well, I’m looking forward to when we get to more comfort.
i go there with you by bobtheacorn
21,649 words, 15/? chapters (last updated 11/04/2022)
Character Focus: Everyone
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Humor
"But seriously," Donnie says seriously, brandishing his tablet screen above Mikey's head and pointing at it, "I cannot emphasize enough how important it is that you be Very Honest when I ask you to scale your pain using this -" He cuts his eyes toward Raph, who grins. "Emoji Scale. Which dramatization would you say you find the most relatable at the moment?"
"Okay, so defo… this guy," Leo says. He thinks he manages to lift his finger but that's all the juice he's got. "On the… left."
"That would be the thumbs-up emoji, Leo," Raph says cautiously.
"Awww," Mikey gushes, "Is that one because you love us?"
"Hang on," Leo says around another small huff of maybe-laughter, "You… can't prove anything. But also…" He moves his finger again. "Also this guy on the… on the far r-right. Like, for-real for real."
"Oh, the sad-angry-crying emoji, fantastic," Donnie says with a bit more pep, tossing the tablet and turning to Splinter, who's closest to the monitor, "Papa, would you do Leo a huge favor and smash that morphine button, please? Like, right now, immediately."
Set immediately after the invasion. This fic is a series of interconnected one-shots originally written for Whumptober, but by Chapter 9 breaks into its own thing. The whump remains a focus, but it’s tempered by a good dose of comfort and humor as well, which the author is a master of. 
If you want a recovery fic after the events of the movie that matches the feeling of the show, i go there with you is the fic to start with. The characterization and banter are spot on, as is the emotional whiplash. All of the characters gets some love and introspection in this one too, which is always fun.
Now That’s What I Call A Vacation! by WayWardWatson
56,238 words, 9/? chapters (last updated 11/06/2022)
Character Focus: Splinter & Family
Genre: Family Bonding, Adventure, Hurt/Comfort
Splinter turned his attention back to Big Mama, the flirtatious mood from earlier dissipating. “I am calling in your favor.”
It was like he had slapped her with his rat tail with how she reared back in visible disgust. Her fangs clicked in irritation and she scuttled further down, closer to where Splinter was standing. “Remind me, when have I ever owed you a measly-weasly favor?”
“When you misused demon armor for profit that nearly resulted in the end of human and yokai kind alike?” Splinter evenly said. “Oh, and the time I rubbed your feet, all eight of them, when you were on bedrest.”
“I thought that was an act of love.”
“Kindness.” He corrected because his heart hurt too much when she said love. “I was being kind. Though, if you want,” Again, his voice dipped into a purr, splaying out his arms wide in open invitation. “You could be kind enough to give me and my family a free round trip to Japan? I know you can do it.”
More scuttling as a low hiss escaped her maw. “That is a big, dimbly favor to ask.”
“I thought we were calling those acts of lo- kindness?”
“Why,” She drew the word out as she finally reached the bottom and pressed her broach. Suddenly, a swirl of light engulfed Big Mama and, with a whoosh of mystic energy that smelt like nutmeg, he watched as her stature began to diminish. Just as quickly, the light fractured and then separated into small motes of bioluminescent dust, casting a dim, golden glow around them. Now in human form, Big Mama stepped in close enough to touch. “Do you want to go to Japan?”
Without thinking, Splinter’s eyes trailed down then up and he swallowed. His heart was beginning to pick up, but certainly not from fear. He took a moment to gather himself. “My children need a vacation.”
Splinter takes one look at the S2 finale and the movie and decides that’s it, this family needs a break. Deals are made, mystic disguise brooches are acquired, itineraries are made, and with that, the family (including April!) are off on an exciting vacation to Japan! As with all scenarios involving the Hamato Clan, however, nothing goes so simply.
You’re getting so much bang for your buck picking up this fic. A family trip to Japan is charming in and of itself—and the author has done so much research on the country that some passages feels like taking a tour of your own—but this fic actually has a lot going on for it. How they even get to Japan involves some fun mystic worldbuilding, and the cloaking brooches open the door to interesting commentary on body dysphoria. And of course, things take quite a turn when the fam runs into a figure from Splinter’s past who has questions he struggles to answer. A refreshing story with creative ideas, Now That’s What I Call A Vacation! also has an excellent grasp on all of the characters, in and out of vacation mode. It’s a darling read.
odd man out by cosmocrow
22,676 words, 4/? chapters (last updated 10/29/2022)
Character Focus: Future Leonardo & Leonardo, Future Leonardo & Casey, The Hamato Family
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama
“Master Splinter,” he greets, almost impressed by the fact that his voice isn’t wavering like he feared it would. “I’m sorry for barging in– like. Barging into your timeline? I– I can explain.” He really can’t, but that isn’t the point.
Splinter only raises a hand. “Don’t worry, Casey has brought us up to speed.” He turns to deposit the tray onto a cart, before folding his hands into the sleeve of his robe. Leonardo can feel those yellow eyes look him up and down as he straightens up again. Splinter takes a step closer, craning his short neck to be able to look Leonardo in the face. Melancholy dances on his features, but the rat smiles nonetheless.
“Look at you, you’ve gotten so tall, Leonardo.” The soft usage of his name almost makes Leonardo stumble. He hasn’t heard it from his father’s mouth in a long, long time. A familiar burn starts to prickle within his eyes, so he starts blinking in order to quell the itch, pressing his lips together, so his mouth won’t wobble. He isn’t sure why he’s trying – he knows that Splinter knows.
His father always knew everything.
Splinter steps even closer, lifting a hand from within the confines of his sleeves. Like a magnet, Leonardo bends down, so his dad can cup the side of his face. Gently, the old rat rubs his thumb into his cheek, just below his mask, over his red markings. Splinter’s sad little smile falls, and he tugs down the blue mask over Leonardo’s face.
“But,” he says softly, “you look so tired, my son.”
Several months after the movie’s conclusion, a familiar face from Casey’s averted bad future appears, just as everyone else is startling to settle back in. Predictably, this throws everything into confusion.
Tl;dr, Future Leonardo is sent back into the past and has to adjust back to a world sans apocalypse, and the family takes him in with open arms. Things between him and younger Leo are a lot more tenuous, but there’s a resolution early on that feels very true to their personalities—one less sure of himself, and the other who’s learned his lessons the hard way—that resonated strongly with me and made me fall in love with the story. Add to that some genuinely heartwarming moments with the family bonding, and you’re in for a good, if bittersweet time. 
Recoil by unorthodoxx
63,236 words, 10/10 chapters
Character Focus: Ensemble
Genre: Action, Team Bonding, Angst, Crossover
“Hey guys,” he yells.  “You might want to see this.”
It doesn’t take long for the three of them to spill into his lab.  Leo comes in first and drapes himself across the back of Donnie’s chair.  “What’s up?  You find the secret ingredient to Luenzo’s Pizza yet?”
“No,” Donnie scowls.  “They’re locked down tighter than Fort Knox, but it’ll fall soon.  They always do.  No fellas,” He enlarges the email, “We’ve been invited to a meet-up of sorts.”  
Raph’s hand settles heavily on his shoulder as the larger turtle leans in to read.  “Dear Genius Built…….Talk about…….agree to meet…..love…”
“IRONMAN!!?!?”  Mikey shouts.  “THE Ironman wants to meet us!”
“Wow,” Raph whistles.  “The Avengers.  That’s some top-level hero stuff.”
ROTTMNT crosses over with the MCU! Set in a world where both universes exist in the same setting, this fic takes place after the Krang Invasion, but fairly into the MCU’s history, long before the superheroes have their falling out. So long as you have any familiarity with the first Avengers movie, you’ll be able to follow the story fine, as it’s straightforward: the appearance of the Krang was as abrupt as their defeat, and Tony Stark can’t let sleeping dogs lie. After uncovering the turtles’ involvement, an in-person meeting is arranged to handle the fate of the Krang Key.
Most of this fic is just a fun excuse to let the ROTTMNT characters bounce off the MCU characters, and it’s fun to see who gets along and who doesn’t. That’s the thing I love in particular about this story—the author is true enough to their characterization that not everyone is friends by the end, in a way that makes whole sense. The Avengers are disasters themselves, after all. The plot of handling the key is done exceptionally well too, and there’s a lot of high octane action at the end that’s quite thrilling. If you’re looking for a good time, you’ll fine it in Recoil, and if you enjoyed it, there’s more where that came from! The author has planned out several other stories set later on in the same series, the first of which (where the turtles meet Spiderman) is already out. So keep an eye on that!
this kind of weather by ihaveathingforpink
21,526 words, 2/4 chapters (last updated 09/18/2022)
Character Focus: Leonardo & Michelangelo, Raphael & Donatello, Ensemble
Genre: Action, Hurt/Comfort, Crossover
“Well, if it is business you seek, Krang has a proposition for you. There are two turtles Krang wishes for you to…remove from the board as their tenacity has proven to be as obstructive as it is predictable. For our plans to proceed, it’s too dangerous for either to remain alive.”
Takeshi takes another sip before asking, “Turtles? As in the ninja turtles that reside beneath the city, whom everyone pretends doesn’t exist? The people of New York won’t be pleased if I do anything to harm their heroes.”
“Oh, I want you to do more than simply harm them. First, they need to suffer.”
“Suffering costs extra. I don’t do anything for free.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.”
“Yet you said two turtles when, last I checked, there’s four.”
“Ah, yes. They are of little concern to me. Krang only need you to get rid of two, and you must follow Krang's instructions precisely. Otherwise, you will fail. First, you will need to get rid of the little orange one; he may not look like much, but he’s one of the strongest mystic warriors of all time. I suggest you handle this one quickly—he can be quite slippery—but the blue one, Krang implores you to take your time.”
This story has one helluva hook. A surviving Krang puts a hit out on Mikey and Leo, and saying more than that would unfortunately spoil the twist of the first chapter. With just two chapters, though, this story is fascinating and deserves a lot more attention than it’s gotten. It has high stakes, great action, and is an emotional roller coaster that doesn’t let up. It’s also a bit of a crossover, though longstanding fans of the TMNT franchise will recognize these faces right away. That’s right, this is a crossover with Usagi Yojimbo! Besides characters of that series, though, there’s also a lot of familiar faces from previous TMNT series that Rise never got enough time to tackle, like Tiger Claw and Renet. 
You can probably guess from the latter’s name that things are about to get timey-wimey up in here, and you’d be correct. There’s an absolutely killer plot at work here, emphasis on the killer, and whether they want to or not the turtles have to take a divide and conquer approach to it while at one of their lowest points. Seriously, check this one out. 
Under Pressure by ParvumAutmaton
21,560 words, 4/4 chapters
Character Focus: The Boys & April
Genre: Suspense, Angst
“You know April, right?” The voice on the other end of the line asked. “You’re one of her gamer friends?”
Donnie blinked. The voice sounded familiar but that didn’t help him at the unholy hour where way too late morphed into way too early.
“And you are?”
“Her mother. Please, did she spend the night at your place?”
“No, she did not,” Donnie answered, forcing himself upright, his exhaustion evaporating with that question. “I believe she was planning on some extracurricular club activity yesterday afternoon. So we weren’t planning on seeing her.”
“I don’t suppose you know which club?”
“No, I do not.”
“Ok,” The waver Donnie heard in her voice implied that it wasn’t. “You will let me know if April gets in touch?”
“Of course Ms. O’Neil.”
The call ended.
Donnie stared at his phone.
One of the few fics on this list not set after the movie, this story takes place after the S2 finale on a dismal day when April goes missing. Investigating her disappearance leads the boys to a van and a lake, and an exploration on the dangers of cave diving. 
As you can guess from that description, this fic has quite the creative setup that’s both atmospheric and suspenseful. Be sure to heed the tags because it does get dark, but it’s still a great read, and the turtles’ determination to find their sister pulls at the heartstrings. 
➤ ➤ ➤ CANON DIVERGENT
big sister by Darth_Sunny
18,090 words, 6/? chapters (last updated 10/24/2022)
Character Focus: April & Family
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
April O’Neil wasn’t an only child anymore. She had four younger brothers, whom she loved with all her heart, and who she’d burned the world down for if anything were to happen to them. She’d fight every ancient mystic evil the world would throw at her if it meant keeping them safe. And if she couldn’t be there for them at the moment, she’d be there for them in the aftermath. She was their big sister, their oldest and only sister. : was the self-proclaimed protector, but even he needed someone to protect him and to help protect their younger brothers.
So that’s why, when she watched the portal close up, slicing the Technodrome in half, stopping the Kraang for good, knowing that he was trapped back in that prison dimension, April O’Neil felt her heart break into hundreds, thousands, millions of little pieces.
This one’s a fic following April’s perspective on the end of the invasion, from Leo’s sacrifice, to picking up Casey, and reuniting with the boys. It mostly follows canon, but there is a fairly major change revealed partway through that makes it canon divergent from the movie’s ending. It’s unclear if other changes will follow, but just in case it’s being slotted in the canon divergent category all the same. 
That’s not the focus, though. No, this fic is centered squarely on April and her relationship with the rest of the Hamato Clan. I love that it impresses how much April is a part of the family, and that the boys aren’t just her friends but her brothers, and that their pain is her pain. Watching the aftermath of the invasion unfold from her perspective is a fresh and evocative take. 
Like Father Like Son by eternalglitch
132,982 words, 25/? chapters (last updated 11/02/2022)
Character Focus: Everyone (Leo-centric)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort
“Here, Boss!” Huginn darted back across the room, wings straining, as he carried a very… familiar…
“Uh, wait up, no,” Leo said, eyeing the blue object as Huginn dropped it into Draxum’s waiting hand. “Do you even know where that thing’s been? Have you properly washed it at least?”
Draxum’s roots suddenly shift, dragging Leo upright until he’s forced to stand on his tip-toes to have any sort of purchase. “I happened to have had it offered to me by the mutant that you call Meat Sweats,” Draxum said, admiring the collar (for that’s what it actually was, even if Leo had never called it that when it was just a gift from his brother) in the light. “He was quite helpful once I mentioned what I wanted to use it for.” Draxum started to approach, the collar held aloft.
“So, what,” Leo bit out. “You’re gonna stop me from saying my one-liners? Big whoop.”
“I think you’ll find,” Draxum coolly said. “That this has been modified to do so much more than that.”
This fic needs no introduction. In fact, there’s a high chance some of you heard of LFLS before they even saw Rise; I’ve heard of people who only watched the show just so they could read it! It’s the most popular fic in the fandom for a reason. If that’s scared you off, though, or if you’ve avoided it for other reasons, let me tell you why you should give it a chance. 
The fic takes some of Rise’s best villains and settings, and explores the darker sides of them (do heed the warnings in the tags). Leo goes through the absolute wringer, but the effect his disappearance has on his family plays a central part of the story as well, with all of the brothers getting full blown introspection and character arcs. Donnie’s in particular hurts me. The emotions are high and the plot is juicy, with some of the tightest writing the fandom has to offer, including intelligent plans and dialogue. As far as hurt/comfort goes, this is definitely a slow burn with a lot of angst, but the author has promised a happy ending. Between that and consistent updates (it’s been going strong for two years), what more could you ask for?
Three Days to Live by Werepirechick
93,992 words, 13/13 chapters
Character Focus: April & The Boys
Genre: Cyberpunk, Action, Human AU
The heiress and former target lowers her hands, keeping them placidly by her sides. “K-tech is a vicious, unrelenting company,” she says, glasses gleaming in the room’s light as she lifts her chin in defiance. “The people who run it are the same. They don’t let people get away, and they don’t leave loose ends. You were all on their shit list as much as I am, the second you signed on.”
Leo shifts his stance, tightening his grip on his gun. “So what are you proposing?” he asks coolly.
“Like y’all said. I’m the heiress to the company. In three days I’m going to walk into a courtroom, sign the papers that frees K-tech from the control of my guardian, and walk out the richest, most powerful person in North America.” O’Neil smiles bitterly. “That is, if I can survive the next seventy-two hours. That’s where you come in.”
“You want us to guard you,” Raph states.
Ohhh, this fic is an absolute gem. You can’t say no to a good Human AU in this fandom to start, but to top it off with a cyberpunk twist? Trust me, this is a match made in heaven. The plot kicks off when the boys—hitmen in this universe—are hired to take out April O’Neil, an heiress to one of the world’s largest tech companies. When things take a turn, she makes them a deal: protect her for three days instead, and she’ll make them rich beyond their wildest dreams.
The plot that follows is filled with danger, intrigue, and high octane action. The world is incredibly thought out and immersive, and makes for a great way to work ROTTMNT’s mystic powers into a new genre. The banter, though. If you’ve read any of Werepirechick’s other fics, you’d know that’s their specialty, and it’s no different here in Three Days to Live. While on the run from the powers seeking to destroy her, the boys and April bond and their friendship is perfection. The series also blends in characters from other iterations of the franchise, but it’s not too distracting, and for the most part remains firmly rooted in the Rise style. Do yourself a favor, and give this one a read!
Posted: 11/06/2022
429 notes · View notes
starrystevie · 9 months
Text
it was all supposed to be a dumb joke.
the boys had been sitting around after rehearsal one night passing a bowl and more than a few beers, laughing about how unsuccessful the newest music based social media app would be. mere seconds of songs looping over and over with other songs mixed in would never work, especially for corroded coffin where the story, the buildup of their songs was part of the reason to listen.
it all started with jeff, grinning slowly ear to ear. "what if were to get in there and take some celebrity's name for a user name? like paris hilton or something."
then it moved to gareth, who paused with a scrunched up face. "dude, paris hilton? what the fuck kind of reference is that..."
then it was over to greg, choking on a smoke-laced laugh. "yeah, it'd be funnier if it was eddie's pop prince loverboy instead."
that got everyone's attention. eddie had protested to ears that didn't want to hear it as they cackled in their studio that they rented by the hour, bent over in their rolling chairs, leaning against the side of the mixing board for support.
"loverboy?! you know i can't stand steve harrington and his bullshit lyrics, what the fuck kind of suggestion is that..."
but come the next day, when the weed had left his system and his veins were alcohol-free, eddie stared at the mixr app home screen and the blinking red circle over his inbox with disdain after successfully acquiring a user name he never would have picked for himself.
'steveharrington', eddie's account says, along with an icon of himself and his tongue out.
if it hadn't been for being less than sober when the app dropped. if it hadn't been for his best friends egging him on with taunts and jeers and kissy noises and less than sincere dreamy calls of 'oh steve' in the background. if it hadn't been for the way that eddie secretly did think about a certain head of floppy hair and soft brown eyes and shoulders littered with constellations.
if it hadn't been for all of that he wouldn't have had the chance to have his celebrity crush, the steve harrington, in his inbox at 8am on a random tuesday morning.
"good morning!" the message says simply enough. eddie stares at the words, trying to process what they mean, looking at the verified username of 'steveharrington1' next to an icon of his most recent album along with it. his inbox is flooded with people all asking him random things, thinking he's the real steve harrington, but this one verified account has him shaking.
for all that eddie is, all big hair and black jeans and skull rings and leather, he's still a man. a man who can look at a pop star, annoying as their music may be, and see charm. he can see attractiveness. he can see that smile that steve harrington has perfected behind his eyelids and he can see them strolling off into the sunset together hand in hand and he can see steve all flushed and breathing heavily underneath him on a mountain of plush pillows and he can see-
the message pings again with a new addition. "i know this seems weird and my team advised against it but i'd really like your user name of... well, my name."
eddie blinks slowly. he pictures steve maybe laying in bed, maybe sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee, with his phone in his hand as he types out a message to him. to think that steve has any idea about him existing on any sort of level is doing his head in. his heartbeat races a little faster as he types back with shaky hands and a pit in his stomach.
"is this real?" is all he can type out, leaning against the kitchen counter as he waits for his coffee to brew.
three dots pull up on the app screen before disappearing and eddie pulls his lip in between his teeth to focus his energy elsewhere. he tears his eyes away from his phone and looks out the window to watch the people out for their morning walks. he's just about to the point where he thinks about maybe taking up walking if nothing else to get all the pent up energy out of him when the app dings again. as he looks back, his heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach.
it's a photo of steve that can't have been released before. he's sitting outside in bright sunshine with sunglasses on, tousled hair and grin on his face. he's holding his hand up in a thumbs up and eddie can see the remnants of cream cheese on the side of his index finger.
he sucks in a stuttering breath through his teeth, trying to force his lungs to breath again. the dots pop up on screen once more and the message that comes through is instantaneous.
"real enough for you?" it reads. and then an additional message is tacked on. "need me to hold up a newspaper with the date on it?"
there's a winky face that follows and it feels fake even though it's very real. this whole morning feels wrong, unreal. he's just eddie munson, some singer in some halfway popular band in some kind of shitty neighborhood in los angeles that just happens to have not just some pop star in his dms. this doesn't happen to him.
"why did your team tell you not to message me? does my reputation precede me?"
eddie pulls his hand up to his mouth to bite at the side of his fingernail, watching the screen with rapt attention and waiting for the typing dots to disappear.
"according to this account your name is steve harrington and yes, i'd say his reputation does precede him."
eddie barks out a laugh, not exactly expecting that.
he didn't know what he was expecting out of any of this. he thought that it might help get the corroded coffin name out more if he got tangled up somehow with the steve harrington name. spark a little bit of drama to boost their visibility. but now here he is, talking to the man himself, cracking jokes and trying not to hyperventilate.
"how were you able to get this name so fast anyway? my team was on it right when the app dropped last night."
"i had the power of bandmates and weed on my side," he types back, side of his mouth quirking up into a smile.
"oh so you're a musician? maybe i should be looking into your reputation then, mystery person."
eddie pauses and thinks about every option. he is semi-known in the metal scene, his outlandish stunts on stage and political speeches at shows that garner them becoming an almost brand for him. if he tells steve who he is, would he know? care? run away from the scary guy who may or may not use stage blood in every music video?
but the thing is, he's not a scary guy and he never has been. he might be a little intimidating and he guesses that's the armor he puts on everyday after being bullied in school but it's not an accurate showing of who he is. eddie is sweet, funny, kind of smart in that has random fun facts about dungeons and dragons kind of way.
and he wants the steve harrington to know that guy.
eddie flips over at his middle so his head is nearly touching the floor and ruffles his hair, giving it volume and calming down the frizz that comes from sleep. he shakes it out of his face once he's upright and grabs his garfield coffee mug if only to have something to do with his hands. grabbing his phone off the counter, he opens the camera option in their message thread and snaps a quick picture of himself grinning, mug next to his face with a matching cat-like smirk. he nervously presses send before he can even think about all the flaws with it.
"eddie munson at your service," is what he types out with a saluting emoji and a muttered prayer to whoever would listen to him that things don't end horribly.
it's not like he's expecting to sweep steve off his feet. he knows that steve has picture perfect partners, he sees enough internet news to know that gruff and dark isn't the kind of guy he normally goes for. but he looks back at the photo he sent and hopes that steve sees the kindness in his eyes, the scruff on his jawline that makes it look just the smallest bit chiseled, the whimsy and life that he embodies that comes from a tacky coffee cup.
there isn't an automatic answer and it makes whatever hope eddie has floating around his system falter. ''at this point you've probably searched me and i can reassure you, i'm not actually a vampire like google seems to think i am."
"holy shit."
it's short, two words followed by typing dots that disappear, reappear, disappear once more before reappearing for the last time.
"would you believe me if i told you that i am huge fan??"
choking on coffee hurts, eddie finds out. he coughs as the hot liquid goes down the wrong pipe and concentrates on the messages once he gets his bearings back. steve, the steve harrington, a fan of his? it's a prank, it has to be, there is no way that steve harrington-
"one of my exes took me to your show at the bowl and it quite possibly changed my life. you gave that speech about the pipeline before the encore and i went home and bought every single one of your albums that same night."
he's dead. the papers will read 'eddie munson found dead in his home in a ratty metallica shirt holding onto a garfield coffee mug and cellphone open to a chat where steve harrington tells him he's a fan of his work'. it's the only way that this is possibly happening. he's died and gone to whatever fucked up version of heaven has him still living in his shitty la apartment.
"are you fucking kidding me?" is what he types back, slamming his coffee mug onto the counter to have access to both hands. "you've heard my stuff?"
and then it happens, like out of a shitty teenage rom-com, his phone is lighting up with an in-app call from steve harrington. the steve harrington. careful not to drop his phone in his hurried movements, he presses accept faster than he thinks his fingers have every worked.
"hello?" he questions into the phone and there's no hello back, just steve apparently freaking out as much as he is.
"i hope this is okay," he says and god, does his voice sound wonderful over the phone like this. "but it's faster and i have too many things to say that typing it all out would be stupid."
eddie grins and his feet tap against the ground like an excited kid. "it's fine, i uhm... i get it. god, this is weird."
steve hums in agreement before laughing. and oh, that laugh. it has eddie floating up to cloud nine, heart thumping painfully in his chest, butterflies beating their wings wildly in his stomach.
"yeah, it's definitely not how i expected this morning to go. talking to eddie munson, wow."
"sure," eddie snorts, "you talk to celebrities all the time, i'm sure this is small fish for you."
he hears steve laugh again, soft and gentle, like it's meant just for eddie. "i might talk to celebrities all the times but not ones that i have posters on my wall of like a pre-teen. i'm properly geeking out right now."
eddie short circuits. that's the only way to explain the way his body shuts down as he slumps into an armchair in the living room.
"you, steve harrington, have posters of me on your bedroom wall?" eddie's mouth feels dry as he talks and regrets making coffee at all because he's wide awake now and feels jittery.
"well okay, to be fair, it's of the whole band and it's in my studio but you are shirtless so i contemplated putting it in my bedroom." something shifts on the other end of the line and it sounds like steve sitting down. there's birds chirping in the background and eddie closes his eyes to picture himself sitting with steve on a patio instead of in his dingy apartment.
"you're gonna give me big head, pretty boy." the pet name slips out before he can stop it and the pitch of his voice lowering is out of his control. eddie can't be held responsible for his actions at 8am especially when he's flirting over the phone with his celebrity crush.
"pretty boy, hmm?" steve murmurs back. "so does that mean you have posters of me too?"
the timbre of his voice shoots from eddie's ears all the way down to his toes, lighting his veins on fire as it travels down his body. the hopeful part of his brain supplies an image of steve smirking, relaxing in a pool chair outside of what must be a mansion, phone in one hand and cup of coffee in the other. it could be domestic, if eddie thinks about it hard enough. if he wants it enough.
and god, does he want that. domestic bliss with steve harrington.
"well i wouldn't exactly call picturing you in my dreams every night posters, but it's close enough i guess."
it's gutsy, it's brash, it's too forward for a tuesday morning but steve started it. he hears a shaky exhale on the other end of the line and lets out a chuckle. it feels like they're playing chess and there's no clear cut winner quite yet but if the match ends in a tie, eddie can't exactly say he'd be upset about it.
"i tell you what," steve says in an almost airy voice. "in exchange for giving me my user name, i'll give you my number and you can use it to see me in something other than your dreams tonight."
"...are you bribing me, harrington?"
"is it working?"
eddie takes in a deep breath and thinks about what possible plans he could have with the username 'steveharrington' that would amount to something better than taking the man himself out on a date with his phone number saved as a contact in his phone. he'd put a heart next to it and everything.
"of course it is."
the call drops away and it's quick enough for eddie to think everything that happened in the last 30 minutes could have been a fever dream but then there's three dots on the message thread and his hopeful heart starts to kick back into gear.
"213-555-5469. let me know when you've given up that username and i'll let you know when to pick me up. it's a win-win all around. turns out we each get to go a date with our celebrity crushes, how lucky is that?"
it's signed with a kissing face emoji and eddie's glad that he's sitting down when the last picture steve sends comes through. he's grinning in a way eddie's never seen before, blush high on his cheeks, sweaty shoulders and collarbones and pecs glinting in the early morning sun, and eddie thinks it's probably too early to be in love with someone but he's well on his way.
he texts the number he's sent without hesitation and without shaking hands this time. he signs the message with a black heart like it's a signature of it's own.
"lucky indeed."
4K notes · View notes
steddiehyperfixation · 5 months
Text
don't you forget about me (steddie fic)
saw this post and was inspired to write something angsty <3
The first thing Eddie is aware of when he wakes up, before he even opens his eyes, is the dull, aching pain throbbing through pretty much his entire body. The second thing he’s aware of is that someone is holding his hand. 
“Eddie?” The hand in his tightens its grip as Eddie begins to stir; the voice it presumably belongs to sounds immeasurably relieved, yet only vaguely familiar. 
Eddie groans. His eyelids flutter, blinking awake, and he groggily rolls his head to the side to get a look at whoever had spoken. 
The voice sighs again, “Oh thank god-” 
“Harrington?” Eddie’s eyes fly open wide now as they land on the mystery man sitting beside him on the edge of the bed - a man he most definitely is not close enough with to be holding his hand, and a bed that is most definitely not his own. He snatches his hand away. “What the hell are you doing? Where am I?”
“Ed-” Another man’s voice, this one just as relieved and infinitely more familiar. It fills Eddie with relief too as he looks to his other side to find his uncle Wayne rising from a nearby chair to come up next to him. 
“Wayne, what-?” His surroundings are becoming more clear. “What happened? Why am I in a hospital? And why the fuck is King Steve at my bedside?” Eddie tries to sit up only to gasp and wince in pain as the dull ache in his sides sharpens to near agony at the movement. 
“Take it easy, son.” Wayne’s hand lands on his shoulder, gently but firmly pushing him back down onto the pillows. “You were hurt real bad.” 
“Yeah, I got that,” Eddie grumbles out. He sucks in a deep, intentional breath and exhales slowly, the pain beginning to dull again now that he’s settled. His questions are still largely unanswered, though. Blank mind reaching desperately for any logical piece to this bizarre puzzle, he turns an accusing glare to Harrington. “Did you land me in here? Is that why you’re here, some sort of weird guilt thing?” 
Harrington’s looking at him like a kicked puppy. “What? No, I-” he falters, takes a shaky breath and swallows painfully like he’s trying not to cry. “You don’t remember?” 
“I don’t remember what? Will someone just tell me what happened?” Eddie’s confusion is rising more and more into agitation with every second he remains without an explanation. 
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Harrington asks quietly.
“I was driving home from school, just found out I wasn’t gonna graduate again.” Eddie frowns as he thinks back, still trying to put pieces together. “Did I crash my car? Is that it? I was emotional and not paying attention and got into an accident?” 
Yet again, he receives no answers. 
“Eddie, what month is it?” Wayne asks instead, his tone dangerously measured and serious. “What year?” 
“May…” Eddie says warily, “1985.”
His words hold a weight he doesn’t understand, landing heavy on the others in the room and thickening the air. It sends a chill of dread down his spine, the way his answer etches concern deep into the lines of Wayne’s face, the way Steve Harrington seems to take it like a blow to the chest. 
Harrington exhales sharply as if he’s been punched, standing abruptly and taking a few stumbling steps back. Wayne says, “It’s April of ‘86, Ed.”
Eddie’s blood runs cold. “No. No, it can’t be.” 
“I’m gonna go tell the nurse you’re awake,” Harrington mumbles, his voice strained and his eyes glassy with barely held-back tears. 
“I’ll go,” Wayne offers, pushing himself away from Eddie’s bed. He gives Harrington a meaningful look, though what that meaning is, Eddie can’t decipher. 
Harrington turns his devastated gaze to the older man. “But, Wayne, he doesn’t-” 
“I know, kid.” Wayne gives a sad smile and places a sympathetic hand on Harrington’s shoulder as he passes by. “Just talk to him.” 
Eddie is thrown off by this familiarity between them. Since when were those two close? He feels like he’s entered some sort of parallel universe where everything is just ever so slightly wrong. It leaves an itch beneath his skin, uncomfortable and out of place, like he no longer quite fits in his own body, in his own life. He’s lost 11 months, apparently, and this world is no longer his; he doesn’t know where he fits into it anymore. 
Wayne leaves the room, and Eddie wants to protest: Don’t leave me here with this guy I don’t know in this time I don’t know, please, you’re the only thing that feels safe and familiar! Anxiety is crawling through him like a thousand tiny bugs in his veins. He wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants to run. Anything to shake this feeling loose. But he’s confined to this bed, trapped both by his pain and by all these machines he’s hooked up to, and he sure as shit isn’t going to have a breakdown in front of Steve goddamn Harrington. 
Instead, Eddie resigns himself to this situation and casts a sideways glance at Harrington who very much looks like he’s also trying not to have a breakdown. “I’m freaking out, man,” Eddie says finally, hating how shaky and pathetic his voice sounds. “I swear to god, Harrington, if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on…” 
Harrington worries his lip between his teeth as he hesitates. “It’s a lot to explain.” 
“Yeah, I bet,” Eddie scoffs out a humorless laugh. “I’m missing nearly an entire year, of course it’s a lot to fill in. Unless I’ve been here this whole time?” 
“No.” Harrington shakes his head. “No, you’ve only been here about a week. I- I don’t know why you’re missing so much time, the whole Vecna thing only started like a week before that-” 
“Vecna?” Eddie interrupts to question. “What does any of this have to do with the D&D campaign I was planning? And, also, how the fuck do you know about that?” 
Harrington closes his eyes for a second and takes a breath, like having this conversation is the most painful thing he’s ever had to do. “I’m not talking about D&D, Ed. Vecna was a real-life monster from a real-life alternate dimension we called the Upside-Down. The kids only called him Vecna because we didn’t know who he was at the time and he, like, cursed people before he killed them, but he was actually Henry Creel, which is a whole other fucked up story.”
“Okay…” Eddie doesn’t know who ‘the kids’ are and he’s skeptical of the way Harrington talks so factually about monsters and dimensions and curses existing in the real world, but he does remember his uncle telling him stories about the demonic tragedy of the Creel family, which is the only thing that makes any of this even halfway believable. It still doesn’t explain how Eddie wound up in the hospital with his entire body feeling like it’d been run through a blender, though, or why the former king of Hawkin’s High was hovering over his sickbed. He gestures for Harrington to continue. 
“I never wanted you to get involved in all this Upside-Down shit,” Harrington’s voice breaks. He steps closer to Eddie’s bed again, and he looks so so sad as he stares down at him that it makes Eddie’s own heart ache, just a little bit. Harrington’s hand twitches at his side as if he means to reach out for Eddie but then thinks better of it, running the hand through his hair instead as he continues, “I tried to keep you from it for so long, I really did, but then Vecna killed Chrissy in your trailer and the whole town blamed you and you were just a part of things then, there was no getting around it. You helped us fight him - Vecna. You kept his army of bats off our ass while we weakened his body and El weakened his mind. If it weren’t for you we never would’ve defeated him and we certainly wouldn’t have all made it out alive.” Harrington’s gaze softens, as does his voice, his next words almost a whisper, “You were a hero, Eddie.” 
“That doesn’t sound like me,” Eddie says, like that’s the least plausible part of Harrington’s story. And, really, it is. He can wrap his mind around a lot of things: a murder in his trailer - sure, Forest Hills always was a shady place; the whole town accusing him of being a killer - yeah, of course, that tracks; even an evil wizard from another dimension with an army of bats - fine, okay, why the hell not. But Eddie Munson is no hero, and he’s definitely not any sort of fighter either.
“No, you never did think so, did you?” Harrington mutters with a sad sort of fondness and the barest trace of a wistful smile. “But it’s true. Dustin was in danger and you didn’t even think twice. You ran right into the fray without a second thought, sacrificed yourself so that the rest of us might survive. Those bats nearly killed you, b-” he breaks, choking on whatever word he was going to say. His eyes swim with yet more unshed tears. “I almost thought they had killed you, you know. I thought you were dead when I carried you out of the Upside-Down,” he admits shakily, choked up and barely managed, “and even when I brought you here and you were stable, I was still so scared you wouldn’t wake up…” 
Eddie doesn’t know how to react to any of that information or to such a display of emotion. His own hands twitch now with the urge to reach out and comfort him, but he too denies that instinct. He tries for humor instead, something lighter, cracking a grin and teasing, “Aw, Stevie, I didn’t know you cared.” 
Harrington makes a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. “Oh, Ed, you have no idea.” 
“We were friends then, weren’t we?” Eddie guesses now, carefully. It’s rapidly becoming the only possible explanation for the guy’s behavior around him. “Before all the Vecna stuff?”
“Yeah,” Harrington manages, forcing a small, sad smile as his eyes finally overflow and streak his cheeks with tears. “Yeah, we were good friends.” 
~
Wayne reenters the room then with a nurse in tow, and Steve quickly turns away and rubs his hands over his face. He needs to pull himself together; he can’t break down right now, not yet, not here. 
He listens, distantly, as the nurse asks Eddie a bunch of questions and then tells the rest of them that she needs to take him in for some tests to determine the cause and prognosis of Eddie’s amnesia. He watches, numbly, as she wheels Eddie’s entire bed out of the room. 
Steve can barely hear, barely see, his emotion clouding his eyes and roaring in his ears. He stares blankly through the open doorway and struggles to swallow down the ever-rising lump in his throat. 
Wayne’s voice rumbles from somewhere beside him, but he can’t quite make out the words. “What?” 
“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Wayne says, the sound reaching Steve’s ears a little clearer now. “I asked if you were alright.” 
Steve shakes his head. His voice comes out coarse and raw, “‘Course I’m not alright.” 
“Right, ‘course you’re not,” Wayne echoes. He follows Steve’s mournful gaze to the door Eddie had disappeared through. “What did you tell him?” 
“Told him he was a hero,” Steve croaks, “...and that we were good friends.”
“Ah…” Steve’s vision is so blurred behind a thick layer of tears he can’t see the sympathetic frown on the old man’s face, but he knows it’s there. “At least he’s alive, kid,” Wayne tries to be comforting. “You can always start over.” 
“Yeah, I know, but I don’t- I don’t want to start over, I just want-” Steve chokes back a sob. He just wants Eddie.
It’s a horrible thought, but Steve almost thinks that this just might be worse than if Eddie really had died… Because how is Steve supposed to handle the fact that his boyfriend of 9 months no longer knows him? How is he supposed to cope now that the love of his life looks right at him and no longer sees him?
He closes his eyes, presses the heels of his palms into his eyelids, inhaling a shaky breath and exhaling an even shakier sigh. Steve whispers, “It feels like I’m losing him all over again.” 
(part two is here!)
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ghostbsuter · 5 months
Text
"Oh, fuck no." The door is slammed, unfortunately for him, the guy stuck his foot in the jamb and pushed it open again.
"C'mon luv!" Constantine smiles charmingly, not waiting for Danny and entering the apartment.
At least Batman, Nightwing and Spoiler had the patience to wait for him to invite them in. Sagging against the door, he beckoned them inside.
Despite the caution, Spoiler gleefully stepped in, looking around like a child in an amusement park— which might not be too far off.
His apartment is, with all its wards and enchantments, very magical inside than it is outside.
The planetary system of another world, used as light for the living room and for practice.
(Nightwing is careful with what he touches. He still remembers the hours they spent in Mumbo Jumbo's hat.)
Batman on the other hand is following Constantine and Danny to what he assumes to be the office, if the amount of magical stuff carelessly laying around means anything.
"Alright fucker, what are you doing here? And how did you even know I live in gotham?"
John had the audacity to look abashed, scratching the back of his head with a nervous chuckle.
"Something came up and you know Gotham doesn't like me. She is much more used to you and I wanted to introduce bats to you, in case of emergency."
The young adolence stares owlishly.
(How did Constantine expect him to act at the fact that he's trusting a magical situation into the hands of a stranger?
Batman isn't sure how good the boy even is!)
"That's incredible thoughtful of you Connie." Danny hums. "What did you lose for your sorry ass to come here?"
Spoiler snorts, petting a red salamander. "He didn't lose anything." She reassures with a wave, giving an exaggerated smile and raising her brows to show that she's finding it very amusing.
Constantine sputters.
"Ancient knows how Zatanna and Raven deal with him."
Nighteing perks up from the side where he'd looked over the books, some pixie fairies(?) fawning over him? "Raven? You know her?"
Danny suppresses another sigh.
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pastelhooman · 10 months
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[WVW Exchange Event 2023!]
"The kisses on your lash, your ears, on the nose that keeps scrunching. The kisses on your hand, on your cheeks, and the exchanging soft words waiting for the break of day."
----- ID under break -----
A total of 6 pages of comics, starting with a close up shots of vash kissing sleeping wolfwood's nose, eyes, lashes, and he furrows them a bit. an overhead shot of the two of them in a motel room, on the bed with vash leaning over wolfwood from the left, laying soft kisses on him. their legs tangled. their normal outfits are thrown haphazardly on the floor, instead donning comfortable clothes. on the outside, the very first ray of lights are yet to shine.
"what a face you're making pfft" - vash says as he grabs both of wolfwood's cheeks, squeezing them a bit. wolfwood mumbles, "There's something that keeps landing on my face, it tickles." he grabs the hand that is on his right cheek. "Well you're letting it happens anyways right?" Vash muses, bringing the hand up to kiss on its knuckles. "Good morning Wolfwood. It's almost dawn"
"… Isn't it way too soon?" - wolfwood asks, but keeps to himself the prayers he's sending to god because the the boy on top of him was such a sight to behold. Vash flops down onto him, leaving the hand hanging and lace his own hand into Wolfwood's hair, peppering kisses to the side of his face. "Yep" - he answers - "But you woke up on your own tho" - facetiously. He giggles, saying that it was a joke after a beat of silence. A sigh, "don't make me upside you first thing in the morning." Wolfwood closes his eyes, hand combing through golden strands. "Heh, how merciful~" "We have a meet up with Milly and Meryl today, remember?" Vash reminds him, which does raise some vague memory. wolfwood hums, the other hand reaching around vash's torso, hugging him. " So, the sooner we arrive, the less likely she'll chew through my head." - Vash adds. "riiiight. And you were SO urgent in waking me up." in wolfwood's hold, both of them slowly turn to the right, towards the edge of the bed.
Well, you were just soooo cute, I couldn't help it! didn't thinkk you'll actually wakE UAA-!"
the bed creaks under the sudden shift in weight as wolfwood tosses vash over and under him, arms firmly hugging him, one at his back and one at his head, hungrily dives down to kiss. "!! Wolf-! Wait-!" Vash yelps, leg instinctively curls around the other's man hip to hang on, trying his damnest to grip on his shirt as HE is now half airborne, barely has any contact with the bed on his upper body. However, wolfwood seems to have another idea as he keeps deepening the kiss, pointedly holding Vash close, hands spread guarding the back of his head as both of them are sliding off the soft fabric.
"THUD!" a resounding fall, possibly enough to wake the room downstairs, followed shortly by laboured breaths amist wet smacks of lips. Heaves and huffs of air exchanging between the two bodies when the need to breath made itself necessary. They press close, cradling each other, and are lost to their own world. After a while they had to part. Metal arm shifts through black locks, caressing down to his nape and they hold eye contacts there, with lidded eyes, strands of saliva thins then breaks.
Wolfwood pushes up on his arms, looking smugly down at his now disheveled partner: "Now this is how it's done, Needlenoggin." he remarks. Vash tries to wrangle his thoughts back in order, but strings of Wolfwood's name and a wonderous question keeps filling his mind, of whether he should risk it all and have fun for a bit more. Regardless, snapping out of his trance, Vash sourly asks, with a wry smile and an aching head: "But did you really need to roll off the bed?" "Wrong side, whoops" - Wolfwood anwers unseriously, laughing as he finds the situation quite amusing.
----- End of ID -----
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luxaofhesperides · 3 months
Text
Wings AU ; requested by @justwannabecat!
“Are you sure it looks good?” Duke asks for the sixth time in an hour.
Tim sighs and says, yet again, “It looks fine. Just give it to him! If he doesn’t love it, I’ll beat him up for you.”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“I could! But you’re right, I wouldn’t. I would just psychologically torment him until he broke.”
“Don’t do that, please. I’d like to actually have a chance with him, even if he hates this.”
“He won’t,” Tim says. He actually stops typing to give Duke a severe look. “Go and give it to him. If you don’t go now, he’s going to think you bailed.”
Duke glances at the time, then jumps. “Shit! Thanks for your help, man!” He’s out of the door before Tim can say another word. He doesn’t bother with the front door, or even going down the hallway. Instead, he opens the nearest window and flings himself out of it, unfurling his tawny wings to catch the wind beneath them and ride them into the city proper.
He briefly considers stopping for a moment to change into his Signal outfit so he can fly above civilian jurisdiction, then decides that it’s far easier to just bend the light around him so he’s invisible. He wouldn’t want to be late meeting Danny, after all. Especially not for this.
He hadn’t been expecting Danny to be into traditional courting methods. Most people tend to go the more modern way of dating, but Danny had mentioned once or twice that he thought it was romantic. He had blushed, mumbling the words, but Duke heard them and went into researching courting methods to see which ones Danny might like best.
Sure, he could just ask Danny out on a date like he normally would if he liked someone, but if Danny wants to be courted, then Duke is going to court him!
It’s why he’s been planning this out carefully, gathering his primaries after his wings molted a few months ago so he could string them together into a thin wing covering. 
Admittedly, this courting method isn’t super common, but the thought of giving Danny his feathers, making it look like their wings are one and the same, has kept Duke up some nights, wanting it so badly. 
Besides, he thinks Danny will like it. Considering the state of his wings after the Accident…
Duke holds his handmade wing covers closer to his chest, flier lower as he leaves Bristol and enters Diamond District. The streets are busy, full of people. Most tend to stay on the ground, wings tucked close to their bodies, but there are plenty still flying above cars and buses that Duke has to carefully fly around. 
It takes another twenty minutes to get to Robinson Park, where Duke drops down to the ground and takes a moment to make sure all his feathers are straight and neatly displayed. Then he walks into the park, heading towards their usual meeting place.
For once, it’s a nice, sunny day in Gotham. Everyone’s taking advantage of it. The park is full of couples and families, walking around slowly, and kids dart through the air, still unable to go very high with their wings not yet fully grown in. It’s nice to hear the laughter and general chatter of people wandering the park. 
Duke doesn’t spend too long walking the paved paths through the park. He steps off of it near the second water fountain on the path, then heads into the trees, passing two moms on a picnic with their three kids rolling around the grass nearby. 
Tucked away in this corner of the park is a small clearing surrounded by thin trees. The tile is dirty and cracked, no one maintaining it at all with it hidden away. 
He sees Danny’s wings first, with long feathers that trail onto the ground, a black that shines dark blue in the light. He follows the lines of his wings back to his body, where Danny sits on a bench, leaning his weight back against his hands as he lifts his head up into the sunlight, basking in the warmth.
He really is so pretty. He insists that he isn’t, but Duke regularly spends time with the Wayne family, all who have modeled before, so he’s got a better idea than most about what pretty  looks like, and Danny fits the bill. 
“Hey,” Duke calls out softly, watching as Danny slowly blinks his eyes open and turns to give him a warm smile.
“Hey! I’m free for the rest of the day, which means we have so much time to complain about things today.”
“I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”
“Nope,” Danny says. “I wouldn’t mind waiting, though. I like hanging out with you.”
Heart pounding in his chest, Duke walks forward. He doesn’t know if there’s something specific he has to say when presenting his gift, if there’s a courting tradition involved that he didn’t learn about. He’s terrified Danny’s going to reject it. He’s praying that Danny accepts it.
“Are you okay?” Danny asks, standing to get a better look at him. “You seem tense…” He trails off as he catches sight of what Duke holds in his hands, breath stuttering.
“I’m fine. I, um.” Duke steps into the clearing, entering the sunlight, and holds out his wing covers. “I made them for you. You mentioned before that you thought courting traditions were romantic… I don’t know if you like wing covers, but I thought you’d look good in my feathers… Only if you want it though!”
He’s trying so hard not to cringe away in embarrassment. He’s flirted with Danny before, half jokes and half serious, always playful. Duke was smooth then, delighting in how flustered it made Danny before he hit back with his own flirting. Now he’s a hesitant, stuttering fool, tripping over his words and struggling to find the perfect things to say. Maybe he should have thought up a speech, or something. Memorized a few lines to speak his intentions with this courting gift. Done literally any prep for giving the gift instead of focusing only on making it.
Danny doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move either. He just stares, wide-eyed at the wing covers in Duke’s hands.
That’s a bad sign, isn’t it.
His hands lower just a touch, and he quietly prompts, “Danny?”
Just as he’s about to pull back, step away and try to fix things, messily attempt to salvage their friendship because clearly Danny doesn’t want to be courted by Duke, Danny’s hands snap out whip-fast and latch onto his wrists.
“This is… for me?” he whispers, awed.
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s for you.”
“And you’re courting me? Like, for real?”
“Yeah, definitely courting you for real. Do you accept?”
Danny throws himself into Duke’s arms, careful not to crush the wing covers between them. “In what world would I say no?” he laughs, bright with joy. He pulls back a second later, not giving Duke time to hug him back, and turns around, carefully stretching his wings out. “Put them on for me?”
“Of course.”
He starts by smoothing out some of Danny’s feathers. He doesn’t get to do this often; Danny hates having his wings on display for anyone, with how they spasm occasionally, and have empty patches where feathers will never grow in again. The Accident, all that electricity coursing through him, it permanently damaged his wings. There is no healing to be done. 
His wings are lacking too many flight feathers and primaries for him to fly. He’s stuck on the ground now, unable to use his wings for more than a minute. Old burns are still visible closer to his spine. 
Danny prefers hiding his wings away. He hates thinking about the Accident, hates how it’s taken his wings from him, how it’s changed him completely. 
But Duke loves his wings. He loves the softness of Danny’s lower feathers, how they shine in the light, how they always puff up when it gets windy. He’s only gotten to preen them twice before, and he treasures those memories more dearly than anything else.
This easily outshines both those moments.
He gently combs his fingers through Danny’s feathers, straightening them out, then lays the first wing cover over his right wing. His own brown feathers drape over the top of Danny’s wings, hiding the featherless patches from view. He does the same to the other wing, then adjust both until they lay perfectly on Danny’s wings.
As soon as he lifts his hands away from Danny’s wings, Danny is spinning around with a grin, flaring his wings out.
“How do I look?”
“Perfect,” Duke answers. He was right; Danny looks good in his feathers.
He watches, fond and amused, as Danny spins, keeping his wings flared, admiring his new look. “I’m never taking these off,” he says. “I love them so much. I can’t really make one for you, though…”
“You don’t need to.”
“I can’t just accept this and not give you something in return!”
“Well… There is one thing you could give me. Something I’ve been wanting for a long time.”
“What is it?” Danny asks, leaning towards Duke. He’s eager, ready to please, so delighted to be courted. 
Duke smiles. “A kiss.”
“Done.” 
He doesn’t have time to react before Danny is pouncing on him, hands fisting the collar of his shirt as he tilts his head up and kisses Duke. He pulls back before Duke can kiss back, blushing and unbearably cute.
And all Duke manages to say is, “Cool.”
He’s so good at this.
Danny rightfully laughs at him, then grabs his hand and pulls him down to the bench. “Come on, I promised to complain about my teachers today and I intend to deliver. And maybe later, I could take you out on a date? If you want.”
“Danny, of course I want to go on a date with you. I’m courting you! I thought I made my feelings clear!”
“I’m just making sure!” Danny shouts over him, and Duke can’t resist the urge to pull him closer and pepper kisses along his cheek. “Okay, okay, I got it. You’ve made your feelings clear. I’m going to date you so hard.”
“You better. It’s about time you put some work into our relationship.”
“Excuse you?!” Danny gasps in mock outrage, and they start bickering lightheartedly as they always do.
Even with their feelings come to light, even with a courtship started and a date promised, it doesn’t feel like anything between them has changed. 
It’s just them. Just as it always has been.
Duke couldn’t be happier.
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I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :
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(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )
#tumblr polls#hrmm... a little poll perhaps.. about a subject I find interesting.. since this image came across my facebook today#still really not feeling that well. no longer shaking violently and such but I still feel weird and weak much more than usual#They did say my markers for like infection or inflammation were elevated but that they werent sure of the cause so hopefully#it's nothing too serious. they did also say a lot of different things can cause that thing to be higher than normal but didn't go into spec#fics of what. maybe some of them are relatively benign or something. I still havent felt much back to normal since#I got really sick that one time though. I feel fine on and off but then little bouts of feeling weird and sick happen. hrmmm#ANYWAY.. looking for small ways to be productive. such as little doodles on evil ipad or editing game videos#or posting polls or cat pictures or some other like not very labor intensive things#I WISH I COULD FOCUS on writing HHRGGhh... I need to finish my game.. it would be so freeing.. a project that's been looming#over my head for like 5 years even though througouht that 5yrs I've probably spent a total of 3 months working on it lo.. ANYWAY#I still partially really cannot beleive that people CAN see stuff in their heads. There's always part of me that's thinking like. well mayb#e everyone DOES see the same exact thing but we just describe/conceptualize it so differently that we think we're talking about#different things when we're really not. But I have been assured by people I've talked to about it that they can GENUINELY really see#stuff in their heads like as vivid as an actual picture in real life or something. And the other senses are neat too. Like for exmaple I#can hear in my head much better than I can see imagery. I still CANNOT hear vividly like as if I were listening to actual music out loud..#but I think it's developed more than my sight. AND interesting how this varies the creative process. a friend I was talking to on the phone#said they write by literally just watching stuff play before them like a movie. where my process is COMPLETELY different. AND that affects#the content/what details we focus on as well as our individual styles of writing have differences that can be traced back to that.. hrmm
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kazutora-kurokawa · 7 days
Note
Random thought but what ab the tenjiku guys with a ticklish s/o, and I mean ticklish in almost EVERYWHERE (hips, neck, CALVES😭😭) nsfw?
Tenjiku x Ticklish!Reader (SFW and NSFW, fem reader, fingering, oral->fem receiving, fucking, men being pervy and horny)
Characters: Izana, Kakucho, Ran, Rindou, Mochi, Mucho, Shion
note: thanks for requesting anon 🩷
❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀
Izana
🎴 Tickles you every chance he gets and is absolutely merciless
🎴 Will tickle you until you cry and then laugh at your tears
🎴 It always ends with you pinned underneath him while he fingers you and apologizes for tickling you (he's not sorry btw)
Kakucho
🩷 Only tickles you occasionally and probably apologizes for it after
🩷 Didn't realize you were ticklish damn near everywhere until you started squirming around while he was rubbing your thigh
🩷 Takes the rest of the day to discover every ticklish spot on your body
Ran
💜 Threatens to tickle you as a punishment
💜 Pretends like he's about to wrap his arms around your waist just to tickle you
💜 Tickles you during sex, usually by accident but sometimes on purpose because he thinks it's funny
Rindou
🩵 Kisses your neck a lot even though he knows you're ticklish there, he just can't help himself
🩵 Lightly runs his fingers over your thighs when you sit in his lap and rolls his eyes when you start moving around
🩵 Started tying his hair back while he eats you out so it doesn't brush against your thighs
Mochi
🍡 He tickles you just to hear you whine
🍡 Pinches you then tickles you when you let your guard down
🍡 Puts you in a full nelson and ends up tickling your calves
Mucho
🔷 You're ticklish all over and he's not ticklish at all
🔷 He won't tickle you unless you try to tickle him first
🔷 Holds you extra tight when he fucks you so you don't think he's trying to tickle you
Shion
🖤 He's ticklish too and is always starting tickle fights with you
🖤 Literally chases you around the house like a damn lunatic trying to tickle you
🖤 Only admits defeat under special circumstances, which is usually when you pull him into a hug and bury his face in your chest
❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀
Taglist
@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katshimizuu @happy-trenchcoated-impala @prncessrindou @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies
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cuubism · 1 year
Note
I see your "Dream yelling at Desire because 'how dare you make me have feelings for Hob!!'" and raise you "Dream yelling at Desire because 'how dare you make Hob have feelings for me!!'" because it's the only logical explanation for why Hob would claim to want someone like Dream
[ cat screaming crying . jpg ]
Dream storms into Desire’s realm, steps thudding on the uneven floor, rage propelling him forward. He cannot remember ever feeling such anger, such betrayal towards his sibling, not even when he had learned they were behind his imprisonment.
Desire’s games have always gone too far, but this is beyond trying to teach him a lesson, this is beyond what Dream can reconcile, this is simply cruelty.
“YOU,” he thunders, the air shaking around him as he stalks up to where Desire is lying casually on a chaise lounge as if they haven’t just ripped Dream’s one comfort in this life out from under him. “How dare you.”
“Brother, dear,” drawls Desire, popping a grape into their mouth with not a care in the world, “it is rude to simply fly in without even knocking on the door. You wouldn’t like it if I did it to you.”
Blind with fury, Dream grabs them by the throat and hauls them to their feet. Desire lets out a choked gasp, genuinely startled by his vitriol. Their pulse trips under Dream’s thumb.
Desire cannot be killed through something as simple as strangulation, but it truly is tempting to try. “What,” Dream snarls, grip tightening, “what have you done to Hob Gadling?”
Desire blinks at him, torn from their alarm by confusion. “Whomst? Listen, I know you know everybody’s name and their kinkiest fantasy but I honestly can’t be bothered with the details, you’re going to have to fill me in.”
The rage in Dream’s core only flares hotter. “Enough of this charade, you know exactly what you’ve done.”
“No, seriously, I have no idea what you’re—”
Dream whirls away, leaving his sibling staggering in the wake of his grasp. “Was it not enough?” he demands, staring sightlessly into the gleaming red curves of Desire’s realm. “Was the vortex not enough? Was a century of imprisonment not enough for you?” His voice cracks halfway through, and it’s mortifying. “Truly, your hatred of me is untempered by even the slightest compassion.”
Desire’s voice is quizzical when they next speak. “I am starting to wish I was behind whatever this is that seems to have pierced you straight through the heart. I’m afraid my own arrows have missed that organ thus far.”
“Hob Gadling,” Dream insists, but Desire’s seemingly-genuine confusion has him wavering. It’s not like them not to revel in their own victory, and oh, this has been a victory, Dream feels laid lower than even a century in a cage had managed. “You are manipulating him.”
“Once again, I don’t know who that is. But he’s clearly excellent ammunition so I’m certainly going to find out once you leave.”
Dream flexes his hands at his sides, summoning his control. If Desire truly was not behind this, then he’s already made a mistake in coming here. Best not to offer anything else.
Being in Desire’s realm makes this stoicism difficult. The very space brings emotions to the surface, drags feelings up from his stomach that he’s tried so very hard to tamp down. He tastes blood at the back of his throat, his stomach churns, his skin prickles with sweat.
Desire stalks up behind him, sensing all of this. “Now I am curious,” they murmur, dragging a finger up his shoulder, over the collar of his coat and along the back of his neck. “Now I must know what’s go you so riled up.”
“You think you have earned such things?” Dream says through gritted teeth. His heart is pounding hard and uneven such that it physically hurts in his chest, the weight of the Threshold bearing down.
“No need to earn, you can hide nothing from me here.” Desire circles around him to his front, dragging their finger along his collarbone until it lands right at the base of his throat. They look at him from under their lashes, all smug satisfaction. “You are all tangled up in the realm of Desire, aren’t you?”
Dream moves to storm off, but Desire blocks him, nails pressing into his skin.
“Nah-ah, no running away. Let your little sibling help you, hm? As you may know, I am rather wise in matters of the heart.”
The look on Desire’s face is craftiness, glee, not charity or wisdom.
“I neither need nor wish for your assistance,” says Dream, voice hard. “On this, or any other matter.”
“But there is a matter.” Desire leans in and speaks right in his ear. “I can smell the heartsickness on you, Dream.”
There is nothing Dream can say in response to this. Any denial would only be read as falsehood, for Desire does not lie – of late, Dream feels sick with wanting in Hob’s presence, hunger so sharp it turns over into nausea, much like the first time Hob had pushed him to eat after his captivity. How cruel, then, to have his pain eased, his desires sated by a reciprocation that cannot possibly be truly felt.
There is nothing to say, so Dream doesn’t speak. Silence, of course, is its own answer.
“You know, if there’s one thing I have always admired about you, big brother, it’s your willingness to destroy yourself for the sake of passion,” Desire continues. “You’d think that’d be my sort of thing. Who’ve you lost yourself on this time? Demigod? Demon? Dryad? Vampire?”
Dream glares at them, but does not speak.
Desire’s face absolutely lights up as they realize. “Oh. My. God. Is he human? Dreeaaammmmm, my my, maybe your little time out did change you, after all.”
Dream turns away, refusing to give them the satisfaction of confirming. Though he knows this reaction is also a confirmation.
Desire claps their hands. “Oh! I’m so proud of myself. Look at this! Look at the softness of your heart. Look how I can bruise it.”
Dream’s heart, indeed, gives a painful thump. “Should you dare to touch him, even the old laws will not protect you.”
Desire sighs, flopping back onto a couch, legs crossed, head propped in their hand. “Why bother? You’ll destroy it yourself, and that’ll be much more fun.”
I hate you, Dream thinks, like a petulant child. He hates, also, how any argument with Desire makes him feel that way, feelings crowding at the surface of his skin, throat tightening, mind spinning in a chaotic churn. His muscles clench so hard he thinks they might have snapped, were he human, then he forces himself back into a semblance of ease.
There is no extracting himself from this situation with any dignity.
“Interfere with my affairs again,” he warns darkly, “and I will destroy you.”
Then he storms out of the Threshold.
“Love you too!” Desire calls after him, a grin in their voice. “Good luck with your human!”
--
When he’d found Hob at the New Inn, thirty-three years after he’d meant to arrive, Dream had not known how he might be received. Friendship extended once may not be extended again after so brutal a rejection, and so prolonged an absence, no matter that the latter offense was not within his control.
Being met with a smile, then, and an easy acceptance of his apology, like Hob had already forgiven him long before Dream had stepped through the door, had been a revelation. Something had settled in him that he had not known was knocked askew. Could there, truly, be one thing in his life that was allowed to be easy? Where Dream’s missteps were not met with scorn or vitriol or world-shaking consequences, but with grace and the chance to try again?
It seemed improbable, but still Dream had grabbed for it with cold, shaking fingers. Had held that unlikely flame between his palms. Had watched as it grew, hotter and brighter with each smile Hob sent his way, with each gentle brush of fingers as he pressed cups of tea into Dream’s hands, with the hug Hob finally managed to wind him into, once Dream had told him of the true reason for his absence in 1989.
Hob’s grace, Hob’s generosity in inviting someone, something like him into his home, into his life… Dream did not quite know how to hold it, so unlikely it was. He tried, though, oh he tried. And he swore he would not mess it up, not like he had when Hob had first offered his friendship.
He has now, quite royally, messed it up.
He very much doubts Hob will be so generous this time.
He finds Hob where he left him, sitting on the couch in his flat, a book in his hand. He doesn’t seem to be concentrating on it; his thoughts feel scattered in ragged, disturbed daydreams.
He doesn’t even startle when Dream materializes next to him. Though he knows it can be startling to humans, Dream has not been able to break himself of just appearing where he needs to – traversing the long way from point to point is not how he works. But aside from the occasional, teasing, I have a door, you know, Hob never truly complains about these disturbances to his day.
Dream means to offer him an apology. To say, I should not have walked out when you said that you loved me. To say, I am supposed to be better, I am trying to be better.
Instead, just as Hob looks up, the words that trip out of Dream’s mouth, pushed by the flurry of Desire’s realm still pounding within him, are, “Did you speak truly, Hob Gadling?”
Which is a ridiculous question. Dream does not think he has ever heard Hob speak a lie. Still, Dream must have the answer.
Hob’s expression shifts through several incarnations, none of which Dream feels capable of reading. Finally, it settles on the same soft, exasperated understanding Dream remembers being presented with when he’d said, I know thirty years is truly quite late, at their reunion, before he’d told Hob why he was late.
Grace, then. He is to be offered grace, again.
His emotions are still so close to the surface that he has to physically swallow down what he feels about that.
“Of course, I did,” Hob says, and there’s a hint of nerves in it, but he pushes through, he always does. “I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”
His gaze is genuine, open, and no, Desire had not lied – Hob’s feelings are no manipulation of theirs. And while it is tempting to search for other answers, spells or illusions or any number of other causes, Dream knows, deep down, that he will come up empty.
Hob’s feelings are true, are his truth, confounding though that is.
Dream no longer feels capable of holding any of this in his hands.
Instead, he kisses him.
It’s like he is pulled forward by a force outside his own body. He goes to Hob like he had gone to the sugar in the tea Hob had made him, that night at the inn when Dream had first realized how long it had truly been since he’d eaten; he goes to him like he had gone back to the Dreaming after being freed, returning home breathless, lost, changed.
Hob catches him against his mouth, hands cradling Dream’s face. His grip is solid and warm, and he kisses Dream like he looks at him like he speaks to him, with a care Dream hardly knows how to accept. He leans into it anyway, he leans in.
“I wasn’t fishing for a kiss when I said that, you know,” Hob says when they part, still lingering close enough that Dream can feel his heat, his breath. “I meant it in more of— well, that way, for certain, but really, any way you wanted to take it.”
“Any way,” Dream repeats, not sure he comprehends Hob’s meaning.
“Yeah, you—” Hob cuts himself off, letting out a breath, thinking. His hands slide from Dream’s face down to his shoulders, and he holds him there. “I. You just. I want you to know that you’re loved. Not demanding anything of it. Just telling you. Take it however serves you best.”
Dream stares at him, his whole being tripped and restarted at a new rhythm, and Hob gives him a sad smile.
“It’s too big to hold,” he says, and taps his chest. “In here. And besides, I wanted you to have it.”
Dream had had it. Only he hadn’t quite known what he had. The sunshine of Hob’s smiles, sustaining him, a bridge between distant points of light.
Finally, he manages to say, “I felt it. You have been my succor. My… only.”
Hob has captured him more effectively than Burgess’s snare, but this capture is not a prison. It hurts, oh, it aches, but it never wounds.
Hob smiles at him again. There’s still something pained in the creases around his eyes. “I know.”
He’s still touching Dream. His hands run over him, up his neck, over his throat, along his collarbone, and—
catch, on the collar of his shirt, above his heart.
“What happened?”
His voice is tight, now, worried, and— yes. There are bruises on Dream’s chest, crawling up over his breastbone. He had felt them form, and hadn’t stopped them.
Hob’s expression darkens further the longer he looks; he drags the collar of Dream’s shirt down, trying to see how far the damage spreads. “You’ve got bruises all over you. Dream, what happened?”
What happened is Dream stood in the Threshold and his heart beat so hard it drummed right through to the surface of his skin. What happened is it hurt so badly his form shifted to give reason for the pain.
“Desire,” he says, and he does not mean his sibling.
Hob doesn’t seem to understand, but he smoothes a hand over Dream’s heart as if to wipe the bruises away. Dream could will his body to return to its original, unharmed state, but he does not. He lets the blood stay pooled beneath his skin.
Hob sighs, tugging Dream’s coat tighter around him, shielding him from further injury. “Come here, you. You strange creature.”
He pulls Dream in, though he does not have to pull hard. Dream tucks his face into Hob’s neck, reveling in the warm scent of him, woodsmoke from the fireplace down in the inn where they’ve now spent many a long evening, basking in the heat of the flames. Hob’s arms go around him.
Absolution. Dream does not think this is a gift that has ever been granted to him.
“I would also love you,” he says. “If you would accept it.”
“If I would accept it?” Hob repeats. “Darling, your love is a privilege.”
Dream’s heart, in all its bruises and blood, finds rhythm again, and he thinks, though he certainly doesn’t pull away from Hob to check, that his skin clears up partway, too.
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bidisastersanji · 3 months
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Classic high school anime tropes ZoSan omigosh listen up this is so cute and I have so many tropes to hit I basically wrote down the beats of the season:
Unexpected mid semester half foreign transfer student Sanji with mysterious past
Zoro sits by the window at the back of the class and Sanji is told to sit next to him
Dropping the eraser and brushing hands oh my this new guy has the softest looking hair and his eyes are so blue
Your eye-
Huh?
Your eyebrows look stupid.
What did you say you stupid mosshead?
-Roronoa. Black. Stand outside. (With the buckets, staring daggers at each other)
Thus starts their rocky friendship (?) and they’re forced into interacting because they’re sat next to each other in class and constantly are paired to do class work together.
Sanji’s flirty and deferent nature around women- students and teachers alike (and his occasional nosebleeds) rub Zoro the wrong way, and Zoro’s disregard for women, hygiene, manners, the dress code/uniform etc annoy him even more.
He also hates how popular Zoro is and the amount of love confessions he gets and that he does not handle gracefully at all (you’re such a brute!)
Rivalry intensifies during sports class- episode where they go absolute ham during dodgeball and scream out attack names
Although it must be noted that Zoro feels warm when he sees Sanji stretching effortlessly, and being sweaty and fiery during sports class
Nami is elected class rep and Sanji vice class rep
The high school girls think Sanji is princely and mysterious and he quickly becomes popular thanks to his beautiful bento and the snacks he makes for his girl classmates
Zoro observes him and thinks he’s always putting on a mask and keeping people at arms length. He doesn’t let himself admit that he kind of feels bad for him but subtly drops comments that get Luffy interested in him so that Luffy can force him to join their rowdy friend group
They go to karaoke and the strawhat shenanigans slowly crack at Sanji’s composure until he’s singing loudly and happily with everyone else by the end of the evening
From then on Sanji’s smiles are more genuine and happy and Zoro is more than content with his little plan
Nami noticed and teases him about it
At least one scene where Nami steals Sanji or Zoro’s umbrella so that they share one and go home together (they learn they have to go in a similar direction and walk some of the way together from that day on “you’ll get lost without my help mossy, we know you already have too many lateness issues with the school)
Sanji joins so many clubs- he works really hard to be top of the class and does all the things that would get him into a top university- and it’s only after Zoro talks to him that he decides to follow his heart and join the cooking club and drop another club
He later gets his first part time job at the Baratie and gets basically adopted by his new father figure Zeff (Sora’s brother who he reconnected with)
He’s so excited to have some money of his own and gets a marimo keychain for Zoro’s birthday
Episode where Zoro gets sick (I thought idiots didn’t catch cold?) and as vice class rep (Nami makes an excuse not to go herself) he has to go give Zoro notes and stuff
Highly entertaining scene where he gets to Mihawk Manor and meets Zoro’s goth family
Followed by sweaty feverish Zoro in his bed that absolutely does not make his stomach flip flop and his hands sweaty (he brought homemade soup!)
Obligatory Zoro pushes himself too hard to prove he’s not sick/weak and passes out on Sanji and Perona walks in on an easily misunderstood position they’re in
BIG EXAM arc where everyone is stressed out, Sanji shares his notes and organises a study group at his place - revealing that he lives alone in a studio apartment, he glides over his explanation and says it has to to with the fact that he’s half and his French dad doesn’t live in Japan, and Sanji wanted to live here because his mother was Japanese. No one dares dig deeper but Zoro can tell there’s a lot more to the story, Sanji looks very tense and his fake smile is on (also there’s no family pictures at all)
Zoro falls asleep during the study group and Sanji definitely doesn’t think he’s adorable drooling on his tatami floors
Zoro is captain of the kendo club and has a very… intense fan club of people of all genders who guard him very jealously
Zoro interacting with Sanji constantly makes the fanclub jealous and some try to intimidate him and bully him into avoiding Zoro but he refuses to be pushed around until they find stuff about his past/family and blackmail him (this happens in a bathroom probably)
Zoro gets insanely annoyed that Sanji has been ignoring him- he then confronts Sanji about it- cue dramatic, tear filled scene where Sanji says hurtful things to push Zoro away
A few weeks pass until Nami and Usopp catch wind of what really happened and Zoro is FUMING with anger when he learns what happened. He confronts the head of the fan club and tells them to burn whatever it is they have on Sanji and to never go near him again, threatening them
Things eventually go back to normal
Zoro exasperating Sanji with his inability to not burn everything they’re supposed to make in home economics
Winter holidays and Sanji is lonely (but happy to spend Christmas with Zeff)
He is cheered up by his friends making plans to go to the new years festival in kimono (he wouldn’t miss Nami and Robin in kimono for the world! - he says , while also thinking of what Zoro will look like) zoro comes in normal clothes and he’s disappointed and insults him for not making an effort and what did he even expect from a sentient plant
Zoro keeps stealing looks at how beautiful Sanji looks in his kimono though. Nami tries to bribe him into revealing what luck/what prayer he did but he doesn’t cave, no matter how much of his debt she would wave off
Sanji gets “extremely bad luck” in love and cries haha
Valentine’s Day and White day shenanigans with obligation chocolates and homemade chocolates and Zoro feels sad cause he didn’t get any from Sanji- is even particularly jealous that Law, Pedro and Ace got some, but Sanji gave him something else since he knows he doesn’t like sweet things but Zoro didn’t realize it was a Valentine’s Day gift until Nami explains it to him later
Zoro struggles to find a gift for white day since he still can’t tell if it was obligation or romantic on Valentine’s Day - he gets Sanji a kitchen knife, to the hilarity of all and the panic of their teacher
The straw hats going to cheer on for Zoro at his kendo competitions and Sanji definitely doesn’t think to himself that Zoro looks very cool
Culture festival is ripe for SO MANY THINGS do they do a maid cafe??? Is Sanji forced into a maid dress by his burgeoning fan club/the girls in the class he can’t say no to? Sanji is so happy to bake the patisseries for it all (also Zoro’s reaction ti Sanji in the maid outfit and saying welcome goshunjin-sama before he sees who walked in and turns tomato red)
Alternatively they could do a play where they have to play the prince and the princess and we get Sanji as the beautiful princess, directed by Iva-Chan of course- and they torture themselves over the kiss scene
Luffy pressures Sanji into accompanying him and Zoro to the haunted house done by another class and Sanji is terrified and grabs onto Zoro (you will never speak of this to anyone, marimo, you understand?)
Beach episode!! Nosebleed Sanj surrounded by bathing suits (not just the girls, this man is a proud bisexual disaster).
Going at Mihawk’s expensive beach house with all the strawhats. Watermelon smashing, ice cream, playing in the water, going in a cursed/legendary/scary/lover’s cave (repeat of Sanji tightly holding on to Zoro for dear life, especially since there are bugs) fireworks, near love confessions with one of the two parties asleep and not hearing it
Background world wise- seven warlords are on the student council and hold a lot of power of course
Obligatory jealousy episode with the childhood friend and misunderstandings- Kuina (yes she’s alive, but a wheelchair user she survived the accident but can no longer compete in able bodied Kendo) comes by school and Sanji misunderstands the tenderness Zoro shows her, jumping to conclusions in typical anime fashion and running away
Class trip to Kyoto arc where the boys struggle with all the romance in the air, sitting next to each other on the Shinkansen (zoro falls asleep on Sanji’s shoulder and he lets him and shushes people), get into trouble when they’re late to the meet up because Zoro got lost( sharing a hotel room - yes Usopp and luffy are there but they need to share a bed omg), buying souvenirs, getting into a fight with local school punks (Killer and Kidd)
ALSO OF COURSE a bath scene during the Kyoto class trip what was I thinking, we need a nosebleed Sanji being taught how Japanese bath etiquette is- Sanji asks about Zoro’s scars and lies about his own when Zoro notices the many marks he has
Possibly tie up the story with finally revealing Sanji’s tragic backstory that’s been hinted at the whole season when Judge comes and removes Sanji from the school and plans to send him to a boarding school abroad- everyone bands together and dramatically save the day and Zeff adopts Sanji and Zoro and Sanji confess to each other and become boyfriends
The end
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inhuman-obey-me · 3 months
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Hello! Congratulations of 4000+ followers! Y'all do amazing writing, and its been really cool to see the blog grow overtime
For the event, may I request⚡️with Diavolo and yes on MC! Thank you so much, and I hope y'all have a good day
Thank you so much!! ;//u//; And also thank you for sticking around for so long -- it really does mean a lot! 💕
"What good is this "great power" of mine? Absolutely everything slips through my fingers." - Diavolo/MC
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You hadn’t asked for this power. 
No, it was something that had been thrust into your hands, into your very being as the trajectory of your life changed the instant you opened your eyes and found your gaze held by pools of gold in an unknown and dangerous world. It was that one moment that began the unraveling, the revealing of all that you were and to be. 
It seems like such a distant memory now, that first day in the Devildom. 
No, you hadn’t asked for this power, but you didn’t refute it either. You had welcomed it, reveled in it. You had been plunged into a world of magic and monsters, angels and demons, witches and sorcerers – and you, a mere human who had been oblivious to the very real existence of this world in the shadows, were considered to be one of the most powerful mortals among it. 
And yet, as of late, you had been feeling absolutely powerless.
“Love, you’ve barely touched your food.” Diavolo’s gentle voice brings you out of your thoughts, and you look up now to meet those same golden eyes you first held all those years ago. His gaze flickers to your hand, where you’ve been fidgeting with the Ring of Light. The one thing stopping your very existence from ending the world as you knew it.
“Sorry,” You give him an apologetic smile as you lift your fork, letting it slowly sink into one of the vegetables on your plate. “I guess I just have a lot on my mind.” 
“Care to share?” He’s worried. “You know you can tell me anything.” 
“I know.” A sigh, and you set your fork down as you lean back in your chair. You try to find the words, your emotions half-formed on your tongue. “It’s just…with everything going on, I feel rather…useless.” 
“Useless? You?” Diavolo nearly scoffs, leaning forward in bewilderment. “What makes you think that? Surely, we’ve all told you how you’ve done so much for us, for the Three Realms.” 
“Have I, though?” You feel your throat begin to tighten, so you try to force your feelings down. “Everyone says that, and sure, to some extent I’ve played my part. But,” Your fingers tighten around the napkin in your lap. “You all have helped each other. I’ve just been a conduit, and sometimes I…I’ve been more of a problem to solve than a solution.” 
“That’s not true–”
“But it is!” 
Your voice cracks then, and you realize you can’t keep down the swirl of doubt and agony any longer. Before you even feel the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, you find Diavolo now right beside you, holding your hands in his. 
“My love, you hold more power than you can even begin to imagine.”
“And what of it!” You hastily remove your hands from his grasp, waving to the air around you. “What good is this ‘great power’ of mine?” The tears have escaped, and there’s a pang in your chest. “Absolutely everything slips through my fingers. I’ve barely begun to understand it and…and I don’t even know if I could save the very ones I care about from those that wish them harm.” Your eyes flicker to the ceiling, and you try to blink back the salt that hasn’t already slid down your cheeks. “I’ve come closer to destroying everything with it!” 
The silence that follows your outburst is heavy. Diavolo examines your visage with a somber expression, his lips that so often are curved into a grin now taut and straight. It feels like ages before he finally speaks. 
“It’s a terrible feeling, isn’t it?” You don’t know if you’ve ever heard his voice so low before. He was a demon who could make a whole room shake with his jovial laugh. “There are days where I, too, feel utterly powerless.” 
“You?” Grasping at that napkin again, you bring it up to dry your face. “But–”
“I’m the ruler of the Devildom? One of the most powerful beings in the Three Realms? Yes, my dear. All great power comes with its golden chains, with its obstacles.” With a heavy sigh, Diavolo looks around the lavish dining hall you were both seated in. “A faction of the House of Lords continuously tries to undermine me, scheming behind my back to try and throw me out of my position.” His gaze now falls onto a painting on the distant wall, brushstrokes capturing war and fury. “The Celestial Realm tests my patience, mocking me at times as they play their own games, mainly of semantics.” 
He turns his attention back to you with a sad smile. “They’re all waiting to find a crack, see what will bring me down to my knees. They’ve nearly succeeded at times. Made me feel like I was just a child playing at king. Made me feel that no matter the power I possessed, they could still pull the rug from under me.” 
His hands find yours again, and this time you let them stay. 
“But what I found is that despite it all, despite all the power that I possess, what really puts my feet on solid ground is having those who still stand by my side through it all.” He looks deep into your eyes, and once more you’re captivated by that calming gold.
“And you, darling, have some of the best by yours.”
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dreamlandcreations · 4 months
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Imagine sneaking around with your Captain...
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Imagine sneaking around with your Captain, Shanks. You think the crew doesn't know and would like to keep it that way for a while, partly because you don't want to hear the guys teasing, partly due to your doubts about the nature of your relationship and the redhead's feelings for you.
Meanwhile, the crew keeps snickering as you and their captain can't keep your eyes off each other throughout the day. They keep their mostly silent amusement to themselves for a time. And it goes on for quite a while before an innocently joking comment has your captain replying something in an unusually irritated tone that ends with calling you his.
His surly mood is gone in an instant as the guys raise a cup to the two of you, some of them even commenting that it was about damn time. They are all laughter and cheers after that, especially when Shanks suddenly throws you over his shoulder and takes you to his cabin to show you that you are, in fact, his because after seeing your stunned reaction and disbelief of his claim, you need some... convincing.
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motswolo · 3 months
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might delete later - but on the subject of ppl being dicks over fanfic yet again…
one of the things that gets me so absolutely steamed - even more so than the ignorant online jerks just jerking to jerk - are those who think it’s their GOD-GIVEN DUTY to ~ w A r N ~ others away from reading a fanfic. as though their opinion is worth more than dogshit and that publically, albeit ✨respectfully✨ saying how boring/awful/ooc they thought it was is somehow saving someone from having a less than ideal experience.
because guess what?
ITS FUCKING NOT.
more ranting and macaroni salad metaphors under the cut
i’m not going to bother explaining personal preference bc my hope is that if you’re seeing this it means we somehow run in the same circle and that makes you someone with a 🧠 so instead i’ll just tell a little story.
recently i went to a christmas dinner at a friend’s place. there was people there that i knew and people i didn’t, and we all brought a dish made at home - presumably with love. all was going well and when we sat down at the table one of the dishes turned out to be this god-awful macaroni salad. i didn’t know it was awful before i tried it - i sampled it and afterwards decided that i would not be partaking in any more.
but did i immediately pronounce to the entire table how much i hated it? of course not! that would be -
RUDE.
and also??? other people were fucking eating it. not just eating it - but enjoying it. they LIKED it. they wanted MORE. and i didn’t. and that’s okay.
It wasn’t my job to ward people off of the macaroni salad just because my experience with it was a bit more than “meh”. I didn’t know the person who brought it all that well - but i knew that doing so - no matter how ✨respectful✨ i said it - doing so would only embarrass and hurt them. and that they had as much right to be at that table with their terrible macaroni salad as i did. and I’d like to think that most people would choose the same route - avoid the macaroni salad, instead eat the bits of the meal that you DO like.
but when it comes to consuming free fan-made media online, people don’t seem to have the same thought process. so once again, for the millionth time,
If you don’t like something, 🥰 Don’t 🥰 Fucking 🥰 Read 🥰 It.
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needle-noggins · 1 month
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Where do your roots start
And where do your roots end?
Something about seeing only the worst of yourself in the mirror. Something violent and terrifying, but knowing you only grew that violence in response to violence against you. Knowing your power comes from a place of trauma, something you don’t remember but wish had never happened. But it did, and here you are. There’s something new in you that isn’t the you that you understand and you wish it wasn’t but it is. Violence begets violence and you are unable to control what grows from the seeds that were planted. So you have to live with it and try not to let that violence spread.
You’ve already failed once.
And you see it every time you look in the damn mirror.
For Body Horror Week’s final day, prompt: Roots by In This Moment
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Steddie Upside-down AU Part 9
Part 1 Part 8
There’s blood on Eddie’s fingers, slowly drying. It’s sticky and red and he wants it gone. But his arm is around Harrington’s waist, helping him limp slowly home. He wipes his free palm on his borrowed jeans, watches red flake onto his thigh, joining the mud stains from the quarry. He can still feel it, no matter how many times he wipes his hand raw.
Harrington’s eerily quiet beside him – Eddie wants to bring him home, but the Harrington mansion is closer. And he would probably appreciate a change of clothes from his own closet.
The driveway looks insurmountable, long and curved like it’s a fantasy road meandering up to a castle. Their footsteps sound nothing like horses and carriages, though, and if Eddie had known that quests would involve so much blood and terror, he wouldn’t have wasted so much time wanting it.
“Home sweet home,” he says, squeezing Harrington closer to him in preparation for the tight squeeze of the front door.
Harrington looks up at the red front door like he’s surprised to find himself there. His brows furrow, and his mouth puckers, but he follows Eddie through the threshold when he nudges him along.
Eddie closes and locks the door behind them, regardless of how futile the whole thing feels. Even the few seconds it might gain them should that thing come for them again might save their lives.
He starts leading Harrington toward where he vaguely remembers a guest bathroom being. That brings about the first signs of life he’s seen from the other boy in hours. Harrington pulls away, stumbling as he takes his own weight fully before Eddie rushes to follow him, wrapping his arm back around his waist.
Harrington heads doggedly toward the stairs. His steps are becoming surer, less of his weight on Eddie’s shoulders, so that by the time they’re at the top of the stairs, Harrington has shrugged himself out of Eddie’s arms entirely. It feels like a loss.
He follows Harrington into his bedroom, stands awkwardly at the threshold of the en suite bathroom as the other boy stands in front of the mirror, grimacing as he tears the hastily applied bandage off and pulls his shirt over his head.
The wound is bloody, punctured deep in the meat just above his armpit, becoming shallower as the claw marks swipe up toward his shoulder an onto his back. It’s ugly, but not as bad as Eddie had thought when he’d been bandaging the wound with shaking fingers and Harrington had gone catatonic in his arms.
Maybe it’s like in Melvald’s with his feet? Harrington’s eyes had gone distant, mind gone until he was like a doll, pliable as Eddie had cleaned and bandaged his feet, trying not to panic. Wayne got that way sometimes – shellshocked and distant across from him at the breakfast table. He explained it to Eddie, once, when he asked.
“Ain’t nothing for you to worry about, boy,” Wayne said, reaching across table to clasp his shoulder comfortingly.
“Are you crazy?” Eddie asked. He’d been thirteen and whiney, testing the boundaries of their shifted relationship. Overnight, he’d gone from visitor to ward, and he’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop, still not realizing there weren’t any shoes at all.
Wayne settled back into his rickety chair, eyes distant, but not in the way where he was somewhere else, just like he was thinking. Eddie shrunk back into his char.
“Sometimes when bad things happen to people,” Wayne said, “they go back there in their minds when nothing’s happening at all.” He enunciated each word in a slow, thoughtful drawl, like he was picking each word precisely to ease Eddie’s worry.
Eddie didn’t ask what had happened to Wayne that was so bad. He learned later that it was war, and sometimes there were bombs and gunshots going off in his Uncle’s head that only he can hear.
Eddie wonders what Harrington’s hearing when he goes somewhere else.
Harrington’s still just staring at the wound, mouth slanted sideways like he doesn’t know where to start. It pulls on something deep in Eddie’s chest. He’s dropping his backpack to the ground and rifling around in it before he’s even thought about it. He pulls out his water bottle and fresh bandages.
Harrington’s eyeing him warily when he stands, finally crossing the threshold. “Got a washcloth?”
He points Eddie toward the cupboard below the sink, seemingly unwilling to bend down and grab them himself. Not that Eddie can blame him. He bends down, nudging the other boy’s thigh until he scooches over enough for Eddie to be able to open the door unimpeded.
Beneath the cupboard is a neat row of cleaning supplies – the name brand shit – and even neater rows of folded towels and washcloths. Must be what it’s like to have enough money for a housekeeper.
He grabs a few of the washcloths and points at the closed toilet like Harrington’s a dog he’s bringing to heel. He gets a furrowed brown in response.
“Sit.”
That probably doesn’t help the whole metaphor, but Harrington does sit gingerly on the lid. His stomach jumps and bunches with movement. Eddie turns his attention toward generously wetting the washcloth with their precious water, pointedly not thinking about what he’s about to do.
Once the washcloth is soaked through, Eddie sits up on his knees, grabbing Harrington’s side to steady himself as he eyes the wound up close. The blood’s mostly dried now. It looks almost black in the dim light of the bathroom. He starts where it dripped away from the wound, near Harrington’s pectoral. It comes off easy, flaking onto the floor like dried paint flakes.
Harrington’s still, like a doll as Eddie moves slowly upward in deliberate strokes, rotating the washcloth as one side gets too dirty and dry to do much good. It isn’t until he reaches the edge of the wound that Harrington flinches. It’s a full body thing, the way he jerks back away from Eddie’s ministrations, hand coming up to clench tightly at his wrist until his fingers turn pink with the trapped blood unable to flow back out toward his heart. It tingles immediately. Eddie shakes out his fingers, trying to find some relief from the pins and needles.
Harrington drops his wrist with a quick, “shit, sorry.”
Eddie clenches his fist a few times to get the feeling back. “No harm done, Harrington.”
“We almost died together,” Steve says, like it’s funny. Maybe he’s just hysterical. Eddie could get behind that. He left safe and sane behind about ten stupid decisions ago. “Call me Steve, man.”
“The call me Eddie, man.”
Steve laughs, hair flopping into his eyes. It looks greasy, destroyed of its usual coiffed state from blood and sweat and ash. It’s fucking gross. Eddie has the insane urge to reach out and tuck Steve’s hair behind his ear. It’s not even long enough for that.
“May I?” Eddie asks, holding up the washcloth in offering.
When Steve nods, Eddie moves to continue cleaning him up, being as gentle as possible.
Steve clenches his hands on his knees, knuckles turning white with pain, which effectively kills any of Eddie’s unwanted feelings about being this close to King Steve’s naked chest.
Once he’s scrubbed all the blood he can, the wound is still staring up at him, an angry pink surrounding it from all the scrubbing. That’s normal, right? Eddie’s pretty sure that’s normal and doesn’t indicate some horrible bizzarro world infection is starting to set in.
“Should we like sanitize it?” Harrington asks, as if he was thinking the same thing.
“You got rubbing alcohol?” Eddie asks. “Nail polish remover? Vodka?”
Steve stares into the distance for a second, like he’s thinking about it, before he’s levering himself up, assisted by a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie stays there, crouched in front of the toilet as Steve walks out of the room.
Should he follow? Where is he going? Is he coming back? Will that thing get one of them if they separate? If it gets Steve, will he even know what happened or will he just be doomed to keep looking for him?
That’s the thought that makes him jump up, following in Steve’s wake like there’s a string tied around both of their throats, keeping them from getting too far from each other. Eddie’s not sure he wants to get ride of the string. Not here. Not now.
He follows the sound of footsteps on carpet into a larger, more opulent, but equally empty bedroom, and into another en suite bathroom. Fucking rich people.
He finds Steve there, rifling through a medicine cabinet that must belong to his parents. His shoulders are tense, like he, too was waiting for some monster to come and eat them both. They relax when he retrieves a nearly full bottle of nail polish remover. He grabs Eddie’s wrist on his way out of the bathroom, dragging him along until they’re back in his own bathroom, Steve once again seated on the closed toilet lid.
Steve uncaps the bottle, seems to brace himself for pain, before handing it over to Eddie with a sigh.
Well, alright then. Guess he’s seeing this through to the end.
He pours almost half the bottle directly onto Steve’s open wound just as the other boy bites his lip. What might’ve been a scream instead comes out as a muffled yelp.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry, shit sorry!” Eddie says, yanking the bottle back. “I’m done!”
Harrington glares at him, hands clenched like he’s going to throw a punch. Eddie hastily puts the bottle down, holding up his empty hands like he’s placating a wild animal. They stare at each other in tense silence until Harrington sags into himself, hands lolling down into his lap.
“Thanks,” he sighs, closing his eyes.
“Anytime.”
Eddie bandages the wound with clean shit still in his pack, hoping to keep it contained and infection free. Steve stays slumped, eyes closed the whole time. Eddie almost things he’s asleep, but once he’s done, his eyes open, gaze drifting down to the mostly empty water bottle by Eddie’s knee.
“We used too much water.”
“We’ve got plenty left,” Eddie says with a forced smile. They do have enough for a while, but Eddie never wants to go back to the quarry again, if he can help it. Nothing like blood red water to drive home the unreality of the situation. “Besides, that’s tomorrow’s problem.”
“Who says it’s not tomorrow now?” Steve asks, shoving his shoulder playfully.
“Well, if it is, I’m beat, man,” Eddie replies with only a slightly forced yawn. “We should sleep.”
He doesn’t question it when Steve leads them to the closet again, this time dragging a blanket and a couple pillows along with him. He shifts his eyes to Eddie, as if waiting to be taunted. Eddie keeps his mouth shut, laying down head to feet with Steve Harrington without a word.
“Night, Eddie.”
“Night, Steve.”
They sleep.
Part 10
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stellamancer · 8 months
Text
hey lonely stranger (won't you meet my eye?) — extra scene
note: this is less an extra scene and the other side of part of a scene. i was going to put it in parenthesis like that one bit in lip smackless, but didn't pan out. also thanks to @/namodawrites for helping me double check gooj characterization since my regular beta was playing bg3 LMAO.
wc: 663
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Satoru is used to your denial. When you're with him, it's part of who you are— ingrained into your soul, hard-written in your body like a cursed technique. He finds that he doesn't mind all that much. It's kind of entertaining, really, especially when he's realized how much you are at odds with yourself when you reject him. 
You constantly deny him and yet you are more aware of him than you are of anyone else. 
It's honestly hilarious.  
So, the relief that fills his lungs when you say those three words, when you air your denial, albeit not for him for once, surprises him a little. Satoru can say, with the utmost confidence that there was absolutely no way that you were into that guy, even if he made you genuinely laugh, even if he was the first person you sought out when you got the chance. He only asked you again to give you the chance to make peace with the truth. 
Besides, if you're going to be into anyone then it would have to be—
You're not looking at him. Your gaze is turned away from him, distant and unfocused. It's like your thoughts are wandering the night sky, drifting into the cosmos. You let the words out but are you thinking about it still? A happy, normal love? He thinks you would know better than to think you can find it lurking among the stars. 
Not when you can find it here on earth.
With him.
You're not looking at him, but Satoru wants you to. He wants you to look at him. Not at the sky, not at the stars, not at some stranger who doesn't have a place in your present, let alone your future. 
At him. 
Satoru knows you would hate it if you knew, if you realized, but it is so easy to get your attention, to draw in your gaze. All he has to do is say the right thing (or maybe it'd be more appropriate to call it the wrong thing) and your eyes will be on him in an instant, your gaze fiery and intense. 
"You know," he says, amused at the thought of the expression you're going to make. "Even though I was obviously the hottest person in the room, you looked pretty good yourself."
It's not a lie. It's clear that you went all out for this event, taking great care in making sure you looked your best— dressed in clothes much nicer than anything he's seen you work in. Satoru's even willing to bet you tried your damndest to actually get a full night's rest. 
His words work like a charm and you whip your head to face him. The look on your face is interesting; dazed, amazed. He's not familiar with this expression of yours and he leans in to get a better look. Without thinking about it, he reaches for your cheek, his fingers stopping short of your skin. For a split second, your eyes flit toward his hand, clearly aware of how close he is to touching you. Satoru's eyes trail down to your lips and he wonders if you've been using the lip balm he gave you. It looks like you have, with how soft and plush your lips look, but he should make sure— he wants to make sure. 
It's then your denial, your rejection comes out in full force. You take a step back and next thing Satoru knows you're falling into the water. 
Huh. He thought for sure this time you would have accepted a kiss from him. 
It's okay, he thinks, it's only a matter of time. Besides, the view of you right now, stunned and almost mortified is a worthwhile trade. 
It's actually hilarious. 
He starts laughing and you give him your usual scowl, splashing at him in retaliation. He doesn't mind, he'll let you have that much because one day, one day soon he'll get that kiss from you. 
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