#trying to get back into the writing groove

[sparkle-fiend]

Eddie is six years old, the first time he hears the voice. 

It wakes him with a jolt – sends him tearing through the house, searching under every bed and behind every door for the boy he hears calling his name.

Mama finally stops him. “Sweetheart, what did you lose this time?” (Eddie is always losing things.) She looks impatient, standing with a laundry basket balanced on one cocked hip, curly hair spilling out of the messy bun on top of her head.

“I heard somebody saying my name! I gotta find him, I think he’s hiding.”

Mama’s whole attitude changes, all at once. She sets the laundry aside and drops to her knees in front of him, squeezing his little hands between her own. “Oh baby. That voice means you’ve got a soulmate!”

She smiles bright as the suncatcher hanging in the window, and presses sloppy kisses all over his face until he screams with laughter, squirming to get away. 

“My lucky, special boy!”

Eddie’s never been lucky before. It’s exciting.

———

In school, they learn all about soulmates. About how rare they are. Uncle Wayne is the only other person Eddie knows that has one. 

When he found out about Uncle Wayne’s soulmate, Eddie was so excited – bubbling full of questions, like a bottle of fizzy pop. But whenever he tried to talk about it, his dad got real mad.

“You keep your mouth shut about soulmates,” he said. “Don’t talk about that shit in front of your uncle.”

It’s hard. Eddie starts staying over at Uncle Wayne’s trailer more and more when Mama gets sick. And Eddie’s never been good at following rules; especially when he’s curious about something.

“Uncle Wayne?” Eddie finally asks one day. “Where’s your soulmate? How come I’ve never seen her?” You have met her right? is what Eddie’s really asking. He can’t imagine waiting until he’s as old as Uncle Wayne to find his soulmate.

His uncle goes sort of brittle, tensing up like every joint is made of glass. His lips press together behind his beard, and his denim blue eyes go shiny and wet – like he’s trying not to cry.

If Eddie could take the question back, he would. Suck it right back into his mouth, like the smoke from his uncle’s cigarettes. This is why you gotta listen better baby – that’s what his Mama would probably say.

“My Lorretta died a few years ago. Before you were born.”

Eddie never considered that. In all the movies, soulmates die together. The thought of it leaves a queasy feeling squirming through his stomach.

“I still hear her though,” Uncle Wayne says, with a terribly soft look in his eyes. “Still hear her singing our song.”

“Like a memory?” Eddie whispers.

His uncle shakes his head. “Time don’t matter for soulmates – no more than distance. I can hear her still, across the years.”

Like a ghost, his uncle doesn’t say. A ghost that will haunt him forever. None of the dry textbooks in school ever mentioned that part.

It starts to worry Eddie. As he gets older, his soulmate’s voice starts to get clearer. He always hears the same thing – a desperate, grown-up voice screaming at him to “Run Eddie! RUN!!!” 

It must be from the future. But his soulmate sounds so scared. What could possibly happen, to make his soulmate sound like that?

Eddie starts to listen to music more. Loud, heavy stuff to drown out the frightened voice. 

Late at night, he curls up under the covers and softly sings his Mama’s favorite song – hoping that somewhere, somewhen, his soulmate will hear him.

That it might help, the way it helps Eddie when Mama sings him to sleep.

———

Eddie is twelve years old, the first time he really listens to the voice.

Mama's been dead two years, and his dad keeps pulling riskier and riskier jobs. Tonight, he's decided to try and break into the pawn shop on Fifth street. 

Eddie is the lookout, stationed on the opposite corner with a pistol weighing heavy in the pocket of his coat (just in case, Ed). 

He doesn't want to be here. He tried to argue with his dad. Said, "I've got a test tomorrow. I've got homework and..." and I hate this life. (He doesn't say that part.) I don't want to steal cars or break into buildings or mug people. I don't want to be like you.

His dad just gripped him by the arm hard enough to bruise, and said, "You like to eat, dont'cha? Well, lookouts get to eat. Lazy little shits don't." 

So Eddie is standing on a street corner in the middle of the night, watching his dad furtively attempt to pick the lock on the front door of the pawn shop, when a cop car slows down at the end of the street.

Fear floods his bloodstream so fast it leaves him dizzy. The cop has clearly noticed something. Eddie can see the shadowed figure inside the car reach for his radio. 

Eddie has two choices.

He could pull the pistol out of his pocket and fire a few shots down the street, forcing the cop to take cover long enough for his dad to get away (which is what his dad would expect him to do). Or he could... 

"Run!"

The sudden loud voice, echoing between his ears and behind his eyes and inside his heart, startles him into flinching. 

"Run Eddie, RUN!!!" His body obeys before his brain has a chance to process the words. He's halfway down the street when the siren shrieks to life. 

Later, as he sits in the backseat of the social worker's car on the way to his Uncle Wayne, he can't quite believe he did it. He bailed on his dad - left him to get arrested and go to prison. This is Frank Munson's third strike; he'll go away for life this time. 

I'm such a coward, Eddie thinks numbly. Such a chicken piece of shit. He digs his ragged nails into the soft flesh of his palms, squeezing hard enough to draw blood. 

As if he'd spoken aloud, a soft voice responds, "You're not a coward. You're one of the bravest people I've ever known. Running isn't always a bad thing, okay? Sometimes it's just the smart thing to do."

His soulmate sounds so fierce, so certain. Eddie blinks hard against the hot burn of tears. The smart thing to do.

———

Eddie holds onto those words, like magic talismans. They provide comfort, not just in the immediate days after his dad's arrest, but other times too. Every time he runs away from a bully or a cop or a deal gone bad, Eddie thinks to himself - I'm not a coward. I'm just smart.

It works... until the night he stumbles out of his uncle's trailer, leaving Chrissy Cunningham's broken body on the living room floor. He's so terrified he doesn't have time to think, not until after he's ditched his van and taken shelter in Rick's boathouse. As he leans against the splintered wall and catches his breath, it hits him.

I left her there. What if she was still alive? (She wasn't. She couldn't have been. Not after... not after that.) He grabs fistfuls of hair and tugs until his scalp aches. Wracks his brain trying to figure out what happened, what he could have done to stop it.

He's never felt so ashamed before, not even when his dad was cursing and screaming and calling him a coward through the thick glass of the visitation window. 

His soulmate's words whisper in his ears, "...sometimes it's just the smart thing to do," and Eddie pounds on his skull with his fists to drown the voice out. "Not this time," he snarls. I should have done something. I should have tried to save her. 

He doesn’t feel smart this time. He feels like a cowardly piece of shit.

His soulmate’s voice falls silent. 

Through all the craziness to follow – finding out that monsters are real, running for his life from an angry mob, fighting alongside Steve Harrington in an evil Upside Down version of Hawkins – Eddie doesn’t hear his soulmate again.

Not until he’s staring up at Dustin Henderson, realizing that he can’t run away again. As he hesitates at the bottom of the rope, Dustin calls out nervously, “Eddie, what are you doing?”  

“I’m buying more time,” he says. He ignores Dustin’s screams as he cuts the rope and slides the mattress out of the way – making sure the kid can’t follow him. 

And then he hears his soulmate say, “Wait, wait a second. Eddie?! Is that you?” 

Eddie is twenty years old, the first time he recognizes his soulmates voice.

He pauses at the door of the trailer and squeezes his eyes shut tight. “Hey Stevie.”

“Holy shit, it’s you,” Steve whispers in awe.

It’s the first time they’ve been able to speak to each other like this, responding in real-time. Eddie wishes it could have happened in different circumstances.

“I’m so sorry Steve.” 

“Eddie? What are you doing?” Steve sounds alarmed.

Eddie doesn’t answer. He slams his way out of the barricaded trailer and grabs one of the discarded bikes, hoping to lead the swarm of bats away as far as possible. 

He makes it halfway across the trailer park before one of the bats knocks him off the bike. He grunts and rolls, gaining his feet quickly. Chest heaving, charged with adrenalin – Eddie hesitates. He could keep running… or he could stand his ground and fight. 

Maybe Steve can hear the hitch in his breath in that moment, because the other boy seems to have worked out what’s going on, even from miles away. Steve screams, “No!!! Run Eddie, RUN!!!!”

It’s like the night his dad got arrested. Eddie doesn’t even have time to think - his body reacts to that voice and he runs, worn Reeboks slapping the pavement.

(In another world, Eddie would have turned to face the swarm. In another world, Eddie would have died.)

He’s fast. He’s always been fast. He buys himself a few precious moments, before the bats drag him to the ground. They start to rip through his clothes, through his flesh, and he tries to hold back his screams – he doesn’t want Steve to hear this…

Those extra seconds save his life. It’s bad - but not as bad as it could have been. The bats start to drop from the sky, writhing and shrieking; they’re dying, although Eddie has no idea why. Hopefully, it means Steve and the girls were successful. 

He struggles to sit up just as Dustin reaches him, crying and frantic. “Eddie!! Oh my god, are you okay? Jesus, there’s so much blood…” the kid moans. 

“Yeah, yep. I’m good,” Eddie pants through gritted teeth. “Help me up okay?”

Dustin insists on binding the worst of his wounds first, using strips of fabric torn from the ghillie suit. The pain makes Eddie want to scream all over again, but he allows it. It is an awful lot of blood.

They lean against each other and limp back to the trailer, where Dustin knots t-shirts and jeans and flannel shirts into the remnants of their rope until it’s long enough to reach the other side again. 

Eddie manages to haul himself up the rope and through the gate – and that’s where his strength runs out. The pain of landing on the thin mattress knocks him right out.

———

When Eddie wakes up, he’s in a hospital bed. 

Holy shit I’m alive, he thinks. He honestly wasn’t sure he would make it.

He moves gingerly, testing each limb, turning his head against the stinging pull of a bandage along the edge of his jaw.

The room isn’t empty; Eddie apparently has a roommate. He clears his throat and the person in the other bed stirs, turning to look at him. 

It’s Steve.

His soulmate.

Eddie feels a funny little swoop of exhilaration in his stomach. “Hey Stevie.”

Steve’s face goes soft at first, like he’s experiencing the same fizzy warmth that Eddie is feeling. Then he blinks, and his brows draw down into a scowl. “What the hell was that, huh? What happened to ‘I’m no hero’?”

Oops. 

Eddie tries to make light of the situation. “Maybe I wanted to try it out,” he says flippantly. “Not too sure it suits me though. Think I might stick to being a coward from now on – it’s a lot less painful.” 

Steve doesn’t smile. He fixes Eddie with a serious look, hazel eyes blazing in the sallow light of the hospital room. “You listen to me Eddie Munson. You're not a coward. You're one of the bravest people I've ever known. Running isn't always a bad thing, okay? Sometimes it's just the smart thing to do."

Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. Those words – once a gift from the future, now an echo of the past. He never should have ignored them. “Maybe you’re right.”

Steve’s mouth is already open to continue the argument. “I…” he stops, clearly caught off-guard, face scrunched in adorable confusion. “Yeah. Yeah, I am right.”

Steve runs a faintly trembling hand through his hair. The angry expression melts into something gentler, almost unbearably soft. “I’m glad you listened to me in the end, at least.”

Eddie shifts his weight, pressing his cheek into the scratchy hospital pillow so he can keep his eyes on Steve. 

He’s so beautiful. Even bloody and bruised, with dirt still smudged along his hairline and dark circles under his eyes – he’s the most beautiful boy Eddie has ever seen. And Eddie almost gave this up – if he’d died in the Upside Down, he would have left Steve alone, with only the echo of Eddie’s voice left to haunt him.

“Yeah,” Eddie says hoarsely, “me too.”

He still feels guilty over Chrissy’s death - he probably always will. But he’s coming to realize that proving himself a hero wouldn’t have been worth the pain his death would have caused.

Eddie’s got a second chance… and he plans to make the most of it.

[rhettabbotts]

working on a sub!dilf rhett fic 🤭

[starrystevie]

"what's that?" dustin asks one night, eyes zeroed in on steve's chest.

confused, he glances down to where his button up has opened a bit at the neckline, not seeing anything on his skin other than the chain around his neck and bits of chest hair.

"what's what, henderson?"

the chain is simple silver, and at the bottom hidden under his shirt is a ring. he was gifted one of eddie's when they made whatever they were official. eddie let him pick, let steve trail his fingers feather light over his hands and over heavy silver until he found one he liked.

"you gonna pick one in this century?" eddie teased, looking up at him from under his lashes, smirking in the way that gives steve butterflies.

"this is an important decision," steve murmured out in a low voice, his light touch sending shivers down eddie's spine. "i can't just settle on one."

he ends up with a mood ring, one that eddie swore he only had because he needed something on his otherwise bare hand but steve knows it's because he thought it looked mysterious. sliding it off his finger is easy, placing a kiss on the pale bit of skin left behind is even easier.

it doesn't fit on his finger, not even close. he could barely squeeze it onto his pinkie but even then they had to use strawberry lube to get it off after it gets stuck.

"you don't have to wear it," eddie said, defeated with his big brown eyes breaking steve's heart into pieces.

but the thing is, steve is a little more than head over heels for him. he'd do anything to make eddie happy, make him feel loved, and being offered a ring in the first place had him feeling like he could fly. he wanted to show it off, flaunt it around like it was more than a mood ring because it was.

just because his fingers were too big didn't mean he couldn't keep the ring on him at all times. which is how he ended up with it on the simple silver chain around his neck.

the night he showed eddie for the first time, crawling up the bed shirtless to push him into the pillows with a searing kiss, was a night he wouldn't soon forget. eddie stared up at him with something that looked like love dancing behind his eyes as the ring dangled between them, glinting in the moonlight coming in through the bedroom window.

"you're wearing it?" eddie's voice was soft, reverent, as he took a hand up to cover the ring with his hand, pushing it into steve's chest right above his heart. he bent down to give eddie another kiss, relishing in the quick bite of pain that comes from the pressure of him pushing the metal into his chest.

"of course i'm wearing it, babe," steve said against his lips with a smile. "not gonna be able to get me to take it off now."

true to his word, steve never takes it off unless absolutely necessary. he wears it in his sleep, when he slides in behind eddie and curls around him. he wears it to work under his shirts, the metal warm against his skin as it thumps along with his heartbeat. he wears it around the house, when they go out on dates, when he showers. he wears it when he knows eddie will see the outline of it peeking through a tight shirt, driving him crazy.

it becomes habit for eddie to find it, fiddle with it over steve's clothes while they watch tv on the couch. they'll be pressed up against each other, limbs entwined, with his hand directly over the ring, rising and falling with every breath steve takes.

wearing it at all times, however, seems to be causing a bit of a problem. one that even dustin can see.

"don't be obtuse," he tuts as if he was chastising a child, "who gave you a bruise on your chest?"

"what are you talking about, i don't have a bruise on my-"

steve rolls his eyes and goes to the bathroom, flicking on the overhead light and pushing his chest out to get as close the mirror as possible. sure enough, sitting right above his heart, is a barely there bruise. it's a little green, a little brown, but definitely there.

there's something to be said about having eddie bruised above his heart. something to be said about having the indent of his ring pressed into his skin where he's the most vulnerable. the place where he had to learn how to take his armor off to let eddie see in the first place.

steve looks between the bruise and his face, back and forth and back again and watches as his smile grows wide, grows soft around the edges, grows into something that is vaguely eddie shaped which somehow makes it grow even softer.

he can hear eddie get home, the front door slamming as he shouts a too loud welcome to dustin and drops his toolbox onto the floor. his heart thuds a little bit like it always does when he realizes eddie is nearby, and he thinks if he could look close enough, he'd see his eddie shaped bruise jump along with it.

carefully, steve strokes his fingers over the discoloration, presses down just enough to feel it zing through his nerves like the lightning that eddie himself is. he watches as the skin turns pale before blooming back to life again.

steve thinks there's something there that he can't put his finger on. something thrumming through his veins that he can't give a name to.

"baby, you've got to come see this!" he yells into the living room.

something that he has all the time in the world with eddie to eventually figure out.

crossposted on twitter here

[organicxslime]

☆kissing you (gojo, nanami, toji, megumi, yuji, ino)☆

GOJO kisses you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. He’s suave about it, wrapping an arm around your waist and giving you his signature pretty-boy smirk before leaning in and pressing his lips against yours. He’s passionate, but not too forceful, and he has a way of flustering you despite having done this a thousand times. Occasionally (read: almost every single time) he’ll get a bit frisky, taking you in both arms and dipping you slightly as he gently catches your plump bottom lip in his teeth or swipes his tongue along the edge of it. The experience is dizzying, and by the end of it you’re always bright red from ear to ear.

NANAMI's kisses are more a bit more chaste. They're best described as sweet - he's not trying to overwhelm you with passion, but you can feel the quiet adoration and his underlying love for you in even the quickest pecks. The best ones are when he's just gotten home from work, not even bothering to shed his coat or shoes before seeking you out. When he finds you, inevitably curled up on the couch or working on something in the kitchen, he'll envelop you in a warm embrace from behind before gently slipping a hand underneath your jaw to cup your face, softly pressing his lips to yours as you melt into each other.

TOJI's kisses are rough. Gentleness doesn’t come easy to a man like Toji, but he’s not trying to throw you around, either. When he kisses you, it’s pure dominance, smashing his lips against yours and squeezing your waist between two large hands. You’ll typically have to initiate, but the second he knows it’s coming he’s taken over the situation and made you his once again. Your favorite is when his tough-guy demeanor has softened a bit and he allows you to sidle up next to him, big doe eyes silently pleading as you look up at him, urging him to take you in his arms and kiss you. When he complies, it’s much more reserved, almost gentle, and you don’t think you’d mind leaving his more forceful displays of affection in the past if this is what’s been available the whole time.

YUJI’s kisses are messy and unpracticed, but he's clearly so adorably excited to be with you that you don't mind. You’ll have to lead while he finds his footing, but once he’s figured out how to position his head, he’s softly planting lingering pecks on you, unable to get rid of the smile that stretches his cheeks so taut that it almost hurts. He’ll seek you out anywhere, anytime - it doesn’t matter if you cross his mind for a fraction of a second, he’s immediately seeking you out with the intent of pulling you into a quiet corner. He’ll brush your hair out of your face, flashing you a lopsided smile of nervous excitement before leaning into you, kissing you deeply before pulling away to get a look at your flushed cheeks and grin before diving right back in.

MEGUMI's kisses are shy, almost hesitant. He's the type of person that has to warm up to you every time it happens, starting off stiff with an air of uncertainty before eventually melting into you the way he wants to. He's not the type to be all over you all the time, but you can always count on a kiss goodnight from him. You'll both be curled up in bed, ready to pass out for the night, but he always makes sure to brush his lips against yours for a lingering kiss before the two of you fall asleep. It's warm and soft, and although he usually acts stoic and unfeeling, you're giddy that you get to know the real, unguarded version of him through these sweet little moments.

INO’s kisses are a bit boisterous - not because he's trying to be, but because he's over the moon to be able to do this with you at all. He usually tries to be slick about it, sweet talking you and creeping a hand up the small of your back beforehand, but he’s easily flustered and tends to melt into you the minute your lips touch. He’s eager, smashing his lips against yours in a way that makes it all too clear how much he wants you, and when he pulls away for some oxygen you can see the deep blush blooming across his cheeks. Sometimes (usually after a mission or when he’s exhausted) you’ll get a softer, even sweeter Ino, where your lips will meet with feather-light touches, warm and soft and impossibly saccharine, and when he comes up for air he’ll press his forehead against yours, with him meeting your eyes with a look of absolute adoration.

[dudethatsmyundeaduncle]

Danny’s parents want to kill him and he’s like “f in the chat y’all dinner boutta be so awkward tonight smh”

Ok so I know everyone loves the angsty headcannons where Danny is terrified of his parents cuz they wanna kill him but we’ve had that hot take since 2005 I’m here for a source material revival, the much more entertaining “Danny’s parents want to kill him and he actively doesn’t give a fuck”

CUZ UH, IM REWATCHING THE FIRST SEASON AND I FORGOT HOW GENUINELY BLASÉ HE IS ABOUT MADDIE AND JACK TRYING TO GET HIS ASS ITS SO FUNNY.

Like mom holding a literal ghost gun to his head: eh kinda unphased he even has time to quip, his parents say they wanna tear em to pieces: meh see u guys at dinner, LIKE OUR GUY IS SO UNPHASED HE THINKS THIS SHIT IS FUNNY! (s1 ep. 14 public enemy)

And he’s unphased despite knowing his parents tech works and knowing that his mother is actually a good shot. So like I love angst Danny and y’all should keep up the good work but where is my s1 Danny ‘COULDN’T give less of a fuck about his parents’ Fenton representation?

Cuz think of this, for your DPXDC AU consideration, Danny would fit in so well with the bat gang if only because they could try to stab, shoot, capture, brainwash, and stalk him and he’d be like “oh cool villain of the week shit? Nice, what’re we having for lunch.” He. Wouldn’t. Flinch.

[morgana-ren]

Overstimulation with Astarion makes w head go burrrrrrr

Astarion is a vampire. And vampires can go on forever—

In more ways than one.

Maybe it's the dead blood that courses through his veins that gives him the extra vigor. Maybe it's the hundreds of years that he's had to learn to move his body in ways that leave you breathless. Maybe it's that he doesn't have to stop and catch his breath— ever.

Either way, you see those pale, pillowy lips crook upward just enough to show a slip of ivory fang in his mouth as you approach your peak. That same mischievous smile that drew you into his bed to begin with.

Again.

And hey, you can't be blamed. It's fun!

At first.

But after the second or third time, it borders on a form of painful that words can scarce describe. Raw edged and red, body spasming and mind pleading— screaming— enough. Suddenly your body isn't big enough for the two of you and he's not leaving any room for you to exist or even breathe. Thighs rubbed to dust and chafing around his hips as he spears in again and again and again, hissing a pointed giggle as he does.

Every languid gyration of his pelvis hits somewhere that has you screaming and clawing at him, leaving red, ragged streaks across his skin that he wears like a tiger would wear its stripes; a badge of honor— of pride. You can't even pant out his complete name into his mouth, stumbling and stuttering across syllables that he greedily swallows down.

His claws are so terribly sharp but he only uses them in the best ways, and as the pale pads of his fingertips find your core, dread mingles with excitement and then the inevitable onset of 'Oh Gods, oh Gods, oh Gods—' because you physically cannot handle it.

Save it doesn't really matter what you can or can't handle. He finds it fun to push you over the edge again, so over it you go.

Maybe it's the ego boost, or perhaps it's the power. Maybe it's the vulnerability of you clinging to him against your own will, quite literally putty in his skillful hands. Maybe it's the way your body squeezes and milks him dry every time he does it, damn near sucking what's left of his eternal soul clean from him and into you. Maybe it's the way your bleary eyes blink little silver tears that fall down the delicate curve of your cheek as you beg him enough.

But it's only over when he says it's over. It's only over when he's had enough, and as he's told you before, he's a man of tremendous appetites. He's had ages beyond ages to understand how to pluck the delicate strings of the human body apart piece by piece and he plays you like a damn fiddle every time you dance with him.

And even as the orgasm subsides as you peer up at him with pleading eyes, he only smiles and hushes you with a devouring kiss, movements only slowing to draw out every whiny breath from between your lips before spurring onward again in ruthless, reckless rhythm. Even as your vision tunnels and you lose any sense of coherency, he's as constant as the winds and the tide, and just as eternal.

He'll leave you wrecked and ruined, dashed on the rocks only to be drawn back out into the hazy pink sea of pleasure once more. And as you feel that pressure spring in the base of your spine start to coil like a serpent once again, all he does is laugh into the crook of your neck, asking if you're tired already.

Perhaps next time you pick a bedfellow, make it one who needs to sleep eventually, because Bane knows he does not, and he is hellbent on making that your problem.

[luvxiem]

ngl this is my first time asking in this app

can i request luca with 25 ‘ *this* is the guy? ‘ im starving for some overprotective luca 🥹

knight in cotton armor

[ INFO ]

✧ word count: 1.2k

✧ pairing: luca kaneshiro x gn!reader

✧ genre: fluff

✧ summary: a simple craving for ice cream turned into an eventful night when you're stuck with people with malicious intentions.

how you found yourself in a situation like this, you weren't quite sure.

it wasn't too late into the night—only barely past ten—yet the dim streetlights did nothing to help quell your nerves and give you the courage to finally leave your car. you've been sitting low in the driver's seat for almost fifteen minutes now, eyeing the group of drunkards loitering in front of the 7/11 you parked outside. feeling a subtle vibration coming from your hand, you checked your phone to see a message from luca.

'are you still in the car???' [10:07]

'yes ToT' [10:07] 'these dudes wont leave.. wtf do i do. i just wanted ice cream 🗿🗿' [10:08]

with a sigh, you dropped your hand back into your lap and let your head fall back with a small thud against the seat. 'whatever,' you thought. 'it's not like i'll get murdered.' with that you grabbed your keys and pushed open the door, already noting the turn of heads out of the corner of your peripheral. a low whistle filled the stagnant night air as four sets of eyes followed you into the store, a small chime signaling your arrival.

you made a beeline to the back of the store where they kept their ice cream, determined not to stay here any longer than you have to. unfortunately, the universe decided that tonight you were the one it wanted to pick on.

"hey cutie." sighing, you schooled your expression into one that didn't clearly show your discomfort and looked over your shoulder, giving the stranger a small smile and a 'hello.' a quick glance around showed that this one was all alone, most likely egged on by his equally drunk friends outside to follow you inside and harass you.

and you would think that turning your back on the stranger to look for your ice cream was a clear signal that you weren't interested in any further conversation yet it seems this dude couldn't get the hint. a tap on your shoulder prompted you to turn around again, this time a bit more visibly annoyed.

"can i help you?" the man gave you a rather (in your humble opinion) sleazy smile, tucking his hands into this stained hoodie pocket and licking his lips briefly before subjecting you to his inane thoughts.

"yeah, actually," he grinned, reaching up to wipe his nose before holding his phone out expectantly. you raised your eyebrow in contempt. "could i get'cho number?"

"i have a boyfriend, sorry," you replied, turning back to continue searching for your ice cream when a rough grip on your shoulder spun you around forcefully, shoving you into the clear doors lining the shelves. where was the clerk?!

the feeling of hot, moist breath that smelt distinctly of cheap vodka hit your nose and made your face scrunch up reflexively in disgust, your hands coming up to try and push your assailant away.

"he doesn't have to kno-WOAH!" suddenly you were freed from behind held against the cold coolers, shivering from both the chill and the lingering grossness of being touched by a stranger like that.

"hey, the fuck is your problem?!" he scowled, rubbing his neck where he was forcefully pulled away.

"seriously? this is the guy?" looking up, you're met with blonde hair and broad shoulders, the tiniest sliver of a tattoo peeking out from underneath the grey henley your boyfriend wore. his arms crossed rather menacingly over his chest, toned biceps in clear view with the way his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. across from him, the drunkard is now visibly agitated, however when he tried to approach, luca grabbed the front of his hoodie and lifted him clear off the ground. agitation quickly turned into nervousness as the guy lifted his hands in surrender.

"woah—chill dude; i-i wasn't gonna try anything, i swear," he stutters, scrambling to his feet when luca drops him rather unceremoniously to the floor, cursing under his breath as he fled the store. luca immediately spins on his heel, turning to face you with clear worry on his face. frantic hands turn you this way and that before settling on your cheeks as he rubs his nose against yours.

"are you okay?! no, of course you're not—jesus christ, what the hell! why didn't you just come over to my place if you wanted ice cream?" he moaned, pulling you into his chest in a tight hug. you could hear his racing heartbeat under your ear and you can't help but laugh at the situation. luca was so angry and intimidating not even a minute ago and now he's returned to the cute, cuddly golden retriever you fell in love with.

"baby, i'm fine," you grinned, pulling his arms off of you so you could give him a quick kiss. luca is still frowning when you pull away, however, and you could tell he was still upset with the situation. honestly, you were still shaken up about it too, so you decided to kill two birds with one stone and link your arms with his, staying as close as possible to ease both your nerves.

"c'mon, i still haven't gotten my ice cream," you say, opening one of the glass doors to grab a pint of salted caramel from the freezer. luca unlinks your arms to throw his over your shoulder instead, rubbing the bare skin of your arm with his thumb in an attempt to comfort both you and him (skin to skin contact always seemed to help).

"i still think you should've just come over to my place," he whined, watching the door as you paid with a tap of your phone against the reader. you pat his chest and hum in response, shooting a quick thank you to the cashier before you both exited the store.

"babe, all you have is cookies and cream."

"what—what's wrong with cookies and cream?!"

"i don't like it!"

you laugh as luca fumbles for an answer, mock offense on his face at your distaste for his favorite flavor. the night air felt a bit warmer than before, the comforting breeze easing your nerves. you look around for luca's motorcycle but the parking lot is empty except for your car and one that presumably belongs to the poor college kid inside working the night shift.

"hey—how'd you get here?" you ask confusedly. luca shrugs.

"i ran." you pause, turning to face him fully with disbelief clearly written on your face.

"luca."

"yeah?"

"you live like, five miles away from here."

"and?" you throw your hands up in defeat. of course your boyfriend ran five miles to come save you—he probably left the house the minute you first texted him about being too scared to leave your car. no wonder he asked which 7/11 you were at.

"you wanna come over to mine?" you sigh, watching luca immediately beam at the prospect of being able to sleep over despite having already hung out with you earlier that day.

you unlock your car and slide into the driver's seat as luca slips into the passenger side, placing your ice cream in between his feet.

"can we get back to the important thing here?" he asks as you pull out of the parking lot.

"which is?"

"why you don't like cookies and cream which is clearly the superior flavor-"

"LUCA!"

[ WRITTEN 230601 ]

500 follower event prompt list

[sodacrisps]

Hi

I did half a thing and this lovely piece by dear @tiramegtoons pushed me to finish it up a bit more

No, right?

(also hi I’m back kinda/kinda not, I’m working on it)

[flymmsy]

Inspired by my earlier post.

Wrong Muse (Durgetash, ~450 words, cw violence)

“I suppose I cannot convince you to close your eyes.”

“Smart man.”

“Very well,” Gortash opened the doors to his bedchamber and gestured for Lyra to enter.  

Eyes narrowed, she proceeded in. She hardly had a chance to begin her sweep of the room before she saw it.

There – propped against the wall – was a large painting. A blonde, pale woman, draped in the finest gossamer silk and adorned with silver chains, stood at the center holding a barbed whip above her head. At her feet, several servants knelt in submission, their skin raw from her ministrations.

The woman was wearing Lyra’s face.

“A gesture towards our continuing alliance.” Gortash’s voice sounded far off, and she barely registered his arms wrapping around her waist.

A whip. A whip where a dagger should have been. Silk, not her hearty leathers – ones she created herself with pride. Chains – chains. Loviatar, The Maiden of Pain. Loviatar, Bane’s Queen.

The Urge rose so quickly she did not even feel it, and later, she would be thankful that Gortash still wore his golden sleeves – a thin barrier that prevented his arms from shredding. Her dagger flashed as it made its first slice into the painting, beheading one of the servants. She did not deliver pain, she delivered death.

When the painting had all but been torn to shreds, she freed her face from Loviatar’s body, grasping the canvas in her trembling fist. Her heart pounded in her ears, rage coursing through her veins. How dare he, how dare he, how dare he.

She turned, her eyes finding him quickly, delighting in the panic she could register in his own. Gortash was slumped against the far wall, having been thrown back by her outburst. She advanced quickly, dagger drawn, and he pushed himself to his feet to stop her. It was futile, she was on him in an instant and much stronger, one forceful hand shoving him right back to the ground.

Her dagger sliced halfway through the air before coming to a halt just inches from his face. Her arm began to tremble, a tremor quickly spreading throughout her entire body. She dropped to her knees, knife arm still extended, the other clinging to her own torn face. She threw the painting’s fragment into the small distance separating her from Gortash.

“This,” Lyra hissed, eyes wildly locking onto Gortash’s own.

He did not dare to say a word, but slowly raised his hand to lower her dagger from his face.

“This,” Lyra repeated with the same violent tone, slamming her other hand onto the painting of her face below. Gortash nodded, holding her gaze, his eyes now fighting to call her back.

“This,” her voice cracked the third time, her head slumping forward, “I can never be this.”

The canvas ran wet beneath her.

[i-love-harryosborn-dotcom]

Wolfsborn AU?? Wolfsborn AU.

Becoming a wolf man is complicated, being in love with a guy who flakes out on you a lot (and is secretly a wolf man) is complicated. But i like to think they make it work really well

And i like to think that whenever Harry finds out- it’s whimsical n fun n romantic n cute

[knowlesian]

hilarious thing i noticed today: geraldo is jackie’s izzy, with the narrative echoes to prove it. think about it:

— jackie and ed are both titans in their field; everyone knows their names and they built their own legends / nobody outside people who have met geraldo and izzy know their names, they don’t have legends of their own 

— both izzy and geraldo have issues with respecting boundaries set by their respective counterparts (jackie expressly tells geraldo all her other husbands are fine following her rules, izzy ...has a million examples lbr)

— geraldo throws out suggestions about bar food and jackie shoots it down as she is three steps ahead already, complete with list of reasons it won’t work / ed already has a plan to slip past the spanish at the top of e4 when izzy is bugging him about focusing in order to come up with one (and like the overhead geraldo didn’t account for, izzy biffs a sailing 101 thing like ‘hey, are cloud shapes often good indicators of upcoming weather conditions and is discussing them actually not a flight of fancy but a very normal thing to consider???’) and then by the moment of crisis, izzy can only come up with ‘idk, we shoot them about it’

— they both sell stede out to a royal navy (and ed willingly throws himself into the crossfire to save stede, both times)

— the solution to each of those situations is ed and stede working together, coming up with and executing out of the box, unexpected solutions their opponents don’t see coming (lighthouse/surrender + act of grace)

cannot believe i never noticed this before, a+ narrative overlap would laugh at realizing GERALDO I S IZZY I S GERALDO OH MY GOD all over again

[boyybites]

Was thinking more about Boof and how he's just a giant guard dog dragon thing. He guards The Librarian's "heart" but when Treasure is introduced the Librarian is so scared of this tiny child falling off the bed he essentially has Boof watch over the baby instead which leaves himself vulnerable, or more vulnerable than normal.

[jesuistrestriste]

sage idk if you understand dilf dodge mason will actually kill me

if I read I'll die but it's a sacrifice I'm SO willing to make

Bri !! trust me !! i am going to die right along w you.

i’m writing him to be the kind of dilf who starts to get all worried abt developing a little salt n pepper in his hair, but the reader just EATS IT UPPP.

he deserves to come home after a long night and have the reader destroy him. and then he destroys them.

and that’s exactly what i’m gonna write! ha! 🥳

-

-

^heres a snippet from the fic that i’m currently still working on. def got a ways to go with it, but i’m sure that there will come a night sometime soon, maybe next week, where i just sit down and crank it all out. that’s usually how it goes teehee

[bb-fennelposting]

the ancient gods of starclan watching as their funny leader girl roast some loser at a gathering:

[warrior-of-waistbands]

what if I~~~~~~~ post a scrapped wip for a fic I gave up on because Cap's voice eludes me

----

Every superhero has an origin story. They don’t just happen out of nowhere.

Heidi knows this. Every superhero movie she’s ever watched has told her so. A radioactive spider, a deal with a deity, a tub of alien ooze, a doomed home planet. Every hero has to come from somewhere.

Captain Underpants didn’t just come out of nowhere.

Heidi knows things Harold probably doesn’t want her to. She knows where he hides his report cards. She knows about the time he broke one of their mother’s prized china plates and tried to bury the evidence in the backyard. She knows that he pretends he’s talking to an audience when he thinks he’s alone.

She knows when Harold is hiding something.

And Heidi doesn’t know what a coincidence is but she does know it’s mighty interesting that the superhero Harold and his friend have been making comics about since they were her age just happens to be a real person.

No. He has to come from somewhere.

----

It’s almost fitting that she’d find him in the treehouse, of all places.

It was a Saturday. Harold had left early that morning to meet up with George at the park. He’d told Heidi to stay out of his room, but he never said anything about staying out of the treehouse. And Heidi knew that that’s where he kept the best art supplies.

She thought she heard something up there as she was making her way up the ladder, but, no, that was silly―who else could possibly be up there right now?

She’d pulled back the curtain.

The Waistband Warrior himself was standing in her brother’s treehouse.

He didn’t seem to notice her frozen in the doorway. No, he was too busy rummaging around the shelves and boxes, skimming through their contents, humming the tune to a popular cartoon theme song. And Heidi had seen him on TV before, sure, but now he was here―here!―in person and it was like catching a unicorn in the wild. Or spotting a shooting star.

Heidi had said, “Excuse me.”

Captain Underpants jumped, inadvertently hitting his head on a shelf and knocking over the figurine placed there.

“Ow….”

He’d turned around and that’s when he saw her, clearly not expecting to, if the way his eyes widened and he took a skittish step backward was anything to go by.

“Oh, uh….” He’d tried to play it cool, nervously resting a hand to the back of his neck. “Um, hello there, young citizen!”

“What are you doing in my brother’s treehouse?”

“Your brother’s…. oh. OH….”

He looked around apprehensively, like he was thinking very hard about what to say next that wouldn’t sound completely asinine. His eyes landed on the felled figurine on the floor and he stooped to pick it up, avoiding the question for a precious few seconds longer.

He’d held the toy in his hand and simply stared at it. Hard. Fidgeting with it.

[thebluestbluewords]

Polyshipweek 2023 Day 1: Road Trip

Rotten ot4, ~1800 words of pure silliness. No warnings for this section.

+

"I've solved our summer problem," Evie announces breathlessly, hair bouncing over her shoulders in perfectly curled ringlets as she jogs up to their usual outdoor lunch table. She’s wearing a pastel blue tennis skirt, an unexpected blessing for Mal’s wicked eyes, borne from the spring heat wave the rest of them are suffering through in their usual leather. The news outlets are saying that it’s the hottest spring Auradon has had in years, but the actual heat only hit two days ago, and Evie’s been too busy with school and her secret project to make the rest of them anything lighter than their usual. Mal’s been sweating through her jeans, but she cut the sleeves off her jacket yesterday, so that’s been helping.  "I got us housing, and it's in our names, and we're going to have the best summer ever." 

Evie beams at them all, still pink-cheeked and breathless from running across the lawn. 

"Evie.” Mal says flatly. 

Evie beams at her directly, flipping her curls over her shoulder as she turns, a bit more dramatically than a turn of ten degrees warrants. "Yes, babe?” 

Mal wants to lick the glorious expanse of leg that Evie’s skirt shows off, but they’ve got more pressing concerns than that right now. "What did you do?" 

Evie’s practically bouncing in place. Oh gods. Whatever she’s done is either going to be the best thing in the world, and they’ll all have to tell her that she’s right and they were wrong to spend the whole week moping about the heat instead of helping and she truly is a genius, or else they’re about to have a really, really bad time. 

"I bought us a camper,” Evie exclaims, and oh, she’s still bursting with joy about the whole thing. “It's only twenty-five feet long, and it's got an absolutely terrible truck that came with it, but it’s big enough for four people to sit together in the front as long as one of them is small, and two of us have tiny little legs, so we don't have to split anyone out to drive if we don’t want to, and I got it on sale from a friend of a friend so it was super cheap, and it's going to be the greatest thing ever!” 

"Great. You bought us....a tiny house." 

"A tiny mobile house," Evie corrects, still beaming.  "And it's going to be either the best or the worst thing that's ever happened to us and I haven't decided which yet. But it's probably the best."

Mal gestures at the boys, who are just as sweaty and disgusting as she is right now. "You want all of us contained in a twenty foot box for the entire summer?" 

"Ye-es," Evie says slowly, with a somewhat pained expression, like she's only just thinking through the size constraints she's put on them. And how those constraints might play out with three people who are currently sweating through their clothes.  "But it'll be fine. It has storage space for at least six of those big plastic storage bins, and if we keep all of your clothes here at school, babe,  and each of the boys only wears two outfits, I can condense my stuff down to the other five." 

“Can I bring my laptop?” Carlos asks. His head is still on the table. Despite wearing exclusively shorts for the first fifteen years of his life, or possibly because of it, he’s been handling the heat the worst out of the four of them. “If I can fit my laptop and like, enough dog treats to bribe whatever animals we find on the way, I’m in.” 

Evie tilts her head to the side, which sends her hair tumbling off her neck again. Mal could bite the smooth, warm expanse of it. She could leave so many delicious red marks, so that everyone knows that Evie is hers, and she has the most brilliant girlfriend in the world, who does brilliant things like acquire them a place to stay for the summer that’s not on campus. 

The fact that Evie didn’t think about space is a minor concern. Mal’s small. She can compress her stuff to be small too. 

“You can bring all the computer pieces you want,” Evie declares, apparently deciding that this is not the battle she wants to fight right now. “So long as they can fit into a three-by-two storage bin, okay?” 

“Okay,” Carlos agrees, apparently too worn out to argue. “Sure. I’m in.” 

Jay raises a hand, which is hysterical and also makes something uncomfortable twist up in Mal’s chest. This time last year they were throwing bricks at the pirate kids, and now they’re the sort of people who apparently own a camper, and go to a prep school, and can afford to raise their hand instead of just screaming at each other to be heard.  “Who’s going to drive?” 

Evie leans forward over the table, which conveniently puts her chest at eye level for those sitting down. It’s definitely intentional, because this is what Evie and Jay do for fun when they’re together. Neither of them is strictly into each other, due to the whole being gay thing, but they’ve got an exception for each other. Or possibly they just like confusing the Auradon kids, but Mal can get behind it either way. 

“Weeee-ll,” Evie says slowly, drawing out the word like it’s a piece of gum she’s stretching out. She’s leaning all the way down now, and the tiny gold necklace she’s wearing is hanging loose over the table, swinging in a way that’s almost more mesmerizing than her tits. “I heard there’s this really cool guy who got an actual legal driver’s license recently, and I was hoping maybe if I asked really nicely, he’d be willing to drive for me.” 

Jay hooks a finger in the necklace. “Nicely, huh?” 

“Aren’t I being nice?” Evie asks sweetly, batting her eyes and doing something complicated and graceful with her legs that looks uncomfortable from Mal’s angle, but ends up with her sitting on the table, still leaned up close to Jay. “I could offer you something in exchange, maybe?” 

“What would that be, princess?” Jay asks, and oh, with the way he’s keeping his voice low and rough, there’s got to be some Auradon kids watching the show. 

“Maybe….a kiss?” Evie offers, still syrupy-sweet and over the top flirty. “Or I guess I could give you access to the credit card I got from this prince who wants us safely out of his way for the summer, but I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested in something like that?” 

Jay pulls back. “Who gave you a credit card?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Evie says brightly. “Unfortunately that is a trade secret, and even more unfortunately, it’s connected to my bank account, so it’s not actually as useful as I implied. You can still drive the car though, and because my mother’s accounts didn’t actually go into kingdom funds when she got sent to the Isle, I do have a bit of inheritance that I’ve taken out of my investments for this.” 

Jay blinks. “You have investments?” 

“Yes,” Evie says, leaning back as well. It’s a tragic loss, because the new position puts her above the rest of them, and Mal can’t stare at her without being blinded by the sun. “I’ve had them since we set up the accounting for my business, which was well before winter formal season. So it’s been a white now and they’re doing quite well, thanks for asking.” 

“Doug drove you to the bank to get a card set up?” 

Evie pouts. “It’s not very fun when you put it that way, babe.” 

Jay grins up at her, eyes bright and mouth quirked into the uneven smile he does when he’s trying to look charming. “Oh, I’m sorry princess, let me just–” he pulls her in close again, hooking one hand around the back of her waist, and the other tangled in the chain of her necklace. “I would be honored,” he whispers into the skin of her neck. “To drive you wherever you need to go.” 

“Through treacherous terrain and up mountains fair?” Evie says softly. “From golden beach to shining sea?” 

“I’ve always wanted to see a mountain,” Jay agrees, resting his head on her shoulder for a moment before pulling back and adding, much more normally. “And beaches would be cool. I assume we’re taking the royal family of Arendelle up on their generous offer to let you magical types come up for their summer training camp?” 

“Indeed,” Evie nods, “It would be awfully rude to reject an offer from the royal family, after all, and when I asked around, everyone said that summer road trips are an Auradon tradition and it would only be right for us to go on one before we have to get serious about school next semester.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Mal groans. 

“SATs, college visits,” Carlos chants. “Finals, calculators, GPA.” 

Fucker. He’s not even graduating next year, a fun little quirk of the Auradon grade system  being tied to age instead of academic ability.

 “I can and will crush you into the dirt.” Mal says casually. She’s got to be casual about her threats now, because if she says anything that sounds truly threatening in front of Audrey and her squad of princesses who care more about their royal status than their actual friendships, she’ll be slapped with consequences for ‘breaking the school code of conduct’ and ‘threatening a fellow student’ faster than you can say bibity bobbity boo. “Try it again and I’ll punch you so hard you’ll wish you were more than just one grade behind me.”

Unfortunately, Carlos treats threats as a sort of love language. 

“Aww, is the wicked fairy scared of some little tests?” he croons, eyes sparking even though he’s still flopped out across the table. “Don’t wanna take one exam that’s gonna determine your entire future for the next five years?” 

Even Evie shudders at that one. 

“Don’t,” she says firmly. “I’m going to send you reminders of this every day next year, when it’s your turn. And you’re going to deserve it.” 

Carlos sits up at that. “You wouldn’t.” 

Evie spins around to face him. “I would, baby. You don’t get to say anything until you’re the one in that exam room, and I don’t care if you never get nervous about tests, because I have never been nervous for a test before this year, and I’ve been waking up with stress dreams for the past three weeks, and not just because I spend half of my life’s savings so far on a truly terrible camper for us to use on the most ill-advised road trip this school has ever seen.” 

“I think the road trip is great idea.” Mal interrupts. “The queen of Arendelle was super nice to offer us a place in her summer magic training camp, and like, what else are we doing for the rest of the summer?” 

“Picking a god and praying,” Evie says grimly. “That this camper won’t fall apart under us halfway to the mountains.”