#who knows how much of this will stick but like. it's fun

[breannasfluff]

Danny’s funds are becoming increasingly slim and cutting back on food would be his first course of action. Except now there’s DeeDee to feed. He heads back to the bulletin board.

There’s a new advert up, Weed Pulling. Gloves Provided. The first call gets a busy signal, but when he tries again someone picks up. 

“Hi, I’m calling about the weed-pulling ad?”

“Are you strong?” a female voice asks.

“Er…yes?” Danny could pull on his ghost strength if he wasn’t obvious about it . 

“Can you be at the warehouse district on 220 tomorrow at 1?”

Because this is Gotham, he asks, “AM or PM?”

“AM. The weeds are weakest in the dark.”

Well, that sounds… shady as shit, as DeeDee would say. Still, pulling weeds can’t be too bad. Even if it is at night. In the warehouse district. Actually, this sounds like a bad idea–

As if the lady can hear the doubts in his head she says, “I’ll pay you $100 an hour.”

“Done.” Danny might have standards, but they include eating. At worst, he’ll use his ghost powers to escape.

The lady on the phone didn’t specify which warehouse, but it’s abundantly clear when Danny arrives. Vines are growing rampant over one of the buildings. 

“Are you the weed puller? I’m Pam.”

Danny turns to greet the speaker. She’s got red hair, glasses, and a baseball hat on. “I’m Dan.” Then he turns back to the warehouse. “That wouldn’t be your weed problem, would it?”

Pam joins him with a sigh, pulling off her glasses to clean them. “That would be it. It got a little…out of control.”

He doesn’t even want to know what made it grow to this size. It’s a localized Undergrowth all over again. Speaking of which… “Does it regenerate when cut?”

Pam turns to stare at him for a long moment. Maybe that’s a strange question to ask, even for Gotham. But then she says, “Yes. It’s too big for me to handle when it keeps growing back.”

With his ice powers, Danny could freeze the branches or even the base. From there, it would be a matter of pulling the vines off the building. Neither of which were feasible in his current form. 

He grimaces at the building. “Are you sticking around?”

Another long look. “I don’t care how you remove it if that’s what you are asking.”

“It’s not.”

Pam sucks her tongue against her teeth, then shrugs. “I could take a break for some tea. The area is empty tonight.”

Danny nods, already running logistics on how much time he’d need while keeping his powers less flashy. He’s not in Amity Park to simply blow the plant sky-high and call it a day. “Come back in two hours?”

“That’s a long tea break.”

“That’s a big weed.”

Pam stares, but Danny doesn’t back down. Finally, she shrugs again and hands him a pair of gloves. “Have fun weeding.” Her heels click on the pavement as she walks away.

Who wears heels at 1 AM for weeding? Probably the same people with building-sized weeds. 

Read the rest here!

[ohtobeleah]

I've had a thought in my mind for a few days. A thought where, in Days of Future Past…When Logan goes to the school looking for Chalres and is met by a younger version of Beast. (Hank)

What if it wasn't Beast that met him at the door, but you? A younger version of yourself. You…who Logan lost in the war against the Sentinels.

You…another mutant who's genetic make up doesn't allowed for aging. Your regeneration matches Logans. Only you aren't made of Adamantium like he is. You heal others. You study every branch of science there is to devour and yet the knowledge you process still isn't enough.

“Y/n?” Its funny how Charles never mentioned it would be you who looked after him during his darkest days. And its crazy how you look exactly the same as you did so many years into the future. “You’re—you’re alright.”

“How do you know my name?” You frown with confusion. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“I'm here to see the professor,” Logan tries to stay focused. But the last time he saw you? You had died in his arms. “What happened to the school?”

“Are you a parent? Because the schools been closed for a long time, sir.”

Logans standing face to face with the woman he loves, the woman he lost. Only you don't know who he is. And you're making it incredible hard for him to stay on task.

“Id wanna hope not,” Logan jokes with himself for a second, but the reality was he'd not only lost you—but your daughter too. He never did get to meet her before they took you from him. “I need to see the professor.” Logan pushes his way through, knowing that if he didn't stay committed to his task, that he might take the chance to stay in the past with you forever.

“Theres no professor here!” You shout after the man who's just barreled his way into the rundown school for gifted students. “Listen asshat, ill give you to the count of three to leave or else I'll—” But you don't get to finish your sentence.

“Look lady,” Logan growls, interupting your threat as he turned to fade you. He missed you so fucking much. “You and I are gonna get along really well one day,” He knows you'll be fine. Logan knows a quick cross to the nose will knock you down for a second or two. So with one fluid motion, he does just that. And for what it's worth, Logan tries to keep a pretty stick policy on hitting women. But once you bring mutant DNA into the picture, added with the fact he knows you handle yourself well enough to have him working up a sweat? Whats a guy supposed to do. “You just don't know it yet.”

“Fuck!” You shout as you stumble back incoherently dazed and confused.

“Professor!?” Logan turns nonchalantly, knowing you'll recover quickly. He races up the stairs, taking two, sometimes three at a time.

Only for you to race after him, completely set on beating the absolute crap outta this guy who's let himself into your home.

“Fuckface,” You shout after Logan as you leg it after him down the hall. “Hey! if you don't leave right this second I'm gonna have to ask him to ask you to leave.”

“Ask who?” Logan asks, looking around until he's met with a powerful force of blue rage. Sending him back down the stairs.

“Him.” You smiled, happily watching Hank interact with his new chew toy until Charles ultimately interrupted the fun.

[heartfullofleeches]

While the psychological mindfuxking Host puts Darling through in order to wear them down into being his co-host is honestly one of the most fun things to write, I live for Darlings who were never appreciated in their own time and suck up all the praise he gives them for their talents.

Crafty Reader who also dabbles in a bit of inter decorating winds up on Host's show and their immediate first thought is "Damn, bitch- You host a game show on this stage?"

It's cute- but a little outdated. Where's the passion? The irritatingly bright neon signs that burn their eyes from a mere glance. Potted plants??? Anything??

Normally Host isn't one to tolerate guests that interrupt his opening speech, but as Darling goes off on their tangent Host is left stumped - stupefied, damn near mesmerized by that fire in their eyes. He can't say they aren't wrong either- Props come and go as Host wishes, but the stage is a bit lacking without them. Not contestants don't stick around long enough to point it out, but with his newest and top pick for co-host right in front of him perhaps it's time for a few changes.

"Congratulations! You won today's show Give our fans a big smile and wave goodbye to our losers."

"I won?...but you didn't even ask me any questions."

"Oh, you- If answering questions was the only way to win here no one would."

Darling is whisked away by stage hands into a bedroom- The room is deprived of any furniture beyond a bed, a large chest propped against the farthest wall, and a table upon which an old sewing machine sits. It looks a bit like the one they had back home, but the label is made up of jumbled letters and symbols. How are they supposed to use the darn thing without any supplies anyway?

Darling inspects the chest and finds.... pretty much everything tucked away in their small bedroom, their real bedroom that they use for their projects. No construction paper, though.....

Oh. There's some.

Darling quickly discovers that whatever they require appears in the chest whenever they're vocal with their requests. On occasion, the chest acts without their say and pulls the thought from their mind before they're able to speak. It isn't long before the empty space is fully stylized to their personality and presences. Darling thinks they did a great job. The teddy bear on their bed believes so too.

.....When did that get there?

Darling may have won his show, but Host is the real winner when he see what Darling has done to his stage. Host are extended by another hour....or year with how long he brags to guests about Darling's craftsmanship. Time is a tricky thing to keep track of when the watches you wear flop between ticking backwards or at a snails pace.

"Thoughts on those name plates? Our brilliant co-host made them for you all- Are you lucky? I of course have my own, but- Oh, come now. I know this is top quality work, but there's no need to scream. Give our co-host a hand for all their hard work....Or lose both."

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

if you’re looking for stevie requests can i suggest eddie having to come to terms with steve and reader getting married/announcing theyre expecting and seeing how good he treats her compared to how eddie treated her when they were together (eddie was a fuckboy.

Request by anon.

Angst and fluff. Happy ending for reader.

Steve Harrington x Reader/Past Eddie Munson x Reader.

I'm not going to lie, I flew through writing this. It was just what I needed (to write some angst and sweet Steve content) and the story just flowed out so fast.

❤️

Eddie didn't regret many things in life but losing you was the one that would stick with him for the rest of his life.

He should have treated you like a princess, instead he treated you like shit. It took a while for him to admit it, he strung you along and made you think his feelings were deeper than what they actually were.

In reality he was a typical fuckboy and messed around with your heart.

He was arrogant and cocky, assuming that you would never leave him. He dated other women and never gave a thought to how much it would hurt you.

Eddie assumed that he could come back and forth into your life when he felt like it, indulge in some great sex and then leave.

Then one day he decided to look you up while he was in town after being away for a little while.

Sometimes he travelled with Corroded Coffin doing gigs up and down the country, so when he ended back in Hawkins he figured he'd visit you and have some fun.

You can imagine his shock when he turned up at your house and Steve fucking Harrington answered the door, he was just in a towel and was smiling like the cat had got the cream.

"Harrington? What the fuck are you doing here?" Eddie snaps and there's a sinking feeling in his chest, a sense of knowing what's happening before anything is even said.

"Visiting my girl. What are you doing here Munson? If you're here for any booty call then I'm afraid you'll be disappointed" Eddie is silent for a moment and is about to speak when he hears you calling Steve's name.

You appear at the stairs beaming at Steve, the smile slips from your face when you meet Eddie's gaze.

"Back again huh? What's it been six months since I last heard from you Munson? I don't know what you think I am but I'm not an idiot...or maybe I was but not anymore. I'm with Steve and he treats me right, much better than you ever did. I suggest you leave"

He's stunned by your admission and looks to Steve who's gazing at you with complete love in his eyes. Shit...

The thing is the same love is mirrored in your eyes as you gaze back at Steve, the sight leaves Eddie feeling vaguely sick. He backs away from the door and practically high tails it away.

When he leaves Hawkins later that week, he's sure the next time he comes back this little fling of yours with Steve would be over.

Turns out he couldn't be more wrong.

❤️

Dustin is the one who tells him that you and Steve have gotten married. Steve has proposed on your one year anniversary and the two of you had gotten married in a small ceremony with just close friends and family.

To say it was like a punch to his gut was an understatement. By that time it had been almost a year and a half since Eddie had seen you and when he went back to Hawkins for his usual visit, he expected that you and Steve would be over.

He didn't expect you would be married.

It was hard to see you around town with Steve. You looked so happy and it was finally dawning on Eddie that he had lost something special.

A little while after the wedding you announced that you were pregnant. Uncle Wayne had passed on the news and gave Eddie a look of severe disappointment. Oh Wayne was delighted for you and Steve but he was pissed at Eddie and Eddie didn't blame him.

His uncle had warned him not to mess you around, that you could be special if Eddie just gave you a chance and stopped messing around.

Boy did Eddie regret not listening to the old man. Regretted every way that he had broken your heart and stomped on it and there was no way he could fix things or even hope to win you back.

Because Steve treated you right. Treated you a princess and doted on you. He made you smile and laugh instead of making you miserable.

It was Eddie's fault that he lost you and now he had to deal with the reality of that. You had truly moved on and Eddie was left with an aching heart.

If only he had treated you like a princess instead of treating you like a fool.

It turns out that he was the biggest fool of all for losing you.

[just-a-ghost00]

You got mail 💌

Let’s find out what the person on your mind has to say to you. Pick one of the following emojis and discover your reading.

🌍 🩵 🌄 🤠

Group 1 🌍

I may not show it to you but I am really happy we met. Everyday with you feels like a new adventure. Though we are worlds apart and so different from each other, I really feel like we match perfectly. You make me feel like I belong. Every moment spent with you is so much fun. It makes me want to jump forward and explore. You are so sweet and generous, so playful that I can’t help but to play along. I feel so lucky being with you. There is so much I want to do with you. I want to hang out with you and get to know you more. Maybe we could have a couple drinks, play in a park, have a little date by the river… if you wish. I feel so boring compared to you. With me, everything is always black and white. But you, my love, are so colorful and bright. I wish we were a family. I wish I could wake up in the morning to find you sitting at the table, eating breakfast with a smile on your face. I wish I could share with you my favorite spots and take you to every place I get to see. I wish I could find a way to express all that you mean to me. I tend to see the glass half empty. But when I’m with you I want to believe everything is possible. You have filled my cup with your love and I am so thankful for that. I can’t find the words to tell you how much I owe to you. You’ve made me a better person and I feel like I could never return the favor.

Group 2 🩵

I may look like all is well and fine but to tell you the truth I feel hollow. And I could use some fun. I always seem so busy, always the life of the party, making everybody laugh and ensuring they have a good time. But deep inside, it’s getting tough. As the days go by, I feel my energy depleting and my motivation as well. I don’t even know why I do this anymore. I force myself for the sake of keeping appearances but honestly I’m not sure I like it at all. I’m afraid that if you dig deep enough, you wouldn’t like what you find there. I am much more fragile than I seem. Also much more mellow and soft when I get the chance. But lately I’m more of a zombie than anything. I don’t think I could bring you much joy nor comfort. I’m afraid I’ve turned bitter. It’s all about work and making sure the money gets in and less about enjoying what I’m doing. I need to pay the bills. There’s competition around. I can’t afford to lose. Everyone’s counting on me. People look up to me. I sacrificed a lot to get there. I can’t back down now. Who would I be if I did? I can’t disappoint. It’s all a masquerade but it’s for a cause. It might not look great to you but it means a lot to me. So, sorry if I’m acting cold but… it’s all for you baby. Don’t go thinking I found someone better. Believe me I don’t have the time for that.

Group 3 🌄

Hold on a minute ! I know what you’re gonna think. What the heck is he/she saying? But hey, let me explain you’ll get it ! I may not be the strongest, the wisest or the most impressive of them all but one thing that’s sure about me is that I only have good intentions for you. I am ready to fight for you if that must be done. Thought I’m not good at that. Listen, my point is I really like you. I want to be with you, have fun with you, chat with you. I want us to take our time and get to know each other and hopefully to grow old together but that’s another story. With you I feel like a kid again. Sometimes, I gotta say, the feeling can be irritating. But at the same time it is freeing. I don’t have to chose a side. I don’t have to act a certain way to be accepted by you or understood. And that’s crazy! I’ve never experienced that before. Usually I would try to conform and play nice, show my best side and stick to the plan. But ever since I met you I want to free myself of those restraints. I want to find my home. I want to express my full potential without fearing being rejected or not belonging. I know you’ll never kick me out. Because you are the same aren’t you? The things I’ve seen, what I’ve been through, you’ve been there as well, right? I want to make a promise to you. Whatever comes our way, I swear I won’t run away. Even though it is scary and seems impossible, I will always work hard and do my best to make it. I may not be exactly your type or what you imagined a partner should be, but I am willing to learn. I am willing to tune to your melody and shelter whatever we may build together, not matter how unstable it may seem. I want you to feel comfortable with me. I want you to feel as safe with me as I feel with you. So if you’ll let me, let me fulfill that promise. You won’t regret it.

Group 4 🤠

To be honest, at first I didn’t get the best of vibes from you. I was a little intimidated and didn’t want to get to know you. Especially considering what people were saying about you. But I tried to see past your exterior and once I got to know you I found out that you were very chill. Maybe it was because I didn’t know you. Maybe I feared the unknown territory you represented. Maybe I was just afraid of going deep. But curiosity got the best of me. And luckily for both of us I stayed around long enough to make my own opinion. And I have to say that you are quite surprising. I won’t lie, being with you asks a lot of efforts on my part. But every second spent with you is worth it. In your presence, I feel comfortable. Being with you reminds me of my childhood. I think of my mother and my family, of the days we spent together before I moved away and followed the wind where it took me. Every page of our story takes me deeper within. I see sides of myself I never noticed or didn’t want to remember. I remember the innocent days where doing something new weren’t as terrifying and meeting new people sounded like a thrill. Being with you I feel blessed and content. There’s a light heartedness and a warmth in my heart I wouldn’t trade for anything. When I’m alone at home you’re all I think about. When I’m at work also. There isn’t a single moment when you’re not on my mind. When I’m with you I feel hopeful. I think that maybe life isn’t as tough as I thought it would be. That maybe there is more waiting for me. Please, show me more of your different sides. Tell me more about what makes you happy. Let me in and let me see for myself what you are made of. I’m begging you don’t shut me out. I want more of you.

[reidsbabyhoney]

hi love!

saw that you write for hozier, and was wondering if you could write something fluffy. maybe since the tour is ending soon, maybe him coming home for the first time in a while?

xx

in which andrew is finally back from tour and you couldn't be happier.

pairing: hoizer x fem!reader category: fluff cw: tiniest bit of angst if you squint. he walks out in a towel and reader has some interesting thoughts. no use of y/n. wc: 1.3k a/n: thank you so much for requesting! this was so much fun to write, I was listening to 'unknown' when this request came in so it is very lightly inspired by that. and by very lightly I mean I took inspiration from the line 'you know the distance never made a difference to me'. this is my first time writing in a while so please be kind. lots of love!! (also he looks so cute in this picture, I can't get over it.)

You were basically buzzing with anticipation. Having to stay in Wicklow for work had its up and downs. One of the most notable downs was that when Andrew went away for tour, there were long gaps you would go without seeing each other.

You had seen him two months ago when he had the smallest break from tour, and you called almost every night updating each other on your days. Usually, you'd fell asleep on the phone due to the time difference, but he had the habit of carrying his phone with your sleeping face covering the screen until you woke up. Recalling the time you woke up when he was in the middle of a concert, his phone being propped up on a stand off to the side of the stage.

But today Andrew was finally coming home. No more music festivals to perform at, no more concerts to hold, no more award shows to attend. He would finally be all yours.

You felt a bit guilty, knowing how much he loved performing and seeing his fans, but you were counting down the seconds until he walked through the door of your shared home.

The clock was inching closer to 6pm, which was the time Andrew said he would be home. Never being someone who had patience for much, you were sat outside on the porch swing you insisted he install a few years ago.

Finally a black car pulled into the driveway and Andrew stepped out. Sprinting to him like there was an Olympic medal to be won at the end of your journey you jumped into his arms once you reach him.

"Missed you so much love." he says into your hair as he holds you up, making sure you don't fall from his tight grip around your waist.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're finally home." you say as hugging him tightly as if he would disappear from your hold.

Letting go, you get good look at him and see his hair seemed to grow a bit longer in the two months you were apart. Though, he also seemed to have given up on the routine you've tried to have him stick to since you started dating.

"You're hairs grown." you say admiring how beautiful he looks, but that might just because your boyfriend is a 6'6 Irish man that looks like he came from the woodlands of a fairy tale.

"Hm, you like it?" he questions looking into your eyes for a second before putting you down onto solid ground.

"I love it." With that, you make your way up the steps of the house, one of his lighter bags in hand.

Andrew follows close behind you into the house, not missing how every inch spotless and nearly reflective.

Andrew knew you well, too well sometimes. He knew that you got anxious when he was away, and that made him feel both relieved and guilty. Relieved because he was finally home and could hold you in his arms. Guilty because he was away for so long.

Sneaking up behind you, he rests his head on your shoulder as he wraps his arm around you.

"Y'know I'm home for good right. Got my studio right here and the label already knows I won't release a new album for a few years. I'm all yours angel."

At his words you melt into him. "I know, but you know how I get when you're away. Especially when you're flying. Was just worried is all."

He plants a soft kiss at the top of your head at your response. Turning around in his arms you look up at him and see how tired he really is.

"Y'know I love you with my whole heart, but you really should get in the shower so we can eat."

He lets out a playful huff, releasing you from his grip. Turning to make his way upstairs you pull out the ingredients to make a simple pasta dish. Something you know will be filling for you both.

You're nearly done with dinner, the sauce being the only thing that needs to be seasoned and you realized Andrew still hasn't come from your bedroom. He isn't one to take long in the shower so you begin to worry. Quickly throwing in the final seasoning of oregano and thyme into the sauce, you lower the heat on both burners being used, and make your way up the stairs to look for your boyfriend.

Stepping into your shared bedroom, your met with a cloud of mist as the connecting door to the bathroom opens. Seeing your boyfriend walk out in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist made your two months of celibacy very known throughout your body.

"I see some drool slipping past your lips love, best wipe it away before whoever it is you're lusting after knows." he teases lightly, before he walks to the dresser to grab some clothes to change into.

Shaking the thoughts out of your head as an embarrassed blush grows over your face, you clear your throat quickly as a recovery.

"The foods done downstairs whenever you're ready?" It comes out as more a question than a statement, still flustered over your boyfriends appearance.

Andrew turns his head slightly and gives you a knowing smirk, "I'll be down right after I change."

With that you leave him to change a quickly make your way downstairs.

Still a bit flushed once you get to the kitchen, you make a plate for each of you, putting them down in your designated spots at the dining room table, sitting next to each other.

You hear Andrew before you see him, softly humming the tune of ‘Unknown/Nth’.

Taking a seat next to you, he rests his hand on your thigh before digging into the food.

Acting like a man starved, he basically inhales his food before you've even finished half of yours.

"Do they not feed you properly in America or what." you ask, eyes basically popping out of your head, surprised he's already finished his plate

"Nothing could beat a home cooked meal of yours." he says giving you a brief kiss on the cheek before getting up to rinse his dish.

Finishing your own plate, you walk over to the sink where Andrew stands.

"Leave your plate angel. I'll clean the kitchen, you can go get ready for bed. Know your tired." he says as a yawn slips from his mouth.

Going up on your tiptoes, you leave a sloppy kiss on his cheek with a smile and head towards the bathroom to take a quick shower.

Nearly falling asleep while rinsing out your hair, you quickly wash your body and finish your shower. Stepping out, you cover yourself in a towel before opening the door to grab some pajamas to wear. Pajamas that consist of one of Andrew's shirts and a pair of sleep shorts.

Climbing into bed you wait for Andrew to come up to bed.

Closing your eyes for what you think is just a second, your woken up when he crawls into bed, obviously trying not to disturb you and failing.

"Sorry love, was just coming to sleep."

Rolling over so you were facing him, you wait for him to get comfortable in the bed before crawling into his arms. If you could crawl into his skin that's what you would be doing right now.

"Missed you so much, 'm so glad your finally home."

Releasing a small breath, he brings you closer to him, -if that was even physically possible- and plants another kiss on your forehead. "Me too, angel, me too. Next time I'm dragging you on tour with me."

With a small laugh, you let your body rest against his and sleep consumes you.

Feeling the exhaustion finally hit him, Andrew gets a good night's rest for the first time in what felt like years. His love in his arms. He's sure that not even oceans away preforming in arenas he would dream of selling out as a child, could beat the feeling of having you fast asleep in his arms.

—————————

all notes and reposts are appreciated!! loving you always xx

[dipplinduo]

Chapter 4 of The Dichotomy in Our Hearts is out!!

Sooooo! Fun little notes for this one:

I know I've previously talked about having this being a double update/combined Chapter 4 & 5 finale release. And while I tried my best to aim for that, I really wanted to get something out this weekend after working pretty damn hard on this.

I have no idea what it is with this specific fic, but compared to all of my other works, I for some reason put much more of my time, heart and soul into the writing. There's multiple themes have come up symbolically within this fic that don't come up in other works as saliently - both planned and unplanned - and I care a lot about their execution to a fault. I cannot tell you how many times I've revised and rewritten this specific fic. It has been very agonizing and frustrating if I'm being real. LOL. But! With both the beautiful, beautiful feedback I get on this work, as well as specific encouragement from the iconic @kekstala who helped me break my writer's block, I've been sitting with this work and what it really means to the audience I'm lucky to have for it. I now see the unique elements that make this fic so beloved: there's some level of angst, but it's much different than the type of angst I typically convey for dipplinshipping. There's familial dynamics and researched cultural elements. There's a lot of lightheartedness that somehow balances with incredibly moving moments and deeper conversations that may speak to readers beyond the context of the fic itself. And if y'all see all that?! I want to honor that like fuck, and I want this story to be that bitch that wraps up as graciously as possible given the praise its received.

That being said, this chapter was a much longer chapter, and I'm proud of how it turned out. I didn't want to rush the content for Chapter 5 just for the sake of releasing it immediately - I have a collection of cute, sweet, funny, and endearing moments that I want to flush out fully so this story ends on a high note.

I hope this was worth the wait, and I hope ya' stick around for Chapter 5. :) <3 With love,

dipplinduo

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Finer Things 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, age gap, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your mom surprises you with a visit but has a lot more in store than you could ever imagine.

Characters: Tony Stark

Note: back on my bs.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Thor loves thunder. Take care. 💖

“Dessert,” Tony declares as he takes the small menu from the middle of the table. “You a creme brulee girlie? Cheesecake?” His eyes flick down to the menu, “I know your mom has a sweet tooth.” He snickers as he opens the leather folio, “oh, sticky toffee. Messy. Hm, the souffle sounds good. How about it? Soft, gooey.” 

“Mm, what’s the cheesecake?” Your mother leans in as she swirls her third glass of wine. 

Tony seems almost to wince as he looks at her. It feels like he’s been staring at you for much of the night. It didn’t make it feel any less like you’re the third wheel. 

“Apple and salted caramel,” he shows her the menu. 

Your phone vibrates in your bag. You move the purse into your lap and reach inside to mute it. As you look up, you find Tony’s dark eyes once more set on you. 

“Sorry, just turning that off,” you explain, “my friend...” 

“Oh, is that the one that was with you at the talk? My biggest fan? Besides you, of course?” 

Your mother laughs and touches his sleeve, “oh, you are so silly. Sweetie, isn’t he silly?” 

“Yes, sweetie, aren’t I so fun?” He seems to mock her. She doesn’t mind as she’s more interested in her wine. 

“Um, yeah, Perry... she’s in my... my stats class.” 

“Stats. Bullshit. I paid some dweeb to take my exam,” he chortles, “I bet you’re gonna brag all about me to her, huh? Twist the blade a little?” 

“Uh, what?” You stick your lip out in surprise, “no, sir. Tony,” you cringe at your slip, “no, I wouldn’t.” 

“Ah, come on,” he reaches across the table, “let’s get a pic for Perry. She can drool over it.” 

“No, no,” you wave him off, “that’s okay. I don’t want to trouble you.” 

“No trouble. I’m offering, sweetheart. Be a good memory. I mean, you had dinner with Tony Stark. Hate to stroke my own... ego but you know, some people pay for that pleasure,” he chuckles again. “Come on,” he beckons you over again, “get in close.” 

You look around awkwardly. You hate taking pictures in public. You see others do it and it always looks so awkward. 

“Go on,” your mother goads. “Live a little.” 

You glance at her sharply before you sidle over the seat. You get up as Tony sits back and you sit on the end of the curved bench. He taps your lower back, “gotta get closer than that,” he purrs. You slide in and he flips his palm up, “phone, sweetheart.” 

You shove your hand into your purse and find your phone. You unlock the camera and give it to him; he nearly snatches it first. He extends his arm and leans into you, wrapping his arm around you. He grips your hip under the table as his cologne smothers you. 

“Smile pretty for me, sweetheart,” he smirks and snaps the photo just as you muster a surprised pout. “Ha that’s cute. We’re keeping it,” he lowers the phone and examines the picture. “I’m just gonna send a copy to myself...” 

“What?” You squeak. 

“Sure. It’s funny.” He taps his thumb on the screen. “And you’ll have my number. Just in case.” 

“Oh,” you murmur. You don’t argue but wait until he hands your cell back. You take it but as you go to get up, he holds onto you. 

“So, dessert then,” he squeezes your hip so his fingers curl into your soft flesh, “how about it?” 

“Oh, they have a special apple cider,” your mom looks over the menu. You squirm. She can’t be that drunk. Especially as his hand moves-- 

“Um, yeah, sure, but I need to... go to the bathroom,” you exclaim and pull away before his hand can settle on your ass. You really don’t think he meant it but you’re about to combust. “I’ll be right back, I just need to... go.” 

You stumble off the bench as you stomach hits the table. Your mom looks up, an annoyed stitch between her brows, and she sighs. 

“Hurry up, sweetie.” 

“I’ll order you that souffle,” Tony offers. 

“It does sound delicious,” your mother waves the menu at him. “Maybe I’ll have one too.” 

You flit off before you can dissolve into embarrassment. You’re used to being the awkward one. You don’t mind the armour of your social dissonance that keeps you out of the way, but he just drags you out and puts you in the light. You hate that. 

You’re all too happy to hide in the bathroom. You take your time, not even eager to try the souffle. Dinner is still settling and you’re not sure it ever will with how your stomach mulches nervously. When you come out into the dining room again, you swerve around the other tables. 

Your mom scowls at her empty glass as Tony sits indifferently next to her. You haven’t missed the way other patrons glance over at the man they’ve only ever seen on magazines and television. You resume your seat across from him as he perks up. 

“There she is,” he flutters his fingers at the table, “dessert waiting and all.” 

“Oh, thanks,” you look down at the dark souffle dusted with icing sugar. 

“We only waited for you to dig in,” you mother scoffs. 

“You always get snappy with the wine, Joyce?” Tony challenges and gives her a nudge. “You should be happy to get to see your brilliant daughter. She really is just... wonderful. You raised her right.” 

Your mom looks at him and grins. He added just enough praise to tweak her narcissistic flare. She puts her shoulders up. 

“Well, twenty years of hard work,” she preens. 

You pick up your fork first. Anything to keep you from having to speak. You poke into the souffle as Tony puts his attention to his own plate. Your mom slices into her cheesecake and hums as she tastes it. You take a small bite and look up as heat speckles your cheeks. 

Tony stares at you as he sucks his spoon clean. You fidget at the way his irises seem to blend into his pupils. Your lashes flick and you look down at the spongy souffle. Your stomach is doing somersaults. Why is he looking at you like that? Why is he looking at you at all? 

You scoop up more of the dessert and focus on each bite. You know he’s watching. You feel it. You can still feel the tingle on your hip too. Right where he latched on. 

You haven’t had much success with boys but you don’t think that’s normal. Especially since he should have his arm around your mother. Shouldn’t he? Maybe you’re just put off by the surprise of it all. Well, if you go by the tabloids, he won’t be around very long anyhow. 

You clear your plate and wash it down with the last of your wine. You only had the single glass and it took all night to nurse it. You peer over at your mom. Her eyes are glassy as she silently ponders her crust. 

“Mom, you alright?” You ask. 

“Oh, you know, the doctor gave me these new pills. I think the wine might be mingling a bit too much with those,” she trills with laughter, “oh my.” 

Huh? Your mom’s always been on one form of antidepressant or another, you’re not entirely sure. The therapist wrote her scripts and you never bothered to check them. 

“Ah, the old Xanny-cabernet double hitter,” Tony chirps. You look at him sharply. “Relax, honey, I’ll take care of her. Huh, Joyce? I always do, don’t I?” He rubs her shoulder as she nods and slumps back, grinning. 

“Think maybe she needs to go,” you say as you stare at your mom with concern. 

“Don’t worry,” he raises his hand, “I’ll get us paid up and you can help me get her back to her hotel.” 

Another charge on her Mastercard. You try not to worry about it. You spent half your teenage years making sure she paid the bills before she went to the boutique but you have your own money to worry about now. 

“Okay,” you agree. You just want to make sure she’s alright. 

The server returns and Tony asks for the check. Your mom’s eyes droop with each passing minute. When at last, it’s all squared, she’s about to keel over the table. 

As Tony helps her out of the booth, you burn with mortification. You can only watch helplessly. She knew she shouldn’t drink on her new meds but it doesn’t make you feel any better about it. You should have said something when she poured the second glass. Sometimes you feel more like her parent than her child. 

“Keep her here, will ya?” He leaves you just outside the door. 

You watch Tony walk away and try not to make eye contact with anyone else coming or going. You shiver as you support your mom and she babbles, “isn’t he so handsome, sweetie? And rich? And perfect?” 

“Mm, yeah, mom,” you agree because you know she’s not really looking for an answer. 

“You know, it’s the funniest thing. I met him at the jewelers... what do you think he was doing in our town? Nothing much going on...” she trails off.  

You nod and watch the street. A red car pulls up and revs. Tony gets out and winks as he comes back up the pavement. He reaches for your mom and she staggers into him. 

“Oof, honey,” he snickers. “How about you take the front and I’ll get mom in the back laying down?” 

“Right,” you agree, “it’s not... I... I can get the bus.” 

“Nah, baby, I’ll make sure you get home safe. I can’t tell your mom I just let you wander off into the dark.” You scrunch your lips and nod. You walk to the car next to him as he helps your mother move her weak legs. “Get the door, sweetheart.” 

You pull the back door open and you find yourself nearly crushed against it as he angles your mom inside. As he pushes her up the seat, he presses into you. He bends her legs and they fall sideways. He huffs and stands, turning to face you. He doesn’t back up. 

“Ah, now, sweetheart, you keep those hands to yourself,” he snickers.  

“What?” You breathe. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he purrs and brushes his fingertips down your sleeve, “you’re shaking like a leaf.” 

You shiver but you’re not sure it’s the frigid air. He backs up and you skirt around the door. He shuts it and quickly follows you, opening the front before you can. 

“Ah, allow me,” he steps back. 

You duck your head down and get in the passenger seat. Your heart is thumping. It’s nothing. It’s in your head. He’s just being... him? With how he’s behaved all night, you can’t say it’s unusual. You suppose he gets away with it because of his reputation. 

He shuts the door and goes around the other side. He drops into the driver’s seat and clears his throat. He pushes back his jacket and pulls on the seatbelt behind his shoulder. 

“Buckle up, sweetheart. Can’t risk that pretty face, can we?” He hums and taps the ignition button. “You want me to warm ya up?” He hits another button as you gape at his suggestion. “Seat warmer.” 

“Oh, okay, thanks.” 

“Hmm, you know, been a while since I had a pretty young thing like you in my car,” he adjusts the mirror and checks his reflection. “The grey tends to keep them away.” 

“Ah, yeah,” you agree tacitly. 

He strains to see around the car ahead of him and pulls out. He clucks, “so... you don’t like it?” 

“Don’t like... what?” 

“The gray hair,” he asks. 

“I didn’t... no, I didn’t say that.” 

“But you agreed.” 

“I-- I didn’t notice. Really. I don’t mind.” 

“You don’t mind, huh?” He combs the hair at his temple, one hand still on the wheel. “So, you think it makes me more handsome? Defined?” 

“I don’t... I don’t know,” you pick at your nails nervously. 

“You know, you can be honest. Won’t hurt my feelings. I’m more than just my good looks, you know?” He laughs as he leans on the pedal.  

“I’m not... I wouldn’t lie,” you say. 

He snorts, “oh, sweetheart, I know you wouldn’t. I like that about you.” He tilts his head at the road, “I can see right through you.” 

You swallow down the silence. The tension cords around your throat and you cough. You’re not sure why he’s so concerned with what you think. He should be more worried about your mother snoring in his backseat. 

[irislunace]

Siciria Analyzes The Most Complex Stick Figures Known To Man (part 2)

Red's new tiktok came out.

We're going with Red next.

Also here's part 1 of SATMCSFTM.

Idk why I abbreviated it.

Or why I linked it.

Welp.

-

Okay, so to start off, most people perceive Red as the youngest of the CG, and the most outgoing. He's the resident animal lover, is sensitive, and in some situations, can be really aggressive and hotheaded.

Like here:

Red went first. He is someone who always throws himself willingly into danger (like Blue in the last part, though Red does it more consistently). With Dark, he went for it not knowing if he could win, but instead to protect his friends. He is the line. He is someone who truly cares for others, and will treat newcomers with the utmost goodness regardless of what he's getting in return. He will go back for them.

This is shown, primarily, in Monster School.

In this scene, he was about to turn back. He was about to go back through the portal. But he saw that his teammates (the ones who bullied and harassed him prior) were in trouble, and still went back for them. We talk about how he went back for them. We talk about it.

But we don't talk about how he must have been feeling, or how much they must have hurt him. And he still helped them despite that. He truly has an extremely strong character, probably the strongest out of everyone, or at least the CG.

AND HE SURVIVED BEING LITERALLY POSSESSED TWICE. TWICE. HOW MUCH MENTAL STRENGTH DOES THIS STICK HAVE.

Okay, now to not state the obvious. this whole "analysis" thing is just me stating the obvious anyway idk why u guys seem to like it

Red is smart.

No, Red is really smart.

And I think we, as a fandom, don't give him credit for it. He's always the one to come up with new ideas, and these ideas seem to work. This is shown, mostly, in the Minecart Race episode.

He was the first one to start paddling with his hands.

And the first one to boat on the ice.

And he had the bright idea to use the snowballs.

Even in the Color Sorting short, he had to know at least some kind of coding or engineering to get all the items to become red items. Come on.

And in his tiktok that just came out today, he does so many different, unique moves. In Green's and even Blue's, it's more repetitive, and shorter (though Blue's dancing skills are unmatched ngl).

An in Monster School, they only passed because of his ideas (WHICH THEY HARDLY GAVE HIM CREDIT FOR). Because it was HIM who understood that the bow needed to be flipped around to shoot properly.

And it was HIM who knew that tickling the Enderman would help.

And it was HIM who got them across the ocean to the mountain using the spider.

He is someone who can recognize the potential in his teammates, and recognize what they can do in a given battle.

AND WHAT DOES HE GET FROM THEM? NOTHING. NOTHING. HE GETS BEAT UP. HE GETS STICKING BEAT UP.😭😭😭

So in summary...

WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT RED MORE.

(I honestly learned more about Red doing this. It's kinda fun ngl).

[stpansy]

what’s up with Patrick’s fashion evolution this past year? And his aura?? It seems like he’s finally completely comfortable with himself.

smth i have always loved about patrick is that he goes through these periods where he finds a style that he likes/is comfortable in and sticks with it for anywhere from months to years. neurodivergent king i see you. and real ones know that patrick has been slaying since pre-hiatus--thinking so fondly of his funky sneakers + all over patterned hoodies era circa ioh/folie--but i agree that he looks particularly good in the clothes he gravitates towards right now! i adore when he's more visibly punk. patrick stump battle jacket debut 2024 you changed my life forever fr

and yeah i know what you mean about his aura and how he just seems so confident and self-assured these days. it's definitely been building since srar era but something about tour/2ourdust... he came back from their little break with such a palpably strong belief in the art they were making, and then that just skyrocketed over the past year as the audience reception to their entire catalogue was overwhelmingly positive, which we know because he and pete have both talked about it. but i think with patrick specifically, even beyond his obvious confidence/pride in fob itself, he has level of confidence in himself as a performer that eclipses what we've seen from him before. he just seems SO happy. it's so lovely to witness and he couldn't deserve it more! even like. just thinking back to his very affected soul punk persona where he was going through the motions but clearly miserable compared to how he was strutting and growling and beaming at riot fest the other night. having fun on stage (and serving unfathomable levels of cunt while doing it) seems to come so much easier to him now because he's brimming with joy over what he's doing. and so so so much love for who he's doing it with :') obv i don't know patrick or the details of his personal life but he does seem to be completely comfortable with who is and how he's living and it's so lovely.

also i mean. he's a bear now and he's hot as fuck. i hope to god somebody is telling him how hot he is every day and that he believes them because it's insane that he just walks around on this earth looking like that

[eustassslut]

I LOVE YOUR HEAT HEADCANNONS SO MUCH😭I love the idea of the crew gathering around him with random objects as he juggles seeing how many they can toss at him to catch and add to the juggle before it becomes too much (who would’ve known that someone can’t juggle 500 things plus a cannonball *shrug*)

This is the funniest addition ever, actually can't stop laughing at the image of people just throwing objects at him with no context.

It would be discovered that Heat can juggle a couple of months into joining Kid on the Victoria Punk because he has a tendency to subconsciously juggle anything that he's holding if he's bored, zoned out or just feeling stressed. Juggling reminds him of his family back home and his happy memories from the circus before his childhood probably went to shit so it definitely relaxes him a lot. However, just because it relaxes him and he enjoys doing it doesn't make it any less terrifying the first few times he does it in front of the other Kid Pirates.

For example, the first time Heat gets caught juggling would involve knives. It's a few weeks into sailing with the Kid Pirates and even though he's known the founding members most of his life, they haven't really spent a lot of time together in close proximity until getting on the Victoria Punk so they all don't know each other's quirks or habits yet. (Like how Wire pats doorframes before entering a room and that Killer wears fluffy bear slippers in the morning until he's finished breakfast). So Heat would be sitting in the kitchen with the others when Killer asks him to help peal some potatoes for lunch because he's too busy to multitask for once; and Heat who is incredibly reliable does it very quickly. Now he's just sat there with knives and he's a little bit bored so he starts juggling them whilst leaning over to read the newspaper over Wire's shoulder. But poor Wire looks over to talk to his friend and instead is greeted by four knives spinning a few inches from his face, so he does the nature thing and lets out a very high scream.

This happens several other times with various sharp objects and items Heat really should not be touching when he could potentially drop them (namely, the ship's log pose) before an intervention is staged and he's banned from juggling certain objects in certain spaces out of fear. He is allowed to juggle whatever he wants if he's safely off the Victoria Punk and not near any animal or child (namely Dive) he could injure. He's also allowed to juggle weapons in fights as Kid has learnt a 7ft+ tall man twirling flaming batons and guns usually unnerves most opponents and encourages them to run away.

The Kid Pirates all trust him though and having eventually during their journeys together heard stories of Heat's circus days, delighting in throwing various 'safe' objects for him to juggle and playing games to see how much he can actually juggle on drunk party nights. They also love just bringing him random objects and weirdly shaped things they find to see if he'll be able to juggle it without issues. The answer to this is always yes. Except for the time Bubblegum silently handed him two dildos with no explanation and Heat didn't realise what he was holding at first then got startled, throwing one of them at Kid's head by accident. Despite all of this, they have given up counting how many different things he can juggle at once because they always loose track.

Heat does enjoy that they all see the fun and humour in his juggling, as well as his trapeze and tightrope walking skills, it reminds him of why he loved growing up in the circus. It especially reminds him of his family whenever Dive comes up to him with random gifts when she's bored or lonely, quietly asking if he'll juggle for her or teach her some of his skills.

Heat's circus skills just bring endless hours of fun to the crew and allow them all to bond, when he's not twirling knives and sticks he's lit on fire. It also lets him practise so he couldn't be happier to entertain the Kid Pirates with his skills.

[shirefantasies]

Marti it is Moss *does small dance* sending in a Hobbit imagine should it strike your fancy to answer. If not feel free to delete you come first and foremost! Your blog is always a delight and i read everything you post like its the morning newspaper.

Im wondering if you would write a hobbit headcanon for a reader who uses a mobility aid like forearm crutches!

I myself use forearm crutches (named Catcher and Holder a la Dwalin) for dizziness and weakness due to neurological issues, but there are many reasons for their use from joint pain to hypermobility. Sometimes people use them all the time and other times they are only used when they have flare ups (some have to have them available all the time in case of The Return tm)

Sometimes you use one and sometimes you use two. All depends on condition severity, needs,what youre doing, and preference

Even when you have a flare up you may not prefer to use them for short distances ie in your house some people choose not to. I use mine on the steps unless im doing something hazardous and dont want to risk a fall (and be able to walk in general)which ive become prone to over the last two years.

You still live your life and do what you do sometimes its a bit different other times its not. Sometimes you have a stick or two.

You can make a lot of fun decorations and functional tools like cupholders and pouches for your crutches and stickers make them unique and customizable. Honestly the biggest challenge for me is mugs and stairs+ other two handed tasks 😩 let me see someone smack a warg protecting their bestie and then lament not planning their cuppa retrieval rofl.

Im wondering how our lads would have a time with this- not acceptance wise as i know Dwarves are very accepting. More along lines of shenanigans wholesome fun bonding the good daily stuff that you write so beautifully and capture each one of them so well!

Thank you so much and if you have any questions please feel free to reach out

🌿🏹moss🏹🌿

Hello Moss 🥰💚 OMG Catcher and Holder that's perfectttt! Sorry this post is so fuckin long in the making but hopefully you enjoy it and this captures it well! I confess I don't personally use a mobility aid at this time so I may not have the greatest frame of reference 😅 but yeah I hope you like these little moments! *does small exit dance in return*

Warnings: canon typical violence in some

Thorin's Company + Reader With Mobility Aids

Balin

“Might I ask who built that?” Polite as ever, Balin motioned to the chair upon which you had affixed a pair of wheels. “I did,” you answered, “I was the only person in my little village who needed something like this.” “Well, you are quite the craftsman. Would that you had no ties to your hometown and the Lonely Mountain could snap you up! You could see those skills built up tenfold.” “R-really? I came here to Laketown for something just like that! But I’ll confess I think you will be a far better teacher.” Winking, you gave Balin a smile he mirrored. “You’re resilient. Smart as a whip, too! It would be my honor.” “And after all,” you added, “If anyone would know how to mount a crossbow on the arms, it would be dwarves!” At that, even as polite a dwarf as Balin could hardly help bursting into a wicked grin.

Dwalin

“Nice axes.” “Forged them myself,” Dwalin answered with a nod, “Grasper and Keeper. One grasps your soul, the other keeps it.” “How funny,” you remarked, raising your forearm crutches, “I call these Catcher and Holder. Same idea only with the body. Suppose that isn’t nearly as impressive, though.” “Impressive?” Dwalin burst out. “We’ve all got our battle scars. Our wounds. Never be ashamed of that. The fact that you’re still up ‘n’ going? Be proud. I can show you plenty o’ scars myself!” At that last bit, Dwalin began lifting up his tunic to reveal toned skin paled in some places and darkened in others by all manner of scars and at that, you couldn’t help shyly laughing. Proud indeed.

Thorin

Yes, the king had not denied you entry into his company when Gandalf had recommended you, but he had raised and furrowed his regal brow in the skeptical look all but branded into your mind. He’d asked Gandalf if he was certain, and from then on the fire in your heart blazed. Certainly Thorin treated you as an equal, giving you the tasks he gave all others, but he had been yet to see you in battle and you knew that was where your proof would solidify. In fact, the first time wargs closed in upon you, you were one of the first to run back at them. Hearing the way Thorin called your name, but thoroughly ignoring it in favor of landing a solid crack upon the nearest adversary's skull. Luckily your body was having a better day anyway despite all the walking, because you spun and smashed your way through the orc pack, especially once you saw the way one bowled Bofur and Dori over. Fire took over your heart and eyes as you swung your mace until you could swing no more, all but deaf to the cracking of heads and the clattering of your allies’ blades through that pounding adrenaline. At the end of it all, Thorin approached you, his expression surprisingly mild. Then it broke into a smile. “The wizard was right about you,” he told you, clapping a hand to your shoulder, “Invaluable in all respects indeed.”

Oin

“Oh, that’s clever, that is!” “My eyes are up here,” you quipped, crossing your arms and smiling sardonically down at the dwarf bent over peering at your wheels. At that, Oin tilted his head up to look back at you, giving a raucous heh heh heh of laughter. “Never seen anything like this lot before,” he commented, shaking his head and running a hand over the frame of your chair, “You’d think dwarves’d be the first to make ‘em! ‘S beautiful.” Your lips parted wordlessly for a few moments before you spoke, head still slightly tilted. “Beautiful?” “Course!” Oin replied, smiling widely as he rose to his feet again. “A real beauty for sure. A marvel, actually. It is quite the privilege to get to see it in action!” “No one has ever told me that before,” you replied quietly, a smile spreading across your lips.

Gloin

Orcs rushed you from every side, sending you scrambling as fast as your crutches could support you. Carrying a sword aside it all was about as unwieldy as one imagined, but you knew no different. In fact, your best strike that fight had nearly taken a whole arm off. Catching sight of you, though, the nearest of your blood-spattered adversaries grinned and gave a savage kick, sending your crutches flying from beneath you. Teetering, you pitched forward, trying to catch yourself with one arm and steady your sword with the other as the shout rang out. “You think you’re so clever, you great filthy buzzard? I don’t think so!” With a savage growl of his own, Gloin flew into the fray, and with a violent swing of his axe the orc’s head was sent unceremoniously tumbling to the dirt. “Serves ‘m right, eh?” Gloin asked with a smug look as he extended a hand, helping you up, handing you your crutches, and even gently dusting you off.

Bifur

You had seen the way he glanced your way. How his eyes traced the lines of the crutches extending from your forearms, the extensions of steel that made walking less painless. And running more painless if you were a charging warg on the receiving end of a bash to the face. Bifur had seen the way you slid your arms free to motion and sign to him, indicating the interesting things seen along the road. If you had a tendency to go nonverbal, he would aid you in removing your crutches when you needed to sign. Such things had been floating in your mind when you sat by his side, asked him if he understood in a way. You certainly felt understood in his presence, after all. Bifur glanced away with haste, but still you caught notice of tears in his dark eyes, just for a moment. A moment before the smile spread across his face and he leaned in, gently resting his forehead against yours- carefully, of course, so you barely felt the brush of the axe against your joined skin.

Bofur

“Bofur!” Uncaring how earsplitting your scream may have been, you charged forward, heaving one leg before the other as fast as you could while still keeping a hand on your walker. Which was faster than even you realized, sped by adrenaline and rage and urgency all pounding through your ears. Loading your crossbow again and again, you fired three successive shots into the assailant’s side, shoulder, and finally with the last you struck his ugly head and knocked him down onto his ass. For good. Sighing heavily, you leaned for just a moment on your walker frame before making your way to Bofur’s side, this time at a less painful pace, and turned it around to take a seat. Leaning down, you reached for his hand. “Bofur, are you alright?” “I am thanks to you,” he chuckled, his hazel eyes fixed upon you fondly, “Maybe I need to get myself one of those. Seems to aid the aim, having something to lean on.” Grinning and blinking back tears, you procured a cloth and a strip of bandage and started to dab away the blood on his shoulder.

Bombur

“Hope this isn’t rude…” You were surprised by the sound of Bombur's soft voice coming from your side, turning from the journal you wrote in and setting your implements aside. A part of you wanted to roll your eyes, well aware of all the 'not rude' inquiries you'd received over the years as to why you carried crutches, especially if some days you did not. However, knowing this one came from sweet Bombur softened you. He actually meant it. "...But what's the hardest part of having those?" You couldn't resist a snicker at the thought that immediately rose to your mind. "You'd really like to know?" "Yes," he nodded, "If I may." With another little snort, you smiled and told him, "Mugs." "Mugs?" "Mugs and stairs. Can't tell you the number of times I've spilled on my way up. Anything that takes two hands, really." "I see!" The conversation ended with Bombur's eyes lighting up. At least you thought it had ended... Several days later, he came shuffling up to you with that same sweetly eager glint and his hands behind his back. "I've made you something," he told you, pulling out an open cylinder of steel and unfolding another little piece from it, "Hope it works. It's a little mug holder. Go on, let's see if it fits." Snapping the little unfolding piece to your crutch, Bombur watched your face break into a grin as it remained in place. "This is the sweetest thing anyone has done for me, Bombur. Thank you." "You deserve it," he replied, smiling fondly at you.

Dori

“I wouldn’t exactly mind having one of those.” “A cane?” You arched a brow. “I’ve always thought it made you look distinguished,” he admitted with a smile. “Now that is a new one,” you commented wryly, “All for use of my leg.” “Nothing wrong with it,” Dori shrugged, “We all do what we must. Seems a shame you’ve such a plain one, though.” At that, your proverbial ears perked up. “As opposed to what?” “Well,” he shrugged, “I don’t know. Haven’t you seen all the nice silver tips and things they put on canes?” “Ah,” you nodded, “I see what you mean! It is a bit of a shame I haven’t anything to decorate mine with, isn’t it?” “Haven’t anything? What do you call this?” With that emphasized last word, Dori reached behind into his pack and procured a little silver charm, one carved richly with dwarven runes and even centered with a little green stone. Fiddling at his back more, the dwarf also found a section of string and hastily tied it to your cane’s handle. “Now what do you call that?” He asked, waving a hand over the charm. “I have a bit of luster dust if you’d like something more.” Needless to say, it was the most fun night you’d had in those endless weeks of trekking.

Nori

Raising one eyebrow at Nori, you stared in skepticism as he held a hand out and repeated his request. “Your cane, please?” “How do I know you won’t just run off with it?” You shot back. “You’re sitting,” he pointed out, “Not like you really need it. Besides, do you really think I’d be so incorrigible a scoundrel as to make off with someone’s means of walkin’ for no reason?” Nori’s gaze slid upward from your carven wood cane back to your eyes, which remained as they were. “Second thought, don’t answer that. Just trust me, hm? You won’t regret it. Dwarf’s honor.” At the invoking of honor, an action infrequently taken by Nori, your brow lowered to form a more neutral, though inquisitive, expression as you handed your cane over. You were quickly distracted by conversation from Dori as you sat, folding your hands in both complacency and content and shivering a bit in the snow. The conversation continued for some time until an ‘A-ha!’ rang out and Nori came running back up, triumphantly hoisting your cane, to which he had crudely affixed one of his many knives. “And what,” you asked, “Is this?” Nodding beyond your night’s campground, Nori indicated the ice extending across the ground. “Aid in your trek! Can’t have you slipping, can you? Not that I won’t catch ya.” He winked.

Ori

“Your sticks!” Ori gasped, brown eyes wide with horror. “Where are they?” “My crutches?” Eyebrows sliding upward in amusement, you made your way toward the young dwarf, who was stitching a sock a handful of feet away. At that, he simply nodded, repairs completely abandoned upon his lap. "Oh, I simply had no need for them today," you answered with a small shrug of your shoulders. At that, Ori gave a curious little frown. “So you can walk some days?” “It isn’t only a matter of walking,” you chuckled, “Moreso that some days my pain and balance are worse.” “Like when Gloin’s leg bothers him?” Ori asked, face turning to childlike eagerness. “Or how Bifur doesn't talk some days?" A little smile spread across your face and your chest expanded with warmth. "Yes," you agreed, "Just like that, Ori."

Fili

Mind drifting off in tandem with the pulsing ache of your limbs, you gazed at the flicker of the fire, faintly drifting smoke curling into the air from pipes and the kindling itself. Your hands idly wrung your cane until the sensation of warmth brushing your leg drew you from your empty focus spiral. Shifting your gaze, you were met with the sight of Fili sitting at your side. "Think I might need one of those after today." Following his gaze, your eyes fell back down to your hands, more specifically the cane held there. "Your own mobility aid or the other?" At your last words, Fili quirked up a golden brow. "The other?" He repeated. Smirking proudly, you slid the end off your cane, revealing a sword hidden within. “The other,” you repeated once more with emphasis, “Guess you weren’t paying attention to how I heaved so many goblins off that bridge.” “You’re right,” Fili agreed, blue eyes lighting up in the fireglow, “I do want that. How long has that been there?” “Whole time.” “Just waiting for the right moment, eh?” “Of course,” you bantered back, “Gotta make a show.”

Kili

“Can I try?” Kili smiled up at you as you blinked at him, face blank with thought. Reaching down, he pantomimed using your crutches for a step, swinging his arms back and forth. "You want to give my crutches a go?" Your eyebrows shot up, a smile building upon your face. Memories flooded your mind, deep knowledge of the struggle that nearly always comes with those first steps and even far beyond. Loosening the grip you had upon your aids, you handed them off to Kili as you took Oin's hand and allowed him to help walk and lower you onto a makeshift camp seat. Hooking his arms in, Kili stood up, adjusting his posture after several moments. He took a step, then swung them. "Wait, that doesn't make sense. Hold on." You giggled from your seat at Oin's side as Kili raised one leg, thought, brought the crutches down again and wobbled such that you were tempted to extend hands that could catch him.

Bilbo

“I was scared first, but trust me: you’ll be grateful in the end once you get on these fellows,” Bilbo told you, looking down at you as he patted the pony he sat upon. “It isn’t that,” you answered, gaze dropping from the hobbit’s, “It’s…well, it is a bit embarrassing, to be honest.” The dwarves had been sweet enough to fortify the feet of your forearm crutches, though they still could not understand why you didn’t ride. The answer, quite frankly, rose a bit of a flush to your cheeks. Bilbo must have caught this. “You shouldn’t be ashamed. Nothing of it is your fault. You can tell me. Probably better me than all those dwarves, right? I won’t tell a soul.” His voice dropped to a playful whisper for that last sentence, which though it didn’t help the heat radiating beneath your skin did open your heart and your mouth. “If I were to get lightheaded or a shock of pain riding a pony I could fall off. And...And I would need someone to hold onto me.” “Ah,” the hobbit replied, this time taking his turn to shyly gaze away, “Well, if you ever change your mind, I would be more than happy to hold you.”

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[hiddenwashington]

observant citizens of washington may have seen the beginning of a set up, stands, a partially built stage, and the signs that something was coming to the city. those who have been here long enough to remember start telling their friends that perhaps the ren faire is coming back for another year, to let everyone know they should start planning costumes though no official event date or information has been released. despite the fact that something is clearly being set up no one can track down who is running the event, or any of the important details for it, and nothing in washington can ever be that simple. overnight the upcoming ren faire seems to have taken over the city. bars suddenly become taverns, shops are replaced with merchant stands, and nobility now holds the power rather than the democracy that had been running the city. cars are an unknown creation, so citizens better be comfortable with a horse if they intend on going anywhere far.  luckily the transition seems to have gone well for the majority of the citizens, who are unaware that anything has gone wrong, going about their lives as if the sound of a dragon overhead is simply something they've grown used to, and know how to navigate in their lives.

TLDR;

overnight the city of washington has been trasformed into an image of the past. the entire city looks like it may have been taken out of any renaissance faire, though not many are aware a massive change has occurred. though this is america the city has somehow become the image of medieval europe, with all of its citizens losing their modern clothes and technology and employment.

OOC INFORMATION:

happy fall everyone! we're super excited to go ahead and bring you our eighteenth event! we have done a ren faire mini event in the past, and decided to have some fun making things bigger, and much more complicated for your characters. we're super excited to see what your characters do and how they live in this new environment for a little bit of time. that said, definitely go out there and come up with some crazy ideas, plot, and don't hesitate to get creative with it. obviously this isn't an exact time period or realistic in any way since we're pulling a european fantasy setting and sticking it in america, but the goal is just to have fun with it!

DATES:

october 2nd - october 16th

this event will last the same time ic and ooc

THE CHANGE:

magic has swept over the city and completely transformed it into an era similar to that of the european medieval/renaissance era. modern washington as everyone knew it is completely gone. this includes technology, clothes, transportation, and anything else you can think of.

what does suddenly exist is medieval fantasy! feel free to get creative with this, but know that it would be easy for characters to find creatures such as dragons, witches, fae, dryads, unicorns and more throughout the city. this could include monster hunters as well, both as a potential job, and something for supernatural characters to have to worry about.

feel free to check out our list of potential fantasy elements you could incorporate into your threads here!

AWARENESS:

characters will keep their awareness status on the taken page! this means that if your character is aware they still remember their past and believe that at some point they arrived in dc in this time period, and that it has been this way the entire time.

most characters will have no idea there was a time shift! they will believe that washington has always been like this, and they’ve been living in this era for the entire time since arriving in washington. this way threads don't just have to be about the surprise of arriving in the new time period, and you can instead have the chance to explore how your characters would be living in this environment.

with that said there can be exceptions! we will allow you to pick up to half of your characters to be completely aware that they have been shifted to this time period overnight! these muses would know that one minute they were in washington and the next day the city had completely changed, with no idea why that isn't common knowledge.

you do not have to meet this cap, and can have the majority of your character unaware that any change has taken place.

JOBS:

we encourage thinking of what your character would have been doing and potentially posting a little blurb about it before the start of the event so everyone knows. there are lots of possible jobs your characters could have taken up, such as being a noble, scribe, blacksmith, court jester, knight, merchant, rat catcher, and much more

feel free to check out a longer list of job ideas here if you need help deciding on something that would be fitting for your character!

HOUSEKEEPING:

please make sure to tag all event threads hwevent18!

nonevent threads will be paused during this time! as it doesn’t make sense to have threads going on in modern washington and the event washington we do ask that all nonevent threads are put on hold until after the event

feel free to kill your characters! though it’s not the focus of this event there are still plenty of dangers, between the fantastic with creatures like dragons around, and more grounded options, such as jousting as a duel. with that being said, as this is not the main intent of the rp you do have to message the main and get confirmation before killing any of your characters! 

please use your best judgement when including time accurate content. obviously we are throwing characters far into the past, and social hierarchies and situations were very different, but characters should not have to worry about time accurate racism, sexism, homophobia, or otherwise in washington. this is all meant to be a fun time and we don't believe that content would be appropriate for our group

of course make sure to review our triggers page any tag any post with content that requires it.

feel free to begin your plotting and starter calls now! we know that you have to figure out situations for your characters with this event so definitely take the time you need to do a plot and starter call if you wish! there will be an event themed meme coming at the start of the event to get some threads going, but you can always draft things ahead of time if you want.

and that's all! if you have any questions don't hesitate to ask either over dms or in the discord, and feel free to get started with plotting and starter calls! finally please make sure to like this once you've read it!

[luckydicekirby]

would love any director's commentary you may have on The Only True Thing if slightly older fics are on the table here bc lowkey it changed my brain chemistry forever. I read it on a whim like four years ago at 1 in the morning and ever since then I've been hooked on making all my fav pairings miserable for no reason. this sounds like sarcasm but I'm being completely sincere the schadenfreude is exquisite

okay first of all I’m SO glad to hear this because making your favs miserable is I think one of the most rewarding activities on this earth so I’m really glad I could help share that joy. thanks also to sylvain for just making it so easy. anyway, here’s some assorted thoughts, hopefully some of which are edifying!

(the only true thing for reference for anyone playing along at home.)

this fic affectionately named the darkling au due to this tweet which I feel like I should put in a hall of fame someday. anyway this entire thread showcases the origin of this fic which was me catie and lily bullying each other on twitter about sylvix, a pastime left behind in 2019 which i really miss.

the thing that really first made me Crazy Cuckoo about sylvain is his B support with Byleth--I'm obsessed with that moment where he very coldly threatens to kill you and then laughs it off, and that was pretty much the jumping off point for Sylvain's characterization in this au--what if he was like that all the time? answer: it would be bad, but also pretty sexy!

One thing I miss about writing for fe3h is the hero’s relics were sooo nice as like. shortcut symbolism. the lance of ruin comes preloaded for you! It’s familial cycles of violence! Easy! and there's a mechanic for it breaking ALSO preloaded into the game mechanics! I wrote like three versions of the ending and the lance getting busted moved around a bit--it originally happened a little earlier.

For a while when I was still femblempilled I was idly thinking about two sequels to this—a sylvain pov sequel about the war, which would have been fun but also Yikes, and then epistolary dorothea/ingrid ideological divorce fic. sorry to dorothea and ingrid who really get the short end of the stick in this universe.

oh there's a playlist. I can’t claim to have put a ton of thought into it it’s just all my fav bad ya boyfriend songs <3 actually dead girl walking reprise is like. yeah that's the fic.

ANYWAY. I feel like a lot of my commentary on this has been washed away by the sea (the passage of time) so a few extras. I apparently wrote like 400 words of sylvain POV of the training yard scene also? Last edited September 26th 2019, here you go:

Felix has always been smaller him, ever since they were kids. Still is these days, to Sylvain’s delight. He wondered about it plenty, these past two years--maybe Felix had a growth spurt. Maybe he caught up to Dimitri. Maybe Sylvain would meet him at the monastery and they’d see eye to eye. Of course they don’t. Felix is a head shorter than him, and he’ll never see things the way Sylvain does. Still. Sylvain thought about it. He’s had a lot of time to think about Felix since the last time he saw him, since Felix ran away. Still a crybaby at heart, no matter how sure he was he’d grown out of it. Not much has changed, Sylvain figures. Felix might have everyone else fooled with that delightfully sharp-edged exterior of his--a pretty decent feint, Sylvian should know--but Felix can’t hide from him. Sylvain sees him down to the bone. The two of them are a matched set: liars at heart.  Like right now. Felix is trying so hard not to cry, his back to the wall of the training yard, his grip tight around the wood of his training sword like he’s actually going to use it. Sylvain hopes he will. He hasn’t gotten to see Felix fight yet, really fight. He bets he’s gotten better. He bets he’s elegant and controlled—maybe less so with Sylvain, and wouldn’t that be nice? That’s how it goes sometimes, when Sylvain dreams about their last day together. Felix’s sword at his throat, biting and cold, ending all this before it began. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble. Sylvain wouldn’t have had to spend such an awfully long time missing him.  He bets Felix could make him hurt. Nothing seems to do that anymore, except for thoughts of Felix, the ones he can never stop worrying at like a bruise.  Sylvain doesn’t want much these days, and maybe that’s why it’s so hard: he wants Felix in a way that aches, delirious and unstoppable. It doesn’t matter so much how. Felix is welcome to cut him open or kiss him quiet or anything in between. As long as he never stops looking at Sylvain like he is now, hateful and just on the edge of tears, so clearly focused on nothing else. As long as Sylvain can have that, the rest doesn’t matter.  That’s love, Sylvain figures; the cheerful facade he gives the girls is nothing. He forgets about a new one every week. But Felix? He’ll be dead someday, and Felix will still have a grip on his heart, as tight as he’s holding his sword and just as dangerous.

and what exists of the sylvain POV sequel I never wrote:

Felix looks like shit. Of course he’s also beautiful. He’s radiant, for all that his hair’s a mess and his face is drawn and he’s got the kind of dark circles that only come from weeks and weeks of exhaustion. He’s Felix, right? He can’t be anything else. “You look like shit,” Sylvain tells him, because honesty is what Felix thinks he wants from him. He hasn’t seen Felix in six moons, but that probably hasn’t changed. “What are you doing here?” Felix asks. His horse stamps her feet and shakes her head, moving uneasily under him. Felix has never been a good rider. It’s clear he doesn’t appreciate his mare, and she doesn’t appreciate him. Sylvain wonders how long Felix has been making his way across Faerghus like this. He wonders if he stole the horse. It’s awful not to know. “Looking for you,” Sylvain says. “They say you’re searching for the king.” Felix never could stop himself from chasing ghosts. Sylvain hates that about him. It’s just as unfair as everything else: it’s the only reason Sylvain is still here, after all.  “I am. And you should be defending Gautier territory.” “Got a message from your father,” Sylvain lies. He slides off his horse, patting her flank. Felix, clumsily, does the same. “He wants you to come home.” That part’s probably true.  Felix scoffs. “My old man can send all the messages he wants. I’m going to find the boar.” He means it. Sylvain can see that he means it, in the flinty look in his eyes, the fold of his arms, the jut of his chin as he looks up at Sylvain. It’s the saddest thing Sylvain’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot of shit. “Felix,” he says. He reaches out. He can never help it, not when Felix is like this, not when he believes. Felix doesn’t flinch from Sylvain’s hand on his cheek anymore. “Sweetheart. You know he’s dead.” “Don’t call me that,” Felix says. But when he swings himself back in the saddle and Sylvain does the same, he doesn’t tell Sylvain not to follow. That’s more than good enough. 

[ace-malarky]

the first chapter (scene?) of the shapeshifter wip is really just everyone having a great time and setting in some character stuff and it is. so misleading in terms of tone I think lmao but I'm having a great time

[tooteadoo]

tumblrrrrrr ugghhhh look at these photos of assad GOODDDDD i can't believe i'd never seen them before he looks so uguuguggahHAHHHHH