#writing wrap-up

[skyrim-forever]

2024 Writing Wrap-Up

I did one of these for my memes but then I was tagged by @fangsandsoftgrass @moriche @lucien-lachance @yorkshirereaper who also shared art/writing and figured I may be doing myself a disservice if I didn't discuss some of the fics I wrote this year.

Here are the five I'm proudest of this year:

We will find a way -This fic follows Theodora and Ondolemar gettign their happy ending through tooth and nail. Used tes-summerfest as a means to get what had been in my head for them out which was them being torn apart and him faking his death to be with her <3

If I came dying at your door -This fic begins with Ondolemar nearly dying in Falkreath but thankfully Theodora is nearby. Follows them at Lakeview Manor and everyone's fav war criminal gets some backstory! There is smut.

Forget Myself -This is my fav fic I've written, I think it's my best. Follows Ondolemar forced to start working through his feelings after acting on jealousy. There is smut.

You didn't say your parents were -Features Theomar's now grown three children as their youngest, Ceri, brings her boyfriend home from the College of Winterhold to meet the family. Poor Ralos, ceri left out some details... Family dynamics and the siblings being too old to be annoying each other :P

These are no times for people like us -Opposite of the last one, this is an AU where Ondolemar doesn't know why Theodora left... while questioning a young half-Altmer in occupied Anvil he figures out this boy is far more than he ever expected. Literally put this out yesterday and already one of my favs <3

[muddyorbsblr]

the 2024 writing wrap-up

Thank you bestie @holdmytesseract for tagging me in this! I honestly didn't think I wrote that much this year until I scrolled back and saw how many things I actually put out, so that was a nice surprise 💖

Still though I have so many moments where I go "damn there's still so much to do", and hopefully I'm not gonna end 2025 like that, but knowing me…I probably will 🤣

Anyways here are the fic/s I'm most proud of that I posted this year…(after the cut because this is gonna be one chonker of a post probably, I'm wine drunk and I have no control over my lil typers rn)

First up is 'mercy upon ourselves' because to my knowledge, this is the first 'crossover' type story I've ever done, and I can't wait to make another (hopefully coming in 2025).

Of course, 'relinquish the crown' will always hold such a special place in my heart, and while the first story kinda sorta does come from that universe, I happened to only do a couple of posts for the actual 'rtc canon' series…again hopefully I get more of this done in 2025 and finally get y'all to the events of Season 2 ���� But anyway…here are the RTC stories I finished this year:

Season 1, Episode 13: 'what could be done' Season 3 bonus episode: 'a special treat'

Also I love how I started and ended 2024 with an RTC story 😅🫡

Next up…the OLTK blorbos. I love them with all of my being, and I think this year it really showed because I did some absolutely unnecessary lore building and made a new era just for their time before they were even dating. But anyway, here are all the OLTK stories from this year:

dating era: 'when the feeling sinks in' dating era: 'the warmest bed i've ever known' dating era: 'braced for impact' pre-relationship era: 'charades' married era: 'come on, england' married era: 'this magnetic force of a man' married era: 'a proper fit'

And also…the other story that I'm immensely proud of comes from one of the requested stories from my 500 follower celebration…'would've could've should've'. It's the first story I've done where I really ramped up on the angst and just kept making it get worse and worse for the babeys before I finally gave them some relief at the end, and hopefully I get to take my experience from writing that story and use it for some upcoming stories 😳👀

Read all 3 parts 'would've could've should've' here: part 1 part 2 part 3

One more thing…there might be one more story I have that's ready to post before the year's over…and I'm splitting it into two parts because the second part's just gonna be me letting the smuttery run free with those two 🤭🤭

np tags: @smolvenger @lokischambermaid @liminalpebble @gigglingtiggerv2 @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @maple-seed @give-me-a-moose @ladyofthestayingpower @tallseaweed

[magnus-sm-writes]

2024 Writing Year Wrapped

This is just a cute little version of my yearly wrap-up, presented in the typical Spotify format. I'm sure everyone is doing these; I just really love my Wrapped. Even if the cut-off point is before Halloween, and I found some bangers since then. Also, this was 100% written by a human (me, Magnus Singer-McLeod); something that Spotify itself cannot say about their half-baked Wrapped this year.

The cut-off point for this post is 12/7. The word count will be different in my yearly wrap-up, but this joke post won't be relevant then.

Total words written: 253,560

You have written 253,560 words this year; and counting! Your biggest month was November, at 41,397.

You started this year off big!

In February, you finished the month off with 27,748 words! You also began a bullet journal to track your writing journey all year long to keep you motivated.

There was one work that you've been returning to...

You've re-started your novel Lessons in Humanity from a Future Physicist, making this the tenth year you've been working on this project. It might be old, but it's still gold to you.

The world had brat summer, but instead, you had demoncore humanity-fantasy summer

You spent the months of June, July, and August focusing on (Demon) Hunting for Love, Lessons in Humanity from a Future Physicist, and Tsarevna of the Horned Crown.

The top genres of this year were: Fantasy, Romance, and Short Story

With works like Greenest in Fantasy, (Demon) Hunting for Love in Romance, and The Boy & the Hag Stone, My Lover Tastes of Ivy & Wine, and Certain Boundaries in Short Story, your year has been full of a mix of genres. Don't forget the Poetry, like Sage & Sausage Stuffing, and the Literary Fiction, like Body, Lessons in Humanity from a Future Physicist, and Hamish, either!

Speaking of Short Stories...

This year, you wrote 4 short stories. "Communion", "Plastic Fangs", "The Boy & the Hag Stone", and "My Lover Tastes of Ivy & Wine". That's an average of 1 short story per quarter!

Literary festivals attended: 1

This year, you went to BGSU's Winter Wheat festival. You took some good notes, and met a lot of new people. Writers tend to be solitary creatures; that day, you were not!

You finished reading 15 works this year

The first book you finished, The Terror by Dan Simmons, you rated 3 stars. (It was also your longest and least favorite read.)

Your favorite read was The Silence of the Lambs by Thomas Harris, at 5 stars.

The shortest work you read was "The Faery Handbag" by Kelly Link, a short story. (Rated 5 stars.)

Your novelette Body got rejected... 2 times!

But you continued working on it despite the rejections. Good for you, you go-getter!

Times spent refreshing Submittable and getting depressed over the lack of updates: too many to count

Whoa! You really get torn apart by the uncertainty of the publishing industry, don't you? Don't worry; we all hate being left in the dark!

Thank you for being with me this year. I'll be seeing you in 2025!

[abyssyby]

photos -> beloved -> eating 📂 —

“sy, c’mere.” you say, tugging on his arm. he's shocked at how easily he allows himself to be led. he says it’s because it’s easier to let you take the lead, but really it’s never a battle he’d wanted to win.

once you got over the fear of him getting recognized, it was very simple for you to slip into the role of a clingy partner, dragging and begging him to come with you into different shops and try different things.

food, in particular.

he towers over you as you choose flavors for ice cream. he holds the nape of your shirt when you lean too close to the steam from boiling sweet potatoes. grounds you in place with his chin on your head and an arm over your chest while you nibble away at your newest snack.

revels in the endless strings of “try this”, “have some!”, “want a bite?”

and endures your twinkling starlight eyes when you blink up at him and his cup of boba tea, or his buttered corn, or his pita wrap, or his frog-shaped waffles on a stick (you chose the fishes). you dont have to do much because he melts every time, always allowing you the first bite. offering to switch the moment he sees you grimace at the flavor you chose.

your nose bumps into the warmth of his palm just as you take a bite of your fried banana wrap. he chides, “it’s hot.”

you give him a grateful smile and blow. his heart warms as you heed his warning.

and yet when you bite, it’s still hot. and the chuckle that bubbles out of his chest is otherworldly as your face scrunches up, and your mouth forms a little ‘o’ and you breathe out steam like a baby dragon.

he brushes the crumbs off your face with gentle fingers. he takes big bites of food you don’t enjoy that much and tiny ones off of food you do like but reluctantly offer him anyway.

he loves how your eyes widen when your dish is served at his restaurants, loves the little sounds you make while you savor the food. loves how you bring a fork up to his lips to share. loves the way you you lean into his hand when he wipes that little bit of sauce off your cheek.

he especially loves when you try to kiss him with sweet, candy colored lips.

or when you drink from a foamy coffee cup and grab his face for a smooch. he resists just that little bit to hear you whine or laugh, straining his neck to not be pulled down. but eventually does and you’re smearing the cream all over his upper lip too.

he chases your fingers with kisses as you’re smudging chocolate from your thumb to his cupid’s bow only to lick it away with your warm tongue.

the number of times he’s found himself dazed, blinking dreamily at you after you’ve touched him, kissed him, looked at him throws him off. but being bothered about how often he is left vulnerable in an open field marveling at your beauty is the least of his concerns.

not when you’re there, and he is here— and the moments you share stack upon each other one after another instead of trickling down like sand through an hourglass.

here, he is yours. here, he gets to stay. here, he gets to hold you, watch you, kiss you as much as you want him to. and he is so utterly besotted, it’s ridiculous.

but of course he must retaliate. winning or losing doesn’t matter when it comes to you, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least show you that he is as worthy as an opponent as he is a lover.

the obscure gelato shop in a cobblestone square holds you both captive in the sleepy hours of the night. with only a few people coming in and out, you linger just by the door with your own fruit flavored gelato. happy with your choice, you cant help but think of Sylus’s flavor. Somehow his picks are always yummier.

and as if he hears your thoughts, he calls for you. “beloved, taste mine.”

you turn and your lips brush his. not quite a kiss yet, until he presses into you deep, sharp and heady. when he pulls away, your lips tingle from the cold and the electricity he leaves in his wake.

“got it?” his voice is low and careful as he watches you lick your lips.

light-headed, grasping at straws, you guess. “pomegranates?”

his fingers swipe over the corner of his mouth into a smirk. “unsure? want to try again?”

he goes for another kiss. worse, better. intoxicating, grounding. needy and helpless you’ve become. he breathes, “got it?”

you shake your head. damn him. dazed, an equally mischievous curve appears on your love-swollen lip. “one more. just to be sure.”

you tug on his arm, and he resists just that little bit to make you work for it. to make you giggle. to make you happy. you smile. lovingly fond, you huff, “come here.”

and he does. he forgets how to breathe, how words are formed and how muscles move for a millisecond, but he does. he always will.

｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ also see: photos -> beloved -> sleeping 📂 ༘⋆

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ more sylus thoughts ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

[shepscapades]

Thanks to artfight, I’ve finally finished a detailed, official dbhc cub reference! :D

(I’ve put his Artifight description below the cut, which has a more detailed explanation of his timeline, lore, and aesthetics! >:3)

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  OVERVIEW ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

Name: C.B.F.N.4000 (Cub) Pronouns: He/Him Species: Android Height: 5’9’’ Associated Visual Themes: vex, ghosts, explosions, mischief, scientist aesthetic, potions, potionmaking, sleepy/tired aesthetic, conspiracies

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  ABOUT ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

CBFN4000 is an au version of MCYT Hermitcraft’s Cubfan, set in my DBHC (or Detroit Become Hermitcraft) AU! This au is inspired by the 2018 game Detroit Become Human, but not because it really has anything to do with DBH—I simply yoinked the android mechanics and incorporated them into the world of Hermitcraft. It began as a S8 au, and has roughly followed the hermitcraft timeline up to the present! 

Cub was the last android made during Season 8. While many of the hermit androids were made at the beginning of season 8 and a few were made for season 9, Cub was finished and activated mid-late Season 8, around the time when Hermits started noticing the Big Moon. Cub’s model ended up being a sloppy experiment in deviation, as Doc suggested they try to transfer deviancy to an android upon activation to try and avoid traumatic situations that might cause an android to deviate violently or upsettingly, such as Etho’s, Tango’s, or Mumbo’s experiences. While this went relatively well initially, it clearly wasn’t very thoroughly thought out, as Xisuma (who is normally so adamant and detail-oriented when it comes to assuring the androids’ safety with experiments like this) wasn’t truly himself due to external manipulation and mostly left a relatively young-deviant Doc to carry out the project himself. 

Cub, though adjusting to sentience rather well at first, very quickly became wrapped up in the Big Moon happenings on the server, new personality and inexperience to emotions like fear and ignorance completely overwhelming his young system. He became obsessive over the implications and consequences of the Season 8 Moon Apocalypse, joining the Mooners and spreading his conspiracy theories religiously throughout the server as he descended into madness. The insanity was like a virus to his programming, pervasive and all-engulfing, and Cub’s final attempt to free himself from the Moon’s impact with the Earth—to launch himself on a llama into space via potion-powered TNT(insane btw)— left his hands and feet singed and cracked to ruin.

The experiment, considered a horrific failure by a deeply shameful—and more awake—S9 Xisuma, left Doc and Xisuma with the decision to reset him for the new season, and they ended up pairing him with a hermit like they had done with the other androids, to give him a chance to find deviancy on his own terms. So, at the start of season 9 and fresh after a reset, Cub was paired with Scar. Naturally, because Scar is… Scar, Cub deviated almost instantly after being given to him, and very quickly adopted the iconic lazy, stoic, amused attributes normally associated with Cubfan. Scar’s tendency towards mischief and general shenanigans grew instantly on Cub, and the two were an immediate inseparable pair. So much so that when Scar began rambling one day about his Season 5 Hermitcraft Shenanigans (where deals with the Vex may or may not have been involved), Cub immediately stated he was interested in being in on it. Whatever “it” means. It’s unclear if Cub also made a deal with the vex or became connected to them in some other way, but… well, he got Doc’s help to trick out his eyes, hair, and back to best fit the part. Scar is very jealous that he can't magically make himself have the same features to match.

Cub is closest with Scar (there's something there, I think), but he gets along just as well with any of the other hermits! He’s close with Jevin and many of the other redstoners like Etho and Doc, who are the other two androids I’ve put on artfight!

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  EXTRAS ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

Cub's eyes can light up in the dark, and he’s the only android who has edited his programming so that the default state of his LED is white, not blue. It still will go yellow and red if his processors are working particularly hard, but he’s replaced the blue setting on his LED with white to better match the Vex vibe. Cub has all of the vibes of a fae. If that’s anything <3

[lavenderprose]

Emmrich is a morning person and Rook is only a morning person under duress, which becomes only a minor issue after the gods are finally dead because Rook's ideal wake up time is roughly noon, and Emmrich's up at the asscrack of dawn every day whether he works or not.

It's six thirty AM and Rook's face-down on the bed, titties out and hair splayed across three pillows, and Elgar'nan breathed this last breath less than a week ago. Emmrich gave the various factions of Thedas exactly three days to demand Rook's attention and, on the morning of the fourth day, grabbed Rook with one hand and Manfred with the other and asked the Caretaker if there was an Eluvian that might deposit one anywhere in the area of the Cumberland countryside.

Emmrich apparently maintains a small country house here, for 'Whatever occassion might arise' (demented) and it's modest but pretty. Manfred trampled straight into the rose garden when they got here and hasn't emerged since, but Emmrich claims that's normal for him. Rook personally believes that Manfred, even, is still processing their mutual ordeal, but she's content to let him do it with the caterpillars and the rose petals. Not like a skeleton can be pricked by a thorn.

The moment they arrived, Emmrich sought out the housekeeper and told her that her services would not be required for the coming week, and to stand by on the subject of next week as well.

"Go celebrate the world not ending, Helga!" he'd said, maybe a bit too loud and manic, as he closed what was surely much more than a week's salary into her hand. Knowing Emmrich, there was already a very robust system in place to assure that his housekeeper received her generous salary every week--this was merely some sort of consolation pay for the very difficult task of being given a week of vacation.

Helga was Elven, at least as old as Emmrich and blinked at him like a vaguely surprised cat. She swept her gaze over Rook as well before leaving. She'd been smirking, Rook thought, as the door closed behind her.

Thus, they've been alone in the house, and Rook has been sleeping, staring vaguely into the distance, sleeping, reading from Emmrich's extensive collection, looking at the ceiling while trying to forget the sight of Bellara's blighted eyes, sleeping, bouncing on Emmrich's dick like it's her job, and sleeping sleeping sleeping.

They've been here for two days, more or less 48 hours, and many of those hours were spent in his lap. Fucking him, yes, but also just clinging onto him like an extra limb because right now, she feels like she might disintegrate if he isn't touching her. He reads to her. Smiles and laughs through so many stories from his life. She thinks about Solas disappearing into the Fade, maybe never to be seen again. The last God of her people.

When she goes too quiet, sometimes he tells her a joke or puts a little chocolate in her mouth. Once, he ate her out while humming the Nevarran national anthem and she laughed as she came. Sometimes he joins her in melancholy and they lay together and cope. Sometimes she cries, mostly from exhaustion and relief and grief, and he kisses her face. Sometimes he cries. From exhaustion and relief and grief, probably. She tucks her head under his chin and rubs her small hand up and down his broad back, and then she swipes the snot and tears out of his mustache with her very own thumb because she loves him, she loves him.

This morning, she flutters her eyes open and enjoys the texture of the silk sheets against her bare body (Last night, and for lack of a better term, Emmrich fucked her to sleep--apparently, when the world isn't in active peril, he's very into the whole tantric thing. Hours of crazy hot, dragging sex that destroys braincells, but only the ones she's better off not having.) and she does that for about thirty seconds before she realizes it's just barely light outside, blue and cool. Then she starts wondering why the fuck she's awake right now.

The answer becomes apparent immediately: Emmrich is in the ensuite bath, running water and making the weirdest, loudest noises. She thinks at first that he's managed to gag himself with his own toothbrush, but then he sneezes, blows his nose with a honking noise like a malfunctioning horn, and clears his throat so thunderously that Rook thinks he must somehow be drowning.

She rolls out of bed and wobbles into the bathroom, birthday suit and all, because clearly he's become sick in the night and it's now up to her to guide him back to bed and care for him. She's surprised, then, to find him looking hale and healthy in front of the sink. He's wearing nothing but silk pajama pants and down slippers. He's making an absurd clicking sound and swirling a finger inside his ear.

"Are you okay?" Rook demands, propped on the doorjamb.

Emmrich jumps a foot on the air, winces as he jabs his own eardrum, and says, "Ow! Darling, please don't sneak up on--"

"You are being so loud," she says, because the polite section of her brain hasn't woken up. "Are you choking? Are you sick?"

"No," Emmrich says slowly. "I just--oh, the door must have fallen open. The floor isn't terribly even here. I'm sorry, darling--sound does carry in this old house." He twirls a finger behind his ear and clinks again. "I fear I suffer seasonal allergies, dearest, and it's been a long while since I slept more than a night or two outside of the Necropolis or the Fade. There's quite a bit of...mucus..." He clears his throat.

"Gross," says Rook, and then, "It's dawn, Emmrich."

"Mm-hm." Emmrich is now leaning across the counter, two inches from the mirror and examining his mustache like a jewel appraiser.

"Why are you making heinous old man noises at dawn?"

His eyes veer towards her reflection in the mirror, and they make eye contact in the glass. Very neatly, and with a raised eyebrow, he says, "Heinous old man noises."

Rook starts making hawking, gutteral noises in the back of her throat. It's a pretty faithful imitation.

"Dearest," he yells over the sound. "I apologize for waking you--"

"I cannot believe," says Rook, "that I'm going to spend the rest of my life being woken up at dawn by the hacks and sneezes of a man who wears wing tip shoes."

She's halfway through a half-asleep snicker at the hilarity of her own statement when Emmrich fixes her with a surprised look in his wet eyes and she realizes she's never actually voiced the idea that has become an unspoken certainty in her mind: That he's the love of her life, and her life may not be as short as she was thinking it might be this time last week, and that she wants nothing more than to spend the rest of her ambiguously-numbered mornings waking up to him.

She also realizes the truth of the situation. The baths in the Lighthouse were communal, and one never knew which companion they might encounter during their morning routine. Emmrich is fastidious and spends a great deal of his energy in broadcasting the image of a man who is utterly put together in everything he does. Never a hair out of place or a thread loose. It's a privilege of the highest order to witness him this way. Sleep-mused hair, shadow on his jaw. The bleariness of sleep in his eyes and, yes, even the throat-clearing and nose blowing.

Emmrich clears his throat and whispers, "Forgive me. I've...lived alone. For a very long time."

Rook's eyes water as she croaks, "Not anymore. I don't...want you to."

A smile spreads his face. It is wobbly, boyish, and so so beautiful. The absurdity of the situation finally reaches her--she is very naked and he's only slightly more dressed and there is a perfectly warm, perfectly comfortable bed steps away.

"Come back to bed," Rook says. "Please?"

He does.

[ghostbsuter]

There was a teen in the cave.

A teen no one knows and looks like he could be a wayne, stands in the cave.

"Actually, I'm a wayne." He says with a shrug.

Bruce, Batman, carefully thinks of the implication.

"Not yet," The teen, Danny, doesn't say anything. Simple smiles. "You're not a wayne, yet. You will be. But not yet."

Then Bruce sighs, dropping the batman mask in order to take in the teen.

"Does future me know of the time travel?"

Dannys smile grows into a grin, deciding to take pity on the man. "You, grandbat, have..." He makes a vague gesture. "Theories, which none of your children ever confirmed."

The bat's mind short-circuits at the choice of words

Dick is sputtering incomprehensibly, there are Baffled expression all around.

Because.

Because that child isn't Bruce's, but one of theirs.

"Who is it?" Jason demands, hand clenching his gun uselessly.

Danny continues to smile, a hint of mischief now peeking out.

The cave is filled with theories, some yell, some sob, yet all eyes leave danny.

All but one pair.

She had known the moment his body language switched just enough for her to read.

She had known the moment he disappeared before the clan.

Had known when his hand found hers, shoulders bumping.

Her heart clenches, throat dry and memories of her childhood flooding to mind.

So she asks, voice soft and hesitant.

"Am I a good mother?"

And danny looks up at cass, adoration and pride laid out plain for her to see and accept.

"You're the best."

And so they both watch the clan together, silent and comfortable.

(Cass doesn't question when she finds him, how and why. All she knows is that she's more attentive when out on patrol, looking and waiting.)

(This is how Cassandra Cain-Wayne returns one night from patrol, a child, barely out of toddler stage and clinging to her form.)

(This is how the Batclan officially meets one Daniel James Cain-Wayne, freshly washed and clothed, a cookie in hand and hiding shyly behind Cass.)

(When they meet, all they say is "Welcome home, danny," and "Good to see you again.", Danny doesn't necessarily get it, but that's okay. Maybe his new mom will explain it one day when he's bigger.)

[hootyhoowoo]

A little 15 min doodle but first post of the year has to be Bingqiu!

[steveseddie]

come sleep with me

written for @steddielovemonth day 14 “come sleep with me: we won’t make love, love will make us” | the @steddiebingo kissing booth mini event, prompt: mutual pining | the @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: love

rating: t | wc: 915 | no cw | tags: friends with benefits, mutual pining, idiots in love

read on ao3

Any other day Eddie would be thrilled to have Steve like this– half-naked under him, flushed and squirming from Eddie kissing all over his chest. 

Part of him sure is interested, but the rest knows that when Steve called earlier and asked him to come over, he probably should’ve said no. 

But if there’s something Eddie isn’t good at, it’s telling Steve no. 

Otherwise, how would he end up hooking up with Steve on the regular while knowing fully well that he was setting himself up for heartbreak?

So Eddie said yes, and he came over despite being physically and mentally exhausted from an entire week of awful nightmares. He thinks he’s doing a decent job at shoving it all away to pay attention to Steve. That is until he feels Steve’s hand grab hold of his neck and use it to pull him up so he can look at his face and ask– “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

Eddie shakes his head, his hair falling around them. “Nothing,” he lies. Badly if the way Steve arches an eyebrow at him means anything. Eddie heaves out a sigh. “I– I haven’t been sleeping well. I’ve had nightmares all week. I’m so tired and there’s just so much in my head right now–”

Of course, Eddie doesn’t expect Steve to act mad or disappointed but he’s still surprised by how gently he brushes Eddie’s hair off of his face, his eyes soft as he stares up at him. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Eddie lets out a snort. “Yeah because telling the guy you’re making out with that you can’t stop thinking about demobats ripping into your flesh is such a turn-on,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Tugging at Eddie’s hair, Steve half-heartedly rolls his eyes. “I meant earlier, Eds.” 

“I guess I was hoping that this was what I needed,” Eddie admits, shrugging. 

“What you need is sleep.”

Eddie sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

When Steve gently shoves Eddie off of him, he takes that as his cue to leave. Especially when Steve walks over to his closet and puts on some sweatpants. Now that he knows nothing is happening between them tonight, it makes sense that Steve is getting ready for bed.  

Which means Eddie should probably get out of his way. 

He just found his jeans and is about to put them back on when Steve tosses something at him. It lands at his feet– a pair of sweatpants.  

“Do you need a shirt too or are you sleeping shirtless?” Steve asks, still rummaging through his closet. 

Eddie stares blankly at his naked back. “Um, what?” 

“Do you want to borrow a shirt?” He asks, glancing at Eddie over his shoulder. His lips tug up into a smirk when he adds, “I have a Tears for Fears shirt you’d look great in, I think.” 

Eddie takes too long to think of a comeback and Steve frowns, probably expecting him to jump at the thought of wearing a shirt of a band that plays anything other than heavy metal. And he would, if he wasn’t busy trying to wrap his head around the fact that Steve seems to think he’s staying over. 

He’s never done that even after they started hooking up. 

Steve’s eyes dart to the jeans Eddie is holding in his hand. “You weren’t planning on sleeping in those, were you?” He asks with a chuckle. 

“No, I– I was gonna go home.”

Steve’s mouth twists downward. “Why?” 

Because they don’t sleep together. They have sex and then Eddie leaves. It hurts every time, but he knows it would hurt more if he stayed and woke up next to Steve –or, god forbid, in Steve’s arms– only for it not to mean anything to him.

“I– we never– we don’t do that–”

“I know,” Steve says, sucking his lip between his teeth. “But what– what if I want us to do that?” 

Eddie blinks. “Sleep together?” 

“No, yeah,” Steve rubs a hand against his neck, “but also, um– other things.” 

Eddie’s breath hitches. “Like?”

“Like going on dates and cuddling and holding hands, maybe not in public but like, in front of our friends if you’re okay with that and–”

“Steve, Stevie, are you– are you saying you want to date me?” Eddie asks, his voice an octave higher, his heart threatening to beat right out of his chest.

“Yeah,” Steve softly admits and Eddie can’t help but gasp. “But I– I promise I didn’t feel this way when we started this, and I was going to say something to you, but I was nervous that you didn’t–”

“I did! I do! Feel that way. Since before we started this, even. If anyone should’ve said anything, it’s me,” Eddie stammers out. “I thought I was setting myself up for heartbreak when you eventually found someone else and stopped wanting me–”

“I wouldn’t, I won’t. In fact,” Steve says, starting to smile. He moves closer to Eddie, one of his hands brushing against his fingers. “I’m crazy about you, Eds.”

“Jesus, Steve,” Eddie mutters, and then he’s cupping Steve’s face and bringing him closer so he can kiss him squarely on the lips. It’s not the first time they’ve kissed, but it’s definitely different.

“So,” Steve starts, pulling back only enough to get the words out. “Is that a yes?” 

“To dating you?” Eddie asks, their lips brushing together. Steve nods. 

And well, Eddie still can’t say no to Steve, so he says–

“Yes.”

[ava-deb]

"It really hurts Deborah's feelings. Deborah really cares about what Ava thinks, and whether or not the show is funny. So, that's where things start to really get tense." — Lucia Aniello

HACKS: S01E06, "New Eyes" / S04E05, "Clickable Face"

[ruby-static]

Dude caught me taking a screenshot, I'm cooked-

[widogastsversion]

okay now I really need a fic of vax continuously going to chetney to take him to the afterlife just for chetney to tell him to fuck off over and over again

[hiding-under-the-willow]

I need to see your Helsknight in 1C actually. The chroma green glasses.......

Who let him raid Joe's closet

[annasofthe11thdimension]

Pictured: Loop being extremely normal as they lay in their shallow (homemade) grave as they meditate on existence and also if they have annoyed the Researcher enough THIS time for her to murder them and bury them alive.

(Spoilers - they did not annoy her even CLOSE to that much.)

And there is the required reverse image of Odile arriving - she's had a LONG day (i.e. previous loop), and due to this it will take ten minutes before she even acknowledges the shallow grave Loop is laying in, as she was distracted complaining about what Siffrin just did to annoy her.

----

I'd say there's context for all of that, because like...there IS context? Here's the link to the series of fics that HAS that context even! But also...even with context...can't say that it's going to make any of this less weird.

Mostly Odile is looping because due to Loop's wish the universe got rewritten to make Siffrin's repression and emotional issues (the ones bad enough to get him stuck in a time loop in the game) 'someone else's' problem...or at least that's Loop's best theory atm!

Regardless, context or not, I'm quite happy with how the pics came out, and figured I might as well post them here too.

[ghostlyarchaeologist]

Evolution of Eliot/Hardison hugs over the years.

And the one time that Eliot really needed a hug:

Leverage S02E08/S03E10/S04E01/S04E07/S04E10/S05E09/Leverage Redemption S01E16/S02E06.

[inhuman-obey-me]

Barbatos and 23?

Barbatos + 23 | "Cellar Door" - Spiritbox

cw: mentions of Lesson 16/MC death

"Have you ever seen your own dead body before?"

If you had been aiming to catch Barbatos off-guard for once, you may have just succeeded. The demon nearly chokes on his tea, causing him to mutter an "excuse me" before clearing his throat as he regains his composure.

He pats his lips with a napkin, looking at you with both curiosity and understanding. "I assume there is something weighing on your mind?"

"Mm." You find yourself gazing out the large castle window, the moonlight bathing the Devildom foliage. Despite all the time that has passed, there are nights you find yourself there again, staring at your own mangled body at the bottom of the stairs. How, for a moment, two of you existed in one space — one just resurrected, the other at death's door. "…So, have you?"

"…I have." Barbatos leans back in his seat, gaze still fixed on you. "More than once. The benefit of being able to see through space and time, I suppose."

"Right. I guess you get used to it. Or maybe it didn't jar you much in the first place." There is hint of resentment in your voice, a tightness in your chest as you turn back to meet those dark eyes of his. Maybe bringing this up was a bad idea. Why did you think the demon with control over space-time could ever feel the same way as you?

"I wouldn't say that." Barbatos taps a finger on the table, a sign that he was trying to form his words carefully. "I wasn't always the calm and reassured demon you see before you. I used to be quite an arrogant fool, in fact. I have made mistakes, grave ones."

You remember him speaking before of atonement, a past he was determined to rectify.

With some apprehension, he slowly reaches his hand out to cover your own. His voice is soft as he asks, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I thought I was over it." The words leave your lips before you can even think, as if Barbatos' simple question unlocked something deep within your soul, breaking bindings that had long buried despair. "But I'm not. After all of this time, I still think about it. I went to the past, I was killed, I was … I was brought back to life only to see another version of myself, to see me … bleeding and mangled and dead." Your voice wavers, but you're determined to hold on. Fingers curls into your palm, nails digging into flesh. "And you … you said you just. Changed the timeline. Collapsed it, made it that this was the real one, that I was the one and only me. But am I? Or," a shaky breath, "… did I just slip into another version of myself? Did a part of me really die back then?" Your voice strains. "I have so many questions, and I'm afraid to know the answers to any of them!"

Barbatos is quiet at first, though his hand still covers yours. His expression is unreadable and distant, and you again wonder if he can understand at all. What was one death to a timeless being?

"My first encounter with death, of my own death…is something I will never forget." He squeezes your hand gently, meeting your gaze. "I … won't speak in detail of it, but it was harrowing. The first time I truly came face-to-face with consequences for my own actions." He shakes his head with a somber chuckle. "Would you believe that I still didn't learn my lesson? Yet, despite all the deaths of self I have either seen through visions or came to encounter personally thereafter, it is the one I remember most vividly."

Barbatos moves now to be next to you, taking both of your hands in his. "My dear, I apologize for the role I played in all of this, and I'm not sure if I can provide all the answers you seek. But I can tell you that you are not alone. Time and space are tricky things, and what you went through is something that would break most. But here you are, still standing strong. " His features soften. "And, there is one thing I know for certain. One answer I can provide."

"What?" You hate how your voice cracks, but you lean in closer to Barbatos' warmth.

"There will always be parts of ourselves that die and are reborn. Such is the nature of the universe." He squeezes your hands again. "But you are very much you. You are meant to be here, and that will never change."