#yeah im unreasonably happy about it

[aroaceofthesea]

I shouldnt be this happy about beating a bunch of 15 year olds at board games

[buppypuppy]

.

[oneshlut]

Hey!! I absolutely ADORE your writing, it makes me so happy!!! I happen to be a sucker for our favorite nerd, and you write super good for him! May i ask for general datting headcanons? Like what its like to date him???? Thank you!!!<3

A/N: ohhh, i was WAITING for this one!! i loveee dating hcs. i'm assuming you mean dr. flug, in which i am always happy to write for him! thank you so much for the request! im so happy you enjoy my works!! c: (also flug may be just a teensy bit autism-coded...)

The Doctor Is Out (Dr. Flug x Reader) [Headcanons]

Rules For Requesting

Characters I Will Write For

Masterlist

Summary: General Dr. Flug dating headcanons/What is dating Dr. Flug like?

You thought he was a nervous wreck before? You've never seen him on a date. Before a date, for that matter.

After asking you out to a museum that recently opened outside the Hat Island, he dragged himself to his room and.. screamed into his pillow. Leaving 5.0.5. decently concerned.

He paced around his lab, wracked with anxiety. Oh god, oh god--what is he going to do?! Did he still look alright?? He paused his anxious strides to look at himself in his full-body mirror that he practically pulled out of nowhere. I guess he looked alright-? Or did he need to change his shirt again? Oh--crap he should probably take off his gloves.. or should he? He's always had normally sweaty hands, not including his nerves getting the best of him.. Yeah, the gloves are staying on.

Not to mention how Demencia is teasing him every minute she gets while Flug is writing out a plan. Yeah, you heard me right, this faceless man has an entire 24-step written plan for this date. He can't go without a plan, right? He doesn't want to mess up in front of you, either..

Some ridiculous, unreasonable, irrational part of him thinks maybe you won't show up. Obviously, he doesn't know any better to know how much you love him. Then again, if he knew, I don't think he'd last.

The museum went way better than he expected! There just happened to be a jet plane exhibit, and suddenly his 24-step plan has made its way to a nearby trash can. Don't get me wrong, his nerves were definitely still there, and not going anywhere anytime soon. He was just glad that he didn't draw you away with his possibly unending rambling about different types of aircraft.

The two of you stayed in the museum until it closed at 4 p.m. The time seemed to fly by, and at some point during the date you had held his hand. Poor Flug was too distracted, that he only noticed your interlocked hands when the both of you were leaving the building. He's blushing like a maniac now. As if the red tint on his face couldn't get any worse, before you left, you kissed him on his cheek. You kissed him on his cheek. His bones turned to ice, frozen in place. Later that night, he couldn't get his mind off of you. He's not washing his bag for a while. Not like he washed it in the first place.

So, you two are dating! In a relationship! Dr. Flug refuses to believe it, but every morning kinda forces him to. Though, sometimes he gets a bit overwhelmed with the attention, so when this happens, you give him the day to compose himself again.

He's happy with the attention, though! More than happy, he's honestly never received such affection before and.. he enjoys it.

Some days, you'll just have hang-out dates! For example, Dr. Flug is undergoing a heavy project and asks you to come over for comfort. He'll even ask you for help with his experiments from time to time! Don't worry, he wouldn't involve you in anything too dangerous, he's not cruel. Well, not to you..

If we're talking about Dr. Flug here, at least one date has to go wrong. Thankfully, it's almost never his fault. He's, unfortunately, slightly popular with heroes. Not that he, himself, as a villain is popular, but rather him being known under the Blackhat name has drawn in some unwanted attention from heroes.

What does this mean for the two of you? Well, worst case scenario, a hero has such a huge grudge against Flug that they are determined to ruin your date. According to Dr. Flug, there's only a 1.117% chance of this happening, so you shouldn't have to worry too much.

Afterwards, he feels horrible that your date went to crap. He apologizes profusely, even if you forgive him in the first place, he'll continue to feel bad. All he wants is for you to be happy, and it feels like he's failed you. But the fact that you're still here with him is more than enough proof that you're far from giving up on him, if ever.

On days where you would stay inside with him, whether it be a stormy night or just a long day for you, sometimes he'd turn around from whatever he was working on when you don't respond to him, and he'll find you resting peacefully next to 5.0.5. The sight warms his heart, as he moves to grab a blanket for you, and dims the lights in his lab slightly.

With you asleep, and now with him and nothing to work on, he now has time to think. And for some reason, no thoughts come to him. Surprising to his usually busy brain.

One thought came to him, eventually. Watching you rest soundly in the now dim-lighted room, your chest lifting up and down with your soft breaths, made him realize how lucky he truly is.

Then, he came up with an idea. He didn't want your dreaming to be disturbed, did he? He grabbed a piece of notepaper, tape, and a marker. Opening his door slightly, he taped up the scratch-made sign titled:

"The Doctor is Out"

[it-one-line-at-a-time]

hi you gave the go ahead on sending you reddie asks so uhhhhh hi im here now

the losers club is one giant love heptogon. like poly qpr with romantic subsets

because everyone loved bev romantically and vice versa (cough cough sewer sex scene cough)

and richie loved eddie but he also had a crush on mike and definitely thought ben was hot (voiced this himself) and he has self worth issues and hides his insecurities with jokes (insecure hes bi so makes im-so-straight jokes, insecure hes ugly so makes im-so-hot-and-deffinatly-pull jokes) and even if hes stupid people love him because they KNOW why hes like that so thet play into it to make him feel better BECAUSE THEY LOVE HIMMMMM

and ben has always been just this little socially awkward idiot filled with love and definitely loved everyone in the losers club and hes emotional and i personally think hes arospec and feels unreasonable amounts of intense platonic love, to the point he mixes it up with romantic love (like me!!)

and mike definitely thinks hes not enough if he doesn't help people. he thinks if he doesn't help everyone around him hes useless and unloveable but at the same time only cares about the opinion of people hes deemed important (people that can hurt him and his friends) so of COURSE he helps his friends and hes the guy who keeps them safe (assuring they have weapons, making sure everyone is present and accounted for, ect) and everyone else loves him because hes there when they need protection and thats enough<33333333

and everyone loves bill to. how could you not hes just a stuttering dumbass little baby that need protected. plus he loves his friends for being there when he needed it (when georgie died, ect)

and eddie worrys about all his friends safety because they might be dumb and disease ridden assholes but there HIS dumb disease ridden assholes. and everyone loves eddie because hes like a weird overbearing jerk and he CARES. he CARES about there safety and no one else does.

and stan. he has some form of religous guilt. so when he found people that thought of him as stan and not stan the jewish kid he was over the moon. and everyone loves stan because even though he has his issues theyd NEVER leave him

sorry im just really fucking mentally ill and think my gay children need hugs and that my old man yaoi should have been allowed to be happy (reddie fix it fics save me. reddie fix it fics. save me reddie fix it fics)

Yikes, this got longer than I'd expected. Buckle in.

I read the sewer scene for the first time at school surrounded by my friends, and I think it was the one time I've read something that genuinely horrified me so much that I couldn't bring myself to be over-the-top scared of it to be funny. I have a younger brother who's turning eleven soon and the thought of it makes me wanna take a bath, if you know what I mean!!! Hm.

Also you are SO right about the Losers all loving each other. Yeah, there's the romantic pairings - Richie + Eddie, Bev + Bill (at least as kids) - but honestly they all love each other sooooo much it's kinda crazy. I'm kind of obsessed with how they conveyed how much they care for Richie in particular to the films - when he's crying after Eddie's death and they all hug him and he's like, 'Hm? They know I'm gay, and they still love me?', and he looks down at them genuinely confused for a moment - because it's so subtle but my God it's done so sweetly.

Speaking of sweet, HELL yeah Ben loved them all! My boy literally has love rolling off him like Sisyphus' boulder off the mountain. Whether it's platonic or romantic is personal opinion, but literally nobody can dispute that after Bill and Eddie (and Richie, in the film) took him into the Losers Club, he fucking adored them, man. Of course he loves Bev, that's kind of the most given thing to ever be given, but to be honest I think both he and Mike are the most symbolic of the Losers' love, because they were outsiders who found their family within the group.

Talking of Mike, he is the personification of 'the glue that holds the group together'. Literally, yes, when he calls them back to reunite after twenty-seven years, but you're right that it's in more subtle ways, too; the way he has the bolt-gun and ammunition, the way he is willing to sacrifice himself in the movie because he knows he messed up big time. And that last bit, too, is one of the biggest pieces of evidence in my opinion about your theory, dear asker who is definitely not a raccoon in disguise, that he feels inadequate if he doesn't actively protect the group. But they love him for it! <3

Ahhh, Billiam my boy. The one that every one of the Losers was genuinely a little bit in love with. The one who would not only readily die for any one of them, but who would die for a random kid with a skateboard who's only ever been rude to him! Of course in the book it is explored how much Georgie's death really affected him, of course it was, but that scene in Chapter 1 where he finds Georgie's raincoat and the Losers all just hug him without saying anything while he sobs is so fuckin' special, man. And that's the Losers Club, them all together, unconditional love and respect and love and love.

Eddie hiding how much he adores his friends under a mask of worry and ill-tempered arguments is genuinely such a lovely character trait. It doesn't take a genius to see that "You guys know that alleys are known for dirty needles that have AIDS, right? You guys do know that?" is a masked-up version of "Guys please don't go into that alley, I don't want you cutting yourself and getting this awful and scary disease going around". It's literally just him saying, in his own little way, I fucking love you guys, don't get hurt, and taking it upon himself to keep them all safe forever. Bill's "He'd be looking out for us... the way he always was." is in NO way lost on me, man.

One thing the book did that I thought was so so good and so so interesting was looking at religious guilt, through Patty, but it's not difficult to imagine that it extends to Stan, too. I swear there are some points - usually from characters like Henry Bowers' points of view - where Stan is kind of just, 'the Jewish one' (like how Richie is the loudmouth, and Ben is the fat one), so I reckon you're definitely right that when the Losers got to know him as Stanley Uris, rather than 'the Jewish kid', it was probably like a huge weight off his shoulders. And that's one of the reasons that he loves his disjointed little group, because they were the first to accept him and his religion as one.

Anyway, yes, the Losers love each other and they would die for each other and I would die for them please and thank you.

(Also, I agree that Reddie fix-it fics were put onto earth by God Themself.)

[respectthepetty]

hi!! i can’t stop thinking about your wild-ass theory about saifah and how it feels like you’ve predicted the whole dang plot!

im thinking next episode is gonna be mostly happy and fluffy with a bit of angst about kang and his dad (otherwise you’d think they would’ve had the saifah getting arrested clip in the trailer for the episode). but then I reckon episode 9 is where shit’s gonna go DOWN (although it might also be episode 10, but it feels like there’s several subplots that’re gonna happen and they’re gonna need as many episodes as possible to unpack them while still having a satisfying ending)

anyway this isn’t really saying anything, I just wanted to tell you how much I LOVE your theories and reading your posts, and I also love dangerous romance this series is so good, it very very quickly became my entire personality and I can’t stop rewatching it hehe

BUT YEAH, I LOVE YOU HAVE A GREAT DAY YOURE AWESOME FJEKEIFJEJEJFIEJE

Wild Ass Theory Update

@quodekash, because this is you giving me a compliment and me blushing from it, I'm giving you everything that has been stuck in my head over the past couple of weeks.

TLWR: Episode 8/9 - Kanghan is going to throw a tantrum about his dad paying for him to get on the team, spend all his dad's money on Sailom on a trip, and sleep with him, only to return home and see that his dad has been shot and Saifah had something to do with it causing him to question everything about Sailom.

Thank you very much for saying that you love my theories, and that I'm awesome, but I appreciate even more that you LOVE Dangerous Romance.

Because I, too, love it. An unreasonable amount, in fact. It makes me so happy even though I know some pain is headed our way.

And much like you, I think that pain is coming in episode 9. Now that Saifah is in Kang's house, we might see some warning signs in episode 8 in the shape of this beautiful giant red flag.

I feel more than confident that Papang is capable of stealing, but I don't think he has it in him to rob an employer's home or shoot someone, which is also a part of my theory (let the dad get shot, please!), so Name has to be involved!

But that's partly why I love this show. It has done a good job giving us crumbs along the way about what is to come, which is why I don't feel like it's a wild ass theory because I think Saifah does feel some type of way about Name enough to help him with a dumb plan.

Because even Kang's dad paying for Kang to get on the soccer team was implanted into the story well.

Since we knew from the first episode that he regularly donates money to the school for students, so it wouldn't seem out of the norm for some of that money to benefit his child as well.

Even Pimfah's crush on Sailom seemed written in stone to me from the first episode when the dog discussion came up since she stood firmly on the "show the dog love" side then continued to show Sailom love while Kang is in the "punish the dog" boat.

So, once again, I think the show has done a great job telling us Saifah is going to be involved in robbing that house, even if it's as simple as letting the actual robbers in. But robbing the house doesn't seem enough to split the couple up, which is why I think someone has to get shot.

DON'T LET IT BE THE GRANDMA! It must be the dad.

The grandma has to be the one to convince Kang to trust himself and his love for Sailom, so he can believe Sailom had nothing to do with this plot, and that Saifah didn't intend for anyone to get hurt.

The dad has to be shot because there is still tension between him and Kanghan, AND wouldn't it be interesting if the robbery (and shooting) were less about "eat the rich" and more of the political backstabbing variation?

So with all that being written, I think the robbery will happen either at the end of episode eight or the beginning of episode nine IF Kanghan finds out early in the episode that his dad paid for him to get on the team since Pimfah is going to drop this line in eight.

Would really suck for Kanghan to be focused and on the right path only for his last parent to get shot, and him be lost all over again, no? Would be awful for Kang to find out his dad paid his way onto the team, be pissed off about it, throw a tantrum, and use up all his money on a trip with Sailom where he tells him how much he loves him . . .

Spend the night with Sailom (possibly their first time together) telling him how much he appreciates Sailom for believing in him like the best version of a BL honeymoon

Only to return home and see his dad has been shot and think Sailom had something to do with it since Saifah is being arrested.

Kanghan will push Sailom away from guilt of being upset at his father who is now in the hospital and confusion of his feelings for Sailom, which means Sailom is going to have to start escorting again to make ends meet because Name is NOT in jail and still in charge of debts (10?)

Then Kanghan is going to assault Sailom. (10?)

The grandma is gonna be like "IDIOT!" and Kanghan is going to rescue Sailom (11?)

And Sailom is going to cry about having no one left, and Kanghan is going to be like "you still have me" (11?)

And then we get episode 12 where the real baddies go to jail.

*curtain closes*

The crumbs have been laid, and I'm following them all the way to grandma's house. Name x Saifah, don't just be my ghost ship.

Be the ship to cause some shit!

[dontfindmerain]

um-

What about-

What about some angst? Like- anything you wants, just angst

ohohoho

you have no idea what you've done >:)

"Hey, it's Wil, can't answer the phone right now, so leave a message and I'll get back to you when I can. BEEP." You hang up the phone without bothering to leave a message.

He’s been on tour with his band for weeks now and hasn’t messaged you or called you once, which was extremely worrying after you had met at the local coffee shop at least once every week for the past year. Maybe you were just being unreasonably worried, but you shot him a text anyway.

‘hey im sorry ive been calling u so much

just worried cus we havent talked since u left

hope u r doing ok :)’

He opened it. He opened it. Your heart beat quickly when the typing bubble popped up, grateful that he was finally responding.

And it sunk to your stomach immediately when his response glared back at you from your screen.

‘ok’

What? That’s it? After all that concern, all the pacing, all the tears, that was what he had to say? ‘Ok’?

What the fuck?

You were furious, and saddened but that didn't matter. How could he ignore you for so long and then respond like that? You had been considering surprising him by flying out to see the last leg of the tour tomorrow, but now…

No. You would still go, maybe he was just busy and exhausted from the constant moving around.

When you get to the barricade, waiting for Lovejoy to come on stage, your heart is racing. And when Wilbur walks out? You swear to gods there is no one else in the world.

He is incredibly happy, glowing in the wave of cheers radiating from the crowd. The only thing you can do is stare in awe the entire concert. You can barely hear the music, only a faint buzz as your mind is filled with him.

When it’s over and Mark leads you backstage to visit Wil, you run up to him, spilling out congratulations and praise for how great he is at this. Sorries falling from your lips for not going to every show. You stop when he gently grabs your wrist and takes you to a private room.

“What are you doing here?” he mutters, his face a mixture of confusion and… annoyance? What?

“I came to support you, Wilbur! And I’m so glad I did because you guys were fant-”

“Okay, okay, stop.” His tone was too firm. Too angry.

Silence washed over you and mingled with fear. Did you really upset him?

“I get that you want to support me and that we’re friends and all but did you have to come here? Especially backstage? I mean, for gods’ sake, you couldn’t have waited until I got back to england?”

You didn’t know what to say, you wanted to see him, to tell him…

“I came here because…

because I love you, Wilbur.”

He just looked at you for a moment, and then sighed. “Goddammit, darli- Y/n. I should've known,” he brought his hands up to his face and dragged them down in exasperation, “Y/n, I don’t… you’re like a sister to me, yeah? I don’t know where this,” he gestured wildly at you, “infatuation came from, but it needs to stop. You’re a great friend really, but I don’t feel that way about you.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, the evidence of your hurt painted across your face and his annoyance resting on his.

“I… I think I’ll go now,” you whisper quietly, needing to leave before the tears began.

“No- come on now, darling- Don’t go, lets talk about this-” but you were already walking, no, running away from him. You ran out into the dark night, the streets were busy and you didn’t know where you were, you just kept running and running and running-

And you didn’t see that car. It didn’t see you either.

[knockoff-conlon]

you know. i made a post about remus + his jewish characterization. now it's time for james and his adhd. everyone always talks about how james is so adhd, right, but i see a lot of truly awfully written adhd and as someone with adhd, it bugs the fuck out of me.

in fics, it's usually just written as "MY GOD, SPARKLY!" and yeah, sometimes it is that way in my brain. but that's not all adhd is. i never see adhd james written with the bad side of adhd.

1) sensory issues. this was the big one for me. i never see james with sensory issues. it's such a reality for adhd people tho. james who hates certain textures and gets unreasonably upset when he bites into a plum one day. he hates anything squeaky and nearly cries when remus' shoes squeak on the castle floors. he has huge issues with clothes textures and he literally shoves Sirius into a wall when he gets an unexpected hug and hates sirius' shirt material.

2) distracted and forgetful. you do see this with james but only as funny things and not things that seriously cause problems. james forgets things a lot- words and places and important dates. he forgot the word pen one day when trying to ask peter for one and he spent the whole rest of the day trying to think of it. he gets distracted by things and it upsets his friends sometimes. lily talking about her family issues and james finding sweets in his pocket that he forgot were there so he just starts talking about his sweets.

3) stims. i hadn't even realized i had them until my therapist pointed them out. james is HUGE on stimming. his most notable is bouncing. he bounces his leg when he's anxious or overstimulated. james bounces up and down when he's happy or worried. he loves bouncing. his hair ruffling thing is a perfect example of stimming. excited and happy, so he ruffles his hair. he wiggles/sways a lot too. his snitch, too, stimming constantly.

4) food. food. he loves specific foods and refuses to go outside of his designated safe foods. he has a specific love for sugar cookies and will eat them always. he always has them on his person. same with grapes, eggs, orange juice, noodle soup. those are his "safe" foods. notices slightest differences in foods. slightly burnt taste, unsalted food, too crispy/soft, stuff like that.

5) special interests. quidditch, number one. he loves quidditch so much and knows practically everything about the sport. he loves to talk about quidditch and gets really rambly when asked about it. and he gets upset when people interrupt his quidditch talk. loves music, too, and hyperfixates on musicians he likes- bowie, abba, queen, whitney houston. stuff like that. special interest in baking since he was young.

i could keep going. but there's so much more to adhd than just going "SHINY" and getting distracted. it's a real issue, it causes a lot of pain. it's not funny and it's not just go make james seem interesting. pretending james' adhd is a joke is harmful and people with adhd are actually affected by it.

however, i love helping people with characterizations and i love helping people in general. so if you wanna dm me to ask about adhd things, im happy to help!!

[autogeneratedkahootnickname]

Yeah so I'm an Amber apologist until the day I die.

I do think there's potentially a minor writing hiccup but I'm gonna set things out as best I can from my understanding.

What a lot of people don't pick up on, and what the show tries to convey in episode 5, is that Mark has been a phenomenally shitty boyfriend to Amber. We only see a few brief snippets of him cancelling some dinner plans, but this has been a constant, unfaltering issue for 3 months. 'He's late, he doesn't show, and he always has some shitty excuse.' From Amber's point of view, it wouldn't be unreasonable for her to think she means nothing to him.

But she recognises that the situation is complex, and she cares about him, and she sees that he IS trying, if not enough. So she gives him second chance after second chance. Honestly far longer than she should have done.

But yeah, their relationship is on the ROCKS for a LONG time. But since we see Mark superheroing throughout most of that, we can't put ourselves in her shoes.

So then, flash forward to Upstate U and the reveal. My controversial theory, but the one I think most makes sense in terms of writing, is that Amber didn't know Mark was Invincible until he tells her.

Amber is visibly startled when she sees Mark flying in her room. Granted she would be even if she knew, but it leans more to her not knowing than the contrary.

Amber does not know who Invincible is at Upstate U, and she never refers to him by name in the confrontation: 'I know you're a superhero', 'fly away, flyboy'. If she had known 'weeks beforehand' a cursory google would have been likely. She would be more likely to refer to him by name.

Amber is very intelligent, she's quick-witted, she's an expert at putting up walls as a defence mechanism and she hates being lied to. She would be capable of concealing her surprise, and wouldn't want to lose control in the conversation, but honestly she doesn't have to. Because her reaction seems genuine, even if its less premeditated than she puts on.

Amber goes into that interaction thinking Mark is a liar, a coward, a flake and an asshole. That interaction recontextualises him as a liar, a flake and an asshole. In different ways sure, but the end result is the same. Amber's whole issue is that she doesn't feel valued by Mark, and she's just been told that he was hiding an entire secret life from her because he didn't trust her. Also, Mark is not 'trusting her now': he's using Invincible as a retroactive get out of jail free card for being an asshole for 3-4 months. He frames it in a way that, even if its unintentional on his part, makes her out to be small, and petty, and irrational: 'because im out saving lives or protecting the planet.' It sounds like he's blaming her for being mad at him, and he's SO SURE she'll forgive him everything in that moment. She doesn't want to let him off the hook for being shitty, and Mark's behaviour isn't helping. This is supposed to convey that the way he treated her isn't ok even if he was a superhero, and he shouldn't expect it to be.

And she isn't happy about being angry with him! The scene ends with her looking pensive, conflicted, because the walls she put up in that scene do not reflect her character! She goes back to Mark to make sure he's alright, because she sees his actions in a different light, and bear in mind, at this point, Mark is still viewed by the public as someone who played a pretty substantial role in killing around 50,000 people at a guess. She's not going back to him because he's a hero now. He's public enemy number 2. That is an INCREDIBLE amount of integrity and dedication, traits she's displayed repeatedly throughout the season through her grassroots support of local communities.

William literally says in his pep talk to Mark:

'But you were a shitty boyfriend to Amber and you got what you deserved'. This is Mark's number 1 fan. Laying it out in front of us.

And last, but of course, not least,

Guys she's fucking seventeen cut her some slack jesus christ she's not a calculator

[starry-nights12]

happy birthday!! idk how to start this exactly but here goes lmao 💀 your writing is amazing and I love it sm and I was looking back over your posts and you mentioned gift fabrics and I was like omg I wanna do that but I had like. nothing planned ahshdhjdjdh lmfao 😭💀 BUT who cares im gonna come up with smthn anyways and you cant stop me. bc your writing is great and I get so excited every time you post something and so yeah. im doing a thing RN and uh. you cant stop me. take that. 👍💪

anyways lmao this is kinda inspired by that one fic of yours where will has a nightmare bc I think its such a good opportunity for a hurt\comfort fic :P hope you had a great birthday btw ! lights camera action or something idk 💀 oh yeah also this is in the jinx firelight au (that's a pretty vital piece of information that fun fact I didn't think to disclose until after i started writing :D 💀😭)

The cool night breeze danced across Ekko's face as he gripped the railing of the banister, trying in vain to calm his strained, shaky breathing. He had woken up in a cold sweat, sitting bolt upright in his bed, limbs thrashing about as he gasped and tried to suppress a scream. He had stayed sitting there in the darkness, his whole body shaking, as he tried to no avail to regain his composure. It wasn't until a minute or so later that he noticed the hot tears rolling down his face. At that point he realized sitting there and waiting for the pit in his stomach and the ache in his heart to go away wouldn't help anything, so he (by some miracle) had managed to stumble out of his room and out into the night air, shaking. He had been trying hard not to think about his nightmare, but he couldn't quite seem to get his mind under control. He couldn't stop thinking, couldn't stop shaking. It was as if his whole body had turned against him.

The dream had been about her. The parts he could remember, anyways. Because of course they were. Because of course he couldn't just be happy with her, right? Because he always had to wonder, "What if, what if, what if..." didn't he? First it was "What if I had just gone with them?" or "What if I had tried harder?" or "What if I didn't do enough? What if I could have saved her?" Now that she was here, she was safe, she was his friend again, he thought it would've gotten better. But it hadn't. "What if she hates me? What if things will turn out the same? What if she gets hurt? What if I lose her again?" He supposed he was probably being unreasonable by thinking he would be automatically fine again (or he would have, if he had been thinking clearly). She hadn't been here for that long, only a couple weeks, almost a month. They needed time. They were a lot better and much more comfortable with each other, sure, but it was difficult sometimes. Nothing good ever came easy. But being with her again was worth it.

He had managed to calm the whirlwind of fear and panic that had laid claim to his mind, slowly guiding his senses to his surroundings, drinking in the peaceful night that encompassed him. He should've felt better. It was so relaxing, the silver moonlight dripping from the clouds, the sweet, honey-tinted breeze that stroked his hair, the rustle of the leaves playing overhead. But he still felt empty. Lonely. A couple days ago, he had mentioned to her that he had been having nightmares after she inquired about his tired state. She had told him that if it happened again, he would be welcome to stop by her room for someone to talk to, as she usually stayed up pretty late herself. He had thanked her, but he had also lightly told her off for it, insisting that she needed to get enough sleep. But right now, he really, really hoped she hadn't listened to him.

His breath started to shake a little again as he walked over to her room, trying to ignore the tears welling up in his eyes. He didn't know why he was getting all worked up again.

What if she wasn't awake?

He was just dropping by to see if she was awake. He would be fine on his own, really. He was okay.

What if she was just being polite? What if she won't want to be there to comfort him?

He was okay. It was just a bad dream. He had managed on his own before. It was fine. He was fine.

He had reached her door. He stood in front of it, trying to calm down. Trying to stop fucking shaking so much. He finally raised a fist to the door and knocked on it gently.

"Jinx?" He tried to keep his voice from trembling. Silence. It was only for a few seconds, but it felt like forever.

"Ekko? Is that you?"

"Y-yeah." Relief flooded through his body.

The door creaked open and Jinx appeared, looking puzzled.

"What are you doing up so late? Is it the-" Her face fell, confusing him for a moment until he realized he had started crying again.

"S-sorry, I'm sorry I just-" he felt her cool hands on his face, tenderly wiping away his tears before pulling him into a much welcomed embrace. She pressed up against him, rubbing his back with one hand as her other massaged the back of his head gently. More tears fell from his eyes as he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her gently, still shaking. Her skin always seemed to be cold, yet her touch always brought him comfort.

"It's gonna be okay, Little Man. I'm here." Her voice was gentle and quiet, soothing. "Do you want to stay here for a while?"

"Uh-huh." His voice wavered and he nodded, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck. She squeezed him close, then gently led him in, not letting go. She wiped off his fresh tears with a sad, gentle, understanding smile as she guided him onto her bed, the mattress creaking a little as they curled up together. Ekko's hugged her tightly, comforted in her presence as she rubbed her hands in small circles on his back, his shoulders, his head; as she hummed a quiet song and lovingly nuzzled into him. It all felt so...right. Like everything was okay again. She was here. She was here. She was here. He was so glad she was here.

"Thank you."

"Always."

yaaaaay you made it to the end! :DDD ik that you will probably not be reading this on your birthday bc I think we're in similar time zones (?) but yea lmao 💀💪

fun facts time I started writing this on your birthday and have not stopped since. it is not your birthday anymore. it is 12:30 at night and I am going feral,,

anyways I hope you enjoyed also I hope you had a lovely birthday! this is actually my first ever proper fanfic and I don't think I've ever published any of my writing online before, but I've come this far already that at this point the wrath of the gods would not be powerful enough to stop me (from posting this and also just in general)

thanks for all your wonderful writing and for inspiring me to make this btw!

I may be sleep deprived,

Sincerely,,

OH MY GOD!!!

YOUR DESCRIPTIONS!!!!!>>>>>>>>

EKKO PRETENDING THAT HE'S KAY WHEN HE ISN'T!!!!

JINX COMFORTING EKKO!!!!

[tubblers]

Does anyone else still struggle to look at corn without having flashbacks? Just me? Alr-

no, no you’re so real for that, the corn thing on tubble altered my brain chemistry in ways I can’t even explain - 🎶

i get unreasonably psyched about corn like- all the time now. i go to grocery stores and get pumped when they have corn and my mom doesn't get why im happy stimming while staring at corn LOL - 🐀

I loved the corn! The red corn, the glowing corn (oOoOoOooooO), the normal corn and the corn stalks filled with crazy people. I got so hyped when Charlie Slimecicle released Corn 2. I like to think that's what the L'Ohioburg corn stalks looked like heh. But anyways yeah. I always stare down my corn before eating it to make sure it doesnt start gloing lmao - 💀

[boatemlag]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love 💞

tagged by @spacetrashpile (which im soft about. ahhhh.)

i tried to stick to fics on ao3 but i couldnt help myself. yes these are all mcyt. for an extra challenge i didnt include "want itself is a treasure in heaven"

untitled scar and pearl oneshot - scar and pearl have a shared nightmare and dance around the issues. so so so proud of how this one came out. life series (double and secret life).

untitled gem centric au drabble collection - gem centric AU with immortal pix, gem, and joel. sausage is sausage. series of strict 100 word drabbles exploring grief. so happy with how this came out, and im glad i wrote gem for the first time! empires s2 with canon consistent hermitpires and s1 elements.

every time i knock you let me in - desert duo share a night in the desert. character study, scar pov. shipping light. big big big fan of the amount of lying i put in this fic. desert duo lying to each other is so important. 3rd life.

do you dream or do you grieve? - an awkward conversation between joey and sausage post-corruption. big fan of my sausagevoice in this one. empires s1.

at least 85% of the universe is dark matter - first fic in a last life scifi space au. this one is about the southlands, martyn centric, told in a series of vignettes. im unreasonably giddy at how it came out. themes include: trying to move on, failing moving on, everything falling apart quickly and without reason. last life au.

tagging: @erstwhilesparrow and @paulsmelody and then realizing i dont think i have any other friends who write fic? (looks around) well feel free to ignore or if i missed you then just say i tagged you if you wanna do this. yeah!

[peachywise]

Lessons in Honest Part 7

steve harrington x reader

Chapter 7: Changes

– other chapters: part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5 ⋆ part 6 ⋆ part 7 ⋆ part 8

– series synopsis: Being Robin Buckley’s younger sibling had always been uneventful, up until she got herself tangled with Steve Harrington. And really, you were happy for her. She deserved friends. What was bothersome was when he got let in on small secrets like your infatuation with Eddie Munson, and decided to take it into his own hands to try and get him to pay attention to you-- by pretending to be your boyfriend.

– notes: im just the biggest clown in the whole clown car, what can i say-- sorry this took me so long team! this chapter was meant to be way longer but I'm splitting this one into another part (half of it is already written, i swear) no spoilers but i am... ramping it up from the next one out, believe me. enjoy!

read here or on ao3

_____________________________

"I told Robin that we're dating."

You had to hand it to Steve. He got straight to the point. As soon as he shut the car door, he blurted the truth like an embarrassed teenager in confession, telling his priest he'd had 'impure thoughts.'

"Yeah, I guessed that." You said blankly, watching the others pile into their respective vehicles as you pulled out of the driveway. You turned your attention back to Steve. "Mind informing me what she said in reply?"

Steve was very purposeful in averting his gaze. Uh oh. "Y'know," he shrugged his shoulders, the definition of unnerved nonchalance as he tapped his fingers restlessly on the steering wheel. "She just… laughed."

He might be feigning that he was unbothered, but you? You were bothered. Why would she find it funny? I mean— yeah, it's not like you were actually dating, but she'd found you in a compromising enough situation that it had to be at least a little believable.  

"She laughed?" You asked back with a minor scoff, brow raised.

"Yes," Steve confirmed, still drum, drum, drumming his fingertips away.

"What kind of laugh?"

"What do you mean what kind of laugh?"

"I mean, was it a small annoyed laugh before she said something? Or a full-out fit?"

"Look, I don't know, okay? She laughed and then told me to get out."

Well, shit. You wanted to get upset at Steve for not being creative in his description, but even you could admit that it would be an unreasonable excuse to lash out at him. Anyway, it's not like you didn't know what Robin was thinking. Her out of the blue declaration of your romantic status and the slight smugness on her face as she said it was a clear enough admittance of her actual thoughts.

"She doesn't believe it."

Steve's head twisted to look at you, then back to the road, only for the pattern to repeat. "What? No, no— you saw what she said out there. She did that because she was pissed or unable to keep it to herself or something."

"You may know a lot about Robin, but you don't have the expertise that comes from living with her for years," you informed him. "Believe me. She was trying to catch us in a lie. And she'll continue to do so until she's squished us under her sneakers like bugs, the freaking masochist."

Steve swore a muttered "shit" under his breath. "So what? What do we do then? She said it in front of Eddie."

If you were sure the airbag wouldn't go off, you would have smacked your head on the dash. Eddie! How could it have just slipped your mind that Robin had said what she had in front of Eddie? Yeah, this was in the plan all along, but if Robin were to tell Eddie that she thought this was all a farce, then what would happen? Nothing good, that's for sure.

"Why the hell was he at your place anyway?"

Steve's unprompted question slowed your steadily increasing heart rate to a near-complete stop. You wondered if you had heard the minor edge to his tone wrong as you stared at his perfectly passive face. For some reason, that annoyed you more. His line of questioning still felt accusatory, like it was some sort of slight for Eddie to have been there at all.

"Why were you with Nancy?" You shot back, your mouth blurting it before your brain could adequately provide all the warning bells and whistles that say, 'not a good idea!'

He stayed silent, apart from a minor annoyed huff. Fine. Two could play at that game. You wouldn't give him an answer, either. You could be silent.

For a total of one single minute.

"I'm glad Robin laughed at you," you muttered bitterly.

And even though you knew Steve knew that the laugh really wasn't just directed at him, he still conceded with a half-heartedly sarcastic, "thanks."

The rest of the car ride was spent bickering over the usual things. What radio station to settle on. The leftover takeout bag in his car with old fries that you called 'gross.' His insistence that they were actually your fries and he wasn't your personal 'garbage man.' The fact that he could have fooled you, given his garbage taste in music. The eventual truce that followed discovering you both liked David Bowie.

By the time you pulled over onto the dirt side of the road, all earlier tension had rolled off your shoulders. "Oh, come on. Five bucks?" You offered Steve as he unclasped his belt and stepped out of the car. You mimicked his action, looking over at him over the roof of his car.

"No," Steve flat-out denied, giving you an equally flat look.

"Ten?"

"Do you even have ten dollars?"

Rude, but not wrong.

"They haven't even been in here that long!" You fought back instead of answering what was obviously a rhetorical question. The fries were maybe a couple of days old at most. "Besides, you know fries from Mcdonald's don't mould. It's not even real potato. I think." It was more cardboard and salt than anything. Damn good cardboard and salt, though.

"I'm not eating the fries," was his groan back, already walking to the edge of where the tree line started. A part of your bickering in the car also had to do with Steve pulling you away from your house so fast that he forgot to ask what points everyone was starting at. Nancy assigned positions for everyone, and you two got picked for the east.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. "I'm bringing them with us anyway. Once we find Mike and Lucas—" because you refused to say if you found them— "they'll be hungry. It'll be payback for them stressing us out in the first place." Walking up to Steve, you shoved the brown paper bag peppered with old grease stains into the backpack conveniently stashed in the back seat of his car.

You made a mental note to ask him later if he had ever been a boy scout.

Though you had been keeping the tone light since that minor bit of tension in the car you were refusing to think about again, you could tell Steve was concerned. You were concerned. Mike and Lucas were resourceful. Smart. It wasn't like them to just not figure their way out of the woods. For them to not have come home, or at least radio Dustin back, it was… troubling.

Unclipping the walkie-talkie from his bag after zipping it back up, you clicked the button on the side and asked, "Dustin, do you copy? We're at the east entrance about to head in."

A staticky reply came back a second later. "I copy, but before you go in, I've been thinking. Maybe we shouldn't be splitting up."

Scrunching your nose in confusion, you glimpsed up at Steve, who also gave you a similar look of 'what the hell' before yanking the device from your grip and replying, "we're already here, and this way, we can cover more ground."

"I know, but—" Dustin was cut off abruptly. Your heart jumped at that, wondering what had happened before Nancy's voice rang out over the line. "We stick to the original plan. Everyone checks in every fifteen minutes, got it?"

If there was one thing you were genuinely envious of Nancy Wheeler about, it was her ability to take charge. Your hand was itching to salute the walkie-talkie.

"You got it, Boss," came Robin's reply.

"And be careful," Nancy added, almost as an important afterthought.

Be careful. What did she think you were, amateurs? **********************************************************************

You were worse than amateurs.

You were idiots.

You no longer needed to ask Steve if he had ever been a boy scout. You knew the answer. He hadn't been. Not by a long shot. While you may have entered the forest in the east, Steve's directions and your lack of understanding that his directions were utter crap had you positive you'd taken a wrong turn somewhere. And then another one. And another. You had already decided to name the rock that you had circled back to three times before 'Steve 2.0' because the original Steve had a head just as hard as his successor.

"Can we please tell them we're lost now?" You sighed, deciding to stop and sit down on Steve 2.0 to get a bit of a rest. You must have been at this for almost an hour already, and nothing. Seriously. It takes talent to be so utterly bad at this. You hadn't even run into Dustin or the others yet.

"No, I know where we're going," Steve replied, just as stubbornly as the last time you'd asked. Sure he'd checked in with Nancy like she had asked, but the last time he'd swiped the walkie from your grip before you could cry out S.O.S.

"Really? Then what's so special about this place that you keep bringing us back to it every time?" You pestered him, scrubbing a hand down your face in exhaustion. Though you meant to be sarcastic, it came out weak. No energy zipped into it.

"All the forest looks the same! Stop convincing yourself that we keep circling back," he chastised. You rolled your eyes. Whatever. He had to give up eventually, right?

Dropping your hand back to your side, you groaned as you stood back up. It wasn't that walking for an hour really took it out of you, but the annoyance of bugs and the tenderness to your throat at hollering out Mike and Lucas's name every ten seconds had you in rougher shape than you should have been. And your worry. How had no one been able to find them yet? You were starting to think getting the cops involved was better than what you were currently doing.

Still, you had to try a little longer. For them.

That didn't mean you couldn't lessen your discomfort at least a bit. If you kept going at it like you were, you wouldn't have a voice in the morning with all the yelling. "Do you have water in your bag?" You questioned Steve, already walking towards him when he nodded his head.

"Great," you mumbled a second too soon. Cause what happened next wasn't so great. It was a cruel joke, probably brought upon by the karma of you thinking you were the lesser of the amateurs.

Taken down by a tree root jutting out of the ground.

How embarrassing.

Face down on the ground, you tasted the dirt in your mouth before you felt the pain throb in your ankle. A soft grunt escaped you as you rolled onto your back, staring up at the blue sky above the canvas of the trees as you tried hard to catch the breath that had almost been knocked out of you. Steve's face suddenly blocked off the sun's light as he peered over you. You could feel the warm presence of his body as he dropped down to his knees next to you in a quick rush.

"Shit, Buckley, are you okay?" He breathed out, one hand of his placed on your thigh, the other on the arm you were trying to push yourself up with. You avoided his gaze as best you could, already feeling the hot feeling of blood rush to your cheeks in mortification.  

"Fantastic," you all but managed to wheeze out as Steve moved the hand from your arm to your back, helping you push yourself upright. You dusted off some of the dirt from your pants, the tips of your fingers slightly grazing against Steve's hand still resting on your leg. He retracted it back quickly, looking down as if his actions had somehow offended him. You felt yourself frown at that.

Steve placed his now free hand to the crook of your elbow, helping drag you up into a standing position. He soon became a full-body crutch when you put pressure on the foot that had snagged the root. A sharp breath accompanied the action as you immediately raised the foot back up again, stumbling into Steve's chest. His arms wrapped around you, eyebrows drawn together, concern pulling tighter at the muscles of the boy's face. "Is it your foot?" He questioned, eyes tracking down your body, taking in the additional scraps that lined your forearms.

"No, it's my arm," you sarcastically griped, gripping onto the fabric of his shirt as you tried righting yourself up again. Another test of putting your foot down more gently this time had similar effects, sucking in a breath of air to mask the uncomfortable tenderness in your ankle.

"Funny," Steve deadpanned in return, slipping your arm around his neck as his other supported your waist. "Let me take a look at it." Letting him keep some of your weight, you made the pathetic hop back to the original rock you were sitting on, letting Steve gently help you down. Once settled, he knelt before you, making quick work of undoing your shoe's laces. His hands were gentle as he eased the shoe off your foot, a tender touch keeping it from jostling too much. It still hurt, but you were able to school your features enough to make it seem not as bad as it was.

"You're playing doctor twice in twenty-four hours. They should give you a medical licence," you tried to joke. Steve's eyes flashed up to give you a look past his dark eyelashes, unable to hide the minor amusement as he softly shook his head.

"And you should walk around wearing a helmet and pads." He murmured, peeling your sock halfway down to reveal your ankle. His hand cupped your heel as he closely inspected the area. It was red, already starting to swell a little. Didn't take a surgeon to figure that it wasn't a great sign. Steve's fingertips brushed softly over the skin, but you weren't sure if it was that action or the sudden but slow rotation he moved it in that had you shuddering. Flashbacks to the events of last night in the bathroom were a sudden onslaught. The closeness. The way fingers ghosted over the skin like how they were now. The tight band of silence and air.

"I think you've got a sprain. You can't be walking around on this," Steve murmured, shaking you out of your momentary daze as he slipped your sock fully back onto your foot.

You cleared your throat to clear away any lingering thoughts. "The medical licence thing was a joke, Steve. How are you so sure?"

"Basketball player, remember? I got injured plenty of times. Just not by walking." Ah, right. Makes sense. You still didn't have to be happy about it, though. Getting a sprain in the woods? Not your finest moment.

Apparently, you weren't getting your shoe back because the next thing you knew, Steve was dropping his backpack to the ground and adding it to whatever odds and sods were in there. You were about to question why, but he beat you to it, saying a knowing, "It will hurt like a bitch to put that back on, and it's not like you can put weight on the foot anyway." Your mouth closed, thinking for a moment with a frown. You still had to look for Mike and Lucas, right? You'd need your shoe. Really, it probably wasn't a sprain at all. You just needed a few moments to sit down and catch your bearings, and you'd be good to go.

But you never got a chance to argue back. Steve was already moving the walkie-talkie close to his mouth. You were expecting him to finally admit that they had no idea where they were, so hopefully, the group could meet up. What he actually ended up saying caught you off guard. "Guys, little Buckley here hurt her foot. We're going to head back."

"What-" You started to fight back, already reaching out to snatch the metal box out of his hand. He annoyingly lifted it over his head before you could. Voices coming from the other line cut off your impending rant.

"What the hell happened, Steve?" Robin snapped on the other line, her voice both concerned and annoyed. It was impressive, actually. Another voice overlapped hers at the end, Eddie talking over as he hastily asked, "Pip, are you okay? Where are you? We'll come find you."

The moment Steve moved the walkie down to his mouth to answer back was when you managed to get your shot in, snatching it out of his grasp before he could answer for you. "I'm fine; Steve's overreacting. I just tripped."

Steve snatched it back from you just as fast, and you let out a soft indignant 'hey,' as he looked at you with utter exasperation and annoyance. "I have them, Munson." The sharp edge to his voice had you biting down on your tongue. "It's a sprain. I'll take care of them. Keep looking for Mike and Lucas and update us later if you find them." A cacophony of voices muffled through at the same time, but it was quickly silenced as Steve shut off the device and clipped it back on the bag.

The air hung heavy.

"We have to keep looking, Steve," you finally said after the quiet beat, your voice gentle as if pleading for him to let you keep looking.

Steve shook his head. "The others will find them. Those idiots probably made their way back home by now anyway." You didn't know if he believed his own words, but he certainly showed no sign of letting up.

You dragged both hands down your face, tired, frustrated, and trying very hard to still ignore the uncomfortable throbbing pain. A sudden feeling of pressure on your knee dragged you back to attention. Looking down, you spotted it was just Steve giving you a reassuring squeeze. The action relaxed your mind a fraction.

"Trust me."

Breathing out heavily as you dropped your hands, your eyes met his steady and imploring gaze as he waited for you to say something. He was asking you to trust him. That leaving was the best option. That Mike and Lucas would really be okay. His brown eyes were perpetually warm, offering feelings of comfort alongside vulnerability within their innate intensity. His hand was still warm on your knee as he patiently waited for you to respond. The question seemed big, past just what he was asking you to trust him with now. Yet the truth to answer your answer suddenly felt incredibly simple.

You did trust him. You didn't have to think about it.

This was Steve. The guy who befriended your sister and accepted her and supported her when not everyone had or would. Steve, who had always treated you with familiarity and reassurance even though you were just his friend's little sibling. Who offered to help you with some guy without even having to give it a second thought, even if he was getting something out of it with Nancy. Whose eyes always seemed to linger on you, always ensuring you were okay. Even if he was a pain in the ass sometimes, he hadn't let you down before. Not when it mattered. Why would he be doing that now?

So yeah. You trusted Steve. Probably the most out of anyone outside of your family.

You just didn't know when that had happened.

Despite desperately wanting to, now wasn't the time to think about it. So instead, you dropped your head in a resolute nod, offering a soft but sure, "okay."

The corner of Steve's mouth tipped up in a ghost of a smile. "Okay," he replied back.

And then he was turning around and showing you his back. Way to ruin the moment by being weird. He must have sensed the tingling confusion rolling off of you in waves because Steve said as if it should have been obvious, "get on my back."

You almost choked on your own spit. "No!" You blurted out, going so far as to shove a hand to his shoulder. Given all that had happened since Eddie first showed up at your house, you had entirely forgotten about that idiotic near sex dream about Steve the other night. But at the prospect of being pressed close to him? Oh yeah. It all came flooding back. In great detail. "I- look, give me a few minutes, and I'll be able to hobble out of here," you fought back, flushed at the idea of wrapping your legs and arms around Steve.

Steve turned to look at you over his shoulder, a pinched look on his face. "Are you kidding? I'm not hauling your ass out of here over my shoulder if you trip again and knock yourself out. Just do it."

Well, when he put it like that.

Holding air between your cheeks as you tried to muster up your courage, you blew it out in an exaggerated gesture, grumbling, "turn back around." You poked his cheek so he wouldn't watch what was truly the most mortifying day of your life. Steve rolled his eyes but turned his head back anyway. Grabbing his backpack and slipping it onto your shoulders, you shuffled forward, so your butt was just on the edge of the rock. You gave a short mental lecture to your brain to not overthink your following action of spreading your legs wider to nestle between his sides. Your hands found their way to his shoulders to grip them as his hands got a firm grip on your thighs as he dragged you forward, waiting for your chest to be flush against his back before standing up with a slight grunt.

"You good?" He asked, trying to turn his face to peer at you from the corner of his eye. You pushed his face away again. You didn't need him wrongfully reading into your blush and awkwardness.

"I'm good." Though it was a blatant lie coming out of your mouth, it was all the signal Steve needed to begin making the trek forward.

Which brought you right back to your original concern.

"You know we're still lost, right?" You murmured, tightening your arms around his shoulders as you tried peering past his mop of hair.

Not even a bird chirped to fill the awkward silence as the truth finally seemed to permeate the stubborn layer of Steve's psyche.

"Damn it!" _____________________________ tag list: @rexorangecouny @simonsbluee @felicityofbakerstreet @heytherejulietx @ohashley101 @youngflower @ramona-thorns @theblairwaldorf2 @fezco-mylove @hxrgreeves @jbcalway @heizenka @edenstarkk @greekktragedy @trishiepo0 @nonpoppin @bimboshaggy @scoobiessnacks @spideyycents @walkin-in-hawkins 

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

I vibe with hyperfixating w/ characters. To varying degrees I’ve fixated on: Armin from AOT for a while, 1D had a DEATH GRIP on me for a few years, (SEVEAL book characters through my teen years)I had an Alucard from castlevania fixation for maybe 3 ish years (‘ending’ only recently) and now Hobes lives in my head rent free ngl.

I get the “being sad cuz you can’t meet them” part, I’ve felt it. I try to not daydream TOO much cuz otherwise it takes over my life and I’m doing a considerable effort to live OUT of my own head, but BOI do I LOVE just daydreaming about my blorbos of choice.

I don’t speak too much about it (mostly the daydreaming) cuz to an extent it feels like a “me thing” (like something I don’t wanna share with anyone cuz it’s special to me), but if given the chance I DO info dump on my fixations.

I don’t think it’s cringe, not at all. These things are stuff that helps us process the world and our experiences with it. I believe everyone has sensitive weird shit that they don’t talk about, but if there’s something Ive learned is that we hardly ever have completely unique experiences. Most people just hide their oddness. Fandom being a prime example of how much our blorbos can mean to us. I think it’s okay and normal. (Until it goes overboard and people send idk violent messages to others because they headcanon something differently idk, the unreasonable stuff imo)

Can’t believe our of everything people would dare to make JOY and INTEREST the things with negative connotations. Being mean should be cringe, being a bully should be embarrassing. But unashamedly enjoying stuff?? That’s wonderful.

Anyone too embarrassed of their own vulnerability that they deal with it by making others feel bad about their interests are the most immature out if all of us.

Joy is everything that’s good with the world.

Even just seeing the letter 1D makes me wanna scream (in a good way!!) cause it takes me back to high school lol 1D was a bit older than me so my grade had Mindless Behaviour (does anyone remember them, where they even popular) but I remember the days where 1D was like the definition of summer songs

And I can totally understand the 'me thing'. Like I never really spoke about it but I felt like I knew my daydreams were more substantial or vivid than the 'average person' so to say.

Or when I spoke about characters to other people, I understood that neurotypicals likes characters, but they often didn't see them as fully formed 'persons' in the way I do - as to say, they didn't speculate or see emotional backstory, connections, or their behavior the way I did.

I never really shared any of my daydreams because like - I can't even get into it that's like asking someone to explain Star Wars to someone who doesn't even know space travel exists.

I grew up in a time on the internet where self-inserts and OC were seen as cringe, and someone would be very quick to call out 'Mary-Sue's (or flawless OCs) whenever they could.

It's not like that now - but in juxtaposition to canon x canon shipping, that bias is still there I feel like. Like it, as a work of fandom art has less 'value' that art or fics of canon only characters

It kinda bums me out still.

I think OC and daydreams and self-indulgent inserts are all the best part of fandom because it's the purest way of fans connecting with content on a personal level.

I'm happy that I see more people pushing back on that lately. Like after years of seeing people viciously hate furries when most of them seem like very nice, fun people, it's refreshing for people to be like 'nah, actually this thing is cool. and im gonna spend of time and/or money on this thing cause i makes me happy;

like you remember when the new Star Wars movie trailers came out and that dude reacted to it and he was moved to tears and people made fun of him??

yeah fuck everyone else that dude knows whats up.

Like yes, openly cry to your faves. Fantasize deep meaningful daydreams that help you process your feelings. Draw your OC with them, or learn every single thing their is to know about them.

That's why I wanted to talk about this. Because I've never heard it spoken about before. Maladaptive daydreaming, yes - and that can be harmful. But I hardly ever hear people talk about the basic mundane experience of it - or even how it can enrich our lives and help us emotionally develop of neurodivergent people.

When I think of it that way, it's something that makes me happy. I don't think I'll ever be able to describe it fully, and that's the point. Our stories are private to us, not because theyre embarrassing, but because they're so us that to even describe it would like describing a new world top to bottom

I love it. It's what makes humans humans.

[navysealt4t]

HELLO BLUE!! ^_^ i am back in your inbox to peddle my wares (fic concepts that are plaguing me actively)

BASICALLY for further context: this fic is like. how i have it in my head is the first chapter is a wishful-thinking type of thing. where clown is intentionally out of character (and specifically more in-line with zam's perception of him, being strong willed and close with the thing plaguing him. accepting it and emerging unharmed from the process of becoming one with [in his case] the void.) and celebrated. it's a fantasy. which is part of why that's specifically referred to as abacināre; to be blinded (typically by a red-hot iron rod or basin). because it isn't the truth.

"wind up the music box, look at the book again. whose story is it really?" is a call to the correct story, the one that zam was hiding behind this dream of being someone else.

currently i haven't fully finished zam's part. but. i gave him moths as a manifestation of trauma & paranoia & fear ^_^ because i just. something in my brain makes that click. (i've used that in previous fics. i can't remember where it came from but i like it, i use it). zam's spend his life trying to kill his fear, or hide away from it, only for it to come fluttering in through the cracks. so harmless, yet absolutely soul-destroying for him. he's tearing himself apart by proxy, since he's killing a part of himself with those moths.

something something trauma acceptance... i dunno it's a flowery metaphor for admiring people who've learnt to cope with trauma (or at least, what you've perceived as such. this is untrue in the case of what zam's seeing. clown was never bothered or hurt by the void, it was just a part of life to him. making this goal completely unachievable and unreasonable on zam's part) and not knowing how to, since their example doesn't apply to what you experienced. so instead you try and follow the example and it just brings you back to square one time and time again.

also, hence, spērāre, which can mean any of the following: "to hope, expect", "to await, anticipate", "to fear, be apprehensive", "to assume, suppose".

ALSO LASTLY, the fic's title being Asomatous, meaning without a material body; incorporeal. is just the icing on the cake that is this horrible angst riddled fic. because like. zam's assumptions aren't based in anything real, they have no grounding to them. and honestly? in this... zam may as well be a ghost. and the moths as well. they aren't real, they're a manifestation ^_^ (i can't go ten minute without giving my blorbos issues. and i just like making them Like Me yk yk)

(if i give this fic a nice/happy ending then we'll get a little healing. otherwise uh. self destructive tendencies the curse yet also my beloved as a plot device.)

ogugffbhjnkfmk i have. so many thoughts...... this is supposed to just be a random fic concept that i write and never think about again. im thinking about this one a LOT. i hope you've enjoyed my nonsense ramblings because i didnt realize i could talk this much until i just. started. talking.

oh. also. song ^_^

ooiugh pitting all of this In my Mouth <3333 i LOVEEE this idea clown being intentionally out of character and idk why but i LOVEE ‘whose story is it really?’

AND MOTHS!!!! AS THE MANIFSTATION OF FEAR AND TRAUMA AIUHH <3333 i love bugs as like metaphors and in writing it’s sooo 💥💥

FUCKING . HOLD U IN MY HAND I LOVEEE HOW UR BRAIN WORKS <333333 oughh the title i love it i LOVE this 🫶🫶🫶🫶

i loveeee the nonsense rambling <3 just getting lil bits of ur brain i love words fuck yeah !!!!!

[human-souls-buy-dopamine]

Helloo im doing an ask challenge so here it is

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you!

(Also thank u for ur kind words within said reblog it always makes me happy when ppl say things like that)

Aaand have a wonderful day or night!!

Awww no problem!! We love to make people happy :3 thanks for letting us spread the joy !!

5 things that make us happy, in no particular order:

- our special interests/hyperfixations (atm, it's primarily Minecraft, psychology, and linguistics!)

- GETTING ASKS <33

- our OCs and our friends' OCs..... making little stories with them <3...

- drawing and animating and gacha life 2 !!!!

- MUSIC AARRGGH WE LOVE MUSIC..... right now we're rlly into Chonny Jash, vocaloid music, and this CRIMINALLY UNDERRATED band called Fiction !!!! I think there's another band called Fiction Music so I'll link the one we're talking about: (x)

- uhmhunguhhnmm I can't speak for the whole system but me and Gray are made very happy by Mims, a headmate of ours,,,, he's so shaped and at first we were kinda hesitant because our headspace likes to fuck with 'creepy' stuff and his source is kinda funky, but MIMS IS SOOOO NICE AND WHOLESOME 😭😭 It protects us from delusions by way of "fuck that if delusions can be unrealistic and unreasonable so can I" and we LOVE IT FOR THAT <3333 he's also just so sweet and yes this turned into a platonic ramble about a headmate we just . YEAH.

Okay that was a lot JDJAKDJHA but we love being happy and talking about what makes us happy :3 ask box is open to anyone who wants to ask about stuff we like ORRR if YOU wanna talk about stuff YOU like because we love listening to people as well!!!! Have a good day!!!!

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

I posted 2,092 times in 2022

That's 2,092 more posts than 2021!

41 posts created (2%)

2,051 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@romanarose

@wysteria-clad

@eyelessfaces

@pleasurebuttonwrites

@bit-dodgy-innit

I tagged 1,616 of my posts in 2022

Only 23% of my posts had no tags

#fanfic - 692 posts

#thank you so much for writing this! - 653 posts

#moon knight - 587 posts

#♥️♥️♥️ - 379 posts

#steven grant - 337 posts

#lovely writer replies! - 287 posts

#marc spector - 269 posts

#jake lockley - 207 posts

#poe dameron - 108 posts

#smut - 89 posts

Longest Tag: 125 characters

#jake: also i broke your favourite vase i'm sorry what's that you forgive me great i'm so glad <- this omg im laughing so much

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Do you want to dance?

Steven Grant X Reader

Rating: T

Warnings: My first time writing a fanfic in centuries! One F bomb!

A/N: Oh my gosh, I've actually written something! This is for @littleferal 's Writers' Iron Chef! (No. 1 Prompt: Slow Dancing & Additional Prompt: "Are you flirting with me?” + "You finally noticed?") 30 min time limit was kept to (this was so difficult! Such a rush at the end!) I read it over after, and fixed 2 typos I could see - there are probably more! No Y/N. Reader's gender is never stated.

Summary: Steven goes to a coworkers enagement party and runs into you.

Word Count: 780

Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

-------------------------------------

To say it seemed like a dream was unreasonable. At least in a dream there was some kind of internal logic, some notion in that unawake state that what was happening made sense somehow.

This was just unreal. Scratch that. This was too good to be true. But Steven was sure that if he had been asleep his utter disbelief would have woken him. 

Grace, in admin who he had never actually met face to face, had invited the entirety of the museum staff to her engagement party and apparently from the lavish looks of things she was marrying a millionaire. 

There were so many people that Steven was sure it would give the seating at Wembley a run for its money. 

He had made some general chit chat, feeling out of place at first, and kept an eye out for Donna so he could make a quick escape. However his boss never appeared, if fact he didn’t run into anyone he really knew at all. And it was wonderful. 

Everyone seemed more than happy to talk to him and he slowly slipped into a kind of ease he hadn’t experienced in a long time. 

That was until he heard your voice. 

“Steven!” 

It was like a shot of adrenaline directly into his heart. 

He turned quickly to see you. “Hello.” His voice was meek, unlike himself as he took in your outfit. 

“I’m so glad to see you, I was hoping you’d be here somewhere!” You reached out to hug him and his mind short circuited for a moment. Dial up internet trying to download an image. 

He shook his head, quickly smiled back and accepted your embrace while carefully manoeuvring the drink in his hand. “You were? I mean, it’s really good to see you, yeah.” You smelt like banana shampoo and floral perfume. Somehow intoxicating and complimenting at the same time. If he could just stay and breathe that scent in forever. 

The hug ended too soon. 

He stared for a long moment as you broke apart, the sound of his heartbeat was louder than the live band playing, than all the broken conversations echoing around.

“How’s restoration going?” Steven said quickly. 

“Yeah, okay,” you pulled a face. “How’s the gift shop? I never see you around anymore?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Steven gave you a sheepish smile. “Well, you know…”

Your face dropped.

“I mean,” there had been a time, a month or so ago, you had seen each other almost every day. You popping by the gift shop either before or at the end of your shift if Steven was working to say hi. Him dropping by your offices and the restoration workplaces. 

Listening to you talk about and show him what you were working on had brightened his day to no end. 

And then…

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95 notes - Posted July 12, 2022

#4

Egg Fried Rice

Marc Spector X F!Reader  Rating: T  Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Summary: Out of the three of them, Marc had met your mother last.

Warnings: Angst & fluff. Mentions of previous abuse (Wendy Spector) but doesn't go into detail. Typos - I am notoriously bad at catching them. Swearing.

A/N: I've used corvase's 'lovely little domestic prompts: “your mom is coming over today.” “tell her to bring fried rice or she’s not invited.” “you tell her, she’s your mom.” “but she likes you more!”' - and it ended up being a lot more angsty than I inteaded. I changed the prompt words a touch as well. Steven & Jake make a little appearance too.

Word Count: 1689

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites

--------------------------------------------

You had been in the shower when your phone rang. It was on silent, as usual, but by chance the light caught Marc’s attention as he put the clean laundry away. 

The display read ‘Mum’. 

He swallowed, a flash of nerves hitting him for a second before he pushed them away. He could just wait it out, pretend he didn’t see it. 

The soft material of a pair of your fuzzy socks in his hand suddenly became much heavier; the cartoon duck on the side no longer looked friendly. There was a judgemental tone in its eyes.

 “Fuck you.” He narrowed his eyes and hissed at the cartoon, the absurdity enough to bring a small smile to his face.

Quickly, without giving himself too much time to really think about it, he grabbed your phone and answered the call. 

“Hello!” Your mum’s voice was like sunshine itself. 

“Hi, it’s-”

“Marc! Ah! How lovely to get you!” 

He grinned broadly, warmth bubbling up in his chest. She recognised his voice. Straight away she recognised his voice. 

“I was wondering if I could pop by today? I have a little something for you all.”

Your mother knew all three of them, but her first meeting with Marc had been almost five months after she had met Steven and Jake. 

It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to meet her, he did, it was just... difficult. Panic spiked up in his spine and made him sick whenever the arranged date to introduce himself grew close. 

His alters’ voices constantly in his ear. “She’s so lovely.” “You’ll get on well with her hermano.” “She’s nothing like-”

It hadn’t mattered. He had chickened out four times. The third when he was in the car with you outside of your mother’s house. He just couldn’t. Couldn’t. Had checked out and left it to Steven and Jake.

He would stay away for days, the worst being the second occasion when he didn’t front for nearly two weeks afterwards and had refused to speak to Jake or Steven. Even staying quiet when Steven had said he would let Jake grow a moustache if Marc didn’t say something. 

When Marc finally did front he had refused to talk about it. Point blank. Not to Steven, not to Jake, not to you. He knew that made it worse. 

It had caused more than one internal and external argument.  

You had tried to bring it up carefully, calmly, telling Marc that there was no need to rush, he hadn’t caused any offence, that he didn’t even need to meet your mother if he didn’t want to.

But instead of staying quiet, nodding, or any of the countless peaceful options Marc had gone into defensive mode. Unable to explain his fears even though you knew about Wendy, unable to accept your kindness and care and love when he was so sure he didn’t deserve it. He wanted your anger.  

“Oh, so you don’t want me to meet your Mom then?” 

His tone had taken you by surprise even before his words had registered. “Marc that’s...” you shook your head, playing back what you had said, checking for how your words could have been misunderstood. “I didn’t mean that, I-”

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118 notes - Posted August 28, 2022

#3

Cariño (Part 1) Jake Lockley X F!Reader

[Part 2]

Rating: 18+ (this chapter is clean, but it's gonna get a bit steamy later on!)

Warnings: Swearing (can I write anything without profanity? No.) Pining. Terrible Spanish.

A/N: Okay, so this story acutally has a plan to it! (Whhhaattt?) Also please let me know if you think I have missed a warning!

Summary: You’re pretty good at procuring hard to find items for others, for the correct price. So when Jake Lockley hires you to steal an Egyptian artefact it should all be plain sailing. Right?

Word Count: 2403

Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

-------------------------------------

You didn’t have any ice and kind of felt a little apprehensive about putting a bag of frozen cauliflower on your face.

So you’d settled for some folded up kitchen roll that you’d run under the tap, wrung out and shoved in the fridge for ten minutes. And two prescription painkillers that were meant to be for migraines. 

The plan had been to go straight to bed until there had been a familiar, and distinctive, knock at the door. 

You sighed, a little more than annoyed at the timing. Maybe if it had been anyone else you would have just ignored it. Gone to bed. Ignored them. Or blatantly yelled for them to ‘fuck off’. 

Another knock. 

You grimaced a little as you removed your makeshift ice pack and paused over the bin before you stuck it back in the fridge. 

You grimaced more as you caught sight of your reflection in the kitchen window. The darkness outside didn’t take the edge off the lovely bruise and swelling on your right cheek. 

Maybe he wouldn’t mention it. 

Maybe pigs would fly.

You opened the door halfway through the third knock, not bothering to look through the peep hole into the hallway. 

“Hello Jake.” You said in a sing song voice, stepping slightly to the side as you held the door for him to come in. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Any hopes you had of him just walking in and politely ignoring your cheek’s condition quickly evaporated. 

His eyes bored into you, fixated on the right side of your face. You fought the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. 

“Mierda.” Shit.  He muttered. Your Spanish was awful, but you got that one.

He clenched his jaw, his whole-body tense. Well, tenser than usual, there had never been a time you had actually seen him completely relaxed. He didn’t seem the sort. Probably slept standing up. 

Jake kept looking at you and there was a familiar heart rising up your neck. You turned quickly; you weren’t going to blush in front of his stupidly hansom face- no not hansom. Just… Ugh.

You let go of the door and walked further in, heading for the living room. 

There was a thud from behind as Jake quickly stepped in and closed the door behind him. 

“Who the fuck did that?” His accent was heavier than usual. 

You gave him a small glance over your shoulder but didn’t break your stride. “Does it matter?” 

He said something in Spanish, so fast that you couldn’t differentiate the words. Whatever it was, it wasn’t polite. 

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124 notes - Posted July 25, 2022

#2

The Boy with the Thorn in his Side

Steven Grant X F!Reader Rating: T Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: SELF-INDULGENT WARNING, creepy dude following reader, lovey dovey syndrome, fluff, pinning, TYPOS, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

A/N: ahhhhahahaha, sorry I couldn't get this out of my mind. Set in ep 1 when Steven has just realised he has missed his date. No y/n.

Summary: Steven Grant’s day is going poorly to say the least. He’s lost days, missed his date and now a stranger has sat down opposite him who seems to know him? It would be nice if our favourite Gift-Shopist could catch a break.

Word Count: 3747

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites

---------------------------------------------------------

“It doesn’t change the fact that today is Sunday, which means lose my number. Cheers.” 

“But-”

The line went dead.

Steven stared at his phone. This was, this didn’t- The date on the screen said Friday. He couldn’t have lost two whole days. He-

“Hi!” 

Your voice snapped his attention back to the seat in front of him as you sat down hurriedly. 

“Sorry I’m late! It’s so good to see you!” You were speaking a fraction too loud and Steven had never seen you before in his life. 

A frown began to form on his features, knitting his eyebrows together. He wasn’t sure if he could take one more thing today, first Gus, then two missing days and now whatever the hell this was. 

“I’m sorry b-”

“There’s a guy,” you had turned your head to the side and placed your hand on your cheek to hide your mouth while you pretended to look at the menu. Your voice a whisper and it was only now that Steven could hear the wobble in it, see the slight shake in your fingers. 

“He, I don’t know, I think he was- is following me. Since- it doesn’t matter, he- I just cut through the alley and this was the first place I saw that was open, and I mean, I could be really misunderstanding everything and just overreacting and, I’m so sorry, I saw the empty seat and I just thought that, maybe he would, you know, if I was with someone, I didn’t want to cause a scene and,” the words just tumbled out and bled together in a mess. 

Your heartbeat thumped so hard in your chest that it was making you lightheaded. 

Steven’s frown deepened as he looked over your shoulder to the alleyway you had just rushed through.

This was so stupid. No one was following you, and you’ve just made a massive fool out of-

“Blue jacket? Stupid white trainers?” 

A small panicked smile sprung to your lips without your control and you nodded furiously. 

You didn’t want to look behind and check. You really didn’t. But it seemed your body had other ideas. 

One quick glance told you that you had been right. The guy was just standing there on the opposite side of the road. Looking directly at you. 

Tightness gripped at your throat. 

Moral disgust suddenly overwhelmed all other thoughts in Steven’s brain. This was not on. He straightened his back without thinking, hands on the table as if he intended to stand. 

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing mate?” His voice sounded stern, intimidating even. “Just going around following people, yeah?” 

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127 notes - Posted August 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

How (Part 1)

[Part 2]

Nathan Bateman X F!Reader  Rating: 18+ pals  Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Summary: After the events of the film, it’s decided that it’s best for everyone if Nathan has a babysitter. 

Warnings: swearing, typos, fragment sentences, soft!Nathan, mental illness, PTSD, overuse of italics, panic attacks, brief illusion to suicide. There’s no smut in this, but there will be in part 2.

A/N:  What is this? What is this? Self indulgent. That’s what it is. This was meant to be a short under 1000 words instead of this monstrosity that is now two parts. All I can say is this really got away from me.

Word Count: 5431

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem

_____________________________________________

If there was one thing you wouldn’t have believed prior was that Nathan Bateman: founder of Bluebook, recluse, and self-aggrandising arsehole, was a cuddler. And a pretty needy one at that.

You had noticed it well before the two of you had started a less than professional side to your relationship. 

Small things: his arm brushing against yours if you sat or stood next to each other, he would touch your hand (usually holding it for a second longer than necessary) if you passed him something, pats on the back and nudges with his shoulder in the kitchen as he said ‘good morning’. 

He wasn’t that much of an arsehole either. Annoying? Certainly. God complex? For sure. But you were surprised at how considerate he was. What did you want for dinner? What were your plans for the day? Would you have time to check something over? – even though it was technically part of your job to help him. 

You had started a small experiment of your own. Arguing internally that it was out of nothing more than professional interest. A hand on his shoulder when you spoke his name, resting your knee against his at the dining table, little things. But boy did they have a big reaction. 

A shudder, a slight softening of his eyes, a lean into your touch. And that was it, wasn’t it? Nathan Bateman was touch starved. End of story. 

And you couldn’t help but push it. 

You had laid your legs on him on the settee while he was watching television and you were pretending to read a book. Your calves resting on the middle of his thighs. 

You had expected him to tell you to ‘fuck off’. Expected him to push your legs away. And, in all honesty, you kind of wanted that. Wanted to piss him off. He’d been bordering on the very fine line of Acceptable Annoying Nathan and Genuine Bastard all day.

The cherry on top being the tiny sideways looks he gave you while purposefully turning the television sound up every few minutes as you did your very best to ignore him. 

But he didn’t do any of that. Didn’t even say anything, just froze and, for a second, a pang of fear dripped like warming ice down your spine. 

You’d gone too far, you should-

He placed his hand on your shin, the warmth of his fingers seeping through your trousers. It was a light, but reassuring touch. Grounding almost. After a minute he began to trace small circles with his thumb, after another, he turned the television down to a more reasonable level. 

Neither of you commented on it. 

A few evenings later you threw your arm over the back of the settee when you heard him come into the room. Quickly relaxing back into your best impression of carefree before he came into your line of sight. 

Again, you expected him to act a certain way. A sarcastic comment, purposefully sitting somewhere else and glaring. But instead he flopped down next to you, on the edge of a little too close, his arms loosely crossed and lent his head back, brushing his shortly cropped hair against your lower arm as he closed his eyes. 

Neither of you commented on it. 

The next day he got drunk. Not a completely unusual occurrence, but in the whole time you’d been staying with him he normally drank with you, or, at least, around you. 

This time he simply appeared in the living room, obviously more than a little tipsy but seemingly not as intoxicated as he was pretending to be.

You were reading, curled up at the far end of the settee.

He sat down, sighing loudly, and nursing a beer. And you thought you’d play along, at least for a bit. See where this goes. 

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211 notes - Posted November 1, 2022

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