#yes I really did write something

[tianhai03]

felt silly and decided to make a cowboy/outlaw oc :]

creed (other guy in the second pic) belongs to my loving wife @downsteepy ❤️

[pokimoko]

haunting the narrative -> haunted by the narrative -> haunting the narrative -> haunted by

[sleepy-steve]

🧠🪱 Wiggly Wednesday Thursday 🧠 🪱

thank you for tagging me @stervrucht 🖤

no pressure tags: @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @stevesbipanic and of course anyone else that would like to ♡

thinking about Steve and Eddie who, after going through rounds of physical therapy after everything, continue to work out together because Steve obviously loves it and loves having a friend to work out with. and Eddie notices the difference in his stamina when he gets back to performing on stage. (and if Eddie likes to watch Steve work out a little bit, and likes Steve coming over to help his form more than a little bit, well that’s his business.) but Steve takes a dance class and shakes up his usual warmup, leaving Eddie with some… thoughts.

***

“Okay, Munson,” Steve says, pulling his arm across his body for a shoulder stretch. “You ready?”

“Ready to be tortured? Always,” Eddie jokes. It was their thing. Eddie acts like he hates being there, but he still shows up every other day to their local gym in Indianapolis. And he won’t ever deny the benefits he’s noticed since starting their exercise regime. He's faster on stage, doesn't get winded near as easily, holding those screaming notes without feeling like his lungs will explode. Little did he know that today his joke would come to be true.

Steve liked most kinds of exercise. He was a sporty guy. He liked the pull and stretch of his muscles, the feeling of accomplishment after achieving a new goal, that delicious soreness the day after a really good workout. But mostly he loved trying new things. He’d give anything half a chance if he thought it might be fun. Which is how he ended up at a dance-aerobics class the week prior, finding himself having a lot of fun, blushing furiously when the women in the class complimented how quickly he picks up the steps.

He went back three more times that week. Part of his enjoyment came from the new warmup he was taught in the class. Steve’s usual warmup consisted of basic stretches and a light jog, covering all bases to ensure he didn’t get injured, but not very exciting.

This, however, was far more enjoyable. Steve found himself sinking deep into stretches he didn't know he had flexibility for, and moving his hips to a beat, ultimately just having way more fun with the warmup. And it was about to become a huge problem for Eddie.

Steve pops his headphones over his ears, the tape deck tucked securely in his shorts pocket. He bends over, inhaling deeply as the song starts, rising up with his hands overhead, exhaling as he rolls his wrists, hips moving side to side with the beat. His already short cropped t-shirt rises, showing off a good amount of his chest. He lets his arms come down, bending over again, feeling the pull in his hamstrings. Gripping his elbows, he lets the top half of his body hang, swinging from side to side, his hamstrings fully stretched out.

Eddie looks up from his own basic stretching, shocked to see Steve fully bent over, because hey, since when was he so flexible? With Metallica blaring through his own headphones, Eddie just stares, completely forgetting where he was at in his warmup.

Steve lets his hands drop, moving to one foot, back to the centre, then the other foot. Ass just up in the air, his shorts way too tight. Eddie swallows. He’d been denying his crush for months at this point, and good god this was not helping.

Rolling his shoulders as he stands up, Steve lets his hands travel down his bare thighs, sinking into a squat with his back arched and head tilted back. Eddie's eyes are wide as he watches those tight little shorts with the little cut-ins on the sides ride up, showing far more of Steve's glorious hairy thighs than Eddie can handle. Steve drops his head forward, hunching his shoulders as he moves back to standing. He repeats the motions, and Eddie wishes he had the strength to pull his stare away from Steve's ass.

Seeing Steve's head tilted back and his back arched is sending Eddie insane. Like, he geninely thinks he might evaporate on the spot if he keeps watching. But he just can't look away.

Turning himself sideways, Steve has one foot stepped out in front of the other, legs perfectly straightened into a triangle shape, bent over his front leg. Just when Eddie thinks he’s about to get up and end his suffering, Steve lowers himself down into a lunge. His little shorts definitely way too small and tight for the movement, Steve lunges back and forth, fingertips resting on the ground on either side of his front foot. Eddie watches as the t-shirt rides up with each lunge, the desire to get his lips and tongue all over Steve's chest overwhelming him.

Shaking himself, Eddie tries to remember which shoulder stretch he was up to. He attempts something close to a stretch, but he can’t be sure he's doing it right, because Steve has lowered himself to the ground, front leg bent and back leg perfectly straight, and is fucking thrusting into the ground. If he were to ask Steve, he’d find out this was a hip flexor stretch. But Eddie’s forgotten how to form words entirely, suddenly imagining nineteen different ways he wants to get dicked down by the man before him.

Eddie suffers in silence, heart racing in his chest, watching as Steve repeats the movements on his other side. He prays that the torture ends soon, that they can just get to the workout, and Eddie can go back to pretending he doesn't want to ride Steve until his thighs give out. But Eddie gets no such luck.

Steve has moved into some kind of triangle position, hands on the ground, legs straight, and of fucking course, his ass in the air. Eddie marvels at how straight the shape is, only for a moment, because then Steve is lifting his heels up and down in turn, and jesus christ those tiny little shorts are just riding up, and Eddie can see a hint of Steve's ass peeking out. His jaw drops. He may actually explode.

Just when Eddie's thinking he can't take much more of this, Steve lowers himself down, knees spread wide, arms stretched out in front of him and head tucked down. A wild and rushed series of thoughts fly across Eddie's mind, all centred around Steve kneeling down in front of him. Eddie needs to get it together quickly.

As Steve brings himself back up to the triangle position, walking his feet to meet his hands and rolling his spine up, shoulders and head rolling back last, he sees Eddie taking off for his warmup jog. Assuming that he probably just took too long with his new warmup, Steve shrugs it off and starts his jog shortly after.

Eddie hits his personal best in several weights that day, desperately trying to expend his excess energy in some way. He barely registers the wins, mind still stuck on Steve and his perfect ass in all those new positions. He almost dissolves on the spot when Steve claps him on the shoulder in congratuations.

At the end of their session, Eddie takes a freezing cold shower and prays for the sweet release of death.

[doverstar]

actually I love Tentoo and he is the Doctor and it was the only ending for Rose that worked and it is a huge gift to be able to have the man she loves grow old with her, they were always heading for that, y'all be quiet. I 100% understand the angst but it's okay, they're okay, good ending-

[lucyshypemaster]

you will NEVER see anyone writing paragraphs after paragraphs hating on keefe like they do with sophie.

[brainworms-all-night-long]

Ah anyway, I mentioned wanting to rewrite that mine scene from arcane s2 yea, alas autism took over and maybe one day some day I will rewrite it with the Actual Sisters in mind instead of the hedge-fox siblings

Either way please enjoy 2,827 words of tension between siblings and maybe open doors to some sort reconciliation possibility at the end..?

———

"At least they didn't live to see the psycho their child turned into."

"Which one!?" Nine immediately blurted back, a pool of new-sprung resentment brew at the bottom of their stomach, "I didn't come down here, wearing a spiffy enforcer uniform with new pals, gassing people and shoving topside guns in their faces!"

Sonic seemed genuinely taken aback for a second while Nine went to catch his breath after forgetting to do so while talking.

Of course Sonic didn't think about the actual fallout, implications and consequences of his actions until they were thrown into his face after the fact. Typical.

The hedgehog then, took a heavy step forward. His almost toxic green eyes stared daggers at the other as gears in his head began to turn in an attempt to come up with a reasonable retort.

"Topside guns or not, I tried to fix the mess you made. You have blood on your hands." Taking yet another step, he pointed an accusatory finger at the ynamused fox, since the retort was indeed, falling flat, "You blew up whoever Ivo pointed you to without a single thought. You killed and terrorized people, innocent people. Symbol of the Underground's hope my ass, you started a fucking war."

Nine let the prickles of dread fall of their shoulders at the hatefull look from their brother's face and stood their ground. Even though they really wanted to bite Sonic's nose off.

A fucking hypocrite this guy was.

The gal of him saying that, as if he, after seven years of prison, didn't dawn on a badge that says 'I kill whoever the council tells me to for fun and because I can!'

Not to mention this "war" was long time coming anyway.

Nine didn't go to poor people's houses purposefully releasing poison gas on them and then arresting them en masse. That, alongside all the other shit the council has allowed and ordered to happen, thank you very much.

They simply shot those that got in their way, or fired first. Most "innocent" people had the sense to move out of the way before bullets started flying. Or they wouldn't even be in Nine's line of sight anyway. And if Sonic's talking about Topside, then honestly, that's a whole another can of worms.

"No one Topside is innocent." Nine hissed, "They're the reason we don't have a mom and dad you know." They said I a grim tone, and the hedgehog shut his mouth throughly af that. "Or Chuck, in his regular non-murderous, hedgehog form. Or Eggman... Although ok, the last one might be a slight stretch, it-it still counts."

Unfortunally, Sonic rolled his eyes at the drop of seriousness in the fox's tone and was back on his high-horse.

"Eggman got whatever he deserved." He scoffed with air quotes around the nickname. "He poisoned you and the Undercity enough. He's the reason Chuck is dead and that I was thrown in jail for– I don't even know how many years, and that you turned into–" He paused, wildly gesturing to Nine's entire frame. "This."

Nine pinned their ears back at such a careless dismissal.

Not only of Eggman, but them, and the entirety of the Undercity. Sonic had turned his back on all of them. If not when he was a kid, then the day he put on that fucking uniform.

And while Nine could hardly dream of ever achieving Eggman's efficiency at political planning by pulling the strings, they sure as hell won't have all those years of effort go to waste.

Sure the human was by no means perfect, because like, he got people killed and addicted to Dead God Drugs, but it finally got the Topside assholes to listen, and to be scared of consequences for what they've been unchecked doing down here.

And they're all yet to pay for what they've done to their brother.

Just how bad has that enforcer bastard brainwashed him...

Other than that, Nine wished there was at least a sliver of acknowledgement of just how much that old man meant to them as just some guy that picked them up when eveyone else was gone.

And now he was gone too. And again it was by no one else's fault but their own...

"Ivo didn't make me do anything." Nine resolutely shook their head, derailing their train of thought into background noise and clicked their mechanical tails together in annoyance, "And guess what, he actually fucking appreciated me for what I was. Unlike some people." They shot their brother a glare, pinning the 'someone' onto his stupid big blue forehead. Or green. By Chaos that green dye was stupid. Why did he go with green, he could've gone with black to be a proper sad loser at least. But than again, he would've just needed up looking like that Topside schmuck so this was for the better.

The hedgehog, currently subjected to Nine's internal ridicule, only balked, actually jabbing the finger into the X formed by the string holding their old, tattered shirt together.

"He turned you into his perfect little killing machine! Manipulated you so well that even after his death you can't see it! Everyone with an ounce of brain left hates you because you let him play you like a fiddle and then serve as his little puppet chaos!"

Ok, Nine knew Sonic didn't see past that really, really biteable nose sticking from his muzzle, but they wished he chose to pick on literally anything else but the poor old man.

"He was doing the exact same you used to, allow me to remind you." Nine pointed a finger of their own, actually stabbing it into the hedgehog's chest as they twisted their face in vitriol. Actually feeling the resentment leak into their insides further.

"Except, you know, he didn't chicken out when I finally made my bombs explode properly."

Sonic didn't move, but his expression temporarily lost its edge. A grim memory resurfacing.

Nine took a stern step back, rising to their full height (which was just slightly above Sonic's anyway), and put their hands on their hips in an attempt to keep it together.

"That is to say; keep Eggman's name out of your mouth and keep walking."

Sonic scoffed, letting his hand drop. He took a sharp breath before stepping to the side, trudging deeper into the mine.

Of course, Nine's original intent was to fully drop the conversation there, but the bag was already cut open, might as well get that cat out of it.

"There's someone else I'd say played you like a fiddle." They turned on his heel dramatically, trailing after their brother, who opted to pretend they weren't there apparently. He didn't spare even an ear flick in their direction.

Instead the mine was was filled with nothing but the tap of those oversized prism-kicks periodically triggered the bioluminescent fungus when hitting a stray bolt or pebble.

"Where is he now? That fancy-pants topside, no-fun-at-all." The silent treatment didn't deter Nine in the slightest, "Don't tell me he dumped you so soon. You were suuuch a perfect couple while plotting assasinations and ambushes together." And they made sure to coat their words with as much venom, sarcasm and resentment as possible.

Sonic though, didn't respond. The only sigh he even heard them was a progressively deepening scowl on his face.

"Was he the one to send you into that pit or you actually got some sense into that vacant skull of yours and left on your own?"

"Can it Jinx. Before I do something I regret again."

The hedgehog suddenly snapped, twisting sharply in their direction and into a half fighting stance with a fist balled at his side.

"Aww, gonna punch me in the face again big bro?" The fox teased in that same venomous, sing-song voice. The phantom ache on their cheek haunting them for years panged again, but at this point it was second nature to ignore it. "You kind of fell off though, used to be better at it."

Than that fist was raised above their face, adrenaline from a seemingly endless fight bleeding from their veins, sternum uncomfortably crushed beneath hot metal plates and—

All Sonic did was shot him a silent warning glare. The plates on his kicks reconfigured, hissing out steam.

Nine blinked the flash memory away, pulling their lips in a frown.

"Sheesh, you really are in a mood today. Almost like you're not happy to see me or something."

At that he sighed through his teeth, hanging his head low and turned towards the seemingly endless mine tunnel.

"Hm, go figure."

Afterwards? Silent treatment. Again.

The darkness became thicker, almost physical as they went on. Particles of near static dust parted before them after every loud metal step. The quite literal monster lurking somewhere in there was stashed into the backlog of noise.

Neither of them might've been saying anything, but of course, Nine's head was anything but empty. A stray screeching in his ears, clink of metal against rock and a few pebbles falling to the ground, maybe even a person screaming or just the wind howling. Hard to tell which one of those had an actual physical origin, if any.

In the dim organic light, they observed the stoic silhouette of their brother. Shoulders squared and a steady step. No fear in what he might bump into between the flickers of darkness. At least he appeared so. Those spines of his were hard to read when so messed up and badly groomed, they looked to be on end almost constantly and he didnt seem like the most relaxed guy just a while ago.

Just when did they get so bad at reading their own brother...

Perhaps after they stopped being scared of the dark. Now they knew what danger would await them in there exactly, and everything else was either not real, or could be taken out with a well aimed blast of pure prism energy.

But they remember the days of being scared of what might lurk in places where they could not see or hear properly. They were scared of a lot of things back then actually.

And there just so happened to be a certain someone that would comfort them if the terror ever became unbearable. Someone that held their hand whenever the monsters would creep in and threaten to snatch them away. Someone that promised to always love and protect them, someone who made them feel safe in the dark like no one else.

Sonic has never felt as far away as he did now.

He was right there though.

Arms reach away.

They could call out to him, grab him by the shoulder, kick his knee in, tackle him to the ground and shoot him in the face— yet for some reason it felt Nine couldn't move any further to the hedgehog then they already were.

An old shovel abandoned, the metal of Sonic clown shoes cracked against it and in after a static flicker of light, Nine could swear the hedgehog had that awful dye washed out of his quills and stood much shorter. A reassuring smile on his lips.

A blink and it was gone.

Nine stepped on one side of the eroded mine cart rail, balancing on it with little to no effort as they continued onward.

"You know... I do miss the time when we were kids." Somehow they fished out their voice, stuck somewhere in the back of their throat, "Unaware of the complexity of just how thoroughly fucked everything was. Just you and me, my mistakes and your fixes. Never giving up on me even when everyone else kept telling you to do so..."

We're they actually talking, or just though really hard about doing it? Well it certainly felt like sound was leaving their mouth, so the most likely option was Sonic just deliberately ignored them.

Nine was mostly just rattling off thoughts out loud anyway, whether anyone heard them or not was unimportant. A sudden bout of reminiscence taking over them., was all. They missed this blue, now emo, idiot a lot actually.

"Until of course, you did give up which... yea ok, fair. But, still think about it from time to time."

No response.

He used to be their entire world.

Now he wouldn't even look at them.

Could they even blame him though?

Nine shut their eyes forcibly. Already feeling a familiar chill crawling up their spine.

That reassuring smile was nothing but a hallucination, they knew. An echo of a long gone past or something entirely made up.

Nine stepped off the rail as it got way too wrinkly and rusted to walk on properly.

That, and their legs were getting wobbly when thinking about the possibility of the memory from which that face came not being real.

It wouldn't be the first time it was wrong, there wasn't a whole lot they could fully trust back there.

So maybe...

Maybe all those times they remembered of Sonic taking the blame and the brunt of their "jinxes" weren't real. It's possible, that Sonic never actually cared all that much, or at all.

Maybe the two of them just happened to spend a lot of time together due to one circumstance or another, and in a poor attempt to cope, Nine's mind twisted the words and misinterpreted actions of the past into something that could get them through the day.

Maybe all of those compliments they remembered were meant to be backhanded and Nine, as a desperate and naive child, just didn't catch it.

Because by all the recent evidence, it would make sense.

A grim conclusion, but... Sonic did abandon them, 'I swear, I'm never going to abandon you again..' punched them, 'BECAUSE YOU'RE A JINX!' came back from the dead '...nothing, is ever going to change that.' only to lead a fucking enforcer on their trail and merrily try to kill them alongside that bastard. 'They're not getting away again!'

Trying to look past all that in an attempt at reconciliation was just another big mistake of theirs, wasn't it?

'The two-tails always jinxes everything.'

They really can't fix a single thing, permanently or right.

'Soon enough he'll realize just how much of a liability you are—'

No one will ever want them around.

'Don't cry. You're perfect.'

The only person that ever did is dead.

'...Ray was right—'

'Don't listen to him!'

'who would've expected— Every time she's around— it's almost like you're the— They blew it, again!— never anything right— Just one thing— nothing good—'

And it all began melting into incoherent noise and ringing.

In a futile attempt, they tried to muffle it by clasping their ears as close to their skull as possible. Of course, they knew it wouldn't work, it wasn't possible to shut out the sound of one's own brain, there was no way to just turn it off and they tried unholstering their gun to get rid of the closest thing to the cause of this chaos except did they really want to kill their brother here and now of all places and times after they tried to fix what they broke was this guy even the same person—

It was like they breathed in for the first time after years then, as an audible hiss of steam shot through the suffocating wall of blurry noise and shattered it into temporary silence.

A steady hand was placed on the back of their shoulder, grounding them somewhat back into reality, rubbing gentle circles on their back while the gun fell from their hand and it clattered almost immediately. Soon it became clear they were much closer to the ground itself than they initially remembered.

There was a voice, but Nine couldn't process the words at all.

They looked up, meeting green eyes staring down at him. Concern and mild panic were all they saw before the tunnel went completely dark. The only light left being Nine's tails and the prism shards in Sonic's walkers ways deeper in the tunnel.

The hand which shook the gun moved to their cheek, cupping it just as gently as the one on their back.

Nine was almost sent barreling straight into another episode for the exact opposite reason if Sonic stayed quiet for one more second.

"...can you hear me, like at all?"

Nine swallowed thickly, after what felt like years of silently gawking at nothing, they regained motor control of their own body enough to nod and speak.

"Loud and c-clear. Clear. Loud and clear" Though it felt like they were trying out their voice for the first time in years.

Without any further questions, Sonic pulled their hand over his neck and helped both of them upright.

They stood in silence, neither knowing whether to let go or what to comment on, or if to do anything at all.

Eventually, Sonic decided to be the icebreaker, and do it with the smallest voice ever heard from the hedgehog.

"Do you... do you deal with that often?"

Nine immediately cracked into a grin.

"The voices and hallucinations? Yea. Have been for a while now. No, ever since I can rember actually."

They pried their hands back from the hedgehog, quickly picking up, dusting and holstering their pistol, but made no further attempt at increasing their distance.

"But they've been a lot more chill lately. Eggy's pretty nice, and the rest just pop in from time to time to make sure I don't forget about them or something."

"The rest...?" Sonic asked carefully, taking a natural step back with a glance over his shoulder. The lack of a heavy metal footfall was distinctly notable.

Nine's eyes trailed down, seeing the haphazardly tossed away boots by the tracks a few meters away from the two of them.

Huh, Sonic stepped out of his fancy slippers to comfort them, how nice.

Sonic audibly grimaced, traces of guilt palpable within, before he let out an indescribable noise. And fully turned to retrieve the boots.

"Yea. Mighty, Ray..." Though they began answering pretty nonchalantly, they paused, looking at Sonic with an unreadable expresion, "You."

The display sounded remorseful enough, so Nine was willing to interpret it as an attempt at a "sorry."

Either way, half of a boulder fell from their chest.

Maybe in the most tucked away corner within Sonic, there was a part that still cared for them. And always has. Maybe it wasn't all imagined after all.

The hedgehog tried to lift the Atlas Walkers after they toppled over in what was most likely a hasty escape out of them. Except he refused to bend down and actually adjust the boots properly so it ended up looking like a really poor attempt at football tricks.

Nine didn't even think to hold back a snicker right before the hedgehog booted himself back up and stood a few centimeters taller.

Still too short to reach their forehead.

They shared a look, barely actually being able to see each other and by the time Nine clapped to light up the tunnel, Sonic was already with his back towards them, but it no longer felt as hostile.

The silence going forward was also much more bearable and Nine's head cleared just a little bit. But they only got about two actual steps in when a distant thumping in an otherwise dead silent mine shook the walls.

[aetalk]

[tonybicyclestark]

could we get a drabble about them post Dr. Strange?? 👀

SOOOOOOOOO this ended up being longer than a drabble. I didn't know what to write cus the post Dr Strange era is still WIP but uh... this happened and now it's almost 1k. HELP

"Are we seriously going to live in this creepy weird old house of your new cult now?" Tony asks. He's lying on the couch in what seems to be the sitting room. Then again, the rooms change so often Tony doesn't really know if any of them are permanent fixtures. The Clock swats at Tony's head affectionately at that quip. Both it and Stephen know Tony doesn't really mean it. If Tony had any ill will towards the Sanctum, he'd have never been allowed in. Husband to the Master of the Sanctum or not. "It's not creepy and we don't have to stay here, as long as I have a passageway linked between here and where we live." Stephen replied nonchalantly as he floated in midair, trying to read. "Great! Problem solved then. We have the compound." Tony replies. Stephen stays silent. "Oh come on Stephanie, give me something here." Tony retorts.

"You know how I feel about the Compound."

"Yea yea, you hate the fact that it's so far outside the city - away from the NYC views and the killer commute." Tony says, recalling the same argument they've been having ever since the Compound was created years ago. "But counterpoint, you don't have to travel every week to Metro General anymore and you have portals anyway so what's the big deal?" "The big deal is that it's not home Tony." Stephen sighs. "And you think this is? I love you Steph, so much baby, and I'm super proud of all that... magic sorcery things you do now but can you really imagine me living here? With the bots?" Stephen ignored him. "Oh come on, the bots and Cloakie will probably set this entire place on fire before we even fully move in." "The Sanctum is protected against fires among other things." Stephen diverts.

"That's so not the point. The point is -"

"The point is that we have a perfectly great home waiting for us, right here in New York City, that has all the space we could need and is within walking distance to the Sanctum." Stephen finishes, closing the book and floating back down to the floor.

"The Tower? That's what this has been about? You want to go back to the tower? The one that was attacked multiple times by various bad guys because it's literally a beacon for trouble? That tower?" Tony asks bewildered. He'd always thought everyone was on board with the move away from there to upstate New York.

"It was perfect for everyone. The team had their own floors, location was as central as you can get here, we had space for family rooms, games rooms and a fully stacked Med-bay and did I mention that everyone loved living there together?" Stephen emphasizes.

Tony was confused at that, and Stephen could see it. He sighed and explained, "The team agreed about the Compound because they thought it was the best choice strategically but no one wanted to leave Tony. It was our home."

Tony tried to process what he was hearing.

"Clint retired fully because the Compound was too far for him to keep coming back to from the farm. When we were still at the tower, he'd still been a part-time Avenger. Steve loved being able to go on his runs at Central Park and I know he misses it as well. It's home Tony. I know we left and you sold it but - I don't think for a second any of us liked leaving it." Stephen explains gently. He's very aware of how quickly this conversation could be interpreted as him and the rest ganging up on Tony. "But previous arguments still stand. We need the compound for training, especially for all terrains and outdoor field training." Tony spoke as his mind already spun with ideas for re-purchasing the tower and getting everyone's things in order.

"Well, it doesn't seem like much of an issue when I have portals now does it? I can always set up a permanent portal to the Compound." Tony looked up at him in slight awe. "You really thought this through huh? You guys really want to go home?" Tony asked.

"It's home Tony. Everyone wants that. No one ever wanted to mention it to you, that's all." "I'll deal with that later but for now....I guess I'm begging Pepper to help me buy my tower back." Tony concedes. "I'm the one telling the rest though. You're not getting all the credit." Stephen laughs joyfully. Things might have changed much in the past year since his accident, but this... the feeling of home...that's still the same as always.

Tony smiles at that laugh. "You sure this is what you want? That it won't interfere with your duties as a Wizard?" Tony clarifies once again. Instead of getting annoyed Stephen just smiles and says, "Yes Tony, I'm sure." He agrees. "Besides, the tower rests on the main ley lines connecting back to the Sanctum. It's a perfect conduit for the mystic arts."

"That really a thing?" Tony questions, pausing in his emails to Pepper.

Stephen smirks a little and says, "Why do you think it attracts all that trouble and theoretics? Definitely not for that ugly design."

[bewitchingbloom]

same ghosts in a new home

I've been trying to find some writing prompts to turn to when I want to write but don't know what, and when these prompts passed by my dash earlier I knew I found the list to pull from. I used a random number generator to pick which prompt to write. Up first we have:

same ghosts in a new home (961 words)

Fandom: Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous

Rating: T for implied sexual activity (nothing graphic)

Ship: The Commander/Daeran/Woljif

Other notes: Second Person POV

In some of the books you’d read in the past, you’d run into descriptions of the lingering effects of an argument. You’d always dismissed them as poetic hogwash. But now, as you stand in the middle of the sitting room of our new home, you could swear there was an echo, the last vestiges of heated words and raised voices falling back through time to haunt you. 

Truthfully, you're not sure what you said to set Woljif off, or why I was upset with your refusal to apologize. We knew what you were like by now, and you thought you were being nice. Though, if you're being honest with yourself, you know how your words can land more like poisoned barbs than playful jabs. This fight might not be entirely your fault, but you're not completely innocent in it either. 

With a sigh, you turn towards the liquor cabinet, situated right next to the stairway you once sat in waiting for us to join you in. You remember the soft words and the heated embraces, reminders that your melancholy was as ephemeral as it was unfounded. Even now, the memory brings a small smile to your lips. “You will never pale into insignificance.” “You're stuck with us, Your Excellency.” 

To the hells with it. Abandoning your original trajectory, you turn towards the door. Judging by the light filtering in through the window, you have a couple hours yet before the sun goes down. Perhaps you have a plan, perhaps you just want some fresh air. Either way, you’re out of the house before you even realize it. 

****

Now, as for you, Woljif, you had stormed out of the house into the backyard. It was still mostly an overgrown ruin, a choking tangle of weeds and debris that I intend to one day transform into a garden bursting with life. The only thing of note was the small part of the Sellen River that flowed through it, a sliver of pure, bubbling water that you once spent an evening frolicking in with Daeran and I. The memories are pleasant, and the guilt that pervades you at their arrival is entirely unwelcome. 

With an aggravated sigh, you pull one of your daggers out of its holster. Even now it’s a habit to make sure you’re armed. Maybe there will come a day when you don’t feel the need, and when it comes, that’s how you’ll know you’ve truly lost your edge. With a frown, you toss the knife at a nearby stump. It sticks with a loud thud, not unlike the sound the door made when you slammed it come out here. 

Your edge…that’s what this about. Just two years ago you were still running with the Family and scrabbling to get by day to day. Now, here you are, married to two of the most prestigious people in the country and the beginnings of a home to call your own. This is something you should be happy about, and you are! But there is a part of you that feels like you’re betraying everything you’d ever known, stabbing the boy you once were in the back for the first shred of kindness and love that had been shown to you. 

You pull the dagger free, all the anger in your veins dying as the blade comes loose from the wood. Daeran didn’t mean anything by it, but the quip had been phrased just right, careless in the way only someone who’d never faced such hardship could be. Now you know that the wounds of your past still stung.

Taking a deep breath, you flop onto the stump, staring out into the sunlit water. Just a few more minutes, then you’ll be ready to go back inside. Whether it’ll be to make amends or fan the flames again, you’re not sure. But judging by the loose grip you have on your dagger, you are so much more tired of holding grudges than you realized. 

****

At least, I want to believe these are the thoughts that ran through both of your heads. Earlier, when Daeran’s comment landed poorly and led to the most explosive fight I’d seen you two have since the Crusade, I’d felt perfectly useless. All of us still carry the ghosts of our past, and we’d spent so long trying to bury mine that I’d forgotten that you two still had yours to deal with. Words cannot describe how inadequate I felt as a partner in that moment.

Now, the three of us are lying on the floor of the living room, my shortcomings only still plaguing my own mind. You two had made up hours ago, and we carried on our evening in the way newlyweds are wont to do. But as you two drifted off to sleep, I found myself lying awake, haunted by my own, brand new ghost - the one borne of fear that one day I’d lose both of you. I’d been so wrapped up in the tangible ways that could happen, I didn’t realize all the other ways it could happen. 

The two of you lie on either side of me, your hands clasped below my breasts as your breathing evens out. The floor is far from comfortable, and the throw pillows from the couch aren’t much better, but just being here with you two…it doesn’t make it more comfortable, but there’s no other place I’d rather be. The crackling fire wants to lull me to sleep, and I know I should rouse you two before morning comes and the housemaid finds the three of us lying here naked. But for the moment, I am just savoring this moment, and thinking of ways we can help our ghosts to play nicely together in our new home.

[cent-scratchnsniff]

HI CAN I BEG FOR MORE NETSOD CONTENT ON MY HANDS AND KNEES I LOVE THEM I LOVE YOUR ART AND I BEG OF YOU KILL YESOD WITH THE BEER MAN. "I think I'm dying" was too funny. he would think he's dying the nanosecond he realizes heartrate rises not just with work anxiety, but affectionate social anxiety. valentines is going to send him to the ER watch

i was going to make a smaller post abt it. a simple shitpost. but it ended up being longer. about 9 pages or the sort in total. i tried to have it out during the literal date for it but most likely it will be out in the next hopefully at most 30 hours ... .. answering this now so you dont think im ignoring it. the actual finished result be posted in a seperate one. as you can see. dialog/planning plus four pages are done art wise already though!!

small sippets from progress plus yesod from the warmup doodles as a peace offering .. . ..

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

My hot take is that marcanne has as much potential for toxic yuri as any other calamity trio ship and it's not nearly as soft and fluffy as one may think

[cylove]

A Fresh Perspective (5661 words)

hey its me again with another rewrite of sorts. weird concept but its from the POV of warren when he was in the bathhouse with freed and laxus. i thought it was an unique idea to explore. and i absolutely loveeee pov outsider fics for frxs. its tagged mature btw

summary on ao3: A couple of Fairy Tail members are taking full advantage of the newly built bathhouse after their recent win of the Grand Magic Games. Freed offers to wash Laxus back and offer him a massage, but Warren takes note of his guildmates’ behavior towards one another is more than just friendly. Is he imagining things or is there really something more between them? 

[bizlybebo]

theres something in me that wants to write the exact same au shifted slightly to the left 48269484 billion times

[clegfly]

“Of course you have an Other Brother,” he says, waving off her denial as he opens some nearby cabinets. “Who else would I be if I wasn’t?”

Small WIP sketch of the Other Brother from IDKSomethingClever99’s fic “Mari in the Pink Palace”!!! OMORI and Coraline are my two biggest interests ever so this fic was like winning the lottery for me. Not to mention how good it is… please go read it ragh

[cactusringed]

Sometimes I feel self conscious abt the lore dumps in my writing. Then I remember the shit Victor Hugo pulled in les mis and I'm like yeah I'm fine actually

[onthewaytosomewhere]

The young prince always thought dragons were supposed to be big and terrifying. Towering beasts with teeth like swords and smoke curling from their nostrils, creatures meant to inspire awe and fear in equal measure. So the first time he sees one—quietly nestled in the woods that skirt the palace grounds—he thinks, absurdly, that he must be losing his mind. Because this dragon … isn't big, not really, at least not by dragon standards. And he certainly isn’t scary. If anything, he looks curious. Watchful. Almost gentle.

Then the dragon speaks to him.

Not in growls or threats or riddles, but in a voice warm and rich, as if they’ve known each other for years. He listens, too—truly listens—in a way no one else in the prince’s life ever has. It disarms the prince more than any fire-breathing could have. Part of him, the cautious part trained in courtly suspicion, wonders if it's all an elaborate game. That maybe the dragon’s kindness is just a clever ruse, a long con meant to lower his guard until he's soft and unsuspecting—until the moment it becomes laughably easy to kill him.

But days pass. Then months. Years. Then even more years

Nothing happens. That is, nothing but long conversations and quiet companionship beneath the trees. And slowly—so slowly the prince doesn’t notice it happening—his fear begins to twist into something else. A warmth. A tenderness. An ache. Until one day, standing alone at their usual meeting place, he realizes with no small amount of horror that he’s pacing. Pacing like a worried lover.

The dragon doesn’t come.

He waits. And waits. Each creaking of branches has him lifting his head like a dog listening for a whistle. The minutes stretch, bend, then snap under the weight of his growing panic. For all that he’s been told, this dragon is small he’s still larger than any creature the prince knows. Still strong. Still powerful. Still something not human. So, really, his worry is quite silly when he thinks about it. But, he can’t see to stop.

So when the dragon finally lands, whole and entirely unbothered, the rush of emotion that crashes over the prince steals the air from his lungs. Relief. Rage. Humiliation. He storms forward without thinking—without wondering why charging a dragon sounds like even a remotely good idea. His fists thud uselessly against the dragon’s scales and hide.

“You—!” he begins, but his voice chokes, drowned by everything he can’t quite say.

The dragon doesn't flinch. Instead, he lowers his body, forelegs sweeping around the prince and bringing him in, like a parent might gather a frantic child. Claws retract instinctively, softening the embrace. The prince presses his face into the dragon’s chest, muffling his incoherent mutterings against scales that are surprisingly smooth and softer, warm with some inner heat. His hands tremble. His shoulders shake.

The dragon—his dragon—settles into the grass, drawing the prince down with him, curling around him like a living shelter. One massive forelimb strokes down the prince’s back in slow, soothing motions. The prince exhales, every taut muscle slowly unraveling as though under a spell. Maybe it is magic. Or maybe it’s just that, for the first time, he’s where he wants to be—wrapped in the impossible comfort of someone he’s come to love.

Sleep comes for him gently, like dusk falling over the world. Just before it takes him fully, he hears the dragon’s voice, a soft whisper thrumming in his bones.

“My silly prince,” the dragon murmurs, “how could you ever think I would not do everything I could to return to you?”

And in that moment, wrapped in warmth and wonder, the prince believes him.