#yes this is a long fic

[improvapocalyps]

You have 90 minutes to complete. (original poem: r.a.)

In participation of the MCYT Recursive Exchange 2024 hosted by @mcytrecursive!

Inspired by know that all my love will be your breath (i will save you when your lights go out)

[text under cut]

1. Have you ever been in love? (Please circle your answer.) a. It's me and him b. Our hearts beat in sync c. Our lives intertwined

2. Do you understand what you’ve done? (Please circle your answer.) a. I couldn't do anything b. I lost my balance c. I doomed us both

3. It's been god knows how long since you felt phantom hands on your neck and there is no one in sight. If you were soul-bound to him and both of you died at the same time then why are you still waiting in the void? Please answer clearly, in full sentences. (Not a correct answer：I just wanted to see him one more time).

4. Define two (2)： Fate | The feeling of his forehead against yours Curse | The moment you realise he isn't linked to you anymore

5. True or False： i. It was your fault. ii. You wish you had met him under different circumstances. iii. You can’t regret a single moment that you had him. iv. You would do it all over again if you could. v. It ended long before either of you said anything.

thumbnails:

sketch cover thing for imgur link:

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 162

“So,” Danny drawled from where he was sitting, legs kicking slightly. Really, what a fun reincarnation. A world with heroes and villains where he didn’t have to do shit in and could just vibe with Ellie. 

“So,” Tim responded from where he was typing on his computer, mostly in civilian clothes save for his gauntlets and boots. The Red Robin outfit was haphazardly dropped across the couch and his pole leaning against the end. 

“Technically there’s proper procedures for clones…” Danny motioned to both himself and Ellie from where they sat on the counter, snacking on a plateful of scones. From Alfred, he was certain. 

“Technically, yes… but do we want to actually do that?” 

All three of them smiled, something almost feral in the motion. Of course not. They all had the same memories after all, and Bruce had just returned from the past, from exactly where and when Tim had said he was. Despite no one believing him, hence why they were in his boathouse, and not in the apartment or manor. 

“Think we can pull it off?” Ellie took a sip of tea, mischief swirling in her eyes. 

“Of course we can.” Both Danny and Tim spoke at once, one pulling up a new doc and the other pulling the whiteboard out from under a curtain. 

[skipblebee]

LIVE LAUGH LOVE FENGQING FOREVER!!!!!

[melusiiine]

i got my grubby little mitts on a commission slot by the magnificent @kabukiaku , the omega3 angst is perfection

[comfortless]

Deep Water

nix! König x fem! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. no.. intentional harm done to reader but there are sporadic mentions of murder (drowning), König is kind of a creep here do you guys forgive me (say yes), implied sex; dubcon everything. König is wearing a fishing net rather than the usual hood because. it made sense to me sorry.

notes: yet again, i have found that i can not manage to write anything except for silly fantasy nonsense… bear with me this will pass (it will not). if you’re uncertain of what a nix is, i recommend skimming over this (or tl;dr— a shapeshifting water spirit).

You’ve always been told to beware of the river, especially on nights like this. When the singing starts up you were to run, as far and as fast as your feet could carry you. It would be the most beautiful sound you had ever heard, as well as the last. Whatever beast lies in wait along the silt of the riverbed luring people in with its haunting song isn’t kind. The drowned bodies resurfacing bloated and paled are enough for the townsfolk to assume that assuredly, a monster lies in wait someplace within the glassy water.

For all of the fear, town myths were just that— myths.

As always, there’s no singing when you seat yourself on smooth, mossy stones by the river’s bank. The moon hangs low, casting its brilliant reflection on calm, dark water. The air is alive with the buzzing of cicadas clinging to the trees at your back and night birds calling out to the wind. Nothing is amiss; it’s only peaceful, and that’s why despite the warnings, you often find yourself here when the temperature is favorable.

There are nights when the river isn’t calm, and currents are the most reliable reasoning for the deaths from past summers. The water is full of large rocks with sharp corners, teeming with plants that could so easily snare an ankle, and when the water is frothing and cruel it’s no surprise that one could be thrashed to unconsciousness if they weren’t careful.

You didn’t come here to take your chances on swimming, anyhow.

If anything, it’s a mere reprieve from the bustle of the town. No one wanders here any more since the myths gained traction, passed from mouth to listening ears time and time again, leaving this place entirely untouched. Occasionally the obnoxious teenager would cross your path on the walk here, declaring loudly to their friends about how they supposedly saw some slimy beast, eyes like moonbeams and scales like razors lying on the bank.

During your little adventures here, you often carry a snack with you, but not for yourself. Tonight, it’s just a small package of vanilla flavored cookies. In truth, they were awful— dry and near flavorless, but you suspect your friend here wouldn’t mind too terribly much, and if it got them out of your pantry without wasting it was a win for the both of you.

When the large dorsal fin crests over the water mere meters from the bank, you gratuitously crush the treats in a closed fist and toss the crumbs into the water. Time and time again, you’ve fed the large animal, watching as it thrashes about just below the surface before disappearing back into its depths. You’ve never gotten a good look at it, either, but you imagine it must stretch out past your height or further; some sort of gar or sturgeon.

Just as many times before, it glides further in, fin entirely out of sight now. The only evidence of it ever appearing at all were the small waves rippling in its wake. All is quieted once more as you embrace the placid bliss, readying your small flashlight and losing yourself into the book perched in your lap.

The next night, you’re greeted by a large snake basking over the rock you typically sat upon. It lies still, coiled into itself as it regards you, forked tongue flicking out for several moments before it simply slithers off, hiding itself away beneath the moss and stone.

“Best to leave you alone, huh?,” you ask to it’s retreating tail, feeling a bit silly for speaking to the reptile at all. It doesn’t respond, of course, nor does it bother to come out of hiding either.

You opt to seat yourself on the hill overlooking the water instead.

You find that after a day occupied by tedious tasks, there truly was no greater place to abandon your woes than here. Everything was peaceful; wild yet simplistic. Even with all of the death that seemed to haunt this place, you never feared the thought of ghosts. You’ve even entertained your imagination a time or two, that if you ever did meet one, you would only ask it not to disturb the wildlife you have grown so fond.

There’s a freedom and a mystery to places like this, places without the foot traffic of other people. It brings with it a sense of whimsy, especially when you glance towards the water and see the surface reflecting every twinkling star above.

The fish doesn’t appear, even as you listen to the water in wait, your head tilted as you lie back on soft grass to watch for ripples, for the swell of a large fin moving beneath. Nothing. You read your book as the night progresses, nearly completing it entirely before you make your way back home.

Weeks pass by like this— work, river, home and repeat. Occasionally it’s the same large snake that greets you when you wander there, more often it’s the large fish circling about waiting for crumbs of whatever treat you choose to bring. The bank and the small hill overlooking it have become a separate home to you, one where you can be away with the fairies, talking to your animal friends that never seem to stick around for long.

When the weather grows warmer, you even dare to take a swim.

You’re stood on the slick stones of the bank, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of underwear. It’s not proper swimming attire, but you reason that you’re not at the beach, not a soul is around, and it doesn’t really matter at all that you might look a bit silly. The prospect of swimming along that behemoth below is a tad terrifying, but you wouldn’t dare to wander too far in. Maybe the fish would even be intelligent enough to not attempt to eat you after you’ve been so kind to it.

It’s hot, and with a sticky layer of sweat glossing your skin, your worries seem minuscule in light of an easy way of cooling off. You toe at the calm water for a moment, testing its temperature before willing yourself to take a step forward, then another before you seat yourself in the vibrant expanse of darkened blue. Here, you realize, is the best place to stargaze, too; they shimmer all around you, within reach as you tap at the surface of water, watching it undulate beneath the pressure of your fingertips.

You could reach the moon, too, if you swam further out. A few meters from the bank and you would be directly beneath its reflection, bathed in that ethereal glow.

You watch for your friend for a time, trying to prioritize your wariness over your whimsy. When the fish doesn’t tread by you, the water remaining calm, you rise to your feet and take slow, metered steps as the water parts and flows against your shins.

Though the river is disturbed no matter how gently you stride forward, nothing slides out from its depths in pursuit of you. Nothing happens at all when you reach out to splay your hand out against the reflection, the water now gently lapping against your stomach rather than your legs.

You hadn’t expected any sort of shift in your reality, that would be ridiculous, but perhaps some sort of clarity; a further calm for a weary mind. It doesn’t come, and with a disheartened splash you wade your way back towards the shore.

This has been your sanctuary for some time. Excusing the snake, there’s not been any sort of threat to you, not here. A safe water world all your own. Though, that peace is shattered the moment that you make it to the bank and hear the water shift some small distance behind you. Turning your head, you’re met with the sight of a man, the bulky muscular silhouette towering in the patch of moonlight you had just stood in. Bright blue eyes catch the light, reflecting like an animal’s as you scramble back to where you’ve left your shorts.

He stands there, silent and unmoving like an obelisk even as you hastily dress yourself with a thundering heart and breaths that sound more or less like gasps, senses heightened by your panic as you turn tail to run.

No one had been there. You were sure of it when you sunk into the water. There was no sound when this person had swam over to take your place. He was just there, as if he had been the entire time and you somehow failed to notice.

You make your way into the woods framing this place, hurried steps and untied shoelaces. You don’t even bother with your flashlight.

Finding your way back home with aches in every muscle, the desperate rampage you had taken to get away finally coming to a close when the door slams shut behind you, you quickly shower and mull over what’s just happened. A ghost, perhaps. It had to of been. Any other person would have made noise in their approach, especially being that big. The mind could play its tricks; what you had seen was likely not even there at all— a terrifying figment of your imagination. That sets you at ease, somewhat, but not enough.

You don’t sleep well that night, tucked beneath your blanket and staring at the filtered moonlight through your curtains. Work isn’t on your mind at all come morning until your phone chimes with a notification from your manager, questioning your tardiness. A languid crawl out of bed follows, another shower, an unsatisfying breakfast, all before you opt to send a text back to let him know you won’t be in today.

It could be excused, you’re reliable and decent enough at the job; not one to boast, but far more eager to please than the rest of your coworkers. You would be entirely useless if you went in on no sleep, you reason.

You don’t want to go back there, not under the veil of night, but you find yourself horribly curious the longer that you bide your time indoors. You had to know if the thing that you saw was really there, had to calm your nerves. What if he had always been watching each time, and you simply hadn’t noticed? The forest bordering the river is terribly dark at night, anyone could crouch behind the shield of a tree and remain undetected until they willed the courage to drag you in, cup a palm over your mouth to silence your cries.

Maybe it was the monster the people in town rumored about.

The thought of some strange, silent thing living beneath the water waiting for an opportune moment to take you by the neck and drag you down to the silty floor to watch you drown horrified you. Yet, that’s the one conclusion that sticks. Those eyes… so lurid and haunting, no human being had eyes like that.

You inhale sharply, steeling your nerves as reach for a pocket knife for defense, toss it into the bag slung over your shoulder, and storm out the door.

The trek there is nothing short of dull.

No matter where you look, what shadows rise up beneath the dim glow of a falling sun, there’s nothing out in the woods. The river is equally tame. The water babbles over rock, cicadas buzz off in the distance, and not a thing seems amiss. Your search for footprints that don’t belong to the soles of your shoes turns up empty. The only thing that suggests just maybe it wasn’t all in your head is the book you had neglected to retrieve in your fear the night before.

The cover, every page within, now warped as though it had been pulled into the water and spit out to dry. You pick it up, peeling through damp pages, running your fingertips over the smeared ink. It’s possible that a particularly aggressive splash could have sullied it, but something tells you that that isn’t the case. Either way, it’s unreadable now. You sulk a bit as you slip the ruined thing into your bag and step towards the smooth stones to watch the water instead.

Night creeps in slowly with you there, and you’re on high alert for a time before you begin to relax as usual. Even giggle to yourself at how silly it was you believed you saw a ghost at all as you entertain yourself by skipping small stones across the water.

No large snake, no massive fish, no titan of a man appears before you, only a calming crescent moon and a few wandering wood ducks, gliding down from the bank to splash about. A thought comes to mind as the calm emboldens you: what would happen if you got in just one more time?

There’s nothing to suggest that you’re playing with fire as you leave your shoes neatly in the dry sand. If the ducks could swim unbothered by fish or men, then surely you could, too. You watch the little creatures a distance away as they dip their heads beneath the surface and chitter away amongst themselves while you take your first step in.

You don’t dare to go as far this time, stopping when the water brushes over your knees. You wait there while time seems to slow to a crawl, expecting the absolute worst, glancing further down the river, dipping your hand below the glassy surface until your fingertips brush the sand beneath.

It’s horribly hot and you’re still exhausted from the sleepless night before. The water feels nice, and you feel as though you have some sort of claim to it as you’ve been here more often than anyone else would dare to. Ghosts and monsters be damned, you seat yourself and let the water lap over your shoulders, tilting your head back to watch the stars.

When the singing begins it takes a moment to register just what it is that you’re hearing. It’s not beautiful, not like the myths have said. It’s hissed, a low whisper, a mockery of what a human song would sound like. The voice is rasped, lilted yet cold. The realization that it sings words from your book of poetry is what terrifies you the most, the warped pages all making sense now.

Your eyes dart to either side of you, forward, before realizing the voice is coming from behind you. Cold spreads through your veins as you try to force yourself to stand, but in your fear you find yourself petrified, rooted in water that would surely become your grave.

You can’t bring yourself to turn around, to inevitably find your eyes locked onto the shadowy frame of a man far too large, his eyes glistening and pale like the moon hanging above.

The voice pauses when it finds you unmoving, and you can hear the rustle of the creature shifting its weight where it’s stood on the rocks lining the bank. You’ve no clue how deep the river gets, where the opposite side leads, but your only chance of escape seems to be swimming through in the hopes that this thing doesn’t choose to chase after you. A part of you knows that he would, that that is exactly what he expects you to do, goading you to flee deeper with his eerie song so that he can drown you just as he did the others.

You do the opposite as you squeeze your eyes shut and crawl back towards the bank, making sure to keep some distance despite your willful blindness. You wouldn’t look at it, wouldn’t talk to it, you would just go home and never come back.

“Best to leave you alone, hm?”

You still as your fingers brush against wet moss, the voice no longer a whisper but loud, loud as it echoes your words from days past just above you. Beating back your own curiosity proves futile, because you look up at the damned thing then, expecting to see an impossible terror before you, sharp fangs wet with blood and appendages too spindly reaching out for you. Instead, you see only a man.

He’s crouched, only a meter or so away, and you immediately recognize his broad figure. The same as the night before. From this distance you can make out the finer details, the length of net covering his face and neck, the webbing between each finger. Still a scary sight, but only in the way it’s unfamiliar and imposing rather than instilling any sort of primordial fear.

“Excuse me?” You pull yourself fully out of the water, rising to your feet and taking a tentative step back. You’re prepared to run, a coil pulled too tight on the verge of snapping.

The man, creature, whatever he may be just tilts his head, lets the silence hang in the air for a moment before he has the audacity to laugh whether to himself or at the strange, bewildered expression on your face.

His stare is assessing as he sucks in a breath, follows suit in rising to his full height. From the size of him alone, you know you’re not getting away. A mere stride for him would be two or more for you, a deliberate tug of your wrist from him could snap it in an instant.

Yet, he doesn’t reach for you, only gestures toward your bag lying on the ground with a subtle flick of a finger. You give him a quizzical glance in turn, not bothering to retrieve it. You could come back during the day with a friend, gather it and never return. Only, your knife sits somewhere inside, the only protection that you’ve got. The realization spurs you to bend over and toss the strap over your shoulder.

“I’ll… I’ll be going now.”

The stare remains fixed upon you as you take another step back, blinking slowly every now and then as you both remain in some strange stasis.

It takes you a moment to put the pieces together. The reciting of words from the book, the mimicking of the words spoken to the snake, the hint at your bag… he’s expecting something and it’s not to steal away your life, only to be fed and have your company. It’s not charming, it’s awfully strange and eerie, but you find yourself giggling at the prospect of taming some murderous, shapeshifting monster with subpar treats and poetry.

You pull open the bag, searching for anything you may have brought along that he could eat, eventually prying out a small package and offering it out to him.

“Is this what you want?,” you ask, voice hushed and trembling.

He shakes his head, rustling the net cloaking him in the process. So, he understands, he’s just been willfully ignoring every other thing you’ve said prior. You store the package away with a perturbed expression crossing over your face.

“Then what?”

Any relief you had felt seems to dwindle when the giant takes a half-step closer. His skin is cool and wet as the river as he brushes his hand over your forearm, curling a set of fingers around it. The touch is gentle, but there’s a promise of violence lurking somewhere in the depths of his eyes.

“Come with me,” he urges in that harsh whisper from before, delicately squeezing as he pulls you towards him, leading you back to the river with a tight grip and a step back over the stones. Though his touch is passive, there’s a frightening strength lurking someplace beneath his flesh, tacked to bone, and as your gaze trails lower to rest to rest at your feet, the space between you two, the evidence of a life prone to violence and strength is laid bare before you.

You don’t fight the hold as he leads you to water so deep it caresses the base of your neck, right below the milky glow of a waning moon. Deeper still, as you’re pulled below, pressed down to the very bottom with his body lain over you. You can only hold your breath so long before an involuntary gasp leaves you, and a wave is funneled straight into your lungs.

Panic is fleeting, but the adrenaline stays ever-present. You claw, push, kick, to no avail. Pinned down by a hand weighing like an anchor you feel your vision flooding and hazy as his head knocks against your jaw, mouth sealing tightly over yours. It’s not a gentle kiss, the net fashioned into a hood digs into your skin, teeth scrape over your lip until you feel the sting of blood drawn.

All at once, your vision darkens and it’s over.

You find yourself lying back on the shore as the morning sun warms your face, causes your dampened shirt to cling to your skin. Disoriented, but alive, brushing your thumb over your lower lip as you sit up to stare at the subtle waves lapping over moss and rock.

Just a dream, you tell yourself, knowing full well you hadn’t fallen asleep.

Just a dream, even though you avoid the river entirely now. Your route home from work changes too, avoiding even a glimpse of the path that leads down to that place. You don’t even replace the book, you toss what remains of it after fishing through your bag, murmuring something about it surely being cursed and entertain yourself with film at night instead.

Sleep remains tentative, you wake with every sound, and your dreaming is filled with visions of a figure pushing you down into deep water, his weight bearing down upon you so heavily that you can not move until you wake with a start, eyes searching your bedroom.

Several weeks, and the fear does eventually fade.

The morning that the rain begins to fall, you realize you haven’t even thought about the river in days. There’s no monster prowling your nightmares anymore. You lived through what may or may not have occurred, and that was the end of it, simple as it may have been.

A late shift at work has you wandering out into the rain, umbrella in hand. You’re grateful that you live close, that you’re not entirely soaked to the bone when you step inside of the mundane building. Your coworkers notice your change in demeanor immediately, chirping about how glad they are that you’re finally feeling better, looking more yourself as the hours pass you by. It brings a smile to your face, a real one that you haven’t had in place since that last night.

Even in the summer, there’s a chill to the air in the late afternoon as you hurry home from work and make your way inside, stripping out of your wet clothes and setting your umbrella aside. It’s darker outside than it should be, even more so indoors. Reaching for the switch to turn on the lights proves useless— the power’s out.

You light your way with your phone, ignoring the way your pulse quickens and your heart flutters with the fear that something just doesn’t feel right. Your skin prickles with the thought of some unseen pair of eyes watching you, blue and cold. You only relax when you slam your bedroom door shut, locking it and pressing your forehead to the wood as you sigh. The puff of breath that escapes your lips is not the only in the room, you find out when the light of your phone illuminated your bed. Crouched beside it, a towering figure with a face veiled by fishing net. Words don’t come when you open your mouth to speak, and your heart stutters in your chest as you stand shaking but otherwise petrified.

“You didn’t come back.”

Of course you hadn’t.

Most people wouldn’t have.

“No. I’ve been… busy,” you choke out the excuse, hoping to pacify whatever emotion you imagine lurked beneath his tone, undetectable through the hiss of his voice. “I’ll visit soon, promise,” you lie, back pressed against the door as your fingers curl over the knob.

Your fear seems almost unwarranted. He doesn’t move toward you, only stands to wander back to the window where he must have broken in.

“Tonight?,” he asks in a voice so soft, the voice he must use as a lure because tugs at your heartstrings immediately, makes you want to follow despite the threat this thing poses merely by existing, despite everything.

“It’s cold— I’ll get sick,” you murmur. “How did you even find me..?”

“I will keep you warm.” The question goes unanswered.

You find yourself stifled again as he lumbers towards you, brushing cold fingers across the side of your face. It’s not a mockery of a kiss you receive next but a firm bite where your neck meets shoulder, not yet hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make you shiver, to grip at the wall of muscle that makes up his chest.

There’s a desperation to his movements as he herds you towards the window, pushes you toward the path leading back to the river. You’re soaked to the bone in seconds, hardly able to keep your eyes open past the weight of dampened eyelashes. The rain is so heavy it feels as though every step is like the first you took into cursed water, your feet sinking into the mud along the path with each tentative stride. The realization that you’re there doesn’t even hit you until you’re chest-deep in the chill, violent waves pushing against you, each carrying the threat of toppling you over entirely.

The palm splayed out against your bare back keeps you upright, leading you to a smooth rock jutting out in the midst of what seems a sea of frothing white and blue. The sea above is just as dark, angry clouds roaring as you’re pressed down onto your back, shivering terribly.

He keeps his promise though, a tight grip on each thigh as he pries your legs apart, sinks in between them and blankets you from the rain. Even with the cold pressed to your back, you feel the warmth of a summer sun above you, scorching from inside, just as blazing as the look in his wild eyes. The last of any resolve slips when you’re pulled beneath the violent waves, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses coaxing oxygen into your lungs. Each roll and pull no less tumultuous than the waves overhead. A placid end when the rain comes to an impromptu halt, just as he stills over you. Hands rush to cup your face with one final, desperate and biting kiss.

When the morning sun pulls you from sleep, cool moss against your back and the weight of his head resting over your middle, the shallow water lapping lazily at your figure, you find that you no longer fear drowning.

[venomous-qwille]

Introducing Noon, or 'New Moon' from GITM AU. Noon was the last Moon animatronic made by Fazco before it shut down- created for a themepark based on their popular childrens cartoon 'Fazteam Cosmic Rangers'.

[blushweddinggowns]

Now with Part 2!

Steve didn’t have the best track-record when it came to relationships. It’s not that he had a problem getting into them, he just had an issue staying in them. Or more accurately, getting someone to want to stay with him.

Nancy was the worst example of that by far, but even before her, there was a trend in Steve’s life. People broke up with him, not the other way around. And he knew why. Steve wasn’t stupid, or at least, not as stupid as people thought he was. He knew he was clingy, he knew he fell in love too fast, got intense too fast, he was painfully aware of the fact.

And he wasn’t going to go through it again. Robin had been the last straw, in both a good and a bad way. The romance aspect was obviously shot to shit immediately, but at the same time, she was the one person in his life, who wasn’t a literal child, that didn’t think he was too much. She was the one person who loved him back unconditionally, all of his clinginess and care one hundred percent accepted.

And Steve would take it. He got lucky enough to get someone to want to be in his life while knowing the real him, why push? A platonic soulmate was probably more than he deserved anyway. So Steve accepted the fact that this was it. Maybe down the line, he’d do what his parents did, get married for convenience instead of love. Have kids, the whole normal life shebang. But for now, he was happy to keep all that crap away from him.

But then came Eddie Munson.

Stupid, reckless, annoying, adorable Eddie Munson. Eddie Munson who almost died protecting Steve’s favorite child, Eddie Munson who had the prettiest eyes in the state of Indiana, Eddie Munson who ended up being the sweetest, funniest person Steve had ever met. Eddie Munson, who latched onto Steve with lightning fast speed, and made him feel like his life had fucking color again.

They became fast friends, half because experiencing hell together was a really great bonding experience, and half because Dustin refused to hang out with them separately now that their weird jealous feud was over. The little shit was obviously trying to play as a friend matchmaker, and it worked to Dustin’s delight.

Despite all their differences, Steve and Eddie just clicked. On the surface, they couldn’t be more different, but underneath it all, they were eerily similar. Both had shitty parents who hated them, both were fucking terrible at academics and would side-eye each other when one of their genius friends went on a smart person rant. They were both snarky shitheads who could make the other laugh like no tomorrow. They both wanted out of this shitty town, but were too afraid to leave their friends behind. And they just…liked each other. A lot.

Steve could, and had, spent hours talking to him on the phone, about anything and nothing. And as embarrassing as it was, falling asleep on there together was not a rare thing for either of them. Soon enough, they were almost attached at the hip. Even at work they couldn’t stay away from each other, either Eddie was loitering on the Family Video floor chatting up Steve, or Steve was impatiently waiting in Eddie’s passenger seat as he did a drug deal. And it was all so fun, just being with him. Steve kind of felt like he was on top of the world. 

But then it happened. He didn’t know how it happened, but it happened.

One second, they were on their way to the movie theater, arguing about what they were going to see, and the next Steve realized it. He stared at Eddie, still in the middle of his rant on how The Fly was going to be so much more memorable than Stand by Me.

An uncomfortably familiar feeling was building up inside him. Familiar but different, more intense than anything he could remember. But he still knew what it was. It was that horrible, fluttery feeling he had with Nancy, but worse. Because with Nancy, Steve had been trying, he had worked to impress her, had opened himself up on purpose to get his heart broken.

But with Eddie? It felt like he was taking a piece of Steve without permission. He hadn’t even thought about it when he opened up to him, he just did it. He never pretended with him, he was just his bitchy, overly attached self, and Eddie had never had a problem, if anything he encouraged it.

In hindsight, Steve had never had a chance.

He was in love with him. He was in love with him and he wanted to puke. He had Eddie take him straight home after that, with a half truth about feeling like shit. And then he had to wave him off from trying to take care of him, the ass. Like making Steve fall in love with him wasn’t enough, he had to genuinely care about him too? It just made him feel worse.

He had called Robin immediately, because what else could he do? He told her the whole shitty story, and like the angel she was, she talked him through it, sexuality crisis included. She made the argument that if he could fight demons with his bare hands, than he could more than handle being gay for one dude. Which...maybe wasn’t the most sound reasoning, but it worked.

They developed a system, Steve could whine and cry to Robin about his hopeless infatuation, and hang out with Eddie like nothing was wrong. And when Eddie eventually moved on with a girlfriend, Steve would just lock himself in his room for two weeks and cry like a loser until he got over it. It was a good plan, and he felt like he had everything under control.

Until he didn’t.

It was another Friday night, and Steve was always over at Eddie’s on Fridays. And Saturdays. And Sundays. And occasionally on Wednesday and Thursday. Almost always on Mondays and Tuesdays.

Okay, so he borderline just lived there when he wasn’t working, but so what? Eddie always seemed happy to see him, and Wayne didn’t mind. He was reading a comic on Eddie’s bed, while Eddie was fiddling with his guitar, staring into space.

“Hey Steve?”

“Hm?”

Eddie was quiet for a second, pausing before asking, “Why don’t you date girls anymore?”

Steve was only half-listening, still engrossed in what he was reading, “Don’t really have the time.”

“But you do have the time. Like…now is the time. You can tell me if I’m the one getting in the way of that.”

Steve shrugged, flipping the page, “You’re never in the way. I just like spending time with you more than random girls, y’know?”

He could hear Eddie put down his guitar to join Steve on the bed, his voice a little shaky, “Steve, if I ask you something that’s, uh, kinda out there, will you promise you won’t be mad?”

Steve rolled his eyes, impatient as he re-read the same part over again, "If it’s quick, I’m getting to the good part here dude.”

Eddie took a deep breath, voice soft as he asked, "Are you in love with me?”

Steve could feel his heart stop in his chest, and for a brief second, he couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a heart attack felt like. His head shot up, comic forgotten, eyes wide as he stared at Eddie’s questioning face. His mind was racing too fast to form a coherent thought. How did he figure it out? Was Steve that obvious? Was…was he mad? Would he be mad? Would he hate him? Call him a queer and kick him out of the trailer? By the time he thought of the simple answer to just deny it, he had already been staring at Eddie with his mouth hanging open for a full minute.

The window for believability was definitely closed on that front.

The whole thing felt unfair. He…he had tried this time. Really, really tried to not let his stupid feelings come into play, but here he was again, caught and about to get his heart smashed to a thousand pieces.

Eddie was still waiting for an answer, tense as he searched Steve’s face. Steve licked his lips, opening and closing his mouth like an idiot before managing to squeak out, “I’m sorry.”

Eddie was still staring at him, expression unreadable as he asked again, “So…you are?”

Steve looked away, staring back at his stupid comic book as he nodded, vision blurring. Christ, he was going to cry. Eddie was going to scream at him, or never talk to him again, or god forbid try to be understanding while shutting it down. He’d have to watch their relationship slowly dissolve while Eddie kept a healthy distance away, probably take the time to fall for some pretty girl who wasn’t a clingy and annoying fuck like Steve was.

He froze when he felt Eddie’s hand on his chin, forcing his head up to meet his eyes. This was it, the end of everything. He could barely fucking see with all the tears in his eyes, but then Eddie was wiping them away and he was…smiling at him?

“Thank God,” Eddie breathed, leaning in until their lips touched. They were kissing. Eddie Munson was kissing him. And even through his shock, Steve was damn sure kissing him back.

Eddie was trying to talk to him, pulling away to get a few words out before going right back in to press their mouths together, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

Steve was the one who had to pull away, as reluctant as he was he had to make sure he wasn’t dreaming here, “Y-you’re not mad?”

Eddie seemed to vaguely understand that they still needed to talk, but that wasn’t stopping him from kissing every other part of Steve’s face, “Why would I be mad?”

“Because…” Because I’m a guy? Because you could do better? Because I’m a suffocating freak who already takes up most of your time? “Because I’m me?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Oh no, the man I’m in love with is himself. Whatever will I do?”

Steve froze for the second time at that, a smile slowly spreading over his face, “You love me?”

“I love you, you love me, and I would really appreciate it if we could just make-out on my bed now that-”

Eddie didn’t even get the full sentence out before Steve was on him, tackling him on the bed to smash their lips back together.

And sure, Steve was still scared shitless about the possibility that Eddie would wake up one day and realize he could do better, but for now? He’d take it.

[sammaxxing]

i forgot to post this…. devastating!!! been really really busy recently hence the lack of art… :(

[yuwuta]

yuuta exhibits such previously abandoned, recently adopted dog behavior. incredibly anxious all the time, even though nobody’s out to get him or leave him behind. waits for you to return home or from school or from work excitedly, just to see you when you walk through the door. follows you around senselessly, hovering in your space just for the sake of companionship. initiates affection in prodding ways—starts off next to you, then a hand on your thigh, then deems it safe to lay all the way down, then slowly pushes his head into your lap. gets up whenever you need to get up, and resumes his position as soon as you’re ready. brings you gifts as a sign that he’s thinking of you, and maybe because he likes the affection it brings out in you, maybe because he likes the gentle affirming touches of a hand in his hair or a pinch to his cheek. rests his head on your stomach or his chin on your shoulder when he’s sleepy, stays there, immobile, and will not move unless absolutely necessary. sometimes he gets surprised when he hears you calling for him, there’s a moment of disbelief as he thinks “me? really? you need me?” but it’s very quickly overshadowed by this compulsive need to show up, to please, to do anything for you, which is why he always answers when you call. he doesn’t realize that he has puppygod eyes, especially when he’s excited or confused, but he does and it’s incredible endearing. very reluctant to share your space or attention after a while, considers that to be sacred and he won’t risk being let go or lost again, so as a safety precaution, he keeps himself right by you, waits for you always. 

[pussyeater8000]

For the tmnt fans that need to hear this 👍

[eddiethehunted]

hi it’s me with yet another snippet from a fic idk if i’ll ever finish 😈

——————

Eddie doesn’t bother knocking anymore. Steve hears the front door open and the distinct sound of Eddie kicking his boots off, probably flicking specks of mud all over the place, before calling out his name.

A smile tugs at his lips as he calls back, “I’m in the kitchen!”

Eddie walks in and jerks to a stop, taking in the sight. Steve had thrown on an apron just to make sure he didn’t get any sauce on his pants or Eddie’s shirt while he was cooking. It’s just an old thing that’s been in the kitchen as far back as he can remember, faded and stained and fraying around the edges. He’s pretty sure it belonged to his grandma before she passed away.

Still, it seems to really do something for Eddie. He clutches at his chest like Steve just shot him point blank, and says, in a wounded voice, “Oh, you devil. You little temptress. You… you…” He trails off, thinking hard as his eyes linger on Steve’s ass. “You coquette. Jezebel. Seductress.”

Steve laughs. “Hi, Eddie.”

“Hello, Stevie,” Eddie replies in an absolutely salacious voice, one that makes delightful little shivers run down Steve’s spine. “God damn, you look hot as fuck. You tryin’ to end this date night early?”

Steve turns away, rolling his eyes, but he’s grinning so big it hurts. “Go pick a movie or something.”

A pair of arms slips around his waist instead, and then there’s the tickle of frizzy hair against his cheek as Eddie hooks his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peek at the lasagna.

“Looks yummy,” he says, punctuating his statement with a lick on the side of Steve’s neck.

It’s not sexy, though, is the thing. It’s actually kind of gross. A little too slobbery and long and annoying. Steve knows Eddie did it on purpose when he groans and shoves him away, wiping at the spit, only to get a cackle and a swift slap to the ass in response.

[kirui]

The rough sketch was started and left to languish in 2018. Six years. It took me SIX years to do something with it. And all it really required was for me to decide to return to my crack-ridden roots. (There's now a link on my main page to all my stupid multi-fandom fancomics and 4koma nonsense.)

Accompanying crack ficlet here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54778528

Back to Angry Grape Jiujiu content after this.

[taki-yaki]

Batstarion A!Astarion + S!Astarion Headcanons

Pairing: A!Astarion/S!Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav/Durge

This one took a while to write up, but I did learn some interesting facts about vampire bats and tried to apply them here.

**Spawn Astarion**

After the defeat of Cazador, Astarion soon discovered a book within the palace, which contained the skills of vampire spawns that his master never wanted him to know about.

One of these skills was to turn into a creature of the night, this quickly intrigued Astarion, causing him to try and master the spell. He even tries practising wild shape methods taught to him by Halsin.

This takes a while for him to master, night after night spent trying to improve his skills with no transformation in sight. One night, nearly at his wits end with trying to master it, you speak,

“Maybe it’s a phrase you have to shout, try yelling bat, maybe that would work?”

“Darling, I don’t think it’s going to be as simple as saying the word bat-”.

Suddenly,  who was once standing in place of Astarion, now lay a small white ball of fluff with wings.

You are greeted by happy chirps and squeaks, quickly turning into a chorus of angry squeaks. One drink of speak to animals potion unravels what he is saying.

“I can’t turn back, darling do something, I don’t want to be stuck looking like a rat!” he huffed.

“Try and relax, it might wear off?”

“How can I relax like this, I don’t even have arms!”

Softly touching the white curly on his head, with the lightest tip of your finger, the pale bat relaxes instantly within the palm of your hand, almost purring at your touch.

Suddenly, the weight shifted from your hands, causing you to drop the bat onto the ground, only for Astarion to shift back into his humanoid form.

Checking to see if he’s fine, you are greeted by light snoring coming from him, seemingly collapsed from exhaustion, the transformation takes on him. Over time, he learns how to master turning into a bat with ease, allowing him to require shorter rests after turning back.

Of course, with him being at such a small size, it makes travelling together simple from keeping him under a robe to shade him from the sun and his light weight. When shopping at local markets, he’ll take advantage of merchants fawning over how cute he is, giving you discounts on your produce, without being aware that he’s a blood-sucking vampire spawn under that white fluff.

“I do wish they gave us something more savoury and juicy for free” grumbling to himself.

“And miss out on all the other goods we get?”

“Hmmm…fair enough, but don’t be surprised if ask for extra tonight” responding with a smirk.

He would adore all the attention you give him in this form, from soft pets on his head to just relaxing with you at such a small size. At Wither’s reunion party, he would show it off to others about it any chance he gets, as his special party trick, beaming the whole way through. Although he would have to deal with the hangover afterwards from shifting constantly the next morning.

Additionally, if you can fly, whether that is by being a druid who can wild shape, to a draconic sorcerer who has gained their wings, you both have fun flying around together at night.

**Ascended Astarion**

For A!Astarion, transforming into a bat is as easy as a wizard casting a cantrip, simple and quick with no downsides.

A!Astarion wouldn’t be one to showcase his ability to shift into a bat at his grand masquerade parties, mainly for fear of being seen as a weak simple creature. Although he would use it to stealthily eves drop on others from the cover of the shadows.

After he’s fed you enough of his blood, if you are his spawn, he’ll teach you how to turn into a bat. In your bat form, he’ll fuss over you more, being more protective of you in this form, as if your body is a prized porcelain vase. Some of the servants just presume you're another bat he’s caring for out of the thousands in the palace.

Carrying you around in his shirt pocket to always gaze at you, whether he’s signing contracts to talking with nobles from other cities, he would be their watching over you, closer to his undead heart than ever before.

Eventually, after a while, he would teach you how to fully fly and would only allow you to fly out at night, only if he was there to keep watch over you. Whilst transformed into your bat forms, he would develop the habits of bats from trying to constantly groom your coat, by cleaning each other’s fur, despite your protests at times and sharing food with you by regurgitating blood as a gift to you.

Compared to the rare moments he is the one in bat form, he would only allow you to pet him, usually in private away from prying eyes, insisting that he has a reputation to uphold.

“Pet, I am all for you adoring me, but we mustn't tell others of this, I have an image to uphold after all”.

He would also experiment with applying some elements of his bat form to his humanoid form, such as shifting his arms to be bat wings, usually as an intimidation tactic, or to show off during his extravagant ball dance parties with you, by lifting you into the air with him.

When you carry him around in his bat form, he would try to nip you more often, unprompted over any small inconvenience. 

Not paying full attention to him? Bite,

Talking to someone other than him? Bite,

Just bored with nothing else to do? Bite.

But if you attempt the same thing to him when you're in bat form? He would laugh, calling you a “Cheeky little pup”.

However, if you keep trying to nip him, he will eventually gently order you to stop and ensure he’ll get his payback later in the day, still being petty about it.

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

i... wrote a smol fic (っ´▽`*)っ

also!!!!! If you haven't seen it - shoutout to first ever published fic in Ninja Showdown/My Immortal Soul tags - Lustrous Red by @missadmyre !!!

[jebiknights]

Most of fandom: it makes more sense if Quinlan is a few years older than Obi-Wan and his creche mates, since his Padawan is several years older than Anakin and knighted before him, and it also ties in neatly with him not existing in the Jedi Apprentice books if he's already doing Padawan things when they happen

Me: uses the not great Legends dates/timeline that says Obi-Wan and Quinlan are the same age because that makes Quinlan a Teen Dad

[cute-sucker]

sweet endearments

[27.3.2024]

note: this is where i got inspo from for the nicknames xxx summary: sily!pogue!reader meets rafe's parents, but not without some shenanigans. warning: this is so goofy oml (but so long omg, and i'm 99.9% sure it sucks but whatever) words; 1,900

"baby, why are you taking so long?" rafe whined from downstairs. you peeked from your stairs seeing your tough boyfriend pouting. you bit your lip from laughing, and then quickly refrained from making fun of him.

lately, he'd gotten more clingy, but you liked it. you would never tell him, but you liked it when he rested his head on your stomach and innocently told you he wanted to hear your heartbeat. you liked that he held your hand in public, your pinkies locked.

but most of all you liked the secret smiles that he gave you. his eyes would shine, and you swore he had dimples when he smiled at you.

he was a heartache to look at.

but you liked his endearments the most.

how he would call you 'cupcake', sometimes 'sweets', and the other times 'baby.' at the beginning of your relationship you had been so confused about who he was talking to, but now you had grown accustomed to the different endearments he had given you. you had gotten so used to the nicknames when he said your name, you were surprised.

"hey! you comin'?" he yelled, as he looked at his watch before tucking his wallet into the pocket in his pants. finally perfecting your red lipstick, you skipped down. you were meeting his parents today, a day that you were extremely nervous about.

rafe looked up from his phone, eyes full of warmth and a teasing smile on his face before he reached for you.

you twirled away from him, a smile on your face before you gave him a spin, and then blew a kiss in his direction.

"do you like it?" you asked him, your voice loud and bubbly. he smirked, and then reached for your face before you could run away from his reach.

"i love it,"

you laughed at the proclamation, and he seemed to soften at your expression, but you watched him fiddle with his golden rings nervously.

this was as new for him as it was for you. you were the last pogue that would be seen around rafe cameron. you were the jokester, the one that skipped school 'cause it was too boring, and sold your short stories in your free time.

you were usually so unserious half of the time he was frowning and the other time he was laughing at the next thing you had said. when he had asked you to meet his parents, you had snorted with laughter before he told you he was serious.

after that you were scared. you didn't know that what you had with rafe was that serious. you had been joking around half the time, and yet now...now what you felt for him was not a joke. you had talked to your girlfriends for assurance and they had told you to pull a small prank on him. that it would lighten the mood. so that's what you were going to do.

"babe?"

he hummed in response. his hand rested on your thigh in true rafe fashion, and you found yourself laughing in a true passenger princess manner. finally, he rolled his eyes, though his expression was tinged with suspicion. obviously, he knew you wouldn't be so well-behaved for so long.

you loved how well he knew you.

"what is it?"

"i was thinking, as one does-"

and you were cut off by his groan, as he pulled the car car muttering something incoherent . his eyes looked at you tired and then raised an eyebrow when the car had finally parked.

"what is it now?"

you giggled, and then bit your lip, "y'know how much i love your endearments right?," you rambled quickly trying to keep a serious face, "-but you know how unoriginal they are right... and like i was thinking of you calling me 'big dwag,' from now on,"

"what the hell do you mean by 'big dwag?'" rafe cut you off, his jaw clenched, his voice so gruff that you wanted to burst into laughing. he looked so shocked, and confused at the same time that you were glad he had stopped the car to talk to you.

"okay, okay! so like when you introduce me to your parents... i want you to call me 'big dwag," instead of your girlfriend."

"oh my god- you're so fucking weird."

"listen bro-"

"did you just call me bro? it's the ultimate betrayal. my heart can't take this sweets."

you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. rafe did the same, his eyebrows scrunched, and then tilted his head, as he pinched the pinched the bridge of his nose.

"sweets. i really love you, but i really don't want to call you that," he said slowly, compassionately as if he trying to get you to understand. you pouted, as he frowned at you.

"no, i get it you won't call me big dwag. it means a lot to me you know?"

"i can't deal with this," and he puts his head in his hands, while leaning back in his seat sounding absolutely exasperated "i'm not taking you to meet my dad and introduce you as big dwag. i can't do that."

"it's two words."

"i thought you loved my endearments," he said frowning at you.

now you felt bad, as he looked at you. you groaned and then gave him your best puppy eyes.

"please?"

finally, he let out a gruff sigh. "okay. okay, from now on i will be calling you big dwag."

"really? i love you so much!"

"if my dad ask me to break up with you, it will be this obscene nickname's fault."

then he gave you a final glare and started the car. you hummed happily to all of your favorite songs trying not to notice the way he wasn't trying to smile at your expression. he was so in love with you.

then you leaned back satisfied. obviously, he wasn't going to use the nickname, he was just playing with you. that was until the both of you made it to his house. it was beautiful and gigantic, and at other times you would have paid more attention to it as a whole until you saw the smirk on rafe's face.

"c'mon let's go."

♡

all of you ate comfortably on the porch of the cameron's house. all night you had sat well-behaved, laughing at ward's jokes and asking if you could help rose. the whole time rafe hid his laughter by coughing. wheezie had loved you so much that she had told rafe that you were her favourite girlfriend by far.

"you are a wonderful girl," rose murmured to you after the dinner finished and as you helped her fix the plates. "but i wonder if you could do better."

"warning her off already? man, you really can't let me have anything good, can you? " rafe muttered, his voice full of scorn as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. his eyes were full of possesiveness, his body language showed he was ready to start a fight.

you rested your palm on his chest, as if to calm him. but he ignored your soft touch and instead stared rose down. you could see some unease in rose's eyes as she opened her mouth again before closing it, as if she decided that it wasn't worth it. then she muttered something about helping wheezie leaving the two of you together.

it was clear that rafe didn't like her. you had already felt rafe hovering over you like a hawk, anxiously, and attentively, almost as if you were going to flee at a single warning. he had to remember many people had warned you about him.

"rafe?"

you looked up at him, worried what you would find in his eyes. "are you okay?"

rafe shook his head, and then gently nudged you to the pool. "i'm alright. just let me fix something up. i'll be back."

you nodded uncertain, anxious thoughts floating in your head. he didn't trust you. he didn't trust you.

finally, you found yourself resting near the pool, your feet dipped inside.

"how's my big dwag?"

you turned around a hand on your forehead as you squinted to see rafe smiling down. he looked calmer now, almost as if that minute alone had done him well. his well-fitted shirt made you want to kiss him, but the hurt feelings still left a stinging sense on your heart. the sun shone so bright you could barely see a single thing. but this time instead of saying something funny, you found yourself feeling stupidly insecure your knees tucked against your chest.

"i'm okay."

rafe frowned at your expression before he sat down next to you.

"my girl can't be feelin' sad. not with me around."

you squirmed as he reached for you with his strong arms but his gentle touch and peppered kisses all over your face, and protested that he was ruining your dress. finally, when you looked into his eyes and you let out a loud laugh.

it was settled.

today wasn't the day to open old wounds.

"you're stupid, rafe cameron."

instead of making fun of you, he wrapped his hands around your waist, and you found yourself smiling as he kissed you. he was so soft, so attentive, and you practically melted in his warm hands. when you pulled away, you had forgotten the stupid feelings that you were overwhelmed with. when you pulled away you wanted to rest your head on rafe's shoulder, but he had other plans. rafe had gotten up and said he had yelled something at ward.

"dad!"

ward looked away looking shocked, and then furrowed his expression, holding the barbecue skewer awkwardly in his hands.

"dad, did you know that this girl here is my big-" he mocked, jerking a hand to your direction before you squealed, and covered his mouth with your hands.

"shut up, shut up!"

then you turned to rafe with a vengeful expression "pull a stunt like that again and i'm sending that photo of you butt naked to john b."

rafe looked absolutely shocked, completely silent, looking as if he was going to blow a vein. "sweets, you're absolutely crazy. and you would never!"

you giggled, and then ran away from him, as he followed you a grin on his face.

he was used to your stupid threats, and finally, when you stopped and looked back at rafe, he gave you a silly proud smile. you swatted him away when he tried to hug you, but before you knew it he had gathered you in his arms and jumped into the pool with you tightly squeezed against his chest.

when you finally submerged, sputtering while you glared at rafe. "don't ever call me that again, you jerk!"

he was soaked with water, a stupid smile on his face before he hummed and pulled you into his arms. you didn't resist and only splashed him with water. his face turned into a scowl before he pinched your cheeks and kissed your forehead.

"you're lucky i'm crazy about you dumbass."