#are there like...warnings needed for selling souls? IDK | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

directdogman · 7 months

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Hey dogman, idk if you answered this

Who, out of both DSAF and Dialtown, was your favourite to write and/or create?

It's very hard for me to pick favourites with my characters because I don't tend to give characters a lot of screen-time unless I find a character interesting or fun to write. You've caught me in a talkative mood, so warning, there's an onslaught of text coming!

DSaF: Dave was the most fun to write for, as I remember it. I mean, the guy is the walking personification of chaos and even when he's being constructive (eg, rigging robots to do insane stuff), it's usually in a destructive capacity. Dave will do LITERALLY ANYTHING but contribute to society in meaningful/valuable ways.

In terms of what character-writing I was most 'proud' of, I was also pretty happy with Dr Henry Miller, as a villain. Namely the research he embarked on, described in his logs in DSaF 3 (which the fandom evidently agreed with, as I got really strong feedback on those logs.)

One issue a lot of people (including myself) have with canon William Afton is that he's this kind of mad scientist character but his research doesn't really seem to be... idk, going anywhere? Other than using remnant (soul nectar?) to make kids possess robots, it's kind of a mystery how he got to this point he did from running a bad fast food restaurant. William gets fleshed out motivations in TSE and even then, it mainly revolves around his relationship with Henry Emily, iirc. It's actually pretty accurate to how real serial killers think, imo, but there's a pretty wide berth between this kind of serial killer and becoming a sci-fi fast-food mad scientist... So, I decided to try to bridge that gap.

DSaF Henry's logs actually mention where the idea for his research came from, namely the fact that he existed in a world with normal scientific rules just like ours and seemingly discovered something supernatural, and he approaches it like an amoral scientist would - trying to figure out how to figure out more about the fabric of reality using the newly discovered phenomenon of possession. The 'joy of creation' phrase people pulled from Golden Freddy's phone call in FNaF 1 is given context - Henry is trying to find out what's on the other side (and eventually, how existence itself formed.)

There's other aspects to his character that make him more interesting too, like the implication that his research is partially an excuse for him to act on an underlying sadism (with scenes implying that he inflicts damage on others than can't be justified as assisting with his research.) His background as a dissident/quack laughing-stock scientist (thanks to pushing his soul theory in a best-selling book, which is considered pseudoscience) BEFORE he embarked on his journey to become a fast food tycoon also makes it less farfetch'd that he'd be capable of y'know, harvesting human souls intentionally to continue his research?

I had more for the character on paper that people haven't seen but some of it wasn't revealed due to it feeling a bit too disturbing to publish. None of the contents would've been all that controversial, more just too tonally disturbing when written about in detail (like a omitted part from his backstory/lore post where he managed to pick up a hazy audio of his wife + son's crying from the radio of the car his wife/son drowned in and reacted with genuine elation upon realizing he'd discovered a new scientific phenomenon (as this was the first time Henry witnessed soul-possession.)) Yeah.

I don't feel much of a need to revisit Henry as a character because as a series villain, he was pretty thoroughly-written and he did his job effectively... And his fate was well earned! (He even got an epilogue short-story a few years back, further cementing his fate!)

Dialtown: From the characters/writing that the fandom has seen? Tough to say. I genuinely really like every DT character. Gingi and Mayor Mingus are two of my favourite characters to write for because they're both really insistent and react to adversity in a really comically indignant way. Mingus is more like Gingi than she cares to admit in very specific ways, which is the core hypocrisy of her character - she's one of the most abnormal things IN Dialtown, and spends the game on a quest opposing abnormality that she, herself, can't stand.

Many absolute rulers have debilitating physical and/or mental cruxes and despite that, usually have the final say on what is/isn't okay, often guided by arbitrary preferences. It's funny to remember all of the ancient kings and emperors who dictated how others should act, talk and even think, when very many of them themselves were anything except a good reflection of their own subjects! It's an irony I quite enjoy and leads to a fun character to write for!

My favourite DT writing is probably some of my Callum Crown speech drafts. I have a definite bias here since Crown's character is based on many figures I've encountered in my own reading (and his story relates to topics I enjoy reading about.) A lot of that is real nerd shit that wouldn't be interesting to 99.9% of DT fans (like a long conversation where Crown + Milt discuss a campaign speech Milt wrote for Crown and they bicker about if the wording/arguments used are truly honest.) Again, not super relevant to Dialtown-proper, but it explains a lot about why the world of DT ended up the way it did.

Realistically, the story of Dialtown itself is basically a weird little epilogue to a story that ended decades upon decades ago, centered around a bunch of small-town nobodies circling around the carcass of the last surviving main character of the old story.

I'm also very happy with Gingi's character partially because I know more about Gingi's past/future than you guys do. Gingi has such rotten memory that Gingi's backstory before DT's story begins is basically a complete mystery. Thanks to Gingi never getting close enough to any humans before laying its eggs, there's nobody in Gingi's life that can fill in the gaps. Companionship means so much to Gingi because prior to meeting The Gang, Gingi is aware of a massive and unknown block of time that's a complete mystery precisely because Gingi had nobody in its life. To Gingi, this time was basically akin to being non-sentient or dead, and Gingi would never go back.

While I was making DSaF, I drafted a ton of other stories on paper. I considered making most of them, but decided not to for various reasons, despite getting some solid feedback from collaborators. Bits of almost all of those project ideas made it into DT, with Gingi having traits from several other main characters I prototyped years and years ago. This includes where Gingi came from and what exactly Gingi is. I don't want to mislead people into thinking Gingi is more important than it is, like Gingi is the key to unlocking DT lore (I promise there's a LOT of aimless scuttling/devouring in Gingi's past and relatively little else!) BUT: Of everything from those old scrapped projects, Gingi is what I decided deserved to survive the most. And that has to count for something.

One day I'd love to make sequels to DT and perhaps explore some of the stuff I've described above, like why the hell the world of DT is the way it is or maybe where the hell Gingi spawned from. Thanks

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yanverse · 4 months

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conrad my beloved 🥹 he’s not gonna win against the sheer force that is harley chicken man in the polls but he’s still number one in my heart <3

i think he’s been too uwu lonely russian boy from a small village in his tag lately from ur og blog so i wanna know what he’s like when he snaps hehe

like how would he hunt down and punish a darling who’s been affectionately biding her time to escape when he’s out hunting? cause idk if he’d be as scary as ilya but i would welcome it 👀

want scary conrad? i can give you scary conrad.....<3

hunted -- conrad dmitriev

(cws: DDDNE, yandere, stalking, kidnapping, violence against reader, blood, injuries, guns/knives, cutting/scarring, implied somno/noncon, manipulation, death mentions)

word count: 2k

Not even the pitch of the settling dark could mask the eyes that follow you between the trees.

These woods aren't for the faint of heart. Those who live here were born here, survived here, and will inevitably die here. Considering there's only been one–at least in recent memory–who has escaped that curse, it's clear to anyone with sight that this harrowing corner of the world is meant for only two things; locals and wildlife.

And trees, of course. Enough to cluster in scattered array, leaving only tiny clearings in between in which to get your bearings, though you can never really stop moving in this cold. The snow isn't so much a hindrance as it is a hurdle; glaringly obstructive in the way caution tape would be around a bloody car crash. It should be circumvented with great caution by those who don't wish despair upon their own selves, yet here you are in the thick of it. Cold, wet, and completely, utterly lost.

Conrad warned you of these dangers, but you ignored him. Why would you possibly take the advice of someone who betrayed you? His whole story was made up of lies–why he was conveniently in the area the night you came across each other, what exactly he had to do with your car that seemingly sprouted an issue from nowhere, and who he even was altogether. Course, you could've been a touch more scrutinizing…you can't exactly imagine, at least not easily, that a man who lives almost entirely alone in an isolated forest of the country could live comfortably with his sanity still intact. He isn't just an ice fisher that sells his produce to the near-zero visitors of this confusing wasteland. Conrad is a killer. A killer for hire, no less.

And right now, unbeknownst to you, you're his next target….well, unknowingly until your footsteps halt in the knee-deep snow for a breather, and the softest click sounds right at the base of your skull. You don't need to turn your head to see. Nobody else would make it this far without leaving footprints in this awful snow.

“Malyshka.” That word bleeds into you with every syllable, puffed hotly over the skin of your ear from behind. It stirs up memories, good ones for once, of that loving nickname uttered in laughter and scorn and a teasing lilt as Conrad takes you by the hand and waltzes you through his living room. The tinny scratchiness of his cheap, portable radio gave the cabin a hum that still resonates in your veins, but you can't go back to that world even if you wanted to. That place will forever be tainted with the memories of Conrad's twisted fascination with you, permanently marred by deceit and thinly-veiled manipulation.

It doesn't seem like that matters at all to your former lover, however. Because when Conrad grips your arm in that deathly squeeze, you get the sense immediately that he's betting on taking you back. He's going to walk you through the snow right back where you came from, and he's going to be so angry he won't sleep for days. That's what you think.

The butt of his rifle cracking you in the skull isn't what you expected, however. The crunch of bone under the varnished chunk of wood sickens you to the core of your soul, a warmth exploding out from your hair and splattering the ground as you immediately collapse forward. Your dead weight sinks you deep into the snow, but even then, and even in your dazed state, you feel it's much shallower here than before. Maybe that's why Conrad waited to corner you here–maybe it will be easier to pile the snow on top of your body when he kills you in his rage.

Time slows to a tick all of a sudden. Conrad's boots crunching in the snow around you ripples a series of shivers through you, your warm body growing colder by the minute as he circles you like a hungry predator. Shiiing, click, thummp. The sound of his gun being slung over his shoulder catches your focus, and then the distinct slice through the sheath as Conrad pulls out his knife. You know the one. That thing is big. And sharp. You cut your hand on it once accidentally and he just about lost his mind with worry. Doesn't seem like he's all too concerned about that now, though.

Although his voice carries between the whispers and howls of the wind, you couldn't understand him if you tried. You've lost the privilege of Conrad speaking your language, evidently, because while he is addressing you not a word of it is in English. It's just another way to control you…another way to show you his love, if he were to spin it that way.

A beat of silence passes without note. He's stopped moving. You can feel him, his body heat, hovering over you from above. The knife is probably just dangling in his hand, wondering if he should drop it or bring your life to an end with force, grant you some kind of small mercy as he takes you apart before finally slitting your throat like a hunted animal. Conrad stands waiting, watching you lie motionless and dizzy in the snow, and even once you feel him sink to his knees on top of you there's no strength in you to move. Blood pools at the base of your neck from the gash he's probably left in your head. I'm going to die. Your own voice ringing from within triggers you into a push, your fingernails digging into hard, packed snow as you try to lift yourself up–but even though he doesn't hit you a second time, Conrad isn't gentle as he grips your neck and shoves you back down.

“Still.” He quietly mumbles amid the harsh breeze whistling past your ears. “Stay, malyshka.”

Clearly, he wanted an answer. Your silence is more than enough of one however, and with a swing and an arc of the blade your lover is rrrrrrripping your clothes apart, knife cutting cleanly up the back of the too-thin flannel that you stole in lieu of a proper coat. Through the layers underneath he slices with practiced ease, catching patches of skin with the tip but not allowing the beads of blood to distract him from his task. Your eyes dart sideways to see his gloved fingers carving out a lump of snow from near your head, a few trickles of blood from your wound staining the purity of those white, soft haloes. He raises it quick and your arms tense at the feeling of that sting hitting your bare back–but it isn't the blade first, it's that clump of snow dragging down your flesh…the knife comes straight after that, piercing your aching skin as insult to injury, and his deep, sudden strokes that split you apart have you writhing and kicking out on the ground in agony.

Pure, violent hatred spills out of you in those moments, your screams echoing off the trees with just the same tremor as the howling, squealing winds blowing through the mountains. Conrad only cares for your pain when it impedes his progress, his knee coming down harshly on your lower back to keep you from squirming away as he makes his cuts. He must be trying to dig your organs out, he's killing you, he's surely tracing out your most valuable spots with such aggressive stabs of unconscionable, burning, violent torment. Will he wait for you to die? Will he make sure before he leaves? Will he drag your corpse back home with him, frozen and stiff, or will he leave you for the wolves and bears and god knows what else out in these woods?

As your blood drains into the snow, those thoughts become less and less urgent. As your willpower fades into numbness, the cold pressing into your back grows from a sting into a shaking, fragile numbness that spreads outward. You must be dying now, you can only imagine that your body will give out at any moment if Conrad doesn't stop. It hasn't even occurred to you yet that he has stopped, not until you catch a peripheral glimpse of his black-cloaked hand cleaning the blade in the snow. It's your blood that trickles down the handle…and there's so much of it you're on the verge of losing all hope. There's only the tiniest, faintest glimmer left, and it's fading just as fast as your consciousness.

“...Look how pretty you are now, malyshka.”

Those words will haunt you into death, you're most certain. They're the last ones to linger in your ears as the whiteness grows dark, and your eyes flutter closed while the sound of a drip, drip, drip echoes your dreamless sleep…

Drip, drip, drip.

You'd know the sound anywhere. It's easier to listen to without that wind howling in your ears, but it's going to be harder to locate. This time, when your eyes open within the warmth of a closed-in room, gratitude isn't the first thing you feel for surviving another night in this dense nightmare.

It's pain. Hot, unbearable, searing pain, violating you in senses inconceivable as it crawls in waves down your back; violent, stiffening, and like a hot iron being pressed up and down and up and down on constant repeat. The warm air of the cabin isn't helping at all as it hits your marked flesh, it's only drawing further attention towards the dripping of something warm down your legs, but at the very least you can tell by the pillow you've drooled on that you're not laying on the open wounds. No, you've been left exposed, with the ache in your hips something you hadn't noticed before, and the weight that's shifted the bed alerts you that someone is tending them for you…and he's singing. Gently. Some lullaby in his native tongue, no doubt, as his hands move quietly and carefully up and down the flesh he ruined.

“Pretty thing.” You can just barely catch a glimpse of him looming from behind, the din of the cabin shadowing the expression on his pale face. Conrad's muttering puts you off at once, but there's nothing you can do about it now. He meant to kill you, but he changed his mind. He took you back to the cabin to rest, and…make up for lost time, if the stickiness of your thighs is any indication. Maybe that mind will be changed again…and you can only hope it does, because whatever he carved into your back, it can't be out of love. No matter how much he's going to try to convince you it is. “You are hurt, love. You want whiskey?”

What hurts more is that you can feel the smirk in his tone. He's having a laugh at you. You tried to run but I caught you. I'll always catch you. You can never hide from me. That's what he's probably thinking.

“No…” Somehow, from some deep well of power within you, your voice forms in a trembling resistance to his strength. Conrad's hands covered in balm and fibres of gauze he's tying round you pause, if just for a moment, and in the relative silence with those drip, drip, drips in the background you find the rest of your voice.

“...I want you dead.”

How laughable. Conrad doesn't laugh, he merely tuts at you–a disapproving parent scolding a young scoundrel. If you weren't so appallingly special to him, he might punish that rejection of his help with a slap or an elbow right into those throbbing wounds that spell out his name. Instead, he dips his head low, and lets his deep, rough whisper creep into your ear and make a home in the deepest pits of fear that reside in your pretty little head.

“Then you just try to kill me, malyshka.”

#conrad dmitriev #conrad dmitriev x reader #conrad x reader #yandereverse #male yandere #yandere ocs #ellie writes #anons #2k

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the-90s-music-colosseum · 8 months

Text

Round 1 Group C Match 8

Propaganda received (wall of text warning):

Liam Gallagher:

"he's so fucking ugly i think he's just darling"

"Liam Gallagher my most absolute beloved specialist babygirl ever. Have a poster of him from Knebworth ‘22 hanging over my bed. (He was amazing at that holy shit). His voice is like whiney but incredibly attractive (sun-shiiiiine). Makes me feel absolutely feral. He and that tambourine of his 🩷🩷🩷 “she wore a star-shaped tambourine prettiest girl I’d ever seen” is about him change my mind. I need him I need him I need him I need him. Please vote for him I couldn’t bear it if he lost while Damon and Jarvis got through."

"I'd sell my soul to get a piece of him. He's drop dead gorgeous and a literal angel on earth"

"its the way he kinda slouches, arms behind his slightly arched back, and puts his lips right up against the mic. 😳"

"Broke up Oasis by throwing a plum at his brother. That's power right there."

"Liam is the prettiest boy I've ever seen. His beautiful face started Britpop and changed British pop culture forever. Half of the UK wants to be like him"

"Liam G is so pretty that people would go to war for him. He's so beautiful that his attractiveness was pointed out by journalists all the time. Only clueless Americans who neither understand Oasis nor British culture are in denial about his beauty"

"The things I want to say about Liam Gallagher would get me put on a watchlist for both the cia and mi6"

"Liam is so beautiful that he already had fans before he was famous! It's a true story, you can read all about it in Paul Gallagher's book (his oldest brother)"

"liam's got the million dollar face. and with his big blue eyes he can hypnotise whoever he wants #babyboy #angel #prettyboy"

"I'd wear a parka for him <3"

Ville Valo:

"Idk if it’s more of a “I wanna look like him” or a “I wanna fuck him” situation but either way he drives me ABSOLUTELY INSANE"

"sorry but. it's the way he sounds in When Love and Death Embrace. the "i'm in love with you"...... actually. it's how he sounds that like entire album (Greatest Love Songs Vol 666). its just ohhhhhh."

#most attractive 90s musician #polls #poll #tournament poll #90s music #tournament #90s #liam gallagher #oasis #ville valo #him band

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iloveslasher · 1 year

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Since requests are open and you like BTS and Chucky, I'd like a yandere story where both Charles Lee Ray (both in human and doll form) and Suga like this one girl, but neither can have her, coz she doesn't know they love her. They (both Chucky and Suga) don't know each other, really. But when Chucky's in his doll form, he finds out Suga loves the same girl, too. So he decides to transfer his soul from doll to human using him. At the end, both get the girl. I hope this is OK with your rules.

Yes hon this is okey, I'm sorry if this is late and not what u wanted.

Lover boys

Part 1

Warning(s) : yandere, cussing because its chucky!, dark magic. (if I missed any let me know!)

Her eyes fluttered open, she shut her alarm and went to go take a shower. After she went to go make breakfast, she felt as if she was being watched. Nevermind that she went on with her day, when she walked outside she looked behind her from time to time but no one suspicious in sight.

Her dog came running to her scaring the crap out of her. "Jesus, mushu don't do that." She giggled and picked him up to cuddle. "I have to go to the store mushu I'll be right back okey lil guy" he sat down beside the door and she opened it for the dog. He waddled in happily she smiled at the dog then closed the door. Walking to the car and getting in to go to the store.

When she got there she went in and grabbed a cart. "I need milk." She went towards the dairy aisle. (idk I'm Dutch)

0% fat milk or normal milk? The girl pondered about it. She decided to take the normal milk, she put the milk in her cart and walked backwards into someone. "oh I'm sorry... Sir" she apologised the man turned around and smiled at her. "no worries Y/N" she smiled at him as he walked away and she went to the cashier after she has everything. While waiting in line she realised something. He knew her name. She didn't tell him, she looked around and didn't see him anymore. Freaked out she paid her groceries and quickly walked back home. She arrived and there was a package in front of her door. She unlocked her front door and pulled the package inside the house.

She put the groceries into the fridge and opened the package to find a doll inside it? She didn't order this, he looked kind of creepy but she likes creepy. "good guy doll huh? Didn't they stop selling those because of a criminal?" she said to no one. she shrugged it off and trashed the box leaving the doll on the kitchen island.

Hungry she heated up some food for her and poured mushu some food and water. *𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑝...𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑝..𝑏𝑒-*

The beeping stopped when she opened the microwave, taking the food out and placing it on the table she ate her food.

Part 2

How did you like it so far?

I am terribly sorry for how long this took me.

I have had this in my inbox for 3 maybe 4 years 😔 I am ashamed of myself.

Next part will be up soon

#chucky x reader #suga x reader #min yoongi x reader #Charles Lee Ray x reader #Yandere #yandere yoongi #Yandere chucky #slasher x reader #bts x reader #child's play

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slasher-male-wife · 2 years

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hear me out. I was just thinking about this because i’m crazy. The grabber x reader who has arachnophobia. They kidnap them and the reader stumbles across a 🕷 and start crying. If you can make it angsty then fluff I will sell you my dog.

I know I know, another post about the grabber and his stupid hot self I know. But I give the people what they want. You can keep your dog btw I don’t need another one lmao. I’m not too scared of spiders. If it’s like poisonus giant like a trantula or there is a ton of them I will kinda freak out but if it’s a small spider in the corner of my room, I trap it under a glass and set it back outside. I don’t know what you really mean by like angst so I kinda went with him playing into your fear a bit I guess. Idk my brain is a puddle of thoughts about hot fictional men and 70′s rocker fashion. Reader is gn.

Warnings: Spiders, fearful reader, angst?, strong language, stockholm syndrome

You’ve always had a problem with spiders. Since you were a kid you’ve been afraid of them. Maybe it was because your older cousins let you watch horror movies about killer spiders or all of the times in class you had to hear about venomous spiders in the desert or the jungle. You could never handle them. From the times at summer camp when you would freak out over a spider in the shower or refusing to go into the attic because of the cobwebs you could never stand them, you always feared them.

You forgot about this fear while you’ve been in the basement of The Grabbers house. You had a new fear. But that too seemed to fade away too as you grew closer to the man who keeps you here. You’re going about the day as you usually do, walking around waiting for him to come back down and cure your boredom. You’re pacing back and forth about the room tossing one of your shoes up in the air and catching it again. You really need to ask for something else. You turn back around and face the wall when you find a rather large spider. About the size of your thumb. Because of how close your face is the the spider you scream and quickly fumble back. You hold your shoe tight in your hand. You know you’ll be even more unnerved in this place if you just let it stay here. The thought of it slowly crawling around waiting to bite you. Or worse, lay eggs inside of you like all those movies show. You slowly walk back over to the wall and to the spider. You take a deep breath and go to whack it when it jumps up on the end of your shoe.

You throw it across the room and it hits the wall. You shake off your hand that held the shoe and shiver. You’re near the mattress and your shoe is sitting by the door. Without your shoe you’re standing uneven and even though you’re wearing a sock you still get a chill on the soul of your foot. You groan and put your head in your hands and move them to run over your hair. You hear the sound of the door unlocking and see The grabber at the other end. Wearing the bottom half of his mask. He can clearly see you’re upset. “Whats wrong little dove?” He asks walking in closer to you, shutting the door behind him.

“There was a spider and I tried to kill it with my shoe and it crawled onto it and I’m really freaked the fuck out and I just can’t go check on it.” You get really worked up over this, a lump forming in your throat. He walks over to your shoe and picks it up. He extends his hand and lets the spider crawl onto it. When he starts walking back towards you, you move away from him. “Don’t bring it near me?” You say.

“Oh come on it’s harmless to you. It just needs your body so it can lay its eggs in you.” He jests. You shake your head as tears begin to form as you move into the mattress while he stands at the edge with the spider in hand.

“Don’t say that. Just kill it please.” You beg back against the wall.

“It’s too late, it’s already laid its eggs in your shoe, I can’t kill it now, it’s a mother, it has to raise it’s hundreds of babies. They’ll all swarm to the warmest thing down here. Being you Y/N.” Tears start to fall and you cover your ears.

“That’s not true and you know that! Stop scaring me already and just kill the damn thing!” The tears blur your vision and you slide you back down the wall and end up sitting on the mattress. You start to sob as you shut your eyes. You move your hands from your ears to your face. You hear him swipe his skin and a quiet crunch. You still don’t open your eyes. You sit there muffling your sobs. You hear his shoes clack against the concrete floor and soon he’s sitting next to you. He feels guilty for scaring you that bad. He puts an arm around you and holds you there as you continue to cry.

“There’s nothing to be worried about anymore. I killed it. You’re gonna be fine.” His words are soft. He means what he says.

#the black phone #the grabber #the grabber x reader #the grabber x you #slasher #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction

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malice-ov-mercy · 7 months

Text

Jolly’s Version

“I’d sell my soul a thousand times over just for you.”

Pairing: Jolly Karlsson x Ofc (could be read as x Reader)

Content warnings: religious themes and undertones, mention of Greek mythology, sorrow??? Angst???? (Idk this one isn’t very happy tho)

Word count: 611

Noah’s Version

Folio’s Version

Ruffilo’s Version

Will Ramos’ Version

Adam’s Version

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Jolly arranged the stars specifically for me—every last galaxy and planet placed exactly where I liked. When I grew tired of the same old sky, he’d happily change the scene. He poured his heart out into every creation. Each one was more breathtakingly beautiful than the last. The current scape happened to be my favorite. It had stayed for centuries before I dared to think about a change.

Millennia had passed since I last saw him. The call of the Earth whisked him away from me much too soon. He hadn’t perished, that much I knew. He simply vanished. I scorched every last blade of grass, toppled every mountain, boiled the seas in search of him, but I never found my Jolly. I left no boulder unturned. I uprooted every last tree digging through the dirt and muck. My nails and fingers would forever be stained with mud and blood.

Seasons changed violently every year in my search. Summer’s became eerily similar to the deepest pits of Hell. Winter’s rivaled that of Demeter’s sorrow for her daughter. My body grew tired of the harshness of the weather. The ache penetrated deep in my bones. I thought Demeter a fool for wreaking havoc on Earth, but I came to understand her pain all too well.

My heart ached so profoundly for Jolly. I cried rivers and oceans. My attempts had been futile and in vain. I scoured every last pebble on this planet for him. I started to wonder if maybe he’d been cast out into the cosmos. There wasn’t a trace but I could still sense his presence out there. He was in the wind, he was in the sparkle of water at sunrise. His life force thrived somewhere deep, I know it.

But yet he was beyond my sight, beyond my reach. It drove me mad. Out there in the expanse, Jolly waited for me. He couldn’t speak, but he called to me. He needed me, and I him. I hoped he was safe, though I’d be a fool to think he was.

Anything. I’d do anything for him. I swore my love to him. It was an oath I had every intention to uphold no matter the cost.

I screamed atop the highest mountain at the very sky he created.

“I’d sell my soul a thousand times over just for you. Please come back to me.”

Waterfalls manifested from my eyes, flooding the ground beneath me, washing away everything below. My sobs fell on deaf ears. There was no one. I was alone. Suffering. Heartbroken. I just want my dear, sweet Jolly back.

The night sky now mocked me. It laughed at me constantly. A gift I once cherished so intimately I soon quickly loathed. It brought nothing but anguish staring at the glittering expanse. I wanted to reach up and grab every last star and destroy them all. The twinkle reminded me too much of that in Jolly’s eyes. If I couldn’t enjoy the beauty of night, no one should.

Jolly would hate the bitterness that rooted in my heart. I hadn’t an ill-wishing bone in my body prior. But now it’s all I know. He would love me all the same though. He’d make it his immortal life’s mission to remind me of the beauty of life.

I’m still the woman he fell so madly in love with. She’s somewhere inside sleeping. I don’t want to wake her. I fear she would lose her sanity if she knew he was missing. Though, I’m not sure I’m faring any better than her.

Slumber is calling me. Will I wake again if I answer? I hope Jolly finds me.

#jolly karlsson x ofc #jolly karlsson fanfiction #jolly karlsson fic #jolly karlsson fanfic #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omen fanfic

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latenightsimping · 2 years

Text

And if I only could, I'd make a deal with God

Summary: The afterlife means many different things, for many different people. Religions, faiths and beliefs all wonder what happens when you pass on. For Eddie, it’s finally going home.

Pairing: Eddie Munson

Word count: 2,080

Warnings: V ANGSTY NEAR CRIED WHEN I WROTE THIS YOU’VE BEEN WARNED, angst to fluff, heavy themes of death, heavy themes of pain and sadness, has a bittersweet ending to it, mentions of bad fathers, themes of bullying, themes of depression, themes of bereavement. just a real bad time all ‘round but it’s good at the same time? idk read at your own risk okay

AN: Had a breakdown, started working on it, bon appetite. I’m fully on the camp of ‘Eddie’s still alive and the Duffer Brothers are being very fucking mean arseholes by making us wait for two years’ but I like to think what Eddie’s version of Heaven is. And I think it would be this. Because for me, it would be seeing my Dad again. Aight I’m gonna start crying again. Anyway, enjoy. Love y’all, make sure to give yourselves aftercare if you need it. Also, before I leave, the inspo for this bit of writing is Placebo’s ‘cover of Running Up that Hill because it makes me sob.

Eddie always figured that dying would hurt. And he was right.

He could remember sharp teeth tearing into flesh, the sickening sounds of ripping and chewing barely audible over the sound of his screams. It was as if he had been dipped in hellfire; bathed in the flames and forced to stay conscious for it all.

He remembered the tenderness that fuelled Dustin’s careful movements as he was pulled into the young boy’s lap. Looking up and thinking Thank God. Thank God I’m not going to die alone. The small part of him that was still aflame felt guilt. Here he was, after seeing so many horrors, now having to watch someone die in his arms. Dustin was too young for all this. A child in a veteran’s uniform, battle scars where medals should have adorned him. He wanted to say so much to him. Tell him he was proud, and that he was so sorry for bowing out so soon, and there wouldn’t be an encore. But all he could manage to force from his lungs, choking on his own blood, were the most important things that he could think of through the haze.

“I didn't run away this time, right?”

I’m sorry that it had to end this way. But I would do it again, if it meant you were safe. Please, just tell me I did the right thing this time. Tell me that I didn’t die in vain. That Chrissy didn’t die in vain. Please tell me that I did the right thing for once in my life, please.

“You're gonna have to look after those little sheep for me, okay?”

From the moment I first saw you in that Weird Al shirt, I knew I had to protect you from the worst this world had to offer. You were so scared, and I knew that feeling well. I didn’t want you bringing home bloody noses and crying yourself to sleep from the cruel words running through your mind on a loop, just like I did. But you’re going to have to do the same for others, okay? I know you can do it, Dustin. You’re so strong, and so kind. I just hope I helped you, that I did a good job protecting you.

“I think it’s my year, Henderson. I think it’s finally my year.”

For once in my life, I’m not a burnout that sells pot to make ends meet and can’t graduate. I saved people. I’m nothing like my old man, who would have turned tail the second shit went sideways. I did the right thing, for once in my fucking life. I can rest, knowing that. It’ll be okay.

“I love you, man.”

I love you. Thank you for staying with me, so I wasn’t alone in the last moments. That’s all anyone asks for, right? To not leave this world without someone watching over them? Soon, the pain’s gonna stop. After all, to die would be an awfully big adventure, wouldn’t it? I love you, man.

I love you.

The last words on his lips stained with cruor was a declaration of the warmth, care and adoration for one of his best friends. Before he was pulled into the blackness, a numbness, nothingness, seeping into his very soul that couldn’t be explained with the human language. Something that could only be experienced during the last moments of someone’s life. The smoke that rises from the candle of the soul when it’s snuffed out. The black sands of time, the last few grains meeting the bottom of the hourglass. His last words weren’t a complaint, or a curse, or a cry of anguish.

It was love.

It was love, as pure as the bright light that surrounded him, bathing him in a peaceful warmth. It was as if he had blinked, but more instant than that. It was as if he was always in this room. It took him a few seconds to recognise it.

He recognised the pale yellow walls first. He remembered his Mother singing along to Here Comes the Sun as she painted them, covering up the disgusting beige that was underneath it. Dressed in old overalls spattered with paint and a rag as a bandanna to keep her wild brown curls out of her face. Could remember being six years old, watching with curiosity from the covered up couch, and thinking she was the prettiest woman this side of the Wabash river. The way that she looked back and smiled at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling and her giggle sounding like silver bells.

She had dome everything to make this place a home, no matter how little money they had. She’d scrimped and saved for paint, and had traipsed around countless yard sales and flea markets for good furniture. Sure, the couch was a little lumpy, and the coffee table had a deep gouge running down the middle. But that didn’t matter when the home was filled with such earnest warmth and comfort. His old man had left by this time; had walked out in the middle of the night and never came home. And at so young an age, he knew he was truly relieved to see the back of him. Just him and his Mom, in this run down home that still had cracks, but was more than enough.

So what was he doing back here?

Looking down at himself, he could see he was wearing his favourite shirt, one that he had lost long ago. The faded Anthrax shirt that Wayne had bought him for Christmas, now without the tears of being flung around the Hawkins High parking lot during a brawl. Now, it was as pristine and soft as he had remembered. His most comfortable ripped jeans and sneakers, and his prized possessions of the leather jacket and battle vest fitting like a second skin. No blood, no bite wounds, no pain. He felt the best that he had ever felt. He even smelt of his favourite cologne.

The sounds of humming made his head snap towards the source; the kitchen. He knew the humming well. The melodies that had stopped the day she died, and no song had never sounded the same since. He thought he would feel fear, or confusion. But all he could feel was content. Like this was the place he was meant to be all this time, and the living world was only temporary. The confidence of that knowledge fuelled him to take the steps towards the archway, rounding the corner to be met with the figure he wanted to see so badly.

Wayne had always said that Eddie took after his Mom. And that was true. Who could deny the matching halo of curls, and the deep umber eyes? He had his father’s nose, but that was it. Everything else was purely her. And here she was. Harmonising her favourite song as she chopped up vegetables, the pale pink apron that he’d clung to so often as a child still tied around her waist. He took in her profile; the slight upturned nose and slightly parted glossy lips. His heart fluttered like a trapped bird in his ribcage, lips breaking into a grin.

“Mama?”

She turned her head to him, a slight look of confusion on her face for only a second before it became one of joy. The same little crinkle around her eyes that he remembered so vividly as she put down the knife and opened her arms, an offering for an embrace. “Hey baby,” she whispered, voice so soft and gentle that he could cry.

It was near automatic, closing the gap between them and throwing his arms around her. He was taller than her now, no longer having to wrap his arms around her thighs. Now, he practically towered over her, and he could bury his face into the crown of her head. She still smelled the same. Like lavender and roses, a scent that had long faded from his lungs now filling them. He held her so tightly that he was surprised he didn’t crush her, but he couldn’t stop. What if she was going to go again, leave him all on his own like she did ass those years ago? But if she had any complaints, she wasn’t voicing them. Tears welled in his eyes, and he squeezed them shut to stop them from falling. “Mama, I… I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too sweetheart,” she mumbled into his chest, slightly pulling away to look up at him. Her eyes flickered over all his features, a grin spreading across her face as her hands came up to cup his jaw. He leaned into it, savouring the warmth of her palms. “God, I- look at you,” she chuckled, the pad of her thumb coming up to carefully caress the skin just under his eye. “You’ve got so big, huh? Still the same handsome face, though.”

He couldn’t stop the chuckle that bubbled from his chest, too scared to even blink in case she was going to vanish. “It’s been twelve years, Mom. And I missed you. Every single day.”

“I missed you too baby,” she whispered. “But… You’re here so much earlier than I thought. What happened?”

He shook his head, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself. She was still there. This was all real, and she wasn’t a figment of his imagination. He thought reality was the last life, but this… All his senses seemed to work so much better. He could smell the comforting scent of his Mother, could smell his favourite meal – one that he hadn’t had in thirteen years – being cooked on the stove that only she could work just right. He could feel her soft hands on his face, the sensation grounding him. Could see her beautiful features that mirrored his own, looking up at him like he hung the moon. That past life all felt like a horrible nightmare, one that he was just waking up from. One that he didn’t want to tell her about just yet.

He shook his head slowly, a shy smile flitting across his lips as he rubbed his fingers over the small of her back, enjoying the feeling of her soft cotton dress against his skin. “I’ll tell you later.” Later, he figured, could mean any time in the future. And he had the feeling that he would be here for a joyful eternity. “Is this Heaven?”

“I think so,” she nodded, her hand coming up to brush errant hairs away from his face. “And my Heaven just got better, now you’re here with me.”

His chest tightened, and he couldn’t stop the heaving sob as he hugged her again, holding her so close as if he was trying to pull her into himself. Burying his face into her neck, inhaling her perfume as if he would never smell it again for the second time around. It wasn’t sadness, though, that fuelled his cries. It was happiness. Pure, unfiltered joy, that he finally had what he always wanted. What he wished for every single night, especially when the day had been hard.

He had his Mama back.

“Ssh, none of that,” she cooed, a gentle chide as she rubbed his back soothingly. “I’m here, baby. I’m here for you, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

“Pinky swear?” he mumbled, causing the woman to softly laugh. To the two of them, a pinky swear had been stronger than any laws. It meant that the one promising would move mountains, just to make it happen. He hadn’t made a pinky swear for so long. Not ever since it didn’t feel the same, when her delicate little finger encircled his.

“Pinky swear,” she echoed, pressing a kiss to his temple.

If this was Heaven, this was the perfect final act. He had the only person that he truly wanted more than anything in this world, back in the home where he knew love without a price tag. No more bruises and broken bones, or cruel words with such abundance that he could drown in them. No more knowing cold, or hunger, or hardship. No more loss and anguish, no more mourning.

He knew it, deep in his gut. Now he was here, all that negativity would be washed away. It was all worth it, to finally be here.

It was finally worth it to be home.

#cw: death #cw: angst #cw: bereavement #cw: injury #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine

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miniscrew-anon · 5 months

Text

Merry Whumpmas - Day 4 "Chills"

Okay now I'm really getting into the meat of Shadows backstory. Because of who he is as a person I fully believe he was a little shithead for his whole life. Not necessarily because he wanted to be but because that's what life handed him.

Trigger warnings for mentions of human trafficking

It was another special order. Delivered word of mouth, as usual.

Tween, pale, male. Under four feet and 100 lbs. Dark hair, purple eyes. Park Twili. Unused, perfect condition.

Shadow mentally filters through his memories for someone to fit that description and comes up empty handed. He’ll have to go outside his usual search radius to find someone that specific. Twili aren’t common in Hyrule, and certainly not this far South.

He clicks his tongue and strolls away from the meeting house, annoyed. It’s unlikely he’ll find someone that matches. So he can kiss that commission goodbye. Still, there are other jobs. Routing cops and spotting Sheika aren’t necessarily easy but it’ll tide him over, for a little while.

Until another special order comes through. Those, he’s learned, are the real money makers.

Young, teen, Brunette, blonde. Green eyes, blue eyes. Goron, Zora, Gerudo - Vaati liked to pride himself on customer satisfaction and filling orders to a T. No customer of Vaati’s ever had to settle for second rate wares. High quality, he liked to say, nothing worn or used. No diseases, no defects, no behavioral issues. A perfectly healthy stock.

In other words - free range.

Vaati often uses his network of young eyes to find potential… merchandise. Their homes, patterns, and ideal pick up locations were all reported to higher ups and left to bagmen, who’d secure and ship out the goods.

It was a much more risky business than the run of the mill trafficking that relied on easy prey. It meant fewer lost souls from the gutter that no one would miss and more from nice homes and happy families. But the value far outweighed the cost; Shadow isn't sure how much a single person is worth to Vaati’s clientele, but they must be willing to pay exorbitant fees to have their every demand met.

Sometimes, when Shadow finds himself in a strange mood, he finds himself thinking about what might have happened to the poor bastards he reported on. What kind of life they were living, if they still were. It always made his spine tingle.

But he never lingers on it long. And why should he? It’s not like he’s really responsible for anything that happens. All he does is search out someone who fits the description and tell someone else about it. Not like he does any smashing or grabbing. He never laid a hand on anyone.

And besides, if it wasn’t Shadow doing it, it would be some other kid selling out someone for a handful of cash. This cog turns with or without him. No point in holding onto dumb ideas of morality when the alternative is starving in the streets, or falling in with some gang where he’d end up killing someone anyway.

No, there wasn’t any point in trying to take the high road. Shadow knows from experience that that kind of shit is for TV - the real world isn’t going to change because someone decides to be a good person. It won’t make a difference anyway. There’s always going to be another asshole ready to step in and take his place, so why give up his spot?

Better to be scum with a full belly and a roof than to be scum wasting away on the side of the road.

------

I don't think Shadow is an innocent at the end of the day. I think that just like Dark, he was kind of forced to take what was available to him and do what he needed to to survive. He's going to justify it any way he can, but deep down he knows what he's doing is fucked up. But fuck if he's going to acknowledge it.

Idk what the full timeline of events are but I'm going off the assumption that the Dragmire Empire has just been toppled about a year or two ago, Dark is currently in prison and the hold that Ganon had over Hyrules underbelly is basically dissolved. Vaati is just one of many smaller time guys who rose through the ranks and gained a shit ton of power. And his particular domain is the human trafficking going on in Hyrule.

#townhouse au #hsh au #merry whumpmas 2023 #tw: human trafficking

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professionallydeadinside · 6 months

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AHSIDNFOJLF THANKS, I FUCKING LOVE WORLD BUILDING. Also, I love my feather hat <3

I have more!

So, there's a ton of animal ghosts, and Yati makes sure to pet all of them every day, Silas wants to fistfight the thing in the basement (yeah, there's something in the basement, it doesn't seem to be malevolent or anything, but it really annoys Silas for some reason, so he's itching to fight it barefisted), and every so often, when you're experiencing at block, the three of us immediately give you various ideas, appearing behind you and basically looming over you, but you never feel scared or anything.

On the other hand, the couple of times you've almost been robbed? They have literally checked themselves into the psychiatric ward or turn themselves in. No, you do not know who did which one. You're running guess is that Yati and Silas did the mental asylum one (two robbers, were sent to the psychiatric ward because they kept backing about two beings whispering threats of testing their lungs apart), and Silas and I did the police turn in one (they swear two people screamed at them to turn themselves in or those people would hunt them down for sport), but you don't have any proof, and none of us will tell you.

Your first several months, the three of us were definitely trying to get you out of the house, and you are very tempted to sell the house again, but after a while the four of us just got used to each other, and even longer after the fact you and Yati start to have feelings for each other, and while Silas and I do warn you guys that it could go wrong because you're alive and she's not, we let it be. Eventually, you are very much like a owner of three ginormous dogs, you're very patient, willing to talk, and every so often you scold us (lovingly) for doing something that you know we don't have to. Such as, Silas doing more demony things that isn't needed (like, idk, asking for your soul sometimes), Yati writing something in blood like substance instead of on the mirror when it's foggy, and me suddenly changing the radio because I don't like the song and I'm petty.

-Kirk anon

I LOVE OUR SILLY LITTLE ROOMMATE DYNAMIC........Also all of the ghost animals I can imagine them just all rushing someone when you guys don't feel like handling an intruder sdfghjhgfdf

#answered

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laneybabys-world · 2 years

Text

summer is steady

steve harrington x gn!reader, 3297 words

synopsis: in which the inevitable happens, and you realize you're in love with one of your best friends

warnings/fyi: best friends to lovers! sfw (as far as I can tell), swearing, discussion/mentions of college stuff, eddie mentions (idk if this is a warning but I thought I'd put it just in case), smoochin', mentions of Starcourt (nothing graphic or spoiler-y), mentions of weight/muscles? (reader notices how steve is filling out his shirts more and jokingly questions if he’s buying clothes a size smaller intentionally), reader is a little anxious, very brief mention of wanting to vomit due to steve looking so good, mention of passing out from crushing on steve too hard

—

Summer isn't the same without them. You've been away for the past month since graduation, touring various colleges in neighboring states, and that simple truth had become more apparent the longer you were away. Sure, there were phone calls nearly every other day from Robin and Steve (often accompanied by Dustin's giggle and a scoff from someone else you couldn't quite name), but it couldn't replace the feeling of being with them. Finally, now that Summer was coming to a halt, you were headed back to Hawkins.

—

The cool air of the video store hits you as soon as you open the door. There’s a fan droning on in a corner some distance away. A bell jingles so close to your ear it startles you, and just up ahead Steve leans against the counter. He looks up lazily at the sound of a customer entering and then grins, realizing it's you, his eyes crinkling and straight, white teeth on full-display. You return his smile, hiking your bag up your shoulder from where it had slipped down slightly. Robin peeks around the corner of a tall stack of VHS tapes she was restocking and her eyes widen, mouth agape.

"Holy shit!" she exclaims, leaping from her spot and scrambling to pull you into a tight hug, nearly knocking the tapes over in the process. "I was convinced you'd left us behind for a less fucked-up town."

You laugh and squeeze her waist, feeling her breath drift across your shoulder. "Leave Hawkins and let you guys take over? No way."

Robin lets you go slowly, breaking apart from the hug to hold your shoulders and admire your features an arm's length away. "Is it just me or did you get hotter?"

"Ah," you exhale, dropping your arms from where you had been holding her elbows. "Must’ve been something in the water."

Steve's still behind the counter, his smile only slightly faded. Robin makes her way to lean beside Steve and you swear she shoots a nervous glance in his direction. He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair nonchalantly, all false confidence. "So," he begins, looking up at you with a softness you've never noticed before. "What was your month of freedom like?"

"Oh you know, about as good as college-scoping can be. I'm even more broke than when I started and I feel like I've made no real, lasting connections with anyone. It's also pretty hard to find places that want a student who doesn't know what they’re majoring in yet." You sigh and rest your elbows on the counter. You look up at Steve and smile gently. "Nothing I can't figure out, though. Just need some more time.”

"Hmm," He breathes, nodding as though it's the most profound thing he's ever heard. "You're always welcome to grab an application and work here with us for the rest of your life."

"Yeah, sell your soul to capitalism and work in this shit-box. You can watch Steve struggle to get a date as entertainment with me!" Robin smirks and nudges his shoulder.

You furrow your brows and look up at the ceiling, fluorescent lights painting the store an unflattering hue. The fan shifts on it’s rickety pedestal and the cool air gently tosses wisps of your hair around your face. You take a deep breath and exhale, taking Steve's suggestion a little more seriously than you were sure he'd intended. "Fuck it, hand me an application."

Steve laughs and reaches under the counter where he's standing. "I've been hoarding these things like they're the goddamn Death Star plans." He slaps a paper on the counter, sliding it towards your outstretched hand.

You glance over it and shake your head unbelievingly. "You drive a hard bargain, Harrington." You reach for a pen and fill the form out.

"I'm impressed you didn't just apply for them, Steve, you've been so desperate to spend time with ‘em." Robin stretches and yawns, turning slightly to check the time on the computer to her side.

Steve huffs in feigned annoyance and yawns too. Dropping the pen, you pass the paper back to him. He takes it into his hands and quickly skims through it. Grabbing a manila folder from the same place he got the application, he slides it in, carefully folding over the top and pushing the metal pieces through the hole. "I'll be sure to hand deliver this to our manager myself." He smiles, writing your name across the top and placing it on the small stack of other finished applications.

You can tell there's something different about him. Maybe it's because you've been away from them for longer than usual, but he seems…off. He's tougher, you think, we all are. But that's not quite it either. You watch him as he shrugs his uniform vest off and half-heartedly folds it. His arms are certainly bigger than they were before you left—toned and filling out his striped t-shirt a little too well for your liking. Does he buy his shirts smaller than his actual size now? You almost laugh out loud at the thought, but when he stretches, reaching towards the ceiling, you're stopped short. His shirt rides up ever so slightly, and the sliver of abdomen you're greeted with makes you blush and look away quickly. Yeah, something's definitely different.

You join Robin and Steve as they clock-out and get in Steve's car. You drove yourself, but you're not ready to leave them yet, so you stand by the driver's side of his car while he rolls down the windows.

"We—" He turns to Robin, one arm resting on the door where the window is down and the other on the wheel. "What day is it? Friday? Yeah—Friday. Okay." He turns back to you, squinting from the setting sun in his eyes. You move a little to block it and he beams up at you, golden and warm. "We're having our annual movie night. It's Robin's turn today so it'll probably be something shitty, but if you'd like to join us you're more than welcome. We can make it a movie-and-welcome-home-party-night for you, if you want."

The sun is hot on your back, and Steve's looking at you expectantly, or—no, hopefully. Your chest tightens at the realization that they want you there—that he wants you there. You didn't doubt their love for you, they were your best friends, but to be confronted with it like this, as though it wasn't even a second thought to them…it made your heart swell.

"Please, Y/N, I don't want to listen to him whine and cry all night about how much he misses you and wishes you had come. Plus, we haven't seen you in forever and we want to spend time with you." Robin exaggerates her begging. She’s being especially desperate, which makes you question if she has ulterior motives for your coming along, but the way she’s making you laugh and the exasperated look on Steve’s face makes you cave.

“Okay, okay, I’ll bite. Meet you at Steve’s?” Still laughing, you rummage around and eventually manage to pull your keys out of your bag.

—

When you walk up to the door, Steve’s holding it open. "Make yourself at home," he smiles at you again, but this time it's off-kilter, not the relaxed kind you've become used to.

You walk past him and hear the door close with a soft click. Robin is perched in the kitchen at the island, a can of Coke in hand. You go to slip your shoes off and Steve reaches out to steady you. His hand is warm and soft where he firmly grips your forearm. You're close enough to be overly aware of your movements, your breath. You worry all at once--do you smell okay? Can he hear your heart beating? Are you going to pass out? You feel like you might pass out. You don't think someone's heart is supposed to beat this quickly. Are you sweating? Do you look okay? His voice snaps you out of your worrying, "You can set them with ours, over there."

He leads you to the kitchen and Robin perks up. “Hey, what’s Dustin been up to lately? I haven’t heard you mention him in a while.”

"I assume he's hanging out with his new best friend," Steve scoffs, grabbing a handful of microwaveable popcorn bags from a cabinet.

"His 'new best friend'? Who's that?" you ask, smirking at the thought of Steve being this jealous over Dustin’s choice of friends. You slide into the stool beside Robin.

"Eddie Munson," he waves a hand dismissively from where he stands by the microwave, waiting for the multiple bags of popcorn to finish popping. "Y'know, uh—plays bass or whatever. Metal-head."

"I think it's a regular guitar, Steve," you laugh, taking a sip of the Coke Robin handed you. You look at the microwave worriedly. Are you supposed to microwave that many at once? "Dustin never struck me as the heavy metal type, honestly."

He shifts to stand with his hands on his hips in that typical Steve fashion. You feel like you might throw up from how good he looks. You decide it's safest to look anywhere else.

"Whatever, a guitar's a guitar. Point is—Dustin barely spends any time with me anymore. He's always playing that game or reading or whatever it is."

Robin turns to you, "Eddie's the Dungeon Master for their Dungeons and Dragons group," quietly, she adds, "He's kinda taken Dustin under his wing."

"Oh, I see. It must've been hard losing custody like that. I'm sorry, Stevie," you feign pity, smiling. Robin chuckles next to you. Steve shakes his head and takes the bags of popcorn out. You're pretty sure he's blushing when he turns away.

About an hour later, the snacks and drinks on the coffee table are nearly gone. You'd forgotten how much Robin likes to snack and you smile to yourself with fondness for her. You're sitting in the middle of the sofa with Robin to your left, snoring softly with her head propped up on a couple pillows, her legs thrown over your own. Steve's on your right, legs resting on the only clear space on the table, head leaned back. When you glance at him, your stomach flips. His gaze is lowered at the TV while a (as he predicted) shitty low-budget film plays. You gave up understanding the plot fifteen minutes ago when Robin had fallen asleep. Now, your attention was focused on not looking at Steve. The way his arms were folded across his chest. His smooth, tanned skin turning different colors from the film. The soft smile he gave you when you made eye contact accidentally once, twice. You sigh and chance one more look in his direction. He's looking at you. Wait, he's looking at you.

You laugh nervously, "Sorry, just checking to see if you'd fallen asleep."

He laughs too, "Not yet, but I definitely feel like I could."

"Do you know what's going on?" you ask, mostly curious to know if he'd actually been paying attention, unlike yourself.

"Not really. I think Robin chose it without looking at the cover," he unfolds his arms and stretches them out. You quickly turn to face forward. "Actually, I'm not even sure it's in English anymore."

You're both speaking quietly so as not to wake Robin, and it's not helping the butterflies in your stomach. "Is this usua--"

"Are you st--"

The two of you whirl around to face each other. "Sorry!" You say in unison, and then you both laugh softly at the interruption.

"Sorry," Steve starts again, "you first."

"I was gonna ask if this is an overnight thing, or if I should head home," you're still slightly smiling. You put your hands between your knees to try and calm your nerves.

Steve's arm moves to rest behind you, against the top of the couch. You're hyper-aware of it. He shrugs, "Robin usually stays, but if you'd rather go home, you can."

You nod, taking it into consideration. Stay and risk confronting your feelings, or retreat to the comfort of your home where you can try to pretend like the oncoming epiphany won’t happen, despite the way Steve looks and speaks and smiles and laughs. As if you could pretend to not love him…yeah, as if.

Softly, almost so quiet you can barely hear it, "I wish you'd stay, though."

This is not happening. You try to brace yourself as you turn your head to look at him. He's facing you now, his impassiveness gone. You meet his eyes, and he glances at your lips. "What?" You whisper. You almost don't want him to repeat himself. You're closer now, knee brushing his knee. He leans forward, his back off of the couch, hands by his sides.

"I think you should stay the night, I mean." He says it slowly, and he's studying your expression, trying to discern what you're feeling. He waves his hands around in front of him, "I even washed the sheets in the guest room for you this time."

"Wow, Harrington! Clean sheets?" You can't help but joke, trying to ease the tension.

Thankfully, he grins. "For you?" His voice cracks a little. "Absolutely. Anything you want. No pressure, of course, but it is late."

"I'll stay, Steve," he beams at you when you say it. "But—I expect pancakes in the morning. With fresh fruit. And freshly squeezed orange juice."

"Do you want freshly squeezed cow's milk, too?" He laughs boyishly and it's almost enough to bring tears to your eyes at the sound of it.

You giggle, this time loud enough to make Robin stir, but she settles soon after with an incoherent mumble. She's nearly inside the couch now, having sunk between the cushions.

The movie continues, and you sit with Steve in comfortable silence for the rest of the runtime. As the credits are rolling, you stand up and stretch. "Need help cleaning up?" you turn to him, tilting your head.

He stretches where he sits, "No, I'll save it for the morning. You going to bed?"

You nod, turning to look at Robin, still sound asleep. Steve's looking up at you, his arms behind his head. You forget to breathe when you see the same strip of abdomen from before, his striped shirt slightly rumpled from the movement. "Do you need anything? Pajamas? Toothbrush? I've got extras."

Steve leads you upstairs to the guest room, even though you’ve been there before. You sit on the edge of the bed as he brings you extra clothes and a new toothbrush. "I bought this years ago just in case..." he shifts uncomfortably, handing the package to you. "Just in case Nancy needed one while she was here."

"Thank you. I'm honored to use Nancy Wheeler's toothbrush." you tear open the cardboard packaging and lift it out.

"Ha-ha," he mocks, tossing the clothes onto the bed beside you. "Here,” he’s pointing a finger at you, the other hand on his hip, “You should've known this would be an overnight 'sitch." He looks like he's scolding one of the kids.

You unfold the clothes, holding them up in front of you. It's an old sweatshirt of Steve's. You bristle at the implications behind wearing his shirt to bed, something mostly innocent suddenly becoming too intimate for you. Teasingly, you ask, "Come on, really?"

Steve shrugs, running a hand through his hair. "I saw the chance and I took it, what can I say?"

"Booo," you taunt, tossing the shirt at him. You know he can see you blushing. He took the "chance?" He catches it with one hand and jerks it towards his chest.

"Fine, I'll see if Robin left anything behind from last time." He begins to turn and walk out the door, but you jump up and grab his forearm.

"No," you chuckle. "I was kidding, Steve. Give me the shirt."

If you thought he was going to give the shirt back that easily, you were mistaken. He holds it up in the air, away from you. "I don't think so, honey.”

Honey. Honey. Honey. You glare at him, reaching for the shirt. "Harrington," you warn.

He only laughs and shakes his head slowly, eyes wide. "You can sleep in your outside clothes."

"No!" You exclaim, this time reaching as far as you can to get the shirt. "I've been wearing these all day."

Steve's right hand lands on your waist. It didn’t occur to you how close you were until you felt it, skin tingling where he’s touching you. You both freeze at the realization and fall silent. You've missed this. A laugh bubbles out of you at the thought. You've missed him. You want to tell him. You have to tell him, before you leave for college. Before you leave Hawkins, for good. Before something like Starcourt happens again. You don't give yourself time to second-guess the decision. "I missed you, Steve."

The colleges you'd visited had blurred together, the acquaintances you'd met now filed under one name, one category. The jobs you've had in the past: the toy store at Starcourt, the local Italian restaurant, once at the dry cleaner's, they were temporary. A means to make money to try and afford college, in the future. Make a life for yourself, in the future. But Steve is here now, and he's tangible. Solid. Constant. Steady.

You reach for him and hold his face in your hands. He's warm. You can feel the heat from his hand through the fabric of your shirt. His breathing is uneven. He smells like summer, and a little like the video store. Cedarwood and a little bit of popcorn. Citrus and the slightest hint of sunscreen. And just like that, he closes the gap between the two of you. His lips are soft on yours, but he's kissing you with urgency. You let your hands fall and wrap around his shoulders. He drops the shirt in favor of holding the back of your neck, pulling you closer. Your hand drifts to his bicep, then to his forearm. He’s definitely been working out. You slide your fingers over the watch on his wrist, bending where it curves around your side. It's getting hot and you're nervous, and you aren't sure how many lines you've just crossed, but Steve's kissing you and it's making your head fuzzy. You pull away. Now holding your face, he pecks your lips delicately. Once. Twice. When he parts from you again, you place your hands on his shoulders and push back lightly.

"Steve," you breathe. "Do you kiss all your friends like that, or just me?"

He laughs breathily and pretends to think about the question. "That was just practice for when Eddie and I have to fight over Dustin for attention."

"Dustin's a minor, Steve, gross!" you push him away from you jokingly, looking at him with mock horror.

"I meant Eddie!" he reassures, reaching out to you with both hands. He bends down to pick the shirt up and hands it to you.

You take the shirt and pull him in for another kiss. It's slower this time, lips parted slightly and sighs exchanged between breaths of giggles.

—

You changed and then brushed your teeth, side by side in the bathroom with Steve. He had smiled at you as he distributed some toothpaste onto what was now your brush, and then his own, and smiled wider when you leaned over, mouth still frothy from your brushing, and kissed him again. Now, you hold onto the door frame and smile at him from where he stands in front of his own door, “Goodnight, Steve.”

He beams at you, reliably steady and incandescently happy. "'Night."

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x gender neutral reader #best friends to lovers #fluff #stranger things fluff #stranger things fic #fanfic #fanfiction #robin buckley #stranger things steve #stranger things robin #dustin henderson #eddie munson

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monstrouslyobsessed · 1 year

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just answering some asks real quick, no writing today but i am working on some n'sfw art of my fave lesbian beastfolk characters. hoping to finish and share that one (but sadly censored) tonight!

cw: mentions of a certain horror hentai, beastfolks

thank you for the quick reply! I am super psyched about the possibility of a book of beast au, like holy moly I'd read it/buy it! And no worries on me selling the fan idea or claiming your idea, its more like me doing fanfiction of my fav author work as fan love ;3 —anonymous

dawwwwwww thank you!! <3 you're a sweetheart!!! do whatever you want! i'm super down to see your (and literally anyone else's) takes on my au~ we need more furry beastman x human tbh.

still a slim possibility tho! it'd be more of a compilation book more than anything as it'd be easier for me to do than to do chapter by chapter thing (and honestly, i wouldn't know who to focus on! i accidentally made the au too vast, rip). the only thing that would kinda suck is having to come up with the identity of mc's in each story, since it's super nice not having to think too much about who the mc is when i write reader x monster. i don't think reader x stories would sell well, though, and especially not the dead dove kind.

but that's alright, it just means i can write the mc's being in the minority if and when i wanted to c: disabled mc's are not something you'd see represented often being one myself and i'd so much love to contribute somehow.

Have you seen puss in boots? —anonymous

i dont...watch many movies lmao but im guessing this is about death the wolf? my friends were all over him! even the ones who aren't into yandere/dd stuffs.

i'll have to see if i can find that film on netflix or prime then and make some time for it

Omg, I didn’t listen to you and I read that hentai fully out of curiosity and wow that’s fucked (and scary) —anonymous

oh nonnie NOOOOOOO-

you poor soul D: it IS a horror hentai though, i should've specified in the initial post (sorry!), but fuck some of them are...

yeah, half of it is extremely fucked indeed. ymmv, but outside the ones involving...minors (shudders), the cow head and the monkey on train are just...no, with the former especially being the worst one and probably the most fucked up of them all. the tall lady and the scarecrows/women in the field would've been...passable to good if they hadn't involved minors, simply because i liked the initial premises. :\ the snake-god would've been a 10/10 for me if the mc is older and less...bratty, but as it is, 8/10 and all of the points i gave were because of the monster's gorgeous unique take on lamia/naga design (that monster lady is a chef's kiss and makes my gay ass heart happy) and her tragic backstory.

idk about the 6-armed snake-god one specifically, but i've heard/read that all the others were based on the Japanese lores. the cow one was supposedly already super gross in the first place though the artist could've just...not do that one and the rest, yeah.

i was able to deal with the statue ones and the worm god fine because...at least they all looked like adults who fell into bad situations they couldn't get out of. the monster on the road is...well, it'd be better if it didn't look like an old man :\ rest i just straight up skimmed through with my eyes half shut and completely skipping the cow head one first few pages in.

…sufficient to say, i only read monster / horror hentai's based on friends' recs than looking for them myself these days. way too many involving minors, which is…unfortunate. yucks.

i'm very, very sorry i led you down there and endured all of that, nonnie dear. D:> i'll go back and edit that post to warn others.

#ghosts are curious.👻#☠️not writing...#anonymous #asked #answered #☠️monster is whispering...

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iwasbored777 · 2 years

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Hey can I just ask u smthg since ur the one of the only.... positive.... reader of the bible(ml) I know lol

I saw a post abt mocking ppl abt the love square saying how bad the season is and that the end will be very disappointing blah blah blah u know usual stuff

I just... this rlly set me off cause I've not been very excited with the start of the season cause of the bible being leaked and a lot of ppl who read it saying that the season was going to be bad. Everytime I go see some legal spoilers and teasers I see ppl making memes and analysis, stuff that dont have a fcking read below tag or even a warning at the start that it's a bible leak and everytime I think it's just some headcanon its fcking real and I am so disappointed.

Like I haven't watched multiplication and destruction and don't even think on doing it anytime soon cause that's how low my interest dropped from accidentally seeing SO MANY leaked images and text posts saying that ml season 5 will truly be trash

I dont wanna look into anymore of those spoilers it's rlly not safe even in this site so I just wanna ask if u think this season is as bad as ppl say it?

HOLD TF UP YOU WHO ALWAYS COMMENT ON MY PURPLE JOKES DID NOT WATCH MULTIPLICATION AND DESTRUCTION HONEY NOT ONLY THEY HAVE IKARIMOTH BUT ALSO THESE EPS WERE AMAZING I LOVED THEM SO MUCH SSKKSKSKSKSSKJSKSJSJSJSJKS THEY ACTUALLY BRING ME LIFE ADRIENETTE IS EVERYTHING LADYNOIR TOO IN THESE EPS ALSO LOL GABE IS SLUTTY JUST AS I THOUGHT 😭😭😭😭

But I understand you completely this show goes from 0 to 100 and the other way around ALL THE TIME. One episode is amazing and the next one is crap and so on. I hated the bible so much and I still hate so many decisions the writers made and I'm really not sure how things will end but I idk I thought quitting the show will help me but I'm too attached to it and my friends here and the truth is I can't just leave. I loved Destruction. I wanted to leave not because I was disappointed in the previous episodes - the season 4 finale was awesome and so was Evolution and Multiplication - but the spoilers got worse and worse. The more I read about them the more I hated them and nothing here was making me want to stay. The fandom sucks too but man there are some of my friends here whom I would sell my soul to the devil for so I can see them again every day. If you want to quit I fully understand and I don't judge you. I quit like three times now and every time I find excuse to come back. ML is addictive. If you need a break take it. We will get a lot of episodes now and when/if you come back you will have a lot of stuff to watch. Breaks help a lot. I felt so good when I didn't interact with the fandom for a while.

But just in case maybe you want to read the bible? And I will share the link for it and I can't say it will change your mind but I just think you should watch Multiplication and Destruction cuz I haven't met a person yet who was deeply disappointed by these episodes. I personally thought they were great. I wish every episode was this interesting and funny and I know this season will disappoint with some episodes too but that's how we roll. I will probably take more breaks again sometime when I decide. I understand and support you whatever you decide. You do what you want.

#miraculous ladybug #Ml season 5 #ml ask #ask and answer

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etheraltale · 1 year

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etherealtale char facts bcoz idk (wip?)

big fat ass fucking spoiler warn ✨✨

lets start with snas

he owned a wheat farm with papyrus but he rarely ever tended to it. it was usually papyrus who took care of the crops. sans was the one quality checking the groups of wheat and separating them in two groups. half of the harvest was to sell, the other half was to eat and turn into bread. usually it would be papyrus walking to the market and selling them too.

he wears a quartz pendant of an upside down heart which represents his soul for some reason. papyrus has a pendant like this too.

now were getting into spoiler territory, continue sans' segment at ur own risk :)

since papyrus left for the royal guard, he was left with money by papyrus, as he went to fight in the war going on between the monsters n humans. although, the money was originally given to him to pay off the taxes. but instead, he spent the money on wine and other alcoholic stuff. he also spent money on cigarettes. which stained a few of his clothes.

papyrus ✨✨

papyrus didn't just tend to the crops, he also happened to be training. he often punched trees and made training equipment using the materials he had on hand. he fenced using long, thin sticks with sans sometimes. he took his training quite seriously.

he also happened to cook alot, he loved baking bread and stuff and his favorite ingredient was probably any fruit jam. he normally cooks sweet things, but whenever he comes back from the market he always brings home a few tomatoes for sans cause apparently he really likes eating them raw. none of them are sure why though.

sliightt spoilers ✨

unlike classic paps, ethereal paps isnt too childish, but that doesn't mean hes given up on his childhood dreams. hes always dreamed of fighting somehow. back then, undyne didnt exactly trust papyrus with fighting. he wishes undyne could see him now.

Friskk yaay

frisk grew up to be king (im sorry i dont know what the nb term is))

they ruled about half the country. the other half was taken over by the monsters since they escaped. frisk's castle is decorated with undertale references and icons EVERYWHERE. (this also includes asgore's castle but eh i need more facts)

for example, their ballroom floor has the 7 souls of the innocent. and there are buttercups painted everywhere, and a few real ones. frisk, chara and an unknown child have their own massive stained glass window portraits. maybe flowey's face is painted on the floor somewhere too but idk.

Alphys!!

first of all i wanna get this outta the way but, alphys is definitely my fave so far lol but anyways this whole segment contains spoilers so keep reading at ur own riskk

Since undyne sacrificed herself for frisk and the rest of the human race, as soon as alphys stepped foot onto the overworld ground, she promised to dedicate her life to a new invention, the telescope (sorry gallileo-) she and undyne have always dreamed of seeing the stars together. she dedicates the invention to her in hopes that she can maybe watch undyne in heaven, probably just a metaphor tho.

she lives in an abandoned watchtower with mettaton as her assistant she often paints the stars too. she sometimes paints on her walls too. she also paints undyne occasionally.

i believe she also dreams about showing her invention off to the world, but she's very shy and stuff so she refuses. the old watchtower was built beside a beachside. alphys thought this would be a nice place to live because first of all, its rlly pretty duh, second, sand = glass so she can use it for the lenses of her invention.

i loaf ethereal alphys so much hGhHGHHghH

(this is still a wip! expect more bios in the future i guess)

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