#I can write things down here too! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

afewproblems · 8 months

Text

Season 2 Halloween AU Part Four

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

A very big thank you to @strangersteddierthings for chatting with me today and being such a great sounding board for the next update!

Synopsis: What if Eddie had been at Tina's Halloween Party in Season Two? Featuring Steve!Whump, Stancy Breakup, and Eddie just trying to keep up with all these new revelations about who King-Steve actually is...

***

"So…I have to ask," Eddie blurts out, cutting through the awkward silence that has fallen between them, "how were you gonna pick up your car before you ran into me?"

"I don't think it counts as running into you, if you were waiting for me Munson," Steve side steps the question expertly, flashing him a strange smirk that seems out of place. It falls after a second and twists into something pained.

"I was hoping Nance would take me," Steve says eventually, his voice soft, "which was pretty stupid in hindsight, 'specially cuz she was counting on me to drive her this morning, which--"

Steve cuts himself, snapping his mouth shut with a harsh click of teeth, he shakes his head and lifts his hand to run roughly through his hair.

"Doesn't matter anymore".

Eddie holds his breath, feeling the conversation begin to shift. It's as though he's stepped onto a tightrope and any wrong move could potentially send him over the edge.

He settles for nodding once, turning the key in the ignition.

Steve sighs and lets himself fall back into his seat, "I know you know already, the whole fucking school does, Billy saw to that," Steve gestures to his face, "say what you really want to ask".

Eddie's fingers tighten around the wheel as he turns them out of the parking lot, fighting the immediate urge to say, 'why did Miss Priss throw it all away?'

"You think I believe the rumours that come out of that shithole?" Eddie lies, keeping his eyes on the road this time.

He can feel Steve's unimpressed stare as they continue down mainstreet.

"Right, so you had no clue I was in detention?"

Eddie chews the inside of his cheek to fight the sly grin that begins to creep over his face, "Alright smart ass".

He hazards another glance at Steve as they begin to hit the residential area, he looks so different from the night before.

His limbs are loose, tension free, if it weren't for the heavy bags under Steve's eyes and the nervous tap of his fingers on the passenger door, Eddie would think he was finally relaxed.

"I knew a fight definitely happened, it's Hargrove," Eddie says slowly, carefully weighing his words, "but I typically prefer to hear the whole sordid story from the source before I pass any judgements, ya know?"

Steve doesn't say anything as they continue driving through residential the houses getting progressively bigger as they go.

"Did you," Steve pauses and breathes out slowly before shaking his head and lifting his face to meet Eddie's gaze, "is that offer for something stronger still open?"

Eddie smiles, "I think that can be arranged".

***

Eddie pulls over beside Tina Cline's house, wincing as the right front tire rolls over the curb and bounces the van as it lands on the street once more, startling a snort out of Steve.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up Harrington," Eddie huffs as Steve shoots him a grin.

"Didn't say a word," Steve hums, unbuckling himself from the seat. Eddie watches as he opens the door and hops out. For a moment Eddie worries Steve will pull the same disappearing act from last night but he simply stops beside his car door and motions for Eddie to roll down his window.

Eddie cracks his door open instead, "window's broken, what?"

Steve rolls his eyes, "whatever Munson, you know the way? It's north on 5th and--"

"Then two more rights, yeah man," Eddie says with a laugh in his voice, "I dropped you off remember?"

"Fuck off," Steve huffs out, he's grinning though.

Steve swings the Beemer’s door open and slides in. He turns on the ignition and flinches at the loud burst of music from the stereo, the volume obviously set from the mood of the previous night.

'I want to know what love is, I want you to show me--'

Steve slams his hand against the console, cutting off the song with a harsh crack.

The van is parked just behind the Beemer so Eddie can't see Steve's face, but his head drops down onto the wheel for just the briefest moment before he slowly lifts it, turns on his signal and pulls away from the curb.

***

Steve beats him to the house.

He's getting out of the car, which is parked on the long driveway as Eddie pulls up to the street.

Eddie hops out of the van, hiking his backpack higher up on his shoulders, not bothering to lock it. Who would even want his shitty van among the BMWs and Mercedes parked down this street --hell, Eddie could have sworn he saw a Jag three houses down.

Eddie stops short of the lawn. The Harrington house is so different in the light of day, the strange emptiness that seemed to ooze out of the dark windows the night before has disappeared, leaving an ordinary house in its wake.

"Well?" Steve calls out as he pulls a pair of keys from his back pocket and spins them once on his finger, "you coming or what Munson?"

Eddie rolls his eyes and jogs to catch up to Steve who turns on his heel to stride up the walk. He stuffs the key into the deadbolt and swings one of the double doors inwards before shucking off his sneakers.

No shoes? Fucking rich people man.

Steve must notice Eddie's expression because he blushes and shrugs, "I know, I know, but my parents will be home for Thanksgiving this year so…may as well…"

He gestures around the sterile foyer with a tight smile, as though it explains everything.

If anything, Eddie has more questions.

Steve cuts off the thought by clearing his throat, "we should smoke outside, last thing I need is for you to burn a hole in the couch or something".

Eddie steps over the threshold and has to stop himself from whistling, were the ceilings always this high in this place?

He lifts his foot to unlace his left chuck, snorting at the strange little table in the middle of the foyer. A giant vase sits atop it filled with a mixture of what have to be silk flowers --no way they were real. He pulls the shoe off and tosses it to the side before lifting his right foot.

Eddie never had the greatest balance so he hops back and forth with his right foot in the air before hopping as close as he can to the wall of the foyer and leaning back against it.

He finally gets the knot in his laces undone and throws the sneaker to the floor, dropping his right foot to the hardwood.

Eddie looks up to find Steve staring with a bemused expression on his face, he ignores the wide hazel eyes and removes the backpack from his shoulders -which can't have been helping the balance issue.

Eddie unzips the top and yanks out the trusty metal lunchbox, sliding a wicked grin into place.

"You said something about outside?"

***

By the time they've settled, facing one another on a couple of pool loungers, the sun has begun to dip low, painting the patio and empty pool a warm glowing copper. It catches Steve's hair, which shines like gold in the dying sunlight, like some Autumnal Fae King--

Eddie wants to slap himself, suddenly thankful for the November wind that cuts through the backyard, forcing him to chillout.

He picks up the grinder from his lunchbox, unscrewing the cap to open it.

"You good with a joint this evening my good King?"

He pours a handful of a new strain Rick let him try the other day into the grinder and starts twisting. It's not something he would typically share with anyone other than Jeff, but Steve seemed like he could use something a little more special tonight.

Eddie looks up after a beat of silence, "yo, Major Tom, you with me?"

Steve's face is pinched, tilted towards the empty pool, "please don't call me that," he says quietly.

"Major Tom?"

Steve raises his eyes to meet Eddie's gaze, his mouth cuts a hard line across his face, the typical easy grin it usually houses is gone.

"King-Steve," he runs a hand through his hair, letting the fingers linger to grip and pull, "I just, that's not who I am anymore, I don't--"

Steve swallows harshly, "that's all anyone could talk about this morning".

He drops his voice and octave, "oh, King Steve is so pussy whipped he let his girl fuck Jonathan Byers before she dumped him".

"Is that what Hargrove said?" Eddie asks quietly as he pours out a portion of weed onto a paper.

Steve shakes his head, "that was Tommy, but that wasn't why I hit him".

Eddie nods, and lifts the joint to his mouth to run his tongue along the edge of the paper. Steve watches him from the lounger, his eyes follow the movement before he blinks and continues.

"Tommy and I had been best friends since we were five, he uh, he knows a lot about me," Steve lifts his hand to his mouth and chews the nail of his thumb briefly before dropping it back into his lap.

"Stuff I don't tell anyone, stuff he knows will hurt".

Eddie nods, twisting the joint closed, he can kind of understand that, although the only person in his life that knew him like that was Wayne.

And Wayne would never hurt him.

Did Steve really not have anyone else like that in his life, someone he could tell anything to that wouldn't look at him weird or judge him. Someone safe.

"Anyway, Hargrove started in on me after that, but he's been fucking with me for awhile so," Steve shrugs again, "he saw his big opportunity here".

"Hargrove's been messing with you?" Eddie asks sharply as he pours more weed onto another paper. He lifts it and runs his tongue along the edge of the paper before twisting it into shape. When he looks up, Steve's ears have gone slightly pink and he's sitting strangely, slightly hunched and twisted.

"Yeah," Steve says after a moment, he clears his throat and straightens his back, "yeah, it's just been at practice so far, and I thought it was just because he wanted to one up me for my spot but," he shakes his head, "it's getting worse".

"You know, I have a bit of a reputation around school," Eddie says slowly, carefully, watching as Steve freezes and looks at Eddie with wide eyes.

"The Hellfire club is more than just the game we're playing, it's also kind of a sanctuary for kids that don't have anyone to lean on, we look after each other," Eddie continues, ignoring the way Steve relaxes slightly, "you wouldn't need to play or anything but if you need somewhere to sit at lunch now…"

Steve looks at Eddie for a long time, his expression blank, guarded, "really? Just like that?"

"Yeah man, besides I get to use my 'Mean and Scary Guy' persona on these fuckers so it's a win-win for me".

Steve grins, raising one skeptical eyebrow, "mean and scary?"

Eddie bristles a little bit at the questioning tone in Steve's voice and can't quite swallow the urge to snarl, "yeah I mean you looked plenty scared of the town freak yesterday".

Steve winces and immediately starts to shake his head, inching forward in his seat so he's even closer to Eddie, their knees are almost touching.

"That's not, I wasn't," he stops and takes a deep breath, "I was upset about Nancy and it was so dark outside, the trees--"

"You afraid of the dark Harrington?" Eddie cuts him off, the lingering irritation still simmers in his voice as he coos.

Steve just looks at him, there's something strange about the haunted expression on his face that makes the hair on the back of Eddie's arms stand on end.

"Things happen in the dark, in the woods," Steve says softly, his eyes drift to the empty pool again.

Eddie opens his mouth to ask Steve what the hell he means by that, when a voice shouts across the yard.

"Steve? STEVE?!"

The sound of someone running through the grass has them both of their feet, the joints forgotten on the pool loungers.

"Dustin?"

A kid, he can't be more than twelve or thirteen, skids into the porchlight that has replaced the last copper rays of evening light, the sun fully set by now. The kid's blue eyes are wide underneath a mop of curly hair and hat, he's breathing hard.

"I need your help".

Tag List: @eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @airconditioning123 @steveshairspray @hellfireone @sunswathe @eddielives1986 @tentativeghost @robin-not-batman @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @tinyplanet95 @perseus-notjackson

Part Five

and for some peeps that I think may be interested! @steddierthings @steddie-there @steves-strapcollection @outpastthebrakers @henderdads @stevesbipanic

524 notes · View notes

hailsatanacab · 1 year

Note

"give me a fandom and a prompt and i'll give you at least five sentences"

Ok then.

Jazz, Danny and Bruce are in the same age range, and Bruce has been harboring a massive crush on 7'foot tall Jazz since just after he began his training journey.

His kids know about and are mercyless. Danny thinks he's a bit of a fruit loop and 100% knows Bruce has a crush on his sister.

Into the future his coworkers find out that batman has been quietly pining after the Ghost Kings sister for years.

Chaos.

love that this reads as a challenge. Ok then. Write it. i will, let's goooo!

(sorry i kinda took it so that Jazz, Danny, and Bruce were all old friends but in that horrible adult way where you can only hang out with each other once in a blue moon when your work schedules miraculously align)

——

"Respectfully, Batman, you can take your "it's not necessary" and you can shove it up your arse. There's a demon the size of a skyscraper heading towards Metropolis and we need reinforcements."

"Superman can—"

"Superman can't. You do remember the part of the report I made telling you this, right? Or did your stubborn little bat brain just shut down when I mentioned magic?"

"Actually," Nightwing interrupts from the side, a shit-eating grin on his face, "I think his brain shut down when you mentioned the Ghost King."

"Nightwing." Batman growls in warning, his jaw clenching so hard Constantine can swear he hears the bones creaking.

Nightwing just snickers, and turns away to press a finger to his ear, no doubt letting the rest of the bat brood in on what's happening here... Whatever that is. All Constantine knows is that Batman is standing between him and fixing this mess for no God-forsaken reason.

Luckily, some of the more reasonable members of the League step in to try and talk some sense into Batman. It gives him some time to calm down.

"Batman. We need him. I know you dislike working with unknowns, but he's our best shot."

It actually looks like Wonder Woman might be getting through to him, Batman even opens his mouth to actually explain some things—a huge step forward for this incredibly emotionally constipated man.

Instead, Nightwing snorts and beats him to it. "Unknowns? More like—"

"Nightwing, please."

"Oh, for Pete's sake, get your head out of your arse and let me do this. The Ghost King is our only hope. I'm summoning him, no matter what you say."

For a long second, Constantine thinks that he'll refuse and he might have to resort to more violent methods of persuasion—which, honestly, Constantine has fantasised about many times during the more boring JL meetings—but eventually, Batman relents and steps out of the way.

"Fine. Nightwing, go check in with Red Robin."

Nightwing has the kind of devious smile that makes John glad he doesn't have kids.

"Oh, don't worry about it, B. Red Robin's coming here. So's Red Hood, I don't need to go anywhere."

"Nightwing—"

"Sh, it's starting." So saying, Nightwing then very obviously ignores Batman's protests with a poker face that even Constantine envies. What he wouldn't give to be able to shut the bat out like that.

The summoning goes quickly, thankfully. The lights flicker, the temperature drops, and the chalk circle erupts in green flames. Standard summoning practices, sure. Even the impromptu appearance of Red Hood and Red Robin—"Did we miss him?", "No, not yet! I got 2:37, what about you guys?"—doesn't throw him off.

It does pique his interest, though. Just what the hell is going on with them? Constantine's weighing up the pros and cons of asking them once all of this is over when the ground splits open and the clawed hand of the Ghost King begins to pull himself out of the ground.

John's a seasoned summoner. It's practically his job, he's done it countless times.

The icey fear that grips his heart, that freezes his breath in his chest, is new.

Pure, unadulterated power floods the area and he feels small, so, so small, like a child playing with things he doesn't understand. When he finally tears his eyes away from the portal, he catches a glimpse of the other magic users in the room, the same horror he feels clear in their faces. Even Captain Marvel stares slackjawed.

The pressure rises, death magic screaming in his ears, almost forcing him to his knees, and suddenly he's not so sure this is a good idea.

Too late to back out now, though.

Sickly green light pours from the crack in the ground, growing brighter and brighter as the giant figure rises, until Constantine has to close his eyes and look away. The last thing he sees are eyes, teeth, horns, a crown so bright that it burns an afterimage into his retinas.

When the light dies down and he opens his eyes again, a humanoid man floats in the centre of the circle. The ground is whole, nothing is burning, the man doesn't even have a crown. Instead, other than the wispy white hair, slightly green skin, and the—you know—floating, the Ghost King appears pretty normal. Huh.

Constantine blinks, rubbing his bleary eyes, and checks around to make sure everyone's okay. Most of the League are doing the same as him, taking fortifying breaths and trying to appear as if they've not just been completely blinded.

Most of them, that is, aside from the Gotham vigilantes.

Batman himself stands upright, arms crossed, looking completely unbothered by the whole thing and John's got to admit, he wishes he could do that, too. That was... a hell of a show.

The others, however, are waving frantically with huge smiles on their faces.

What?

There's a brief, taut silence, as everyone else tries to catch their breath.

As much as he would rather take a bit of a breather, John should probably start making introductions. Unfortunately, he only gets as far as opening his mouth before the Ghost King beats him to it.

"Oh, Ancients, hey guys! It's been forever, how are you? Look at you all, so grown up, wow—Nightwing, buddy, do a flip!"

It doesn't take much to get Nightwing going, and he certainly doesn't leave it at one flip. The whole of the Justice League and Justice League Dark watch with open mouths as Nightwing performs for the Ghost King.

What, and John can't stress this enough, the fuck?

As soon as Nightwing rights himself, Red Hood swats him across the back of the head and calls him a show off.

The Ghost King just laughs as he claps. "There's my little monkey, look at you go! And I'm loving that leather jacket, Hood, is that new? Looks good on you, really your colour. Brings out the red in your helmet."

"Thanks, Uncle D. At least someone around here appreciates fashion."

"Are you kidding me, you know I breathe fashion, need I remind—"

"Need I remind you of the Discowing incident?"

"That was era-appropriate and you know it! Uncle D, tell him it was era-appropriate!"

"It was era-appropriate, but so are crocs and it doesn't make them fashionable." The Ghost King—and holy shit, is this actually the Ghost King? Or did Constantine just accidentally summon a deceased family member, what the fuck is happening here?—turns to look at Red Robin with a smile, resolutely ignorning the argument he created. "How you doing, Double R? You get that tablet Tucker made for you?"

"Yes, thank you! It's so cool, how did he—"

"How's Tucker doing?" Batman interrupts, his hands now hidden underneath his cape.

As soon as the question leaves his lips, everyone groans. Red Robin makes a show of lifting up his wrist and staring at it intently.

"Incredible," Red Hood mutters with a shake of his head.

Even the Ghost King seems put out, rolling his eyes and answering in a flat tone as if he knows Batman isn't interested in what he has to say.

Not for the first time, Constantine feels like he's missing something.

"Tucker's doing very well, thank you for asking."

What follows is the most awkward silence Constantine has ever had the pleasure to be a part of.

All three of the Gotham vigilantes, including the Ghost King, are staring at Batman, waiting for something. Batman's cloak shifts as if he's moving his hands, fidgeting. If Constantine didn't know any better, he'd say he was nervous.

"Good. That's good, I'm glad to hear it."

Instead of saying anything else, the Ghost King just raises his eyebrows and continues to stare at Batman. Has he offended him in some way? Are they all going to die because of this?

After what seems like an agonising few minutes but could only really be a few seconds, Batman's shoulders dip and he takes a breath. "And Jazz?"

They all erupt into shouts, the Ghost King being the loudest. The only thing John can make out is when the Ghost King throws his hand in the air to point at Red Robin with a shout of "Time!"

"1:30.91, we got 1:30.91 on the clock, who's closest?"

"Did you even try to hold it in at all, old man? I'm so disappointed in you. People think you're cool. People think you're suave, I don't understand how they could be so wrong."

"Thank you for that, Hood."

"No, thank you, I won. Again. Because you're so predictable. Actually, I had one minute seventeen, so you held out longer than I thought you would."

Batman pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs loudly.

Constantine feels like doing the same thing.

Whatever. He's going to have to interrupt... whatever this is. There's still a rampaging demon heading their way that they've got to bargain for. He can untangle Batman's personal connection to the Ghost King later. Or he could leave it alone and forget everything about it.

Yeah, he'll do that one.

But before he can actually open his mouth to say anything, the Ghost King, again, beats him to it.

"So, B-Man, did you summon me here for a particular reason, or was it really just so you could ask about Jazz?"

There's a beat of silence before Batman mutters, "I asked about Tucker, too. We've not seen each other in so long, it's only polite."

"And I'm sure you meant it, you're the paragon of manners." The Ghost King nods slow and wide-eyed as if he doesn't believe him at all.

At this point, even Constantine doesn't believe him.

"It has been forever, though." The Ghost King muses, bringing his hand to his chin and folding his legs underneath him. "We should all get together sometime! If you get Alfie to make some of his cookies again, I'll get Clockwork to lend us a pocket dimension where we can spend as much time as we want, deal?"

"It's a deal."

No hesitation at all, incredible.

Hold on. Wait. John has to fight the urge to pinch himself, because this has to be a dream, right? Is Batman actually smiling? He didn't even know he could do that.

An itch niggles at the back of John's mind. He's starting to get an inkling of what's going on here and it's... weird, to say the least.

"Oooh," Nightwing singsongs, like a child in a playground tickled by the very idea of romance.

But then, who's he to judge? John's no stranger to strange bedfellows, that's for sure. Whoever this Jazz is, she must be something incredible—she'd have to be, if Batman can't even go two minutes without asking about her.

"Batman and Jasmine sitting in a tree," Nightwing continues, with both Red Hood and Red Robin joining in for the rest. "K—I—S—S—I—"

"Stop," Batman growls, completely drowned out by the Ghost King's laughter, but...

But.

It all suddenly clicks for John.

The Ghost King Phantom.

Her Royal Highness, Princess Jasmine Phantom.

Jazz.

"Holy shit, mate," John breathes, unable to stop himself as everyone looks his way. "You have the hots for the Princess of the Infinite Realms?"

The Justice League meeting room has never descended into chaos quicker.

#dpxdc #danny phantom crossover #danny phantom x batman #hoooolllyyy mackeral #it was hubris thinking i could keep anything to five sentences really wasn't it?#fucking played myself with that didn't i???#anyway here's even more words on this i hope you enjoy!!#some things that didn't make it in:#duke doesn't come to see danny because he's too bright when he's in his ghost form and it gives him a migraine - he still plays the game #though and is second closest!#damian is there he's just biding his time. it's become a tradition for damian to try and stab danny whenever he turns up #he hasn't managed it yet but danny keeps encouraging him to try again! you'll get me next time champ!#it infuriates damian to no end - no he's not doing it because he's having fun he legitimately wants to kill him shut up!#danny loves cass so much and when they do all get together they always sit together - it often ends up with cass curling up around danny #ellie turns up every now and then! she's like an honourary wayne at this point #she's always down for any pranks and shenanigans #thank you for the prompt!! it was very fun. as you can see i got rather carried away haha #thank you i hope you enjoyed it!!!#my writing #cab writes

799 notes · View notes

topaziraphale · 7 months

Text

"Stop saying Crowley won't help Aziraphale in S3 he'd go back to him in a HEARTBEAT and nothing would stop him" I get it no one likes the idea of Crowley being bitter after what happened for a long period of time but like can we at least acknowledge that he's currently going through probably the most emotional pain in his life since falling? Can we agree that he's opened his heart entirely - something you couldn't pay him to do unless the world is literally ending and he's desperate - to Aziraphale, and got shot down? Can we understand that he did it AGAIN only to lose Aziraphale again? Not that what Aziraphale did isn't without Crowley's own shortcomings (hiding the truth of Heaven's cruelty from him) but like,,,,

The appeal here isn't Scorned Crowley Doesn't Love Aziraphale Anymore, or Never Wants To Help Him Again, the appeal here is Crowley learning enough self respect to not just walk back right to Aziraphale like nothing happened after Aziraphale has had a pattern of consistently refusing him. Going years ping-ponging between "We're not friends I don't even know him" to "That's what friends are for right?" and "We're friends, why would you even say anything?" and "Friends? We're not friends. We are an angel and a demon!"

Like I get it, Crowley is a heartbreakingly forgiving person. Of course he's gonna forgive Aziraphale, I'll be surprised if he didn't forgive him by the time he walked out the bookshop door, but gdi he could at least grant himself the luxury of being at least a little irritated for longer than however long it takes to make a globe and some books float and angrily cry out to God in his flat. But due to the change of pace and dynamic that is establishing part of the conflict for Season 3, I just really like the idea of him for ONCE prioritizing himself and being like "Okay, fine. We'll get back at it when you're ready, then," instead of just taking Aziraphale back like his words and actions meant nothing to him, when clearly they have an effect on him.

What is Aziraphale going to learn if Crowley just accepts what he did so quickly, like he always has the entire time they've been friends? Idk maybe I'm just projecting too much darkness on their dynamic but I mean, if the pattern of Aziraphale pushing Crowley away/disrespecting him one day and then being fine with his friendship the next + Crowley never stopping to be like "Hey, that's not cool, at least give me a little credit" or smth was fine all along and will continue to be fine in the future, then why, after 6,000 years of being friends and loving this demon, can Aziraphale still not accept that Crowley is just fine the way he is, and instead got excited to promote him to an angel in a heartbeat once the opportunity presented itself? You can't blame all of it on Heaven when Aziraphale has demonstrated his free will/defiance to Heaven so many times. Or, I don't know, I guess maybe we can? Maybe I'm just craving too much angst to the point where I'm letting it cloud my analysis of canon. Idk.

#derpy speaks #good omens #good omens 2 #no i dont think crowley is gonna ever hate aziraphale for what happened but he's allowed to be angry #he's allowed to be done with it all. he's allowed to be exhausted. just look at his face when he drives away.#meh. idk. but i dont know how i'll feel if crowley just INSTANTLY accepts aziraphale back in a situation involving #idk - ''hey help me stop the new apocalypse''#at least. without like. SOME pushback? it can even be something small like ''are you SURE you want ME to help you? do you really need me?''#doesnt have to be a straight refusal but i'd like SOME kind of action to show that crowley is putting his foot down for once #he deserves that self respect #do NOT reply saying that im insinuating that aziraphale is actively malicious or doing it on purpose.#everything he has done up until now is his own complicated response to all the trauma and guilt he's been through #but despite that crowley is STILL allowed to be upset... it's messy. i can write a whole paper about how this whole thing #is just unfortunate on both ends. again. we didnt get queerbaited we got communication baited 😭#but help me out here. am i just too fandom-brained to have these expectations from the story?#is there something obvious im missing that is making me sound like a complete asshole here? do i need to get my head out of the gutter?#someone please explain it to me if so because whatever it is‚ i can't find it #not queued

222 notes · View notes

tswwwit · 4 months

Note

I hope this doesn't come across the wrong way but i recently reread the entire familiar au (its as amazing as always!) and its so impressive to see how far you have come as a writer especially compared to the new cult au its honestly pretty inspiring

Thank you! It's truly nice to hear that I've made progress. I mean, obviously - hopefully - I would have after all this time, but sometimes the improvement is hard to see when you're so close to it.

#answers #I've been tempted at times to just take down some of my really old stuff #Because I am very 😬 when I reread it #But I think it stands as a nice relic/testament to how I've grown as a writer #In that I only roll around in agony about 90% of the time reading current writing now as opposed 575% with the old stuff #It feels like I don't know what I'm doing at any given time #But presumably I've learned SOMETHING #And my writing is not The Worst™#Funny how the baseline changes as skill changes because it's hard to remember sometimes that yes #Skill has improved!!#I say as I stare at this document with severe doubts and worry and agony #Nothing like looking at a 5k doc and going 'yeah this is only halfway to the end at BEST'#There is so much more yet to complete #Also super nice to hear that the cult thing is good to read #It's got a lot more visuals than my usual so I'm pushing my comfort zone #I am Not A Visual Person so that takes some Effort #All of these tags have been very navelgazing so here's a fun fact #If *I* can get better at writing by doing it for a long time #YOU can do it TOO and BETTER #It just takes - again - a lot of writing to get there

65 notes · View notes

carnivalcarriondiscarded · 10 months

Text

hold on ok i belted out a brief laughingstock Scene for possible future use that i Had to write down bc if i didn't, i'd never remember it. and why not share?

“Barnaby? Barnaby, old chap, are you with me?”

Barnaby blinks, registering the green fingers snapping in front of his nose. He huffs a laugh and pushes Howdy’s hand away. “Yeah, yeah, I’m listenin’. You were saying?”

Howdy gives him an exasperated look, a fond look. “Thinking about running off to a farm again, were you?”

“Nah, just the clouds. They’re a lot less work.”

“Well I’d rather you didn’t. Who would I talk to during the long hours if you went and floated off?” Howdy winks before turning to his shelves, already yammering away about something or other.

Something or other that Barnaby is once again not listening to, because what was that? Barnaby quickly presses his cool paw-pads to his burning cheeks, feeling the bristling fur there.

Has Howdy ever winked at him? Now that he’s noticed it, Barnaby can’t recall. If it’s new, then why? Why a wink of all things? What did that mean? And that look Howdy gave him…

Barnaby adjusts his abruptly too-tight tie. It’s unusually warm in the store, isn’t it? Howdy must have forgotten to turn on the AC.

Gosh, what is Howdy even saying? He’s still talking, but Barnaby hasn’t absorbed a word. He can’t even tell if Howdy is still speaking english. It’s all garbled.

There’s something wrong with Barnaby. He must be coming down with something… or he’s just overthinking it. Overworking the ol’ noggin. A good long nap should set him right.

“Listen,” Barnaby interrupts, patting the counter, “I uh, I don’t know where my head’s at. I better go find it - I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Oh… alright, then,” Howdy says, a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Barnaby slaps that thought out of the park. He doesn’t want Howdy to be disappointed, that’s absurd. That’s something a bad friend would think. Barnaby may be many things, but a bad friend isn’t one of them.

“I’ll whip up a joke that’ll knock your socks off next time I see ya,” Barnaby promises. He smiles around the discomfort and the entirely new feeling squirming around each other in his chest.

“Now you’ve gone and brought up my expectations,” Howdy says. He leans on the counter and grins. “Are you sure you can back up such a claim, Mr. Beagle?”

Another hot flush races under Barnaby’s fur, and to his growing mortification, his tail starts wagging at breakneck speed. He lets out an uncharacteristically nervous laugh and backs away from the counter. To both of their horror, his back hits a shelf, making it rattle and tip.

“Oh, sh-” Barnaby lunges to right it before it can topple. He whips around and laughs again. Howdy’s wide-eyed stare burns. “Sorry ‘bout that! Talk about a bulldog in a bugshop, geez.”

“When you find your head, make sure to screw it on nice and tight,” Howdy says, a strange look on his face to match his tone. “And check your temperature while you’re at it - it’s not like you to be off-balance.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m off-balance,” Barnaby says. He inches towards the door, willing his stupid tail to calm down. “I just have ears instead of rearview mirrors.”

“Uh-huh…” Howdy slides to the side, trying to peer around him.

Barnaby fumbles for the door. The scrape and bang of his search for the handle echoes in the quiet store. One of Howdy’s eyebrows creeps higher the longer Barnaby stands there, making a complete fool of himself.

Finally, the door clicks, and Barnaby nearly tumbles over backwards in his haste to get out. He stumbles down the steps and briskly walks away, adjusting his hat and tie. As soon as he’s out of sight, he slaps his paws to his face and sags against the bodega.

“Idiot,” he hisses to himself. He presses his back flat against the wall and slams the side of his fist against it. Normally, Barnaby would use a situation like this to his advantage. But Howdy wasn’t laughing, and Barnaby wasn’t being funny. “Bulldog in a - gah, idiot!”

Great. Now Howdy thinks he’s not only a clumsy oaf, but that he’s losing his touch too.

Barnaby growls in frustration, pushing off the wall and stomping away from the plaza on all fours. What does he care what Howdy thinks of him? Others’ opinions of Barnaby have never been anywhere near his list of top priorities - barring Wally’s, of course. If they were, he'd never tell another joke again.

Yes, Howdy is a good friend of Barnaby’s. A close friend, even. But since when has he had such a - such an effect? Barnaby shakes his head, growling again.

There was no effect. Barnaby is just going insane. Or he’s getting sick, like Howdy implied. That would explain the sudden hot flash, the loss of typically impeccable coordination, and, oh yeah! Barnaby’s brain leaking out of his ears.

#context from My Brain:#barnaby's chatting with howdy as usual and howdy does Something endearing #or was it like... idk one of his personality quirks pops up #& barnabys like 'aw hes doing The Thing. its one of the things i love about him'#and obviously has a moment of 'whoah wait Love?? haha where the fuck did that come from. whatever *proceeds to panic*'#essentially: the first domino falls #laughingstock #aaaaand not tagging as anything else #if people see it they see it #i havent posted Any of my recent (and rare) writings so this is slightly mortifying!#its been too long since ive posted fic i need to buckle down on my wips #not this one obvs since its not even really a wip #just a tidbit for future me to edit and implement #my dc wips... who i still want to continue & finish so so badly...#the mermay timber one... the timkon cannibalism... cowboy hat rule... and many more...#anyhow i can feel my writing confidence atrophying #i glance at one of my wips and my entire brain recoils like its the worst thing since (insert bad thing here)#shaking myself by the shoulders 'Its Not That Bad You Are A Decent Writer Whose Fics Are More Often Than Not Well Received'#my brain is trying to convince me everything is terrible i need to forcibly shut it the hell up

111 notes · View notes

chiropteracupola · 8 months

Text

steadfast sailor, paper captain...

#em draws stuff #hornblower #william bush #horatio hornblower #first and foremost! sorry for melting bush's face off in this image #but for a bit more context this is because I had the idea that a hornblower story based in 'the steadfast tin soldier' would be interesting #so here we've got pewter-cast model bush and paper theatre guy hornblower (and things are not going well for them!)#this one was an interesting challenge since I wanted bush to look like the metal was sort of melting out from under his paint #and then hornblower's paper hasn't quite caught alight yet but is starting to char at the very edges of him and where he's touching bush #both of them are much more complex designs than I'd originally been planning for (bush has got ball-and-socket joints and all...)#(the original original plan was that I would learn pewter casting and make him Real. as you can see I did not do that.)#but hey I'm pleased with how they turned out in the end! this took me three sharpe episodes to draw :|#(eleven episodes in and I think it made me weird in the head so I think I will slow down for the time being! too much riflery!)#aaaaaanyway. I don't know if I'll ever write anything about this idea so I'm releasing it into the wild if anyone else likes it #part of this was. an excuse to put some sequins on hornblower yes. fellow should sparkle a little more often!

51 notes · View notes

haru-chi · 9 months

Text

Why isn't Natori's cousin arc talked about much ?

It was such a masterpiece of a story. it was very powerful and tragic which just hurts so much and I'm not over it or I'll ever be, it also had so many things to talk about .. like a lot for example:

-the undying trust Natori had for Natsume that no words reached his heart like Natsume's words

-that deep sad desire inside his heart which later on got crushed in the ugliest of ways not once but twice

-the fact that the Natori clan might have some secret that led people fearing their return or hating them which might be what led someone to break the barriers that protect their house ?

-Natori hating himself more and more for being weak and having such simple desire (NOOOOO PLEASE T^T)

-Natori pushing himself through his trauma for Natsume's sake !!!

-Natori's family being as worse as Natsume's relatives! I SO HATE THEM AS MUCH AS NATSUME'S RELATIVES!! THOSE COWRDS!!

-some more exorcist lore! "I thought he would wear a hat" pleaaase that killed me I can't see him doing it xDDD

-Natori's complicated emotions about the Matoba ><

-"Mitsuru was never going to be the family I dreamed of. If she had been born, she wouldn't have been my ally but my enemy" >> this simply shattered my heart to pieces that I remember I took moments off the pages to recomposed myself .. too much I just can't okay T^T

-big BIG BIG respect for Natori's resolve and pride as an exorcist even if that actually hurts him or cast him in the dark since I thought he might actually regret being an exorcist sometimes but aaaaaaaaaaaa that resolve !!! I was happy yet sad and crying !!!

-"I'm glad you're the one who exorcised me Natori Shuuichi" >> nope I'm okay not breaking down in tears or anything at all T^T

-a bit on Natori and his shiki's relationship T^T

-Natsume's respect for Natori's choice at the end that he didn't interfere and hating himself for not being able to find a solution for both ><

-WHAT WAS NATORI GONNA DO TO HIMSELF IF NATSUME DIDN'T APPEAR THIS IDIOT!!!!

I feel there's more things worth mentioning but those are what's on my mind right now, I so wanna expand on everything and talk much about them but can't with this very unstable health of mine for now T^T

must come back to it one day .. I must since this story is just another masterpiece from Midorikawa-sensei that need more people to talk about it .. no simple words can express what I feel about this arc ..

#natsume yuujinchou #natsuyuu #natori shuuichi #I think since this put such a heavy damage on Natori both physically and mentally #I won't blame him for not joining in the current arc no matter how much I wished he was #he need a rest #can you imaging how many heart attack he would've get if he joined in the current arc ? poor Natori #this story was too heavy that even I needed a rest after it ><#I so wish I can fully express everything -sigh-#it kinda of always break me down that I can't do what I want much cuz of this health of mine #but still the fact I manage to write here and there is still a big thing for me :)#plus this manga is like a ray of light in this darkness #they make me forget whatever pain I'm in #especially Seiji .. he's ..#or wait that's not the place to talk about this lol

51 notes · View notes

flythesail · 7 months

Text

Over a month after Nancy Drew s4 I'd say my opinion is still largely the same. Not my favorite season, but I enjoyed most of it. Like I wish they did something different with the black door and the sin Nancy erased, but I can also see why they wanted to go that route and how it lines up with the show's themes. Is it effective? Eh, I think the payoff could have been better. The unfortunate thing is that regardless of whether or not it was the final season, trying to fit that into a handful of episodes would always be hard. But at least if it wasn't the final season, they could have addressed it more going forward rather than wrap it up all at once. Plus, it's just never going to sit well with me introducing Alice to kill her. There's just better ways they could have gone about that mystery. All this is going on as Bess is committed to proving the good and necessity of the supernatural too. I can do my own analysis there. Yet if they had more episodes, maybe these two storylines could have intersected on screen.

Overall though, what I have to keep coming back to is how different it would feel if this was just another chapter in the story rather than the ending. I wanted more nace and I wanted more scenes with the drew crew this season. Ace missing out on the cake fight is ESPECIALLY disappointing because I'm always going to want the characters over plot. That's not what happened. Yet if there were two or three or even one more season to come, there would still be time to fill in the gaps that s4 left.

#all things considered too.. they did a fantastic job *ending* the show with the late notice they got #i mean ive seen my fair share of writers who dont deserve to be defended in the slightest lol #but one thing i can for sure say about the nd writers is they cared #in terms of enjoyment it really helps me to break the season down too #like even if i wish some things were different overall.. i got so many new favorite scenes and epispdes #one of my biggest takeaways from the strikes as well is how complex tv is #there's so many factors that go into why something we watch is the way it is #sometimes the factor is bad writing but circumstances are not always in their favor to begin with either #saying that more generally too.. not just about nd #but also writers are human too #you dont magically become a perfect writer because you do it professionally #anywayyy talking about it here because people are talking about it on twitter again and twitter makes me nervous fksldowl #flythepost

27 notes · View notes

liquidstar · 1 month

Text

a friend who'd wait :)

#im posting this very late because i was sort of weary of how it came out and ended up messing w it until it was like 4am oops.#and i have plans tmrw so... oh well! i did my best and ill put it out while i can!#and i tried to make the scene match barnard's colors lol #finn's ocs #finn's art #i know i said id do more sillay stuff with the simpler screentone only style but i had a couple more of these in me #and this is the first piece im making thats like an actual part of the story too rather than just setting stuff for fun #i wanna write something to go with it too but for now ill just sort of briefly explain the context in the tags here:#barnard has a pretty bad case of OCD and his compulsions have made it difficult to make friends in the past #he was never outright bullied or anything but people just didnt really have the patience to deal with it #he has compulsions that include stuff like walking through doors until it feels right and needing things to be perfectly aligned #which in group settings has lead to people having to wait for him to finish his rituals and join them #they might find it tolerable at first but eventually they grow impatient and hes just... not invited to stuff anymore #but juno is a newer member of the guild who ends up frequenting the same library. hes also kinda a little weird #and they dont become fast friends or anything but just sort of naturally spend time in the same place #though they never plan meetups they eventually fall into a routine. around the same time theyd just both be at the library #and read next to each other. and maybe talk a bit. and eventually they end up walking back to the guildhall together #since theyre going to the same place after all. and juno always waits for barnard outside the door #eventually barnard asks if this bothers him. juno kinda just tells him 'of course it does' without any malice or anything. just a statement #barnard is surprised and apologizes and juno says not to. but the next day juno doesnt show up at the usual time.#barnard assumes hes committed somekinda more by bringing it up. he ends up staying there late reading to get his mind off it & not ruminate #but when he leaves juno is in fact still waiting for him down the hall (see pic) having collected a bunch of books literally abt ocd #he fell asleep bc barnard stayed later than expected. and hes an eepy guy generally. and also one very bad at expressing himself #but now barnard gets that juno's 'of course it [bothers me]' had the implication of 'but its worth it' which no friend has previously done.#and from the interaction juno was also able to understand that this isn't something barnard just does for the hell of it so. he studies.#and checks a bunch of stuff out because he thinks it could help his friend too (theres ocd workbooks and such- i remember working w them)#and thats the point where they became more ''friends'' than ''pleasant library acquaintances''#from there on they also do get into juno's problems. whole other bag of worms. but this specific scene is more about bernard from his pov #sorry about when i said briefly explain. i lied </3 #but compared to the whole sequence im picturing its brief so shhh

18 notes · View notes

no-light-left-on · 9 months

Text

short fic exploring one of my headcanons for the Whalers. takes place right after The Surge

“That should be all of them,” Rulfio mutters as he sets the last body in the line.

Thomas hums in acknowledgement. He’s removed the masks of the dead to identify the novices, though he is not sure of all of them. They’ll have to call in others for identification – most of these men were not his students, nor Rulfio’s. The dead masters are lined up close by.

“That’s about a quarter of our forces,” Thomas sighs. He stays by the bodies of the novices. Two of them are older than him by several years. Three never got to reach adulthood.

“Thomas?” Rulfio calls from where he’s kneeling by the body of a dead master assassin. He sheaths his knife when his friend turns to face him and he pockets the silver button he removed from the body. “You’re spacing out.”

“I’m sorry,” Thomas says. “I… I taught this kid.” He looks down at the face of the boy at his feet. He’s pressed his eyes in but a part of him hopes that he’ll open them again. “His name was Andrei. We were going to name him master next week.” He sighs and his breath shudders like wind against the broken windows of the refinery. “The silver buttons were finished just yesterday.”

Rulfio nods. His throat dried up as Thomas spoke and there is little comfort he can offer as Thomas stares at the young man. He couldn’t have been older than twenty.

“You should give them to Daud,” he offers instead. It’s the closest thing he can give to condolences. “I’m sure he will keep them.”

“Right,” Thomas breathes. He sniffles and wipes his eyes before tears can fall. “I’ll see to that.” He straightens his back, blinks a few times. If his mask was on, Rulfio wouldn’t be able to tell that he’s holding back tears. “You should report to Daud. I’ll see if I can get someone to identify the rest.”

***

“We have gathered the dead,” Rulfio announces with a fist pressed to his heart. He bows curtly and rests his hands behind his back, shoulders set.

Daud sits at his desk among the mess of torn curtains and Abbey symbols. The adornments lie on a pile of fabric and trash but the papers remain. Daud insists on examining them once the more important matters are dealt with. He looks up from the battle plans Overseer Hume left on his desk and meets Rulfio’s eyes.

“What are our losses?” His voice grates. He hasn’t slept since returning from Timsh’s. The Mark aches with shredded bonds.

“Seven novices and eight masters,” Rulfio states. He takes a deep breath to even his voice – he is to report numbers. Not dead friends. “Thirteen more masters are on bedrest unable to perform their duties, along with three novices. Eight more have sustained injuries light enough to be employed in cleaning the place or going on patrols. We have not seen a sign of Lurk since you exiled her.”

Daud takes a deep breath, nods. “Good,” he mutters. “That’s nearly half our forces down.” He leans back in his chair as he thinks. “We’ll draw further in,” he announces then. “Change the pathways wherever possible. Everyone is to stay within the heart of the district with only hard to reach outposts on the outside until we have more people available to patrol.” He taps his lips with a gloved thumb. “Have Thomas come see me so we can set up new patrol rotations. The men that worked through the night are to go and rest once they are done with their duties.”

Rulfio presses his fist to his chest and bows. “Sir.”

Daud does not dismiss him then. They both stay still as dust settles in the air, floating through the rays cascading through the tall windows, now bare and gaping into the world. Daud can see three master assassins throwing bodies into a fire from his desk.

“Rulfio,” he speaks with an exhausted resignation. They both know what has to come next. “Do you have the names?”

Rulfio nods and steps closer. He reaches into his pocket and the small silver bulbs ring as he pulls them out.

“These have been gathered from the waistcoats of the recovered bodies of the masters,” he announces. “Anthony. Leon. Geoff.” He takes each button with a careful hand and turns them over, tracing over every name with a gloved finger as he sets the silver buttons on the desk in front of Daud. “Sean. Nicholas. Finn.” His voice gets waterlogged, each name stickier and wetter than the one before, like the streets of the Flooded District. “Tynan. And Fergus.”

Daud stares at the collection of silver on his desk. Neither of them move, the finality of the silver buttons somewhat heavier than the sight of the actual bodies. Daud sighs and gathers the buttons in his hand.

“You’re dismissed.”

#dishonored #dh #whalers #dishonored whalers #thomas the whaler #rulfio the whaler #daud #idk what their tags are uhh #the thing about thomas saying quarter and daud saying half: quarter dead and another quarter too injured to function #so daud is down to half his men that he can employ in cleaning the district and patrolling etc etc #I saw a tag a while ago to this so Ill specify now: v much okay to reblog #Im here to talk about the whalers and very obscure headcanons about how they function and what little things they do etc etc #these kids live rent free in my brain so #writing tag

30 notes · View notes