#I cannot write long things

[stevebabey]

Steve hates to ask this of Eddie.

Really, it’s a last resort sort of thing. Robin’s gone for the week, some trip upstate with her family. And it’s fine, they’re close but Steve’s a big boy. He can handle a week without his best friend.

But, well, it’s just unfortunate for it to creep up on Steve when Robin’s gone. It being… shit, how did Robin explain it? She was so much better at keeping track of all those things than he was, all the terms filed away nicely in her head to be recalled as needed. Steve’s much messier— in his head, in his life.

Touch aversion, that’s what she called it. A by-product of the severe lack of touch in his childhood she had said; not enough hugs, hand holding, the works and now Steve’s grown to find it too strange. Something prickles under his skin, pulls in his gut all the wrong way, when someone’s too touchy-feely with him. Robin’s said it’s normal, and he believes her.

It just makes it harder when this comes by. That completely strange backward want that carves into his chest, creating a chasm that just aches. Suddenly, Steve wants to be touched, needs to be touched — like something behind his ribs is just begging for comfort in the form of touch, any way he can have it. Like some young part of him can still remember the hunger he had for it and it comes back in full force, a tender wound between his lungs.

It doesn’t happen that often — though, it’s more frequent than ever recently — but usually, Robin’s here. She can almost always tell before Steve works up the courage to ask. Twitchy fingers give him away. He hovers closer than normal, shoulders brushing more often.

She always gives him a smile, softer than her usual snark and says, “C’mere, dingus.” and stands on her tip-toes to envelope him in a hug. Steve can’t help but sink into it, gripping her close around the waist for as long as he needs until the hole in his chest feels a step closer to patching up.

Robin also tells him he can have as many hugs as he’d like but Steve is firm with himself; he only needs one, then he’ll be back to fine.

It what’s he needs now. One really fucking good hug. Still, he hates to ask, least of all from Eddie, because, well— okay, Steve has no reason to assume Eddie wouldn’t give him a hug.

He’s seen Eddie’s hugs before. Like everything he does, Eddie puts his everything into it- he hugs Robin til she wheezes, loves to lift Nancy off the ground, and the hug he gives Dustin is sweetest of all, a hand on the back of the littler’s head while he does some strange little sway. Dustin always laughs, playfully shoving him away by the end but Steve knows he loves them, that it helps in more than one way.

Steve is glad that Dustin has someone, besides his Mom of course, who can hug him, because Steve can’t give that to him. Maybe one day, but for now, hugs from Steve are a rarity — few and far in between. Maybe, he thinks, he doesn’t want to ask Eddie specifically because of that niggling feeling that comes up around Eddie, all gooey and soft. A feeling the swings too close to a crush that Steve has no fucking clue what to do about.

So, he hates to ask. Really. On the drive over to Eddie’s, a hangout organised before Steve started to feel the lack of touch creep in, he runs through any other options. Wait til Robin gets back? Steve’s not sure he’ll make it another 4 days. When left alone, it seems to consume him and make everything harder, everything heavier to deal with.

He’s still tossing it when he climbs the steps to Eddie’s trailer. Steve decides that he’ll see how it goes, see if there’s an opening to ask…semi-naturally or something. He’s not gonna spring it on the guy.

Eddie is wonderful company as always, devilish grins and god-awful comments about the film he picked. Steve feeds off it, drinking in the infectious energy. He tries to let it be enough; their shoulders pressed together, Eddie’s knee knocking his when he laughs, the way Eddie leans into his space to whisper even though it’s just them here tonight. Steve wants it to be enough. But even then, he can see the way his hands twitch in his lap, desperate for more.

Steve closes his eyes. Curls his hands up so tightly his nails bite into the skin. He tries to use it to wane off the feeling, the ache that sings out for Eddie beside him and it nearly works. Until—

“Steve? Y’okay?” Eddie’s voice pipes up, making Steve open his eyes in an instant.

“Hm?” Steve hums, hoping that his casualness will be enough for Eddie to skip over his peculiar behaviour. He blinks, tilting his head just a bit to show he was confused why Eddie was asking.

Eddie chuckles lightly, gesturing towards Steve’s lap, where his hands sit still clenched, white knuckled with his self-restraint. “You seem a bit stiff, that’s all.” Eddie rechecks. “You good?”

Steve opens his mouth and then closes it, forcing his hands to unclench in his lap. “I-“ he begins, then stops, unsure of what he was going to say. He did say he would look for an opening tonight. The way Eddie’s regarding him, open faced with his concern, is as good as he might get.

“This might sound a bit weird,” Steve starts, defensiveness already tingeing the words, his shoulders curling in just a bit. Eddie could say no. He’s allowed to say no. Steve really doesn’t want him to. “Like, if you think it’s weird, that’s totally fine and we can just, like, forget I said anything and—”

“Steve.” Eddie cuts him off, a linger of an amused smile on his lips. “I don’t think I’m going to find anything you say weird, sweetheart. Shoot. What’s on your mind? What troubles the great mind of Steve Harrington?”

God, it’s like a whole bunch of words designed to set Steve’s head spinning. ‘The great mind of Steve Harrington’ makes him want to scoff. ‘Sweetheart’ makes him want to swoon. He can’t decide which one he wants to do more.

“Can I-” Steve stammers, the words halting automatically. It’s too much of a habit to swallow them down. Coercing them out takes more work. He stares up at the ceiling as he grits his teeth, releases a harsh sigh, pulling himself together. “Can I… have a hug?”

There a moment of silence and Steve holds his breath.

“Oh,” Eddie breathes, and Steve takes his eyes off the ceiling to see just what that Oh means. Eddie’s smiling, a soft one gracing his pretty mouth, and Steve thinks, maybe, one day he’ll have the courage to ask for a kiss as well. Relief moves sluggishly through his veins— Eddie’s smiling, this is good.

“Well, of course,” Eddie grins widely and opens his arms, inviting Steve in. Steve hesitates for only a moment before he leans in gratefully, his arms tucking around Eddie’s midriff tightly. Eddie’s arms curl around Steve’s neck, pulling him in close. It’s the easiest thing in the world, sinking into it, so much that Steve tries his best not to immediately slump against Eddie. It feels a bit too pathetic, so Steve reels himself in. He can’t make his arms relax, trying too hard to take only what he needs and not a moment more.

“C’mon, Stevie.” Eddie’s voice teases beside his ear, his breath warm. “You call that a hug?”

He squeezes Steve a little tighter, pulling him even closer and Steve can’t help the way he melts into it— he slumps, leaning against Eddie properly and burying his quiet whine of relief into the juncture between Eddie's neck and shoulder.

“There we go,” Eddie murmurs comfortingly.

Eddie takes him wholly, gives a damn good Munson hug, all warmth and comfort. He smells like, well, Eddie — a lingering scent of weed, something musky, something Eddie. His arms around Steve’s neck shuffle and Steve worries he’s trying to pull away so soon, only for one of his hands to tangle in the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck. He combs through, light fingernails scratching at Steve’s scalp and shit, Steve really can’t control the noise of contentment that slips out his throat.

“Can’t believe you got so worked up just to ask for a hug,” Eddie tsks, tone coloured in disbelief. Steve makes a noise of protest, trying for a moment to wind it all back in but, like Eddie can sense it, he’s squeezing him tighter again. He begins to rock them, a soft sway side to side that lets Steve lean on him even more. He hums a tune Steve doesn’t know, low and soft.

“M’sorry,” Steve mumbles in reply, though he’s not entirely sure what he’s apologising for. For having to ask, for taking so much, for enjoying Eddie’s arms around him just a little too much.

“What the fuck for?” Eddie laughs lightly, one of his hands beginning to drum against the divots of Steve’s spin. It feels like he’s tapping pure delirium with each fingertip, shivers that make Steve’s chest glow terribly warm. It feels good, so good to be held and honestly, Steve could stay here all night if Eddie let him. Knowing Eddie, he would, because he’s that fucking nice.

That knowledge alone forces Steve to sit himself up, extracting him limbs even though so much of him mourns the warmth, the touch, that goes with it. He wants the touch but he’s had enough. Some scorned part of him burns bitterly to think Eddie would give him more just to be nice. Steve doesn’t want that— Steve wants Eddie to touch him because he wants to.

“Sorry, man, I just, uh, get like that sometimes.” Steve feels the need to explain, bringing a hand up to rub at one of his eyes. He does it half so can hide his embarrassed expression from Eddie— who’s looking at him so gently and still so so close.

“Just, aha—“ Christ, it wasn’t this awkward telling Robin. Steve’s hand moves to rub the back of his neck. “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile since,” He gnaws on his bottom lip, something alike to humiliation curling in his gut. “Since I’ve had some touch. Usually, Robin’s around but y’know.”

He waves a hand, huffing another awkward laugh. Eddie hasn’t moved much, just listening intently, his brows ever so slightly inching closer together. He looks outright concerned at Steve’s next words.

“It’s okay, I’ve— I’ll be good now.” Steve nods along, like the motion will help him convince himself as well as Eddie. He’ll be okay now. Usually, one hug is all it takes. He ignores the surging tidal-wave want that is still going, still aching to be held by Eddie again. It would be selfish to ask for more. Eddie didn’t invite him around to hug— it’s weird, and Steve shouldn’t- can’t ask for more.

“Sooooo,” Eddie draws out the word, an impish smile beginning to play at the corners of his lips. He opens his arms wide again. “You don’t want another hug?”

In his lap, Steve’s fingers twitch. Eddie’s eyes dart to them for a second, before fixing back on Steve. He does, he really fucking does want another hug. He can’t. He’s had enough, really, it would greedy to have more.

Steve shakes his head, forces himself to huff another laugh that accidentally comes out as a strained sigh. He smiles weakly, “No, no, I’m good, dude. It’s… I’m okay, swear.”

For a moment, Steve thinks he’s convinced him. Eddie studies his face, his mischief slipping away as he deliberates Steve’s words. His eyes narrow, arms dropping just an inch before he smiles brightly and says, “Okay, can I have a hug then?”

Which, okay, right, Steve didn’t think of that. People don’t ask him for hugs. He blinks, a bit dumbly. Eddie is waiting, face eager and for a second there’s an expression of almost smugness on his face — like he’s about to get exactly what he wants. Because he knows Steve would never be rude and say no.

“I mean,” Steve breathes, voice a bit tighter than he’s expecting. He clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah, you can have a hug.”

“Great!” Eddie replies and he wastes no time. He’s all up in Steve’s space, arms around Steve’s waist this time. The motion takes Steve by surprise, enough that because he’s not expecting it Eddie’s weight pushes him back so he’s lying on the couch.

If Eddie cares, he pays no mind, his head curling up into the crook of Steve’s neck as he hugs him closer. His hair gets in Steve’s mouth, making him splutter for a second, but Eddie just grins, wriggling closer until they’re pressed firmly against each other. Steve would go as far as to say this is closer to cuddling than a hug, with Eddie squishing him from above, his arms around Steve’s middle.

“Just so you know,” Eddie’s voice rumbles from where their chests are touching, his breath sweeping across Steve’s neck. Steve shivers without meaning to, feels Eddie’s responding grin even as he continues. “All hugs requested by me are automatically 10 minutes long. Hope you’re okay with that, sweetheart.”

Steve isn’t stupid — he knows Eddie is doing it for him, doing it because he could see right through Steve’s stupid facade, had peered his yawning hunger for touch right in the face and hadn’t blanched. Instead of feeling tricked or fooled, Steve just feels…warm. Comfortable. He works his arms around Eddie’s neck til their more comfortable and find the courage in him scrape his fingers through Eddie’s hair— like he had done to Steve. Eddie’s sighs sweetly and Steve thinks he could listen to that noise forever.

“I’m… I’m okay with that.” Steve murmurs lowly, yet he knows Eddie can hear him. Eddie noses closer, a borderline nuzzle against his neck, and further down, one his hands starts to stroke softly up and down Steve’s ribs.

Steve can’t help the way it makes him freeze, the breath in his lungs holding tight as he tries to relax, tries to ignore the prickly feeling under his skin. It’s a lot. A lot of touch that Steve just isn’t used to just yet, even if he desperately craves it.

“Relax,” Eddie whispers into his skin, a soft instruction paired with the motion, one soothing stroke up and down his ribs. Steve pushes the breath in his lungs out, forces the tension out of his body, trusts that Eddie wouldn’t be offering— wouldn’t tell him to relax if he wasn’t allowed to.

“That’s it.” Eddie praises, feeling the body beneath him settle and sink a little lower into the couch. “Now, watch the movie.” Eddie instructs, jutting at the still playing screen with his chin. Steve laughs a bit, but obeys, turning his head to see what part they’d gotten up to. They’d missed a big chunk in their hug. Steve nearly apologises for it, the words on the tip of his tongue, before he decides Eddie might smack him for it.

So, he doesn’t. He watches the film, let’s the gentle touch of Eddie on his skin relax him til sleepiness starts to fill each of his limbs, heavy like lead. Eddie’s hand stops moving eventually, when his breath gets heavier, lulled by Steve’s scratch in his hair. A snore starts up, loud and quite frankly, annoying, and yet, Steve finds that with Eddie’s arms around him, he has no trouble finding sleep.

It’s the first time in years Steve’s fallen asleep in someone else’s arms. And even if he doesn't know it yet, it’s certainly not the last.

now with a part two!

#woag yearning hours bro #[into a megaphone] if u project onto steve harrington put ur hands UP #i literally came home tonight like. hm might have to ask one of my flatmates for a hug #and when they go ??? whats wrong (cos this bitch never hugs) #i was fully prepared 2 be like o it has just been too long since someone touched me haha! #like thats not zeeeeeeeee most pathetic shit ever (pathetic if its me. not if its YOU) #anyways. steve get hug where ruby cannot #<3 #eddie would give delicious hugs u can't change my mind #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #touch starved steve harrington #that bitch needs a hug #ruby writes steddie #i rlly. came home and was like BLEH feeling dump and its like 2.6k. ok girl

[literaila]

HEYYYY!! It's me again!!

I have two things to discuss today.

Firstly, have you seen those reels where Megumi reminds Gojo of Toji and he gets freaked out? So has this ever happened in the Gojo household? If yes, how dramatic does Satoru act?

Secondly, I have a request, It would absolutely make my day to see Satoru jealous. (Yes, I know we saw a it with Nanami, but can you blame a girl to want more?) Like if the reader got hit on, I am sure he'll pull something like he did to Megumi with Nobara and Yuji.

Thank you for reading this,

You are amazing and I love you.

(I'll do anything you ask me to.)

no doubt, for the first couple of months (two years) megumi lived with satoru, every time the boy woke up in the morning with his hair deflated, or walked in the room scratching his head, or sat on the couch, or went into the bathroom—satoru had to refrain a wince.

it’s not that the likeness was uncanny… but… well, the attitude was.

when megumi had on that evil smirk—usually when one of his many plots against satoru came to fathom—it was clear that the very man satoru had erased from existence had shared some of his more… admirable qualities with the boy.

sometimes it was the way megumi spoke. the tiny little inflections that satoru was probably making up, but were also definitely there. the little sigh when he asked the boy a question or the clearing of a throat when megumi was confused.

and the eyes.

megumi’s eyes were always cold, always hesitant, always moving around, constantly looking for some problem to focus on. and his glares, and his eyebrows, and uuugch.

sometimes satoru had to run into the bathroom just to cower himself away for a moment.

and if megumi happened to knock on the door, already scowling when satoru opened it a crack, really, the gasp that came next was unavoidable.

“what’s up with you?” megumi demands, shaking his head at the older, very immature man. “can you move?”

said man would open the door as little as possible as he squeezed by, trying and failing not to stare at the little boy—who has very dark hair, dark eyes, and dark intent specifically when it comes to satoru.

none of it goes unnoticed.

so if satoru is leaning over the counter, his eyes pleading with yours, you already know what it’s about.

(you’d learned about satoru’s weird superstition about two days into becoming his co-parent).

“no,” you say immediately, going back to making both of the children’s lunch.

“i didn’t say anything.”

“still no, satoru.”

“but, please,” he falls against the counter dramatically, wide blue (alien) eyes basically perfect spheres as he widens them. “just this once?”

“it’s a supply store.”

he shakes his head intently. “that’s not the issue.”

you give him a bland look, unamused with his stupid qualms, and put the lid on a container.

“he looks freaky,” satoru whispers, conspiring. “there’s something off.”

you look over to megumi who is sitting at the table, swinging his legs and chewing on some cut up ginger.

he looks as pleasant (frowning) and sweet (irritated) as always to you.

you raise a brow at satoru, choosing not to argue with him about this. god knows you do it enough.

“do you want me to cry?” satoru asks, pouting. “i have ptsd.”

you roll your eyes. “ever heard of exposure therapy?“

so satoru takes megumi to the store to get markers and papers for a school project, giving him questionable glances from beneath his glasses, and making weird comments under his breath about psychopaths and plastic surgery.

when they get home megumi is annoyed as ever, attempting to slam the door in satoru’s face before he can walk through.

you’re, of course, sitting with tsumiki at the table and watch as this interaction happens.

megumi stomps by and tells you, “please kick him out. he’s being weird again.”

and satoru just opens the door, red faced, finger pointing at the little boy, demanding: “see?”

so, yeah. satoru suffers with the memory of toji, and his biggest ideation (hurting the six-eyes user) comes to life in the form of a little boy who now lives in his home. just two rooms down the hall.

seriously, who really won that fight?

but as the months (years) go on, satoru learns to mostly ignore the resemblance between the two. sure, when megumi wears his hair differently or says anything in that rough, angry voice satoru gets a little freaked, but so what?

(if he has to go sit in his closet for a couple of minutes it’s just because he’s tired, okay? it has nothing to do with being afraid of a six year old or anything of the sort).

still, things slowly begin to change as megumi grows accustomed to satoru’s antics, and satoru becomes accustomed to being called out for them.

(you do it occasionally, but satoru knows you’re mostly joking. you’re nothing if not the benefactor of his schemes.

on the other hand, the only other person to ever seriously call him out about his ego was… suguru.

so. there’s that.)

and eventually, satoru doesn’t even notice if megumi is looking at him with devious intent. he’s well prepared and not afraid of some whiny little kid who can’t even reach the top shelf in the fridge.

(he hides behind you, usually.)

but even satoru can’t ignore the way megumi begins to change as he grows. literally, several inches by the time he’s eight.

and then there’s the way his eyes—his cold, evil eyes—change when he’s talking to tsumiki, or you. the way he softens when you’re trying to tell him something, or when he needs help. the tiny, affectionate grin that grows on his face when tsumiki is bouncing around, so full of energy that she can’t sit still.

satoru looks at him sometimes, and he doesn’t see the gifted sorcerer killer that the boy comes from, but a brother. a son that gets to be adored by the best person in the world (him you)

that is, of course, until megumi looks satoru’s way and the scowl is back, even harsher than before.

and then theres the learned attitudes, the things that you all shared—you, satoru, and the kids—just as a result of being together for so long.

isn’t there something about developing the traits of the people closest to you?

so, even though megumi is a photo copy of his father, satoru begins to see other things in the boy.

like the crinkles by his eyes, matching tsumiki’s.

or the way that his eyebrows go up when he’s trying not to smile, and the eventual twitch of his lip when he can’t help but laugh at something. satoru’s dreamed of that sight since he was seventeen and first set his eyes on you.

and then the eventual pout that megumi develops when he’s giving everyone a hard time. the pout that satoru practices in the mirror, making sure to save for only the most dire of occasions.

(also, satoru can’t help but think of megumi as the thing that keeps him… humble, in the face of everything. that question that continuously reminds satoru to keep growing, keep getting stronger, just so he can protect everything that matters.

he won’t admit it, but satoru knows that someone had to do it. someone had to be a replacement for the only other person who could ever compare to the strongest sorcerer.

and if suguru could meet megumi, satoru thinks, sometimes, when no one else is around to hear it, they would get along.

they have a lot in common, after all).

sure, megumi might have the same face, and same smirk as toji. he might as well be a literal clone of the man, just waiting to age into his skin.

but, satoru decides, one day a couple of years in, when there’s that innate protective feeling as he observes the boy—one that satoru never thought he had, much less be able to feel—maybe it’s more that toji resembles megumi, and not the other way around.

so satoru doesn’t flinch anymore because megumi’s face brings up memories he’d prefer to keep locked away—he flinches because megumi was waiting in the shadows.

just to scare him.

(secaond idea is here)

#i cannot write anything to bridge the divide in the actual series #but this was easy #PLEASE catch every sweet thing in this because i thought about it for way too long #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #a typical family #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you

[corrodedcoughin]

just thinking out loud but the Steve going to college because believe it or not he’s finally found a very specific course that catches his interest and it happens to be in Fort Wayne so he can still check in on the kids. It gets even better when Robin and Nancy decide they want to stay local too so they all pack together and get excited (and nervous) about moving.

The time comes and they leave Hawkins and suddenly it’s the first proper day of classes. The three of them are spread over the campus so Steve treks alone to his first class, the reason he chose the college in the first place: Introduction to Folklore.

He’s so ready to learn about something he’s finally interested in. Doesn’t pay attention to the usual seating conventions and social status, just wants to know where they’ll be starting, cliques and popularity contests a long gone part of his life.

The professor is in her stride, painting a picture with her stories of creatures from folklore and the origins, Steve can’t believe it but he’s genuinely excited to learn for once. The pinpoint accuracy focus on the professor is shattered when a voice erupts next to him

‘That’s great and everything but shouldn’t there have been a moth man lover sighting by now? Where is the justice for this noble creature I ask you? I know there’s monster fuckers out there professor.’

The professor slowly engages the guy in conversation but Steve is seething. Who does this guy think he is? Does he think this is a private class just for him? That Steve isn’t paying good money to be here? So pen clenched in a white knuckled hand Steve lets his bitchy temperament get the better of him ‘I thought this was a folklore class? Not a self insert romance lit course’ he clearly says it too loud because the boy next to him. The one who started all this turns to Steve and raises an eyebrow, a smug smile on his face and lets out a ‘huh interesting’ and what’s Steve supposed to do with that? And more importantly what’s Steve supposed to do with the fact that the guy is stupid hot with this long hair, tattoo combo and that the smug look on his face definitely made Steve’s heartbeat thunder in his ears? Out of rage on behalf of his fellow students, of course.

Turns out it doesn’t matter, the class is over and Steve is running out the door, determined not to get caught by those eyes again.

It starts off a Thing between them. Every week the guy, Eddie, will challenge the lecturer with some inane point that Steve refuses to accept he actually believes to the point of Steve firing back an argument at him. Eventually they are full on debates in the middle of the class that the professor has to mediate after eddie decided that standing on the table would be appropriate (of course, not to be outdone, steve followed).

They absolutely do not have a thing for each other and the rest of the class absolutely do have a sweepstakes on when they’ll get together

#listen this could be a huge meandering story about them arguing in class #being teamed up by the lecturer for a project #researching a local folklore story #AND HELLO ITS DEMOGORGANS DEMOBATS UPSIDE DOWN BREAKING FOLKLORE THSTS BEEN SECRET FIR SO LONG #the kids join in Nancy and Robin and jargyle join in #interviewing jopper for more info #Wayne moved AWAY from hawkins when he got Eddie but he knows the stories #it could be such a big fun story #alas I cannot write more than ten words before I lose the plot #nice in theory though #stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #enemies (not really) to lovers #Eddie dresses up as mothman because I SAID SO #Steve catches him as mothman with Gareth and Jeff one night shining torches on him to attract moths #’yes this is science /Steve/‘ #’GUYS TORCHES BACK ON ME COME ON’ #’oh so /this/ is the famous Steve. what do you think Gareth?’ #’im just shocked he’s real. maybe monster fucker munson has changed his ways’ #’SHUT THE FUCK UP I SWEAR TO CHRIST’ #Steve:😲 #(sorry I’ll go back in my cave now)

[fleouriarts]

quadeca fanart, based on scrapyard II promo pictures taken by brendon burton (@burtoo). ref pic here, timelapse here

detail shots of quadeca and the red car since it's a big piece:

originally finished 10-27-2023

#my art #fanart #quadeca #finished #2023 #i was fighting for my life to not break hiatus and post this as soon as i finished it. cannot believe i made this #this thing took a whole WEEK!!! once i get back to my apartment and giant monitor ill prob start working on ANOTHER big week-long piece #(writing these tags while at my parents house. by the time this posts i will already be back) #EDIT: fixed the timelapse link i fucked something up and had to reupload LOL

[amiharana]

revalink flower shop x tattoo shop omgg... who runs which shop how do they meet are they competitive with their businesses do they give each other cute things from their shops 👁

god it would work either way, but ultimately i think link would own the tattoo shop and revali would own the flower shop. i only decided it because revali seems like the type to have to do multiple sessions for the tiniest tattoo because his pain tolerance is low for tattoos LMAO bro is sitting there like "it doesn't hurt i swear" meanwhile his face is red and he's sucking in his lips trying not to burst into tears ready to shit his pants, but the needle hasn't even touched his skin yet ✋😭

this au could go in a couple different ways: (1) link and revali hate each other and fight all the time about being the better store (boring!), (2) there's no rivalry and link and revali are mutually interested in each other (better, but a bit ooc i feel), or (3) link moves in and becomes more and more curious as he catches glimpses of his (((attractive))) store-neighbor while secretly hopeless romantic revali is grumpy and annoyed about how off-putting a tattoo shop will look next to his flower shop and there's a very mild one-sided rivalry mentality on his end, but as link tries to get to know revali better, revali thinks, perhaps this wouldn't be so bad. you already know what i'm about to write about rn lmfao.

revali's flower shop "the meadow" has been open on tabantha street for a couple years now. he thinks of himself as a very good florist, probably the best in the entire city of hyrule, and he's actually won a couple floral design competitions??? revali inherited the shop from his parents after they passed and he gets fairly good business, especially because everyone who lives on this street are hopeless romantics who are always buying bouquets for dates or to bring home to their spouses. revali will roll his eyes and scoff lightheartedly to his customers about how mushy it all is (but inside, he wants the same for himself; to go home to someone he loves with a bouquet of flowers. revali wonders sometimes, when he watches customers leave with red roses in hand, if he was meant to ever find love. he looks over at the vase of forget-me-nots on the counter; perhaps, one day).

the retail space next to revali's shop has been empty for a couple years and revali is thinking about expanding into the space when suddenly, the space gets rented out and in moves some blond twink with a fully tatted up arm with his dumb little tattoo shop called "master ink zero" or some shit. revali comes in to work one day only for there to be construction going on in the empty space he's been eyeing for a while, and that cute blond twink is standing in front of it talking to one of the workers. what the fuck. all this construction noise is going to scare revali's soft-hearted hopeless romantic customers away! the blond notices him and holds a hand up to wave a little, but revali just glares and turns away to unlock the door to his shop. he could really let that kid have it, but he holds his tongue because he needs to open the store. (he is kind of cute though... stop it, bad revali!)

the day continues as smoothly as it can with construction noise muffled through one of the shop's walls giving revali a migraine. fortunately, his regulars still come but unfortunately, every single one of them comments on the construction.

"you're going to get a new neighbor!" amali says as revali rings up the regular bouquet for her husband kass. "how exciting! you won't be lonely anymore."

"what a curious mix," muses saki when she enters the shop. "a flower shop and a tattoo parlor next to each other. you know, my teba and i are quite the opposites ourselves and they say opposites attract, so—" and revali flushes, squawking and ushering her out. she only laughs at him and bids him well.

the moment his friend urbosa steps into the store to visit, revali knows that she knows and immediately regrets his entire life. "have you proposed marriage to him yet?" she asks, smirking and sits on the counter.

"get off of my counter, i just wiped that down," revali snipes at her, frowning. "whatever do you mean, propose?"

"to blondie next door," she says, cocking her head to the side towards the construction. revali rolls his eyes but she continues. "he's your type down to a T."

"and he's going to scare off my customers," he replies and returns to spraying his vase of forget-me-nots. "i could care less whether or not he's my type."

urbosa hums. "well he's cute and he seems like a nice kid." suddenly, her gaze shifts into something more serious and revali's shoulders tense. "revali... forgive me if i overstep, but i know you've been alone for a while. you've been running this shop for years, working nonstop. i don't think you've ever had a moment to yourself. it might be nice to take a leap of faith on this one, you know?"

revali reverts his attention back to the forget-me-nots and doesn't say anything else, touching the petals with gentle fingers. urbosa sighs. "just consider it, okay? i care about you and i want you to be happy."

"i know," he murmurs. "i know. i'll think about it. only because you asked me to, though. not because he's my type." urbosa smiles and punches his shoulder lightly, to which revali wrinkles his nose at her. he'll think about it.

somehow, the tattoo shop finishes construction in the next week (that bolson construction company sure is efficient...) and opens. revali should probably go over to congratulate his new neighbor with a bouquet of daffodils and white carnations, but he's already glared them down the first time he saw them. with an oddly uncomfortable feeling in his chest, he keeps to himself in his little flower shop, tending to his vase of forget-me-nots and all his other flowers.

(but just because revali doesn't want to visit doesn't mean that link won't 👁️)

the soft chime of a bell alerts revali that a customer has stepped into the store. "welcome to the meadow," he starts, looking up from his computer to the door, "what can i help you with—?" and the rest of his words are stuck in his throat. there, in the threshold of his store, is the blond twink with the fully tatted arm staring at revali with wide, bright blue eyes.

revali never actually got a good look at him when they saw each other the first time. the blond is wearing a loose green tank top, black leather jeans, and combat boots, and his tatted arm is fully on display, swirling with deliberate strokes of ink. he's quite toned and lean, now that revali has gotten a closer look. definitely not his type. he's not!

"hi," the blond says, his voice as soft as the doorbell. "i'm link. i'm the... owner of the tattoo shop next door." he's got freckles, revali thinks faintly before he can actually process any other words.

"really? i wouldn't have ever known with your entire arm covered in tattoos," he says instead. "perhaps you were actually a receptionist or a dog walker who stumbled upon my humble shop." revali cringes internally after the words leave his mouth; he didn't mean to come off that rude for their first proper interaction. he just wanted to be a little rude.

but link only smiles at him, small but genuine, and a feeling grows in revali's chest that he can't quite name. "i'm not sure i'd be very good at either of those things," he says and steps a little closer to the counter, hands in his pockets.

"and who's to say you're any good at tattooing either?" revali mutters, and he doesn't mean for link to actually hear it, but he does, much to revali's chagrin.

link cocks his head, still smiling. "you could come by and find out," he says, and revali blinks at him. they maintain each other's gaze for a couple moments, link's eyes bright and wide, until revali finally tears his gaze away back to his computer. he can't read a single word on the screen.

"revali," he says instead, still keeping his eyes on the screen. it's almost feels difficult to get the words out. "my name is revali."

"hi revali," link says, leaning against the counter now. "it's nice to meet you." then, he glances up at the clock mounted above revali's head. "i have to get back now, i just wanted to properly introduce myself to you now that we'll be working next door to each other. i hope to see you around." with that, link stands up, bows his head a little, and gives revali another smile before leaving.

(and if revali stared after him and the way those leather jeans hugged his figure quite nicely, no he didn't.)

and that's how it starts 😳 at first i considered having link also keep to his own shop at first, but i don't think that does his "character" justice in the game. if you consider us as players to be equivalent to botw link's character (i.e. how we maneuver link in-game, what dialogue options we choose, etc), then link has this natural curiosity about the world around him and wants to explore and talk to new people. so of COURSE if he sees that his neighbor is hot, he's going to want to come over and say hiiiii *twirls his hair*

revalink shenanigans ensue <3 in the beginning, link would randomly drop by during the week for a minute or two, to say hi and make small talk with revali and at first, revali wouldn't say much eyeing the blond. but his short responses and cold demeanor don't deter link; it seems to spur him on, the blond smiling brightly at him with every greeting and with every goodbye.

one day, link comes in and after he says hello, he starts walking around the store looking at the flowers like he's a customer. revali blinks and watches link walk around, dumbfounded.

"what are you doing?" revali says.

"looking at the flowers," link says. he gently touches the edges of the flowers' petals as he moves between the aisles, the same way that revali treats the flowers. "i want to put some on our reception desk. i think it would look really nice." he stops before a cluster of sunflowers and then looks at revali. "can i get some of these?"

revali faintly notes how well link resembles the bright flowers, before scoffing. "if you're going to get flowers to greet your customers, you might as well put some effort into it!" he snips, crossing his arms. "sunflowers are a good choice, but sunflowers only are bland. here, if you were to add some of these—"

he ends up walking link around the entire adding flowers to the ones in link's hand and talking about the different meanings and nuances of flowers, until the arrangement has become a bouquet of sunflowers, gladiolus flowers, jasmine flowers, and calendulas, surrounded by a bunch of little white chamomiles.

"there," revali says, putting his hands on his hips and puffing up proudly. "now that is a bouquet worthy to greet customers."

"it's very beautiful," link comments. he gazes at the bouquet and touches the flowers with those ever so gentle fingers skirting the edges of the petals. "thank you for helping me put it together. how much does it cost?"

and that stops revali in his tracks, his hands dropping to his sides. he totally forgot that link wanted to get flowers for his own store and came here acting like a customer. "yes, the matter of payment," revali starts, blinking and brain scrambling, "well, then, just think of it as a welcoming gift."

"a welcoming gift?" link echoes, cocking his head at revali with those wide blue eyes.

"yes!" revali says, his face beginning to flush. "because your store is still brand new and i hadn't welcomed you properly either..." revali looks away, feeling his cheeks burn. "it's the least i can do..."

when he looks back at link, that familiar smile has returned to his face, eyes sparkling. "thank you, revali," link says, voice soft. "that's really nice of you." and revali's heart flutters.

"well, of course!" he stammers, willing his face not to burn brighter than it already is. "you're fortunate enough to be neighbors with me, the kindest, most benevolent, and gentlemanly florist in all of hyrule." link smiles brighter at him, holding the flowers to his chest and revali looks away, the pounding in his heart so intense he wonders if it will punch through his ribcage out onto the floor.

link starts coming in on mondays and wednesdays during his lunch break just to talk to revali, and gets him to talk more about the meanings of the flowers and the nuances of different colors, the best way to arrange flowers, etc., link happily listening along. it takes some time for revali to get used to, the sound of their voices filling the usually quiet shop for that sacred half hour but once it's set into place, revali looks forward to it every week (though he'll never admit it out loud).

"don't you eat during a lunch break?" revali comments once, after finishing a spiel about invasive flowers to never plant. link hums questioningly at him. "it's a lunch break. aren't you hungry?"

"oh," link says. "i guess?" and right on cue, a rumble comes from the blond's stomach and he looks up at revali with a sheepish smile. "ahah... i got so caught up talking to you i forgot i had to eat."

revali rolls his eyes, then sighs looking up at the clock. "we still have 20 minutes," he says. "come on, let's go to the cafe."

"cafe?" link repeats, as revali grabs his phone, wallet, and keys. "there's a cafe here?"

"had you paid much more attention to anywhere else but me, you'd have known," revali says, but link still stares at him with his head tilted, waiting for an answer. "one of my regulars, amali, runs the 'birdbath' cafe just down the street. she has an assortment of meals for you to choose from, you can just get one to-go."

they enter the cafe and amali starts greeting them until she realizes it's revali and then realizes it's revali with a guest and she's like IS THIS YOUR NEW NEIGHBOR??? and he's reservedly like Yeah... and now amali is fussing all over link and asking him about how he's settling in, is everything going okay, is revali nice to you, you can come in anytime you'd like! revali is like Pls....... we have 15 minutes until link has to go back to work just give him food girl

link is very excited about the entire menu because everything looks really good. "i'll have to come back here to try everything!" he tells amali and she's ecstatic. "i'm telling you, come back anytime! you're always welcome here," she says warmly.

and when link gets ready to pay, revali brushes him aside and offers his card to amali. amali gives revali a knowing look and accepts the card, but link looks up at him confused. "you don't have to..." he starts.

"i'll pay for you this time," revali mutters, averting his eyes. "i'm the one who dragged you out here after all." and link stares with those huge blue eyes.

"thank you," he says softly. "you're so kind, revali."

"that's our revali!" amali chuckles, handing revali his card back. "he might seem like all high and mighty, but he's really just a softie inside. why do you think he runs a flower shop?"

"amali!" revali gripes, flushing. "please just get link his food." he glances back at link, who's still gazing at him with an expression that revali doesn't know how to read. he looks at revali so softly, so tenderly, and... fond. revali swallows and adjusts his collar. is it hot in here or is it just him?

god this post is already so long but there is so much potential for so many revalink shenanigans in this au 🥺

link coming to get bouquets every week for his own store and learning how to make bouquets with revali

link showing revali his portfolio of tattoos and offering to give revali a tattoo for a discounted price only for revali to decline and link gets sad, until revali quickly says that he's scared of needles and link is like ohhh (but he's still kind of disappointed because he likes the idea of tattooing revali)

link secretly sketching and designing tattoos in his off-time that he think would look really beautiful and fit revali really well. and fantasizing about touching revali's biceps to tattoo him LOL

what if link had a tramp stamp. link with a tattoos on his ribcage and groin. tattoos behind his ear. he shows revali all of these irl in the shop and revali's face is so red he's just like Um. Yes Those Are All Very Nice. Yes. Please Put Your Clothes Back On.

link coming in to buy a bouquet of lilies for zelda and revali goes all tense and upset and is like. is that your gf. and link is like GOD NO that's my twin sister and lilies are her favorite flower and revali relaxes and is like oh. that's nice of you to get her some (but is secretly pleased that link doesn't have a significant other)

urbosa coming to visit the store at a time when link is there on his lunch break, and they get to introduce themselves to each other properly. revali is sitting there sweating the entire time and when link tells urbosa about how he comes here to spend his lunch breaks, urbosa smirks at revali, who's ready to shit himself

(urbosa texting revali later congratulating him on tapping that ass. revali screams at her that he has NOT done that. and she replies with "yet?". he threatens to block her)

everyone else on tabantha street realizing that link and revali are kind of having a Thing™ going on between them. and they all start planning to try to get them together. there's a reason why i have "i won't say i'm in love" from disney's hercules on my revalink playlist because everyone is getting in on Operation: Revalink trying to push revali into asking link out and he's like no nothing is going on between us i swear except he's spends all his breaks and off-time with link, taking him to cafes and paying for everything link orders, sitting in on tattoo sessions because link invites him over, teaching link how to make bouquets... ok so maybe they have something going on, leave me alone saki, i'm not going to ask him out

THIS WILL BE THE LAST SCENARIO I TALK ABOUT bc this post is so damn long now, but i imagine a scene where link asks revali about the vase of flowers on the counter and what kind of flowers they are. revali looks over at the forget-me-nots he's been carefully tending to and inhales, and tells link.

"those are forget-me-nots," revali says, in a voice that's uncharacteristically soft and vulnerable. it makes link sit up, becoming much more attentive to revali's demeanor. "they're perennial hardy flowers that die in the winter but regrow again during the spring. there's an old story about these little ones, where a knight and his lover were walking alongside a river. the knight reached down to pick the flowers that were growing near the river, but his armor was too heavy and he ended up falling in, only to be swept away by the river's current. if you ask me, it's a foolish way to go; why was he wearing such heavy armor anyway? but as he floated away, he threw the flowers he picked to his lover and shouted, 'forget me not!' and the flower was named as such."

revali reaches over to pull the vase closer and places it in between him and link. the flowers are small and delicate little things, a sweet shade of blue with a yellow center. both he and link touch the flowers as they do, with gentle fingers against the edges of the petals.

"these were the flowers that my father offered when he was courting my mother," revali says, gaze faraway. "as you can see, it worked out." he gestures to himself and link smiles. "they're supposed to represent everlasting love, a love so true and strong that it can't be forgotten." he pauses, rubbing a petal in between his fingers before continuing. "i've always wanted to offer a bouquet of these to someone that i love, in the same way my father did for my mother. as sentimental as it is, it's... romantic and meaningful."

"it is," link agrees softly. "whoever you give these flowers to will be very lucky to have someone like you." and revali makes the mistake of looking up to meet link's gaze, because that's where everything about him changes.

when he looks at link, the sun is shining through the windows of the shop, casting a golden glow over the blond. he gazes at revali with those wide blue eyes, the ones that revali has become increasingly enamored with in the time they've spent together, the same color as the forget-me-nots. beautiful, revali thinks and this time he doesn't shy away from the thought because it's true.

then, he takes a flower from the vase and reaches over the counter to slip it behind link's ear, tucking his hair as he goes. link stills, his eyes growing wider and his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink as revali's fingers touch his skin, gentle and featherlight, and for a moment in time, they're the closest they've ever been to each other since they've met. revali could probably count all of the freckles on spread across link's nose and cheeks. in this moment, revali wouldn't mind if they got closer than this. he'd like it a lot, actually.

but he pulls away and sits back down, admiring the way the flower sits prettily behind his ear, contrasting against link's golden hair and tan skin in the sunlight. link is still wide-eyed and pink-faced and it makes revali smile (just a little!). "yes, they'd be very lucky," he murmurs. "blue is definitely your color, by the way. you should wear it more often."

"th-thanks," link whispers, reaching up to touch the flower in his hair. "i'll keep that in mind."

yes, they could be closer than this. revali hopes that one day they could.

#revalink #loz #botw #loz botw #legend of zelda #amihan's revalinkverse #ask #cryiling #i was thinking about that one post i wrote about 'next door' by amelia moore ft astn while writing this #anyways did you catch the pun for revali's flower shop name lol #“the meadow” = “vah medoh” #on a superficial level the first option of revalink being store rivals makes sense and is pretty in character imo #but i cannot for the life of me not imagine link as quiet and bright-eyed and curious about revali #and revali being grumpy and trying to keep to himself but ultimately falling for how sweet and warm link is #i focused really heavily on the flower shop part of this but i just really love flower language shit #can you try to figure out why i chose certain flowers for things #plot twist: what if this was a hanahaki au #you guys i LOVEEEEE hanahaki aus so bad #i wanna write a revalink hanahaki au and i have a concept of one drafted in my revalink doc teehee #i wanted to include this one in the actual post but it's already too long so #imagine revali giving link a bouquet made of forget me nots + gardenias + sweet williams + snowdrops <3 #crow when you read this YES i was thinking of jungkook and his sexy ass full sleeve of tattoos when i said link had a full sleeve

[bizarrelittlemew]

.

#lost a bunch of text of a wip due to idk onedrive syncing error?? 😭😭😭 #it's been so hard for me to write lately and it took SO long to tie those parts together and now it's just... gone #i'm just sitting here looking at it wanting to cry and give up on the whole thing because i CANNOT remember what the fuck i wrote #just a shitty way to end the day #delete later

[merakiui]

some thoughts about jade leech as a stalker.

(cw: yandere, nsfw, stalking, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, mentions of death/strangulation)

Jade does not love often. In fact, he has a rather small supply of love, which is reserved for his hobbies and family, so when he loves something other than those two things it can only mean trouble. When Floyd has something special and doesn’t share... Well, naturally Jade’s going to want it. He’s never been inherently greedy. Rather, he’s always let Floyd have everything: the larger half of a bluefin tuna, the shinier stone, the bigger seashells, the slice of cake with more frosting, his uniforms whenever Floyd’s were dirtied or damaged. And in return Floyd has, for the most part, shared his things with Jade. This has always been their normal. 

But this time Floyd makes no mention of sharing when it comes to you. In the past, when they were particularly interested in someone, they would share them. Or, in other words, torment that person in equal succession. Azul has been their prime target for years now, and it doesn’t look like either of them will stop their relentless pursuit in seeing how fast they can get Azul to grouse or groan or sigh. You might think they live to see Azul’s misery, but truthfully they want to accompany Azul as he carves misery into the hearts of the poor, unfortunate souls who thought it wise to do business with deep-sea beasts. Teasing him is just a bonus. 

When it comes to you, Floyd is his usual authentic self: blunt and honest to a fault, dangerously so. But that’s what makes his twin so fun. Floyd won’t sugarcoat the obvious. If he dislikes you, he’ll make it known. Jade, on the other hand, will speak syrupy sweet lies in an effort to maintain proper goodwill, even if he detests you. You’ve never really interested Jade, so he can’t say he hates you. But he can’t say he loves you either. To him, you are just a powerless human in a habitat that does not suit you. Really, even with all of the tricks and traps you pulled to beat Azul at his own game, you remained boring to him. He didn’t pay you much mind after everything had been resolved and you’d been free to return to Ramshackle. That should have been the end of his story with you. 

But then, some time later, you start to make frequent appearances at the lounge. It doesn’t take Jade long to learn that you only show up when Floyd’s on shift, and it also doesn’t take him long to theorize that you might have fallen for his brother’s unique charms. It’s sweet, in a way, how Floyd lights up when he sees you, how you smile a little more brightly when he speaks to you, how your laughter is so very buoyant when Floyd lifts you into the air and spins you happily. Jade’s content to watch from the sidelines, pleased to know that his brother has found a friend in you. That might make it easier to trick you into a contract.

He’s so set in this way of thinking, only viewing you as a pawn or a stepping stone towards some bigger end goal. But when Floyd brings you back to the dorm and you become more than a constant in Jade’s life, he starts to wonder what makes you so special. What is it about you that has his brother so enamored? What makes you irresistible? What parts of you are appealing? Jade thinks it might be how quick it is you submit when Floyd’s got you pinned into the mattress, face first, rough hands spreading your thighs apart, so he can sink into you more easily. Floyd likes that; he likes the weak things that crumble under him. He likes to push things to breaking. He likes to mark and bite and bloody and bruise and shred.

Jade likes to fix. He likes to mend, and then break, and then mend all over again. He likes the process, the psychological science behind a simple gesture, much like how he takes great pleasure in playing god over the plants in his terrariums. They say a budding serial killer starts small—with animals like rabbits or squirrels or cats. Jade starts with plants. He’ll put them in stressful environments—in soils with nutrients that don’t quite work—and he’ll watch them wilt, mottle, mold, and decay. He’ll watch them struggle to adapt, he’ll watch them yearn for water or sunlight, and only when he’s certain they’ve had enough he’ll give them proper, healthy care. It’s fun, the way he has so much control over something as dynamic as a plant. But plants cannot protest, cannot fight back, cannot act in the same way humans do. 

But it’s quite satisfying to pluck dried petals from a withered flower, almost like a morbid game of effeuiller la marguerite, and not hear a single scream.

So Jade is fully expecting Floyd to tire of you, to break you enough until boredom sinks its fangs into him and he moves on with his life. And what Floyd breaks Jade fixes, so he’s very ready to glue your heart together when Floyd shatters it. He’s ready to offer a handkerchief and his ear should you need to vent. He’s already prepared his speech: “I must apologize on behalf of Floyd. You know very well how he gets. If I can be of assistance in any way, please let me know.”

Unfortunately, you remain intact. Months pass, Floyd continues to love you, and your relationship unfolds like a lotus in early morning. Jade continues to observe. Floyd has never been one for privacy, so he’s seen every kiss, every bite, every inch of exposed skin. Hell, he’s sat at his desk and tallied Mostro Lounge’s monthly expenses while Floyd fucked you dumb on the other side of the room. He’s even made eye contact with you when you happened to gaze his way while his twin was buried balls-deep in that tight hole of yours. He wonders what goes on in that head of yours. Perhaps there’s nothing substantial within. Floyd’s scrambled your brains enough, so you could just be useless now. Though that wouldn’t be very fun, would it? He knows there’s more to you than you let on, especially when you play top and take every inch of Floyd, riding him so skillfully, and all Floyd can do is dig his fingers into your hips to guide you along to the rough, erratic pace the both of you have set. 

Jade watches fondly from the shadows. Floyd likes to have access to your neck and shoulders; he likes to take you from behind while leaning down to bite into soft flesh. But Jade thinks it would be much nicer to gaze upon your face, to kiss salt from your eyes, to pepper your jawline with tiny pecks, all while peering into eyes that house a beautiful soul. He thinks it would be nice to hold you down, have your legs wrapped around his waist or thrown up onto his shoulders, while he bottoms out. If it were Jade, he’d take you in every position, but he’d find the most pleasure in eye contact. There’s something intimate about it, much like how there’s intimacy in the hands that wrap around a throat. You have to be close to someone when you’re restricting their airflow; you have to squeeze until veins pop, until your hands are sore, until your fingernails have burrowed so deeply into skin that the crescent moons color crimson. It takes minutes to strangle someone, and every minute is spent staring into the wide, terrified eyes of a desperate soul on the verge of death.

Jade likes the way you smell, the way you speak, the way you laugh, the way you are, in every meaning of the word, so very filled with life. Even down to the way you breathe and gasp and moan and cry, you are life itself. Jade wants to bottle that for himself—pluck you from Floyd’s flower pot and place you in a terrarium with the most potent elements just to see how long you’d fare. He wants to save you from those same conditions, sandwich your face between gloved hands when he’s kneeled to your lowered height, and whisper about how it’s okay, about how you’re safe, about how he’d never truly hurt you. Jade knows that loving someone is a very special thing, but the way he loves you is not quite pleasant. The love he has for his hobbies and family is natural. Normal. Simplistic and familial. 

The love he has for you is murderous and frightening. Some days he looks at you like you’re prey he’s not yet devoured. Like you’re to be his first victim. 

Jade starts small. He takes tiny trinkets—a keychain, a pencil, an accessory. He stores these in a shoe box under his bed. When Floyd brings you over and clothes are cast aside, he swipes your undergarments for himself. He won’t wash them until he absolutely must. He’ll have the soft fabric wrapped around his dick later that same evening when Floyd’s fallen asleep and he’s up late contemplating love and lust and life and death, and he’ll cum to the thought of you. Sweet, adorable, oblivious you. 

He’s what one would call a persistence predator—a hunter who gradually wears his prey down over time. He takes from you, watches you, listens to you fret about missing things to Floyd, who promises to find the bastard who’s messing with you and squeeze them until they’re blue and purple. Jade smiles at that. Floyd wouldn’t really do that to him. Sure, they’ve hit each other when they’ve fought and roughhoused on occasion, but the punches were never truly meant. Sure, they might have been thrown playfully or angrily, but they were all temporary bouts of strength. Floyd wouldn’t truly hurt him, so to hear these determined promises and to see how you relax around him... It’s really cute. Jade wonders how much more he can take from you. 

And he wonders how much more you can take before you’re splintering. 

Really, you got lucky that Floyd picked you first. He’s far more merciful. Far more sweeter. Far more loving. At least Floyd is honest with his (at times) rough nature. At least he makes it known that he wants to bite you until you’re bleeding. But Floyd can’t stand whining. He hates it when people cry about things he can’t bother to care about, and lately you’ve been whining about this stalker you think you have for weeks now. Floyd’s told you you’re just being a scared shrimpy—that there is no stalker, that you’re probably just misplacing or losing these items, that none of them really matter because they’re replaceable. 

Jade gets lucky when Floyd finally washes his hands of you, officially fed up with your whining. And what Floyd damages Jade fixes. So when you’re in tears, distraught over the break-up and your missing items and your stalker and the fact that the door to Ramshackle was left unlocked again and that you feel like someone’s living in your shadow, Jade arrives to rescue you from your fear. You don’t even hesitate to cling to him and cry, spilling your worries in waterfalls. Perhaps it’s because he’s a familiar face. He is a reflection of Floyd, after all. 

“Oh dear,” he’ll whisper, stroking your back, allowing you to bury your face in his chest and sob. “There, there.”

You can’t see his expression, but there is a smile spreading on his lips. And his eyes are alight with cruel glee. 

“Would it make you feel better if someone accompanied you to your classes?” Your feeble nod is all he needs. “In that case, shall I spend a few days at Ramshackle with you? I’m certain whoever’s pursuing you won’t get very far if I’m around.”

And he’s right. Your stalker never takes anything again. They never leave the front door unlocked. They never trail behind you, taking shelter in your shadow. That’s because he’s your stalker, though you never managed to figure that out, and this time he doesn’t have to dwell in shadows or on the sidelines. This time he can stand before you as a friend, a soon-to-be lover, and perhaps a lifelong mate. 

Jade does not love often, but when he does it is as beautifully painful as tearing the wings from butterflies. 

#meraki mumbles #yandere twst #n/sfw #i think my favorite thing about writing yandere jade is how brutal and remorseless he can be #it's probably because he grew up in the harsh environment of the sea #which would naturally harden anyone and make them more predatory than a prey #it's probably also why he (and floyd and azul) see nothing wrong with murder #yes it's morally wrong and very much illegal #but in the ocean it's eat or be eaten and really do you think jade is going to let some other predator snap his darling up? :) #challenge: write one yan jade thought without it spiraling into a thought about his murderous rizz #challenge failed </3 he is a walking danger you cannot tell me he wouldn't think of the most horrifying things when it comes to darling #more jade thoughts!!! consider an artist (painter/sculpter/etc) jade who is absolutely obsessed with you (the nude model from his art class) #because you're the one who has finally inspired him and broken his months-long artist's block #and also because he'd like to paint you in the most vicious red #or jade who has broken into your home and is living there in secret without you knowing #sometimes he sleeps under your bed just to hear your steady breaths #he never rearranges anything in your house but he does do the dishes or clean up messes you've made #you can never remember if or when you cleaned these things but you never think much of it #jade stands at your bedside when you sleep at night and he watches you #you'll happen to wake and you'll spot him but by the time you've scrambled to wake up and turn the lights on he'll already be gone #so you're left to wonder if he was ever there in the first place or if you were still dreaming #he is the terror that you will never see until it's too late

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Anyone else have near-perfect executive function at work; but at home, have literally no energy or motivation to do anything except lie in a dark room, with something in or on your ears for several hours?

#It’s got to be the schedule keeping me on task at work #I love microdosing strict routines (not having an actual routine for the day; but having routines for small tasks #which piss me off if I can’t carry them out precisely the way I planned) #For instance: If I’m asked to paperclip a bunch of stuff together with multicolored paperclips of various sizes #I cannot just indiscriminately pick paperclips from the container because that is WRONG and ILLEGAL #The colors must fit the theme of the assignments; and the colors must alternate in a specific order #and the paperclips must all be the same size #If I’m asked to dump out and clean containers of writing utensils I am going to sort them by type and color #whether you like it or not #Black permanent markers have their own container in a different section from the blue permanent markers #Dry-erase markers are not to be mixed with permanent markers because they are easily confused and it is WRONG and ILLEGAL #Do not fuck with the system. It’s the only organizational skill I have and by fucking GOD I’m going to use it in EXCESS #I stuff and fill out envelopes the exact same way every time because if I do it any other way it is WRONG and ILLEGAL #The stamp always goes on last to minimize monetary waste if there is a mistake #Now you’d think my room is squeaky clean and organized because of how particular I am about these small tasks #Right? Right? #NO IT IS NOT. It looks like a bomb went off. Cleaning the room is a big task which cannot be accomplished within two hours #therefore I have discarded it as anything I need a routine for because it would take too long to come up with #and it is very hard for me to do things like that without instructions or a sense of consistency #So I simply don’t #“After five years the dust doesn’t get any worse” correct; but the mold certainly does #I am convinced half my problems with organization as a kid would have been solved if I just had a hamper #“We have a clothes chute; you don’t need a hamper” Maybe you don’t but I DO #I want one now; but I’m going to use it as incentive to get an apartment #because that’s another thing I need to smuggle and I have too much already

[olivedays]

growing up with mike concept🧍‍♀️in which u guys are silly and refuse to admit ur very obvious feelings for each other! inspired by this cute cute post from @endingletters <3

thinking about how mike constantly is pushing his hair out of his face because he refuses to cut it after you’ve scolded him countless times for it (partly bc he thinks he looks cooler with it and partly bc he loves listening to ur angry little rants always ending in u calling him a silly boy) bonus u actually grow to love his long hair bc u can run ur fingers through it and its so soft. so soft!

and him being all gangly limbs and always tripping over himself because he is so! awkward and uncoordinated! u tease him about this endlessly and he secretly loves it but he would never tell u that

the smattering of freckles on his face that u adore so so much in fact one day u sit up and declare that it is your own special constellation! and mike adores having your special constellation adorning his face. sometimes u dream about kissing each and every one of the stars on his cheeks, individually

he has this one smile that only comes out when ur around, and u love it so so much because it’s wildly stupid, all teeth and gum. his bambi eyes light up and he has this cute little laugh to accompany it because ur actually hilarious. and u take pride in knowing that only you can make him smile like that. not anyone else, you.

#ignore the fact this is one long run on sentence #I CANNOT GET THIS IDEA OUT OF MY HEAD i blame jackie #my silly silly boy. #liv writes? 🫀 #mike wheeler fluff #mike wheeler x reader #mike wheeler x y/n #mike wheeler #mike wheeler imagine #stranger things fluff #stranger things #st!

[pyrriax]

your centurion anatomy sounds really cool :0! can you describe more in detail about them?

in your screenshot it stated they have a crystalline star in their hearts, does this have something to do with the seraphim? also by "tainted by gold" does that mean centurion blood or do seraphim also have gold blood? what are the different colors of centurion blood and are they all some matter of metallic? how do centurions connect to their seraphim?

you can also talk about seraphim anatomy if you want :3 (im also very curious about why they went extinct but im guessing thats spoilers)

also who are the other centurions and seraphim aside from clown and branzy? do they have some kind of hierarchal system? how do seraphim give their souls to creations since im assuming its literal? and what is the exact purpose of soul-sharing?

no need to answer all or any of these ofc just curious :3

Hello hello yes of course! I'm happy to elaborate more on them ^_^ I'll be pulling pieces from my notes, some screenshots of writing I've done relating to it, and just going into some Details.

(Fair warning this is going to be a LOT of words and a lot of this is subject to change, this project and world is a work in progress and I've been shifting things around as I start actually writing things!)

Preface (A quick rundown of the World itself)

Divided into two parts, the main one I'll be focusing on is The Vesper, Vesper is the name of the main Seraph city, and is also used to refer to the floating islands which are the main home of the Seraphs.

The other part of the world, The Fray, is the actual planet. This is the ground, and was once a lush place, but is currently... Not so much. Once upon a time, it had a handful of different names, but now it's nothing more than ruin.

So, Seraph anatomy (What the hell even is a Seraph?)

Seraphs are an organic bipedal species which are humanoid in nature but tend toward being less human in appearance; though one of the main differences is their many (varying number) of wings, along with having anywhere from two to four eyes. Though, all of these things variy from Seraph to Seraph! In general, they're a bit bird-ish, and though the main two that I'll be talking about look relatively similar, Seraphs have a wide variety of colors and patterns, along with the fact they're known to dye feathers the same as people dye their hair!

(Note: this is an older sketch, before I'd really fleshed out the exact origin of Seraphs. The halo isn't a standard thing, but this does somewhat convey general anatomy! This is a Seraph which is basically showing off what it is, and taking a less strictly humanoid appearance, though it remains bipedal. As well, this is a four-winged example, although its ears are feathered, which can give the appearance of an additional set of wings, depending on the Seraph!)

Generally speaking, Seraphim anatomy isn't too out of the ordinary, although one thing to note is their speech is much more adapted toward chirping and trilling for vocalizations, and most of what I write for the dialogue is more... A transcript of the conversation, than the literal things being said (since I'm already in deep with a worldbuilding project and I don't need to add a conlang on top of that, lol). Well, that's all bar the star in the room, but we'll circle around to that in the next section!

Long before they were known as the Seraphim, Seraphs were a flying creature, and have retained a few key aspects of that, specifically the wings themselves, and a lighter skeleton. This does lead to the high potential of bones breaking, and general injuries, but there are things that circumvent that from being such an issue, which is tied to magic in the world itself.

also by "tainted by gold" does that mean centurion blood or do seraphim also have gold blood?

That line is referring to Seraphim blood! Seraphs have a varied blood color, but the most common one is gold/brass-like, which is usually vibrant but when dried it's much more weathered looking (taking on a greenish hue).

Seraphs are one of two sentient species in their world, and are revered as Gods both for their appearance, and for their abilities. Although, this doesn't mean that they are peaceful, and they often will partake in bloody fights, often to perceived death. Though, these are frowned upon, it isn't outright disallowed, for reasons I'll be getting into! (I swear I'm not dragging this out on purpose I just want to explain what the fuck a Centurion is before we get into magic)

Okay, so what is a Centurion, then? (Centurion Anatomy)

Centurions are primarily humanoid in appearance, but an important distinction to make is that Centurions are not organic. In place of faces, Centurions have masks, which are typically undecorated, left blank to ensure they aren't viewed as expressive or of having emotions. There are few exceptions to this. As well, they typically will have all of their body completely covered, for similar reasons. It's established already in the screenshot you mentioned that Centurions are constructs, and generally speaking, they are made for temporary usage, rather than anything long term. This comes with the nature of their primary purpose, but let's put a pin in that for now.

Despite their status as constructs, they are given pieces which function much like their organs, which primarily exist to be like a siphon for energy and the magic which fuels them. Over time, these pieces wear down, and they will cease to function properly after their designated time is up. This time can be extended, if these pieces are replaced or maintained, but this is something that they cannot do themselves. It was a limitation put into place by their creators to keep them from self-perpetuating and as well to keep them from outliving their usefulness.

These organs appear like they've been made of wood, metal, and wool. This isn't exactly the case, as much of what makes them up is organic material, specifically that of grown stars. (There's worldbuilding and flora explanation I'm not going to drag this out with, but if you're curious I can talk about it more ^_^)

Centurions are nothing more than machines. Or, at least, that's how they were supposed to be, but this isn't how it always remains.

what are the different colors of centurion blood and are they all some matter of metallic?

Centurions have blood much more like humans, though not always. Being variably red or gold, depending on their function. While they are constructs and don't have so much of a need for a circulatory system, this is a bit more... Cosmetic. Centurions with gold blood are more often than not the ones that are made for jobs within Seraphim cities, though this doesn't mean that they always remain there. Although, in rare cases, Centurions may be made without any blood, and instead their organs will be made to replace the few functions it does have.

But, focusing on if all of their blood is metallic, it isn't always the case. Centurions are much more varied, and even from one to another major pieces of anatomy can be wildly different. So, it isn't a far stretch to say there's quite possibly a handful of Centurions with non-metallic blood out there.

Centurion Origins & Purpose (With a little sprinkling of magic!)

So, if you hadn't already guessed it, Centurions were created by the Seraphim! At the beginning, Centurions were made to fill in odd jobs, taking care of things which were necessary and being generally a stand in for workers as the Seraphs progressed. They were modeled after the other sentient species, which are functionally humans but not quite. This was something which caused a fair bit of outrage from them, but the Seraphs didn't exactly care.

Eventually, though, the Centurions took on a much different, and much more... Important role. They took the place of Seraphs in slaughter, in petty squabbles or fights which would've otherwise been an inconvenience. This turned into Centurions no longer being made for small jobs, and instead they were being made as machines of war. They were mindless and soulless soldiers, following orders without a doubt or question.

Although, some Centurions are different from the others: they have a soul, one of the stars. These are the main leaders, and they are the ones which remain for the longest. (This is what Clown is, which is the reason he is the way he is!)

Centurions made for fighting are the only remaining residents of the Fray, and have been the reason for its destruction, after the fall of the Seraphs.

Stars, Magic, all those little things (An some creature details)

Magic in Seraphim is an innate thing, something that everything in the world possesses, but uses in different ways. Some creatures use it for shapeshifting to quickly adapt, others will use it to hunt, meanwhile a handful of species will consume it rather than hunting or scavenging. Although, creatures which consume magic are known to be short lived, and reproduce a lot like how puffball mushrooms do. It's a little horrifying when all of the sudden there are sharp spores flying everywhere, but it's the reason most avoid the main pools of the magic. Seraphs are a species which primarily consume magic, but, unlike the much more nudibranch-esque creatures which are prone to exploding due to the magic they consume, Seraphs have harnessed it for their own purposes.

The Vesper are floating islands which are suspended above vast lakes (which are almost oceanic) and have been held there by the Seraphim. As a means of storing the excess energy they've taken in, they developed a way to use it to continue to suspend the Vesper. These stores could last for several thousand years, assuming they're properly maintained.

But, onto the burning question of the night: what are those stars?

in your screenshot it stated they have a crystalline star in their hearts, does this have something to do with the seraphim?

The star is a key part of the Seraph's anatomy, and is the place where magic tends to remain within their bodies. This is a piece of their heart, the place where their soul resides, and is also their tie to this Godhood they have. Much of the reason they're revered as gods it due to the fact that if the star remains in place, and remains unbroken, it can make them... Somewhat immortal. It greatly heightens their ability to heal, a little like a regeneration potion, if you think about it.

Seraphs are notoriously hard to kill for this reason, given the fact that if given enough time, they're known to be able to sort of regenerate limbs. Not perfectly, and not without several years of time and a high risk of infection, but it's possible. And that's because of the stars. They're almost entities in and of themselves, keeping the Seraphs alive to not die themselves. Although, these stars can survive in other bodies, most notably being placed into Centurions.

So how do you kill the supposedly unkillable, then? What could cause such a mass-dying if they can regenerate?

The easiest and most straightforward way to kill a Seraph is to rip out their star. Although, that involves incapacitating them to some degree (usually via fatally wounding them, as that's generally the most accepted method. This is why it's so greatly frowned upon, as that leaves the Seraph who's been wounded to most likely be killed.) It's recognizable for its shape, which is the origin of its name (for a more visual reference, they're a little like konpeitō, but with a spikier appearance), and though they have varying tones, they're more often than not a pearlescent white. At least, that's when they've been cleaned of blood.

Without their star, the Seraph will die. Even if they we're fatally wounded prior, they will only survive a handful of months at most.

So, this mass dying. While I won't go into all of the details, since that definitely spoils some things, but magic is a finite resource, but even more, Seraphim stars became... Valuable as a weapon. Without the proper maintenance and constant in and out flow of magic, they'll accumulate energy, storing more and more until finally they just explode. Much like the nudibranchs, an excess of this magical energy leads to explosive properties.

This also means that Seraph corpses are dangerous if the stars haven't been removed, which is why in the carnage, there aren't many bodies left to lie and rot. The few Centurions remaining in places like the Vesper cleaned the place of these bodies, and some even took the stars for themselves.

So what do the stars have to do with souls?

In an earlier draft of a concept, I detailed a Seraph getting decapitated and surviving due to its star. The stars are a place where the Seraph's memory, personage, and in the most fantastical sense, their soul, is stored. This Seraph lives, and while it never quite has the same senses as it did before, it is still fundamentally the same person, as its star wasn't harmed in the process.

So; for a Seraph to give a Centurion its soul, that is an act like giving up itself to that Centurion. The Seraph will not exist in the same sense, and as shown with Clown and Branzy, even that will diminish over time.

Although, there is one thing I've avoided mentioning: the humans. Our outliers, as one of the least magically inclined species, they've tried to get ahold of this magic, as well as attempting to use the Seraph's stars for their own. This lead to a few people who've remained, but aren't quite human anymore.

how do seraphim give their souls to creations since im assuming its literal? and what is the exact purpose of soul-sharing?

Seraphim can take out their own star, an act which is painful but to be done for another is a little bit of a profession of love. To give their star to a Centurion, under regular circumstances, it is a way of prolonging the life of their soul. The star is "consumed", a thing which is looked down upon by Centurions, as it's viewed as becoming one with those who've condemned them to their hellish lives.

There are two things that can come of a Seraph's soul being placed into a Centurion, and they go as follows, with few exceptions:

The Centurion is Soulless / a Husk: The soul will continue to live on, but they will start again. It removes all but a few traces of the Seraph's memories, and they will learn to live as they now are. [Example: Ro, who we'll learn more about in the next section]

The Centurion has a Soul / Star (Even if it is one that was grown / artificial): The pre-existing soul will be slowly consumed by the Seraph's, a process which results in one or both of the stars shattering. This can only happen is the Centurion has agreed to it, and it is a thing which became more common as more Seraphs died. [Example: Clown, whose visions of shattering stars are that of his own, and not Branzy's]

Last but not least, an incomplete list of character I've given story to for this AU

Starting with our Seraphim:

Branzy is the most notable as he's the only Seraph who remains a Seraph for his entire existence, even after giving his soul to Clown. Although he's used his magic for shapeshifting purposes, appearing much more akin to the Centurions, as he's been enthralled by them since he was young. Roshambo, although I'll be elaborating more on him in the Centurion section for a few reasons. He was one of the first Seraphs to give his soul to a Centurion, and it had some... Interesting effects.

Onto the Centurions:

Clown is the obvious one, being one of the most perfect example of what makes a Centurion, and being one of the "leaders", his star (his soul) is artificial, one of the ones which was grown, and thus, he's a bit different from Seraph-souled (or, star-eating) Centurions. [Appears a lot like his typical canon appearance, as he was one of the few Centurions who were directly associated with a Seraph, and despite the fact of his origin, he doesn't have the blank mask which is typical of these Centurions. His mask is also carved into a shape which is much more like a horned owl, a little heart-ish; this doesn't affect him.] Zam, a lovely odd case who shows up long after the fall of the Seraphs, but before the Vesper as a whole collapses, who becomes one of the residents of the Vesper's grand library [At least at his introduction, Zam is much like the typical soldier Centurion, dressed in a way which is very impersonal. This changes as he spends time in the library, and by the time of the fall, he's adopted a palette of darker amber hues and white, along with the occasional gold or brass accent. While his mask remained generic for a long time, he eventually allowed Ro to help with adorning it, ending up with a smile and some filigree which matches Ro's own mask.] Roshambo is the last on this list as of currently; although he's fully convinced he isn't a Centurion at all, having been around the other residents of the library since his creation and not knowing himself to be any different from them [Previously being one of the few Centurions who was designated to a space where he would be viewed, Ro is dressed in a way which is almost painfully fancy for him. Unlike the typical blank white, the base color of Ro's mask is an iridescent black, adorned with lavender stripes and laurel patterns. His appearance is a little less decided, compared to the others.]

And last but not least, our... Humans?:

Mapicc is the closest to a normal human of those given one of the Seraph-souls in order to grant him the almost-immortality, this has lead to him having several inhuman traits, including the appearance of seasonally shed feathers, which he's more annoyed by than anything. Spoke is about the furthest from human someone can get while still being so, and this is because of the fact of the star he was given. He was given one of the artificial stars, as a part of a test. He's only become more... Bizarre as time goes on, body twisting and morphing as the magic doesn't know where to go, and he can't fully contain or control it.

The roster is pretty small, since I've been focusing on two different eras, and these two sets don't interact much. Clown and Branzy exist long before the extinction of Seraphs, but Branzy's giving up of his heart does mark the true beginning of the end. Roshambo, Mapicc, and Spoke (later as well including Zam) are the last living beings on the Vesper after the fall of the Seraphs, and are there until the day the sun doesn't set, and the Vesper itself falls from the sky.

... So that's the world of Seraphim, from relative start to end, with much of the fluff, character centric pieces and a bit of the more out-there magical elements cut out to save my damn hands because this is almost 3k words 👍 There are things I'm not sure will remain canon, more proper worldbuilding and flora / fauna exploration I need to work on, and some things I most definitely missed, but hopefully this answers some questions and raises others! there is a lot more to explore post-fall but i have to leave a couple of mysteries, as a treat.

#ask a ghost #asker: citrusinicake #au: seraphim #haunted bookshelf #ALSO i elected to not let myself talk about what disability looks like for Seraphs because i would be here for way too long #just because magic healing and regeneration is a thing doesnt mean that there arent seraphs who Dont recover like that #its actually more common for it to just heal over and instead it's pretty common for those spots to be adorned with symbols and such #lore and worldbuilding things i cannot even start getting into right now i am sending this post and staring at a wall #also please please please if anybody has questions or thoughts let me know i swear i dont bite but i might write an essay in response #ALSO I DIDNT MENTION THE WISPS ACK there are SO many things i didnt include but . auvbnfdjkld #also conclusion this whole post is about 3.4k. erm. youre welcome 👍

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i enjoy imagining future me writing WH fanfic with a solid grasp on everyones characters, but i already know that Barnaby is someone i'll never be able to accurately portray

#hes got jokes. i Do Not #im infamous for not being able to tell them or come up with them #and this isnt like a 'im insecure thing' No i Literally Cannot #for as long as i can remember ive been absolute shit at jokes #half the time i dont even get the ones i hear. i sit there buffering for a solid hour before going OH I GET IT #and even when i do memorize one i butcher the joke #either by forgetting parts and having to backtrack/shoehorn or because i get too excited and fuck up the punchline #barnabys genius is beyond me unfortunately #im simply funny in Different Ways #ive tried jotting down little scene ideas and stuff just to practice writing and my fucking god i CANNOT come up with jokes #if i ever sit down to write seriously im gonna need to look up jokes. gonna need to outsource at every turn #absolutely unprompted

[gimmethatagustd]

Doing these drabbles has shown me that when I write a series, I should switch to writing several chapters with low word counts but come out consistently.

I keep forcing myself to write long chapters (and failing). Then I take forever to post the next chapter of a fic cuz I get so stressed out over not wanting the chapter to be "too short." When in reality, I should just do like 2k-4k words per chapter and release a chapter a week and fucking let go of this weird pressure I put on myself to write long chapters and then feeling like shit when I can't 🫠

#i think i give myself this pressure cuz people seem to prefer long chapters #but i really just cannot fucking do it #it causes me stress #i take too long to write #i could just post little things until we get to the end and who cares if it's 50 chapters long okay ?? who cares !! #you still get the same amount of content idk !! #jai talks

[kedreeva]

I just figured it out. I have solved my mystery. Why I am SO fucking in LOVE with all the little ficlets I see, and WHICH ones I love most. It's the ones where the author describes Eddie doing something mundane, from Steve's POV (usually but not always). But just. Describes him standing there in the kitchen, or leaning on the counter at family video, or driving in his van. Describes him whole and well and continuing to exist. Persisting, despite that canon attempted to kill him. he cannot be killed in a way that matters. people will keep writing him standing on steve's doorstep, or playing his guitar, or reading a book to Steve on the couch or in his bed. canon cannot truly kill him as long as we have adjectives; he will always be alive and vibrant in our hands.

#stranger things #eddie munson #i started to read a description of him cooking in the kitchen #and I just thought #this is it #this is what we are all writing about constantly #he cannot be dead if we can all see him so clearly #he will not die as long as we describe the shirt he's wearing #and the way he's done his hair #and the tune he's humming #we always have the final say

[stackslip]

if i have to see one more post on how zuko is the best character ever written,

#please watch another show. read basara by yumi tamura she fucking annihilates the 'prince gets a redemption arc' thing long before zuko #please i cannot stand it anymore. i get loving his writing and character no worries you can. #if i have to hear 1 more time how atla is the best show ever written and has more nuanced writing than anything on tv im gonna go non linea #eli talks

[beepboopbupbip]

Just some hurt/comfort... no I'm not projecting shh (the challengers dialouge is in italics, P03s is in italics and bold. Is this a fic or an imagine? Yes, no, maybe. Just read it I know it's a mess.)

You know how P03 is always unkempt? He doesn't feel like he deserves to be taken care of, to take care of himself, I mean.

It's an average day, playing a round of inscryption. But something is off, P03 isn't even cocky or arrogant anymore, he just seems...

Tired.

You ask him a few times if he's okay, getting the same response each time. "I'm fine". He gets progressively more angry each time, but also just... more sad. Theres a few tears in his eyes, and hes shaking softly.

This continues and you almost give up on the matter, when you see a battery low notification on P03s screen and he flops down cold. Unconscious.

You walk up to him, and he's still running. You swear you can hear him wince and cry out of fear when you plug in his charging cord, afraid of being touched, afraid of being vulnerable. Before throwing a small blanket on him, shutting off the lights and leaving the room so he can rest.

He turns back on a short while later, and as you go to check on him, he explodes. You calmly explain he had passed out and he insists he doesn't need to charge. Yanking the cable out as he stands, causing him to show a battery 14% warning and his hovers to flicker, forcing him to sit back down before he falls over. You turn on the lights, so you can see him better.

You could say it's an argument, but it's mostly just P03s unintelligible insults as he tries and fails to stop crying and you attempting to calm him down and get him to rest again. Until he just breaks down in front of you

"What do you want from me!?".

You hear him yell, and it's nearly enough to shatter your heart into two. You walk up to him, seeing his eyes flash with fear. He's scared, he doesn't want you to hurt him. Instead, you simply take the blanket, and wrap it around him while trying to make as little contact with him as possible. You don't want anything from him, just for him to take care of himself.

You get through to him eventually, and he plugs back in the cable. Resting his head on the game table and crying into his arm. You grab a small pillow and a plush, handing him both and giving him a sympathetic look. Seeing him instead rest his head on the pillow, holding the plush close.

You can hear words through his mumbled sobs, albeit barely. You listen in closer, cocking your head in curiosity...

"I'm sorry."

You have to crouch down to his level, him already being much smaller then you and him also sitting down. Seeing his screen show tears in his eyes slowly forming before falling down, and the condensation rolling down his monitor.

"Don't apologize to me."

He's clearly confused by this, he snapped at you. You should be angry with him, but you don't even want an apology from him. You can see his face shift to one of confusion, turning his head and looking away from you.

"Apologize to yourself, P03. It'll take some time, but you need to forgive yourself before you can forgive anyone else."

You can see P03 nod, and you stand back up. Turning off the lights once more and shutting the door behind you to give him his space and to make him feel less vulnerable. You smile as you walk out, the sight of him resting is actually quite cute... you hope it's not the last time you'll see that.

It's going to take some time, he still doesn't think he deserves it, and even after he's going to struggle sometimes, but that's okay. You can be there every step of the way. And plus...

Maybe one day you'll be a bit more then this.

#shh... im not projecting... #shh shh... #i am so sorry i suck at writing #if you read this whole thing and decide to reblog pls tag “banana” so i can be happy knowing that someone beared with me this long #send help i cannot get the readmore to work on tumblr mobile #p03 #inscryption #inscryption p03 #p03 inscryption #p03 x reader #p03 my beloved

[tetsuskei]

putting myself in solitary confinement to finish my ace fic

#long smut fic my beloathed #i cannot write short things to save my life #risu’s rambles ☆