#I don’t tell them they’re on thin ice but I’m READY

[einsteinbrosofficial]

I have to say. Going to grad school for psychology while having a healthy distrust of all the rampant ableism in the mental health field. Is a trip. I am staring the clinical department down at all times.

#I don’t tell them they’re on thin ice but I’m READY #I have friends in the clinical dept who I’m like yeah you I trust you’re good #but ironically none of them are planning on going into practice #also to clarify I’m on the experimental psych side #I don’t work with anything DSM related #I mean I’m making some evidence abt the connection between adhd and rejection sensitivity #but it’s more like #me yelling abt how we classify self regulatory systems in the brain #I’m very. how does brain work and how is it organized. #not rly anything to do with disorders

[loveinhawkins]

Barely ten minutes into the hike from Skull Rock to Lover’s Lake, Dustin heaves a sigh like he’s the most long suffering person in the world to ever exist. Steve rolls his eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Henderson, what?”

“I’m bored.”

“God, you’re such a whiner. No, you—you’re like a little kid on a road trip, like, are we there yet?”

Behind them, Max and Lucas snort in almost perfect unison.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees Eddie’s lips twitch into the faint semblance of a smile. It’s very quick, blink and you miss it, before he turns sombre again, looking down at the forest floor. Steve can’t blame the guy; he can’t imagine that he has all that much to smile about.

“I just meant,” Dustin says, “that we could use some entertainment.” He jerks his head meaningfully at Eddie—who thankfully still has his head down so he can’t witness this tremendous lack of subtlety—and mouths, You know, a distraction.

“And I’m the entertainment guy,” Steve says flatly.

“Well, we’ve gotta keep you around for some reason,” Lucas pipes up.

Steve turns around, walks backwards so he can point warningly at him. “Thin ice, Sinclair.”

But it’s all for show, and he keeps walking backwards, pretends to trip on a tree root and narrowly avoid a pratfall. Max actually giggles at that, which is a victory in and of itself, but Eddie’s looking down at his feet.

Hmm.

“If I wanted slapstick, I would’ve called Charlie Chaplin,” Dustin says.

“He’s dead,” Max points out.

Dustin quickly draws a hand over his neck, Cut it out. Which—yeah, that’s fair. Don’t want the conversation straying into stuff that’s too close to… everything.

“So you want education instead?” Steve says. “I think I can remember how to identify, like, some trees and shit from—”

“Forget Lover’s Lake,” Dustin says, “I’m walking you straight into a retirement home.”

Steve opens his mouth, ready to play up his outrage, and then he hears a very soft chuckle from the side. Eddie.

Steve catches Dustin’s eye, winks briefly in reassurance. Nice work.

“Oh, sorry, is that not entertaining enough for you?” Steve turns so he’s front facing again, kicking a few stray twigs as he thinks. “Uh… ooh, did I tell you about the affair? At work?”

“Someone’s having an affair at Family Video?” Lucas says, sounding disgusted.

Max cackles. “The scandal! At a family establishment, no less.”

Dustin points at her. “See, this is why you should play D&D!” he says, annoyingly sing-song. “You’ve got a flair for words.”

“How about I stick my flair right up your—”

“Uh, okay,” Eddie interrupts suddenly. “I need details.”

Aha, Steve thinks, smug. Got you.

“Fire away, Munson.”

“Did someone, like, confess to you while you were ringing them up?”

Steve scoffs. “No, it was—” He cups his mouth, calls, “Hey, Rob?”

Up ahead, Robin and Nancy turn.

“What?”

“The affair shift.”

“Oh!” Robin whacks Nancy on the arm in her enthusiasm. “This is such a good one. Okay, so am I gonna be her or—?”

“No!” Steve says. “You’ve gotta be me, you can’t do her voice right.”

“Ugh, fine, fine. Wait, I need to get into character.”

Robin makes a show of ruffling her hair, and Steve doesn’t even roll his eyes, can only grin as he hears Eddie cough a much stronger laugh into his elbow.

“Nance, count us in,” Robin says.

Nancy looks a mixture of surprised and amused. It only takes a moment of hesitance before she mimes holding a slate, mouths counting down. “Action!”

And they’re off.

It’s probably so stupid, Steve thinks, to be this loud right now, but he can’t bring himself to care—not when he can hear raucous laughter from all directions: Robin captures his flustered, wide-eyed look, while he dramatically re-enacts a woman storming into the store, demanding to see her husband’s account.

And he thinks Eddie actually laughs the loudest when he gets to the reveal: that said account was full of romantic movies the married couple had never seen together.

“Not one,” Steve echoes—and not to brag, but with this delivery? Juilliard, eat your heart out. “Not. One!”

The kids dissolve into more giggles; Robin fights to stay in character as Nancy jokingly calls, “And, scene!”

And Eddie throws back his head, and laughs and laughs.

Happiness is a good look on him, Steve thinks.

They all quieten eventually, but a lightness in mood still remains, as the kids huddle off together—“Hey, shitheads, not too far!” Steve says, far from the first time—and Eddie sidles up, fleetingly knocks their shoulders together.

“Steve Harrington. Who would’ve thought it, huh?”

“Thought what?”

Steve glances over at him, suddenly struck by the fact that the sun will go down soon; and he doesn’t really need to know what Mordor is to know that he’d rather not get there. That he’d rather freeze time, so they could all just walk in the woods forever.

Eddie shrugs. “You’re a good storyteller.” His eyes are soft, like that isn’t all that he’s saying. Like he’s saying Thank you.

Steve shrugs back. “I’m a man of many talents,” he says.

Eddie chuckles, and this time his smile doesn’t fade away.

Steve allows himself a moment or two to admire the scenery, and if that means looking less at the way the sun still shines through the gaps in the branches, and more the way that it illuminates Eddie’s lingering smile, well…

Well, so what?

Right now, we’re happy, Steve finds himself thinking.

They can stay in the Shire for a little while longer.

#oh missing scenes how i love you ❤️ #steddie #steddie ficlet #pre steddie #steve and the party #steve and dustin #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #let steve be silly and have fun agenda <3 #steve and robin

[warmblanketwhump]

this was originally written for the sicktember prompt “I should have stayed home” but I forgot about it. so enjoy it now!!!

A raises their eyebrows as they see B dressing to go into town. “B, are you sure you don’t want us to to stay home and rest for another week? I can handle it.”

B shakes their head, pulling on their coat and winding their scarf around their neck. “I’m fine. I’ll go mad if I have to stay inside another day, and I want to help.”

A sighs, trying not to notice the dark shadows under B’s eyes. B’s been under the weather for the last week and a half, battling a terrible cold that hit along with the sudden cold snap. After nearly a week of being too weak to leave their bed, B had been getting restless, their mind tired of being confined to the cabin even while their body struggled to recover. But A wants to trusts B’s judgement of their own body and how they're feeling, so they let the matter drop.

Besides, A thinks, with the smallest tinge of guilt, we really do need the money from this market—maybe they really are ready to help. The doctor’s visits and bottle of medicines had stretched them thin this month, and there were only a few markets left to sell as much as they could before winter would set in.

On the ride into town, B seems alright—a bit more talkative and a few more smiles and rough-voiced laughs at A’s banter. And for a moment, A wonders if B’s just feeling better than they look.

But when they arrive at the town’s weekend market and start to set up their wares, A notices the way B struggles to lift even the lightest of the crates, how frequently they stop tug their scarf closer against the damp, misty air, how hunched their shoulders are. A says nothing, but tries to move the other crates as quickly as possible to ensure B doesn’t have to work as hard.

“You sure you’re okay, B?” A asks as they unload the final crate. They look exhausted.

B nods, though A notices they’re a few shades paler than when they left home. “I’m alright. Just not used to this much activity.” They try a weak smile, but it only serves to underscore how worn out they already look.

“B, if you need a break, you rest, alright?” A’s voice is stern, but they let their hand gently squeeze B’s shoulder, and B nods again. “And if you're not feeling well, you tell me.” B nods, their gaze already slightly glazed, and A fights back the urge to head for home right that moment. Trust them. They’ll say something.

The market opens, and soon A’s swept up in orders, chatting with friends and neighbors, hurriedly moving about their stand to ensure everyone has what they need. Out of the corner of their eye, they see B seated on one of the barrels they brought.

Good, A thinks as they take the money from another customer. They're taking a break like they're supposed to.

The morning continues, cold and cloudy and breezy, with a steady stream of customers buying their goods. It isn’t until a lull in the customers later in the morning that A sees C, a fellow vendor and friend from a neighboring farmstead, come by with a grey wool blanket tucked under their arms.

A shakes hands with C and the two exchange pleasantries about the weather, the harvest, the town news, and everything in between as A gathers up C’s usual order.

Then, C holds out the blanket. “For B.”

A takes the blanket, a puzzled expression on their face. “What?”

C gestures behind them. “Poor thing’s looked miserable all morning, and we had an extra blanket in our wagon. D said they couldn’t bear to watch them freeze for another minute.”

A whirls around. Sure enough, B’s curled up on the barrel, visibly trembling and clutching their coat close to themselves, and most definitely not the picture of health.

A takes the outstretched blanket and hurriedly nods to C in gratitude, then rushes back to B, who looks awful. All the color is gone from their face, their lips are a faint purplish-blue, and their teeth are chattering. When A takes B's hands, they feel like ice. A should have known that B would be too easily chilled in weather like this, especially considering how under the weather they’d been.

“B, what happened?” A briskly rubs B’s hands before tucking the blanket around B, then rubs their shoulders for good measure.

B tugs the blanket closer, shrugging. “Got c-cold.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“D-didn’t want t-to bother you. We need the money.”

A curses under their breath, wrapping their arms around B and pulling them close, wincing as they feel how frail B is in their arms, the near-constant shivers that wrack their frame.

B’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper. “I s-should have s-s-stayed home.”

They weren’t better after all, A thinks grimly. Helplessly, they look around the stand—boxes of goods that need packing up, loaded back into the wagon—and then there’s B, who’s practically collapsing in A’s arm, who A desperately wants to get out of the wind—

Before they can even begin to feel the full weight of the crushing guilt, C’s in their line of vision, eyes full of concern. “Go home. We’ll take care of this.”

“C, I can’t—“

“A, don’t worry. We’ll pack it all up. You can stop by the farm whenever to get it.”

A can barely whisper a thank you through the lump in their throat, then turns to B. “Alright, B. Let’s get you home and warmed up.”

Gone is the easy chatter of their ride into town—now, B just curls into A’s side, face buried in the blanket, soft, keening whimpers as they press their body closer to A and their warmth. Around them, the smallest snowflakes begin to fall, little glittering shards that dust A’s coat and make them will their horse to go faster.

When they arrive home, A practically leaps out of the wagon, B in their arms. A hurries B inside, setting them in a chair and stoking the coals to get the fire high. B’s trembling from head to toe, and A hastily covers them in another blanket, vigorously rubbing their arms. “There you go. I’ll get something hot for you to drink, then get you in a warm bath. How does that sound?” A tries to keep their voice even. B’s teeth are chattering too hard to respond.

After putting the horse and wagon away, A gets to work heating some canned broth from their pantry, then helps spoon feed sips through B’s lips when they’re shaking too hard to hold the bowl.

When they’re finished, A realizes that B’s ghostly pallor had been replaced with glassy eyes and high spots of color on their cheeks.

“B…how are you feeling?” A’s tone is cautious, warning.

“Cold,” B rasps, and still they shivered and clung to the blankets as they hunched close to the fire. “Need…need the hot bath.”

A palms a cool hand on B’s forehead, and their worst fears are confirmed. Whether B’s fever had never been gone or had relapsed when B had gotten chilled, it was back with a vengeance. They’re sicker now than they had been all week.

“B, you’ve got a fever. I….I can’t.”

B’s eyes are wild, feverish, desperate. “Please. Even a minute or two.” Their voice cracks on the last word, and they cough feebly.

“B, I can’t. I’m so sorry.”

After a few minutes of desperate pacing, a compromise was reached: a small washbasin filled with heated water so B could soak their feet and hopefully take the edge off their chills.

After being dressed in the softest clothes A could find, B’s tucked into bed under two quilts pulled up to their chin.

B coughs feebly and tugs the blankets over their nose. Outside, the wind howls as a fall storm blows through, small icy pellets pelting the windowpanes, and B shudders weakly. “The wind. I can still feel it in my bones.”

A doesn’t feel a draft—only the stuffy air of an overheated cabin. Still, they smooth the quilts over B’s body before covering them with a third blanket, gently hushing them. B grasps the covers, squeezing their eyes shut as a single tear escapes.

“Please, A. I’m so cold. I want to go home.”

Great. Now they’re hallucinating.

“You’re alright. You’re inside where it’s warm.”

“Please, A. I want to go home.” B’s voice cracks on the last plea, and A can’t take it any more. They crawl under the covers with B, wrapping them up in their arms and hugging them close, feeling the fever burn through the layers.

“I’ll keep you warm, B. Just try to sleep.”

B rolls over to face A, and A can just catch the tear tracks in the flickering light of the fire. But it’s only a moment before B buries their face in A’s chest. So A hugs them closer, whispering soft, encouraging words as they try and lull B to sleep.

#cold whump #fever whump #sickfic whump #this has been languishing in my inbox for a while #so HERE #*throws shiny object your way*

[apothe-roses]

I Wanna Ride

Modern Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Part 3

Previous Part | Next Part

Summary: the deal is struck between you and Aemond

Warnings: none, really

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I’ve been really busy with work, and this part was kinda hard to write. That’s also why this is shorter

Word Count: 1.6k

“And he didn’t tell you what he wanted?” Aly looks over at you while adding a slice of turkey to the sandwich she’s making? You shake your head. It had been a few days since everything went down, yet you were still trying to wrap your head around it all. The fact that Aemond would consider helping you at all—foreboding debt aside—just didn’t make sense to you.

“Why does he have to be so cryptic and spooky,” Aly asks, adding a generous amount of mayo to the sandwich.

“Beats me,” you reply. A shout startles you both out of your conversation. You and Aly turn your heads to the living room area. Benji Blackwood and his two friends Kermit and Oscar Tully—“the muppets” as Aly likes to call them—are sprawled across Aly’s couch, cursing at a video game they’re thoroughly engrossed in.

“Oi! You tryin’ to wake your dad up?” Aly calls to them. Currently, Aly’s brother Sam was down the hall, trying to sleep off a migraine. The boys cringe slightly.

“Sorry,” one of the Tully boys stage whispers back to Aly. She sighs. “Anyways, lunch is ready.” In a flash, the boys were on their feet, making their way to the kitchen. Aly pushes the sandwich with the mayo mountain towards Benji.

“Would you like some sandwich with your mayo?” She teases. Benji scowls back, but his expression quickly morphs into a grin. The boys make their way back to the couch. Aly turns to you.

“Listen, if he tries to pull anything with you, just say the word and I’ll kick his ass. Then I’ll call Cregan and he’ll also kick his ass.” You laugh in response. “What’s his deal with them anyways? Are they friends?”

“Acquaintances is more like it. They get along well enough, but Creg’s friendship with Jace sorta puts him on thin ice.”

“…Yeah, I still don’t get it.”

“Look, rich people friendships are weird, okay?” Aly explains. “Sometimes it’s better if you don’t ask questions and just go with it. I find the truth usually comes out on its own time.” She starts resealing containers and putting them in the fridge. You follow suit, deciding to take her advice. You two clean in silence for a couple minutes, until your phone buzzes. You look at the name on the screen, suddenly feeling very nervous.

You show the conversation to Aly. Her eyebrows raise, and she notes the tense expression on your face. “You know you don’t have to do this right? I’m sure I could find some time to give you lessons.”

You think about it for a moment. Aly would certainly be a nicer teacher than Aemond. But her Raven is much different than your Meraxes. Plus, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking for an excuse to learn more about the enigmatic, handsome Targaryen.

“I don’t want to cut into your time with your family. I know how important it is to you,” you tell her. “Besides, we’re all adults. I can handle a little tough love.”

“Alright then. Lemme know if you change your mind,” Aly relents, leaving the kitchen. You turn back to your phone to text Aemond.

Saturday morning comes far too soon, and you find yourself heading back to Aemond and Aegon’s shop in the passenger seat of Aly’s truck. One of the doors is rolle up, and you can see Aemond working on a bike. He lifts his head when he hears the engine.

“Well,” you breathe, “here goes nothing.”

“Remember, I’m only a text away,” Aly reassures you. You grin then exit out the passenger side door. Before you turn away, you see Aly glare at Aemond, pointing at her eyes then at him before making a u-turn and driving off. You take a deep breath, then walk over to Aemond. By now, he’s standing and wiping his hands with a cloth. He’s wearing the same outfit as when you two first met, only this time the coveralls are unzipped with the sleeves tied around his waist. The white singlet he’s wearing does nothing to hide the definition of his chest or arms. A few streaks of grime decorate his body, along with a few tattoos. He’s not overtly bulky, but he’s definitely in shape. His biceps flex slightly as he cleans his hands; you try not to bite your lip.

You both stand in awkward silence, waiting for someone to break it. You decide to bite the bullet yourself.

“Where’s Aegon,” you ask, peering into the garage, but there’s no sign of Aemond’s brother.

“He doesn’t typically come in on weekends,” Aemond answers. “Prefers to sleep in.”

“Oh.” You’d hoped he’d be here; his easygoing nature could’ve served as a good mediator.

“So I take it you’re interested?” It takes a moment for you to realize he meant the training.

“Oh I’m yeah. But I want to know what exactly you’re hoping to get out of this,” you reply quickly. Get your shit together you mentally chastise yourself. He’s not worth it.

“Hmm, yes. I’ve been going back and forth on what I want from you,” he starts, setting the rag on a nearby workbench. He turns his back on you.

“And you’ve decided on…” you prompt. He drums his fingers on the table, silent. Then…

“The Conqueror’s Gala. I need someone to go with me,” he states. That’s it? He needs a date to some fancy event? You thought you’d have to do something like clean his house or shine his bike for a month. Not this.

“If you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend, Targaryen-“

“No. Gods no. Nothing like that.” Aemond hastily replies. “My mother is always on my as about bringing a date. Normally, I’d just go with Helaena, but this year she’s decided to side with mum. They want me to prove that I’m capable of spending time with people I’m not directly related to.” His mouth presses into a thin line, and he averts his gaze. He starts drumming his fingers again. It looks like that’s something he does when he’s agitated. You let the silence simmer, silently enjoying the way his jaw clenched.

“Hmmm. I suppose I could spare one evening to get all dressed up and rub elbows with the Westerosi elite,” you sigh in pretend annoyance. He gives you a disgruntled look. “Trust me. It’s not the fun time you think,” he says sharply. Of course a cryptic like him wouldn’t enjoy social events. You try not to laugh at the thought.

“Well, fun or not, I’ll take it,” you tell him. His shoulders relax a little.

“Good,” he says stiffly. “Shall we?” he gestures his hand towards the bike. You realize it’s his own, the bronze coloring of the Vaghar catching the late morning light. You make your way over and take your seat. The bike has the same controls as your Meraxes, but his has extra side mirrors affixed.

Aemond leans over you, one hand on the handlebar and the other on the seat behind you. It takes all your willpower not to gawk at his arm.

“Alright,” Aemond says softly. “Now I want you to start the engine.”

You turn and look at him, incredulous. “You think I don’t know how to start a bike?”

Aemond levels a flare at you. “I’m just being thorough.” You scoff and roll your eyes, but you do as he says.

“Good,” he muses. He’s inches from your ear. The soft timbre of his voice sends a shudder through you. “Now what?” You choke out. You hate the effect he has on you.

“I want you to shift to first gear,” he instructs. All you can do is obey blindly.

“Good. Good,” he praises. He has you go through all the gears and how to break, giving a little praise each time you do something correct. It’s all painfully easy, and you should be insulted he’s making you prove such basic knowledge. Instead, you silently relish the rush of warmth you get with each praise. Hell, you’re almost tempted to get something wrong on purpose just to see how he’ll react? Would he gently explain the correction, or would he go back to being rude and insult you?

“Well then,” Aemond says, pushing off his bike. You mourn the loss of his warmth on your shoulder. “It seems you really do know the basics.” He drawls the last part. Oh yeah, that’s what it’s like when he insults you. You get off the bike, and he starts to wheel it into the garage. “But the Dragon Rally isn’t for the feint of heart. You’ll need to be able to ride long distances in potentially rough weather. You need to be adaptable, ready to make a decision at a moment’s notice. And that’s not even including the Rally itself.”

“What happens at the Rally?” you ask.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Aemond replies, turning his back on you. You scoff. “Yes. I would. That’s why I asked”

He smirks. “All you need to know is that you need to build up your endurance. I’d like to take you on a ride through the Kingswood when you’re next available. Once you’re comfortable, we’ll take more challenging treks. Sound good?”

You nod your head. At least you won’t have to have weird conversations with him when riding.

“Good. Check your schedule, and give me your next available date,” he says before pulling the garage door closed in your face.

You stand there in stunned silence. What the fuck is up with this guy?

You text Aly, and a few minutes later her truck pulls up to the sidewalk.

“Well that was quick,” she observes as you put on your seatbelt.

“You’re telling me,” you reply, looking back at the garage as Aly pulls away.

You were confused. You were intrigued. Something told you this was only the tip of the iceberg that was Aemond Targaryen.

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Taglist: @valeskafics @carriellie @let-love-bleeds-red @wintrr13 @queenofshinigamis @seabasscevans @fangirlninja67 @toodlesxcuddles @almostpurplelady @goldenpanda16 @aemonds-fire @yentroucnagol @tssf-imagines @n4tforlife @mooncalvin @julczimozart @kezibear

Bold means I couldn’t tag you

#Aemond Targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #modern aemond x reader #modern!aemond x reader #I Wanna Ride Aemond x Reader

[bengiyo]

Last Twilight Ep 6 Stray Thoughts

Last week Day met August again for the first time, and it was clear that the attraction between them is mutual. Mhok encouraged the two to hang out, and had a practice date with Day to get him ready. However, August let all of us down. Day waited an hour before Mhok came back in to take Day around. Still, they waited until late for August to arrive as Day recounts that he did like August. August then bailed again, telling Mhok not to let Day know he was there. I’m also worried about how much Day compromises himself for August’s benefit.

I like the way Mhok gave the glass of water to hungover Day.

Does Day not remember much of the night? Either way, I’m glad Mhok avoided fibbing.

Okay. I liked Mhok’s glare here. August needs to know that Mhok is not going to be passive about Day.

I will accept August’s excuse for now, but he’s on very thin ice.

I’m invested in Aon’s new relationship with his girlfriend way more than I expected. He looks so happy about it.

Yes, Porjai! Ask after Night! Take your shot!

I like fixing the shoes, but no socks? Runners, please check in with me here.

I feel like there’s a lot double meaning in the dialogue this episode.

One of my favorite framing techniques in BL is when two people are facing each other and a third person is framed between them. They keep doing that with Mhok between Day and August.

I like the reminder that Mhok is maybe a little bit older than these college kids. Also glad Porjai is calling him out on his obvious crush on Day.

Oh, he used his eye drops to look at August.

They’re holding hands while they run now? Well, well, well.

There’s a race next month? How will August let us down, and will Mhok rise to the occasion and be his racing partner?

Okay, I really like the mom celebrating Day’s birthday a little bit early because she’ll be busy, and Day appreciating that she still prioritized him.

Will someone tell Mhok (and us) what this drama between the brothers is about??

Sea is very attractive.

“How do I look?” – “You look ready.”

They are definitely flirting!

Be careful touching that earring, Day! I watched the BTS and it is barely holding on with magnet, glue, and prayers!

He gave Mhok his favorite perfume? THIS IS GAY AS HELL.

I like the surprise party for Day. This is excellent drama. We thought August forgot, but instead it’s Mhok having to back down.

Does August know he’s competing with Mhok?

No, Mhok! Don’t regress! Don’t start smoking again!

Oh, whew, he took a walk.

This is way too many people touching and fussing over Day at once. He’s going to freak out.

Okay, Aof, having Mhok show up just in time to see August kiss Day, and have him appear between them? Mean.

WAIT? DID AUGUST JUST WALK AWAY??

A GOOD MEMORY??? WHERE IS THE GIF OF BRIGHT SAYING, “KILL HIM”? I don’t like the pity coloring all of his choices here. I get that he doesn’t have control of how he feels, but initiating this kiss was a bad call.

Oh good. We’re on a rooftop. Let me calm down.

Mhmm, and this is why I’m mad at August. He ruined what should have been a kind gesture. Day feels like people only showed up to celebrate him because they pitied him.

Timing this kiss with the sun like this? Now that’s cinema, baby!!

I love Aof. Next week promises to sort out the feelings stirred and revealed by this kiss.

I’m so disappointed in August. I was already down on him last week because of the way Day feels like he has to accommodate him, and then he lets us down like this? I’m over this boy! I don’t want to see his ass again in this show! Baby Ohm, I love you and we will see you in Kidnap with Big Ohm later! Goodbye!

#last twilight #last twilight the series #thai bl #bl series #Ben watches

[messy-crisantemo]

Since we’ve entered a Gentan renaissance, I figured I should make a

🍉 GenTan fic recommendation list 🎴

Note that this is a list of personal favorites based on my likes and the many (yet not all existent) fics I’ve read. They’re not put in any particular order and they’re all completed fics. I’m adding some of the tags, but not all of them since I don’t want to make this post extra long, so please read them again once you go to the Ao3 link. And finally, if anyone is anime-only, even if a fic is spoiler free, it’s likely that it’ll have some reference to Genya’s abilities or family relationships, so be careful.

That being said, we proceed!

Don’t Talk to Me by 125389, 9k

(Red Light District Arc, Canon-Typical Violence, Meet-Cute, Strangers to friends to enemies to ???, Humor, Crushes)

A second impression, a star-crossed meeting, a misunderstanding. Each was there to do his job, to keep matters strictly business, but when have things ever been that simple?

Beautifully written, fantastic humor, and just GenTan inevitably falling for each other (both romantically and literally).

To Be The Piece You Need by Gilberrts, 11k

(Alternate Universe - High School, Dialogue Heavy, Friends to Lovers)

Shinazugawa Genya's life is in a downward spiral. He has no friends, his grades are on thin ice, and he can't seem to stop outgrowing his clothes. Then, when his relationship with his brother finally hits rock bottom, Genya has a strange encounter with the sole member of the school's cooking club.

Hurt-Comfort scenario where, of course, Tanjirou is the comfort.

Rest + Recovery by aizetsus, 2k

(genya is stressed, post Swordsmith Village Arc)

Genya gets overwhelmed pretty easily. Especially when faced with a cute boy.

It wouldn’t be a GenTan rec list without our traditional, fluffy scenario of Genya pining for Tanjirou.

Cardinals by bluejelly245, 8k

(Modern AU, Wakes & Funerals, Hurt/Comfort, Conversations, Friendship/Love, Past Abuse)

Genya and his family attend the funeral wake for Tanjiro’s father, much to the younger Shinazugawa boy’s dismay. The last thing he wanted to do was spend his evening surrounded by tears and grief, but what he least expected, was to end up on Tanijro’s bedroom floor, comforting the strange boy after his loss.

Genya discovers he is a good person, so sweet despite the gloomy scenario.

loveholic by mimimimi (reiiiiii), 81k

(Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, CEO Genya, Slow Burn, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Aged-Up Character(s), Strangers to Lovers, No Spoilers, Relationship Study)

Tanjirou lives a normal life as a university student on his last year, struggling financially to maintain a life that's not affordable anymore. On the other side, Genya is back to Japan after 17 years living overseas, ready to ruin his father's attempts to save face after several mistakes.

Both are on the edge, about to fall apart.

What will happen once their different worlds collide?

One of those fics that make you squirm under the blankets at 2am because you just can’t stop reading.

A tale of young love and starry nights by kenmagoesblep, 3k

(Canon Divergence, Post-Canon, Fix-it, Fluff and Humor, Getting together, Love Confessions, Festivals, Minor Spoilers)

The sun is already down by the time they arrive and the colorful paper lanterns bathe the streets with a faint whimsical warm glow, highlighting the easy smiles of the festival attendees and the natural glisten of the fresh food in the stalls. Their eyes immediately go to the makeshift gate made with bent bamboo, all adorned with people’s written wishes, to be sent to the heavens by the end of the night.

Genya’s handwriting is shaky but hopefully the crooked words will carry his wish just fine.

Sweet, sweet, sweet.

diet soda society by beecalm, 6k

(Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff and Humor, Genya makes bad life choices, Brunch, No Spoilers)

Genya knows he should just tell the truth. He got frustrated, and thought that strong words of persuasion would revive his bike from the dead. Non-judgemental as he is, Tanjiro would probably just laugh it off and walk home with a smile on his face.

“I got into a fight,” Genya lies, instead.

(or; Genya yells at his bike, lies about his ability to kick ass, and gets indoctrinated into Kamado Tanjiro’s Saturday morning brunch club.)

GenTan + friends in a super silly and funny scenario.

July by 125389, 45k

(Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Canon Compliant, Modern Setting, Reincarnation, Manga Finale Spoilers)

It could've been just another weekend, just another month, just another season passing by, but instead they made that summer theirs.

Two teens discovering love naturally and intensely. Tears were shed and hearts were healed. It might or might not be a Fix-it.

Tonight’s sky by Wild_Quetzal, 6k

(Canon Compliant, Missing Scene, Hashira Training Arc, Introspection, Pining, Arguing, Light Angst, Fluff, First Dates, First Kiss, Hopeful Ending)

Tanjirou didn’t recall having watched so many people gathered before, not even when his sister and him went to Asakusa. Everything was so appealing and, at the same time, disorienting for him.

He would’ve been feeling lost if it wasn’t because Genya was beside him.

(Or, sharing a night at a festival with Genya should’ve been easy, if it wasn’t for an unexpected event and Tanjirou himself getting in the way)

Yes, we got to the self-promotion part. I’m especially proud of this one <3

And last but not least!

Todo empezó con (un beso) una despedida by Dogchasingcars, 20k

(Manga Spoilers, Post-Canon, First Kiss, Love Letters, Long-Distance Relationship, Reunited and it feels so good, Family Bonding, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Lo que inicia como una breve despedida y la promesa de reunirse pronto (sellada con un beso), termina volviéndose una larga espera para volver a verse.

Because we’re not gonna leave the Spanish-speaking side of the fandom empty handed and it’s one of my favorite GenTan fics of all time. Melancólico y dulce, todo el dolor vale la pena.

#I highly recommend checking out more of these authors’ works! #they’re all amazing! #gentan #genya x tanjirou #genya shinazugawa #tanjirou kamado #kny genya #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny #kny fanfic #kny fic #demon slayer fanfic #fanfic rec #ao3 link

[oh-stars]

Duck!

D is for Duck

Ohstars Alphabet Prompts | G | 667 words | cw: N/A

---

“We don’t get here enough,” Steve says as he pushes the stroller. 

Robin hums. “No, we don’t.” She tugs down the visor on the stroller to hide Charlotte from the sun more. “I’m surprised their parents let you take them.” 

Steve’s eyes count each kid again, all seven accounted for, as they head to the next exhibit. “I think the Feds’ story about me helping get them out of the fire really put the final nail in the ‘Steve’s a Competent Babysitter’ title. Kind of hard to come up with an excuse why I can’t take them somewhere when I saved their lives.” It's not that simple, he knows that, but he’s proven time and time again that he’ll do what it takes to get those little shits out of harm’s way. 

Erica stops in the middle of the walkway and points to the ice cream stand with a raised eyebrow. Their deal still rings in his head. 

“Fine,” he calls, “go.” He can’t deny her anything, especially not when it’s as hot as it is out here. They hadn’t really taken into account the August heat when they made the last minute plan for a day at the zoo. 

She holds her head high as she passes the others and heads for the stand. 

By the time Steve and Robin make their way to the stand, the others already have their ice cream cones – arguing over which flavor is supreme. They’re all wrong, nothing beats butterscotch, but Steve doesn’t have the fight in him to get in the middle of that. He pays for everyone and takes Charlotte over to a nearby table so he can share the cup of ice cream he got for them. 

She’s been grumpy all day. He’s pretty sure it’s the fact he won’t let her down to run around, not with the cast still on her leg. He’d love nothing more for her to be able to play like she should, but he also needs her to heal right, so stroller jail it is. 

“C’mon, Lots,” Steve says, holding out the spoon for her to take a bite. 

Charlotte pushes away the spoon with a mighty, “No!” 

Steve sighs and takes the bite for himself. 

“I thought she liked the zoo,” Dustin asks, pointing to her. 

“She does,” Steve says. “She’s mad at me.” 

“How do you anger a toddler?” Mike asks, a snotty little eyebrow raised. 

Steve just shrugs. His patience is thinning and as much as his little girl lights up his life, right now, he needs a goddamn break. He keeps trying to feed her, every few bites, while the kids decide where they’re going next. The reptile house seems to be their next hit. 

Suddenly, Charlotte lights up, straining against the seatbelt on her stroller. “Da-ee! Duck!” she cries, pointing past him. 

He looks over his shoulder and, sure enough, a few ducks are waddling through the gate toward the tables. Huh. Steve sets down the cup of ice cream and quickly pulls Charlotte out of her stroller for a better look. “You see the duckies?” 

“Duck,” she says, toothy grin wide as she carefully watches them. 

They drove all this way to see cool animals and spend the day together, and the one thing that puts a smile on her face isn’t even a part of the zoo. 

The ducks quack as they get closer. Steve knows he shouldn’t encourage them, but he reaches into the diaper bag for some of Charlotte’s crackers so she can feed them. It’s the least he can do to make this day better for her. 

“Gentle,” he says, helping her scatter the cracker around. 

She giggles, squealing with delight as one of them investigates her cast. “Duck! No!” she says, reaching down to shoo the duck away. 

He looks up to see the kids all done with their ice cream and ready to move on. “Go on,” he tells them. “I think we’re going to be here a minute.”

---

Thank you to @lady-lostmind for beta reading!

Ao3 Link

#ohstars fic #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #robin buckley #stobin #adventures of steve and charlotte #hold on to me #ohstars posting challenge #alphabet prompts

[jjsstars]

lydiaweek2023: Day 2, Favorite Relationship

|| for @lydiamartinappreciation event

|| just for tonight — on my ao3 | 1k+ word count

|| tags : post canon, lydia/scott, they’re both 20, drinking, make out sessions, mentions of past canon relationships (& thiam)

The auburn liquid in her glass swirls as Lydia spins the glass against the bar top, this night hasn’t been nearly as fun as she was hoping it’d be. Everyone from the pack is home for Christmas from college, it’s the first time in two years that Lydia’s seen most of them as she always had to skip out on holidays at home to work.

She had thought tonight would be filled with laughing and smiling like she remembers so fondly of the pack nights from high school, but things have seemed dull. It might have to do with the fact that Malia and Scott broke up, and so did Lydia and Stiles, the only couple that seems to have lasted is Theo and Liam but they never left Beacon Hills in the first place. She wonders if that’s why they work so well, if maybe her and Stiles would’ve stayed together if they never left this cursed town that Lydia still somehow finds herself longing for and loving.

“Want a refill?” Scott’s voice brings her away from her thoughts, he’s slipped behind the bar that’s in the Argents apartment and already has a bottle of whiskey in hand ready to fill Lydia’s cup.

“Might as well.” It’s not like she’ll be doing anything better with her time. Her mother’s over talking to Melissa, Noah and Chris with a cup of wine in her hand that’s only half drunk. They won’t be going home anytime soon and while Lydia could leave without her mother as they took separate cars, that seems a little sad. A twenty year old leaving a party before her own mother does, she refuses to be that depressing.

“You think Noah realizes we’re still underage?” Doubtful.

“Would he care? I’m a banshee and you’re a werewolf, he can try to arrest us but I’m not sure he has the balls.” Scott lets out a warm laugh that brings a smile to Lydia’s face, she’s missed him. More than she ever thought she would, she assumed that texting with Scott and calling with him would be enough for them, but the longer they’ve been apart the more Lydia yearns for him. To have him close again. Like he’s always been.

“Fair enough. You having a good time tonight?” Martin bows her head and chews her bottom lip, it’d be easy to lie to Scott, he might be able to tell off her scent and heartbeat change, but she doubts he’d ever say anything about it. He’d take the ‘yeah I’m great’ and nod along, letting Lydia pretend if she wanted to.

“Tonight isn’t as fun as I thought it’d be.” She says honestly and Scott nods along, pouring himself a whiskey despite the fact that it won’t affect him in the slightest.

“Yeah, things seem- bland.” His face scrunches up as he says it, eyes glancing over to where the rest of the pack are sitting. They’re all in their little groups, avoiding looking at their exes, having trivial conversations that Lydia got bored of two minutes in, sipping at drinks that have become watered down by melting ice. The parents seem to be having the most fun, they’re all laughing loudly and bumping into each others shoulders as if they’re the drunk twenty year olds. At least someone’s having a good time.

“Looks like I wore this nice dress for nothing.” It’s red and satin, thin straps slipped over her shoulders, gold jewelry on her neck and ears that pairs nicely with the dress. It’s too fancy for a party at Chris’s apartment, but Lydia wanted to look nice, wanted to enjoy tonight as much as she could. It feels like a waste now.

“No way, you look great! Beautiful.” McCall comes out from behind the bar to look at Lydia, as if he needs to see the heels she’s paired with the dress too, needs to look at all of her without any barriers blocking his view.

“Thanks Scott, you don’t look too bad yourself.” The black button up he has paired with a pair of formal pants is one of the nicest things Martin has ever seen Scott in, he doesn’t dress up much.

She makes a point to track over his features for an extra moment. Eyes lingering on how his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, on the two buttons up by his collar that are popped open and were probably never closed in the first place, on how he’s somehow gained more muscle since the last time Lydia saw him, on how nice it is to have him here in person and not over a phone screen.

“Do you wanna go out to the balcony?” He offers his hand to her and she smiles as she slips off the barstool to accept it. Peering back quickly over her shoulder, Lydia can see how Stiles is watching them, and how Kira and Malia are giggling in a corner looking two seconds away from kissing one another. Hopefully Stiles gets someone like that, someone to make him forget about Lydia.

“Can you feel the moon affecting you?” It’s a full moon tonight, shining brightly in the sky so its silver light can cast over where Lydia and Scott stand.

“Kind of but nothing too bad. Do you think it affects you?” The lore that Martin has read never gives a straight answer on if banshee’s are really affected by the full moon, but Lydia thinks she is. At least a little bit.

“I feel more energized but I don’t have as big of a reaction that you guys do.” Scott hums and slouches onto the balcony’s guard rail, something tired about the motion that makes Lydia feel a small spark of worry.

“Have you been doing good? I know we text but we haven’t had a serious conversation in a while.” She leans her back to the rail beside Scott, elbows rested back against the cold metal and head tipped slightly so she can see McCall’s face better.

“I started helping this pack that lives near my college, and it’s great to talk to other wolves and help protect the people of the town, but— .” He trails off.

“But you went to college to get away from the supernatural?” They all did, aside from Theo, Liam and Malia, who’ve taken over the job of protecting Beacon Hills even with the puppy pack having graduated last year.

“Yeah. And now that I’m here for Christmas Theo and Liam asked me to help with some hunters near by, I said yes, but I’m just tired. And I thought tonight would help me feel better but….” Lydia reaches to run her hand through Scott’s hair as he trails off again. She can see in his eyes how exhausted he really is, how the years of doing everything all the time is weighing on him. It’s been weighing on her too, her mind still races with voices of others, with predictions of deaths that she knows she can’t stop and even if she doesn’t know the people that the voices are talking about, it crushes her each time.

“Just forget about it for tonight.” She says and their eyes meet, Scott’s flicking to look at her lips before he hesitantly leans in, giving Lydia enough room to pull away if she wanted to but she doesn’t, she moves to meet him halfway and press their lips together.

“What are we doing?” It’s breathless once they part, Scott’s forehead pressed to Lydia’s as her hand curves around his jaw.

“Forgetting about everything. At least for tonight.” There’s a moment where Lydia thinks she overstepped and that Scott’s going to pull away, but then his hand wraps around her hip to pull her closer and they’re kissing again.

It’s not rough and desperate like when she’d make-out with Stiles, Scott’s softer, gentle in the way he moves his lips against hers and slips his tongue into her mouth. She finds herself getting lost in him. In the feeling of his hands moving smoothly up her back to slide back down to her hips, never venturing further down, as respectful as he always is.

“Take me home? Just for tonight.” She asks and ignores the swirl in her gut that tells her that she wants more than just tonight, she wants so much more.

“Absolutely.”

#lydiaweek2023 #lydia martin #scott mccall #scydia #lydia x scott #teen wolf #jj moodboards #jj writes

[ofmermaidstories]

ok lemme tell you about the dream i had last night, with the end of the world, and bakugou, and his little classmates.

I’m on a beach. It’s overcast; the sea is white and gray and violent. this is the culmination of an earlier part of my dream, but i don’t remember it. all i know is that i’m standing on this beach with my graduating class except my graduating class is made up of BNHA characters and also, everyone else beyond the beach is dead.

the beach is split into two halves; our half, and then this massive, yellow sandstone structure in the middle, built like a fortress, and then the second half of the beach on the other side. The fortress blocks out most of our view of the other half of the beach—Class B, from my hero, are over there, getting ready in the same way we are. i’m worried because we have no way of communicating with them without physically going through the fortress but there’s bigger fish to fry—we’re getting ready to hold of an attack of zombies.

it’s stupid. they play by dream-rules. we just have to hold them off through the night, in the dark, until the morning when the sun makes them useless. but also being by the sea is stupid too, because they can come through the water. we’re basically left open for attack and we just have to do the best we can. no one’s expecting to survive this last wave, i think; everyone’s lost family or friends, we’re literally the last dredges left. it doesn’t matter: the zombies come. through the water, behind us from the dark green embankment. i’m trying to fight them off with small things—screwdrivers, ice picks, whatever is pointy but i’m getting too close to them, one grabs me and i yelp as i try to wrestle a kitchen knife into it’s eye (i win). i stumble away from it when it drops, and there’s a red wheelbarrow with a shovel and i grab it, ready to drive it into the soft decaying gaps of their necks but it’s daybreak and everyone else is cheering—the zombies are gone, we’ve survived. i’m relieved, but now i’m like, oh, fuck, i have to pack for the evacuation.

(i dunno what evacuation, but just bare with me)

but there’s a problem. everyone on our side of the beach is dropping in gratitude, or pushing the bodies out sea, cleaning up and as i’m picking up things around the fortress, the back pathway behind it that leads to the other side and the other half the beach, i realise something: i can’t hear any noises, any sounds of similar celebration, from the other side. the other class.

my stomach drops. the fortress is very tall, and very silent and is like, a warren of hallways and rooms and blind corners. i think, no, surely not—

but Bakugou’s behind me, silent and suspicious. maybe he’s noticed the same thing, idk, idc, but there’s a few others now and we’re paused, on our side of the pathway behind the fortress, when kendo and tetsutetsu shuffle out.

they’re grinning at us. kendo’s wearing tetsutetsu’s jacket. he’s shirtless. it makes it easier to see the gouging in his stomach, the way his innards are spilling out, loose and too few. she’s covered in blood and her mouth is covered in blood and i’m going to be sick, and they lurch at us and it’s Bakugou that incinerates them.

“they’re all gone,” i say in horror. “there’s no way—”

bakugou’s mouth just thins grimly, and eventually our cleanup party extends to taking out the rest of the walking dead that was their year mates.

(the dream starts to trail off here, like the world and the in-dream logic is beginning to crumble. i’m in the fortress, edging around corners, wary of zombies: instead i find a bedroom with a huddle of my old toys on the bed, all sentient and all very mad with me, because i am leaving them behind to evacuate. i don’t know what to say. i’m a little scared of them—why the fuck are they talking?—but also i’m trying to explain to them that i can’t take them, i don’t have the space or luxury to, i can’t fit them and what i need into my bag. Bakugou’s there, still frowning, keeping the floor swept of zombies. as i explain to them they can’t come, he’s trying to clear a space in his bag so i can bring one, or two. but then it’s a matter of choosing who leave behind, and despite how much they freak me out, i feel bad.

we have to leave soon. i wake up and it’s an overcast day.)

#mermie’s dream diary

[reikuto]

⋆ฺ｡*:･CONTENT! college!au, mutual pining, cursing :: oikawa tooru x gender neutral reader. A/N! sorry for any grammatical errors, i was excited to post!!･: *｡ฺ⋆

SPARING A FAKE SMILE TOWARDS THE COUPLE AS THEY LEFT the establishment, you waited until their backs were turned to roll your eyes in annoyance. wiping the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead, you mentally cursed the summer heat for making your shift utterly unbearable. catching sight of the busboy, you point to the cluttered table before moving on to attend the next group.

with a sigh, you walk up to the table and put on your best smile as you set their menus down. “hi, welcome! what can i get for yo—“ your smile drops when you meet his eyes. “what are you doing here?”

“hi, yes, could i get a birthday kiss, please?” oikawa smiles cheekily, innocently tapping his fingers against the menu. he looked painfully good; with his soft, styled hair, flushed cheeks, and dewy skin. “i’ll consider it my birthday gift, since you obviously forgot.”

“oh is it your birthday? i couldn’t tell.” you deadpan, staring at the birthday themed badge with a big, bold “I’M 8!” pinned to his shirt. “congrats, you’re almost at double digits.”

“they ran out of eighteen, i had to improvise.” iwaizumi shrugs, picking up his menu and flipping it open.

you scoff, crossing your arms. “they didn’t run out of birthday badges for an eighteen year old on a random tuesday afternoon.”

iwaizumi smirks smugly as he browses his menu. “come on now, the birthday boy asked for a kiss.”

“don’t change the subject.” you narrow your eyes at him. “why are you entertaining this?”

“birthday privileges,” iwaizumi says as he sets the menu down and finally looks up to meet your eyes. “that and he’s paying, so could you please get the big man and i get some water? lots of ice, thanks.”

“and a kiss,” oikawa quips.

“the two of you are insufferable,” you shake your head. “are you sticking with your usual orders or what.”

“yeah, the usual for me.” iwaizumi confirms before quickly adding, “extra pickles.”

“great,” you take their menus, paying no mind to the way oikawa pouted in his seat. finally facing him, you placed a hand on your hip and raise your eyebrows expectantly. “you ready to actually order now, oikawa?”

he breaks out into a grin at your attention—fuck he’s so cute—and straightens up in his seat. “have i ever told you i love the way you say my name?”

"oh give me a break.” you roll your eyes, spinning around before he could see the smile break out on your lips. leaving the two of them to pass their orders to the chef, you catch yourself staring at the floor and smiling like a doofus. jeez, what am i doing? get a grip. bringing yourself back to reality, you keep yourself busy while the cook works her magic.

oikawa’s eyes trail off of iwaizumi and onto you when you emerged from the kitchen. watching as you attended another table, he found humor in the way your face lit up when a child tried to order for themselves. mostly because you had recently expressed your disdain for parents who let their barely articulate four year old try to order during a lunch rush.

“could you be any more obvious?” iwaizumi asked, snapping in fingers in front of oikawa’s face. “you’re drooling all over the fucking table.”

“in a funny mood today, aren’t you?” oikawa shot back, “i can assume as much seeing as you bought me this.” he rolled his eyes, tapping his birthday badge.

“it was cute, i thought it suited your mature and distinguished personality.” iwaizumi teased annoyingly.

“ha-ha,” oikawa said dryly. “what happened to my birthday privileges.”

“oh believe me, they’re still there,” iwaizumi scoffed. “i’ve let a lot of things slide today, but that’s besides the point.”

“what exactly is the point?”

“the point is that this constant back and forth between you two is killing me.” iwaizumi groans, “when are you gonna grow a pair and ask them out?”

“i have a pair, thanks.” oikawa glared, catching a glimpse of a waiter approaching their table with a tray. “oh, would you look at that? someone’s already bringing your shit sandwich over.”

“this conversation isn’t over.”

“what conversation?”

“oikawa.”

“i obviously plan on doing it, just not today.” oikawa stated, watching in disdain as iwaizumi’s plate was placed in front of him. how on earth does he eat that. “it’s a total dick move.”

grabbing the nearby ketchup bottle, iwaizumi cocked an eyebrow at the statement. “i’m not following, why exactly is it a dick move?”

“cause it’s my birthday, iwa-chan.” oikawa rolled his eyes as if it were obvious. “what if the pressure of not wanting to hurt my feelings on my birthday is the only reason they agree.”

iwaizumi hummed, squeezing a dollop of ketchup onto his plate. “you know what i think?”

“what?” oikawa asked, hopeful that his best friend would provide him with some much needed insight.

“i think you’re making excuses.” or not.

“shut the hell up and eat your disgusting sandwich.”

by the time you’re done taking orders and dealing with bullshit, iwaizumi was already more than halfway done, nodding occasionally as oikawa talked his ear off. you practically skip over to the kitchen, poking your head inside and clearing your throat to get the cook’s attention.

“is it ready, ‘suri?” you ask with a hopeful tone. the last thing you wanted was for them to leave before the surprise was done. smiling when she nods over to the plate sitting prettily on the counter, you rushed over to pick it up. “thanks, you’re the best!”

exiting the kitchen, you hide the plate behind your back and compose yourself before making your way over to their table. ok so yes, you may or may not have asked her to make milk bread in honor of oikawa’s birthday but in your defense, oikawa has been going on about his birthday since before it even turned july. besides, the two of you are friends, of course you’re gonna get him something!

and while it might seem like an insignificant gift, ‘suri’s desserts held a reputation for being downright heavenly and expensive. plus, it was extra special because milkbread wasn’t even on the menu, ‘suri only made an exception because she loved you.

reaching his table, the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds before oikawa caves. “did you come over just to stare at my pretty face?” he muses. you let the smile take over your features, revealing the plate and setting it down in front of him.

“happy birthday, tooru.” you hummed, leaning down to place a quick kiss on his cheek. straightening up, you place a hand on his head and affectionately ruffle it a bit. “i can’t believe you’re already starting the third grade, i’m so proud of you, bud.”

“they grow up fast don’t they?” iwaizumi sighed, “seems like just yesterday he was having a meltdown over his haircut.”

“that’s because it was.” you laugh.

“that’s right, it was.”

oikawa’s still blinking in shock at the dessert before him and the fact that you brought it for him and holy shit, your hand is still in his hair. “well don’t just stare at it, try it.” you urge, sliding the plate a little closer.

oikawa cleared his throat, looking up at you with a tiny smirk. “are you gonna feed it to me too?” it took you a second to register what he was saying because all you could focus on was the pink hue to his cheeks and ears.

“as if,” you snorted, reluctantly taking your hand out of his hair. “now if you’ll excuse me, i have to get back to work.”

oikawa’s hand smoothly reached for your own before you could walk away. “you’re still coming tonight right?” please say yes.

forcing yourself to look away from your joined hands, you nodded dumbly. “to your party right?”

“yeah, i know you get off late but—“

“yes, yeah, of course i’ll be there.” you cut him off, mentally punching yourself for sounding so eager.

“great, i’ll see you then.” 

#oikawa torū #oikawa fic #oikawa x reader #haikyuu!! #hq drabbles #hq x reader #hq fluff #gender neutral imagine #gender nuetral reader #pining #sfw #[🍹] haikyu! #[🍹] #[🍹] oikawa!

[faelune-home]

FFXIVWrite 2023 #19: Weal

(A/n: Trying to tell myself not to do more than twin pieces in the few prompts I've been able to do this month and yet twin ideas keep coming to mind. Not that I see anything wrong with providing more cute twins or twin adjacent plots, but I just feel I should diversify a bit more. But ah well.

So how about that all important duty to the star, ey Fourchy? Is it worth the long hours and the time away from home and the secrecy? All for the wellbeing of your kiddos, ey? Lol, I rib on him but I do like the conflict and the character motivation, even if I still wanted to kick him for the end of shb/start of endw, and even now he's kinda still on thin ice.

Word count: 773)

“You’ll be glad to hear that they’re both settling well, they’re sleeping easy in their new room. All the familiar blankets must be helping of course, but it’s still good news.”

“Good, good. They weren’t comfortable with sea travel at all.” Many a night punctuated by wailing and screams, overpowering the sound of creaking floorboards and crashing waves.

“They really weren’t, poor dears. Oh but I don’t think Alphinaud likes the cold much here, he’s always terribly upset whenever we go out for walks around the city. I have him with some extra blankets in his crib for now, see if it helps.”

“I see…we should hope that it doesn’t require a chirurgeon to come in and check on him, but hopefully he’ll adjust soon.” After all, they’ll both be growing up there, in this new-old city; new for the young ones, but many many decades old, even if it had been left with a smaller population for much of that time.

“He will, I’m sure of it. But I’ll keep the household on high alert should we need a healer on short notice, just for your peace of mind,” Ameliance smiled, a small glimmer in her eye as she both teased and placated her husband. Fourchenault didn’t quite have the heart to answer with much enthusiasm.

“I envy your confidence my dear,” he sighed, a hand held to one of his temples.

“Well, I know you worry for them, but they’re stronger than you might think, even at this age. They’ve made it this far, travelling across the world after all. I think this is a sign they’ll be firm fighters when they grow up.” He didn’t want to doubt or refute her words, he’s sure they would be quite fine at this age, with all the help and comforts they could need.

But the worry festered in his mind anyway, casting images of both children only hours old, so small in his arms, the slightest jolt or noise or anything that could hurt them if he wasn’t careful.

Those words stayed trapped in his throat though, finding himself unable to douse his wife’s optimism. She was a balm to his fears.

A chime rang from the chronometer in the room.

“Oh is that the time already?” Ameliance frowned.

“I’m afraid so,” Fourchenault answered, getting to his feet. Their reunion was over so quickly and he had to return to work. They moved to the foyer by the main door, though he waved off the servant ready to open them while he turned to his wife once more.

“I do hope you’re resting. Your work may be important but you can’t work effectively on little sleep,” she said, her frown looking a touch more stern.

“I try to, Ameliance, but really, tis easier to push on and see it done quickly.” Knowing what was at stake, he had to give all he could. He wished sometimes that he could tell her why but…

“But do try harder,” she insisted, “The children would like to see you hale and whole when next you visit. You will visit again soon, yes?”

“As soon as I can. But all this work is for them just as much as it is for every Sharlayan.”

“Oh I know that, of course. But telling them is one thing, at this young of an age, would they even understand the importance of it?” Ameliance asked. When he didn’t respond, she stepped closer to him, a gentle hand upon his cheek.

“I’m not trying to challenge you darling, nor do I disagree with your work or your reasons. Just don’t forget to come home to your children. See them with your own eyes and not just as an update on another missive. If all your work is for their well being in the future, then remind yourself of what you’re working for.” He reached up to hold her hand in his own.

A cry sounded deeper in the house, a quick word from Celia allowing her to slip off and see to the noise without breaking up the pair.

Fourchenault lowered her hand to her side, but gave it a light squeeze, keeping hold of it for a moment longer.

“Very well.” They finally separated, the door opening at the nod of his head. A distant ‘Milady’ sounded further up the stairs, paired with babbling sniffs.

“Lady Alisaie wished to see you–”

It was the last thing he heard, glancing back just quickly enough to see his daughter’s teary blue eyes staring after him before the doors closed.

It wouldn’t be proper to turn back. He had work to do.

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #ameliance leveilleur #fourchenault leveilleur #fufu's writing #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv

[likecastle]

Ronance Femslash February

OK, so . . . this is the first prompt I’ve gotten for Ronance Femslash February where I’ve significantly deviated from the prompt. The prompt was this: “nancy gets pregnant and robin steps in and helps nancy w her pregnancy and theyre great mothers.” Anon, I genuinely appreciate you sending this prompt, but as I turned over how I would fill it, I came to the conclusion that this scenario just isn’t how I see these characters. I’ve read and enjoyed fic where Robin and Nancy have kids in some way or another, but it’s just not my read on Nancy especially as a character. Maybe I should have just passed on this one, but it did get my gears turning to think about how I would take this subject matter on. I wound up writing something that was almost entirely the opposite of the prompt, and I’ll completely understand, anon, if it’s very much not your jam. I’m still grateful to you for giving me the chance to explore my understanding of these characters through this lens.

I’m accepting Ronance prompts all month for Femslash February. You can find previous prompts I’ve filled here.

Putting this one behind a cut, mostly for length. Content warning for non-graphic discussion of pregnancy and abortion.

Nancy shows up at Robin’s door soaking wet, with a bottle of vodka in a soggy paper bag. Robin thinks she’s been crying, but it’s impossible to tell with all the water streaming from her hair.

“I was in the neighborhood,” Nancy says, and her voice cracks in a way that instantly turns Robin’s insides to ice.

Robin was supposed to go out with some friends from work, but she immediately hustles Nancy into her room and calls to cancel while Nancy changes into dry clothes. Once they’re nestled under a blanket on the couch, with a glass of vodka in front of each of them, Robin begins the elaborate conversational ritual of finding out what’s bothering Nancy. The problem is, a direct line of questioning usually only succeeds in getting Nancy’s hackles up, and someone who tried to wait for Nancy to volunteer that information herself could easily wait forever. Robin’s gotten better, over the years, at restraining her own panicked instincts and slowly leading the conversation around to whatever it is that’s bothering Nancy, gradually drawing her out until she’s ready to talk about what’s on her mind.

Which is how it happens that Robin’s solidly tipsy by the time Nancy finally says, “There’s actually something I wanted to ask you.”

“Whatever you need, Nance,” Robin says, bumping their shoulders together. She can smell the product in Nancy’s damp hair, something sharp and sandalwood-y. “You know that. Anything, always.”

Nancy gives her a thin smile. “I’ve got a doctor’s appointment on Friday, and I was hoping, um, that you’d come with me?”

This isn’t exactly what Robin was expecting, but it’s hardly the most onerous thing Nancy’s ever asked of her. She and Steve helped Nancy and Jonathan move into their third-floor walkup in a 100-degree weather last year, so sitting in a doctor’s waiting room is no big deal compared to actual heat exhaustion.

“I know you don’t like doctors,” Nancy says in an apologetic rush, evidently taking Robin’s surprise for dismay, “but I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have with me. But it’s OK if you don’t want to, I can find someone else.”

Something about the way she says it gets Robin’s brain spinning off into paranoid scenarios. “Of course I’ll come, Nance, don’t even worry about it. But if you think you’re really sick, or something, you’re legally obligated to tell me. You’re entitled to your privacy and everything, but I will literally implode if I have to worry that you’re dying or something for the next week.”

“I’m pregnant,” Nancy says dully.

Later, Robin will blame the three glasses of vodka she’s had for what she says next. “Oh, shit. Or,” she adds too late, her brain catching up with her mouth, “sorry—uh—congrats?”

Nancy shakes her head, and sniffs. “I think you got it right the first time.”

“Does—” Robin realizes even as she starts saying it that she may be making a mistake, but she can’t stop now. “Does Jonathan know?”

Nancy shakes her head again. “No, and he’s not going to. That’s . . . how I knew I couldn’t go through with it. The thought of telling him, of—of having to have a serious conversation with him about what we were going to do, I just—I couldn’t.” She stares out across Robin’s living room, as if pretending Robin isn’t sitting right next to her will make any of this easier to say. “And I don’t just mean I couldn’t talk to him about it, I mean I don’t want to. I don’t want to make that decision with him, and I don’t want that life with him. Maybe not with anyone, but definitely not with him.” Finally, she picks up her untouched glass and takes a swallow, grimacing. “I told him I couldn’t see him anymore.”

Robin stares at her. This is classic Nancy Wheeler, burying the lede twice over. “You broke up?”

“Suddenly it just seemed so obvious,” Nancy says simply, and she seems almost relieved to be saying it. “It was like confronting the possibility of having a child with him—getting married and buying a house—just made it unbelievably clear how much I don’t want any of that. For such a long time, I’ve been telling myself—maybe when the time’s right, I’ll want those things, but having that life with him is never going to feel right for me. And once I realized that, I just . . . I couldn’t even sleep in the same bed with him.” She takes another swallow of her drink, and then her glass is empty. “I guess I’ll need to start looking for a new place.”

“You can stay here,” Robin says, without hesitation. “If you want.”

“You’re sure?” Nancy asks, turning to look at her for the first time with such a tentative expression that Robin wonders if Nancy was expecting Robin to hate her—if Nancy doesn’t know that nothing she could do could ever make Robin turn her back on her.

“Of course.” Robin bumps their shoulders together again, and this time neither of them quite pulls away. Nancy is warm against her, and all Robin wants to do is draw her into her arms and never let go, so that’s what she does.

On Friday, she holds Nancy’s hand in the cool white quiet of the clinic, and she keeps holding her hand for as long as Nancy needs.

#ronance #robin x nancy #robin/nancy #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #ronance femslash february #honestly i don't even know if i should tag this as ronance #in my mind it's extremely pre pre pre ronance #but i'd need like at least 60k words to do right by that slow burn concept #so . . . here's this instead

[iboatedhere]

By far, the worst thing about living in Washington is the summertime humidity.

It slaps you in the face the second you step outside, it makes you sweat through your clothes without even doing anything strenuous, like you’re swimming through lukewarm bath water, while breathing pea soup into your lungs.

TK hates it. It makes him long for New York winters, and the blizzards that will roll through the mid-atlantic in January, snarling traffic and turning the sidewalks and roads into skating rinks. 

However, the humidity does have its charm. 

Like right now, on the patio of a taco place a few blocks from TK’s apartment. Carlos has the top four buttons of his shirt undone, giving TK a perfect view of his collarbone and the gold chain and cross that hangs around his neck. There’s a thin sheen of sweat on his skin that glows warmly beneath the streetlamp, and the flickering tea light on the table between them. Carlos’ glass of sangria is sweating in the heat, leaving a ring on the table, and his fingertips damp. When he takes a sip, TK gets to watch his throat work as he swallows, and the way his tongue sweeps across his bottom lip catching any stray drops, as he puts the glass back down.

TK’s spending a lot of time staring. Probably too much time. An almost borderline creepy amount of time.

But Carlos is gorgeous, and TK finds himself at a loss for words in the face of all that beauty, and it’s not as if he can ask “how was work today?”

“How was work today?” Carlos asks, and TK barks a laugh, nearly knocking over his iced tea as he reaches for it.

“It was…you know. Crazy, like it always is. I brought up student loan forgiveness,” he says, and Carlos’ brows raise in interest. “But was quickly shot down. We’re running on healthcare this election.”

Carlos hums and tips his glass back and forth on the table. “Well. It’s not like that’s unimportant. Do you think you’ll actually get anything accomplished?”

“You know,” TK says, “has anyone ever told you you’re a bit of a pessimist?”

“A realist,” Carlos corrects. “I have plenty of faith, but I haven’t actually seen anything work out the way it was supposed to.” He takes another sip of sangria, TK’s eyes narrow in on his tongue again. “I don’t like to be disappointed.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Carlos opens his mouth, then snaps it shut as the waitress comes over and asks if they’re ready to order. 

Carlos orders a bowl with broccoli and kale, and politely asks to add grilled chicken. 

It’s neat, clean, and healthy, and makes TK rethink his order, but he panics and orders the brisket taco anyway, then sheepishly asks for it without cilantro.

The waitress nods, unfazed, and jots it down in her notebook before telling them she’ll get it right in for them. 

Carlos smiles and thanks her then looks to TK.

“You know,” he says, “my Tia Lucy would be rolling in her grave if she knew I was out on a date with a guy that didn’t like cilantro.”

“It tastes like soap,” TK tells him. “It’s genetic, my father couldn’t stand it either, but my mother, I remember her eating bunches of it just to tease us. She still does it with me.”

“Sounds like she and I would get along.”

“You would,” TK murmurs. “She’s a lawyer, corporate, so the antithesis of what you want to do but…she’d approve.”

“What about your father?” 

TK takes a deep breath. They’re really gonna do this.

“He was a fire captain in New York City. He passed away about two years ago. Lung cancer.”

Carlos swears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t,” TK says, shrugging off his apology. “It’s okay. He was sick for a long time, just like a lot of first responders ending up being after 9/11, and then he got better, and then…that was the last time I was in New York, for his funeral. I only stayed for a few days because it was only a few months before the midterms so…”

Carlos stares at him. “So?”

“So I had speeches to write. I had to get back.”

Carlos continues to stare, and TK reaches for the bowl of tortilla chips in the middle of the table and pops one in his mouth. 

“What?” He asks, around a chip. 

“Nothing,” Carlos says, “it just seems like you didn’t get a chance to grieve.”

“Oh no, I grieved,” TK tells him, vaguely remembering the night Paul found him in the hotel room in downtown Columbus, already a six-pack deep with an unopened bottle of Tylenol in the bathroom. How the media didn’t find out about that relapse, or the thirty days he spent getting treatment, he’ll never know. “Nobody made me come back to work,” he points out. “It’s something I needed to do.”

“I get it,” Carlos says, then he winces. “God, now I feel like an idiot for joking about my Tia being dead.”

“She’s not?”

Carlos shakes his head, looking deeply distraught. “I was trying to be funny.”

“It was funny,” TK says with a laugh. “Really. I’m not offended. Feel free to make fun of my palette some more. I’ll help. Sometimes I find even mild salsas to be too spicy. Like this…” He pokes at the tomatillo salsa that came with their chips. “Even this is too much.”

Carlos looks at him in disbelief. “I can barely taste that.”

“I’m weak,” TK admits. “I’m your Tia Lucy’s worst nightmare.”

Carlos laughs, and TK feels warm all over.

#wip wednesday #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic

[nyotasaimiri]

Arc Two (redux) 86

The door led to a small chamber, smaller than Nyota had expected after witnessing Big Ape’s room and the Avatar of Kluex’s den. As if great threats always liked their rooms vast and intimidating. The floor was strangely free of ice, but not for lack of trying. Creeping ice climbed down the walls and tried to overtake the floor with a thousand tiny cracks and hisses as it turned to steam on contact, turning the air so cold and humid that frost whispered along Nyota’s cheek fur almost as soon as she set foot inside.

Nyota’s earpiece rang quietly in her ear.

“Captain?” Lumen sounded worried. “Yer signal’s sharper’n it was now. Did ya turn back?”

“No.” Her voice held half a question to it, but she had a guess at why. “It must be the vault guardian’s influence. We found the frozen warden’s lair.”

Lumen hissed softly. “Ain’t that a doozy… Ya got a heck of a timin’, Captain. I was ‘bout to call ya anyhow. SAIL’s spotted some small craft hangin’ ‘round the asteroid belt. They ain’t doin’ much yet, not close to the gate or nothin’,” he said, anticipating her sharp throaty growl, “but we ain’t too sure what they’re out here for. I’m doin’ a closer scan. Got Namina on standby in case they ain’t friendly.” He whistled; his microphone turned it into almost a sigh. “I sure don’t like this, ma’am.”

“I don’t like it either.” Nyota swallowed the low snarl as she ran a few short calculations. The timing was almost too perfect… But nothing else had come through here. Sheer foul luck? The drone. She inhaled sharply. Its owners must have received a warning. Or noticed it stopped responding. “Lumen, tell me the moment they make a move toward the gate. We don’t know for sure if they are trouble, but we will be ready if they are.”

Am I getting soft? she wondered as she turned her focus back to the rest of the room. Agent Saimiri would have destroyed them on suspicion alone. But… I am not the agent now, am I?

Arjun was watching her. She couldn’t read his eyes. It did not matter. She was Captain. It was her decision, and no one else’s.

No further time for musing. Nyota felt the warning in a surge of warmth just under her collarbone, just before Arjun’s hand touched her arm.

“Think I found the warden,” he murmured, voice low and tense. “Those carvings aren’t flush with the wall.”

Nyota followed his gaze; a stone figure twice her height and half as broad again sat halfway up the wall. Dark lines ran across it, glinting faintly in the gloom like glass. Her eyes were not sharp enough in the half-light to pick out the shadows, but she knew he was right. The warning rose again, and as if responding, the carving came alive.

Light flooded along the glassy lines, surging white and blue. It pooled in two hollows near the top, like eye sockets in a stony skull, and the figure wrenched itself free with a shuddering crack. It drifted out into the middle of the room, hovering nearly Nyota’s height above the floor without any apparent support or means of flight, shedding ice that in thin sheets that shattered on impact with the tiles. Its head was almost leonine, except for the stone tusks that jutted out of its carved open mouth. Two more lights drifted out behind it, eyes set behind stone carved like the hooked beaks of birds.

Its silence was more unnerving than any battle cry she had ever faced. The warden looked down at Nyota, and she knew she was not welcome.

It wasted no time on ceremony or speech, if it was even capable of either. Nyota grabbed Arjun’s arm and hauled him back as energy bursts shattered at their feet, spreading frost wherever the shards touched. One of the birds smashed into her shoulder and sent her reeling backward. Arjun’s wrench cracked it away.

“This thing has problems,” he panted as he ran after her to avoid a second volley.

“We’re interlopers,” Nyota told him, not caring where the certainty came from. It wasn’t important. “It sees us as a threat to its vault. All change is a threat.”

The old man whistled—he reached the same conclusion as her. “The ancient capricoats.”

“Exactly.” Nyota deflected the second bird with her spear as it tried to ram her like its comrade had. “I would guess that the warden has weeded out anything that… changed too much.”

She could feel the slow horror in him as he processed that through the lens of an archaeologist. “That’s not life,” he said slowly, “that’s just stasis. That’s wrong.”

Nyota looked up at the looming warden. “I don’t think it will listen to that.”

Arjun squared up beside her, more determined than Nyota had seen him before. “Then we fix that.”

#this is such a fun scene for me #arc two #repost

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Continuing Thoughts on WWDITS: Rohan Edition

For @urban-trek-thru-middle-earth

It’s post-war, Grima’s rolled back into town from the Shire. He’s stabbed Saruman, did some light rehab with the Hobbits, and has wandered around and now is back home. Eomer is like, ‘I guess I have to be a Good King and give you a second chance or some shit.’ 

Anyway, meanwhile this film crew has shown up. How and why are irrelevant. Grima is tasked with showing them around and helping them learn the ropes of Edoras, Meduseld and Rohan more broadly. 

Various scenes/plot lines that could happen:

Opens with Eomer having breakfast with Lothiriel and someone is like ‘oh shit oh shit he’s back he’s back’ and Eomer is like, ‘who?’ and they’re like ‘Grima, sire, it’s Grima.’ 

Eomer looks at Lothiriel then the camera crew and is like ‘fuck’ and scoots out of the room. Lothiriel is just confused. 

Grima is given a second chance but is told he’s on thin fucking ice. 

-

Grima trying to bribe the camera crew into giving him all the secrets they know about people. Eomer off camera is like: don’t listen to him, he’s full of lies. 

- 

Grima is convinced cellphones are tiny, rectangular palantiri and keep trying to steal them from the camera crew. He amasses like fifteen of them. He is so pleased with himself. 

- 

Saruman’s ghost shows up for a hot minute to cause trouble and take out revenge on the people who beat him. Eomer is like, ‘I think you need to let this go, my dude, it’s been five years since the war ended. You’ve been a ghost for four of them.’ 

Saruman possesses someone at court and it becomes a game of trying to figure out who it is. 

Eomer, a little freaked out, shaking his head at the camera: We have no idea who it is. It could be anyone. No one has any ideas. 

Grima sits down in one of the 1:1 interviews and is like, ‘I know who it is. But I’m going to see how long it takes until Eomer asks me for help. Or figures it out on his own. I’ve made popcorn. This is the exact kind of entertainment I deserve in my life.’ 

- 

At some point there’s some rumblings from another noble family who feel like the House of Eorl have had their time and it is a new dawn so let’s get some new blood on the throne. 

Grima infiltrates the rebellion and figures out how to use the record function on his “tiny black palantir. I’ve named it Hamet”. Eomer is about to have a heart attack because he’s gone and put his neck out a little in welcoming Grima back and now he’s gone and done a Treason 2.0. 

Except he hasn’t. Grima is like, ‘I figured that I just had to reverse my usual thinking. We want to keep the person on the throne where they are.’ 

Story arc can end with Grima to the camera, ‘With all that has happened, I feel like I’ve managed to actually turn a new leaf. And Eomer sort-of, kind-of trusts me. This is the start of new things. Maybe one day I’ll finally be part of a family or...at the very least the tolerated mouse infestation in the back garden. And if not...’ opens a drawer to take out a bottle of wine and there’s just piles of blackmail material and various poisons (a la the mini-bar fridge scene with Guillermo and the stakes and crosses). 

- 

There’d be some fun minor plots about getting ready for various solstices and festivals and people getting up to hijinks as a result of it. 

-

People are still convinced Grima is in love with Eowyn because that’s how Narratives Are Supposed to Work. Even Grima is convinced. He’s like ‘Eowyn yeah. great woman. um. very pretty. terrifying. utterly terrifying. i mean, i like scary. scary is hot. her brother’s terrifying too and we’ve all seen him, right? so yeah. um. yeah i guess i have a thing for Eowyn. i tried to tell her to reach for the stars once and she told me my words were poison and i should sit on a knife and rotate. which is flirting, so far as i’m aware. i mean Eomer says stuff like that and we’re uh...friends or something. i mean i like him. more or less. for a given value of “like”...he could step on me. it’d hurt. but in a good way.’ 

Sound Tech Ian is the only one who is like ‘you know you’re just into the brother, right?’

-

A WITAN. We would get to see Grima judging the current law-speaker and it would be Glorious. He just nitpicks every decision and anytime the law-speakers makes a pronouncement on a case Grima raises his hand is goes, ‘Just a minor point I wish to raise, but the interpretation of the law of December 3010 as passed by late king Theoden is wrong and what it actually means is...’ 

Eomer looks into the camera, closes his eyes, shakes his head and sighs. 

-

So many moments of Lothiriel looking at the camera and saying “oops” and then awkwardly trying to fix something she accidentally broke or just awkwardly walking away from a conversation. She does finger guns and walks backwards into a pole. ‘I meant to do that’ and keeps going. 

-

Eomer decides he wants to go on a date night and hands off Elfwine to Eothain to watch. Eothain dumps the kid on Grima who goes and finds Eomer and Lotheriel and spends the night annoying them thereby effectively making it a family evening on the town. 

-

Oh there’d be drama about people’s horses and who has the best horse (we all know Saewin was the best, RIP), and people go to crazy lengths to sabotage each other. But they don’t hurt the horses, just one another.

-

One season should have a visit from Aragorn, Arwen, Eowyn, and Boromir (who is alive for Reasons). It’s all pomp and circumstance. There is intrigue and plotting and Grima shit disturbing. Faramir’s left behind in Gondor because someone has to mind the accounts while the king is off on holiday. 

Grima tells Eowyn she could have done better and Eowyn is like, ‘eXcUsE mE’ and Grima is like, ‘I said what I said.’ 

Eowyn, Arwen, and Lothieriel hang out and get rose drunk while shit talking people. Eowyn has a list of Grievances. She’s like ‘At that point, Lord Bosphir died of cancer and as he was a real cunty person no one was sad.’ 

Lothiriel, ‘savage.’ 

Arwen, ‘this is her being nice.’ 

Aragorn insists he and Eomer do a pub crawl to cement their brothership and afterwards Eomer crawls out of whatever haystack he fell into to die the previous night and finds Grima staring at him, deeply unimpressed. And Eomer is all, ‘in my defense, I am not twenty anymore.’ 

‘He’s over ninety.’ 

‘Dunedain, Grima,’ Eomer tries to stand. ‘I think I’m still drunk. But they’re magic.’ 

‘You smell like a piss trough and look worse, my lord.’ Promptly dumps water on him. 

Eowyn and Grima getting into bitch-off sessions about people though--gold. It’s the only time they ever get along. 

- 

I’ll add more as they come to me. 

#it's late and I should sleep #lotr #lord of the rings #ask #reply #grima wormtongue #eomer #eowyn #wwdits: Rohan Edition

[homiesexual-or-homosexual]

Battle of the Bands - Chapter 10

chpt 1 / chpt 2 / chpt 3 / chpt 4 / chpt 5 / chpt 6 / chpt 7 / chpt 8 / chpt 9 / chpt 10 / chpt 11 / chpt 12 / chpt 13 / chpt 14

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Genre: Chrissy doesn’t die and Eddie graduates :)), fluff

Warnings: y’all go on an ice cream “not date”, jason carver, Eddie uses petnames

Word Count: 1K

———

“Okay. Listen. Just trust me. They have like, the best ice cream in Hawkins.”

Eddie’s dragging you up to the ice cream parlor that you passed by on your way to Eddie’s. And by dragging, I mean, dragging. He’s got you by your hand and opening the door for you as you go in. Eddie’s pointing out all his favorite, chocolate, vanilla, strawberry.

“They’re all home made so it’s like the best. And they change their flavors sometimes so there’s new flavors every couple months!!”

He’s like a kid in a candy store, quite literally in this scenario.

You’re listening to his excited ramblings but just barely. Your hand is in his as you guys get ready to go next in line to pick out your ice cream. You grow nervous, your neck heating up and you’re very conscious of your hand growing more clammy than it already was.

“So, whatcha gonna get?” Eddie asks, his eyes sparkling just like a clear night sky.

“Uhhhhhh…,” You scan the flavors quickly. “Maybe the strawberry cheesecake. It sounds good. And I really like cheesecake.”

“You should let me try some when we sit!!” Eddie drags you forward, as the person at the counter offers to serve you your preferred ice cream.

You watch as Eddie gets a medium strawberry ice cream. And then you order a medium strawberry cheesecake. And Eddie moves you two up to the register. You offer to pay, but no. Eddie demands that he pay, and how can you say no to free ice cream. So he separates your hands to fish out his wallet and pays. You two take your ice cream and Eddie’s leading you two outside to the metal tables and chairs, a hand on your lower back as your two own are preoccupied with not dropping your ice cream, courtesy of your lovely, as many called them, “butter fingers.”

You sit down a couple tables away from the entrance, hopefully to not be bothered by any passerbys. The metal chair is cold against the skin that’s exposed due to your shorts, but your warmed by the Indiana summer sun.

“How’s your ice cream?” Eddie asks, already a bite of his strawberry in his mouth.

You swallow, “It’s-“

You’re interrupted. A hand slams on the table, and an arm clad in a leathery green. You follow it up to a man wearing a white letterman with green sleeves. He’s giving you a smile, kind but there’s something underneath.

You only return with furrowed eyebrows.

“Haven’t seen you around here before?” The strange man says. “This freak isn’t bothering you, is he?”

Your expression changes quickly from confusion and a little bit of anger to complete surprise, “Freak???”

“You new in town, or something?” The man asks.

You avoid his question, “Who are you calling a freak?? Who even are you?”

“Jason,” He says. “Jason Carver. Hawkins High star basketball player.”

And he moves to hold out a hand.

“I’m not touching that,” The man’s expression falls. “Have you even graduated, kid?”

He looks younger than you.

“K-kid?” He sputters. “I-I’ve graduated! Just this last year!! And you shouldn’t be hanging out with the town freak. It took him three senior years to graduate! It took me one!!”

“I’m aware…,” Man. It seems like you pinched a nerve.

“Don’t you wanna get away from this freak? If your visiting I can help you find your friends, take you back to them,” He’s calmed down, but you can tell his patience is growing thin.

“I am with my friend, thank you very much,” You tell him, furrowing your brows and staring him down. “Can I get back to my ice cream? I’d like to eat it before it melts.”

“Well-I-uh-“ He sputters.

“Away, kid,” You tell him, like he’s just some bothersome kid. Well in your mind, he is. “I wanna eat my ice cream and talk to my friend.”

The “Jason Carver” kid only stared at you before turning tail. And you don’t care where he disappears to, turning back to Eddie.

He’s looking at you in shock and admiration, and possibly something else. Spoon in hand, ice cream dripping from the color changing spoon back into his cup.

“Your ice cream is melting,” You tell Eddie, taking another bite of yours. “What was your question?”

“Oh! Uh… I was wondering if your ice cream tasted good?” Eddie stuttered, scooping up another, unmelted bite of his ice cream.

“It does!” You tell him after swallowing your bite. “You wanna try?”

“Sure!” Eddie says. “Wanna try some of mine?”

“Yeah!”

You two trade ice cream, taking a spoonful of his strawberry. It tastes good!! And it has strawberry chunks in it. You’ll have to get this next time you two come.

Both of you continue to eat your own ice cream, and when you’re done, Eddie leads you back to his van and starts it up. He shows you all around town, the police station, the fire station (they were right next to each other), the post office, the high school where he went, the guitar store-

“I’ll take you there later,” Eddie tells you.

-A movie rental store called “Family Store” where two of Eddie’s friends worked, and the record store he frequented.

“C’mon,” He parked out front of said record store. “They’ve got some cassettes in here too.”

The person at the counter greets Eddie by name, Eddie’s waves back. You follow your buddy around the store, not holding hands this time. You catch a glimpse of his music taste, it’s more on the metal side with a couple rock albums shuffled in there. Eddie says you can go pick out some if you want, and that’s when you separate from him the first time today, but still keeping him in your line of sight.

After probably about half an hour in the store, you’ve wondered back to Eddie with two cassettes in hand.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

And he leads you to the register at the front, paying for your cassettes. And once your back in his van and it’s started up-

“Alright, pretty lady,” Eddie’s back out of the parking spot. “Put one of yours in.”

It takes you a view seconds to respond due to the newest petname he’s used on you, “O-okay.”

You pick out your newest Kiss album and slip it into the slot just below his radio. The music starts up and you listen to it as Eddie continued showing you around town, showing you some quiet spots he knows about. He even takes you by Jason Carver’s, or “The Kid”, as Eddie now calls him, house. He tells you he likes to tp it on Halloween when he’s away partying. Or even while the party’s happening at his house. He’s never known, and it’s gonna stay that way.

Just as the sun starts to set, Eddie takes you two back to his place. He takes the cassettes and opens the door for him.

“I’m gonna take a shower but my uncle is home, so you two can meet and bond,” Eddie tells you, gesturing for you to go in before him.

You see an older, balding man on the couch watching tv. He looks up as you and Eddie come inside.

“Wayne, this is Y/n,” Eddie introduces. “And Y/n, this is my Uncle Wayne Munson.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Munson,” You wave shyly.

“Please kid,” Wayne laughs a bit. “Just Wayne.”

“Alright,” Eddie gives you a single pat on the shoulder. “I’ll put these in my room and I’m gonna take my shower since I have work tomorrow, but you two can bond while I do that.”

You sit by Wayne on the couch, tv on in the background. You two bond the entire time Eddie’s in the shower. You tell him where you live, about your family, and the school you graduated from. And when he asks, you tell him where you and Eddie met, and then you go on a little spiel about your band. In turn, Wayne tells you about himself and where he works, and then about Eddie and how he became he guardian, and then a little bit about Eddie’s parents. You’re glad that Eddie lives with Wayne, because his parents don’t sound too great.

Before you two know it, thirty minutes have passed and Eddie’s coming out of the shower, steam spilling from the open bathroom door. His hair is wet and his curls aren’t so messy, like he just got done brushing it. And he’s wearing sweatpants, but… but no shirt.

Wayne’s smiling as he sees you ogling his nephew. He doesn’t mind. You seem like a nice girl.

Eddie saunters over and plops himself behind you. He leans his head onto your shoulder and wraps his arms around your waist.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Eddie mutters into your shoulder.

You can’t help but blush at the close contact, and him being shirtless, and the fact that you can smell his strawberry scented whatever he used in the shower. He’s completely void of his usual cigarette-weed-cheap cologne smell that you’ve grown used to.

So, you and Wayne keep talking, keeping it Eddie friendly so you don’t accidentally trigger anything from his past that may affect him in any way. Eventually, Wayne heads to bed, offering you two to stay up as long as you want and to watch tv as well. He bids you two goodnight, and you as well to him.

Eddie and you stay in the living room for a bit, watching tv before Eddie’s yawning every five minutes.

“It’s bedtime for me, sweetheart,” Eddie’s looking at the clock on the wall before at you. “I’m gonna head to bed. You wanna stay up or come to bed?”

“I’ll come to bed,” You tell him, standing as he turns the tv off. “I’m getting a bit tired.”

“Mkay.”

You follow Eddie, wishing to grab his hand out a bit of fight-or-flight at the dark trailer once Eddie has all the lights out. But once you behind the closed door of Eddie’s room and the light is on, you’ve relaxed.

You force Eddie to turn around while you change into your pj’s from the previous night. So Eddie busies himself with getting the blankets and pillows situated, even tucking your wolf stuffed animal in while you’re getting situated.

You laugh a bit when you turn around, seeing your stuffed animal tucked in. Then you two get comfy in his bed and under his covers, you notice that Eddie’s given you another blanket, as you run cold easily.

“Goodnight Eddie,” You mumbled from the pillow you’ve chosen, laying on your side away from him.

“Goodnight, darling,” Eddie mumbles back, also facing away from you.

———

Taglist: @calizmor

#aj posts #stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagines #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagines