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estrellami-1 · 8 months

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If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16

Steve gets home and enters into chaos.

The older teens are nowhere to be found—Steve hopes they’re still in the shed—but the boys are arguing, pointing first at sheets on the table, then each other.

“No, you dumbass-”

“Oh, I’m the dumbass? I’m the one who forgot oxygen?”

Steve sighs. “Always the damn babysitter,” he mumbles to himself, fighting a smile. “Alright, cut it out!” He says, loud enough to be heard over the arguing. Immediately, everyone turns to him. He crosses his arms and nods at them. “What’s going on?”

Immediately they’re all talking over each other, doing their best to give Steve a headache. He sighs and raises a hand, and slowly they all peter off. “One at a time. Lucas?”

Lucas sighs. “We’re still trying to figure out the best way to weaponize fire down there.”

“And you’re disagreeing on something?”

“Yeah, we all think it would be best to do it different ways.”

Steve nods. “Write down a list of all the pros and cons you can think of. Pass the lists around in case you’ve forgotten something. When they’ve all been passed around, compare them together. But please, if it’s at all possible for you, do it quietly. If for no other reason than El’s still resting.”

“Oh,” Mike says quietly, and they all get to work, scribbling out their lists.

Steve sighs and scans the rest of the room, smiling when he sees Eddie leaning on the doorway. “Hey. Wanna help me bring stuff in?”

“Sure,” Eddie shrugs, and follows him out. It’s silent for a few moments before he speaks. “Y’know, a part of me was hesitant to believe everything until just about three minutes ago.”

Steve chuckles. “It does sound crazy,” he agrees. “What changed your mind?”

“You,” Eddie says simply, like it doesn’t send Steve’s heart jackrabbiting in his chest. “The way you are with the kids.”

Steve chuckles. “Y’know that’s the very reason we started to get along, before?” He glances at Eddie as he shuts the trunk. “We saw how we were with them. We were both a little jealous of each other, mainly cause of Dustin. I swear, he was always going on about Eddie this, Eddie that, greatest Dungeon Master ever but don’t tell Will, and… I started to feel like I was being replaced.” He smirks. “Course, then you told me how he practically worshiped me, and I realized Dustin’s just being a shithead.”

Eddie snorts. “From what I’ve seen of them, that does seem pretty accurate.”

“I know this probably doesn’t mean much to you, but I’m glad you’re here.” He smiles at Eddie and walks inside, giving Eddie a second alone outside.

He almost runs into Robin as he turns the corner, steadying himself, the bag, and her. She looks up at his face, wide-eyed, then slowly morphs the look into a judgy one.

“What?”

“Quit breaking his brain, Dingus, let him actually like you as a person first.”

“How the hell could you tell that from my face?”

She gives him another supremely judgy look. “Have you forgotten I’ve known you for years? Steve,” she sighs, taking the bag from him. He lets her. “Don’t forget this is four years ago for them. At this point, does he even know who Chrissy is?”

“Okay,” Steve admits, “you may have a point. But we had a breakthrough just now! We were talking and he said he believes me because of how I am with the boys!”

Robin sighs again. “And did you respond with something that happens in the future?”

Steve splutters. “How do you do that?”

“I’ve known you for years, Stevie-boy, don’t forget.” She ruffles his hair as she passes. “Leave the future out of it,” she advises. “Live in the now.”

“Kinda hard to do, considering we’re here to change the future,” he says, just to be contrary. She gives him a look like she knows what he’s doing.

“Talk to him like you’re getting to know him for the first time, Steve. Because that’s where he is. Everything about the Upside Down, and even the kids… that’s all secondary. You got along because your personalities match. Give them a chance to.” She smirks at him. “And maybe show off a little bit of that Harrington charm I know is in there somewhere.”

He shakes his head, grinning. “You’ll see one day, Robs, I’ve got game.”

She grins, ruffling his hair one last time before dancing out of reach as he squawks at her. “I’ll believe it when I see it, Dingus.” She leaves, bringing the bag into the other room, and he sighs and follows her, wondering—not for the first time—how he ended up with her as a best friend.

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beanstalk-nicholas · 1 year

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peepaw multiverse.... im obsessed

#I need to read the other f!leo fics these are the only ones Ives read so far sjfhfjfk #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #f!leo #future leo #peepaw multiverse #doodles #sketches #my art #digital art #fanart #rottmnt fanart #odd man out #mutant ninja midlife crisis

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jtl-fics · 11 months

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Fluent Freshman - Part 17

1. You do not talk about the Speakeasy in the basement 2. You DO NOT TALK about the Speakeasy in the basement

Those are two of the three cardinal rules of Eden’s Twilight both as a VIP customer and as an employee. The rest are more suggestions or requests that are fairly malleable depending on the night and the patron.

Andrew himself had broken the latter half of ‘Don’t be a dick or try anything with your dick on the club premises’ multiple times with Roland and then he’d broken it even further and with more vigor with Neil.

Roland had tried to bill them for the furniture in the break room and Andrew had been more than happy to use some of the blackmail he’d been holding onto to make it go away despite Neil’s repeated attempts to try and pay for it. “It’s my fault Andrew, I asked you to lay me there.” And “Allison didn’t warn me that it could stain fabric, she said it transferred really easily onto skin.” Had been waved away as Roland was happy to have those particular bits of blackmail out of play.

That being said Roland had come in despite the clear ‘occupied’ signs on the door and interrupted some of Andrew’s finest work a few weeks ago (His from? Excellent. His pacing? Excellent. His angle? Excellent. The noises Neil had been making? Perfection.)

Roland still couldn’t look at Neil without his eyes wandering where they shouldn’t so Andrew had a guest pass for the speakeasy waiting for him at the bar to make up for that wandering eye.

Which meant that he could take FF down to the speakeasy tonight. He was sure that FF would pass muster and be able to come without a pass after the night, he was just the kind of guy that they liked to have down there.

It would all be so simple if it weren’t for the third cardinal rule of Eden’s Twilight.

3. Nicky Hemmick is not allowed to know about the Speakeasy.

When Nicky had worked at Eden’s he’d been popular but he’d also talked about all sorts of secrets. He spilled tea like Aaron had spilled drinks.

So the club had done what it had to do in order to protect the incredibly select and private feature of their club:

They lied about what was down there and then they committed to that lie.

So the day came and Nicky was looking at the door with a guard next to it, “Where does that go?” He asked.

“It’s an exclusive club for straight swingers to meet and swap.” The lie rolls off of Roland’s tongue like the truth.

Nicky made a disgusted face. “Straight people.” He said shaking his head and then Roland swiftly made some purchases to sell his lie and offered the guard Frank an additional $5 an hour if he was willing to change his uniform.

Nicky Hemmick has never gone near the door since then and it is considered a success for the record books by all of the staff and VIPs in the know.

Which is why Andrew had needed a plan to pry Nicky off of FF for the night.

Nicky and FF had spent the entire time at Sweeties elbowing one another and laughing (well Nicky laughed and FF tolerated all of Nicky’s jokes and implications stoically), Nicky had been sticking with FF like he was one of the various flecks of glitter that stuck to FF after the freshman had slept in Nicky’s bed.

Before he’d gotten FF dressed up Nicky had made a solemn oath, “You and me Smithy, we’ll dance the night away!” Nicky had exclaimed.

“I’m good thanks.” FF said, “You know what will happen if I dance.” He says and Nicky grimaces as if remembering something painful. He wonders if FF just isn’t a good dancer or if the consequences of someone bumping into him were as painful as they were when someone bumped into Andrew on the dance floor.

“Well, then you and me will just have to spend the entire night chatting in the booth Smithy!” Nicky had smiled as if he wasn’t fucking up Andrew’s plans to take FF down to the speakeasy where they could sit without the headache inducing music that Nicky, Aaron, and even Kevin (he claims Stockholm syndrome) claim to love.

So, Andrew had needed to find a way to get Nicky to a state where he would be compelled to dance and leave FF alone for the night.

There are exactly three sure-fire ways to get Nicky Hemmick to become a slave to the dance floor.

1. You have to play his favorite music and Andrew doesn’t know if there’s enough blackmail in the world to get Roland to force a DJ to play nothing but Nicki Minaj’s Super Bass, Gasoline by Daddy Yankee, or Usher’s DJ’s Got Us Fallin’ In Love (his three current obsessions) on a loop for the entire night. (Bust)

2. You are Erik Klose and you want to dance. This option was unlikely due to Erik currently (as far as Andrew knew) being in Germany. (Bust)

3. Nicky has taken some party drugs. (Feasible)

So, Andrew may have been the one that had reminded both his brother and Nicky about Cracker Dust on their way to the car. Neil shoots him a look he ignores because Andrew hasn’t really pushed or mentioned Cracker Dust in almost a year.

It was something that they had all gotten off of for various reasons the year prior.

Neil had never started, Andrew had his deal with Neil, Kevin wanted to cut back on the substances he was abusing and he was not going to be giving up alcohol anytime soon, Aaron had needed a squeaky clean image for the trial, and Nicky had given it up in solidarity.

Aaron had been bemoaning that he had forgotten to get any the last four times they had gone to Eden’s so, really, Andrew was just being a thoughtful brother when he’d reminded his cousin.

So when they park the Maserati and head into the club it is no shock that after the first round of drinks (Neil & FF both had bottled waters) Nicky whips out the sandwich baggy he had gotten from FF and hands Aaron his share.

In a turn of good luck a bass heavy remix of Flo Rida’s Club Can’t Handle Me started playing and the only thing Nicky did was squeal, kiss FF’s cheek, and drag Aaron out onto the dance floor.

And then there were three.

***

FF had NOT been able to figure out where the hell the bathrooms were.

It might be due to the fact that his stomach is trying to stage a revolt against him but he’s pretty sure he’s forgotten how to read English. There are no other languages around for him to see if this illiteracy has spread to other languages.

He wonders it he brought out his katakana flashcards if the lines would blur or if his brain would be so filled with the unrelenting desire to go to the bathroom that his Professor would wonder how he ever got full marks on his midterm.

Maybe clubs didn’t have signs that pointed to the bathroom? Was he supposed to go up and ask that bartender that Andrew kept going to? Was it like a gas station where he had to ask for keys?

Oh god Captain Neil just asked him something.

When the hell did Nicky lea-

Oh Dj’s Got Us Falling In Love is playing. Nicky is definitely on the dance floor. FF has yet to escape Nicky grinding on him whenever this song happens to come on the radio he is sure that someone right now out on the dance floor is suffering the same fate that he has 3-4 times a week.

He wonders if Nicky will call Erik like he usually does when it comes on outside of the club.

At least it’s super hard to hear in this club if Nicky takes a seat next to him and starts gushing to Erik in German.

Oh god Captain Neil just asked him something and he just remembered that this would be the second time Captain Neil has asked him something.

If there was one weakness in FF’s foreign language arsenal it is that he has a hard time processing language when surrounded by loud sounds. If he knows what language they’re talking in he can sometimes get by on reading lips (does that count as another language? Probably not) but Captain Neil speaks like four languages fluently and his Spanish is getting better and better every-

Oh god Captain Neil and Andrew just asked him something and he still hasn’t answered the other two times.

“I can’t hear you!” He calls out and hopes they can at least understand HIM.

Andrew rolls his eyes and bumps Captain Neil’s shoulder with his own. He sees Andrew whisper something to Captain Neil before pointing somewhere in the distance.

They had noticed his obvious plight and were going to show him to the bathroom!

That was nice.

Maybe Nicky had asked them before his songs came on.

Andrew and Captain Neil are out of the booth and Andrew juts his chin off in a certain direction. FF does NOT need to be told twice, he’s more than happy to follow Andrew to the bathroom like some pre-schooler following their mom. These are desperate times.

So Andrew and Captain Neil guide him across the dance floor and…sure enough Nicky is grinding on some other guy who looks like he’s in heaven and he thinks he can see Aaron’s pale arms flying uncoordinatedly all over the place somewhere in the middle distance.

FF finds himself with Captain Neil and Andrew in a hallway. There’s a guard in front of the door with a bizarre pineapple shirt (why are they all upside down?) on but FF hadn’t even dressed himself tonight so he really shouldn’t judge.

“Minyard, Josten, and one guest.” He can hear Andrew say now that they’re away from the loud thrum of the music.

How fancy is this bathroom?

The man looks at Andrew, Captain Neil, and then FF. There is a visible head-to-toe inspection when he hits FF and whatever the man sees must past muster.

“Acceptable. You know the rules.”

Rules?

Wash your hands?

Don’t piss on the floor?

Let staff know if the urinal is low on ice?

FF hoped the rules would be posted in easy to understand pictures because his ability to read the English language was still heavily hampered at the moment.

Why is the handle to the door an upside pineapple too? Did someone install it wrong? Also Eden’s does not give off a very tropical vibe so why would they pick that?

The door opens and-

Oh.

Those are stairs.

Oh.

Andrew’s taking him to the basement.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

Per Your Requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lilyndra @themugglemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing @bushbees @roonilwazlib-main @crumplelush @foldedaces-paperbirds @thesenseinnonsense

#Fluent Freshman AU #Neil at the booth: Hey Smith how you doing?#FF staring through time and space: ....#Neil to Andrew in Russian: I don't think he's having a lot of fun up here #Andrew to Neil: He said it isn't really his scene #Neil turning back to FF: Hey Smith do you wanna go somewhere quieter?#FF briefly stares at Neil before his gaze returns to the far off future: .....#Andrew: I don't think he can hear you #Neil: Hey Smith! Can you hear me?#FF looking at them again: I Can't Hear You!#Andrew: Told you.#AFTG #AFTG OC #AFTG AU #My Fics #FF - Pt.17

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libraryofgage · 2 months

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The Prince and the Metalhead (2)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

I know I just posted part one but I've got Thoughts for this AU that include: Steve's first birthday in Genovia and then his 16th, his conversation with his grandmother about attending public school in America for his senior year, and then we get into him attending Hawkins High and meeting Eddie!

So, yeah, plans lmao

Anyway, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

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"You'll have a rotating course schedule. Mondays and Wednesdays will focus on math and social studies. Tuesdays and Thursdays will be science and literature. Friday will be Royalty lessons and the history of Genovia. We can also include an elective, if you'd like."

Steve blinks, staring at Sue for a moment before glancing at Jonathan and Robin. Jonathan is looking through a book of photography and Robin is idly scratching behind Dart’s ears. "Will we all have the same elective?" Steve asks.

"Not unless Jonathan and Robin want to join you," Sue says, looking at Steve expectantly. She's got a pen at the ready to write down what he says, and it suddenly feels like a lot of pressure.

Is there a wrong answer here? Is there an answer that gets him sent back to his parents? He looks down, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood. Before he can lose himself in his thoughts, a cold and wet nose presses against his hand. Steve blinks, smiling at Dart and picking her up to hold close. "What kind of electives are there?" he asks.

Sue hums softly, flipping to another page on her clipboard. "Possible electives include art, music, theatrical performance, physical education, equestrian studies, botany, and foreign languages, to name a few."

"I'll be taking photography lessons," Jonathan says, looking up at Steve and gesturing to his book.

Robin nods and leans back on her palms. "I'll be doing the physical stuff. Like learning how to fight and practicing ballet to improve my balance," she says, leveling a look at Steve that dares him to say anything about the ballet.

Steve wouldn't, though. He doesn't want to make Robin angry enough to ditch him. He looks down at Dart, thinking for a moment before asking, "Can I take more than one?"

"Of course, but you're limited to three for now," Sue says.

What would be the most helpful? Foreign languages, probably, since he'll definitely have to speak with ambassadors from other countries at some point. He should also learn something that can be shown off, a skill that he could pull out at functions to make his grandmother proud or distract guests.

"What language should I learn?" he asks.

Sue thinks for a moment, tapping her pen against her chin. "Mandarin. It's a business language, and we have close relations with a few representatives from China and Hong Kong. If you'd like to learn a Romantic language first, though, Spanish is good."

"I'll learn Mandarin," Steve decides, nodding once to himself. "And music. I want to learn to play...hmm...the piano."

With a nod, Sue writes his electives down. "Let me know if you'd like to add an elective later, Your Highness. In my opinion, though, your current courses will keep you properly challenged for now."

------------------------

Sue wasn't kidding about his academics being challenging. Steve struggles in math, muddles his way through science, drags himself through literature, and is ready to drop when he hits social studies. He'd ask the tutors to spend more time on topics, but Robin and Jonathan seem to have no problem keeping up, and Steve can't bring himself to disrupt their pace.

His Mandarin lessons are going just slightly better if only because the tutor seems to recognize that slower is better for him. After almost a month, he's starting to understand intonation and vocal variation better, and he can recognize a few characters on sight.

Piano lessons are also going well. His tutor there doesn't burden him with theory; she introduces the keys, shows him how to read sheet music, and then lets him choose songs to learn. Steve feels the most at ease when he's squinting at sheet music and slowly pressing piano keys into something recognizable.

The lessons he really looks forward to, however, are the ones for his Royalty Education. He gets to see his grandmother then, and she spends the whole day with him. Even better, something about this stuff just clicks. He's good at fixing his posture and memorizing silverware placement. He bows just right on his first try and his grandmother compliments his wave.

By the end of the lesson, she'll be smiling, her pride obvious, and take him for a walk in the gardens or to eat cookies in the kitchen.

"Royalty requires maintenance," Clarisse says, standing in front of Steve with relaxed shoulders. "You maintain your demeanor, your image, your knowledge of foreign dignitaries, your understanding of the people’s needs, and your humility. But you must also maintain your pride and your boundaries."

"That sounds like a lot," Steve says, idly tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"It can be overwhelming, but it becomes second nature in time," Clarisse explains, smiling reassuringly. "When you're royalty, you are constantly watched. Many eyes are kind or curious, but others are malicious, and you want to do everything you can to disappoint the malicious ones."

"How?"

"By acting like the Crown Prince you are."

"What kind of prince am I?" Steve asks, finally voicing the question that's been lingering since these lessons started. What kind of prince does his grandmother want? What kind of prince would best serve the people? What kind of prince will be so loved by all that nobody could even think of thinking about getting rid of him?

Clarisse hums, thinking for a moment. "I suppose a good one," she says, her slight smile telling Steve that she's only lightly teasing. "My hope is that you'll be kind and competent. You will make Genovia prosperous without compromising tradition. You won't allow politics to stand in the way of doing what's right by the people of Genovia. But this is a tiring job, so I hope you'll learn how to balance your duties with relaxation."

It's a lot, but Steve can do it. He can be that kind of prince, especially for the country and grandmother that's offered everything he's ever wanted and more. He nods once. "Okay," he says, "What do I need to learn, then?"

Clarisse smiles fondly at him. "Let's start by reviewing Genovian history. Only by knowing the past can you face the future."

With that, she places a book on Steve's desk and doesn't wait for him to open it before telling him about Genovia's founding.

------------------------

Steve has weekends off from classes, which leaves him with more free time than he knows what to do with when he doesn't have to clean a house or make his own meals. So, he's bored, and telling Robin that he was bored was a huge mistake after she suggested riding bikes around the garden only to learn Steve didn't know how.

She'd insisted that he should learn, insisted that Clarisse be the one who teaches him, and insisted on hearing no objections.

And now he's here, standing in front of Clarisse's desk and staring down at his feet as she finishes writing something on the paper in front of her. Joe is standing just to her right, hands behind his back.

"Okay," Clarisse says, gently placing her pen on the desk before looking at Steve with an encouraging smile. "What did you want to ask me, Steve?"

Steve bites the inside of his cheek, takes a deep breath, and looks up. "Well, um, Robin wants to ride bikes, but I don't know how," he says.

"Well, that's easily fixed," Clarisse says, reaching for a phone at the corner of her desk. "I'm sure a member of staff is free to teach you."

Before she can pick up the phone, Steve finds himself blurting out, "Well, I...I was hoping...you could teach me."

Clarisse freezes, blinking twice with confusion before looking at Steve. "You want me to teach you?" she asks. When Steve nods once, she sighs softly. "A queen does not ride bikes. Besides, I have too much work to complete. Perhaps I could accompany you for a walk this evening to make up for it."

Despite himself, despite bracing for rejection, it still hurts. In the three months he's been in Genovia, Clarisse has agreed to just about every request he's made. Every held breath as he waits for cruel words has been released with unprecedented relief when none came. Even when he broke something---a priceless vase, according to Jonathan---his grandmother had simply surveyed the damage, thanked him for being honest, and asked him to avoid kicking soccer balls in the presence of priceless vases in the future.

Perhaps Steve has gotten too comfortable. He shouldn't be pushing like this. If he wants his grandmother's affection, he should know when to hold himself back.

So, despite the unfamiliar urge to ask again in case Clarisse might change her mind, Steve nods once. "I look forward to walking with you, Grandmother," he says, his voice quiet. He glances up, waiting long enough to see Clarisse's smile before turning on his heel and leaving the office as quickly as he can.

Clarisse watches him go, her head slightly tilted as the door closes silently behind Steve. She nods once, glad that Steve is sensible enough to understand things like work and propriety, and picks up her pen once more.

"If I may speak freely, Your Majesty?" Joe asks.

"At this point, Joe, you may as well assume the answer is yes."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, and please pardon my French, my experience has been that assuming makes an ass out of you and me."

It takes a moment for Clarisse to understand the joke. When she does, she can't help her amused smile. "Fair enough," she says, "Go ahead, Joe."

"Do you remember what I said about being Steve's grandmother?"

"Yes, of course."

"Perhaps now is one of those moments where being a grandmother is more important than being a queen. His Highness does not ask for much, and he is not the kind to ask more than once, even if he really wants something. I imagine it took a significant amount of courage to ask you to teach him in the first place."

"Are you suggesting that I...I risk making a fool of myself for all to see?" Clarisse asks.

"I am suggesting you spend time with your grandson, who asks very little of you because he does not believe he can ask for anything."

Clarisse is silent a moment, letting Joe's words process and settle in her brain. Finally, she sighs and gestures to the papers on her desk. "I have work to complete," she says.

"Your Majesty, editing these proposals was on your schedule two weeks from now. You are ahead of your work. A break would not be unreasonable or unwarranted."

Well, when he puts it like that.

Clarisse sighs, leans back in her chair, and looks up at Joe. He's still staring at the door, giving no indication that he feels her eyes on him, but she knows he does. "Have a groundskeeper retrieve bikes and safety gear and meet us in the garden," she says, standing from her chair and bracing herself to look like an utter fool.

Her apprehension fades away fifteen minutes later. It can't hold last when she sees Steve's surprised and delighted expression at her presence. As she helps him put on knee and elbow pads, shows him how to pull the helmet's strap tight, and holds the bike steady as he sits on it, Clarisse decides a little foolishness is perfectly fine (necessary, even) if it will keep the smile on Steve's face.

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Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added to future parts!)

@y4r3luv, @potato-of-the-lord,

#stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #princess diaries crossover #queen clarisse renaldi #modern royalty au #future steddie #robin buckley #jonathan byers #the party's parents #my writing #anybody else ever have that experience where the first time you realize that somebody won't make you feel guilty for asking for things #you get way in your head about not asking for the one (1) thing that will ruin it all for you #so every time you ask for something new you're bracing to take the request back as quickly as you can #just me?#aight then lmao #to absolutely nobody's surprise i am projecting on steve harrington #if you made it this far in the tags #you deserve a cookie lmao

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rivalmelty · 8 months

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they are fukuzawa’s boys, adopted twins, and menaces to the yokohama police

(pls do not tag as beast)

#oriondrewthis #bungou stray dogs #bungou sd #bsd ranpo #bsd odasaku #i’m glad everyone likes my extremely self indulgent au #i’ve literally been thinking about it for three years and it’s like free therapy istg #as far as i’m aware there aren’t really any fics about this au #but i could be extremely wrong about that idk i haven’t read too many bsd fics if i’m being honest #i have a personal google doc full of hcs and drabbles that i’ve been adding onto for years #but that’s really about it #i know i’m not the only one who’s thought about this concept #i just have never interacted with anyone who shares the sentiments who aren’t my friends who i’ve forced the concept onto #i will defo be drawing more of them in the future especially considering. canon events currently agskdjdkd #but yeah thank you for the love 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽#they are brothers your honor #oh it’s very important but ranpo is older #by five days but it doesn’t matter he’s older and that’s what’s important #yes i am ignoring that technically in canon ranpo would’ve been 22 in dark era #and odasaku is canonically 23 in dark era #this is my self indulgent au and i make the rules #two pillars au

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cheriboms · 6 months

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doctober day 23: nostalgia

fact: doc has a saxophone in his garage in both 1955 and 1985, with seemingly no ties to his scientific pursuits. hypothesis: theres some sentimental reason, maybe he played (plays?) it as a hobby since and/or prior to 1955...? conclusion: they def had at least one jam session

[[ proof of my claims >:0 ]]

#back to the future #bttf #marty mcfly #einstein brown #doc brown #emmett brown #doctober #doctober 2023 #christopher lloyd #michael j fox #my arts #my sketchy wip arts #i had like half a ficlet typed up for this instead of a drawing but then i realized itd be very out of place for my content so far #so i had to start over. hence lateness even tho this is very simple overall >_<;#maybe if i ever do a proper fic ill just put that scene in lol. i kinda dont want it to go to waste ehh :P #anyway i know they bonded about an interest in music. pry it from my cold dead heads #tbf doc has a jukebox and obvs the amp in 85 which could be more evidence but also u could argue those were put in specifically for marty #HOWEVER there is no debate abt the sax. WHY would 55 doc have (and keep??) that for 30 years unless he had some sort of attachment to it !!#ive connected the dots !!! (you havent connected sht) IVE CONNECTED THEM !!!!!#i personally think he got it in his pre jules verne era. ie before he got into science and was just kinda figuring out what he wanted to do #bby doc like 'uh idk music??' n his mom like 'ok sweetie which one do u want' and obvs he has to pick the quirkiest one in the store. king #so hence why i categorize this under the 'nostalgia' prompt. its like a childhood hobby that he revisits thanks to his musical teenager <3 #but thats all just my theory so uhh yeah ;w;#also every time i listen to 'back in time' this image manifests in my head. it literally has guitar and sax so like. its them. TO ME #also also i hate drawing instruments BYEEE. like youd think after being in 2 other music heavy fandoms id know how but. u would be wrong

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anonymous-dentist · 5 months

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Super post canon but Pepito is canon to Breaking Dawn and, as in canon, Roier will be his only present parent out of the bunch… for better or for worse. He’s harsher on Pepito in human form because he doesn’t want Pepito becoming spoiled or anything, but Loboier ADORES Pepito and will carry Pepito around on his back and snuggle with Pepito and play with Pepito and kinda sorta do everything as a wolf parent that Pepito wishes he would do as a human parent (because Roier is going to have ISSUES by the end of the fic, sad face. He’s trying his absolute best, but trauma doesn’t go away overnight)

So Pepito, age three and a half and very silly, thinks Pepito is a wolf. Because Roier is only super nice to Pepito as a wolf, that must mean that Pepito is, in fact, a wolf.

Cellbit is Not amused by this and he keeps telling Pepito, “No, you’re a human just like your brothers. Your Pa is just a bit silly sometimes.”

(They’re going to family therapy. It’s actually been working, because they wouldn’t have adopted Pepito even a year ago because of Roier’s. Issues. Post-fic.)

But the Pepito just howls and toddles away to go bother Richarlyson into playing video games

More family therapy is obviously going to be needed

#monster au fic #again. FAR in the future

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immunetoneurotoxin · 3 months

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“Not a soul assigned to their case at the Bureau could make sense of their existence. There wasn’t a single scientist, parapsychologist, doctor, or specialist with over a dozen PHD’s under the sun that could figure them out. Pyrokinesis in a human? They defy every law of nature, yet they exist amongst humanity regardless. How do you explain that?” “The truth is that there are a lot of unknown things out there in the world that mankind hasn't even begun to scratch the surface of. Everyone flocked to this case trying to find rational answers, but there aren’t any. Look at the files in your hands. By the eyes of science, Pyro should not exist. Don’t you know what happens to things mankind doesn’t understand? The Bureau has done sickening things to them in the name of research.” “That’s why I helped them escape, Conagher.”

Excerpt from the novel INCENDIARY; A TF2 Pyro origin story Read the latest chapter of 'Incendiary' on AO3 here! Artwork created by the incredible @narklos ♡

#tf2 #tf2 pyro #if you're reading this hello!! I'm the author of this story!#I was basically struck with an idea one day... what if I created a whole pyro origin story with deep world building and original characters #7 years later here I am :)#the pyro origin story nobody asked for but is getting anyways!#while it is on track to be a origin-type novel it is also still very much a self-indulgent fanfic #I still have a long ways to go before this fic is done but this is by far one of the most ambitious projects Ive ever done for any fandom #and I hope you all love it too <3 #also CAN I JUST SAY #NARKLOS IS A GOD #I gave him a vision and he just blew my fucking mind away with the final product that I'm still in awe about this #Narklos if you're reading this ILY and I can't wait to work with you again <3 #also I should mention that the excerpt IS in the story but in a future chapter that isn’t out yet #but it was fitting for this post :)

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invinciblerodent · 4 months

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Another case of the "I'm not done"-s seems to have possessed me, because the immortality and rebirth of elven souls and this fucking elf/vampire!elf romance I'm doing right now is kind of ruining me.

Because, well... look.

This shit is ripe for angst.

For so long, there is no real reason to think much about the passage of time. Death, it's but an abstract far in the future- a bridge to be burned when they get to it. It's easy enough to practically forget that mortality is a thing to account for: with both the endless stretch of centuries they have and her body as unchanging as his, that thought can be kicked further down the road for what feels like it might even be an indefinite amount of time. Their lives just inch along, endlessly, and twine together like the roots of an ancient forest, building around- and with one another. Friends come and go, live and die, and yet, every moment, every day, is permeated by the other's presence: even in their "sleep", they're reliving shared memories (there is scarcely another kind, by now) while holding one another.

Talking about which of their adventures they chose to remember in Reverie is one of his favorite parts of the night.

Until one evening, as she opens her eyes to greet both him and the nightfall with a smile, he catches... just the faintest opaque, silvery glint in her pupils. It's barely a flash, gone in an instant, as if it was merely a trick of the light, but the thought, like a pesky insect, begins buzzing in his head. It will not let him rest.

With this new thought gnawing at him, he can't not see that there's almost a... strange distance, to her now. Even with this hazy half-awareness, it would have slipped his note if he hadn't come to know her quite so intimately over the past half millenium, if he hadn't memorized her cadence and heard her every loving thought as if it was his own. But he's attuned to her: even as her fingers glide through his hair, and her lips speak her words of love like they have so many times before, the same words, they... ring slightly hollow, robotic, automatic in their sweetness now, and once the dreaded Sun begins inching over the horizon and he's forced back into the shadows once more, her kiss goodbye lingers just one second longer, she holds him just a touch tighter before she'd be out the door.

All day, he circles the darkened room like a trapped animal, mind flush with thoughts of robotic words, silver glints, and a creeping dread. Surely, it cannot be what he thinks. It cannot. It wasn't a half-moon, it's not the Transendence, it was merely a... a reflection off something, moonlight bouncing off a silvered picture frame, or the twinkle of a magelight lighting the street glancing through an improperly closed curtain, a... a stomach bug that she's toughing out and is too stubborn to say anything about, something. It cannot be what he thinks, fears that it was.

The day drags on, the hour he'd expect her back comes and then passes, and when she returns, it is closer to sundown than it normally would be. Usually when she must leave for the day, she tries to time her return so that they can rest together, and then emerge from their chambers at the exact moment of nightfall to maximize the amount of time shared, the time he can walk free with her on his arm, but today, she returns with darkness on her heels, and bittersweet sorrow marring her face.

"Arael, we need to talk," she says, and the beloved endearment in their shared native tongue, 'heart' and 'hearth', 'center' and 'lover' in a single word, turns to acid in his ears. Instantly, he knows what she's going to say.

"How long have you known." It's not a question in tone, only phrasing- the hiss of his own voice feels alien in his throat. "When were you planning on telling me."

"It's been... a few days."

A few days. A few days, she's been...! He can't bring himself to think the word 'dying'. He can't. His knees give way under the weight of her words, and he crumples onto the nearest chair.

"You.... should have told me right away." He wants so dearly to be furious. His hands itch to rip, to tear, to destroy everything, his tongue aches to spit bile that'd make her feel exactly the pain he does in this moment... Gods, it was so easy to grow complacent and start believing in forever, to stop counting the hours, the days, the years, and still, it's her godsdamned near-forgotten mortality that's come knocking-- now, that his life is inexorably intertwined with hers, that she's been the other half of his soul for long enough to see the birth and death of friends and enemies, the rise and fall of monarchs, nations. And yet, her life's thread is soon to be clipped, while his must stretch on, infinite.

He buries his face in itching palms and swallows the bile to make room for the flood of grief. "I could have prevented this," he whispers now, "We could have had the chance, at forever... forever, if I could have turned you, if only I had-- if I--"

A soft hand on his shoulder stills him now. "Arael," she repeats, and traces a line to his chin, gently urging him to look at her. "I could not have dreamed of a more blissful, blessed life, than the one I shared with you. But--"

"Don't say it!" She winces as he snaps, and his hand is now grasping her wrist, insistent, hard enough to almost hurt, as he presses her palm against his cheek. "Don't, it's not over yet-- she may be calling, but you don't have to answer, you can stay--"

"I can't, my love."

"But--!"

"Arvandor is calling my soul, Astarion. The Gate is open. Sehanine has shown me; I must answer."

"But not yet, there's still time, you--!"

Her thumb gliding feather-light over his lips cuts off his desperate shout. "I have time enough to get my affairs in order," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, "but I can delay it no longer than maybe another tenday. For now, please... simply be with me."

That night, they make love. Tender, aching love that leaves them both tearful in one another's arms- his whole body shakes, racked with heavy sobs as he buries his face in her chest, as if that way he could melt into her, to keep her here, keep her safe, keep her for himself, or... or follow her, anchor his soul to hers, stow away and smuggle himself into the afterlife that rejected him, so they can be reborn together, find one another again, have another six hundred years, and another, and another...

Hopeless. A fool's desperation, no more. There's no tricking the Seldarine: he had rejected rebirth in favor of this wretched, eternal half-life the moment Cazador's fangs sunk into his flesh so long ago now, and his soul was rent from Arvandor. There's no changing that now, no fighting it, and no putting it off longer either. So he kisses her through the sobs once more, makes love to her once more, and drinks deep from her once more, willing his tongue to carve this memory of her taste, her essence, her love as deep into his mind as it may.

She takes the promised tenday to get her affairs in order, and to set up all that may only be done during sunlit hours: she organizes herself a nighttime funeral, arranges for her assets to be dealt with as she may, and makes sure to hold him tight, to mourn with him as if she herself wasn't the one dying. And each night, she speaks sweet, reassuring nonsense of the permanence of memory, of rebirth, and the aching, heartrending beauty of gentle endings.

And once no more minutiae is left to handle, there is no more delaying the inevitable.

She is laid to rest in a modest ceremony, in a small circle of trusted friends, under the light of a waning moon.

He mourns, bitter and alone, for years- barely leaving his chambers out of necessity, flitting through the nights as a ghost not entirely unlike the one he was so long ago, until one evening he wakes to find the pain... bearable. There will quite possibly never not be a wound on his soul now, but even the deepest wounds, they scar over: there's new, tender flesh, pink and gnarled, stretching over the void of her absence now. And life, it continues as it does, relentless.

Decades pass. The new flesh, it toughens, thickens, until it can scarcely be seen, unless you know where to look for it: the loss now lives only in the absent-minded seeking of her warmth in his cold slumber, in the automatic gesture of taking two wine glasses from the cabinet only to set one back down; it lives behind the locked door of her untouched workshop and in the slip of parchment left between the yellowed pages of the book she had never finished reading.

Until one evening, shortly after nightfall, there is a knock, hard and insistent, on the door.

His body redies itself for a fight, as if a hunter might be so bold as to announce their arrival- but curiosity, it's too hard to resist, and he scarcely makes an effort.

It's... an elf. But not any elf- a woman, younger, taller, and fuller in figure than she was, and her hair, it's a tightly curled warm chestnut rather than her blood-red waves, but it's unmistakable: her features, they are exactly the same. The same fire amber eyes, the same freckles dotting her cheekbones, even the same raised mark at the edge of her jaw that sits there like an insect had folded its wings and chosen to make its home on her skin. And the stranger speaks, with her voice, before he could find his own.

"So you do live!" she says, equal parts disbelieving and relieved, "Or, well, something like that. I could tell that you were a vampire, from the-" she gestures vaguely to his face, "-fangs and all, but I still wasn't sure I'd ever actually find you."

There's... a prickle of understanding. It's her, but... not quite. Her soul. Her, but born anew. And she returned in a way, to reminisce, to meet him once more- and his mouth opens, but the words, wary and elated and tender at the same time, get lost on their way to his lips.

It's an imperfect replica of her laugh that leaves the woman's mouth. "Gods, don't gape at me like a beached carp like that! I've been seeing nothing but your damn face in my trance for decades now; I was looking for you, hoping you could answer some questions I have." The familiar stranger flashes her mischievous smile. "Can I come in? I feel we have a lot to talk about."

There is no love in this. But, there's nevertheless something... bolstering, in the unique opportunity he can present to the new owner of her soul: the opportunity to get to know, truly know, who she once was. Halting and strange as it may be, they do talk quite a long time, and when she leaves, it's with gratitude, and a short, awkward, one-armed hug that she bids her farewell.

And time stretches, infinite yet again.

As long as he may live, her soul, it continues seeking his across however many lifetimes, until one day, the strange elf finds the door in their hazy memories hanging off its hinges, and the home, collapsed and empty, maybe for decades now.

Occasionally, it is still said that in each generation, there may very well be an elf born whose soul feels an irresistible need to make a curious, solitary pilgrimage to the ruins of a city once known as Baldur's Gate, and hope against hope to find a pale man with red eyes wandering the empty streets.

And maybe, a woman who had once lived there so many centuries ago was right: there's an aching, heartrending kind of beauty in that.

#squirrel plays bg3 #squirrel writes #astarion #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #look it's the closest thing to actual fic that I've written in like 6 years #there needs to be a Cool Internet Slang Abbreviation for 'head in my hands'#i've decided right this second that i'm going to make it happen and just use 'himh'#himh take this away from me #i feel a weird urge to add just one or two more words because this is 2022 words it seems #but even though it's def not perfect i kinda don't want ot keep touching it #ANYWAY have quick and dirty and hastily written angsty fluff sometime far far far into the future

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bart-bro · 1 year

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So a Half-Kryptonian Clone and a Robin from another alternate earth walk down the aisle one day…

#Two Earths AU #timkon #young justice #dc comics #conner kent #tim drake #superboy #red robin #fake screencap #art wip #HEAVY spoilers for my fic if you follow that LOL 😭#This is so far in the future osnxisj Kon hasn’t even realized he likes Tim yet in it

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cupiidzbow · 5 months

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that one post asking what ring they would propose to you with….. i actually have a whole thing of how it would play out ( im normal )

#doodles #not putting this in my main art tag bc i was just scrawling down ideas I might make a whole thing tbh …..#the whole thing i was thinking abt was like. we both know we’re far from ready to get married #but we know we want to be with eachother for the rest of our lives #he’s wanted to give something to show he was committed to me so he got a promise ring. not an engagement ring 😭#but i think he’s proposing that we get married and that’s why i look a lil horrified .#he panics after seeing my reaction not realizing how it came off and promises that he wasn’t proposing #he just wanted to make it know that he wants a future together with me ….#idk I don’t know if I have the will power to make a comic …. maybe I’ll write a fic….. im insane rn sorry ….#banjo i love you #🐻🍯🪕

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helielune · 6 months

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lost and found

#jjba #trish una #vento aureo #i love putting her under a spotlight i guess #< tags that make no sense unless you're me or you're here two months in the future bc i queued #another trish doodle and it's like. pretty far back lmfao #i Could post it now but it's like. idk it just has more winter vibes to me so i left it there #in many fics i've read people keep turning her into a pop star. good for her #my art #no longer a wip!!! incredible success story #mostly bc i just left it unpolished. lol don't look too closely maybe. or look super closely on purpose idk whatever you want

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tennessoui · 27 days

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couples counselling au is magical. is it true that there's a holiday story? I guess it's on ko-fi? if yeah obviously totally respect but if it's on ao3 i can't find 🥺

regardless ty so so much for the amazing story!! ♥️ Absolutely live for the fix-its where okay, palps is dead and obikin and company are alive but the emotional work still has to be done, Anakin is not adjusting, Obi-Wan isn't adjusting, Jedi order isn't adjusting, lol.

also I do have to add, I'm surprised you don't go for obianidala/anidala just because you write anakin and padmé together very well! Admittedly with an obvious side of it not lasting. but still written super talentedly regardless!

hello hello there IS a holiday couples counseling au story - it's a part of my holiday stories collection on ao3! here is the link, though to warn you, this takes place in a nebulous time further into the story that we haven't gotten to yet. in the author's note, i linked the story on a03 and the link to the tumblr tag, where there are more short ficlets and answered asks about the story!

also aww i'm glad you enjoy my take on anidala - thank you for saying i can write it well! i don't think i would ever actually write it or obianidala, that's just not me. when i write the pairing, i spend way too much time emphasizing all the problems they have and how incompatible they are and how their break-up is inevitable, and that's pretty much my thoughts on the ship (i'm sorry to multishippers on my blog!!) but i do try really hard to write padmé as a whole character though, not just a stepping stone to get to obikin and maybe that's why it comes off as being written well? i don't really like fics where padmé's only there to get in the way of the end-ship and i also don't like fics where she gracefully steps aside so that obi-wan and anakin can be together, so many of my stories that feature anidala on some level (couples counseling, a more perfect union) take a look at all the flaws in their relationship but also the flaws in both her and anakin. for me, it makes her feel like a more rounded character, and maybe it comes across as a fleshed out relationship that could possibly survive if not for- (enter obi-wan, stage left)

#asks #couples counseling au #also the holiday fic is not necessarily canon to what will happen in the couples counseling au #like i don't think i will copy and paste the holiday chapter into the actual couples counseling fic as chapter 7 or something #it was just an idea of how they would look and act together far into the future #(cause people on tumblr voted it as number 3)

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