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stevebabey · 1 month

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it was supposed to be short n small and now its 3k & its unedited and u all have to just deal with it bcos it was supposed to be SMALL | ao3

The driver's side car window makes a resounding thunk when Steve’s forehead falls against it.

Through the glass, his keys glint tauntingly back at him.

Still tucked in the ignition, locked in on the inside. So close and yet so far from Steve who is, unfortunately, locked on the outside.

I’m such a fucking idiot.

He lets his head raise up a bit just to drop it back against the window again, this time more in punishment. Of course, of course, he coughs up the money needed for a warrant of fitness and then he goes and locks his keys in the car the next day. Like he needed one more cost added to his finances.

Steve steals a glance at his watch. Fuck, if he doesn’t get on the road in the next 10 minutes, he’ll be more than late to work.

His eyes glance across to Eddie’s van, parked beside his own car, outside the trailer home in Forest Hills. Then he looks back at the trailer.

He can ask. He can just go inside and ask Eddie for the lift— and explain that the reason he can’t take his own perfectly fine car is because he’s so goddamn thick between the ears that he’s locked his keys inside, like some kind of moron.

The voice in his head sounds suspiciously like his father.

Something thick grows in his throat. He swallows it to no avail. Embarrassment begins to flush down his neck, hot and uncomfortable.

No, no— he can’t ask Eddie because as far as Steve knows, Eddie hasn’t quite figured it out yet.

Even while Dustin and Mike make their jokes about him being a bit slow, even when Robin says at least you have your pretty face, Eddie brushes them off and laughs. Takes them as jokes with no merit to them. Steve knows though.

So what if he doesn’t want to burst his bubble just yet?

He knows Eddie will figure it out eventually— because they always do. When he asks too many stupid questions and needs things explained twice and— and it’s just inevitable, okay? He knows that.

Fixing his glare through the window of his car at the shiny pair of keys within, Steve wrestles with what would be worse; being late or accidentally tipping Eddie off when they’ve just gotten so close.

Close enough to share a kiss, two nights ago, under the covers. It was barely more than a peck. But Steve knew it had taken a miraculous amount of courage from Eddie to do it— to surge forward and grab Steve’s face, his rings cool against his skin, and press his mouth against his Steve's own.

Eddie’s lips had been chapped but his smile had been pure sunshine and Steve thinks he could’ve stayed forever under that blanket, memorising the shade of pink Eddie’s cheeks turn after a kiss.

They’ve been dancing around it ever since. Each interaction is more charged, more flirty, more gooey. Long lingering looks and pointed nudges that make Steve feel like a 14-year-old with a crush again, in the best way.

So, no. He exactly can’t go ask.

With a heavy sigh and glance up at the darkening sky, Steve is only glad he’s not supposed to pick up Robin today as he begins to walk.

—

One phone call to the auto-shop reveals exactly how much it’ll cost to get his keys retrieved. Which is, to say, entirely too much for one adult living on the wage of a Family Video employee.

And they won’t be able to get anyone out for another whole day.

Growing more and more frustrated with himself, Steve angrily jots the number down into his little notebook, the pen pressing down hard enough to leave indents on the page behind it. Keith is somewhere out the back, snacking no doubt, and leaving Steve to man the front.

Normally, it wouldn’t bother him— especially because he could discretely make the phone call he needed— but now it’s just him, the empty store, and the number in his notebook that stares back at him.

Oh, and it’s raining.

The darkening sky from earlier had transformed into something closer to a thunderstorm, rain lashing against the windows and driving any and all customers away. Which is fantastic— just what Steve needs now, really the fucking cherry on the top.

The phone rings, the noise unusually shrill in the silence of the store. The film playing amongst the aisles has been on mute as soon as he’d gotten his hands on the remote and Keith had disappeared out the back.

Steve stares at the phone, watching it ring once, twice, before he picks it up with a heavy sigh. He dredges up his customer service voice.

“This is Family Video, how can I help?” He greets, putting as much pep into his voice as he can manage—which turns out to be a meagre amount.

“Did you walk to work today?”

Steve straightens up at the sound of Eddie’s voice on the other end of the line. His free hand instinctively smooths down the front of his vest before he quickly remembers Eddie can’t actually see him.

“Eddie?” He asks, instead of answering the question.

“Your Highness, himself,” Eddie responds. His tone is that usual jaunty playfulness that Steve’s come to adore. “Now answer the question, Steve-o. I thought you were one of those smart guys who actually listens when the weather report comes on the radio. Why the hell did you walk?”

Steve’s shoulders curl in, just an inch, and his eyes seek out the open notebook with the quoted amount, underlined and circled, staring back at him. His throat grows a lump at Eddie’s unknowingly poor choice of words.

“Thought I would walk today.” He replies, his voice clipped. “You know, walking, exercise, good for you? Any of these ringing a bell for you, Munson?”

It’s supposed to be a joke but Steve can tell by the end of the sentence, it’s come out way too sour to land that way. He sounds mean.

Steve cringes, clutching the phone a little tighter and screwing up his eyes. He waits for Eddie’s response.

“You know,” Eddie says, sounding a lot duller all of a sudden. “I was calling to maybe offer you a lift through the rain—”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, that-“ Steve cuts in, that same strange embarrassment swelling in his throat. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

“—But if you’re gonna be a dick about it, you can enjoy the walk.”

Steve grits his teeth and pinches the bridge of his nose because this feels a little too much like a line from his Dad— but it isn’t because Steve is the one digging this hole all on his own. He’s the idiot who fucking locked his keys in his car and walked to work and snapped at Eddie and—

“No, I’m sorry.” He says, still a bit too tense.

Idiot, idiot, you’re being a fucking idiot, Harrington.

“A ride would be appreciated. Please.”

A pause. This time when Eddie speaks, he’s a little softer. “You off at five today?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at five.”

The dial tone sounds as Eddie hangs up but Steve stays where he is, phone pressed against his one good ear, with a sinking feeling in his stomach. The rain begins to flood the parking lot.

—

Five o’clock comes around too soon.

The rain has let up, just barely, but enough that Steve can actually see Eddie’s van when it pulls up into the parking lot. It rocks about dangerously in the wind and Steve suddenly feels bad for making Eddie come out to get him.

He could’ve stayed here, taken the longer shift. Told Keith to take off early and just walked back home when the rain let up a little more— or just camped out the back on the couch in the employee room if it never did.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

He’d started doing it more and more when his parent’s visits to home became more frequent. It was easy to pull a few white lies out and Steve far preferred answering questions like: Where were you last night? than Why won't you come out to our event tonight? Show face for the Harrington's? It's not like you're doing anything with your life, right?

The only reason he’d stopped, actually, was because he had become good friends with Eddie.

Eddie, who loved his company almost any hour of the day. Who gobbled up each and every morsel of food Steve cooked up, whether it was good or partially burned on the sides. Who told him he had a place in the trailer, day or night, rain or shine.

Eddie who… was waiting outside at five o’clock exactly, pulled up to the curb so Steve wouldn’t have to walk through the rain for more than a moment.

There’s a sliver of surprise, deep within his chest; like he thought Eddie might’ve not shown up and forced him to walk through the rain, just to learn his lesson. It would make sense, Steve thinks. You reap what you sow.

He clocks out hastily, barely murmuring his exit to Keith who doesn’t look up in the slightest. Steve heads for the door and decides then and there, he’ll happily pay the number in his notebook if he doesn’t have to tell Eddie what a fucking moron he actually is.

Water splashes as he dashes down the steps and Eddie’s leaning across, pushing the door open so Steve doesn’t even have to wait to yank it open in the rain. He slides in, sprinkled with rain, slams the door closed, and instantly gets blasted with heat.

“God, you’re a lifesaver,” Steve sighs, sticking his hands out towards the air vents which are working in overdrive. They whir loudly in complaint. Eddie smiles, the apples of his cheeks glowing in the warmth, and twists the wheel, his eyes on the road before him.

The van groans and the bumper dips, kissing the gutter, as they roll out onto the road and head for Forest Hills. For a moment, Eddie focuses on driving straight before he flicks his gaze across to Steve.

“You know I wouldn’t have actually let you walk, right?”

Steve blinks, unsure of what to say in response, because he actually did think that was a possibility until about 2 minutes ago. He shivers as a stray drop in his hair sneaks under his collar, cold and wet.

“Right.” He answers, giving a hesitant smile back.

They’re driving slower than usual due to the rain. Steve lets himself sink back into the worn seats of the van, comforted by the familiar smells. A tang of tobacco, a stronger hint of weed, and that musky deodorant that Eddie swears by— even if Steve has never heard of the brand before.

But, well, it must be working in some sense because when Steve takes a deep breath, he smells it and feels a sense of calm. He doesn’t even notice he’s begun staring.

The strange weather has made Eddie’s hair frizzier than usual and paired with his rosy cheeks, Steve thinks he looks goddamn delectable. He gets caught up in a daydream about having a hot chocolate when they get back to the trailer, maybe even sharing a blanket on the couch and—

And then, Eddie turns and says, “So, wanna tell me why you walked? For real, this time?”

Something shrivels up within Steve. The tightness in his throat from this morning returns. He turns his head and looks out the window.

“I don’t get why you don’t believe me when I say I walked because I wanted to.” He grumbles, almost too low for Eddie to hear over the rain.

Why are they still talking about this? He thinks of the keys through the driver’s side window, thinks of the number in his notebook and the much smaller one in his bank account, and has to hold back from thumping his head against the glass again.

Something metallic jingles behind him.

Steve whips around, his eyes zeroing in on his keys dangling from Eddie’s hand— clearly just retrieved from his pocket. Something ugly and warm wakes up inside him, his stomach knotting uncomfortably, and his cheeks start to burn in embarrassment.

Idiot, Idiot, Idiot.

He knows, he already fucking knows how stupid you are.

Eddie’s eyes dart off the road to look at Steve. “Cos you’re clearly not telling the truth.”

Steve averts his gaze, turning his face back to the window and the wet pavement rushing by beneath the car. He swallows but the lump in his throat doesn’t move.

“Okay, look I don’t actually care that you walked to work,” Eddie continues, placing the keys down in the cup holder between the seats. “I just don’t get why you wouldn’t tell me that they were locked in your car.”

Steve can’t help it, the way his shoulders hike up. His teeth sink into his bottom lip meanly, nearly drawing blood. He doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get it— Eddie’s still trying to rationalise away what everyone else has already figured out.

“I just—” Steve starts, on the defence, but it comes out a bit too wet. He forces himself to swallow again, thankful there’s no sting of tears in his eyes. “I can fix that shit on my own. That’s all.”

“Well, yeah,” Eddie agrees.

Below them both, the hum of the van begins to dwindle and Steve realises abruptly that Eddie’s slowing down, pulling over to the side of the road. He looks to the side, at Eddie.

“Please, c’mon, I just wanna go home, man.” Steve pleads, not even caring that he’s referred so casually to Eddie’s trailer as his home.

“Wait, just,” Eddie waves a hand as he sticks the van into park, releasing the wheel and properly turning to Steve.

“I just want to understand. You know I can pop the door to most cars in, like, 5 minutes. Why didn’t you just ask?”

“Eddie,” Steve stresses, turning away with a pointed sigh. He runs a hand through his hair, latching onto the roots and tugging at it. “Just leave it, please.”

“Or asked for a lift!” Eddie continues, his hands gesturing out a bit wildly. “I could’ve given you a lift even.”

Steve's eyes slice across the van and he wills back every emotional outburst that wants to lash out of him, to poke the right spot that will hurt to get Eddie to back off.

But Eddie is just staring at him, brown eyes wide, a little furrow between his brows, and is just confused. Concerned.

“If you keep driving,” Steve murmurs, almost dejectedly. He ducks his head low and turns back to the window. “I’ll tell you.”

It works— the engine rumbles back to life and the wheels roll gently back out onto the road, just a couple more minutes from Forest Hills. Steve watches the road and tries to grasp for the right thing to say, each possibility dissolving like smoke. His eyes squeeze shut tightly. The rain dins loudly on the roof of the van, a song and dance of the elements.

By the time they’re entering Forest Hills, Steve still hasn’t said a word. The van crawls up into its usual spot, next to Steve’s own car, and Steve stares down at it. He can hear the soft click of Eddie’s seatbelt as he releases it.

He supposes it’s too late now, anyway. Eddie already knows. He keeps his eyes out the window as he speaks, his voice flat and dull.

“I just... I didn’t want you to think that I’m an idiot, too.”

There’s a questioning noise behind him, a little noise from Eddie’s throat that slips out, unbidden.

“Too?” He echoes. “Steve? Who thinks you’re an idiot?”

Steve huffs loudly and turns back, throwing his hands up. “Jesus, who doesn’t? Would you like a list?”

Eddie’s face twists into a meaner expression than Steve's ever seen before and for once, he properly matches the dark clothes and spooky tattoos he dons.

“Yes. And I’ll go door to door— wait,” He shuffles, shifting up onto his knees so he can stretch over the console and place his large hands on either side of Steve’s face, directing his gaze towards him.

It’s reminiscent of a kiss not too long ago. Despite all the burning self-deprecation that churns inside, the pleasant reminder dulls it significantly.

“I’ll go door to door to anyone who ever made you feel that way,” Eddie repeats, now face to face with Steve, their noses nearly touching. His brows are still pull tight into a furious frown. But it's not at him, Steve realises. “And I’ll do something— I’m not sure what yet, but it’ll be foul and like, maybe I’ll put instant mash potatoes on their lawn and— okay the specifics aren’t relevant but this— this is.”

He searches Steve’s face intently, eyes darting around, making sure the message is sinking in. His expression softens out, his eyes suddenly sweeter than before. “You’re aren’t an idiot, Steve. You aren’t an idiot for making a mistake and I’ve never thought that about you.”

Steve blinks. Swallows heavily and god fucking dammit, is the thickness in his throat ever going to disappear? This time it feels different though. He’s not sure how.

“You don’t think I’m an idiot, do you?” Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head, moving Eddie’s hands with them at the same time. It’s true, he doesn’t. Eddie is… goddamn fucking wonderful. He’s like a warm summer shower through the wretched seasons of Steve’s life. One of the reasons it was worth living through the entire ordeal of 86.

The rain outside continues, pitter-pattering on the roof, somehow softer than it was a second ago.

“Okay,” Eddie says, a small smile on tugging on his lips.

“Okay,” Steve says back. He tries for a smile and it’s easier than expected, though it wobbles at the ends. It doesn’t matter— Eddie is still gazing at him, brown eyes shining and Steve believes what he says.

“Okay,” Eddie says one more time, his smile turning closer to a grin. “Let’s go make some cocoa, yeah?”

He moves to retract his hands but Steve moves faster, his hands darting up to hold them in their place, palms against his cheeks.

“Wait,” Steve murmurs, watching how Eddie stills and keeps his closeness, their noses still a couple inches from touching— and Steve clings to the threads of courage in him tightly.

His hands slide off Eddie’s, grasping lightly at his wrists, and it’s easy to lean forward and connect their mouths in one swift motion.

Eddie squeaks— then melts.

It takes half a second before he remembers to kiss back, equally as enthusiastic and it’s nothing like the first kiss they shared under the covers. The rain dances around them and Steve swipes his thumbs over Eddie’s pulse soothing, feeling the barest jump of his rabbiting pulse.

When he shifts back, breaking the kiss, Steve keeps the closeness, the tips of their noses bumping together. Eddie’s hands feel blazing warm on Steve’s cheeks but when his lashes flutter open, catching sight of Eddie’s glorious pink cheeks, he thinks it might be his face burning up too.

They tumble inside through the rain and with all of Steve’s prayers answered today, they also share a blanket on the couch, ankles linked beneath the rumpled fabric. They make hot chocolate, Steve’s style, and sip it at, making googly eyes at each other over the rim of their mugs— until Eddie laughs too much and spits it down his front.

Steve doesn’t feel stupid again— unless that is, you count feeling stupidly sappy.

(He does not.)

#get it OUTTA MY SIGHT #god this ate up too many hours for the final product #resisting the urge to boo my own work #ruby writes steddie #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlet #hurt/comfort #technically it is tehe #steddie hurt/comfort #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington hurt/comfort #uhhhhhh that's all folks.#i just need a boost im having a week and its friggin. monday #okie byeeeeee

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ingoodjesst · 1 month

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have you put the pieces together yet, detective

#goro akechi #akechi goro #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #p5 akechi #p5 spoilers #persona 5 fanart #jesst some art #i may have worked on this for... just under two weeks? i had like. so many fckgin thoughts i might make a process/concept breakdown post #it's honestly just for my own peace (haha piece) of mind because i overthought about. SosoooOoOo many motifs and symbols and i just wanna #idk PUT EM ALL somewhere........ maybe it'll become its own jessay of mine. god. who can say.#also DUDE tumblr rly does crunch up quality wow ouch #unironically a core thematic inspiration for this piece is a quote from the folding ideas' video 'the nostalgia critic and the wall'#'it doesn't all make sense or resolve or coalesce because we don't all make sense'#'everyone is the illusion of order constructed brick by brick out of chaos'#i've watched that video essay through at least. a dozen times at this point. everything about it. yeah. it's good.#this piece initially went many different directions and i have realized ah yes to fully explore just THESE themes that i'm interested in as #they relate to goro akechi i will need to draw. at least two more pieces. sdlfhsdlkfjsd

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jeeaark · 3 months

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Shirtless Disaster Pt. 1

So. pretty sure the emperor cusses. just. never had the reason to say out loud. or has a filter on when they talk. Until Greygold happened. You ever try and look with the emperor's perspective when Tav makes decisions and go, 'H-how are you not ceaselessly cussing like a sailor at Tav?'

ANYWAY- HERE'S THE THING. TRULY. Always had my squinty-eyed caution on Emps. Trying to ascertain if they were for real with their words/actions/intentions or not. but. Squid buddy sharing their feelings of caring was the uh snowball that started this avalanche. Can't fake feelings huah, GREYGOLD FINALLY FOUND THOSE MUSHY BITS HUAH.

I ain't gonna let y'all wonder what Greygold's answer was, so uh. Bonus!

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 #the emperor bg3 #greygold #bg3 fanart #bg3 comic #-snorts up delusional cocaine- okay so HERE'S HOW WE CAN STILL MAKE PINA COLADA FRIENDSHIP WORK #We turn it into a pina colada -more-than-friends-ship \ o /#WAS I AWARE THAT ALL ODDS WERE STACKED AGAINST GREYGOLD? YOU BETCHA #BUT I PUT TOO MUCH EMOTIONAL INVESTMENT IN THIS SQUID YOU THINK I WAS GONNA SAY NO????? ///HA///#You think I didn't think I couldn't make the impossible happen?????????????#the ending to this game was either gonna be -really- fucking good or really really REALLLY FUCKING //TRAGIC//#and I was all here for it #WHO NEEDS TO PLAY AS DURGE TO SUFFER WHEN YOU CAN JUST MAKE REALLY RISKY LOVE LIFE CHOICES WHILE HAVING THE HUBRIS OF THE GODS THEMSELVES

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rattusn0rvegicus · 9 months

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Man I feel like a lot of leftist activists would do a lot better to just use common fucking language to talk about things rather than dense academic shit that's only understandable to people with PhDs and people who spend 95% of their waking life on Leftist Twitter lmao

Like, you're talking with other academics? Great, use academic language. You're a social media account trying to interact with the general public? Don't say "decarcerate", say "find alternatives to imprisonment". Don't say "collective liberation", say "freedom for all". By GOD don't say "bodymind autonomy", say "the ability to have control over our own minds and bodies".

Yes it takes a little more effort to explain shit in common language but I promise you people will stop looking at you like you have two heads and dismissing everything you say as Woke Bullshit if you like, actually get on their level, goddamn it. Not everyone has the privilege to have a graduate-school level understanding of this type of language or spend so much time reading leftist theory that they can perfectly understand this stuff.

#being a public health student has made me even more passionate about this too #like. You want to make a change? You have to make sure the general public UNDERSTANDS WTF YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT FIRST #Like for example I think Project LETS is a great concept and is doing great stuff #But my god their public outreach needs some MAJOR work #By using this type of language you are isolating the type of ppl who can benefit from your services to 'college educated Twitter leftists'#Social justice is a MAJOR INTEREST OF MINE and even I struggle with making sense of some of the shit y'all say!!#Like I have to translate it in my head to normal speak #And like. These types of spaces constantly talk about accessibility for disabled people? Bullshit man #What about those with intellectual disabilities or cognitive impairments who struggle with this shit?#What about people who are just learning English? What about people who work full time and don't have the time to learn this terminology?#Goddamn #It's all performative!!!!

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cheekylittlepupp · 2 months

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Let’s kiss as if it’s our last ~

#astarion #bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #mims posts ~#astarion x tav #astarion romance #baldur's gate iii #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion screenshots #bg3 screenshots #oc: mira #the addon I needed finally works and gods I can finally do the PEAK final kiss…#i…im speechless at this #patch 6 kisses are absolutely amazing 😭 I can’t wait to do all of them now that se works #AHHHHH I CANT WAIT TO GIF THESE😭 I need them tattooed on the inside of my eyes

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darling-zain · 10 months

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✮ ↳ The Show Must Go On ↰

♡ yandere! actor x gn reader♡

tw/cw: slight obsession, nothing too detailed

authors notes: first work and i wrote this in one sitting...it's okay we're fine ♥ also i may have based him off of myself and i will probably do that with a lot of my ocs! my bad i'm just a theater kid who likes to write

➼ yandere! Actor who first only knew you as one of the stagehands, always flitting back and forth behind the curtains.

➼ yandere! Actor who didn't even know your name until you got promoted to prop manager.

➼ yandere! Actor who never knew how every character that he played fell in love with someone at first glance, but as soon as you walked onto the stage and started giving out your orders, it was like the heavens had shone their light upon you and you only.

➼ yandere! Actor who was infatuated with everything about you. Your responsibility, your assured nature, the way you'd sternly correct him when he messed up his lines because he "should be reading off his script, not off my face".

➼ yandere! Actor who was always on top of his game, one of the best actors in his region, yet when you looked at him with your concentrated eyes it was like he was a rookie again.

➼ yandere! Actor who would be stuttering and tripping over his words on purpose just to get you to come up and read it with him, your warm body so close to his that he could almost taste the perfume you were wearing.

➼ yandere! Actor whose heart raced whenever you praised him, even a simple "good work today" would give him butterflies.

➼ yandere! Actor who knew that opening night was approaching, so he worked day and night to memorize his lines. The excited smile on your face when he was able to perform the whole dress rehearsal without flaw was something he'd never forget.

➼ yandere! Actor who, standing behind the curtain on the first day of their showing, suddenly started to shake. He's been in the industry so long that he forgot what it's like to have pre-show anxiety, and he doesn't even know how to deal with it. Suddenly, a warm hand is put on his shoulder.

"You're shaking." You point out, turning him around to face you. "Why? Are you feeling alright?" You place the back of your hand on his forehead to feel his temperature. "You're not warm, so you're not sick..." You think about it for a second, looking him in the eyes with a warm smile. "Are you...nervous?"

Aurelian doesn't speak, instead, he just nods. He's ashamed of you having to see him like this, the Aurelian Yavuz, getting jitters right before the opening night of one of his most popular shows.

"Hey, look at me." Your voice is soft, yet commanding, forcing him to look into your assuring eyes. You place both your hands on his shoulders, gripping them firmly to help ground him.

"You've done this show countless times before, and we've read the script together so many times that it should be burned into your brain by now." He laughs slightly, a sign that your motivation is working.

"You're one of the best actors I've ever worked with, and one of the most dedicated as well. You've spent so many hours reading, fixing, and editing this performance so that it's just right and absolutely nothing could go wrong. Am I correct?"

He nods again, making you click your tongue.

"Use your words. Am I correct, yes or no?" Your firm tone makes it hard for him to disobey, especially when you look at him with those fierce eyes.

He gulps, taking a deep breath before responding.

"Yes, you're correct. I've done so much to make sure that this show is perfect, so I have no reason to be nervous." He stands up straighter and walks backstage, adjusting his costume in the mirror. "Plus, I know that you'll be watching, so everything will be okay~." He winks at you from the mirror, making you chuckle.

"Exactly. We behind the curtain will be making sure that everything goes smoothly, so all you have to do is go out there and do what you do best." The lights start to dim as the audience applauds. You pat him on the back and adjust his collar for him.

"The stage is yours, Auri." you nod at him as he takes a deep breath, walking out onto the large wooden stage to loud cheering. His voice booms through the stage, and soon enough, the show is over. The cast takes their final standing bow and walks back to their dressing rooms. Aurelius makes a beeline for the lighting booth where you are usually sitting; he bursts through the door backstage, only to find your seat empty.

"What...?" he looks around for any trace of you, but it's like you've disappeared. He takes a seat in your chair and waits for what seemed like hours to him because of how tired he was. 15 minutes after the show ends, he hears your voice from outside the door. he gets up to open the door, but as soon as he does, the door opens with a creak. There you are, standing in the doorway with a coffee in one hand and your bag in the other, looking up at him surprised.

"Auri, why haven't you changed? Everyone's already leaving, you should go too-"

"You weren't watching." He cuts you off, looking at you with cold, dead eyes.

You look at him confused, setting your bag down on the floor. "What are you-"

"Why weren't you watching?"

#zain>>works #yandere writing #tw yandere #yandere blog #yandere #yandere x you #soft yandere #oc x reader #god i think i blanked out writing this #it's now half past one in the morning #i can't remember how i got here #all i remember is having an idea and needing to write it immediately #it's fine it's okay #we ball #anyway this is my first work i hope yall weren't expecting much

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egophiliac · 10 months

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We ARE going to bring up Captain Amelia. You have good taste! GOOD TASTE I SAY! *aka I just rewatched Treasure Planet and got hit with, "Oh yeahhhhh... that explains a lot!"*

honestly, the Meg/Jasmine/Amelia trifecta tells you 90% about me as a person. (the rest is covered by Sailor Jupiter and Sailor Uranus and, uhhh, I'll stop baring my soul to the world now)

and speaking of Amelia, this is tangential, but like -- there's one Twst comic I have been kicking at for a while where I needed an RSA sports/flight teacher and, uh, well

someday I will wrangle this stupid comic into coherency and she'll get to make an appearance (in the background of a single panel, half-obscured by a tall hat) (but I will know she's there and that's the important thing)

#art #twisted wonderland #twst oc #my plan worked i've tricked you all into looking at my anime catgirl oc #she exists to yell at some rsa boys so she doesn't really have like. a character or story or anything. sorry!#(her name is alexandria north and that is what she considers a sporty outfit. that's as far as i got)#this is the one that is mainly about silver and neige having a mutual bluebird friend and i am having terrible trouble making it not suck #which given some of the stuff i post should tell you something about how it's going so far #(it's just kind of an incoherent mess of ideas at this point. nothing specific just ~the creative process~)#maybe the rest of episode 7 will give my brain the kickstart it needs. depends on how that goes i guess #god. the next episode 7 bit drops in (probably) just a few days.#I'M NOT READY #i have simultaneously never been ready and always been ready #i exist in a perpetual state of impatience

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ganondoodle · 7 months

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rough beast ganondorf design + sketches + notes design combines the typical boar form (dark beast + cloud form from botw), the oni one (demon king gan) hint at the draconic one to come but keep part of his humanity with his clothing being mostly intact

as the battle with Demon King Ganondorf comes to an end, the sages previously knocked out start to wake up again, he is cornered and hurt and as fear of being imprisoned, tortured and exploited overwhelms him he transforms into the Beast form, breaking the arena you were fighting him in and him going for Zelda as she is the biggest threat (he remembers her destroying dark beast gan and she reminds him of sonia, who is the one you sealed his human body back in the day)

you and zelda flee through the cracks of the earth as more earthquakes happen with a beast at your heels thats now truly only out to kill as fast as possible as he burrows after you (first sketch)

the path takes you both just below the surface and as you are trapped in a dead end zelda shields herself and link with her light shield ability, which protects you both from immediate damage but cant soften the impact from gan charging at you, the impact of which breaks you all three to the surface and the battle takes place in the same spot as botws dark beast fight-

fight is very challenging as gan is smaller than the dark best version, jumping and charging at you while still able to cast spells, now truly throwing everything he can at you in the hopes of ending you both

fight ends with you shooting an arrow at zelda, her deflecting it at the right angle and it shooting off the enigma stone on gans forehead; he falls seemingly defeated and as zelda runs to take the stone away gan through sheer panic lunges for the stone triggering his dragon transformation and making way for the final fight

(summary of the end: in the final fight gan snatches up both link and zelda once he transformed into the black dragon and takes flight toward the sky, zelda falls from between his teeth and knowing that she cant get to link and help him in any way from the ground she, while falling, takes out the enigma stone she has kept in a save container in her backpack all this time and swallows it for her own transformation, in her white dragon form she takes active action and charges at gans head so link is freed, then supports him in the fight itself; at the end link plunges into dragon-gans mouth to reach the stone on the inside where he makes use of the 'medicine' previously made using the moonbloom taked from kogas secret lab, link and the stone are spit out and as gan reverses into a human and falls link is caught by zelda and he uses the second charge of it on her to bring her back as well; as all three fall from the skies as the sages have made their way through the tunnel that beast gan made earlier, they help link and zelda getting to the ground safely while the yiga do the same for gan - final end end isnt determined yet but this is waht i got so far and even if i have written this once before i felt it was fitting to do it again and no you cant tell me this is too much of a wishfulfillment thing bc it literally is just that as i cant actualyl change whats in the game, so even if im trying to make it all fit well together i can still do what i want nhakjdbgshdbhsjka)

(totk rewritten project)

#ganondoodles #zelda #art #tloz #loz #ganondoodles rewrites totk #ganondorf #i wanted to do a little summary and it again ended up gigantic #anyway #design needs a little fine tuning but i just made this in one burst of motivation so uuuh yeah #love me some parallels #and yes both the dragons only appear in the final fight #bc the focus is on the cycle of violence that the sonau started again even if they had good intentions and you working to break that #you know- characters having complicated relationships and some things not working out well through a series of mistakes #not one dragon twist thing .. or whatever the canon game actually wanted to say except goD gIVeN mONarChY GOoD - EvIL gUy evIL #and yeah once you have seen one of my monster design you have seen them all #it always ends up like this but what can i say #das wat i be doing

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mandelacataclysm · 8 months

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AND QUITE SUDDENLY I REMEMBERED / I HAD BEEN HERE BEFORE

I’D STOOD ON THIS SAME HILL / I KNEW THE VALLEY OF WHICH I LOOKED

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starry-bi-sky · 4 months

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Clone^2 Damian

If you really think about, Damian's situation in the clone^2 au is... kinda tragic? Especially in the early months of his arrival. Like,,, think about it. Damian has always known he was a clone of Damian Wayne, that he was a copy of the blood son. There was nothing 'original' about him, not even his name (of which at least Danny has that). He was just... a replacement. A disposable one, to boot.

And he knew that, to an extent, by the time he was six years old. he might not have been actively acknowledging it -- he's six years old -- but deep down he knew. And like, he's six years old. Every small child craves the love and affection of an adult, especially their parents, and even though he knew he was clone, I imagine he still considered - and still does consider, somewhat - Talia and Bruce as his mother and father. And I really doubt he was... getting it?

Now, I know Talia loves Damian, her son. At least in some interpretations she does, and in this au she does. But... a clone of her son? I'm not so certain if she would have the same affection for baby Dames as she would for Damian. I don't think she would treat him badly, but I don't think Talia would treat him warmly either. Kinda just, distant. Colder than she would have been with OG Damian.

And, I know I've mentioned Damian's arrival from Danny's point of view, and its kind of comical kind of insane from his perspective -- a little boy clone of Damian Wayne falls through a portal and immediately attacks him. That sounds like a bad joke.

But, if you think of this from Damian's point of view? It's like he just got dropped into a scary movie. Like, think about it. You're six years old, and suddenly a portal, as green and as swirling as your grandfather's pools, opens up beneath your feet and sucks you through.

After an intense bout of vertigo, you end up in a massive, urban city -- completely different from the rural mountain palace that you lived in for the last six years of your life, and in this city, you don't know any of the language. You don't know what anyone is saying, you can't read any of the signs - you are completely stranded, away from home.

And then, to make things worse, you're facing a figure with a terrifying mask and eyes as burning green as the portal you fell through. Of course Damian's first instinct, six years old, is to attack. He's terrified.

And this figure, he's not a good fighter, but he's fast, and he dodges you quickly. He grabs your sword with his hands, and tries to restrain you, saying something in a language you don't know. Naturally, Damian is just scared. He's six! He'd just be learning how to read if he was normal child going to school.

This figure halfway through the fight yanks off his mask -- he realizes you're scared -- and looking at you now, is a youthful version of your father. This is a clone of your dad, someone you have never met but, six years old, still wants to. Damian gets defensive. This is an imposter.

But this imposter eventually gets you home with him - and he's using his little box, his phone, to communicate with you through a mechanical voice speaking in arabic. and it's frustrating. The boy, the imposter, can say whatever to you just fine, but trying to talk back is a hassle and a half. He's six, he doesn't have that much patience.

He wants to go home.

And so he keeps trying to run away. He keeps trying to find out of this hellish concrete jungle, and he keeps getting lost. It's loud, and busy, and there are people talking to you and you don't understand them, and there are rules and signs you don't understand - Damian tries to cross the street and nearly gets hit by a car. He doesn't know how the road signs work, he was never taught. They didn't get to that.

And he gets lost. And it gets dark, and Damian is brave, but he is six, and this is the worst stress he's been under in all his six years of life. He wants, desperately more than anything, to go home. Why wouldn't he? The only stable... semi-stable environment he was in just got ripped out from under his feet, literally! He wants his mother.

And it's not happening.

But there's something good to be said, at least. The imposter that looks like his father always comes and finds him, no matter what. He could have left that morning, and he will find Damian at midnight, frazzled and worried, and carrying an extra jacket with him because it is cold in Amity Park and Damian is six years old.

And sometimes Damian attacks him - he's scared and stressed and he doesn't want to be here. And every time he catches the sword. Even though Damian can see it cut into his hand and pearls of blood well up and stains his fingers. Even though Damian can see him wince in pain and bite his lip, he still catches it.

But with that little box, he coaxes Damian to come back with him. It's cold, it's dark, Amity Park is unsafe at night. They can figure something out tomorrow, please. And every time, he agrees, reluctantly. And the imposter takes the extra jacket he brought with -- a flannel, a hoodie, a jacket -- and he wraps it around him. It's warm, Damian's clothes are not that thick, and even though he thinks he might hate this imposter, he still sticks close to his legs as he leads him down the street.

And sometimes the imposter carries him, because Damian's shoes are not that thick, and he cuts his foot on broken glass while they're walking home. The imposter sits in the bathroom with him and carefully cleans the cut out, and makes sure it doesn't get infected.

There's hope you know, he still has it. His mother will be looking for him. She'll be worried. He's important to them. Damian may not be the original, but he is still a blood son. He is still her son. She will come find him. This nightmare will end soon. He can go home.

And then weeks pass, and nothing. Then months, and nothing. His family is not coming for him, and it hurts. Hurts more than anything. And yet while that happens, the boy he's attacked, and hurt, teaches himself arabic in order to speak to him. He takes Damian out of the house one afternoon and buys him new clothes, or tries to. And then he keeps buying him new clothes. He gives him blankets and gives up his bed to him until they can get him one himself, and steadily he teaches Damian english.

This boy is kind. Kinder than Damian's ever experienced, and he doesn't know what to do with it. He's devastated by the fact that he is not as important to his family as his family is to him. What do you do when you're six years old and you learn something like that? When a random stranger who looks like your father is kinder to you, and cares more about you than your family did?

And then Damian tells him he's a clone. He's Damian Wayne's clone, and he tells him his purpose - that their grandfather made him to kill him. And the boy, the imposter, Damian thinks he probably already knows that he's a clone. But he doesn't say that. He just nods, and asks him if he wants to tell his original about him.

Damian says no. He doesn't want to. He's tired of living in the shadow of his original. He wants to keep this to himself. This is his. For once, all of this is his.

And to his surprise, the imposter doesn't try and convince him otherwise. He just nods, and says okay. And when Damian asks why, the imposter - his brother - looks at him and says.

"I don't care about Damian Wayne. I care about you." And in Damian's gobsmacked silence, his brother continues. He tells him that if Damian doesn't want to tell his original that he exists, then they don't need to. They don't need to worry about the LoA going after him, because clearly if his 'grandfather' needs to make a clone of Damian in order to take him out, then whatever it was that Damian Wayne was doing to keep himself safe, was working.

"Wayne already has people in his corner, he's got Gotham's army of vigilantes to keep himself safe." his brother says with his eyes as blue as moonlight. "You, however. Do not." And he continues, and says that if Damian Wayne has the same training as Damian does, then he will be fine. He doesn't need to be aware of his clone. Because if DW doesn't know about Damian, then the LoA doesn't either.

And here's the thing. Damian would not have survived in the LoA for long. Not as a clone. No matter what, he was going to die no matter what he did, and sooner rather than later. The sword of Damocles was always hanging above his head in the League of Assassins.

That portal, and meeting Danny, saved his life. There's no way around it. And to an extent Damian knows this even at six years old. He may not be aware that he would've died, but he knows that meeting Danny was the best thing to happen to him.

It's no wonder after that, that Damian is as clingy to Danny as he is. Danny is the first person he's met to offer him unconditional love, with no strings attached, only pure affection.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpdc #dpxdc crossover #clone^2 #like god can you imagine how scared he must've been? how afraid? he just wants his mom - only to realize he doesnt even matter to her #dpxdc au #danny fenton is not the ghost king #this poor kid man. no wonder he latched onto danny the moment he gave up on the league like a leech. he's a six year old kid man and #it doesnt matter how smart he is or how mature he acts. he still is six years old. he still needs that validation and affection from adults #or from people older than him. and his emotional needs were just not being met in the league.#cue the song “two” from sleeping at last - some of their songs are very clone^2 honestly.#'sweetheart you look a little tired. when did you last eat? come in and make yourself right at home. stay as long as you need.'#'tell me is something wrong? if something's wrong you can count on me'#'its okay if you can't find the words. let me take your coat and this weight off of your shoulders'#'like a force to be reckoned with. am i the ocean or a gentle kiss. i will love you with every single thing i have'#'like a tidal wave i'll make a mess. or calm waters if that serves you best'#'i will love you without any strings attached'#like just. just *imagine* being in damian's shoes during all of this. he's *six* you guys. i've worked with six year olds and they're #pretty independent but they're still six. they get excited when they see their parents and they get upset when an adult is angry with them.#they're still developing their motor skills. they're still developing everything else!

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