#i bet they all have rabies

[loveinhawkins]

Robin’s always had a soft spot for Eddie Munson, but up until recently it had been in a distant kind of way; she appreciated his class clown act, the way it had a domino effect of keeping the heat off the band kids, how he hogged the spotlight for any passing douchebag’s attention.

But then they both literally dive into The Upside Down, and her appreciation reaches a whole new level.

They’re in the Wheeler’s garage, thanking their lucky stars that four bikes exist in 1983 (and yeah, Robin’s sure that if she thinks about the whole time thing for half a second more her brain will promptly melt, so she doesn’t).

Each of them are pushing their chosen bike down the driveway, in a dazed sort of silence—the high of the Lite-Brite worn off in the face of another grim journey through The Upside Down.

Steve is flagging, Robin can hear it: his breathing’s growing laboured as he walks, an occasional unsteadiness to him that’s setting her anxiety off all over again, because what if they were wrong, what if it’s really rabies, and it’s too late, it’s coursing through his veins, and he’s—they’re gonna lose him—

“Hey, Harrington,” Eddie says, swinging a leg over his saddle, “wanna race?”

“… Hmm? Sorry, what?” Steve says.

There’s not even that long of a delay in him speaking, but the pause still has Robin’s heart in her throat.

Eddie’s got one foot on a pedal now, ready to set off. He looks back at them with a shaky grin—like he’s terrified, but he’s still gonna have some fun anyway.

“I’m throwing down the gauntlet, King Steve. Bet I’ll be faster than you.”

Steve scoffs, stands up a little straighter before he mirrors Eddie, balancing on the bike with one foot on the pedal.

“How much are we betting?”

Eddie huffs. “Oh, no money involved,” he says nonchalantly. He raises an eyebrow in challenge. “This is just for the glory.”

And God, there’s that spark back in Steve’s eyes; it’s like Robin can physically see his competitive streak giving him strength.

Eddie Munson, you beautiful soul, she thinks, I could kiss you.

“Faster than me? Yeah, maybe in your dreams, Munson,” Steve says.

But Eddie’s already speeding off with a comical whoop; Steve curses as he hurriedly tries to catch up, yelling, “You dick, that’s cheating!”

“Not in my rulebook!” Eddie says with a cackle.

And for a little while, that’s enough to put Robin’s mind at ease: watching the pair of them taunt each other like kids—hearing Nancy laugh at the spectacle as she bikes alongside her.

But then she falls through the Gate, Eddie close behind her, and they freeze when Steve screams Nancy’s name with such fear.

Robin’s plunged back into a mind-numbing panic; she’s sure that her heart doesn’t even begin to slow until they’ve left the trailer park, until Steve’s control of the RV switches from ‘holy shit, we’re on the run, what have our lives become?’ to something more normal—the reliable, measured driving she’s familiar with, taking her to and from school or work.

Finally, she has time to, um… take stock. Of… things.

She wobbles her way over to Eddie, grabbing onto his elbow as Steve takes a turning.

Eddie instantly holds her up, a steadying hand around her waist. “Oh, hi. I’ve gotcha—” “Your music isn’t actually shit,” Robin says in one breath. “I know, um, on balance, it’s probably not the worst thing I could’ve said, but the delivery was—but, you know, considering I thought Nance was literally about to die, I’d say it was, like, kinda calm all things considered, but—”

Eddie’s chuckling. “Yeah, on balance,” he echoes teasingly, “you were pretty damn funny, actually. Uh, sorry for. Um. Screaming at you? Basically?”

“Basically,” Robin agrees. “Yeah, you were like impressively loud. Not quite eardrum-rupturing level, but y’know, I don’t actually know anyone who’s really had that happen to them; Amanda Wallis said she ruptured hers at the pep rally ‘cause she was standing too close to us—the band, I mean, but—”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Oh, that’s bull, there’s no way that’d be loud enough to—”

“—I think she just had a grudge ‘cause David C on mellophone got literally the tiniest bit of spit on her, and he was only—”

“Yeah, well, everyone knows you sit in the splash zone at your own risk.”

“Exactly! She’s had plenty of time to learn marching band protocol.”

“Uh-huh, protocol,” Eddie echoes again, with a giggle.

He’s got a nice kind of laugh, Robin thinks: one where she’s never in doubt that he’s laughing with her rather than at her.

“That stuff you do’s pretty cool,” he says; with his free hand, he actually imitates her mime of playing a trumpet. “You must have good, uh…” She can see the exact moment that he’s having second thoughts about saying it, but he forges ahead anyway, with a hilariously uncertain, “Good… lungs?”

“Fascinating attempt at a compliment,” Robin says. “Luckily for you, I accept insults as, like, equal tokens of friendship.”

Eddie does a double take. He doesn’t go so far as letting out a questioning, “We’re friends?”, but he might as well have said it anyway: his eyes widen for a moment, like someone who’s just been unexpectedly asked out to prom.

Steve takes another turning; he does it smoothly enough, but even he can’t stop the RV from moving with it, and Robin stumbles again, very nearly ends up repeating how she toppled right onto Eddie in The Upside Down.

“Woah there, you’re good,” Eddie says, “just gotta find your, uh, what’s it called? Your equilibrium.”

“I don’t have any,” Robin says, all theatrical devastation, and Eddie snorts.

“Sure you do, Buckley. Look, just take my—yeah, that’s it, then just kinda straighten up… yeah, you’ve got it.”

And yes, after a minute or so, Robin’s footing does feel more certain, but she still keeps a stubborn grip on Eddie’s elbow, just in case.

“God, d’you know what I’m gonna do when all this is over?” Eddie says.

“Pray tell.”

“I’m gonna make a list. What was it you said, Madonna, Blondie…? Whatever, I’m getting all of them, m’never getting caught out like that again.”

“I’m hoping that needing music to evade the clutches of a serial killer from an alternate dimension is, um, strictly a one-time thing.”

“Don’t care,” Eddie says. “Still buying those tapes. Just in case.”

And yeah, it’s said partly in jest, but Robin can hear that he means it. Still, it’s the most optimistic that she’s heard him be so far: making plans for after, like he can really see a way through this. Like maybe he finally knows that they’ll help him get there.

“Need a list of tapes from you too, Buckley. You and Harrington.”

Robin smiles. Her first thought is of singing Total Eclipse of the Heart from the dirt-ridden floor of a mall bathroom, but then she thinks of every car ride with Steve, every time they’ve turned up the radio to belt along, and she knows that there are way too many songs to count.

“Forget a list,” Robin says, “I could fill a book. Same for big boy over there.”

Eddie blinks, like he’s suddenly taking stock, too. “Oh yeah,” he says, laughing lightly, “I did say that, huh?”

“Sure did. I was doubting my ears, too.”

Robin had been hoping they’d long since reached the point of being able to joke around with one another. But while Eddie does laugh again, he also starts biting at his thumbnail, glancing over at Steve in the driver’s seat.

“Um, hey.” Robin manages to keep her balance, briefly pressing her knee against his leg. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Eddie.”

“No, I know.” Eddie huffs self-effacingly. “I’ve kinda got permanent foot-in-mouth disease, my report cards would tell you that.”

Well, if he wants to pass it off as sometimes I just say the darnedest things, Robin would be a hypocrite to deny him.

It fascinates her in a sad sort of way though, how he veers between joking and nervousness—like he’s worried he’s intruding on their group, of overstepping somehow.

She wants to tell him: Look, we all got dragged into this, but we chose to stick around, and you’re no different.

But she no longer has the aftermath of Russian drugs to help bypass her own nerves, to kickstart her sincerity.

“Hey, you’re awfully quiet back there,” Steve calls, and Eddie startles.

Robin shakes her head. “Not us, that’s his—”

“Hello? Henderson, I’m talking to you.”

“We’re not even doing anything!” Dustin shouts back in exaggerated affront.

He’s sat on the backseat of the RV, peering out the window along with Lucas, Erica and Max. Robin stifles a chuckle at the sight; they look like they’re on a field trip—the cool kids at the back of the bus.

“Yeah, well, just checking,” Steve says, amused. “For all I know, you coulda been building a gigantic radio again on, like, the roof of this thing.”

“Cerebro,” Dustin says, just as Eddie lets out a baffled, “Uh, again?”

But then they’re pulling into The War Zone’s parking lot, and any chatter abruptly dies.

Afterwards, Steve gets off the road to park in a reassuringly deserted field. They don’t head outside right away (Robin’s not exactly looking forward to prepping Molotov cocktails), instead staying in the RV to eat junk food they’d grabbed beforehand.

Robin discovers that Dustin’s somehow bought five more cans of Pringles and snorts, declaring, “You’ve got a problem.”

At some point, Steve tries to sneak off to the bathroom so he can change his dressings—“And use actual proper bandages!” Robin calls to him; no offence to Nancy’s resourcefulness, but the torn shirt strips only do so much good.

It becomes a more comical than horrifying event, although she’s sure that’s down to Steve deliberately making it so, like a sleight of hand trick: playing it down as he keeps talking to the kids throughout, never wincing even once.

He ends up having to keep the bathroom door open to continue an argument with Erica over which Scoops Ahoy sundae was the best of all time—then figures that he might as well just step out into the open anyway.

At least the wounds have stopped bleeding—although the sight of Steve cleaning around them with bottled water is one that Robin could personally do without.

The kids are entirely unfazed. They flock to Steve, peering at the glimpses he lets them see like he’s just got a cool tattoo. Robin supposes that after El and whatever nightmare wormy thing was in her leg, they’ve seen everything.

Eddie, however, is another matter. He keeps quiet about it, not obvious at all, but Robin watches his face grow paler and paler before Steve wraps the new bandages around his stomach.

Dustin, bless his precocious little heart, must also notice, because he quickly starts up a seemingly impromptu game of charades, meaning that Eddie is soon distracted by his ridiculously over the top gestures.

“No, Steve, how are you not getting this?”

“I thought the whole appeal of this game was that you’re not meant to talk, Henderson. Dude, watch it, you nearly took Max’s eye out with… whatever the hell that was.”

“Oh my god, it’s Back to the Future, obviously! Ow, Max, I didn’t mean to—uh, yeah, the mime needs to be that big, how else am I gonna project what—”

“Dustin, I swear to god, I’m about to project you out the window,” Steve drawls.

Eddie laughs, hides it behind his hand.

But Steve must catch it, because he glances over at Eddie and winks before he’s dragged back into guessing another movie title.

And Robin’s obviously seen Steve wink before—he does it all the time, so much so that she’s become quite adept at reading when it’s a friendly one for her, or if he’s sharing some kind of in-joke with one of the kids.

She’s also seen his attempts at a ‘smooth’ wink towards some girls at work—and look, he’s Steve Harrington, it’s not like he’s going to be bad at it.

But if you ask Robin, it’s never looked quite right, like he’s always performing to an audience he’s unsure of.

But this wink doesn’t look like it belongs to either of those categories. Well, it’s got something in common with the first: that it looks entirely natural, as if he’s doing it almost without thinking. Like it just feels right.

They go through some more rounds of charades—Dustin’s gestures, if possible, getting even more dramatic—and Eddie gradually goes from contributing a few guesses to none at all, curling up on the backseat. He looks utterly wiped out.

Robin tries to catch Nancy’s eye, and after a few attempts, she gets the message, stands up with a nod.

“Okay, let’s take this outside, guys.”

“Spoken like a true camp counsellor,” Max says.

Nancy acts like she’s offended, but her lips keep twitching into a smile. “Max, never say that to me again.”

“There’s more space outside,” Erica says, “so we can duck out the way of Dustin’s windmilling arms.”

“Hey!”

“I’m bored of charades,” Lucas says. “We could do another competition? Like, I dunno, cartwheels or handstands or something?”

“Oh sure, so I can show you up?” Max returns, grinning.

Steve scoffs. “Uh, if you’re doing a cartwheel competition, I would win.”

“Since when?” Dustin says, an obvious taunt that Steve predictably rises to, flipping him off.

“Save your athletics for Vecna, please,” Nancy cuts in dryly.

“It wouldn’t be a fair fight.” Lucas gestures to Steve’s stomach, a little uncertainly. “You know, considering…”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Under normal circumstances, I would kick all your asses.”

“Sure,” Robin says brightly, “but Steve, if you do literally anything more strenuous than sitting down right now, I’m gonna—”

“Uh, Steve would kick your asses, actually,” Eddie says slowly. His voice is muffled from the way his hand’s holding up his chin, partly covering his mouth. “He did gymnastics.”

Robin, surprised, looks to Steve; he’s doing that thing where he scratches at his cheek unconsciously, seems to be a mixture of embarrassed and pleased.

“How’d you know that?” he asks.

Eddie shrugs. “We didn’t have a cover for gym one time, remember? There was a whole group of us slacking off but you just kept doing, y’know,” he twirls his fingers, “tricks on that box thingy.”

“Vaulting box,” Steve corrects like he can’t stop himself. He’s sporting an almost abashed little smile that Robin’s never seen before.

Eddie shrugs again. “S’all Greek to me,” he says, interrupts himself halfway through with a deep yawn.

Steve’s eyes soften. And then he’s ushering the kids outside, “C’mon, you can do whatever competition you want for thirty minutes before we get to work.”

“Got it, coach.”

“Shut up, Mayfield.”

“I’ll be your stopwatch if you’re doing handstands,” Nancy chips in, bringing up the rear—she catches Robin’s eye again, subtly tilts her head in Eddie’s direction and mouths Stay?

Robin nods.

“Uh, that won’t be accurate at all,” comes Dustin’s rebuttal—he’s outside now, but his voice still carries. “Unless you can like accurately keep time in your head down to the second—”

“Oh my god, Dustin, you’re such a shithead.”

“Nancy Wheeler, I’m heartbroken.”

Steve’s chuckle floats through the open door. “She said it, dude, not me.”

“You say it all the goddamn time!”

And then the voices fade away until all Robin can hear is distant laughs and joyful screams. It’s relaxing, in its own way.

“No gymnastics for you, Buckley?” Eddie says.

“Nope, not since 7th grade. Managed two cartwheels before I broke my wrist.”

Eddie winces in sympathy. He’s slumping a bit more; Robin makes herself comfy in the opposite corner of the backseat, gives him the most space.

She feels a weird lump at her back, behind one of the cushions. A quick investigation reveals an issue of TV Guide Magazine.

“Ooh, we can find out what we missed while on the run,” she says, waggling it in front of Eddie.

He smiles with a small huff. “Doubt it. Says 1981 on the front.”

“What’s a little more time travel?”

Robin flicks through to the crossword. She’s all too aware that Eddie’s still sat more stiffly than anything else. With Steve, it would be so easy; she could prod him in the thigh with her toe, light touches until he took the hint and relaxed.

But even before they’d really become friends, they were tactile: a tap on the shoulder to grab attention, bumping hips to move each other out of the way whenever they were scooping ice-cream at the same time. It’d been done so unconsciously, like they were already learning to read each other’s minds.

With Eddie, it’s clear that a different approach is needed.

Robin had caught onto that after her misstep at the boathouse, a pit in her stomach at the sight of Eddie’s hands shaking.

But her instinct to reach out, to soothe, made her unthinkingly try again; as they walked in the woods, she’d heard his breathing quicken, and her hand lightly brushed his back. She drew back as he instantly flinched at her touch.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said hurriedly. “Just—just checking you were okay. Sorry.”

Eddie just stared at her before nodding hesitantly.

And Robin wanted to tell him that it wasn’t by chance, that he had people who cared about him; that she did, and it wasn’t a fluke or an accident—she was choosing it.

She keeps her eyes on the magazine, jots down a few crossword answers. It reminds her of summer days spent reading on her grandparents’ porch, not wanting to startle a cat her grandpa had rescued as it approached her. It was always so spooked.

“You’ve just gotta let him come to you, sweet pea,” her grandma would say.

After a couple minutes, she hears Eddie breathe out, the creak of the seat as he lies down. He rests his head right next to her thigh.

“S’good?” he asks, pointing at the magazine.

“It’s pretty easy.” One of the crossword clues is ‘The Lion, the Witch, and the?’ which isn’t exactly taxing. “I’m used to doing the cryptic ones.”

Eddie laughs. He kinda sounds fond. “Of course you are.”

“They’re not that hard, once you know how to read ‘em.”

“Hmm, I doubt that. Lay one on me, Buckley.”

She purses her lips in thought. “Oh, I got this one last week. Condition of Wyoming, five letters.”

Eddie lifts his head ever so slightly to give her a blank look. “Not a fucking clue.”

“State. Get it? ‘Cause ‘condition’ is the definition, and Wyoming is literally—”

“God, I’m surrounded by geniuses.”

“Well, I’ve got the advantage of a summer of code-breaking.”

Robin slowly raises her hand as she speaks—makes sure to do it in Eddie’s line of vision, spots that he doesn’t pull back, that he even gives the tiniest half-nod. She pats his head twice.

Eddie scrunches up his nose. “Sorry, my hair’s gross.”

“It’s not that bad,” Robin says honestly. “Y’know for being on the run, it’s holding up pretty well. I’m getting whatever shampoo you use.”

Eddie smiles. “Sure.”

“Yours is looking way better than mine did after, like, one day getting wrapped up in all this.” Again, without really thinking, Robin adds, “I had all this sweat and blood and puke in it.”

Eddie’s eyes are closed now. He makes an unhappy sound, prods gently at her knee. “You’ve all gotta work on telling me horrific shit. That should not be casual for you, Buckley.”

He sounds emphatic—protective, even. Robin feels unexpectedly emotional.

“Yeah, sorry. Bad habit.”

Silence falls, and by the time Steve enters the RV, Robin has filled in the whole crossword, Eddie dozing by her side.

Steve’s getting another bottle of water—actually drinking it this time. He’s got grass stains on his knees, and he’s sweating slightly, like the ‘stay still’ advice hasn’t once been taken.

His eyes soften again when he sees Eddie sleeping—he doesn’t need to linger, but he does.

Robin watches.

We need more time, Steve, she thinks suddenly. For you to keep looking at him like that—for him to be awake to see it.

Steve tears his eyes away. Lands on her.

She smiles, mouthing What?

Steve rolls his eyes. He imitates her ‘what?’ mockingly, but then he smiles back and taps at his wrist, mimes winding a watch on. It’s what they do whenever they’re slammed at work, wanting to talk, but only able to briefly catch each other’s eyes in the rush. Later.

She taps her wrist. Later, she promises.

He gives her a double thumbs up—what a dork—before heading back outside.

Robin quietly puts the magazine away. Ever so carefully, she lightly strokes Eddie’s hair, feels her heart swell and break at the same time when he sighs contentedly in his sleep.

You’d better look after yourself, Eddie Munson, she thinks. You’ve got people here. People who really want you to stick around.

#on newly forming friendships and love ❤️ #eddie and robin #robin buckley fic #eddie munson fic #pre steddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve and the party #steve and dustin #robin buckley #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve and robin #eddie and robin fic

[wannaeatramyeon]

Goo Kim with Reader: Injuries

G/N. Can be platonic(ish) or romantic.

The thing with Goo, and there's lots of things with Goo, is that he isn't used to getting hurt.

He prides himself on being unmarked, unscarred, pristine. So when he does inevitably get hurt-

"You get into at least ten fights a day." You dab the open wound with disinfectant as he screams, "Of course this is going to happen."

- He is dramatic. More so than usual.

After he quiets down, you raise your eyebrow at him when he inspects the damage with suspiciously wet eyes, "I thought you have good pain tolerance?"

The wetness is immediately replaced with a glare and an indignant "I am!"

.

.

And the other thing with Goo  - again, out of many - is that the extent of his antics and reactions depends on a lot of variables… That only he is privy to.

Hell, his moods could be affected by the moon phase and whether Mercury is in retrograde for all you know.

Goo has chatted away, never flinching, as you stitched him up on occasion. Dramatics coming out only during recovery when he asks you for everything-

A hairdryer is thrusted at you and you narrow your eyes at it, then at him. Stupid grin on his face, towel hung low at the waist, skin fragrant from all his premium moisturisers, blonde hair damp and curling at the ends.

"Cupcake," his bottom lip juts out and voice is sickly sweet, "I'm injured."

"You injured your leg. Why can’t you dry your own hair?"

"Please?"

"..."

"Please?"

"..."

"Pl-"

"Fine!"

.

.

And, Goo being Goo, this doesn’t just extend to when he’s actually hurt. Goddamn his hypochondriac tendencies-

He storms through the doorway,  covered in dirt and dust. Clothes ragged and glasses smashed-

You glance up from your phone, “What happened to you?” 

“I NEED A TETANUS SHOT!”

Outbursts are routine, you continue scrolling on your phone.

“Fucking Gun Park in that fucking junkyard. Who picks a junkyard to fight in? I bet he’s given me rabies that asshole.”

Wait, what- You whip your head to him, “...junkyard?”

He looks at you, exasperated for not following this completely normal chain of events, “Yes Cupcake, keep up.” Then turns, pointing to a gash along his upper back, “Look at this! Ruined my beautiful body and my beautiful clothes!”

So maybe the junkyard isn’t the most hygienic place, and Goo does have a point there-

Nevertheless.

.

.

For all your annoyance though, you would gladly take him at his full unhinged Goo self any day. You remember the silence, the subdued mood following his training with Mr. Carpenter.

You're relieved he doesn't have days like that anymore. One particular memory is seared clearly into your brain-

"Hey," Your hands pause from bandaging his side, swollen and bruised and raw, yet you don't know if it even registers.

"Goo?"

He stares, has been just staring for the last half hour. Face blank and emotionless. Looking past you, not even in the present.

"Goo," You try again to get his attention. This time it works. His gaze flickers to yours.

"You'll get stronger.” You rest your hand on his, “You'll kill him one day."

Light, however dim, returns back to his eyes. Swagger and confidence is forced back into his mindset because he has to get stronger, there’s no other choice.

But hearing your belief in him, your own confidence in his ability-

He smiles, sincere and eyes crinkling,  "Babe, I know."

He creeps his arm around you, ignoring the throbbing pain, and smushes his cheek to your own. Glasses askew and hair crusty with blood staining yours. Neither of you care.

"And you'll be by my side?" It's a question, though there's always been just the one answer.

"Of course, idiot." You roll your eyes, giving him a light peck on the cheek before pushing him off. 

#lookism #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #lookism x reader #lookism fic #goo kim #goo kim x reader #kim joongoo x reader #kim joongoo #gun park #wannaeatramyeon

[gallusrostromegalus]

I’m not sure if you or your followers can help me out here but I figured you’re probably my best shot. I delivery drive in the southwest Denver metro area and today I was delivering to a house where I heard the strangest noise. At first I thought it was a bizarrely malfunctioning water pump but it very much was not any sort of mechanical noise. My best bet would be some sort of group of birds, at least 5 based on how much overlap there was but I’ve never heard any wild birds anything like it. It was like mix of a song bird and a goose? As if you could sip a goose call through a straw? I really don’t know, there was almost a low constant noise with trills overlapping it but not high pitched trills, I’m not sure if I can put it into words. It was downright spooky in person. Do you know of any birds that make such a strange noise?

This is a real shot in the dark here, but I'm like 90% sure you heard a mustelid of some persuasion. Northern Colorado has Weasels, Minks, Fishers, Martens, Skunks and Badgers and ALL of them live in Denver Cuty proper. If you were anywhere near water (Including storm drains) around the cherry creek area, there's a good chance it was a mink or fisher, as those have been having a population rebound lately. It's the time of year for them to start getting real territorial before winter sets in so I think what you.

The other thing that makes noises like that is Raccoons, which are extremely common in Denver and also we're in the middle of a major skunk and raccoon rabies outbreak, so if you hear that noise again, hoof it back to the truck ASAP.

[liminalpebble]

If you’re up for something fluffy and/or lighthearted fun - like a month ago I gave another writer I’m following this idea but she‘s been gone since then and I would still love it 🥺

I was in the mood for a Lokitty Fic because it’s been a while and for whatever reason I’min the mood:D If it’s gonna be more fluffy, funny or even angsty is up to you 🫶

Basic idea was Loki disguised as a cat 🐈‍⬛ has been hiding from something/someone in our home. Without him realizing until he’s already in too deep, he starts to fall for us and the way we care for him. Not part of his plan. He hadn’t intended to reveal his identity and surely couldn’t do it now after basically misleading us the whole time.

But what’s been escaping him since as well - we absolutely know. 🤭

A/N: Hey friend! Thanks for this very sweet and fluffy prompt. I accidentally seemed to have made it a multiparter and I have no idea where this is going except definitely to fluff town, and the comfort district. I guess stay tuned? WTF am I even doing??

Much love,

Peb

--

Stray: Part 1

Masterlist link

The rain was tumbling down in heavy sheets as you made your way from the train to your apartment. By now you'd just about memorized how many steps were left from the soaked platform to your door.

The thought depressed you a little, realizing how long you've felt stuck in this life; just another shop girl in the city, a uniform and an apron with a tired person behind it. As the cold water continued to hit you, you were glad to realize the number of steps to the lobby door was finally reaching single digits and picked up your pace in one last jolt of momentum.

Then you heard it; an almost imperceptible mewling under the incessant drumming of the storm. You turned, following the faint noise until you reached the alley and the giant dumpsters housed there. The stench was awful. You held your soaked apron over your nose as you peaked into the crevice. Two of the biggest, most beautiful, aquamarine eyes stared back at you from a void of soaked black fur. It was a cat, and it was absolutely screaming now, realizing it had someone's attention.

It's not like you'd never seen an alley cat before. There were swarms of them around, but there was just something about this one, something so desperately in need of love. The little guy seemed almost confused to be in this position whereas the other strays seemed to resign themselves to their shitty fate.

You braced yourself; tried to talk yourself out of what you knew you were about to do and had never ever done before. It would be incredibly stupid. You weren't even allowed to have pets. You didn't even know if he was sick and you would never have the money to take him to the vet. Regardless, you sighed and scooped the pathetic little creature up, swaddling him in your apron, as you hurried toward the front door. Huffing, you warned him, “Okay buddy, but I swear to god, you better not have rabies.”

-----

Loki was glad to finally be out of the rain and stench, even if it was in a less than ideal form. Several hours earlier he had landed with a crash, cushioned by the heaps of debris. He scoffed realizing his neat black suit and tie and the crisp white shirt were now utterly ruined. His sunglasses were nowhere to be found. The money; all that money that came with him as he dove out of the plane was now safely magicked away, at least.

He groaned pitifully. A fall like that coupled with a mid-air tussle with Thor was enough to floor the younger god, though he hated to admit it. And who was Thor to come after him anyway? This whole D.B. Cooper heist was his fault...all because of that idiotic bet. Loki probably would have laid there feeling very sorry for himself a good deal longer, but he heard the lonely patter of someone running toward him through the downpour. He had to admit he needed help, and it was time for some quick scheming to get it. Good thing this was always his forte.

He had barely accustomed himself to his new feline form and begun mewling loudly when he heard your footfalls slow and watched your shadow move down the alley.

Come on. He thought, imbuing it with the hint of an enchantment. Come find me, mortal.

Loki was incredibly pleased with himself and, frankly, a bit surprised that his ploy worked so easily. Such dull creatures, mortals...such soft hearts., he mused as he dozed in your arms. He was already barely conscious when he heard you quip, “Okay buddy, but I swear to god, you better not have rabies.”

Hey! Rude, he thought, attempting to give a menacing, insulted glare, but it only came out as a grimacing twitch of his whiskers and whining, grumpy, growl.

The human smiled a reluctant little grin and tussled his fur saying, “It's a good thing you're adorable.”

I'm not adorable! I am a god, you dull creature! , he screamed in his mind, but it only left his mouth as another pathetically cute whine.

---

In your bathroom you clipped your wet hair up one-handed and kept the little creature bundled against your chest. Once your hand was free you tested temperature of the bath with a wiggle of your fingers.

Satisfied, you said, “Alright friend,” holding the cat under his armpits and meeting his eyes, as if you could appeal to his sense of logic. “You stink. I have to give you a bath. You can either except your fate with dignity or you can be a little shit and claw my eyes out. I beg you to accept your fate.”

He thought to himself, Why wouldn't I want a bath? I love baths, you idiot. Now clean me, mortal. I tire of....

“Mrewwoooow!” he screamed as soon as his paw hit the warm water. He surprised you and himself as you both flinched violently. Apparently Loki was unable to resist his new feline aversion to water. Okay...okay...this is new. He mused.

“Okay....Christ! Listen here, you little shit! You can either deal with this while I scrub you down with some Herbal Essences, or you can smell like dumpster juice.”

“Meow”

“Yeah. I know...I know it's not the right thing for cats. I know I should take you to the vet first. I know this is not fucking ideal. I'm...I'm doing my best,” you said, with an unexpected hitch in your throat and slightly-welling eyes, as suddenly you both realized you weren't just talking about the bath anymore.

Loki felt an emotion he couldn't quite categorize; one he seldom felt, one others might call sympathy. So he fought his instinct with all his might and remained quiet and while you carefully washed and rinsed his fur. You smiled as your careful hands cleaned every last patch. “Thank you,” you said softly.

My pleasure, he thought, and meant it. It actually did feel very nice to be clean, and if felt even better when you dried him, and wrapped him in a warm towel in front of the space heater, with one bowl of water, and one of tuna. By the time you had showered and settled next to him on the floor in your pajamas, he already had a full belly and was drifting off again in the pleasant warmth. You sipped your tea and stroked his now very glossy and soft black fur.

“See! You're such a handsome boy now that you don't look and smell like wet trash bag. That wasn't so bad, was it?”

From where his head rested on his delicately crossed paws he lazily opened one stunning eye to glare at you menacingly, but it only made you chuckle.

As you laughed and smiled down at him, stroking his fur, he felt something else he couldn't quite name; gratitude, certainly, but also something else...something like wanting desperately to see you smile as much as possible...something like hoping that sorrow he saw a glimpse of before wouldn't eat you alive...something like just wanting you to be okay regardless of the benefit to himself.

The next time he half-awoke in the night, you were gone and the lights were out, though you had left the space-heater on for him. With his now-amplified hearing, he listened for you, anxious to know you were still there. Only once he heard the gentle undulation of your sleeping breath could he relax into dreams again and wonder what tomorrow would bring.

@mischief2sarawr @ladyofthestayingpower @acidcasualties @unlucky-number-13 @goblingirlsarah @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokihiddleston @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @marcotheflychair @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @littlespaceyelf @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @eleniblue @loz-3 @the-haven-of-fiction @sweetsigyn @muddyorbs @icytrickster17 @holdmytesseract @thenerdyoldersister @thedistractedagglomeration @sailorholly @peachyjinx @coldnique @sarahscribbles @peaches1958 @infinitystoner @mischiefmaker615 @coldnique @jennyggggrrr @tripleyeeet @itsybitchylittlewitchy @mochie85

#lokitty #lovely mutuals #lovely asks #loki fanfic #lovely prompts #lovely fanfic friends #loki fluff #loki x reader

[enj4s]

VAMPIRE BOY, BITE ME IN THE MOONLIGHT! ᡣ𐭩 .

─── ˚୨୧⋆ PAIRINGS; subaru sakamaki, 𖥻SUBARU x fem! reader ｡˚ ⋆

─── ˚୨୧⋆ 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎; smut. swearing. fem!dom! reader. reader is mean, again. pegging. (lil) hair pulling. hickies. crying. toxic relationship. both are fucked in the head.

★ Author note 😆😆!!: Whoever requested ts excuse my dramatic ass, I LOVE drama as you can see. (sorry btw) enjoy 🤤‼️ yallyal request I got nun to do other than rot in my bed 💔

It was one of those days-

You were a patient and laid-back person, or so you and some people thought. But your anger issues have gone up the roof since you met the seven diabolic, unhinged brothers.

Their mothers and Karlheinz were just as bad, if not even worse. The Mukamis could not redeem themselves but they were bearable, especially Azusa who was just less annoying and irritating, or atleast didn't make you wanna dig your nails in your skin and clutch hard till it bleeds, like the others. You had an exception between the seven Sakamaki siblings as well, whom was Subaru.

Subaru was one helluva person to deal with. If not for Karlheinz introducing you to his past, you would've kept your first impression of him, which was he had rabies.

That boy was as layered and complicated as an onion, and trying to navigate through his mind and emotions was gonna drive you mad. One moment he's calling you a dense ass for dropping a pencil or getting bitten, and the other he's glancing at you all soft like a high school girl in love would.

You swore you have spent and used more brain cells on trying to see through him than you had on maths. He could be downright cruel at times, and even dismissed you so harshly that you favored the men-whore final boss (Laito) over him for some while, which didn't last long when he forced you so adorably in a 'relationship' with him or is what you thought, since he ordered you to resist if any of his brothers try to bite you. What else did it mean?

He would become absolutely feral when he got jealous. It was pretty easy to make him reach that point, but dangerous. He would start yelling at you and destroying everything around him in blind rage when he saw you talk to a male teacher or student or his brother's, going as far as attempting drain you of plasma. It was all too tiring and frustrating, you wanted nothing but quietness, to be left alone and ignored.

His delusion of you being his was so utterly nonsensical, but you went along with it for your safety and sanity, it was wise to sometimes give up and give in to his delusions, which he used as a control and power element. Resisting only meant to get bit to near death, where you'd start to see stars and lights that you thought only existed in cartoons, or, like these times, when he'd strangle you.

-where you'd snap.

"Shut the FUCK UP!" You'd yell at the top of your lungs, couldn't you even be strangled to death silently? His yammering of you being a betrayer was so damn irritating. Subaru jolted and flinched away form the volume of your voice, that look on your eyes, he backed up slightly, his grip on your throat weakened. In a swift movement, you dug your nails deep into his unhealthily pale wrists, shoving him away with every ounce of strength you had left.

Subaru stumbled backwards, catching himself quickly, his white boots stepping on a broken shard of glass from a vase that you bet was supposed to be cherished. You felt guilty for using one of his traumas against him to make him halt, stop. Yes, but did it save you from getting choked? Yes.

The anger was incredibly contagious, you bite your lip to hold back all the insults and traumas you could bring up, knowing that it would just bring you brutal death and a quick burial in dirt in the next hour, you shut your mouth, trying to find saliva to relieve your sore throat that was deeply in dire need of moisture.

The grip he had on your throat just now had been so tight you could've sworn he had actually meant to kill you for a second. Your breathing became labored. Your heartbeat was stubborn and didn't wanna settle down. Your eyes stared back at Subaru's with a mixture of tears and fury, you blink. Trying to help your eyes get used to the light again.

Both of you had your flaws and toxic traits, you suddenly found yourself on top of Subaru, a hard grip on his hair that matched his on your throat earlier, you wipe salty tears away, everything was a blur. You swore you couldn't remember a thing. You'd insult other people for not controlling their actions, yet you couldn't keep yours in check either.

"Sorry," You murmured against his pale skin, kissing alongside the hickies and bite marks you left on his neck. They looked painful. He was a vampire, so you didn't worry too much. They'd heal in an hour or two. You were still between his thighs, cum dripped down his hips and legs.

"You just piss me off sometimes...It's so childish when you start yammering and yelling, creating scenes when I talk to anyone," You watched his wine red eyes trail down in something like shame. His mouth was sewed shut, he was already embarrassed from moaning as loud as he yells. He was cuter when he was quiet, you note, and grin silently, propping yourself on your knees to thrust inside him again without warning, tearing a shriek from the albino beneath you, he drops his head down on the pillows, you were making him feel way too good, as rough as it was.

It almost seemed like you were still taking your anger out on him as you pounded inside him harshly. Subaru felt his stomach coil and he tightens, when you'd lean down to whisper sweet nothings in his ear that didn't match your humping.

“C-ca- ah! Can’t! Hah..” Subaru whined shakily, a sound he'd drop dead before making if he was in his right state of his mind. He hiccups and whimpers as he covered his face with his hands. “So full..hic- too much," His legs dangle like a rag doll's from your shoulders as you plundge inside him deeper and deeper with each delicious thrust.

You lean down with a sigh, catching Subaru's lips in a kiss, and grab at his long bangs, tugging hard to tilt his head upward, and swallow down the loud wail that was about to wrack from his body as he came, vibrating slightly and hips thrusting up pathetically in the air. His fangs poked at your lip a bit painfully as he tried to bite down his noises, now chasing after your lips and the little blood that threatened to spill.

Getting strangled or beat again later from a flustered Subaru wouldn't be surprising after wracking his shit, but it was worth it. You could only laugh as he emptily threatened to break your arm after this, complaining that he couldn't feel his legs and that you're a perv.

─── ˚୨୧⋆ @enj4s ♡ @un0rin ♡

don't repost or copy I know where u live 👁

#diabolik lovers #subaru sakamaki #sub character #dom reader #dialovers #karlheinz sakamaki #subaru x reader #enj4s

[imdefyingmavity]

If that anon is right and Arthur did at least help John learn how to read then you can bet the lessons involved making John read aloud sentences he wrote himself, such as:

Arthur Morgan is the best big brother.

Arthur Morgan is a ladies magnet.

Arthur Morgan is the sharpest shooter in the West.

Arthur Morgan is allowed to eat all my candy.

Arthur Morgan is better than me at everything and always will be.

I, John Marston, am an annoying little pest and I like to eat garbage. Also I have rabies.

#what happens when your teacher is your big brother #rdr2 #arthur morgan #john marston

[cbk1000]

Hey, remember how I wrote a fic that was literally just about two men driving around the countryside looking at animals and being gay for one another? And it was 90,000 words? And at the end I went, "That wasn't enough nothing, so I'm going to write a sequel to this?" Anyway, here's a preview from that sequel:

Merlin gave him a few biscuits to show they were still chums, and then rested for a bit with his forearms on the table, recovering his stamina and courage for the follow-up round. The pocket on his scrub top was torn, and his trousers had seen neater days in a byre. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his arm. The door opened, thankfully, before he had launched himself into the next round, and in came Gaius with his stethoscope round his neck, saying, “It sounded like the Blitz in here, so I thought I’d give you a hand.”

“Yeah, did it give you flashbacks?” Merlin asked cheekily, though he did not yet have the breath to be a fully-realised shit.

Gaius rolled his eyes. “Ah, Charlie. Have you been giving Merlin some trouble?”

“He’s given me all the trouble. I’m sedating him next time.”

“It’s only an ear cleaning, Merlin.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I don’t see you in here being the David to his Goliath.”

“David won, didn’t he?” Gaius replied serenely.

“Sure, if you believe a book that says some guy talked to a burning bush and he wasn’t even tripping balls.”

Gaius rolled his eyes. “Where’s Arthur?”

“Does everyone ask ‘Where’s Merlin’ when I’m gone?” Merlin demanded.

“No.”

“He’s shopping because we’re the worst gays ever and we live like two bachelors who forgot that they have to do things like actually keep replenishing the refrigerator which, turns out, doesn’t just refill itself. But I can’t believe he’s still not here. I bet he knew Charlie was coming in today and he’s sat at home right now swigging champagne and living the high life and laughing at me cutting off dog’s balls and putting in bloody ear drops.” Then his phone went, and he slipped it out of his pocket to find there was a text notification from Arthur. “His ears must have been burning.”

Gaius put on fresh gloves and knelt down stiffly to greet Charlie whilst he read the text, which said very cryptically, Ring me; I need saving.

He did so. “Hullo, it’s your handsome, charming, taller boyfriend, saying these things because he assumes if you try and refute them you’ll ruin the bit. Who do you need saving from?”

“Oh,” Arthur said on the other end of the line. “Ok. Right. Well, don’t worry, I’ll be there straight away.” Then: “I’m sorry, Olivia, I’m afraid there’s a bit of an emergency at the clinic. Right. I’ll tell him as soon as I see him. Right. But I think it’s really a pretty big emergency and I’m needed straight away. Yes, I’ll tell him. Yes. No, it’s not him on the phone, it’s one of the front desk staff. I think he’s in surgery. Yes. That’s why I’m needed. Exactly.” Merlin took the phone away from his ear for a moment to laugh.

“Are you free of her?” he asked when he had finished snorting.

“I’m hurrying across the street now, too quickly for her to follow, so I think I’m in the clear. Or else I’ll be hit by a car; either way, I'm free.”

“Is that what’s taken you so long to do the shopping? I was about to ask if you’d gone to York.”

“I’m at our very own Morrisons right across the street. I finished shopping nearly an hour ago. She ambushed me. Trixie has rabies again.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Merlin blurted out.

“Merlin,” Gaius scolded him with a frown.

“Well, sorry, but Olivia Harris thinks her bloody dog’s got bloody rabies again, so I’m pretty confident the next thing Arthur’s about to say is that she demands I go out there and fix her up with one of those rabies shots again before she’s torn limb from limb by her 14-year-old Pomeranian. Some people are too stupid to live, and I wish they wouldn’t.”

“Merlin!” Gaius barked.

“Oh, yeah, because this whole village is going to go into mourning if she cocks up her toes. Probably give Death a plaque and a hand shake when he comes for her.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Arthur said. “I’ve still got to get the shopping home, but I know she’s watching me, and if I don’t pop into the clinic for the ‘emergency’ then I might as well walk into oncoming traffic.”

“Don’t do that; I need you to help me with Charlie.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. “Don’t,” Merlin snapped. “You dare go home or walk into oncoming traffic. I’ll drag you right out of hospital.”

He did not walk into oncoming traffic, but through the employee entrance a few minutes later, after Gaius, citing the imminent arrival of Arthur as a reason to scurry off without having so much as scratched one of Charlie’s ears had scarpered. Merlin, sensing the presence of a fellow cow wrestler, who might have been up to the gargantuan task before him, poked his head out of the exam room, said, “Get in here,” and yanked Arthur in by his shirt, in case the command had not been clear enough.

“Don’t manhandle me,” Arthur said.

“I thought you liked that,” Merlin said.

Arthur was still fresh enough to being dicked down that he coloured, very faintly, though bamboo shoots under his fingernails would not have gotten him to confess to it. He went into the overhead cabinet for some gloves, and then knelt down in front of Charlie, though all he would have had to do to meet him eye to eye was to stoop down a bit. “Hello, Charlie. Has this twat been mucking about with your ears again?” He rubbed them.

“I’ve cleaned them out and just need to put in the antibiotic drops.”

“‘Just.’ That’s like saying you ‘just’ need to build the third Pyramid of Giza,” Arthur complained.

“That’s right, I did the first bloody two, you whingeing pillock, now man up.”

“Good morning, by the way,” Arthur said, in a tone which implied very heavily it was not. Arthur had had a rare lie-in that morning whilst Merlin slipped out ahead of him, so that their last interaction had been the night previously, a shag which ought to have put him in a better mood.

“Good morning, you crotchety tit.”

“You’d be crotchety too if you’d just had to listen to Olivia Harris for an hour.”

“Well, I’m going to have to listen to her for another hour this afternoon I’m sure, so I don’t actually have any sympathy.”

“You never do.”

“He’s a rotten liar, Charlie, I’m delightful.” He hauled Arthur in by the front of his shirt, and briskly pecked him on the mouth. “In case Charlie leaves you my war widow.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a coward; he’s like a giant teddy bear.”

“Yeah, that’s why you were thinking about walking into oncoming traffic when I said you needed to help with him.”

“I was thinking of walking into oncoming traffic because I had to talk to Olivia Harris for an hour.” 

The teddy bear stood cooperatively enough for his two friends, delighted to see they had multiplied, and that the second was the lovely blonde who gave him against the express advice of his stingier partner an extra biscuit; then this friend too transformed into that vile, snakeish Judas. Arthur patted his shoulders, and said, “Up” a little wearily, though he regularly bore the weight of an animal almost as heavy. He scratched all round the ears with Charlie’s hot breath in his face, and under the lax chin whilst Merlin sidled in with the drops. He managed the right ear before Charlie had quite comprehended what was happening to him; then he lunged back from Arthur with a look to show how he had wounded him. 

“Whoa, there, mate,” Arthur said, catching his front legs, and pinning them to his shoulders, whilst Charlie hopped about on his hind legs, shaking his head, and whipping it about, and turning Merlin’s ministrations into something like a bloody-minded Cirque-de-Solei audition, where the interviewers were throwing roundhouses at him whilst he contorted himself for their amusement.

They were all three panting, sweaty, and dishevelled when at last the ordeal was finally over, and Charlie clumped down onto the floor, and then galloped over to the Sulking Corner because he knew that Arthur would want to make friends again with some treats, whereas Merlin would have merely called him a great baby. 

“How did this morning go?” Arthur sked, squatting in front of Charlie and offering him a chicken flavoured gravy bone. “Ear drops aside.”

“Pretty well. Diggy’s bollocks are no longer amongst us, RIP. Had an emergency c-section after that; poor bitch was in labour all yesterday and still hadn’t progressed by the time her owner brought her in, but all the pups were alive and she came through the surgery just fine. Oh, and Emma says she wishes you weren’t gay. And that you’re such a soppy loser for me that it defeated her mum’s homophobia.”

Arthur looked round from Charlie and arched his eyebrow. “What? So what you mean is, today Emma confessed to being totally insane?”

“She did all but say she fancied you, so, yeah.”

“I do have a history of attracting lunatics.”

“True,” Merlin said. “It’s your arse. If you just had your personality, even crazy people would leave you alone.”

“Oh really? Maybe I should stop doing squats, then. Live out the rest of my days in peace.”

“Don’t do that,” Merlin said, and swatted him on the bum, unfortunately timed to the opening of the door, which had been opened by Gaius.

“Merlin.” He frowned.

“What? That’s one of the most innocent things I’ve ever done to him.”

“At the clinic he is your coworker, not your boyfriend. I’m not going to have another complaint from one of our clients about you sexually harassing people.”

“That was a misunderstanding.”

“So you didn’t make a lewd comment to Arthur at the front desk in front of Mrs Clarke?”

“Well I thought it was under my breath.”

“You don’t have an under your breath,” Arthur retorted.

“Arthur started it anyway,” Merlin said. 

“I did not!”

“You said--”

“I don’t think Gaius needs to know what I said to know that you’re guilty,” Arthur cut in hastily.

“I’m certain I don’t,” Gaius said drily. “Nor do I want to have any inkling of 98% of what’s said between the two of you. Just keep it away from the front desk.” He jotted down something in the chart he was holding. “Do the two of you have time to see an alpaca today?”

“An alpaca?” Merlin asked.

“There’s a local breeder who’s just got a new male and bred him to several of her females without any pregnancies, and she was hoping we might nip over and take a sperm sample.”

“What am I supposed to use to collect alpaca jizz? I assume what we’ve got for the bulls won’t work.”

“We say semen, Merlin.”

“Well, regardless, semen, jizz, spunk, baby batter--what am I supposed to put it in?”

“You could use a bit of tupperware.”

“We are not using our tupperware to collect alpaca semen,” Arthur broke in.

“Calm your tits, I’m not going to make you eat out of it afterwards. Obviously we’d chuck it; you can’t erase that with a washing-up. But, yeah, not really keen on wasting some tupperware on that.”

“A sandwich baggie, then,” Gaius said with the serenity of a man who would not be sticking his hand under an orgasming alpaca. 

“I’ve still got to put the shopping away. I’ll take Merlin, nip home quickly, and then drive us over to the farm.”

“You just want me to put the shopping away,” Merlin complained.

“Well I did it the last two times in a row.”

“Well I was operating on a pig.”

“You always have some excuse.”

“‘Can’t, I’m sorting out intestines’ is an extremely valid one.”

“I just find it extremely interesting that these things happen when there’s shopping to put away.”

“It’s not like I’m scheduling rectal prolapses to coincide with when we do the shopping--”

“Boys,” Gaius said.

“Oh, yeah, right, alpaca jizz,” Merlin said.

They bickered amicably all the way home and whilst refiling pantry and fridge and cupboards, comparing the number of items each had put away, and determining whether he was or wasn’t carrying a fair load, till Merlin decided to cheat by saying, “I am putting away my stuff so much faster” to ensure that Arthur finished the job.

“You’re a cock,” Arthur said.

“You’re way too easy to goad,” Merlin said.

#fic #preview #writing #merthur

[onedayimgonnasnap]

Lucio Slander

I’m choosing to be a menace to society starting with this ugly ass mother fucker.

Lucio desperately needs some mother fucking eye drops.

His hair is so gelled it cracks after he takes a shower and they’re still hair gel in it.

Mother fucker would go up to any Hispanic and say “My garden needs to be watered.”

Bro Fr deadass a colonizer

He makes Rika and J*sper look like saints. How tf is that even possible-

Bro dead ass is hated on by the whole damn city.

Bro is throwing tantrums at 40.

How tf does he cheat on Nadia- NADIA IS TO GOOD FOR HIM- WTF

Bro dead ass built like Ken from Toy Story 3

Bros hair line is dead ass reciting. It’s leaving to a whole ass another country.

bros the type of mf to say every single slur A-Z to remember his ABCs because he’s to dumb to memorize them.

Bro dead ass looks like a depressed uncle

He’s the type of mf to say he’s not white but say he’s actually 0.001% black so he can say the N- Word

Bros nose is built like a right triangle.

He’s allergic to anything spicy. He adds salt and pepper and says it’s the height of luxury.

How tf do you screw up so badly for your own momma to hate you 💀✋

I bet his mama really regrets not having an abortion

Bro dead ass in Muriel’s route cried “MAMA” and no one was there to help him 😭

Bro when you open up the app and press everyone they all have a cute smile and then there’s HIM- AND ITS SUCH AN UGLY FACE.

Bros hygiene is so down bad that a plague was coming back when he was coming back. Do you know how bad that fucking looks? 😒

Plague or no plague, the deepest HES ever been in a hole is the one that he came out of his mamas.

Everytime we see him as a goat it’s a whole ass jumpscare.

Bros Fr apology video is gonna be a Travis Scott one.

I bet he doesn’t even wash his ass in the shower.

His nails are so fucking dirty they’re all black and it’s not even from the plague.

Bro has an ugly crying face. How tf do people get manipulated by him 💀✋ like dead ass I could tell him the trash Can has 5 dollars in it and he’d jump in without worrying about anything.

Bros fake robo arm has all the damn diseases, AIDS, cancer, bitchlesscosus, diabetes, rabies.

Actually if he bit you in his goat form you would proceed to her rabies.

I like how everytime he appears everyone is so sick and tired of his always seeking validation ass.

He has the posture of someone who didn’t get enough love and validation from their father.

I bet he has lice, like both head lice and pubic lice. And some of the head lice are dead because of all that hair gel he be using. So they’re stuck there in the middle forever.

The remaining live lice sing gospel songs on his head and praying that someday they will escape his greasy head ass because even they can’t breathe.

He would make out with a guy and still refuse to wash his ass because he thinks it’s gay.

Bro is not on gang with his rizz gang.

Bros the type of mf to be so happy when someone gives him a Pat on the back. But when that person does give him a pat on the back their hand now has a fowl Oder that only Jesus can stop.

Mf has only a face a mother Can love. Actually I lied, not even his own mother could love what ever that is. 😟

I like how no matter the fan art and etc he’s still FUCKING UGLY- NOONE CAN DO HIM JUSTICE

Bro has enough ear wax to make him a candle for days.

Bros eye brows are some how splitting I bet his eyebrow lice also be singing Christmas carols

These bitches look the same 💀✋

#the arcana #Lucio slander #the arcana lucio #count lucio #Lucio hate #Lucio Stan’s pull up

[strangerhottotties]

Grease and Grunge Part 1 - E.M. and B.H.

Chapter Summary: You have your first date with Eddie. Billy finds out and you get into your first fist fight (kind of). I promise next chapter will actually involve the summer camp.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, kissing, grinding, these kids running right for third base, vaginal fingering, blow jobs, fist fights, Billy being a possessive douche but also kind of sweet.

Author's Note: I now have a clean house... and my wedding invites have been sent out soooo... Let's be more productive. Thank you guys so much for being patient. It's been a wild week for me and I'm about to go sleep like the dead. This was a little rushed because it's been nearly a week and I've had a ton of things thrown at me. It's not as good as I would like but I can always go back and edit it later.

Prologue

Eddie's trailer wasn't scary to you when you pulled into the driveway. There was a homey feeling. Nostalgia rising in your chest at the multiple trailers you'd grown up in throughout your life. A bubbling familiarity sinking into your gut at the relief that it wasn't some rich kid's house.

The phantom taste of hose water hit your tongue at the sight of it. Late summer mornings of orange sunlight streaming through your dewy windows flutters in your memories, and you smile up at the metal siding.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Eddie asks, turning down the Black Sabbath he'd turned up six minutes ago only to yell over it. His expression gives you hesitant curiosity. He was preparing for the worst but hoping for the best.

"When I was six, my neighbor, Mrs. Holdings - she would always bake pumpkin treats for the kids. This looks like her trailer. It reminded me of her overgrown garden bed filled with lily of the valley. The two springs we lived there; the whole park would smell like them for weeks." You hum, giggling. "Dumb right?"

When you look away from the imaginary garden, Eddie's eyes soften, and he sinks against the steering wheel quietly for a moment. When he breaks out into a laugh, his hands excitedly tap the steering wheel. "No, absolutely not dumb." He unbuckles and scoots closer to point at a trailer in your window. "Gerold, over there, he's an old World War II vet. His wife past a few years ago but she used to plant these big ugly yellow flowers to match the yellow on her trailer. I used to go sit down wind because in the summer she'd wash everything they owned by hand and the soap she used smelled like my grandma." The smiles you pass between you are filled with more breathless laughter.

"How often do you have cats out here?" You ask, eyes lighting up.

"All the time. I bet you're the girl that's always setting out cans of cat food for them, huh?" You shrug and give a guilty look.

"I love the purrs," you whine out and he scoffs. "My mom never let me keep any. Didn't want the mess, ya know."

Eddie nods at you, sighing. "Wayne caught me bringing home a possum once." Initially, your jaw drops before you burst into side splitting laughter. He jumps out of the van and heads around to open your side for you. "Come on, chuckles," he hums affectionately.

"How'd you catch it!?" You demand, hopping out and you look up at him as he closes the door.

"They're really slow," he offers. "I just kind of picked it up as it was hissing and then it pretended to die so I just brought it home. My uncle was convinced I was going to get rabies." You start laughing again, head tilted back. You heard the gravel crunch beneath his feet and fingertips brush up your arm. "You like that story?" He hums.

You glance up him, sobering at him standing so close. More of the cologne that floated around his van swims around you now. His brown eyes twinkle and crickets' chirp. "Yes, it's a very a sweet story." You admit.

"Yeah, girls love stories like that. Why?" He hums.

"Hmm.. that's a really good question." You bite your lip and squint up at him.

"Is it the personality? Goopy, lovesick things?" You offer him a shrug.

"I can see it, see you. Maybe it's me thinking of little Eddies," comes your response. It's when his eyebrows raise that you start to stumble. "I- oh, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, sweetheart," he chuckles deeply at me. "It's good to know I'm not the only one moving quick."

"What's that mean?" You squeak out, face flushing and you wonder if he can tell in the dark.

"Because this whole conversation I've been wondering if it's too early to kiss you." You let out a breathless noise when your back hits the cold exterior of his van. You didn't realize you'd leaned back against it.

"O-okay," you breathe. Eddie grins, leaning closer. His eyes hold yours with their intensity alone.

"You've got really pretty lips," he murmurs just before he presses his mouth to yours. His were warm, slightly damp, and soft. Eddie gives a softer groan when your mouth parts under the slow swipe of the tip of his tongue. It's not intrusive. You follow his lead, hesitantly tasting him back.

You shouldn't even be standing outside, even if it was dark kissing him. The idea is terrifying. But Eddie tasted like something you'd never had. He tasted like mint and cigarettes and... something subtle and nearly sweet. It was good. It was fantastic. It made you lean up against him and crane your neck back to press as close as you could.

It felt hazy and too warm all at once. Your heart raced in your chest at his slow kisses. A distant noise has you breaking away to look. A scrapping?

Red catches your eyes and your heart leaps into your throat. A girl, preteen and familiar on her skateboard is riding by, staring right at you. You recognize her as the one that rode to school in Billy's car. She rolled her eyes and sent Eddie the bird. "Get a room!"

"Move along, cabbage patch!" He shouts, waving her off.

"That's Billy Hargrove's sister," you hiss, hands clenching his shirt.

"Yeah? And?" Eddie demands.

"Can we go inside?" You whisper.

"Yeah," he replies, "come on in." You can tell by the weird look he gives you, that he definitely noticed the way you'd handled that little panic. You follow him up the porch quickly. His living room is the first thing your greeted with. "So, you got a problem with Hargrove?"

"Uhhh, kinda. Yeah," you respond. "He just... has kind of screwed with my head all year." That caught his attention.

"You know he lives like two trailers up, then, right?" Your eyes widen and you shake your head. "Was he your boyfriend?" He prompts further.

"No, he just... it's not a big deal. I just... I don't know - it's weird. I've never even been on a date. He just sits behind me in Spanish. Kind of a jerk."

"Okay," Eddie nods, "I get it. Do you... wanna work on the project?"

"Yea," you sigh in relief, whole body sagging. The project was neutral ground. The project you could handle.

"Cool, have a seat I'll set everything up," he insists, and you drop down onto the sofa as steps out. With so much happening in the last couple minutes you allow yourself to process, re orienting.

The whispers of Billy concerned you. Not the physical ones, just the ghost of his words haunting you. Brushing over your skin and leaving behind a slimy residue. All week long you'd had the same dream of him climbing through your window and you're unable to rouse yourself from sleep. You've been subjected to his nocturnal seduction every night for four days now.

This grip he had on you, somehow a part of Billy was even there for you first kiss. The idea doesn't bother you as much as you want it to. It doesn't inspire rage or even annoyance - instead, worry gnaws at your lip and the groinal response strangles you in its hold. The primal part of you that liked to ignore logic coos over the possession. You're unaware that Billy would even care this much.

Eddie trots back into the room. His dark eyes holding space for you. "I'll order a pizza," he chirps and washes away the gritty, dark streak Billy's hold has on your mind. The smell of his cologne floods you when he drops beside you on the couch and the spot in your head that's usually full of anxious Billy thoughts melts.

Instead of the rigid ice there is only you wanting to taste Eddie's tongue again.

"What toppings do you like?"

Here, you think, here you could find yourself for ages. Eddie's normal chatter had settled. Your entire project lay completed, filed away with stunning effectiveness. Objective complete, Eddie produced his horror story as promised. You half expected a show in his living room like he usually did in class.

Big arm flourishes as he gave personality and voice to each of his characters. A dramatic retelling of his epic tales - never dull, as he acted out some of these scenes. Witty humor and raunchy jokes sprinkle most of his stories.

Tonight, however, you think you like this way better. Eddie had tucked you into his side, arm twisted across your shoulders as his fingers stroked soothing circles on your arms. Tonight, Eddie didn't flop to the floor with his deaths. Tonight, his hair tickled the side of your face when you tucked your nose against his throat.

His cadence settled, he rumbled in an almost whisper. Voice low and rich, it was like the perfect pairing to a fine wine. His story crept on suspenseful tightropes.

His body was warm and with your belly so full of the pizza you'd both munched through your project with, you were completely relaxed. Especially when your ear pressed against his shoulder, and you could hear the racing beat of his heart.

And as much as you loved listening to his work your mind was floating dizzyingly above you, dangling out of reach of your fingers, replacing the empty space with Eddie's lips.

You can't help yourself when the little goblin that lives in your head stirs awake. Eddie's voice stutters when your fingertips stroke the fabric of his Iron Maiden shirt he's currently wearing. He tries to continue after a moment, obviously not minding the attention too much. You settle there for a moment, just memorizing the way it feels to touch him.

Don't peel that wallpaper, a dying part of you cries.

The voice between your legs is crying, though. It's seeped into your entire being. A bone deep arousal that's hard to ignore and makes your head spin.

You'd never noticed that his belt buckle was a set of handcuffs and wondered slightly at it. Your fingers stretch across a little lower, drifting over the planes of his stomach under your bold direction. "Eddie," a voice calls and it takes you both a second to realize it was you. He pauses, eyes raking over you. He had a dazed expression you didn't quite understand. "I really like your story, but you... you might have to start over." His eyebrows shoot up at your words, mouth parting in pleasant surprise.

"What, you getting a little distracted over there?" A grin seeps across his face, lazy and nearly sleepy. He drops the papers on the floor, letting the flip and flutter across the carpet.

"Oh, you don't have to do that!" You gasp and lean forward, reaching across him. Eddie's snatching you around the waist and you squeak when you're being pitched back. Your hair halos around your head on the cushion as Eddie leans over you.

"It seems the lady would like a different type of entertainment, I shall deliver." Eddie's knee slots between yours as he lowers himself above you. Fire barrels through your body, humming with excitement.

"Eddie," you call quietly, and he catches your serious gaze.

"Yes?" The way he's staring at you is molten. Setting every nerve you have on fire, one of his hands braces himself up above you.

"I should tell you," you breathe out steeling lungful of air. Nervous for how he might react for the next words. "I like you, but... next month I'm leaving. I took this summer jobs so... I don't want you to get your feelings hurt."

Eddie bursts into this amused giggle that startles you. Not furious like he thought. "Wait," he gasps, "you mean to tell me your just wanted to go out with me for a date or two?" He laughs harder when you nod hesitantly. You want to flee suddenly, unsure how to interpret his response. "So, what was your plan here?" He insists on continuing, eyes glittering with something dark and dangerous. "Were you trying to just get in my pants?" He obviously doesn't mind the notion.

After a moment, you nod again, and his eyebrows raise higher on his face. "I just want to... try a few things... is that alright?" Eddie is stunned into an elated silence it seems, a daze holding him before he groans, and you can feel it run the length of your chests pressed together.

"Is that alright? Baby," he pleads, leaning his mouth down to brush against yours. He adjusts, hands roaming down your side. The silence extends, just you both panting softly as his fingers slide over your thighs. When his fingers drift, he leans to reach and secure them behind your knees. He finishes what he was saying as he draws your legs up to frame his hips. "How can I serve the lady, tonight?"

Leaning up off the cushion, you chase his mouth wordlessly, fingers fumbling for a hold on the front of his shirt. His heat seaps through both of your clothes. His mouth burns yours when he sears you with his kiss.

"I wore the skirt," you plead quietly into his mouth. Eddie's reaction is nearly violent.

His hips snap against yours and he grinds his jeans against your panties, hard. His groan threatens to rattle you. It probably would if you weren't arching and crying out at the sudden blinding pleasure.

"You did wear the skirt. Just like I asked you to. What a good girl, making such pretty noises," Eddie praises in your ear, rocking his hips into yours. It felt so good to grind your hips back against him. "You just want me to make you feel good, right?"

You nod furiously against the couch, eyes squeezed shut as he narrowly rocks his hips.

"Mmm, you deserve it."

You needed more friction; you decide as you throw your hips into his and grind hard. Your clit rubs jeans, and it makes you whimper pathetically. Completely lost to the sensation.

"I can give you my fingers," he pleads. "Or my mouth. Want me to make you feel good with that, sweetheart?"

"Kiss me, Eddie," you whisper. "Please, kiss me." He wastes no further time, this time the kisses aren't as slow, there's more fire to it. Eddie is more eager to kiss you so it's not as graceful as next to his van. Slightly sloppy, lips muffle moans as you tangle up on his couch. Continuously rolling your hips together on the couch in search of the friction.

Every kiss was getting hungrier, every thrust met with more desperation than the last as the two of your rutted against each other. The blind way you both tangled was proving to be a frustrating affair. More fire building low in your belly when you took breaks to catch your breath Eddie gasped dirty things in your ear, moaning as you felt the bulge of his cock rub against you.

"Eddie," you gasped out, tugging on his arms, "Can I please have more, please?"

He gives a stuttery groan. "Of course, pretty girl. Ask me anything just like that and I'm toast. Can't say 'no'. Like some kind of fuckin' spell." Eddie pushes himself off you much to your dismay. But your body starts shrieking in a different way when he slides your skirt higher with a naughty grin.

Your knees snap together without you thinking. You flush when he freezes and arches his brows up. "Sorry," you pant.

"Don't apologize," he responds immediately. No hesitation. His thumb rubs a soothing circle on your thigh. "Have I gone too far? Do you want me to back up?" You bite your lip and shake your head.

"No, just... don't laugh. It's just... my mom always used to say, 'Good girls keep their knees together in a skirt so no one sees up it'." Eddie's eyebrows bunch together, and he seems to think hard.

"Aren't you trying to rebel here?" He prods. "Isn't that why you snuck out to fool around with Eddie 'The Freak' Munson?" A sheepish smile spreads on your face. Slowly, you part your legs.

"As lame as it sounds, I really, really hate getting in trouble. It makes me physically sick." Eddie breaks into a grin above you.

"Are you sick to your stomach now?" You shake your head. "Good," he hums, "because you've been very, very good for me tonight." Eddie holds your gaze with his own very serious one. Like he was testing to see if that was the key.

He hit the hammer on the head. You give him another nod, an affirmation of epic proportion. Eddie's fingers move slow, mostly so he doesn't spook you. It feels so nice though. You let your eyes drift shut as his fingers slither up your bare thigh. "You're really wet," he hums letting his thumb swipe over the front of your panties as he passes. "Do you touch yourself?"

"Yes," you whimper softly.

Eddie groan stutters again. "Can I touch?"

"Please."

A finger hooks in your panties to pull them to the side. The cool air caresses you. "That's a pretty pussy," he promises, and he starts a knuckle right at the top of your seam and begins dragging it down. All of your noises up until now mostly revolve around panting, breathless little noises as you tilt your head down to watch him touch you. He looks up at you as his middle finger circles lazily around the opening to your cunt. You meet his gaze with fluttering eyes and then he sinks to the knuckle with his ring finger too and a violent moan rips out of your throat.

"Shiiiit!" You cry out, head thrown back.

"Gooood fucking girl, let me know how good I make you feel, yeah?" He pumps his fingers slowly, filthy mouth spewing. "So fuckin' wet. Listen." Around your moaning you can hear exactly what he's referring to.

You're legs shake when he curls his fingers into a spot you've never reached. "Ah! There, Eddie, right there!" He giggles to himself but abides by your request.

"Can't wait to hear you cry that on my cock. So tight, you want more? Let me give you more." A third finger nudged its way inside from the rest and your knocked flat. It's very nearly too much. Already a familiar tightening building. "Oh my god, does that feel good? Oh fuck, listen to that, baby? Has your pussy ever felt this good?" You can't even respond with anything other than pornographic moaning. Your legs shake harder when his other hand drops on the front of your pelvis, pushing you down against his rutting hand, his thumb quickly homes in on your clit and he's merciless.

You're loud. So loud it might hurt his ears, but it only takes a few short seconds of this before you're cumming harder than you ever have in your life. He gently rocks you on his fingers on your way down and as you settle like snow against his sofa, you think about the wallpaper.

It doesn't just feel like peeling. No, you set the room on fire.

"You okay, sweetheart?" You burst into weak giggles, lax against the cushions.

"Should I be concerned with how good you are at that?" He snorts into the air and leans over to kiss your neck. You sigh, tilting your head to give him better access.

"No, you should be elated that you have great taste and I'm good at it instead of leaving you high and dry." You give a breathless giggle as he rocks his erection against your leg.

"Let me return the favor?" You ask. Eddie leans back.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously." Eddie chuckles over at you, eyes dilated with his lust.

"I'll never turn that down without good reason."

You slide out from under him. You were drunk on the endorphins. Eddie sits up at your prompting and then his eyes widen when you sink onto your knees. "Oh shit, for real?" He demands and when you nod, he's shucking his pants and boxers down.

It takes you a moment because for the first time in your life you are face to face with an actual erection. You had plenty of advice from Nancy. You'd seen medical depictions but this... was more than you were expecting.

You weren't expecting quite so much... you weren't expecting to like the sight so much. Especially the reddened tip that something clear was beading up with at the tip. Veined and hard, you watched it bounce of its own volition and gasped in a delighted way.

"You like that trick?"

"You can move it?"

"Yeah," he snorts.

"That's cool," a genuine laugh has Eddie tilting his head back to laugh.

"If you think my dick's cool than I cannot compl- OH FUCK! You're really going for it!" He gave a strangled moan as your darted your tongue out to taste the clear fluid at his tip. It was a curious, dirty action. One with more innocence than he knew what to do with. You try to recall the tips Nancy had mentioned when you questioned her over spring break at Steve's pool.

Go slow, try to avoid teeth. Nancy said they weren't the most fun - something you did to get them off when you didn't want to go all the way. But this, looking up through your eyelashes at him, you can't comprehend how you're not supposed to enjoy this.

Because above you is a boy absolutely falling apart at the simplest touches of your mouth. His eyes desperate as you pull the tip into the heat of you. He's shivering with it. He tastes like salt and some kind of Eddie brine. Maybe if it was more potent it wouldn't be good. Maybe if you weren't so turned on by just the sight of his red cheeks and vulnerable expression it wouldn't taste divine.

It's sealing it to you. A searing heat burning the taste of Eddie into your mouth. He lets out this loud cry, head dropping back as he babbles when your head bobs and you lave your tongue across him. His hands are fisting in the cushions. The little moan you give as you sink your mouth further around him, slurping at the drool that threatens to escape your lips has him nearly thrashing beneath you.

It sickens you in a good way. Or a very, very bad way. Good girls don't shouldn't kiss on the first date and here you are, moaning like a whore at the knees of a third time repeating senior because you love how cock tastes evidently. You want a punishment. You need it.

A hand fists into your hair. It's not tight enough to hurt, only enough for you to glance back at him. "Holy fuck, do you like that?" You hesitate but nod around his cock, careful not to clip him with any teeth. Then his head tilts back again and he mutters something you nearly don't catch.

"God is a woman."

Should that line work? No. But it scalds your skin and suddenly your ravenous for his taste. You want to see how far you can fit him in your mouth. He's babbling and whimpering under the new excitement you feel. Good girls didn't matter when Eddie Munson seemed to think that your mouth was made for sucking cock. It sure as hell felt like it when he bumped the back of your throat.

Your hands reached out to touch his balls and he jerked up with it.

"Christ! I'm gonna fuckin' cum if you don't stop!" His hand tightened in your hair, gently guiding you back and forth on his cock.

Mom always said it was rude to talk with your mouth full, but Eddie Munson certainly didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to really appreciate the way 'Please?' was muffled by his cock. He let out cry similar to how you did, spittle flying as he arched his back off the couch. His cries sounded just lovely as something hot and thick spilled into your mouth.

It was a surprising flavor, not exactly one you hated regardless. Your automatic reaction was immediate, swallowing the salt back. Pride swelling inside you. Your cunt throbs weakly, crying for more as you try to imagine what it would feel like for him to be finishing beside your womb instead of your tonsils.

He flinches as you try to pick back up again.

"Woah, woah, shit, slow down! Ohhhh, that's sensitive, baby. That's so sensitive, right now. Just spit for now, baby." He gently pushes you back from his twitching cock.

"But I already swallowed it." Eddie's eyes fly wide in shock the moment your voice breaks the air.

"You swallowed it? Fuuuck," he whines, rubbing his hands down his face.

"Was I not supposed to?" You whimper in horror, worried about some miscalculation.

"No, no, no!" Eddie quickly mends. "That was just... crazy fucking hot. So fucking hot." Then he's sliding off the couch completely and dragging you to the floor beneath him. "You did so fucking good, a complete natural."

"Really? I was good?"

"Fuckin' perfect." Relief spreads through your chest as he sinks against you, mouthing at your cheek and jaw lazily. "I'll have to pay you back next time."

Tonight, when you fall asleep in a sleeping bag in Robin's room, somewhere around three in the morning, you don't dream of Billy. It's still the same dream, but this time it's Eddie. You meet him with an eager mouth instead of terror like you did Billy. It's a sweet dream.

Everything is perfect, you think as you close your eyes. The smell of Eddie's cologne and the vague scent of the bowl he smoked in the back of the van last night was a homey scent already. Two weeks, three dates, five classes you ditched, and you were already dreading the idea of parting with Eddie for the summer.

The tender touches, the stolen glances across the cafeteria, and notes left in your locker. When you dreamed at night, you dreamed of Eddie's lips and the wallpaper burning away. Flames licking up the walls around you as you lay unburdened and rolling in heat of them.

With no real project to work on, you mostly listened to Eddie strum his electric guitar, talked about music and made out. With his uncle working second shift often, the two of you often found that the other's mouth was a welcomed feeling. It was usually filthy, and Eddie's words were usually just as filthy as Billy's had been at school. Now, when Billy muttered quiet jabs at you, you were too busy of replacing the imagery with the metalhead to be as affected by it lately.

Billy had noticed, you think. You could see the growing confusion when you weren't hiding as much as you did before. In your own little form of revenge, you took Billy's words and use them on Eddie. Tainting those words in colors of dirty sheets and pot. Of goofy smiles and carefree tomfoolery.

It felt so endless, like this was how it always had been. Your friends liked it, despite they're teasing. Liked the gossip. Steve was eager to know about your reaction when you told Nancy how good Eddie was at 'making out'. He'd heard the tone and pretended not to listen.

Tonight, you crack the window on the van in order to listen to the crickets and the buzz of neon at the gas station. You're painted with bright blue and red as you peak an eye open and watch Eddie meander the isles inside. You'd turned down the Black Sabbath tape he'd jammed into the stereo when you both decided that you could spare a trip to the gas station to get snacks after he ate you out for two hours in the back of his van instead of studying for your AP Biology final your supposed to take tomorrow.

You cross your legs in his front seat, aware of the wet leaking below due to the fact he'd stolen your underpants like a degenerate. You could see just a hint of them peeking out of his back pocket when he'd slipped into the store.

A car squeals into the parking lot when he's checking out. You don't think too much of it. You don't look to see who's climbing out of the vehicle. If you had, you'd have dipped into Eddie's back seat to avoid being spotted. But the basketball team notices you before you notice them. You freeze when Eddie trots out with a plastic bag filled with snacks. He doesn't pay them much mind as he jumps into the van. But you don't miss the gawking.

"Shit," you breathe, "we should get out of here."

"Already, ready to go again?"

"Half the basketball team just spotted us." Eddie throws you a casual shrug.

"Could be any girl hanging out with me. Definitely not you." You crack a small smile at his reassurance, and he gets ready to pull away. But you look back and your gut turns. Something not sitting right with you. The group of students in varsity gear are lingering on the edge of the sidewalk. One student with brassy curls strides towards the payphone and your left with the gnawing feeling growing in your stomach.

The ride back to his trailer is short. Like always, you glance to make sure Billy's Camero wasn't in the drive. It never was.

Unfortunately, tonight it was. Fate was plucking its strings it seemed. "Don't worry about him, he'll leave for work here soon." You glance at your friend and nod before you both climb out. "Do you want me to take you home soon?" he asks as you lead the way up his front porch.

"No," you promise him, smiling and twisting to where he stands, shorter than you for once. "Not tonight."

"You wouldn't be suggesting what I think you are," he taunts, stepping closer.

"I'm not spending the night," you laugh, leaning onto his chest. Eddie had this way of making you feel drunk on his humor. Already sinking against his arms despite the nightmare that would ensue if Billy, just two structures away, could see clear as day if he just peeked out a curtain.

"Boo, you're no fun."

"I beg to differ," you whisper, and he grins, sweeping you down to kiss him, climbing up higher and backing you towards the door slowly. You bump your back into the door frame, lips locking tenderly.

The sound of an engine in the distance catches your attention. The loudness of it growing quicker than normal. Someone hits there breaks and it makes Eddie straighten in your hold. He pulls away as a green Chevy Blazer throws dirt behind it on the way up. Although you didn't recognize the vehicle, you certainly didn't feel right about this. Both you and Eddie are slowly drifting further across the porch to watch.

"Get inside," Eddie murmurs lowly. "Go, please."

You pass him a look of disbelief. "Eddie?"

"Please."

"No," you finally affirm. Eddie gives you a big sigh of frustration.

The car squeals to a stop, raining dust and debris down around it. In the front seat is Jason Carver. The guy that your mother had once mentioned looked like a respectable young man. When you finish college, that's the boy you should search out. He didn't look so respectable right now, stumbling out of his car.

His normally slicked back hair was falling in his face. There was a look in his eyes like he was coming unhinged. "HEY, FREAK! DOES CHRISSY KNOW YOUR FUCKING A WHORE TOO!?" Your mind doesn't understand the taunt.

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about, Jason. Get the hell out of here before you get your ass kicked." Eddie snaps.

Movement catches your eye and when you affirm that someone's trotting across, their yard, you feel sick. Billy is slinking to his vehicle, not even looking up as struts to the driver's door. Maybe you had time to still duck inside.

"Is this what you do? You sell drugs to girls, and they finally lower their standards enough to fuck you?"

"Look, I have a job. That job is to sell. Chrissy bought pot off me a couple times, you got a problem with that, talk to her." Jason stomped up the porch to mirror the position you and Eddie had been in not even sixty seconds ago on his front steps. Your heart races as Billy slides in and goes to start the engine on his Camero. But you see his smooth moments freeze as he makes eye contact with you.

It all changes in that moment, because after a whole two seconds, he's climbing right back out and marching across grass.

Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck.

You did not foresee this going well. "Jason, go home," you demand. Both of them snap their attention to you. They get the terror of your expression and then you glance back at the guy twice either of their sizes who's nearly halfway there already.

Jason scoffs when he sees Billy, eyes glittering like something wasn't quite right in his head.

"Uh oh. It looks like the consequences of your actions are coming. See, Freak? This is why you stick to your own kind. Trash." Jason sneers.

"Get the fuck out of my face, before you taste your own blood," Eddie rumbles back.

"You're not going on that date with Chrissy."

"Date?" The word is plucked right out of your heart before you can stop it as Billy finally makes it close. He's not watching the two who are tense. It's only you.

Eddie meets your gaze, a conflicted expression. "She asked me out today." Oh. You gut twists with jealousy, but this relationship was never intended to extend past this month. The best by date blinking at you with bold lettering, just days away.

"Wait," Billy starts, scoffing, a stunningly cold look petrifying you. "I heard Munson was running around with someone. Has it been you?" he demands.

"See, the girls here are-" Billy rolls on Jason, snatching the back of his jacket to jerk him off the steps and onto the ground next to him. You gasp.

"Shut the fuck up, Carver. I didn't fucking ask you."

"Billy! Don't get violent!" You crack out, pulling his attention back to you. "There is not going to be any fighting!" Billy releases Jason's jacket and climbs the steps up to you. Eddie starts to slide between you both, but you push a hand against his arm to shove him back.

"Answer my question. Are you dating Munson?" He asks slowly. You tilt your chin up to defy Billy, feeling far less bold than you were being.

"No." Billy starts to smirk, looking like that panther all over again. The wallpaper had burned away to the studs and that sly fucking look made you want to smack him. You wanted nothing more than to knock him down a peg or two. The urge drowns you.

"But I did blow him."

The silence is deafening as Billy's smirk slips right off his face. He passes Eddie a look that's hard to read. He's thinking violent thoughts, you can see that. So, you step closer as he tries to slow his breathing.

"Uhhhh, I think that was the wrong fucking thing to say," Eddie mutters. You catch the horrified look from him at the taunt.

"All that talk," you toss to him, making those big blue eyes snap back to you, "Every. Single. Dirty jab you threw at me?" You promise, "I tried on him. I'm not just some 'Golden Girl' fantasy." Billy leans in, even on the step below you, he's at eye level. His words are even, cold.

"I'm giving you one opportunity," he starts with a near whisper. "If you do not start making your way across the park and into my car in the next minute, I'm going to pop Munson's testicles like balloons. Then you're never going to come over here again. You want someone to fuck you, you come to me, got it?"

"You know, what?" You start, squaring your shoulders and moving past him, down the steps. "Fine. But I will go celibate before I ever fuck you, Billy." Jason glowers at you. "Go home, Jason."

"What are you gonna do about it, whore?" He snaps back. Billy moves faster than you expect, in Jason's face before you can even react.

"You call her that again, see what happens?"

"She just told you she's been blowing Munson and you're defending her?" Honestly, it surprised you too. There was something about Billy in this moment that didn't scare you. It excited you in a way you'd never been. Yes, arousal, but more than that. You felt safe.

"She's mine. Regardless of what she's done, she's mine. And you insult her, you insult me." Well, that didn't seem healthy. Despite that fact, it sent blinding arousal through you.

"She'll leave you, just like Chrissy left me for him."

"Maybe because you're an impulsive dickhead." You snap. Jason leans down towards you with fury painting his eyes and you tighten your fist.

"Maybe it's because Chrissy is as big of a whore as-" Chrissy Cunningham was literally the sweetest girl you'd ever come across and the fact that Jason was running his mouth about her was more than enough to send you into a full-blown rage. Until the pain in your hand pulled you back.

That was when you realized you'd just decked Jason Carver.

He was swinging at you already and you were bracing for impact when Billy's fist sent Jason completely sideways. He looks to you, almost as if for confirmation.

"I thought you said he wasn't your boyfriend," Eddie hisses to you. Eyes huge.

"He's not." You say at the exact same time Billy snaps out the same time. You glare at each other mildly. "Oh, so you harrassing me in Spanish? That's what that is? That's some shitty dates." Billy rolls his eyes at you and you all glance down at Jason.

"Your hand. Does it hurt?" Eddie asks, moving to your side.

"My wrist," you murmur, holding up your hand for him when he reaches for you. "I didn't know punching someone hurt so bad." Billy doesn't even have to glare at Eddie to get him to give the space beside you up.

"That's because that was a shitty punch," he growls. "You let your wrist snap with it. Next time, squeeze your fist as tight as you can, it'll keep you from breaking it." Billy's fingers prod at your wrist.

"I'll grab some ice," Eddie grunts and jogs inside. You watch him go and then stare up at Billy, who's legitimately testing your wrist. You wince when he bends it too far and he stops.

"Sprained it, you'll be fine."

"Thanks," you murmur. Billy glances up at you, still furious.

"You get that ice, and we go. That's it. No more Eddie."

"He's my friend." Billy's hand sudden tunnels into your hair and he jerks your head back forcing you to look up at him.

"You don't blow your fucking friends." You had no rebuttal for that. So, silence fell over you both. When Eddie appears, you pass him a look and he passes you a hopeless one back. His apology clear on his face.

Billy snatches the ice away. "Get moving," he orders.

"Fine." There's no venom.

You just leave Jason Carver lying on the ground in front of his Blazer.

It's fifteen minutes into your lecture and the reality of the situation has sunken in. There's no way your mom won't hear about this sometime soon. You just pray it's not until next week, after you leave for camp.

You barely listen to Billy as he drives. Hell, you don't even think he knows where he's going at this point.

"I don't fucking get it," Billy sighs, dropping his hands to the steering wheel. "You've just got a thing for dirtbags, huh?:

"Excuse me?" You demand. Now that he's finally got a reaction from you, you can feel him sink his hooks in.

"Eddie a fucking dirt bag, so am I. You didn't even punch him until you heard him call Chrissy Cunningham a whore but not when he called you one."

"Chrissy didn't have anyone there to defend her."

"She also wasn't there to hear it."

"Well, Eddie is not a dirtbag and neither are you so stop it." Your words silence him finally and you lean your head back against the seat.

"What makes Eddie so fucking saintly?" He demands at last, seething again.

"He's pretty fucking good with his fingers for starters," you jab.

You lurch against the seat belt when he hits the breaks. "That's fuckin' it." He snarls and you gasp as he's fish tailing his Camero into an empty field nearby. "Get out."

You gulp, when he takes his own order and climbs out. You hesitantly follow, your shoes sinking into the softened earth slightly as you shut the door and follow him to the front of his car. "I leave in a week," you tell him. His head snaps toward you. "That's why I went out with Eddie. Because I'm eighteen and up until a few weeks ago I hadn't even kissed before! Because I'm the good girl! Always the good girl!"

Billy's right in front of you, teeth bared, eyes wild instead of dead. "My good girl," he snaps. His hands cup your face and drag you close.

"Billy," you plead, "I can't help it."

"Can't help what?" Confusion clouds those blue eyes when your vision blurs with tears.

"I want to be good so bad. I want to be a good girl but sometimes I just..." Your lip wobbles and you find yourself fisting his jean jacket. "Being a good girl. It's... it's miserable and when my mom finds out..." Your head falls back, and you take slow breaths to calm down.

"What's so miserable about being a good girl?" Billy prompts. "The good grades?"

"Because it's never enough for my mom." It's the stroking fingers that make you shutter. "It felt so good to do what I wasn't supposed to," you whimper. "I've been suffocating under everything, and I just need it!" You feel his hand drift down to pull you against him. Billy's cologne is all around you, making your head fuzzy like it always does with Eddie.

Suddenly, the tears are stopping, and the familiar pit of hunger is back. All of your worries and fears are evaporating like they always do with Eddie too. You can't think. You just feel. You feel hungry. You feel needy. You feel his pounding heart beneath your palms when you spread them across his chest, under his jacket.

"What are you doing, sweetheart? You're not getting yourself out of trouble with this." You snap back, aware that you were getting lost in those impulses all over again.

"Sorry," you say, trying to retreat. Billy frowns at your small voice. "I didn't mean... can you... can you just drop me off down the street from my house?"

Billy doesn't respond, too busy figuring out what was going on. The lightbulb comes on and he's moving you all at once to the hood of his car. "Fucking hell," is all he says before pressing his mouth to yours.

You whole body shrieks at the touch, falling right back into the impulses you were just trying to fend off. Instead of pushing at him like you were supposed to, you were dragging him into you. It was far more aggressive than it ever had been with Eddie. Billy tasted like mint toothpaste and cigarettes.

His fingers dig into your sides, as you work to pull at his jacket. He's quick to peel it off. When his hands land back on you, they're sliding up your thighs, pushing your skirt up. Your bare cunt exposed quickly as he breaks away to peek down. It makes you wonder if your panties are still in Eddie's pocket. "You..." Billy takes a deep breath to try and stablize his breathing. "Your wrong you know," he hums.

You frown at him, brain too muddled to figure it out on your own.

"Sex," he hums, "it's natural. It's not bad. It's good. Even when your bad like this," he gestures with his thumb sliding easily through your folds. "You're still a good girl," he amends. "It's why I like you so much." The air is stolen from your lungs. "Way too good for me. I'll wait for you to come back."

His tenderness sends you into full blown tears, you don't have the mind to stop as he slides down over you, slinking away. It takes you a moment before he cocks your legs further apart.

Right about one thing, you think to yourself as his lips latch to your clit, Billy Hargrove likes to use his mouth.

G+G Taglist: @music-is-all-i-need @devilcherryhot @hauntingtherosebush @simp4mullets @theelephantroom4 @dumbmarvelchick @your-local-rockstar-simp @holyfanficbooksgeek @shittypunkbarbeque @psychoticbirb @im-bout-to-pass-otutt @sameyessblue @boopmedaddy @animeboystuff @santaatemypuppy @bdudette, @slutforbillyy

@blahblahblaj, @sunandmoonchild158, @lovinthesiz3, @poisondragon, @blueberry-birdiee, @xchichikunx, @briistrash, @imabadarsebard, @j1nxwastaken, @shinypeachkitten

I think something's going on with my tag list??? Did they change something?

#grease and grunge #g+g #g+g update #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fics #stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x you #billy hargove smut #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader

[autumnmobile12]

In this scene when Hector is threatening Lenore, he says the following, "...or I will rip your fucking throat out and break your fucking neck and we'll see how fucking well you live then."

All right, let's pretend for a moment Lenore was in any kind of danger and this was a legitimate threat: Is Hector just bluffing (as if Lenore's not going to know her own weaknesses) or would breaking her neck actually result in some permanent damage if he succeeded?

In other words, can the Netflix's Castlevania vampires be crippled?

Modern vampire media plays fast and loose with Bram Stoker's rules, (I mean, the more powerful Hellsing vampires can even walk around in sunlight; it just annoys them,) but in every other vampire-themed series I can think of right now, short of the classic stake through the heart or the head being removed, vampires tend to come back from just about anything. Regrowing limbs, regenerating catastrophic blood less, etc. The series Shiki actually has a pretty disturbing rundown of what vampires can and can't survive, courtesy of a doctor capturing one and putting her through a series of inhumane experiments to see what will actually kill her. (This one also has a pretty similar explanation to Castlevania as to why vampires fear holy relics, and it's the only modern vampire series I've seen that actually has the 'sacred ground is off limits' factor.)

When the chips are down, Hector's probably just overreaching here. (Or possibly trying to intimidate Lenore on the mistaken assumption she's a 'helpless lady.')

But I do think it's an interesting notion to have vampirism not being the 'cure all, return to factory setting in case of emergency' trope we see everywhere because the 'factory setting' is different for everyone. Such as vampires experiencing permanent injuries or even terminal illnesses. The light of the moon is just reflected sunlight, so a vampire with a skin condition that makes them extra sensitive to even moonlight could be possible. Also, vampires developing illnesses like blood disorders, rabies, even the ones who have animal forms contracting mange, certain cancers, neurological or physiological conditions they were born with that a vampire's bite didn't 'cure.'

Or maybe they have a whole other range of afflictions specific only to their species.

Example: Aside from Carmilla and Godbrand, none of Dracula's Generals speak, not even Cho even though she has a flashback in Season 3. In a Hellsing/Castlevania crossover I was working on, I wrote a part where the Generals had an ongoing bet of whether or not Cho was too arrogant to bother speaking with the plebs or if she actually couldn't speak, implying she has a speech disorder that predated her being a vampire.

...

I've read books where humans with asthma, severe scoliosis, and even Alzheimer's Disease were cured after becoming a vampire, and I do think that's wonderful.

But there's also the part of me that thinks, "Nah, too easy." I want to see vampires who are blind or deaf or both, autistic vampires, 10th century Chinese vampire ladies who still have maimed feet from the foot-binding of their childhoods, vampires who suffer from dementia and are terrified of losing hundreds of years worth of memories, dyslexic vampires, paraplegic vampires, vampires with autoimmune disease, or allergies outside of being unable to enjoy the gift to humanity that is garlic bread.

#castlevania #hector #lenore #castlevania vampires #castlevania headcanons #can vampires be crippled? #hellsing #shiki #castlevania netflix #vampires #seriously #of all the things #why garlic bread?

[tigirl-and-co]

Space Monkeys

Hey everybody, here's a rough draft of the first chapter of Space Monkeys, what will (hopefully!) be a sci-fi novel featuring Saiyans, from Dragon Ball!

Even if you aren't familiar with Dragon Ball, I urge you to check it out, especially if you have an interest in sci-fi! I've put more effort into this bit of writing than I have anything in years, so while it's still a bit rough I am very proud of it! Please give it a chance, it's a labour of love.

Those of you familiar with the sci-fi novels of yesteryear should feel right at home, and I'm hoping those that aren't may find themselves interested!

~~~

Space Monkeys, Ch. 1

"You humans are up to something."

Witloof pushed his own head into the collection of human ones, and it wasn't hard for him either with his comparative strength. The small gaggle who were gathered around a computer screen hushed into a nervous silence- not the fear of being hurt, as they all knew what repercussions the Empire Regulatory Committee would enact under such a circumstance- but rather the schoolchild silence of an unwelcomed outsider sticking his nose where it didn't belong and not heeding the rebuffment.

The Saiyan made eye contact with the human he assumed was the leader of this troupe. "You humans are up to something," Witloof reiterated, "And I want in."

After many fewer moments of pondering than should typically be utilized when determining trustworthiness, the human Derebak grinned conspiratorially. "Good. We can use a strongman."

It is well-known throughout the universe that if you want to come home with an interesting story, you find a group of humans. Well known only to spacefaring humans, however, is that if you want to get up to any real sort of trouble, you'd best find a Saiyan and earn his respect. Dependable as anything once they like you, but therein lies the issue.

When the two empires met on the edge of space, there was a near-immediate understanding that they were like each other. This was unfortunate, considering just how much humans like to squabble amongst themselves. The superior Saiyan strength very nearly had to test itself against humanity's advanced tactics and brains, but eventually the issues were sorted out and the two fell into an uneasy peace, as far as the heads of each civilization was concerned.

For anybody who spent any time at all on a station where the two species collided, they understood the peace wasn't uneasy in the slightest.

Sure, for Saiyan tastes humans were a bit yappy, and they were all soft in the face and in the heart. And humans thought the Saiyan appearance and temperament a bit beastly, sticking closer to the apes from which he had sprung up than man did. But really, it usually took very little time for them to look past this and start swapping stories of home over drinks paid for by whoever lost that day's bet.

And so while Derebak didn't know Witloof from Adam, it knew he was sincere. Saiyans made for awful liars and for great troublemakers. Both species hated being yanked around by the chain, and Derebak was confident that if it could rope Witloof in on smaller stuff, he'd follow this thing all the way to the top.

And taking care of an earnest idiot is merely human nature, not that a human would ever let a Saiyan cotton on to that fact.

Derebak 'Rabies' Johnson, not-quite-rogue astrogator of the tourist jump-ship Tyger, Tyger, stuck out a hand. "Call me Rabies, all the people I like do."

It looked the musclehead up and down, but there's not much to be gleaned from a Saiyan at first glance. They're a longer-lived race, averaging about 150 earth-years and don't age like humans besides. And as for uniform, there's certain standards, but each piece of armor seemed unique. You couldn't even tell the tourists apart from the warriors by anything except their stance and their tails, as finding a Saiyan in anything but armor was about as likely as finding a shaved grizzly out in the woods and made them about as uncomfortable.

A fanged mouth and solid grip returned the gestures. "Good to know you, Rabies." He snorted, hoping the name was indicative of things to come. He could tell by the human's uniform he was outranked, but he had heard human society was a bit less stringent with formalities than home was, so he made the conscious choice not to bow or salute. Witloof was hoping to enter this troupe as a member, not a tagalong. "I'm Witloof, stationed here 'just in case.' Exactly what threats to the Vegetan Autocracy are expected from a tourist station on the human side of the boundary, I don't know."

One of the other humans spoke up, a blonde man who could easily have been the face of a boyband if his voice didn't bring to mind rusty nails in a blender. "Maybe you're here to save us against some awful threat like a meteor or invading monster, earning our government's trust and establishing yourselves as a race of altruists!" He guffawed, "A real protection racket!"

Witloof wasn't sure he understood the joke, but all the humans burst out laughing at that, and he decided not to take offense.

"Cuss," Rabies managed to squawk out between breaths, "you gotta warn a freak before you go and say something like that! You're gonna kill us!" It managed to hold its breath long enough to calm down before turning back to Witloof with tears still in its eyes. "That's Jack, although he's got a few less pleasant nicknames too. Don't pay him any mind, that's just how he is. He's an engineer here on the E.S.S. Poetry, and you know how engineers are."

It wiped its face a bit. "Right now we're just looking at the supply chain for this place, but come meet me in my quarters at, say, nine o'clock station time. I eat a late dinner but I aughtta be finished by then. I'll tell you a bit about what, as you put it, we're up to."

Derebak reached into a pocket and pulled out a small pad of paper and pen, writing down its bunk's location. Crew area, of course. Hopefully it wouldn't be too hard to find, Witloof still had a bit of trouble with the way humans organized big spaces and the crew area was doubtless less well-marked than the area meant for the easily-lost masses.

Witloof took the paper and tucked it into the breast of his armor. "You can count on me," he acknowledged. He tried to study the computer screen, but this sort of stuff was never his expertise and it was in a language he barely knew, to boot. He was mid-class, sure, but his parents were low-class so the traditional Saiyan warrior was really all that was open to him.

As the humans yammered on quietly about resources, Witloof took the time to observe them. Saiyans usually came with one hair colour, one eye colour, and a very small range of skin tones. Halfbreeds weren't all that rare in the lower classes, so it wasn't like he'd never seen a blonde or a redhead before, but moving through groups of humans he was always astonished by their differences.

And their physiques! He had heard that back in ancient history, humans had been a hunter race. But he doubted it. How could any species so soft in the body bring down prey? Humans didn't eat nearly as much as Saiyans did, but surely they had to eat something, and, in his opinion, there was no way they could kill enough to fill their bellies with such meagre strength.

Although, as the small group disbanded to go about their tasks for the day, Witloof had to wonder if it had something to do with their reputation for trouble and penchant for surviving it. Was it possible to turn that into a hunting strategy? Did ancient humans cause so much chaos that the beasts around them simply died of it, leaving the humans unharmed?

He was a bit torn- on one hand he wasn't paid to ask big questions. On the other hand, he had already decided to join them- he'd even given his word and partaken of the human hand shake gesture. To his understanding from the cultural training, such an act was not only a statement of friendliness and companionship, it was also how they sealed unbreakable deals.

Maybe they already considered him part of their troupe? Humans formed close bonds incredibly easily, that much he was certain of. He had heard stories of them bonding to things that weren't even alive, but he wasn't sure how that would even work.

As Witloof wandered off to Poetry's dining strip, he started thinking about just who or what he was entrusting his strength to. He hoped Rabies was a good leader.

Well, at least humans knew how to make good food. That counted for something in his books.

#dbz #dragon ball #my writing #saiyan #writing #sci-fi #science fiction #PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK LIKE. I NORMALLY DON'T ASK BUT #this has been crawling in my gut for three days it's making me crazy i'm unwell about this #chapter 1 #witloof #derebak johnson #dbz oc #...technically. #listen im trying to get the most engagement i can without outright lying #writers of tumblr #dragon babble

[yanpotatowriter]

Would you be ok writing a yandere!various focused on the werewolf of Nevermore x reader. But the reader is either a werecat or a werewolf that can oy shift it small wolf like a puppy, your choose. —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- They will not let you do anything on your own, they really see you as the baby of the pack that needs to be constantly protected.  They will also fuss over what you do and what you eat like overprotective parents who claim they are only doing it because they love you, making you feel guilty over wanting to have some alone time because wolves live in a pack, and they are supposed to be together all the time even if you know logically that, that is not the case.

Whenever you wolf out with the pack they will play with you but if someone gets a bit too playful and accidentally hurts you a few other wolves will go after them like they have rabies while the other wolves are protectively hovering around you, I won’t be surprised if you and another wolf return back into your human form in order to properly heal and treat the wound. They love to put you in a blanket before doing a big cuddle pile, they just love to be around you in any way possible and a cuddle pile is the perfect way for everyone to be around you without feeling like anyone is being left out. They also like to do game night where they all gather around a TV and have snacks nearby while playing party games, it always gets very heated and competitive because they are playing for who gets to spend time with you the next day. You can also bet that they do games where the loser has to give the winner their scheduled time with you, as in the loser has to wait until their next turn after their turn because the winner will be spending that time with you. They will baby you a lot, they won’t let you cook or do any chores without someone being near and even then they won’t let you get close to the sharp knives. If you ever wolf out alone on a day that's not a full moon, I can see the other wolves grabbing you by your neck (like the part that paralyses you, but it's not hurtful) and put you in the common area where all the wolves can supervise and play with you. And don’t even think about escaping or leaving the pack because they have your scent and voice memorized so unless you managed to completely change your voice and scent they will always be able to find you no matter how far you run, and that is if you even managed to escape their grasp.

#yandere nevermore werewolves #yandere wednesday tv show #yandere nevermore #yandere x reader #yandere wednesday netflix x reader #yandere #wednesday tv show headcanons #wednesday tv show x reader #wednesday tv show

[kryptonitejelly]

K!!!!! since we're always calling the two of them is idiot in love but i think Jake is the biggest idiot sjskskak like sometimes he'd give the most random reason to make sure you're not get tangled in with someone yk. imagine when you and Jake are back home, Emma informed him about the guy next block who used to have crush on you during highschool days been running with you few times last week (Jake isn't home yet at that time) and Jake casually gives 'running is healthy' as his response. buuut when afternoon comes and you're about to go run, Jake is already outside with two bottles of water, said 'i heard the path to next block is closed because a liar dog is on the loose and rumor said its has rabies' and you kind of trying to hide your laughter since you knew where he's coming from with the said rumor (you know the rumor isn't true at all, but you didn't say anything) so you just well you wanna try new path? and Jake eagerly said yeah let's skip the next block until the dog is being caught, shall we

(you're never run to the next block again btw) (later on when the two of you is officially together, you brought this up and he just 😐 what. are you talking about!? the rumor is true! Mr. Walker had to be vaccinated because he got bit and you laughed so hard he had to kiss you so you'd shut up - not that you complain)

orrrr one day you're having a video call with him during lunchtime (you have him on speaker, it's easier that way) you're having salad in which Jake scoffed at because according to him 'it's hardly a lunch'. when the two of you are in the middle of talking, your new workmate comes in to your room and asks if you're down to have chicken steak lunch with him as a thank you because you've helped him settled in the new office and to know each other better as a 'workmate'. Jake, the menace he is, of course heard the conversation you exchanged with the guy and he purposely let his voice to be heard and said 'AREN'T YOU A VEGAN?' and the new guy went 😮 sorry i didn't know (you JUST happens to have salad, he never asks you to lunch again) (another reason is he also happens to see the picture of you and Jake on your desk so) (Jake has never been so grateful for a salad before)

rrrrrgghh i loveeee my two idiots in love. i cherish flyboy dearly 🥹🫠

-🍑

Context: Flyboy

Hi my love 🍑!!! Oh god, these absolute idiots. 

Imagine if it was during college, and he had to stay back an extra week for football, but you had to go back because some extended family would be in town that week.

Jake was soooooo pouty about it >:(( because it was the first time he wasn’t heading back home with you during a college break. If he didn’t have football / if you didn’t have family down, either of you would have waited with the other.

So when Emma sent him a badly taken photo of you and some guy from high school, and that guy shirtless no less!!!!! And you in nothing but a sports bra and shorts on your run, well you bet Jake was pissed.

He called Emma right away and basically interrogated her.

Soooo on the day he gets back home (he doesn’t tell you that he has managed to push his return up a day), he surprises you and you find him standing outside your house with two bottles of water.

Naturally you are all “what are you doing back today!!!!” and he hugs you, while telling you very seriously about the dog on the loose.

You have to bite back your giggles, because you clearly know what he is getting at. You might not be together, but you know Jake by now.

“Wanna try a new path?” You take the bottle from him.

“Smart to stay away until they catch the dog”

Omg y e s - please, when you talk about it during the Flyboy era with him when you get the chance to start going on regular runs together again, he is just all like “hey, that rumour was very true and for your safety”

And you are giggling soooo hard as you slow into a jog back up the driveway of the house. It makes him go 🤨🤨🤨, but you won’t stop giggling - your shoulders are basically shaking and the giggles are become silent at this point because!!! you can’t stop!!!

So he just growls a little and pushes you against his truck. You are both sweaty, and the body of his truck is warm against your back, but he goes “sweetheart, if you aren’t going to stop laughing, i’ll have to make you”

It makes you laugh even more, so he kisses you, hard, pressing you up against his truck to get you to shut up 😌 but not that you mind.

Omg 100% - he would be on lunchtime video calls with you, whenever he can, even though it isn’t even lunch time for him.

He would be roasting you for your salad, because it looks tiny, but the moment the guy comes in, Jake’s face is like >:( no! And he asks “AREN’T YOU A VEGAN?” soooo loudly, it makes the guy jump - because please, Jake would be soooo haughty and annoying about it + he didn’t even know you had anyone on the phone propped up against a random bottle.

“Jake,” you scold, but not really after he leaves, “you just lost me a potential new work friend.”

“Please, why do you need work friends, you have me. Plus there was something not so innocent about that ask.”

“All he asked was for lunch,” you scoff.

Jake just rolls his eyes.

This menace sends you a huge salad the next day for lunch - but the fanciest kind (like those 40 dollar chicken salads) - absolute menace; he honestly just doesn’t want you to be making lunch plans with that guy (or any other guy).

He sends you a text when the salad arrives (he gets the notification) asking enjoying the salad?

You send him back a text which says - kinda a big salad, looks perfect for two.

And he calls you immediately to glower at you for literally 1 minutes before he has to go (he really shouldn’t have been calling because he was busy with something Navy, but boy is an absolute menace when it comes to you).

Ooooh yes - 100% the guy saw THAT famed picture of you and Jake and backed right off because c’mon - who wouldn’t think you both were a thing from that photo, pleaseeee. When you were with Dan - everyone would think that Jake was Dan, but when they saw Dan irl and realised he wasn’t the photo boy they would all just be sooooo confused.

#flyboy #flyboy headcannons #flyboy ideas #flyboy drabble #flyboy universe #jake seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman #hangman seresin #hangman imagine #hangman seresin imagine #hangman x you #hangman x reader #hangman seresin x you #hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #top gun imagine #top gun #not cm #🍑 anon #<3 mwah

[oliviassunrise]

Hi Kayli hope you're enjoying this evening ❤️

For the ask game: falling asleep on the other’s shoulder for Tess/Joel pretty pls?

Hi, Vane!!! And I am now that it’s Friday.

Hope you enjoy this because let myself indulge a little.

Touches Ask Game

…

They leave Jackson at dawn, Ellie in tow. The mountains are full of game right now, and their young protege has a lot to learn about wielding a bow.

And to tell the truth, they can all use the time away.

While neither of them will complain about three square meals and a solid roof, the town can be daunting. Trying to be “part of something” and observe the little graces isn’t something either of them is used to. So, Joel uses this as an excuse to turn this into a fun excursion.

A fun excursion that includes the guitar he’d secured on a raid several months ago.

They set up camp on a ridge, confident no one on the outside will come looking for them. After lighting a fire and roasting the rabbit Ellie managed to score on their way up the mountain, Joel allows himself to get comfortable.

He leans against a log, strumming at the guitar, and ignores the strange looks Ellie gives him. Until he starts playing the chords to one of the songs she knows from her Walkman.

Tess grins, sidling up next to him. He’s never heard her sing before, but it’s a sound he could die listening to as they both remember the lyrics.

Eventually, Ellie joins in, and before he knows it, she’s requesting another.

For a solid half an hour, he plays. And they laugh. By the end, he’s slowing down, and he finds himself crooning along. Ellie’s cuddled up in her blanket, and she looks like she’s fading. And Tess?

Tess is asleep. And her head is on his shoulder.

“Conked out,” Ellie whispers when he finishes his song.

Joel chuckles softly. “Long day,” he reiterates.

“She almost fucked with that bear,” the fourteen-year-old marvels. “Stopping herself took all that energy, I bet.”

“Or chasing after you when you wanted to pet the raccoon.”

“Hey, it was friendly. It would have eaten out of the palm of my hand.”

“It would have given you rabies.”

“I’ve survived worse.”

Joel stares down at the woman sleeping on him, listens to the steady rhythm of her breathing. “And she could probably survive a bear. Doesn’t mean she should fuck around and find out.”

“Don’t get all righteous with me.”

He flicks a leaf at the kid. “Then don’t be a vigilante little shit.”

She laughs and pushes herself off the ground. “I’m going to bed.”

Joel watches her go and allows himself a few more moments before he whispers, “Tess?”

“Hmm?”

She gently shakes her shoulder. “Let’s go to bed.”

With the kiss he plants on her forehead, she nods, still half asleep, and he soon figures out she’s not about to walk to the tent on her own. So, he scoops her up in his arms and carries her.

They’ve got a big day tomorrow, and she has bears that he’s gotta talk her out of wrestling.

#ask kayli #tessjoel #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the tipsy bison #my fic

[seriouslysam8]

AU Sneak Peeks and New Poll Because I Have Zero Self-Control

Snippers below.

No, I do not have a snippet for the Sirius/Lily story. I honestly thought that one would lose by a long shot and only have a vague idea on plot.

Anyway, each snippet is around 1500 words. MAJOR spoilers ahead. I mean, really big spoilers.

I may end up writing both of these because I love the plots so much. But I'm curious what you guys think since I do want to really start planning and writing one as my side project once my current side project Bête Noire is done.

Juggernaut Snipper – James Lives AU

Harry is 4

Harry made a beeline for James’ desk, shrugging off his rucksack as he went. Jumping into the big leather chair, Harry sat in it sideways with his legs dangling off one arm and his head off the other. He reached out towards the desk, making himself spin. James smiled as he bent down to pick up Harry’s rucksack off the floor, tossing it onto the sofa. 

“Grandpa! Guess what?” Harry asked as he stopped spinning, looking at the portrait of Fleamont Potter on the wall upside down. 

Fleamont laughed. “What is it, Harry?”

Harry sucked in a breath, the corners of his lips twitching. “WELL, I saw a bunny last night in the back garden and Sirius turned into Padfoot to chase after it and the bunny hopped right in front of me, Grandpa! I tried to grab him but Dad said he could have rabies and not to touch him but I dunno what rabies are. Sirius was more concerned about fleas because he has really, really thick fur and the fleas are really hard to get out and they make him all itchy. But I tried to grab the bunny anyway and Remus told me I should try to listen a tad better but it was a bunny, Grandpa! How can I not pet a bunny?” Harry rambled, taking a deep breath. Finally. “What’s rabies, Grandpa?”

Fleamont chuckled. “Merlin, you are definitely a Potter, aren’t you, my boy?”

Harry reached out a foot towards the desk, pushing off of it to cause him to spin again. “I guess? That’s my last name, Grandpa. Dad’s name is James. Did you know that?”

Fleamont beamed. “I do think I recall naming him that.”

“Harry,” James called, peering down at his son in his chair. “Can I have my chair back?”

Harry frowned. “But, but the sofa doesn’t spin, Daddy!”

James raised his eyebrows above his glasses. “Unfortunately, it does not. But if I can get my work done quickly, we can leave sooner.”

Harry sighed, rolling off the chair and nearly hitting his head on the desk. He dragged his feet as he made his way over to the sofa, plopping down in an exaggerated fashion and looking up at the portrait. 

“Mrs Figg is sick,” Harry told his grandfather. “Dad had to bring me to work because Remus has meetings and Sirius has work too. Sirius said he’d stop by to go to lunch with us.”

“Well, what a nice godfather you have,” Fleamont commented, his eyes sparkling. “You know, I bet Sirius is going to rush through his work so he can come play with you.”

Harry shrugged. “He had to do an in’pection of the potions room today.”

“Inspection,” James corrected, looking up from his documents to catch his dad’s eye in the portrait. “Just our normal quarterly inspection. Nothing happened to the potions’ room. Don’t worry.”

“I am not worried at all!” Fleamont confirmed, though he didn’t look convinced. “I mean you and Sirius running the business is what I always wanted! I have total faith in you both.”

James snorted, turning back to the ingredient purchase parchment. “I’m sure you do, Dad.”

“Am I gonna run the business one day, Grandpa?” Harry asked. “When Dad’s too old? I can do in’pections of the potions’ room. Sirius let me go with him once. I got to wear gloves and a hairnet and funny big glasses.”

Fleamont nodded. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Harry! Perhaps, you’ll even invent your own potion to add to the line! We both know your father and your godfather aren’t very inventive when it comes to potions.”

Harry giggled. “Dad buys all his potions! Remus likes to take the mickey out of him for not even owning a cauldron!”

“James!” Fleamont huffed.

James winced, realizing he was going to get absolutely zero work done. “I would not risk my child’s life with my subpar potions ability. 

Truth was, Lily had always been the potioneer. It felt wrong to take her cauldron to the new house. He had the money to buy the potions he needed. What he couldn’t buy due to the apothecaries being closed or out of stock, Andromeda Tonks was normally kind enough to make him anything he needed at the drop of a hat. She had come through for some late-night Pepper-Up Potions for Harry in the past. 

Harry huffed, his legs kicking his rucksack. “Can I go do an in’pection with Sirius?”

James sucked in a breath, setting his quill down on his desk. He glanced at Harry over the top of his glasses. James didn’t need to see him properly to know he had his pouting face on. Harry and Sirius were inseparable. 

“Fine, you can pester Sirius,” James agreed, pushing his glasses up. 

Harry whooped as he jumped off the sofa. He stomped his feet, swinging his rucksack on his back as he waited patiently by the door to the office. James ambled over to the cupboard by the door and pulled out the supplies they needed to go into the potions’ rooms.

Kneeling down in front of Harry, he shoved the kid’s wild black hair underneath the hairnet before placing on the safety glasses carefully overtop Harry’s navy blue glasses. Standing up, he held out his hand for Harry. 

“Ready?” James asked. 

Harry grabbed his father’s hand but shook his head. “I need gloves!”

“When we get to the room, all right?” James replied as the two left his office. 

It wasn’t often James walked through the building. Being known as the Vanquisher was terrible even on a good day. He felt like an imposter. Everyone thinking he was same great and powerful wizard, but in reality he had been pinned to the ground and listened as his wife was murdered and his son was marked by evil. Nothing he did was heroic. Everything he did was just to protect his family. 

He tried and failed to buy Lily time to run. He lied to the public about what had happened on that fateful Halloween night. The thought of people knowing his son had survived the Killing Curse, that he was special, made James want to vomit. No, it was better to be dubbed the Vanquisher and let Harry live as normal of a childhood as he could. 

People whispered as they passed. Some trying to look particularly busy or some just shellshocked that their reclusive savior boss had left his office. Sirius dealt with the day-to-day operations while James stayed locked in his office dealing with the business side. Honestly, the roles should have been reversed. Would have been if life hadn’t gone to shit when Lily died. He had been social before, had loved talking with everyone. It had been Sirius who had been moody and a loner. Somehow, they both just changed because they had to in order to survive. 

Stopping outside the potions’ room, James bent down to put the too big gloves on Harry’s hands. Tugging his wand from his pocket, he tapped them to shrink them. Harry clapped, a wide grin crossing his features. 

“Remember, we use our indoor voice and there is no running,” James explained. “You do either of those things and you’ll find yourself with a one-way ticket back to my office until I’m done working. Understood?”

Harry nodded. “Yes!” When James raised an eyebrow, Harry lowered his voice and repeated, “Yes.”

James smiled. “Good boy. All right, stay close and don’t touch anything.”

James rose to his full height and held out his hand for Harry. They made their way into the potions’ room which was lined with oversized cauldrons in neat rows. Potioneers milled around, surrounding one person in particular: Sirius Black. 

Sirius’ hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, just barley fitting in one underneath his hairnet. He squinted at one of the potioneer through his safety goggles as he listened to whatever he was being explained to him. His head nodded occasionally before he looked down at a piece of parchment and checked something off with his quill. 

James could feel Harry practically vibrating next to him, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he was trying to get his godfather’s attention. As though sensing their presence, Sirius turned towards them and smiled. He motioned for Harry. James let go of his son’s hand and watched as he walked towards Sirius in a very slow and exaggerated form. A rare smile spread across James’ thin lips. Harry seemed to be the only person who made him smile these days.

---

Untitled Fleamont and Euphemia Lives AU

Takes place a few months after Halloween

Fleamont’s heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the floor in the middle of Courtroom Eight, waiting for Sirius to appear for his arraignment and bail hearing. Harry sat slumped against him, his stuffed stag and black dog clutched tightly to his chest. Euphemia bent down to speak to him, a soft hum of words ringing in Fleamont’s ear but he couldn’t concentrate on what she was saying. 

They had debated if they should bring Harry to the Ministry for hours, going back and forth on what the right thing to do would be. In the end, despite knowing he would be stared and gawked at, they brought him. Harry had seen Sirius’ picture in the paper and he had always ended up sobbing for his godfather. The small child cried for Sirius as much as he cried for his parents. Maybe, just maybe, seeing Sirius would help Harry just a tad. 

The Wizengamot filed into the room with dismayed looks. Some of those arrested in the past month had not been given any sort of due process. Some had simply been tried without any formalities, tossed into Azkaban without another thought. Fleamont knew some of those wizards were guilty. But he also knew some had not been. Fleamont had to fight for Sirius to even have a hearing. 

Sirius’ lawyer walked up in front of the Wizengamot, standing to the right of the circle in the middle of the court room. Fleamont wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders, pulling the small boy into his side as he leaned down towards him. 

“Harry, I need to you listen to me,” Fleamont whispered. 

The child looked up, his trainers kicking against the bench of the gallery. 

“We’re going to see Sirius in a bit,” Fleamont explained. 

Harry’s entire face lit up, his green eyes sparkling. “See-wis!”

A strained smile crossed Fleamont’s face. “Yes, Sirius, but Harry, you can’t talk to him or go to him, all right? We have to wait right here but you can wave at him. Does that sound like a plan?”

“See-wis!” Harry exclaimed, looking happy and oblivious to what was just said to him. 

Fleamont frowned. “Are you listening, Harry?”

A click sounded. Fleamont snapped his attention to the center of the room. A small circular cage rose from the floor. Sirius stood inside, his hands cuffed in front of him. He had his head bowed, his long hair looking greasy and matted. The striped prison robes hung off him worse than the one-time Fleamont had been allowed to see him when he was first arrested. Sirius had always been lean, but he looked downright starved at his point. Like Azkaban hadn’t given him more than a few crumbs of food in the month he had been imprisoned. 

“See-wis!” Harry shouted, his finger pointing to the center of the room. 

Slowly, Sirius turned his head to the right, his wide eyes locking onto Harry. Tears brimmed his eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He raised his hands just a tad, his left hand giving a very small wave but it was enough to cause Harry to enthusiastically bounce and wave back. 

“We are here today for the arraignment of Sirius Orion Black, accused of murdering twelve Muggles and one wizard. Mr Black is also being charged with conspiracy to commit murder by joining the Death Eaters. How do you plead, Mr Black?” Barty Crouch spoke, his words clipped and his gaze focused on a piece of parchment in front of him. 

Harry rose from the bench and tried to walk towards Sirius. Fleamont reached out to grab him, keeping him from moving any closer. 

Sirius looked at the Wizengamot. “Not guilty,” he croaked in a strained voice that didn’t seem to belong to him, like he hadn’t spoken a single word in weeks. 

Murmurs broke out in the courtroom, nasty and hissing voices who all thought the worst of him. Sirius looked down at the ground, his body trembling. Fleamont wanted to embrace his son and comfort him. 

“The plea has been entered and the defendant may be taken back to Azkaban,” Crouch announced in a bored tone. 

Sirius’ lawyer stepped forward. “Excuse me, sir, but there was also supposed to be a bail hearing as well.”

Crouch scoffed. “A bail hearing? There are no bail hearings for murderers.”

“See-wis!” Harry cried, his stuffed animals dropping to the ground as he tried to shrug Fleamont’s hands off more forcibly. “See-wis!”

“What evidence do you actually have that Mr Black committed these crimes?” Sirius’ lawyer persisted. “Mr Black does not have the Dark Mark. His wand is in evidence, so have you even looked at his last spells cast in the month he’s been sitting in a cell in Azkaban?”

In a second, Harry broke free. He tumbled off the bench seat and ran as quick as his little legs would allow him towards Sirius. People gasped and shouted. Sirius turned to see Harry bolting straight for the cage. Fleamont took after him. 

Sirius crouched down in the cage as best as he could, his hands reaching through the bars just as Harry stopped outside of the cage. Harry grabbed for him, trying to push his body through the bars. 

“Enough! Get the child out of here!” Crouch roared. 

“See-wis! See-wis!” Harry sobbed. 

“It’s okay,” Sirius murmured, his voice cracking. “It’s okay.”

Fleamont fell to his knees next to Harry, an arm wrapping around his shoulders. Harry only fell down, a tantrum already brewing at being denied access to his beloved godfather. Silent tears poured down Sirius’ face as Harry sobbed his name over and over and over again. Fleamont reached between the bars to give Sirius’ arm a squeeze. 

“He misses you,” Fleamont whispered. “He calls for you and, and his parents every single night,” he explained, unable to speak the names James and Lily out loud in fear that he would break down in front of everyone in the courtroom.  

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say because Sirius’ body gave a violent jolt. Harry clambered onto his knees, a screech escaping his lips when he tried and failed again to fit through the bars. Sirius cupped the boy’s face with one hand, the other dangling uselessly because he didn’t have enough room to force both hands through the bars.

“Hey, hey, it’s all right,” Sirius said in a shaky voice. “I’m all right. I’m right here.”

“Mr Potter, this is highly inappropriate!” Crouch roared. “The boy needs to leave now! I never want to see him in my courtroom again!”

Fleamont rose to his full height, squaring his shoulders. “That boy is sixteen months old!” Fleamont roared. “He just lost his parents! Watched his own mother be murdered right in front of him! Now he is being denied access to his godfather!”

“Mr Black is accused of murder!” Crouch replied, rising from behind his podium. “We don’t allow accused murderers bail!”

“Yet, I’ve yet to hear any concrete evidence against him!” Fleamont shouted. “The Ministry is rounding up its citizens, innocent or not, and throwing them in Azkaban without properly examining the evidence! The trials are just shams now! Due process has been thrown out the window! I will not stand for it! I will now stand by when someone I care deeply about is a victim in this Ministry’s crusade to look strong!”

“Enough!”  Crouch shouted. “Guards, escort Mr Potter and his grandson out of this courtroom!”

Fleamont wheeled around to look at the wizards approaching them. “Touch my grandson and you will regret it!” Fleamont growled. 

“See-See-wis,” Harry hiccupped, his body still struggling to get to Sirius. 

“Stop, please, Harry,” Sirius murmured. “Just calm down. You need to calm down.”

Fleamont turned around, crouching down next to Harry. He wrapped his arms securely around the boy, pulling him back away from the cage. Harry went limp in his arms, his screams loud enough to make Fleamont’s ears ring. Sirius rose to his full height, leaning back away from Harry as best as he could in the small space afforded to him. Fleamont picked Harry up off the ground, struggling not to drop the thrashing child. 

“SEE-WIS!” Harry screamed, both hands reaching out for Sirius. 

“It’ll be all right!” Fleamont shouted at Sirius, his glasses sliding down his nose. 

Sirius didn’t say anything, his face pulling as though it was taking everything he had in him not to break down completely. Fleamont carried a squirming Harry out of the courtroom, two guards following them out. Once outside, Fleamont say Harry down on his feet and he melted on the floor to continue the tantrum. With a heavy sigh, Fleamont settled down onto the floor next to his crying grandson and waited. 

It wasn’t a few moments later that Euphemia exited the courtroom. She only had to shake her head. Bail had been denied. Fleamont would have given anything to have Sirius home with them. Harry jumped up from the floor at the sight of his grandmother, running to be babied in her arms. Euphemia didn’t waste even a second, scooping the boy up in her arms and rocking him. 

Fleamont stood up as people filed out of the courtroom. Photographers not so discreetly snapping images of Harry. He positioned his body to block the press, his hand pressing against Harry’s back. 

“Sirius looked dreadful,” Euphemia whispered. “They have to be starving him.”

Fleamont nodded, a grave look crossing his features. “That or he’s purposely not eating because he’s upset about everything that has happened.”

[fakesurprise]

A scene not appearing in this story!

I’ve spent six hours in my office trying to work out how the four entities from the other realms are communicating. Killing things to send messages via the grey lands seems the likely method, but why wasn’t it a known thing before? Could the damage of the sundering have had some strange benefit we didn’t know of? My head a was a mess of ideas and theories, none of which I could verify.

I’d left Fish and Aeosi in Fish’s apartment for the wards and some time alone. No client has called in four hours, which was unusual. I scrolled a few paradvice news feeds and found them surprisingly empty. Those who had once had magic knew something was off: they didn’t know what. Most of them likely didn’t know they knew anything. But they knew the world that had changed was changing again, enough to instinctively lay low.

There was no knock on the door. The old wards I’d been promised still existed on the office didn’t act. A boy simply appeared in the office. Not Kit: this kid was eleven, and technically dressed. He was wearing mismatched socks, with a shoe on the right foot and a rubber boot on the left. Sweats and a fancy blazer top with three ties and a set of small pink earrings and a hairband that matched them.

“Hi!” His grin slammed into me with even more force than Lance’s subtle power ever could.

I rocked backward but I was me. On my feet and moving. If this cherub had a new form, it was going to be confused and not expecting anyone like me.

I swung a fist and my hand jerked back at the last moment, tendons and bones throbbing in my arm.

“Wow! That’s not a good way to say hello to a Jay you know!”

The boy hadn’t even moved.

“What are you?” I said, my voice cold even to me.

The boy’s grin didn’t alter at all. “I’m a Jay! That’s also a what sometimes, like probably now since you’re being extra weirdy you know! I’m probably not supposed to be here but I’m here for really good reasons I bet!”

I moved back. I’d never been assaulted by cheer before, but the boy was – happy. Excited. I knew he meant no harm, but I also knew it the way I knew a nuclear power station meant no harm. I was very certain I didn’t want to be near this creature if it went critical. In any way.

“My name is Ryke Blackbird; you’re in the offices of Warp. Do you have a case for us?” I said, with almost a professional tone as if I hadn’t tried to remove the kid’s head from his body a moment ago.

“I’m not allowed to help with cases cuz I solve them and everyone gets worried about why.” The boy let out a huge sigh, then brightened again. “But! I’m here to help fix a problem cuz you have a hugey plot hole in your story and if it gets bigger you’ll have plot bunnies running around and they have nanoites, which is like rabies except the bunnies make people write novels.”

I stared at the boy. “.... was any of that meant to make sense?”

“I always make sense, but! I bet you call nanoites something else and plot bunnies aren’t always bunnies. Also, sometimes I remember things out of order.” Jay frowned. “But! I just did some bindings and fixed the plot hole so that the other realms can talk in secret and also! this one needs to be fixed too but Charlie says fixing other universes is a really big oops and that’s why the Dr Who spinoff about Gallifreyan break dancing didn’t happen and maybe also why they tried to reboot Gilligan’s Island four times. That was probably the plot dragons though!”

“Where are you from?”

The boy scratched his head. “I probably shouldn’t tell you because you’ll get all confusled and you get really angry when you’re confusled. I’d offer a jaysome hug but I’m not sure it would take so you probably need to have that looked at.”

The boy vanished.

I sat back down at my desk, flexed my hand. My own body had refused to hit Jay.

I tried to think about what that meant.

I realized that creature had been right about at least one thing.

And I poured myself a drink, and vowed to forget this exchange had ever happened.

#writing #prose #conspiracy of truth #adventures in jay #bluedragonbooks