#i hope they're happy and i hope they've forgotten about me

[unearthlydream]

((this is a long personal rambling feel free to scroll past lmao))

growing up chronically online meant most of my friends were distant people i didn't really know. as we got older we'd discard our fake names and backstories and share our actual life with each other. it was so wonderful to get to know a new version of a person who i already loved once we got so comfortable.

i had one friend in particular who i'll never forget. there are so many-- but d... d and I hurt each other immensely. we were both so traumatized and so broken and desperately trying to glue each others pieces back together, sometimes not even caring if they went into the right spot. as long as it wasn't broken anymore... that's all we cared about. there was so much love and, at the end, so much emotion and turmoil that we ended up never speaking again. as we got older our coping mechanisms became more complex and it just got complicated. i don't blame d for growing apart, even if i did at the time (but i was 14 and fuckin stupid. i couldn't see past my own crafted universe of "how things are supposed to be")

one thing that always troubled me was the constant state of not knowing whether d succumbed to the suicidal ideations. they blocked me on all known profiles and essentially disappeared. i always hoped and dreamed that they found happiness somehow-- that some of the plans we made for our lives would actually come together-- but not knowing has always left me with a haunted feeling whenever i thought of them.

as i scrolled through my archive i found my 2nd oldest account -- the blog where we linked to each others pages just so everyone would know we were best friends. it's been years since i saw the page and i honestly thought the blog had been wiped-- but the reality is that it's just been so long that i forgot the exact URL (back in the day when people hoarded URLs and you had to have a weird variation on something or nothing at all).

as i had done so many times as a teenager, i clicked on my "dee" tag. expecting to find nothing but an empty blog that hadn't been touched since 2011. but this time... i think they were there. the hyperlink worked and I was taken to a blog with a beautiful theme (as d always had), a silly and scrappy bio, and over 4K pages of content going all the way back to 2016. i even saw their name. their real name. the name their shitty mother gave them and that they always hated-- the name that actually inspired them to create a fake name (not just a fear of being abducted, like me lol love 2008 internet safety).

it seems so much like them. they seem so happy. i don't even see a trace of the child who i desperately texted waiting for a response to be sure they didn't drown themselves in the creek behind their house. the child who i loved so much it drove me to harm. the child who, whether they realize it or not, helped shape me into the person i am today.

but because of the time and the distance... because of the fiery way our friendship ended... i can't be sure. i want so badly for it to be them. i've thought for so long that maybe they lost their battle and that i'd never see them smile again or talk with them about werewolves or listen to their stories about their grandparents that loved them so much. but now there is a little hope. and i'm going to hang onto that.

i just wish... i wish i could reach out. it's been so long that i would hope their hate faded. that they could reflect on the simple things that tore us apart, and that they might even be happy to hear from me. to know that i won my battle too and that i'm finally happy.

it hurts to not know. but it would probably hurt more to reach out and hear nothing-- or to reach out just to realize that this person with their blog isn't actually them, but someone who took their URL after they deleted their presence from my life.

god i haven't written anything this long on tumblr since..... ever? lmao but i'm just sitting at work simultaneously aching over these memories and shining over the fact that they might still be breathing. that they're living the life that i always dreamed and hoped that they would. and god-- if it is you, d, you turned into a beautiful person. not that i ever had any doubts.

#personal #god #is this relatable content??? any bitches turning 30 soon lamenting over the friends they've lost over the internet??? #i miss them so much and i want to reach out so bad but i just.... i don't think they need me popping up in their life #to remind them of all of our childhood sadness #i hope they're happy and i hope they've forgotten about me #maybe i'll get lucky and they'll find this post and reach out.... #lost friendship #i didn't re-read any of this so hopefully it's coherent lmao #tw: sucidal thoughts #tw: mentions of death #i hope they remember me as fondly as i remember them #but i guess if they don't... that is okay too #it has to be #GOD I WANNA CRY WTF LMAO #am i even worth being fondly remembered?

[ozzgin]

Hii I was wondering if u could do a yandere Kazuya x yn x yandere Daitou I’m not sure if u do character x yn x character tho

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader Spinoff

Two yakuza men who have fallen in love with their new foreign tenant. A what-if spinoff to the original story for that love triangle spice. Happy Valentine's Day!

Content: female reader, NSFW, organized crime, obsessive behavior, violence, BDSM themes (choking), threats

Credits: My boyfriend for giving me the Daitou smut idea

[Main Story] [General Headcanons]

Kazuya is sitting on the sidewalk, checking his watch occasionally and tapping his foot. The cigarette seems to have been forgotten, hanging lowly from his lips.

"Sorry I'm late." Daitou speedily makes his way towards his friend, smiling awkwardly.

"Where the fuck were you, man? We don't know how much time we have before the cops arrive."

"Uh uh, leave it to me." The cheeky grin doesn't leave his face as he pulls out his gun and carefully but swiftly inspects the barrel and safety one final time. "(Y/N) needed some help with the mailbox. I couldn't just say no, ya know?"

The blonde man's eyebrows raise for a second, but he quickly recollects himself.

"I see. That's good."

"She asked me to show her the area tomorrow, so I'll be working extra hard tonight. Hehe."

"That's good."

Daitou glances at Kazuya, somewhat wary.

"You okay?"

Stupid question. What's he supposed to answer? Yeah, he loves waiting like a dumbass while his friend flirts with the new tenant, who conveniently happens to be a cute foreigner, who's been unexpectedly nice and relaxed around them despite them explicitly stating they're part of the Japanese mafia. Fucking hell. It doesn't help that this idiot is as obvious as a blaring, blinding cluster of ads smack in the middle of Kabukicho. He can tell from miles away that Daitou's completely fallen for her. Just like that, in an instant.

They've been partners and best friends for years now, so the natural reaction would be happiness, right? Daitou has always been one scary motherfucker. Even the seniors scramble when he's in the room, let alone women. For him to find someone that isn't bothered the slightest by his appearance or background should be a celebratory occasion. Kazuya should be rooting for him. Except, well, he fell for you just as hard. Tough luck.

The Bushido moral code, often used as guidance within their own lifestyle, covers matters such as loyalty and honesty quite extensively. A true warrior remains fiercely faithful to his master or companions. And yet, love interests are more of a grey area, especially if they happen to overlap. Who dictates the proper etiquette for this dilemma? To whom is loyalty directed towards? Truth be told, Kazuya couldn’t care less. He’s always been a man of vice, impulsive and greedy. If he wants something, he takes it.

The trouble starts when the other person is of the same mindset. Two ferocious predators eyeing the same victim.

***

You fiddle next to the tall, dark-haired man. Similarly, Daitou is avoiding eye contact, looking around in hopes of finding something to focus on. It’s the first time he’s come over since the incident. After his little mission with Kazuya, he was tasked to “interrogate” some of the remaining members to get even more names for the hitlist. He’d completely forgotten about his promise to show you the neighborhood. Hands sticky with blood, he was in the middle of his signature act of benevolence, putting the lad out of his misery.

It was around that time you decided to be the one picking him up instead, for your grand tour. Your knocks on the door remained unheard, however, so you decided to politely make your way in.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not-”

You froze in place. A man (you assumed at least based on the few visible traits left), tied up on the chair, canvas bag roped around his head. Daitou’s hands were secured around his throat. In the few seconds of silence, you could hear a muffled wheezing, as the stranger’s chest heaved in short convulsions.

“-intruding.” You mumbled, regaining your speech.

He messed up, didn’t he? Daitou sighs and slicks his hair back. He can’t blame you if you’re now terrified of him. He had to come over for some tenant checkups and you’ve been maintaining a safe distance from him during his entire visit. What can he possibly tell you? “Hey, I know I threatened to chop you up and you’ve now witnessed firsthand I’m a legit murderer, but, uh…I have a crush on you? Dinner at seven?”

You’re terrified alright, but not of his deeds. Rather, your newly discovered perversion as a consequence of the gory scene. It’s not that you relished in the torment of another. It’s the other details that left you reminiscing. Daitou’s imposing frame, the unbuttoned shirt revealing his traditional tattoos glistening in beads of sweat, his flexed, brawny arms, and large hands. You’re scared of your shamelessness. It can’t be normal. Yet you can’t stop thinking about it. Just a glimpse into this memory and your cheeks become burning red.

“I’ll be on my way then”, the yakuza announces politely.

Though he immediately stops in his tracks, and you realize you’ve unconsciously grabbed onto his sleeve. Uh oh. What now? You mumble an apology without releasing your hold. Being this close to him makes your heart drum inside your chest.

To hell with it.

“I might say something terribly inappropriate right now, but…”

“Sorry?” He stares at you, dumbfounded.

“Do you have anything planned after this?” You ask quietly.

“N-no?”

“Would you mind staying over?”

“Huh? Sure…w-what for?” His mouth is dry, and he searches your eyes in confusion.

“You know…” Choke me until I pass out and such, you think to yourself sarcastically.

He turns to face you, lips pursed awkwardly.

“You’ll have to be clear with me, Miss (Y/N). I’m not good with all this tiptoeing around and I might get the wrong idea.”

Your ears perk up hearing his final words, a deep blush now spreading over your flustered features.

“What wrong idea?”

Daitou fidgets with his glass prosthetic nervously.

“Well, uh, a man can only dream, ya know? Especially around a cute girl like you.” He reveals with a stutter.

“Suppose I’d be willing to go along with anything on your mind. What then?” You twirl your hair, gazing shyly at the floor. Not even you can believe the audacity leaving your lips.

The tall man steps before you, towering above with a certain gleam in his eye. It’s yearning. Your knees weaken.

“Don’t tease me, please. I can hardly control myself around you as it is.”

You release his sleeve and instead cling onto his shirt with both hands, looking up through your lashes.

“I’m dead serious.”

He ponders his next move with a click of the tongue, then cups your cheeks between his hands and lowers himself until his hot breath tickles your nose.

“Are you? There’s no going back after this. Can you handle it?” His voice is suddenly deeper, raspier.

Before you can respond, you feel yourself lifted and you yelp, surprised, instinctively wrapping your limbs around the yakuza. In between the greedy kisses that leave your lips bruised and swollen, you don’t notice the movement back towards the seating area.

As you pull away to gasp for air, he throws you onto the couch, flipping you over in the process so that you’re kneeling away from him. Your nails dig into the soft fabric of the sofa. You hear Daitou unbuckle his belt and you squeeze your legs together, heavily aroused. He presses his palm gently into your back, arching it. You sense his fingers grazing over your core and you whimper.

“G-go on, please.” You beg, swaying your hips tentatively. “I really can’t wait anymore.”

“As you wish, Miss.” He reassures you with a grin.

He adjusts himself and carefully makes his way in. You don’t have time to enjoy the feeling; following almost instantly is his belt looped around your neck, tightening under his grip as he pulls the ends towards him. Your head is forced back, and you groan. You can hear the leather stretch and creak over your assaulted skin, the constriction briefly cutting your oxygen intake. Hot drool trickles down your chin and your eyes almost roll back in pleasure.

“Look at my little Miss (Y/N), taking it like a champion.” He bends over and bites your earlobe playfully. “Does that mean I can be as rough as I want?”

You nod erratically.

The grip around your throat intensifies and your vision becomes blurry.

“Hey, don’t pass out now.” He inserts two fingers in your mouth, pulling you by the cheek and tilting your head to look him in the eye. “Not before you show me that you understand your situation. You’re mine. Is that clear?”

He drags his fingers downwards, aiding your response as you struggle to contract your muscles.

“Attagirl.” He concludes, satisfied.

In the morning you wake up with a dreadful soreness, and you can quickly see why. Your body is peppered in bruises. Daitou is smoking by the window and promptly flicks his cigarette out once he realizes you’re no longer asleep.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He begins, remorseful, and squats in front of the bed. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“I will need a day or two to recover before the next time, but otherwise I’m fine.”

He beams with delight upon registering your words: next time. You can’t help but snicker at his childish enthusiasm. It’s a mystery how Daitou can switch between ruthless killer and cute partner with such ease.

Although it’s no secret, really. It’s you.

***

“Thanks for driving me home, Kazuya.”

You smile and unbuckle your seatbelt, reaching for the door handle. Daitou has been busy with work for the past days, so Kazuya took his place in looking after your needs.

“Huh?” You rattle the grab handle one more time to make sure. “It’s still locked.”

The blonde raps the wheel impatiently with his fingers. Is he to silently accept his loss? Does it even count as a loss when he hasn’t even had the chance to present his piece? Daitou has been quiet about it, but he can read that bastard like an open book. Something definitely happened between the two of you and the mere thought drives him insane.

Ah, this is so unlike him. There are few things he cares about. His pride, his Family’s honor, his freedom. Women aren’t exactly on that list, yet somehow, you’ve snuck your way to the very top of priorities and he’s realizing it just now. It’s becoming harder to ignore his maddening urge to have you. Out of all the things…He’d give Daitou the world. But not you. He can’t. He can’t.

“Kazuya? Are you listening? You forgot to unlock the door.”

“Say, (Y/N) …ever fucked in a car before?”

“What?” You ask, baffled.

“Come here for a moment.” He swiftly slides his seat all the way back and pats his thigh.

“Are you out of your mind?”

He answers your inquiry by pulling out his handgun and lazily pointing it towards you.

“I’m only going to ask once.”

You clumsily climb over the center console, straddling the yakuza with a slight pout.

“Someone’s in a sour mood, that’s for sure”, you complain. “It’s not even loaded.”

“Even I’m not crazy enough to risk shooting my Princess.” He smiles apologetically, throwing the gun on the backseat. “I thought it’d be more threatening that way.”

He removes a strand of hair from your face, gazing at you intently. His hand lingers for a second, before sliding its way down, tracing the side of your body. You shiver.

“Can you truly blame me when there’s such a pretty girl right before my eyes?” The blonde exhales and focuses on your shirt instead. “Won’t you let me prove myself?”

From this distance, despite the dim lights, you can discern his features in agonizing detail. His long lashes, his fleshy lips, currently parted, the luscious locks of hair casually thrown back. Kazuya has always been effortlessly handsome. It’s not just his good looks, but his overflowing charisma. He always knows exactly what to say and do. A devilish power to have over people, and you’re presently his victim.

His slender fingers play with your first button and cheekily undo it. You can only observe it, entranced. Your legs are weak, and your arms are stuck in place, resting limply over his broad shoulders.

“May I?” He glances up at you with a pleading expression. “I won’t be able to hold back afterwards.”

You bite your lower lip, distracted. Whether or not this is a wise choice, you can’t currently tell. You squirm in his lap and suddenly feel the pressure coming from below.

“Go ahead.” You finally confess.

He doesn’t hesitate and slithers his hand underneath your shirt, popping the rest of the buttons open. Like a hungry animal that has stumbled upon a feast, he sinks his teeth into your neck, leaving mean, wet kisses on his way down.

One hand is greedily kneading your curves, encouraged by your soft whimpers, while the other strokes your thigh in anticipation. With a bit of readjustment, he finds the right spot between your trembling legs. You jolt at the sensation of his cold fingers.

“My, you’re already dripping. How lewd.” He whispers between breaths. “Do you want it now?”

He nonchalantly slips out and undoes his own pants. You lift yourself expectantly and let a moan escape your lips upon feeling the erection throbbing right below.

“Well then, can’t forget our manners, can we?” He announces, visibly excited. “What should I do?”

You glare at him, feverish.

“Stop teasing me.”

“Come on, be a good girl. Tell me what to do and I will do it, Love.”

Why, this…You lower yourself to his ear and answer in a lulled whine.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you to fuck me.”

Words enough to send the blonde man over the edge. He abruptly clutches your thighs for support, easing himself in before continuing with increasingly aggressive thrusts. Husky whimpers roll out of his mouth, desperate and starved.

“Oh, I’ve waited so long for this. My darling, perfect little (Y/N).�� He presses his forehead into your chest, indulging in the moment. “Now say that you’re mine. Please. Please say it.”

“I’m…ah…I’m all yours, Kazuya.” You manage to blurt out, growing dizzy.

“That’s my girl. Such a good girl.”

Once the deed is finished, you flop your head over his chest, trying to catch your breath. Kazuya smoothens your clothes meticulously, holding you with one arm for support. Can’t leave a lady all disheveled, after all.

“Won’t Daitou be upset?” You point out, somewhat anxiously.

His muscles are tense for a second and he furrows his brows.

“That’s one strange way to thank me for making you come at least twice. Mentioning another man’s name.”

“I’m just…” your words trail off.

“What? Worried? You think I can’t handle it or something?”

Far from the truth. Both Kazuya and Daitou are violent, dangerous men. Given their stubbornness, you’re rather certain they’d end up killing each other. Not your favorite outcome.

“I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

He sighs loudly.

“I’ll tell you what. Under normal circumstances, I’d probably dismember whoever had the guts to even entertain the idea of meddling with you. But…just because it’s Daitou, I might be willing to share. Nothing more than that.”

Kazuya ruffles your hair and chuckles.

“Aren’t you glad I’m such a diplomat, Love?”

“More like batshit crazy, both of you.” You retort, stretching.

#yandere yakuza #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yakuza x reader #mafia x reader #yandere mafia #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere smut #yandere fic #male yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #oc x reader #yandere original character #original work #smut

[semisolidmind]

What happens when they outlive angel? Since poppy was first created in the 50’s it seems like being preserved as toys has granted them longer lifespans if not technical immortality, so angel aging is going to become a problem sooner or later, and I’m kinda wondering what happens when the inevitable comes. I made myself sad thinking about this and now all of you will be too, suffer with me

(i was thinking about this as well, uuuugghhhh)

it's so so sad. what will the toys do without their one advocate, the one person who truly understands them and what they represent? when the one good home they've ever had is gone, they've got nowhere else to go.

so, they stay.

when y/n dies, the toys have a quiet burial for them in their backyard, under a big shady tree. they make a simple marker from rocks, and pick wildflowers nearby to lay on the grave. none of them speak. it was hard enough digging the grave, and unbearably difficult to lay their savior to rest.

the house is horribly quiet afterwards.

poppy is likely the strong one throughout all this. she's had the most experience saying goodbye to people she cares about (thanks to her longevity), and she attempts to maintain a sense of optimism about it all. they'll all be ok, she's sure of it. they'll find their way through this, like always. it's what y/n would have wanted. kissy withdraws into herself further, following poppy's lead and trying not to cry.

dogday is devastated. devastated beyond all measure. he was the one to discover y/n when they passed. they were so pale, he could feel their warmth leaving them. their face looked so peaceful, they looked like they had just fallen asleep. he knew it was coming, they were getting older, but—but it's still not fair. it doesn't feel real. it can't be, his angel can't be dead, nothing has ever kept them down before, they always get back up, why couldn't they get back up—

...he tries to stay calm.

he took on the duty of grave digging. he took on the heavy burden of laying his beloved angel into the makeshift coffin they were able to cobble together. he could barely keep it together when he did. he managed, but not without crying.

that night, he waits until the girls have gone to bed before he closes himself off in y/n's bedroom. in the privacy of the once-shared space, dogday allows the truly desperate, heaving sobs he's been keeping in to finally leave his chest. tears mat down the fur on his face as he cries. he shakily grasps y/n's jacket to himself, wishing that there was some way, any way, that they could come back to him. he knows humans aren't meant to live forever. but that doesn't stop him from wishing that y/n could achieve the tentative immortality that the toys have, if only so that they could stay with him.

dogday becomes somber after his angel dies. they were his source of hope, his reason for living. they saved his life in ways beyond just physical. they were the only reason he was alive at all. without them, he's...he's not sure if he wants to keep going.

but he must. he knows he has to. y/n would want him to take care of the others, they'd want him to protect and provide for them. so, without any other purpose...that's what he does.

the toys live in their savior's house for as long as they're able. it's just their luck that the house is never put up for sale, that it's just sort of...forgotten about. it becomes a "haunted house in the woods," feared and avoided. they're more than happy to become the vague, cryptic monsters in local legends if it means that they're left alone.

nobody will come by to check on y/n for a while, and the toys will have power and food (their water comes from a well hooked up to the house) for at least a little while longer. and after that, they'll manage on what they can find in the woods.

they live as peacefully as they can for as long as they can.

#fr dogday may as well be a widower here #he and y/n werent married technically but they may as well have been #if this is canon dogday he goes completely hopeless after yn dies #but survivor dogday with his limbs intact would keep going and just get kinda bitter about everything

[morkofday]

Top 5 bl scenes (regardless of feelings about the overall bl, though obviously that can influence your opinion on a scene) :))

oh anon you really wish me to die? is that it? bc this is so unfair! but i tried my best. these are totally influenced by my feelings about the series as a whole, sorry about that.

-

My Top 5 2023 BL Scenes

I. Mork's Gay PanicTM (Last Twilight)

i have NEVER seen a character show such intense gay panic as mork is showing in this scene. man was shaking, screaming on the inside, blushing, looking, looking away, and looking again. he was DYING and he needed to take a deep breath to get through it all while i was holding my own breath for him. literally 10/10 execution from jimmy and sea. pure perfection. such a good scene.

II. The Proposal (Our Skyy 2 x 1000 Stars)

i'm pretty sure no proposal will ever top this for me (unless last twilight does something absolutely insane but that's to be seen). it was just so perfect for phuphatian. it was them, looked like them, felt like them. it was about finding the last missing star like it always is. i cried a bucket. i still tear up when i think about it. p'aof you truly are magic ♥

III. Jaewon's return (The Eighth Sense)

this scene is filled with so much love and joy and acceptance it leaves me breathless. it's a very beautiful and healing scene. after everything, these two deserved this. i also love the playfulness and intimacy of the lighting and setting. there's just something about lying on a bed like this with your partner, in the dark, safe from the world and reality.

IV. Yai's drunken confession (I Feel You Linger in the Air)

i know this is a very cliché scene but there is something so delicious about yai confessing his feelings while drunk. they've played this game for a while, a game of hesitant looks and touches, and then something finally gives. you hold your breath while watching the scene unfold. yai is bearing his heart and you fear jom cannot see it, but he surprises you by getting it right away. they're so sweet it hurts. they should get more time.

V. Heart speaks (Moonlight Chicken)

these two were always so uncomplicated amongst the chaos of moonlight chicken. their love was young and sweet and innocent. and so was their joy; easy and full of childish excitement. i love this scene for how pure it is, how filled with happiness and love. it's peak romance, peak heartliming. and one of my favourite scenes bc it fills me with so much warmth.

Bonus: WaiKorn's groundbreaking comeback

technically not a bl scene but heck, you cannot convince me it isn't. this is The biggest comeback of the century, hands down. p'aof didn't come out to play when he decided to serve us this during our skyy 2. this healed me, watered my crops, cleared my skin, fed my whole family, and left me with a grand inheritance. i am forever grateful. the brainrot will never end.

-

i have probably forgotten like a million very important scenes that should be here but these were the ones my brain provided me with tonight. thank you for sending this ask! i hope you enjoyed reading this ^^

#i hope you are well anon!! #also hoping you will spend the best new years #and that the upcoming year treats you well! #last twilight #a tale of thousand stars #the eighth sense #i feel you linger in the air #moonlight chicken #bad buddy #waikorn

[askfriskandcompany]

Am I the only one who thinks that maybe Chara was controlled by us? The player? Because during the story, Chara is all the sudden good? they are now a skelton and Asriel is back as well. What is the cause of that? Why is Chara all the sudden good? Is there a plot twist waiting to happen? I'm sorry I watched Miamouse's videos and this was in my head for a while. I might have to watch them again. Lol.

Chara wasn't suddenly turned good. They've changed wildly over the course of their life and un-life and re-life. But the change was never all at once. It was a series of large and small shifts. It was like...

Before falling underground: Humanity is cruel and horrible and I no longer see the point in living.

After falling underground: Monsters are good and wonderful and I would do anything to help them. Also, the only way monsters can live in peace is if all of humanity was killed off first. Asriel doesn't get it now, but he'll understand when he sees their cruelty firsthand.

After dying: Asriel betrayed me. Asgore is a murderer now, and Toriel has forgotten about both me and Asriel. I realize now that both humans and monsters are equally messed up. I'm so upset.

Frisk first appears: Oh! A person who am somehow connected to. They're naive and helpless. They'll clearly die without my help. I'll help them fight for their survival.

Genocide Run Happens: *EXP-induced manic murdermode happens*

After Genocide Run: Wh-What? h- ...What the hell's going on??? Frisk! How dare you! (Frisk suddenly can't hear them) Stop ignoring me!!

After Pacifist Run: I now realize that there is a small but not insignificant chance that I'm wrong. I also respect Frisk now because of all they accomplished. So I will not reset the timeline. In fact I will make sure nobody ever resets the timeline again.

Red Echoes: Ah! Frisk! We meet again! Time for you to stop running from the reality of what happened in the Genocide Run. I fully expect this to break you. Oh wow now Sans is here. Well I'll just possess him cause I can do that now. This is a great idea I won't quickly come to regret AAAAAA!!! Okay Frisk, that was weird, but I think it's only a matter of time before you realize I'm right and the world sucks. It didn't work with Asriel but I think it'll work with you because..... Hey why is Flowey talking like Asriel? I hate that! I'm leaving!

Goopster Arc: So we're connected to another world for the time being. I'm going to find my other self and compare notes. They brought Lucida back to life, so maybe I can come back to life too? That's what I'm secretly hoping anyway. I'm also still shook because of Flowey acting weird.

MWSIH!Chara: You're an idiot and I'm embarrassed on your behalf. Asriel's soul is inside yours and you don't even notice you dumbass cringefail.

Maverick Appears Arc: Now another Asriel is here. I had a conversation with him and now I'm realizing how deeply I miss Asriel. Oh well, my new Calalied persona is prepared and now I'll be able to secretly hang with Frisk and........??? profit.....?? Anyway I'm definately doing this for an evil plan and not because I secretly want to be a normal kid who goes to school and has friends. >.>

Drunk Chara Arc: Another me. Time to compare notes again. ...Wait now they're unknowingly confronting me about my insecurities. Time to fall back into my old pattern of being scary and threatening! How dare they act like they're better than me! ......Okay now I'm reliving my deep dark traumas. .......Okay now I'm pretty certain that I'm an actual piece of garbage. I wish I could just forget it all...

Monsterland Arc: Hi I'm Calalied, a skeleton with no trauma. :D ...................................... Wait ....... Oh ... Nevermind I remembered the trauma again. ........ASRIEL???

Now: Okay, looking back at all that, I've come to the conclusion that people are actually a mix of bad and good. I've been given a rare chance at a new life, and I don't want to waste it. So I'm going to try my best to be happy, and to not cause harm to the people around me. Sans will probably never forgive me, and I'm frankly scared of him, but I also don't really blame him. But at least Asriel's here. I'm very happy about that.

...And that's the progression of Chara. XD

-TQ

[little-annie]

Just Another Steddie Christmas Fic

The roads are shit and when Eddie finally decides to pull over and find somewhere to stay for the night, him and Steve find themselves shivering in a shared bed of a janky ass motel.

I can't imagine what that scenario might bring.

@steddieobsessed I hope this fic finds you well ✨️ Happy Holidays

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It's chaos, but it always is in the moments coming up to a road trip.  And the fact that it's also Christmas break doesn't help.

Steve's ready, he has been since last week. Bags packed, gifts wrapped and assignments submitted. The only thing he has to do now is get dressed and head out the door.

But Eddie on the other hand…

Well, Eddie's the embodiment of chaos.

Eddie for the last month has been raving about Christmas but hasn't bothered to take a minute and think about what all it entails. He's called Dustin and the rest of the gang to make sure they're ready for the one shot he's taken the time to prepare, but otherwise?

Otherwise his gifts aren't wrapped, his clothes aren't packed and he's all but forgotten about his assignments. Now he's anxious and flitting around the apartment like a twitchy cat trying to gather his bearings before they leave for Hawkins. He's muttering to himself as he tries to do all three tasks at once and while Steve's enjoying the last few bites of his late day snack, sat at the kitchen table in nothing but his pyjamas, he can't help but feel obligated to help.

“Ed,” Steve starts, abandoning his Cheerios and pushing his chair out with a quiet scrape against the floor, trying to gain his friend's attention while he watches the man pace and struggle between what needs to be done next. Eddie's in the living room now, an empty duffle bag in front of him, a pile of unwrapped gifts next to him and a textbook clutched so tightly in his hand his knuckles have paled. 

“Eddie,” Steve repeats as he ventures closer, floor creaking below his feet before grabbing the metalhead by the shoulder and squeezing until he turns to look him in the eyes, “Tell me what you need me to do.”

He can feel Eddie tense under his grasp, but only for a moment, his breathing slowing as he allows their eyes to linger. After a few short seconds and one deeply inhaled and grounding breath, Steve watches as the tension leaves Eddie's shoulders, and he leans into the touch while asking, “Gifts?”

Gifts. He can do that.

Offering a gentle smile and giving Eddie's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, Steve nods, “Gifts.”

—

After wrapping six presents and helping the man pack his bag too, Steve eventually finds himself in the passenger seat of Eddie's van. Soon enough it's nothing but Metallica, grey skies and shitty roads from there on in.

It's a route they've regularly travelled but come winter time, it never seems to be any easier. They've lived in Chicago for what feels like ages, having moved together to attend college in 87’ and yet every year they never seem to leave enough time. Every year it's either shitty roads, poor timing or a combination of the both and well, this year….

—-

“You're sure the roads are fine?” Steve asks Eddie for the twelfth time in the last two hours, worrying the inside of his cheek as he glances between a far too confident friend and the obviously not great roads ahead of them.

The pair are on their way to the Hopper- Byer’s home for Christmas, The Party and all other family members having planned on staying at the couple's large, government funded ranch house for a couple days. But that's if they arrive at all. Sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie's beat up van, Steve watches as a winter storm swirls outside casting the already fading light of the now evening sky a gloomier shade of grey. It's obvious there's ice on the roads, it rained just last night and they haven't seen a single plough truck along their journey. And if that's not enough evidence, the way the van sways uncontrollably every several miles is.

But Eddie's confident. Apparently.

If it was Steve driving he would have called it quits no more than a few miles out of Chicago, but no, his car’s in the shop and if they had to take Eddie's van back to Hawkins, Eddie would drive. He insisted upon the matter in fact, stating rather dramatically, ‘I am the only man this van will ever know behind her wheel and no one else.’

So here they are. And Steve's nervous… and maybe a little bitchy.

He's even more nervous as Eddie doesn't answer and only clutches the wheel tighter as the van starts to drift sideways, edging them closer and closer to the ditch.

Instinctually Steve reaches for Eddie, clasping a hand over his thigh and holding on for dear life. He's sure he'll leave bruises, fingerprints branded into skin that he'll think about at a later hour, but at the moment he doesn't really care, he just hopes they'll make it back for Christmas in one piece.

Soon enough though the vehicle's righted and moving down the highway as it should be. Though that doesn't mean Steve's grip loosens on Eddie's leg.

“Steve…” Eddie says quietly, voice comforting but lingering with something like a question.

It isn't until Eddie moves a hand from the wheel to lay over Steve's and give a gentle squeeze that he clues into his still iron grip on Eddie's leg.

“Shit,” Steve pulls back with a quiet, embarrassed huff, “Sorry.”

“You're alright,” Eddie grins, shooting Steve a dimpled smile before he reaches for the map to hand to Steve, “Roads are quiet shit though, you wanna try to find a place for the night and see how roads look in the morning?”

Yes. God, yes.

Steve's already unfolding the map before he can even get it entirely out of Eddie's hand. He'd do nearly anything to get off of these roads. 

“We have time?” Steve asks, truthfully not caring if they're late for Christmas if that means they'll survive the trek back home. Joyce won't mind, the kids might be livid but they'll understand. He just has to remember to call them when they find a place to stay.

“Quit your worrying.” Eddie reminds him for what feels like the hundredth time, “We'll be fine. Plus, we left a day early anyways, didn't we?”

—

Twenty minutes and one more scary slide down the highway later, the boys find themselves standing at the reception desk of a questionable looking motel. Eddie claimed the place had ‘character,’ while Steve was adamant it was just generally creepy. But if by ‘character,’ he meant, ‘looks like a place you go to get syphilis, drugs and die of a gunshot all in one night,’ well then sure, Eddie's right on the money.

Standing in the lobby, lights flickering above head and pipes groaning in the walls, Steve tries his hardest to look anywhere but the poorly done taxidermy that litters the panelled expanse of the room. He's already called Joyce and has been reprimanded by Eddie for getting snippy with the lady at the front desk,  so now he has no choice but to hang back or wander. 

A variety of stuffed woodland creatures all seem dead set on staring at him while he does so, but one particular deer in the corner somehow seemingly maintaining eye contact wherever he is in the space, doesn't help the creepy factor one bit. If anything the unwanted attention and the flickering lights seem to set his nerves on fire for all the wrong reasons, but with a clench in his jaw and a want to reach out for Eddie, Steve has to remind himself that the Upside Down is long gone and Vecna is dead. Things can be creepy and lights can flicker without any ulterior motive.

The old gal working the desk isn't much better. Teeth few and far between, Mary-Sue, according to her name tag, somehow manages to keep an eye on them both at the same time. One milky and wandering, seems to follow Steve while the other remains locked onto Eddie as they continue to visit and she hands over the single room key, the nub of a rabbit's foot hanging from its small silver chain. 

After they give their thanks and Mary-Sue nearly dies of a coughing fit, they find their way out of the lobby. The rickety door and Mary-Sue’s parting words cracking through the blustery air behind them, “Don't enjoy the room too much boys! I'll be bringing by fresh sheets in the morning!”

—

“Of course she thought we were together ” Eddie grumbles under his breath while he tries the key in the door. This particular topic has been an ongoing conversation since the old gals parting remark as they left the lobby. The insinuation of them messing the sheets together had Steve blushing for reasons he's not willing to admit aloud, while Eddie did nothing but cackle his way to the van to get their bags. “Steve, we’re two dudes looking for a room late at night. What do you think she thought?”

“I don't know,” Steve huffs back, breath coming out frosty in the night air while he tries to go through the interaction in his mind. They hadn't been overly close, sure maybe Eddie pinched his hip when he was getting bitchy over all of Mary-Sue's questions, but they weren't hanging off of each other. They're just two guys who needed somewhere to sleep out the storm. Sure, maybe the idea isn't far off from Steve's own late night fantasies but it's not like it's going to happen. Just because Eddie's interested in men doesn't mean he's interested in him. He huffs again, adjusting his freezing grip on his duffle bag before he continues, “That we needed a room for the night.”

Shouldering the door open Eddie barks out a laugh, “Hah! Yeah, sure, Big Boy.” 

When they're in the room, door shut, shitty weather behind them and bags dropped to the floor, Eddie turns on the light to reveal the room and what Steve would describe as its horror. The carpet’s a yellowed beaten down shag that shows every commonly followed route in the room, a definite trail from the door to the bed and the bed to what he assumes to be the bathroom. The walls are wood panelling that's in surprisingly decent condition, not unlike the lobby, though the ceiling is anything but perfect, off white and stained with cigarette smoke, water damage and a browning splatter that Steve refuses to think any deeper about… He just hopes if someone was murdered in the room, they at least changed the sheets.

Eddie only takes a moment of pause before plopping down onto the single double bed in the middle of the room, falling backwards onto the comforter and letting out a loud groan as he stretches out, not unlike a cat. 

Steve, albeit hesitantly, settles down next to him, leaning back on his elbows, trying adamantly to ignore the way Eddie's shirt has ridden up and the sharp edges of his hips jut out above his belt line. It's become a problem in the last few years, his eyes finding every intriguing part of Eddie's body to ogle, and sometimes he does just that, but for right now he pulls his eyes away and forces them to focus on the ceiling.

It's quiet only for a moment.

“You know,” Eddie starts, rolling onto his side to face Steve, propping himself up on an elbow as the bed creaks under his movements, “at the very least she probably thought you were a hooker.”

“Me?” Steve laughs, disbelieving, giving Eddie a shove to the centre of his chest until he's flat on his back again, “a hooker? Why me?”

Covering his face with his hands Eddie lets out a breathy laugh, mumbling a hardly audible, “Jesus H. Christ,” before he turns his head to give Steve a flat look, resting his hands across his partly exposed stomach. “Really? Why would the pretty boy in the too-tight jeans be the hooker?”

Steve can't help but feel a heat spread through his cheeks as he nods, it's not uncommon for Eddie to call him pretty, but still, it gets him every time. Makes him feel warm and fuzzy and maybe wish Eddie were calling him sweet nicknames in a different setting. One maybe a little more intimate. At that thought and the images it brings to his mind, Steve bites his lip to smother the smile that wants to break free and waits for Eddie to continue with another nod. 

“Steve,” Eddie starts, cheeks pinkening and eyes searing as his gaze never breaks, “let's just say, I'd easily drop this month's rent and more for a night in bed with you.”

Jesus H. Christ is right. Fuck. At Eddie's words Steve can't help but to feel the spread of heat that floods through his veins, spreading from his cheeks to his chest and further south. He coughs into his fist and pulls his eyes away, telling himself Eddie's just joking. He has to be joking.

“Sure,” Steve eventually settles with, voice a touch shakey, now refusing to meet Eddie's eye as he counts the dots of the very possible blood splatter on the ceiling and decides to play along with whatever this game is that Eddie's got going. "You're better looking than I am, first of all.” Steve smirks, seeing Eddie's attention turn to him from the corner of his eye, “You have that whole hot bad boy thing going on. Plus, you took charge of that entire situation when we checked in. I hardly got a word in, then you pinched me when I got bitchy like it was a punishment. No, Eddie,” Steve shrugs, refusing to stop but also already beginning to regret what all he plans to say next, “you're some hot Dom, that rich assholes pay a shit ton of money to, to just step on their balls.”

At least he makes the effort to say rich assholes instead of I.

That has to count for something, right?

God, what's he doing? What the fuck did he just say?

Aside from Eddie's sharply sucked in breath, the room's eerily quiet after that. Both of them unmoving, refusing to look at one another. He sees Eddie open and close his mouth like he's trying to say something but nothing ever comes. Steve's sure he can feel the heat coming off of Eddie's body from the few inches away that he is. Maybe he caught on, maybe Steve wasn't subtle enough. Maybe Eddie's laying there regretting the idea of getting a room for the night. A room where Steve's just now clueing into the fact that they'll have to share a bed, because lord knows what they'd catch from the carpet if one of them slept on the floor. God, they're going to have to share a bed.

Nothing ever comes. Eddie says nothing and Steve stays silent. The tension is thick and awkward, heavy in the stale air as they both refuse to speak any further.

That is until a loud moan nearly rattles the walls, the creaking of a bed frame following, along with the smacking of a headboard meeting the wall adjacent to theirs. They can't help but burst into laughter as Larry, according to the screams from next door, blows out someone's back. 

They're snorting and crying by the time it subsides. Steve having sat up, chest hurting from raucous laughter and Eddie having moved so his head’s hidden in Steve's thigh, the light wash denim now wet with tears as Eddie continues to shake and wheeze, eventually huffing between giggles and hiccups, “W-who d-do you think the h-hooker is over there?”

Steve snorts again, giving Eddie another shove that nearly sends him to the disease riddled floor.

—

An hour later they find themselves sitting in bed, backs against a headboard that's thankfully silent on the other side, shoulders brushing as they get comfortable. It'd taken a while to fully calm down after their giggle fit and still, after such a break in tension Steve felt a heat lingering in his core. So much so that he had to brave the rusty shower to deal with his problem. The smoke stained mirror, yellowed walls and piss poor water pressure did nothing to quell his need. He'd jerked off in record time and couldn't even be bothered to feel bad about it when he's sure Eddie did the same not more than five minutes later; if the choked off moan he heard from the bathroom was anything to go by.

There's still tension between them, but at least it's dissipated since their mutual, not so mutual, relief. Plus, the chill in the room doesn't really help to set a mood. Now that they're still and not all hot and bothered, the room's actually pretty damn cold. Eddie took a look at the radiator and when nothing worked he resorted to kicking it several times, only being granted a hiss from it in return. Now they're bundled up in sweaters and sweatpants, shuffling closer and closer together to steal one another's warmth. They, against Steve's better judgement, even got under the covers, pulling the comforter up to their chins as they searched the TV for a functional channel. So far the only one that seemed to be clear enough was a porno and well, after the earlier events of the evening, there's no way they were going to watch that. Which means they settled on a staticy Christmas episode of Golden Girls instead. If anything it really just provides a sound buffer to the room, it's not like they can see enough between the snowballing to understand what's going on anyways.

Eventually, even through the cold, the fear of bed bugs and the hiss of static from the TV, Steve begins to doze off. Eyes heavy and consciousness fading, he hardly registers when Eddie gets up to shut off the lights and TV, crawling back into bed to settle onto his back next to Steve. At some point apparently Steve had slumped down to the pillow from the headboard, its fabric rough and scratchy against his cheek. 

He's been fighting to keep his eyes open, lashes fluttering open every few minutes to catch Eddie's profile illuminated by the lights in the parking lot that shine through the cracked window. He can't help but smile when Eddie rolls onto his side and lets their eyes meet as he whispers, “Go to sleep, Stevie.”

“M’ not tired,” Steve mumbles back, blinking slowly as he looks over Eddie's features. The darkness of his eyes, the fullness of his lips and the way his mouth curves as he sleepily smiles. He looks so soft in the light breaking into the room, the warm light like sunshine across his face. He looks so soft and warm. Pulling Steve's attention away from the man across from him, there's a loud gust of wind from outside that seems to send a breeze through the room forcing him to shiver again from the chill in the air. Pulling the blankets up high and burrowing deeper, he complains, “Too cold to sleep.”

Eddie offers nothing more than a hum in response before he's reaching for Steve and pulling him into his chest. It's almost instant relief and the complaint on the tip of Steve's tongue dies the moment he feels Eddie's arm tighten around him. 

He can allow himself this right? If not for the fact that he's closer to Eddie than he ever has been, than for the sake of warmth and a moderate night's sleep. Steve hums in agreement with himself and presses closer to Eddie's chest, feeling the man's heartbeat on his cheek and the wrap of legs around his own as they become impossibly closer. 

Sleep finds Steve easily soon after, the feeling of Eddie's body pressed against his own following him into his dreams.

—

***

With nothing but heat and hands and pressure wrapping around him, Steve lets the timber of Eddie's voice penetrate his skin. Words like honey in their sweetness, “Look at you Stevie, being such a Good Boy for me.”

He feels nothing and everything all at once, though it's never enough, but the touch is what he believes Eddie's hands to feel like against his skin. Warm, rough and smooth in all the right places, grabbing and pulling everywhere that it's needed.

“Such a Pretty Boy. So full.”

Steve can feel himself whine, his sleeping body pushing against the solid pressure at his backside. 

He wants. He needs so bad.

“Eddie,” he feels himself gasp into the air, voice naught but desperately begging.

All he can see is light, all he can feel is love and warmth and a pressure building inside of his core that's nearing unbearable.

He wishes he could taste. The dream version of himself wanting very little more than to sink his teeth into the pale flesh he's dreamt about for years.

Into the man he's dreamt about for years.

…

***

—

Steve never does reach the end of his dream, the chill of the night and the hands tight on his body, pulling him just close enough to the cusp of consciousness that the images fade and refuse to return. 

He's left with nothing but need and desire remaining in his bones as he wiggles around in bed. At some point he'd rolled over only to have Eddie pull him back against his chest, hot breath against his back and a tight grip around his waist.

Until morning he remains dead to the world and his (aside from Eddie) less than ideal surroundings.

—

Waking the next morning Steve first notices two things. 

1. He's in a bed in a horribly disgusting hotel room that looks like the set of some horror film.

2. He's in a bed in a horribly disgusting hotel room that looks like the set of some horror film… and he's not alone.

And then all at once he becomes aware of a few more things.

The weight at his back and the arm around his waist, the warm heat of breath at the nape of his neck and the solid line of what he's rapidly realising is Eddie's hard dick pressed firmly against his ass.

With a sharp breath so many visions appear in Steve's mind. So many questions and a few concerns. He thinks back to his dreams of last night, of their conversation from yesterday and how he wishes it would have gone differently. He thinks about how Dream Steve had the courage to push past the tension and awkwardness and how he ended the night nude, sweaty and nearly sated. He wonders if Eddie even realises he's cuddling him, a strong arm around his waist with a nose buried in his neck. He wonders if Eddie's awake and knows he's hard and pressed so close. He wonders if when Eddie does wake if he'll go rigid and shy away or if he'll grab Steve tighter and pull him all the more closer. 

He wonders what any of that could mean for them and this thing that for months, maybe even years, has been toeing the line of something.

Mind going in a million different directions, Steve's too preoccupied to even notice the way he subtly rocks his hips back. As if driven entirely by animal instinct, he bites his lip and does it again, letting a soft gasp escape his lips.

He only clues into the fact when Eddie grumbles from behind him, shifting his hand from Steve's waist to the naked edge of his hip where his sweater has ridden up and pulls Steve closer, rocking his own hips forward to meet Steve's motions. His hard cock shielded by thin layers of cotton sliding against Steve's ass.

Into the cold air of the room, Steve breathes a hardly audible, “Fuck,” and presses back once again. Maybe Eddie just stirred in his sleep, maybe he's dreaming and Steve's in the right place at the right time or maybe….

Eddie's grip on his hip tightens and Steve has to swallow the groan that tries to escape as Eddie's pulls him against his cock again, pressing his hips forward as he lets a heavy, jagged breath fall to the nape of Steve's neck, hot and damp where it falls as he says Steve's name like it's a question and a prayer.

At the confirmation that Eddie's awake, Steve can't help but push back further, feeling the grind of Eddie's dick against his ass as he bends his arm back to pull Eddie's lips closer to his neck, a hand tight in messy curls, desperate to keep him close.

That, along with the breathy, begging, “Don't you dare stop,” that leaves Steve's lips seems to be confirmation enough for Eddie as well. Steve's hardly able to finish his sentence before Eddie's mouthing at what he can reach of his neck, cutting off Steve's words with a strangled gasp.

They rock back and forth meeting each other's movements, Eddie's grip punishing on Steve's hip as Steve's is in his hair. The air of the room is quickly growing hot and polluted with the sounds of gasping breaths. 

The only friction Steve's dick is granted is the wet drag of his precome dampened sweatpants and it's quickly coming to be not enough. He needs more. So much more. A hand, a mouth, whatever Eddie's willing to offer. It's after Eddie pulls him back again and whines into his neck that Steve finally asks.

“Touch me. Touch me, please.”

He can feel Eddie's smile against his skin as he answers, voice low and raspy from sleep, “Such good manners, Sweetheart.” 

The bruising grip on his hip disappears only for Steve to feel the motion of Eddie's hand sliding beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. It's tight and warm when Eddie takes him in hand, his hips still rocking against Steve's ass as he squeezes and slowly drags his thumb over Steve's leaking tip.

And that's when Eddie starts talking.

“Never thought we'd get this far. Thought I'd just have to jack off to the thought of you beneath me for the rest of my life.”

Steve whines at the words, the thought of Eddie getting off to the idea of fucking him and the all encompassing everything that surrounds him.

“But look at you, Sweetheart, being such a Good Boy, using your manners, grinding that beautiful ass against me until I wake up.”

Eddie picks up his motions, rolling his wrist and smearing the slick leaking from Steve's dick down the rest of his length, not stopping until he's able to reach Steve's balls and squeeze until Steve keens and arches his back against Eddie as he continues to whisper against his neck.

“Let me guess Stevie… you're the rich asshole that'd pay for me to step on your balls? Hm?”

Emphasising his question with a mind numbing squeeze, Eddie rolls his hips again, rhythm stuttering as he bites Steve's neck and groans.

“Y-yes.” Steve stammers out, the edge of bliss quickly approaching when he decides to twist his neck and crash his lips into Eddie's.

“Yes,” he repeats again into the hardly there embrace that they're both messily clinging to. It's hardly a kiss and his neck already hurts but Steve can't get enough. They share breath and bond, spit messy between them, lips hardly meeting properly as they continue to rock against one another.

“Yes,” Steve repeats again, but for an entirely different reason, voice wrecked and letters swallowed by Eddie's tongue. He's so close to his release that when Eddie surges forward and bites his lip he can't help but topple for the edge. Hips stuttering as Eddie's hand finds his cock again and strokes him until it's edging on just too much.

Then not a moment later, no rhythm to be found and hand back to laying a brand on Steve's hip, Eddie grinds against him one last time before he shudders and breathes profanities over his tongue.

As the seconds after pass, breathes heavy and air thick, they never part and their grip hardly eases, though Steve does turn just a touch more so it's easier to reach Eddie's lips with his own. This time though as their breathing slows and their heartbeats settle, it's not as ravenous or as animalistic. It's slow, gentle, unhurried as if they have all the time in the world. Steve doesn't even have the mind to worry about what's next because this part feels easiest. The way they stay, the way they linger and tease and smile and kiss like it's something they've done a million times before.

Eventually after an unfathomable amount of time has passed and they've shared kisses and cuddles and softly spoken words, they make their way to the shower, Eddie slapping Steve's bare ass along the way.

It's awful in so many ways, the floor has rust spots and the space is hardly large enough for one man, let alone two, but they make do. It's cramped and the only way they manage to stand is in each other's arms. Eddie's around Steve's waist as he rinses him clean and Steve's around Eddie's when he does the same. 

The water pressure is pathetic, and the temperature’s anything but warm, but still they stay. They let their lips press together as the water falls around them and they feel the warmth of one another's body against their own.

They tease and let lips and mouths and fingers wander. Even in the small space Eddie manages to get Steve gasping again, this time with two fingers in his mouth and one in his ass as Eddie ruts against him promising all of the vile things he'll do to him when they're somewhere safer, somewhere cleaner, somewhere that feels more like home.

When they're rinsing off for the second time, water cold as it falls to their flushed skin they can't help but giggle over the ridiculousness of it all. Sure they finally got together, pulled their heads out of their asses, but you'd think it'd have happened somewhere like their home, the apartment they've shared for years and not some horrific motel.

They dress and gather their things, hands roaming freely as they pass one another and lips meeting in soft presses when the time allows. They laugh and they giggle and they call each other idiots, because duh, how could they not have caught onto one another's flirting over the years. 

When they decide to brave the cold they're greeted with blue skies and the promise of a safer drive back to Hawkins.

Eddie's hardly out of the door when he trips, finding himself caught in Steve's grasp as he notices the folded sheets sitting on the ground in front of their door with a note pinned to the top that reads, ‘You sounded a little busy. Figured I'd leave you to your fun. ♡ Mary-Sue’

Eddie snorts a laugh, pockets the note and picks up the sheets while Steve flushes red and hides his face in the back of Eddie's neck.

—

They check out, leaving the fresh sheets on the countertop with parting a wink from Mary-Sue and a coupon for the diner down the road. 

It's noon before they manage to leave town, but when they do their bellies are full and their hearts are happy.

—

Over the next few hours they make their way to Hawkins, stopping occasionally for gas, snacks or if Steve has anything to do with it, a very impromptu make out session. 

Like right now.

Sure the tension had finally snapped between them, but now that Steve was allowed to touch, allowed to do all of the things his dirty little mind had conjured in the last few years, he wasn't going to waste any time.

They'd pulled over a few times already for Steve to climb into Eddie's lap and kiss him stupid, but now he had a little more on his mind.

It'd started with an innocent hand on Eddie's thigh that climbed higher and higher as time went on until Steve could brush a knuckle against the inseam of Eddie's jeans. 

And from there, aside from the skidding stop Eddie made into a gas station parking lot, they made their way to the back of the van. Eddie had thrown the vehicle into park only to grab Steve by the hand and pull him with the force of a man starved into the back, crashing their lips together and unbuttoning their jeans with a blur of haste. 

Duffle bags and Christmas gifts at their feet, they share breath and shuddered words, as their hands fly with intensity over one another's hardness. It takes no time at all for the spit they'd used as lube to be accompanied by a mess of white, their knuckles covered in a combination of their desperation until Steve licks Eddie's hand clean, along with his own.

Turns out, when they're as clean as they can manage and stumble out of the back of the van, they're in Hawkins. Or more specifically, the parking lot of the ratty gas station just across the town's limits. 

Eddie snorts when they catch a familiar face wave at them from across the parking lot. Someone from high school, a jock Steve remembers from the basketball team and Eddie had probably known from his previous career as a drug dealer, surly visiting family of his own for the holidays. A man hopefully clueless to the events that just transpired in the back of the van.

Steve waves and reaches for Eddie's hand to drag him away before he can begin a conversation with the man. He knows if Eddie had the chance he'd happily shake the previous jock's hand with remnants of Steve's come dried to his palm, the sick fucker.

—

They wash their hands and straighten themselves out from the dishevelled messes they were in the restroom mirrors. Graffiti and odd memories from their past surround them in the oddly familiar space. Eddie having done many of drug deals between the four cinder block walls and Steve participating in other nefarious activities. Activities of which Steve can't help but giggle at while he watches Eddie sputter at the admittance.

Eddie snorts again, a trait Steve seems to love more and more every time he does it, while he looks back at Steve through the mirror, disbelief colouring his face, “You did not hook up with some chick in here. The poor girl. Steve. There's no way.”

Steve shrugs, fingers tracing over the colourful walls, while he wanders and nonchalantly admits, “Never said it was with a girl.”

He can hear Eddie pause, breath caught in his lungs before he lets out a shuddering breath and turns to Steve while leaning against the countertop, arms crossed over his chest before he whispers, more to himself than Steve, “Why's that so hot?”

Steve shrugs again but pauses his meaningless wandering to step closer to Eddie, their toes nearly touching as he invades the other man's space. Confidence he hadn't had a day ago flows through his veins like lava when he reaches out to take a chunk of Eddie's hair and twirls it between his fingers, pulling the man closer until their breaths are shared.

“Tell me,” Eddie whispers, words catching on Steve's lips as they lean closer together and his hands find Steve's hips, calloused fingers skimming beneath his shirt to press against warm skin.

It's so stupid, anyone could walk in, they're in a public space for God's sake. In Hawkins of all places. Not to mention that whoever walks through that door they'd probably know. But knowing that information only makes Steve press closer, the growing need in his pants pressed against Eddie's own as he answers back, voice so sultry it even makes him shiver. 

“Gave my first blow job in that stall,” he says while nodding his head back to the stall in the corner, “Got my first from a guy in there too.”

Eddie swallows, already looking ravenous when Steve chances a glance, pupils blown so wide his eyes nearly look black.

“Let a guy fuck me too,” Steve adds, hips rolling forward while he nips at Eddie's bottom lip and ventures southward, licking at the man's pulse, continuing, “right against this counter.”

Steve's hands find the sharp edges of Eddie's hips and pull him impossibly closer, burying his face in the warmth of flushed skin just beneath Eddie's ear, when he adds, “Kinda wished it was you, even back then.”

Eddie groans and lets his head fall back further, exposing his neck all the more for Steve to bite at and rocking his hips forward to press into Steve's. 

“Tell me more,” Eddie breathes into the air with the gentle command, one hand finding the back of Steve's head where ringed fingers weave into chestnut locks and grip tight, “Tell me what a slut you were, Sweetheart.”

Steve shudders and tries to not melt at Eddie's tone and the grip in his hair, he'd felt like he'd had the upper hand, but as he licks and laves at Eddie's skin and the grip in his hair grows tighter he can feel himself slipping.

“Liked the way he pulled my hair and made me watch in the mirror,” he shudders at the thought, picturing Eddie doing the same, “m’ and the way the countertop left bruises on my hips.” 

Feeling like he's floating from the taste of Eddie's skin alone, Steve gasps when Eddie spins them around, turning Steve to face the mirror as he presses against his back, one hand tight in his hair, forcing him to look at their reflection just like Steve had imagined. Eddie's other hand reaches down, cupping Steve over his jeans and squeezing as he speaks against Steve's ear, maintaining eye contact through the mirror. “You want me to do that for you?” Eddie asks, his grip tightening at every point of contact as he continues, “Want me to bruise you up, Baby? Treat you like a whore and let you walk into Christmas all marked up?”

Steve tries to nod, vision blurring at the edges as it pulls at his hair more and his knees feel even weaker. “Yes,” he barely manages to breathe out, picturing the bruises on his hips, the marks from Eddie's teeth, forgetting entirely why they're in this restroom in the first place.

Feeling as though if Eddie were to let go he'd slide to the floor, Steve tries to lean back further, letting Eddie take more of his weight as he feels the rise and fall of the man's chest against his back. 

God, he'd want nothing more.

He can feel Eddie emit something of a growl against his neck as he begins to pull at the tongue of Steve's belt, leather snapping and metal clanking in the emptiness of the room they occupy. 

Eddie's hand is down Steve's underwear, grip nearly punishing when he feels the man speak against his ear again, “I'm gonna be-”

*BANG*

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” comes the sharp shriek of Robin's voice and for a minute Steve thinks he's in the middle of a nightmare. He and Eddie freeze as though if they don't move she can't see them, Eddie's one hand in Steve's underwear, fingers still holding him tight in hand and the other only barely loosening the grip in his hair.

“Oh my god,” they hear whispered from the doorway Robin's still standing in, the door she had aggressively flung open now sitting wide open for the world to see. “Like… woo, you got together after years of being idiots,” she coughs as the pair continue to remain still, “but um… Eddie, is your hand still in Steve's pants?”

All romance and heat sucked from the room, Steve can't help but snicker as Eddie pulls his hand free to rest on his stomach, his other hand soon following, both now only holding Steve close to his chest as he whispers sheepishly, “Not anymore.” 

There's the unmistakable chime of Nancy's voice calling for Robin, soon followed by a giggle from the door that they can only assume now means Nancy's there too.

“Nice to see you two finally got together.” The young woman confirms her presence by adding to the conversation.

Eddie groans from behind him, letting his head fall to hide against Steve's shoulder, while he himself finally gains the energy to turn and look at the girls who appear far too giddy for what they just witnessed, “What are you even doing here? This is the men's room.”

Robin levels him with a look that says ‘you think I care, Dingus?’ as she carelessly strides into the restroom and lets a stall door fall shut behind her as Nancy remains at the entrance, shrugging as if she's gotten used to her girlfriends antics.

“I needed to pee and the ladies restroom was closed.” Robin says matter-of-factly, from behind the metal door as she does her business. “Wanna explain what you're doing in here?” Nancy raises a manicured brow to accompany the other woman's question and Steve can only imagine Robin's accusing expression.

“We-” he starts, only to be pulled closer by Eddie and feel a kiss to his shoulder before he's interrupted by the man, “Well, the plan was Steve, I'd have you know. But, thanks to your barging in, I'd say my chances of that are now less than zero, Buckley.”

Robin lets out a loud cackle as she flushes and re-emerges to wash her hands at the sink next to them, looking with a pointed brow from Steve to his still clearly undone pants. “Clean yourself up, Babe,” she tuts, “we're supposed to be at the Hopper-Byer’s in an hour.”

And with that she flicks her hands dry, finishing the job by flapping them as she walks to the door, spraying both men with water, until she yells, “Love you!” and leaves the door to slam shut behind her, Nancy most likely by her side giggling on their way back to the car.

Steve and Eddie stand there for a minute, Eddie's arms still around Steve's waist as he props his head on Steve's shoulder to look at him in the mirror. 

Steve can't help but smile at the site, sure his pants are undone and they almost fucked in the Hawkins gas station restroom, but still, it's kinda sweet, kinda laughable, and all kinds ridiculous.

Eddie kisses his cheek and smiles back, whispering with mischief in his tone, “So, a bit of an exhibitionist are we, Sweetheart?”

“Shut up,” Steve huffs, lightly bunting Eddie's head with the side of his own.

“Makes sense,” Eddie says with a shrug, dark eyes glittering in their reflection, lips pulling into a bright smile as he kisses Steve's cheek again, “I'd presume most hookers are.” 

— 

Thirty minutes later they find themselves ambushed by hugs and wails of ‘Why weren't you here yesterday?!’ the kids being just as upset with their late arrival as Steve had guessed. But it's nice to be surrounded by family again otherwise, Joyce pulling both him and Eddie into a crushing hug, Hopper slapping them both on the shoulders and handing them a beer the moment they walk through the door and Wayne pulling Eddie into a hug only to whisper something in his ear that forces the man into a serious blush.

Across the room Robin sits in Nancy's lap where she, the moment no one's looking, makes the gesture of giving a blow job, forcing Nancy into a fit of giggles while she tries to pull Robin's hand away from her mouth.

Once the kids have finally bored themselves with giving both Steve and Eddie shit, Steve makes his way over to Robin, flicking her in the forehead when he reaches her, hissing, “You're a pain in my ass, you know that right?”

Robin stares at him for a moment, Nancy's arms snug around her waist again as her blue eyes dart to Steve's side where Eddie's appeared. The metalhead's ringed hand is warm where it gently settles at the small of Steve's back, only for him to notice the smirk Robin gives him as she hisses back, “No. But I bet Eddie is.”

It's Eddie's turn to flick Robin then, joining the conversation, “You know for a fact you interrupted that opportunity, Buckley.”

“So you weren't just standing in the mirror with your hand in Steve's pants?” Nancy decides to butt in, much to Robin's delight if the grin that spreads across her face is anything to go by.

Both boys refuse to answer knowing that if anything they can't win an argument against Nancy Wheeler. 

But Robin looks like she hasn't even started, a menacing look on her face as she glances between the three around her, mouth opening to say lord knows what before Hopper's yelling over the chaos of the house, “Suppers ready shit birds!” Joyce's immediate scolding of her husband follows.

“You know,” Robin says, extracting herself from Nancy's lap, eyes still focused on Steve as she rises, “this doesn't mean you're off the hook. I want details, Dingus. All of them.”

“I don't think you do, Birdie,” Eddie chimes, singing his way out of the room, hand outstretched to pull Steve behind him.

“All. Of. Them.” Robin repeats with a concerning look, pinching Steve's side as she passes him into the kitchen.

—

Steve doesn't share the dirty details of his now…relationship? with Eddie, with Robin just yet, but he knows he will have to in the near future. He knows the girl won't give up.

But for now, he enjoys Christmas with his friends and family, Robin to his left and Eddie to his right and everyone else he loves surrounding him. 

He doesn't know what he and Eddie are, they never really had that conversation, but really, Steve doesn't feel like they have to. It feels special, permanent, it feels easy.

Easy like knowing their lives will hardly change when they head back to Chicago. That, yeah, maybe they'll share a bed and be closer in all the ways that matter most, but Steve will still wake up every morning with Eddie being at the forefront of his mind and go to sleep every night happy that the man is a part of his life at all. Just now, maybe Eddie will be laying by his side when those thoughts cross his mind.

As a hand lays on his thigh and he turns to look at the man he's pretty sure he loves, Steve can't help but smile. Eddie's grin matching his own.

Maybe Eddie was thinking the same thing.

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart,” Eddie whispers, grip tight on Steve's thigh as he leans over and presses a kiss to Steve's cheek.

“Merry Ch-”

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!”

“DUSTIN!”

“EDDIE JUST KISSED STEVE, DID NO ONE ELSE SEE THAT?!”

The chaos further erupts as questions soar and Eddie only makes things worse by grabbing Steve by the cheeks and pulling him in for a searing, sloppy, life long kiss.

#steddiewinteroneshotexchange #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #strangerthings #Steddie Winter One Shot Exchange #stranger things christmas #stranger things smut #steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie fandom #steddie christmas #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #steddie fic #steddie smut #roommates #road trip #christmas #christmas fic #crack fic #no beta we die like men

[spikybanana]

@wolfstarmicrofic - prompt: dark/key - hello folks happy chinese new year. which means they're chinese today :) [cw: talk of food]

Harry pushes open his godfathers' front door to the sound of Remus shouting up the stairs.

"Sirius! Sirius? Oh, hello there Harry" Remus waves at Harry with a rolling pin in his flour-covered hand, and chuckles. "Didn't even hear you come in. I really thought we aren't old enough to be deaf yet."

"Alright Moony?" Harry finds his lips twitching up, accepting a flour-less pat on the back.

Remus gestures vaguely at he roof. "Want to see what your dogfather is up to up there?"

"I thought he'd gone out."

"Well no, there's his key on the wall right there."

"Ah, he must have forgotten it then. I bumped into him at the store." Harry says, dropping the bagfuls of fruits on the kitchen counter, "He was determined to get the right kind of vinegar for the dumplings."

Remus snorts. "He likes to pretend he can tell the difference. You know, I think Tesco's plastic bottle works just fine. Did he take the bike, then?"

"Ye. I saw it parked outside the shops."

"You never see him forgetting his bike keys." Remus shakes his head, and Harry laughs. "More likely he's not even locking it anymore. I keep saying, nobody here would bother stealing it. The moment anyone sees someone other than a crazy old man on that thing, they'd know something's off."

As they speak, the living room window slides open, and Sirius pokes in his head before he proceeds to climb through the window. "Now who are you calling a crazy old man?"

"Oh my dear lord." Remus mutters, though his voice is fond. He shoves the rolling pin at Harry, hurries to take the bags off Sirius and helps him through. "Don't remember the door bell?"

"What's that? Never heard of it." Sirius grins, blowing a strand of silver hair from where it fell out of what Remus has dubbed the drunk McGonagall bun.

"You're not a day past seventeen in your head."

"Have patience, we're a few years off from seventy yet— oh hello Harry, pass me the rolling pin?" Sirius says as he weaves fluidly through the room, "besides, Moony-dear— the man who refuses to retire has nothing to say about ageing gracefully."

"Oh, maybe next year." Remus waves a hand dismissively, and Sirius and Harry snorts at the same time because he's been saying the same thing for a decade.

Then, they get to task, descending upon the pile of half-rolled out dough and dumpling filling on the living room table. They've been doing this for two and a half decades, every Chinese New Year's Eve, ever since the end of the war. If you asked Remus or Sirius, they'd no longer agree about why this started. Sirius says that Remus missed hope, and Remus says Sirius wanted to replace what he hated about his family. But Harry remembers that first year, how they barged into Harry's miserable apartment and chased him out of bed, shoved a cabbage into his hands claiming they've dug out Remus' mother's recipe. It had been such a mess, none of them quite knew what to do and Hope's instructions said little more than "proved dough, no yeast; pork filling; boil". It took them all day. In the end, all the dumplings came out precariously shaped and half of them disintegrated in the pot. But as they packaged some of the less malformed dumplings to Ron and Hermione's families, Harry thought— that was the most any of them had laughed, since the war.

After that, it just kept happening, year after year. Harry would bring along his friends and then his kids, and they banter through the afternoon into the night, while making an amount of food that could give Molly Weasley a run for her money. Every year, they tell the story of how Hope once taught James' whole family how to fold dumplings, and they laugh about how Sirius would religiously stick to Hope's preferred brands of seasoning. Every year, they try to put up the state-run celebration programme, only until Sirius inevitably turns it off in anger. They've never made it to the New Year's countdown.

"Merlin's bloody balls. How do I always forget what narrow-minded bigots they all are." Sirius would say, throwing down the remote that may or may not be vaguely smoking.

"Not all of them," Remus would reply lightly, "Ma had loved the traditional operas, back in the day."

And now, after all of Harry's kids have grown out of the firecrackers, it's quiet again. But they're still here, the three of them.

"It's not yet dark out. The days are getting longer." Remus says, as he starts kneading the second batch of dough.

Sirius hums, leaning back and watching Remus' forearms appreciatively. "Weather's beautiful out there. 'S bloody cold, though, I miss when I could stave through a winter with the leather jacket. At least the night will be clear."

Remus snorts, shares a side glance with Harry. "See what I mean, Harry? Old man still thinks he's a teenager."

"We balance out perfectly. Not all of us have been old men since we were a teenager."

"To be fair, Remus, he's right. You've dressed like this for as long as I've known you."

"Oh no darling. Moony's been dressing like this for as long as I've known him."

Remus calmly flicks pieces of dough at Sirius, who's laughing roaringly. And Harry thinks only about how it means more than the world, that these two men, after their whole lives, could have this easy warmth and happiness with each other. He thinks, no, he wouldn't give this up for the world. He'd be right here year after year, helping them through the frankly ridiculous amount of dumplings they still insist on making and mailing out. And after he leaves for the night, Harry just knows that they'd be out in the garden, arm in arm under nothing but stars. Remus will pretend he can recognise anything beside Sirius' namesake, and Sirius will pretend he's looking at the stars at all, and the new moon is kind, as will be the year they begin at each other's side.

#wolfstar #microfic #wolfstar microfic #sirius black #remus lupin #asian wolfstar #asian sirius black #asian remus lupin #older wolfstar #pssssst I'll get back to aroace wolfstar cuz that tale is *far* from done #just need to get out of ny stress ^-^ #you get it #cw food #my writing

[modelbus]

Ayup! I saw that your requests are open so I was wondering...if you have time, could you possibly write something about CC!platonic!Wilbur x GN!aromantic!teen!reader and they have a cute sibling relationship? Maybe after reader comes out to the public, they get hate for "ruining" romantic ships that fans created with reader and someone else (can't think of any specific person so it could be reader's best friend they've had on stream a couple times) and Wilbur stands up for them?? As an aromantic who craves and adores this type of content, it kinda bums me out that I can't seem to find it anywhere. (sorry if this is too long or too specific, i just really like the way you write). Could be headcannons or a oneshot, whichever is comfy and easiest for you. Whether you'd like to ignore or write, it's up to you, feel free to do with this what you will. Have an amazing day/night! :]

Happy Pride month!! Here's some headcannon things! I used "Alex" as the best friend's name because it's pretty androgynous and can be used for any gender.

I've been crazy busy recently, and so caught up with other things, but hopefully this offers you the content you wanted <3

Pairing: CC!Wilbur x Gn!Aro!Reader (Platonic)

Abashed Aromantic

Wilbur is absolutely pissed when he sees the sheer amount of hate you're getting on Twitter.

He wants to make a statement right then, but you convince him it's fine and that the love you're getting from the community greatly outweighs the hate.

It takes a lot of convincing to get him to stand down though, he's just so upset that people would dare be mad at you for who you are.

"Are you sure you don't want me to say anything? You know I'd gladly tear into them. It's not right-"

"I know, Wilbur. I'm sure." You say softly.

Wilbur nods, then pauses and starts again, unable to help himself it seems.

"They're all full of shit anyways-"

No matter how much hate you get, you keep telling him it's okay, so he respects your boundaries and doesn't say anything.

Even as your dm's flood with threats and messages about how you're ruining "ships" for your fandom, you stay quiet, hoping it'll just go away.

That is, until the hate goes too far, to the point where not even your Moderators can manage all the hateful messages on streams. Some slip by, and, of course, those are the ones you manage to read.

It's meant to be a peaceful "just chatting" stream when the donation comes through, somehow making it past all of your mods.

The stream donation sound sounds out over your headphones, and you perk up, waiting for text-to-speech to read the message aloud.

"I can't believe you're ruining all of our ships by being aromantic. You really would've been perfect with Alex. Fuck you." The robotic voice reads out. For a voice that's usually so comforting, ice-cold hurt races through your veins at the message.

It's just too much. You were trying so hard to ignore all the hate, ignore how the ship name for you and your best friend trended for days after you came out, but you can't anymore. And all because of something you couldn't even control.

Silence falls in the stream. That is, until Wilbur speaks up. You had almost forgotten he was in a call with you, so swept away in the donation.

"Who said that? Who was that?" He asks. Wilbur didn't get truly mad often, but in this moment you're glad you're not the one he's pissed at. "To that person and anyone else who thinks that message is okay, fuck you. That's not okay."

"Wil-"

"No. It's not okay." You snap your mouth shut, realizing that there's no stopping Wilbur. Even though you tried to stop him, a part of you can't help but rejoice at him speaking up for you, protecting you. "You aren't ruining anything by being yourself. Hear that, chat? Get that through your heads."

You scan chat, waiting anxiously to see their reactions. For the first time since you came out, it's overwhelmingly positive. True relief comes rushing through you, like a breath of fresh air.

"Now. Where were we?" Wilbur asks, nudging you along. "We were talking about bees, right?"

Later, you thank him, but Wilbur won't even let you thank him. He just keeps saying that it was "his job to protect you" and to "fuck the haters."

He makes sure to post a Tweet about it too, once you give him the okay to.

...and he makes an Instagram post with just photos of you two. Just to make it very clear.

In order to make sure you're entirely okay, he insists on having a movie night and binge-watching all of the Marvel movies in order. Popcorn, snacks, blankets, and all.

(Wilbur is upset at himself for a while after because he felt like he should've done something sooner, but eventually he's just glad to have put an end to the overwhelming hateful messages you were getting.)

And, of course, he makes sure to not let anyone give you shit after that. Even the slightest hint of hate towards you has him loudly proclaiming how amazing you are.

"You're aromantic, right?"

You pause at the question from the other streamer before answering carefully. It's your first time talking to them, and it's in a MCC no less. "Yeah."

"Oh. That's... interesting."

Maybe it's the tone of their voice, but something about the statement rubs you the wrong way. You shake your head, planning to move on, but Wilbur jumps into the conversation.

"Damn right it's interesting. And only in the best of ways." He proclaims.

You smile to yourself, thankful for Wilbur every goddamn day.

"What's your Ace Race time again?" He asks you. "Isn't it ridiculously fast? You're just so good at MCC, you'll have to carry this team. You'll get us the points there for sure, probably single-handedly get us to victory-"

#mcyt imagine #mcyt #dsmp #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x you #wilbur imagine #wilbur x reader #wilbur #wilbur x you #aromantic reader

[lorei-writes]

Hi there! I was wondering if I could request a headcanon/one shot type thing with Kenshin & Hideyoshi with a super innocent/pure/kind/aloof type MC? Where they are super protective and sheltering of her (and romantically involved)? I absolutely love your page and was so happy I found your account. It keeps me breathing.

Hello, Anon! Ah, it seems that I'm (un)fashionably late this time around. Oh well. But I see you did have some more specific idea in mind already, given your further suggestions? So I hope this post now is a pleasant surprise.

Notes from the future: unexpected turns were taken, it appears

Innocent / Kind MC

Characters: Hideyoshi, Kenshin

Content Warnings: none

Hideyoshi

Hideyoshi's primary mode is to protect. As such, it comes as little surprise that, when involved with a person he deems as too pure, he's more alert than ever.

That being said, he doesn't view that purity as a bad thing, no. It is more of a... trait he wishes to cherish and shelter at all cost, especially given the times of turmoil they've both found yourself in. He wants to believe that it is possible for people to stay this way, and believes it to be means of bringing forth a brighter future.

He still worries, however. Especially when others see it as a liability, and thus try to exploit his lover's kindness.

No matter. He just has to stay close, and to watch over them when possible. He won't let them be cheated out of money, he won't let anybody kidnap them, he won't let Mitsuhide drag them into his schemes --

Unless he fails. Nobody's infallible, after all, especially not when swarmed with as many duties as Hideyoshi.

The corridors of the Azuchi castle seem nearly endless as Hideyoshi paces down them, one thought stubbornly stuck right at the front of his mind. The dinner time has long passed, but even so, nobody has seen his lover anywhere around, their meal untouched. The possibilities for what could have gone wrong are endless, and quite frankly, they do cloud his judgement. Hideyoshi sighs, both defeated and deflated.

Enemies, or friends, no matter -- in times of need (and now certainly is such a time) he can think of one person to aid him in his struggle. Mitsuhide.

Hideyoshi breaks his vow of "no running in the corridors". Any injury is worth arriving at the Akechi manor sooner, even if just by a mome--

Hideyoshi freezes. There they are, happily sipping on tea, Mitsuhide keeping you company. His shoulders slump in relief. "Oh? Could it be that you've forgotten to inform Hideyoshi about your whereabout, little one?"

Their face pales. They explain what had transpired -- about the ronin that troubled them while they were out shopping in town, about Mitsuhide's intervention, about the worry they wished to spare Hideyoshi from, and about how they forgot of time... They feel guilty. Is this very result not what they were trying to avoid?

Hideyoshi crushes his lover in an embrace. To think that all this happened while they were outside the reach of his hands...

He spoils them rotten that night. And the following day. Heavens, have mercy on this man. Is it too much to wish for those who he cherishes to be safe?

"Hideyoshi... Can we talk?" they ask, a bit unsure of themselves. "Hm? Yes, of course." He blinks in surprise, their hands reaching for his. "I'm sorry about what happened, but... Please, don't worry about me this much. Please, Hideyoshi. You've only seemed to frown since then."

Oh. How could have he forgotten? To love is to care. And his love is nurturing, not suffocating and punishing. Perhaps he has to learn to forgive himself... and trust that his lover's goodness is not something that's easily bent out of shape.

Kenshin

Now, Kenshin is the one who struggles here most. He has known this world to be a brutal place that tears hearts out of chests. His lover? They're a single sakura bloom, floating atop a cup of water, just a single gust of wind away from being spilled into nothingness. How is he not to worry?

He'd like to have them locked in his castle, but then that doesn't seem to be enough either. Gardens have thorns. Wood has splinters. Maids have tongues, and most importantly, his lover has eyes. Eyes that are not happy.

It takes his all to dare be more trusting... Although that may be not the right word, not exactly. It is more similar to a believer praying upon their faith to withstand the trials -- he does want to believe. He is just... scared. Overwhelmed. Worried.

But he is not alone, for better or for worse.

Shingen is a safe person, Kenshin is sure of that much. However, Shingen still has a tongue. Perhaps that much should be remedied. "Thank you for the tea, lord Shingen. It's delicious," his lover says, a content smile on their face. "It is, isn't it? It is also said to have the most glamorous effect on the heart." "Oh?" "It allegedly aids it in its work, and so puts stars in the eyes of those who drink it. I can certainly see that claim being true... It also produces the loveliest blush, ---"

They cannot hear a word more, Kenshin's hands covering their ears. He does not appreciate the direction in which the conversation is going, but... Nevertheless, it seems to provide him with some ease.

Overall, the greatest challenge for Kenshin is to reign in his anxieties. There's a thin line between offering shelter to somebody, and suffocating them in your shadows -- and hell, he is just as terrified of losing his lover as of the latter.

He eventually manages to find some balance, although he remains on the cautious side. He prefers to accompany his lover, doesn't mind speaking for them if needed be, likes to hold their hand, and will stare down anybody who as much as looks at them threateningly.

In the end, Kenshin himself needs reassurance that everything is okay. And he will ask for it. In form of an embrace.

He wants to be better. He wants for their light to shine. He just... struggles with picturing a world in which they are not torn apart, strictly because of what he considers to be the beauty of their heart.

Tag List: @cilokgoang @violettduchess @the12thnightproject @oda-princess @tele86

#answered #Anonymous #kenshin uesugi #ikesen kenshin #ikemen sengoku kenshin #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen series #hideyoshi toyotomi #ikesen hideyoshi #ikemen sengoku hideyoshi

[lavenoon]

1st of all, need to say, adored Dove on the Roof and I'm sending you the longest review once I can after work, this is a threat 🔪 2nd of all–if you've thought of it and you wanna share the tidbit–I loved how after sharing Horizons name and Y/N admitted they only used his gadgets, Moon said he was gonna tell Eclipse abt it, Re:

“I’m going to tell him you said that. It’ll be terrible, because he’ll get even smugger, but it’s too good not to.”

and like. Luce. If you wanna share. I'd love to know how Eclipse reacted to that. Bc yes he'll be so smug abt it i just know it, but i also think he'd be really touched that like, his brothers' partner feels that strongly abt the stuff he makes? Struggling to stay coherent bc English is not my first language, but I just gosh. i loved it. going bonkers. hitting u w that long review later. get ready. -Soldrope ☀️💧

New morning new braincells, let's go!

I have devoured your comment(s) and I have been so so normal about the amount of thought and analysis and how many things you've caught that I tried to write in! I'm so so happy that it all came across and I literally cried reading your comments already gfdhjs now I only hope I soon get the spoons to go through my ao3 inbox and reply to the comments I've amassed

As for Moon telling Eclipse? It didn't happen in that window between Moon date fade-out and Sun date, because Moon was too busy cuddling and being a lovebird (he finally gets to be a bird too! <3), though it'll happen after the Foxy conversation after Sun's date.

That conversation will be addressed in a proper drabble/ chapter (they've been getting longer, so by now drabble feels no longer appropriate gfhdjs), so since I haven't written that yet this might not quite fit with how things turn out, but it'll be a fun thought until then!

Because after all that, and not charging the night before due to cuddle priorities (and they haven't quite yet reached the stage of a permanently installed charging cable at Y/N's side of the duplex) (it's definitely a thought though, because lugging around their cable for sleepovers has a bit of a hassle), Moon will excuse himself for a quick charge before work, and handle a little special phone call <3

(Eclipse will be smug enough. Moon doesn't need to make the gloating even easier by providing something to screenshot)

Eclipse, on the other hand, is positively surprised and doing his best not to be weirded out by a spontaneous phone call from his brother. That just didn't happen before! He's still getting used to the closer contact, too, and his first thought won't be a good one. Maybe another emergency? At least this time he'll hear about it sooner?

Well, only for Moon to pull the rug from under him completely.

"What do you mean, you haven't talked about me before?"

"I mean, we were trying to flirt, which already kept misfiring. Adding complicated family history that paints a rather ugly picture of us when they never asked wasn't really... Something that came up."

A sigh, and Eclipse does his best to cover up the lingering hurt. He knows their relationship was rocky at best, and he wasn't exactly eager to talk about them to other people either.

(It helps a little, knowing that part of it was guilt - he wasn't forgotten, instead his brothers felt too bad to casually bring him up. But he also doesn't like being a guilty secret either. In the end, he pushes it away to unpack later, and focus on the conversation at hand)

"How did it 'come up' then?"

Silence from the other end, as Moon quickly decides that no, he's not going to explain that he made his own first date emotionally charged in the heavy way to finally talk about his brother, much less the exact conversation that sparked it.

Eclipse never asked for their favorite colors, either.

"No, no, look, that's not the important bit. They went off on me for not telling them."

"Makes sense."

"Because they're a fan of your work."

"Makes s- huh?"

"They like your designs. They exclusively buy their own gadgets, except for when one of yours gets distributed. They said, and I quote, 'That Horizon?'"

Again, silence, as Eclipse processes that. That's so far from what he expected, or even figured would ever be in store for him. He knows his work is good, the agency doesn't really entertain slackers and subpar work, not for leading researchers - but that doesn't mean he feels appreciated. The people he works with are more neutral to annoyed by his antics, and the actual results he produces seemingly fade into the background.

So hearing there's someone out there who, dare he say it, is a fan?

He already thought Y/N/ Robin is nice enough from just the stories Sun and Moon shared before, but this? Now, within seconds, he's decided he has to meet them and become friends.

Hopefully they'll still like him once they've met him.

By now, he's been silent for a while.

"... Eclipse?"

The anxiety gets pushed away yet again, and instead Eclipse starts laughing. Softly, first, but then it turns into a full blown cackle.

Moon just sighs.

"Here we go."

"Since when? How long have they liked my stuff?"

"I didn't ask, that wasn't exactly the focus of the conversation."

"You can ask right now though! Ask them!"

"They're at work!"

"Send them a text then! You'll say you forgot if you don't do it now!"

"I wouldn't forget!"

"Yeah, but you'd say that!"

They squabble a bit, and it feels nice - just your normal, comfortable sibling banter, something they didn't get to share for the longest time. Both draw it out, just a bit, to enjoy it more.

Moon does send the text, but only after making a production out of "not wanting to". Eclipse laughs some more, that smug snicker of a younger sibling winning out over the older one.

And then he thinks of something else, too.

"Oh, oh, have you told them about that drone I've been trying to get approved?"

"No, I haven't, tell them yourself. Did that still not go through? You mentioned that weeks ago, they're really dragging their feet."

"They say it's a fire hazard, and I keep trying to explain that that's the reason why I need them to approve the more expensive fireproof material. Somehow they don't seem to understand that."

The conversation drifts towards other topics, then, but Eclipse is very much soaring from the start of it. That little "tell them yourself" is enough to reassure him on so many levels - this isn't an exception, this is going to be normal, his brothers want him to meet their partner, want to introduce them and give him a chance to talk to them himself.

The anxiety is still there, and a bit of it we see in Duck Duck Goose - he needs them to like him, needs things to go well, and to leave a good impression. He's more than just his work, and unfortunately he's afraid that they won't like the person behind the codename, and that confidence boost of them liking his work doesn't quite shine through.

They'll get there! It'll just take a bit of work, and time, but they're all very willing to put that effort in <3

#answer let luce #soldrope asks #accidentally undercover #im not wordcounting that good luck #it feels normal ask length for me but yknow that doesnt narrow it down much lmao #this took me the entire morning because I kept getting distracted FGHDJS #also now I thought about your comments again and I'm melting again aaaa #hope this lil scenario elicits even a fraction of the joy I felt reading your comments hehe <3

[asgardian--angels]

I love your blog title. I love that when DJenks made his announcement this month, I went into the tags all morose and accepting defeat, and I saw you there still ready to fight, not giving up, ready for a marathon. Truly, that means SO much to me. A little bit of hope is a powerful thing to have, and we need people who are determined to keep that flame burning bright. So happy to have you in this fandom. You really do make a difference. 💕

Aw, thank you! I really appreciate it. And yeah, I'd almost forgotten about my blog title, which I've had for over a decade, and how hope really does embody me and everything I do.

The streaming landscape is in upheaval, things are changing by the week - even since our turbo-cancellation was announced, two other shows (cancelled for much longer) were saved. Like others have been saying, we were all mentally prepared for a marathon and realistically I don't think anyone can just call everything off after just two months when so many shows have to fight for years before getting a movie deal. I respect David - he told us that news so that we'd know that there's nothing more we can accomplish right now by shouting at streamers, and that we did make a difference. There WERE interested parties, we proved we were lucrative. But that does not mean the fight is over, it just means we need to change tactics and pivot to keeping the fandom active and vocal in the long-term, and bide our time until shifts in the industry open new doors for revisiting OFMD (like David Zaslav leaving, or Max going under, or another merger). That might be six months, or it might be six years. What I am certain of is that there's so much love and passion for this show from the cast and crew that everyone would be down to get the gang back together for a season 3 years down the road.

Basically, I have no doubts the fandom will persist - this fandom is composed of very enthusiastic and artistically talented people who have an unending well of inspiration to draw from. What I do think needs to be done though, that I'm seeing wane a bit on Twitter, is to ensure we direct that noise; most people have stopped using OFMD hashtags, which means our posts won't get noticed. Something that has been great is just how vehemently the fandom has gone after Max on pretty much every single promotional post they've made in the past few weeks - check any of them out, and you'll see 95-100% of the comments are OFMD fans using #DontStreamonMax and #FireDavidZaslav , plus the great new tagline 'Sell The Show, Let Us Go'. That is something that I feel is critical we keep up, as I think one of the most powerful means of influence we have right now is to hold this industry responsible for the cancellation of queer content and just quality content overall. That's one direction we can really put our might towards - toppling the WBD empire faster. Other things we can shout for are a physical release, 'The Jenkins Cut' of s2ep8, deleted scenes/bloopers, merchandise, etc. Max is being absolutely idiotic right now in a way that shoots themselves in the foot, because they're holding onto this IP that could have been their lifeline for keeping subscribers and stock prices up, and not only did they cancel it but they're not even maximizing on the rights they refuse to sell by promoting it or making merch of it, anything that could continue to bring in revenue for what they KNOW without a doubt is one of the best performing shows they've ever had on their platform. Them trying to forget OFMD exists is the nail in their own coffin, because it's the only reason a whole lot of people ever did business with Max in the first place.

So, the long and short of it is, I'll never stop having hope for the return of our show! David said we got the attention of this industry, and we've proven our worth. It's just a really unstable landscape right now, so we need to be patient. It's annoying to see these streamers invest in less successful and more expensive shows, but I think they're all panicking to stay afloat even though they're not making decisions that could help them there. The dust needs to settle. If we can show that there's still a loud and passionate fanbase in a year, in three years, then they will revisit us. We need to keep calling out WBD and Max, we need to keep using hashtags to be heard, and just try to settle into a rhythm that we can maintain long-term. We still have a bunch of BTS to see from Samba, and we will have WJW with David at some point. I think it's important that we DON'T request any season 3 info from him, because that's what jeopardizes the possibility of that storyline then ever getting made. I'm seeing some people on Twitter start to burn out or fall into a state of sad acceptance and if you need to do that for your health, that's fine. But I don't want that mindset to spread throughout the fandom. Our outlook, our words, do have the power to become reality - if we sit back and wave the white flag, then that seriously hurts our chances of ever getting the show back. But if we can carry on like it's just a season hiatus, continuing to demand the question 'ok so WHEN *taps watch*' then our insistence can help make season 3 a reality.

#thanks for this i'm glad i can help inspire some folks to keep the fight going #ofmd #our flag means death

[carpememes]

Oban Star Racers Starters (part 2)

"Good thing I ate light."

"How was today's training?"

"They're making good progress. You'll be very happy."

"Me, me, me. A simple 'good luck' would be nice just once."

"Thinking about your dad again?"

"Now's the time to show Daddy what you're really made of."

"Unfortunately my dad happens to be a complete jerk."

"Keep digging. Remember I don't like surprises."

"Out of my way! I need this victory!"

"Cut her some slack, you're just gonna freak her out."

"I asked you to coach them, not me."

"What do you think I'm doing? Knitting you a sweater?"

"You did the best you could to stop them, but they still won the race."

"Maybe it's time you got a life."

"My life is perfectly fine as it is, thank you."

"I'd sure hate to be your son. Or for that matter, your daughter."

"You really have no sense of adventure."

"We're racing. Or was that not obvious enough for you?"

"I cut all links to my past in order to survive."

"I can't believe you managed to keep this from me all these years."

"Let's get out there and kick some alien butt!"

"You'd think I'd be more relaxed by now, but it's just the opposite."

"The higher we climb, the more I fear our fall."

"I don't make a habit of befriending opponents. It can lead to disappointment."

"I'm counting on you, my darling."

"Have you ever known me to be careless, honey?"

"I know that wicked creature."

"If we don't get him, he'll get us!"

"This creature is evil. We have to get rid of him, trust me."

"I'm asking you for the last time! Come to your senses!"

"I know who you are. You're not alone in life."

"I wish you would never have left me."

"Your optimism is commendable but I find that unlikely."

"Our relationship has always been rather tense, wouldn't you say?"

"If I was your daughter, I'd never want to see you again!"

"I just wanted to cheer on the kids."

"This is much better than being in the hospital."

"I do this under protest."

"Not even I could have pulled that stunt."

"Please don't look at me this way. It only makes it harder."

"It's time for me to think about my new life."

"You could sleep through anything."

"They've not been locked in. We've simply been locked out."

"I could stay here forever."

"Don't even breathe. Run for your life when I say go."

"I'm told he won't bite."

"On my planet, when you make a promise you keep it."

"Any attempt of a competitor's life is strictly forbidden!"

"If you're ready, we're off to the races!"

"I'm just keeping an eye on him. There's no law against that is there?"

"We don't need a dad to come along."

"I hope you're pleased with yourself. I was scared, you know!"

"Next time you're thinking of going on a little stroll, you're on your own."

"Where on earth have you been? We've been worried sick!"

"I'd advise you not to take my authority lightly."

"So long, pretty boy, I'll send you a card."

"I refuse to believe it's the end of the world."

"Oh great. Let them eat somebody else."

"That man is totally heartless."

"I never miss a music recital. Would you care to join. me?"

"No need to worry. ___'s in good hands."

"Oh, brilliant shortcut. We should just announce ourselves."

"You'll find heaters in the storage area."

"What'd she do? Steal from your shop? Leave her hotel room without paying for it?"

"She was up all night waiting for your call."

"I'm gonna win the race today!"

"I knew today was my day."

"So many possibilities... It's beautiful."

"The day a tin can gets the better of me I quit."

"Looks like we have a clear night tonight."

"I've never had a chance to ask you much about your life."

"I see. An only child. Your parents must've smothered you."

"If I were your daughter, you'd know it immediately."

"I hope you haven't forgotten our special date."

"Tonight's our anniversary. How could I forget that?"

"You really pulled out all the stops tonight, haven't you?"

"You married a racer, not a dancer."

"I've never actually waltzed before."

"I wish every night could be like this."

"Why, look who's here. It's my little champion."

"My poor baby. It's okay now, we're back."

"You've made me the happiest man in the world."

"Space would be a terrible place for me to die."

"Have you gone mad? We cannot stop half way."

"Stay away from me. For your own protection."

"Forget we were ever friends."

"Let's stick to the official theories, if you don't mind."

"I've wanted to tell you this for a long time, but something always seems to get in the way."

"Of course, if you don't feel the same way, I totally understand."

"You don't have to say anything. I'll just leave these flowers here and wait outside."

"Why did you change?!"

#sentence starters #rp memes #oban star racers

[gildedmuse]

For anyone who donated to Diesel's bills, I want you to know I WILL be starting on those projects.

While we were not able to afford the surgery, I was able to afford a vet visit and antibiotics and I did everything they told me including holding a heating pack to the wound for 15 minutes every night and as you can see, the little angel is doing so much better!

I am deeply eternally thankful for what donations I received, and I apologize that it's taken me so long to do.... anything. Anyone who follows the blog knows I deal with my own health issues. They've caused me to lose my job (turns out throwing up at your desk is a faux pas, even if you tell them about your sickness at your interview, even if other people work from home with weak excuses but you're not allowed because "your history of getting sick". ) due to the opioid endemic and my age - I'm under 50 - they only intended the pain meds as a "temporary" fix for a chronic, genetic problem that has no cure short of getting my kidneys replaced. So I'm relearning after two years how to live in full time pain.

I hope you can stay patient with me. I am so thankful for all help and well wishes, I honestly wish I could write for everyone who even promoted my original post. When he was brought to me, I just quit my job and gave my sister all my savings for his surgery and then suddenly, from nowhere, she drove up and left two dogs with me. Turns out that's a lot of expenses, especially when one needed a second surgery. It's honestly thanks to the support I received I was able to get Diesel into a vet; I still haven't been able to take his sister in to see anyone, and my sister didn't leave any of her records, but she seems happy and healthy. According to my mom, they are happier with me now that they're not kept in crates (plus I spoil them pretty heavy with pets and walks; I can barely afford the kidney meds and food the boy needs but damn if I can't pet him for hours!)

I just want to thank everyone once again, and promise you're requests have not been forgotten.

I know it's selfish to ask, but I just need a little more time to adjust to my old pain levels and try and find a passable way to make a living while dealing with this pain (the reason I was given pain meds in the first place was because I worked; the deal was, I found a job I thought I could work so they'd give me pain meds, but without a job, obviously, there is no reason for me not to be in pain. And the pain grew bad enough that I was unable to continue work). But I am so, so thankful and I have not forgotten. I've just had to adjust to a very new lifestyle, and I am so sorry about the delay.

Thank you again, I promise I won't disappoint.

#real life shit #I suck and I'm sorry #doggie update #you WILL get your prize for being amazing people #unfortunately I am less amazing #I suck #so it might take a while #but damnit you saved my dog #and I owe you more than just a fic #but if thats all I can offer that's what I'll get you

[jumpingjoltiks]

What do you think it'd be like to move in with Emmet and/or Ingo as their s/o? How would they help with the moving process? How much of the time packing is spent looking over old photos, childhood stuffed animals, and other mementos instead of actually packing? (Don't mind me, just turning the burden of cleaning up in preparation for home renovators into requests for fluff!~)

Hey, anon! I hope your move went well! Alas, I was consumed by writer's block for like two months and I'm only now getting to this. Deepest apologies!

I did Poly headcanons for this one! I hope that’s okay!

Warnings: None!

Pairings: Submas x Reader

▲ Ingo & Emmet ▽

Ingo and Emmet work seamlessly as a team, whether battling on the subways or assisting you with a move. It comes to them as naturally as breathing.

Watching them work together is almost like watching a complicated dance. It isn't until you're well into the day that you've realized they've incorporated you seamlessly into it, picking up on your strengths and preferences to help direct you three down the smoothest route toward progress.

If either of them finds a stache of photos, they'd love to go through them with you!

Ingo might hold off and ask to look at them together with you later, but Emmet is immediately leafing through and asking you who these people you're posing with are and if he can meet them sometime!

Do you have any old jackets or sweaters in the back of your closet? Ingo is stealing one.

They're both curious about any interesting knick-knacks or bobbles you've picked up over the years, and you're happy to share the memories that came with them.

Expect to get into at least one pillow / stuffed animal fight with Emmet, only for the both of you to gang up on Ingo when he pokes his head in to ask what's going on.

Ingo and Emmet's pokemon teams are thrilled to help out when asked.

Haxorous is assisting with carrying heavy boxes, and so is Chandelure with her psychic abilities.

Emmet's Joltiks help get under all the furniture and down in the back, forgotten places to find little odds and ends that have been lost over the years.

#ingo x reader #emmet x reader #submas x reader #pokemon ingo x reader #pokemon emmet x reader #pokemon submas x reader #pokemon x reader #x reader #my writing #mailbox💌

[agentshades]

*****Alan Wake 2 Spoilers ahead******

***You Have Been Warned***

I cannot express to you all how many *e m o t i o n s* I have tied up in the We Sing/Herald of Darkness chapter of this game. If you are only getting in on the Remedy fandom with Alan Wake 2 (welcome, by the way) then you may not fully understand how incredible it is that Alan Wake 2 happened at all and may not have the full context for how much that song and sequence represents.

Back in 2010 when Alan Wake was first released, Remedy had originally planned to follow it up immediately with a sequel (hence why it ended on such a cliffhanger.) But this was the early 2010s. Multiplayer was king, and EA was doing stupid shit like saying "Single player games are dead" and Microsoft, Remedy's publisher at the time, had zero interest in doing a single player sequel, especially not with an IP they did not own, like Alan Wake.

So years passed with those of us who loved the first game essentially left to conclude it wouldn't ever get a sequel. We had a decade of teases, references, and nods that Remedy hadn't forgotten about us but it seemed like the stars were never going to align for poor Alan. It got even worse for a while when musical rights issues caused the original Alan Wake to be pulled from stores and become literal abandonware for a while. You could not legally buy the game. Not great for hopes of a sequel.

So for the sequel to finally, finally happen and incorporate everything Remedy has learned over the years between AW1 and AW2, take it all one step further, and then to include a fucking *20 minute choreographed interactive rock opera celebrating everything that is special about Alan Wake* just floored me. I've shed tears over how beautiful it is. It feels like Remedy literally singing from the rafters that no matter how bad it got they never forgot about us and that now that they can finally make the game they've wanted to make for over a decade they're going to celebrate it as much as we are.

That little *grin* on Alan's face at the very end after his cheeky sip of coffee from an Oh Deer Diner mug says it all. In the middle of everything, in a capitalist hellscape where artistic integrity and actually making stuff that makes people happy seems to constantly fall victim to parasites in corporate board rooms we got it *this.* We got the game we'd hoped for and not only did it live up to our expectations it blew them out the God Damn Window. I'm probably going to finish the game tonight, based on the climactic vibes I'm getting, and I literally felt myself getting emotional in the car on the way to work today because I will never get to experience this for the first time ever again and that moment is almost over.

And if you are looking to support Poets of the Fall as Old Gods of Asgard they dropped the single of Herald of Darkness today, so maybe give it a listen or twelve and let them know how much we appreciate their work!

#alan wake 2 #remedy entertainment #gaming #old gods of asgard #poets of the fall

[pjsk-writin]

I had an idea for Rui and Mizuki with a shut-in reader, it can be either platonic or romantic idc.

Foreground: The reader used to be friends with the two of them in middle school, as they were another social outcast. The reader stops showing up to lunch one day without a word.

Present day: Mizuki or Rui run into the reader outside, and they're both happy to see eachother, but the reader is a complete ball of anxiety. It turns out that after some severe bullying, the reader left school and went full hikikomori. They work online and only ever leave their apartment to get groceries, and they've developed a fear of just going outside.

Feel free to pass on this if it's too angsty, I'm kinda just projecting my life onto a pjsekai prompt XD

waaa its ok dw, im doing this separately unless you wanted them combined, and ill leave it up for interpretation- i hope you like this!! <3

♡ OUTCASTS - Rui Kamishiro and Mizuki Akiyama x Reader

Rui:

Rui was used to people pushing him away for being weird, so he was always grateful for you and Mizuki's presence

He was expecting one of you two to leave him eventually. It still hurt when it was you though

Fast-forward to a couple years later. Rui has become an expert with robotics, and is well known for his eccentric plans

He was buying some more parts for his robots when he bumped into you

He would pause, looking you over before calling your name cautiously. Your eyes widened before you mumbled, "Rui?..." "Ah, so you do remember me! I thought you had forgotten about me completely back then." There was barely hidden hurt laced in his tone

You had detected it, and was quick to stumble an apology out. You spoke about how you had been bullied, how you shut yourself in your room, how you had grown a fear of going outside for anything except your essentials

And then, the hurt was gone, replaced by sympathy. "Ah, is that so?" He hummed, placing a hand on your head and patting you, "I apologize, I would've tried to help if I knew...How about I make it up to you?"

After that run-in, he went over to your house often. He would come with his robotics, and would talk and catch up with you as he worked. Sometimes, he'd bring Nene with him, since you were acquainted with her when you were younger

He makes a robot for you, one very similar to Robo-Nene that you can use. It can leave the house, and you were able to maneuver it from the comforts of your home. Rui would just need to accompany the robot to make sure that things didn't go wrong. He'd do anything for you though <3

Mizuki:

Mizuki was learning a lot about themself during middle school, so it was a show of trust that they let you and Rui into their life when they did

Of course, that made the sting of you suddenly not meeting with them worse. They could never find you at school either. Where did you go?...

Fast-forward to a couple of years later. Mizuki had become more sure of themself, and was as comfortable as they could be in their identity today

They were out buying groceries when they bumped into you, and it was a shock for you both

They called your name with awe, and you stared at them for a bit before your eyes went wide. "Mizuki?..." "Yeah! How have you been? I haven't seen you since..." They would trail off, looking to the side before sighing. "Ah well, that's in the past-"

You stutter out an apology before quickly and quietly explaining what had happened. When the bullying had become too much, you had shut yourself in your room, too anxious to do much outside except buy groceries

They had nodded the whole time, a sad smile on their face. "Ah, I'm sorry it reached that point..." They took your hand, squeezing it gently, "You're like one of my friends- I won't force you to go out too much, but we should really meet up again. I missed you!"

So, after that day, they go over to your house as much as they can. Sometimes, they call Niigo while they're at your house, and introduce you to them! You and Kanade bond over your hatred of going outside

They buy a lot of gifts for you since they know you fear going outside. Ena asks why they have so many bags and they respond that they're for a very special person <3

#pjsk x reader #project sekai x reader #rui kamishiro x reader #kamishiro rui x reader #mizuki akiyama x reader #akiyama mizuki x reader