#use of staple gun cw

[hitlikehammers]

whole wide world

rating: t ♥️ cw: criminal-levels of softness, rockstar!Eddie, teacher! Steve, gooey-clingy-heart-eyes Eddie needs his Stevie ♥️ tags: established relationship, rockstar!eddie, teacher!steve, rockstar husbands, amateur musicals, steve needs to stop using a ladder unsupervised because nothing bad happened this time but eddie is concerned that is the love of his life, soul-deep love, slice of life, softness

for @steddielovemonth day thirteen: Love is showing up when someone doesn’t ask ❤️ (@steddieas-shegoes)

look who's back, just like every other day, it's the rockstar husbands from je ne regrette rien being their codependent, desperately-in-love selves again! ♥️

“Goddamnit,” Steve curses the staple gun, the dry-rotted wood he’s trying to use it on, the acrylic-covered tarp masquerading as a backdrop leaving little crackle-dust everywhere every single time it fucking falls because the wood’s shit, the staples are shit, his co-advisor’s kid’s sick with the flu, the kids are in the band room rehearsing the opening number and Steve really cannot fucking believe he got roped into this to begin with, actually, like, how the fuck did the middle school guidance-counselor-slash-study-hall-monitor get conned into helping with the high school drama club, just because one of his JV soccer players landed the lead and bemoaned loudly enough during laps how they didn’t know if they’d be able to make the performance even work, because the choir teacher’s on maternity leave and the band director’s kind of a dick, and the needed more help—

Steve only is even in the high school for the goddamn athletics office. For, y’know, the equipments for the athletes.

Yet: here he is. Standing on a rusty fucking ladder that probably needs a spotter, to be honest, and if Steve’s admitting that then yeah, it definitely needs someone holding the goddamn thing, but here he is, already two hours after the final bell, trying to stick a painting of mattressesin a stack that only vaguely looks like mattresses so thank god that’s in the show title—

The ladder wobbles a little when he tries to catch the tarp-thing again but he can’t reach far enough without risking a long way down to a very hard stage floor, so the backdrop’s sacrificed back to the ground—a-fucking-gain—as he shifts his weight to steady the steps and it’s a close thing, he’s about ninety-seven percent sure he’s aimed the teetering feet of it back to solid ground okay but he glances around quick just in case, tries to figure if there’s anything he can grab for and let the ladder go on its own if need-be, and—

“That’s fucking dangerous, big boy,” a deep, and deeply unexpected, voice trails up from the floor, clipped with stress, with fear because Steve fucking knows that voice, and the ladder’s suddenly fully steady so he can turn and look and—

“Gonna give me a goddamn stroke or something, finding you up on one of these all by your lonesome,” Eddie’s staring up at him, and the words could be teasing, and Steve thinks maybe they intend to be, but: those eyes are too big. There’s a pulse Steve can count in that throat, even from seven-feet-up.

So he does what any man in love with his husband would do in the face of said-husband in fear, and for him: Steve climbs down careful, but quick, with Eddie’s hands scrambling to make sure of the ‘careful’ part as soon as he can reach, and then he turns, and then he lands on solid ground again to pull Eddie in and thank every colleague of his he’d been cursing in his mind for leaving him alone to do all this shit, because alone is the reason he gets to kiss his lover hard, and full; wrap around him and let him squeeze Steve to the point where it aches, where it creaks in his bones, like proof.

Lets Eddie attach his lips to suck a bruise, possessive and needy and protective all at once along his throat, and yeah:

Exactly like proof.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks when they pull apart just the slightest bit, because he wasn’t expecting Eddie to be home until probably close-on to midnight, let alone at the school well before five.

“Thought you could maybe use an extra set of hands,” Eddie shrugs like it’s a casual thing, showing up just to help out when he’s on a press cycle, and it’s evident even in his attire that that’s the case, if you know what to look for: more chains from his jeans, thicker soles on his boots just flirting with being platforms, at least two rings on every finger—save just one.

One has a ring, and a carefully-preserved and repeatedly-reinforced bread-bag tie: both serving the same purpose in very different points in their lives.

Point being: Eddie was wading through photoshoots and magazine spreads and radio spots and every fucking thing, and no matter how high he’s raising his eyebrow in a clear calling out of how he found Steve atop a shaky ladder as being obvious evidence of having use of an extra set of hands, the fact remains:

“But you’ve got the interview—“ the big ass interview with that shock-jock guy Steve kinda hates, but that’s a big fucking deal, and was the precise reason Steve wasn’t lamenting giving up his afternoon and evening to the at-least-halfway-to-lost-cause of the not-even-an-actual-full-fledged-theatre department: he wasn’t going to have Eddie home before bed anyway.

And yet: here stands the man.

“The boys have got it,” Eddie shrugs, like he actually doesn’t give a shit, and that’s…he does give a shit, he had sounded excited about it last night when they’d talked about their plans for the week over dinner, when Steve had bemoaned the travesty of this fucking production of Once Upon A Boxspring or whatever, and Eddie’d told him he was pretty sure he was going to be able to say fuck on the show even if they’d edit it, like he wouldn’t get in trouble, and he’d looked like a kid in a goddamn candy shop about it so yeah: Steve thinks he kinda did give a shit.

But he’s…not there.

“Gareth’s been itching to take the reins after he won out the final track list,” Eddie offers as explanation; “cocky bastard.”

And they collaborate on all the writing, music and lyrics, they’re not even the slightest bit competitive about it which would be hard to believe if all you saw of the members of Corroded Coffin were their goddamn shenanigans during a campaign; but the one think in their music that they docompete over?

Whose title-idea gets the opener on a given album. And Gareth did end up scooping them all when the execs came back with a shuffle. Steve had watched it unfold in real time; he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a grown man crow like Gareth had, and he is married to Edward fucking Munson.

So that’s saying something.

“Eds,” Steve tries to prod a little at the point of it all though, because Eddie’s got press, and this is a high school, and probably Eddie could get to the studio in time to catch the end of whatever, it’s prerecorded, he knows that much, they could squeeze a live interview in so they could probably do Eddie at the end and just shuffle it around, right, it’s easy, and that’s so much more important than this because this:

“Eds, it’s just a—“

“It’s the spring musical, baby,” Eddie says like he’s announcing the arrival of the president, of the Queen of England, then his eyes soften a little as he flicks at one of the real mattresses that will, presumably, be props for the actors if the show’s title isn’t a fucking lie: “you know that’s where my DM throne had its humble origins, before I elevated it to greatness?”

Steve did know that, not least because they’d smuggled Eddie in to DM a few special sessions before the gremlins graduated, and he’d taken his seat with regal aplomb every time, and Steve had learned that yeah, they used the random storage room that was mostly drama shit for Hellfire.

And the way he’d learned that was by sucking Eddie off hidden by some very ratty but very conveniently poofy ballgowns from a production of Cinderella.

“I missed you.”

Steve turns to him and blinks; Eddie’s eyes are on the mattress, his stance almost a little shy.

“You saw me this morning,” Steve doesn’t ask, exactly, but he…he’s not sure he’s following, is the thing.

“I was,” Eddie sighs, and flops to sit down on the mattress which, thankfully, is a mattress and gives a little, bounces under him.

“I was just feeling, I dunno,” he gives a shrug that fades into something like a shiver, and then Eddie’s arms come around too hug around his middle as he ducks his chin and, oh no.

None of that.

“I thought about you being, you know, you,” and Eddie gets to gesture at the mess of the stage only halfway before Steve’s catching his hand, lacing their fingers and pulling Eddie back up to standing, then back into Steve’s arms here he leans heavy, sighs deeper this time; relief instead of something shallow.

“Just you doing all this when you don’t even have a horse in the race, y’know?” Eddie muffles into the side of Steve’s neck, burrowed in tight. “And I was supposed to be in the zone about press and shit, and it just,” he shakes his head, which is more like the brush of his lips back and forth against Steve’s skin; “it wasn’t clicking at all, like I posed and did the looks and whatever,” and oh, Steve knows the looks, Steve has about half those looks printed out and framed in various parts of their home or tucked safe inside his wallet, whereas the other half he takes great joy in recreating at random to the chagrin of his darling husband, love of his whole goddamn life.

“Then Jeff asked if I wanted to duck out,” and Eddie smiles up at him, a little sheepish; they both know the boys can see right through Eddie feeling needy, or lovelorn; Steve’s grateful as shit for Eddie’s bandmates, their friends, for knowing when Eddie just needs Steve.

“I didn’t even think twice, just,” Eddie swallows hard, a little, peeking up through lashes and bangs as he exhales:

“Just wanted to see you before the middle of the fucking night.”

And what can Steve do in the face of that, really? He can’t argue it. Wouldn’t ever fucking want to.

“I love you,” he frames Eddie’s face and kiss the bridge of his nose, then soft between his brows as he breathes out with his whole heart: “so goddamn much.”

“Can you promise me you won’t do the,” Eddie tips his head behind them; “the ladder thing, at least not by yourself?” And Eddie’s eyes are so, so big again. “Like, pretty please, don’t do that again?”

“I won’t,” Steve swears it, and kisses him firm to seal the promise: “thanks for coming to the rescue.” Because there was a three percent chance Steve was going to wipe the fuck out from very very high, and he’s have survived it, but he’s not twenty anymore, and it would have fucking sucked, probably for a while.

“Always, baby,” Eddie murmurs, still tight against Steve lips before he straightens a little, and this time he’s framing Steve’s face, but more holding him still in place, emphatic:

“Actually, amendment,” he says seriously, eyes darting between Steve’s a tiny-touch frantic: “next time you need to be on a ladder, you call me first,” he damn-well declares it, rather than asks; “so I can hold it steady.”

“My hero,” Steve breathes against him with a smile, and there’s not even a hint of teasing in it.

“I don’t trust any other hands to catch you, baby,” Eddie tells him, a little too raw; full sincerity bleeding from him all the sudden as he caresses down the cheeks he’s still cupping: “no one else in the whole wide world appreciates what you’re worth.”

“And what’s that, exactly,” Steve scoffs a little, playful where he’s held in Eddie’s arms but Eddie: Eddie’s holding him tight, now, and his heartbeat’s heavy where he’s moving to crush Steve to his chest, and there’s a little wavering pitch of something in his voice when he whispers:

“The whole wide world,” and oh.

That’s the answer.

It’s Steve’s answer, too, to the same exact question, but hearing it said so plain never stops feeling like the ending and remaking of the whole wide world, every time.

So yeah, Steve has to take a minute to swallow through the tightness in his throat, and maybe he does that with his forehead bowed against his husbands so they breathe each other in as a rule just in the course of living in the moment, together—and when the straighten up Steve steals a kiss first, quick but hard, with feeling, before he cracks his neck and sighs, taking in the scene that’s settled around them.

“Help me try and figure this out to hang?” Steve kicks at the tarp-tapestry, and Eddie walks its perimeter critically before frowning up at Steve.

“Think it needs some touch ups,” he pronounces solemnly, and fuck, yeah, all the color-dust from the useless staple-holes and the falling. But his husband’s actually really good with details, and matching colors, and using a brush, and fantasy settings—

“Paint’s in the back,” he says with a lilt of suggestion and Eddie lights up and grabs Steve’s hand to drag him toward the promise of painting, like maybe all he needed really was just…this.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #established relationship #established steddie #rockstar eddie munson #teacher steve harrington #domestic fluff #or rather more: domestic LOVE #idiots in love #slice of life #rockstar husbands #steve really needs to have someone spot him on a ladder when he's roped into helping with the school musical okay? #he's fine this time but eddie cannot take that kind of stress that is the LOVE OF HIS WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE #criminal levels of softness #steddielovemonth #love is showing up when someone doesn’t ask ❤️ #these two boys have probably been together around a decade at this point and it FUCKING SHOWS #old married couple!steddie #stranger things

[sugolara]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

Feat. Katsuki Bakugo x Shoto Todoroki x Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader

A series. Book One

cw: gore, quirkless! au, apocalypse! au, zombie! au, weapons, death, angst, lots and lots of blood, cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, updates thursday/sunday, slow burn, cross-posted on ao3, wattpad, qoutev

˗ˏˋ+ ´ˎ˗ After a deadly virus leaks all over the world, every country is forced to close down it's borders and airports to prevent anyone from coming in and out. Though, it's to late for some people. The dead has rose and is looking for revenge.

Inspired by, ''The Walking Dead''

(ongoing)

playlist!

" Space Junk - Wang Chung " Wolf - First Aid Kit " Into The Black - Chromatics " My Life In Rewind - Eagulls " Hush - Trills " Bad Before Good - Dayone " Run Boy Run - Woodkid " You're So Cool - Jonathan Bree " So Bored - Gorgeous Bully " Operations - Duster " Blue Light - Mazzy Star " Civilian - Wye Oak " Can't Stop - Red Hot Chili Peppers " Sweet Child O' Mine - Guns N' Roses " Skyfall - Adele " Struggling Man - Emily Kinney (original: Jimmy Cliff) " The Last Pale Light In The West - Ben Nichols " Up The Wolves - The Mountain Goats " Blackbird Song - Lee DeWyze " Be Gone Dull Cage - Kiev " Into Dust - Mazzy Star " Warm Shadow - Fink " Tomorrow Is a Long Time - Bob Dylan " Poison Tree - Grouper " Rhymes Of An Hour - Mazzy Star " You Are The Wilderness - Voxhaul Broadcast " Running - Delta Spirit " People, Turn around - Delta Spirit " The Lion's Roar - First Aid Kit " Pain - Boy Harsher " The Setup - Favored Nations " The Old Death - Ben Nichols " Revolution - Red Shahan " The Man Who Sold The World - Nirvana " Beautiful Mess - Balian " The Day The World Went Away - Nine Inch Nails " Mr. Splitfoot - Paris Motel " Empty Words - Bowery Electric " No Longer Making Time - Slowdive " Step Away from the Cliff - Blue-Eyed Son " Paradise - Silverberg " Take Care (To Comb Your Hair) - Ty Segall " Glad I Had a Friend - Galt MacDermot " Machine Gun - Portishead " Shadows of Planes - Duster " No Peace at All - Aldous Harding " Save Us from Ourselves - Digital Daggers " I'm No Heroine - Emily Wells " Salt in the Wound - Delta Spirit " It's All Right - Sam Cooke " To Build a Home - The Cinematic Orchestra " 6 Underground - Sneaker Pimps " Edge Of The World - Dayshell " Bye Bye Bye - School of Seven Bells " Arsonist Lullaby - Hozier " It's All Over - Johnny Cash " The Stars Just Blink For Us - Say Hi " Love Will Tear Us Apart - Joy Division " Knockin' On Heaven's Door - Guns N' Roses " Runnin' Down a Dream - Tom Petty " Fly Like An Eagle - Steve Miller Band " You Are Not Alone - Mavis Staples " Welcome - Harmonia & Eno ‘76’ " Hope We Can Again - Nine Inch Nails " outside - Oneheart " sleepless - Odyzon " Alesund - Sun Kil Moon " Comfortably Numb - Pink Floyd " Don Abandons Alice - John Murphy " Wicked Game - Chris Isaak " Rule of Rose OST - Playing Airship " 1908 - Repulsive " I Shall Cross This River - The Black Atlantic " Easy Way Out - Low Roar

table of contents:

Season 1: Episode 1: Begin Episode 2: Not alone Episode 3: Gone but not forgotten Episode 4: You belong in this world Episode 5: Because all life is precious Episode 6: Musutafu, we'll meet again Episode 7: Izuku: I'd always thought there be more time

Season 2: Episode 8: During these two weeks Episode 9: Diopside, like your eyes Episode 10: For the first time in a long time Episode 11: Almost complete Episode 12: Determined to survive, stay alive Episode 13: Fear Episode 14: Katsuki: You are going to beat this world

Season 3: Episode 15: Away with you Episode 16: Three months ago Episode 17: Slowly withering away Episode 18: Don't die, not yet Episode 19: How long before I’m alone Episode 20: Nothing else to lose Episode 21: Shoto: Everything you would be will be gone

Season 4: Episode 22: Trouble Episode 23: For however long that'll be Episode 24: Searching Episode 25: The fallen city Episode 26: Stay who you are Episode 27: All together Episode 28: F/n: With you beside me

Season 5: Episode 29: Here Episode 30: Cruel Episode 31: Too loud Episode 32: Back on road Episode 33: All is lost Episode 34: Safe in your arms Episode 35: And so it begins Episode 36: At stake Episode 37: Sorry or whatever Episode 38: Familiar eyes

Season 6: Episode 39: A relief Episode 40: Upcoming trouble Episode 41: Never to easy Episode 42: To good for death Episode 43: Old memories Episode 44: A stroke of luck Episode 45: Be aware Episode 46: Bait Episode 47: A thump in my heart Episode 48: Belong to me Episode 49: One step closer (Towards you)

Season 7: Episode 50: Sorston Episode 51: Tenderness Episode 52: Here to stay Episode 53: The start Episode 54: Crushed Episode 55: Reporting to duty Episode 56: Good morning and goodbye Episode 57: An end to sorrow, grief & regret Episode 58: On the move Episode 59: Confirmation Episode 60: The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

Season 8: Episode 61: Not who you were Episode 62: Just you and me

to be continued...

Book two: To The One You Left Behind

taglist: @mikeyswifie @k0z3me @sky-angel101 @stevenknightmarc @nahwajinswhore @mn-0p @a-helen113 @azrral @mary-jinx @chixkadee @flowers-4-you

#bnha shoto x reader #bnha tomura #bnha deku #bnha midoriya #bnha dabi #bnha class 1a #mha shouto x reader #mha denki #mha ochaco #mha bakugou #mha #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugo katuski #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x y/n #mha izuku #izuku midoria x reader #izuku x y/n #izuku x reader #mha midoriya #izuku midoriya #midoriya x y/n #shoto todoroki #shoto x you #todoroki shoto x reader #sugolara! #welcome to the new world

[thisreadswhatever]

Anything For The Club: Part One

series masterlist

[description]: jax teller x female reader, reader x oc characters

[wordcount]: 1.8k+

[summary]: Being Jax's old lady definitely has it's perks, but when a new crew comes into Diosa, your loyalty to the club and Jax is pushed to limits you didn't think possible.

[series cw]: 18+ minors do not interact! female reader, swearing, sexual harassment/assault (non-canon characters), alcohol use, mix of fluff, smut and angst throughout, p in v sex, teasing, violence, gun use, mentions of blood, murder, blackmail

[authors note]: no smut in this part, but it's on the way! this fic has been a long time coming, after i finally found the courage to take on this request! (thank you again!) i had to get creative with coming up with a fictional gang.. this was not my strongest point but i'm pretty happy with how it turned out. i'm planning on getting these parts rolled out pretty quick as i've got majority of this fic complete. let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. i really hope you all enjoy this one, as i'm enjoying writing it! :)

Friday nights were always packed at Diosa since you had started managing the place, and tonight was no different. You walked confidently up the long hall from your office, into the buzzing lobby full of your girls flirting with the clientele, music blaring and drinks flowing. 

You had really made a turn of the place since taking over the business alongside Nero, Jax gifted you his share after you’d given up your previous job for the club. You both had agreed you’d stop working in the escort industry, and although the money you made was a huge loss to your lifestyle, you were willing to do it to be his old lady.

You used everything you had learned from your old life to create an enhanced version of Diosa, one that was inclusive and prioritised the women you hired, as a result it was utterly thriving. The Club was grateful for it too, they spent countless hours swooning over the amazing girls you hired, who were only the best of the best. You were a staple within the SAMCRO Charter after the years you and Jax had been together. You were known as the main handler of all things outside club business. The men of the Club respected you, the girls of Diosa wanted to be you, and in all honesty you had never been happier. 

The only thing different about tonight was that the Club wasn’t here. Jax and the guys were finishing a run down south near the border, and although you never asked for details, you knew the fact the entire crew had to be there meant it was a big one. 

The men who frequented Diosa knew not to step out of line as they feared the consequences that could follow with it being a known SAMCRO hot spot. When the Club’s presence wasn’t intimidating the clientele, you found the likes of all types walking through your doors, from in and outside of Charming. This never did concern you, knowing you could handle yourself and almost anything you couldn’t was easily taken care of with the backing of the Club behind you.

You helped the girls on the bar with the demand, assisting pouring drinks and taking cash. The reason your girls worked here and nowhere else was because you treated them like humans, and they loved you for it. You demanded they have respect from the clients, and their thanks to you was the huge profit they made. 

You walked from one end of the lobby to the other, helping the bar staff and listening in on your girls' conversations with their clients. A group of men you hadn’t seen before caught your attention as they walked through the entrance. They were six tall and pretty handsome guys, though they seemed a little rough around the edges. They were suited in leather and denim, their patches reading “VAGOS”. You’d heard the name from conversations with Jax and your time with the Club, but had never seen them in Charming before. They were known for dealing with the cartels further south of California. Not the exact kind of people you wanted in Diosa without The Club around, but you weren’t about to turn away the potential cash they had to spend. 

Nero leaned over the bar, speaking to you as he eyed the men up. “Maybe we should call The Club.” 

You shook your head at him as you continued to pour drinks, “No no, don’t bother The Club. Nothing we can’t handle.” 

You strutted over to the group, a tray of drinks in hand, smiling politely. “Welcome to Diosa. The girls are just this way, treat them right and they’ll do the same.” You gestured towards the available rooms. The tallest member of the group smiled back at you, “We appreciate your hospitality.” You noticed the patch on his front stating ‘PRESIDENT’. The men nodded thankfully, and took the drinks from your tray as they dispersed into the lobby. The pack’s leader stayed behind, lingering at the bar.  

You walked back to Nero, who was now at the front desk watching the exchange. “They won’t be any trouble.”, you assured him.

Nero laughed softly, “you do have a way with men, chica. But these guys are from way south, they ain’t no joke.” 

“They don’t look so big and bad to me”, you shrugged.

“Just keep a close eye on them, any funny business and they’re out of here.” 

“You know I don’t put up with bullshit, Nero.” You smiled at him reassuringly, as you turned on your heels, heading back towards the bar. 

The President was still there, drinking a straight whiskey from a short glass, watching the girls around the lobby do their thing. On occasion his eyes would meet yours, and you could sense the meaning behind them when he held your stare. 

You and Jax had agreed you wouldn’t get involved with the clientele, not only for Jax but because you were done with that life. You were happy to flirt and tease the clients, but it never went further than that, and it definitely wasn't a good idea to get involved with the President of another gang.

You continued to work throughout the night, kicking out belligerent drunks and handling business as usual. You were headed back behind the bar when the leader interrupted you, “you’re Teller's old lady, ain’t that right?” He seemed curious in tone, and despite the fuck-me-eyes, you didn’t get the sense that this guy was at all threatening. 

“That's me. Seen any girls you like?” 

"I sure have." His eyes scrolled up and down your body as he spoke.

You shook your head at him. "I just run this place. But if you follow me, I can get you a room with our finest girl."

He ignored your offer, “what’s a fine woman like you doing with a guy like that? You could get any man in California and instead you’re with a SON?” 

You looked at him warily, unimpressed by his blatant disrespect towards Jax. You were used to the harmless flirting and banter from your clientele, but this guy was just rude. 

“Is there something wrong with Presidents of Motorcycle Clubs?”, sarcasm plaguing your tone.

He raised his eyebrows chuckling, “and where is the Pres? I don’t see him here..”, he looked around the lobby, searching for someone he knew he wouldn’t find. “How about you come sit on me instead.” 

You scoffed at his advance, turning toward one of your staff before you left the bar. “Could you get this President another drink, Mandy?”

Mandy was the hardest working girl on your staff. She was utterly gorgeous with long flowing black hair and a smile all the men swooned for. She had stepped back from working in the rooms to your dismay, but she was too good to let go. As a result she ended up in charge of the bar, handling takings and stock, and she really enjoyed it. You both had known each other long before Diosa, and you knew she could handle him.

Mandy answered you with a grin and nodded to the man, “what can I get for you?”

He smiled back at her and asked for another whiskey, watching you storm off towards your office. He seemed generally harmless even if he was rude as hell, but there was something about him made your skin crawl. 

Your cell phone started to ring in your back pocket as you moved down the hallway. The feeling of unease disappeared as soon as you heard his voice on the other end of the line. 

“How’s my girl?” 

You slumped into your office chair, calm instantly. “Missing you.” 

“Me too, darlin’. We thought we’d be heading back by now but there’s been more heat than we expected.”

“When will you be home?” 

“Looking like tomorrow now. Really sorry, babe. How’s Diosa?”

You felt there was no point in giving him details about the gang members in the lobby, it would just be another thing for him to worry about. 

“Busy as usual” you beamed. “I’ll be counting down the hours till you're back.”

“I’ll be there before you know it. Get home safe, okay?” 

“You too. Love you.”

“Love you more, babe.” 

You put your phone in your back pocket and headed out of the office, bracing yourself for the next annoying thing the drunk President at your bar had to say. As you walked through the long hallway back to the lobby, you could see him standing in the entry way. There was no way you could avoid him as he was totally blocking your exit. 

“You lost? The girls are this way.” You pointed towards the lobby, hoping he’d follow. Instead, he moved inward, eliminating the space between you both.

“Actually I was looking for you, sweetheart.” He placed his hand along the back of your thigh, trying to bring you closer.

You pulled back from him, removing his hand sharply. “We have plenty of girls who will interest you. I’ll show you the way.” You tried to squeeze past him, looking for an escape.

He put his arm across your chest, placing his hand on the wall, making it impossible for you to move. He was looking down at you, his eyes dark and cloudy from the whiskey. The feeling that this man wasn’t a threat to you now waivered. This wasn’t a guy you wanted to be alone with.  

“My interest has already peaked, little lady.” 

You pushed his arm off your chest, snapping back at him, “I said I’m not available."

He leaned further into you, whispering in your ear, "I know old lady's like you can keep a secret, sweetheart. Nobody's gotta know."

You pushed with all your weight against his chest, and with the help of the several whiskey's he'd had, you managed to knock him unstable, and he fumbled into the wall. "I said no. Now you and your guys need to get out of here.” 

He stood himself up straight, scoffing in disgust. “So much for hospitality. You ain’t nothing special anyway.”

He stomped off into the lobby as he called out to the other members. “Let’s go. We’re leaving this shithole.” 

They quickly followed, a few of them protesting as they had to leave the ladies behind. The President looked over his shoulder at you as the members ran out the door, any kindness completely void in his eyes. He slammed the entrance door behind them, and they were gone. 

Nero looked over to you from the front desk as he watched you at the bar, pouring yourself a shot of bourbon. “What the fuck did I miss?”

You had taken two shots by the time you responded. “Just an unwanted advance and an extremely fragile ego.” You took another shot, ignoring the burning as the liquid made its way down your throat. “I’m fine.”  

“Knew those guys were assholes. You should head home, I’ll close up tonight.”

“You sure? I’m okay, honest. I can stay with you.”

He shook his head, “just get home and let me know when you’re back safe.” He took the bottle from you, placing it back behind the bar.

“Thanks, Nero. Really appreciate you.”

You knocked back your final shot before leaving Diosa for the night. 

———

part two

#jax teller #sons of anarchy #jax teller fiction #jax teller smut #sons of anarchy fic #jax teller imagine #charlie hunnam #sons of anarchy x reader #soa x reader #nero padilla x reader #soa #soa imagine

[sometimes-i-write-good]

Compromise

** Part Two of “Where I’m From” **

Top Gun: Maverick - Hangman x f!reader [no use of y/n]

2k || Jake never thought he would fall in love with the woman who cried on the first date he ever took her on, but here he was months later standing in her kitchen even more in love than ever.

===

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

CW: swearing, kissing, relationship insecurity, mentions of past relationships (neglect)

Author’s Note: I just love this version of soft jake so much. And yes, this completely self-indulgent I am not sorry || cross-posted on ao3

Part One

===

===

“I hate Valentine’s Day.”

Jake’s posture didn’t change as his statement filled your kitchen alongside the sizzle of uncooked batter hitting the pan. You wished you could say the same for yours. Smile slipping and shoulders slumping as you realized you had been getting your hopes up for someone like Jake, as chivalrous and kind as he had been these few months, to be as much of a hopeless romantic as you were. As if to accent your thoughts he added a damning, “It’s a consumer holiday.”

You swallowed a disappointed ‘oh.’ Then stepped around the breakfast counter into the kitchen to start setting the table. Jake gave the barest of a glance over his shoulder, but you made sure to turn your face away from him. Ever since the mess of a first date - or, rather, second date - where you broke down in tears at dinner, Jake had been the model of a perfect boyfriend. Sure he had an ego and would flirt with you at inappropriate times, but there was no denying that Jake was a gentleman at heart. He would bring flowers home just because. Every time the two of you went out he paid. Unless you put your foot down, then he would let you take the check. It opened the door to make that same joke about confidence being a good look on you.

A point you had begun to agree with. Having Jake Seresin in your life helped you grasp at the most basic staples in the concept of self-worth, particularly when it came down to relationships. Compromise did not mean turning a blind eye to your own wishes. Honest and open conversations were possible. Even more so, they were expected with Jake.

“I find it hard to believe,” Jake had said to you one night after a long day at work where the only time the two of you really had to talk was his impromptu sleepover. “That a woman like you spent so much time in a relationship and didn’t once stand her ground.” It wasn’t supposed to come off as rude as it had. That was just Jake. Blunt, coarse, and completely well-intentioned. That latter point was what you’d chosen to focus on.

“I don’t know what it is,” you had responded, tucking yourself in between his arms as far as you possibly could. “When I get into a relationship, I forget that I can be my own person. I try too hard to be the perfect partner. Like I’m only allowed to be an extension of whoever I’m dating.”

Jake had merely brought a hand up to trace your face with his fingertips and said, “I love you, but I would rather break up with you than ever let you feel as though you were nothing more than an extension of me.”

And that’s how Jake Seresin first told you that he loved you. In the late hours of a night where, just a few hours before he’d shown up, you had been crying over not knowing why someone would date you in the first place. Feelings of doubt and inferiority clawing at your skin, desperately trying to find a way to burrow in deep. How could someone who had been proven to be unloveable time and time again suddenly get so lucky? Of course, you didn’t miss the way Jake had used the words ‘break up,’ but the fact was that you hadn’t gone into a spiraling mess of negative thoughts. Instead, you let yourself cling to the knowledge that you were loved by someone you felt truly inclined to believe for the first time in your life.

A love that could last you through a lifetime of pancake breakfasts, you thought as you reached up in the cabinets to start pulling down plates, but your mind still lingered in the after hours of that first ‘I love you.’ The only thing that brought you back to reality was Jake sliding up behind you, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other reaching out to grab the plates you were fumbling with.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” He asked.

A dismissive hum escaped you. Force of habit. Hey, do you mind if I skip this intensive dinner you made to hang out with the guys? Hum. We can’t go out because work is so weird about us dating and without that paperwork from HR it’ll be hell to deal with. Hum. Thanks for giving me head, but I’m actually pretty tired now. I think I’ll just go to bed. Hum. Easier to avoid the conversation to confrontation pipeline. You had never been on the winning end of one in a relationship anyway. Jake had attempted to convince you otherwise but biting loneliness in comparison to a tenuous companionship felt like too much of a step in the wrong direction.

Jake said your name softly. Your eyes fluttered closed at the gentleness in his voice. “Hey,” he said, and you heard the clinking of plates being set on the counter next to you. “Talk to me.”

Arms opened; Jake used that to his advantage to swing you around to face him. You cracked an eye open. The hardest part about dating Jake was the talking. “Doll, if I did something, I want to know.”

Maybe because he always said shit like that. You felt the pressure of his thumb draw circles on your hip. This man had seen you naked. He had sat on the toilet while you took a bath just to talk. He’d mopped sweat from your brow and cleaned up puke when you had a stomach bug a few weeks ago. Yet nothing ever prepared you for the nervousness that kept creeping up during domestic moments like this where you were in his arms, and he stared down at you with the look of a lovesick puppy.

No one had ever looked at you like you were their entire world. You could feel the entire weight of it on your shoulders.

“Valentine’s Day.”

He quirked his head. “What about it?”

“I’ve never celebrated it before.”

Before you could turn your face away, Jake repositioned so that his forehead was pressed against yours and his fingers were massaging the skin on your waist. “Doll, look at me.” He waited for you to meet his eye then prompted, “And?”

“It’s stupid, never mind.”

“It’s never stupid if it means something to you, darlin’,” he said with that accent that made you weak in your knees. It was a good thing Jake was holding you up or you’d be nothing more than a puddle on the floor.

You bit down on your bottom lip. Embarrassment creeped up the back of your neck. “No one has ever done anything for me for Valentine’s Day.” You let out a sigh, but winced because it made you sound like more of a whiny high school girl. “I don’t know. I just thought - I’ve always wanted a cliche Valentine’s Day… gifts, chocolate, going out for dinner that’s way too expensive. With my other relationships there wasn’t much to celebrate… but with you, Jake, I want to.”

Jake smiled at you. That dazzling smile that made you nervous when you went out in public because it made you want to say something stupid.

“Okay,” he said then, at the confusion on your face, added, “We’ll go all out for Valentine’s Day this year.”

Guilt gnawed at your gut. He had sounded so adamant earlier in his dislike for the holiday. “But you said-”

He cut you off. “I say lots of stupid shit, doll. You really should know better than to listen to me by now.”

“I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to though, Jake.”

“I want to make you happy.” Jake leaned in to press a kiss to your lips. When he pulled away you asked, “Are you sure you’re okay with it?”

“Of course, I am. Where I’m from we go all out. Bigger the better in Texas.” You rolled your eyes at the cocky grin that settled onto his face. “It’s a compromise, darlin’. This year we go out and do every cliche imaginable. If it’s too much for me, I’ll say something. If it’s not what you imagined, you’ll say something. Then, next year, we can pick and choose whichever parts we liked and change what we don’t like. We’ll start a tradition that’s perfect for us. Sound good?”

You nod, matching his wide smile. “I would really appreciate that, Jake.”

“Plus, when would I pass up the opportunity to celebrate my girl?” He took a step back so your back pushed against the counter and he laid flush against you. “I like taking you. It gives me a chance to show everyone how much better I have it.”

You let out a laugh. “Jake!”

“I’m serious,” he said, kissing your cheek. Then trailed them across your jaw and down your neck. You weren’t paying attention too closely, too distracted by his tongue on your skin, but you could have sworn he ground gently into you. “I’ll celebrate you every day if you let, doll.”

You tilted your head to the side. Jake jumped at the chance to press more kisses to the exposed skin on your neck. “I love you,” you told him, your voice between a breathy mound and a dreamy sigh.

In shock Jake jerked away from you.

And that’s how you first told Jake Seresin you loved him. And the moment you realized the pancakes on the stove had burned to a crisp. Jake had too many stars in his eyes to pull the pan from the stove. Not that you minded. Cleaning up the mess was the least you could do after he went through all the trouble - no, not trouble. He cooked, you cleaned.

A compromise. The hallmark of a healthy relationship. Something you did for someone you loved, and you really loved Jake Seresin.

Bonus:

“What the hell are you doing?” You glanced over to the other end of the counter at Jake. It was taking longer than expected to scrape the burnt bits of batter from the pan, which should have given him plenty of time to make a new breakfast plan. Except for the fact that he looked elbow deep in a crime scene. “I’m making pancakes.” The batter in the glass bowl was a bright red. Alarmingly red, but Jake spoke as though you were supposed to know exactly what he was doing. “They’re going to be shaped like hearts.”

You shook your head at him, going back to scrubbing. “Try not to burn these ones then. That would be a bad omen.”

“Try not to distract me by being so damn beautiful.”

“Can’t promise anything.” You could feel his eyes on you.

“God,” he said, “You’re so fucking hot when you’re confident.”

You turned to look at him, catching his eye, and let a mimic of his smug smirk settle on your lips. “Focus on not burning my breakfast this time flyboy.”

He scoffed at the nickname but set his focus back on intensely stirring out the streaks of red dye in the batter. You didn’t even realize that you had food dye in your kitchen.

“Jake? You do realize Valentine’s Day is next week, right?”

“It’s not every day the love of your life tells you that they love you too. And if Valentine’s Day is celebrating your relationship, then every day is Valentine’s Day for me.”

“God, you’re so fucking hot when you use those cheesy lines like that on me.”

His eyes were on you again. Hotter this time. “Should we forget breakfast,” he asked. You slid your gaze back over to him. The pan splashed into the sink, splashing water up onto your his shirt.

“I have to go change this shirt,” you said in response.

Jake dropped the spoon. Globs of red batter splattered in all directions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were too busy racing him to the bedroom laughing in pure joy the entire way there.

===

taglist: @potato-girl99981 @milani-marie @gizmodear​ 

#Jake 'Hangman" Seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x you #Jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fic #hangman top gun #top gun x reader #top gun hangman #top gun imagine #jake seresin fluff #fluff #soft!jake seresin #top gun maverick fic #tgm fic #tg fic #domestic fluff #where i'm from

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemas challenge.

Let the Boy Be Merry

Prompt Day 5: Grinch vs. Holiday Cheer | Word Count: 3333 | Rating: M | CW: Language, Brief Talk of Kids (They Didn't Have) | Tags: Future Fic, Long-Term Relationship, Middle-Age Steddie, Christmas, He's a Grinch, But His Heart Grew Three Sizes That Day, Eddie POV

This one is also available right here on AO3.

"This is ridiculous!" Eddie screams as loud as he can, from the bottom of the ladder. Which is pretty loud. Eddie's not exactly known for his timid demeanor. Especially when he's offended, and this really offends him.

"Yes, Eddie, I heard you the first hundred times!" Steve screams back, from the top of the ladder. Stapling another string of lights to the house. 

He's been doing it for hours. Literal hours. It's cold, snow on the ground, and Eddie is fucking tired of holding the ladder, his fingers are frozen, even in his gloves. But he can't just walk off and let Steve fall to his death. 

"That's enough! You're gonna kill the power to the whole neighborhood!" Eddie yells, trying anything to get him off that fucking ladder.

Steve scoffs. Eddie hears him, even from all the way up there. 

"I'm not Clark Griswold!" Steve shouts back.

Eddie sighs. No, he's not. But that's what they are obviously using as an inspiration for this amount of lights. It's too much. A monstrosity, and they'll never be able to afford the electricity bill. They've been together for years, decades, and Steve still struggles with the idea that they have a budget. 

It drives Eddie insane. 

And about these lights? Eddie's done the math. This is going to cost thousands of dollars to run all month. Thousands of dollars. 

For Christmas lights.

Eddie doesn't approve of this, not at all. He's called Wayne to complain, several times, and Wayne just grunts, not as affronted as Eddie thought he'd be. Wayne understands not wasting electricity, he's the one that followed Eddie around the trailer turning off lights, even ones Eddie was sometimes still using.

"I hear you, Scrooge," Wayne had finally said, "but, can you afford it?"

Eddie had sighed, and muttered a begrudgingly quiet, "Yes."

"Then let the boy be merry," Wayne had drawled, and Eddie had wanted to pull his hair out. He could look even more like Wayne, if he did.

There's being merry, and there's…whatever Steve is, right now.

Eddie doesn't even like Christmas, so this is a hard time of the year in their house. Steve is always acting like they are in the middle of Rockefeller Center, all giant Christmas trees and ice skating rinks. And then there's Eddie, just sitting idly by, wishing for January. 

He doesn't want to drag a real tree into the house. They're a fire hazard. And Eddie doesn't want to traipse out to the tree farm, cut a damn tree down, and pick up pine needles for a month. No thanks.

So, Steve finally relented, and bought an artificial one. And then Eddie saw how much that motherfucker cost, and nearly had a goddamn stroke. It's a plastic tree. It should have been twenty dollars. 

He leans his forehead against the cold metal rung of the ladder.

He's trying. It's just hard. He does the bills. He's going to be the one that has to look at those insane numbers on the electricity bill next month just for running Christmas lights that they can't even see from inside the house, and cut a check. 

"Hey, Grinch ass, I need more staples!" Steve yells, and Eddie grumbles, but passes him up another box from the step. Steve puts them in the front pocket of his gray hooded sweatshirt after he's reloaded the staple gun.

"Hate, hate, hate. Double hate. LOATHE ENTIRELY!" Eddie shouts, quoting The Grinch back at him. If Steve wants to call him The Grinch, Eddie'll be the fucking Grinch. 

Steve's almost forty, and he's on a ladder like he's twenty. It's stupid. He's going to get hurt. 

And, do you know how much a trip to the ER costs? Eddie's pretty certain Steve doesn't.

"You're too old to be up on that ladder!" Eddie yells up at him, and Steve laughs. He laughs so hard he has to hold onto the ladder so he doesn't actually fall off of it.

"How old do you think I am, dickhead?" Steve finally asks, "I'm thirty-nine. Not ninety-three, last I checked. I can still climb a ladder."

And he can. Eddie knows that. Steve's still in shape. Still active. Steve goes to the high school gym here in town almost every weekend and plays in the old timers basketball league with other men his age, or even older. Some of them are much, much older and still running up and down the court. So, Eddie knows forty isn't old. Eddie's forty, and he can still climb a ladder. Well, he could if wanted to. He definitely doesn't want to. 

"You're in the senior basketball league!" Eddie yells back, just poking at him a little bit more, just because he can.

"You got me there," Steve just says, smiling. "Give me another string of lights. If you're not too old to bend over. You're older than me, in case you've forgotten."

Eddie grumbles, he hasn't forgotten, and hands Steve another strand of lights.

So, the lights go up, one strand at a time. With Steve getting down and moving the ladder as he needs to, and then all the other decorations go out with them. It's a nightmare. He had to watch Steve and Robin make decorations for weeks. Carrying in sack after sack from the craft store. 

They made giant lollipops to line the sidewalk out of foam discs that they covered in colorful cellophane. They look good, even Eddie can see that, but they were a waste of time and money, he's pretty certain.

And they're putting holes in the lawn.

Eddie tried to put his foot down when they came rolling old, used tires up towards the garage. They didn't listen to him, they never do, and he had to watch as they spray painted them green, and stacked them up in tiers until they had fake Christmas trees. 

What sucks, is Eddie just knows he's going to be the one trying to dispose of the tires after Christmas is over. 

It's overkill, all of it.

And now, with the lights, Eddie just has to act complacent as he's basically hearing the electric meter whirring 'round and 'round, spinning like a faulty compass, all month long. 

It's torture. Pure torture.

Christmas morning is the usual tug-of-war. Steve wants to get up at six, and Eddie wants to sleep in. They don't have kids. There's no godforsaken reason for them to get up before dawn. They don't even exchange gifts. That stopped long ago, after Steve slowly realized Eddie is bad at receiving gifts, and even worse at giving them. 

So, they've opted out. 

Robin always brings Steve something perfect that Eddie could never compete with, anyway. 

But Steve likes a big breakfast on Christmas morning, always has. It's too much food. He always tries to get Steve to cut back, but Steve doesn't listen. Steve always makes the full spread, and eventually Eddie will roll out of bed, getting a cup of coffee and eating a huge plate of food that Steve's made. Pancakes, eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, ham steak, biscuits and gravy, hash browns, all of it. It's good. It's always good.

Just too much food, more than they can eat.

Eddie's still shoveling it into his mouth when Steve pushes a box towards him.

"What's this? We don't do gifts," Eddie says around a mouthful of hashbrowns, slathered in ketchup.

"You don't do gifts," Steve corrects with a smile. "I do gifts just fine."

Steve's teasing, and Eddie softens, just a little. He's been a dickhead, all month. He's not sure why Steve puts up with him at all. They are polar opposites, sometimes. Eddie, still loud and brash, and a little rude, and those are all things Steve Harrington outgrew as a teenager.  

He's kind, and thoughtful. And yes, he's fucking merry.

"I don't have anything for you," Eddie says, and he's embarrassed for the first time in a long time. Ashamed.

"I know you don't," Steve says. "I want you to have this anyway."

Eddie nods as he pulls the corner of the tape loose, and slides his thumb under it. It's a small kraft paper box, and Eddie pops off the lid, not sure what to expect. 

A thick, silver band wasn't something that had crossed his mind.

He looks up, finding Steve's eyes, a question on the tip of his tongue.

And Steve grins, but he looks a little uneasy, finally saying, "If you wanna marry me, we could do that, now."

Wayne was right. Eddie's been a Scrooge. A dickhead, a fucking Grinch, all month, no, for years, and for some reason Steve still wants to marry him. He will never understand why, but you can't explain love, he supposes. 

He just looks at the ring, a little stunned.

"I know you've always said," Steve continues quietly, looking down at the table, just for a second, before he looks back at Eddie, "that it didn't matter. So, I know none of this matters to you. Christmas. Marriage. All the unnecessary stuff. The things that cost good money for no good reason. I know that. But if you want to, I want to."

And Steve's chin quivers, just a little, the only thing giving him away before the first tears fill his eyes, and then fall. It's comical, that first tear. It's big, and is immediately chased by a few others. Hitting Steve's chin, and then his shirt. If it wasn't so fucking sad, it'd be funny.

"Steve, Jesus H. Christ," Eddie says, "of course I want to marry you. Yes," he says, picking the ring up out of the box and sliding it on his finger. It fits, but he knew it would. Because Steve doesn't get these things wrong. Not ever. 

They've been together for years, nearly twenty of them, and somehow Steve is still unsure that Eddie's all in? That he might not want to marry him? That can't be possible. No, way. Eddie doesn't need to get married. Just like he doesn't need a whole month of Christmas, or to go to Pride, or celebrate Valentine's Day. He isn't built that way. As Wayne would say, it isn't in his nature.

But somehow, somewhere along the way, he decided that what he thought was more important than the fact that all those things are important to Steve. 

It stuns him, suddenly. That this is still the case. He thought he'd grown up into a responsible adult. But, in some ways, he must still be that high school kid that was too good to go watch his friend play basketball. The one that'd rather Lucas just miss out on the end of the Hellfire campaign, than move it back a day or two.

Eddie scrubs his hand over his face.

He's really fucked this up, he realizes. For a long, long time. He'll do better, he will. 

Eddie gets out of his chair, squatting next to Steve's chair and both of his knees pop and crack. It's funny, Steve laughs, and Eddie does, too. 

"Don't say a word," Eddie warns, teasing him. It's clearly his karma for saying Steve was old when they were hanging lights. Now, his goddamn body has betrayed him. He had it coming, he's pretty sure.

He puts his hands on Steve's thighs, squeezing.

"I want to marry you. Of course, I do. I'm sorry if you thought that maybe I didn't," Eddie says, and he is sorry. So sorry. "I love you. So much. More than anything."

Steve smiles, gripping both his shoulders, "I wasn't questioning if you love me, Eddie. I know you love me. I was just unsure about the marriage part. I promise."

"I definitely want to marry you," Eddie says, and he means that. No, he wouldn't have thought about it on his own, probably, because he already feels married to Steve. He didn't need the damn government to finally catch up to make that true. But, yes, of course he wants to marry Steve, legally. He wants to be with him for twenty more years, and after that, forever.

As long as they've got.

"We can do something small. At the courthouse. In and out. Twenty minutes and twenty dollars," Steve promises.

Eddie shakes his head, he's not going to micromanage the cost of this thing Steve wants to do. Not this time, "We'll have the wedding you want, sweetheart. Even if it costs fifty dollars."

He's teasing, and Steve knows that, and Steve laughs as he's leaning down to kiss him. Eddie leans up to meet him, halfway this time. He's going to do that more often, try to meet him in the middle.

Later in the day, Steve is standing by the coat rack, and he says, "I'm gonna take the lights down, before it gets dark."

It's not an unusual statement. It's the compromise they've made over the years. The lights can go up, but as soon as Christmas morning is over, they gotta come down. It's ridiculous, and Eddie feels ashamed. What's a few more days? Honestly.

Eddie shakes his head, "No. Let's leave them up until after the new year."

And Steve smiles, big and bright.

That night, they stand on the curb, bundled up, watching the lights twinkle. Eddie can see the tree in the front window, and it's beautiful, too. Full, and decorated. Not like the sad, little tree he grew up with. It was probably worth the money Steve spent on it, he realizes. It looks real, especially from here.

And he's walked past it a thousand times in the house, never even really looking at it. Not seeing it. Not experiencing this beautiful thing Steve put in their house.

Steve has put a lot of beauty in Eddie's world, and Eddie regrets that he didn't take the time to notice it.

Back inside, Steve brings him a mug of hot chocolate, and it's in the silly Christmas Vacation moose mugs Steve bought a couple years ago, the ones that Eddie didn't think they needed. They have plenty of mugs, but these made Steve smile, so they bought them even after Eddie's protests. Tonight, he takes a hold of the antlers, with thanks.

They make him smile now, too. Because Steve is smiling.

That night, Eddie lays in bed, taking inventory of all the things he's given Steve grief about over the last twenty years. It's a long list, he realizes. Sure, Steve holds his own. Doesn't let Eddie steamroll him, not easily, not at all. Steve hasn't been cowed, Eddie is sure of that. Steve just decided to pick his battles, and has let the rest just roll off his back. 

No Christmas presents? Sure, that's fine. No birthday cake unless he buys his own? That's fine, too. Steve always says he'll know best what kind of cake he's hungry for this year, anyway.

When Steve wanted another BMW, and Eddie said they couldn't afford one, Steve picked something else. Something cheaper. When the oven broke, Steve said he wanted double ovens, wanted the extra space, for when they had friends over. 

Eddie was on board until he saw the price of them, and then he balked. Not to mention the cost of having them installed, and Steve didn't press the issue. He just picked a new middle of the road, single oven, and went on with life. 

They could, though. They could have afforded it. The ovens, for sure. And probably even the BMW with a little creativity. Eddie's made sure they have money squirreled away. It's a response to his childhood, and he knows that. Steve never wanted for anything, and there were times, before Wayne, that Eddie wanted for everything.

Steve never seems to get his feathers ruffled by any of these slights, so Eddie has just kept running their finances exactly how he prefers. 

But they can't take it with them, and they don't have kids. 

And that suddenly knocks the wind out of Eddie.

Years ago, Steve floated the idea of a kid, of adopting, and Eddie hadn't entertained it as a real suggestion. They didn't need a kid. Couldn't afford one, anyway, and they were good, just the two of them.

He reaches over and shakes Steve awake.

Steve looks at him, half-asleep, "What? What's wrong?"

"Do you want to have a baby?" Eddie asks, slightly unhinged.

"No," Steve says, like Eddie's an idiot, "but we could practice trying to make one, if you want," Steve adds, reaching out, and patting Eddie on the thigh. 

It makes Eddie laugh. 

"Yeah, some practice sounds good," Eddie says.

And Steve rolls over on top of him, and Eddie forgets, just for a second, why he was worried in the first place. They're happy. He knows that, believes it. Even if they aren't always on exactly the same page.

Eddie will try to be on the same page more often. Even if it's in a book that he's unfamiliar with.

He's pretty sure Steve's too sleepy to follow through, but it's nice to feel the familiar weight of him covering his body, and Eddie just rubs Steve's bare back in soft, delicate strokes until Steve has fallen back asleep.

And Eddie is a man of his word, even if the only person he promised change to was himself. So, he does try. When Valentine's Day rolls around, Eddie brings home roses. And chocolates. And a teddy bear. It's a little bit much, but Steve laughs, and accepts it all. Giving Eddie a kiss, and nothing else, and that's more than fine with Eddie.

He's the one in the hole, here. The ledger is majorly off-balance, and that just won't do. He needs to settle up his debts.

For Pride, Eddie puts on rainbow-colored clothing of Robin's choosing, and follows Steve and Robin to the parade. He walks right beside them, his head held high. Happy, because they're happy.

When Steve comes home on his birthday, the living room is filled with black helium balloons, because while Eddie might be getting on board, it's still Steve's fortieth, and he's not about to miss this opportunity. No way in hell. There's a cake on the counter, shaped like a headstone. Eddie ordered it weeks ago. From an actual bakery, and paid for it, without complaining about the cost. Well, at least not out loud. He's complained in his head aplenty.

Steve has a grocery store cake in his hands. He hasn't realized yet that that's not gonna be necessary anymore. That's okay, Eddie will keep this up until Steve forgets there was ever a time he was responsible for buying his own birthday cake.

And when Christmas rolls around again, Eddie is up on a second ladder, hanging lights next to his husband. He's pretty sure they'll put up more than last year. He helped draft the design, drawing it on a piece of printer paper, in full color.

Steve framed it. Like it was art. Like it was important.

Maybe it is. 

Eddie's done trying to tell Steve what's important. He's going to let Steve tell him for a while.

Eddie gets down to get another string of lights, and he did replace the old incandescent C9's with LED Christmas lights, in the same style. Because they use eighty percent less electricity, which is exactly what Eddie, the old Grinch that he is, likes to hear.

Just because his heart grew three sizes that day, doesn't mean he's stopped looking at the electricity bill. He's not crazy.

Sure, the new lights cost more up front, but he's learned his lesson, and just opened his wallet and pulled out his credit card, keeping his mouth shut. They'll save money in the long run, and they'll make Steve happy. That's a win-win.

And really, that's all Eddie's ever wanted. To make Steve happy. He just got a little lost along the way.

Money is important, sure.

But Steve, definitely, means a little bit more.

Notes: I cried while writing this. I cried a little more while editing this. I don't know. Don't look at me like that. It is what it is, and sometimes life pairs you up with someone that doesn't exactly speak your love language. And you still love them anyway.

Several people have done the math on Clark Griswold's lights, and while none of them have the same end figure, it seems, at a minimum, he spent about $3700 to run his lights during the month of December.

And does that header image not look like it could actually be an older Steve Harrington, or what? I don't know if it's the jeans, or the watch, but as soon as I saw it, I was like, yep, that's the one for this day. (Credit: It's an Adobe stock image.)

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along! 🎄

#steddiemas #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things fic #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddiemas #steddie christmas fic #grinch vs holiday cheer

[incarnateirony]

Thanks for the reply.What do you think are the reasons they don't want to work with Padalecki?Has he probably proven himself to be unreliable ?

I mean, I've known for a long time that Jared did not have a good reputation in media. It wasn't unusual to find crew members implicitly bitching about him on reddit, only for other people who work in media to read between the lines and be like a jeopardy game or google suggestion "did you mean jared padalecki? yeah I worked with him and-"

He delays productions, damages equipment; in the post-metoo world he's a sexual harassment liability with his "jokes". Those, accompanied by his mediocre "talent", already made him a middle aged CW washout unto itself.

But throwing unprofessional public tantrums seemed to be the last straw. Fans can pretend it's something they can spin and argue about, but the media world does not fucking care what ignorant idiots think.

They care about not getting sexually harassed, not damaging equipment, not stalling productions, and definitely not being hung out in a public twitter shitshow over fans used as blackmail leverage to force directing calls before going "LOL I WAS KIDDING GUYS". Nobody wants someone that's gonna flip and attack their brand just because they weren't given special privileges anyone in the professional world understands that he was simply not due, especially at that point in development.

Fans spinning it is just fans spinning it to console themselves. It does not influence the way properties view the liability for the cost. They can get another mediocre white man for cheaper that WON'T fuck up their set and DOESN'T come with 2 decades of baggage.

Add in his public demo shift into MAGA land with Tulsi, Rogan, gun manufacturers, anti vaxxer pals, covid shutdowns and the rest, and it's a big neon sign stapled on his head of "DNI unless you're trying to sell trump stickers and hocus pocus magic mineral water cures."

[actually-correct-drawfee]

Actually correct Drawfee quotes because these morons (affectionate) are a major staple in my life. This is the post so you can search for certain speakers, if you want. Godspeed.

@drawfee  

Also tagging @dilfosaur , @julialepetit , and @nyaffe cuz I would DIE FOR THEM. Karina my celebrity squish UwU /hj

Links, info about submissions, tagging, tags to block, surveys, etc below!

The Fun Things

Blog Specific Tags

Survey

Survey Pt2: Yearbook Edition

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Requests and Submissions

Please make sure to include the episode name (or just 'stream' if it was in a stream)

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I will automatically tag you, so if you DON'T want that, please either say so in the ask, or you can use '🚫' or '[no]' (in brackets) if you hit the character limit

Go nuts! Thanks :)

Also: tag me in your Drawfee fanart! I love showing folks art off and talking about it!

Formatting!

As long as Tumblr doesn't mess with anything, formatting should be as follows:

Quote in large text (separated with quotation marks if there's multiple speakers), episode name/stream in small text, and speakers in order in the tags.

Tags for triggers:

I typically tag like this:

[thing] tw, [thing] cw, // [thing], [thing] ment

I'll put a list of things I tag below! Please note there might be touchy topics! If you don't see it on the list, shoot me a message or an ask! Currently I'm tagging:

[religion, bug, spider, blood, god, gun, weapon, vomit]

I'm also tagging mildly NSFW things (AKA sex mentions and stuff) as

•drawfee gets spicy•

to make sure to keep it avoidable while also not getting nuked by Tumblr :)

Also! Header image is Karina's from the "Drawing in Shades of Red" video, the Drawfee mug logo for the PFP and the icon in the dividers doesn't belong to me (though I did make the dividers), and these quotes can all be found on the Drawfee YouTube channel! Feel free to shoot me an ask or message if you see any errors (typos, episode mistakes, speaker mistakes, etc), it's much appreciated!

#•karina• #•jacob• #•nathan• #•julia• #karina drawfee #jacob drawfee #nathan drawfee #julia drawfee #drawfee #drawfee ooc #•guest• #•willie• #•tristan• #•caldwell• #•david• #•classic• #•spencer•

[theartistknownaslymond]

Whumptober 2022 day 4

Dead on your feet: Hidden injury | Waking up disoriented | Can't pass out

Content: mainly just Francis having a horrible migraine, while suffering the effects of diazepam addiction. No one getting stabbed or anything! Just. Bad migraine. Bad substances. And important stuff to do. Oh ig CW Graham Reid Malett, unfortunately he is There Again.

---

For the audience, what was at stake was a grand cash prize; for Francis Crawford it was art, freedom, life itself. If he didn't win this contest, his son would never be returned to him, lives would be split apart and hopes shattered, and he would be locked out of any act of creation that didn't directly profit Graham Reid Malett.

It was, all being said, not the ideal time for a migraine to strike. 

He waited backstage in the darkness behind the thick, velvet curtains of the stage at the Topkapi Casino. He had no qualms about using meditative techniques the Rajneeshees had taught him back at the studio in London as he tried to imagine that he was separate from his body, from his surroundings - nothing but a pair of hands waiting to pick up an instrument, and a heart to set the audience alight.

Beyond him, on stage, Jerott was holding his own just as Marthe and Philippa had done before him. Although Marthe had fought to be the one to play opposite her old teacher, Francis had insisted, much to her fury, that Jerott would be the one to outplay Georges Gaultier. Gaultier was a fussy, classical player, and Marthe had mastered all he could teach her - she could match him note for note, arpeggio for arpeggio - but even with the extra years of practice she had on Jerott, Marthe had never had the opportunity to cultivate her own style much beyond her teacher's.

She would have done fine, in all likelihood, but out there, past the ringing in Francis' ears, he knew Jerott was doing more than fine - he'd soon grown bored of Gaultier's staid choices of Flamenco staples and had let his own influences leak in. The innovations George Harrison had borrowed from Indian culture were reclaimed, foregrounded and blended with Django Reinhardt's louche, jazzy beats; the precision of Davy Graham's Andalusian-inspired picking collided with cocky, raï-infused syncopation.

Francis managed to smile wanly despite the weakness in his legs, the cold sweat springing to his skin. He could hear the frustration building in Gaultier's dry, heavy finger-work - he fumbled more notes as the audience talked over him and began to heckle, and when Jerott's guitar cut in again the listeners screamed and cheered. The sound was like a bolt gun to the base of Francis' skull, but it meant that soon he would be the one to take the stage - Gaultier was finished.

Archie - ever observant, ever vigilant, always managing to be where he was needed most - handed Francis a pair of sunglasses as he stood at the edge of the stage, his eyes closed, his pulse speeding, his stomach empty and volatile.

He felt the plastic frames between his trembling fingers and tried to get enough air in his lungs to counteract the growing feeling of nausea.

"Maestro, did ye take a dose...?" Archie asked softly. Even so, gentle as he made his voice, his gravelly accent was like needles in Francis' gums, like a vice tightening on top of his spine.

"Yes," he said hoarsely. "I've had enough." The diazepam didn't do anything for the migraines - in fact he'd been on it for long enough that it just added to the fuzzy, unbalanced feeling he had anyway - but without it he would be a wreck, unable even to hold his guitar.

"And ye can play?" Archie asked, as the audience in the vast arena erupted to confirm Jerott's victory.

Francis grimaced and forced the sunglasses on, though he kept his eyes closed as he did, and struggled to settle the frames over his ears with the interference of his violently shaking hands. He swallowed, but his throat remained dry. "I must play, Archie," he murmured.

Behind the shades, he cracked his eyes open and even his teeth seemed to ache at what he could see of the stage lights. He grunted and winced and turned his face towards Archie, his eyelids shut tight again behind the tinted lenses.

"Archie."

"Maestro?"

"A red light on Reid Malett. Blue on me. Nothing more, you hear?"

"Aye, Maestro. I'll speak wi' the technicians."

Even with his eyes closed, even with the relentless howling agony in his head, Francis knew that Jerott had stepped off stage and come to stand by him. His breathing was heavy - self-satisfied, scented with bourbon and tar-rich cigarette smoke - but the hand on Francis' arm, though sweaty, was kind. "You're up."

"I know," Francis pushed his body away from the scaffold he'd been propped up against. Belatedly, he added, "You did well, Jerott. At least the audience is on our side."

Jerott didn't acknowledge the praise directly, but his next words were squeezed by some new emotion: "Francis - are you sure about this?"

Francis sighed. He didn't have the energy to shrug Jerott's hand off him or to explain why this was the only option. Out on stage, the compere seemed to shriek into his microphone, and the record agent Kiaya Çalışkan giggled into her own mic - the sound felt to Francis much like he imagined it would feel to have sand rubbed into his eyeballs.

"He's better than you think on the electric..." Jerott persisted. "But you'd have no problem with this."

With the hand that wasn't on Francis' arm, Jerott was offering the acoustic guitar he'd played. Francis squinted at it, shook his head - once, slowly, feeling the pain behind his eyes turn to a swirl of colours as he did. He forced his clenched jaw apart and thanked Jerott in barely more than a whisper.

"But no - it must be the electric. We can't follow you with more of the same. It's a good instrument, and it's been set up well."

"He'll have - "

"He might have tampered, yes. I can tune my own guitar, Jerott," Francis tried to smile and moved unsteadily past Jerott and his instrument. The stage was dark except for a white spot on the compere and on Kiaya, the competition's sponsor. Francis put Jerott and his worries from his mind, he put Archie and the request he'd made from his mind, and waited for Kiaya Çalışkan to mince off stage in her figure-hugging gold dress and towering stilettos. He focussed on his breathing and opened and closed his fists in time with it, imagining stillness in his fingers until he had willed something close to it into existence.

"Ladies and gentlemen..." the compare yelled.

Francis lowered his head and closed his eyes again, picturing the distance between him and the guitar, counting the necessary steps in his head.

"Without further ado - please welcome to the stage your headline combatants! A real Highland fling here for you tonight..."

Francis had stopped listening to the words. It was too much effort to push past the static of chimes and electric shrieks his mind was telling him his ears could hear. He waited only for the mechanical thunk of the spotlight going off and then he shuffled out onto the dark stage - one step, one breath, two, two, three, three...

"Watch out, buddy, are you drunk?" the compere brushed past him on his own way to the side of the stage, but Francis was nearly there now. He grasped the neck of his guitar as a man dying of thirst would reach for fresh water.

In the darkness across the stage, from behind the lenses of his sunglasses, Francis could just about make out the glittering points of his opponent's instrument - metal tuning pegs, bridge and pickup shining like his golden cufflinks and broad, white-toothed smile.

Francis shouldered his own guitar, unplugged it, and checked the tuning. It wasn't quite what he'd asked for, but he was glad he had that to concentrate on as the crowd roared and the lights went up.

Archie had done his job at least, and twilight blue light bathed Francis as he stood with head bowed, listening with all his might for the hushed, metallic twang of the strings. It was probably muscle memory as much as anything that did it then - knowing how tight the pegs should feel relative to the tension on the strings. It seemed close enough - and if he was off, he would hide it with some elaborate distortion and retune it as he played. An advantage of playing electric, he reflected.

Into the hot, heavy, not-quite-silence beyond the chaos in Francis' head, his enemy launched into a wild, virtuosic riff. At the end, he shook the reverb on it out, letting the sound fade away as the audience's cheers built.

"Are you ready, sweeting?" Graham Reid Malett called across the stage. He chopped out a couple of chords as punctuation, and Francis released a steadying breath through his nostrils. He nodded, settled his hands on his instrument, and played a modest response to Reid Malett's opening that was, at least, in tune.

Francis' opponent threw back his head and laughed. He let rip, and Francis' eyes followed his fingers, picking up what his ears wouldn't let him observe. It wasn't necessary to copy, just to show he was capable of doing the same - and more.

Reid Malett's left hand moved effortlessly up and down the neck of his instrument, his fingers dancing over frets as the digits of his right hand plucked and flicked at the strings. He was quick, but not quite quick enough to hide his workings from Francis.

And at least, come his turn, Francis could close his eyes, forget about the noise in his mind, and think only of the movements of his own hands, of the mechanical processes of wringing emotion from metal and plastic and wood. He could be alone with the guitar and his breathing, where a calmness, sweetened by just a touch of the adrenaline he felt when performing on stage, led him to the point of balance he needed. While he stood there, his body wracked by the year's struggles, practically dead on his feet, he could put himself inside the instrument, inside the music and the patterns of it, and let the colours of the migraine drop into the background as he imposed his own art over the top.

One solo down, he let himself peer across the stage at his opponent from narrowed eyes. He didn't hope for the satisfaction of seeing fear in Reid Malett's expression, but hoped, perhaps, to have rattled his confidence.

Instead, Graham Reid Malett smiled, his eyes mad beneath the filters of red light and dark shades. "I am glad, my pet, that we will have a real contest tonight...don't pass out, now..."

#whumptober2022 #whumptober #every day i write the book #character: francis crawford #character: jerott blyth #character: archie abernethy #character: georges gaultier #character: graham reid malett #character: kiaya khatun #band au: pawn in frankincense #setting: topkapi casino

[actualbird]

tot ao3 fic recs part 3: (currently) multichapter wips that have me at the edge of my seat

previous tot ao3 fic recs: part 1. part 2 (nsfw).

i was sposed to finish an update for my OWN tot multichapter wip tonight but my brain is a dumpster. to cope, i wanna show you guys some tot wips that have me on the edge of my seat

Guarded by Trifoliate-Undergrowth (Trefoil_9)

“I see him! I’m on it!” Luke yelled, then switched off his earpiece to focus on the chase. “Artem, Vyn, are you alright?” Rosa asked, and Vyn heard Artem’s voice responding simultaneously from beside him on the floor and from his earpiece. “I’m alright. The bullet went right past me, I felt it. Vyn? Vyn.” A shuffle of movement. “Dr. Richter, this is no time for games.” ---- In which Vyn nearly dies, Artem saves his life and then they both have to cope with that.

[vyn/artem, cw: blood, gun violence, injury]

this was just posted today and i am SOOOO HOOKED!!! VYN GETS SHOT!!! and godddd, Trifoliate-Undergrowth has a wonderful hold on both vyn and artem's pov. a high stress premise with spot on povs taking us through the story, this fic is DEFFO one im gonna be looking forward to more from. //rubs my grubby mitts together. vyntem? VYNTEM RIVALS TO FRIENDS TO LOVERS SPEEDRUN??? fellas, it's the good stuff here.

-

Endless Symphony (series) by Gloryofluv

Rosa capably understood that many things in life are in her grasp to discover. It was, after all, experiences that create the abundance of life. Justice, humbleness, and hard work. Three foundational aspects of life. However, through her own trials, (no pun intended), and unexpected events, there seemed to be another force. Enter one, Dr. Vyn Richter. From the very slanted fault of meeting in such an interesting way, he had become a staple in the circumference of her life. The oddity of his rare quality to sniff out human nature was awe-inspiring and inhuman. However, this Doctor was a man, nothing more. Rosa knows he’s extraordinary by nature, but through delicate unraveling, how far does he go to cover his deficits. Why? Why would he ever want to when the beauty isn’t in perfection or efficiency always, but sometimes in the flaws that make our hearts thrum to the same beat?

[vyn/mc, cw: violence. vyn backstory spoilers]

hey do you want a long read? well give this series a read because it's 139,651 words long. AND STILL FUCKIN GOING!!!

but god this fic has everything. vyn's past comes to bite him in the ass and we are taken through an EPIC LENGTH complicated modern royalty adventure. Gloryofluv does such a wonderful job in using the length and pacing of the story to its fullest. nothing felt rushed for me, everything just happened so frigging well. the world is fleshed out, the characters develop so well, reading this series truly feels like entering a new world with these characters we know and love. also, theres swordfighting "to the death" in this series. holy shit. if this series continues i will simply cry tears of joy

-

In the end, all I hope for is to be a bit of warmth for you by sure_galena

When Vyn is away on a business trip and needs help with his plants, Luke (and the rest of the NXX crew) end up signing up for more than they thought they would.

[no ship, cw: very slight violence to a monster plant]

FINALLY YESSSSS!!! TOT AO3 TAG IS GETTING WEIRD (AFFECTIONATE!!!!) I AM THRIVING. this premise was taken straight out of my dreams both in the sense that i love it and am so glad it is being written and also because it is absurd and OWNS THAT ABSURDITY. sure_galena's writing shines so brightly with succinct humor that still manages to speak volumes of sincerity. all of sure_galena's fics make me fall a little bit more in love with these characters. also this fic has vyn writing a ridic long plant care manual, showcasing just an IMPECCABLE UNDERSTANDING OF VYN'S CHARACTER KJFSBG. very very much looking forward to seeing how the nxx gang is gonna fare against a monster plant with a mouth

-

wait i just realized all these fics are somehow vyn centric. vyn richter is making me feel Some Kind Of Way (affectionate once more)

if you enjoy these fics, make sure to support the story with a kudos, comment, or bookmark!!!!

#tears of themis #tears of themis fanfic #vyn richter #tot vyn #i should add my fic recs to my masterlist sometime given im writing paragraphs of praise kjBJFD

[haloshornsinkstains]

31. Showdown

CW: Violence.

“Come now angel, are you so weak that one little blow to the head knocked you out?”

Y/n groaned, cracking her eyes open to glare at the others in the room. “Hah, I was just trying to summon the willpower to tolerate you. I’m sure I made it vividly clear what would happen if I saw you again?”

The man shook his head. “You wouldn’t really kill me angel, we have such big plans.”

“We have nothing. In case you forgot I want nothing to do with you, not now I know who you really are Kai.”

He scowled in response. “Don’t be hasty y/n, think about your position here.”

One of the men beside him adjusted his gun, the other tensed ready for a fight, but Kai merely sighed and shook his head.

“This is where you belong y/n. You are yakuza, you should stop trying to deny it. Together we could rule Japan.” 

Y/n shook her head. “I haven’t been yakuza for years now. And even if I was, do you really think I’d want to have anything to do with you and your sub-par lackeys? You really can’t get the same caliber of people these days can you?”

“Your old men would have at least thought to check I couldn’t reach any sharp objects before they tied me up.” Her grin turned sharp and feral, the sound of a single drop of liquid hitting the floor the last sound before all hell broke loose.

The men across from her tensed, looking between themselves with a mixture of anger and confusion while y/n just sat there smiling at them. 

“You’ll pay for that you bitch!”

y/n threw herself behind an abandoned crate, too busy trying to dodge bullets to throw a witty come back his way. She could hear Kai laughing though, the sound of it made her cringe.

“Hah! I knew you weren’t completely lost. Though the y/n I knew would have killed him, no matter, I’m sure I can bring the old you back in no time.” He crowed.

“Oh, don’t worry, I plan on killing you.” She snapped back, glancing around the crate.

y/n was out of her bindings before either of Kai’s guards could aim, red blades jutting from both her forearms. The sudden movement stunned all three men, buying her just enough time to dart forward and strike one of them before the others could act. She swore, rolling left and bringing up an arm to block as the other turned his gun on her, ignoring the screams of his comrade as he clawed for his hand on the floor.

A shot ricocheted off the wall above her head. 

“Come on out angel, if you come out now I’ll forgive you.” 

“Fuck you.” y/n spat, using the momentary confusion Kai’s words sparked in his underling to dash in for another attack.

“Not so fast angel.” 

She felt his fingers grasp at the edge of her coat, bringing her arm back to slice through the fabric just as he started to pull her back, watching as it was unmade before her eyes. Cursing she dashed for cover again, ignoring the wails of the other two men she’d injured. Sliding to the ground y/n swore again, running through strategies in her head. If he got a hold of her she was dead, his quirk would unmake her on the spot. Even if he could re-make her she’d be trapped with him. Close combat was her speciality but it would do her no favours here, being close enough to hit him meant being close enough to be grabbed. That meant ranged attacks, it was doable but dangerous. Taking a deep breath she pulled the blades back into her arms, forming smaller weapons and breaking them off. 

The fight had gone on too long. Kai was still standing, if injured. Y/n slumped on the floor, shivering as she fought to keep her eyes open. She sighed, breathing deeply for a moment.

“Still hiding angel? What would your dear Eisuke think?”

“Sorry Ei, you deserved better. Shiggy, Staples, sorry I couldn’t keep my word.” 

Slowly she pushed to her feet, gripping onto the crates she was using as a shield to keep herself upright as she faced Kai one last time. Just as she was about to make her move the wall to her right exploded in a burst of blue flames, knocking her off her feet and plunging the world into darkness.

“I’m sure he’d be happy I plan to make this hurt.”

< previous || Masterlist || next >

- I had a whole backstory planned between y/n and Chisaki and used basically none of it (if you were wondering it involved an arranged partnership). He was the one responsible for the death of her right hand man/partner.

Taglist: @denkisclown , @dabi-sunflower , @toshiuwu , @insane-without-delirium , @seashells26 , @im-always-in-need-of-a-nap , @tina-98 , @kiris-bakuho , @beepeoplefromspace , @mmmochi-art , @galagcica , @unlogical-ella , @bokutosuwus , @kusuinko​ , @nao-cchi​ , @punicorn999​, @ashwontcare , @clubfairy , @myfavoriteficsandsuch , @chai-tea-bagels , @plzhelpbakugouhatesme

- y/n’s quirk is the ability to turn her own blood into weapons, blades mostly (think Crow from Deadman Wonderland). She prefers to keep them as blades attached to her arm as she can re-absorb the weapons when they’re attached to her, but she can form weapons no longer attached to her body. This allows her to attack from range but has the disadvange of contributing to blood loss, she can die if she overuses her quirk like this.

#halo.writes #smau #bnha smau #my hero academia #league of villains #dabi x reader #shigaraki x reader #dabi x shigaraki x reader #sins of the past

[yoitscro]

First thought: Homestuck^2 should've just been called Beyond Canon, and more people should call it that. 

The 2 was put on for chuckles; HS trending the day it was announced with it being a sequel spoke enough about how such a thing shant be underestimated, and why Homestuck is ABSOLUTELY more than just our small twitter crowd (and the scrap of us still on tumblr). I say that because remembering the Beyond Canon part slightly reassures me about the fact that this is a fanwork that will do some weird shit, and things I don't agree with, but isn't something that I have to subscribe to enjoying all the way with how I engage with Homestuck.

Homestuck 2 is not the canon continuation. Homestuck 2: Beyond Canon, is an OFFICIAL continuation.

Not having it on such an important stool and as the only content we all are only allowed to digest should come from both people who obsessively dislike it, and people who defensively support it. If a character says they kick babies then I can say, hey that's weird, maybe not great writing, but I can pretend they don't in my content, and i dont have to send threats or call people cishet white men for it! and, it's an absolutely great thing that we were all encouraged to create our own ideas without anyone who's influenced us to do so squinting their eyes when we actually go through with it. Glad I don't have to put this story up to the expectations of being a sequel to a 11 year, worldwide IP that's shooketh the internet landscape since it's merely optional, Death of the Author persists, and ideas aren't just dominated and revolved around the perspective of a 1% in this entire fanbase.

That said.

As an OFFICIAL continuation versus a canon one, HS2 is ok. It certainly has that fanfiction vibe, and a story it wants to tell. I can't really tell what that story is since we have like, 10 sub plots rn though. There's not a real a clear indicator on where the focus of main conflict is that connects all these stories together.

I thought that the prose in replacement of Vriska's battle was jarring, but not teeerribly surprising for the format HS2 is going for. It's more so using drawings to compliment text versus Homestuck's usual of panels being side by side with visual importance, or even itself being the one compliment. It sorta feels weird tho that it brought old fans back in with art just for them to get sneered at when they get a bit upset that there won't be main staples of art known to progress the story forward. 

Also people who mock people for “having to read homestuck” knowing there’s language barriers and struggling focus from those who’ve been use to something that was never so dense, are ridiculous.

Personally this could be solved by knowing how old flashes worked, having way more artists on the team, maybe even an art director if not already, and noting that we're not asking for the next Cascade. Rome wasn't built in a day, but Rose Ride sure was, and Homestuck’s animation is absolutely not the same as a 12-24 framed 12 minute cartoon. That, or just snuff the illustrative art as a whole since it's very clear on where the focus is.

I’m sure you’re not here trying to see my opinions on how the outer workings are though, versus plot.

Uuuuh, let's see. Yiffy's still a name I don't care to use until I eventually get tired of any of my art that do not show up in tags. This is fine and not as offensive as people are saying it is. Minors who want to cosplay this character don't have to call themselves this character. Not wanting to be one letter away from accidentally entering a very NSFW space of twitter is fine. Also the lot of people call Tavros, Tavvy.

I hope Kanaya's anger at being cucked is actually seen versus being implied through fan guesses and another character having to say she was.

Roxy needs to be more of an involved character. Where are they during all this?

Jane should have a mention of her relations to HIC being a main/bad influence on her current parallels to Alternian dictatorship.

The PRE-RETCON GROUP should have a fun one-shot update for fans who like them, since they oughta be around if they fell through the ghost hole. Most of them. The sprites that aren't Jasprosesprite should also show up too, since they're around.

Aaaaaand I think we should be extra careful going into the future when it comes to the alien rebellion. It's weird that a lot of the writers are white and toy around with concepts that can be a not so great parallel to racism. Currently not great timing rn! If the characters are going to remain aracial, but with them still doing not much to reference other non-white earth cultures or getting new hair cuts that have different textures (looking at you, Rose), we shant make the species with actual biological benefits a racism commentary. the xeno joke at least had a play on words. If any writer has happened upon this then a, please don't get mad at me again haha, and b, consider having more black writers or directional assistance on your squad. You know who they are.

In the future. I casually want the ghost from the Dream Bubbles to be shown since it's a big elephant in the room to not have a single one of them in the bg despite a load of them appearing from the ghost whole. Don't gotta give them speaking lines, especially the dancestors. I personally don't know if I want that right now.

I also hope in the future that we don't get HS content that is only going to revolve around HS2, if it's optional enough to engage with without being the only option. That's why PQ could ended a bit better for me, and why I hope it's not the main thing that's keeping Hiveswap on the backburner. I don't think it's farfetched to consider that multiple HS content could come from more than just one team; to relieve work load, but to also strengthen the idea that Homestuck can be a various amount of perspectives when it comes to the ideas fans have. The most dedicated fans leading the direction of the story is not just a handful of them. If anything, at least acknowledge the massive ass fan projects going on once in awhile to showcase the different avenues.

"Hey Cro, you sure have bitched about this alot. Do you have anything good to say? Why don't you stop reading if you hate it so much!"

Not every comment needs to be golden, love. Again, some of these decisions I eck at, but ultimately they're just words on a computer that I'm not holding anyone at gun point to do, and I'm curious to see how the story handles itself going forward, since again, it's just a fanwork. Sometimes I wish to not only see where the plot goes, but to see a writer's craft in action.

Good Things:

The Art. Again, please have more artists. It'd help so much, especially since the main one is also double timing for VE. That said, HS2 sticks out to me because of the way the color composition is used. Aside from hair and other tiny things, I haven't seen black used a lot, which makes colors pop. It's really nice to look at. I hope we get more sharper styles of character in the future, since it builds on nostalgia and makes the trolls feel much less like they're from Repiton, but I can deal with it for the most part. I also like that one panel where the omega kids and vriska are talking in the dark room, and based on where they're standing, the text aligns. Tasty as hell.

Meat and Candy still do hold neat logic in the direction the stories go. Candy, while it could be more tasteless in some areas, is chaotic and too much of a good thing. Meat is having something a little more straightforward, though I'm not sure quite yet where it's going. I always found Candy to be the part of the epilogue that actually entertained me the most, from how much of a surreal Robot Chicken skit at 3am it felt. Sometimes the jokes slapped real nice and made me wonder, going in, how is this monkeys paw gonna play out and, hopefully, make people laugh or smirk like they got a good roast at themself?

The slightly episodic feel of each update is what I wanted from the Epilogues, so it's interesting to see that play out when it comes to switching different perspectives.

The bonus updates get points for featuring characters that a lot of us have been wanting to see for ages.

Hopefully this isn't unpopular, but I think the tension of Yiffy's introduction was nicely composed and written (ignoring some of the things I wish for Jane). It leaves you with enough want to see what'll happen next time. You could also say that despite her growling and making a lot of noise, it's not actually bad writing: I see it as the audience being forced to see her in the same perspective that Jane see's her; a dog. Upon no context we're seeing the same thing while knowing things are obviously off, and once we see this character in a new environment where their personality shines, it'll have a bigger impact her own character being humanized. So I like that.

Okay, I think that's all I got. I improv wrote most of this; hopefully I won't be taken out of context since I don’t think that HS2′s writing should ultimately be a judgement of the writers as people, nor treated as if they should hold the same unhealthy work environment that Andrew forced himself to do when writing the og comic. And I'm still like, donating to the patreon and everything, lol.

[runs away]

edit: i was going to put the cw as another positive thing for the comic...but...yeaaaah.

#hs2 #beyond canon #homestuck 2 // #i ran out of room so i posted this here lol.

[historyteachershanemadej]

Would you write a piece about Ryan and Shane shot gunning? Like maybe Ryan showing Shane how it works and they end up just making out while high? It can escalate or not, I’m cool with either!

I love shot gunning so much, here you go! This one was lots of fun so I kinda went off <3 

CW for weed but that should be it! 

Ryan’s room was filled with the smell of weed, the sunlight peeking through his blinds giving the rising wisps of smoke a ghost-like life to them and Shane lifted a heavy arm to pass through it, disruptive. He lolled his head over to look at Ryan who was laying on the floor next to him, head tipped back, exhaling smoke through an open mouth and Shane forgot to breathe for a moment. With his neck so exposed and the afternoon sunlight washed all over him, Ryan looked golden. Like a marble statue but bronze...no wait, gold..

Okay, Shane was a little stoned but Ryan always looked that good, you know? Thick haze of smoke over Shane’s brain or not, it was totally unfair. “So, smoked out of a fruit, we got that one down,” Ryan said, passing over the hollowed out strawberry with a lit joint sticking out of it to Shane, “now what other stoner staples have you never done?” He inquired. 

It all started with a picture Ryan saw on some douchey 420 page he followed of some gigantic fruit bong. “Man, it’s been forever since I’ve done something like that.” Ryan said, showing him the picture and Shane scoffed, saying it was stupid. Ryan proceeded to go on for 30 minutes on the different ‘stoner milestones’ that apparently everyone in the world who smokes needs to do, and every one that he listed of course Shane hadn’t, which set Ryan off on a bucket list for him. 

“Gravity bong?” “No way in hell I’m doing that.” “Use a page out of a bible for a joint?” “Do you own a bible, Ryan?” “Well...no but I probably should.” “You ever smoked out of a Volcano?” “Oh, yeah, actually” There was a few beats of silence before Ryan softly asked, “Have you ever shotgunned with someone?” Shane’s hazy vision came back into focus and he looked over at Ryan, who was already watching him with an intensity that surprised him a little. “No, I’ve not done that one either.” He answered and rolled off his back and to his side to face Ryan, soft smile on his lips, lifting the end of the strawberry to his lips and sucking in another lungful of smoke, maintaining eye contact as he passed it over. Ryan took it, sighing a little at the brush of their fingers. “D’you wanna?” He asked, eyes dropping from Shane’s to his lips and back and Shane felt a jump in his belly. 

“Ryan, we’ve never kissed before.” Shane said but his face betrayed him, a smile spreading over his features. He’d do pretty much anything to have Ryan close in any way possible, of course he’d want this. “But you want to!” Ryan exclaims as he watches the smile the other is unable to contain and presses the question. “C’mon Shane, let me teach you, you’ll like it.” Shane couldn’t help the frustrated noise that came out of him and he nodded his head enthusiastically. “Okay, okay, yeah. I’m down Ry.” 

Ryan had them both sit up and he crowded in close to him. “Okay so, when I bring my mouth to yours you're just gonna inhale, but lightly, yeah?”  Shane’s palms were sweating and he rubbed them on his jeans, nodding and giving a little breathless laugh. “I’m ready for it, little guy, show me whatcha got.” He teased as he watched Ryan inhale, bringing smoke into his lungs before leaning in close, grabbing Shane gently by the collar and bringing him forward for their mouths to meet. He left his mouth a little open as Ryan pressed his lips to his and as he started to exhale, Shane inhaled, taking all that he gave him into his lungs. Before pulling away from him Ryan gave a closed mouth kiss to the side of his mouth and Shane exhaled the smoke into the air above them. “S’nice.” Ryan said, absentmindedly, grinning at him and it was so easy to mirror it back. “Yeah.” Shane exhaled. “Again?”

They passed lungfuls of smoke to each other a few times, each time both of them getting bolder, pressing harder kisses until Ryan was smushing the butt of the joint and crawling into Shane’s lap, where his back was resting against Ryan’s wall. “You gonna kiss me still?” He asked sweetly, giving him his best puppy dog eyes and Shane slid a hand up his back and into his hair, letting the other rest on the younger’s thigh. “Ryan, I’d kiss you all day if you’d let me.” Ryan's eyes brighten and he hummed happily. With that he brought their mouths together, kissing him deep, hands on Ryan's neck and hip. Ryan was so responsive in his arms, running his hands down Shane’s chest, up his arms, kissing him back hard, with such enthusiasm that their teeth clacked and Shane couldn’t care less that the fists Ryan was making in his favorite button up would fuck up the fabric. 

Ryan was the first to break apart for breath, chest heaving and his mouth red and a little swollen. “Shane, Shane, I’ve wanted to do that for such a long time.” He gasped and Shane tightened the hold he had on Ryan’s waist. “God, me too, Ry, can’t believe we’re doing this, wanted you since I first laid eyes on you, fuck.” Shane admits, pressing kisses to his neck and the underside of his jaw. Ryan whined and rolled his hips in Shane’s lap, gasping when he felt the hard press of Shane’s cock against his ass, body acting before mind and he started rocking down on him, looping his arms around Shane’s neck. 

“Wish you would've told me, you could’ve had me, Shane, you can have me now, fuck,” He babbles as Shane holds him tight, rutting into Ryan’s ass. “Yeah?” Shane asked, he never let himself imagine these scenarios, too afraid of giving his heart the wrong idea, never thought he could have this. Have Ryan squirming and hard in his lap, kissing him like he didn’t give a fuck about air. He tugged at the bottom of Ryan’s shirt and helped him pull it over his head, hands immediately finding themselves on these smooth expanse of his chest, mapping it out greedy, letting his hands cup the bottom of his pecs before smoothing his thumbs across his nipples, back and forth gently. “Oh, oh fuck, Shane, please.” He keened, rocking his hips with more intent on Shane’s cock, causing a deep groan out of him. 

“Can I-can I please get my mouth on you? Need it so bad, want to taste you Shane, please.” He could tell from the shamelessness before seeing his glassy eyes how gone Ryan was, he could only imagine he was leaking in his underwear. “God, you do need it bad, don’t you little guy?” He said as he maneuvered Ryan off his lap, chuckling at the needy whine he gave at the loss of touch. “Shhh now, just gonna stand so you can suck my cock, that sound good, angel?” He mused, drunk with the feeling of dominance Ryan was giving him, the way he was looking up at him like Shane hung the stars. “Please.” He shuffled up to his knees as Shane worked open his belt and the front of his jeans, stopping just before pulling them down to catch Ryan’s eye for a moment. A question in this eyes. “Please, Shane.” He says, clarity and determination in his voice and that’s all Shane needed to hear. 

The first touch of Ryan’s hand, one steadying himself on Shane’s thigh, the other gently wrapping around his length sent all the breath out of his lungs. “God, Shane, your dick is so nice.” He mused, stroking him slowly from root to tip and Shane squeezed his hands together. "I'm so mad it took us so long to do this." Was the last thing he said before licking a stripe up the underside of his length and suckled at the head. Shane let his head fall back and hit the wall with a thud and he whispered, "Fuck, Ryan." 

He could tell Ryan didn't have much experience in this department so he refrained from placing a hand on his head and did his best to stay still, letting him get a feel for what he's doing. He had a hand stroking the length that he couldn't get into his mouth and what he lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm. Shane had never seen someone look so happy to suck a cock. Ryan pulled off, gasping for breath, spreading his drool down Shane's shaft at smiled up at him.

"This is the first time I've done this, it's fun." Ryan admitted in a small voice and Shane had to squeeze his eyes and clench his entire being from coming right there. "Jesus, Ryan. You're gonna kill me." He groaned and ran a hand through Ryan's hair, matted at the forehead from a little sweat. "Y'look perfect like this, so good." He praised and that's all Ryan needed to get his mouth back on him, pressing down even further this time.

"Never thought we could have this, didn't let myself think about it, God, Ryan." He murmured, placing a hand over Ryan's cheek and jaw, feeling his cock fuck gently into his mouth, watching Ryan's eyes roll back and the hand gripping his hip dig his fingernails in. "M'close, Ry." He warned. 

Ryan looked up at Shane and took his hand and placed it over Shane's on the back of his head, a signal to please keep going. "Shit, sweetheart, fuck." He groaned and tightened his grip in Ryan's hair, using the leverage to fuck just a little deeper into his throat. 

Ryan let his mouth be used, going limp and loving the view of Shane losing control above him. He felt the swell of Shane in his mouth and prepared himself before Shane even said, "Gonna come, Ry, god, fuck." He lurched himself forward even more and swallowed around him and Shane was done for, moaning soft as he came down Ryan's throat. 

Ryan fell back on his knees, wiping at his mouth and swallowing around the newfound soreness in his throat. He looked up at Shane yet again, who was panting and tucking himself back into his pants. "I loved that." Ryan giggled as Shane used the wall to help lower him to the floor. "You? God, I'm the one who just came their brains out. My knees are jelly, you stole my kneecaps, Bergara." He chucked and slumped next to him. "C'mere." He said and pulled Ryan into a kiss. 

Ryan crowded himself on top of Shane's sprawled legs, kissing him for all it's worth, mouth falling open with a whimper when Shane pressed a thigh between his, against his straining erection. "Need me to take care of you, honey?" Shane whispered, petting the back of Ryan's neck as he rutted against Shane's thigh like a horny teenager. "Please, Shane, need you to take care of me, please." He whined, pressing needy kisses to the older man's neck. 

"C'mere, Ry, I'm gonna lay on the floor, I want you to get on top of me and fuck my mouth, okay?" He explained as he pulled Ryan off his lap. Ryan nodded desperately, his cheeks down the darkest shade of pink he's ever seen on him. Shane settled on the floor of Ryan's bedroom and motioned for the other to straddle his face. "Shane, I'm totally not gonna last long." He warned in a small voice, pulling himself out of his underwear. "That's okay, baby, not like we can't do this again, yeah?" Shane asked, trying to hide the fear in his voice with that question. Ryan hummed happily as he wiggled his underwear down a little to fully expose himself. 

"Please, big guy. Wanna do this with you all the time." Ryan said with a soft and sincere smile, leaning down a little to align himself with Shane's mouth. "Ready?" When Shane nodded with a slack mouth Ryan pushed in, groaning at the heat. Shane brought both arms up to wrap around Ryan's waist again and forced Ryan's length completely down his throat, breathing heavy through his nose. 

"Shit, Shane, how the fuck-" He cursed, rocking his hips forward and crying out at the slick tight heat of his throat, meeting no resistance from him. He's gonna have to ask for tips later. "Gonna, gonna fuck your mouth now." He grits out through clenched teeth. Only a few rolls of his hips already had him at the edge and he scrambled for a grip on Shane's hair, not able to stop the grunts and moans falling out of his mouth. "Coming, Shane, fuck, I'm gonna cum." He managed to get out before he's coming down Shane's throat, humping his face through his comedown before collapsing next to Shane, both trying to catch their breath. 

"Fuck, that can't be a one time thing." Ryan finally says at their breath events out, looking over at Shane. Shane smiles back, reaching a hand out to tangle his fingers with Ryan's. "Yeah, no. Absolutely not. I can pencil this in again in like...another hour." He hums jokingly, admiring the sweaty flush of Ryan's face and chest. 

#buzzfeed unclean #asks #fics #Anonymous #long post

[crowsent]

Whumptober 2019 Secret Injury

Secret Injury - Akira Kurusu, Persona 5

CW: mentions of Akira’s interrogation

=

They had to stop Shido. There was a goal, there was a time limit, and there were consequences for their failure. It was just like every other heist that Akira had gone on, every other heist Joker had led. Infiltrate the Palace, secure a route, steal the treasure.

Simple.

Akira just had to push onwards. A few days after his escape from police interrogation, just a few days after faking his own death and watching Akechi shoot a cognitive version of himself in the Metaverse, they managed to deduce Shido’s keyword and move forward with the mission.

They had so much to do. The ship was huge, they needed five different letters to access the treasure room, the hallways were frustratingly daedal, guards patrolled every corner, and confusing puzzles halted their progress what felt like every two steps. If Shido gets elected, if someone with a heart as distorted as his gets put in charge of the country, if someone who would willingly sentence a highschooler to a life of suffering…

Akira couldn’t even imagine.

So they had to stop Shido. By any means necessary. Broken ribs, bruises, a sprained leg, an injured shoulder, a ring of dark blue around his neck, a matching pair of red bracelets on his wrists. Pain after every step, shaking hands that tried to keep hold of his knife and gun, the slightest movement made him relive torture.

A friendly slap from Skull after a skillful attack. Oracle crushing him in a tight hug after a tough fight. Fox’s vice grip pulling him back to avoid a shadow. The strain of having to crouch and manoeuvre around his fragile bones. The sting of a zio spell that gravitated towards the stapled gash on his thigh. The breath knocked out of him as he leapt onto a Shadow’s back to rip off its mask.

Every moment spent in the Metaverse exhausted him. Like heavy chains pulling him down, chains that Akira had to fight to take a single step, raise a single hand, speak a single word. The other thieves didn’t know. He went through great pains keeping it from them; bargained with Sojiro to hide it from Futaba, asked Takemi for her strongest painkillers, looked up videos online on how to use makeup to conceal the bruises.

Stopping Shido was their first priority and Akira -Joker- can’t have his team be distracted. They won’t be able to fight efficiently if they constantly worried about Akira taking hits for them as he always did. They won’t be able to focus if they realise that no amount of dia spells could mend Akira’s injuries. They won’t be able to win against the Shadows if their leader revealed how weak he felt, how he would give anything just to have a day or two to recover.

But they don’t have that luxury.

So Akira would just have to push on. Pretend that he didn’t want to collapse from the beating he suffered in captivity. Wear the face of someone in perfect physical health. The Thieves had no time to wait for Akira to heal and recover, and every minute Shido’s distorted heart was allowed to exist was another minute that Akechi might uncover their ruse. It would be hilariously easy.

After all, Akira was pretty good at wearing a mask.

#whumptober 2019 #whumptober2019 #no.24 #persona #persona 5 #p5 #akira kurusu

[stusbunker]

Season 14 Finale

ALL THE SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

I almost thought they weren't going to play Carry On My Wayward Son.

The kid leveled up. He's just another monster. - Dean has decided.

He was family. The "ugly thing". Not the first time but the other times you found a way.

Did he just shut everyone up? Or shut off his ears?

You aren't going to win Sam over, that's obvious by now, Dean.

Call him out Sam. He's a rock nerd.

What just happened?! Truth spell?

Sam, no, Sam. Not Celine.

Is she stealing office supplies?

Omgod yes, Trump and the truth is all I never knew I needed. Touche writers.

Staple Queen is my hero.

My Dad! (Chuck has arrived)

.... Commercials....

Fuckthis app

Wrote them down after this crap

What I remmeber:

God answers prayers all the sudden?

How many guitars did they have to smash?

And Poor stapler queen didn’t even get to keep them!!!!

... Commercials...

Equalizer? Hammurabi? Honestly?

Hooray for untested weapons!

Sam in with the Sass.

Hence Equalizer, Fuck You Chuck.

Oh Cas.

Chuck is being a little too honest about souls and I still am not convinced.

"This new Death" Oh you better watch out Chuck, she'll find you too.

Have a seat, great sign there. Sam knows, of course he does.

We have a choice, the whole point...

You want my permission, ain't never gonna happen Dean.

Jared is delivering this episode.

Cas is just a worried mother hen.

He just hugged him, oh my soft squishy angel friend.

Sam starts with the big fucking questions, of course he does!

"All the Sams and Deans in all the multiverse", nice CW catchword.

Oh Jack, nothing is the worst feeling.

"You're my favorite show." That doesn't impress anyone here.

Why does it have to be us?! Because your my guys. Hello, gospels written about y'all.

God is scared is the realest.

Cas is not giving up and neither will Sam.

... Commercials...

Cas is standing in front of Dean and Jack tosses him like a doll. Not an assbutt, but still pretty memorable.

Okay music department we still have twenty minutes here...

Jack is just tired and Dean is actually listening to him. But he already made up his mind after so has Jack.

Or not.

God doesn't make a good director.

Meta for the win.

Dean doesn't respect you enough to listen.

The. You played he Mom card you fucking bastard.

Over and over again. When does it end? Well we know don't we?

Fuck yes, thems my boys.

Damn, he still roasted he Golden boy.

He's not. Playing

What the fuck?!

Sam!

Sam just shot God

... Commercials...

My signal crapped out, pray for me, but not to Chuck. Maybe death, she's legit.

Okay, so? Where did Chuck go?

I missed some shit, but Sam's not vapor so?

Ack and Luci are reunited.

Billie is saving he day?

Or the Empty is imploding?

Nice call backs.

And the dead shall rise...

Sorry but this song can stop three minutes ago. It is not what we need, and we fucking get it.

REAL TALK:

So is Chuck the final boss?

What the hell is Billie doing in/ with the Empty?

Was that Lucifer or the Empty or Jesus who we aint met yet?

So wonderboy isn’t gone either.

One graveyard of zombies is obviously not a problem here, but do they still have the gun?

I hate my antenna, but I also love it right now.

Anyway, come squeal at me if you want to!

All I’m saying is they better get to RENO and quick.

#spn spoilers #s14 finale #spn s14 finale #moriah #stu liveblogs #spn liveblog

[legacysportfishing]

TROLLING PRODUCTS TO LOOK FOR IN 2017!

From our friends at

Blood Run Tackle Company- Bay Rat Lures-Okuma-Dreamweaver Lures

Blood Run Tackle Company

We rely on Blood Run for all of our fishing line needs including copper, leadcore, monofilament, fluorocarbon, braid, and SS wire. If you were to take a tour of the boat you would find no other. If you need line for your downrigger rods, leader material, copper, braid for backer they have it all!

So what’s new for Blood Run Tackle Company???

Just in case you haven’t been paying attention, Blood Run continues to be ahead of the game and expand their product line to make sure they are exceeding the needs of us fisherman. Fluorocarbon is a perfect example of that and they now have a huge selection available starting from 3# up to 50#. After some input from the Walleye community, this past year they introduced their own line of premium leadcore line, which is available in both 18# and 27#. Terminal tackle is another aspect of the market that they are looking to get a hold of. They are now offering barrel swivels and single hooks with plans to release their own line of treble hooks to the scene in early 2017. With these new additions to their lineup, Blood Run Tackle truly offers one stop shopping for all of us Great Lakes trollers and our fishing line needs. Check out their complete line of products at www.bloodruntackle.com

Specifications....

Blood Run Leadcore

100YD Spool of premium Leadcore Trolling Wire for trolling applications.    Reach consistent depths with ease while trolling for walleye, salmon, trout, striper and more.

Each "color" of lead is 10 yards, each spool contains 10 alternating "colors" for ease of measurement.

Leadcore consists of a lead "core" wrapped in a durable fiber sheath, and dives to depths of approximately one foot at trolling speeds of 0.5 mph to 1.8 mph.

Available in 100YD spools in both 18lb and 27lb test.

 Power Swivel

The new Blood Run Tackle Power Swivel is the ultimate barrel swivel in carbon black stainless steel.  It has everything you need...incredible strength and micro size!  

Available in packs of 10

Size Chart

#6     7/16"     100#

#7     7/16"     90#

#8     3/8"       80#

#10   3/8"       65#

#12   1/4"       45#

 Float Hook

The Tail Out float hook by Blood Run Tackle is constructed of carbon black forged steel in an extremely light weight design. Utilizing extra heavy wire to eliminate hook twists and bending on power sets, this chemically sharpened tapered beak float hook is specifically designed for both roe and bead fishing applications.

Available in Carbon Black color, packs of 25 (packs of 8 sizes 1/0, 2/0, 3/0), in a wide range of sizes to cover all float fishing conditions ranging from clear shallow trout streams to heavy turbulent flows of the Pacific Northwest.

Available in sizes #20 - 3/0

Carbon Black Finish

Forged Carbon Steel Wire

Straight eye

Short shank

Wide gap

Okuma

If you have seen the boat then you have noticed it’s fully loaded with Okuma gear. Okuma continues to supply us with best rod and reel combinations for every aspect of trolling that we need.

So what’s new for Okuma in 2016-2017???

Okuma has stepped up their game and answered the demand with the introduction of high speed reels in both the Cold Water and Convector models. The Convector Models 30, 45, and 55 now offer an option for a stunning 6:2 to 1 gear ratio. On the Cold Water side of things… the models 303 and 453 are now also available with a 6:2 to 1 gear ratio. New in 2017, is the introduction of the new Cold Water 553LS. Both Cold Water and the Convector models offer us everything we demand here on the Great Lakes.

As for rods, Okuma has added the White Diamond series rods to the mix. The White Diamond series offers a premium rod for all trolling applications including downrigger, copper, diver, etc. Those who have been a fan of the Blue Diamond series will appreciate the looks, feel, and durability of this new line. See it all at their website at www.okumafishingusa.com/

Specifications....

Cold Water Wire Line Reels

With the growth of copper line and wire line fishing techniques within the Great Lakes salmon fisheries, anglers have been able to continue to catch fish even with ultra-clear water conditions. The issue has now become that landing fish at the end of many hundreds of feet of copper fishing line is not the best experience, especially with reels running standard gear ratios. Cold Water Wire Line reels add high-speed gear ratios and high-performance spool bearings to address the rigors of wire and copper fishing lines. The 303 and 453 models include a line counter. The CW-553 is an ultra-large capacity, high-speed with no line counter. These reels put the fun back in catching fish on wire and copper fishing lines. 

•Designed with high speed gear ratios for increased line pickup

•303/453DS models are high speed line counter reels

•553LS is a large diameter high speed levelwind reel (no counter)

•Oversized brass XL gearing system

•Multi-disc Carbonite drag washers for maximum efficiency

•2HPB + 1RB corrosion resistant stainless steel bearings

•Dual anti-reverse system for maximum strength and reliability

•Quick-Set stainless steel anti-reverse roller bearing

•Machined aluminum, anodized spool

•Speed Lock pinion gear system for instant engagement

•Ergo grip handle knob for increased comfort

•Wide Mouth levelwind:  Increased knots clearance

•Silent retrieve system for increased smoothness

•MSS: Mechanical Stabilizing System for precise alignment 

•XL gearing:  Drop down gear box for maximum gear sizing

•Self-lubricating gear system for maximum heat dissipation

•Coldwater DS/LS reels are backed by a 1-year limited warranty

Convector Right handed High-Speed Linecounter Reels

Convector levelwinds and line counters revolutionized the fishing tackle industry, offering a powerful gearing and drag system platform previously unattainable at the Convector's value-oriented price. Today, the Convector has grown to a position as a staple in salmon fisheries from Alaska to the Great Lakes, and everywhere in between. The Convector's no-nonsense design features aluminum and stainless steel components at all critical stress points, along with Okuma's patented Mechanical Stabilization System that maintains parts alignment over the long term. Line counter models are available in both right and left hand retrieve to serve all anglers. 

Okuma's Convector Reels feature - 

• Lightweight, corrosion-resistant frame and side plates 

• Machined aluminum, gun smoke anodized spool

• Stainless steel reinforcing side plate rings 

• Mechanical line counter function measures in feet

• Multi-disc Carbonite drag system 

• Ratcheting drag star for precise drag settings

• 2BB+1RB Stainless steel bearing drive system

• Quick-Set anti-reverse roller bearing

• Dual anti-reverse system. (Mechanical & roller bearing)

• Speed Lock pinion gear system 

• Durable stainless steel main and pinion gear system

• XL Gearing:  Drop down gear box on all models 

• Self-Lubricating Gear System, all models

• Wide Mouth Levelwind: Clearance for copper line

• Spool stabilizing system for increased durability

• Ergo Grip handle knobs featured on all models

• DLX represents left hand crank line counter models

• MSS: Mechanical Stabilizing System for increased durability

• Convector star drag reels are backed by a 1-year warranty

 White Diamond Rods

•Carbon and glass blank construction for maximum durability

•Copper/Leadcore rod WD-CL-862M is tubular glass 

based on application

•UFR: Increases rods lifting power and maximum strength

•Low profile stainless steel guide frames and inserts

•Wire/Copper/Leadcore trolling rods feature welded 

stainless steel guides

•Rods designated with “WL” in the model feature a 

swivel roller tip top.

•White upper blank section designed for increased 

visibility and bite indicator

•Cushioned stainless steel hooded reel seat.

•Triangular shaped EVA foregrip prevents twisting 

while fishing a fish.

•Durable non-skid, rubber gimbals on all models

•All White Diamond rods are 2-pcs blank construction

•White Diamond rods are backed by a 1-year warranty 

Bay Rat Lures

Since their inception, Bay Rats have put fish in the boat for us as we have enjoyed the success of trolling them in the skinny water. Bay Rat Lures continues to impress with their dedication to innovation and design. Their impressive hand painted, color schemes keep us wanting more and more as we continue to fill our boxes with baits.

So what’s new for Bay Rat?

Besides an assortment of new colors, this past year led to the testing and development of the S3. The introduction of the S3 allows us skinny water fisherman to get baits in the skinniest water and with a diving depth of  3’ or less we are no longer afraid to fish right on the beach. These baits also allow us to fish in the highest section of the water column and target fish on the surface offshore. Check out them out at www.bayratlures.com

Specifications....

S3

The Bay Rat Lures S3 is a custom quality, hand painted, floating, shallow diving, stickbait, constructed with 100% USA made materials and components.

The Bay Rat Lures S3 is designed for any fish found in shallow water. The Bay Rat Lures S3 is ideal for casting in ponds, lakes, streams, and rivers. The S3 can also be trolled, whether it be on monofilament, braid, behind a diver, on lead core, copper, or behind a downrigger ball. The Bay Rat Lures S3 is sure to hook more fish, and it is built to last.

The Bay Rat Lures S3 swims at a depth of 1 – 3 feet, making it a great choice for Brown Trout, Steelhead, and salmon near the shore, pier heads, and break walls in the fall through early spring as well as walleye and bass along wind-blown shorelines. Speckled Sea Trout, Snook, Redfish, and a variety of inshore saltwater species also find the Bay Rat Lures S3 enticing.

   Dreamweaver Lures

Dreamweaver continues its domination by supplying us with the latest and greatest lure patterns in the lure market. Each and every year they surprise us with new, exotic paint jobs which makes us create a list of “must haves” for the upcoming season and this season is no different. Whether its spoons, paddles, spin doctors, meat rigs, plugs, etc. they have it all for the great lakes.

What’s new for Dreamweaver Lures?

The Dreamweaver Whirlygig was introduced last year and it is a fresh design of the old favorite of Lake Trout fisherman, the Spin n Glow. The Whirlygig offers a more durable one piece design with solid plastic wings and it’s offered in some great colors. Dreamweaver is also introducing its new “Deeper Diver” line. This diver line is something we are all very familiar with and was formerly under the name Lurk Divers and Walker Deeper Diver before that. You can check out all of their products at their new website at www.dreamweaverlures.com

Specifications....

WhirlyGigs

Dreamweaver WhirlyGigs are made of neutral buoyancy plastic to run behind your attractor, such as Spin Doctors or paddles. Meant for trolling, our initial line-up of 10 flashy finishes are drawing in the fish like you wouldn’t believe. The rigid wings makes this item a long-time staple in your tackle box. They are definitely not flimsy and will not need replacing for a very long time. The center post and outer shell allow water flow and create a dedicated scent chamber for herring oil, eggs, or other level-ups for your fishing.

 Dreamweaver Diver

Dreamweaver Divers dig into the fish zone and stay there, making them the most versatile tools on your boat for delivering lures to fish when trolling.

No-Ring design – Dreamweaver Divers eliminate the hassle of the add-on plastic rings, which pop-off and wear-out over time, found on competitive divers to make them dive deeper.

Dial-a-Direction - Dreamweaver Divers use the water's resistance to dive. The Dial-a-Direction weight on the underside of the Diver lets you adjust the dive direction - port or starboard; or set the weight right in the middle to dive directly behind the boat.

Releases upon strike - When a fish hits, the release arm trips, so you fight the fish and not the diver.

Three sizes – there’s a size for every fishing situation. Dreamweaver Divers are available in three sizes to cover depths from 30 to 120 feet.

Several color patterns - allow you to choose from fish attracting finishes, or stealth colors like black and clear. Dreamweaver Divers deliver your lure down to where big fish lurk!

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[andrewsfic]

The Autopsy

This was written after DC Diefenbaker’s T67 event. Literally started writing it in the car on the drive home. See if you can tell what happened to him. [CW: Gore, Medical Language]

---CONFIDENTIAL---

CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT 

MEDICAL EXAMINERS OFFICE 

PRESIDING EXAMINER: Kanto, Takeshi 

CASE NUMBER: 67/229971

EXHIBIT NUMBER: 5/a

SUBJECT NAME: Diefenbaker, Harlan. 

TRANSCRIPT OF AUTOPSY

Subject is Caucasian male, approximately 181cm tall, 81kg weight. 

Externally general physical fitness appears good. No signs of chronic or long-term health issues.

Old scars on inside of right leg, transverse across the left abdomen, and micro-scar on left temple under the hair are consistent with previous injuries in subjects medical records. 

Additionally, multiple healed superficial scars on the subjects knuckles, and micro burn scars on the backs of the hands in various states of healing. 

The hand scarring is consistent with an individual who has been in a number of previous hand-to-hand fights, and has routinely fired caseless handguns, including recent use. - in other words, the hands of a police officer. 

Subject has three recent injuries:

Wound to upper left chest

Wound to lower right abdomen

Massive wound in centre of the upper back.

I will investigate these in detail in turn. 

Wound 1:

Wound has been stitched with #4 surgical thread. 

Stitches are slightly irregular, consistent with hand stitching, rather than an auto-stitch

Underlying wound appears to be a gun shot wound, between the second and third rib. 

Additional ripping on the outer dermal layers suggests invasive surgery.

Further investigation shows signs of hydrostatic shock in surrounding tissues, confirming ballistic origin.

No significant fragments appear to be present. Whoever performed surgery did a good job.

This injury would have been life threatening, but appears to have been successfully treated.

Wound 2: 

Wound has been stitched with surgical staples

Pinpoint secondary puncture wound appears consistent with an injection. - Query local anesthetic traces in Toxicology report. (see appendix 1)

Underlying wound appears to be a GSW, entering into abdominal cavity.

Wound track misses all major internal organs and associated structures.

Signs of Hydrostatic shock confirm ballistic nature.

Again evidence of surgical intervention, with bullet fragments removed. One fragment recovered (Full exhibit number: 67/229971/5/b)

This injury would again have been life threatening, but was successfully treated. 

Wound 3:

GSW, center of back.

Powder stippling is present around the edges of the wound - consistent with a contact or near contact range shot.

Clothing fibers are present throughout wound, as are fragments of medical cloth consistent with an attempt to provide initial trauma management.

Round has entered spine, totally destroying T6 vertebrae. 

Damage also present to T5.

Spinal cord is totally obliterated.

Wound appears to have additional tearing. Looks like someone stuck their fingers in.

Round has continued into Thoracic cavity, damaging several major blood vessels.

Round came to rest next to the subjects heart, although did not directly harm it. 

Round recovered (Full exhibit number: 67/229971/5/c)

This wound was almost certainly fatal, if not immediately, then within a few minutes.

Conclusions 

Internal organs all show signs of exposure to toxic environments over a prolonged time. Consistent with someone who has lived and worked in unprotected tenement blocks.

I suspect Wound 1 was treated by an independent doctor, albeit a good one. The higher quality materials used to treat Wound 2 suggest treatment by a supported medical establishment, such as a hospital, low level corporate medical facility, CPD Med Bay or Willow foundation clinic.

Cause of death was massive systemic organ failure, brought on by destruction of the spinal column, coupled with significant blood loss, both the result of a gunshot wound to the centre of the back, from extremely close range.

Followup:

Body and removed body parts returned to cold evidence storage facility, pending conclusion of investigation. (Full exhibit number: 67/229971/5/a)

Recovered ballistic fragment and bullet forwarded to CPD ballistic laboratory (Full exhibit number: 67/229971/5/b and Full exhibit number: 67/229971/5/c)

Appendix 1 - Toxicology Report. (summary)

Signs of exposure to variety of toxic and harmful environmental hazards. Levels of heavy metals, Petrochemical complexes, radioactive isotopes etc. - Consistent with someone who lives/works in the relatively unfiltered tenements.

No signs of deliberate poisoning. 

Traces of Tetrofentanyl, and its metabolites. Consistent with medical application of small dose for local anesthetic use. Inconsistent with use as a Psychoactive.

No signs of other recreational psychoactives

No signs of alcohol or metabolytes  in the bloodsteam - no use within the last 24hrs

Elevated Caffeine levels. - well within human tolerances.

Elevated levels of stress hormones - consistent with someone in a life-or-death scenario.

#T67 #Fic #Fiction #DC Harlan Diefenbaker