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rottenaero · 1 year

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AO3

Part 1

Part 3

Part 5

Part four of roommates idea

The officer clicked his pen again, signaling he took to long to answer. Steve faced him again, “Sorry I- Shit. Eddie he wasn't- he wouldn't do this shit. He's afraid of fucking dogs. Not even the real big ones either, he definitely wouldn't kill someone. He cries when he watches Bambi and gore freaks him out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! I'm absolutely-fucking-positive! He looks all tough and shit but he's not, he's just scared. Fuck that sounds- so bad but- God why don't you believe me and Wayne?”

The officer sighs, ”Eddie sold drugs, did drugs, it's entirely possible he had to many and did something…Not entirely in his regular character.”

Steve bit his lip, “He wouldn’t.”

Steve sat in the family video, he's been distant since the shift started and Robin couldn’t understand why.

That was, until the TV showed the news of a Hawkins student dying. Did he somehow know?

Not much later, Max and Dustin came in yelling about phones, and were quick to start using them.

Steve didn’t even seem shocked when they talked about Eddie being accused. When they finally got a lead about a ‘Reefer Rick’, his eyes lit up.

“I know where he is.”

“Hello?”

Steve looked around the boathouse, “What a dump.”

His eyes landed on tarp covering a boat, “Eddie?"

“Eddie, are you here?"

Now, Steve wasn't an expert, but that tarp looked a lot like it just moved, and if it wasn’t Eddie then-

He grabbed an oar that was leaning against the wall, and began poking it.

“What are you doing?”

“It moved.”

“So take the tarp off!”

Steve gave Dustin an incredulous look.

“If you're so brave, why don’t you take the tarp off!”

It was silent for a moment, then-

“…Steve?”

The man in question let out a relieved sigh, and smiled. “Eds!”

Steve drops the oar, a resounding clatter banging off the walls as he flings the tarp off the boat.

And there he is, Eddie Munson in all his glory, sitting in a fetal position and clutching a broken bottle to his chest like a lifeline.

As soon as he seemed to see Steve, he quickly threw the bottle to the side and stands up to step out the boat.

“Steve, thank fuck.”

Eddie engulfs him in a hug, pressing his face into his neck.

Steve bites his lip, “Hey, hey its okay.”

Steve slid them down carefully, positioning his back against a column. It was a bit awkward, with them being similar height, but he made it work.

“She- I didn’t kill her! I don’t, she started fucking floating. Then her limbs snapped, god Stevie, please you gotta believe me.”

He looked over to the party, Robin’s eyebrows were pinched, Max was darting her eyes between the two, and Dustin looked like he was about to say something.

Finally, he gathered the courage. “ Eddie, we believe you. What you saw, it’s been happening for years. Well, not this particularly but the supernatural.”

Eddie peeked his head out, “ What do you mean?”

Dustin crouches down awkwardly, hands together. “Theres another world. Its kind of like this one, but its terrifying. There are things there. Its called the upside down. We’ve been fighting it since 1983 when Will went missing.“

Steve feels him tense. “ ‘We?’ ‘Fighting?’, How do you fight an invisible force?”

“Demogorgons, demodogs, government people, russians. We’ve had to face them for years. Steve and I were there in 1983, Max in 1984, and Robin just joined in last year with the Russians and the mall.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, and he turned his head slightly to face Steve. “ Is that why you were so beat up last year?”

Steve shrugged, “ Yeah. Pretty much.”

Eddie burrowed his head into his neck again. “ Jesus H. Christ.”

“Look, we’re here to help you Eds, that murder in the trailer? They were asking me questions, they think its you. Wouldn’t let up on the idea no matter how much I insisted it wasn’t.”

Eddie looked at Steve with a mix of fear and gratitude, “What do we do? Can’t exactly waltz up and tell them it’s supernatural.”

Steve hummed, “We need to figure out what happened to that Chrissy, and clear your name.”

Max stepped forward, “We’ll help you, Eddie. We’ve faced worse than this.”

Eddie nodded, “Okay. Shit, we’re really doing this..”

Robin glanced around, “Not to interrupt or anything, but maybe we should do the whole story? Like, you guys didn’t even mention the super power girl, and shes like major isn’t she?”

The long haired metalhead nodded, giving Steve a squeeze before letting go and standing.

He turned to face Robin a grimace on his face, “ Right, yeah, full story. Super power girl, sure.”

Steve patted his shoulder, when did he even get up, and after a second, bumped him with his hip.

“Buckle up, Eds. This is gonna take a while.”

Tag-list

@bxlthazar @i-have-three-feelings

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baronaliswritingcorner · 3 months

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Fódlan Freewrites #4: Rhyming

“Why must I sit on the hat of a cat on a mat with the bat?” asked Edelgard as she did just that.

“Because, Lady Edelgard, the lick of a tick might kick your pick,” said Hubert as he crossed his arms.

Dorothea sighed. “But Hubert, wouldn’t the dog from the bog make a pog with the cog?”

Linhardt shook his head. “No, because the pub would have a cub since their dub is, indeed, the rub.”

Petra brought a finger to her chin. “Are you to be saying the cart from the mart is to be containing the tart and part from Bart?

Caspar ripped his shirt off. “Nah, he’s saying the fuzz from the cuzz is the buzz of the, uh, muzz.”

Bernadetta howled in E minor. “But that means the butt of the putt is only the mutt of Jabba the Hutt!”

Ferdinand proudly stuck out his chest with all the pride of a toothpick 14-year-old. “And that, my friends, is why the poll is on the roll with the toll from a loll.”

The Black Eagles all turned to Professor Byleth, who had finished writing on the chalkboard.

“And that concludes our freewriting rhyming exercise,” said Byleth as she set the chalk down. “Well done, class.”

Edelgard sighed in frustration as she stood up from the hat of a cat on a mat with the bat. “Professor, I still hardly understand what this has to do with preparing for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion.”

“Because the winner gets Pizza Hut courtesy of Lady Rhea, and I’m not letting those goddamned Blue Lions get away with the prize again this year. Now sit down and write me a five-paragraph essay on the fragile balance between Raphael’s biceps and the void of Ginnugagap.”

“But, Professor-"

Byleth cracked her teaching stick against her podium. “Do it.”

As the Black Eagles sat down to write a most irrelevant essay, Byleth chuckled silently as a devious smile played upon her lips.

Just you wait, Hanneman, thought the professor. The Hawaiian Chicken Pizza will be mine. ----

This one turned me on to rhyming. (Not depicted is the hellish scream Byleth unleashed when Claude and the Golden Deer eked out a win with underhanded tactics. Sadly, Pizza Hut was once more out of her reach.)

#fodlan freewrites #black eagles #deranged absurdism #fire emblem three houses #ficlet #pizza hut

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queer-coded-camaro-driver · 2 years

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Cherry Cola

Just a little snippet of something fluffy because I’m having a rough day and needed something sweet to brighten it up. Harringrove obvs.

Inspired by The Eagles of Death Metal song Cherry Cola.

---

Steve knows all about Billy’s incredibly detailed and fastidious pre-date Routine. He knows about the Aquanet and the two beautiful ringlets that need to hang just so over the blonde’s right eye. He knows what Billy’s favorite brand of cologne is, how much to apply, and where best to apply it (inside both wrists and the left hip). He knows that Billy has to tuck is shirt in, adjust his jeans, and then unbutton the damn thing all the way to his fucking navel.

But what keeps Steve from going truly crazy whenever he watches his unrequited crush get all dressed up for another first date with a faceless, giggling girl is the shake.

When Billy is finished getting dressed and picking out the right earring for his outfit, when he’s happy with his hair and his teeth and his look, he turns sideways in the mirror and shakes his ass once or twice. That’s the only reason the brunette keeps torturing himself by hanging out with Max’s older brother on Friday afternoons.

Well, that and the fact he’s head over heels in love with the stupidly hot lifeguard - but there’s no way in hell Billy Hargrove would ever be into guys. Much less “pretty” boys like Steve who have too much money and not enough common sense.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Harrington? I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears,” Billy teases, fingers flicking over the top of his jewelry box as he peruses his earrings.

“It’s nothing. Just stupid relationship shit.”

“You and Buckley having trouble in paradise?”

Steve nearly chokes on his gum, stolen from a pack in Billy’s porn-heavy bedside drawer. “Wh-What!? Me and Robin? Nooo-ho-ho, no way dude. There is nothing going on there. Strictly play-dough-nick.”

“It’s platonic, my man. And sure, okay. I believe that or whatever.”

“Robin has much better taste, I promise. I am truly and honestly sad and single.”

Billy makes a face at Steve through the mirror, but Steve ignores it in favor of flipping through a Playboy with mild disinterest. The blonde finishes primping and twists his hips away from Steve; the older boy’s eyes are instantly glued to Billy’s ass.

“I could always cancel on Katie,” he says.

“Huh?” Steve’s gaze whips back up to Billy’s face. He flushes red with shame when he realizes that he’s been caught and scrambles down from his perch on the windowsill. “I- I can just- I’m sorry, Billy, I-”

“Calm down, Harrington, damn. You’re gonna swallow your fuckin’ tongue or something if you keep talking that fast, pretty boy.”

Pretty boy is more of a purr than anything else, and Steve’s heart stutters in his chest. His knees lock, preventing him from making a proper escape, even as Billy crosses the room like a big cat on the prowl. Steve’s bottom lip gets trapped between his teeth.

“Wh-What are you doing?” Steve squeaks, watching Billy push into his personal space. The blonde gets up in Steve’s face, smirking like he’s about to tug the brunette into the backseat of his Camaro for a quick roll around. “Billy?”

“Now’s your chance, Harrington, stop me from going on my date. Make me wanna stay here instead, in my stupid bedroom, on a Friday night.”

A wire in his head must get crossed or short circuit or overload or something, because the next thing he knows, Steve has one hand tangled in Billy’s hairspray-sticky curls and the other shoved into the back pocket of Billy’s tight blue Wranglers. He presses his mouth against the blonde’s and sets to work making Billy forget every other person he’s ever kissed.

The shorter boy tries taking control for all of two seconds, until King Steve dredges up every dirty trick he’s ever learned at Skull Rock to prove why he has the crown in the first place. He slides his tongue along the seam of Billy’s lips only to take it away when the younger teen melts into his chest and groans.

“Wh-What the fuck, Harrington? Where’ve you been hiding all this talent?”

“Didn’t think you’d be into me,” Steve shrugs, squeezing Billy’s ass a little just because he can. Because confusingly enough, Billy is touching him back. Tracing a fingertip along Steve’s collarbone and nosing at his jaw between lazy pecks against his throat. “So... Wanna call Katie and tell her you’re not gonna show?”

“Never made a date with Katie,” Billy winks, and tugs Steve back down for more.

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove ficlet #harringrove fic #harringrove fluff #fluff #first kiss #getting together #harringrove first kiss #harringrove getting together #fluff and romance #cherry cola #eagles of death metal

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infinite-orangepeel · 1 year

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the eagle scout steve / perv eddie fic sounds like it'd be the premise of a 1970s/1980s lost media kind of film

you absolutely hit the nail on the head with this one ! i absolutely get that type of vibe from it too. there are some other elements (a few angsty ones bc who am i if not an angst writer) that will be surprises but also greatly feed into the lost media energy ✨☺️

also i absolutely love hearing everyone’s thoughts/ideas surrounding this au and camboy!steve 💛

it’s super motivating & has given me so many great ideas for both fics :) appreciate all of you !! and thx for sending this one in anon (if any more come to mind send ‘em my way)

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hhimring · 7 months

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Eagle OC

Wayward Daughter, Carry On.

The story of a young eagle: how and why she made her way from Valinor to Beleriand.

SWG challenge response.

Here on SWG

#eagles #valinor #beleriand #ficlet #my ofc

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naffeclipse · 2 months

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I would love to see you gush/hear your take about Harpy Sun/Moon/Eclipse some day! I think I've seen some art of it before but never in writing! <3

😊🌻❤

I have written a Harpy!Sun ficlet that you can read right here! As for Moon and Eclipse, hopefully in the future!

Moon would be gorgeous with deep blue feathers and owl-like with his night vision and silent flight. Eclipse would possess stunning garnet-hued wings and have large, eagle-like wings! They need little Y/Ns to cherish, wrap their wings around them, and give them some soft pecks on the cheek. Love birds, all around!

#harpies... augh #harpy!moon #harpy!eclipse #harpy!sun #harpy au

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quitealotofsodapop · 1 month

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Bruh I was gonna write this as a ficlet but I ain't never gonna finish. Here, feel free to add or contribute if you please or enjoy:

This wasn't how Wukong's day was supposed to go. He was supposed to just do a quick flight over to the city, check his former brother's seal, and return home to another binge marathon of Monkey Cop and pigging out on peach chips. None of this successor stuff, none of this fighting to save the world bullcrap. Just a normal, regular old day of being completely alone aside from his younger and more feral subjects, the cubs often curling up on him or practicing their grooming. Just like he's done for the past 500 plus years.

His sister-in-law and her son finding a way to actually succeed in their quest to release his brother wasn't in that plan... neither was the unexpected reunion between Wukong and the little cub he'd given up all those years ago. Qi Xiaotian, or MK as he was known as, had grown up quite a lot in the years since he'd broken his own heart by placing a human disguise on him, sealing his powers away, and left him to the decendants of his late master and brother to find. Don't get him wrong, he hadn't done so out of neglect or because he didn't want to keep the cub. Hell, he hadn't even completely abandoned him either, consistently checking up on the little guy and keeping him safe from a distance as he grew. But he wasn't stupid either, the kid would have been miserable growing up with Wukong, would have never had a normal life if he was left with the old king, and that was the last thing Wukong had wanted for him.

Even so, seeing him suddenly appear out of nowhere had near made Wukong's stone heart jump out of his chest. Why his cub (Wukong firmly shook his head at the reminder that MK was NOT his cub anymore and he doesn't have the right to call him that) was even in that dirty alleyway climbing the pipes he has no idea, but at the moment Wukong had bigger things to worry about. Like his brother rising from the ground as his staff was lifted by some weird gauntlet his nephew had built and the fact he was in no way capable of fighting his brother again.

The kid promptly running away and then losing the staff in some hairbrained scheme to get it back to him after he picked it up hadn't been the best. Nor was the kid nearly being blown into a lava field by his sister-in-law and being forced to save him and carry him the rest of the way to Huāguǒshān hadn't been the best outcome either, but he'd take it.

He just wished it hadn't come at the cost of the kid discovering Wukong's secret. He had kinda figured it'd get out when the kid decided to try to return the staff to him, but he kinda wish it hadn't happened the way it had. The kid had seen him as he transformed back into his true form from his eagle form, which normally wouldn't be an issue, except Wukong had gotten up that morning and decided not to even bother brushing his fur or changing out of his pajamas.

Like he said, he had been planning a quick peekey weekey at the staff to make sure nothing was amiss and then binging his shows, nothing exciting or cleanup worthy. And considering his pajama shirt proudly proclaimed 'Baby on Board' there was simply no hiding the truth. Sun Wukong, the Monkey King, was pregnant.

Had been since before the Journey that truly made him a legend had even properly started, not that anyone beyond Guanyin or the Pilgrims had known.

MK had naturally been extremely excited to meet his idol and also quite confused about his condition. Wukong had just laughed off the matter for the most part. It certainly wasn't the worst reaction he'd dealt with in regards to his condition, Zu Baije had taken the cake for that one. And of course, Wukong had to be a kind host and lead the kid back to his hut, partially so he could change out of pajamas into something more fitting for company, while the kid rambled on about the Demon Bull King. It was during the walk back that Wukong had, essentially, admitted to spying on the kid.

And admitted to his own fault in getting the kid involved, confessing that he had sort of panicked in the moment. It was only fair that he fessed up, as he truly hadn't intended to put him in any true danger. He needed a distraction. Something to get that staff away from the IronBull Family, and the kid was the only available option. Especially when considering the more than likely negative feelings the IronBuul Fanily harbor towards Wukong and his precious egg.

He'd even complimented MK's handling of the staff, which was quite impressive considering exactly what Ruyi Jingu Bang actually was and the fact the kid had no prior experience with staffs or any type of weaponry as far as Wukong knew. The fact he could even lift the ancient artifact at all was impressive. He even joked that he might as well make him Wukong's successor for real after seeing that, after getting the staff back. That was a mistake. The kid took the joke seriously and decided that, since Wukong clearly couldn't fight in his condition, he would fight of Demon Bull King in his stead.

Wukong was almost impressed, if he hadn't been busy panicking over how BAD of an idea that was. MK is mortal!! He could get hurt! But apparently stubbornness is a common trait among Stone Monkeys and their ilk, because once MK had the idea in his head he refused to let it go. At this point, the best Wukong could do is damage control.

And by that he meant 'reign the kid in enough to get an actually viable plan up off the ground.' A plan that, upon reaching the city where the IronBull Family were beginning their conquest, and being surprised to see MK's friends rise to the occasion to try to fight the demon family themselves in the process, immediately went belly up in the water. The kid was supposed to stay back, let Wukong handle distracting the king while he got his friends to safety and snuck close enough to try to summon the staff from where it was being used as a battery in the generator DBK was wearing to power himself up. But then Wukong collapsed as soon as they landed, the multiple trips and carrying a teenager across an active volcano field being too much in addition to the baby that consistently drained his powers and the dao around it. Because of course Stone Monkey pregnancies can't be easy, right!?

Seeing the situation, MK promptly took Wukong's role and challenged the Bull King, leaving Wukong groundbound and trying to sneak close enough to get to the staff.

Then MK fucked up.

Wukong has no idea what the cub was thinking, but he decided to go for the generator himself, causing a massive explosion and a ton of property damage. And for Wukong, that resulted in a building falling on top of him. Luckily, Wukong is the Monkey King and was able to cast a last second protection spell upon his stomache to prevent his baby from getting hurt and he himself is immortal and mostly invincible, unfortunately he doesn't have the strength left between everything to get out from under the building. And he's fairly certain he has a couple of broken ribs and his leg is most definitely not supposed to bend that way. Meaning he was stuck, injured, and vulnerable out in the open with only him hastily throwing his dirty and ripped scarf over his head in a desperate attempt to stop anyone with unfriendly intentions, namely his former brother, from recognizing him.

In short, he was screwed.

See, an unfortunate truth about Stone Monkeys is that the reason they are

so rare in spite of their unique methods of procreation and power... is because it comes at a heavy cost. The stone egg that grows within a celestial primate feeds upon their very life force and the dao around them. Meaning that between the egg, multiple trips between his island and the city, and the work he put in to just keep the shrapnel from the battle form hitting any of the mortals who just had to stop and stare, Wukong had very little of his strength and power left to do something as simple as moving a couple thousand tons of rubble, debris, and shrapnel that was now burying his lower body. Some of which was digging painfully into his leg. Sometimes he wishes he had never let himself be redeemed, things would have been simpler if he didn't care about dorky mortals who foolishly hang out where they shouldn't be or pick fights with ancient demon kings.

"Hey, hey!" Wukong's ears perked as a voice shouted over the explosions of DBK's cannon. Blinking, he turned his head towards the sound, trying to blink past the dust and debris clouds that looked just a little too much like smoke in the waning light of the sunset. When did it get so late!? A large, stocky figure that would be considered short by most demons' descriptions but looked a giant in Wukong's own unglamorous opinion began to fade out of the dust around him, and bringing another sense of panic to him.

Zu Baije's decendant.

The monkey demon absolutely could not risk him seeing him. Being recognized in this vulnerable state would be bad news for him and his baby, that aside, he himself is msot certainly not mentally or emotionally ready to handle seeing a potential reincarnation of his brother! It doesn't take a genius, when one has Eyes of Truth, to realize the soul now running towards him through the debris shared the sound of his ancestor. Wukong squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think of a way out fo this as the piglet fell to his knees next to him.

"Are you alright!? Jeez... what am I sayin!? Of course you ain't, a building fell on you! Hey, don't worry, well getcha outta here."

The pig was rambling as he took in the filthy orange fur and unnatural angle of the monkey's leg. Wukong forced a smile upon his lips, all teeth and praying it be reassuring. Time to try to convince him to leave.

"D-don't worry about me. I'm fine." Wukong coughed out, cursing the way his voice stumbled over the words. The pig did not seem convinced, or I pressed for that matter, with. Wukong's reassurance. Instead he collapsed next to the monkey demon and began digging at the debris.

"H-hey, what..." Wukong tried to weakly shove him off, "I said not to worry! A bunch of rocks isn't gonna hurt me, you should just get out of here yourself! The fight is heading in this direction!"

AHHHHH!H!HH!H!H!H!

@a-tea-goblin you seeing this!?

This is gotta be one of the best gifts i've recieved in a long while!

I love the descriptions of Wukong + MK instantly deciding "I protec you now." when he realises that the Monkey King isn't doing so great cus of the baby.

And Dadsy to the rescue!! You know Wukong is caught off guard - I love how you have him protesting getting helped the entire time. He's not used to people caring about him again.

Even if you never "finish" this as a ficlet, I immensely enjoyed what you wrote!

#slow boiled stone egg au #stone egg talk #pregnancy tw #others writing #lmk aus #sun wukong #lmk mk #qi xiaotian #lmk pigsy #lmk #lego monkie kid

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nomsfaultau · 3 months

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Dark SBI AU where Philza’s human children were replaced by monsters. Start of ficlet is here.

(sorry for repeating a part im new to formatting ficlets)

The Lambs Wolves Wear part 4

Once the truth came out, “Tommy” was the least likely to wear the skin of his child. The shapeshifting demon slipped in and out of forms like water, powerful and sleek. To him, Tommy was nothing more than another form to play with. Discarded like a toy the demon lost interest in, like Tommy wasn't Philza's whole world. "Tommy" only ever wanted the form to manipulate humans, to appear small and vulnerable and precious. Perhaps the shape changer knew it felt like a gut punch every time Philza remembered those soft blue eyes were only a mask for the monster hiding in what used to be his youngest son.

It helped that his true form hadn’t a chance of fitting inside the home. So Philza found himself spending more and more time trapped in doors so as to force “Tommy” to a smaller, more manageable size. At least he’d learned to be more benign near the cattle and hens, though at times he stirred them into a frenzy, sharp teeth laughing at the chaos. Yet more often than not he wore a corrupted version of the real Tommy, clinging onto Philza’s hip. “Tommy” did little to suppress his four demon horns, mangled wings at time materializing to further ensnare Philza. He was often left covered in shallow scratches and a few nip marks. Nothing dangerous, mind, simply a reminder that at any point "Tommy" could rend him limb from limb.

As often as he confined himself to the home now, it had become nigh impossible to tend the fields, though “Technoblade” had taken to it with glee. The undead legions flickered between rows of grain, having declared war on the weeds. It was harder than it used to be with fewer tasks to distract himself with. Philza found himself stripped of work, the monsters stealing it so that he was left with undivided attention for them.

He didn’t know what to do with himself. But the monsters found a use for him. A flap of tattered demon wings and a small earth quake signaled “Tommy’s” return from a long day of terrorizing mortals or whatever it is he did in his free time. The door slammed open, wind rushing in a gale as a terrible eagle ripped through the home, wings smashing things off the walls and tables. Red eyes gleamed as they found Philza sitting before the fireplace, and at once it dove towards him sharply. Midair, the demon enlarged, smoothly converting from a dive to a pounce. A chimera slammed into him full force, knocking the air from Philza’s lungs. Sharp claws pinned him in place as a lion head began to butt against him roughly, goat horns jamming into his soft underbelly.

“What have I said about shapeshifting in the house, “Tommy”?” A deep growl froze Philza in place, bared fangs inches from his face. The chimera circled a few times, then flumphed into his lap, settling in. “You can’t just-“ a wing shot out, slamming across his face in retaliation. Something hot trickled down his lip. Fire glowed in the back of “Tommy’s” mouth as Philza clutched his bleeding nose. It grew brighter and brighter, “Tommy’s” hackles bristling, but Philza stubbornly tended to his injury. At least, till the lion’s maw part in jagged fangs and the fireball in the chimera’s throat threatened to devour him in flame. Philza jolted, and quickly began to pet “Tommy” with shaking hands covered in his own blood.

Bristling fur smoothed, and “Tommy” snuggled in, tearing large rips through the couch and gurgling a thing that couldn’t quite be considered a purr. “You can’t intimidate me every time you want something,” Philza said the moment his voice worked again. Each word tasted like the blood quickly beginning to coat his front.

“Of course I can,” “Tommy” rumbled. “It’s how Hell works.” The viper’s tail wrapped around his ankle, venomous fangs poised above his arteries. “I could say ‘scratch me behind the ears or I’ll poison you’ and you’ll do it.” And so Philza did, after the hiss of a snake nearly buried itself in his flesh. “Tommy” stretched, satisfied, though the viper curled around Philza remained.

“That isn’t how love works, though. If you keep being mean, I might stop loving you.”

Hellish red eyes whipped towards him, shock rounding them. “It can be revoked?” At Philza’s nod, all four of “Tommy’s” ears flattened, a snarl building in his throats. “If you stop loving me I’ll rip you apart.”

“A-and that will just ensure you’ll never get love again.”

The growl died. Confusion twisted the monster’s features, the demon trying to find a way he could threaten Philza without ‘being mean’. Or more aptly, how to weasel out of threat he couldn’t actually fulfill without losing his perceived power. The bafflement only increased exponentially, the demon becoming distraught. “How do I get something if not by force or deception?”

“Love is reciprocal. You have to give it if you want to receive it.” The demon was distrustful of the notion, squinting at Philza as if waiting for the catch. He slowly peeled off the mortal he was crushing, till Philza was face to face with a lion head, demonic eyes piercing him for truth. “That means- that means you can’t hurt me. Or threaten to, either. You have to be nice, like I’ve been to you.”

A giant paw rose, hesitated, then raked across his chest. Philza flinched, pressing back into the couch as much as he could. “Tommy” batted at him over and over, tearing Philza’s shirt and streaking light crimson scratches across his chest. The demon ignored his yelps of pain, his strength unmatched as he pinned the panicking Philza in place. He’d pushed his luck too far, and now he was going to get gutted. He should’ve never tried to set boundaries with a demon. “Stop squirming,” the chimera growled. “You’re making it hard to pet you.”

Philza grit his teeth. Nice. Warm. Fatherly. He bit out a strained smile so he couldn’t scream. “You’re playing too rough, son. You gotta be gentle with me, remember? You’re making me bleed.”

The chimera paused in its attack, frowning. “But blood is how humans bind their vows. You promised to love me, so you must bleed to keep that oath.”

That. Yeah, in retrospect that explained a lot about how cuddling with “Tommy” usually went. Philza had always ended up bruised, nipped fingers and scratch marks. “Humans can keep promises without a blood pact. In fact, that’s how most of them are done.”

“Then how will I force you to uphold it?”

“If you are kind I shall do it of my own volition.”

“Tommy’s” hackles raised. “No you won’t. You would betray me at the first opportunity.”

“Perhaps in hell. Not here.” Philza stroked “Tommy’s” muzzle and slowly began coaxing him to be more gentle. He distrusted Philza’s words, scoffing at them, but seemed willing to try so as to not lose Philza’s affection. Eventually he persuaded the demon to don a weaker, safer form, particularly after the lion head’s nuzzling started trying to bite his arms. A fox curled in his lap, happily purring as Philza ran his fingers through too-hot fur. Occasionally "Tommy" rubbed against him to show affection. Or possibly just to make sure Philza was paying attention to solely him.

“What was Hell like?” Philza asked curiously. Fishing for information was the least dangerous with "Tommy", and given how unintentionally (?) lethal he was that was saying something. But the others were far more conniving in a way the straight-forward demon was not. And Philza needed to figure out how to get his real children back as quick as possible.

The purring stopped abruptly, hackles bristling as the beast grew. Philza braced for an attack that never came. “Tommy” simply looked away from him, resting his head on his paws. “…really, really awful. That’s why I want to stay with you forever.”

Next>

Art for this part

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underacalicosky · 1 month

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I found myself with some extra time this afternoon and wrote a little Obikin ficlet inspired by @aberrantcreature's artwork that features Harpywan and Harpykin. It's G-rated. They're harpy eagles. They're cute and I love them.

#obikin #obikin fic #obikin ficlet #fic inspired by artwork

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hecckyeah · 9 days

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two weeks of chenford challenge day 4 - april 19th

prompt: open door

type: ficlet

important side note: I have plans for this to expand it, but I literally fell asleep in the middle of writing the next part which is why it's a day late, but since this was cute enough on its own I thought I would post it for y'all anyway, to have something for yesterday's challenge :) HOWEVER. stay tuned for the finished product soon!!

In Which Lucy's Apartment Desperately Needs Proximity Sensors . . .

As Tamara pushes the door open, all that’s on her mind is a hot bowl of noodles and a couple episodes of Stranger Things waiting for her after that day she just had at school. Gen ed has its perks, but logic class is not one of them. She’d been thoroughly humbled by the midterm exam, walked through a bowl of yogurt some idiot had spilled in the cafeteria, and fell asleep in anthropology – the one class with that sort of professor that has an eagle eye and a tendency to dock any student whose behavior he finds “unbecoming of a university student.”

But as her key clicks in the lock and she shoves open the heavy apartment door, only to see her roommate and said roommate’s boss with their respective faces at a physical proximity that is definitely not LAPD standard regulation, her brain takes a moment to catch up with her eyes.

It’s almost comical how fast and how far the two immediately fly apart, practically shoving each other away, putting as much distance between them as physically possible in such a small space. They look absolutely stunned, guilty, and just a little bit dazed.

She has no idea how to respond, except to flee.

“Oh, I . . .” Tamara drags out the word and points behind herself out the hallway. “I should probably go.”

“No!” Lucy exclaims, almost a little too quickly. “This is work.” Her hands are hidden under her sweater sleeves as she gestures broadly at Tim, who looks about ready to jump out the window. “This is . . . work.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees. “We’re – We’re going undercover, and–”

“Hey, hey,” Tamara interjects. The why doesn’t matter, just that she clearly overstepped her roommate boundaries and they obviously need their space at the moment. No big deal. “It’s cool, I mean you don’t have to explain yourself.” She would just crash at Drake’s place. His sister probably has a set of pajamas she could borrow. “I should probably go.”

But again, Lucy is adamant that she stay, and as Tim rattles off some half-formed, awkward excuse and practically sprints out the door, barely sparing Tamara a sideways glance and a rushed, “Bye,” she has to wonder what the hell just happened.

She can tell Lucy isn’t ready to explain herself yet. She holds back the gut reaction she has to laugh and spares her roommate’s feelings by simply tilting her head and waiting for her to say anything. But Lucy only stares back, clearly too caught up in the whatever just happened to form any sort of coherent thoughts or sentences, so Tamara makes the executive decision and relieves them both of the pressure to communicate.

“. . . I’m gonna go to my room.”

“Yeah,” Lucy immediately agrees. “Me too. Good.”

And just like that, both the bedroom doors click closed, and Tamara throws herself onto her bed, feeling a laugh bubbling up in her chest as she stares at the ceiling in stunned silence. If that wasn’t the most awkward interaction she’s ever seen or experienced, she doesn’t know what was.

One thing’s for sure, though: This is a story she cannot wait to hear.

#chenford #the rookie #two weeks of chenford 2024 #tamara collins #lucy chen #tim bradford

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eagle-warri · 1 year

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a bit of a fic I wrote for @majickth's Hermit Hollow AU

Etho had gotten used to the shifts between stations, as the Hollow moved him wherever the locals showed up. He had become accustomed to the feeling of Pass n’ Gas as well, feeling the universe shift to make the impossibility of making a single employee store to a dual and changing it back again. He had even become used to being in two places at once when people came into gas stations on opposite sides of town, holding two conversations between groups so different he was surprised he didn’t get them mixed up.

Etho had never half been in a place before, though. It was a Pass n’ Gas. At first, he had figured another local had wandered in, but then his fingers passed through the magazine he reached for. It was only then that he realized that his usually opaque jacket and mask were slightly see-through and Keralis, who usually picked up on the shifts in one way or another, hadn’t reacted at all, simply greeting the customer who came in.

Despite the warm night, the customer was in a sweater, sleeves pushed up. As he came in, the customer pushed up his glasses and brought a polaroid camera up to his eye, snapping a picture of the seemingly mundane shop. Etho wasn’t sure if the picture caught him, but it probably wouldn’t have looked good if it did. When the customer lowered the camera, Etho recognized him as Grian, the new guy in town, the one who had figured out that Etho’s home station was a liminal space. Apparently the Hollow hadn’t decided whether Grian was local or outsider, friend or foe. It usually reacted that way to investigators. As Grian looked behind the counter towards Etho, the Hollow must’ve decided that it needed to hide this secret from Grian, and Etho was shifted back to his home station.

Grian was still alive the next day, so he either survived the thing Keralis called “Princess” or had never been fed to it in the first place. Apparently the town had decided to let him live another day. Etho knew it was only a matter of time until the Hollow took Grian as one of its own. For better or worse.

#hermits hollow au #etho just kinda appears all around town #so he knows a bit about just about everything #especially what happens in the secluded corners of gas stations #also running with the headcanon that the Hollow is sentient #in a way #as much as a creepy small town can be sentient #eagle's ficlet

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bunysliper · 11 months

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Castle Ficlet: Troublemakers (Lightning Flashes) 1/1

Troublemakers (A Lightning Flashes ficlet)

"Well, aren't the two of you just adorable?"

Normally, she would blush and tug herself away from Rick at the tease, but she doesn't this time. There's no reason to hide anymore, not from Martha, not even from herself.

They're new to this, at least in some ways. In others, though, it's like they've been doing this forever.

"Mother," Rick whines. There's no bite behind it, though. Just good natured childish embarrassment. And Rick can always use a little bit of embarrassment. It keeps him honest, humble even.

"What?" Martha scoffs. "I'm simply saying that the two of you are delightful as a couple and I am so glad you finally got your heads out of your a-"

"Hey, hey, hey," Rick says quickly, glancing down at the baby sprawled across their laps. Alexis is finally settling down, which means her eagle ears are definitely listening to everything they're saying. The last thing they need is for her to parrot what she hears.

Though, Kate muses, it would be nice to be able to blame someone other than herself for Alexis learning a new curse word. The last one had been a little bit mortifying - less so because of the word itself and more because of when the kid had decided to demonstrate her new favorite four letters; Kate's fairly sure they'll be allowed back in the restaurant, but she's going to wait a little longer to be sure.

Martha holds up her hands. "Oh, relax, Richard. I'm not going to corrupt your one year old. Especially not by giving you and Katherine a compliment."

Kate snickers at that, pressing her cheek to her fiance's shoulder. It is still hard to believe that they made it here, after so many years, so much hiding from each other, all the back and forth. It's nice, though. So nice.

And the getting married part isn't so bad, either.

"Thank you, Martha," she says, brushing a hand over Alexis's back. They need to put her to bed soon, but they're all so comfortable the way they are. "We appreciate that, even if Rick is bad at admitting it."

Her fiance feigns offense.

"Then say thank you, Ricky, and we can enjoy the rest of our evening in peace." She makes a show of rolling her eyes, winking at Martha playfully.

Rick's mother grins, lifting her glass in response.

"Traitor."

Kate laughs, careful not to startle Alexis. The girl squirms, rolling closer to her belly and sighing.

"I'm sorry, honey," she murmurs. "Daddy's causing trouble again."

Rick scoffs, ducking his head to kiss Alexis's hair. "Yeah, because your mommy is so much better," he says, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. "She's never caused a bit of trouble in her life."

Her heart stutters in her chest. It's not the first time the name - title? Honorific? - has been directed toward her, but somehow it feels different than when it's said in the middle of the night or when it comes from Alexis's lips. It's never been said in front of others, not even at Alexis's birthday, when the girl had been happily babbling away about anything under the sun.

Sucking in a deep breath, Kate swallows hard. She reaches out for her drink, curling her fingers around the curve of her wine glass and bringing the rim to her lips.

"Nope," she says a moment later, allowing the air to escape her lungs. "Mommy's never done a thing wrong ever. She doesn't know a thing about making trouble."

She shifts, pulling Alexis closer.

"You won't either, will you, Alexis?"

The baby snuggles closer. She's oblivious to the conversation around her, to the warmth she's providing.

"Yeah," Kate exhales, bringing Alexis's fingers to her lips. "S'what I thought."

"With the two of you for parents? I will believe that when I see it," Martha chuckles, taking another sip of her wine.

Kate grins, cuddling Alexis and sinking deeper into Rick's arms. Let them be adorable troublemakers tonight; they've earned it.

#Fluffy Friday #Caskett #Caskett Fanfic #Castle Fanfic #Castle Fanfiction #My Fanfic #Lightning Flashes #Castle AU Fic

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heleentje · 1 year

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Revalink Week Day 2: "You can do better than that"

A short little ficlet for Revalink Week!

This takes place in a universe that's slightly to the left of AoC, where Revali doesn't resent Link nearly as much since Link hasn't yet drawn the Master Sword and therefore isn't the Hero of Legend.

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There is something uniquely frustrating about almost having to admit defeat to a Hylian soldier. Doubly so when the only thing that saved him were his trusty bomb arrows, set to go off in the soldier's face. Were it not for the Princess’ interference, Revali would have won, of course —

But oh, it was a far closer fight than Revali likes to think about.

The soldier — Link, Revali learns from the Princess’ frustrated bids for independence — has recently been made part of the royal entourage after excelling at killing a bunch of low-level pests. Admittedly, he wields a sword with unusual proficiency, for him to even give Revali a challenge, let alone come close to defeating him.

That is why it is especially galling to come across him during a visit to Hyrule Castle and be forced to witness him treating a bow like a fledgling would.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, clicking his beak when Link nearly lets his arrow go wild. How does he purport to call himself an archer if he cannot even focus through the most basic of interruptions? Revali learned archery with someone always chattering at his head, until he wanted to scream at her to shut up, but at the end of the day, he could have a bomb go off next to him and still keep sight of his target.

Link lowers his bow, thankfully letting the string go slack when he does so. Revali has seen what passes for archery with the Hylians. He wouldn’t be surprised if they mishandled their bows as well.

“Champion Revali,” he says, with a wary kind of deference that rubs Revali entirely the wrong way. The soldier who fought him hadn’t held anything back. Now that he’s been assigned as the Princess’ personal guard, he keeps trying to pull away from the Champions. Mipha is clearly hurt by it, and that only serves to increase Revali’s annoyance.

“What are you doing?” he asks again. Link looks at the ground, clearly unwilling to answer. Revali tsks, taking his own Great Eagle Bow from his shoulder and holding out an expectant wing. Link stares at it for an uncomprehending moment, before some sense finally penetrates into his brain and he hands him an arrow.

Of course Revali carries his own arrows, but why should he waste a perfectly good Rito arrow on a Hylian?

He aims demonstratively, making a much bigger show out of it than he needs to. It’s not even a moving target — he could hit those without looking when he was still a fledgling himself. But hitting the target is only secondary. Perhaps this way, Link and any Hylians fortunate enough to be nearby can finally see what proper form looks like.

And Link is looking, he realizes with a pulse of warm gratification. He’s tracking the movement of Revali’s wings and shoulders as he takes aim at the target, and follows the arrow when Revali looses the string.

It hits dead center. There’s nowhere else it could have gone.

Link nods, blue eyes very serious, and he takes up his own bow again. The way he mimics Revali’s stance may be a little clumsy, but it’s miles better than it used to be.

“Don’t keep your shoulders so high,” Revali says, and Link actually listens. He’s not used to the new stance, so his arrow doesn’t quite hit the center, but with enough practice…

Although, something has been bothering him since that time when they fought near Rito Village.

Link is undoubtedly a far more accomplished swordsman than he is an archer, but Revali remembers him trying to shield with his sword arm, even though his actual shield was carried solidly on his left. It was always just the barest of moments before he corrected, but a weakness nonetheless, and one he’d made use of more than once during the fight.

Like all the Hylian soldiers, he wields his sword with his right hand, and he shoots his bow with it too. But the Hylian army has the unfortunate habit of prioritizing uniformity over skill. Unless Revali is sorely mistaken, Link is much like him and would be a much better fighter if he were allowed to use his left hand instead.

There’s nothing he can do about it. Not right now, at least, with the Calamity looming ahead of him. Link will need all his skills to even survive the oncoming battle, and letting him use the hand that comes naturally to him would require significant retraining. For a Hylian, he’s competent enough with a bow. It will have to do.

But after the Calamity has been slain by their combined might, then maybe… Revali has been training fledglings since he was little more than one himself and desperate to contribute something to the village that had taken him in. It is hardly a challenge anymore, not when the Rito thrive in the air.

A Hylian, on the other hand… Earthbound as they are, that will be a challenge to mould into a proper archer. And it’s a challenge Revali looks forward to.

But for now, he can at least give a proper example. So he holds out his hand again, and the corner of Link’s mouth quirks when he hands over a new arrow.

#RevalinkWeek2023 #revalink #age of calamity #botw #feat. my 'every link is left-handed' headcanon #The prompt isn't outright in the fic but it's there in spirit #will I post this on AO3 one day?#Maybe #Maybe not #heleen writes

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outofangband · 7 months

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1/6 Himring ficlets (one for each of the named elven seasons)

This one is winter

Winter comes early to Himring as it does each year. The first snowfall dusts the already frozen ground and accumulates in the cracks between stone walls and ledges. The scouts Lord Maedhros sends out leave only the faintest traces of footsteps, easily scattered back to power by the heavy winds.

The winter preparations were completed nigh a fortnight ago, broths of bone boiled and stored, the last of the years’ short bounty of leaves harvested, dried, and crushed, to be used in their ever increasing need of salves and draughts for the sick and injured, blankets and winter robes mended and made. Their stores were lower than last year’s and their needs were far greater. Trade could not be prioritized even if Maedhros had allies living in enough prosperity who could easily spare the travel and resources to spare. His men were not unused to hardship or lacking luxury. Not only were some number from the Iron Hell themselves, all who joined him here were not naive about the potential difficulties in these bitter lands. But the fact remained that more demanding work required more resources

The face and features of the Lord of Himring are still more obscured by the heavy arraignments of woolen garments he wears as he awaits the latest report which will land upon his shoulders by the ever early sunset, carried by the speckled eagle of his kin to the Northwest. The snow falls upon what is visible of his red hair, coating it in a dull white. Each speck freezes on its own time upon his pale skin. He is a grim sight in the threshold of the fortress.

The limbs of Maedhros are stiff with pain as they are often. He does not wish for battle, any bloodlust waxing and waning with so many things and he has not seen nor anticipated direct battle in enough time that it has for the moment faded. But the tingling of his fingers hurts far more in contrast to the dull familiar aching of his old chains and it is hard to deny the energy that seems to accompany the spark. A desire for action.

Morgoth, he half wonders with a bitter twinge, does not particularly enjoy the wait either. The thrill of the infliction of terror is surely not enjoyed from so afar. Though fool he is if he thinks himself any particular sage on the mind of their Enemy after only his unfortunate time in His clutches.

With the cold hands of winter winds upon the bare skin he has unwisely left upon his neck he remembers the cold hands of the Black Foe, lifting his hair with a thoughtful mockery of tenderness before sinking ragged nails in, dragging them down to form whatever hellish designs took His fancy. For a moment Maedhros is lost in time and the bitterness of the windchill may only have been his memories. He will not know until he sees faint red upon his skin, causing the scars already there to fade slightly. He knows what he has sought in Himring is an impossible contradiction; to forget and to never forget all at once. To distance himself from the Iron Prisons at their very doorstep.

There will be movement soon. Consumed as they are by this winter, news by way of their kins’ words or their enemies actions will not reach them in good time. But the rest of the world is not condemned to the ever cold that Maedhros has chosen to weather here. The rest of the world goes on with stray soldiers collapsing half dead upon the foot of his feet and torn parchment with blurred writing their primary source of information until this storm passes.

Night slides easily over the quiet lands, the sky bruising from gray to the cloudy darkness of early winter. The bird does not come. Maedhros allows himself to be swallowed by the coming storm.

#the silmarillion #maedhros #post angband #himring #short writings

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latibvles · 2 years

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WITH YOUR HEAD ON MY SHOULDER.

PAIRING: Dick Winters x Reader

GENRE: Tooth-rotting fluff. Cavity-inducing even.

SUMMARY: Aimless Austria sweetness featuring shirtless Dick Winters because I am a simple woman with simple needs. Yes I was in fact listening to Older by 5SOS when writing this.

DEDICATIONS: @liebgotts-lovergirl because you can bet your ass this is me projecting all of the love I have for Major Winters into a ficlet after that cute prompt you sent me

he is literally so fine fr okay um moving right along ( and no this isn’t proofread )—

In your time in Europe — one undeniable truth became apparent. Peace was hard fought. The serenity of Zell Am See was a testament to that fact. That, and the silver band which now occupied your ring finger, catching the light of the early morning sun.

You sit patiently at the water’s edge as he swims back to you, pushing himself back up onto the rock and pushing his fingers through sopping reddish hair. Almost immediately thereafter, he slips his matching silver band onto his own finger, and shoots you a warm smile.

It wasn’t a wedding ring — but it was definitely a promise. Dick had been more than adamant on the fact that as much as he loved showering you with German loot, your engagement ring had to be more special than that. Promise rings, however, were fair game, plucked from a long abandoned house near the Eagle’s Nest, exchanged in the quiet of a balcony with the soft-spoken promise of “When things are better.”

That being said, things here honestly felt pretty damn good.

Reaching up to dry off his own hair with a towel, you begin to giggle and at that, Dick raises a curious brow.

“What is it?”

“I was expecting you to shake your head like a dog again n’ get me all wet.” You tease, and you can hear his quiet scoff as he sets the towel down.

“It was one time and I didn’t see you,” he’s not actually upset, so the way his voice takes on an almost childish sort of whine that’s so out of character for him is equally as amusing.

“Oh don’t tell me you’re going blind now, Dickie.” He rolls his eyes fondly at the nickname. He’d shown you a letter from his parents once, back in Aldbourne. Ever since, when you really wanted to mess with him, the name rolled off your tongue as easily as any other quip did. Admittedly, he didn’t mind it whenever it came from you.

“Then I won’t tell you.”

His smile only grows when you reach out to slightly push him — a warm hand upon his chilled skin from the water. He sways only slightly, because he isn’t really trying to resist, before he scoots back beside you. You look over his face, the amused glint in his eyes as he returns your stare. Dick Winters was perfectly capable of smiling and joking and laughing with the rest — it was just rare to see him actually do it. Breaking professionalism was something Nixon was more often the witness of and victim to, gaining a sort of self-serving amusement watching his best friend respond to his sarcasm with equal dryness or some other remark.

Nixon, and you, who had managed to worm your way in and get him to laugh and smile more often than he really should’ve.

It started with small things, almost comically childish in nature, like pulling a stink-eye when Sobel had his back turned or participating in the good-natured ribbing that most if not all enlisted men partook in. Then going back and forth with Nix whenever he happened to be around, and eventually annexing Dick into your jests on the one-off occasion.

Without necessarily meaning to, you’d managed to stumble your way into Dick’s heart — he, on the other hand, seemed to march into yours to the cadence of your heartbeat.

“Withholding information is a terrible way to start off a marriage. Your poor mother would faint at the very thought,” All he can do is laugh, wholeheartedly, at your immediate response. While it was definitely true, Edith Winters would have many words on the matter — the entire hypothetical was so ridiculous that he couldn’t help himself.

“Then I guess I’ll have to tell you when I go blind after all.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

You lapse for a moment into silence, reaching over to lace your fingers and smile fondly at Dick’s matching promise ring. As the morning sun continues to rise and break through the trees lining the lake, you find yourself resting your cheek on the man’s freckled shoulder, pressing a kiss to it and then bumping your nose against it. In response, you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head.

It feels like, for the briefest moment, that the world has come to a halt, holding their breath and allowing two young lovers to cherish this moment of respite. You both knew that even in peace times, work was to be done — wrangling the soldiers into some semblance of order, managing POWs, all sorts of things that would no doubt demand your immediate attention in the coming hours.

But all that could wait.

Right now, all that really mattered was Dick’s thumb tracing small patterns into the back of your hand, the water droplets smeared by the cheek on his skin, the stillness in the air, the ripples in the pond, and the feeling that, without even needing to check — your hearts were likely beating in time, the same pulse thrumming through two bodies at a slow and steady pace.

“I love you,” he mumbles into your hair, and while he’s said it before, you’ve always noticed how it slips out easier and easier with time. Like it’s as second nature as breathing, as objective as the sky being blue.

“I love you, too.” you whisper in kind, and you don’t need to look directly at him to know he’s smiling.

When things are better, you’d promised each other. When you could really settle down, crank out a whole guest list of wedding invites, meet Ethel Winters face-to-face and Annie too. When Dick could get you a ring even more special than the ones you wore now. That kind of better. But if that was better — this kind of peace was a pretty good place to start. And it was more than worth fighting for.

And if you stay there on the water’s edge, simplistically entwined for a few moments longer than you normally would — that was no one’s business but your own.

#band of brothers #dick winters #dick winters x reader #richard winters #Richard winters x reader #hbo war #band of brothers fic #hbo war fic #dick winters a moment of your time and your heart maybe #he is so ..#i deadass have an 8am and here I am writing abt kissing dick winters #no one look at me

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