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convexicalcrow · 1 year

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Working on some longform Pharaoh Cub AU fic for NaNo this year. I don't want to spoil too much of the plot for Reasons but much of the worldbuilding was borrowed from an old novel series I started nearly a decade ago and never quite figured out what to do with.

I am technically doing a half-nano though. I wasn't sure I was up to doing 50k again, so I'm aiming for 25k and we'll see how finished it is by the end of the month lol. Current wordcount is 6453/25000.

All I will say about the plot is that Cub and Scar start the fic separated, and have to find each other, and then find their way back to Egypt to restore the throne and once again unite the Two Lands under one King. Also there are Jellie shenanigans and Scar is definitely not a thief if his cat does it, right? >_>

Also there may be AU!Pixandria involved bc that empire will not leave my brain. :D?

Have a lil snippet or two and some concept art I made with a dollmaker to get some character vibes down. These are first drafts and may not be Amazing rn but they'll give you a taste of what I'm working on.

#hermitcraft #empires smp #fanfic project #pharaoh cub au #nanowrimo #cubfan135 #gtwscar #pixandria #ancient egypt au #longfic #convex

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multiversstuff · 1 year

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“Let’s get started” (upcoming project teaser)

So…I’ve been working on a really big project that’s been a goal of mine for YEARS and well, here’s a teaser for the first part of the project. Feedback is welcomed and very appreciated <3. Not beta’d; all mistakes are mine.

WARNINGS; 18+ ONLY!!!! Mentions of blood, language (i think?)

WC: 616

Three walls. The wallpaper looks to be from the early 1900s, maybe older. Although, there’s no way to be sure; it’s rotting away. Little flowers appear to be on the wallpaper…dandelions, possibly. It seems to be peeling, almost melting off with each tick of the clock that’s hanging to the right of the doorway.

The doorway. That damned doorway holds a dark mahogany door. Shut and locked at all times. Except when he’s ready to…it’s not like clockwork. It’s always random. And that makes the ticking worse.

The clock. A circle with a white background, black Roman numerals, and a black border that protrudes out just the slightest bit. Brand new in the rotting room and right there with its loud ticking. The ticking is maddening. Never knowing when he’ll come and watching how long he stays until he leaves…knowing that leaving just may not happen, even if he does get what he wants. It doesn’t help that he intentionally put his tools right beneath the clock…he’s despicable.

The tools…as clean as he wanted them to be; which isn’t very, they have a tiny bit of rust on them, it’s nearly imperceptible. They’re laying on a thin cloth on top of a table, which looks to be a coffee table. It’s funny. The room isn’t a living room…at least it wouldn’t be constituted as one, it’s more like a bedroom. Thinking of him having a coffee table on hand is almost laughable. If only it wasn’t holding both unused tools he has yet to utilize, but also the tools he has been using each time he comes in; various sizes of scalpels, knifes, tweezer like things, needles, and so much more…so many tools – all covered in blood. He’s going to die soon enough…that thought alone has kept me surviving.

Chains. The things the keep every part of me accessible to him. Two chains, one for each of my arms, connected to the ceiling to keep me suspended. The ceiling was already breaking down as it was before the combined weight of the chains and my limp body; it can only hold for so long before it crumbles and crushes me. Two chains, one for each of my legs, connected to the floor in order to avoid my fighting back. I lost feeling in my limbs a long time ago…that’s not necessarily true, I can still feel the pain he inflicts onto me; but I just know I wouldn’t be able to stand, let alone kick.

The longest he’s been gone was for twenty-seven hours, forty-seven minutes and five seconds, while the shortest was four minutes and sixteen seconds. It’s been twenty hours and seven…teen minutes since he left. He’s due to be here anytime.

The longest he’s been in here, before losing his patience, was exactly ten hours and four minutes. Fourteen hours, thirty-six minutes and fourteen seconds was the longest he stayed after losing his patience. I have begged myself to just pass out, but apparently, living a life in constant pain can help build a tolerance…who knew?

He has his little minions bring me water, feed me and tend to the wounds he inflicts just so I don’t die. Because God forbid that the one person who has information he wants, dies.

My head snaps to the door upon hearing the knob and hinges squeak, finding the door already open with him standing there in the darkness, silent and staring at me…those eyes are so bright and yet so full of darkness, there isn’t a shred of light within.

*Tick*

He closes the door without breaking eye contact. I slightly rotate my hands to grasp the chains.

*Tick*

“Let’s get started, Y/N.”

———————————————————————————————————

Please let me know what you think, any ideas, any mistakes…anything’s welcomed 🥰 Have a beautiful weekend!

#fanfic teaser #fanfic project #i hope you like this #sending love ❤️

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scorp2510 · 2 years

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AFD - The chat

"So…is everything ok?" Lance asked when finally he could take a break with Keith in the cafeteria school. It was past seven p.m but he was lucky to find him doing his homework there.

"Lance" Keith exhaled tiredly. Putting his sketchbook aside and sees him like he just announce to him about six projects, two exams, and five more homework for tomorrow "Not now"

"When then?" He asked without giving him a chance to run out of that pep talk.

"..You really don't gonna drop the subject, are you?"

"Nope and you know it Kogane. Now, spit it out" Lance smiled when he saw how his friend relax his shoulders a little. "I'm gonna wait here until you talk about that night or else.."

"or else?" Keith mocked, not believing that he could threaten him with something really serious.

"Or else I'll follow you to your apartment" That was his best threat, he wouldn't think that could be effective and was thinking of another punch to add power to his words, but apparently only that line was sufficient to Keith. Because with that said, Lance saw how his smile disappear and he was tense in his chair. "…You know I will"

"…You can't say a word about this" that was Keith's turn to threaten him "Not even Hunk. Only Matt knows about this"

Lance couldn't help but look puzzled and relieved at that. Sighing with a smile and notice how much tension he released when his muscles melted on his chair.

"Oh thank lord"

"What?"

"For a moment I thought you…" Lance shut up as the realization hit him after he spoke. It was late to rub away his suspicion now that Keith was seeing him with confusion. "….I…I thought that you, you know"

"No, I don't know what you are talking about, I didn't even say anything"

"Yeah yea I know. But if you by accident had an affair you wouldn't talk about it with Matt"

"What?!" Keith almost stood up for his place and saw him with disbelief and clearly offended

"Buddy, relax! I know you wouldn't do it on purpose or own will! That's why I was more worried!"

"Then you think…" Keith grunted while covering his face, massaging his temple. "No Lance, no one forced me to do anything. It was more embarrassing than that"

"Now I'm aware that we have a different priorities scale" Lance replied with a grin, less alarmed but now more curious. "Sooooo, what happened?"

Keith let out another grunt before eyeing Lance.

"I promise I won't tell Hunk, Pidge, or anyone. Not even if you make me angry" He swore with a smile and waited for Keith to open up.

"…FINE. That night I was…under a lot of stress and other stuff" Keith began to retell and remember everything "I argue with Matt because he has his things to worry about, I have my own. You know, the same shit I argue with Shiro"

Lance nodded while his chest felt light. Because Keith was trusting him enough to talk about something only his boyfriend knew.

"So…I left early, my people battery got low"

"More than usual?"

"…More than usual" he agreed with a little smile "Then…I went autopilot to my dorm, my roommate was awake" Lance stop smiling when he saw how tense and uncomfortable Keith was. Just what the hell happened? "He…he helped me to sober up a little" Keith rested his head on his palms as if the hangover was hitting him again. "And I fucking started a therapy session WITHOUT a therapist"

Lance waited for him to more details. But Keith didn't add any more.

"Wait…so…you vented?" He asked cautiously and was more relieved when the other nodded.

"With a guy, I barely met"

"…Oh"

"And the next morning he was all 'Oh Keith, yesterday the true brotherhood began' and grab one of my MCR hoodies because 'that's what bros do' and fucking left"

At that Lance gasped and covered his mouth

"Omg, did we have news from the hoddie?"

Ok, maybe he deserved that kick for the pun. But he was aware of how important and vulnerable situation Keith was in.

"Look, if he tries to be a jerk about it just give us a call and with pleasure, we'll kick his butt"

"Don't you think I can do it? What I don't want to happen is him spreading all of the things I said"

"Keith, you have friends that love you." Lance put his hands under the table to avoid the urge to hold Keith's hand "Have some faith in us man."

It wasn't like everyone had a crush on him (Lance hoped), just him. And no one was going to judge him, it was true, everyone loved him.

"So, relax man. You finally got to college, try at least to enjoy it"

Keith was silent for long seconds before sighing and nodding, smiling weakly but visibly more relaxed.

"I'll try, thanks Lance"

Lance suppressed a smirk to put on the best proud smile he had. Maybe he could use his crush situation to get Pidge to investigate a little about a said roommate, only to be sure that he wasn't an ass.

#klance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #AFD #Adulthood for dummies #random scene #fanfic project

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annachronisme · 2 years

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I have several fanfic project from different fandom : Harry Potter, My Hero Academia, some crossover idea, total drama etc

And my most urgent projet is New Timpelback for sure but there's this one project that could be done so quickly cause I already laid out everything it's juste need heavy polishing. It's a Yax fanfic nothing fancy inspired by some Fanart I'd found here (iforgotthenameoftheartistIwillsearchlatersosorry)

I'm a bit afraid to actually write it tbh cause I don't want to make it ooc but maybe by the end of next week it will be done/worked on more than a brouillon.

I need to get it out of the way it's getting annoying to lay out the fic only in my head lmao

Update: found the art !! It's from anne-warner on Tumblr (tagging people give me anxiety ain't gonna do that srry)

#fanfic project #yax #yax fanfic #writing process #work in progress #anyone gavve strengh to finish at leats one 😫

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satanisaware · 2 months

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BETA WALLY!

It has been a while since I drew something creepy about this boy, so here I am.

Also here is the original Wally too, I originally drew these based on my fanfiction, but it's okay, I'll put them anyway, it's about him.

Another sketch of Beta Wally!

#welcome home #welcome home arg #wally welcome home #welcome home puppet show #digital aritst #digital art #wally darling #fanfic #fanfiction #welcome home project #beta wally #sketch #Scobophobia #this is the most random post I've even done until now

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woewriting · 6 months

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𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 ──── wednesday addams & fem!reader

── tags. soft wednesday, implied sex at the very end, no pronous used, but the word 'girlfriend' is used once. wednesday and reader are both adults.

── word count. 1.521

a/n. i'm late for wdw, i know, but i could not let y'all and @wesstars down... better late than never, right? i hope you like it and im sorry for any mistakes. | masterlist

When you moved to the small town of Jericho and started working at the only coffee shop around, you didn’t expect to get anyone’s attentions, especially from the local “freaky”. Wednesday Addams was full of surprises and secrets and, apparently, everyone here knew a bit about her.

Gossips followed you around like fog in the morning after a raining night, the eccentric Addams always being the subject that echoed inside the brownish walls of the cafe.

“I’ve heard she eats raw meat,” a high school student dressed in black and blue uniform said to her friend, no caring enough to at least whisper.

The other just nodded, not paying attentions to her surrenders, not even when the little bell above the entrance door jingled.

“My father told me her dad killed someone in Nevermore when he was a student… imagine being the daughter of killer.”

“Imagine being the daughter of a former police officer who was expelled from the police force for not being able to solve a simple case that happened more than 20 years ago.” The tranquil voice caught your attention, causing you to turn on your heels behind the counter.

Wednesday was standing next to the table where the two students sat, arms crossed and a deadly shine in her eyes. You smiled.

“Miss Addams, please stop terrorizing the small girls, they know nothing about life,” you spoke once you saw the reddish color in the girls’ cheeks.

“They better learn fast; life is not gentle.” She turned her head to you. “And neither am I.”

“Oh, should I fear for my life?”

You tilted your head, trying to get Wednesday’s attention in order for the girls to go back to the other students of Nevermore. The raven girl redirected her body towards you, taking steps until she was standing in front of the cashier.

“You most definitely should.”

Head motioning for the girls to leave, you placed both of your hands on the icy, black marble that covered the top of the counter.

“If I die, who’s going to make you your favorite cherry muffin?”

“Before I met you, I survived just fine without the sweetness of it in my daily life, I’m positive I can do it again once you’re gone.” She lifted her chin. “Now stop staling and bring me a double expresso, no sugar and a cherry muffin before I start terrorizing you instead.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes as she turned to sit on the costumery table.

Putting the cherry muffin in a plate, you turned to the Italian coffee machine with an empty white mug in hand and freshly brewed coffee in the other.

As the bitter liquid slowly filled the porcelain, flashes of the first time you were face to face with Wednesday took over your memory. She was so small in her black and white Nevermore uniform, looking like an old school cartoon, disappearing behind the other students as she patiently and quietly waited in line to order. She stared at you, taking two steps ahead when the last person in front of her moved away with their order in hands, taking a seat with the others, black eyes that didn’t blink and looked dead, the pale white skin didn’t help either. Not a single mark on it, you noticed, except for the adorable freckles that spread over her small nose bridge and covered the area around her cheek bones.

She was polite and calm, unlike the others, speaking in a monotone voice that actually surprised you.

Wednesday ordered a small size expresso with no sugar. You offered her a muffin, freshly out of the oven and still warm. She was reluctant in saying ‘yes’ at first, but something in you convinced her.

Once the mug was filled, you placed it side by side with the muffin, smiling and murmuring a small ‘I hope you like it’, to which she replied with: “Thank you,” extending her hands to take the plate and mug of the counter.

She looked at the red-blood muffin before looking at you, giving you a small nod of her head before walking to an empty table.

You watched as she sat herself down and stared at the small cake in front of her, you licked your lips, curious to know if she would like it or not; it was your favorite, after all.

Wednesday tilted her head to the side, analyzing the sweet in front of her, internally admiring the color of it and how the powdered sugar on top of it reminded her of snow covered in blood.

Taking the wrap of it, she hesitantly took a bite of it, slowly chewing it. You bet your lips, anxiously standing behind the counter. She then took another bite, and another one, and another one, rapidly finishing the muffin.

You smiled to yourself, finally changing the focus of your attention.

Now, almost 7 years of the first interaction, you still secretly admired Wednesday as you waited for the coffee to fill the small sized mug. But now was different, she started drinking a double expresso to maintain her brain awake and cherry muffins became a part of her daily life.

But only if it was made by your hands.

Once the porcelain turned bitter black, you left your place from behind the corner and sat them down in front of the goth, taking the empty seat in front of her.

“Thank you,” Wednesday said simple, eyes focused on the yellowish pages that had all her attention.

“A new case?” You asked curious, taking a look around the nearly empty coffee shop.

“A runner found two dead bodies at the woods on Saturday, the captain assumed I’d be interest and gave me the case this morning.”

You pursed your lips, a tight knot in your stomach as your eyes analyzed the super graphic images that decorated the table. Pushing the images away from your point of view, you wondered how Wednesday could eat the red-blooded muffin while looking at actual blood.

As if she could read your mind, black painted nails reached for the small cake, her eyebrows sewing together once she saw what you did, “Care to explain what this is?”

You pursed your lips, containing a smile. On top of the sweet, a white skeleton’s head was drawn, black, deep-hollowed eyes filled with dark chocolate chips with a sewed-like smile under and dark red blood dripping from its eyes.

“I made it for you, Halloween is near and I figured you’d like it.”

“I can see that. What I want you to explain is why there’s blood coming from its eyes. Bones can’t bleed, there’s no tissue that can carry blood vessels or veins, it’s just bones.”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s a cupcake, Wens. Just eat it.”

“Fine.”

When she took the first bite, dark red filling dripped onto her hands. It was a mix between the sweetness of sugar and the sourness of cherry combined together that only you could do it perfectly.

“So… did you like it?”

Wednesday chewed and swallowed everything, licking her lips to capture the remained syrup, missing a small drop on the corner of her mouth. The tip of her fingers covered in the cherry liquid.

“It’s too sweet, next time don’t add any sugar to it. It’s not healthy. And it’s also too sticky and messy. I need a napkin.”

Reaching out for her hand, you sucked the tip of her fingers, closing your eyes at the sweetness that filled your mouth.

“You don’t need a napkin, you have a girlfriend to clean it for you.”

Wednesday widened her eyes at your action, looking around to make sure nobody saw that. The coffee shop was empty as it was almost noon and everyone was either at work or at school, only the two of you occupying a space inside.

“That was unnecessary.” She said with an affected tone.

“It was very necessary, I needed to see if it was too sweet.” You stood up, taking the empty plate in hands. Before returning to the kitchen, you leaned into her personal space, noses touching and the smell of her perfume filling your senses, that small drop being the only thing you saw in front of you. “You have some here too.”

The moment the tip of your tongue licked the red syrup, so close to her lips, Wednesday grabbed the mug near her hands, squeezing it hard enough to break if it was made of fragile material.

Before standing up properly, you pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, tasting the sourness in it.

“I’ll make sure the next ones aren’t too sweet for you, cara mia.” You winked, rapidly walking back to the counter to start preparing the muffins for the afternoon clients. And for your bitter girlfriend that cursed you under her breath for fogging up her brain with your tongue, taking away all the concentration she needed to solve this murder case. One that would need to wait after she locked the door, turned the open sign to ‘closed’, and dragged you by the hand to the supply closet.

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impyssadobsessions · 3 months

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My Sister's Imposter (DPXDC PROMPT)

Danny owed Jazz, big time. And to make it up to her, he now has to pretend to be her at this big event that could pivot her whole career!

Well.. Jazz didn't ASK him too. Not that she could seeing she's stuck in confinement by her parents from a weapon they had built to stick Phantom solid. It had misfired, aimed towards Danny, when Jazz pushed him out of the way.. only for her face to be covered by the goo.

Danny took Jazz's flailing and signing as a yes, that it be a good idea. (News flash… she said no in all the sign language she knew. that this was a terrible plan.)

Sam said same thing- but she also didn't want to pretend to be Jazz. Tucker is helping out.

All signs point of this not working- but turns out it does. like… really well. Bruce Wayne was very interested in Danny's speech that he had to mid-way improvise.

Now anyone who doesn't want Arkham to change is after "Jazz" and Danny realizes he didn't think about AFTER the speech what to do. He only knows what psychology terms Jazz been preaching around him.

He prays it be enough until Jazz gets better or maybe not because these "Talons" are starting to worry him and the heroes are way too insistent.

Sam and Tucker helping Jazz get the gunk off her face when the parents aren't there. And feeding her through a straw while not telling her what Danny is doing.

OBVIOUSLY Bruce knows this isn't Jazz. He even deduced its her brother posing as her.. and the more they uncover the more he assumes the reason Danny is filling in for Jazz is because they would KNOW she was going to be targeted. And from what little they seen of Danny avoiding these hits done by the Talons, they think he's a meta. Thus starts them trying to keep Danny safe, figure out what happen to Jazz, and whose targeting them. They also think Danny is on to them so they have to play it extra careful, because they can't get him to spill information. Danny just thinks the Waynes are nice, and the heroes are annoyingly always there. >:T He doesn't want to wear a wig 24/7. Give a guy a break. Also imagine like it keeps cutting back to different ways Tucker and Sam are trying to get the gunk off Jazz's face. From chiseling it, to using acetone, to drawing on it from being bored.... until they accidentally spill the beans of Danny being in Gotham in her place... and he's being targeted. Thus Jazz with face full of gunk drives them to Gotham. Tucker crying in the backseat not wanting to die, and Sam screaming directions holding on for dear life but someone has to give directions to blind JAzz... Jazz definitely has her father's driving skills in this. PFFT then imagine it cutting back to like big reveal- and then boom. JAzz's car busts in, hitting whoever about to hurt her brother. Talons probably having realized Danny is meta, and one that they can use to get eternal life.. so imagine the shift in plans on their part. Bats just watched a purple sedan run-over the talons like they were traffic cones.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #batman #jazz fenton #dpxdc #dpxdc prompt #crossover #dc #impyelam #prompt #dc crossover #dp crossover #Bruce Wayne #Bruce wants both the siblings to work with him on the project for Arkham after the fact #especially learning that the speech was improvised in the later half #and that half is what reached out to him the most because it talked through experiences #fanfic idea

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wesstars · 7 months

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heaven on earth (ii)

wednesday addams x fem!reader (mostly gn, only term used is “girl friend”)

summary: your friends-with-benefits situation with wednesday isn’t so friendly anymore, but if you could only uncover your own eyes, you might’ve noticed. wc: 5.5k tags: explicit, MINORS DNI! all characters involved are 18+. kinda ooc wednesday, painfully oblivious reader, bad fluff, fluff to smut, top!reader and bottom!wednesday, semi-public (car) sex, mild blood, biting, mild overstimulation. a/n: not sure how I feel about this lol. special thank you to 🕷️ anon for her ideas and workshopping <3 comments/asks welcome, as always!

read part one here! this can be read standalone, but is intended to be a continuation.

masterlist

For the fifth time, Wednesday slapped your thigh to get your attention. “Turn it down.”

You huffed a laugh, and figured it was time. You were playing your ‘obnoxious’ pop playlist, full of mostly Taylor Swift and random Korean bands. It was collaborative with Enid, and likely one of Wednesday’s least favorites. Lowering the volume, you tossed Wednesday your phone.

“Alright, it’s your turn.”

The two of you were driving back from a day trip to a nearby town—actually, you were supposed to be driving back the rest of Enid and Co, also, but while Wednesday was beyond ready to leave, they all wanted to stay and do something called a “holy trinity.” How someone could have so much alcohol in so little time was so bizarre to you, but then Wednesday, of all people, rolled her eyes and downed three shots in just as many minutes, and seemed no worse for wear.

Seemed was the key word there—not a quarter of an hour later, she’d grabbed onto your arm, grip slack, and her eyes were becoming unfocused, roving all over your face only to miss your eyes and tack onto somewhere lower.

You’d coaxed her to eat something after that. Post French fries and buttered bread (she’d kill you after she knew you’d made her eat such unrefined food,) as well as a bottle and a half of water in, she’d mostly walked it off. You figured it was time to get Wednesday home. As far as you knew, the rest of your friends were still out, though you’d made Yoko promise to text you when they were leaving and when they got back. The windows were open in the car; the wind lifted Wednesday’s fringe off her forehead. You glanced over to where she was gingerly operating your phone, punching in letters on Spotify. Your heart twisted.

You didn’t really want to admit that weird feeling you had the first time, and all the rest of the times, you saw Wednesday. It was a sort of jittery one, with a swoop in your stomach, that made you want to prod her into a conversation. You’d gotten quite a bit more than you’d bargained for, from that first fateful kiss in the classroom, to every secret, heady rendezvous after. The last time you two had been intimate—fucked, in your bed—had left an indelible mark, natural as a shadow settled neatly in your chest. The bickering and play fights had only made things worse, and you knew you had to ignore it all, for Wednesday. To keep things the same, because… something’s better than nothing, right?

You supposed that “something” was where you were right now. Being her ‘girl friend,’ with a space in between, sex and unrequited feelings included, was the best place that you could ever be with her. You had those close moments with her that you could cherish, but also that emotional distance that Wednesday undoubtedly wanted. Perfect. Your childlike sentiments were ones that you were likely to carry in your heart, deep down, for fucking forever. They were never going to see the light of day.

Lilting piano filled the car, shoving images of you and Wednesday seated together before the keys into your mind. Your phone dropped back into your lap.

“Nocturne? In E minor.” You blurted out before you could stop yourself.

“I’m surprised you know.”

“Hey!” Indignant, you nearly shot something back that was sure to start one of your bickering matches again, when an unfamiliar sound rang through the car, lovely as the music, but something you’d never heard before.

“Did you just laugh?”

Wednesday’s mumbled denial was covered up by your own laugh, bordering on hysterical as your heart picked itself up and started racing.

“Do not insult me like that,” Wednesday grumbled, rubbing the hem of her sweater between her fingers. “Focus on the road. Dying with you in a car crash is too pathetic to even consider.” Though her words were sharp as always, her even tone had something in it that, if one wasn’t careful, could be mistaken as gentle.

You snorted again, unable to stop laughing. “And if a double decker bus…” you sang, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel. Wednesday’s glare nearly sliced you clean in half, and you were smart for once, shutting up immediately. She wasn’t laughing anymore, and some part of you mourned that.

After Chopin played Liszt, Liebestraum no. 3, and you wondered if Wednesday knew how to queue on Spotify. You followed the winding road up the mountain. You’d be back at Nevermore soon, but selfishly, you didn’t want this to be over. It was an odd time, with no bickering, no siege, no sex, and who could blame you if you were feeling particularly, disgustingly, sentimental? Blame the Liszt.

Turning the car off the road, you pulled into a deserted vista point. Carpe diem, you thought, throwing caution to the wind and the car in park.

“Why have you stopped?”

“Weds, we’re looking at the sunset.”

“I do not need to see it, it happens every day—”

“Oh, come on,” you laughed, unlocking the car doors and stepping out. With the wind whipping around you, blowing your hair every which way, you ducked to peek into the car. “Humor me, I guess. Don’t you feel sorry for me, or something?”

She gave you a pointed look. “I do not.” But she followed you out the car anyway.

Leaning on the hood, you looked out at the scene as she joined you. Spiky evergreens stretched out across the stony slopes, with the last vestiges of snow clinging to the tops. The sun stretched its longing light into the rapidly darkening east behind you, pulling taut the shadows and blanketing everything in an aureate shine.

You glanced over at Wednesday—despite her earlier protest, it seemed as if she was tolerating this. The tension around her brow was gone, and her arms hung relaxed by her sides. The silence wasn’t rare, but it felt reverent anyway. Your heart adored her in her outfit; it was something your mind refused to register. She was in black knee high boots, made of some leather you couldn’t pronounce, an inky dress, flowing in the wind, down to her thighs, and a soft deep gray sweater. There was a sort of bleeding sentiment, beginning to seep into your everyday life, into wondering what Wednesday would think of the book you were reading, imagining her reaction to Bianca’s quip, overthinking her hand clutching your sleeve in the courtyard.

You deliberated, vaguely, what it would be like if you tumbled down the mountainside, into those trees—would the wood be cushioning or bruising? It was a serious consideration, with all that you were feeling. Those damned feelings, ones that Wednesday would undoubtedly scorn, made you kick up the gravel underfoot in frustration.

Beside you, Wednesday cast an uninterested look over you at the noise, silently judging. A beat passed. She grabbed the collar of your shirt, wrinkling it, and pulled you into a bruising kiss.

“I am going in the car. The back seat. Be not afraid.” She retreated, and gave a little smirk, one reserved for the golden light and dark trees.

It was purely unfair, as the blood rushed from your head to pool in your stomach, making your heart work overtime. Stumbling to the back seat, you’d barely sat down before Wednesday reached over to the console and locked the doors. She’d taken off her boots, leaving her legs clad in white socks scrunched around her calves.

She climbed into your lap without preamble, squeezing your hips with her thighs. The car roof meant she had to duck her head just a bit, giving you the perfect opportunity to press your lips to hers. Having Wednesday on top of you was the kind of thing that made your head spin. And spinning you were, down into that deep unending abyss where there was only the smell of hot sugar, pine, and iron.

The Midas touch of the setting sun made Wednesday seem even paler, from her exposed knees to her small hands, glowing like some ethereal being. She kissed you as if she could wrap her teeth around you, like searching for sweetness in the corners of your mouth. Sure enough, there was something about her, a sense of urgency, that threatened to take in all of you.

“This dress is nice,” you murmured, pushing it up her pale thighs, rubbing away the red marks her boots left on her calves. Your hands continued upward, to the light dampness of her inner thighs.

“You said you liked it last time.” Wednesday immediately glanced away, as if she hadn’t meant to say those words. There was a faint flush to her cheeks again, but the two of you were fogging up the car windows.

You ignored the pulsing in your stomach that traitorously screamed she wore this for me? “It’s enchanting,” you said. “Like a witch of the wood.”

You nosed your way into the nape of her neck again, a favorite spot of yours, unable to stop your stupid mouth from running. “I adore it…” You pulled her tighter to your lap, skimming the seam of her underwear at the juncture of her thigh. “Can I touch you, Wednesday?”

“Get on with it,” she said, breathlessly, indulging you with a quick quirk of her lips.

Skimming the back of your hand up between her thighs, you sent your other hand to palm her chest through her dress. You felt her through her panties, the fabric soft and smooth from her slick. Dipping your hand below the waistband, you wasted no time finding her clit. Her breath came down hard—it was her tell, you knew, even when her face remained mostly impassive.

She was sensitive today, back arching with a small gasp as soon as you touched her. Hand shooting past your head, Wednesday grabbed onto the headrest, hard enough for the leather to creak. Her outstretched arm was right next to your head, and you couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss the inside of her elbow.

She sighed, unfurling tendrils of a storm in smooth skies. “You have all of me,” Wednesday said, something soft.

You press a kiss to Wednesday's forehead, equally soft, as you curl your fingers again. “If only, Wednesday,” you said, unthinking.

Wednesday froze, squeezing her other hand on your shoulder hard enough to leave pretty bruises under your collared shirt.

You pulled back, cocking your head. “What is it?”

She furrowed her brow at you, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, then glanced away quickly.

“What’s wrong?” Your fingers traced another circle around her clit.

“Stop asking.” Her voice was firm, but it had a waver in the middle, like she’d almost changed her mind.

“I’ll stop asking,” you whispered, “if you tell me what’s up.” Her eyes were glazed over with a sheen not unlike her slick that coated your fingers, something shiny and sweet.

“You’re hopeless,” she said, not even a second before she clapped her hand over your mouth.

What an Addams wants, an Addams gets, you surmised, blinking quickly. You rubbed your free hand up and down her thigh, trying to soothe her, but she only moved her hand to grip your jaw, her intent the sear of fire through the underbrush.

“I do not like repeating myself,” she said quietly, “so listen closely.” She shifted closer to you on your lap, car leather squeaking, settling on her knees so your nose was in her collar. She reached down and gave you a handkerchief from her pocket. Knowing what she meant, you pulled your fingers from her warmth, feeling a hard lump in your throat. “And make no noise.”

You nodded. She looked wild on top of you, hair mussed from your make out session, the apples of her cheeks a dusty rose.

“Honesty colors me,” she said by way of explanation. “And you talk too much, so this is how it will have to be.” She seemed to think for a moment, biting her lip. Her burgundy lipstick contrasted so starkly with her gray sweater, as if she was the only screaming color in a black and white world. She might hate that, you mused absently. Maybe she was more a whirlpool of the blackest black, sucking in all of the color and light around it so that you had no choice but to be drawn in, to the only real thing you’d ever known.

“You’re stupid,” Wednesday started, matter-of-factly. “Just like everyone else.” You nodded, used to this sort of thing by now. “But your particular brand of stupidity is showing its truth.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, arms automatically going around her waist while you leaned back to look at her. Where she was going with this, you had no idea. You only knew that that whirlpool was making its way closer and closer to you.

“At first, our… arrangement was indeed purely physical.” She paused. “But things have changed, quite drastically. I do believe I’ve reached a… point of no return, but I have since found a balance.”

Wednesday locked her eyes on yours, unflinching. “I give myself to you time and time again-” the words were unfamiliar from her mouth- “yet, you seem to give no indication that you know. ‘If only?’ It’s nearly laughable.” She gave a huff, though her gaze was contemplative. You cocked your head, mind uncomprehending, mouth dry.

“You have my heart, beating or still.” Her words rang quiet in the car. Your own heart started up again, with all the betrayal of a thrumming bass. You tried to push it down, but it didn’t erase the reality of what Wednesday had just said—did Wednesday ever lie? She was good at it, sure, but you’d long learned that Wednesday’s word was her end. “And it appears as though you are completely unaware.”

“Unaware?” You broke her rule, and you could see the tick of annoyance in her eyes. But you plowed on anyway. “Are you saying that you have my—that I don’t know that I have your—that you like me?”

“My devotion is more than that,” Wednesday said casually, “but it may be that you’re unable to handle that at this time.”

Sure enough, you could feel your body informing your mind that you were hyperventilating, Wednesday’s weight on your lap the only thing keeping you from shooting off to Saturn.

“I don’t—” you struggled for your words, the usual wit you showed while bickering with Wednesday, the strategy you’d used to defend Jericho, absolutely nowhere to be seen.

“Need I pull stars from the sky to prove myself to you?” she said, raising an eyebrow in amusement, as if she wasn’t blowing through every poorly stacked defense of yours. It would be just like Wednesday, for every word of hers to be devastating and world shifting. No one knew Wednesday Addams and remained unchanged—that was just the kind of person she was, romantic as murder via blade. Perhaps to her, your wide eyed reaction was enough of a damning confession. “You’ll be the end of me, but what bliss that would be.”

“Um,” you started, eloquently. “You’re… you’re not thinking straight,” you rasped out, mind freezing. You could feel your back stuck to the seat, unyielding. “You’re—”

“If I didn’t know you and your oblivious tendencies, I would think that it is almost insulting of you to doubt me.” She gave a small sniff, chin held high. “You think that just because you do not recognize my words, means that I am not in a right state of mind?”

In one fluid motion, she pressed her forehead to yours, and cradled your face between her two cold hands. Your name felt like salvation from her lips; “believe me, I’m wide awake.”

Your jaw went slack, and you were sure you looked as much a dumbass as you felt.

“I intended for my… vulnerability,” Wednesday’s voice wavers on the word, “to be a sign for you, but either you are just that unobservant, or you are unwilling to admit to what is right before your eyes.”

“I’d never not pick up on something on purpose, Weds.” Your brain was wading through a thick mud, unable to turn at the speed that Wednesday wanted.

“Does that mean that you are willfully disregarding the way I show myself to you?” Finally, in her words, you were able to see the exact vulnerability that she had alluded to.

“No, I’d never, I just… didn’t want to hope,” you said, embarrassed. “Romance isn’t your thing.”

“It’s not,” she replied simply, quietly. “I understand your reservations.” Wednesday’s hands held an imperceptible tremble, but her gaze was strong.

“No—of course I—” your throat tightened, but you felt the weight falling from your shoulders anyway. That was something you recognized. “Of course I like you.”

The silence rang yet again, and Wednesday’s eyes widened, the onyx of them turning warm as molten metal. The exact expression in them was hard to place, but it calmed you, in the wake of speaking aloud something you’d been afraid to admit to yourself.

A thought occurred to you, more clear than any you’d had since Wednesday had opened her mouth. “Even if we’d never—if we never have sex again, I’d still l—like you.”

Despite the way you stumbled into and over your words, Wednesday’s dark eyes on yours grew warm, pupil blurring into iris; the corner of her mouth gave an upwards tick.

“In the cracks of light,” Wednesday whispered, reverent as prayer as her fingertips traced your cheekbone, “I see the heaven on earth I’ve won with you.”

She kissed you then, and you couldn’t hold back any more. It was something like pure relief—though your mind still didn’t quite comprehend Wednesday’s confession (confession!), your heart broke the dam, pulling you down past inhibition. Spiraling to Wednesday’s gravity, it was as natural as breathing to give in.

Wednesday, all knowing as always, must’ve seen the way your resolve broke. She slid her mouth against yours, open and hot, unhurried but eager. The car leather under your thighs was as warm as Wednesday on top of you—not even she was immune to the rays of waning sunlight, it seemed.

“You know,” you muttered, between capturing her lips, “it’s just like you to say all that about moving heaven and earth. Most people just say ‘I like you.’” It wasn’t a complaint by any means; with your hands on her waist, you’d have it no other way.

“As I said, it is more than that.” She took a breath, completely steady and confident, now. “You consume me, completely.”

“And you, I,” you said softly, as if you could do anything but agree to her heady desire. “I’ve got you, Wednesday.”

Her forehead dropped to your shoulder, arms wrapped tight around you. It took a moment for you to realize that in her silence after your words, she was grinding down, near imperceptibly, into your lap.

“Mmm, my love,” you murmured, the significance of the endearment not lost on you, “look at you.” Sliding a hand up her back to her hair, you felt her braids through your fingers. You ran your hands down once more, under her sweater to feel the muscles around her shoulder blades. The heat you felt through her dress from where she was pressed to you, through your trousers, was something out of a darkest dream, unable to be forgotten.

Wednesday leaned up again, eyes sharp as a lance, to brand you with a kiss. She bit your lip, breaking through skin, and you grinned at the pain. It was hard and harsh, comforting like the thin edge of a knife. You felt the blood seeping into the seams of your teeth, rain in scorched earth. Intoxicated, you seemed to float closer into that sweet and dark whirlpool.

“That hurt, Wednesday…” you leaned in, voice dropping. “I wanna…” There was a beat of silence where you could only taste the copper in your mouth, sweet as you knew the slick between her thighs to be. You shifted your grip to her hips, bruising, and the soft little moan Wednesday gave in response spurred you on. “I wanna hurt you.”

You did, helplessly. Of course, you would rain hell on anyone that so much as lifted a finger against Wednesday, but to hold her trust that came with pain—you wanted that from her, to know when she hurt, when she wanted to hurt. Whether it was holding her back from the edge, or flying and dropping together to the bottom, bodies crashing against one another, you wanted it. Like something out of a classical myth, with wings of wax or blood, you would burn and be burned to feel the weightless warmth of that golden light.

There was no hesitation for Wednesday, just a look in her eyes that you’d come to know intimately as hunger. “Hurt me.” Her voice was low, nearly fond, in your ear as her eyes tracked the blood collecting on your lips. She leaned towards you and licked, tongue to your teeth, translucent saliva mixing with the burgundy. “I want it to hurt—I want you to hurt me.”

When she leaned back, her lipstick was stained with your blood, and it made you want to bleed if only she was the one taking it. You leaned your temple to her jawline, eyes burning at the sun through the windshield. Your hands continued once again up her thighs, just as reverent as before. The two of you never could do anything by half—you were always Wednesday’s. Realizing it, speaking it aloud, confessing or not, couldn’t have changed that. Despite that, as you rocked back and kissed the blood off Wednesday, you felt as though you were on your knees, professing everything you were. Giving one last cheeky swipe of your tongue on her lips, you went to tug Wednesday’s panties down. She followed your lead easily, tossing the expensive garment somewhere to the side.

“My sweet girl,” you sighed, something possessive curling in your words. “What would you like?”

“Everything.” There was a devout way about her utterance that had your hands shaking with the desire to fulfill her. “Touch me.”

Crossing one arm around her to clasp the back of her neck, you brought her face close to yours, the tips of your noses brushing.

“Everything? How much can we do with ‘everything’ when you’re so sensitive, angel?” On cue, Wednesday’s eyes slipped shut as you drew a finger along her pussy to find her wet and wanting.

“Don’t you think you should be the one to answer that?” Her voice, bold and challenging, shook up your stomach like champagne. You were completely, utterly ruined before Wednesday Addams, and it was a nearly celestial ruin, so bright and beloved it nearly hurt.

You didn’t hesitate, slipping your finger in and grinding your palm on her clit. You didn’t miss her knees sliding further apart, that elusive grin gracing her face as she tipped her head back. Only her tight hold on your shoulders kept her from falling into your lap. Your mouth tasted of iron, such a contrast to Wednesday’s burnt sugar sweat on your tongue as you licked a stripe up her jaw to bite her earlobe. Drawing every small sigh out, you took your time, curling your fingers the way you knew she liked. You squeezed your hand, heavy where her shoulders met her neck. The jagged breaths she took in response made you crave more, and your stomach burned with contentment when she let you press another finger inside of her.

Wednesday’s half lidded eyes tracked down your neck, hunter to the scent of fear, leaving a shiver in her wake. It was inexplicably easy to discern what she wanted, even as she threaded her hands in your hair, something tingling and distracting.

“Go ahead, I know you want to.” Like blood rushing back into white fingertips, her soft lips were on your neck, undoubtedly leaving a smear of lip stain that you’d have to be chastised to wipe off. Almost as if she’d read your mind, she was sucking at your skin, impatient. Already you could feel the raised welt, and the way her tongue soothed the strain.

“You’re mine,” she breathed out, harsh despite the way she was panting with every twist of your fingers.

“Yeah,” you whispered, the haze of being Wednesday’s blurring your every action. “I’m yours.”

You curled your fingers, and had to bite down a moan as her teeth sank deeper into your neck, a cause and effect that you’d kill for. You swore as she set sight on your jawline, the sweet shock of her hot tongue making you shiver.

“Took you long enough,” she muttered darkly—it seemed she was satisfied with the state of your neck, since you could feel the skin throbbing pleasantly. She leaned back, proffering her own throat.

“I was always yours,” you said easily. “I can just…” you trailed off as your sharp teeth met her skin in the spot you knew she liked, making her cry out, “show you better now.”

Wednesday’s hands tightened in your hair, pulling a broken gasp from your throat. Her smirk, challenging as she took in your reaction, only spurred you on. It was pure selfishness, when you grinned lazily as she tugged. You gave as good as you got, though, each curl of your fingers and shift of your hand had her trembling.

She was close; you could feel it in the uneven cadence of her breath, almost as erratic as yours. Pulling the collar of her sweater aside, you worked your tongue against her jugular, her pulse tempting and honey sweet in your mouth. It was nearly tangible between your teeth, soft and solid, the pounding of her pulse, just milliseconds away from your own.

“C’mon, Wednesday,” you whispered in her ear, “just like that.”

Her breath stuttered, climbing up higher to the returning lump in your throat. It was always a marvel, the way that Wednesday was so incredibly responsive to you, your touch or your words. The hard catch of her lip between her teeth made you grin, and you reached out, tugging it free. You leaned in to kiss her forehead as you slipped your thumb in her mouth instead, your fingers never stopping.

“Wednesday.” She turned her glossy eyes towards you, and it was the closest you’d ever seen her to coming without really falling. “Let go.”

At your words, she gasped, and you could feel her cunt pulse around your fingers as she came. Her teeth bit into your skin and her eyebrows knitted together ever so gently—you loved to watch her come undone. She was all soft moans and flushed cheeks, open in a way that she hardly ever was otherwise. It unfurled something bright and warm in your chest, spreading out into your fingertips. You felt as hazy as she looked, the smell of her spilling into the air and undoubtedly lingering in your chest.

“That’s perfect, love, you’re so good for me.” You shushed her as she panted, eyes unfocused beneath her mussed fringe, but searing into yours. You continued your palm on her clit, holding her tight as her body stuttered. You moved your hand to cup her face, smoothing over unshed tears along her waterline.

“You’re…” Wednesday gave a low groan as you hit that sensitive spot inside of her again, none too gently.

“Yes,” you answered gently. “You’ll tell me if you want me to stop, won’t you?” She nodded, eager, as she pushed her hips into your hand, even though it made her whole body shiver.

“Fuck—”

You hummed in response, feeling her cunt open even easier now that she was impossibly wetter. As you worked a third finger into her, Wednesday’s spine went rigid, a whining, desperate sound you’d never thought you’d hear breaking from her throat. She grabbed your hand, and her palms were damp. Her grip on your wrist was tight, just as much keeping you from progressing as it was keeping you from pulling away. You leaned in by her ear. “Does it hurt?”

She gave a jerky nod, jaw clenched and lips parted. You would turn a storm on its head for those ways that Wednesday strayed from her control, especially when you were the one guiding that meandering path. Pressing the heel of your hand into her clit, you laughed, small and indulgent, as she clung tighter to you, a strained little cry escaping.

“Good girl, Wednesday… you’re taking it so well, aren’t you? You’re taking me so well, darling…” Fisting the front of her sweater in your hand, you pulled her off balance, tugging her close so her lips fell to yours, easy as breathing. Swallowing every single prized whimper that fell from her, you kissed her slow. Wednesday was already sensitive, but this was intense for even her, you could tell. Her breath came shakily against you as you pulled away, having smeared her lipstick to your content. Fingers sliding punishingly against her clit, your laugh rumbled low in your chest as she keened, soft and just a bit pleading.

“Very good, Wednesday, my love,” you coaxed. Her gasp, more like a sob, washed over you in a satisfaction that made you shudder. The slick from her previous orgasm clung to your hand, making it easy to keep up your punishing pace. Her tears shined like sea glass in her lashes, as devout to the cause of ruining her cheeks as the dusk outside was to darkness. You had no idea how much time had passed, only that if she asked, you’d stay right here with her until daylight again.

“I’m—” A whine rose from her throat, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“You can do it, baby-” your thumb circled her clit as your fingers found their way impossibly deeper into Wednesday- “just for me, okay?”

“Okay,” she repeated, mindlessly. This world where Wednesday let herself trust you to take care of her was one you could live in, drown in, make your home in. You raised your hand to the juncture of her neck and jaw, heavy and comforting. Reminded of every time Wednesday had put her hand in that same place on you when you were on your knees in front of her, more intimate than anything, you tugged on her wrist, instantly missing her hold in your hair. Intertwining your fingers together, you held your hands together in between you and Wednesday.

Without a warning, her fingers tightened around yours, so hard that her knuckles turned white. You could see that how hard she came took her by surprise, too—eyes wide open and pupils blown. It was breathtaking, you thought, just how much tension was in her, all tense shoulders and choked cry. Her nails dug into your skin, her grip tethering you from dropping off with her. It stung, and you loved it, the maroon of your blood welling up just enough to smear her fingertips.

Wednesday’s head fell into the nape of your neck, nuzzling like she could find the world’s secrets in your skin. Hand still in hers, you wiped away the smeared burgundy around the corners of her mouth with your thumb pad, fingers lingering.

“That was devious,” she murmured, words blurring around each other.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you chuckled. She nodded, somewhat resolutely. You eased your fingers out, tucking them surreptitiously into your mouth. The gesture didn't go unnoticed by Wednesday, but she only narrowed her eyes.

Even in her post-orgasm daze, Wednesday looked dangerous. Her fringe was all over the place, getting caught in her eyelashes, and you could finally attribute the pink in her cheeks to something a little more than the fogged up windows. Surely, this was heaven on earth, having Wednesday with you, steady as planetal orbit. You shifted her to sit sideways in your lap, making sure her knees didn’t burn from the leather. She was watching you, carefully. It was almost as if she was trying to memorize you, the studious way she looked at you, like she was the sole messenger for a world that wasn’t allowed to take you in. It made your heart pound, finally in accordance with your head. You let her take her time in your arms, rubbing her shoulders. The little press of her lips was back, something you had adored for something dangerously similar to ‘forever.’ She seemed content in a way she hardly ever was, the haze in her eyes clearing as she studied you.

“You’ve changed a lot since I met you,” she commented, not unkindly.

You looked down into Wednesday’s face, at the night air drifting through her hair again. You could feel the sting from the little crescent shaped marks that her nails left. It was a warm contrast to her cold hand in yours, clasped between you. “You changed me, Wednesday.”

wednesday: you have bewitched me, mind, body, and soul… i love, i love, i love you.

reader: huh?

a/n cont’d for those brave souls that made it this far: yes, wednesday’s dress has pockets. isn’t that wonderful?

I’m SO BAD at writing fluff. plus, reader is the most unreliable narrator to unreliably narrate. should’ve put “painfully oblivious” as a warning for part one too.

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

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casdeans-pie · 2 months

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The first time Castiel heard the phrase to 'kiss something better' he thought it sounded like a ridiculous notion.

How could a kiss heal a wound? Kisses held no magic. No power.

But Castiel found the phrase drifting back to him while he looked at Dean, hissing with pain as he wiped blood away from his grazed skin.

(Dean insisted on wearing jeans with useless intentional rips on the knees, so it felt inevitable that he would eventually scuff the skin there.) (Castiel had even told him so.) (Dean had told him to stop being such a nag.)

Strange how Castiel knew that there were no mystical properties to a kiss, and yet now it was all he could think about. He could sink to his knees and place his lips directly over the wound, letting his grace knit the flesh below. Or... he could grab a fistful of Dean's flannel and crush his lips to Castiel's own, walking them backwards until they hit the wall, bodies lined up, grace pouring in through their joined lips to thread down Dean's body to the injury and-

"Hey, Cas? You okay there, buddy?" Dean said, snapping Castiel out of his thoughts. His lips pulled up into a playful grin that actively grew as Castiel huffed and narrowed his eyes. "Y'kinda giving me a look like you might smite me or eat me."

"Your jeans are impractical," Castiel snapped in a deep rumble. He prodded Dean in the forehead with two fingertips - felt his grace seal the injury instantly - and disappeared with a hard flap of wings.

#once again I am writing fic instead of sleeping. making all the good and sensible life choices asdjklklfj #Deans just sitting there injured while Cas is having a full gay crisis #destiel #destiel ficlet #castiel #pie's projects #destiel fanfic

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convexicalcrow · 1 year

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Been slowly working on the Vex magic grimoire tonight as well I stg. Gonna paint the cover tomorrow and finish off that entry as well. I’ll post it with a transcript then.

The cover was just going to be a Vex head/mask but now I wanna add some skulk there like it’s been touched/handled much later on and skulk leaves a mark behind so ofc.

#vex magic grimoire #fictional grimoires #cubfan135 #gtwscar #convex #fanfic project #fanart project

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bimarts · 25 days

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Don't mind me just thinking about Jason Todd falling for an Architectural intern at Wayne Enterprises, only to find out that they hate Red Hood because he's destroyed so many of the buildings that they've worked on and the first project that they were able to lead.

#dc universe #jason todd #red hood #x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x reader #dc fanfic #fanfiction #random thoughts #im projecting so much with how stressful school is right now #damian wayne #batman

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cringevalue · 2 months

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steve harrington works at dairy queen and eddie has never been to a dairy queen in his life. when he walks in, steve is the one to take his order.

“are you the dairy queen?” eddie asks with a smirk.

“no,” steve says bluntly, sticking a thumb out toward robin, “she is.”

eddie pouts. “the dairy king?”

“don’t call me that.”

“how do you make the ice cream with the candies in it?”

“the blizzards?”

“mhm.”

“we put ice cream in a cup, put candy in the cup, put more ice cream in the cup, and blend it up.”

“so it’s not just made like that?”

“nope.”

“you have to make it?”

“that’s my job.”

eddie sighs and stands at the counter silently for a few seconds. “if i do cookie dough… can you put other candies in it too?”

“it’ll cost more, but yes.”

“what are all the candies you have?”

steve proceeds to list off every candy he can remember, and robin slips in a few that he forgets, and eddie orders half of the candies in one small blizzard.

“sir,” steve is being Very Professional, “you wouldn’t be able to get any ice cream in that, it would just be candy.”

“oh. uhhh…. how about… would you be able to do that if it was a bigger size?”

“i guess.”

eddie sits in a corner booth while he forces himself to eat a large blizzard with a bunch of random toppings inside. he doesn’t even like pecans, but they’re in there. when he’s done, he goes back up to the counter.

“are you guys hiring?”

“not sure. you’ll have to put in an application, but i can’t promise anyone’ll get back to you.”

steve hands eddie an application and eddie fills it out right there, handing it back to steve.

“i’ll be your dairy queen,” eddie says with a really bad wink before walking out.

two weeks later, steve is holding eddie’s hands to show him how to blend a blizzard, and robin is hyperventilating behind them because she got caramel all over her hands.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson headcanons #fanfiction #steddie #stranger things 4 #dairy queen #steddie fanfic #steddie headcanon #i work at dairy queen i am projecting

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tlou-reid · 3 months

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i’ve written sunshine!reader before but i’ve been thinking about grumpy!reader and sunshine!felix catton

grumpy!reader playing early 2000s pop music in her dorm room while felix is over. she initially (and repeatedly) told him that studying only happened at the library, but he finally convinced her to let him come over.

sunshine!felix who is shocked by the decorations covering her part of her dorm room as it is in contrast to the plain-looking clothes she wears.

sunshine!felix telling grumpy!reader he wasn’t expecting her to listen to this kind of music, joking about rock and metal music.

grumpy!reader who rolls her eyes at his comment because everyone listens to pop music. sunshine!felix adamantly disagrees—his music taste is far too superior and indie for pop music.

sunshine!felix who keeps smiling when he hears grumpy!reader singing along under her breath while she figures out complex math equations.

sunshine!felix who tells grumpy!reader that he loves hearing her sing love songs, that she’s adorable when he tries to hit high notes.

grumpy!reader who rolls her eyes and throws a highlighter at him. she huffs “get back to work and stop staring at me!”

sunshine!felix who has a teasing smirk on his face, insisting that she is too distracting. he can’t help but pinch her pretty cheeks, that are covered with a small, shy blush.

grumpy!reader who won’t allow him to get under her skin and into her heart, no matter how hard he tries.

#LOOK MAN #I AM PROJECTING RN #not my usual fandoms but i would die for jacob elordi #felix catton imagine #felix catton blurb #felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #felix catton x y/n #felix catton fanfic #felix catton drabble #saltburn imagine #saltburn blurb #saltburn drabble #saltburn x reader #saltburn x you

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emberfaye · 17 days

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You know what?

I love you, fics that take months to update. I click on the newest chapter and have no memory of this place and get to go back some chapters and rediscover how much i love everything about this story.

I love you, fics that take years to update. I think of you fondly, and know your names, go search for you and see an update from this year and scream, diving in uncaring of any missed details (i will finish the update and read you in reverse because this is a treat you have bestowed)

I love you, fics that probably will never update again. Thank you for being a roman empire for my mind, thank you for teaching me about the ephemeral fandom experience, for inspiring a thousand million what if-s, for being a comfort read and a nostalgia read and a reread.

I love you fic writers, who jump into projects and stories with enthusiasm. I love you when you succeed in pumping out those chapters and that love doesn't go away when you stop.

I love you fic writers who post and then get in your own head and never feel confident enough to update, whether it's at all or whether it's just that one story.

I love you fic writers, who have a fandom or media hurt you to the point of abandoning or having a hard time with their WIPs.

I love you fic writers, who lose interest or have life changes or illness or bad memory. Thank you for being part of the fandom, a core part of the fandom. Thank you for the time spent in the fandom.

I love you, fic writers who try out something new and then stop. You're so valid.

I love you, WIP fics that may or may not ever get finished. Thank you for brightening my day in the way only you could have.

#fandom #fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic writers #wips #abandoned stories #a lot of people feel so much shame for this #but that's not for this post #we are celebrating the lifeblood of the fandom here #the pages and pages of fic #celebrating the passion projects of writers who do this for free #and if I see anyone in the tags saying “well actually” or “with the exception of” bullshit #vacation or not #i'm gonna not be happy

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