#should I just tag these as an au at this point | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr is used by 21% of adults online aged 18-29 years.

#should I just tag these as an au at this point

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 19 hours

Text

Winter's King 13

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: Ahhh! I almost own a house.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The queen struts down the hall, the white satin limning her figure. She is shameless as she passes soldiers but she needn’t worry for their judgments. You peek up at the few errant eyes that follow her, though many pass without even a glance in her direction. Servants course through the corridors, busy with preparations for the morrow’s departure.

You think of asking Queen Jazlene whether now is not the best time. If she should be more concerned with her venture north. Of all she’s acquired of the queen’s former possessions, there is not a fur among her chests. Nothing more than a trim of squirrel or rabbit along a collar. The summer kingdom does not warrant the need. And certainly, you think, the king must be equally busied by the pending journey.

As ever, your duty keeps you silent. You do not know better than a queen. You bide her whims, not your own. You follow the soft whisk of the robes hem and your mind wanders in your stead. You think of the dark gardens and the king’s words.

‘Should I remain any longer, I might give it all up.’ He must be eager to return home. You can’t help but harbour your own impatience. For all you’ve heard of the Hinterlands, you cannot picture them well. You want to see them yourself. It is the only time in your life you really ever longed to see something entirely unfamiliar.

The queen stops and the soldiers on either side of the door shift, alert at her approach. The do not look welcoming. You wring your hands behind your back. What can you do but let the queen proceed?

“Let me through,” she demands, “I must see the king.”

“Your highness,” the rusty-haired soldier drawls, “he is not receiving--”

“He is my husband,” she sneers, “I am the queen.” She points to herself, “I give you orders, sir. Not the reverse.”

The other man huffs and tilts his head to the other as if to say, ‘don’t bother’. The first soldier raises his elbow to hit the door beside him.

“Your highness, you have a visitor,” he calls through.

“A visitor?” Jazlene scoffs and steps forward, grabbing the handles of the doors to try to force her way through. “I am more--” She shakes the doors as they offer resistance from the other side. You can see clearly through the crack between them that they are latched within.

The metal grinds inside as the lock is slid out of place. The queen blusters through as a dark-haired man stands by the left door, watching behind her as she blows in like a storm. You pause in the doorway, uncertain if you should go further.

The king sits at the table of his receiving chamber, maps unfurled and kept unrolled by heavy ornaments. He has one arm on the chair and his other hand against the tabletop. He watches his wife with his golden eyes, his lips straight and unamused. The man who opened the door, watches with a crooked grin.

“Husband, I have come to see you. As we have much travel ahead, I figured it was the best time for us to--”

“The best time?” King Geralt ponders flatly, “we ready for the ride north. We must anticipate the remaining rebels and assuage lingering acrimony. We must also account for the snows that will meet us in the Hinterland. This campaign has kept me long and the winter will be there to greet us.”

“Let the servants trouble for it,” she insists.

The man by the door flutters his fingers at you, “in?” He mouths.

You blink, uncertain. You step inside hesitantly and step to the edge of the other door. He pushes the left one shut and turns to watch the interaction with glee.

“You should trouble for it,” the king reproaches, “you should act as queen and so you should think of your people.”

“Husband, do not presume to educate me. I have had tutors all my life. I understand these things. I was borne to be a lady, to mind a castle--”

“A castle not a realm,” he shakes his head, “this is no banquet.”

“Ugh,” she huffs, “what has gotten into you? Last night--”

“It is today,” he insists over her, “I am occupied.” He shifts his chair pointed and frames an area on the maps with his large hands. “Jaskier,” he calls, “come, we must determine our way through Hare’s Pass.”

“Your highness,” the man jaunts forward bouncily and as he nears the table, he pulls out a chair, “Queen Jazlene, please, have my seat.”

The king looks at his companion with a deathly glimmer. The lord in his cornflower jacket is unbothered by the distaste aimed in his direction. He smirks back defiantly.

“Thank you, sir,” Jazlene simpers and sits with her back straight and her chest pushed out, “I think I’ve forgotten which one you are.”

“Lord Jaskier,” he intones, “I held the capital while the king claimed his beautiful wife.”

She giggles and runs her hand along the front of her robe, “oh, how valiant, sir.”

“Jaskier,” the king growls again, “put your mind back to the road--”

“We have it figured, your highness,” the lord rebuffs, “surely you should enjoy this time you have in one place with your wife.” Jaskier takes another stool and sits at the table, “I should very much like to know this summer queen better. You secret her away--”

The king sighs. His fingers tap in irritation on the table. He sits back and throws his hand up.

“I see you are no help, as usual,” the king snips.

“And you are tedious,” the lord smirks again. “My queen,” the man sits forward, his attention on Jazlene, “I traveled the summer lands once before. You see, I fancy myself a musician and as a young boy, I would play for the courts. I never ventured to Debray but I was at Harlowe. It is closeby.”

“I know Harlowe,” Jazlene brightens, forgetting her mission for talk of herself. “Yes, I went there often for their harvest fairs. Were you there when Lord Edmund was still alive?”

“Ah, yes, I believe he wasn’t there long after I left for the next county,” Jaskier artfully feeds her self-importance.

“He was a good man. Of the few my father respected,” she mourns with her hand to her chest. She shakes her head and pauses with a sullen sigh, “maid,” she snaps her head up, “bring wine for us.”

“No wine,” King Geralt counters swiftly.

“We have a guest, husband, surely we should entertain him according to etiquette. In these summer lands, we offer sustenance to our guests,” she argues.

“Bring warm milk then. You needn’t be glazed over with wine on the morrow--”

“I am the queen and I am grown, I will have wine,” Jazlene waves her hand at you tersely, “maid!”

The king glances at you. You stand in indecision. You can defy neither but in that moment, you must choose one or the other. His golden eyes drift over to the queen and back to you.

“Go, fetch wine,” he relents.

You bow your head and spin to set off on the task. Your thankful to escape the tension that floods the room. You can sense that the queen’s intrusion is unwelcome and yet that lord ignores the king’s mood. Almost as if he means to agitate him.

You weave through the disarray of the corridors down to the kitchen. Barrels of pickled foods and crates of dried goods are stacked, waiting to be loaded onto carts for the distance ahead. The king must still think of feeding his army, and now, a royal retinue.

You claim a bottle of wine amid the hectic furor and some goblets. You’re out of breath as you return to the upper floors and slow yourself to regain composure as you approach the king’s chamber. You’re let within without obstruction. Just the maid.

You cross to the table and set the goblets upright, then the heavy bottle. Jazlene ahems and taps the brim impatient before you can uncork the bottle. The neck moves away from your reach as Lord Jaskier snatches it instead. He opens it easily and pours the queen a cup as the king leans heavily on an elbow. As you glance over, you meet his golden eyes and quickly shy away. You see he is not happy. You thought by Jazlene’s measure, thing’s might have been improving.

You take your place by the wall. The king sighs. He does that a lot, as if he means to say something but will not. Lord Jaskier slides a goblet towards him.

“Drink and let loose, your highness, you can’t be surly upon the road,” Jaskier chides.

The king does not move. He glares at his company then looks at the ceiling. Queen Jazlene slurps loudly.

“How charming you are, my lord, a wonder his highness likes you so much,” she chirps.

“A surprise to me as well but I think my loyalty more tolerable than my other traits. Yet, you’ve yet to the king bellowing the most bawdy ballad. He is particular lively after a battle,” Jaskier winks at his liege tauntingly and receives nothing in return. “Mm, how about a game? The king is fond of those. How about it, then?”

The lord lifts his cup and holds it before his lips, watching the king in his cantankerous glower. Another sigh as he sits forwards and tilts a hand indifferently.

“If it keeps you from chattering,” the king mutters as he clears the heavy ornaments and rolls the map up. He focuses on that as Jaskier pulls a pouch free of his belt.

“This is one he taught me. The old king before him was fond of it too. The mind’s of rulers, hm?” Jaskier explains as he loosens the tie of the bag and pours out similar pieces to the ones in Geralt’s purse. “Have you played it?”

Jazlene keeps her hand on her cup. The king continues to clear the table, pushing aside the cup meant for him as he shifts the bottle off another map. He stands and gathers the rolled parchment. He approaches you.

“Bring these to my bedchamber,” he bids under his breath.

As you take them, your sleeves brush his and his fingers drag along the fabric of your dress. He stares down at you, his breath fuming like a hearth. You hug the maps and he backs away, returning to the table. You take your order and find your way through the east door into his bed chamber.

You set down the maps on the chest near the foot of the grand bed. His sword leans against the frame, tall in its sheath. You stop to admire the thick handle and its well-hewn grooves. It must be heavy.

You tear your admiration from the weapon and return to the receiving chamber. Jaskier reviews the rules as Geralt rolls his fingers against the armrest, bored by the explanation. You resume your vigil and stare at the wall.

Pieces are dolled out, dice are counted, and the round begins. The king is let to have the first turn. He plays the same as he did against you. It must be some strategy. The queen is prompted to have her go but she is silent. She hums and stares down at the table. Jaskier whispers behind his hand, drawing your gaze.

“Let her play her own turn,” the king insists, “isn’t any fun playing against two of you.”

“Your highness, I was only doing my duty as a royal advisor,” Jaskier returns playfully. “By all means, my beautiful queen, I am certain you are as a clever as you are elegant.”

Jazlene preens in the praise. She drinks some more wine then rolls a dice, seemingly without thought. Several of her pieces are plucked up by both king and lord. She pouts.

“Wait, what happened?” She mopes.

“Rules,” Geralt grumbles. “Jaskier, go on then, take my bronze.”

“I know your tricks,” the lord replies, “I will not fall for it. I’ll have your silver.”

Jaskier rolls the diamond dice and groans. The king takes his silver instead.

“You’ve switched out the dice, certainly,” Jaskier accuses.

“You whine about chance,” the king rebukes and rolls, taking even more silver from his advisor. “And again.”

He gestures to Jazlene and her brow ripples. You can see she doesn’t understand. She will want to use the square dice then, she might have the iron back that she lost. She uses the slightly rounded die instead. Jaskier is already counting her gold.

“I don’t understand,” she crosses her arms, “this game makes no sense.”

“It is your first attempt,” Jaskier assures her, “you will get better.”

“It’s boring,” she sits back and drinks more wine.

Jaskier has a swig of his own as he rolls. He claims his silver back from the king and some from Jazlene. She shakes her head and waves you over with her hand. You can see her goblet is empty as you near. You lift the bottle to pour as the king has his turn. He loses a few iron but doesn’t seem to mind.

The queen’s turn comes and you linger, examining her pieces. Your lips move slightly. Square, square, square. Your eyes flit up and find the king’s watching you. Oh no.

“Wine, maid,” Jaskier clunks down his cup with a hollow noise.

You move around Jazlene’s chair as she snarls under her breath. She rolls the triangle die. Her gold is all gone. She slaps her hands down and you rescind the bottle before you can pour as Jaskier’s cup wobbles. He laughs at the queen’s dismay and she sweeps away her pieces and dice before she can lose.

“It isn’t fair! I don’t understand.”

“If you don’t understand, ask. Do not be impetulant,” King Geralt reprimands. “You make a mess like a child.”

“Do not speak to me as one,” she spits back. “I am not!”

“Your behaviour would suggest otherwise,” the king says.

“Now, now, perhaps it would be fairer with a forth, eh? Trios always do prove imbalanced,” Jaskier intones.

As you go to pour the wine, you are suddenly pulled off your feet. You land in his lap and nearly drop the bottle. You hug it close as you notice the king lurch, sitting straight, only to stop himself on the edge of his chair.

“Eh, do not handle the maid as such,” he demands. “She serves the queen.”

“She may join us, yes? The queen could have an ally. We will play as pairs.”

“Let the maid go,” the king grits.

“Oh, do settle,” Jaskier unhooks his arm from around you. You stand and let your nerves settle, steadying your hands to pour the wine. “You are no fun, your highness.”

Jazlene giggles, “oh he certainly is not. So dour,” she sounds like Lady Rezlyn in that moment. Often the duchess would throw barbs at her husband shamelessly. “Even his games are dull.”

“You needn’t play,” King Geralt shoves his chair back and stands, “it was not my suggestion.”

“She is right. You are much too serious,” Jaskier remarks.

You leave the wine and back away. The air is thick. You feel as if you should go but cannot without dismissal. The king roils hotly as he exhales loudly.

“Far too serious,” Jazlene trills, “he hasn’t time for any sort of fun, has he? He must attend his kingly duties and yet, he neglects his husbandly ones.”

The king lets out a growl. He sneers at his wife as Jaskier’s laughter subsides. The lord looks alarmed as he peeks between the royal couples.

“Mm, suppose it is time I see to my own luggage,” he rises.

“No, stay, drink your wine,” King Geralt insists brusquely, “you and the queen can have mine,” he grips the goblet by the brim and shoves it towards Jazlene as the contents slosh. “You will find me attending my dour kingly duties, should you think to recall your own.”

The king spins and stalks off, hands in fists, and bulls through the doors. They slam behind him and make you jump. You blink at the wood as your heart pounds. For as much as the queen wants her marriage to improve, she is hardly helping herself.

“Ah,” Jaskier sits with a tut, “he can be a touch sensitive, can’t he?”

Jazlene laughs, though you hear the nervous rattle in it, “can’t he?”

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #the witcher #winter's king

161 notes · View notes

cannibalsforbreakfast · 3 days

Text

Cruel Summer - Chapter 1

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: The "Eddie Munson is a speedway racer" high school AU no one asked for, but you're getting it anyways. Enemies to friends to lovers | No-Upsidedown AU | Fast cars, fast times | Reader moved from "the city" to Hawkins

Tags [will be updated as things progress]: swearing, underage drinking, dangerous driving, Jason sucks as usual, mentions of weed, light angst, misunderstandings, reader is afab, not sure if I'll have smut yet or not

A/N: Chapter 1 is already on Ao3 but here's the Tumblr version! New chapters will always be posted on Ao3 first, with a week or so delay to here.

CH1: 3,780w

-- -- --

“Hot summer streets and the pavements are burning, I sit around / Trying to smile, but the air is so heavy and dry”

If anyone had asked, you wouldn’t have said car racing was something you’d be interested in. Watching hunks of metal speeding around in circles always seemed pretty pointless to you. When combined with the auditory chaos of engines and screaming crowds, and nauseating smell of gasoline and burning rubber, it had never been high on your bucket list.

Then again, neither had moving to Hawkins, Indiana. And yet, here you were: stuck in small-town nowhere for (just, you hoped) the summer. But a summer practically felt like forever to you.

And so you were at the speedway car races with your cousin, Robin. Because apparently, she said, it would “be fun” and “social” and “lots of people went.”

You supposed you should be lucky Robin was pretty chill about hanging out with you. After all, having your city-slicker cousin practically dumped on your doorstep without so much as a “by your leave” by your parents — who had gone off to “rediscover themselves” and hopefully salvage five years of impending divorce — probably wasn’t high on HER bucket list, either. She and her parents had been more than welcoming, sticking you and your five overstuffed suitcases in the spare room on the second floor, just next door to Robin, without hesitation and urging you to make yourself at home.

If you saw Robin and her parents exchange some pointed and pitying glances, well, you’d just try and ignore them. Because they were right. Your parents clearly didn’t care enough about you to take you with them on their wild second-honeymoon or whatever, so they’d abandoned you without looking back, saying they’d pick you up in a couple months before school started up again. They thought. Maybe homeschooling had been implied as a possibility if they happened to return a bit later than assumed from…Panama? Costa Rica? Whatever warm, probably tropical, place they’d gone to. Without their only daughter.

Honestly, sometimes you just felt the truth of it in your bones when, at the height of their marital Cold War, they’d each called the other some variant of “frigid bitch.” Only the coldest of the cold would up and abandon their offspring like that, without any evident desire to really take responsibility for them ever again. If you just wandered off at the end of the summer, got a job waiting tables in the nearest big city, didn’t bother to send a forwarding address, you didn’t think they’d be too fussed. Depressing.

The frozen atmosphere at home had gone on so long, you’d practically adopted aloofness yourself as a survival mode. What you didn’t feel, couldn’t hurt. Didn’t help you with making any friends once you’d entered high school, but it kept anyone from really bothering you for three years. The summer before your senior year was supposed to be this golden eternity of afternoons at the pool, perfecting your tan, or giggling at the local mall while licking ice creams and debating who-liked-who-liked-who.

Not wasting away in Hawkins, a town small enough you bet you could count all of the stoplights on one hand.

You missed the city so much it ached . Missed the dizzying heights of the buildings towering above you, missed the way the very air seemed to thrum with an energy, a beat that got into your pulse and made you feel alive. Missed the hole-in-the-wall restaurants on every street and the used bookstores piled high with more volumes than you could read in a lifetime. Hawkins was…quaint, but inside you worried if you stayed here long enough it would drain the life out of you until you couldn’t make it anywhere else.

Not that you’d say any of that to Robin, who was babbling cheerfully away at your side as you strolled up to the local speedway just out of town. She was wearing a loose striped men’s shirt with the cuffs rolled up and jeans, despite the lingering heat of the evening. Robin, you’d come to learn, was pretty much always babbling about something or another, a natural condition that tended to get even worse whenever she was flustered or nervous. Given your tendency to listen, rather than speak, you actually balanced each other out rather well. With her, surprisingly, you felt you could be…yourself…that little bit more. Felt a bit of that icy shell melt away.

You tuned back in to hear her say, “We’re going to meet up with Steve, he’s gotten there early to stake us out a spot. You wouldn’t think it but it can get really crowded and picking the right spot out of the sun and the dust and on the right side of the track is, like, crucial to the enjoyment factor. Steve’s a boy, by the way. He’s not my boyfriend – well, he’s a boy who’s a friend, but we’re not like that, actually he’s more like an annoying brother. But he’s not annoying, I promise!”

You smiled to yourself as Robin rambled on. Truly, you found it more endearing than not.

“I’m sure he’s nice,” you said, cutting in so Robin could actually take a full breath. She smiled back at you.

“Yeah, he’s great. But don’t tell him I said that, I swear his hair grows an inch every time someone says something nice about him.”

You smiled and promised that, of course, you wouldn’t breathe a word.

The two of you step up to the bored-looking teenager taking tickets, and you passed over your paper stub, slightly sweaty from being clutched in your hand. Stepping through the entrance gate, you’re immediately assaulted with the smell of deep-fried foods mixed with beer, the raucous laughter of crowds of families and teens here for an evening out. A fine dust permeated the air, making your eyes water. The track, a packed dirt oval that was both bigger and smaller than you imagined, spread out before you, bordered by some haphazardly stacked rectangle bales of hay you assumed were there for the “safety” of the crowd, though they looked anything but. You imagined any car crashing into those at serious speed would take them out easily…as well as the onlookers setting up their camp chairs frighteningly close to the barrier.

Across the track, a small elevated building rigged with wires and a mounted loudspeaker was clearly where the announcers were situated. Tinny commentary was blaring from the PA system, but it was almost impossible to hear above the general din.

There were mullets and wife-beaters on display everywhere. As you looked around, you noted that everyone – and you mean everyone – seemed to be dressed in nothing more formal than jeans and a shirt. You hadn’t batted an eye when Robin left the house like that, because that’s what your cousin always wore. And she’d told you to dress casual but…

“Robin,” you asked, “am I overdressed?”

She’d been herding you along the track toward one end, but at your question she glanced over at you and winced, which you supposed was answer enough.

“Robinnnnn,” you whined.

“What?” she protested. “I said ‘casual,’ that’s what you came out in, so I figured it was fine!”

Up until you saw the sea of daisy dukes before you, you’d thought what you were wearing was casual. It certainly was back in the city. The simple, white-and-red polkadot dress you were wearing, cinched at the waist with a plain wide belt you’d dug out the bottom of your suitcase, cute frilly sleeves sitting just below your tanned shoulders, wouldn’t have been anything your classmates back home blinked at. You hadn’t even done your makeup, besides a swipe of lip gloss! But you were rapidly getting the sense you’d have to redefine your expectations here in Hawkins. And with the swirls of rust-colored dust almost constantly permeating the air, you could already tell white was a particularly bad choice.

Oh well, you’d just have to make the best of it. And get the dress in the wash sooner rather than later.

“It’s alright, Robin,” you reassured your cousin, who’d been worrying at her lip while you thought. “It’s just a dress. Plus, it’s not like I’ll be in any of the cars,” you joked.

“Steve’ll probably have a blanket or something you can use anyways,” she said. “He’s a dad like that. Oh look, there he is. Steve! Steeeeve! Ugh, he isn’t listening. OI, DINGUS!”

Robin waved frantically at a boy a bit ahead of you, who’d staked out a pretty prime spot on the hillside around the middle of the straightaway, complete with camping chairs, picnic blanket and cooler of what you desperately hoped was something cold. Now this is what you’d imagined when Robin said “races.” And it was comfortingly far away from the hay barrier.

The boy – Steve – raked his hands through his already artfully disheveled mop of hair and rolled his eyes at Robin.

“Could you shout any louder?” he grumbled. “Jesus, I think the whole crowd heard you.”

“Oh don’t be such a wuss. Hey, this is my cousin. She’s cool. Cousin, meet Steve. He’s a dweeb.”

“A dweeb with charm, also known as the best kind,” Steve said with a smile, reaching out to shake your hand. “I heard you’re in town for the summer. Welcome to Hawkins – guessing it’s a pretty big change from where you’re from.”

“Um, yeah, wasn’t sure what to expect, but it’s better than I thought. Lots of nice people,” you offered him a small smile in return, a bit taken aback by the easy way he folded you into the dynamic.

“I’ll bet,” he agreed. “First time at a speedway?”

“First time at any kind of races,” you admitted. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Not much too it really,” Robin said around a mouthful of beer. Clearly, she’d helped herself to Steve’s stash, but by the way he just shook his head, you got the sense this was basically normal. He silently offered you a bottle, but you shook your head – maybe in a bit. Steve did seem nice, but you weren’t quite ready to be under the influence under someone new just yet. Robin kept talking: “Cars go zoom zoom, and the one that goes zoom zoom the fastest wins. We mostly just come here to support Eddie.”

You cocked your head. “Who’s Eddie?”

“Friend from school. He’s been working extra shifts all summer, which is why you haven’t met him yet. He works down at the local body shop, races on the side. We’ll point his car out when he’s up.”

You nodded, sure he’d be nice too, if Robin’s taste in friends so far was anything to go by.

The three of you sat, chatting amiably for a few minutes, and you felt yourself relaxing into Robin and Steve’s easy, familiar banter. They traded well-worn jabs back and forth, but there’s no heat behind them. You settled yourself on the blanket between them, tucking your skirt beneath your legs and mostly enjoying the vibe, only chiming in when you had something to say, like when Steve started to say “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” was supposedly underrated (he was wrong, and both you and Robin soundly told him so).

As the sun finally started to go down – days were still long and hot, and all three of you were peevishly slapping at overly familiar mosquitos – the track lights finally flickered into life and it seemed like things were about to start. Robin let out a squeal, wiggling her knees in excitement.

You were all ready for – you didn’t know, monster trucks or something? – when, to your surprise, the first line of cars that raced onto the track looked more like glorified go karts than anything else. Seeing your confusion, Steve leaned over and murmured, “They do the kiddie stuff first,” and you then saw that the drivers did seem awfully young. Fortunately they were wearing helmets.

The announcer counted down the start, and at the waving of the first green flag they tore around the track, kicking up immense clouds of gasoline-scented dust that settled over everything – your hair, your clothes, you could even see it coating the fine hairs on your arm. Gross.

And these little kids were vicious. Not crashing directly into each other, but drifting aggressively around the turns and cutting each other off within what looked like inches to spare between bumpers. Everyone was cheering on individual numbers, and you, Steve and Robin got into it by picking your favorite car and rooting for them at the top of your lungs. After a few heats you felt your throat dry up, and gratefully accepted one of the cooling bottles of beer Steve offered.

Beer with friends on a Friday night. Weirdly, this felt more like how you thought summer was supposed to go than you figured you’d get in Hawkins. Or anywhere.

As the night wore on, the races of the small and mid-sized cars started to blur into each other, and you started idly wondering when you’d be able to go home. Well. To Robin’s home.

“And nowwwww, the event you’ve all been waiting forrrrr!” shrilled the announcer.

From the back paddock where all the cars were parked, there came a grunty rumble. A vibration that made its way into your bones, your veins, the thump-thump of your heart. This was the rhythm you’d been missing, filling you up from the inside out.

And then, the first line of proper-sized cars ripped their way onto the track, to a massive cheer from the crowd. But you weren’t even sure you could call them “cars.” Dinged, dented, and beaten back into shape, these were machines reduced to the essence of speed. Any extra baggage had clearly been ripped out – seats, radio, even the entire bottom half of the trunk was gone. What was left was the engines, the driver’s seat, and anything essential to make them go.

They ran a few menacing laps around the track, jostling for position on the grid.

“Look, there’s Eddie!” Robin pointed.

“Which one is he?” you asked.

“The black one, with the red bat on the hood.”

“Eddie’s always had a flair for the dramatic,” Steve clarified.

Your eyes traced the black car as Eddie maneuvered it into the inside of the track, on the front row – “That’s a good position,” Steve clarified again. Unlike most of the other cars, which had paint jobs in varying states of peeling off, Eddie clearly kept his car freshly painted despite the risk of damage – it gleamed, pitch blank, with just the blood red of the bat leaping out of the design. From what you could see of Eddie, as he was mostly shielded by a helmet, he was also in all black.

“I’m sensing a theme,” you muttered dryly.

Like horses jostling for position, the cars – there must have been a dozen or so – revved their engines just behind the starting line. There was an agonizing moment of tension, where everyone stared at the red stoplight holding them in place.

Then it winked green, the flag was waved, and the race began.

You watched as Eddie’s car and the one on his right, painted a chipped red-white-and-blue roared to the front like bats of out hell. They gunned it down the straightaway before whipping into a drift around the curve that was so aggressive, their cars yawing onto two wheels so hard, your hands flew to your mouth to swallow a gasp despite yourself, sure they’d tip over or spin out. Magically Eddie’s car righted itself as he came out of the turn and he gunned it down the next straight, neck and neck with the other vehicle.

The laps went by in what felt to you like seconds, a frenetic dance conducted at speed. With the razor-thin margins the two cars took the turns, you knew that if Eddie lost concentration for a nanosecond, he’d be out of the race. You blinked dust out of your eyes furiously, loath to miss a single second. Next to you, Robin and Steve were yelling – you were pretty sure Robin was just repeating profanities at this point – but you could hardly make yourself breathe normally, let alone cheer.

There were only a few laps to go and the other car had stolen the lead from Eddie. Though Eddie was keeping the black monstrosity right on his tail, pushing himself right into the rear bumper to try and throw the other driver off.

They made another sharp drift around a corner and, as they came off the curve, Eddie made his move, pushing the throttle to take his car around the outside of the red-and-white leader. He took the turn, hard, trying to get his nose in front of the other car’s, and this time you did let out a whimper of concern. Your heart thumped in time with the roar of the crowd, and when Eddie made it, slipping in front of his rival to cross the finish line first, you couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

Steve and Robin were now jumping up and down and hugging each other, and you smiled at their infectious joy.

The other cars coasted to a stop in the middle of the track while Eddie took his victory lap, waving the checkered flag from out the driver’s window. He must have spotted the two maniacs next to you, because the car rolled to a stop on the track in front of you, and Eddie stepped out from the car.

You knew he drove like a devil, but you weren’t expecting him to look like a fallen angel.

A strange shiver ran through you as you watched him pull off his black helmet. Long, dark curls spilled out, framing his sharp, sculpted face. Even with his bangs sweat-soaked and disheveled, he was capital H-O-T. Dark hair, dark eyes, with a plush mouth you knew was made for sin. He was everything your parents would have warned you away from, and everything you – or your body, at least – immediately wanted.

“Be normal,” you thought to yourself. “This is Robin’s friend .”

Robin and Steve trotted down to the side of the track, and you trailed behind them, a little unsure. It was the last race of the evening, and with the entertainment over, the crowds were starting to melt away. It didn’t escape your notice that while all the other drivers were getting handshakes and back-slaps galore from their fellow racers and even some officials, no one had come over to congratulate the actual winner, Eddie, except for the three of you.

“Edieeeeee, you won!” Robin shrieked at her usual top-volume. “But also, ugh, you smell like fumes, ew no, don’t hug me.” She wiggled away from his playful attempt at a hug, wrinkling your nose.

“Comes with the territory, Robin, you’re just gonna have to get used to it. You certainly don’t mind when I’m fixing your car for free, again . Hey, Steve, nice of the King to make an appearance.” The two boys traded fist bumps, Steve rolling his eyes at his high school nickname. You broke into a wide smile at their antics.

Eddie’s eyes met yours, where you lingered behind, and he arched one eyebrow, his previously warm and open expression becoming more guarded, scanning you from the top of your windswept hair to the bottom of your now quite dusty flats. Your smile faded, and you resisted the urge to brush yourself off in the face of his gaze.

“Who’s this?” he asked. “Wasn’t aware we had a third cheerleader on the squad. Does little miss Dots like what she has to see so far?”

You find yourself bristling at his presumptuous tone. “I don’t quite take your meaning,” you respond stiffly.

Eddie laughed, an open, easy sound you could have loved – except for the sharp edge to his voice. He straddled the hay bale, spreading his hands open. You tried not to look at how his black racing uniform stretched tight over his thighs. Really, you tried.

“Come on, guys, this is a joke, right? Ha, ha, Eddie’s first race of the season, let’s get a cute little cupcake of a girl to come along, flirt a little, string lil ’ol Eddie along? Give the girl a ride to remember?”

He fixed his molten brown eyes on you. “Did someone put you up to it, Dots? Patrick? Jason? It’s the sort of shit thing Jason would do.”

By this point, both Steve and Robin were exchanging a confused glance that clearly conveyed their shared sense of, “uh, what?” But you knew exactly what.

Eddie had taken one look at you – at your too-much dress, too-much smile, maybe something else you didn’t even know in your demeanor – and concluded that the only possible explanation for your presence was that you were a…paid escort? Hooker? Someone bribed to come watch his race and flutter your eyelashes at him, spread her legs?

You felt the usual protection of your ice queen reputation from back home freezing off any earlier warmth from your expression.

“Someone clearly has a high opinion of himself. I’m not going to cream just because you’ve got half skills with half a car. Get over yourself. Robin,” you turn to your cousin, “I’m going back to the house.”

“It’s miles to the house,” Robin protested, nervous gaze flicking between you – fuming – and Eddie – nonchalantly picking at his cuticles, not sparing you another glance.

“I’ll walk.” It was only a mile or so to Robin’s, and you didn’t want to spend a single second more in his company, friends with your cousin or not. Eddie’d done a spectacular job of reminding you why you usually didn’t do things that were “fun” or “social” or that “lots of people” went to. You didn’t need another asshole man in your life, your father was doing a bang-up job of that by himself.

“I’d give you a ride, Dots, but as you can see,” Eddie gestured to the literally empty passenger seat in the stock car next to him, “I can’t.”

“Fuck you,” you hissed, whirling around and stomping off before reaching a hand up to swipe angrily at the tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

You heard Robin run after you. “She’s my cousin you MORON,” she called back to Eddie. When she caught up to you, you gave her a watery smile in thanks, and she reached over to squeeze your shoulders.

New item for your summer bucket list: Never, ever see Eddie again.

-- -- --

NEXT TIME: You and Robin go to a party.

#cruel summer #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #fanfic #fanfiction #eddie munson fic #enemies to friends to lovers #speedway au

24 notes · View notes

hoippu · 6 hours

Text

Chronological ZoLu Fanfic Masterlist [improved]

Guide for people who want to avoid anime spoilers

you can check out the google doc for more updates on this list (There is a total of 53 fanfics on the google doc so far)

Hey Lover! by clouddq

-takes place when zoro is recruited -soulmates AU (pre-timeskip)

I’ll Take This Piece of You by lucerile

-One Piece Live Action -Pre-arlong park but post baratie -(pre-timeskip)

Definitely, Spontaneously by croissantmusain

-One Piece Live Action and regular one piece anime/manga -no spoilers -pre-timeskip

last year i abstained by Augment

-part 1 of a series -(pre-timeskip i think) -No major spoilers

this year i devour by Augment

-part 2 or companion fic of last year i abstained -(pre-timeskip i think) -No major spoilers

I Don’t Talk (I Kiss Things) by lostmagician

-One Piece Live Action -I guess there aren’t any major spoilers -(pre-timeskip)

to fail you would be to fail myself by yinyu_ink

-One Piece Live Action -(pre-timeskip) -takes place after Arlong Park

Found in the Crack of your Palm by The_Furthest_City_Light

-(pre-timeskip) -takes place from the beginning until somewhere after alabasta

catching butterflies by aquietdin

-(pre-timeskip) Takes place sometime between Skypiea arc but before Long Island arc. -You should also watch the G-8 filler arc because I think it’s referenced, but it’s okay cuz it is honestly the best and only filler arc worth watching. (G-8 is right after skypiea)

Gold-Tinted Days by needchocolatenow

-indefinite time period but brook’s there. there’s no spoilers

Ode to an ocean by novks (thychesters)

-(pre-timeskip) -Takes place right before water 7.

Chimes by drcalvin

-(pre-timeskip) Contains spoilers from Water 7/ Post-Enies Lobby. -Takes place shortly after marineford I think. Maybe wait until the timeskip begins before reading this one just in case.

Unable Are the Loved to Die by BasicallyACat

-(pre-timeskip) post Enies Lobby up until sabaody -part 1 of a series

a Losing Game by Angelgotchi

-right after water 7 probs pre-thriller bark -(pre-timeskip)

greed by species_baby

-(pre-timeskip) Thriller Bark

Feelings, what a mess! by drcalvin

(post-timeskip) Very early into the timeskip. I’d say you can read when they’re on the way to fishman island.

Let me carry your scars by arkhamsjason

-DO NOT CLICK ON THE LINK UNLESS YOU’VE BEEN THROUGH MARINEFORD BECAUSE TAGS CONTAIN SPOILERS -(post-timeskip) at some point after return to sabaody arc

Heliotrope by LostInClouds

-(post-timeskip) -As long as you reach the timeskip and have made it more or less to when they are sailing to Fishman Island, you should be fine.

The Things we do for Love by LostInClouds

-(post-timeskip) - It’s recommended that you reach the timeskip for this one too and probably before fishman island is also good enough

Feed your plants a little sunlight by swordsmans

(post-timeskip) indefinite time period tho i think Inspired by this comic

Of First Mates and Duty by Whatev3rs

-(post-timeskip) takes place at an indefinite point in the timeskip after return to sabaody arc. -kind of part 1 of another fic

Look at this! by nuftda

-(pre-timeskip and post-timeskip) takes place from the beginning up until some indefinite point in the early timeskip

‘Til You by Whatev3rs

-Post-timeskip -no real spoilers -it’s KIND OF a continuation of Of First Mates and Duty by Whatev3rs

Kizuna by YokoHogawa

-(post-timeskip) after fishman island

His Captain, Captivating by jirachi

-a sequel to Unable Are the Loved to Die -(post-timeskip) takes place up until the end of dressrosa i think

The Five Times Luffy Kissed Zoro, and the One Time Zoro Kissed Luffy by EclecticIsMyMiddleName

-This one takes place throughout the story up until the end of Wano arc. -It’s preferable that you’re fully caught up because it’s so good you might wanna binge it. -see google doc if you want a more detailed description of where each chapter takes place in case u cant wait that long

To the ends of the earth (I'll follow you, worship you, love you) by lunarblossoms

-(post-timeskip) occurs when luffy awakens gear 5

Carnelian and Gold by kermit_coded

-Post timeskip -No major spoilers

I Do the Dumbest Things for You by it_is_i_a_simple_nerd

-(post-timeskip) -Takes place somewhere between wano and egghead

Loyal Till Death Do Us Part by StygianHeart

-(post-timeskip) -takes place after wano and does have some spoilers at the beginning -it takes place in a fictional arc n stuff so its cool

I'm gonna make another masterlist later for the AU fics or maybe add them to this list but you can still find them in the google doc

#one piece #zolu #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #luzo #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #masterlist #fanfic masterlist #fanfic masterpost #writing #writers on tumblr #fefi speaks

25 notes · View notes

gemini526sdumptruck · 8 months

Text

Spark Man!

I had time to kill and I decided to draw my version of Spark Man lol

I was having way too much fun making up my own lore for him, somehow ended up making him a "cheerleader" type. He's cheerful, he's friendly, and he always likes to help out his friends and cheer them on. He’s still a bit of a scatterbrain though.

I was debating giving him a more cheerlead-y appearance, but I decided against it in the end because I still wanted him to look like his original design. When I decided this, I thought up that the reason he doesn't look super cheerlead-y is because he never actually made the team. But of course, he still likes to spread that cheer!

Don’t ask me why I came up with that lore, he just struck me to be that type of character.

#megaman #spark man #sparkman #sketch #should I just tag these as an au at this point #yeah i will #megaman au #mega man #arting

13 notes · View notes

4lph4kidz · 3 months

Note

i was thinking about your dirk and hal poll and i want to mention that i think your concept for ink and iron where dirk creates hal from his reflection by enchanting a mirror is so cool 😌

thank you! hal's predicament and purpose within the canon narrative is so fascinating and i felt it was really important to find a way to explore what i find most interesting with him. i can't take full credit for the concept though i took inspiration from a few placees (one of my friends pitched the idea of the mirror accidentally dumping him onto jake's doorstop for example) but overall i think the idea is very fun and i'm really excited to write more hal stuff!!! also i'm going to take the opportunity to share this oldish doodle i found:

the mispelling of angel as angle was NOT intentional (<- dyslexia haver) but it probably explains a lot. he's pointy

#obviously an AU is going to be different from canon #but i like AUs specifically *because* i have a lot of fun trying to translate canon ideas into another setting or genre in general #in this case its a riff on the fairy tale magic mirror #hal is still an experiment gone wrong/artificial being created to serve a purpose trapped in a non-physical form and denied personhood #as well as being an extension of dirk's selfhood and very literal expression of his self image #this time with extra gender problems as per my original intentions for the fic. which now feel more than a bit heavy handed but whatever #point is hal gets to play up the trapped demon/spirit/almost genie-esque angle isntead of the artificial intelligence schtick in canon #which i am having a lot of fun writing!#he is also a very important plot device. multitalented 💕#for anyone wondering i&i is NOT an abandoned project its just huge and whipping it into shape is slow going #i've taken breaks to work on other stuff too #ink and iron #i guess that's a tag i should start using #even though i'm not too happy with the title still. lmao

71 notes · View notes

greeenchrysanthemums · 3 months

Text

Joel has a past with Etho, and It is the one secret that he keeps from Lizzie.

The war was still going strong, and Coral Crest just had a victory on the outskirts of their border. They took many prisoners in the aftermath of this long and bloody battle. Among these prisoners was Etho.

By this point in time Etho was pretty infamous and it was a big deal that he had managed to be captured at all, so his arrival at the castle, of course, caused quite the uproar. Joel was too curious for his own good, so he couldn't help but sneak into the dungeon while Lizzie and his father were asleep to see if the rumors were true. He was shocked to find that they were.

Etho struck up a conversation with Joel the second he got close enough to the cell. Joel, who hadn't even realized he had been spotted, was scared at first. However, he couldn't deny his curiosity, so he stayed and talked with him.

Etho admitted to Joel that he got captured on purpose, and that he was just bidding his time until Coral Crest put him on trial and had him killed. He talked about wanting to be free; free from the war, free from Wintertide, just free from it all, and that the only way he thought he would ever find that was through death. Joel asked why Etho was telling him this and he just shrugged and said he was going to die soon anyway so he might as well get it off his chest.

Joel went back every night after that to talk to Etho, fascinated by the strange enemy solider. As time passed, he got to know him, and in turn opened up to him as well. They became friends of sorts, or at least as close to friends as two people on opposite sides of the war could be.

He then realized that he really didn't want Etho to die, something that was inevitable the longer he was in Coral Crest. Months had passed since the initial capture, and they had indeed put him through a trial at this point. His sentence was death, just as Etho had predicted, and the date was fast approaching.

So, Joel did as he does best; he acted brashly and with little to no second thought.

In the dead of night, Joel set fire to one of trees in the courtyard. He had carefully planned it out and made sure that it would not spread to anything else, but it was still enough to cause a panic. While everyone was occupied by the flames, he stole the keys to Etho's cell and set him free.

Etho was confused and at first refused to leave the cell, determined to meet his fate on the gallows, but Joel told him to go have his second chance, make amends, and be free. Etho still wasn't sure, but he eventually caved, unwillingly to let Joel's kindness go to waste.

Somehow, Joel got away with it. He hasn't told a single soul about the deed, because if he did, he would surely be charged with treason. On Etho's part, he never told the tale of how he escaped, because he knew that in doing so, he would put Joel in danger.

Lizzie knows, but she doesn't say anything. She watched Joel sneak out every night, she watched him set the fire, and she watched Etho make his escape into the dark. She kept her silence over the years only because she trusts Joel with her heart and soul; she trusted his judgement enough to keep his secret.

Neither of them could have anticipated that Joel would come face to face with that familiar scarred man when Lizzie sent him to Wintertide to get in contact with the resistance.

#GG rivals au #joel smallishbeans #ethoslab #boat boys #hermitcraft #life series #joel would have been 18 and etho 22 when this happened #Morgan (< my husband) was actually the one to suggest this plot point both because he personally loves boat boys and because #he said it would quote “add a little bit of drama to coral crests relationship with the resistance”#while i am the one primarily writing this au just know that he is always somewhere in the background making comments #and giving me ideas #i think i should also tag this as #tw suicide #< since it is mentioned twice that etho wanted to die #i will be posting the timeline of events very soon now that all the major past events have been talked about!!

67 notes · View notes

sisterdivinium · 5 months

Text

You know, for a show with so many female characters that so many of us love given how they all get time in the spotlight one way or another and they fill that time up rather wonderfully since they are deeper and more developed than what we're used to seeing in general media, it is peculiar (to say the least) to see so few "alternative" ships to the main one.

I'm not saying the canon ship doesn't deserve its attention -- I'm wondering instead why the canon ship and it alone seem to guide the WN fans who just so happen to enjoy writing/reading fic or fanart or whatever.

You'd think all these cool women would inspire more ships or combinations thereof, but those of us who aren't invested in avatrice just... Float along, around one another, ignored (and, yes, mostly undisturbed too; being unpopular does have its advantages and that includes a lot less weirdos leaving you strange or awkward messages -- it does not, however, shield us from people flooding our goddamn tags on AO3 with fic that has nothing to do with our little ships and I do wish such negligence of the pairing itself meant we didn't have to deal with this spam...)

I am also not saying that fandom activity should be based solely on shipping (and recently someone on Reddit was rather confused by the fact that a lot of it is, which is quite an interesting topic to discuss in itself -- after all, there is more to fan creativity than shippy fic... Or there used to be), merely that, here, it appears that a canon relationship can outshine interest in the other, non-canon ones. It's already there and it was doubtless well-done by the show, so it's natural that it should claim people's attention, sure. It's just that being canon was never the parameter for whether people were interested in these or those two (or more) characters maybe being involved and trying to explore what that could mean through fanwork.

There has always been a complaint haunting fandom spaces concerning the minuscule amounts of f/f fic, art, discussion, w/e based on how few (interesting or sympathetic or relatable) female characters there are in media at large. So what I'm curious about is why fan creations made around WN -- a show that finally gives us a whole cast of female characters that are what we have been craving for decades -- don't also reflect its diversity.

There are alternative ships (I'm here, all happy in my tiny Doctor Superion bubble, and I know there are Camila/Lilith, Ava/Lilith, Mary/Shannon, Mary/Lilith shippers out there, so a warm hello to you if you're reading this), but go on AO3 and compare the numbers of things tagged with these proper pairings to the grand total of WN stories. Better (or worse) still, do so with the "otp: true" trick or simply by excluding avatrice from the search to see how many are left.

It's... A considerable difference. And a mystery, at least to me.

#tagging this as #warrior nun #simply because i'd like to talk about this and maybe some of you have thoughts or theories about it #i just ask you engage in good faith if you do. i'm not pointing fingers at avatrice people i think they're fine and dandy #i'm just -- to reiterate -- surprised at how little interest there is in other ships when the potential is all there #(is it because they're nuns? that never stopped avatrice so why should it stop others...)#(besides lilith is hardly still a nun after s2. bea left. mary didn't really take vows did she? you really thought i was a nun she says...)#meta fandom talk i guess #then again about the nun thing... i have noticed a lot of people just go for aus. i can't recall ever being in a fandom with SO many aus #is the religious aspect an issue by any chance? i also recall someone commenting on how little a part religion played in these aus #curious. very curious.#i imagine some of you are wondering why i care when i don't even read fic but --#-- to quote jillian salvius herself i am a curious person and well you are a curiosity lol

66 notes · View notes

frostinepac3 · 11 months

Note

Totally random but how would Gustavo or The Noise react to werepep? (You dont have to answer if you don't want to)

It really depends on who you ask LOL

No-one tell Noise that's Peppino.

#my art #pizza tower #pt peppino #pt gustavo #pt the noise #pizza tower au #pizza tower monster au #pizzatower #should I just shorten the tag to just werepeppino or something #it seems like that's all it is at this point #which im fine with I think?

161 notes · View notes

randaccidents · 1 month

Text

Heart Pre-ROE / Heart Post Apathy (you're here!) / Heart Post Recovery

Well, something's sure gone wrong. Mind and Soul have some observations (and concerns).

Transcript is in read more (because I gave Soul the Lords most atrocious handwriting)

BUT ANYWAYS. LORE. This is on the first day after Soul pulled Heart out of Apathy. Neither of them know what is going on, but the guilt is slowly starting to set in. They don't know if Apathy did this, or if its something else that made Heart unconscious, but they are going to figure out a way to wake him up.

(ehe combining a reference sheet with the lore)

Indication of who's who: S is Soul and M is Mind

M: Observations on Heart's condition

S: Initial! WTF is happening

M: Concerningly, he is missing both wings

S: I'm pretty sure they fell off? There's no blood on his back. I might be sick

M: Not on the notes. Hypothesis, they fell off somehow, despite being connected to his back

S: move on pls

M: His limbs have blackened. The pattern suggests it may be moving via his veins . We have changed him into shorter clothes, for ease of examination and monitoring.

S: His limbs are FREEZING are you sure this is a good idea

M: We can cover him with a blanket. His chest, in comparison, is warm. He breathes at an even rate. That is all obser-

S: YOU FORGOT TO WRITE THAT HEART IS UNCONSCIOUS

M: Apologies. Heart was found in and has remained in an unconscious state. I have reason to believe he is in a coma. I do not know how we are to awaken him, nor what afflicts him.

S: We shouldn't have left him in Apathy. That was my mistake. I'm sorry I'm sorry

M: That concludes our current observations

43 notes · View notes

shitysimp · 4 months

Note

requests? 😼 draw something veronaville related plzz shitybabe

Vos désirs sont des ordres asherbae🫡🫡💥

So i know i took like mmmm 3 weeks sorry 🙏🙏😓 but I liked drawing them even if i'm still a noob in vv stuff.

Talking about the drawings (even if they look more like doodles) , most of them are inspired from images and takes from others that need to be credited:

@dystopianam for the montys one, u always spill facts love you girl 🫶🫶💗

@simstraffikcone for the little tybalt that I JUST REMEMBERED LAST NIGHT U ALREADY DREW ASHER, also i like how everything behind him is just green he spawned in an empty minecraft map

And that last tybalt one (AGAIN) is from u if i'm not mistaken?

Mmm my last words

Gay vv, toxic yaoi and rich people ✊✊

#lalilalilaaloo #at first i wanted to draw digitaly but it was so ugly and without personality i just let gat down and took the 'old good pencil #and tye reason why it was like that in digital is prob bc i'm still not used to it? maybe i should just scan my drawings at that point #also i'm still thinking about my “but i'm a cheerleader” au that i didn't mention here at all but that one drawing with blue and all was #supposed to be like reffering to that #AND GUYS SORRY FOR DESAPEARINGV LOL i haven't posted siiiiiinnce #anyways i've just been rebloging and enjoying life yk but i sometimes take micro pauses on this site because it sometimes can be overwhelmi #i think i talked too much time for the real tags #hermia capp #tybalt capp #juliette capp #consort capp #bianca monty #puck summerdream #mercutio monty #simprequest #simpdraws #simpdraw #beatrice monty #isabella monty #ts2: art #ts2 fanart #ts2

33 notes · View notes

itsredpaint · 7 months

Text

jingfeng(ren) au

au where dan feng doesnt do his crime but instead leaves (escapes) the luofu with jing yuan after daiheng and yingxing's deaths (they just kinda left df didnt pass down the high elder powers even in a normal way bc that means reincarnating and he doesnt want that)

the 2 travel around the galaxies for a bit avoiding the xianzhou alliance and then eventually get married

they find out yingxing did not stay dead

they meet him by chance but yingxing (ren/blade) doesnt remember anything

#hsr #nikiki's art #at this point i should just make a general au tag #fish hsr AUs #sure #thats all i have lmao #jingfeng #jingxingyue #technically its more of blade than yingxing sorry

51 notes · View notes

theresamouseinmyhouse · 10 months

Text

i re-read the Brentwood Arc for the 13th time in the time of this ao3 shutdown (praise be the ao3 otw volunteers yall are based and deserve the world) oh my god i have IDEAS for a tim drake/danny temple crackfic that i may never release into the wild

Do u know how fucking funny i could be if i ever decided to write a Father of the Bride (the 1991 one specifically) AU. Like,,,ik thats a rather niche AU but like,,,i could. Father of the Bride would work EXTREMELY well as an au.

Lemme explain: this could be a no capes au OR just a canon divergence post Red Robin 2009 bc i never read further past that bc it didnt spark joy

No capes au? Tim comes back from overseas after doing a business trip for Bruce as a 21 yr old (letting my boy outta dc's forever 17 basement) or going off to college as like,,,a CompSci student for a whole year and now has to break it to his fam he's engaged to a really sweet herpetologist (or geneticist either/or works bc wow he was WEIRD as hell too why was this 14/15 yr old reading about genetic sciences) aka my LOVE Danny Temple that he met at college. bonus points he's the first one in the fam to make the leap for marriage bc thats SO fucking funny (i only do things for comedy)

Post-RR Era canon divergence au Tim decides he needs to take some time and figure out his head bc oh god my boy was a MESS holy shit and somehow (hes a nosey ass/affectionate) ends up in Kobra Cult messes and reconnects to his old friend Danny Temple. Fast forward at least several wacky hijinks, a Danny Tim Road Trip 2.0, long distance pining, some personal crises, emotional revelations and like,,2 years later, tim brings danny home for dinner and hopefully not a funeral bc they both decided they wanted each others disaster selves. More shenanigans.