#alternative au

[animaticstb]

I'm producing it!

What do you think about it?

Please support the project btw!!

Will be appreciated ~ 💝

[remirtillo]

headcannon they both listen to vocaloid songs

(feat dad scott and drunk uncle wolvie)

[ladypills]

This is what i want. Hihi and haha

[lionsandlilies]

˚⊱The Dead Keep Their Vows⊰˚

❦. Robb Stark, The Wolf King, who walked beside the wolves until the North forgot the sound of his laughter

The thing that had once been Robb Stark came north with the wolves.

Men whispered of a giant cloaked in grey and black, broad of shoulder still, though death had hollowed him. His flesh had gone the pale of winter’s first frost, stretched tight across a frame that had once been strong enough to break a lance. Every movement seemed burdened, as though the grave still clung to his limbs.

Above his shoulders rested not the face that had smiled beneath the heart tree at Winterfell, nor the young king who had worn bronze and iron with such easy grace.

Instead there was the head of a direwolf.

Grey fur, coarse with dried blood. Amber eyes that caught every flicker of torchlight with unsettling intelligence. Great jaws stitched crudely to a human neck with thick black cord, each uneven seam a monument to Frey mockery. Where flesh should have met fur, scar tissue crawled like pale roots beneath the skin.

The wolf’s ears twitched at sounds no living man could hear. His breath escaped in low, ragged growls more often than words.

When he did speak, the voice came harsh and broken, as though dragged through a torn throat before forcing its way between wolfish fangs. Few could understand him the first time he spoke. Fewer wished to hear him a second.

The crown was gone. The boy was gone. Only the King in the North remained.

Some claimed Grey Wind had never truly left him. Others swore the beast’s spirit had refused to abandon its master, and when the flames called Robb Stark back from death, wolf and man answered together.

The outlaws who rode beneath Lady Stoneheart did not question it. They simply called him the Wolf King. Children hid when he passed. Horses shied from his scent.

Even hardened men found themselves unable to meet those amber eyes for long, for there lingered within them something terribly familiar—the steadfast honor of Eddard Stark’s son, buried beneath the gaze of a predator that had already crossed death’s threshold.

He no longer smiled. He no longer laughed.

Yet whenever the wind carried the faintest trace of lavender, honey, or southern roses, the monstrous head would lift toward the horizon, ears pricked, as though somewhere beyond the rivers and ruined keeps there remained one voice the dead wolf still remembered.

And for the briefest moment, the monster looked like a man mourning his wife.

[ex-umbra-art]

Commission for thenewteal on x/twitter for their cowboy au fanfic on ao3!

[chibidjely]

New drawing for my Demon Slayer x Monster hunter stories AU, this time i drew Mitsuri.

I hope you like it

[luvstvrfyre]

Roll for Patience🎲

Eddie Munson x Reader (Part 1)

Summary - Slow-burn romance in 1986 Hawkins. A new girl transfers to Hawkins High, catching the attention of Eddie Munson and the patient game of hearts begins.

Fluff, slow-burn, no Vecna. Just Hawkins, Hellfire, and a new girl. Definitely ooc but I’m trying🤍

Word count: around 900

Song inspiration - (I Just) Died in Your Arms by Cutting Crew released in 1986🤍🤍

—————————————————————————

Hawkins High smells like floor cleaner and old paper.

It’s the first thing you notice when you step through the front doors, schedule folded tight in your hand. The building feels settled, comfortable in the way only a place that never changes can be. Everyone moves like they already know where they’re going.

You don’t.

Mid-semester transfers stick out. You can feel it in the way a few people glance up from their lockers, eyes lingering just long enough to register you as new.

You keep walking.

Your first class is Advanced English. Senior-level, according to your schedule, though when you step inside, it’s immediately clear that “senior-level” is more of a suggestion than a rule. A few younger students sit scattered between older ones, books already open, notebooks half-filled.

The bell rings just as you reach the door.

“Ah yes?” the teacher says, looking up. “You must be the transfer.”

You give him your name. He nods, scans the room, then gestures toward an empty desk.

“Take the open seat. Next to Henderson.”

The boy beside the desk turns around immediately, curls bouncing as he grins at you.

“Hi,” he whispers, like he’s been waiting all day. “I’m Dustin. You’re new.”

You set your bag down and slide into the chair. “That obvious? I’m (Your Name) by the way.”

“A little,” he admits. “But that’s okay. New is good. Where’d you come from?”

He asks it like he genuinely wants to know.

You answer quietly. He listens—actually listens—nodding along, asking follow-up questions, reacting like your answers matter. When the teacher starts talking, Dustin keeps leaning over to whisper commentary about the book, the class, and the unfairness of pop quizzes.

You don’t mind.

By the end of the period, he’s already filled you in on:

which teachers are strict

which ones don’t care

and which bathrooms to avoid

When the bell rings, Dustin packs up fast.

“So,” he says, slinging his backpack over one shoulder, “what’re you doing for lunch?”

You hesitate. You hadn’t really thought about it.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Well,” he says brightly, “you don’t have to sit alone. You can if you want, but you don’t have to. We sit in the corner.”

“We?”

“My friends,” he says. Then, after a pause: “They’re… different. But they’re cool. Promise.”

The cafeteria is loud in a way that makes your head buzz. Trays clatter, chairs scrape, and the room hums with conversation layered on conversation. You follow Dustin past the centre tables, past the popular kids and the athletes, all the way to the far corner.

That’s where you see him.

Eddie Munson looks older than everyone else in the room and not just because he is. He’s leaned back in his chair, boots stretched out, dark hair falling into his eyes as he laughs at something one of the others says. He looks comfortable here, like the corner belongs to him.

Around him were his friends: Mike, Dustin, Lucas, Gareth, Jeff… and Randy, a quiet kid with a crooked grin and a notebook full of dice rolls.

“This is Hellfire,” Dustin said, gesturing to the group. “That’s Eddie, Mike, Lucas, Gareth, Jeff… and Randy.”

You offered a tentative smile. Mike nodded at you with a friendly grin. Lucas gave a small, evaluating raise of his eyebrow. Gareth and Jeff glanced over, shrugging slightly. Grant peeked up from his notebook, curiosity written across his face. Eddie’s eyes lingered on you, sharp and unreadable.

Sharp. Curious. Immediately guarded.

“What’s this?” he asks, nodding toward you.

Dustin doesn’t hesitate. “This is (Your Name). She transferred.”

Eddie’s gaze lingers. He takes you in slowly, like he’s checking for a trick.

“And why,” Eddie says carefully, “is she sitting with us?”

You answer before Dustin can. “If that’s an issue, I can move. I don’t want to disturb you guys.”

Your voice stays even. You’re not offended, just practical.

That seems to catch Eddie off guard.

He studies you again, brows knitting slightly, like he can’t quite figure you out. Dustin looks between the two of you, clearly concerned.

“No! She can stay,” Dustin insists.

Eddie exhales through his nose. “Relax. I’m not kicking her out.” He gestures lazily at the empty chair. “Sit if you want. Your funeral.”

It’s not welcoming.

But it’s not rejection either.

You sit.

Conversation resumes in pieces. Dice appear. Someone complains about a campaign. Eddie leans forward despite himself, voice animated as he launches into an argument about rules and strategy.

You don’t understand everything they’re talking about.

But you understand passion.

You understand the way Eddie’s voice changes when he talks about something he loves. You laugh when he makes a ridiculous sound effect—quietly, genuinely.

Eddie notices.

Later, someone at a nearby table mutters something under their breath. Eddie stiffens instantly, shoulders tightening.

You don’t react.

You keep listening to Dustin talk about radios and science camp and something that went wrong with a soldering iron.

That’s what finally shifts something.

When the bell rings, Eddie stands first. He grabs his jacket, slinging it over his shoulder, then pauses.

“You graduating this year?” he asks, almost casually.

“Yes.”

“Huh.” He nods. “Hawkins doesn’t usually let people leave without a fight.”

You shrug. “Guess I’ll see.”

Eddie watches you for a second longer than necessary.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Guess you will.”

As you walk out with Dustin, you feel it—that subtle change.

You’re still new.

Still an outsider.

But now, you’ve been noticed.

And in Hawkins, that means everything.

—————————————————————————

Authors Note - yes I knows it’s very short but this is my first x reader chapter ever so bare with me😮‍💨

As I said before definitely ooc.

A few notes - Grant is the name I’ve given to “Freak 1” who is the guy that Eddie is talking to in this scene. (It’s the actors name so why not.)

There is also no vecna, upside down, or even Henry creel in this story, just a 1980s love story.

I would love some Eddie headcanons and any ideas you guys may have🤍