#completely unedited

[leos-lullaby]

[nitetrait]

[musette22]

November fog

[somerandomcryptid]

Does anyone want almost 1k words of unedited, unfinished dod!cryptid and quackity being their toxic dynamic?

No?

Too bad

Warnings include: Mentioned child abuse, and implied underage drinking, also Q being a condescending dick

Also just going to say it here: Dreaming of death is an au of the fic Penpal by @calamari-minecraft-corner

Anyway enjoy :)

It was routine these days. And throwing an ender pearl through Quackity’s window no longer felt scary. They would prefer to just walk through the building like a normal person, especially given that they were a regular face in Las Nevadas now. But Q refused to give them a key. Like the dickhead he was.

This time they almost didn't make it and had to haul themselves up a little.

“Having fun?” The wingless man asked, doing absolutely nothing to help pull them up from where they were hanging 4 stories up.

“What do think assh-” they were cut off as they fell to Quackity’s floor with a thud. Quackity chuckled. And they pushed themselves up enough to glare at his smug ass face mixing a drink like 6 feet from them. “You couldn't have helped?”

“I never asked you to come bother me every other night.” They scoff at that. Before standing up fully and leaning on the counter next to him.

“Surreeee. Like you don't need my visits way more than I do.” It was Quackity’s turn to scoff now.

“Then why do you keep coming?”

“I get alcohol and piss off my- Dream and Punz.” They correct themself but Q has this annoying habit of always pointing out stupid shit like that.

“Awfully possessive of people you hate.” It wasn't teasing. It never felt teasing. It was just.. judgy.

“I’m not fuckin’- I’m not calling them mine. I- I was going to call them.. something else ok?” Quackity scoffed at their defense, pouring a peachy liquid from that alcohol shaker thing into two cocktail glasses. And responding without even looking up at them.

“Then what were you going to call them? Your friends? Your brothers? Your family? God. I can't believe Dream still has you on that family bullshit.” He pushes one of the cocktail glasses over to them uttering a quick “Here drink.” Before going back on his rant. They sipped the drink with a roll of their eyes. They knew by now it wasn't ever poison. And they would interrupt, but that usually just prolonged these rant sessions. “When are you going to get it through your head that he doesn't care about you. I don't know why you even still live with those assholes.” Quackity ended in a grumble, before finally shutting up to take a sip of his drink.

“Free living.”

“Already offered that to you in Las Nevadas.”

“Have you maybe considered that I actually like the people I live with beyond my abusers?” It still felt so wrong to refer to them like that. But what they did was abuse. And Quackity was always a bit more.. workable with when they acknowledged that fact.

Of course it didn't help much. He still scoffed at their words. He almost always did. Unless they were agreeing with him. Just another one of the things that made them hate him.

“They're bad people too! If you weren't an oblivious child,” they almost snarled at that, but kept it back. “Then I would be condemning right along with everyone living there. I mean Phil’s a terrorist, Wren fucking supports Dream still, even after his abuse of you, Wilbur’s a manipulative two faced prick, Schlatt is an abusive power hungry alcoholic bastard,” that one was spit with particular venom. “and don't even get me started on Techno. Just because they're “nice” to you doesn't mean they're good pe-”

“You tortured a guy for months. How the fuck is that good? How can you call yourself a good person?” The words slip out through gritted teeth no matter how hard they try to force them down. Quackity falls silent for a few blissful seconds as he glares at them.

“I had reasons.” He too was speaking through gritted teeth. The words made them scoff.

“Selfish ones.” They mutter, looking down at their feet. The second they hear Quackity put his glass down they know they’re getting an earful. Him sighing heavily only increases the dread in their gut.

“He's a monster. And his actions towards you prove it even more. I don't get how you someone who has literally experienced his cruelty can't see how fucked up he is.” Quackity’s tone is scolding. It always is. Just like Sam’s, just like Punz’s, just like Dream’s. They hate acknowledging the pattern.

“Q. You’ve given me the speech before. I know your feelings on the matter.” Their voice is as level as they can manage, which is to say, mildly annoyed. They can practically feel how he prickles despite not being touching or looking at him.

“Clearly you don't understand me though.. or reason.” He mutters bitterly as he raises his glass to his lips again. They force themself to not snap at the jab.

In fact, they force themself to stay silent for once. And instead let the taste of sweet alcohol almost calm them. Almost.

Eventually Quackity sighs, and they glance over at him. His gaze has softened. At least a bit. And his eyes trace the plains of their face.

“I shouldn't be blaming you for being without reason. You're a kid who's been living with literal psychopaths.” Their fingers twitched with the urge to correct him. Or maybe punch him in the face.

They knew he willed himself to not strangle them because they were a “kid”. And they knew that if they were an adult, he would hate their guts, and probably have killed them. They hate that their age is the reason he doesn't.

“But it's a bit hard not to when you just. Won’t acknowledge what is so obviously in front of you.” He added with a chuckle that was clearly just to mask the hatred behind the words.

-

Yeh sorry, tis unfinished but I'm on 2% battery and don't feel like I'll continue later

[sleepywww]

[pontevoix]

shitty  headcanons  |  benedicteggs  helicopter

starts  grease  fires!!  then  he  blames  it  on  someone  else!!  really  good  at  disappearing  from  the  scene  of  the  crime.  don't  trust  him!!!

really  loves  peptobismol  he  has  a  shelf  dedicated  to  it 

he  honestly?  has  a  fair  amount  of  handy  knowledge.  he  can't  be  trusted  with  grease  fires  but  understanding  the  logic  of  some  machines  &  engines  &  trinkets  comes  easily  to  him.  his  father  did  somework  as  a  handiman,  &  birdegg  took  from  that.

honestly  really  good  teamplayer  &  deeply  does  not  like  teamsports!!  your  team  is  stupid!!

he  regulates  his  environment  really  well  but  he'll  only  cut  his  hair  when  someone  else  reminds  him  it  needs  doing 

his  memory  is  stupid  good.  his  sensory  memory  is  even  better.  he  has  a  tendency  to  remember  details  of  sounds  &  textures  &  temperatures.  he  feels  it  viscerally  when  he  thinks  too  hard  on  it

he's  not  a  big  talker  in  general.  but  genuinely  he  figured  the  less  he  talked,  the  less  risk  he  had  of  accidentally  saying  something  inconsistent  with  paradis.  he  talks  more  freely  around  people  he  knows,  but  he  rarely  talks  about  himself

modern  day  has  a  horoscope  app  on  his  phone.  he  doesn't  believe  in  it,  but  he  has  it  so  he  can  tell  you  he  doesn't  believe  in  it 

he  keeps  buying  pants  that  are  too  short  for  his  ankles  :( 

taller  than  u 

[ravenssunshine]

elmax max falls first el falls harder

max falls for el the day they meet. how could she not? it isn’t until the summer they start hanging out that she realizes she is so far gone. but el has a boyfriend— or doesn’t— something like that, and max knows she isn’t looking for a girlfriend. she lets her feelings take a backseat. el needs a friend. also, max does like lucas a lot. she likes el more, but that can be ignored.

then el moves away and max has the worst year of her life. not necessarily because el leaves, but it doesn’t help that she doesn’t have her only female friend to rely on anymore. she doesn’t have lucas either anymore.

she gets lucas back. she dies. she comes back to life. her eyesight doesn’t return. on a good day, things are blurry, but for the most part, she cannot see anymore. it’s okay because el is back.

max finishes high school with support from the people she loves. she chooses not to go to college. lucas does. so do mike, will, and dustin. el and max are the only ones left in the still under construction town of hawkins.

el starts an internship at hawkins pd. max works at the general store with steve. they always work shifts together because nobody else wants to work with the blind girl, max is pretty sure.

max and el see each other every day. they tell each other everything. steadily, el starts developing feelings for max. sometimes el is thankful that max can’t see her blushing every time max touches her arms and that she can’t see the way el looks at her like she’s the center of the universe.

max doesn’t look at el like that anymore. max doesn’t really look at all. but she listens and she touches. el knows that max loves her. so when the two of them are in el’s apartment, max isn’t shocked when she feels a cold hand on her jaw. she doesn’t tense up when el runs her fingers over max’s lips. when el finally kisses max, max knows that this is what she was made for. she doesn’t need eyesight to see that she and el were made for each other.

[my-life-is-a-bad-sitcom]

I am fighting in ways very small, unnoticeable to those so tall. Caught up in castles and revolutions ignore my restitution. My body back to my soul as I scream and cry, because I will be alive. I will show you each word that marks my skin as I treat the world as kin. Those words burned in by people good at heart but also strangely good at throwing darts. I will try and fight every day in small and simple ways, grow a garden, expand some hearts, keep those who hurt far apart. For I am not brave, I am not strong, yet I do not belong. I truly wish I could do more, but luckily redemption has no door. So I fight to prove those words upon my skin never meant a thing.

I would rather die than just survive and so I fight.