#and having to choose between them is fucking agonizing
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Okay listen, I KNOW Gale isn't down for a poly thing and gets snippy that you even bring it up, but like. You can't tell me that Gale/Tav/Astarion wouldn't be really, really good. This master wizard would be such an asset for helping Astarion figure out how to walk in the light again, and it's something for him to put his formidable brain power towards that isn't being power hungry and intense. And Astarion deserves to see how hard people are willing to work for him because they genuinely care and want him to be happy. Plus Astarion curled up in a chair with Tara, both of them being prissy and adorable just sounds like something both Gale and Tav need to see. I JUST THINK--
#bg3#bg3 spoilers#gale of waterdeep#astarion#ciro is very into both of them honestly#and they would love to have both of them#CIRO HAS TWO HANDS#is basically what i'm saying#and having to choose between them is fucking agonizing#so my headcanon is that they give gale an impassioned speech about how much he means to them#but astarion also means so much to them too#and since astarion isn't making them choose....#and gale thinks about it and realizes he doesn't want to lose them and this could work out#so they manage to make it work#i have too many thoughts
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Changes: A Poll-Fic
"Remember, you're not supposed to be here, so don't do anything stupid." Love you too, Price. The Captain had caved. He'd been begging to be part of this mission since they'd gotten the lead.
Soap reached up, rubbing his gloved fingers across the teeth of his mask. The mask he'd stolen from Ghost's room. Gaz had found him clutching it, dried mixture of tears and bile coating his cheeks, and forehead pressed to the porcelain throne. He'd been banned from drinking for the foreseeable future. That was the only stupid thing he'd done. Ghost wore a mask, Ghost only spoke when he had to, Ghost was hard on the rookies, and nobody questioned his mental state. But they did, didn't they? Well Soap didn't. And nobody needed to question Soap, he was fine.
"I wanna be like you when I grow up."
"You wanna be better than me, Johnny."
Well to be better than him, first he had to be more like him. So he'd donned Ghost's mask, to better embody the man's stoicism and presence. Definitely not as a way to hide his chapped cheeks and the bags under his eyes. He'd painted it red, wore a jaw print bandana. Different. Better. Yeah.
Price had finally caved to Soap's insistence he be part of this OP, but issued his warnings. "I know you don't need to be told, but I'm saying it anyway." He'd warned. "They've had him for eight months. Torture changes people, he may not be the same."
Of course he wasn't going to be the fucking same. He didn't need to be the same, he just needed to be alive.
Ghost never really spoke about his past, only left little hints here and there, but Soap wasn't dumb. He'd been through it before. Ghost could handle the torture, and Soap could handle the aftermath.
"I'm fine." He finally answered. "It'll be by the books, Captain." As if anything they did was ever 'by the books.' Price accepted his answer, though he didn't look convinced. It was just the three of them, with Laswell listening in. Gaz was in charge of collecting data on the bio weapon that was rumored to be here, Soap was in charge of the search and rescue mission, and Price was overwatch as the two Sergeants made their way in.
The trio hopped out of the truck, and Price slapped the side, sending it away. Soap and Gaz nodded to one another before splitting up to approach the building from different angles. Price silently made his way to higher ground.
The trek was agonizing, moreso because Soap found himself feeling more impatient than usual. Every time he had to lay low and wait for a patrol to pass he could hear the sand slowly falling, trickling away in the hourglass that was the rest of Ghost's life.
"You sure know how to keep things interesting, Johnny." Ghost had smiled at him, rare that he didn't have his mask, but then again, who other than Soap would challenge the Ghost to strip poker? And who other than Soap would cheat be really really good at strip poker? So good as to force Ghost to choose between his pants and his mask, the last two articles of clothing he had on. Soap himself had only one sock, and his jumper on, choosing to doff his pants so he could keep access to the cards in his sleeves. The unpleasant cold of the metal chair against his junk was worth it, just to see the surprising decision on Ghost's part to lose the mask and not the underwear.
"Aye, like to shake things up, Sir." He'd said with a wink as he laid yet another winning hand down, only slightly supplemented by his sleeve stash.
He was certainly always one to shake things up. Here he was, itching to shake that damn hourglass up. He'd shake it, flip it upside down, bash it over someone's head and stuff the sand down their fucking throat, if it meant he'd get more time with the enigmatic phantom that had haunted his mind since that shitshow in Mexico.
Price gave the signal, they crawled forward once more.
"This is takin' longer than a constipated snail takin' a shit." He grit out into comms once the coast was clear.
"Soap, while it's nice to hear your voice again, one more quip outta you and I'm pulling you. Watch it." Laswell had gotten the cold shoulder, she'd fed Ghost bad intel. He blamed her, he didn't, couldn't blame her. She was just as worried. Probably.
He just needed to get Ghost back. Repay his debt. Ghost had saved him back then, after all. That's what this was. An eye for an eye, but in a positive way. They were good for eachother. Fixed eachothers problems. Complimented one another, personality wise. That's all.
He crept into the building, silent and unnoticed.
They didn't have much on the layout, just the outer perimeter, so they were going in blind. That didn't bother Soap, he was thriving for the first time in months. He finally had something to do other than run the rookies into the ground.
He dodged patrols, picked off the ones he could get away with had to, using the knife he'd kicked so long ago after Ghost had left it behind.
He found some unlit stairs leading into a basement they hadn't known existed. If I were keeping an incredibly dangerous prisoner, now where would I keep him? Three sets of teeth, plastic, cloth and bone, were bared towards the darkness. He couldn't help it, he felt giddy. He tried to quell his excitement, didn't need to make any mistakes now.
He made his way, thankful for his NVG's as there were no lights, even after descending the stairs. The hallway he entered had doors along one side, nothing much in the rooms, but he cleared each one as he passed. No fuck ups.
Near the end, he found a door with seven locks. Suspicious. Good. Suspicious was good, here. The other doors had been wood, dry rotted and deteriorating, this one was metal.
His eyes itched. He flipped up his NVG's.
Curiously, whenever he blinked, Soap could've sworn he could see symbols on the door, but they'd disappear the longer he looked. He'd blink, a sickening yellow circle with lines and symbols within would appear just as he opened his eyes, but faded so quickly, he couldn't convince himself it had ever even been there. The harder he stared the more the door looked perfectly normal, if you ignored all the locks.
Many many thanks to @stuffireadandenjoy for brainstorming with me on how to make this poll fic work, and to @resident-idiot-simp for being my beta, as always ❤❤❤
#poll fic#choose your own adventure#ghoap#ghostsoap#soapghost#tumblr polls#call of duty#modern warfare#fanfic#fanfic wips#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#ao3#cod mw2#cyoa fic#cyoa poll
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JWCT PROMPT COUNTDOWN
Jwct countdown May 12-13 -> favorite friendship/duo:
I couldn't choose between Sammy & Kenji and Ben & Yaz so here's both of them in another excerpt from the fanfiction I'm in the process of writing. Again, this is mostly unedited. For context, they're at the water park in JW.
Sammy noticed Kenji standing off to the side with a disappointed look on his face.
“Hey, Kenji! Did you wanna’ go–”
He flipped his sunglasses to shade his eyes. “Sammy, let me stop you there. I know it’s hard to resist all this,” —he ran his hands across his shirtless chest, which Sammy hadn’t even been paying attention to— “but I’ve got a girl back home. And let me tell you, she is incredibly–”
She stared at him, head tilting a bit. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all. “Uh, Kenji. I don’t want to date you,” Sammy said. “Like, at all. I’m happy you have a girlfriend, though. I was just seeing if you wanted to hang out.”
“Psh… Obviously. I was just kidding.” He cleared his throat. “About you asking me out. Not about my girlfriend... obviously,” he added on.
Sammy nodded her head slowly. “Right…well do you want to go on one of the rides?”
“Yes! Let’s go!”
“So tell me about this girlfriend of yours,” Sammy said as they began walking through the park.
“Oh, uh–well you know. She’s really pretty. She’s got blonde hair…blue eyes? She’s, uh, really into art too.”
Sammy arched her eyebrow. It was obvious that Kenji was lying about his so-called girlfriend. Why he was, Sammy couldn’t be sure. Not that it really mattered to her. She wasn’t at all interested in Kenji—or boys for that matter. “She sure sounds like a great catch.”
Although to be honest, Kenji’s imaginary girlfriend didn’t seem like her type, at least not the blonde hair and blue eyes. Sounded more like her sister’s type in guys if anything.
Suddenly, her eyes caught on a huge slide with a line of people carrying bright yellow and green intertubes trailing from the base of its stairs all the way to the top which stood at about maybe 2 stories tall.
“Last one to that slide has to carry the tube up!” Sammy shouted, pointing at said ride and dashing off before Kenji could get a word in.
She could hear the sound of Kenji’s flip-flops smacking against the concrete as they ran for the line, ignoring the shrill whistle of a nearby lifeguard.
—
Yasmina was still bristling from her encounter with Brooklyn. The nerve of that girl! Did she even understand personal boundaries? She just flitted around sticking her phone in everyone’s faces. It wasn’t fair that Brooklyn got to keep it just to be nosy. All Yasmina wanted was to plug her headphones in and listen to music.
It would’ve especially been helpful in that moment. Hundreds of kids were milling around screaming their fucking heads off and life guards blowing whistles at them and it was like shoving a bunch of forks in her ears. She just wished she could tune everything out.
“Oh, look,” A familiar voice said. “There’s Yasmina!”
Kill me now, she thought, dread settling in her stomach. She sat up in her chair, to find Ben and Darius approaching her. Ben wasn’t so bad but Darius had just as much energy as Brooklynn or, dare she say it, Sammy. “What do you want?” She asked.
Darius shrugged. “Nothing, really… Just chilling.”
Ben took a seat next to Yasmina, occupying not even an inch of the space and even that looked like it agonized him.
“Have you done anything fun?” Darius asked, his eyes cutting to Ben.
Yasmina narrowed her eyes at him. What was he up to? “Nope. I’ve been here the entire time. Why?”
“Just asking,” he said. “Ben, I might go on the [Insert ride]. Are you good to stay here?”
So that's what he wanted. Not much of a surprise there.
She looked at Ben who shrugged. “Sure.”
“Awesome! See you,” he said, not wasting a second to go run off towards the slide line.
“Did he just dump you onto me?” She asked Ben.
“Yeah, he did.” There was a hint of pain in his voice and Yasmina wondered how it must have felt to be abandoned like that.
“Sorry.”
He shrugged. “I’m used to it.”
Well that’s depressing. Then Yasmina noticed how Ben hadn’t moved any and still balanced precariously on the edge of the bench like he didn’t want to touch it all.
“Here,” she said, tossing him the towel she’d been using to shade her face.
Ben fumbled but caught it in his hands before spreading it out over the chair. Finally, he sat his full body on it and curled into himself. “Thanks,” he mumbled.
“Don’t mention it.”
To be fair, out of all the campers, she was glad it was Ben and not one of the others. Ben was quiet and calm and he kept to himself instead of sticking his nose into her business. He was kind of like her, in a way.
After a moment of silence between them, Yaz could hear sniffling. She sighed, wondering if this was something worth getting into. And then: “Are you okay?”
—
Ben hated it there. Nobody understood. He could tell he was upsetting Darius by not wanting to go on any of the attractions but Ben just couldn’t. The mere thought of touching the tubes or sliding down slides that so many others had gone down made his skin crawl. If he wasn’t wearing long sleeves he’d probably be scratching at his arms or lathering hand sanitizer on his skin. There wasn’t enough hand sanitizer in the world that could convince him to go on one of those rides, though. The only comforting thing about the wade pool or the lazy river was the heavy amount of chlorine in the water but Ben knew there was only so much he could handle that day. Ben hadn’t even noticed his nails digging into his skin or the salty tear leaking from his eye.
“Are you okay?” Yasmina’s question only seemed to draw more tears from him.
“No,” he said, swiping at his face. “I want to go home.”
Yasmina was silent for a moment, and in that time he had begun to think that she too fell into the Ben hate club. Until, “Me too.”
Ben and Yasmina's friendship is so precious to me, especially in s5 of CC and I really wanted to bring that up in the earlier parts of the fanfic I'm writing too.
#jwctcountdown#jwct#jwcc#jurassic world chaos theory#jurassic world camp cretaceous#sammy gutierrez#kenji kon#ben pincus#yasmina fadoula
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Soooo first of all The mermaid story was fucking fire. Like, wow. I love the longing and desire for her on Simons part. Absolutely amazing. I have two questions tho, I hope that's ok. After everything, can she still turn into her mermaid form? And what exactly is Simons realm? Is it like our world but like an alternative universe kinda stuff or like completely different than our world? Again this was stunning and so beautifully written. You never disappoint❤️👍
Hi! Thank you SO much, I'm so glad you liked it! 🩵 I was a little nervous about it because it's a bit dark thematically with the heart eating and magical dub con but I had so much fun with it, I hoped others would too. I've been working on it since Florence dropped Mermaids in April so it was definitely a labor of love.
In regards to your questions:
1. You can still turn into your mermaid form. It has been your primary form for centuries, and how you lived most of you existence, so I don't think Simon would want to take that from you completely. You do have to live on land in Faerie, and this exact conundrum is why he agonized about taking you for so long. Fusing his magic with yours is how he solves it, it gives you the ability to choose your form as you please, by drawing on different sides of the power. I imagine he builds the two of you a new home, a castle by the sea where you can visit the ocean as much as you choose. Your children inherit this ability too, cute little babes with pointed ears and the power to switch between legs and a tail. They play hide and seek in the shallow pools and sandbars by your home.
2. Simon is from Faerie. It's a completely different realm from ours, but still in the same universe. When you smell him in the bar, and envision the forests and the oceans, with the aquamarine sea and shallow pools, that's his realm. It's different from the mortal world, but you find some surprising similarities like gravity (which you hate, because legs are difficult to operate and balance/coordination is not your strong suit) and food, with both mortals and Fae eating things that grow from the ground and livestock animals. There are also vast differences, like Faerie has it's own magical council (who is pissed at Simon, by the way. He technically snatched another magical being from a completely different realm without asking them…) and the wine there is strong enough to sedate an ox. There are new laws, new customs, and you have this new, wildly powerful magic living inside of you that makes everything very overwhelming in the beginning and Simon is wracked with guilt, but you eventually begin to adjust.
#simon riley#Fae!Simon#Mermaid!reader#peaches writes#mermaids#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#don’t mind me just rambling#fae!au#magic!au#don’t mind me just talking about my characters like they’re real#peaches asks
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The Crawl
Part 4 of 5
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 AO3
WC: 5670
-Eddie-
Eddie thought the weirdest thing that would ever happen to him was Steve Harrington, of all people, trying and eventually succeeding in becoming his friend.
It was unexpected, the way they got along so well and discovered that they actually had more in common than either of them would have thought, but not as unexpected as Eddie realizing that his unrequited crush on the former king of Hawkins High was possibly not as unrequited as he’d initially thought.
That became his new weirdest thing, for a while.
Eddie would have never dreamed that someone like Steve, queer or not, would be interested in someone like him, but after he caught the guy staring at his bare chest for nearly a full minute the first time he answered his door shirtless, and subsequently every time he was shirtless thereafter, it was too obvious to deny.
Not that he ever intended to do anything with that information.
Eddie was, in certain situations at least, a coward after all. The closer that they got, and the more Steve started to mean to him, the more afraid he became to ruin things. Steve never said anything outright, never acknowledged the electricity between them, so Eddie didn't either, happy to live in the liminal space where they danced around it, because it was safer. Steve stopped dating, Eddie continued his streak of not dating, and they never talked about it.
Then Chrissy Cunningham was murdered by an unseen evil wizard right there in the middle of his living room, and he found out just how naive he’d been about how weird shit could get.
Along with that epiphany came another one. Life was too fucking short to keep playing games, and Eddie was so tired of being scared.
Angry hick mob launching a witch hunt?
Scary.
The Upside Down?
Fucking terrifying.
But, Steve?
Steve was safe, he was comfort, he was home.
Eddie wasn’t afraid of Steve anymore, he was afraid for him, terrified that once they parted on the brink of battle they’d never see each other again, that he’d never get to tell Steve that he loved him.
He’d done it, in the end. Eddie was brave. He called out for Steve and they’d gotten their moment, a few feverish kisses at the end of the world, and a promise.
Afterwards he climbed up on top of that trailer with his audience of two to play Master of Puppets with a new fire running through his veins.
This was for Chrissy, who’d died a terrible agonizing death at the hands of a foe she could never have imagined. It was for Max, who'd been targeted because of her suffering, as if the suffering itself wasn’t enough. It was for El, who endured a hellish upbringing that no one should ever have been subjected to. For the boys and Erica, whose childhoods were cut short by simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time and helping their friends. For the older teens, Steve, Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan, who were still kids in their own right, forced to grow up in an instant and become protectors, crushed under the weight of that responsibility. Hopper and Joyce, who despite their efforts had little choice but to let all of these children become soldiers in a war none of them signed up for.
And finally, for himself. Eddie knew his life would never be the same after this. Whether they defeated Vecna or not, whether his name was cleared or not, some people would choose to continue to see the worst, to see him as a murderer.
He did everything Steve asked him to do. Well, almost everything.
As soon as he spotted the bats on the horizon, a rapidly approaching cloud of wings and gnashing teeth, and it was clear that the creatures had taken the bait, he abandoned his concert and took the two boys back down into the house. The entire trailer had been reinforced, doors and windows boarded up with bits of wood and corrugated metal, and, at Steve’s curiously specific request, Eddie made sure the air vents were sufficiently blocked.
It held them off for a while, but eventually a few of the little fuckers managed to squeeze their way inside and Eddie knew he had to act fast. He rushed Dustin and Will up the rope and fully intended to follow after them, really he did, but the demobats seemed to have the same idea.
It wasn’t even a choice.
He couldn't risk letting the bats get through the gate and go after the boys, or be let loose into the Right-Side-Up. Eddie used his spear to dispatch the winged menaces closest to the portal and then took off, screaming and shouting like a lunatic to entice the remaining monsters to follow after him as he ran outside. He kept up a litany of loudly delivered taunts and jabs as he mounted one of the bikes that they’d left behind before and managed to draw the horde away from the trailer, chasing after him alone instead.
He didn't remember hitting the ground. When one of the creatures pulled away from the pack and swooped down to knock him from the bike, he only barely registered the sensation of falling before the world went black.
He swam in and out of consciousness several times before finally waking up for good.
At the time he hadn’t even been sure if any of it was real, thinking maybe he’d died and it was all some kinda weird hallucination on his way to the afterlife.
Eddie’s eyelids fluttered open and he found his face pressed against an unfamiliar chest. He must have moved because the arms around him tightened protectively as the man attached to them spoke, his voice low and rumbling. “Don’t worry, kid. We’re gonna get you out of here.”
It sounded like Hopper, but before Eddie could get a look at him to be sure, he blinked and was suddenly being jostled around in a car, cradled against a body he was a little more familiar with.
Steve.
He tried to say it out loud, all but screaming the name inside his own head but no matter how hard he tried all that would come out of his mouth was a whimper. Steve shushed him and whispered soothing nonsense as he pushed Eddie's hair back to press kisses against his forehead. He tried hard to stay that time, but he was powerless to resist the pull of the darkness.
He blinked again and was surrounded by strangers in a cold room with too much light. He squinted against the brightness, realizing only after he’d started panicking that the beeping he heard was mimicking his own heartbeat. He was in a hospital, and the strangers around him were nurses and a doctor. He relaxed, finally accepting that he wasn’t dead and the beeping slowed to match his pulse. He sank into sleep less reluctantly then, knowing he would wake again eventually and hopefully this time someone he knew would be there to tell him what the hell had happened.
When Eddie finally woke up for real, it was a gradual ascent into consciousness. He took a deep breath before opening his eyes, turning his head slowly and carefully to take in his surroundings. The room was dimly lit now and the night sky was visible through the open blinds on the windows. There was no one in sight save for a lone figure with their arm in a sling slumped over in a chair next to his hospital bed.
“Steve?” Eddie croaked out, dry throat causing him to break out into a coughing fit.
The other boy jumped up from his seat, instantly awake and quickly grabbed a nearby cup of water before returning to his side.
Eddie took a few grateful sips but couldn't take his eyes off of Steve’s arm. When he could speak again it was the first thing he had to know. “Are you hurt? What happened to your arm?”
Steve shook his head, the ghost of a smile coming over his face as he settled back into the chair, taking one of Eddie’s hands with his good one. “You just woke up after being nearly eaten alive by demobats and the first thing you ask is if I’m hurt?”
“I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Eddie grumbled, sinking back into his pillows. “And I didn’t almost get eaten… I don’t think.” He paused trying to think back. “Okay, honestly I'm not sure. I don’t really remember anything after falling off the bike.”
Steve nodded as if he’d been expecting that. “Yeah, you hit your head when you fell. You’ve got a lump on the back of your head, and some bites. There, on your cheek” He said, eyeing up the bandage Eddie could feel taped to his face. ”And a few more on your leg.”
That, Eddie hadn’t known. He wasn’t really feeling any pain at the moment. They were probably pumping him full of pain meds, so between that and the adrenaline from seeing Steve and finally being awake, he was feeling pretty good.
“Oh.” Eddie began, letting it all process slowly. “How long has it been?”
“A little less than a day, it’s only the next night.”
“Did we do it? Is he gone? What about Dustin and Will, are they… Did everybody make it?”
Steve started to laugh but it cut off abruptly on a choked sob. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears and he looked away for the first time since Eddie had woken up.
Eddie’s heart sank, the sudden racing of his pulse given away by the sound of the heart monitor.
Steve squeezed his hand, wiping his eyes on his own shoulder and finally looked back up. “Vecna’s dead. The Upside Down is gone, for real this time. They’re all okay, you were the only one who got hurt. I promise.”
Eddie raised his eyebrows, looking pointedly at the dark blue sling the other boy was currently wearing.
“I’m fine.” Steve insisted.
Eddie frowned. He could accept that maybe Steve’s arm wasn’t bothering him, but it was clear that he wasn’t, in fact, fine.
“If everyone’s okay then why do you look so sad?” He asked softly.
“Sorry. I’m… it’s just… “ Steve stuttered. “I’m just so glad you’re okay, Eds.”
He knew Steve meant it, even if it felt like he was leaving something out, but Eddie didn’t want to push the issue. He gave a little nod. “I’m glad you’re okay too, Stevie.”
He let the silence settle around them for a moment, hoping that Steve would say a little more. When it was obvious that he wasn’t going to do that, he pressed on.
“What else did I miss? Tell me everything. What’s the cover story? Am I going to be arrested when I get out of here? Has anyone gotten in touch with Wayne? He must be worried sick. Are the-”
Steve cut him off mid question, laughing again, only this time without the tears, to Eddie’s immense relief.
“Slow down! Jesus! You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
“I’m literally laying in bed, Harrington. I couldn't be taking it any easier if I tried.”
“Alright.” Steve said, blowing out a long breath. “You were passed out on the ground when we got back from the Creel house. There were bats laying dead on the ground all over the place. We figure they must have dropped when we killed Vecna. I, um, tried to pick you up but I dislocated my shoulder fighting the vines so Hopper carried you out and we rushed you here, to the hospital. Like I said, no one else was really hurt. Officially you’ve been cleared, but no details have been released to the public yet. Hopper said they’re still working on the story.”
“They?”
“The lab, I guess? Or the government? Both? I don’t know, I was always a little confused about all that.”
“Okay.” Eddie said. Fair enough, it’s not like he had any better idea of what was going on behind the scenes. Who was in league with who, shadowy government conspiracies and all that.
“They do have an officer on your door, Powell and Callahan are taking turns keeping watch, but it's for your protection, not the other way around. Just until word spreads that you’re innocent.”
Eddie didn’t have the heart to argue that it probably wouldn’t be as simple as that. Steve would see in time, or maybe the citizens of Hawkins would surprise him, prove him wrong. Either way that was a problem for another day.
“Innocent is a strong word, baby.” Eddie teased. The term of endearment sliding off his tongue so easily. He nearly winced at his own use of it, but Steve didn't seem to mind.
“We haven't been able to get in touch with Wayne yet, but Hopper is on it. We know he was put up in a motel somewhere so it’s just a matter of finding out which one.
“It’s probably for the best. I don’t know what I'd even tell him, or how to explain where I've been.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
Eddie was overtaken by a huge yawn, his eyelids suddenly felt heavy and drooping. All the talking really had taken a lot out of him.
“You should get some sleep, I'll still be here in the morning. You need rest.” Steve said.
“So do you.”
“Hey, I was sleeping just fine in this chair here until you woke me up.”
Eddie hesitated, he didn’t really want to be alone but he felt guilty. He didn’t want Steve to feel like he had to stay. “You should go home, you need real sleep. In a bed.”
A look of hurt crossed Steve’s face, but was gone again as quick as it had come, as if he was carefully schooling his expressions. It was concerning, and it made Eddie’s throat tight.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No.” Eddie answered honestly.
“Okay.” Steve said, and that settled that, apparently.
Eddie dropped off to sleep pretty quickly. It was easy with Steve's hand still resting warm in his. It had to be uncomfortable, reaching his arm across from the chair like that. He almost asked Steve to join him in the bed. It would be a tight squeeze for sure, though Eddie wouldn't have minded, but they still hadn’t talked about what happened between them in the Upside Down.
He dreamed.
Or would it be considered a nightmare, he wondered, since the slightly off scene was set in the woods of the Upside Down. He and Steve were walking beside each other, just as they had done in real life. Steve was shirtless again and wearing Eddie’s battle vest, a combined visual that had gone a long way in making Eddie feel better about where they were, and what they were doing at the time. The big difference here was that Steve was hurt. His middle was wrapped in a makeshift bandage of some sort and he was bleeding. A ring-like wound wrapped around his neck, making it look like someone had tried to hang him. Before Eddie could make sense of it the ground beneath his feet in the dream shook, and he jolted awake.
Though to him it felt like hardly any time had passed, he must have been asleep for quite a while because it was morning, and late morning at that judging by the light, confirmed when he finally spotted a clock that hung above his room’s door. He could also see the silhouette of a person standing just outside of it. Whichever cop that had drawn the short straw on being his bodyguard today, he supposed.
To his disappointment, Steve was gone. He wondered if the other boy had just stepped out, or if he had finally taken Eddie’s advice in the night and gone home to his nice warm bed. Part of him hoped so, the other part tried not to be upset by the absence..
He didn’t have long to dwell on it though, because only a few minutes later Uncle Wayne came walking through the door.
Eddie wanted nothing more than to get up from the bed he was stuck in. To stand and hug the man who maybe hadn’t raised him, but had, with absolutely no hesitation, taken in a troubled teenager that showed up on his doorstep unannounced and cared for him like he was his own.
He settled for pushing himself up into a sitting position and accepting the gentle one armed embrace his uncle could manage while hovering over the bed.
“I’m sorry.” Eddie blurted out.
Wayne waved him off like it was ridiculous, but how could he not be sorry for upending his uncle’s life like this. Eddie let it go for now, they could come back to that later.
“Christ, boy. I thought I'd never see you again. How you feelin’? They tell me you’re pretty banged up.”
Shit.
“Yeah, I feel okay, actually. Considering, uh… '' Eddie trailed off, hesitating. He still had no idea what he was supposed to say, allowed to say?
“Don’t worry, son. You don’t gotta tell me nothing. Hop already warned me not to ask if I wanted to be allowed in to see ya.”
Eddie was a little taken aback, it wasn’t like Wayne to accept an ultimatum like that. He must have really been worried. It was a relief. He didn’t enjoy keeping things from Wayne, but this was bigger than just the two of them.
“Sorry,” he said again, for lack of what else to say.
“If you don’t stop apologizing.” Wayne muttered, shaking his head. “I only wish I coulda been here sooner.”
“It’s fine. Steve was here- for a while.” Eddie said, not quite managing to keep the disappointment he’d felt earlier at waking up alone off his face.
“No need to look so glum, he’s only down in the cafeteria getting coffee with that girl who’s always hanging around with you two.”
“Robin?”
Wayne snapped his fingers in recognition. “That’s the one.”
“Oh.”
“He was headed this way when we bumped into each other in the hall. I told him he was welcome to come along a’course but he said he wanted to give us some time to ourselves.”
“That was… thoughtful of him.” Eddie said and began to worry at his lower lip, forgetting about the wound on his cheek. He winced as the movement pulled at the stitches there.
Wayne eyed him curiously. “Something on your mind, Ed?”
“Nah, it’s nothing, compared to everything else going on.”
It was the truth, he was being ridiculous. Not that him being worried about Steve was ridiculous, but the fact that Eddie was starting to wonder if it had something to do with him, with them, as whatever it was they were to each other now. There were more important things.
“Not if it’s bothering you this much.”
Eddie sighed. “It’s Steve.”
“I gathered. What about him?”
Eddie wasn’t dumb. He was sure his uncle knew he had a giant crush on his friend, Steve hung around the trailer so much that he had his own mug and everything, but he didn’t want to out Steve by talking about what happened between them without his permission.
“I think something’s wrong and he won't tell me what it is. He said…” Eddie paused, choosing his words. “He gave me an explanation, but I could tell that wasn’t all there was to it. It feels like he’s keeping something from me.”
“And you feel like this thing, the something that’s wrong, is to do with you?”
“Maybe.”
“Hmm.” Wayne hummed thoughtfully. “He know you're freaking out about it?”
“I’m not freaking out about it.” Eddie huffed.
“Whatever you say, but you should try and talk to him about it again. He wouldn’t like knowing he’s got you this twisted up over it. Whatever it is.”
“I’m not twisted– how do you know?”
“I might be getting older but I'm not blind.”
Wayne wound up sitting with him for over an hour, and it was the most relaxed he’d felt since before this all started. Wayne kept it light, updating Eddie on all the work drama he’d missed and the trailer park gossip, steering clear of anything related to the events of the past week.
He was still there when Eddie’s doctor and a nurse came to check on him, surprising them both with the news that, barring any new complications, he could be released in just a few days. He’d had only a minor concussion and the wounds on his legs weren’t as deep as it was initially thought.
He stood for the first time, with help of course, and found that while it was painful, it was doable. He might have to use a cane for support until everything healed completely but that was a small price to pay.
Eventually Steve and Robin appeared, and at Eddie's insistence, uncle Wayne took his leave. He would have stayed all day, all night if Eddie had asked him to, but he knew Wayne would be more comfortable back at his motel, and selfishly he hoped to get more alone time with Steve.
Steve, who he couldn't help noticing had deep bags under his eyes. It didn’t look like he’d gotten any sleep the previous night.
Eddie didn't say that out loud though, and he never got to bring up what was bothering him either. Robin stuck around for the day and the three of them hung out until well after visiting hours were supposed to be over. He couldn't complain, it was nice to spend time with his friends even in these conditions, and he appreciated the little play-by-play that Robin acted out for him detailing their takedown of Vecna.
By the time her parents showed up to drag her away and drive her back home, Eddie was beyond exhausted, and Steve could tell. With very little effort he coaxed him into laying down, wordlessly assuming the same position they had been in the night before, Steve slouched uncomfortably in the chair with his arm stretched out and propped up on the bed rail so he could hold Eddie’s hand. He was asleep before he could even consider rethinking asking Steve to share the bed.
Another dream plagued Eddie's rest. This one a little more vivid than the last. It was odd, usually once you know you’re dreaming you either wake up or are able to take some control of the events around you, but in this case Eddie could only hold on tight and go along for the ride.
Steve was wearing his vest again- still? And watching over Eddie’s shoulder as he hotwired his neighbor’s RV. They talked while he worked. It was a story he’d told Steve before, albeit under very different circumstances. His father, being the great fucking influence he was, had taught a little bright-eyed bushy-tailed 8 year old Eddie how to hotwire a car. A skill he no doubt thought would be useful for an up and coming Munson, assuming Eddie would grow up to carry on the legacy of the family name. Even then he knew he didn’t want to wind up like his father, it was why he’d run to Wayne when the shit hit the fan. He knew his uncle was a good man and a better parental figure than Al could ever be.
The dream warped and changed. They were headed to The War Zone. In reality they had called Hopper and the chief had been in charge of outfitting them all with weapons. Now, Steve was behind the wheel of their stolen camper and Eddie was sitting in the back with some of the kids and Robin, watching as he flirted awkwardly with Nancy who had taken up the passenger seat.
It was truly a bizarre scene, but that was dream logic, he reasoned. Steve and Nancy had been broken up for years, they were friends now and nothing more. Steve hardly looked at her twice these days. Eddie knew that and still the sight before him, fake or not, made his stomach tense and his chest ache.
He woke abruptly, eyes snapping open though he was unsure at first of what had disturbed him. He registered several things at once.
It was still dark outside and he had the feeling that not much time had passed, a fact that was proven true when he glanced at the clock and found it was only 11pm.
Steve was no longer holding his hand, he was curled into a ball in the chair, arms wrapped around himself as he wept like his heart was breaking. It was completely silent but Eddie could see how the great big sobs shook and wracked his body.
Pain be damned, he began to get out of the bed, sliding his legs over the side to try putting weight onto them. There was a walker next to his bed, the same one he'd used earlier to make an agonizingly slow trip to and from the bathroom. He just needed to get to Steve, to comfort him and–
“Eddie, what are you doing? Get back in bed.” Steve said, clearing his throat to try and hide the fact that he was sniffling, and desperately wiping away his tears as if his red rimmed eyes wouldn’t give him away regardless.
“Fine.” Eddie conceded, lifting his legs careful back onto the mattress and scooting back up against his pillows. “Just… come over here and sit with me then?”
“Eddie.”
“Please?”
He did as Eddie asked and came to sit next to him on the edge of the bed, but refused to look him in the eye. It hurt, and Eddie started to spiral.
Maybe Steve didn’t want to be here at all. Maybe he just felt like he had to, out of some misplaced obligation or something. Did he regret what they said to each other? The kisses? Everything? Had Steve only done those things because there was a chance they were both about to die? Eddie hadn’t thought so at the time but his confusion over Steve’s sadness was making him question everything.
He swallowed it down, not voicing any of those anxieties, at first.
“Are you okay?” Eddie asked.
Steve rubbed his face hard, something he did often when he was tired and frustrated. “I’m fine. Everything is good. I told you. I… I’m just tired.”
“I’m sorry but I don't believe that, and I know I shouldn’t push but I know there’s something you’re not telling me. Please, Steve. Just tell me what’s wrong.“ Eddie laid a tentative hand on Steve's arm, aiming for comfort, but the other boy stiffened under his touch. It was a bad sign, all but confirming his fears, but he pressed on anyway. “I care about you so much and I hate that you're hurting. I just want to help.”
He prayed that Steve would say something, anything, but he remained frustratingly silent.
“Is it me? Did I do something? If you… we can forget about what happened between us If that’s what you need, Steve. I just want you to be okay.”
He was met with only more silence and this time Eddie couldn't bring himself to break it.
Several agonizing minutes passed before Steve finally raised his eyes to look at him and spoke.
“I don’t want to forget about it.”
Eddie froze, almost afraid to even breathe.
“I love you. I’m in love with you, Eddie.”
Eddie gasped. “Oh.”
“You don’t have to say it back. I just needed you to know.”
“I do, though.”
“What?”
“Love you- too.”
The invisible wall that had been building between them finally broke as Steve leaned in to press the gentlest of kisses to Eddie’s lips. As much as he wanted to deepen the kiss, he allowed the act to remain soft and chaste, appreciating that Steve was trying to be careful of disturbing the wound on his cheek, but as far as Eddie was concerned, kissing Steve properly was worth a ripped stitch or two.
All too soon Steve pulled back, though he kept his arm tucked around Eddie’s waist. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think any of those things you said.”
Eddie moved over as far as he could in the bed and pulled Steve in close, encouraging him to lay down beside him. He remained quiet, stroking Steve’s hair. He had a feeling the other boy was on the verge of opening up and he wanted to give him the time and space to do it at his own pace.
“There’s some things about all this, about the Upside Down that we haven't told you, that I didn’t tell you. I was trying to protect you, it was already so much… but you deserve to know, if you want. It would be nice to talk about it with someone.”
“With someone other than Robin, you mean?”
“How do you know Robin knows?”
“Is there anything you don’t tell her?
Steve smiled despite himself and rolled his eyes, but the expression quickly fell, replaced with something more worried and serious. “Are you sure you want to know this?”
“It’s about me, isn’t it?” Eddie guessed.
Steve nodded solemnly. “Yes.”
“Tell me.”
Over the next few hours Steve told Eddie all about his other self and what he’d done for the party. How there was an alternate timeline where everything that they’d just been through had happened before, except Vecna had won and Eddie had died, only to rise again and discover that time worked differently in the Upside Down and that maybe all hope wasn’t lost. Steve made him sound like a hero.
He was glassy eyed as he talked about meeting the other Eddie for the first time, when he got pulled through the gate at Lover’s Lake, and wept again when he spoke of their final meeting at the edge of the trailer park as the other dimension and everything residing in it was dying.
Eddie didn’t blame Steve for keeping this from him. He was right, it was too much, a heavy burden when they already had so many other things to carry, but he was happy that he knew the full truth.
He understood Steve’s sorrow now. He was mourning Eddie– even as Eddie was still sitting right here in front of him, alive… It had to be a bit of a mind fuck. He wasn’t sure if he could have handled it had their roles been reversed. To have to say goodbye to Steve like that, alternate version or not, might have broken him.
He knew he should have been more freaked out about the time travel of it all, and the fact that he’d died, or be obsessing over the differences between that reality and this one, but there would be plenty of time for that later. For now he just wanted to comfort Steve and enjoy the fact that he was alive, that they all were.
They fell asleep like that, smashed together in the too-small bed holding on to whichever part of the other person they could manage, too tired and emotionally drained to care if a nurse came in to catch them in such a compromising position.
Eddie dreamed once again, as he had every time he’d closed his eyes for the past 24 hours, but this time it truly was a nightmare.
He was back on the bike in the Upside Down, pedaling as fast and as hard as could, glancing back every now and then to keep an eye on the swarm that flew ever closer. The feeling of deja vu was intense as he was knocked to the ground, but this time he didn’t lose consciousness. He got up, and he stood his ground, and he fought to the very end. He hated himself a little bit for what he put Dustin through, having to watch him die like that, though he was so grateful to have not been alone in the end.
He woke with a big gasping breath feeling a little hysterical. It had all been a bit too real, he’d felt himself die. Steve was startled awake by his outburst, and he held Eddie close while he tried to calm down and relearn how to breathe.
“Bad dream?” Steve asked.
Was it just a dream? Was it a coincidence that he’d dreamt of the exact circumstances of his other self’s death, a way for his subconscious to work through everything he’d learned that night? Or was it something more.
If it was just the one nightmare he might have dismissed it, but knowing what he knew now…
He thought back on the other things he’d seen in his sleep, the walk through the woods, familiar yet different, the adventure in the RV, an alternative way to gather weapons in a world where Hopper was gone. He could feel it in his bones, there was a reason he was seeing these things.
“I don’t think they’re dreams.”
“What do you mean? You’ve had others?”
“Yeah. I think… Steve, I think they might be memories.”
Steve was skeptical at first but once Eddie detailed everything he’d seen and felt, even he had to admit it seemed possible.
Steve stared at him for a long time, studying his face intently as if he might be able to see the other Eddie inside, looking out through his eyes.
“Maybe when he died the two of you sort of… '' Steve trailed off sounding hopeful, weaving his fingers together with Eddie’s to signify what he meant, instead of finishing the thought out loud.
Eddie hummed noncommittally, raising their joined hands to his mouth and kissing the back of Steve’s “I guess we’ll find out one way or another, if it keeps happening.”
Part 5 (final)
Thanks forever to @penny00dreadful for being the best friend, cheerleader, and beta in the whole fucking world 💜 truly could not do it without you. Also special thanks to @hitlikehammers for all the discussion and encouragement on this!
@hissunflowers @sadisticaltarts @gutterflower77 @epiclazershark @yeahhhh-suga @soapyscoobert @thetrueghostqueen @guppynuggets @reh-hateshumans @katdeerly @kolorzapster @useless-nb-bisexual @sammyammi @ellietheasexylibrarian @thesecondfate @eleganttidalwavecloud @localcrustrat @letsmo6 @justaquietnerd @marvelobessed @femmeratale @carriethesaint @novelnovella
#steddie fanfic#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#steddie#time fuckery#steve harrington/eddie munson#steve x eddie#steddie fic#fanfic#ao3#the crawl
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not the previous anon but this part of their ask ("they both love each other but it’s not enough, they never choose each other and they’re both miserable and fucked up about it") had me thinking of the parallels in that regard between beefleaf and peishui (ship name btwn Pei Ming and Shi Wudu)
because!!
the Shi brothers would always choose each other and to a degree I think PM was always aware of that - if it ever came down to it, SWD wouldn't hesitate to choose SQX, except (not unreasonably) PM didn't expect that day would ever come. HX, on the other hand, knew he was going to bring SWD down at all costs, but didn't know for certain if SQX would choose SWD or him. (tldr; PM was trusted to prepare for an aftermath he never thought would happen, HX planned for everything but the inevitable fallout of his revenge, which both cost them dearly)
i was just wondering what the ship name for pei ming and shi wudu was 🙏 so in addition to providing some positively agonizing meta for me to chew on for the rest of the day, you have answered the other question burning a hole in the back of my brain.
also, just my two cents, but i don't think pei ming would ever have asked shi wudu to choose between him and sqx--like i agree with you that he never would have expected that situation to arise to begin with, but even if it had, i don't think he'd accept any outcome other than "you are choosing sqx, don't argue with me about this." like just looking at all the work he puts into trying (and failing) to keep his descendent pei su out of trouble, it seems like he understands where his and shi wudu's respective obligations are.
peishui = not choosing each other, at peace with it
beefleaf = not choosing each other, /gestures @ the whole blackwater arc
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Bengiyo's Queer Cinema Syllabus
I am currently working my way through Unit 4: Heartbreak Alley, the totally light-hearted, definitely not agonizing section of @bengiyo’s queer cinema syllabus where I get to watch countless acts of violence be committed against queer people. Thank fuck I have Lesbians waiting for me at the end of this unit. The films in Unit 4 are: Bent (1997), Strange Fruit (2004),Boys Don’t Cry (1999), Brokeback Mountain (2005), Parting Glances (1986),Philadelphia (1993), The Living End (1992), Holding the Man (2015), Jeffery (1995), and Boys on the Side (1995).
Today I will be talking about
Holding the Man (2015) dir. Niel Armfield
[Run Time: 2hr 8 min, Available: Google Play, Language: English]
Summary: The warm, funny and achingly sad story of the 15-year-long love affair between Timothy Conigrave and the boy he fell in love with at high school, John Caleo. (IMDB)
Cast:
Ryan Corr as Timothy Conigrave
Sarah Snook as Pepe Trevor
Craig Stott as John Caleo
__
So, as anyone who has seen Ben’s syllabus should know, he was very intentional about setting it up as a lead in to BL. Sometimes I wonder how some of the movies may apply, but I definitely understood where he was coming from with this one…
Ben wanted to show any person going through the syllabus the parallels between BL and Western films that let 30 year olds in terrible wigs play high schoolers.
He also definitely put this movie on the list because these characters are gay boys in a Catholic school.
gif by @captnswilson
Anyway, I thought this film was very good, it started off very strong not only with the phone call that cannot be more than two minutes that tells you everything you need to know about the characters, how they are connected to each other, where they are in the present. Especially when you know by the time the phone disconnects that John is dead, especially when the camera cuts to three old men looking at Tim as he tries desperately to call back, a stark reminder that Tim and John will never reach old age.
gif by @captnswilson
I think the biggest thing I was struggling with in this entire movie was how indiscrete Tim and John were being about their relationship. Like, seriously, full confession, I thought the consequences of their physical intimacy would be because of Catholicism. Shielded by my own age I guess in part, but also hugely because of their lack general lack of fear or discretion, I fully forgot it was illegal to be gay in 1970, when Tim is fully reaching his hand down John’s pants at school, and putting love letters on his desk at school, and giving John hand jobs in his living room, and fucking with the doors unlocked when their friends go out fishing.
That said, I do appreciate that even under the threats from their school, from their parents, they choose each other over and over again. They are unfazed and unashamed of their relationship and I think that sets the movie up to be all the more tragic because you can kinda tell what’s coming. The fact that they have fought against it all, they have loved each other fiercely and openly and relatively unafraid, makes John’s inevitable death all the more tragic.
I think the production of this film was really smart, with some really wonderful transitions between scenes and the background music, or a line, or a lingering camera shot. For example when Pepe sends the kiss around the table, and after John and Tim have kissed each other and Pepe tries to take any suspicion of Tim’s feelings away by closing the kissing circle, we hear audio which soon after cuts to mass. The line of course being “To those trapped in the darkness of sin that the light shining in Christ may free them…” The way that John’s father thanks Tim for helping John come out of his shell, only for Tim to unzip John’s sleeping bag, literally opening a casing that was covering John a few scenes later so they can have sex and cuddle during a sleepover.
gif by @captnswilson
The way the editing supports the discovery, the tension of John’s father finding the letter, while we see John and Tim fucking at the cabin, the friends coming back to catch them in the act, the way the music stops when John’s Dad is interrupted from his thoughts as he starts to read the letter around the same time that Tim slams the door shut on his friends. The way the silence in John’s room from his father is co-opted for the silence in the cabin’s living room with all the boys playing poker as if nothing had happened. The close up of Tim’s hand shaking the man he is interviewing, and then the subtle way Tim wipes his hand against the arm of the chair he is sitting in as if he can catch AIDS just by touching someone who has it.
I have a thing for movies about AIDS letting their characters bleed. I really love the choice, the knowing that comes with seeing those bright trails of red. The weight to it. I love so many acting choices in this film, the scene of Tim and his mother preparing food after he comes home for his sister’s wedding only to find out that his mother read a letter addressed to him that essentially told him he had AIDS. I love when Tim can’t complete a scene after his acting teacher so thoroughly reads him, and honestly…respect, I appreciate that Tim is willing to admit that. I love the image of John’s father closing the door to their house after John puts his foot down, reaffirms to his dad that he loves Tim and says there is nothing he can do about it. Because the door to their house has bars, and it looks like John’s father is locking himself up in a cage. Trapped inside while John and Tim drive off in to the world. To experience it in its fullness while John’s father cowers away.
gif by @captnswilson
I think the scenes where John was sick and where he was dying was super well performed. Hell, the entire thing was well performed, but to see Craig Stott go from strong athlete to gasping for breath, so sure footed to unsteady on his feet. I am in love with the blushy little smile that John gives Tim when Tim takes his picture and calls him beautiful after they have shaved John’s head, and glued dinosaur figurines to it. This film does such a phenomenal job of realistically, believably portraying love.
I’m thankful to the writing for acknowledging sex workers and intravenous drug users, they are our brothers and sisters, they are us, we are all family, and I think it is important that we don’t forget them when we discuss AIDS, and the people we lost to it.
gif by @captnswilson
I think they handled John’s death very lovingly. I am sure that I would have been bawling if I didn’t end up in a lovely two and a half hour conversation with a friend just before he draws his last breath. And again, the choices here, the loud, agonizing breathing John has when he sleeps, and the way the silence settles in when he draws his last breath. I am glad John told Tim in his own way that he was ready to go. That when he collapsed at home it was so easy. There is no way losing someone you love that deeply isn’t devastating, but at least for me, death is a little easier when I know someone is ready.
I love that John kept his promise, not to die unless Tim was by his side, and that Tim whispering in his ear “I’m here” was what finally gave John permission to go. (I WANTED TO PUNCH A HOLE THROUGH MY TV WHEN JOHN’S PARENTS DIDN’T LET THE PRIEST SAY TIM WAS ANYTHING MORE THAN A FRIEND TO JOHN.) I loved that we ended the film with Pepe telling Tim that John was by his side, right before we learn that Tim died ten days after he finished writing his book.
I should have known, I guess, that this was based on a real story, because of the nature of the material, but for some reason I didn’t. Maybe I missed a title card somewhere or something. But I do think there is something so beautiful about being able to immortalize John, immortalize Tim, and immortalize their love for each other in a book. That their love story was told again through film. That there is no way to deny their love for each other now.
Favorite Moment
gif by @captnswilson
Honestly, I really loved the sex scene between John and Timothy near the end of the film when they are back in John’s childhood home to celebrate Christmas with John’s family. John has been receiving treatment for cancer, and is very weak, on oxygen and everything since his lungs have been having a lot of trouble recently. I love that every part of it is so slow and tender, John and Timothy dancing together in John’s room, paralleling the way they danced together at Tim’s sister’s wedding not long after their HIV diagnoses.
John, as weak as he is, as hard as it is for him to breathe, asks Tim to screw him, and we get absolutely the slowest and most intentional sex scene of the entire film (and there are many sex scenes in this film). I do not think that all sex needs to be tender, do not get me wrong, but I did really love the way that with how obvious it is that John does not have much time left, they take their time with this. It is just such a beautiful expression of love between these two. I appreciate too that they make this sex scene beautiful, that sex between an actively dying cancer patient is held as high or higher in beauty and artistry as all the sex Tim and John were having over the 15 year course of their relationship. It is very obvious that this is a last goodbye, but for all that sex has at times been avoided in this film, for the time it brought HIV into their lives, sex is not a bad thing, sex is a necessary and wanted thing, I just liked it as a part of their goodbyes to each other.
Favorite Quote
“How can you write this play? You’re making assumptions about your status.”
Honestly. What an incredible fucking line. Tim sitting in a room, interviewing a man who is dying of toxoplasmosis because of his HIV status for a play. I am not opposed to people making plays about terminally ill people. I do think it is important to immortalize, to remember, to tell stories. But for the love of GOD you canNOT go waltzing in to a dying man’s apartment, wipe your hands on his chair after you shake his hand because his AIDS disgusts you, and then demand his life story and his thoughts about dying.
Tim had so much unprotected sex in college, Tim is hiding from the (possible) truth, Tim does not want to know. What right does Tim have to ask others for their stories when he is running from his own?
Score
9/10
#sorry this is not my finest work#I normally do my write ups immediately after I watch a film but I did not do that this time so things aren't fresh#bengiyo queer cinema syllabus#queer cinema syllabus#holding the man#holding the man (2015)#unit 4: heartbreak alley#two more to go in unit four#the end is in sight#the lesbians are calling to me
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The Fight
Summary: The night before the newborn battle, tensions between Jacob and y/n come to a head, will he choose to stay, or to go?
warnings: Injury, vampires, medicine, blood
Word count: 1.6k
A/N: hey yall! i’ve decided to do a sort of re write of the ending of eclipse and a few other scenes from the movies with a y/n x Jacob plot! All of them will be part of a larger series but can be read as standalones if you like. More to come soon!
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I stood outside of Jacob and Billy’s little house with Jake's big jacket over top of me. I hadn't even realized I was wearing it until I was standing here outside his door. The cracked red and brown of the door slowly opened to Jake's face, brows furrowed, tilting his head down to see me standing at the bottom step.
“y/n/n? What are you doing here?” He held the door partially open and for a second I wondered if he might not let me in. That I even had to consider that told me I was right to be here.
“It's freezing, come on, get inside” He closed the door behind me and helped me shrug off the oversized jacket of his that I was in, layers and layers of sweatshirts and long sleeves underneath. I stood there in the hall waiting for Billy to roll up and say hello until Jacob grabbed my hand and led me to the living room.
“He's not here, I dropped him off with the Clearwaters so he doesn't spend tonight all alone”
I kept my head facing down and waited for him to ask me again what I was doing here. I may have made the initiative to come but for some reason I hated the idea of being the first one to speak.
“y/n/n? What are you doing here?” I could have sworn I heard the wind outside stop as if it were catching its breath, waiting for me to answer.
“I can't let you go when we're like this, Jake. I can’t let myself move on and plan a fucking battle when you’ll barely even look me in the eye. If we are going to fight then I need to know what's waiting for me on the other side.” I didn't wait for him to respond or question me but just plowed ahead.
“I don't want you to go with Bella, Jake.”
“y/n I have-”
“No. No you don't- and let me finish- If this is going to be your last night, do you really want to spend it with her? Do you really want to put yourself through the pain of watching her and Edward together when you could be with me, with the pack that needs you? With your family?”
“I have a duty to protect her.”
“Protect her from what? What could you save her from that Edward can’t!” I didn't mean to raise my voice. But there it went.
“For christ's sake y/n, from Edward. Alright? I have to protect her from him!”
“Jacob, she loves him! Can't you just be happy loving me? Is that not enough for you? Why can't you just let her go?” He stopped. Head bowed down as a single tear ran down my cheek.
“It is enough.”
“Then why won't you stay?”
“y/n, it is enough-”
“You know these past few months I have been tearing myself into pieces.” I let the silence sink in before I finally let out the secret I had been carrying with me for so long.
“I know we’re imprints Jacob! For months I have been agonizing. Making sure that what I was feeling wasn't fake, waiting for you to man up and come to me, tell me yourself. Waiting for you to let yourself be happy. Not all of the women in your life are bound to die and leave you heartbroken and alone! Some of us want to stay! Some of us are here and alive now and love you! why can’t you just fucking see that?”
The second I said it I knew it was a mistake. I shouldn't have come here. I should have just let him go.
But what if he dies tomorrow? What if he leaves tonight and the last thing I've said to him is this.
A familiar old car pulls into his driveway. The engine sputters out. Jake is already heading toward the door, silently telling me exactly what his answer is. He doesn't look at me. Doesn’t speak as he grabs a bag and slings it over his shoulder, puts a hand on the door.
“Jake-” and just like that he’s gone.
Alone in a house that smells like him I began to sob. How could I have said that to him? After knowing what I do? After being with him through all of the heartache and pain? What had I done?
But somehow I moved. I dragged out the supplies from Billy's closet. The ones I had brought along in my car. I moved around setting up cots and blankets and basins of water. I didn't stop until I barely recognized the room I was in earlier. A different hand knocked on the door. This time I knew who it was and at least I didn't have to dread this.
“Hey pup” Seth Clearwater walked through with a small backpack hanging from his hand.
“I told you, I'm not a pup, I'm practically full grown!” for the first time in hours my heart lifted a little.
“Mhm, you can tell that to the baby blanket in that bag of yours.”
The rest of the boys slowly trickled in through the night, everyone gathering at our new homemade sick bay. We decided to go back to Emily and Sams place for the night, spend the night there as a pack- as a family- and those of us that were not fighting would head back up in the morning. I dreaded being with them all night. I knew that all of them had heard what I said to Jake. Probably hated me for it more than I did. But not Emily. Never Emily.
“Oh baby. Sam told me what happened.” The second I stepped into the house she was on me, gripping me so hard I could barely breathe. I had thought I was going to be able to hold it together. I had done so well with all of the boys, even when they stared and frowned like they couldn't believe what I had said. Something about Emily always made me feel loved. Known. Like no matter what mistakes I made or stupid shit I did she would always be there to help me out of it. And she had been, at least so far.
“I can't believe myself, Em. God knows what's going to happen tomorrow and now I've gone and made him think about that? What was I thinking? What if I was wrong?”
“Hey. No, none of that, he knows you didn't mean it.” Sam entered as Emily released me and took the bag from my arms.
“Really? Is he saying that or are you just trying to distract me?” He laughed and kissed Em on the cheek.
“Really. Of course he's hurt but he could never hate you. He knows that you were just trying to keep him safe.”
A little knot in my heart unraveled at that. Hours of crying and wondering put to a stop by just one sentence. Thank god for wolf telepathy.
“Thank you, Sam. thank you.” He gave me a curt nod before heading to the kitchen with the other boys, probably going to eat all of whatever Emily made for dinner. She stopped me before I could walk off to the guest bedroom.
“Eat with us, please. I promise after that I'll let you go be alone for a while, but just tonight, I want us all to eat together, okay?”
A few minutes later we were sprawled out in the living room, paper plates filled with chicken and rice and corn all over the various surfaces. Despite what Sam had told me I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something going on with Jacob. Not just that he was mad at me for what I said, but something beyond that, something weird was happening on that mountain right now.
“What is it? What aren't you guys telling me right now?” they all looked over at me for a second, but turned their heads to Sam almost in an instant. The alpha looked back and was clearly having a silent conversation with the younger wolves before he nodded and began to speak.
“Jacob and Edward are…at odds.”
“Okay? They always are, that isn't something new, what's going on up there, Sam?”
“Jacob’s in bed with her. Just keeping her warm, I swear to you, but he knows that it would kill you to hear that.”
Boy was he right. It did kill me. All of that tension Sam had relieved earlier was right back again. A heavy sinking feeling in my chest. I was quiet for a moment while I looked out the windows at the dark woods.
“I think I'm going to go to bed. Don't tell Jake please, okay?” they nodded as I went off to the room.
Once I was alone there was no stopping the trails of tears down my face. Still fully clothed I fell onto the bed and could feel the warm sheets beneath my head begin to dampen with my tears. I could hear the pack laughing and conversing in the living room.
I was alone here, and terrified. Knowing that I was tied to him in every way possible. Knowing that he might not want to be tied to me. What would I do if he rejects this? This feeling inside me that never seems to dull no matter how angry I was or how far he goes. I would be alone again, so alone. While Jacob was with Bella, keeping her warm and safe, I was alone and cold in this bed, wondering what the next day would bring.
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this is the longest thing i have written in well over a year, and i'm quite happy with how it came out. thank you so much @dapandapod for your support and cheer reading, it meant a lot <3
CW: dubcon, sleep paralysis, inhuman!Eddie
Of course Steve gets nightmares. He’s always had them, ever since he was a little boy in a too big house. They only got worse after he saw a demogorgon crawl out of the walls at the old Byers’ place.
Flesh monsters, vines tight around his neck, demobats tearing at his flesh… Yeah, his brain has all the material it needs to fuck up his nights for several lifetimes. And yeah, some of them are about Eddie.
That’s weird, given Steve was only vaguely aware of the other boy’s existence until they met in less than ideal circumstances. And it’s not like they hit it off then, either. Sure, Eddie was fun and braver than he liked to pretend, but they hadn’t really gotten to know each other, what with the whole “running for our lives” situation.
But one doesn’t decide what one’s traumatized mind chooses to focus on, and so, in the months after the almost apocalypse, Steve gets used to seeing Eddie’s pale, bloodied face in his sleep every once in a while.
One of those nights, give or take five months after they’d buried an empty casket and struggled to meet Wayne Munson’s eyes, Steve wakes up from a nightmare featuring big, fearful doe eyes with a strangled gasp.
His brain struggles to catch up as his heart beats fast enough to hurt, sweat tickling his scalp. What hits him first is the heaviness of his limbs, unresponsive even as he wills himself to sit up. Panic seizes him, and he screams — well, tries to. All that comes out is a pathetic wheeze.
No matter how hard he strains on his vocal chords, nothing comes out but the air in his lungs.
It takes him a while to calm down, and even then it’s more out of exhaustion than anything else. That’s when Steve notices the shadow in the corner of his room. And it’s not like he’s not used to mistaking a pile of clothes or a coat hanger for a threatening presence — there have been incidents involving panic attacks and waving his nail bat at unsuspecting items.
But this — this is not just a hallucination. Or maybe it is, a very elaborate one. He can’t see much, a humanoid shape, hunched between his wardrobe and his desk, so dark it looks like it’s sucking the moonlight from the room.
It doesn’t move, and Steve keeps his breathing shallow, quiet, his lungs straining with the lack of oxygen as he stares at the shadow, his eyes burning with the need to blink. As if keeping his eyes on it will keep it from moving closer.
A car passes in the street outside, bathing the room in light for a second, and two eyes flash, reflective like a cat’s, fixed on Steve, furthering the feeling of <i>prey</i> tickling at the back of his neck.
But with the sudden light, there and gone, Steve gets a better look, though the thing is still just a shadow, a complete absence of color and light; but the shape of it is familiar, wild curls around its head, bad posture in a relaxed, careless way. It’s a silhouette he sees more often than not when he’s asleep.
Maybe he is still dreaming; that would explain why he has no control over his body, his voice. Why Eddie’s shadow is standing in the corner of his room. It doesn’t make it easier to relax, the claustrophobic feeling of being trapped in his own skin bringing back flashes of metal chairs and manacles in a Russian secret facility, of slimy vines crawling over him, restraining his limbs, choking him.
“Eddie” is unmoving, quiet, as Steve’s chest heaves around painful breaths, his mouth opening around silent words and pleas. Nothing comes out of his mouth but agonized whimpers. Tears gather at the corners of Steve’s eyes. He still doesn’t dare to blink, equal parts terrified that Eddie will disappear or that he’ll attack him if he does. Adrenaline rushes through his veins, making the forced immobility of his limbs even more unbearable.
It feels like hours before he slips into an exhausted sleep, “Eddie” just as unmoving in the corner as Steve is in his bed. Flashes of light glint off of his eyes from time to time, and the outline of him seems blurry, like dark, unnatural smoke. Steve fights to keep his eyes open, trying to catch more details out of the apparition haunting his room, but as the stars wink off and the sky lightens, he gives up, and sinks back into uneasy dreams.
The incident stays on his mind for the next couple of days, making him nervous, unsettled; but after an uncomfortable conversation with the other older kids, he concludes that was just the results of his exhausted, traumatized mind, a textbook case of sleep paralysis (thank you Nance). After that, it’s easier to put it out of his mind.
Except it’s not even a week before he wakes up gasping in the middle of the night, vivid images of bitten off flesh and big, lifeless brown eyes staring at a blood red sky superposing with the familiar decor of his own bedroom for a second. Restless energy thrums, desperate to do something, get rid of this helpless feeling that’s been underlying, hiding under his skin for months; but as he goes to rise and find something to do, maybe call Robs or demand a check in through the walkie, he finds himself, once again, unable to move an inch.
This time he forces himself to breathe through the panic, to relax his limbs, just like Nancy told him. And it helps, it does, right up until he notices the shadow standing at the foot of his bed, the moonlight coming from the window forming a halo in its wild, curled hair, darkness bleeding out from where Steve knows the bats tore into skin and flesh.
He can’t help the choked sob clawing up his throat as tears spring to his eyes, rolling down his temples to pool in the hollow of his ears. He whimpers, hurting his tight throat as he fights to whisper, “S— sorry, ‘m sorry, Eddie—“
A weird, hissing noise echoes around Steve’s room, making the hair on his arms rise, like the warning sound of a rattlesnake when you’ve stepped too close. It takes Steve a minute to realize it comes from Eddie, a mockery of a shushing sound, as if trying to soothe him.
At some point, around the same time his tears dry and his sobs fade into tired hiccups, the sound merges into a faint hum, discordant and unsettling, like an old-timey melody heard through a malfunctioning vinyl turntable. It sounds familiar, though Steve’s exhausted mind can’t quite recognize it. He falls back asleep quickly, wakes up in the morning with salt tracks dry on his cheeks and a stubborn melody stuck in his brain.
This, like the nightmares, the yearly world-ending threat, and the knowledge that superpowered teenagers are a thing, becomes Steve’s new “normal”. Every once in a while, when Steve dreams of Eddie, he wakes up to the silhouette of the dead metalhead lurking in his room, sometimes in the corner, sometimes in the shadow of his wardrobe, or even perched on his desk.
As weeks pass, the silhouette seems to get sharper, like a camera focusing bit by bit. Shadows leave place to a pale face with wide, black eyes, reveal claws at the end of long, thin arms, and the low, rough voice always seems to be humming the same melody, the one Steve can’t seem to shake off his brain even during the day, and is pretty sure is meant to be played on a guitar.
After a few of these nightly visits, Eddie gets bolder, starts crouching at the foot of Steve’s bed, and eventually, perching over him, his face hovering over Steve’s, eyes glinting, mouth forming wordless melodies. There is no weight, no dent in the sheets; dreams are weightless, Steve supposes. There is a smell, though, something like ash, like ozone and iron, that gets stronger whenever Eddie manifests that close to him. A cold sensation seeping through the sheets where there should be contact between them, raising goosebumps over Steve’s skin.
This goes on for another few weeks, during which Steve debates telling anyone about his unusual nighttime visitor. He saw Eddie’s dead body, the vital parts ripped out of him by thousands of tiny teeth. He mourned along with the rest of the Party, though his waking mind kept his focus on Max and her slow, painful recovery.
All that to say, Eddie is dead. Steve knows that. And even if he wasn’t, they left his body back in the Upside Down. El closed all the rifts, they made sure of it. How could Eddie be here, when his body has been locked in another dimension?
Steve is probably going crazy, making up a strange imaginary friend, a fucked up kind of coping mechanism. Telling the others will alert them of his less than stellar state, and get it in their head to help him. And then… then Eddie, or whatever weird imaginary version of him, might disappear for good.
Steve’s not sure why the thought makes him so uncomfortable, why he almost looks forward to going to bed now, despite the nightmares, despite the insomnia, just because it might be one of those nights where Eddie “visits” him again. Somehow, he gets to spend more time with a man he lost before they could become friends, and no matter how fucked up that is, Steve doesn’t get a lot of nice things these days. He’ll enjoy that one while it lasts.
*
There is something else Steve hasn’t told anyone, not even Robin. Since their last stunt in the Upside Down, Steve’s libido has been… well, lacking would be a word for it. And he knows he’s got A Reputation, but the truth is he’s never been as much of a Casanova as everyone says. Sure, he’s gone on a lot of dates, and some ended up in one night stands. But that always feels unsatisfactory. Yeah, Steve likes sex, loves sex, but what he loves about it is the emotional connection. So no, he doesn’t sleep around that much even at the best of times. And this… this is <i>not</i> the best of times.
The fact that he’s either been not sleeping or having nightmares when he does surely doesn’t help. He’s had no interest in sex in months, and even masturbation is only perfunctory, just another unsuccessful way to try and fall asleep.
So when he gets his first wet dream in who knows how long, Steve damn well intends to enjoy it. There’s no real focus of his dream, only warm, fuzzy sensations, a tingle in his lower belly he’s not felt in what feels like forever.
He basks in it for a little while, heat building, shapes and sensations brushing his skin, his hands tangling in long, soft hair, humming lips kissing his burning skin, a weight shifting over him like a comforting, grounding embrace.
A hoarse voice moaning praise, whispering his name against his throat, his ear, his hair.
“Stevie…”
He grinds against the other body, chasing sparks of pleasure, but the weight disappears, and he whines, hips stuttering, seeking delicious friction.
“Steve,” the raspy voice pierces through the hazy fog of lust, and Steve opens his eyes to his dark room, a now familiar immobility restricting his body. His heart beats hard in his chest, body still caught in unfocused pleasure. He knows to look for a shadow before he’s even completely awake.
Eddie’s crouched awkwardly near Steve’s legs, big eyes staring at him in surprise. From his point of view, there’s no ignoring the obvious tent in the light summer sheets. The shame that floods Steve chases away the last of the sleepiness, and he closes his eyes in mortification, a muffled groan making its way out of his tight throat. There’s no doubt Eddie had been sitting atop him when Steve had started moaning and grinding his hips like a perv. The weight had felt so real, so good, and now Steve is left with a persistent hard-on in front of his own personal ghost.
So instead he keeps his eyes closed and hopes against hope he’ll get back to sleep and Eddie will be gone when he wakes again. Which, of course, has zero chance of happening in normal circumstances, even less so with his dick still stiff as a board.
The mattress shifts, Steve’s body rolling with the movement. He snaps his eyes open, meets Eddie’s equally confused gaze. That felt like… Eddie actually sitting on Steve’s bed, his weight dragging Steve towards him like gravity. But it can’t…
They both watch as Eddie raises his hand as if in slow-motion, hovering right over Steve’s knee, complicated emotions stirring in his bottomless eyes. The touch, when it comes, is cold through the sheets. A jolt of electricity shoots up Steve’s thigh, contracting the muscle and tingling over his skin.
“Stevie?” Eddie rasps, voice unsure. Steve wants to tell him it’s okay, though he really doesn’t know if it is, all his comfortable assumptions about dreams and sleep paralysis and logic flying out the windows as Eddie’s fingers press into his flesh; not bruising but firm, like he’s trying to make sure he won’t go through Steve’s skin.
Gaze rising from where he’s been staring at Eddie’s — corporeal— hand for the last minute, he finds Eddie’s eyes searching his face, bloodless lips parted over too sharp teeth. Though he feels far from confident about the situation, Steve dredges every bit of reassurance and comfort he can find, pushing it to the front of his mind as if Eddie could absorb it through — fucking osmosis or something.
Dumb as it sounds to his own brain, Eddie seems to catch up on it, and he shifts again, a little closer, upper body hovering over Steve’s, his big dark eyes searching for something.
Slow, as if not to spook him, Eddie brings his other hand to Steve’s bare chest. His fingers are freezing, and Steve can’t fight off the shiver that wracks through his body at the touch, soft skin yielding under a clawed hand.
Eddie stays still for a moment, his eyes never leaving Steve’s, before lowering his head next to his hand, ear against Steve’s chest, as if… as if listening to his heart.
Steve’s face flushes bright hot as his traitorous heart immediately picks up, betraying how affected he is by all the touching.
He is so lost to mortification he almost doesn’t notice the strange sound rising in the room, but the vibration against his chest catches his attention. Weird as it is, it doesn’t take long for Steve to understand Eddie is purring, loud and smug like Dustin’s cat always does when he perches on Steve’s lap. A silent laugh shakes Steve’s shoulders, and Eddie straightens up, a small, hesitant smile on his face. Sharp fangs press into his plush bottom lip, creating little dimples matching the ones on his cheeks. Steve only sees them for a second before Eddie shuffles even closer, leaning down again, aiming this time for Steve’s neck. Visions of those sharp fangs tearing into his throat only torment him for a second, before he hears Eddie snuffling against his pulse point, cold breath raising goosebumps over the bare skin.
Steve’s not sure his sleep stale sweat is a very alluring scent, but Eddie seems to think otherwise, as an oddly long tongue trails from the dip between Steve’s collarbones to the ticklish spot under his left ear, the deep purring emanating from Eddie’s chest growing louder with the action.
Steve lets out a strangled gasp at the wet sensation, the night air flowing from his open window immediately cooling the trail of saliva and enhancing the sensation. His flagging dick reacts immediately, rising to attention. Eddie raises his head, face hovering right over Steve’s as he searches his gaze, a sharp grin pulling at his lips when he finds whatever it is he’s looking for. Steve’s breath is shallow, fresh sweat beading at his temple as his body heats rapidly, hyper aware of Eddie’s skin so close to his own, their only point of contact the hand Eddie still has placed at the center of his chest and the strands of curly hair tickling his throat and shoulders.
“Stevie,” Eddie croaks again, with an edge of teasing to his voice this time, his cool breath brushing over Steve’s face.
A pang of loss runs through Steve when Eddie sits back, mourning their proximity, until Eddie throws a leg over Steve to sit over him, much like he has taken to do during his nightly visits, except this time, Steve can feel it, his weight, the coldness emanating from his body, as he sits right over Steve’s crotch.
For once, Steve thanks his momentary paralysis, as he has no doubts his hips would have thrust up if he’d been free to move. Instead, he lets an admittedly embarrassing groan, which has Eddie smiling wilder and squirming a little, sending sparks flying through Steve’s spine, his core tightening with pleasure.
Leaning with a smug purr, his hair tickling along Steve’s scarred ribs, Eddie plants a kiss right over Steve’s sternum, nosing into his chest hair. Steve’s hands itch to reach for him, to stop him or urge him to keep going, that isn’t clear even in his own head. Staring at the dark blue of his bedroom ceiling, trying to breathe deeply enough to get enough oxygen to his brain so he can think about the situation properly, Steve leaves Eddie to his animalistic… scent marking?
The scrape of a fang over his left nipple startles him back into the present with a gasp, eyes snapping to Eddie’s mop of dark hair. Dark eyes glint at him between the strands before lowering again to focus on the sensitive area.
It’s more exploratory than intentional, the way that slick, serpentine tongue flicks out to follow the edges of Steve’s scars, to taste the moles and freckles that dot his entire body, and it drives him crazy. He feels filthy, enjoying it this way, though there’s no way Eddie doesn’t know what he’s doing.
The thin sheets offer little protection, and though Eddie is still mostly shrouded in darkness, Steve’s pretty sure he’s just as naked. He can feel the muscles in Eddie’s thighs flexing on each side of his hips with every tiny movement, and there’s no ignoring how well Steve’s cock fits under his ass, trapped in delicious agony.
Once Steve notices that, no amount of imagining his old swimming coach naked helps to quell the fire building inside him. It only takes a few more minutes of Eddie playing with his chest like a kitten with a new toy to bring him to the edge; once there, it’s only a matter of Eddie shifting a little, Steve’s cock slipping between his buttcheeks, and Steve is thrown into a cramp-inducing climax, body going rigid under Eddie.
He comes to a few seconds later, chest heaving, opening his eyes to a pleased and awestruck expression on Eddie’s face. They stare at each other for a silent second, before Eddie sits back and snakes his hand under the sheet and Steve’s underwear with a focused expression on his face. Excuses and apologies bubble up to his lips, dying on his tongue as Eddie drags a clawed finger in the sticky cum on Steve’s lower belly. Bringing it to his own mouth with a curious expression, Eddie licks Steve’s cum off of his finger, effectively strangling the breath out of Steve’s lungs in the same time.
Making a face at what Steve assumes to be a bitter salty taste, Eddie scrunches his nose and lets the sheet fall back over Steve’s modesty. Fondness floods Steve’s chest, and he smiles up at Eddie when the boy turns back towards him.
Body lax and fuzzy, more relaxed than it’s been in what feels like years, Steve quickly slips into a dreamless sleep, only conscious long enough to feel Eddie’s cool but solid presence laying down beside him, wrapping around him with a contented purr.
Steve falls asleep to the feeling of Eddie’s sharp, blackened fingers treading through his hair, playing with the strands, humming a discordant melody in a deep, raspy voice.
*
Steve wakes slowly, drifting in and out of consciousness, sensations coming back to his body; the slight chill of the air over his naked skin, something soft brushing against his cheek, an unpleasant sticky sensation tickling at his crotch. God, it’s been years since he’s come in his sleep like this, he’d thought he was over with this kind of teenage bullshit—
The memories of the night before hit him at the same time as he registers the arm thrown over his chest, and he snaps his eyes open, suddenly completely awake. The body against his shifts as it wakes, tangled curls tickling his nose and making him sneeze. All movement seizes, the other body going as stiff as his, before it springs up, light blue sheets slipping down to reveal pale skin mottled with dark ink and angry pink scars.
Eddie Munson is looking down at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. Warm, brown, human eyes.
“What the fuck?” A rough, scraping voice escapes Eddie’s mouth, though it doesn’t look voluntary, if his even more confused expression and the hand flying to touch his own lips are to be believed.
“Me what the fuck? You what the fuck!” Steve replies intelligently. He’s not very proud of how he’s handling the situation, but he’s pretty sure he can be excused for that one. It does feel good to be able to talk — and, oh, to move as well, he checks as he mirrors Eddie and sits up — with Eddie there.
“I’m alive? I’m— I’m real?” Eddie overlooks Steve’s stupid answer, turning his eyes to his own — very naked — body, right hand hovering over his chest as if afraid to touch. Or to go through his own skin.
Too confused and tired of this shit to be delicate about it, Steve tugs on the curl of brown hair sticking to Eddie’s neck. “Seem real to me.”
Eddie slaps his hand with a wince and a frown, but at least the disbelief on his face fades from his expression for a second. Silence settles over them as Eddie wiggles his fingers in front of his face, pokes at his own cheeks, smushing them in a way that floods Steve’s heart with fondness.
“Am I… human?” Eddie asks at last, his eyes deliberately avoiding Steve’s this time, as he skims his right hand over his left forearm.
Steve studies him, the vulnerable slouch of his shoulders, the slightly unnatural paleness of his skin, and raises his own hand to brush Eddie’s hair away, revealing a pointed ear. “I’m not a hundred percent sure on that one,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the arch of Eddie’s ear. “You can still blush though, so that’s good news.”
Face flushed red, Eddie groans, falling forward to hide in the crook of Steve’s neck. “You’re an asshole, Harrington.”
“Well, I might be an asshole, but it looks like fucking me brought you back to life, so I think you should be grateful,” Steve says, barely containing a laugh as Eddie gives a halfhearted slap to his chest.
“I thought it was a dream! I thought I was dying or already dead and my brain just decided to let me have some fun in my final moments.”
“You often dream about breaking into my room to have your way with me?” Steve wraps an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, reveling in the very firm, solid presence of him, though not as warm as he’d expect a human body to be.
Pushing away to give Steve a stern look, Eddie says with a flat voice, “Steve, I literally just came back from the dead. Stop trying to get in my pants.”
Steve shrugs and slips out of bed, giving Eddie some space. He steps out of his soiled underwear, confident that Eddie likes what he’s seeing. “I’m not the one who sex-dreamed myself back to life. You don’t have a leg to stand on here, Munson. At least <i>I</i> got a great orgasm out of it. And here I was, about to return the favor.”
And if he puts a bit more of a swing into his hips as he walks to the bathroom, well. The sound of bedsheets being shoved to the floor and footsteps following him in a hurry are so, so worth it.
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I had to restart his save since it got corrupted- which means it’s time for a new ref!!
I’ve committed to the fact that this man dresses like an 80s dad in any modern au.
Tries very hard to read as the ideal paladin, good morals, strong sense of justice n what have you. He is unfortunately full of trauma and identity issues, fear of his god is a HUGE THING and breaking his oath accidentally is a perpetual anxiety too.
I’ve also decided he has the shittiest, patchy ass beard. Usually he’s clean shaven bc he doesn’t like having facial hair but he’s not quite adept enough with a dagger to shave with one and tries exactly once to shave (failing miserably, much to Astarion’s entertainment) before giving up until act 3 when he buys himself a new razor.
I really should draw him holding the blood of lathander more but that mf is agonizing to draw man there are, so many layers to it.
I finally remembered to draw his glasses on his ref, yippee.
I’m making him an actual dnd character sheet so I’ll probably attach that once it’s done
I’m side tracked I’m supposed to be talking about his lore huh
Whoops
Anyway, tw for abandoment (passing mention) emotional abuse, death (of a parent + en masse,) mental illness that’s being ignored, chronic pain and illness (also being ignored until he can’t)
His actual like- lore lore is below the break.
Born in the underdark, his mom fucked off with him bc the underdark isn’t a great place to live generally speaking, and she had the means. His dad decided last minute to stay in the underdark.
Taken in by the temple of lathander in elturel bc his mother was chronically ill and not expecting or able to be making this kind of journey on her own with a very small child. Ended up being moved from the temple to a hospital after it was determined that she probably wasn’t getting better.
Charlie ended up being mostly raised by the temple, went to school there and was taught how to read and write + basic math. But spent most of his free time working to pay for his mother’s (and soon his own) medication.
Turns out the of the myriad of issues his mother delt with (migraines, persistent nausea and dizziness, chronic joint issues) were genetic, so by time he hit puberty he was working his ass off to pay for it.
You may ask me “cake, didn’t that aggravate his joint issues?” Yes. Badly. He was not given any other options, the fact that they were alive at all was a godsend (I use the word godsend intentionally, he believes, strongly, that lathander is keeping him alive for some reason beyond his understanding, that is the root of his devotion.)
Did you order mommy issues? Hope so bc he has them in spades. You can only be hear your dying mom say she regrets saving you life as a literal toddler so many times before it starts fucking you up, and she said it (and other delightful(/sarc) things) plenty in the months leading up to when she died.
Shortly after her death, and suddenly needing to work way less (his medication was significantly cheaper than his mothers) he devoted himself to the temple, and was eventually approached bc some kids he went to school with to see if he wanted to join their little class thing. The temple liked to train their folks in groups of 4, in hopes of building strong teams should they choose to stay together.
He agreed, and found out that the temple would pay for his medication in exchange for dedicating himself fully to his training and his studies (and occasionally them using him as a scout, being small, naturally stealthy, and decently quick had its advantages.)
Took his oath with one of the other people he was trained alongside when he was 17, and they were collectively sent to continue their training at the nearby Fort Morninglord.
Things were solid, until he was sent along with a group of seniors to Baldurs Gate as a sort of test to see how he would do on a longer mission before officially joining the Order of the Aster.
He did well, all things considered. Unfortunately between him leaving and returning is when Fort Morninglord got eaten by the shadowfell for some reason. (That’s a canon event btw)
So, with all his friends presumably dead, maybe worse, and all his shit left inside a heavily guarded, very cursed fort. He did the reasonable thing, and fucked right off.
He ended up joining one of the seniors he went to Baldur’s Gate with in going to Waterdeep, while they didn’t particularly need another paladin. The temple of lathander in Waterdeep accepted them both until they were able to find stable employment.
Charlie mainly did small jobs for merchants, working as a guard for high value stuff, moving cargo on/off boats, mostly physical labour. It didn’t pay particularly well, but he could afford a little room above a tavern, and his medication.
That’s where he was, and how he lived for almost 130 years until he got wormed.
May or may not be blindly devoted to Lathander bc of… all that. literally any bad thing to occur to him is swiftly written off as a test of his faith, surprising to damn near everyone he is not one for converting people. (He definitely reads like he would though, it’s the theology special interest, there are few gods he won’t speak extensively on. He just defaults to lathander)
Fr though? Having trouble finding a god to worship? Ask him, he will give you an answer or more accurately- a list.
Yknow when you sprinkle random facts into your characters to make them less flat? Yeah my man collects maps, particularly outdated ones.
The only reason he’s not fucked post-worm is bc it fends off the worst of his usual symptoms. He has conflicted feelings about it (on one hand, being able to put honey in his coffee and not feel like his brain is exploding is nice, on the other, what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.)
Post game he is left in a… state. He’s gotten used to life with less pain and is absolutely bedridden for a WHILE bc suddenly he’s being hit with his usual pain n symptoms but he’s not used to it anymore so it’s absolutely destroying him.
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i love how im constantly reminded how much im never viewed as a woman. im constantly misgenderes and deadnamed by staff and misgenderes by customers even transones. i correct ppl for them to just go back to it two sentences later reconfirming no one viewa me as anything but a cis man they're just not supposed to call em that
that i get to choose between constant agonizing hell or having everyone I know view me as a burden mooch pathetic wast of space crybaby tjat i need to just suck it up bc money is money
god forbid i get any jobs that were in better environments or that I qualifies for no im back in retial hell
fuck i need to just blast my fucking brains out all over the fucking cash register
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[ CHOICE ] receiver has to choose between sparing their own life or the sender’s / kassy and nick :'))))))))))))))))))))))) / @thewholecrew
it's the most agonizing twelve and a half minutes as nick races to kassy's apartment complex. cursing and berating himself for giving this fucking stalker a chance to get near her. he can't touch her. can't hurt her. can't have her. the tormenting thoughts drive him faster as he shoves the spare key into the glass door, nearly snapping it off with force as he rushes inside. his heart hammers in his chest as he takes the stairs two at a time, climbing higher as he rushes through the stairway door to get to kassy, her phone still where she'd abandoned it. the sight alone nearly stops him in his tracks. the last thing he'd heard was the crashing of her phone, her terrified no. bile rose in his throat as he pulled his weapon once he reached her door. "fuck," he cursed when he tried the door, fishing as quick as he could for the spare key again before he burst inside.
"kassy!" he called out, gun raised as he moved into her apartment. her struggle with the bastard is evident with the rug shifted at the doorway, and his mouth ran dry as he moved further inside. where? his anxiety burned brighter, eyes widening as he heard kassy's fearful screams and pleas. instantly, nick darted toward her bedroom, rage and adrenaline overtaking every thought beyond kassy's safety. he's in her fucking bedroom. gripping the handle, nicklas expected to throw open the door and immediately kill her attacker, but to his sudden rush of fear, something prevented his entry.
with all the force he could muster, nick slammed himself against the door, busting it and sending kassy's desk chair flying toward her rugs. catching a quick sight of her, "kass--," came from him, but before nick could get her full name out, her stalker knocked him square in the temple with the empty vase she always had on her dresser, effectively shattering it against his skin. with a groan, nick stumbled, blinking back the stars that clouded his vision, giving the stalker a chance to attack him violently to the ground while his gun slid across the floor.
while trying to block wild, uncoordinated fists, nick shouted, "get outta here kassy! go, kassy, go!" swiftly, nick managed to gain the upper hand as the two tumbled around on the floor, nicklas switching places to deliver bone-shattering force against the man's body. crystal hues snapped toward kassy for a single moment, just one second, as she scurried out of her bedroom. but in that brief second, her attacker delivered a forceful blow to his stomach, forcing all the air out of nick's lungs. he coughed and groaned as his elbow and forearm pressed against the hardwood floor of her bedroom, shaking his head as he tried to regain his bearings. "kass..." he choked out, blood from his temple streaking down his face.
despite the persistent ringing in his ears, kassy's voice and struggle with this sick bastard register so clearly in his mind. get up, get up, get up, she needs you, get up!!! he shouted at himself internally, forcing his dizzied self up from the ground as he spun toward kass. the image of her stalker's hands on her echoes too closely to his father, driving nick to rush them. "you sick, fuckin' bastard!!" nick dove at the stalker's torso, forcefully shoving all three of them to the ground before the two aggressively came to blows. it wasn't until he felt the cool sensation of a blade against his throat that it registered that they might be in real trouble, his body tired and throbbing.
all the scenarios rush through his mind. quickly analyzing each outcome and every way he works through it, one of them gets hurt. but it can't be kassy. with his hand wrapped around the grinning man's throat, nick used his other to grip the hand that held the weapon, attempting to keep the blade from slicing into his skin. "run...kassy fucking run, leave!" he forced out because no matter what...she has to be safe. that's all that matters. the only thing that could matter.
#thewholecrew#pv. all american#and then ya know.....if she wanted to grab her own knife and go stab crazy like you wanted - the ability is there ;)#( season two )
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TOP 9 BOOKS
tagged : @hmsharmony ty jennifer this was SOOO hard oh my god like. genuinely agonized me for days to think about what to choose but it was SOOO fun tho <3
tagging : @rosesau | @evcndiaz | @pendrgcn | @gayarthur | @the-tenth-arcanum | @oretsev | @wherepoetsdie | @bellamyblakru | @ryekat & anyone else who wants to do it !!!
rules : list your top 9 books obviously. i cheated a little and put series as as one option because that's just who i am as a person. most of these i chose at random from my 5 star reads from the past few years btw
1. percy jackson and the olympians (series) by rick riordan
i was never a big reader in elementary school—or at least not to the extent that my classmates had been. my sixth grade english class required us to bring a personal book from home for silent reading and i stole my brother's spine-cracked copies of pjo and brought them to class. i finished the whole series in less than a school week (i had to scramble to the library to pick up another series because the single novel should have lasted me at least three weeks). pjo literally kickstarted my love for reading as a hobby and i truly don't know how to state the importance it had on my little ten-year-old brain fr
2. on earth we're briefly gorgeous by ocean vuong
i have never read a book more beautiful in prose and so uncommonly human than this. there's just something so incredibly heartbreaking knowing this whole book is the narrator's letter to his mother who can't read! like what the fuck
3. alone with you in the ether by olivie blake
this came as a surprise to Me when i first read it. i meandered through the first quarter, loving the writing style but feeling disconnected from the characters until the Church Hand Scene™ and it was hook, line, and sinker at that point (i have since come to love the disconnectedness in subsequent rereads, knowing that the feeling was the Point). i have read this book four (4) times since i read it first last year. LAST YEAR!!! olivie has like... fundamentally altered my brain chemistry or something because i feel like everything i have written since having read this book has been somewhat influenced by it.
4. much ado about nothing by william shakespeare
what can i say! this is theeeeeee romcom ever. i have watched so many adaptations of this play, read it countless of times and can recite some iconic lines, and still the banter between benedick and beatrice is sooo elite. cannot be topped!!
5. a place for us by fatima farheen mirza
fun fact: seed rec'd this book to me and has been reccing it to anybody who would listen. the prose is so lush and melancholic. it's one of those books where nothing Really happens, but you feel Every Emotion Under The Sun and you're just like. altered by reading it
6. the song of achilles by madeline miller
obviously.... OBVIOUSLYYYYYYY this had to go here. if i had two nickels for every greek myth retelling i read during school that fundamentally changed me etc etc u get it. i read this as a junior in high school when we, yet again, had to bring a personal book to read durin class. i think at that point of my life, i've never read something that tragic yet so beautiful at the same time and now i am always looking at the beautiful and tragic in media. so! there u go! brain cells rewired and whatnot!
7. the grisha trilogy by leigh bardugo
this is funny because i . technically did not rate any of these books 5 stars i'm sobbing. but like, considering the fact that my url is what it is and the way i always have them in the back of my mind, it's no wonder that i put them here. i have such an odd attachment to these books and these characters. i had copies of these books since their release but didn't touch them until ... before the sab tv release which is so fucking funny. like i don't know what i would be like if i read this as a t(w)een. i would've been so fucking insufferable ngl
8. when my brother was an aztec by natalie diaz
i actually read this for an assignment and had to write a report on it and i had SO much fun doing it. diaz plays a lot with hunger and her imagery is literally unmatched. i think about the way she contructs sentences and am filled with such envy. my beginning sentence for my paper was a nod to her style (though i failed miserably). it was: "in a paradoxical sleight of hand, hunger feeds in natalie diaz's debut." she is just. so fucking good at words i need to CHOMP on it
9. sharp objects by gillian flynn
you know the thing where you see a really popular author for a really long time and they have their work adapted to the screen and it's so good but you still haven't read their actual writing? yeah, that was me with gillian flynn (specifically about gone girl). i read gone girl, i read sharp objects, i read her short story the grownup, i'm currently reading the last novel of hers that i haven't read, dark places, and flynn is just so... incredibly good at constructing harrowing stories. it's no wonder why all three of her novels got adapted to the screen! her prose is so grounded. vivid. there's this ease to her writing that, whenever i concurrently read another novel, i always find the other piece to be lacking. i slink back to flynn's prose and immerse myself in her awful, human worlds.
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Just some tough questions:
Matt Casey or Sylvie Brett?
Stella Kidd or Kelly Severide?
Kim Burgess or Adam Ruzek?
Kevin or Trudy?
Mouch or Hermann?
Violet or Ritter?
April or Ethan?
Will or Connor?
Maggie or Dr Charles?
Sharon or Boden?
Hailey or Jay?
Gallo or Carver?
You weren't kidding when you said tough questions, these were SO SO hard. But here:
Matt Casey or Sylvie Brett - I adore Matt, I really do, and JS is one of my favourite CF actors, but Sylvie... just basically all of her scenes, I love and enjoy her so much.
Stella Kidd or Kelly Severide - oh this was SO SO hard, it was one of the most agonizing of them, but in the end I just had to chose Stella. I adore and love Kelly, but man, sometimes he really annoys me (especially earlier seasons - the time between Shay era and Stella era, that in particular).
Kim Burgess or Adam Ruzek - now THIS was my hardest choice. I love these two so much, I think I love others, and I do, but whenever I see either of them I get all heart eyed I swear, I love them. But inevitably, Kim is my girl.
Kevin or Trudy - you are truly, truly cruel having to make me choose between these two. I kept going back and forth with my answer here, but I finally landed on Kevin. He's my king, and Trudy is my sarcastic queen but Kev needs alllll the love.
Mouch or Herrmann - no offense to Herrmann, because I do love him, but Mouch is so iconic and I love him so dearly.
Violet or Ritter - THIS WAS SO CRUEL. I bloody adore Violet, and she's so pretty but Ritter, man. Ritter is my guy. I've been rewatching fire and oh my, I've fallen in love with him even more all over again. But in the end, I went with Violet, but only just. Honestly, this one I was the closest with just fucking it and calling it a tie.
April or Ethan - Ethan. I love these two the most when together vs individually (even though I am fond of both individually) but Ethan just has my heart more than April does.
Will or Connor - Connor is one of my most favourite characters ever. If you put him against most of med's cast, I'd choose him every time.
Maggie or Dr Charles - I stopped loving him as much after a few seasons, but I did really enjoy him (especially at the start) with Sarah. Maggie I do like, but she's not one of my faves and I honestly could take her or leave her.
Sharon or Boden - Boden, any day and every day. I love him so so much, and out of all the OC leaders, he's the one I'd most want to work under.
Hailey or Jay - I have a love/hate relationship with the both of them, but I've loved a lot more of Jay scenes then Hailey's.
Gallo or Carver - Gallo! Gallo is my boy. I do like Carver, but I don't 'love' him - I was sad at Gallo leaving, but if Carver left, I wouldn't be as sad.
Thank you for asking!! Sorry it took a while to get to, this was a really fun ask that I wanted to make sure I had enough time and energy to properly dedicate to it!!
#ree's asks#chicago fire#chicago pd#chicago med#one chicago#thank you for asking!!#kim burgess#adam ruzek#sylvie brett#matt cssey#violet mikami#darren ritter#sharon goodwin#daniel charles#jay halstead#hailey upton#sam carver#kevin atwater#trudy platt#randy mcholland#christopher herrmann#wallace boden#will halstead#connor rhodes#maggie lockwood#april sexton#ethan choi#stella kidd#kelly severide
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Blackened Feathers Falling Down
Rating: Explicit/Choose Not to Use Archive Warnings
Characters: Dew, Aether, Mountain, Ifrit, Omega, Sister Imperator, Cardinal Copia, Ghoul OCs, Sibling of Sin OC
Pairings: Dew/Ifrit, Dew/Aether, Dew/Mountain
Tags: Amnesia, Temporary amnesia, Terzo is dead, Heavy angst, Mild gore, Implied/referenced self harm, PTSD, Grief/mourning, Elemental magic, Hurt/comfort (comfort is attempted anyway), ghouls have their own language, the ending of this fic is not happy but it is narratively satisfying.
Words: 5,125
Summary: In the aftermath of Terzo's death and Dew's element transformation, he wakes with complete amnesia. Regaining his memories is a long, painful process and he must learn to face the grief he's been avoiding. So do Aether, Mountain, and Ifrit.
here it is! first chapter of amnesia fic is LIVE!
Hurts. Everything fucking hurts. Horns jammed into his skull like hot coal irons. Skin boiling, flaking off and regrowing over and over. Teeth like nails driven into his gums. Mouth painfully dusty-dry, never enough water and none of it cold enough, turning to steam right on his tongue. The touch of fabric to his skin is thousands of tiny knives, but the cold stone floor is worse and hiding in the bath is hell; within the hour the water all boils away and leaves him with sizzling porcelain.
And the ghouls just won’t leave him alone. Every few hours it seems, people he doesn’t fucking know knock all gentle on the door and he wants to claw the sympathy right off their fucking faces. Maybe he wouldn’t be so aggressive towards them if he could smell anything besides acrid smoke, thick in his nose and thicker in his lungs. He’s hacked and coughed and turned his stomach and lungs inside out but it doesn’t help, it just makes his throat bleed. Which is fine by him; it’s not like the pain can get any worse than it already is, and he gets a kick out of the looks on the faces of the Siblings of Sin who try to speak to him soothingly when they replace the trays of food he doesn’t eat, when he spits boiling blood at them.
He’s told it’s only been twenty-four hours since he’d woken up to find his entire being has been turned inside out and rearranged, but for him it’s been agonizing weeks. He can’t sleep. He can’t eat. He can’t sit in bed because it’s worse than trying to lay on rough, hot sandpaper intent on swallowing him up. So he mostly paces the room, his bare feet leaving scorch marks on the pitiful carpet as he goes; by the end of the first day only wispy scraps had remained. He leaves black marks on the walls from where he’s slammed fists and head into it, because maybe blunt force trauma will be better than this seething, writhing agony weaving through every fiber of his body.
It’s not.
It only makes it all flare blindingly, forcing him to drop into a crouch, ball himself up and scream, tearing his throat even more with the force of it. It leaves him weak and trembling, bleeding onto the stone floor beneath him where his claws have rent through his own flesh. It leaves him breathing hard and ragged, head locked between his own knees, watching distantly as ruby drips from his mouth, steaming. The room spins once, violent and quick, and then it’s dark.
Read the rest on Ao3!
#dorito.txt#dorito writes#dorito fics#the band ghost fanfiction#dewdrop ghoul#aether ghoul#amnesia fic
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I feel like a lot of people who think Kaeya should choose Mondstadt forget that Kaeya still feels a duty imposed on his shoulder when it comes to the place he was welcomed in.
Like, they will read this:
If Khaenri'ah and Mondstadt went to war, which side should he support? To whom should he offer his assistance: his birth father, who had ruthlessly abandoned him? Or his adoptive father, who had loved him and raised him?
And immediately forget all of this:
As an adopted son, he should have saved Crepus, but he had arrived moments too late. As a brother, he should have shared in Diluc's grief [...]
For the longest time, Kaeya had agonized over these impossible questions, caught between the opposing demands of loyalty and duty [...]
Like, the demands of loyalty and duty that so plague him are opposing, meaning they come from different places.
Kaeya feels an insane amount of guilt at betraying his adoptive family, partly because they were good people and he loved them, but it's also, in no small part, because it's his adoptive family.
It's the people who saved him, who took him in when no one could, in a time of turmoil. He's fucking ride and die for them, because he feels like he has to repay Mondstadt for taking him in.
(Keep in mind that this is all after spending his moat formative years around people still grieving a homeland destroyed by the ideas that protect and keep monstadt going.)
This ain't a choice between duty and a family of choice, this is a choice between two different duties.
Also, let's not even get into the moral aspect of this debacle.
Kaeya's very analytical, he pushes boundaries quite hard and deliberately puts his colleagues in danger to see what they would do when push comes to shove. He's, as he describes himself in the manga, an antihero with an attitude problem.
But he still considers himself a hero. Meaning he care about being on the right side of history.
If Khaenri'ah and Mondstadt went to war, which side should he support? To whom should he offer his assistance: his birth father, who had ruthlessly abandoned him? Or his adoptive father, who had loved him and raised him?
When Kaeya says this, something remains unsaid.
Both of those are options, options that he considers in full. One of them has an emotional link to him, so the other must be REALLY FUCKING IMPORTANT AND MORALLY RIGHT for Kaeya to even consider it.
#kaeya alberich#alberich clan#textpost#genshin impact#genshin impact theory#khaenri'ah#kaeya's father#diluc ragnvindr#crepus ragnvindr#the notion that Kaeya feels only good things about Mondstandt is such a non canon thing#Kaeya's an adopted kid at heart#with all the#adoption trauma#that comes with it#monstadt
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