#but for now have some glory backstory
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Things Simon Loves About You
Warnings: Fluff <3, Cosy Headcanons, Simon Being a Hypothetical Animal Crossing Enthusiast, Jealous! Simon :3, Simon Being the Best Boyfriend, Spoilers for Simon’s Backstory, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.
He’s secretly enamoured with the way you’ll gently pluck a fallen eyelash from his face and tell him to make a wish on it. The first time it happened, you had to explain to him what this odd ritual meant, what it entailed. You shushed him before he tried to make his wish out loud, telling him with haste that it won’t come true if he told you what it was. When he blew the eyelash from your fingertip, all he could do was look at you and think: ‘but it already came true’.
Though it initially worried him, he loves that you go to sleep late — especially when he finds you zonked out on the sofa, TV on, remnants of your midnight snack escapade scattered across the coffee table. It means he has an excuse to pick you up and bring you to bed, holding you close to him all the while. Most nights, he just stares at you, watching you, wondering how he got so lucky to even have someone exist in the same house with, never mind you.
Nobody likes arguments — especially Simon. Having grown up in an abusive household, they were commonplace in some form or another. But, when he argues with you, he knows that it can easily be fixed. Especially if it’s over something minimal like laundry or cleaning — it gives him the excuse to seek you out and utilise his ultimate love languages: gift-giving and physical touch. Sure, he’ll give you a quiet, verbal apology, too, but his efforts shine through in the way he opens himself up to you, pulling you into a warm hug and not letting you go for as long as you’ll let him.
He loves the nicknames you give him: especially the funny ones. You’ve called him Semen Demon before now — completely unprompted. He couldn’t help but give a deep chuckle, saying “What are you like,” before turning back to what he was doing. This worked a competition between the two of you to see who could create the most cursed nickname for the other.
It’s still going on ‘til this day.
He lives for the inside jokes the two of you have, like a dialect only you know. It makes him feel like he’s truly part of something… normal. Sure, he has the 141, by they are bound in the blood of their profession, not by the sanctity of love. Not the kind of love you two have. He loves it even more when everyone else looks confused when you mark a reference onto you two understand; it makes him feel like you’re talking to him and only him. For the first time, he feels like someone sees him.
He loves when you listen to his music suggestions. It makes him feel like his opinion matters — like what he says matters.
He loves the music you listen to, too. Not even because he likes the songs themselves, but because he knows, somewhere between their instruments and vocals, you have found enjoyment, like a coveted treasure. And that's what brings him enjoyment when listening to them.
Simon’s always been a light sleeper. A trick he learned in childhood. So when you prod him awake to spill your thoughts to him, he’s immediately all ears. And he loves everything you say, no matter how banal or nonsensical. Even when you tell him your worries, his heart swells with the fact that you trust him enough with your perils. That you think, even for a second, that maybe he can fix them.
And he would. Before time can catch him, he’ll do whatever it takes to ease your worries, to destroy them.
He loves that he gets to show you off to the 141 — like a child with an arts and crafts project. He’s a secretive man, but he won’t hesitate to make light of the fact that his partner is absolutely stunning, intelligent, hilarious, loyal, understanding—
You see where this is going.
He even loves how jealous they all look when they see you wearing one of his shirts in all your unfiltered glory, wishing them a good night while you bid Simon his own – a special one. A kiss. Just on the forehead. But a kiss all the same.
He’s dazed for the rest of the evening, trying to hurry his friends uut the door so he can come to bed and see you.
Lazy morning cuddles !!!!!
He’s recently gotten into video games because of you, too.
Secretly a big fan of Animal Crossing.
He absolutely would have been one of those people to try and buy Raymond from
anyone willing to sell him back in 2020 .
Likes any games that are life simulators. Simple ones — free of life’s stresses.
Loves Harvest Moon. And the Sims (Sims 2 is his favourite).
Although, when he found out you can romance other characters, he felt a bit bad because he felt like it would be cheating on you. Until he found out that you were already leading many a double life on those same games. The moment he found out you’d been romancing a collection of pixels and shapes, he picked you up, slung you over his shoulder and dragged you to the bedroom to “Teach you a lesson.”
All in all, domestic life with you is better than anything Simon could have hoped for. So long as you’re with him, he’s living a life he’s only ever dreamt of. And so help the person who tries to wake him.
Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)
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tease | lee haechan
pairing: lee haechan x f!reader
genre: enemies-ish to lovers, college au
word count: 5.8k+
summary: Playing spin the bottle definitely wasn't what you had envisioned for your first college party. And the last person you expected to see was Lee Haechan. But life has a funny way of throwing surprises at you, and this time it came in the form of the bottle landing on some drunk dude who dared you to kiss Haechan.
warnings: oral (m receiving), fngering, cursing, drinking, hc calls reader princess
a/n: rushed this one a bit to post it on time for haechan’s bday :D i hope you enjoy! and happy birthday my haechan ilysm baby!
- i recommend listening to sweat by zayn while reading
m.list
"New girl… what was your name... oh right.. Y/N” the guy's words stumbled out of his mouth, clearly too many drinks deep into the night. He was trying so hard to formulate a single coherent thought, but his speech was all over the place. And there you sat, legs crossed, waiting for whatever command he was about to throw at you.
"You should, ehm... uh… oh I know… you should kiss the person in front of you," he slurred, barely able to keep his eyes open.
You tensed up when the words left his mouth. You expected having to kiss someone in this game but you weren’t all that excited or open to the idea. Sure, you could've just taken a shot and avoided the whole ordeal, but you had already declined way too many requests and had knocked back enough shots for the night. Plus, your friend had disappeared into the crowd a while ago, leaving you to fend for yourself. You didn't want to push your drinking limit any further.
But honestly, the mere thought of kissing anyone at that moment felt too awkward. You didn't know a single person in this circle, and the boys surrounding you seemed ready to pounce at the opportunity. The uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach grew stronger. And just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, someone sauntered into the circle, nudging the guy who had been in front of you aside, without a single word of protest. It was as if the universe itself conspired to make the situation even more complicated because there he was, in all his glory, Lee Haechan.
Let me give you a short backstory. Haechan was one of your brother's closest friends, and you practically grew up with him. Well, maybe "in his shadow" is a more accurate description. His larger-than-life personality always overshadowed your shy self whenever you were in the same room. And there was also the teasing. Haechan took great pleasure in getting under your skin. While most of your brother's friends ignored you, Haechan found it amusing to embarrass you at every opportunity. He'd mock your fashion choices and poke fun at your taste in music. Basically, anything he could find that was worthy of a good tease, he'd go for it. Sure, you'll admit that you were a bit of an awkward kid back then, spending most of your time holed up in your room, jamming out to some obscure indie band, and wearing some questionable outfits (you can totally blame your mom for that until you turned 13).
Anyway, let's just say Lee Haechan wasn't exactly the friendliest face in your memory bank.
It’s been two whole years since you last laid eyes on him, and you honestly thought you'd never have to see him again. Your big brother mentioned that Haechan went off to "some college" out of town, so you assumed your paths would never cross. But your brother also conveniently forgot to mention the crucial detail that Haechan had actually managed to get into your top-choice university. Yes, the very same one you had been raving about since the idea of higher education even entered your mind. Thank you for the heads up, big bro.
Now you were sitting here, about to lose your mind because the first time you’re meeting Haechan after all this time, you're being dared to kiss him...in front of all these people too. There was no way you could do this. Your hesitance was impossible to hide, and everyone seemed to notice. But Haechan, being Haechan, couldn't resist making a comment about it. Of course.
“She won’t do it.” He said, taking a casual sip from his drink.
Though he pretty much spoke your thoughts out loud, you still paused and looked at him raising an eyebrow. You would've shrugged it off, but there was no way you were going to let Haechan continue teasing you like that in college. You were too grown and fed up to allow him to treat you that way.
“And why won’t she?” You asked, crossing your arms.
He chuckled “Because she doesn’t have it in her.” He said the words slowly to taunt you.
Maybe it was the fact that he was talking as if you weren’t in the room, or that he seemed so sure that you were too much of a coward to kiss him but before you could stop yourself you started crawling up to him. The circle of people around you suddenly more interested in your every move. Now you were kneeling in between Haechan’s sprawled legs, so close to his face that you could smell the mix of alcohol with his cologne. He put down his drink, the look of bore left his eyes and he perked up a little at your sudden closeness. Without giving yourself time to cower away you closed the distance between your lips. You didn’t miss the slight flinch of surprise he gave when your lips touched, he really wasn’t expecting you to go through with it.
Haechan would sooner be caught dead than admit it but he really enjoyed getting a rise out of you. It gave him this weird rush whenever he saw you getting all flustered or even a little pissed off. Sure, you were usually the shy and soft-spoken type, but deep down, there was a side to you that had some fight in it. It wasn't something you showed to just anyone, but he had managed to bring it out of you on more than one occasion.
He never in a million years expected seeing you at this party. It had been a while since he even thought about you. So, when he spotted you in the crowd, he was completely caught off guard. He watched you intently all night, trying to figure out if it was actually you. It hadn't been that long since he last saw you, but there was something distinctly different about you. You were engaged in lively conversations, your laughter floating through the air. It was a stark contrast to the image he had of you in his head.
He only remembers how reserved you were, back then you weren't able to have a full conversation with him or even hold eye contact. So, when he ended up sitting in front of you, teasing you like he always did, he never expected you to do anything more than maybe give him some attitude and walk away. But man, did you flip the script on him.
Before Haechan could even process what was happening, there you were, on your knees in front of him. His attention instinctively went to your tongue darting across your lips, that simple action getting him way too excited. Before he had a chance to react, your lips were already on his. The kiss started off slow, like a cautious test drive. Haechan could tell you weren't exactly planning to go this far, he could sense that hint of hesitance in your every move.
This wasn't the kind of kiss he usually went for. He liked them rough, the kind that leaves you breathless. But, there was something about you taking charge that had him intrigued. Even though it was a simple kiss with no crazy fireworks, it managed to get both your hearts racing.
Your hands went to his chin to keep him in place while your lips fumbled in a slow rhythm that had Haechan going kinda crazy inside. He had to fight hard to keep his cool, resisting the urge to grab you and kiss you back as hard as he wanted to. His hands stayed glued to the floor. He was scared that if he touched you, he wouldn't be able to stop himself, and also because his palms were suddenly a sweaty mess and he doubted you’d like that.
You tilted his head back a bit causing his mouth to slack open. With this new access, your tongue shyly ventured into his mouth, as if following an instinctive cue. Haechan also took a chance and nibbled on your lower lip, causing a soft whimper to escape your lips. The sound made his whole body tense up. Your hands roamed from his chin to the back of his head, testing the waters by gently tugging on his hair. That's when an involuntary grunt slipped out of Haechan's mouth, snapping you both back to reality.
As you pulled away, his eyes slowly fluttered open. Yours immediately darted to his slightly swollen lips, tinged with the color of your lipstick. Acting on some unknown impulse, you brushed your thumb against his lips wiping off the lipstick. He glanced at your finger and then met your gaze again, his eyes filled with an intensity that made your breath hitch. You said nothing and wiped the remnants of lipstick from your finger onto his clean white undershirt, all while maintaining unwavering eye contact.
You stood up, trying not to make it too obvious that your legs were weaker than before. Seeing the slightly shocked and amused faces of everyone around you would’ve scared younger you into running away but you didn’t feel intimidated at all.
"I'm gonna grab a new drink," you announced, giving Haechan one final glance before making your way out.
Of course, you didn't actually head to the drinks table like you said you would. Instead, you dashed straight for the bathroom, your heart racing like a herd of wild horses. Closing the door behind you and allowing yourself a moment to process everything that just happened and pretty much freak out.
"Have you lost your damn mind, Y/N?" you scolded your reflection in the mirror, the harsh reality staring right back at you. Disheveled hair, smudged lipstick, and that dazed look in your eyes, mirroring the same one that Haechan had after the kiss. Letting out a heavy sigh, you rested your hands on the edge of the sink, reluctantly admitting to yourself that the kiss wasn't half bad. Who would've thought? Haechan, your tormentor, sure knew how to kiss. His lips felt downright amazing against yours, and the taste… a mix of alcohol with a subtle sweetness that lingered on your lips, intoxicating your thoughts as you unconsciously replayed the moment over and over in your mind.
But before you could fully immerse yourself, the bathroom door swung open with a force, causing you to yelp in surprise. In your mortification, you had completely forgotten to lock the damn door. Oh, how you wished you had because to your horror, the intruder turned out to be none other than Haechan himself. His surprise at finding you in the bathroom was evident, though you couldn't help but wonder if he had followed you all the way here.
"You could've found a better hiding spot, you know," he jeered, leaning casually against the wall, his eyes meeting yours through the mirror's reflection.
"I wasn't hiding, Haechan. Can't a girl have some privacy in the bathroom?" you fired back.
"Sorry, it's just that you looked a little frustrated when you left, princess," he taunted, his words dripping with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn't quite put your finger on.
"Quit calling me that" you shot back, irritation lacing your voice.
Haechan merely shrugged, his teasing smile still intact. "You're right. A princess doesn't run away like that after a kiss," he continued to taunt, enjoying the effect his words had on you.
"I didn't run away," you retorted, trying to maintain your composure. "But I don't need to explain myself to you anyway, so get out, Donghyuck," you said, turning around to face him with a glare.
His teasing demeanor faltered for a moment, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his face at the use of his actual name. "Wow, it's been a while since anyone called me that. I like the way you say it," he admitted, attempting to lighten the mood. However, seeing your unamused expression, he raised his hands in surrender. "Come on, the kiss wasn't even that bad. You don't have to be embarrassed. Though it was so short, I couldn't really judge it properly."
"Pity, because you're never gonna get another chance," you replied, determination seeping into your voice as you turned your back to him.
Haechan studied you silently, his gaze fixed on your figure. There was a brief pause, a moment where the air between you seemed to thicken with anticipation. Slowly, he closed the distance between you, his proximity making you grip the edges of the sink tighter. He position his hands next to yours, his larger frame enveloping yours. Through the reflection in the mirror, his eyes locked onto yours.
With a hushed voice, he leaned in close to your ear, his warm breath grazing your skin as he whispered, "We'll see about that."
The weight of his words hung in the air as he held your gaze for a moment longer. Then, with one final look, he pulled away, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.
~~
A few days went by until you saw Haechan again at another party. It was insane how quickly you were getting invited to these things. Your social life went from zero to a hundred really quick. Things were finally looking up, and you were having a blast, making more friends along the way.
But of course, there he was—Haechan, lurking in the shadows like some lingering ghost. It felt like he was always in your peripheral vision, pretending he wasn't staring at you. Seriously, why couldn't he just go away? You made up your mind that finding someone else to hang out with would be the perfect way to shake off his annoying presence. Preferably someone who didn't get a kick out of teasing you mercilessly.
Just when you were mulling over your thoughts, a smooth voice broke through the noise from behind you. "Hey there, what's a beautiful girl like you doing all alone?"
You turned to face him and recognized him was one of the players from the spin the bottle game
"Actually, I'm looking for my friend. She vanished into thin air, it seems," you replied, trying not to sound too awkward. Small talk was never your strong suit, especially with extremely attractive guys.
He nodded, laughing softly, "Well, I can help you find her, but only if you dance with me."
You considered it for a moment, thinking it might be exactly the distraction you needed. "Sure, why not? Lead the way," you said, setting your drink aside and taking his hand as he guided you to the center of the room where people were dancing.
"I'm Jeno, by the way," he introduced himself, leaning in closer to your ear so you could hear him over the music.
You shouted back, "Nice to meet you, Jeno. I'm Y/N." He responded with an adorable eye smile, and you couldn't help but smile back.
In those few fleeting minutes with Jeno, you were already smitten. He was far more polite and considerate than the typical guys you had encountered in college so far. At first, there was definitely an air of slight intimidation surrounding him, probably because of his tall muscular frame and silver blonde hair, but as you danced together, he showed his soft and kind nature. His hands rested firmly on your hips, providing just the right amount of contact without encroaching on your personal space. As you felt more comfortable in his arms, you entwined your hands behind his neck, and only then he pulled you closer. The swift movement caused a gentle collision against his solid chest, confirming what you had suspected earlier—Jeno was no stranger to the gym. His white shirt was clinging to him in all the right places and you had to force yourself to look away before he caught you staring.
As the music played and your bodies moved against each other, Jeno leaned close to your ear once again. "You know... during the spin the bottle game, I was annoyed," he confessed.
Confused, you raised an eyebrow. "Why's that?"
"Because I was supposed to get that kiss from you, before that guy came and took my chance," he explained, his expression adorably pouting to emphasize his disappointment.
Smiling at his confession, you couldn't help but tease him playfully. "Well, what if I told you I would've rather kissed you?"
His eyes lit up with delight, and you realized that he reminded you of a puppy. Jeno took your words as an invitation and slowly closed the gap between your faces, his lips barely grazing yours. But before the moment could fully unfold, the music abruptly stopped, and a crashing sound cut through the crowd. Turning your gaze over Jeno's shoulder, you saw chaos near the table where the sound system had been set up.
The whole display had been knocked over, and the DJ was engaged in a heated argument with another person. The other guy had his back to you, but you recognized that posture and when he turned his head to the side you confirmed who it was. Lee Haechan, his face contorted in anger as he flipped off the other guy who just kept yelling at him. His scorn only intensified when his eyes locked with yours, taking in the sight of you entangled with Jeno.
"What's going on over there?" you muttered to yourself, unable to tear your eyes away from the scene.
"Just some drunk jerk making a mess," Jeno replied, glancing back at you.
You wished you could have resumed where you left off with him, but the interruption had shattered the moment. Not to mention, Haechan's piercing gaze lingered in your mind making you feel somewhat uneasy.
"Uh... I'm kind of thirsty. I should get a drink," you said, trying to find an excuse to escape the overwhelming atmosphere.
"I'll get it for you," Jeno offered, flashing a quick smile before heading off to fetch the drink. As he disappeared into the crowd, you ran your fingers through your hair, feeling the heat rising within you. The intensity of the almost-kiss and Haechan's intense stare made it hard to catch your breath. You needed a moment alone, away from the suffocating crowd.
You made your way to the bathroom upstairs, your go-to escape room. However, as you reached the door, you discovered it was locked, and the lewd sounds coming from inside let you know it wouldn’t be available for a while. Frustrated, you let out a sigh and glanced around, hoping to find another bathroom. Knocking on each door along the hallway, you realized that most of them were locked too, leaving little doubt as to what was happening inside.
Just as you were about to give up, the door at the end of the hallway swung open when you tried it, and you immediately slipped into the room discreetly. Closing the door behind you, you breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for this temporary escape. You stepped into the bathroom and splashed water on your face and neck, trying to cool yourself down. Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you couldn't help but feel frustrated with yourself for allowing Haechan to disrupt your thoughts once again. You hadn't even exchanged a single word with him tonight, yet he managed to occupy your mind so intensely. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, and with a shake of your head, you resolved to leave the bathroom and rejoin Jeno, who was probably wondering where you had run off to.
But to your surprise and horror, someone stood on the balcony. You hadn't even realized the room had a balcony when you entered. The figure seemed unaware of your presence. So you attempted to make a silent exit, and almost succeeded until you accidentally tripped over a trash can. Wow, you really needed to pay better attention to your surroundings.
"Y/N?" a familiar voice called out, the one that had been haunting your thoughts just moments ago. Frozen in place, you debated whether to make a run for it. Surely he wouldn't stop you, right? He wouldn't chase after you... would he?
"Haechan..." you sighed, your tone conveying your frustration at seeing him.
"Are you stalking me or something?," he asked, his teasing tone cutting through the tense air. You rolled your eyes at the absurd suggestion.
"Shouldn't I be the one asking that? It seems like you're always popping up wherever I go… first the game, then the bathroom, and now here," you retorted, counting off the instances on your fingers. "What are you even doing here?" You gestured around the room, emphasizing your point.
"I could ask you the same thing. Weren't you just getting cozy with that Kendoll downstairs?" he asked, hands nonchalantly tucked into his pockets as he gradually closed the distance between you. Now, up close, you could see him clearly. He wore a black graphic t-shirt with the words 'they come, they go,' and his jeans were ripped on the thighs. His hair was also somewhat styled. It was clear that he had put some effort into his appearance, unlike his usual messy style.
"You didn't answer my question," you persisted, fighting off the nerves that his proximity was starting to stir.
"Well, this happens to be my birthday party," he revealed, a hint of satisfaction in his voice at seeing the slight shock in your face.
"Oh… uhm… happy birthday," you awkwardly mumbled. His closeness now forced you to tilt your head upward, despite the height advantage your heels provided.
"Anyway, why did you make a scene at your own birthday party?" you asked, trying to kill the awkward silence and stepping away slightly to regain some personal space.
You made your way to the balcony, craving the fresh air as a relief from the intensity of the room.
"I guess you could say I wasn't vibing with the atmosphere, the music, the people... especially the people," he replied, his words hinting at something that you couldn't quite grasp.
"Hm, well, I was actually having a good time for once," you replied, leaning against the balcony rail. He mirrored your posture, but instead of gazing out at the street ahead, he fixed his gaze on you.
"Yeah, I could see that. So, who's your new boy-jock-friend?" he asked, his words dripping with sarcasm and… jealousy? You turned your head to the side, squinting incredulously at the ridiculous nickname he had given Jeno.
"His name is Jeno, and he's actually a really nice guy," you clarified.
"Is that so?," he hummed, his expression pensive. His lack of a proper response prompted you to look at him again, only to find him struggling to suppress a stupid grin.
"What, Haechan?" you demanded, growing tired of his antics.
"Nothing, just...I was wondering if you even like guys like that," he asked, shrugging.
"Why does it matter to you?" you shot back, your voice tinged with annoyance.
"It doesn't," he replied nonchalantly, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor as he closed the distance between you. The intensity in his gaze mirrored the way he had looked at you after your first kiss. "But I know you don't like him." He whispered that into your ear, now standing directly behind you.
Caught off guard by his statement, you instinctively turned around to face him. Bad idea.
"You're wrong," you managed to reply, though the pitch change in your voice betrayed your nervousness. His amusement grew as he leaned against the balcony rail, his hands positioned on either side of you.
"Then answer this..." he began, his hand gently brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear before cupping your chin, tilting it ever so slightly, "Why are you here with me instead of with him?"
You were at a loss for words. He was right. You should have been downstairs with Jeno, dancing some more, perhaps even kissing him. Yet, there you stood with this fool, your gaze inexplicably drawn to his lips and the way they moved, and how he unconsciously wet them every few seconds.
"Nothing to say?" he teased, his nose grazing against yours, and you couldn't help but close your eyes, knowing deep down that you were about to do something completely crazy. "I think we-"
"Shut up," you blurted out, unable to hold back any longer, and you closed the gap between your lips in a frenzy. The kiss was anything but slow this time; it was a messy collision of longing and pent-up tension that had been brewing for days. All the warning signs you put for yourself to stay away from Lee Haechan felt irrelevant now.
Your hands found their way into Haechan's hair, pulling on the strands as you tried to make him groan just like before. But this time, he surprised you by firmly gripping your thighs and seating you on the balcony rail. The cool metal against your bare skin made you shiver, but the sensation was quickly overridden by the warmth of Haechan's touch. The kiss grew more intense, a mess of lips and tongues, bites, sucks, and a chorus of eager sounds that escaped from both of you. The world around you faded away as you focused solely on how good his hands and lips felt.
"Please," you moaned against his lips, and he wasted no time. In a flash, he lifted you, carrying you effortlessly to the bed. The kiss never faltered as he positioned himself above you, his hands hungrily exploring your body. Your skirt was hiked up, and he suddenly grabbed your ass making you gasp. Clothes were becoming a nuisance, and Haechan noticed your impatience as you fumbled with his shirt. He couldn't help but chuckle at your eagerness, but he helped anyways, discarding the shirt and revealing a canvas of smooth skin that begged to be touched.
You traced the contours of his torso with your fingers, savoring the sight of every mole and line etched across his skin. Your ogling was momentarily interrupted when Haechan tried to remove your tangled shirt, provoking a dramatic sigh from you when he finally pulled it off your head. He laughed at this and your lips met once more in a short, sweet kiss before his attention shifted to removing your skirt.
Lying before him in nothing but your underwear, you watched as he straightened up, his gaze locked on your exposed form. You felt self-conscious but the way he was looking at you with darkened, adoring eyes, let you know that there was nothing to be shy about.
You flung your bra aside after unhooking it, meeting Haechan's hungry gaze as he took in your now exposed chest. You grabbed his hand inviting him to touch you. His hand glided from your belly to your breasts, exploring your curves slowly. He leaned and latched his mouth on your right breast, playing, nibbling, and sucking. He wanted to hear every moan and whimper coming from your lips. Each sound you made spurred him on, his body instinctively grinding against yours, his growing hardness pressing against you with every movement. You knew he was growing desperate with every sloppy thrust and lick of his tongue.
You hooked your finger through the chain around Haechan's neck and pulled him up so he was face to face with you "I want to try something," you whispered, planting a quick kiss on his lips. Gently pushing him by the shoulder, he willingly allowed himself to fall onto his back, his eyes fixed on you, filled with anticipation.
"What are you doing?" he asked, a playful tone lacing his breathless voice as you slowly crawled down his body, stopping in front of his crotch.
"What do you think?" you teased, unzipping his pants and sliding them down. His black boxers clung tightly to his arousal, already dampened with pre-cum. Biting your lip, you could already imagine his thickness just by the sight of it over his underwear. Looking up at Haechan, you noticed he had his hands behind his head to get a better view of your actions.
Without hesitation, you pulled down his boxers, causing his erection to spring up in an almost comical manner. There was no time to waste, you could tell that he might explode if you delayed any further. Grasping him firmly at the base, you used the slickness of his pre-cum as lub, pumping him a few times. Haechan bit his lips to contain his desperate moans, he didn’t want it to be so obvious that your simple touch on his dick almost made him cum.
But you had other plans. You wanted to hear him. You wanted to make him moan, whimper, and maybe even cry out in pleasure. Propping yourself up, you leaned in and without warning, kitten-licked his sensitive tip. Haechan's head flew back, as a string of curses left his mouth. Delighted by his fucked up state, you repeated the motion several more times before finally taking him fully into your mouth. Slowly, you went deeper, until he hit the back of your throat. Inevitably, a groan escaped him, his self-restraint crumbling as you began to suck him off properly. He moaned, thrusting his hips into your mouth, his grip on your hair becoming desperate to ensure you wouldn't stop. Seeing him in such a vulnerable and desperate state was a sight you never thought you'd witness - Lee Haechan squirming beneath you, completely undone by your actions.
"Oh, f-...uck... that feels so good," Haechan groaned, his voice strained as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder. He was thrusting against your face without even realizing it. You didn't blame him; he was so consumed by pleasure that he couldn't control himself. You reached down and gently played with his balls, wanting to see his reaction. The way his eyes rolled back, and his hips momentarily faltered, told you that another touch like that would send him over the edge. With a quick glance at you bobbing your head up and down his cock, Haechan decided he had reached his limit. He grabbed you by the cheeks, pulling your mouth away from his dick. The lewd sight of your saliva connecting you both in a string made him wish he could capture the moment in a picture to enjoy later.
"I need to fuck you right now," Haechan explained when you looked at him with confusion. With those words, he got off the bed and rummaged through one of the night tables, searching for a condom. As he pulled out the small wrapper, you couldn't help but ask, "How did you know that was there?"
"Because this is my room," he said casually, the revelation catching you off guard. Though, it made sense that this was his dorm, given that it was his birthday party.
He swiftly opened the condom wrapper and rolled it onto his cock. Without wasting any time, he climbed back onto the bed and slowly removed your panties, tutting at the sight of how wet you were. "Look at you," he said with a smile, allowing his fingers to explore your slick folds. The way your mouth opened and your eyes screwed shut in response showed just how bad you were needing to be touched there. As one of his fingers slowly entered you, he leaned in and kissed you, his tongue drowning out the moans that escaped your lips. Sensing your growing desperation, he added an extra finger, expertly pleasuring you. "H... Haechan," you moaned into his lips, and he hummed in response, continuing to finger you with more urgency.
"Please... more," you managed to gasp out.
"As you wish, princess," he whispered, removing his fingers from you and licking your essence off them. He positioned himself on top of you, aligning his cock with your entrance. Teasingly, he pressed it against you without fully entering. "Haechan..." you said, your tone suddenly serious, using his dangling chain to pull him closer. "If you don't stop teasing me, I swear I'm going downstairs to find Jeno."
He let out a bitter laugh, but the mention of Jeno noticeably changed his demeanor. Before you could say anything else, he plunged inside you. The immediate clenching of your walls around him caused both of you to moan loudly. Haechan gripped your hips and adjusted your position with surprising care. After a few more seconds, you grabbed his hips and pushed him slightly, indicating that you wanted him to go deeper. Without wasting any more time, he obliged, burying his cock further inside you. "Fuck," he groaned, the sensation of him stretching you feeling too incredible for words.
He began to move, his thrusts gradually gaining speed until he was practically ramming into you. The sight of his pretty face, screwed up with swollen lips from all the kissing and biting, dilated pupils, and droplets of sweat on his forehead, drove you wild.
Effortlessly, he grabbed your leg and propped it on his shoulder, allowing him to penetrate deeper, hitting a new spot that had your mouth foaming. He continued thrusting hard and fast, relishing in the way your breasts bounced with each powerful stroke.
Your whimpering only made him want to see you come undone even more. He leaned in and kissed you softly, the tenderness contrasting with his hard thrusts. You melted into the kiss, moans mixing between you both. He even slowed down his thrusts, lost in the kiss for a moment. But then he unexpectedly started ramming into you again, thrusting harder and pushing you closer to the edge.
"Cum all over my cock, princess," he commanded, his voice hoarse with pleasure. With a few more hard thrusts and the feeling of his mouth devouring yours, you felt yourself reaching an orgasm more intense than anything you've ever before.
"Fu-...oh my god," you moaned loudly, your legs trembling uncontrollably.
Haechan followed suit shortly after, his thrusts growing messier as you clenched tightly around him. He came with a loud, uninhibited moan that reverberated through the room, a sound that would undoubtedly linger in your mind for a long time.
The air grew still, and the only audible sounds were the heavy, ragged breaths escaping both of you. Lying on your backs, you found yourselves staring up at the ceiling, your legs still intertwined, too exhausted to make a move or utter a word.
But then, Haechan shattered the silence.
"Best fucking birthday ever."
a/n: btw i reached 127 followers right after posting this so thank you so much lol *cue the flute*
#nct x reader#nct dream imagines#nct 127 x reader#haechan x reader#haechan smut#nct smut#nct haechan#haechan moodboard#haechan hard thoughts#haechan imagines#haechan fic#haechan drabbles#nct fanfic#nct dream scenario#nct 127 fanfic#nct 127 scenarios#lee haechan#haechan au#nct dream smut#nct 127 smut#haechan fanfic
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I know you don’t rewrite arcs until they’re done, but I love hearing about your early ideas while I brood over how badly this arc has let me down. Do you have any like super vague ideas about Splashtail’s motivations yet? He’s like a way worse Hawkfrost in my mind, because they’re both very young cats who Are Just Evil. But Hawkfrost had a genuinely interesting backstory that the Erin’s simply fumbled, meanwhile Splashtail is a cartoonishly evil atheist. I feel nothing towards him, he’s not intimidating or interesting or even funny. Save me Bonefall save me (if I got something wrong please ignore it, these books are so disappointing my brain is making me forget them to protect itself.)
If it helps at all, I'm staying sane with the observation that Hawkfrost is a high charisma character making critical failure rolls, while Splashtail is a cringefail loser with no stats rolling nat20s. He becomes 50% more sufferable when you imagine a long, pungent pause after anything he says, broken only by the sound of an offscreen player tossing some dice. When the silence is broken, it's whatever NPC has been charmed speaking in the beleaguered voice of the dungeon master.
SO my early thoughts are shaping up to be that I'd like to do a slightly more serious version of that.
BB!Splashtail is the Clan equivalent of a 19-year-old, desperate for more power and respect in his society. In terms of his stats, he's promising but not outstanding. A decent fighter, a competent leader. Even in terms of lineage; his father is Sneezecloud, a respected trader and negotiator, but his mother is Havenpelt. An ex-rogue who has sworn to live by the ways of RiverClan.
Curlfeather is the one with the plans. She's the one with vision. Daughter of Reedwhisker, grandchild of Mistystar, with grand leaders like Bluestar, Oakheart, and Crookedstar in her past, greatness runs in her blood. Scandal, too-- but for some reason it's acceptable that her great-grandparents were codebreaking traitors.
Splashtail hates Curlfeather, but he can't get anywhere unless he tries to be her. He steals HER plans. He acts like SHE does. Manages to snatch power from her paws, and then has no idea what to do with it.
I'm thinking that I want his reign to be going smoothly at first, actually, going from a bit of a bossy jerk, to trying to enact Curlfeather's ambitions by launching fights and doing it badly, to active tyranny as he tries to keep control over RiverClan. Depending on how Star goes, I might have Berryheart make some kind of move to seize power over him.
At the core of how I see him though, is that Splashtail has no plan. His ideology leans Thistle Law... in a sort of dumbass 4Channer kind of way. He talks a big game about the glory of battle, but folds fast when his enemy can punch back. The only person he could successfully manipulate was a traumatized child. He will bring back pureblooded glory to the Clan, except his personal family of course
As for the Evil Atheism stuff... lol. Lmao, even. Not needed. If I need to make him a more powerful and serious danger, it's not going to come from the fact he's godless. If being an atheist gave you super murder powers, Bill Nye would have used them to obliterate half of the US government by now.
Depending on how the last book of ASC goes,
The Harelight kill is probably going to get changed to Hallowflight. Harelight watches his dad die, and Splashstar is drenched in the blood of one of RiverClan's most famous heroes. No turning back after that.
On that note I'd also make the fight longer and bloodier. A butchery of an execution showcasing Splashtail fighting like a beast and Hallowflight like a trained warrior.
I REAALLY want to make Splashtail's death a drowning. Curlfeather, demon she is now, finishes him off by dragging him under. To protect her daughter. They will have to do something VERY satisfying for me to not do this.
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I'd prefer if we never got to see the origin of Vault Boy and Vault Tec's branding in the same way I'd rather not get a canon answer of who started the War or how. That's the point of War Never Changes.
Vault Boy is a sinister figure in his cheerful embrace of Armageddon. Giving the Vault Tec brand a face and a name and a backstory feels so unimportant to what is actually interesting about Fallout. What's important to me is the big picture pre war, and the details of what comes after.
What is interesting to me is exploring how propaganda is designed to convince people how close they are to annihilation--or homelessness, unemployment, obscurity, or being The Other and therefore destined to suffer--in hell, in oppressions, being ostracized. Honestly insert any sort of marginalization or suffering here. Crony capitalism uses propaganda to market products designed to manipulate people into buying distance between themselves and that annihilation. Putting themselves "behind the thumb" of Vault Boy, so to speak. Buying a lifestyle. Vault Boy does it with a wink and a smile, inviting those who can afford it to buy their way to safety while using capital and fear to perpetuate the cycle. I don't need the specifics to understand this.
Some ghoulnaysis below the cut:
I'll admit, my initial reaction to pre-war Ghoulgins being the inspiration for Vault Boy was funny! Mr. Cooper Howard, washed up actor experiencing an existential crisis being shoehorned into corporate propaganda that then haunts him for the next 200+ years? Selling manifest destiny, racism, the Rugged Individual, the revisionist history that cowboys were a) white and b) more than a brief footnote in the history of the colonization of North America's west. The commodification of entertainers/creatives/public figures. Selling identities to be packaged into a product that will outlive them? Only to have that person live alongside that role they regret (?) playing... kinda tasty, if we have to give Vault Boy a backstory, though I didn't get a clear sense of his actual feelings about being used as a propaganda guy which I think is a failure of the show to commit to the narrative they set up, which happens with a lot of the show's (lack of) engagement with Fallout's larger themes anyway.
But The Ghoul (stupid name!!! weird and boring choice!!!) is just such an uncompelling and repellent character to me. I love a good bad guy or even anti-hero, but honestly he lacks any interiority. He's an evil karma character (eats people, waterboards and mutilates people, sells people to organ harvesters...like? that literally makes you evil in the games...) but the narrative pushes him as an antihero or someone with gray morality because he what..."likes" dogs? And isn't as decayed or unsettling looking as other ghouls (implying handsome=good or interesting). People aren't afraid of him because he is a ghoul, they're afraid of him because he's evil and will hurt them! Sometimes for no reason! I see the callback to the director telling him to shoot his co-star and Cooper saying he's "the good guy," but is that why he becomes so fucking evil post war? Really?
I don't know why he does what he does other than...the world sucked before and sucks now so he might as well represent the basest of human behavior? That seems to be the thesis of the show--unless kindness and community is engendered (by the vaults, by Management, by a civic government, by corporations) people will descend into chaos.
So why have this poorly executed anti-hero be the origin of Vault Boy? What are the narrative choices being made here? Is it just Rule of Cool?
Personally I would like a pathetic, rotting wet cat of a ghoul, some sort of carved out husk of a washed up movie star either trying to relive his glory days, or avoid them--having given up hope of finding his family after 200 years--being dragged into Lucy's orbit and being constantly reminded of his Vault Boy fame, that she is a walking Vault Girl with her Okey Dokey's and Golden Rule. He'd be a joke, a footnote of the old world. He'd be mean and snarky, even unpredictable and uncooperative--have a public persona of friendly curiosity and a private, cynical one.
Pathetic Ghoulgins would remind audiences of the cost of capitalism and imperialism without resorting to the thesis that war never changes means that people are inherently cruel and will resort to violence, rather than existent corporate and political power structures intentionally create the conditions in which people accept perpetual cycles of exploitation and harm for the sake of their own safety and comfort, despite knowing the cost of maintaining the status quo, and not seeing or believing that distance between the status quo and total annihilation is measured by the smiling thumbs up of a cartoon mascot.
I'm sure there are other ways The Ghoul could have been a successful character as well but.... That's satire. That's interesting. That's Fallout.
#fallout#fallout tv#fallout prime#fallout tv show#the ghoul#cooper howard#vault tec#“let people enjoy things” well i enjoy critical analysis#i dislike the big picture of the show but i love fallout enough to dig through the mess#fotv critical#fallout critical
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Disposable Heroes
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four Ao3
A/N: Guys, I’m so sorry for the late update! Life has been crazy for me the past couple weeks but I hope that I can get back to writing more regularly. This chapter is the well-awaited Eddie pov, as well as a ton of backstory for him that I didn’t really plan on but it just kinda came out. This chapter is kinda rushed, I’m gonna be honest, but I wanted to get it out to you guys as soon as possible since its been awhile. There are gonna be some major warnings here so I’ll post them below. Take care of yourselves and stay safe, now enjoy!
Tw: homophobia, homophobic language, child abuse, domestic violence, referenced drug use, Eddie being incredibly gay
———
It’s a muggy Sunday morning, the summer sun burning through the last vestiges of chilled night air and frosted dewdrops as it rises from its slumber. Like the sun, Eddie rises as well. However, it’s with much less fanfare and grace due to the obnoxious pounding at his front door.
He groans dramatically, shoving his face in his pillow and willing whoever the fuck decided to bother him at—he glances at his alarm clock on the other side of the room, squinting to read the numbers—nine in the morning to go away. His wish must have pissed off some universal god because the knocking only gets louder, making the window above his desk rattle with every shake of the door.
With a sigh big enough to rival the windy intro of “Holy Diver”, he pulls himself to the door in a zombie-like state. Movements sluggish from his interrupted sleep, he misses the doorknob twice before finally turning it, throwing it open with newfound strength to find one Robin Buckley in all her glory. Her fist is raised and ready to knock again, her face the epitome of righteous fury as she glares at him.
“Uh, hey Buck. Whatcha doi—“ he begins, only to be interrupted by Robin shoving past him and barging into the trailer. He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face and pulling on his hair slightly before shutting the door.
Kids and their manners nowadays.
“Yeah, sure, come on in. Totally fine. I wasn’t sleeping or anything, noooo,” he says to himself before turning to face his intruder. Whatever Buckley is upset about seems serious, and from the icy look she’s giving him it also seems like it’s his fault. Her hands are on her hips like she’s in a Steve Harrington impersonation contest and plans on taking home a first place prize. Something in him squirms at the thought.
But, he is nothing if not a performer. So, of course, he puts on a show.
“Lady Buckley,” he declares in a posh British accent, bowing deeply with a flourish on his arm. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this fine morning?”
He’s expecting a fond eye roll, or a laugh, or huff, or something. He gets silence.
“Cut the bullshit, Eddie. We need to talk about Steve,” she demands.
Steve… Now isn’t that an interesting subject?
Now, Eddie has always been different. He was loud, and jumpy, and fidgety, and the other kids never wanted to be friends with him because they were scared. He was always covered in dirt, always barefoot because he either forgot to put on shoes or the ones he had were too small for his ever-changing feet. He would talk to himself, mutter little reminders under his breath or work through the questions plaguing his mind aloud because he just functioned better that way.
Then, at eleven, he found out just how different he really was. He was outside during recess when he fell off the monkey bars and scraped his hands and knees. He huddled on the ground, tears falling down his small cheeks because it hurt and his wounds felt like they were throbbing. Then a boy, James, ran up to him and asked him if he was okay. James had stark blond hair, a face full of freckles, and bright green eyes. He looked so concerned for Eddie, and was gentle when he picked up one of his hands to inspect the cuts littered there. It was that gentle touch that elicited a flutter of butterflies in his stomach, and ever since then Eddie knew.
When he had gotten home to the trailer that day, he felt confused. Other people in his class were constantly talking about who they “liked”; boys liking girls and girls liking boys. About how they would get all nervous around their crushes, and Eddie realized he had never felt that before. All of the girls in his class were just… girls to him. They never gave him that fluttery feeling James had. But… no one ever talked about boys liking boys. No one ever said if it was okay, so Eddie thought it must not be. That boys liking boys wasn’t okay. That he wasn’t okay.
It took awhile, but he finally confessed to Wayne that he liked boys, that he got all the little butterflies that boys were supposed to get about girls. Wayne shook his head and told him that he could feel butterflies for anyone he pleased, as long as they made him happy. They both cried that night, and ended up in a hug so tight they nearly fused together.
Since then, Eddie’s come to accept the fact that he’s gay. Has added it to his whole anti-conformist persona, even. So when high school hit he let himself finally be free. He joined Hellfire club, made friends with the upperclassmen who ran it, and learned all the intricacies of D&D that he never imagined he would. After two years, he met Gareth and Jeff who joined Hellfire much in the way he did. Then, Grant joined halfway through Eddie’s junior year and he quickly recruited him as well. He found his friends, his people, and he finally let himself be himself around them.
He told them he was gay after a long session of lazily practicing in Gareth’s garage and smoking, the weed having loosened both his limbs and his lips. They were all extremely chill with it, even after the weed had worn off. That, however, didn’t exempt them from making fun of him though.
Eddie was loitering in the hallway after school, waiting on Gareth to finish up a quiz he missed the week prior, when none other than Steve Harrington walked out of the pool room in nothing but those little speedos that leave zero to the imagination. Seriously, all those girls were right, holy shit. After he picked his jaw up off the floor, he noticed Steve was looking at him with that adorable little confused puppy look before a god damned smirk fell across his face. Eddie’s face, he knew, had to rival that of a Victorian nobleman fawning over a sliver of pale skin shown by a lady across the room with her face hidden by an elaborate fan because he was literally drooling for the man in front of him.
It got considerably worse when Steve leaned down to drink from a nearby water fountain, making Eddie’s mouth go completely dry with this blatant offering of ass right in his face. In hindsight, it might not have been an offering, per say, but it was definitely there and Eddie was definitely staring. So it really wasn’t a surprise that he jumped when Gareth tapped his shoulder, Eddie having not heard him come up behind him, and he turned on his heel so fast he’s surprised he didn’t get whiplash.
“Dude, you good?” Gareth asked. Eddie opened his mouth, squeaked out, “I’m fine” and immediately felt his face go up in flames. Gareth glanced over Eddie’s shoulder and he could see in slow motion the series of thoughts that crossed his mind. Gareth went from concerned to confused to understanding to smug so fast it was almost comical. When their eyes met, Eddie’s went wide.
“Don’t you dare say a word,” he hissed, and the smug look only intensified.
Once they got to his van, Gareth immediately rounded on him.
“Seriously? Steve Harrington?” Gareth teased. “Of all people, it had to be that douche?”
Eddie groaned and clenched his eyes shut. “I know, Garebear, now shut up before I push you out of the van.”
Of course, news about his little crush spread around his friend group like wildfire, and soon enough he was being teased by them relentlessly. Eddie knew his crush wouldn’t get very far, Steve was very clearly straight and in a happy relationship with Nancy Wheeler of all people. Still, Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about that smirk.
Just as his crush began to fade away, Steve showed up to school with a busted face and eye bags deep enough to rival shitty vampire Halloween make-up from a toddlers costume contest. Feelings came rushing back, the intense need to protect, to find out what happened and get justice for that pretty face.
Then it kept happening, and Steve showed up to school with a beat up face yet again. However, judging by his stumbling and droopy eyes, it came with a concussion this time. Just when Eddie was trying to figure out who did it, Billy Hargrove came stalking through the empty halls and all attention was focused on his scabbed knuckles. On the hungry glare he sent Steve’s way. On the way Steve shrank back a little on instinct.
And Eddie… Eddie just couldn’t leave well enough alone, now could he?
He walked up to Steve, brows furrowed. “Harrington?”
Harrington didn’t turn, eyes still focused on the spot where Billy had been before. Eddie tapped his shoulder. “Steve?”
He jumped that time, like Eddie had actually hit him, and spun to face him. Up close, his face looked a hell of a lot worse and Eddie had to suppress a wince just looking at him. Steve looked at him confused, though it was hard to tell between the swelling and assortment of bandages on his face.
“…Munson?” Steve began. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come up.”
He said it flippantly, with a wave of his hand towards his left ear like that explained everything. It didn’t, but Eddie felt like it wasn’t his place to push.
“You good, man? You look like you got in a fight with a dump truck and lost,” Eddie said. “Badly.”
He expected Steve to scoff and roll his eyes, push past him and hit his shoulder too hard to be an accident. He expected him to spit some barb and walk away, to leave Eddie there in the hallway alone. None of that happened, though.
Instead, Steve smiled. A little self-deprecating, but a smile nonetheless. He huffed a laugh.
“Make it a supercharged dump truck and you’ve got it right,” Steve joked at his own expense. It resulted in a shocked laugh bursting from Eddie’s lips, which he immediately stopped by smacking a hand over his mouth.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling his hand away. “That’s not funny. I mean… your joke was, just not,”—he gestured to Steve’s… everything—“this.”
“It’s okay man, I know what you meant,” Steve said sincerely and Eddie doubted why he was ever called King Steve. The person who stood in front of him was the furthest thing from what those jocks supposedly worshiped that Eddie had to hide another bubble of laughter.
“Seriously, dude, did you even go to a doctor?” Eddie asked, and at Steve’s wince he knew the answer. He rolled his eyes and slung an arm around his shoulders, careful not to land too hard in case he was bruised there too, and led him down the hallway towards the nurse’s station.
“Uh,” Steve began. “Where are we going?”
“The nurse,” he explained. “Figured a look wouldn’t hurt, right?”
Steve’s shoulders relaxed a little under his arm, and Eddie decided to focus on him during their walk down the empty hallway. He noticed the way his hair bounced a little with every step, how a couple strands were threatening to fall from their perfectly coiffed positions. He noticed his moles and freckles, how he had a smattering of faint ones all over his face from time in the sun. He noticed how his nose was a little crooked now, with a bump on the bridge that wasn’t there before the weekend. He noticed how pretty his eyes were, with at least three different shades of brown all swirled together like melted chocolate with flecks of forest green nestled in the folds.
He noticed that Steve was looking at him.
They had come to a stop in front of the nurse, yet Eddie’s arm was still over his shoulders. He quickly retracted it, but Steve didn’t move away and neither did he.
“Well, this is your stop,” Eddie nearly whispered out. Steve smiled, just a small quirk of his lips, and his eyes flitted across Eddie’s face.
“Thanks, Eddie,” he started. Steve took a step backwards toward the station and did a little wave with his fingers that had no right being as endearing as it was. “See you around.”
With that, he disappeared behind the thick mahogany door and Eddie was left there alone, face full of flames and smiling like he was in fucking love with the guy.
Fuck, maybe he was a little bit in love with the guy.
That feeling didn’t waver, not even after seeing him in a skimpy sailor uniform as he scooped overpriced ice cream for toddlers in the Mall. Or, when he was pinning him to the rickety wall of the boathouse he was hiding in after seeing Chrissy murdered in front of him by some freaky wizard from an alternate dimension with a broken bottle to his beautifully freckled throat.
That feeling greatly intensified when he saw Steve take an honest to god bite out of a demonic bat and spit the flesh and blood out on the dried lakebed in the previously mentioned alternate dimension.
And, really, you can’t blame him for falling all the way when he found out exactly who dragged his half-dead body out of hell and saved his life.
So yeah, Steve was a very interesting subject indeed.
“Is… Is he okay?” Eddie questions as he straightens from his hunched position, head tilting to the side and making his bangs fall in his eyes. Robin throws her hands up with a mighty huff and a frustrated groan.
“Obviously not!” She exclaims. She starts pacing around his living room, back and forth in front of the coffee table. “He’s obviously not okay because you’ve been avoiding him and making him feel like shit for months and I’m actually really worried about him ‘cause he’s been doing stupid shit that can get him killed and I don’t know how much longer he can go on like this before it completely ruins him.”
As Robin rambles, her face turns a bright shade of pink. She finishes her speech, sucking in a deep breath as if she ran out of air. Eddie’s brows furrow.
“I haven’t been avoiding Steve,” he defends weakly. He hasn’t, not really. He just… he doesn’t want to get hurt.
Okay yes, Eddie is practically in love with the guy, but that doesn’t mean Steve feels the same about him. They’re friends, that’s it. Steve is going to find some beautiful girl and get married and have the houseful of kids he’s always wanted and Eddie will be here, still pining from afar. He knows it would be easier to just forget about him, and forget about the feelings clutching his heart like a starved hawk with its first fulfilling catch in months. That’s why he’s been slowly letting go over the past few weeks, trying—and failing—to get that stupid pretty boy out of his head. Of course, it’s not working, and every day he spends not talking to Steve feels like hell.
So no, he’s not avoiding Steve. He just doesn’t think he could survive it if he confesses and Steve rejects him completely. Staying away means he won’t accidentally reveal his feelings for the man, and judging by how much he’s feeling, it wouldn’t be very hard for that scraggly cat to come clawing and screeching out of the proverbial bag.
Robin, however, thinks the opposite because according to the look she’s giving him, she says he absolutely fucking has.
Eddie sighs. “Okay, maybe I have just a little bit but it’s not—“
Eddie freezes, stomach plummeting as Robin's rambling words take purchase in his mind. She said Steve was doing something stupid, something that could kill him. Flashes of a night now a distant memory play in his mind, one filled with panicked breaths, stilted tears, and a bloody bat with nails.
“Robin… What do you mean by ‘stupid shit’?” Eddie asks tentatively. Part of him wants to know the answer, while part of him fears the idea of ever finding out. Robin only gives him a confused look and crosses her arms.
“Eddie, that’s totally not the point of this conversation and you know it—“ Eddie cuts her off by waving his hands.
“Robin! Just…” he trails off. Should he tell her about Steve? He promised he wouldn’t but…
“Okay, I have to tell you something about Steve but please please don’t tell him I told you because I promised him I wouldn’t but if you also know something about him then I think you should know about this too,” he rushes out, words tumbling fast out of his mouth as his lungs scream for air. Robin’s icy glare has melted a bit, turning into one of anxiety and caution.
He sighs and flops down on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees as he looks down at his hands. He feels more than sees Robin sit next to him and he knows he has her attention.
“What happened, Eddie?” She prompts, and he takes it as a sign to continue.
“I had a visit from Steve awhile back, around four or five days ago,” he begins. “It was early in the morning and I couldn’t sleep so I was writing notes for a new campaign idea in the living room. I could feel that something was… off, so I looked out the window and there he was.”
He ran a hand over his face, pushing his bangs back and pulling on the ends. He glances over at Robin to find her looking at him. He squeezes his eyes closed for a moment before looking back at her.
“He wasn’t all there, Robin. Like… like he was trapped in his mind or something. I thought,” he huffs a deprecating laugh, “for a moment there, I thought he was cursed.”
He doesn’t mention that the image found its way in his head and can’t seem to find its way out, like a stubborn housefly who keeps banging against the glass hoping to be freed. The thought of Steve floating—eyes rolled back in his head while his lids flutter and his limbs shudder and break one by one—has kept him awake on more nights than he can count. The thought of him being subjected to his worst nightmares given life, all the lies that he tells himself turned to truth. The thought of Eddie being completely helpless, watching him die in agony in front of him.
He doesn’t mention that every night since then, he’s called Steve. He needed to hear his voice, to know he was okay. To know he was alive. He never got a call back.
“I got him to come inside but he didn’t stay long. Something spooked him, I think, I just… I don’t know, it was really weird. Like…” he trails off, unable to find the words.
“Like he was in fight or flight mode?” Robin suggests, and he nods.
“Pure instinct.”
Robin groans. “Shit, this is worse than I thought.”
“Wait, did he tell you?” He asks. Steve was so insistent on Eddie not telling her—made him promise, in fact—so why…?
“Well… after a very long, very emotional, and very vulnerable conversation, yes. He told me on his own terms though, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she supplies. “He… He didn’t tell me a ton of details, though. Not… Not like that.”
There’s a pause as Robin clenches her eyes closed and looks away from him.
“I didn’t know it was that bad,” her voice comes out just barely above a whisper, something he wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t right next to her. Eddie stays silent, unwilling to break the solemn mood. Robin, however, misses that message entirely as she smacks his arm.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me, doofus?!” She accuses, giving him a half-hearted glare that is no less threatening. Eddie holds his hands up in surrender, unable to hide the exasperated look on his face.
“He made me promise!!” Eddie defends. “Plus he gave me those damn puppy dog eyes and I couldn’t say no.”
“He is really good at that, especially when he wants something. He says he has no clue but I bet you he does,” Robin whispers, almost conspiratory as if they’re sharing a terrible secret. Eddie can’t help but smile and shake his head. Screw Harrington and his stupid pretty eyes.
“Did he say anything else while he was here?” Robin asks after a moment of silence.
“No, that was the only thing he said really, other than an absent ‘I’m fine’ before he bolted out the door. It was a very uh… one-sided conversation,” Eddie explains. “He mostly gave only one or two word answers before he panicked and ran.”
“I’m gonna assume he didn’t tell you why he left?” She asks, and at the shake of his head she curses. “Fuck.”
“Fuck indeed.”
Robin shifts beside him, raising her hand to mindlessly chew on her thumbnail. He thinks the conversation is over. Or, rather, wishes it were over.
That universal god must really hate Eddie today because Robin roughly shakes her head and waves her hands around, letting out a huff.
“Okay, one problem at a time. That was totally not the point of this little talk and you know it, Munson,” she admonishes. “Why. Are. You. Avoiding. Steve?”
She punctuates each word with a, quite literal, punch to the arm. Eddie reels back, dramatically clutching his bruised arm and gives her a fake glare.
“Ow!!” He rubs his arm. For her incredibly bony arms, she really can pack a punch. He’s only half joking that it hurts.
“Answer the question!”
“Fine fine…” he takes a deep breath, knee bouncing with building anxiety before he stands up, unable to quell the urge to move. He paces twice in front of the coffee table before he has the nerve to look at her waiting gaze.
“So, as you know, I am a raging homosexual,” he states, and at his pause, she nods. “And I miiiiiight have a teeny weeny, itsy bitsy, enormous crush on him.”
The end of his sentence is rushed out, words jumbled together as he screws his eyes closed and waits for… whatever Robin’s response is going to be. He waits for five seconds. Then ten. Then twenty-five because yes he’s counting. If he knows one thing about Robin Buckley it’s that she doesn’t know when to stop talking so silence is a very rare occurrence for her and now its been a whole minute and something must be wrong so he opens his eyes to find her—
The only word that even remotely comes close to encompassing the expression on her face is seething.
He instinctively takes a step back.
“Edward Lee Munson you better explain yourself right fucking now or I swear to every god out there that I will rip out your spleen and feed it to the neighborhood dogs before you take a step out that door,” Robin all but growls out, eyes icy and cold as they stare through him. He’s quick to explain because he really quite values his spleen, thank you very much.
“Okay, okay, geez I get it! Fine,” he huffs. “I’ve been avoiding Steve because it’s hard to be around him.”
Robin only raises an eyebrow. Eddie groans. He really wishes he didn’t have to explain his big, fat, gay love this early in the morning.
“It’s hard because he’s so…. So Steve all the time. He’s so kind and caring and hot— god, Birdie, he’s so fucking hot—“
“Okay, yeah, I didn’t need to know that,” Robin interrupts.
“Sorry,” he says, a bit sheepish. “Every little smile he gives me feels like a swarm of butterflies are fighting horde-style to get out of my stomach. I just…
“I think I’m in love with him,” Eddie confesses. The way her eyes blow wide is comical, and he’s half expecting them to pop and burst like they do in cartoons.
“But I know better,” he gives her a sad smile. “I know that I’m not special, he doesn’t mean it like that. Like I want it to. And…. And I know he never will.
“I thought that distancing myself would make the feelings go away, make it… I don’t know, hurt less? But not seeing Steve at all… fuck, it hurts worse than dying and I know what that feels like. Now I don’t even have him as a friend,” he scoffs at himself, shakes his head a little and focuses on a framed picture of him, Steve, Robin, and Dustin from graduation on the wall. Focuses on how Steve’s arm is wrapped around his shoulders, hand gripping his upper arm as he smiles shyly at the camera. How Eddie himself is leaning into his side, tucked under his arm as if he belongs there. As if he’ll ever belong there. He looks back at Robin.
“But this is what’s best. I can’t have my stupid heart feeling things my brain knows it shouldn’t,” Eddie ends his little speech by flopping back down on the couch. Part of him regrets telling her, but another small, itty bitty part is almost grateful.
Eddie’s always had a way of caring too much, even from a young age. Wayne could tell you better than anyone that Eddie has always had a soft side. He could tell you that Eddie refused to let him kill any of the bugs that got into the trailer when the weather turned cold and insisted that they be put outside under the trailer where it was at least a little warmer. He could tell you that every time Eddie would see another person cry, he would too.
He’s just always been like that, so carrying this around with him everyday? It was becoming too much to bear, having to put on a face around everyone so no one could tell. So no one could see how it was breaking him inside. Wearing him down to the bone. Slowly, slowly killing him.
Robin sighs beside him and he had almost forgotten she was there. Her voice is quiet and strangely gentle as she speaks.
“Why do you think that, Eddie?”
What?
“What?” He asks incredulously and knows his face is in a similar state to his voice.
“Why do you think Steve wouldn’t like you like that? Has he said anything to make you think he wouldn’t?” She clarifies, which really doesn’t clarify anything at all for him because what?
“Um… are we talking about the same Steve? You know, Steve Harrington, Hawkins’ resident ladies man? Why the fuck would you think I’d have a shot?” He explains. “He’s so painfully straight and I am so painfully not, Robin.”
Robin just looks at him like she’s trying to read his mind. Or, rather, push a thought into his mind. Waiting for something to click. It doesn’t. Eddie rolls his eyes.
“Besides, Steve never tried to talk to me about the whole distance thing, so I just—“
“You know what happens when people assume things, Eddie,” Robin interrupts.
“—figured that he didn’t mind,” Eddie finishes with a glare. Robin closes her eyes and takes a breath as if calming herself. She pinches her nose, right between her eyes like Steve always does when he’s frustrated or tired, and turns to him. She takes his hands in hers, and her face is only a mere mask of calm, the tumbling waves of anger rolling just under the surface.
“Eddie,” she begins. “Have you ever thought of the possibility that Steve doesn’t talk about his feelings? That he would keep it all bottled up inside like he does with literally everything else?”
Well, when she puts it like that…
“Fuck.”
“Yeah,” Robin agrees. “I only found out about this whole… thing two days ago and that was only because I just so happened to catch him falling asleep at work. He wouldn’t have told me if I didn’t ask him, I know that for sure. He… Eddie, he honestly believes that this is all his fault. That he’s the one that fucked everything up between you and he kids.”
Eddie’s brain screeches to a halt. “Wait, what do the kids have to do with this?”
“You haven’t told them anything?” Robin asks, eyes going a little wide.
“Have I told a bunch of teenagers—whose opinions I regretfully respect—that I have a crush on their babysitter? No, I have not.”
“Okay, yeah that was a stupid question, sorry,” she amends. “Just… the kids are avoiding Steve and I can’t think of a reason why.”
“They’re what!? Wait, why haven’t I heard of this until now?” Eddie exclaims. Robin gives him a look that makes him deflate a little. “Let me guess, you only found out two days ago?”
“Bingo, we have a winner!” Robin fake cheers, raising her arms in a mock-celebratory fashion. She drops them with a huff. “They haven’t talked to him in weeks, Eddie, and I think it’s because you have been avoiding him.”
Her tone isn’t accusatory, but it still makes him feel like shit.
“They must have picked up the sense that something was going on between you two and assumed they should be avoiding him too,” she suggests. Eddie leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“I don’t get how they could think that, though. I mean, Steve has been nothing but good to them for years now.”
“I know,” Robin agrees. “But they’re kids. Stupid, dumb, ungrateful kids, but they’re still kids.”
Eddie drops his head in his hands, pressing hard on his eyes until spots form behind his eyelids.
“I really fucked this up, didn’t I?” He asks it rhetorically, but Robin gives a noise of agreement anyway. “How do I fix this, Birdie?”
“You could start by talking to him,” Robin suggests.
Now isn’t that a terrifying thought?
Because knowing you have feelings for someone is one thing, but telling them? That’s something so far out of the realm of possibility for him that he’s never even thought about considering it.
“Have you lost your fucking mind, Buckley?” Eddie exclaims, looking over at her with wide eyes. “I’d like to keep all my teeth if you don’t mind. I mean, I know I’m not your type and everything but some poor schmuck would probably like to look at this face one more time before it's beat all black and blue.”
Robin only rolls her eyes at his rambling—which is rather hypocritical of her if you ask him, since she seems to treat rambling as an Olympic sport she plans on winning every time she opens her mouth. She grabs his face between her hands and honest to god shakes him.
“I can’t tell you everything, but I’m telling you to trust me and talk to him,” she practically demands, giving him a pointed look much like the one from before. Except he still doesn’t know what it means, as that final piece has yet to click into place.
He nods in her hold, partially afraid of her now, and she releases him.
“We need to fix this. Now,” Eddie insists. He looks over at her. “We need to talk to the kids.”
Eddie stands up, running to his room and groaning at the mess he left. Tossing his sheets and blankets back on the bed, he reaches under his bed for the walkie he knows he last saw under there three days ago. Except, it’s not there. He stands up, scrunches his eyebrows, and thinks.
Let’s see… it was next to the keychain that was on top of the VHS sitting on the books on the corner of the desk, then he moved it when he had to answer one of Lucas’ questions which he did while he walked around the trailer and he laid it down when he finished to get some cheese from the fridge, meaning—
Eddie runs back to the kitchen, finding the walkie on top of the fridge, right where he thought it would be.
“Got ya!” He grabs it and runs back to the living room where Robin is waiting very impatiently.
“Where even was that?” She asks but he ignores her, electing to set the frequency so he can talk to the kids all at once instead of answering her. He presses the button.
“This is Eddie the Banished calling an emergency Hellfire meeting pronto,” he orders into the speaker. “I repeat, emergency Hellfire meeting.”
He waits for a response. One minute. Two minutes. Three—
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Eddie mumbles, pressing the button again. “Over.”
Immediately, Dustin responds. “Hear you loud and clear, Eddie. Is this a code red situation? Over.”
“Nope, not a code red. More of a uh…” he glances over at Robin who shrugs. “Code yellow? I think. Over.”
“What the hell is ‘code yellow’? We don’t even have one of those,” comes Erica’s, as always, sarcastic remark. Eddie can faintly hear Lucas yelling in the background.
“Munson, you better not be shitting with us.”
“I promise you, Red, I wouldn’t. Not about this.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, people! You’re supposed to say ‘over’ when you’re done talking! Over.”
“Shove it, Dustybuns, the adults are talking.”
Eddie has to hold the walkie away from him at Dustin’s responding shriek. He presses a hand over his eyes. These kids are going to kill him one day.
“Guys, this is serious. Just get your asses over to my trailer as soon as possible. Robin’s already here, does someone have Little Byers and Supergirl?”
“I’ve got them. Over and out,” Mike responds.
“Erica and I are on our way. Over and out,” Lucas says.
“Be there in fifteen. Over and out,” Dustin declares. Eddie glances at Robin, sharing equally nervous and worried looks. This is not going to be fun.
Thirty minutes later, all of the kids are cramped in Eddie’s living room. Lucas, Max, El, and Mike are scrunched together on the couch, while Will and Dustin sit on the floor in front of them. Erica claimed Wayne’s recliner as soon as her and Lucas got there, refusing to move for the older teens.
Robin is standing next to him, hands on her hips again—really driving home the whole “Steve is my platonic soulmate” bit—as he stands there with his arms crossed. The two of them remind Eddie of disappointed parents about to tell off their kids, which, in reality, isn't too far off.
“Okay, what the hell?” Dustin asks, still breathless from the trek there. “I literally just got home an hour ago. Why did you call us and make us bike all the way here in the heat?”
“Because you deserve it for being shitheads,” Eddie defends and rolls his eyes. He’s met with a cacophony of dweeby teen voices as they retaliate.
“What did we do this time?”
“What?! We didn’t do anything!”
“What did Dustin do, now?”
“Me? Why am I the one being blamed? I wasn’t even here!”
“Because you’re too damn nosey, dude.”
“Ouch, Lucas. Ouch.”
“Hey!” Eddie yells, clapping his hands to get their attention. It startles them all enough to quit talking over each other and look back up at him. “Okay, I’m just going to get to the point. Why are you all avoiding Steve?”
Mike gives him a confused look and crosses his arms, his expression the epitome of teenage angst.
“We thought you hated Steve, dude. You would always leave the room whenever he was around with some shitty excuse so we just decided to do the same,” Mike answers. Dustin nods from his spot on the floor.
“Yeah, we all thought he did something or said something to you since every time we brought him up, you’d shut the conversation down somehow. It just… naturally progressed from not talking about him to not talking to him either,” Dustin explains.
“Steve stopped showing up to things, too. He used to help me practice but he’s not shown up in weeks,” Lucas adds.
“Mom’s gotten really worried about him. He’s not shown up to dinner in a while, either,” Dustin chimes in. He shrugs. “We just thought the feeling was mutual.”
Eddie clenches his eyes closed and throws his head back. Fuck, this is worse than he thought. He hears Robin shift beside him, and knows firsthand the look she’s giving them right now.
“Have any of you even considered asking Steve about this?” Robin asks accusatively. “Or even talking to him about anything other than rides or movie nights?”
Silence falls over the room, so thick and suffocating that Eddie briefly prefers the air of the Upside Down to this. He pulls his hair, scrunching down on the floor and balancing on the pads of his feet.
“This is all my fault,” he groans, twisting strands of hair frustratedly.
“It is,” Robin agrees and ignores the glare Eddie sends her way for that. “But we can still fix this.”
“Wait, what’s going on?” Mike asks.
“Why does Eddie look three seconds away from strangling himself with his hair?” Max hesitates, sounding the most cautious he’s ever heard her. Eddie groans and avoids eye contact with the group.
“The reason I’m avoiding Steve isn’t because I hate him. It’s uh… quite the opposite, actually,” he explains, nervously fidgeting with his rings and pulling a thick strand of hair to hide his face. He glances at Robin, who gives him an overly enthusiastic thumbs up, and he rolls his eyes.
Max and Erica give him equally smug smirks while Will looks at him with wide, understanding eyes. The rest of the group, however, look confused.
“Wait, then why are you avoiding him?” Dustin asks.
“Dude, that makes zero sense,” Mike counteracts. El just looks lost, almost like she’s trying to read his mind. Which… he really wouldn’t be surprised if she could at this point. Eddie sighs.
“That’s not the point,” Eddie redirects. “The point is that an issue with me and Steve shouldn’t affect you guys’ relationship with him.”
“Yeah,” Robin agrees, and he deftly ignores the pointed look she sends his way. “Steve has been there for all of you for years.
“Dustin, wasn’t it Steve who helped you catch D’art when he escaped from your cellar? He bought pounds of meat for you to lure a demodog away with, then fought a pack of them by himself to keep you safe. Steve put himself in the line of fire again against said demodogs in the tunnels after he was beaten unconscious by Billy, then sacrificed himself to Russians just so you and Erica could make it out alive a year later.”
Dustin clamps his mouth shut from its gaping position—likely from him wanting to defend himself from the truth—and has the decency to look sheepish. Eddie turns his gaze to Lucas.
“Lucas, wasn’t it Steve who helped you train for basketball when you started to show an interest in it? He practiced with you every week, even after a long shift at work or when he felt like shit, just because you asked. Steve protected you against Billy because it was the right thing to do, and took a beating so you wouldn’t. Not many people can say they’d do that for someone else, especially not against anyone as vicious as Hargrove,” Eddie adds. Lucas drops his head in his hands, knee bouncing from his place on the couch.
“Max,” Robin begins. “Steve checked up on you every day after Billy died. He would bring you food or ice cream or a distraction, but he was always there. He would drive you to the arcade just to cheer you up, let you beat him at Dig Doug and Pinball just to see you smile. Steve was terrified to let you be the bait for Vecna, he… he kept telling me that he wished it was him instead. That he should be the sacrifice, not you.”
Robin wipes her eyes where they begin to tear up, and Eddie uses the pause to look at Mike. He still has his arms crossed, but the smartass look on his face has dwindled a little.
“Mike, I know you don’t like Steve because of him and Nancy, but you can’t hold onto that grudge forever. What happened between them had nothing to do with you, so there's no need to be mad at him for it,” Eddie states. Mike isn’t looking at him now, and something tells Eddie that the kid just needs a reality check. Hopefully, this will work. “Steve has been protecting you from the beginning, even when you were more than hostile to him. You’ve at least got to give him credit for that.”
Eddie looks around, sees the morose expressions on the kids’ faces.
“Steve has picked you all up countless times from Hellfire, waiting the entire session out in the parking lot while wasting away in his car. He was there rain or shine, snow or sleet, and he never missed a day. Not once,” he states.
Eddie first found Steve’s presence after Hellfire to be confusing, an anomaly. He didn’t know that the Steve the kids talked about was the same Steve he had a debilitating crush on in high school, not until he saw him waiting outside after the first session the kids attended, leaning against his maroon BMW like a Calvin Klein model. A ball of anxiety formed in his stomach at the sight, because one thing about Steve Harrington was that he’s unpredictable. Eddie just didn’t know if it was good or bad yet.
“You know, usually when people graduate they tend to stay away from high school, not willingly come back,” Eddie teased.
His words seemed to spark some life into Steve, as he jolted from his relaxed position against the hood to stand firmly beside his car. Steve ran a hand through his hair, and looked Eddie up and down.
“You’d probably know more about that if you managed to actually graduate, Munson,” Steve quipped, but it wasn’t mean. He had a smile on his face, and the air around him was friendly. Some of the anxiety churning in Eddie’s gut eased at the sight.
“Besides, who says I’m here willingly?” Steve asked rhetorically, as Dustin made his appearance by running up to him and immediately began talking his ears off about the new campaign. Steve turned his full attention on the boy, nodding along to certain comments even when Eddie knew for sure Steve didn’t know what the hell Henderson was talking about. The other kids soon crowded around the former jock, all talking so incredibly fast that Eddie was surprised the sound barrier survived their cracking voices.
Eddie watched as Steve glanced at him over the kids’ heads, giving him a loose smile and a shrug as if saying, ‘what can ya do?’
Soon, all the gremlins piled into Steve’s fancy car, still talking and gesturing wildly with their hands. Eddie had a passing thought that he should get Steve some earplugs or something to at least help drown out the noise. He immediately shook his head at the thought and jumped in his old, beat up van, driving home to an empty trailer and trying desperately to forget Steve Harrington existed.
“He always waits until the excitement starts to wear off before he takes you all home, letting you talk to each other for nearly an hour after each session despite the fact he never has a clue what you’re talking about. He always listens to you guys, no matter what,” Eddie supplies. “Did you guys know he has mixtapes for each of you?”
At the question, they all look at him with varying degrees of confusion and an all-too-late realization. Eddie huffs, while Robin mutters something under her breath that sounds a lot like, ‘of course they didn’t.’
“There’s one for each of you, filled with songs you like or mentioned liking at some point despite some of them not being his own taste. He listens to you, all of you, and it fucking hurts to know you don’t see that,” he exposes, and part of him regrets letting a bit of his anger out. Though, the kids need to know this is serious, that you can’t go through life assuming the worst in people, so if being angry is what it takes then so be it.
The kids have various emotions on their faces, ashamed and regretful being the two most prominent. Dustin clears his throat and looks up at Eddie, flicks his eyes to Robin, and returns them to his lap.
“I… I didn’t realize he did so much for us,” Dustin quietly admits, and a small part of Eddie cheers at finally teaching the kid a thing or two about humility.
“We’ve been taking advantage of him for… for so long,” Lucas breathes out. Max nods morosely beside him, and Will raises a shaky hand to cover his mouth.
Mike rolls his eyes, still petulantly crossing his arms. “Why should we even care about him? All he’s probably doing is wallowing in his fancy house or something.”
He says it with a layer of snark so thick, all the kids turn to him with varying levels of bitchy glares. Eddie, however, can tell his attitude is a mask, a way for him to hide how he’s truly feeling to prevent from being too vulnerable. From being too open. Eddie knows a lot about that.
It started when Eddie was four and he scraped his knee on the harsh gravel outside his parents’ run-down home in Kentucky. Tears rolled down his chubby cheeks as he ran inside to tell his mom, who he knew would take care of him. She told him to play outside, and not come in until she told him so, but his knee really hurt and he was scared they would have to cut it off if it bled too much. At least, that’s what Charlie—a kid who lived two streets over—said they would do.
When he stepped over the threshold, something felt off. The house was quiet, more so than normal, and it set him on edge. The TV was filled with static that grated on his little ears, and he covered them with his hands as he made his way over to turn it off. He picked up the antenna off the floor, wondering how it got knocked off the top of the TV in the first place. He looked around the living room, finding it in a similar state of disarray. He followed the trail of broken things before him; the overturned coffee table, a spilled ashtray, a stray pillow, and the chair his dad always sat on, pushed far out of its normal place. He questioned who could have messed up his house like this, leaving a big mess behind.
He found his answer when he ventured into the kitchen, just a few short steps from the living room, and found his mother laying on the floor. She was on her stomach, arms splayed out as if she tried to catch her fall and head turned to look at the doorway where little Eddie stood. Her eyes were closed but she was still breathing, the floral pattern of her dress moving with each breath. Shards of ceramic were spread out around her, littered with droplets of dark blood that spilled from a cut on her forehead. It dripped down the side of her face, along the curve of her cheek and onto the floor where it formed a small puddle. Her skin was pale in the artificial light of the house, the soft yellows doing nothing to soften the tones of her ashen face.
“Mama!” He ran up to her, falling to his knees beside her still body. He shook her, trying to get her eyes to open, but all it rewarded him was a pained grunt. His eyes welled with tears again, this time for his Mama, but nothing he was doing was working.
A shadow fell over the floor and he looked up to find his father blocking the light from the gold-colored light fixture above the kitchen table. His face was stern and dirty looking, his stubble well past the point of a five o’clock shadow and leaning more towards a sleazy strip club owner. There was a smear of blood on his face from his hand, which he noticed was bruised around the knuckles. However, the sight of what was in his other hand made him freeze, entire body going stock still.
In his father’s left hand were the remnants of the broken plate on the floor, the jagged edges cutting into his skin where he gripped it tightly. Matching blood littered the edge, and a splatter of the dark liquid traveled up his hairy arm and disappeared into his rolled up flannel sleeve.
He looked up at the figure before him, and the tears spilled over against his will.
“What happened to Mama?” He asked. “Why won’t she wake up?”
“‘Cause she’s sorry, son,” his dad answered, throwing down the ceramic and causing it to shatter against the floor. Eddie flinched, and his father caught the motion. He hadn’t been able to quell it, hadn’t learned how to hide his fear yet. The man scowled at him, lip curling as he grabbed Eddie’s arm and hauled him off the floor in one solid motion.
“She’s weak, Edward,” he began. This close, Eddie could see the redness of his eyes, and the deep purple bags that hang underneath. “Just like all women. Do you wanna be weak, boy?”
Eddie shook his head, and his father gripped his arm tighter. “Answer me!”
“N-No sir,” Eddie muttered, voice small and weak in the face of his father.
“Then stop that fucking crying, don’t be a sissy. I ain’t raising a fucking faggot, Edward.”
With that, his dad dropped his arm and stumbled into his bedroom down the hall. As soon as his figure was gone, Eddie turned back to his mom, crouching next to her. Sometime when his dad was talking, her eyes had opened and her breathing grew stronger. Eddie felt like it was nothing short of a small miracle.
“Mama, are you okay?”
“‘M okay, baby,” she replied, pushing herself off the floor with a grunt. She sat up with Eddie’s help, and frowned when she saw the reddened mark on his arm. “I shouldn’t have let him do that to you.”
“You were hurt, Mama. ‘S not your fault,” Eddie reasoned, pulling his arm out of her grasp to wipe at some of the blood on her face. “You’re bleeding, too.”
“Oh,” she began, reaching up to touch the wound as if she hadn’t realized it was there. “It’s nothing, Eddie, just a little scratch. Mama will be okay, promise.”
She didn’t look okay, this close, with her sunken-in face and slowly forming black eye Eddie hadn’t been able to see before. But his Mama was always right. Always.
“Pinky promise?” Eddie asked, holding out his little pinky. His Mama smiled, and raised a shaky hand to lace her pinky with his.
“Pinky promise.”
A year later, he was riding in the car with his Mama, backpack at his feet. She was dressed nicer than he ever remembered her being; a baby blue, short-sleeved dress hugged her slender frame, paired with white heels, white bug-eyed sunglasses, and a sheer white scarf she had tied around her hair. Her suitcase was in the trunk, but his father was nowhere to be found.
“Mama?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Where’s Dad?” He asked. His Mama cleared her throat before she answered, voice shaky.
“He’s not coming with us, Eddie,” she said. “We’re going somewhere far away from him. Somewhere new.”
“Where?”
“Have a look for yourself, honey,” she said, pointing to the window. Eddie crawled up on his knees to look out, seeing a sign welcoming them to a place called Hawkins. He sat back down in his seat, looking back at his mother.
“What’s here?” He asked. His mother smiled.
“Your Uncle Wayne. He’s my brother,” she supplied. “We’re just going to pay him a little visit, okay?”
A few short minutes later, they were parked in front of a small trailer, a gruff looking man waiting for them on the newly-built porch. They got out of the car and Eddie grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders before his Mama led him up the steps.
“Eddie, this is Uncle Wayne,” his Mama informed. He looked up at her and she nudged his arm, urging him to say something.
“H-Hello, sir,” Eddie greeted, sticking out his small hand for the man to shake. Wayne huffed a laugh and crouched down, causing Eddie to take a step back on instinct, before he took his hand and shook it.
“Nice to meet ya, Eddie,” Wayne began. He let go of his hand but stayed crouched. “You can call me Wayne, or Uncle Wayne, or Uncle, or—hell, Todd for all I care. Just none of that ‘sir’ business, you got me?”
Eddie smiled and nodded. “Sorry, si—uh, Uncle Wayne.”
“That’s better, boy,” Wayne said, smiling as he clapped his shoulder softly. Wayne had kind eyes, blue and soft around the edges. They weren’t mean like his fathers. Instead, they looked exactly like his Mama’s—save for a few extra wrinkles around the edges. “Why don’t you go on inside while your Mama and I talk?”
Eddie did as he was told, walking in the trailer and taking in his surroundings. It was small, smaller than his house, but cozy. A couple mugs were hung up on the wall, paired with three trucker hats and a framed picture he was too far away to see. An old, floral patterned couch sat on the long wall of the living room, a coffee table in front littered with an opened can of Coke and a half-eaten bag of chips. The windows were open to let light in, making the space feel much bigger than it actually was.
He stepped into the kitchen, just a pace away from the living room, and took in the red-toned wooden cabinets and cream countertops stained with coffee rings yet to be wiped away. There was a hallway to his left where he found a single bedroom and a bathroom. The bathroom was small, just big enough for a stand-up shower, toilet, and sink. A single toothbrush sat in the cup on the side of the sink along with a bar of soap and an almost empty tube of toothpaste. On the other side of the sink though, Eddie noticed an unopened toothbrush. It was blue and had sparkles throughout its plastic. At the bottom, there was a small dog sticker and it made him smile a little.
His attention soon wandered to the bedroom, where he found a little twin-sized bed and tons of boxes. The bed was bare, save for a folded up quilt near the bottom with a pillow on top. The boxes were filled with various things; clothes, books, a cassette player, shoes, and tons of other small trinkets. He sat on the ground, pulling a box closer to look through it. There were thin books near the top labeled ‘Hawkins High’, and he flipped through it to find pictures upon pictures of people. He read the names, sounding them out to see if he could get them right. Some of them were weird, though, and he quickly put the book down to look at something else.
There was a box of cassette tapes to his left and Eddie scooted over to look through it. There were tons of names he didn’t recognize as he rifled through the plastic cases, though one stood out to him.
He picked up the Fleetwood Mac tape along with the cassette player from a box near the closet, plugging it into the wall and putting the tape in. He eyed the front door, seeing it still firmly closed. Just then, the tape clicked, causing him to jump, and he pressed play.
The familiar voice filled his ears, and he smiled. He and his Mama used to listen to Fleetwood Mac back home in the kitchen while they made supper, singing along with the tape or the radio to fill the house with music. The sound of it brought a smile to his face, and he closed his eyes as he listened to the words.
Engrossed in the music, he barely registered that the front door had both opened and closed until a soft hand was laid on his shoulder.
“Eddie, baby, I have to go,” his Mama said, and he jumped to his feet. He kinda felt bad about going through Uncle Wayne’s things without him being there, but if they were leaving then he didn’t think he would get too mad.
“Where are we going now, Mama?” Eddie wondered. His mother’s face turned pinched, and she lifted her glasses to look at him directly. She wore make-up, much more than she usually did, and as she crouched down Eddie could see it was barely disguising a bruise along the top of her right cheekbone.
“Eddie, only I’m leaving,” his Mama corrected. “You’re staying here with Wayne.”
At that, his whole world fell apart.
His mother, his Mama, was leaving him. It didn’t seem fair that he couldn’t go with her, that he couldn’t stay with his Mama like he wanted to. Wayne seemed nice from their brief interaction, but he didn’t know him. Not like he knew his Mama.
His stomach sank to his feet, and it felt as if someone poured ice-cold water over him. His eyes grew wide as tears welled, spilling over his cheeks.
“Why, Mama?” Eddie sobbed, wiping at his face because he wasn’t supposed to cry. “Why can’t I go with you?”
“You just can’t, Eddie, I’m sorry,” she stated. It felt hollow, her explanation. Like she was hiding something.
“But why?”
“Because you just can’t, Eddie!” She snapped, and Eddie’s breath caught. She sounded mad, but Eddie had never heard her get mad, not at him at least. He didn’t know what he did, only that she wouldn’t let him go with her.
She took a breath and cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“But- But you can’t leave me!” Eddie wailed. “Mama, please!”
She opened her arms and he fell into them, clinging hard enough to deem separating impossible. She hugged him back just as tight, and Eddie saw evidence of tear tracks streaking through her caked-on foundation.
“I know, baby, I don’t want to leave you either,” his Mama soothed. “But Wayne is going to take care of you, okay?”
Eddie looked over her shoulder to see Wayne leaning against one of the kitchen countertops, smiling sadly at him. Eddie screwed his eyes shut and buried his face in his mothers neck.
“You’re gonna come back, right?” Eddie mumbled before he moved to look at her. “Pinky promise you’re gonna come back for me.”
His Mama cried and wiped at her cheeks, smearing the make-up and making the bruises appear fresh on her pale skin. She held out a pinky, and Eddie laced his with hers.
“I promise, Eddie,” she said, leaning forward to kiss his forehead before getting to her feet. Her and Wayne shared a hug on her way out, and Eddie caught Wayne wiping his eyes too. He and his uncle stood on the porch as his mom drove away, waving until her taillights disappeared around the curve of the road.
That was the last time he saw his mother.
Unfortunately, it was not the last he saw his father.
He stayed with Wayne for two months until his father found him. They had grown accustomed to each other in that time, Eddie having warmed up to another parental figure and Wayne having gotten the basics down for caring for another being. Wayne insisted he start school in the fall, and he was two weeks in when all hell broke loose.
His father rolled up to the trailer in a fancy-looking sports car Eddie knew his dad didn’t have the money for. He stumbled out on the gravel, banging on the door until Wayne pulled it open.
“The hell are you doin’ here?” Wayne asked, standing firm in the doorway.
“I’m here to get my son,” his father demanded. He pushed past him and stormed the place until he found Eddie in the only bedroom—Wayne having set up a cot in the living room.
Eddie hadn’t expected to see his father again, mostly because he didn’t think the man really cared for him. That was prominent when he snatched Eddie off the bed and hauled him out of his room.
“Dad?” Eddie questioned. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m taking you away from here,” his father responded, glaring at Wayne who stood blocking the doorway.
“You’re not takin’ him anywhere, Al,” Wayne countered. He crossed his arms, looking far more intimidating than Eddie ever imagined. “He’s happy here.”
“He’ll be even more happy with me,” his dad insisted. “With his real family.”
“Son of a bitch, Al, I am his real family!” Wayne yelled. “You ain’t got the means for takin’ care of that boy, and you know it.”
His father stood toe to toe with his uncle, glaring at him. He whispered something Eddie was too far away to hear, but it made Wayne deflate completely.
Eddie didn’t want to leave. He found that these past two months with Wayne were filled with more happy memories than he ever remembered having back home. Wayne was nice, a little rough around the edges but he was a big softy inside. He cared about people, that much was evident in the way he was constantly helping people out around the park. He was a good person, so leaving him felt like his Mama all over again.
“Come on, son,” his father demanded, grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the trailer. Eddie looked back at Wayne, eyes stinging. He waved, and Wayne waved back. He watched the trailer from the backseat until he couldn’t tell which one was theirs, only facing the front when his dad snapped at him.
They rode for hours, far past the Indiana state line, until they ended up in a strange city filled with tall buildings and blinding lights that made Eddie’s eyes sting. They went through the city, stopping on the outskirts in a run-down neighborhood even more decrepit than his old house in Kentucky.
He spent two years with his dad in a city he came to know at St. Louis, but it never felt like home. Not like the trailer with Wayne, or anywhere his mother was. He learned how to hotwire cars and how to drive like a bat out of hell whenever his dad told him to. He learned that he was too much to take care of; his father constantly complained about feeding him, keeping him clothed, taking care of him like a father should. He learned that showing emotions would only get you hurt, that he had to hide them to survive. He learned what all the different white powders did to someone, how they would affect your mind and your body. How they made his father violent, or remorseful, or depressed, but never happy.
His father was on a bad trip when a rush of red and blue lights invaded their windows, sirens blaring and making Eddie’s ears ring. Their front door was kicked open, the old wood splintering easily under the force of a steel-toed boot. Police flooded the house, and Eddie was grabbed and dragged out before he had time to comprehend everything that was happening.
He was sitting in the back of a cop car with the door open, body completely still as police went in and out of their house. He couldn’t let them know he was scared out of his mind, that he was afraid of what they would do to him. He knew the best way to get through it was to show nothing at all. To be indifferent. Emotionless. It was the only thing his father taught him that he deemed useful.
His father was dragged out of the house by two policemen, kicking and screaming at them but Eddie couldn’t hear what he was saying, ears having gone deaf to anything other than the ringing in his head. Next thing he knew, his father had broken free and punched one of the officers, causing several to tackle him to the ground and handcuff him before practically throwing him into a car and hauling him away. All Eddie could do was watch, knowing there was nothing he could do to help him.
“You got somewhere to go, kid?” One of the cops that took him out of the house asked, leaning against the open door and blocking the flashing lights. Eddie nodded, and the cop took him back to the station where he called Wayne.
“Eddie, son, where are you? Are you okay? If that bastard hurt you, I swear to god—“
“Wayne,” Eddie began, his voice rough from not using it. “Can you come get me?”
A pause. “Sure, kid, where are you?”
“St. Louis,” Eddie supplied. There was cursing on the other end, muffled so Eddie couldn’t tell what was said but he knew Wayne well enough. Even after only two months, the man had become more like a father to him than his own dad ever was.
“I’m coming right now to get ya, just hold on tight, okay? I’ll be there ‘fore the morning.”
True to his word, Wayne showed up right before dawn in his beat up truck. He stormed the station like a madman, looking for him. He was rumpled, like he threw on just enough clothes to be decent before booking it all the way here. If he knew Wayne, that’s probably exactly what he did.
“Eddie? Eds, where are ya?”
“Sir,” the lady at the front desk interrupted. “I’m going to have to ask you to lower your voice—“
“Wayne!” Eddie perked up from the desk chair he was sitting at in the station, running around desks before jumping straight in his uncle's arms. Wayne held onto him just as tight, and he could’ve sworn he heard a sniffle or two come from the man.
“I was so worried, Eds,” Wayne whispered. “I tried lookin’ for ya, I swear I did, just—If I’d known he’d taken ya to another state I wouldn’t’ve stopped ‘til I searched the whole damn country.”
“I know, Wayne,” Eddie muttered. “I missed you too.”
As much as Eddie tried, he couldn’t put up that mask of indifference around his uncle. He could try, sure, but it never worked longer than five seconds before he saw right through it and it crumbled at Eddie’s feet.
“Let’s get you home, son,” Wayne insisted and before he knew it, Eddie was asleep in the passenger seat of the truck as they took the highway home.
Since then, Eddie and Wayne had become inseparable. There were no secrets between them, no masks. They weren’t needed, not when Wayne was more than good to him. They weren’t wanted, either, since Wayne made sure to remind him that showing emotions wasn’t a bad thing. That it was good, healthy.
It wasn’t until much later in middle school when he learned that having a mask was necessary sometimes. Especially when people started calling him a freak and a weirdo because he wasn’t identical to everyone else. Because he lived in a trailer with someone that wasn’t his biological parent and wore hand-me-down clothes that were baggy on him since his growth spurt hadn’t hit yet. He donned the air of indifference he had left behind long ago, letting the names and rumors bounce off his skin like water off an umbrella.
That need intensified when high school hit and the rumor mill grew exponentially. Suddenly, he was bombarded with accusations of Satanism, prison time, drug dealing—though that one was true—pet raccoons, and, at one point, an army of undead babies he sucked the life out of that he could command at will. Really, the shit people came up with was astounding, and Eddie learned to shove it all away. None of it was true—save for a couple things he would never, in a million years, tell another soul at Hawkins High—so he made sure to act like it was true. Let people believe what they want to believe. In the meantime, Eddie used it to his advantage to prevent anyone from getting too close. From looking past the barrier he put up between himself and everyone else.
So yeah, Eddie knows a little bit about where Mike’s coming from.
“Actually…” Robin starts. “Steve’s not doing so great—“
“What?!” Dustin squawks out, cutting Robin off and all but jumping up from his seated position. “Why the hell did you not start this whole damn thing with that?!”
“We were getting there, Henderson!” Eddie clarifies. “Now sit your ass down.”
Dustin—for once—does as he’s told. Eddie looks to Robin and gives her a nod, letting her have the floor.
“Steve’s got it in his head that he’s the only one allowed to sacrifice himself for us, that he’s only needed or wanted when he can put himself in the line of fire. So, like the caring dumbass he is, he’s been wandering around Hawkins at night because he’s worried that something will happen.”
“But I closed all of the gates,” El starts, head cocked and eyebrows scrunched like a confused puppy. “We are in no more danger.”
“I think part of him knows that, Supergirl,” Eddie explains. “But he needs to know for certain, to make sure you guys are absolutely safe.”
She nods, and sadness finds its way to her eyes. Eddie feels a pang of sympathy for her, knowing that learning how to live all over again is never easy.
“He’s not been sleeping much,” Robin continues. “It’s like he’s barely there anymore. Like he’s just… a shell.
“He thinks you all hate him. He thinks he deserves this for all the shit he did in the past, even though we all know he’s more than made up for it by becoming a decent fucking human being,” she spits out. There’s anger in her eyes now as she glares at a stain on the carpet, unwilling to look at the kids but needing to get her point across. “He broke down in my arms because this is the fifth fucking time the people he’s loved has left him and I think… I think this time broke him.”
She raises her head and looks over the kids, tears balanced on her lower eyelashes and threatening to spill over.
“You’re his family, the family he got to choose, and you still… you left. Just like everyone else has.”
The room fills with silence as the words sink in.
“How… How do we fix it?” Will asks, his quiet voice now loud. Eddie sighs and rakes a hand through his hair—a motion that keeps reminding him of Steve—before shoving his hands in his pockets.
“I know part of it is my fault, I admit that. I shouldn’t have just stopped talking to him all of the sudden, I should’ve… well, there’s a lot of things I should have done but I didn’t, so I plan on fixing that,” Eddie admits. He looks around the room, makes as much eye contact as he can to drive his point home. “You should too. A simple ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t going to cut it, not this time. Not for this.”
The kids all nod, and Eddie gestures to the door to dismiss them. They all look like kicked puppies with slouching posture and ducked heads, walking out of the trailer with their tails between their legs. Dustin and Mike are the first to hop on their bikes, ready to either apologize and get it over with or get as far away from his and Robin’s disappointed glares as possible. Before they can push off, Eddie calls out to them.
“Hey! Give it a couple days,” Eddie orders. “Steve… He’s going to need some time. Go to him when he’s ready, okay?”
He’s met with various nods and ‘will do’s as some of them take off, their knobbly knees hitting the handlebars of their too-small bikes. Then, he notices a particular brunette has yet to leave, her bike with little white training wheels still standing in the grass. Her big brown eyes lock with his and, even though there's a porch between them, he can feel the seriousness in her gaze.
“I miss him. He was always very nice to me,” El confesses. “He always gave me piggyback rides.”
Her face falls a little. “I did not know we were being mean to him.”
Eddie finds himself softening a little at her words.
“I know, Supergirl,” he winks at her. “That’s why you’re my favorite.”
She giggles in response and hops on her bike, meeting up with Max who stopped to wait for her a few yards away.
Eddie closes the door, falling against it with a thud. He groans, the sound bouncing off the thin door and out in the empty trailer. He turns to go to his room, preferably to wallow, before nearly jumping clean out of his skin.
Well, he thought the trailer was empty, except there now stands one Robin Buckley who has resumed her unimpressed, hands-on-her-hips, "you're a fucking dumbass" position from earlier.
"Jesus H. Christ!" He exclaims. A hand comes up to grab at his heart which is actively trying to beat out of his chest as his lungs grapple for air. "Birdie, I forgot you were there."
"Yeah," she deadpans. "Clearly."
Eddie straightens up, and quirks an eyebrow at her rather over dramatically. Robin rolls her eyes.
"Well?"
"It's a deep subject," Eddie sarcastically responds. Robin, unfortunately, doesn't find that funny. "'Well' what?"
"Go apologize!" She yells.
“Okay, okay, geez!”
Eddie pats himself down, looking for the keys to his van before Robin clears her throat. He looks over at her to see an unamused quirk of her eyebrow before she points to the hook by the door where his keys hang.
“Thanks, Buck!” he exclaims, pressing his hands together in prayer to the saint she is. Grabbing them, he throws the door open and clears the steps in one jump, stumbling a bit on the landing but really, he’s quite proud of this rare athletic appearance.
Jumping in his van, he slams a random tape in the deck, grinning a little at the song that plays first. Despite his obvious avoidance of the second track, the Master of Puppets album still holds a very special place in his heart. So it's really not a surprise that the song that just so happens to play first reminds him of the very man he’s going to see, sacrificial tendencies and all.
He slams on the gas, tires squealing as he peels out of Forest Hills trailer park faster than he ever has before.
He’s not running away this time; not running from a small cheerleader’s body trapped on his ceiling, not running from angry town hicks with their fiery pitchforks, and not running from a creepy interdimensional demon who enjoys sucking the life out of depressed teenagers.
No, this time, he’s running to something. Running to Steve.
He just hopes Steve will let him.
———
Permanent tag list: @tea-beloved @estrellami-1 @mericatty @bookworm0690
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#stranger things#steddie#pre steddie#disposable heroes#disposable heroes mcir#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things drabble#stranger things fic#robin buckley#robin gets to punch eddie like she wanted to#eddie munson backstory#i gave him a life oops#domestic violence#child abuse#homophobia#stay safe yall
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just my two cents but i don't dislike this current arc in the manga. i think it makes perfect sense for us to see the butlers & their backstories, especially right now because ciel is being treated like a fraud who stole and lived off his brother's success. this arc shows us how he recruited his own butlers/comrades and in a way how he built himself a new home/family and regained his family's glory from basically nothing? the monthly updates & short chapters might have been frustrating for some (i just caught up to the manga after binging like 200 chapters) but the direction of the story just makes sense to me
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heyyyyy remember this series? yknow, hermitcraft x the mechanisms, the one i keep thinking ill be able to post about once a week or so? well its actually apparently more of once a month instead haha. anyways heres cleo as ashes! rambling under the cut as usual!
also see: pearl as gunpowder tim, gem as drumbot brian, and mumbo as nastya-ish !
OK OK OK SO. their mechanism is their heart :) idea was from @octopus-defence-squad OH MY GOD OZ IM SO SORRY I JUST REALIZED THAT ASK WAS FROM FREAKIN SEPTEMBER and i only now just answered it even tho ive been thinkin abt it since then 😭😭
[id: a tumblr ask from @/octopus-defence-squad: having thoughts about a mechanisms cleo. maybe she’s the inverse of gem, all her body human except her heart. (i know this is jonny’s thing but i don’t necessarily love his backstory for her? maybe she was more of like. the body was found and the heart didn’t work but bc of Reasons everything else was okay except memories? idk i like cleo being maybe a bit less backstory-having before the mechanism)]
maybe she was found on a desolate planet with stone and dust for ground, inky black seas, and strange purple growth as the only sustenance 👀👀 maybe with some tall thin glowing purple friends
so anyways, the mechanisms are a steampunk band blah blah blah, they play characters as the mechanisms, an immortal space cabaret from the starship aurora travelling the stars having fun violence adventure ...and more violence! they were turned immortal by d. carmilla after dying/nearly dying idk
ashes o'reilly, the one who cleo is based off, has mechanical lungs after getting betrayed in the mob and killed off in a burning building, relevant song backstory here or a live one here in all its 2012 480p recording glory ft jonnys trademark gravelly voice and ashes being ashes (aka being ridicoulously cool 😳), its called lucky sevens, hit it.
but cleo's story is a bit different w a different backstory (found dead alone mysteriously, gets their heart replaced) but they have a similar vibe :) aka badass people who can kick your ass and also probably commit copious amounts of arson and/or murder
another inspiration for this one was this bernadette banner video haha
ALSO the skull is joe :) hes just. a talking skull idk
ALSO ALSO love the headcannon of cleo just taking other body parts for their own so thats a thing here :) hence the skin n also the cane (lil detail i kinda like, the hair maybe being like yknow how ppl put in doll hair? yea) anyways im p tired maybe ill add some more later :)
#hermitcraft#zombiecleo#zombiecleo fanart#the mechanisms#maeart#hermitmechs#this thing has gone thru so much#like 3 different drafts#a typhoon im p sure n also a cellphone change#but rly proud of it :)))
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Okay now, imma gonna rant a bunch about x-men 97, Gambit, lazy writing and the culture of "plot twists and shock value" to engage the audience in a show.
So, yeah, spoilers ahead, proceed with caution, etc.
First and foremost: Gambit DID NOT HAVE TO DIE to put Rogue in a spotlight. Actually, this is the whole "Wanda and Vision" story and an actually shitty trope of "the woman who overcomes herself through grief and denial of her love (and, at some degree, her womanhood). Like, it's been done a fucking lot of times already and in each and every new try it just gets stale to me. Now we'll have Rogue grieving and suffering and raging until she overcomes this *bad feelings* and finds her center, sublimating the loss of her one true love. At the top of my head I can tell at least three women heros (and anti-heros) with the same bullcrap background.
Second: Gambit is, and always have been, a fan favorite. Back in the day, he even had his own monthly title with very interesting story arcs. So, killing off *Gambit* has a weight. It has the "WOW! PLOT TWIST!" effect to the show. Like, "oh, game of thrones!" kinda show, "no one is safe" and blah blah blah. Which grants a show buzz, clout and engagement. Look at us: they've killed Gambit two weeks ago and here we are, raging at that, so mission accomplished. Lazy as fuck, but effective, right?
And last, but not least: it's been said by the showrruners themselves that "an important character would die in the 5th episode" (just as mentioned before, quod erst demonstrandum and all) but they were debating who this character would be and weighing their options. And - oh, snap! - they've decided to kill off the Thief Cajun with a no-so-family-friendly backstory. You know, Disney being Disney.
So, yeah. I was stoked to see the X-men again, back in their old glory from my early days and all, but then again, this one show don't seem to me to make those beloved characters of old me justice. It's the times we live in, perhaps.
Gambit is a complex character that goes WAY BEYOND his relationship with Rogue. So is Rogue. But I genuinely think a Disney show won't touch Rogue’s terrorist past, her inner conflicts and debates in a way that will make her real justice. And, about Gambit, they won't even BEGIN to make him justice if being Rogue's love interest and occasional comic relief is all they have in store for him bc his backstory as a thief with shady connections with Sinister and Marauders is off limits.
Maybe he's better off dead on that.
#x men#x men 97#gambit#remy lebeau#disney being disney#have to keep the show family friendly and safe for kids right#thieving cajuns dont stand for that#I'm gonna go back to my comics and fics now#spoilers#x men 98 spoilers
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Double Team Triumph: Donnie Drake v Chace LaChance & Brent Salvo (bgeast.com)
There's nothing like seeing an alpha wrestler in his prime and to prove this point, watching Donnie Drake take on two challengers at once is like watching an artist at work. For today's Double Team Triumph, I bring to you that time Donnie crushed Chace and Brent.
Donnie Drake v Chace LaChance & Brent Salvo (bgeast.com)
SPOILER ALERT: I highly recommend viewing this match in its entirety before reading this post.
Note that all images are property of Bgeast - the watermark did not render on this video.
The Backstory
We find said alpha wrestler, Donnie Drake, flexing and admiring himself in the ring. Can anyone blame the guy for being proud of that build? The man is a gay wrestling legend with the body to match.
He disarms his opponents with a charming and warm welcome before ...
Donnie is well on his way to using Brent as nothing more than a speed bump on his way to wrestling glory. Brent literally did not get a single shot in the entire time. At one point Donnie simply toys with the jobber, stretching that body out and having his way; Brent was powerless to put up any resistance.
The Double Team
A new challenger appears and what we're all thinking, is 'where has this cute and lean Chace LaChance been all our lives?' Following that thought, the guy comes in swinging, giving Brent a small reprieve, only to be taken down by the mighty drake.
Chace: You think you can take on two men?
Donnie: As a matter fact, I can take on two men. I'm that good.
At one point, the pair finally learn they need to double team the big guy in order to stand a chance. For the briefest of time, it looks like Donnie may have met his match.
The Triumph
Can you call something a triumph if it was always destined to be? Aside for a few seconds in the middle, Donnie owns the entire match. The velocity of Donnie was simply too much man for these two men.
The real loser (or winner depending how you look at it) however was Chace's abs - Donnie could not get enough of them throughout the fight. Like a true alpha, he clawed, grabbed, squeezed, took whatever he wanted.
But back to the double team...
And that's how one became greater than two. This match was really all about Donnie. To quote the man himself, some guys are just "too big and too strong" for their combined opponents. Now there are times when the two-against-one premise can be a bit flimsy, but this is not one of those times. There are even moments in the match when Chace and Brent truly look sorry for ever stepping into Donnie's ring, despite the odds being in their favor. Donnie takes on two wrestlers with ease and was simply "too strong" for both of them.
Donnie: This is the best day ever ... for the best wrestler that ever existed!
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A Re-Introduction to Writeblr
My name is Eric, and I'm a bit of a writer. Pansexual and in the past I identified as bisexual. I came out in 2002, but I never really brought it up either. Not until I found LiveJournal some years later. Now I'm proud of who and what I am. I've been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and ADHD. It runs in the family since some members of my father's family had Manic Depression, an old term for it. I try my best but often fail, and I apologize for when I do.
Okay with all that out of the way, as I mentioned I am a bit of a writer. My first story was a play I wrote in the fourth grade. At least the first story I can recall with more than just vague memories. Followed by sporadic writing over the years until about 2008/2009 when I started writing fanfic on a consistent basis. I will not mention the fandom here, though.
Well I have several horror stories I am writing. A cyberpunk story on hold. A fantasy-western I really need to finish up one day. Several historical fiction stories--one of them a rivals-to-lovers trope. Among some others. I write a lot of varying genres and settings.
If you are so kind donate to my ko-fi.
Hey guess what? I got an AO3 account now under afrostedlemonwriter!
Stories under the cut
STORIES
The Last of the Orc--Eithne's Faith
After her tribe was destroyed by the Norse at the beginning of the Viking Age. Eithne seeks a way to stop the tide of the vikings and the Christians that threaten to change her way of life. With the help of an old druid, she heard about a legendary weapon hidden deep in a forest at the foot of a mountain.
Find it here
By Axe & Arrow: The Saga of Teagen
Finished!
After her parents died when their longship capsized in service of Jarl Viggo Iverssen. He took in their only child, a young girl named Teagen. Born under an auspicious sign that the jarl’s seer divined weeks beforehand, he took her into his own longhouse. Without restriction, she could pursue a life of her own desire alongside with twin sisters Astrid and Helga, her best-friends, and youngest children, to the jarl. Almost forgotten, they too could find their honor and glory alongside their friend if they didn’t tear each other apart along the way. At the beginning of the viking age, many legends were still to come and Teagen would do anything to become one.
Tag: #axe&arrow
At The End of a Warm Gun
Finished!
Alexandra Sullivan is a young woman with a natural talent for marksmanship, and perhaps too strong of a sense of justice. Despite some tragedy, she doesn't stop her from pursuing her dream.
Backstory: The Union broke at the battle of Gettysburg on that second day, General Meade's larger force routed by the stubborn defense of the Confederates. Bloody familial war waged until Washington D.C., besieged and starving with its port blockade by English ships, conceded. The Confederate States of America had earned its independence -- it didn't last long.
Tag: #warmgun
ON HOLD
The Voice In The Wires
Shortly after a gifted, but troubled, high school senior--Rachel--kills herself. The junior--Danika--she tutored begins to received text messages and DMs from someone who claims to be the dead student. At first Danika calls it off as someone playing a bad prank. Yet after she finds out other students she tutored received similar messages, Danika delves deep to find who would do such a thing.
Only to find herself going down a rabbit hole that leads to experimental nano-drugs, corporate cover-ups, and a young woman who discovers an ability to directly connect to the internet--where the vengeful spirit of Rachel dwells.
Tag: #voiceinthewires
Also various other WIPs.
I have a novel I am working on that I am not quite ready to debut. Alongside various short stories.
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SABBAT!
New designs for Bing and Larry, designs for the other two members, a relationship chart...more art and info under the cut! (trust me, there's a whooole lot)
A curious bunch. Kind of an unlikely match (I mean Lasombra and Ventrue under the same roof sounds like a recipe for disaster..lol), but circumstances played their part. They may not be ideal for each other but it's all they have. Family, woof 👆
Why would I assign them with animals and elements? First off, it makes the designing process so much easier, since it creates direction. Second, it makes thematic sense. They've been denied humanity, and then they chose to keep it that way. "You see me a monster, well then, I'll be the monster" kind of situation. So, they'd rather associate with animals and elements than humans.
I could go on, but I'd rather have you experience the thing first hand in game (also doubt people would read further into this post otherwise lmao). Onto the characters!
Bing
Animal: Serpent
Element: Earth (Nature)
Main shtick: Change; Pain
Bing has more backstories than he does fingers, so nobody is quite sure on his origin. The one thing that seems certain is that he spent most of his existence in Russian Empire but fled when the civil war broke out in the 1910s. You'd think a Tzimisce of this age and history would be up to something nefarious now in Britain, but Bing is more concerned with "self search" and identity crisis. You could say he spends his retirement days here, or rather...used to spend, before one thing happened. But this, you'll learn more of playing the game XP
Bing dresses up kind of similar to the way he used to, back in the XVIII century. The outfit is rather loose (before I added clips onto the coat, I was told it looked more like a bathrobe...which, I suppose, is kind of fitting too XD), in order to leave extra room for when Bing uses Vicissitude (more on that later).
Bing's main gimmick is Tzimisce's signature, Vicissitude and the way he chooses to use it. Instead of turning his head into a giant pickle (Andrei lmao), Bing turns into different people. Not just appearance wise, it also includes voice, mannerisms, even personality. This is what I mean when I say he doesn't need to make clones - he IS the clone.
What he chooses to turn into most of the time are personas he used to "play out" during his glory days, XVIII century coups. Sometimes when prompted, sometimes just to troll others (if they dislike certain mannerisms or find the general idea of shape-shifting weird/scary).
These were crafted in accordance with the "ruler of the week", to win them over and then later "direct" them towards what Bing's Tzimisce sires and mentors needed. In a way, they are "clones" of these rulers (except maybe appearances), cuz imitation is the highest form of flattery lol
Though Bing also likes to experiment with his default form, as he doesn't find it ideal (his "true face", the one he forgot). Bing switches pronounce depending on current form (he/she/they, or anything else he feels like at the current moment).
Bing's battle form, aka the pinnacle of his Vicissitude mastery. If you happen to see it, usually it means you'll die a painful death in the next five minutes X)
Larry
Animal: Jackal
Element: Water
Main shtick: Loyalty and betrayal
Larry was dealt some shitty cards and forced upon the life of crime since early childhood. First a pirate (where he got his tan, scars, and vision problem), then a mercenary for a, uh, "dubious company" sponsored by Lasombra clan. Certain events made him overly sensitive to betrayals, so if you betray Larry, or hurt those he swore loyalty to, he will loathe you. And Larry's hatred runs deep. He always means business.
Larry's outfit is like, a modern take on pirate fashion. A bit rough around the edges, just enough to give him that "jackal" look. Larry's second name is practical, so he carries lots of belts. Never know when you mind need one.
Larry's signature, Obtenebration, comes from the Abyss and runs on his negative emotions. Which is why he's prone to lashing out and general bad mood. Needless to say it is extremely unhealthy, but power is power.
The story behind him coming to know Bing is fun. Originally, Larry was sent to kill him, but it was a set up, since Larry didn't stand a chance against that. So they kind of bonded instead, "enemy of my enemy is my friend". And after a while Larry just grew attached XDD He still goes on about murdering Bing "one day", but at this point everyone is aware it's not gonna happen like, ever.
Adella
Animal: Raven/Crow
Element: Fire
Main shtick: Control
Adella is half-chinese born in Britain. Do I need to say she didn't have a particularly fun time or is it obvious enough? From a very young age she was forced to believe she can only count on herself. Adella strived to climb the corporate ladder and get on top. To "burn her way through the obstacles". Might be lonely up there, but she was used to it either way, and she'd have the power and control to smack down anyone who tries to harm her. For now, let's just say she ended up upsetting the wrong people and had to run for her life. Sabbat was "kind" enough to let her stay under their wing.
Adella's relatively fresh meat, so her grasp on Sabbat "culture" is rather small for now. Though she is attempting to fit in more. She's determined to stay, despite whatever Larry says about her "looking for the opportunity to dump them". Adella insists she'd rather die than go back to the cammies. Bing is willing to give her the chance to prove herself.
Her and Larry's relationship is quite fun in how disastrous it is. Both constantly looking for jabs to throw at each other. The irony is, their stories and goals are kind of similar. But they're also different in ways that make their blood boil when they have to interact.
Zephyr
Animal: House centipede
Element: Wind
Main shtick: Security
Zephyr is truly a victim of circumstance. Lost ability to speak, lost all his loved ones, lost his home. Not a penny to his name, and no name either. His mind in ruin. He roamed around in the wild, until Bing found him. Seeing something familiar in him, Bing let him stay by their side. Found him a new name. A new purpose. A reason to keep on existing. Slowly, Zephyr is learning ways to communicate again. Perhaps he'll be able to remember, and tell his story one day.
Zephyr is the least human-like kindred, and looks like an atom bomb fell on his face. Despite the first impression he might create, Zephyr is a rather meek soul, doesn't seek conflict and is fine with following orders. That attitude changes when something threatens rest of the "family", though...
Zephyr is generally adored by his packmates, one could call him the "gentle giant" of the pack. Adella loves spending time with Zephyr, even Larry tolerates him. Though I'd say the most sympathy for him comes from Bing. As mentioned earlier, Bing sees a kindred spirit in Zephyr, so he is most invested in Zephyr's well being. Bing was the one to give him his new name. He's also the one learning sign language with him, so they'd have a better way of communication.
#eddsworld au#eddsworld vtm au#art#mod art#concept art#i was halfway through writing this when i realized it's gonna be way too long#if i mention ALL the things that went into them and their designs#and all the symbolism#'it's already long enough no one's gonna read that wall alice'#unless...you guys will? let me know if you want to know more nitty gritty facts 👉👈#hope you like these sillies. i had much ideas involving them#little interactions. comics maybe?#also i will obv update bing and larry's descs on character page
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Pixar’s Cars is still way better than people give it credit for
Am I writing an essay on a kids movie that fell out of relevance after the last sequel seven years ago? Yes. Is it my favorite background animated movie to put on whenever I’m working? Yes.
It goes without saying that Pixar’s catalog is still topped by movies like Incredibles, Toy Story 2, Up, Inside Out, Finding Nemo, Ratatouille, etc. Cars sat at the bottom of Pixar’s “best of” list until its sequel came out and people realized how bad Pixar movies could actually be.
But you know what? I love Cars. Is the story as deep and moving and profound as some of the others? No. But it was made with love and after what feels like the past 8 years of resounding “meh” coming from Hollywood and some of the most shameless cash grabs pretending they’re not, Cars remains my feel-good movie. It doesn’t have that classic Pixar “cry your eyes out” moment, no dead parents, no chosen ones, decently low stakes. It’s a good time, anytime.
Why I’m writing this now, though, is because of this: I knew already that the King and Chick were based off real racers, and Lightning’s “McQueen” is another homage, but I looked up if Doc was also based on a famous racer during my last rewatch and found this on Wikipedia:
Doc’s car model, the Hudson Hornet, was manufactured from 1951-1953 for its original run. In 1954, its manufacturer merged with another company and the Hornet was heavily remodeled to boost sales, only the popularity of the car never recovered. It stayed in production until ‘57. It was used in racing and that’s where Doc’s paint job in the finale draws inspiration.
But do you remember what his backstory is? 3 back-to-back Piston Cups from ‘51-’53, a crash in ‘54 that saw him rebuilt, and obsolescence upon his return.
People complain that they “didn’t need to be cars” in this movie. They’re not like the toys in Toy Story where the plot and message depends on them not being human. They’re not like the fish in Finding Nemo. They could have just been humans who drive race cars and it raises more questions than it answers.
You are wrong, Sir.
Doc’s backstory is why they had to be cars. They aren’t human because the story depends on them being machines – as Cars 3 explores more deeply. A human endurance runner can train to be the fastest, running against other humans with the same chances at success (ignoring steroids and socioeconomic opportunity). Humans aren’t running foot races against mutants or aliens where, no matter what we do, we will lose by nature of what we are.
Cars do. A car model is beholden to its manufacturing and all the complications that come with it. Cars are objects that, like toys, have obsolescence built into them. There is no “outdated” way to run a foot race.
So yes, Doc has a Tragic Backstory(tm) but it’s not just that he was some great master at the top of his game once that faded from glory like any human who got too old. He’s a car, and no matter how good he was, how many Piston Cups he won, the powers that be that made newer models with better mileage and efficiency and mechanics were always going to dethrone him.
The movie isn’t about him, though, it’s about another rookie. A rookie who lives life in the fast lane and thinks his time in the spotlight is never going to end when Doc can look at him and know exactly how wrong he is. Lightning is a race car too and, regardless of the existence of Cars 3, Lightning will also inevitably become obsolete no matter what he does to fight it.
I doubt the writers were going for this when they wrote it but that they’re machines is also a criticism of how we treat celebrities. Lightning is an entertaining story until the next shiny starlet emerges and, through no fault of his own, he’s kicked to the curb for the “new”. And that new will be cast aside for the next new and so on and so forth and the only winner is the greedy producer making money off their cash cow until they drain it dry.
Yes, the movie is about appreciating life and the things that you do have and “the friends we made along the way” but that they’re machines matters. Had they all been human, the movie would have lost half its message, and half the tragedy. If they were human driving cars, Doc wasn’t written with a disability so he could have, in theory, hopped back behind the wheel of a new car and still won against younger drivers. He’s not human, he’s a car, and he isn’t built to go as fast as newer models.
Age affects everyone, but a world made by machines that pits machines against other machines in an endurance test is inherently rigged when the machinery being tested can always improve.
It is unfortunate that both Doc and the King go out in wrecks (even though the poetry is nice) and the story doesn’t explore the existential obsolescence of being a machine designed to only do so well and be improved upon – even Lightning still has to wreck out of his big race in Cars 3 before he starts losing to the newer models.
But maybe having a Cars movie that does explore the existential obsolescence of a machine might have gone over kids’ heads. Or, maybe not? They pulled off some very mature themes in Incredibles with marriage problems and presumed infidelity that kids probably didn’t understand but still knew was not good for the characters.
Not to mention all the other wonderful details in this movie: The car-pun cities on all the license plates, the tire tracks in the sky and car-shaped natural phenomena, all the creative sponsoring brands on the racers.
How the “Life is a Highway” montage hits you over and over again with a straight road that cuts through the winding nature (the snaking river, the mountains sliced open to make room), industry that stops for nothing and scars everything in its path.
If you haven’t watched this movie in a while, do yourself a favor and find time to do so.
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How come exactly all of them got hired or found the job? (Like for example how did Sasha, who is literally from the russian tundra, found a babysitter job to be fitting, and how did all of them got to be in the exact same workplace???)
Heya! Iris here, in charge of most of the writing (the post text and even some of the in-character responses for the ask submissions) and lore alongside Domi who was in charge of the beautiful, crispy, amazing art you guys are being served with our blog! Now yes, there is lore, there is a story to be told about all of these and we actually planned to do a weekly post about the backstory of how the daycare came to be and how all of the sitters ended up in Little Wonders but both Domi and I are college students and alongside with the submissions, we got dumped so none of the lore tidbits we initially planned are done.
I do, however, have written very juicy notes about that so we'll give you a little preview of the sitter's backstories.
Please take note that this is written within the convenience that all of the agents are living in the same country (or in this case, are immigrants and/or have been born in said undisclosed country) and that the tale of their residence in that country isn't within the scope of this AU. After all, it is quite realistic for other ethnicities to move in and live in other countries for their own reasons.
So, let's begin! (I apologize in advance for the poor verb tenses [i made sure to beta read it, of course] and the google translated spanish. I should really get a hold of my past duolingo lessons 😔)
Sage - Ling Ying Wei
So she is the one that started it all. Little Wonders was quite the old daycare center and as an immigrant in a foreign country, it was quite hard to land a job because of racism and other horrible human things that weren't really inherently helpful. She landed the job at Little Wonders who was owned by an unknown individual who wanted to build a daycare. But the economical inflation caused prices to skyrocket, and the expenses in the daycare had grown demanding—Ying Wei ended up being alone after the owner and everyone else left due to the lack of budget and the loss of their clients because it has gotten unaffordable. (In short, you know those games like Lily's Garden? Yeah, she's Lily and the daycare is her garden.) Ying Wei felt lost, so she decided to vent it out to a friend and this friend decided to help out.
Skye - Kirra Foster
Kirra was the friend to the rescue. Having met in a forum online years (if not decades) ago, Ying Wei and Kirra are tight-knit and are like two peas in a pod that were separated from each other and had been joined again. She is, to put it simply, one of those dedicated online friends that you have. (Except that she actually managed to meet Ying Wei a couple of times and unlike most of us.)
In any case, Kirra heard that Ying Wei was suffering and told her everything. She flew to the country to console her, talk, and eventually offered to help her restore the daycare in its former glory for the reason that it held a special place in her friend's heart. She thought that it was quite absurd—why would Ying Wei, a normal employee, be left with this bankrupt daycare when it's supposed to be the owner's responsibility to rebuild it again? But nonetheless, she stayed and told Ying Wei that she'll only stick around once the repairs and the recuperation is done but like her internet bestie, she grew fond and excited for the daycare's great comeback.
We'll get through this, Ying Wei, you and I. You're the bloody rightful owner of this daycare, 'n we'll make it prosper again, yeah? [redacted] isn't going to get a single penny from when you finally make this work, hear me?
Kirra, I legally do not own the daycare nor do I hold the title. They're still going to get a cent.
Eh, fuck that! I'm telling ya, Ying, if they do come back, we're going to demand full ownership of this place, yeah? Cheer up, mate.
Sova - Sasha Novikov
He was a man destined for greatness—until some tragedy happened that had completely scraped his dream and his career down the drain. Immigrating to a different country, Sasha worked as a salaryman with a discouraged outlook in life. Despite being discouraged, he worked hard and diligently and earned promotions and raises to accompany his loyalty and services. But sometimes life grows bleaker and Sasha thought that his journey as a salaryman was now coming to a close. He decided that he wanted to do something meaningful and thought of jobs that would make him feel fulfilled—finding the hiring poster for Little Wonders flying right to his face (literally). He thought he wouldn't be accepted considering his experiences as a sitter was lacking, but he did. He immediately proved himself to Ying Wei and Kirra and became a formidable member of Little Wonders.
Wh-what the—? A hiring poster for a daycare?
Chamber - Vincent Fabron
Being a Frenchman born in a life of nobility and privilege; Vincent found himself enjoying life in another country after moving in with his parents after graduating with latin honors in Mechanical Engineering in France. It's not like his parents told him to get a job anyway and there's a vast new world to explore; so explore he did. Unfortunately, Vincent got carried away and ended up spending more and more until he was reprimanded by parents who didn't exactly care but felt like they should hold him off anyway.
He was forced to get a job. And getting a job wasn't exactly easy even with connections. If it were in France, he would've landed a job easy but this is a different country. He was forced to grovel. 5 months had passed, and he still wasn't able to find a job. In a moment of desperation, he found the job listing as a babysitter and for some miraculous reason, he was accepted. Maybe it was his strong demeanor, maybe it's his suave and silver tongue, but Vincent who only knew how to take care of dogs ended up as pretty problematic babysitter who tolerates children more than caring for them. Due to the lack of manpower, Ying Wei couldn't bring herself to fire him. He did and still does try to do his job properly and has resorted into doing administrative work more than actual babysitting for the daycare. (But with the presence of new competition, he finds himself working with the kids once more as he now sees his job being compromised.)
Madame Ling, I finally caught them like you requested.
VINCENT WHY ARE YOU HOLDING THOSE KIDS BY THEIR SHIRTS?! ARE YOU INSANE?!
Gekko - Mateo Armendáriz de la Fuente
Wanting to create money for himself and get a working experience from all those seminars his mother (practically) forced him to attend, young and bright Mateo applied for the job recently as a part-timer for the daycare under the recommendation of his family friend and considered aunt, Zyanya Mondragon (who has connections with Miss Ling but that will be elaborated in the future, hopefully?)
As a bubbly and cheerful young man with hopes and dreams (which the other sitters envy), he drew the attention of the children with extreme ease and was regarded as the rising rookie within the staff as he easily befriended the children and played with them. While Vincent saw and has since labelled the college student as a threat (just a little bitter), Sasha and Ying Wei found him as a great addition to the team and had considered hiring him as a full-time babysitter once he graduated college. Mateo is currently majoring in Architecture.
Tienes esto, pequeño. You underwent training, you even got a certification for babysitting specifically. You said you want to earn a little more money so you don't burden your mother, don't you?
L-lo sé, lo sé... I'm just worried that the kids I'll take care of won't like me... you know. They're kinda brutal, mi reina.
Ay, you're a nice kid, Mateo. Cree más en ti mismo, ¿por favor? You're going to do just fine.
Okay, okay, okay.
____________________________
In any case, these can still change overtime until it can be finalized. In the meantime, we both just want to have fun for now and enjoy writing how the sitters react to people wanting to date them. Would there be a dating sim revolving the mommies and daddies—I mean, the sitters in the future? No. JK. Unless? 🤨
We're glad that you're also having fun with this silly little AU that we have! (Hopefully you guys stick around us because we seriously have so much in store. We haven't even introduced the parents yet, but make your guesses!!) All the best and thank you so much for 100 followers here on Tumblr!!
We also created a Twitter/X Account too, yes this is an actual link and not a sentence I wanted to underline for emphasis (because we both thought that Domi might want to separate some non-AU art from her account, but we both love the reach it gives her). Please give us a follow! We love you!
-Iris and Domi
#daycareval#daycareval-ask#daycareval-lore#daycareval-comic#daycareval-story#daycareval-sage#daycareval-skye#daycareval-sova#daycareval-chamber#daycareval-gekko#valorant#valorant sage#valorant skye#valorant sova#valorant chamber#valorant gekko#valorant fanart#valorant au#daycare au
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Cold Conviction: a one off about what Lucy Frostblade’s last moments might have been like. Some mention of gore, mention of death. Some creative liberties taken and I have not gone back to check this for spelling or grammar ( forever posting a first draft 🫡)
“Please, Lucy- just listen to me—“
“Do you know what you’re asking me, Kipperlily?”
Tears well in Lucy’s eyes, a hand on her chest tugging at a well loved sweater. There’s pain in her heart, pain for the brief second in which she considered what is being asked of her. The pain of giving up on something she has held so dear for so long.
Ruvina. She couldn’t give up on her goddess, the very thing that connected her to her culture. Harsh as the cold and the wind was, she was a part of Lucy’s heritage, and keeping close to others made them warm against her cold. Why would she need anything else?
There’s a whisper at the back of her mind, the pull of something familiar, as Kipperlily promises something strong, something powerful. Something full of rage. They can face down whatever, they just have to give themselves over to this god. The sensation of warmth, of light, a counterbalance to Ruvina’s own domain.
The warmth becomes a burning heat. A signal that something is wrong.
Some gods speak directly to their followers, others give them visions and feelings to interpret. Ruvina is trying to tell her something, a warning against a darker path.
Lucy looks down at her hands. Hands that have healed, hands that held Kilperlily’s as they promised to watch each other’s backs. How they held hands as Kipperlily argued in favor of keeping the name “The High Five Heroes”. Hands that held her dying friend in the Mountains of Chaos not long ago.
They are now clenched in defiance against stacking odds.
Emboldened, she takes a strong stance against her friends. Her friend.
A tear escapes her eye.
“I won’t be bullied into this.” She declares. “Don’t you hear yourself? You want me to pledge myself to a different god so you can get your revenge?”
Kipperlily’s back is to the woods, a dagger in her hand. Her brow creased so hard Lucy wonders if it might be stuck that way. Beside them, the lake glistens in the dim light from the moon over head. Even in this light, Lucy can see a mix of fear, anger, and sadness in Kipperlily’s eyes. It’s the anger that’s the strongest, replacing the annoyance and frustration that had been so prevalent in the past couple of years.
“You’re making a mistake.” Kipperlily says through gritted teeth, her grip on the dagger intensifying. “We can be heroes! we can do the things we’ve only dreamed about doing! We can be better than them!”
There is venom on the “them”. Kipperlily is blinded by her ambition, a need to surpass someone who seemingly has it all. The tragic backstory, the skills, the friends. It was something Lucy could never fully understand, but she listened to her talk about wanting to be one of the best rogues in the world, how she wanted the chance to save someone - save the world.
Lucy herself never had any quarrels with the Bad Kids, another adventuring party at their school. One of many, but one of the only ones to really take a stand in recent memory. They’d killed Kalvaxus at the end of their Freshman year and by all accounts, that was a pretty rad thing to do. Killed by Riz Gukgak, then slain again by the Maidens who, understandably, wanted to get their revenge.
But Kipperlily was seemingly upset by the fact that Riz had this tragic tale to him, that he “got” to have his father eaten by Kalvaxus and “get” to have that revenge arc. Kipperlily wanted for nothing, and yet she wanted for something that would give her glory.
At first it was petty jealously, but ever since her death, her tune had changed. They all had, in fact. It was gradual, but Lucy was beginning to notice a rage building in all of them. Subtle in some, Mary Ann was still Mary Ann and Oisin still appeared relatively calm, but she could see it in them too. She was starting to feel very lonely.
Lucy’s hands are balled into fists. “Is that all you want? You want to be better than them?”
“Yes!” Kipperlily sounds exasperated. “What’s so hard to understand about that?!”
Anger boils in Lucy.
“Isn’t it enough that we’re together?!?” She snaps. “Is it not enough for you that we get to hang out with our friends? Think about everything we could be doing! All the problems we can solve- we can get better and go back to the Mountains and do what we set out to do in the first place!”
Kipperlily looks down at the dagger in her hand, then back up at Lucy. For a split second, she sees the young halfing girl she met on the first day of school, a book clutched to her chest, a bright smile on her face. She thinks about how in the following months, they’d braid each other’s hair and share secrets no one else knew. She thinks about their promise. A promise to face the world together.
“Don’t you trust me?” Kipperlily asks. Another twinge of pain, this time at the deception. Kipperlily knows how to get what she wants. “I’m doing this for us! When the rage god returns, we can be glorious, Lucy. The two of us- together.”
Ruvina’s warning returns. Warmth, heat, fire - Rage.
Lucy stands her ground. She shakes her head and Kipperlily’s bravado falters.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I can’t turn my back on everything I’ve ever known.” She pauses. All she has to do is say one thing, and she knows what’s coming. But she can’t back down either. “Im sorry you can’t be him.”
Rage flairs in Kipperlily’s eyes. Shes too quick, she’s on her in a matter of seconds, cold steel cutting through Lucy’s body. Lucy closes her eyes, accepting her fate and falling back with arms outstretched.
It’s cold. It’s so cold. Shes doesn’t even feel it as Kipperlily continues to slice at her out of sheer anger.
She doesn’t want to die. She doesn’t want to leave her friends, her family, everything behind, but little choice is given to her.
There’s an embrace, deep and cold, as Ruvina takes her in. But then the feeling is jerked away, warmth and light finding her instead.
No, not warmth and light. Rage, it’s the heat of rage.
A hand reaches out to her, coal black with ribbons of fierce hot magma. She looks up, seeing a stern face looking down at her coldly. In this moment, she realizes the connection to Ruvina.
“I’m sorry, but my answer is no.”
The hand withdrawals. A flash of something on the face - pride. Pride in her conviction, in a sense of personal justice.
The heat fades to warmth, then the loving embrace of a goddess returns, briefly, to cradle her. Shes not sure if she’s at peace, but she’s fine to rest here until such a time comes.
#fantasy high#fantasy high junior year spoilers#fantasy high spoilers#fantasy high junior year#dimension 20#lucy frostblade#kipperlilly copperkettle
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Doing the eyes emoji at your octo agent 3 oc so hard-
What is their deal I love them
I’m sosoisoso glad you asked I’ve beeen thinking about this little dudes backstory for so long and not I can finally spill the beans (it’s still somewhat of a rough draft but I’ve got some of the main details down)
I don’t have a name for him yet so for all intensive purposes his name is just octo agent for now, he’s a trans man btw just gotta note that
He was born to an octoling mother and an inkling father (who for obvious reasons wasn’t present in his life at all), but nobody could really tell because in my Splatoon universe inktolings don’t exist. Instead, the hybrid child usually is the species of the mother with some holdover traits from the father (as you can see little octo agent over here took the eye mask, sharp ears, and slightly shorter than the average octoling height from his father). His mom was able to chalk these traits off as simple defects, keeping the secret of her relationship with the enemy.
Because of his half inkling heritage, by default his general mindset was..different from the average octoling. The propaganda never really worked on him, he was more fun loving and rebellious than the other octolings. He had a gut feeling there was more to life than just the army. He just never knew how to access it.
He excelled in his training classes and even became an elite octoling, but found himself the subject of relentless teasing and bullying by his elite peers due to his differences in mindset and appearance, which only reinforced his desire to escape this life.
Little known to him, what was meant to be a recon mission in upper Octo Valley became that ticket to freedom, yap yap yap he convinced Capn Cuttlefish to let him be Agent 3 (after LOTS and I mean LOTS of pestering).
The rest is history!
admittedly the story is a bit flawed, but honestly I just wanted to have fun making this guy. I really enjoy drawing him in all his stupid glory
thanks for the ask!
im going to bed now
oh and maybe he also knew Marina and Acht.
#splatoon#splatpost#enemy octoling#octoling#octarian#octoagents#splatoon agent ocs#splatoon agent 3#agent 3#octo valley#splatoon art
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I honestly bugs me that there’s probably quite a bit of bias and even misinformation of Kestrel within her wiki page on WoF wiki. Now, this could be because I’m biased myself, since I honestly hate Kestrel (because of her literal child abuse towards the DoD)-
But I honestly can’t help but feel like there’s some bias and a bit of “over-sympathy” for Kestrel’s character on Kestrel’s wiki page.
For Example:
“She was initially assumed to be cruel and naturally hostile, but was later revealed that this was because she was bitter about being lied to and losing both her dragonets.”
ASSUMED??
Dude, they literally state that Kestrel was ‘assumed’ to be cruel - RIGHT BEFORE literally stating THIS: “[Kestrel] abused Glory due to her being a RainWing and not a "powerful" SkyWing.”
Plus, on Kestrel’s relationship part of her wiki with Glory, the wiki page literally states that:
“[Kestrel] would often verbally abuse Glory by calling her "lazy" and using "lazy RainWing" as an insult to her and her friends.[2][32] She would also often physically abuse Glory.[33] She, along with Dune, would call her a mistake and growl at her constantly.[20]”
And on Starflight’s wiki page, it states that: “[Starflight] would hide in the shadows if the SkyWing was nearby, and would often get burned by Kestrel just like all the other dragonets.”
Physically and Verbally ABUSING Glory and Physically BURNING Starflight and the rest of the DoD isn’t “assumingly” cruel - it IS cruel. Abuse IS a cruel action towards others, especially the form of abuse that Kestrel’s put on the DoD.
(And while her backstory may explain her abuse towards the DoD, it does NOT excuse it in any way at ALL, what-so-ever.)
2. Another Example:
“However, Kestrel seemed to have a protective side, which was shown when Morrowseer and Blister tricked her into believing that the dragonets were in danger. She arrived immediately to "save" them, hinting she did have some protectiveness over the dragonets.[25]”
Kestrel going to Morrowseer in order to save the dragonets - because of the fact that she’s “protective” towards the DoD - isn’t a factually accurate description, but more so a 𝐟𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.
Please correct me if I’m wrong, but as far as I know reading TDP, there was little to no evidence for the reasons behind why Kestrel went to save the DoD within the actual books, especially since the readers can’t hear the character’s internal thoughts and emotions within a good amount of the epilogues, INCLUDING Book 1.
Some people may say that Kestrel came to save the DoD because deep down, she actually cared for them, and some people may state that she attempted to save them not because she cared for them, but because it’s her job to do so.
And whether or not which point of view of Kestrel is accurate isn’t really revealed or supported by the epilogue, so stating that Kestrel attempt to save the DoD because she’s protective of them is more of a fan speculation and/interpretation than a accurate fact within the books.
And putting in fan speculations with factual content in a character’s wiki honestly isn’t very good to do, since it’ll result in fans to believe in certain information within a media that isn’t proven and/or isn’t even accurate within the source of media a character’s in.
3. Another (but I suppose more Nick-picky than important) Example:
“Kestrel seemed to hate all of the dragonets of destiny”
“seemed” honestly isn’t a that great of a example here.
Kestrel, indeed, DID hate the dragonets - or at least, within the prologue she expressed her hated towards them.
“It doesn’t matter how I feel about nasty little dragonets.” - Kestrel, The Dragonet Prophecy, Last Page of the Prologue.
And while it’s ok for someone to hate children in general-Stating that Kestrel “seemed” to hate the DoD while in reality she actually DOES/DID, honestly isn’t a good or accurate description of Kestrel’s character, which isn’t a good thing to put when people want to go the wiki for (what’s hopefully) accurate information about a certain character.
So yeah, there’s (or at least feels like) honestly some bias, some over-sympathy and/or even some misinformation about Kestrel on the WoF wiki.
And while I suppose that’s probably and/or possibly inevitable, due to the fact that fandom wikis are usually run by - of course - fans in general-
Putting in fan speculations and bias for a certain character with factual information of that certain character honestly isn’t good for an wiki page’s credibility and even quality of the information within it, since it can misinform people within the fanbase who may unintentionally believe information that’s actually inaccurate and/or unproven by the media source the fans are into in general.
And although the WoF wiki being this way towards Kestrel isn’t very surprising to me, since there’s (unfortunately) quite a bit - heck quite a lot - of over-sympathy and even abuse apologism - by excusing and/or justifying her child abuse towards the DoD because it was highly likely and believed by her that children her children dead -
(Probably and/or Possibly due to my own dislike and/or hatred towards Kestrel), The fact that the wiki stating that Kestrel’s abuse towards the DoD is “assumed” to be cruel, puts a (positive?) fan speculation of Kestrel being protective towards the DoD, and has some misinformation about a character who’s good - heck, majority - of her character is being a literal CHILD ABUSER towards the DoD honestly…makes feel quite a bit uncomfortable and/or upset.
I’m SO sorry if I’m overreacting and/or nick-picking within this confession, this has been on my mind for quite a bit of a while.
I’m also sorry if there’s any spelling errors and I that I didn’t word anything properly, it took me a few hours to type all of this down.
And if you’re upset about the wiki content within this confession, please do NOT hate and/or harass the WoF staff, but INSTEAD inform and/or educate them about why this should changed if you want to.
And if you doubt the information within this confession, feel free to check out Kestrel’s wiki page if you agree or disagree and/or believe or disbelieve the content in this ask, and form your own thoughts and beliefs of the information with Kestrel’s wiki page and this confession.
I’ll put the link to Kestrel’s wiki page here: https://wingsoffire.fandom.com/wiki/Kestrel
And Starflight’s wiki page (For the First Example): https://wingsoffire.fandom.com/wiki/Starflight?so=search
Original anon, I had to delete the original and repaste it because it had a link to a pirated copy of Book 1. A new rule has been added about links.
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