#i dunno how she even found her but my mom found her at work??? and she doesnt have a collar or anything | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

suppose-i-was-worm · 10 months

Text

Like A Lamb

**Idea taken from @nerdpoe's post- What the hell is this "Infinite Realms"?**

John Constantine would never call himself a kind man, much less a good man, but the kid at the corner table of this fast food restaurant was making him want to be both.

Not that John’s kindness would really help the kid, in the long run.

He’d seen so many things in all the time he’d been alive- wondrous and horrific in equal measure, but this boy- this teenager, barely out of childhood, was probably the most heart-breaking.

John had known sacrifices- marked by both men and demons. He’d seen the crumpled bodies after the fact, and sometimes he’d been able to save them beforehand. None of them were like this boy. Marked like a sacrificial lamb down to his bones by the universe- an inevitable end.

The teen was the beginning and the end of worlds- his death would shake the foundations of all that was, could be, and is. Time would stutter to a stop before restarting with a different beat, and John could do nothing to delay or stop what was coming.

How in the world could this kid still smile and laugh with his friends? How could he not feel the weight of an entire reality on his shoulders? If John, sitting across a dining room from him, could feel the pressure, why wasn’t the boy buckling under it?

John’s phone alerted him to a text from Zatanna- he was needed by the JLD.

With a sigh, he fished out the strongest protection amulet he had on him. It wouldn’t save the teen, but maybe it would make the rest of his life a little easier.

The kid looked up at him as he approached, all smiles and young innocence. John Constantine thrust the amulet into his hand and then turned, stalking out of the Nasty Burger.

He needed to tell the Justice League. Amity Park needed protection- there was a kid there whose death would change the world.

~~~

Danny flipped the little charm around in his hands, trying to figure it out. The sad trenchcoat man had handed it to him before leaving, and he had no idea why.

“What do you think it is, Danny?”

He shrugged. For some reason he didn’t want to hand it over to Sam for her to inspect it.

“Dunno. It feels important, though. I might take it to Pandora- she’s been teaching me a bit of magic stuff, so she can probably parse it out.”

For some reason, Danny knew he would recognize that man again if he ever saw him, despite only having looked at him for a moment. Something in his core rumbled contently as he tucked the amulet carefully into the back of his phone case.

The next few weeks, Danny found himself having suspiciously good luck. The food at home didn’t come to life, ghosts didn’t attack as much, Dash wasn’t a problem at school, and even the Fentons hadn’t been as insistent on catching Phantom.

That was another weird thing- His brain didn’t seem to compute that Jack and Maddie were his mom and dad anymore. He knew he’d been creeping toward that ever since his death, but it was like a switch had been flipped overnight. The Fenton adults no longer registered as his parents.

Finally he had a chance to slip into the Realms and head for Pandora, who took one look at the amulet he held out to her and laughed.

“You have been adopted, young one, and your core accepted.”

“Adopted?”

“Your nature is to protect- it sings in your blood and guides your instincts. An adult offered you protection, a safe haven, and you took them up on it. Had someone your own age done the same, your relationship with them would be vastly different.”

Danny frowned at the charm, but he didn’t put it down- it didn’t even occur to him to get rid of it.

“Why did he- what made him do that?”

Pandora ruffled his hair.

“He saw someone who needed protecting, I assume, and acted as he ought.”

~~~

“Bats, I don’t know what the Infinite Realms are. Yes, I know they exist. I just don’t know when they started to exist, and when my knowledge of the afterlife became outdated.”

Batman glared, and John rolled his eyes at the other man.

“Magic shit happens all the time. Zatanna can tell you just as well as I can that the Realms didn’t exist a year ago- and also that they’ve existed for millenia.”

“I’ve found a summoning spell for the king of the realms, but it requires a magic user. Zatanna is off-planet, so you’re up.”

John looked over at the speaker, Red Robin, whose slight form and dark hair made him think of the boy he’d left to die.

He’d thought of the boy more often than not- any research into the kind of sacrifice that would have so much power came to a dead end, and John Constantine hated that there was really and truly nothing he could do for the kid.

Maybe this Infinite Realms person might know something?

“Fine. What are the details?”

Red Robin perked up and handed over a heavy tome.

“Batman and I already set up the ritual space in the conference room, and a few other heroes are there to help out if the king is hostile.”

“Of course you have. Let’s go, then.”

The two bats swept off down the hallway, and John followed behind, studying the spell he would need to cast. It was fairly simple, and luckily wouldn’t require blood. He hated the ones that required blood.

As he stood over the sigils and spoke the ritual spells, the floor inside the protective circle began to writhe and bubble a toxic neon green. It was all John could do to stand straight as a rush of air spilled from the portal into the wide room, bringing with it the heavy taste of caution.

The Justice League took a step back as the first clawed hand reached out from the green, white and stretched beyond humanity. It scrabbled for purchase before finding it and pulling.

The creature that exited the swirling mass was something John had never seen before. If the situation wasn’t so tense, he might describe the creature as catlike, with a black body and white legs, as well as piercing green eyes. The similarities stopped, however, when the inky body flickered and lit up from within with the pinpricks of millions of stars and endless void.

This was a baby god, filled with the dreams of deities long forgotten and fueled by the hope of those still clinging on to life.

Its green eyes swept over the gathered heroes before coming to rest on John, and for a moment he felt as if his tattered soul was being judged by the cosmos.

And then the creature folded in on itself, the tense air around it changing from bitter caution to sweet relief, and John found himself face to face with the teenager from Amity Park.

“Hi.”

The boy sounded winded, but happy, and he reached inside his shirt to pull out a small chain necklace. John’s amulet was hanging off it, obviously well treasured and cared for.

“Did you know that you’re technically my dad now?”

Something on John’s face must have told the boy- the god, the sacrifice both dead and alive- that he was unaware of this fact. The kid shuffled a little, looking sheepishly at the floor.

“You- uh. Unintentionally offered safe haven. And I accepted without realizing what was going on, and- it’s weird. I collected your soul for you! Didn’t bring it with me, but I’ve got the pieces you’re missing.”

“I think you both need to sit down and discuss this.”

Bless Diana.

“Can you leave the circle, young one?”

The teen beamed at Diana and stepped out of the protective circle, smudging the sigils as he did and closing the portal.

“I can, yeah. Pandora says hi, by the way.”

John watched as the boy chattered away about his ghost friends to Diana while she led him to a seat, and then sighed, moving to join them. If he needed help with being a new dad, surely Bats could help, right?

#dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #danny phantom #john constantine #eldritch danny #dp x dc crossover #ghost king danny

2K notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 3 months

Text

so glad i found you

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is coparenting'

rated t | 1,428 words | cw: mention of previous marriage (steve's) | tags: established relationship, single dad steve (except he isn't anymore *wink wink*), steddie dads, modern au, marriage proposal

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

"Sarah, come on!" Steve yelled from the kitchen, his eyes drifting to the clock that he hoped was lying. They were gonna be late for school. Again.

"Daddy, I can't find my jacket!" Sarah came running through the kitchen, only half-dressed, no backpack in sight.

"What do you mean? It was on the hook last night."

"It's not now."

Steve groaned.

And then a jacket was thrust into his hands and a sleep-rough voice was in his ear. "Found it on the floor in the bathroom."

Steve grabbed the jacket from Eddie, kissing his cheek in thanks.

"Eddie found it, let's go!" Steve yelled before whispering to just Eddie. "Thank you, baby. Sorry for waking you up."

"Needed to get up anyway. Wanted to say bye to Sarah."

Steve watched as Eddie walked over to the cabinet that held their vitamins. He reached in and grabbed the gummies Sarah was supposed to take every day. Steve wasn't always the best about remembering them, but Eddie never forgot.

He reached in the fridge next, grabbing the smoothie Steve forgot about and handing it to him. "Since I know you didn't eat anything," Eddie kissed his cheek again and leaned against the counter holding the gummies for Sarah.

"Thanks, Eds," Steve said as Sarah came crashing back into the kitchen and reached for her jacket. "Why did you move this into the bathroom?"

"I didn't."

"Ah, I fear the ghosts are at it again, Steve," Eddie said, smirking when Sarah giggled. He handed her the gummies once she had her arms in the jacket. "Vitamins to make you big and strong, your highness."

"Thanks, Dad."

Everyone froze. The clock on the wall stopped ticking. The air was sucked out of the room.

Sarah was bright red, and because she wasn't the type to stick around an awkward situation, she turned and walked out of the room.

Eddie blinked at Steve, lips parted as he tried to remember how to breathe.

He'd been with Steve for just over a year, and while he didn't technically live with them, he spent more time at their apartment than his own. He was on Sarah's emergency pick-up list, took her with him to run errands when Steve had to work late, bought her things when the budget allowed just because he wanted to, and would read to her most nights that he stayed over. In many ways, he was her dad.

She hardly knew her mom, only spent two weeks every summer with her and was perfectly fine with that. Steve's ex-wife had admitted from the beginning of the pregnancy that she thought it was a mistake and when she filed for divorce when Sarah was six months old, Steve wasn't surprised. She had no interest in being a mom the way Steve had so desperately wanted to be a dad. But even still, Eddie never wanted them to feel like he was trying to force any type of parental power.

She'd called him Eddie until this moment, and he'd been completely fine with it. He would've been fine with it forever if it meant he got to have them both.

"I can talk to her. I don't think she meant to say it and it's okay if you don't want her to. She'll understand and-" Steve started rambling, trying to prevent Eddie from panicking.

But he wasn't. He was just doing his best not to start crying.

"But did she mean it?" He asked, voice shaking as he realized how much he did want her to call him Dad.

"I dunno, Eds. Probably. You know she never says things she doesn't mean. But we can talk to her-"

"No. I mean, yes, we should. But not because I don't want her to." Eddie took a deep breath. "I've kinda been her dad for a while now. It feels like it, at least. We've been in this together for most of the last year, ya know? I wanna be this for her and for you."

Steve was going to melt into a puddle, maybe right through the floor into the apartment below them. The nice old couple who lived there would have to mop him up.

"Daddy? Da-Eddie?" Sarah's small voice said from the doorway.

"Come here, sweet pea," Steve got down closer to her level. She was tall for her age, but even at eight years old, she was barely level with his chest. "Do you wanna call Eddie Dad? There's no wrong answer."

Eddie nodded, getting down to her level, too.

"It won't hurt my feelings if you just said it by accident, princess. I promise I love being your Eddie," he smiled at her.

He meant that, he wouldn't lie to her. But a small part of him hoped she wouldn't go back to calling him just Eddie after that. Not after he had a taste of what it could be like to be her dad.

"Well, you do dad stuff with me. Like when we built that birdhouse because I was scared the robin would have her eggs in a tree and they'd fall and crack and the babies would die. And when you took me shopping for a dress so I could go to Daddy's awards for work. And you always read to me with the voices and stuff." Sarah was playing with her hair, a nervous habit she'd somehow picked up from Eddie in such a short time. "And that's stuff that Daddy does with me all the time too, like when you're not here with us to do it. And sometimes even when you are and you both do it it feels like I have two dads. I like having two dads."

Steve and Eddie were both barely holding back tears as she spoke. She'd always been incredibly brave about her feelings.

"I like doing all that stuff with you, princess. But I would love it all no matter what you called me, okay?" Eddie said around a barely contained sob.

"But you love Daddy and me right?"

"Of course."

"And you kinda live with us."

He let out a wet laugh. "Yeah, I guess I kinda do."

"And you maybe will get married?"

Steve nearly choked on his own breath. "Sarah, honey, remember I told you that kind of decision is something that takes time and-"

"Yeah, princess. I think maybe we will. Not right now, but someday," Eddie interrupted.

Steve resisted glaring at him. He knew better than to make promises to a child, they'd already been over this before, and he could already see Sarah's wheels spinning.

"Wait-"

"So I can wear a pretty dress?" Sarah asked, as if that was the most important thing. "Can I hold both your hands?"

"If your Daddy is okay with it when it happens. But you know what has to happen first?" Eddie poked her dimple, smiling at her with teary eyes. "He has to say yes."

Sarah looked over at Steve, who was...confused.

"Daddy! Say yes!"

"He's gotta ask!" Steve exclaimed. "And he doesn't have a ring. We've only been together a year."

"Stevie."

Something in Eddie's voice made Steve pause and look at him instead of Sarah.

"I have a ring. Not with me, but. I already know you're it for me." Eddie held Sarah's hand and Steve's. "I just wanted to make sure Sarah was okay with it first. So. Sarah Harrington."

"Yes, Dad?"

Jesus, Steve was pretty sure he would die from this. In a good way, maybe the best way, but Jesus Christ.

"Would it be okay if I ask your dad to marry me? I could be your other dad and I promise I can read to you every night."

"Hm." Sarah thought for barely a second before she beamed at Steve. "Daddy, I'm saying yes. So you have to say yes. I want Eddie to live with us forever."

The most important thing to Steve was someone who Sarah loved and who loved Sarah in return, someone who was part of their family because they wanted to be, someone who felt proud to be theirs.

Eddie checked off all of that and then some.

He looked at Eddie and smiled. "Well, you heard the princess. Yes!"

Being late for school turned into being absent from school. Steve and Eddie skipped work for the day so they could all be together. Eddie went to his apartment to get the ring and Sarah made decorations for a "real" proposal.

He didn't mind that it wasn't anything extravagant. None of them did.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #love is coparenting

695 notes · View notes

shankss-magnificent-ass · 23 days

Text

Imagine becoming the beast pirate's espionage chief

Kaido: I know you don't trust him, but I can't and won't act against him while he's still useful to me.

You: I'm glad you said that, I've used most of my free time in the last month to gather proof. [hands Kaido an appropriate-sized folder] I found that Mister Bennington of Foodvalten did not exist until six years ago.

Kaido: [pulls out a pair of delicate reading glasses, puts them on, and thumbs through the folder]

You: His real name is Frank Jenkins, and he's sixty-eight. He was born in the Appaloosa archipelago, where he started his life of crime at six, swindling tourists. By age fourteen, he moved on to robbery, arson, and petty theft. However, by age twenty, Frank found his lifelong modiis operandi, scam, fraud, and grand theft. Frank posed as a rich entrepreneur and stole large amounts of money from a mining operation before disappearing. He did similar scams on Alabasta, Cactus Island, Jaya, Water 7, and Applenine Island.

Kaido: [closes the folder and hands it off to King] ... you are quite thorough, you even included Marine and local police reports from over forty years ago. How did you get a hold of these without leaving the island?

You: CP-0 and Dofflamingo

Kaido: I figured, but how did you get them to give these to you?

You: I called in favors with Dofflamingo, and performed a few sexual favors with CP-0.

King: Is that why I walked in on you jerking off one of those masked freaks?

You: yeah, and you calling them masked freaks is a bit like the pot calling the kettle black. Also, you don't have any room to judge me, Maria has told me all about your little trysts with her.

King: She's too much of a gossip, as are you, and I don't care about gossip.

You: so you don't want to know which of the tobiroppo brought pubic lice into the crew, and where they got it?

Kaido: Tell me who is the culprit, right this minute.

You: hmm, I dunno, what's in it for me?

Kaido: I won't kill you where you stand.

You: That threat only works on people who like living.

King: How about a promotion to espionage chief, your own quarters and bathroom here and on any of the ships, and a raise?

You: deal, it was Who's-Who, he got it fucking one of Big Mom's kids.

Kaido: I'll kill him! Those little bastards have been gnawing on my balls for weeks. [vigorously scratches his crotch]

You: And that's why I don't fuck my crewmates unless I benefit from it because y'all are nasty.

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #king the wildfire #king the conflagration #kaido #kaidou #beast pirates #animal kingdom pirates #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #4/30/24 #no beta we die like men

159 notes · View notes

piratefishmama · 9 months

Text

Fake it Till you Make It | Part 13

“Buckley residence”

“Melissa, my second favourite Buckley! Hi, it’s Steve, is Robin there?”

“Oh Steve! Yes, yes one moment, I’ll just—weren’t you on holiday with your parents aaaand—?” he’d been calling Eddie his ‘partner’ for the week leading up to the big holiday. Never dropping any names, but given he’d found a sort of second home at the Buckleys… they were relentless in finding out who he was dating.

Since it’d never be Robin.

He wasn’t falling for it, no matter how deep they’d been into flower power back in the day. If he came out, Robin would end up coming out in solidarity and he knew she wasn’t ready yet so—“Yep, calling from Chicago airport, bit of a time sensitive call” he wasn’t giving it up.

“Oop, I’ll grab her—” there was a scuffle on the line then a quick “ROBIN, STEVE’S ON THE PHONE” another quick scuffle later and suddenly

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane right now, Dingus?”

“I’m in Chicago! Just checkin in on my baaaaaby, how’s my little bun today? Any morning sickness yet?”

“Robin!!”

“Mom get off the phone!!”

“Hahaha I’m kidding Melissa! Can I talk to Robbie alone though?”

“Unbelievable, you kids are turning me grey.”

“You’re as beautiful as ever though!” The other line clicked off, and Robin’s snickering laughter was all that remained. “One day she’s gonna stay on just to call my bluff.”

“But that is not today, again, aren’t you supposed to be on a plane? What’s up?”

“…Okay so, hypothetically, if you were fake dating someone you… I dunno… maybe, sorta… click really well with, can laugh with, and maybe sorta like a little, would you—”

“Steven Leopold Harrington do you have a crush on your boyfriend?”

“Fake, fake boyfriend, Robbie, fake. And that isn’t my middle name.”

“You’re not DENYING it! It's not even been a DAY yet, Steve!”

“No, I’m not—well… I’d call it more an interest than a crush, but that’s why I’m calling you, what would you do?”

“Pine uselessly for years, you know this.”

“Got it, pine uselessly” He could do that. He was doing that already, sort of. He’d watched in squinty eyed rage while a newsstand cashier with a nose ring flirted with his fake boyfriend while he grabbed a drink to down during the wait between flights. It didn’t go anywhere, Eddie barely even noticed, but Steve noticed. Steve noticed everything. “You really should ask Vi—”

“NO. Listen Steve, as the kids would say, you have found an ‘ultimate cheat code’ to asking your crush out, listen closely now, don’t want you to miss it… you’re already dating him!”

“It’s fake though!” Luckily his parents were off showing Eddie a cool mural they found last time they flew through. No chance of them hearing him.

“So?! Just act like it’s real! It’s like a test, you have a week to see if you’re actually growing ooey gooeys for this guy, and at the end of it, you’ll know if you wanna keep him.” Brilliant in theory but one small hiccup

“What if he doesn’t want me at the end of the week?” The fact that he hadn’t had a solid date in forever before the scheme looming over his head and heart like a dark cloud of suffering.

“I will eat my own shoe. Trust me dingus, trust me. He’ll want you, just work that mysterious Harrington Charm I’ve heard so much about. You’re already half-way there, you get to kiss him already.”

“…Okay, it’s gotta be the real stinker shoe though, you know the one.”

“The skunk one?!”

“Yep. The skunk one.”

“But we were gonna use that on—” Kevin, they were gonna hide it in Kevin’s office after he refused every holiday request Robin put in for a month after she, very politely, shot him and his advances down, why they still had it was… a mystery. They kept forgetting to get rid of it. “Fine, the skunk one. I will eat the skunk shoe, that is how confident I am that Eddie will want you, now please go and spend time with your way cooler than you boyfriend before your parents turn him into a normie.”

“Miss you already.”

“Miss you more”

“Miss you most.”

“Hang up.”

“No you han—” she hung up, and Steve couldn’t help but laugh about it knowing that undoubtedly. She’d be laughing on her end too.

The second flight was much easier to get Eddie onto. In fact, after they spent the hour between flights milling around the terminal, Eddie led him down the gangway, hand in hand, demanding he hurry up or “they’ll leave without us, my precious little harlot!!” there was no rush, they were actually first in line at the gate in front of his own parents, whom Eddie beat to the front of the queue, dragging Steve with him, still ribbing him for the mile high club thing.

He was not going to live that down any time soon.

The flight, in theory would give him a lot of time to think though. Nine hours. In seats that were too far apart. His parents in the middle of the cabin in a semi-enclosed pod-like structure comprised of two seats and a desk between them which they both shared to work on some paperwork, and he and Eddie on opposite sides of the plane.

Which sucked. Because he couldn’t hold Eddie’s hand.

He couldn’t make sure Eddie was okay, and that alone really dug into his time to think about things, because his brain was quite stuck on the fact that Eddie was alone on the other side of the cabin likely going through it as the second flight excitement could only last so long, and that just wasn’t okay.

Eddie couldn’t even do anything to pass the time, he’d packed all but one of his notebooks in his checked luggage, Steve was pretty damn sure he'd go insane if he had to just sit there with nothing to do for a whole nine hours.

So, they teamed up. From opposite sides of the cabin, because somehow Eddie just understood what Steve wanted him to do without having to be told.

It took them a joint effort all of one hour into the flight to puppy-dog eye his parents into switching seats with them.

This allowed them to pick at each other’s ‘gourmet’ meals, Eddie stealing several of his steak fries, and Steve stealing both the last bite of his steak, and two of his orange slices, it allowed Eddie to ramble on about the D&D campaign he was plotting to send the kids through when they got back, allowed Steve to subtly plant the idea into Eddie's mind that maybe... maybe he might be interested in seeing what that looked like.

Maybe they could hold the first session at his place when his parents went away again. Plenty of room! He could watch for once, instead of ribbing Dustin for it and purposefully never getting the name of the game right.

All leading to them both settling in their reclining seats, wrapped up in blankets, facing each other's smiling faces, and falling into an incredibly easy food-coma slumber for the remainder of their flight.

Both wishing the seats were just... a little closer.

Part 15

#PirateWrites #FakeItTillYouMakeItFiclet #Steddie #No Upside Down AU #Fake Dating AU #do not question my airline knowledge #i have none #i'm winging it #lmao winging it... cause planes? anyway #and i dont wanna know if i'm wrong #so shhhhhhhhhhh i'm right because i say i am

612 notes · View notes

nerdasaurus1200 · 4 months

Text

Charlie: Husk I need a hard cider. Hardest you got.

Husk: That doesn’t sound good.

Angel: Well Val needs me at work. Good luck with her Husky.

Husk: Something wrong Charlie?

Charlie: I just found out that my dad wasn’t lying about hooking up with Eve.

Angel: 😳 Nevermind, work can wait.

Charlie: Apparently Eve and my parents had a three-way going on.

Husk: Wow, that-that is a shocker.

Charlie: Husk, he told me that he told you.

Husk: In my defense, what happens at the bar stays at the bar. Your dad was shitfaced, how was I supposed to know it was fucking true??

Angel: So this was EVE Eve right? The chick who bit the apple and fucked Adam, she was banging your parents??

Charlie: That’s the one. *takes a big swig of her cider* But it was more than that. Dad says the three of them were all deeply in love with each other.

Angel: Holy shit…

Husk: Are you not okay with it or something?

Angel: Can you imagine what the threesomes were like?!

Husk: Tony you’re not helping.

Charlie: yes-I mean no- I mean-*sighs* Yes I am okay with it. But it…I dunno, it just changes things. All this time I thought my Dad was just helping out a friend. But….he was helping one of the women he loves. And all this time neither he or mom ever told me. I don’t know why it took him this long to tell me.

Husk: Well from when your pops told me it’s a lot of complicated shit. No one’s seen her since the start of Hell.

Charlie: Well she’s gotta be somewhere.

Angel: Yeah, wasn’t she the first sinner?

Husk: That doesn’t mean the exterminations didn’t take her out.

Charlie: There’s still a chance they didn’t. If we can find both her and my mom, we should. I owe it to my dad.

Angel: *jumps* Oh my god, I’ve got it!!

Charlie: You figured out where Eve could be?!

Angel: No, even better! Your DAD was the forbidden fruit!!!

#hazbin hotel #fanfic #fanfiction #husk #charlie morningstar #angel dust #lilith x lucifer x eve

211 notes · View notes

frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 7 months

Text

i had a worm wiggle it's way into my head when 'work song' came on on my way home today.

pairing: steddie | word count: 2,949 | rated: T

cw: major character death (no gore, nothing descriptive, though it's stated that Eddie was sick and getting weaker, then implied that he dies.)

Eddie Munson’s mother was a witch.

He didn’t know this until he was stricken with the same sickness that took her from him years and years before, but he knows now.

He knows from the small chest he found buried deep in his and his Uncle’s attic one day after learning of his ailment, and the handful of months he should expect to have left, from the local doctor.

The chest was brimming with scrolls, tomes, candles, stones, herbs, vials, even a small pewter cauldron.

“I shoulda known,” was all Wayne had said, heeding Eddie’s beckoning call that hazy afternoon.

Eddie sorted through everything he had found; spending hours every day flipping through each book and journal, deciphering his mother’s handwriting and the spells she had inscribed onto the pages.

He even started to try a few; his mother’s ‘powers’, per sae, had come from the earth around her, writing in the largest, most disheveled of the journals that all she had needed to do was to listen to Mother Earth herself, listen to what she had to tell her.

So, Eddie practiced.

Small things at first, like seamlessly re-attaching the snipped off head of a daisy back to it’s stem, snipping it off again only to regrow an identical one in it’s place. Even starting a broken branch of the pine outside the Munson home on it’s way to a new green version of what was lost.

Eddie counted himself very lucky that Wayne was not one to believe the church’s nearly unhinged ramblings about witchcraft being the work of the Devil, and let Eddie practice a couple of the other simpler things on him.

“Jus’ don’t go thinkin’ I’mma let you chop my head off, boy.”

Wayne’s body aching from following their ox around all day with the plow? “Here, drink this, it should help.” It did.

Couple of Wayne’s fingers get snapped under the same ox’s hoof? A little harder, but he managed; the digits sore and achy that night, but good as new come morning.

“There a hair spell in that book, Ed?” Wayne joked one morning over breakfast, a good three quarters of the way through the six months the doctor gave Eddie, and a couple after finding Maggie Munson’s secret.

“Hmmmm….I dunno Uncle Wayne,” Eddie flips through his journal absently, “I think a Get Your Hair Back spell is too close to a love charm to work right. You could end up with hair all over your body and not just on that beautiful, shiny, head o’yours.”

“Love spells are touchy,” Maggie’s journal had said, “There are a rumored few that work, but only for the truest forms. I’ve tried some simple potions and charms…Al still left..and if they didn’t work…” the rest was easily filled in.

“Oh yeah? Then how's about a Cure What Ails Ya spell? Got one’a those in that there book?”

“Why? You feeling sick, Wayne?” Eddie half-jokes, trying to veer away from having this conversation with Wayne again.

Wayne’s quiet as Eddie focuses intently on the book infront of him, trying, and failing, to scoop up a bite of egg onto his fork without looking away.

“Ed,” his uncle starts, soft and pleading once again, “Is there really nothin’ that can help ya?”

Eddie huffs, dropping his fork onto his plate and pushing it and the journal away from him. Definitely something a younger boy would do, not the nearly 25 he is now. “Why don’t you give them a look, huh? ‘Cause I already have.”

“Ed–”

He snaps his head up to glare at the older man. “What is it Wayne? What?” Eddie snatches the journal back up off the table without looking. “I’ve looked okay? Through Mom’s and through every damn book in that attic. And there was nothing. Nothing! You think she would’ve left if there was?” He stands sharply, knocking the small faded blue table away as he does. “Would’ve left m—”

His free hand wraps around his middle, nausea and the spins taking him for a ride a the sudden movement.

“Hey, Hey, sit back down son.” Wayne stands as well, coaxing him back into his chair.

The nausea spells have become more frequent, the dizziness even more so, as the months have worn on, so Wayne ties up Eddie’s hair (growing thinner by the day), walks the short few steps to the pitcher of water he’d pulled from the well that morning, and pours some into a bowl, grabbing a clean(-ish) rag on his way back.

Wayne smoothes the cool damp rag over Eddie’s face and neck, slowly and deliberately until the nauseous feeling passes.

“‘M sorry, Uncle Wayne, I know you’re just worried.”

“It’s alrigh’ boy, I shouldn’t’a pushed.”

“I’m still doing better than most,” Eddie says, voice tilting up at the end, “I think it’s ‘cause of the magic.”

“Thoughtcha said there wasn’t no cure in that book.” Wayne states, moving to empty the bowl.

“There’s not,” Eddie closes his eyes, relaxes back into his chair. “Doc thinks Ms. Wilson had the same as me and Ma, and you saw how quick it took her.”

“Mrs. Wilson was nearly 70, Ed.”

“Then how about that boy Carver? He was my age, and Doc gave him six when he came down with it too, was gone in two.”

Wayne shrugs, “The devil wanted him back sooner.”

Eddie barks out a laugh, lifting his head to catch a glimpse of his Uncle’s ‘desperately-trying-to-hide-his-smile’ smile.

Wayne jokes, but Eddie’s been contemplating this for a while now. When he had hit his second month, he was about the same as he was, steadily growing weaker, as what was expected, but nothing like how Ms. Wilson and Jason had looked in theirs.

Hell, Jason had worked on the docks with Eddie since they were boys; both fit and lean, healthy young men with the musculature to show for their work.

That was when he’d found his mom’s books, and ever since, his health had slowed to a crawl.

“I think using mom’s magic is helping me.”

Wayne is quiet, cleaning their plates from the table and dumbing the leftover eggs out the window to the pigs.

“I think it’s your magic now, Eds.”

—---

And so it went.

Eddie’s given six months turned into a year, his magic growing from healing fingerbones, to mending their ox’s broken femur with ease.

His year didn’t come without worsening symptoms though, and his previously well filled out overalls hung loose around him, his calves barely filling out the tops of his boots tied all the way tight.

Wayne always kept the faith, so to speak, not a religious man by nature, but Eddie could hear him sometimes in the early morning and late night praying to “Whoever’s got their ears on up there,” to keep Eddie safe, to keep him in their sights when the time came.

Eddie had been doing work of his own, too. Writing down anything new he found out while sitting with the Earth, listening, watching….

Mother told him through the whispers of the trees, the soft humming of the grass, that he’d know when it was time.

And that time was within the next few days.

He felt it in his bones, he felt it in the air when Wayne passed him his birthday gift (a flaky scone with the biggest chunks of chocolate in town, an amazing treat he got once a year) on the morning of his 25th year, he felt it in the very ground he walked on…

He was ready, though he did harbor one regret. One thing he knew he missed out on.

He’d never fallen in love.

Over his last year, Eddie would sit with Mother; amongst the trees, lain back in the field of grass on the hill behind their house, and tell her about them.

The ‘they’ that he’d likely never meet, the they that would love him for nothing but his love in return.

Nothing was ever specific, only the vaguest feelings he’d get about them, about the way they’d love, the humor they’d possess, the love for Eddie’s stories they’d have.

And every time he’d speak of them, Eddie’d leave with something that he didn’t realize he had picked up until he was nearly back home.

A chain of daisies Wayne had plucked from atop his head when he sat down for dinner, a scrap of dark blue fabric he’d found walking through town, a bouquet of bright yellow daffodils, the tiny sun bleached skull of a bat.

And he’d write. Over and over, never quite getting it right, but there was something he knew he needed to get out of his very being before he left for good. Something that felt like a promise.

–

The morning came, and Eddie awoke to a silent house.

Wayne out on the fields already, most likely out helping the folks on either side of them with whatever they needed doing, with only the hens’ clucks and pigs’ snorts keeping him company with the calls from the birds in the trees.

Eddie got up, slow as slow could be, got himself into his clothes, shuffled down the hall to the kitchen to their small blue table, tore out a blank page of his mother’s notebook and wrote.

Pouring all of what remained within him, Eddie thought of the Earth, of his mom, of Uncle Wayne, and them. His unknown love.

-x-X-x-

Steve Harrington’s mother was not a witch.

But for the last few years, he’s had a suspicion that his Grandmother is.

Everyone says that their food tastes so good because “It’s made with love!”, but with Mama Harrington, it was real. The love and intent she imbued into her meals was there. And she could cure any ailment.

She would always go on and on about the importance of food, each recipe’s ingredients’ healing powers, and of the recipes and their stories that had been passed down through the years from her mother, and her mother’s mother, all the way to now, where they ended up in a cookbook that’d gone untouched since it was given to Steve’s mother in the late 60’s.

“A gift! Unused for so many years, Steven!”

“I know, Mama,” he nods again, dropping some green something into the pot of sauce bubbling on the stove. “Almost 25 years.”

“Aye! You have catching up to do.” she says, shaking a thick wooden spoon at him.

“Me?” he scoffs, “I don’t know the first thing about cooking, Mama!” Baking? He’d hold his own. Cooking? If his grandmother wasn’t there to help him of on the phone to guide him through a recipe? Kitchen would go up in flames.

“Bah! Watch closely, dear.” she says, shuffling to the pot that stands nearly as tall as her where it’s perched on the stovetop. “It is always your intent behind what you are cooking. You can make anything be anything as long as the intent is there.”

“Even eggs?”

She nods, her nearly fully white bun flopping back and forth on top of her head. “Even just eggs.”

“So if I want a carbonara to help get my friend a passing grade?” he asks, incredulous, but immediately thinking of Robin, who’s coming up on her finals in a couple months (for her doctorate! A PhD! Can you believe that!).

“The intent! Put it into the eggs, into the pasta, I don’t care! But make it for That!”

She throws a concerningly large handful of pepper into the pot on the stove, and gives it a stir.

“Now, this is my Mama’s recipe, and it will help your Pa’s back.”

“How so?”

“Because I told it to,” she growls, glaring at the pot and raising her spoon as if she was going to smack some sense into it.

“Alright, Mama,” Steve chuckles, “What do you need me to do?”

He spends the next hour helping his grandma roll out some of her premade dough for some fettuccine looking noodles, grabbing a wrapped up blob “from the top shelf, Steven. That’s the stuff I made for you.”.

He rolls, folds, and cuts it as he’s told, then goes to pick Robin up from campus while she finishes everything.

“It won’t take long now, dear, and you shouldn’t either.” Mama scolds, waving her spoon around once again.

“Got it, Mama, be back soon.” He slips on his shoes, looks in on his grandpa in the living room as he passes, grinning at the loud snores he hears from the direction of Pa’s recliner, and slips out the front door to his car.

In no time, he’s picked up Robin, stopped for a movie from Blockbuster, and is home to the smell of fresh bread.

“We’re home Mama!”

“I’m just setting the table, grab your Pa!”

“Come on Pa, Mama’s got some pasta for you.” Steve says, coaxing his grandfather out of the chair and into his slippers.

“Ah, perfect, my back’s been real achy lately.”

“That’s ‘cause you sleep in the recliner, Mr. Harrington.”

“How many times do we gotta tell you, Robin? Just call us Ma and Pa.”

Robin plops down in her designated spot across from Ma, “Hey, you should get used to it now; Once I finally get up the nerve to Chrissy out, she’ll come over here all “Mr. Harrington” this and “Mrs. Harrington” that.

“And how’s that coming, Bobs?” Steve asks her, sitting down beside his grandma and immediately passing the plate of bread across the table to Robin’s waiting hands.

She starts going off at a million miles a minute about her longest standing crush, while Steve shares a look with his grandma, both smirking conspiratorially as Robin takes a bite of the bread.

That’d been Steve’s suggestion, a bread imbued with luck.

It wasn’t a “Love Spell”, Mama said there was none in existence that were worth the pain. But the minimal luck that she had sown before into countless baked goods (especially near February), have had a surprisingly great track record.

With everyone but Steve.

She couldn’t quite figure out what it was that kept him from getting the benefits too, every time she had tried, they had tried, it was an astounding failure.

First with Tommy Hagan, the carrot cake cookies Steve had presented him with as a special birthday treat back in middle school ended with two missing front teeth and a broken arm.

Then again without even thinking about it, he’d added some luck and hope to homemade chicken pot pies he’d whipped up when he and Nancy were on the rocks.

It had somewhat worked with Billy Hargrove, but that one hadn’t even been intentional, and he shudders to think about it to this day.

“I don’t know my dearest, maybe it is because you are already tied to someone else?” She had said after her tried and true pot pie recipe failed.

“But it didn’t even work with the one I was already with!” he yelled, sighing deep and pinching the tears away from the bridge of his nose. “She jumped right into Byers’ arms.”

Mama had just given him a pitying look, which was worse, honestly.

Now, he stays far away from any of Mama’s lucky foods, especially with the weird twisting feeling he had gotten the few times he’d tried over the years after leaving Hawkins.

He and Robin came up to Indy for Robin to go to U of I, a year after she graduated, and when Steve was fired from the job that had been paying the majority of their apartment's rent when he was spotted kissing his then boyfriend by his manager….they came to live with Steve’s grandparents, taking to them both with open arms and hearts.

He comes back to the present when his third bite of pasta clears away the last of his headache.

Steve shoots his grandma a knowing look, which she ignores with a sip of wine.

–

They’re nearly finished with dinner when it happens.

Steve’s listening intently to a story Pa is telling them, something he’s sure he’s hears a dozen times before, when he absentmidedly picks up, then takes a bite of the bread Ma made for Robin.

It’s more than he’s ever felt before.

In the past, whenever Steve’s tried to gain some luck in love, he’s been inundated with flashes, feelings, words, a warmth in his bones that he’s wanted to hold onto forever.

The feelings grew stronger the older he got, and now, Steve finds himself sitting on a rolling grassy hill.

It’s not a flash of a vision like before, he’s sitting in the tall soft grass, and his hands are already making a chain of daisies. Nearly done, in fact.

He finishes it off, turns it around in his hands, then when he goes to put it on…

He’s back at the table with his family, the slice of bread in his hand, and Pa still telling his story.

Steve jumps up, startling the other three, and beelines it to the kitchen, flinging open drawers, searching for just a damn scrap of paper.

Mama follows him, “Steve, the bread?”

“I was on a hill, chaining daisies, and now I have to get these words out.” He probably doesn't make a lick of sense, but he doesn’t want to lose them.

Suddenly, a pad of paper and pen are passed into his line of sight. He snatches them up, and starts scribbling down as much as he can.

He and Mama stare down at the words on the page.

“Mama, what is this?”

She is silent for a handful of breaths.

“This is why the luck never worked.”

now with a part 2!

also: i don’t know the first thing about being a witch or anything of the sort, nor do i know anything but the basics about cooking; hope im not way way off on anything!!! this is all in fun 😅

#eddie is living in a non-specified olden times #and steve is post-canon about to turn 25 so it's 1992 for him and robin #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #witch!eddie #witch!steve #work song #hozier #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #stranger things #st #wayne munson #robin buckley #noelle writes #it is nearly 11 pm and this looks good but i will probably find problems with it in the morning #if you see typos no you don't

315 notes · View notes

roseworth · 9 months

Text

Jason was pretty sure Rose was a bad influence on him. He rarely ever drank if he wasn’t with Rose.

Then again, Rose rarely ever killed if she wasn’t with him. So he was probably a worse influence on her.

“’m not even drunk,” Rose slurred, hands fumbling for her drink. “You’re the one that’s drunk.”

“No ‘m not,” Jason muttered. “Not even feelin’ anything.”

“Liar.”

“Yeah.”

She took a long drink from the can, then dropped it on the floor. He felt like the room was spinning as he watched the can roll away from them. She lounged down on the couch, laying across his legs with a grin.

“That was my… eighth drink,” she announced proudly. “How ‘bout you?”

Jason looked at his can. He was pretty sure he was working on his fourth, but he was already nearly as drunk as her. “Dunno,” he answered. He leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling, listening to the sound of Rose cracking open another can.

“You… you should slow down,” he said. “Not good for you.”

His concern was rewarded with a pillow thrown at his head. “What are you, my mom?”

She laughed at her own joke. He laughed, too. It wasn’t very funny.

“You wanna hear somethin’ funny?” Rose snickered, her voice lowering like she was telling a secret. “Slade doesn’t know sign language.”

“That’s not funny,” Jason replied.

“I know. Pisses me off,” she huffed. “He’s the reason Joe can’t talk, and he… won’t even learn how to listen to him.”

Jason grunted in response. Rose took it as an invitation to continue her drunken ramble.

“I think he… he doesn’t love me,” she mumbled. “Or Joey. Or anyone. He loves the idea that he’s capable of love. But he’s not.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.” She sat up quickly, then her head immediately fell onto his shoulder. “Your turn.”

“What?”

“It’s opening up time. Your turn.”

Jason snorted. “I don’t remember agreeing to opening up time.”

“Too bad, ’s happening,” she said. “Gimme a Bruce secret.”

“No secret to tell,” he said. “He’s an annoying, self-righteous cunt. But everyone knows that.”

She groaned and elbowed his side. “Nope. Dig deep, say somethin’ real.”

He pursed his lips, then let his head fall forward. He would blame the alcohol in the morning. He would say it didn’t actually bother him, it was just the alcohol talking.

“He’s still looking for an explanation,” Jason said quietly after a beat. “He’s still trying to figure out how I came back.”

“Oh.”

“Dunno what he’s looking for,” he continued. “I think he, uh, he thinks it’s not me. Or that I came back wrong, or something. He thinks there’ll be some… some answer for why I’m like this that he can blame.”

“What do you think?” Rose asked softly.

Jason thought Bruce was right. He thought that if Bruce found something, it would prove that he was never supposed to come back, or that he was just some horrible distortion of what he used to be.

It was why he never tried to figure it out. He had decided it was better to have the question hanging over his head than the answer.

“I think he’s an ass,” Jason answered, throwing his head back and taking a lot swig. “It doesn’t matter.”

Rose didn’t reply, just took another sip of her drink.

“I’m done with trying to get my own father to understand me,” Jason said.

“Yeah, me too,” Rose replied.

They were both lying. Neither of them called each other out on it.

“You talked to your brother recently?” Jason asked.

“No comment,” she said. “You talked to yours?”

“Which one?”

“Any.”

“Nope.”

She snorted. “We suck.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice that we suck in the same ways, though,” Rose laughed. “That’s prolly why we don’t have any other friends.”

“We’ve got Eddie,” Jason pointed out, grabbing another drink as Rose finished the last of hers.

“Eddie’s dead.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Rose tossed her empty can on the floor and sighed. “I think you’re a bad influence on me,” she said.

Jason took a sip from his can and raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t talk about my feelings with anyone else.”

“I think talking about your feelings is supposed to be a good thing.”

“Not for me,” she insisted. “We should stop hanging out.”

“Probably.”

Neither of them moved.

“What was your mom like?” Jason asked out of the blue. The room was still spinning around him. He took another sip to see if it would make it better.

“Nice try,” Rose responded, all humor gone from her face.

“I thought it was opening up time.”

“Opening up time is over,” she said. “Unless you want to talk about your mommy issues, in which case go ahead.”

“No thanks.”

“Thought so,” she scoffed.

They fell into silence again. Jason finished his drink and set the can down next to him. Rose rubbed her eyepatch with a frown.

“Does it hurt?” Jason asked.

“My eye? Only when I think about it.”

“How much do you think about it?”

“I told you opening up time is over.”

He frowned at her for a moment, then looked down at the floor. “Well, I can still feel the crowbar, sometimes,” he said. “He got a few good hits in, the worst was right where my spine meets my neck.” He reached a hand up and slowly grazed his fingers over where the scar should be. “Still feel it when I move too fast.”

Rose was silent. Jason could feel her stare digging into the side of his head. He didn’t look up; he didn’t want to know how she was looking at him.

“That sucks,” she said finally.

He wasn’t sure why, but there was something hilarious about that. He broke into a fit of laughter. “Yeah, it does,” he grinned.

She started laughing too. “My eye hurts most when I try to think about what came before I worked with Slade,” she giggled. “Last time I talked to Roy, I had to leave after like 30 seconds because it hurt like the knife was cutting it out again.”

That wasn’t funny at all. They were both laughing until they couldn’t breathe.

They were definitely bad influences on each other.

Neither of them seemed to notice.

#having a jason & rose moment. sorry (lie).#those are my emotional support toxic besties that only i understand #rose wilson #jason todd #fanfic #my writing #dc

212 notes · View notes

pentacentric · 3 months

Text

I probably think way too much about how very little Sam knew about Mary. How John and Dean gave him almost nothing, to the point that she wasn't even really like a ghost shadowing his life, more like the story of one overheard in bits and pieces over the years. And yet, his whole life from when he can first remember—every bit of motivation or guilt, every point of pride or shame—is built around his mother, this person he isn't allowed to know.

I've written a lot of bits and pieces about it before, but never a standalone. This is actually an excerpt from a longer story, but I modified it some and I think it works on its own, hopefully (he knows about hunting already but that's really the only canon difference).

..........................

When Sam's in fourth grade, and has to write a page about his favorite memory, he asks for Dean's help. All he can seem to dredge up at the moment is just too weird or too farfetched. Things that say far too much about the way they live for a teacher to read.

So he asks Dean what he would write about.

After some teasing about his best memories being of all the times Sam's embarrassed himself (and a well-aimed pink rubber eraser hitting him between the eyes) Dean quiets down and turns thoughtful.

"Well, I dunno what my most favorite memory would be, really. I guess…" He bites his lip, chews on it for a second, gaze directed absently into the distance. "I think it would prob'ly be my first memories? It musta been, like, when I was three and four maybe. They're…of Mom."

"Oh." Sam's chest gets a little tight. He speaks quietly, cautiously. Dean—Dean and Dad both—they don't talk about her much. Sam's seen her picture, the one that Dad keeps in his journal, a few times, but he knows so little about her. Just that she was pretty (beautiful), with a smile that reminds of him of Dean's and wavy blonde hair. "What was she—what are they like?"

Dean smiles, maybe a little sad, but it's more than that. Warm, wistful; gaze still unfocused and distant. "Mostly…happy. Like…bright. She'd sing to me a lot, and, like, I didn't know the songs back then, but, when I hear 'em now, I can hear her voice singing them. Beatles, Beach Boys, Simon and Garfunkel, um…Peter, Paul, and Mary, maybe…" Dean chuffs out a laugh. "I remember Puff the Magic Dragon, at least…I think I even remember Dad teasin' her about how she better sing me some real music, too, not just sissy crap, but, I dunno, maybe I made that up."

Dean pauses, that bittersweet expression on his face, still, and Sam doesn't want him to get lost in it. He also doesn't want to miss this opportunity, if he can help it.

"I dunno. He'd say somethin' like that." Dean spares him half a smile, still somewhere else in his head. "What…what else do you remember? What'd you guys do together?"

"Well, not a whole lot. I guess mostly just the normal stuff you do with a little kid. Like legos, I remember we'd build castles an' fortresses and stuff. I wanted her to build me a car but we didn't have enough black bricks, so she made me a little boat instead. Dad said it looked like a bathtub." He smiles. "Um, she'd dance with me, sometimes. To the radio. Make lunch—I mostly remember sandwiches and Mac n' Cheese. I'd sit in that little seat in the cart when she went to the grocery store, and she'd ask me what was on the list and I'd pretend I could read it and make up dumb stuff."

The silence is longer this time. Sam breathes out, carefully. "What kinda stuff?"

"I dunno. Just silly things, like 'elephant steaks!' Or 'a unicorn!' Or 'poop n' rhubarb pie!'"

"Gross." Sam wrinkles his nose.

Dean grins at that. "I think you're, like, the only kid ever who never found poop and fart jokes funny."

"'Cause they're not."

When Dean laughs, muttering little weirdo, Sam looks around for something harmless to throw at him, pouts.

"Don't worry, Sammy, if anyone wonders why you're so weird I'll just tell them it's 'cause you still poop your pants, and you're kinda sensitive about it an' all."

"Dean."

Sam decides that his pencil is perfectly fine to throw after all and, as a concession, doesn't aim it at his head. Dean grins, not seeming too annoyed by the assault, so Sam decides to push his luck.

"Did Mom think it was funny? Your lists?"

Dean's melancholy little smile is back. "Yeah…yeah, I think she did. She'd always laugh, anyways. An' she had the best laugh. I'd make up stuff that just got more and more ridiculous just so I could keep watchin' her laugh." He sighs, shrugs. "Anyways, yeah…that's Mom. That's what I remember."

It gets quiet after that, and Sam can see Dean's face starting to shutter over as he withdraws. It's rare for Sam to get to see his brother so open and unguarded any more. Over the last few years, Dean's started to change; Sam can tell. Still fun, still charming, still affectionate, at least with Sam (mostly when there's no one else around to catch him being so uncool). But, even though they're not always alike—Dean doesn't usually brood, rarely explodes, and he never gets that kind of burning cold John does when he's focused on something—sometimes now he kinda reminds Sam of Dad. He's been more closed off, the way Dad can be, his deeper emotions pushed farther away, out of Sam's reach. Doesn't show when things get to him, like he used to.

It's actually kind of lonely, sometimes.

"So, what are you gonna write about, Sammy?"

When Sam shrugs, Dean suggests the time they ran out of gas on a back road in central Florida. They'd only walked two miles before an Oscar Myer Wienermobile came barreling down the road, seemingly out of nowhere, and gave them a lift to and from the closest gas station (still a good eight miles away). Sam counters with the night in Montana that Dad got so drunk he started fighting with the motel owner about yetis (Dad coming down hard on the side of 'hoax'). They ended up getting kicked out at two am after Dad had cut down the guy’s “Bigfoot Crossing” sign with an axe. They toss back and forth increasingly ridiculous ideas until they're both laughing so hard they're in literal tears. When John comes back, they can't even stop long enough to answer what's so funny. Dad just smiles, bemused and fond, and shakes his head before heading off to shower.

Sam thinks maybe he can add this afternoon to his Good Memories pile.

In the end, he waits until that evening, before bed, and easily fills up a page-and-a-half about the time, last summer, when Dad was on a hunt out west and he and Dean had spent all afternoon exploring tidal pools in Yaquina Head, Oregon, marveling at the tiny little aquatic worlds they found. He invents an older teenage cousin that tagged along so the teacher won't question why two young kids spent the day alone in a national park.

He gets an A.

From then on, Sam keeps his eyes out in thrift stores for cassettes from the bands Dean mentioned; pockets them when he can to listen to later on the beat-up Walkman knock-off Dean stole for him for his sixth birthday. He likes a lot of it, but he's careful about what he keeps; only his favorites. He stashes them in the bottom of his school bag, in the hollowed-out book that Bobby showed him how to make last year, on a rainy day when Sam got bored with watching old Westerns.

For some reason, he doesn't want Dean to know about them. Doesn't want him to feel like Sam's trying to take something away from him. So he slips them in when he's sitting in the back of the Impala alone, on long trips, and closes his eyes. Lets the albums pour into his ears over the headphones; shuts the rest of the world out. Sgt Pepper's. Pet Sounds. Bookends. He tries to imagine his mom, Mary, singing the songs to him, in a sunny kitchen.

But he can never really pull together a complete image of her; just bits and pieces, blurred-together impressions: yellow hair, the smiling face from the picture (looking kind of flat, like a mask), a flowered dress he'd seen in a shop window. And he doesn't know what her voice sounded like, so it kind of just ends up being a composite of the voices of some of his favorite teachers (along with the mother of a classmate back in Indiana who drove him home once when she spotted him waiting for the rain to stop under the playground slide).

So he gives up on trying to picture her, and, instead, just tries to sink into the music, sees if he can feel what she was feeling when she listened to it. Imagines the conversations they might have: which songs would be her favorites, why she would have liked them, where she was the first time she heard them playing.

When he hears those songs on the radio now, or over the speakers in a restaurant, it makes him feel kind of happy and sad at the same time.

They remind him of her.

(Except for America—for some reason, that one makes him think of Dean.)

#spn fic #sam winchester #dean winchester #weechesters #mary winchester #john winchester #sam's lonliness #motherless sam #supernatural fanfic #my fic

117 notes · View notes

aealzx · 10 months

Text

A light knock on the door frame caused Leo’s head to twitch up from his videos, a large smile flashing his teeth when he spotted Carol at the door. “Mom!” he chirped, and started squirming to get up to greet her.

“Hey, honey. How’s two of my favorite boys doing?” Carol laughed, quickly heading to the bedside so Leo didn’t have to get off it, and could just kneel and hug her.

“Good!” Leo chimed, rubbing his cheek against Carol’s shoulder and humming lightly when she gave him a firm hug back. “Well, y’know, considering everything else that’s happened. Being sick probably really sucks, and having a banged up ankle also sucks. But it’s cozy here, and we get to relax. Dee’s been sleeping a lot, I’ll wake him up soon for dinner, but I dunno if we’ll get him to eat anything major. He’s kind of picky sometimes.”

Carol could only chuckle lightly as Leo rambled on without letting go of her. He always did talk a lot, but he didn’t usually cling to her this much. Which just confirmed her suspicions from what she’d heard from the others. “Uh huh. So if everything is as expected for you, then what’s got you concerned?” she prodded, absently rubbing Leo’s back and noting the slight tense in his frame at the question.

“Concerned? Me? Nahhhh,” Leo brushed off, keeping his head where it was, facing away from her. “If anything I’m just antsy. Been cooped up in here for a few hours, you know? About ready to get up and move.”

Carol could only give a mildly questioning hum at the response, raising her brow, knowing he was avoiding so many things with her right then. “Hmmmm. So that’s why you’re clinging to me and deliberately hiding your face in my shoulder?” She felt Leo’s cheek shift as his smile momentarily fell before he put it back.

“No- It’s because your shirt is really soft. It just feels great at the moment,” Leo lied, rubbing his cheek again to try and prove a point.

Carol knew he was lying even without knowing him now. She was still wearing the scrubs from work, and those were not soft at all. But she didn’t call him out on it. “Oh? Well, come a lil closer then, honey. How about I just…” she prodded, leaning forward to push Leo back a little so she could scoot onto the bed with them. Then she expertly hooked his knees towards her, scooting him up onto her lap in a ball and wrapping her arms fully around him in a cradle. Leo sputtered in giggles and laughs, but the squirms were both to get comfortable and in slight protest. Carol giggled along with him, then once he was settled she started softly humming a nonsense song while slightly rocking back and forth. If it really was nothing then she anticipated Leo would snuggle for a moment, and then squirm again to be let go. But if it wasn’t nothing….

As Carol expected, instead of getting built up energy from being kept in a ball, Leo started to sag into her and his nose found it’s way into her shoulder again as his shoulders shook. “............at's not fair…….,” Leo eventually mumbled pathetically. “Wasn’t supposed to cry on you too.”

The half admittance of defeat just made Carol give a soft chuckle, squishing her cheek affectionately against Leo’s head. “I’ve learned some tricks,” she consoled, a comforting hand rubbing wide paths on his back. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong now?”

“Mhhh….,” Leo hummed back, seemingly wanting to answer, and yet finding it hard to say. Carol was quietly patient though, and it was enough to motivate him to start talking. “I just… It’s stupid really…… I just can’t get what Casey said out of my head,” he admitted, finally putting it out in the open, and prefacing it with preparation to be told he didn’t need to worry. “That every decision I make could cost someone their life. And then…. All of this happened. And now I have to take care of Donnie. And I’ve done it so many times before. But… this time…. I’m just scared. You know?”

“Yeah, I know exactly how that feels,” Carol agreed. She’d worked as a nurse, and a neurologist for so long now. It was hard not to be worried that she’d make the wrong decision. But there was one thing she always had to remember, that might help Leo now. “But you have to also remember that your decisions could be the one thing that saves someone’s life. So you shouldn’t be scared to act based on what you know. And you, my boy, are brilliant. And I’m so proud of you.” She couldn’t help herself, and reached over to give Leo’s cheek a light pinch before giving him a big kiss on the top of the head.

Leo had gone quiet, but Carol could feel the tension slowly start to seep out of his frame. The grip on her shirt loosened as the realization sank in. “.... Yeah…” he breathed, her words playing in his head again. “Yeah! You’re right!” he eventually chirped, pushing up to look at her fully before flinging his arms around her shoulders. “Thanks Mom! You’re awesome!”

Carol could only laugh and return the hug once again, glad to see that his doubts had been quick to remedy this time.

--------

Previous Next

____________________

Mama fluff time, awww yeah BD

Also credit to happyfoxx-art for the headcanon that mama Carol is a neurologist, I fully support it and can't see her as anything else now X'DDD

#my art #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #better genes continued #leo #carol #mom time #mama Carol

169 notes · View notes

cactusspatz · 4 months

Text

December recs

Whew, I read a lot of fic in December! My Yuletide recs are here and here, and I winnowed down the rest of them to a mere ten recs.

Click on for Batman, Murderbot, and Goblin Emperor fics!

BATMAN

The Time Before by @cdelphiki

One moment, Red Hood was fighting with Black Mask, listening to the idiot go on about how he'd murder Jason long before he'd become a problem. The next… Jason was ten years in the past, nine-years-old, and fending for himself on the streets of Gotham. Bruce might not know about Jason yet in the timeline, but Batman was the only one who could protect him against Black Mask. If only Jason didn't hate him so much…

Excellent time travel fic!

this kind of weather by r_astra / @heyy-its-skip

Jason’s at school when his mom dies, and that’s the only reason any of it happens. If he’d been home, if he’d been with her, he would’ve been in the wind before anyone else even knew. Even if they looked, no one ever would’ve found him. He’d have taken to the sewers if that’s what it took, man-eating crocodile guy and all.

I love Jason in this, and his friendship with Stephanie, and the identity secrets.

seventeen going under by @bonerot19

"Where's your pops?" Terry shouted down the sidewalk. "Dunno," Jason said. "Haven't seen him in a week. I stopped goin' lookin' for him a long time ago." Hell, Jason was happy with the man's absence. Maybe it would stick, this time. "He owes me fifty bucks." Terry, closer to Jason now, was still shouting. Jason spun around and started walking backwards. "What'a'ya know," he said. "Me too." AU where Jason is seventeen, his parents are alive, he works nights at a convenience store, and everything is about to go to shit.

Loosely inspired by this kind of weather (in that Jason's parents survived longer) but much heavier on the angst and h/c. I'm loving the WIP sequel as well!

coconut and aloe by merils (Tim/Kon)

Tim still doesn’t sit. “I washed it like three times, but my hair still smells like vinegar and death,” he says, and gazes intently into Kon’s eyes. …Ah. Now Kon gets it. “Tim, buddy,” he says, amusement bubbling up in his chest, because apparently Tim can’t just ask like a normal person. It’s stupidly endearing. “Do you want me to wash your hair?”

Soft and sensual and sweet.

MURDERBOT

An Unexpected Quarter by @ilovedthestars

Murderbot is captured by the company, with no one to come to its rescue. Help comes from somewhere it doesn’t expect.

Aimed directly at my id, and a great outsider POV. On a similar theme, I also enjoyed Salvage or Repair by the same author.

words left behind by torpidgilliver

"How do you stand it?" Dr. Gurathin's tone is slow and even when he asks, "Stand what?" SecUnit 3 shares its feelings with someone who might understand.

Beautiful exploration of Three's grief, and a lovely look at Gurathin's life.

Terrible Tactical Strategy by audreycritter

Three is behaving oddly. There's a surprisingly ordinary explanation, it's just that the explanation isn't fun for anyone.

In which Three has feelings about media in an entirely new direction, and a mini breakdown. Achy but kind.

Un/Safe by John_lzhc

Ayda Mensah was in her office cubby, reviewing the last of the council dispatches, when she received an urgent assistance request from Secunit. That… had never happened before. Murderbot has a close encounter of a 3-year-old kind. It is not impressed.

*cackles* Look, Murderbot is so competent that I just can't resist stories where it panics in social situations.

GOBLIN EMPEROR

The Search for Marneise Amalo by Sphragis

"Before we may attend to the truly important aims of our account, we must address a matter that we had rather not. Were it not for the prurient curiosity of the worst kind of people, we would not deign even to introduce the following subject. As we are obliged to speak, we shall keep the point brief: Pel-Thenhior was not marnis. The accusation was always and only vicious rumor." On the (in)ability of love to find expression in the historical record.

Gorgeous fic using historical research (letters, academic writing, and video/interview) to explore the edges of Thara and Iana's relationship and future. Creative and wonderful.

#fic rec #monthly recs #batman #dcu #tim/kon #murderbot #murderbot diaries #goblin emperor #gen #thara/iana

51 notes · View notes

echo-goes-mmm · 7 months

Text

Silas and Wren #6

Masterpost

Warnings: lots of slavery talk, dehumanization, mention of measles, death mentions

“Do you miss your family?” asked Master.

“Hm? Oh. I dunno.” Wren looked down at the board. “I didn’t know my mom very well. Your move.”

Master moved his rook over three spaces.

“Me either,” admitted Master. “What about your dad?”

“I never met him,” he said. Wren moved up his pawn.

“Oh. Siblings?”

“I don’t know if I have any.”

“Well that sucks.” Master’s candidness almost made him laugh.

“I guess I miss that I don’t have any family? If that makes sense.”

“No, I get it,” said Silas, “How come you didn’t get to know your mother? Surely you were with her for a while.”

“Oh, I was sold off at eight. Master Lewett didn’t like keeping his slaves' children around. Check.”

Master hummed as he studied the board. Wren didn’t really like chess. He didn’t mind complicated rules, but the pieces and the board were so boring.

Silas moved his bishop in front of his king. Damn.

“What was your mom’s name?”

“He called her Willow.” Wren liked carcassonne more than chess. The colorful pieces in the shape of little men were fun. More than the black and white chess set.

He saw an opening that Silas had missed.

“Checkmate.”

“Dang.”

___________________

Silas told Wren he would be out running errands all day. It was true, but he couldn’t tell Wren what he was doing. He couldn’t forgive himself if he got Wren’s hopes up and failed.

“Hello, sir! Is everything okay with your purchase? We do have a return policy-”

He made his way back to the slavehouse. If he could just find that salesman again…

“No, no, everything’s fine. I was wondering, is there a way to track down a specific slave?” he asked.

“Well…” said the man, stroking his chin. “I suppose it’s possible. Do you have the name of an owner, or anything specific?”

“A Mr. James Lewett? He owned a woman he called Willow, who had a child while serving him. I’m looking to purchase her.”

“I’ll see what I can do. One of the other slavehouses may know the name. There will be costs involved, however, and I can’t promise anything.”

“That’s fine. And I’ll pay whatever you need to get it done.”

___________________

The salesman, Mark, promised to look for Wren’s mother and family. It hadn’t cost much actually, just a fee for Mark’s time, and a small amount for postage. All he had to do was wait.

It wasn’t fair that Wren didn’t know where his mom was. Even though Silas had his own issues with his family, at least he knew they were alive. He knew where he came from, knew his last name, his family’s personalities.

Wren couldn’t say the same for his family. He didn’t even know who his dad was. Or even if he had siblings.

___________________

Waiting for the information was killing him. Keeping such a big secret from Wren was difficult, but he couldn’t afford to tell him what he was up to. What if Mark didn’t find anything? Or worse?

___________________

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned into a month, until a month and a half into waiting, Silas finally got a letter.

Dear Mr. Raventoothe,

Please forgive the delay. Your request was rather in-depth, and oddly difficult to investigate.

I contacted Mr. Lewett. Regretfully, Mr. Lewett had sold ‘Willow’ some years ago, to a slavehouse. He has no recollection of any potential relatives of ‘Willow’, nor any potential slaves who may have fathered your purchase (forgive the assumption, I presume that’s what this is about).

Mr. Lewett indicated ‘Willow’ may have birthed several children, but not under his ownership. Your companion was her only child during her years there, according to his memory.

I did reach out to the slavehouse, and according to their records, 'Willow' (designated 11053) was sold to a Mrs. Benson.

Mrs. Benson died of old age a year ago. At my request, the family went through her records and found this:

11053 was renamed ‘Honey’, and worked as Mrs. Benson’s maid for many years. The family has fond memories of her, and she was one of their favorites. Unfortunately, ‘Honey’ died from a measles outbreak five years ago. My condolences.

I also reached out to the slavehouse where Lewett purchased ‘Willow/Honey’, but they closed due to a fire and reopened in another location. The files were either destroyed in the blaze or lost in the move. However, It may please you to know that no merchandise was harmed in the accident.

It pains me to tell you that it is impossible to locate any potential father or siblings of your companion. Slaves are often renamed, relocated, or sold and purchased privately. Often there are no records of their children until they are sold, and it is rare their parentage is noted in any capacity.

Regards, Mark.

P.S: Enclosed is the remaining postage fee that I did not use.

God damn it. Silas teared up. Willow was dead. From illness that could have been prevented. She had died five whole years ago, and Wren had no idea. And he probably had brothers and sisters out there. Living siblings that he would never know.

It wasn’t fair. Sniffling, he stuffed the letter back in its envelope and shoved it in his desk.

He’d keep the letter, but Wren didn’t need to know that he failed to locate his mom. Maybe at some point he’d tell Wren his mother passed away, but for now the letter would stay hidden in his desk drawer.

“Is everything alright, Master?”

He whirled around.

“Yeah! Yeah, everything’s fine,” he said, wiping his eyes. Wren looked a little suspicious, but said nothing.

“Um,” his mind raced. “How about a game of carcassonne?” He knew that was Wren’s favorite.

“Okay,” said Wren, still unsure. Silas got out the box. Thankfully, he ordered the river expansion and they hadn’t played with it yet.

Hopefully Wren wouldn’t notice how distracted he was.

taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @secretwhumplair @freefallingup13 @mylovelyme @whumpzone @paintedpigeon1 @haro-whumps @whumpthisway @fanastyfinder @extemporary-whump @susiequaz12

#Silas: *longs for family and needs therapy*#Also Silas: Maybe if i fix it for wren ill be fixed too!#Spoiler: it wont be fixed #Silas and Wren #my writing #whump #slavery whump #vampire whump

61 notes · View notes

stevenbasic · 2 months

Text

Growing into the Job, Post 391: Cat n Mouse, p2

“You’re wondering about me, about what’s happening. You were snooping because you’re curious, you’re nervous and scared. It’s okay, sweetie, I understand. I haven’t told you as much as I should about myself. A good girlfriend would, do that right? Well, I didn’t because I was a little, like…embarrassed. I was a little nervous about how you’d react, if you knew too much about me. I thought that you maybe wouldn’t like me anymore if you knew more about my past, how I grew up, how I got this way.”

“N-no Melissa…I w-want to know.” he stammered, “I want to know…you.”

That brought her a smile. She looked at him.

He sat there, on the counter, his 6’8” girlfriend's hands planted to either side of his hips. He’d just been caught, found in his hiding place. Melissa had been worked up, aggressive…she could get that way, he knew, and sometimes it got scary. Especially when she was so fresh and massively pumped-up from her weightlifting, her earlier workout. She was intense, but as soon as she sat him down her mood had changed, like it tended to do, on a razor-edged dime. Right now she seemed earnest, still really energized but sincere.

Jay, though, looked terrible. His face had gone ashen, and his stomach was in knots. Melissa knew all this of course, and she knew exactly what he needed.

“Here baby, hold this,” she said, offering him her bra and placing one of its huge, white, underwire cups over his nose and mouth. It dwarfed him, it dwarfed his face, and it could have easily covered his whole head. Immediately, though, his first breath began to make him feel better. Relief flowed through him as he was reacquainted with the scent of her skin. She could have released her perfumes to ease him, but this was haha better at the moment. I wanna make you know what you need.

From behind his bra-mask, he took nicely deep breaths as he looked sheepishly up at her, He tried his best not to look too embarrassed, but that was hard to do.

Satisfied, she smiled. “Feeling better? Good. Okay anyway, well, I guess I’ll keep going.”

Wordlessly, he nodded.

“You know it, right?. I’ve been able to do things, always, things other people couldn’t, even as a young girl. My mom knew about it. My sister is actually the same way, kinda, but different. I know you’ve seen it, or at least you’ve started to. Like how I grow quicker than other people, or how I get stronger and, whatever, faster and taller? My body does what it needs to, really really well.”

He looks confused. That’s normal.

“We didn’t have a lot of money, growing up, when I was young,” she continued, “my mom put everything she had into her, like, work I guess - but we traveled around a lot.” As she spoke, she made sure to position herself in just the right way to keep her big boobs bulging right in front of his face. Despite how enormously jacked she looked right now, she knew her breasts were still soft and hugely comforting to him. Staring at them made him feel better, just like that huge bra-cup covering his face.

“Me and my sister lived in a bunch of different places, so my mom could do her studies. West Coast, East Coast, Japan, Kentucky. She also started showing me off, as I started to get older, when I started to…develop. When my body became, like, perfect. I got tall, strong. I got pretty. I never got sick. She brought me around the world to show me to…people. People and businesses with a lot of money. She was trying to…I dunno…see what she could get. Finally we ended up here, hooked up with Evolution, and finally I ended up with…you.”

Melissa was trying her best to be honest, mostly telling him what she thought she could. What she wasn’t telling him was…well, a lot. She wasn’t telling him that, after years of being groomed and grown by the people around her, this was her first real ‘mission’. This was the first time they actually asked her to do anything real instead of just studying and testing her. They normally just wanted what was inside her, like her…whatever. DNA.

This had all become so much more than an ‘assignment’ to her though. This had become her new life. He had become her new life. This little man, breathing her ‘perfumes’ from her used bra, sucking on it for air like his life depended on it. This was the love of her life, her everything.

“You see…” Melissa’s voice grew quiet as her gaze shifted to the floor, down and away. For the moment, she looked uncharacteristically vulnerable. “...I never really got the chance to have someone, or make real attachments. I was always told not to, and that I shouldn’t. That I had much more important things I had to be doing. I needed to be training. I needed to be taught. I needed to be studied.”

He could hear it. As confusing as this was to him, it was hard for her, too. She’d never felt like this before, either.

“But now, as weirdly as it started, I have you.” There was a palpable frustration and desperation in her voice, but with Jay there she realized: really, she’d only been living a half-life, part of her had been asleep. He had woken her up.

She looked down at him, and the powerful emotions that warmed her insides doubled, then doubled again in a rising tide, a swelling wave. At the same time an intensely manic glee returned to her speech, speeding it up as she looked down at the object of her affection. “And I love you! I love you so much. I never knew I could feel this way about a person, a guy. I was always told men were, like, less. Less than human. Not worthy of our time or emotions, that we were superior. But being with you had taught me a lot. You’ve taught me a lot, and now I don’t care what they say! They don’t get to decide what happens between, like, you and me.”

“W-who? W-what??”Jay asked, his voice muffled by her bra. He was, of course, confused and bewildered - and he wasn’t even getting the whole crazy story. Even with the most unbelievable parts left out - her position as an asset for the Movement, to say nothing of the witchery, the origins of she and her sister, or who her mother actually was - he was incredulous. ”Wait, wait, wait. Who’s t-telling you wh-??”

“My mom, and my doctors mostly, their bosses. People who want to study me, or use me. People who I’m starting to figure out don’t really care about me, they just care about what I can do. What I’m made up of.”

What the hell does she mean?? This is so weird!

“But I’m getting kinda fed up. I love you, and I want to be your girlfriend. I want to protect you from all these people that want to hurt you or take you, or study you. So, if that means getting bigger and stronger and more powerful than - oh god, sweetie - I want to get enormous. If that’s what it takes to keep you safe I want to be twenty feet tall. I want to be able to break down buildings and be your Momazon giant she-hulk girlfriend! I want to keep developing, keep growing, keep growing my body and all these things I can do and be your superhero, your…omigod…whatever you need.”

It was happening, again. He could see it in her eyes, again. She was getting worked up, again. There was a manic energy building in her. His nervous fear and crippling arousal, though they’d never really left, started to redouble themselves - again.

She reached out, stroked the side of his head, fighting back the urge to grab his skull.

Looking at him like this, watching him needily breathe from her bra cup, just manifested in her how dependent he was getting. His eyes were a puppy dog’s, and, gah, he was just so fucking adorable. She loved it. She loved him. She wanted to protect him. “I just feel all these people, all these, like, forces outside, trying to get to you, trying to take you from me. And it makes me so mad. Like…like…these lawyers. When I first saw them, in my place, in my office…nnngh oh my god.”

Her place? Her office? At this point, his mind was reeling. His attempts to find out what was going on just seemed to bring up even more questions and he could feel himself gradually retreating into denial, acceptance, and eventually acquiescence to all these powers around him that were beyond his comprehension. In her presence now, assaulted by her beauty and breathing in the scent of her from her used clothing, he’d completely lost himself. Lost in a fog, He forgot why his nausea had come, and why it had suddenly gone. He forgot about his shrinking, and why he could no longer swim or drive or tie his shoes. It was all gone. He was focused, once again, entirely on her. And he wanted to hear more, more of what she could do.

”Wh-what were you going to d-do to them?” he asked, his voice shaking in arousal as she saw him twitch, “To the lawyers that were trying to…stop us?”

She smiled, hearing him use the word ‘us’. He didn’t even really know what he was saying, but she liked the sound. “What did I want to do? When they burst into the office?” she asked, still using one hand to stroke a gentle finger down the side of his quivering face, petting him. Her other hand still held her weight on the counter. When I heard that they wanted to take you away,” she said, her voice even and chillingly tender, “I wanted to kill them. I wanted to punch my hand into their chests and rip out their hearts. I wanted to break every bone in their bodies, arms, legs, skulls, and tear their heads off.”

Jay flinched under her touch. The violence she described, the way she described it - such detail, with such casual confidence - it shocked him. This was his girlfriend. It was terrifying, but also strangely arousing and he groaned, his loins surging as he pictured it, the scene, the physical power she had, the grisly demonstration of her obviously immense strength. It seemed so surreal, but in the dark parts of himself he knew it was possible, what she could do to another human being. There were parts, darker still, that wished he could see it. He wanted to see how strong she really was. “Y-you would…oh god…you would do that? To p-p-protect me?”

”Omigod baby I would do anything to protect you,” her breath hot and sultry as she, put her weight back on both hands and leaned in closer inches from his face. Her big chest was beginning to heave in her out-matched white tank top as she sensed his growing arousal. He likes this. “I would fucking rip them to shreds.” Describing this to him was turning him on, she realized. He likes thisss he doessss. He likes the real me hahaha. In a manic flourish of raven waves, she let her hair down, throwing more caution to the wind. If he likes it so much why hold back?

She let her voice deepen. “Oh, but I'm not gonna stop there. To protect you. I want you - nnngh, oh god - as close to me as possible. And, I wanna keep you there.” Her heart had begun to beat hard, powerfully. “I feel like I want you against me, against my skin, always, actually inside me, in the safest place possible.”

She saw how the deepening of her voice, its power, made him quiver. She knew she needed to try to control her urges, because they were strong, they were beasts, mastodons, giant she-mammoths inside her. They wanted to overwhelm him with their size, they wanted to smother him under their weight. For a moment she collected herself, puffing up her cheeks, then exhaled.

<whoooooooossssh…>

The poor little man almost fell backwards. Her breath - omigod my breathhh - it blew him backwards. He needed to catch himself with his hands behind himself, on the counter. He’d dropped her bra; it now draped down dangling over and between his legs.

She groaned, her eyes fluttering when she saw him faltering, recovering. Oh my god he’s so weak. Her pheromones came from her skin, unbidden, instinctively.

“wh-wh-what…” he stammered, “wh-what was th-that..?!?”

“Hold on honey,” she purred, her voice deepening yet another octave as she saw another opportunity to show him his place. “I’ll show you.” She drew in a deep breath, pursed her lips, and once again blew.

This time, it was stronger, like being in a wind tunnel with gales scented of mint and honey. And with it he moved, he slid back on his butt nearly two feet across the slick granite of the kitchen island under him, nearing the far edge. His eyes went wide and the power of her breath began to falter as it broke down into laughter. Mad giggles erupted from her as she reached out and had to catch him by the ankles before he fell off the other edge of the counter. She’d just pushed him back with her breath, with the power of her lungs, and it made her giddy with laughter.

“Oh my god,” he managed, in his amazement, his eyes wide, “M-Melissa…how strong are you?!?" His voice was a mix of awe and intimidation, and it fueled her.

She smirked at his disbelief, her laughter cut as a sharp thrill of dominance coursed through her veins. Her eyes were locked on his, and with a gleam to her eyes that nearly made him whelp, she answered him. “I’m very. Fucking. Strong. I think I could blow you through the wall if I wanted.”

He was sitting still on the counter, but now his legs were splayed out in front of him, outstretched. Her bra lay across his lap, and, as he looked at her, he couldn't help but spread his thighs, slowly, timidly, further apart. He showed her its straining, tenting the leg of his slacks begging to be set free. He showed her his painfully trapped erection.

“Oh, Jay, oh my god,” she breathed seeing his member throbbing in his slacks, seeing the empty white bra so close to it, “look at you. Look at how excited you are. Do you like this? Do you like when I show off strength? What I can do?”

“M-Melissa, p-please,” he peeped, pleading with her for…what? Was he asking her to stop, or did he want her help taking care of him? Was he trying to show her how uncomfortable she was making him, or did he want her to show him more?

The confusion on his face made her smile. The poor little thing was just so lost. He needed her to show him more. “Shhh, watch, sweetie,” she said, as she stood up straighter,

flexing and curling her arms up into a double-biceps pose over him. Her muscles, her enormous muscles that emerged like this after training, bulged and flexed like two footballs. Their strength made her physical superiority even more apparent. The sight made her tiny little boyfriend shake and gibber anew.

She now had visible lats flanking her chest, spreading to a cobra’s hood and exaggerating the V-shaped taper of her torso. The outline of her abdominal cavity beneath her tight-fitting top was apparent, with several inches of midriff and the bottom of her clearly defined six-pack visible. Her trunk and waist were ridiculously narrow in proportion to her chest and shoulders, but they were powerful with a lithe array of obliques. She had an impressive body, so tall, so perfect, and she wanted to show it off.

“Oh, sweetie,” she growled, allowing her upper body to relax for a moment before flexing again into an even more jaw-dropping display of her huge upper arms, “you look terrified. Why? Does it bother you, Jay? That I’m twice as strong as you? Haha, well, maybe a bit more than twice.” She flexed again; veins bulging from her biceps. “Ten times as strong as you? Maybe a hundred times as strong as you?” She flexed once more, and her biceps grew to mountains that would rival her father’s. “And every day I’m getting stronger and stronger. Every day I’m getting bigger and bigger.”

When she spoke, her voice growing deeper with each word, he could swear he felt the pressure waves produced by her mighty vocal cords, waves of sound flowing over him. He squinted against the force of it bombarding him, but he bathed in its energy. He groaned, and would have closed his eyes, but he needed to look upon her, up at her.

Melissa loved it, she loved seeing him succumbing to her power, submitting to it. She’d held back before, like she’d always done. People, when they saw what she could do, always became afraid, backed away from her when she came on too strongly. They couldn’t handle her, accept her, or meet her charge. But him? She could see it: he loved this. He loved her being big and strong. And he loves being my boyfriend.

“Sweetie, you should come to the gym with me sometime, and watch me get bigger,” she said, “I can show you how I do it, how I’m going to get so. Fucking. Huge.” At that she moaned, dropping her arms down to cross her wrists in front of herself, so she could flex the mighty muscles of her neck and shoulders in a crab pose. Her trapezius muscles swelled, growing upward into a pyramid around her long and otherwise graceful neck. She groaned again as she watched his eyes goggle at this new display of her massiveness. “So. Fucking…HUGE,” she finished with a near-roar, blowing his hair backwards.

She laughed.

He quivered.

He trembled in front of her, and watched as she now began to lean over, above him. He could see individual muscles rippling in her shoulders and chest as she struggled to hold back a new wave of manic, unhinged laughter. She picked the discarded bra up off his lap, and dropped it on the counter beside them. Thick veins snaked across her arms and shoulders drawing his eyes down to her powerful chest.

”M-Melissa..?” he asked, not knowing what she was about to do.

“Shh, shhhh Jay,” she growled, thunder rumbling deep within her chest before warping into the sing-song voice of a fairytale princess, ”Jay, Jay, Jayyyy…you are so good for me, so so good for me…” Her mind was racing, becoming determined as she began casually taking off his shoes. “All I think about now is building muscles and fucking you with them.”

“Wh-what…?” he sputtered, “M-M-Melis-“

“Growing bigger, and holding you, and caring for you, and overwhelming you,” she continued, as she pulled off his socks - first one, then two - and dropped them on the floor, “I want to overwhelm you Jay, I want to become more than you could ever handle. I want to become so big that I’m like your whole world.”

His mind was racing, both scrambling for a way to calm her down and eagerly anticipating what she might do next. She’d already set to unbuttoning his shirt, undoing button after button with a frenetic fervor.“M-Melissa, y-you know you’re the most import-“

If she could hear him, he couldn’t tell.

”You’re getting smaller, Jay,” she interrupted, having finished the last button, “Littler and weaker.” She opened his shirt wide and, after a moment of impatient consideration, ripped it in two, pulling both sides off his shoulders. “You need a big woman like me to protect you.”

urk..!

She eyed his body, the hollow thinness of his chest, the meagerness of his now-bare arms. Fucking amazing. Compared to her own female brawn - which she loomed above him menacingly now - he was a twerp, a weakling. Incredible.

She’d always known, even as a girl, that she was basically physically perfect, usually the strongest, fittest person in the room. It was just her reality, that she had physical advantages over others that just grew from year to year. It was, like, natural - well, haha, not completely natural. It was just the way things were. But here, now? Compared to him? It was…nnngh. She made him look like a bug. A tiny little bug. And she loved it.

And what does he think he’s doing now, this little bug of mine?

As she’d ruminated, he’d started to struggle. She’d pushed him down with one hand to the chest. She had him pinned, with his bare back to the granite countertop, and he’d been half-heartedly trying to stop her from undressing him. She’d worked his belt loose already, and was set to task on his fly.

He seemed to have only half his wits about him, and grabbed at her arm, trying to get it off him. His efforts, though, seemed half-hearted. He was pushing hard, sure, as hard as he could, though to her it felt like the struggles of a small child. He was obviously so helpless against her, and it was as if he wanted to test that. He wanted this, she knew. He wanted to be helpless as a child for her, and that started getting her even more excited.

“Yeah, I like that,” she said, fingers still fumbling on the fly of his dress pants, “Try to fight off my big arm, little man. I’ll show you how weak you are compared to me.” She cocked her head as he grunted and groaned, trying to dislodge the hand which she had pushed harder into his chest. He was using all he could, but she wasn’t going anywhere. She knew he couldn’t do anything, just from watching him. Maybe once he was a strong enough guy, or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was always weak like this. But now he’s no match for even one of my arms. Though, to be fair, not too many people are.

“You can fight it, but you can’t win,” she said. Her voice was preternaturally calm, but her lady-parts were all worked up and juicy. Sex is coming omigod sex is coming I’m going to fuck him so good. They were going to do it her way, her way, her way. She would show him, show him how things were going to be.

The way they needed to be at work? In the outside world? Him, supposedly her boss? Fuck it. Here, alone, this is how it really is. The two of them could be themselves. She could be herself. She had so much she wanted to show him. It’s time to fuck some sense into him and show him how the world’s gonna work.

She took a nice long look at her wimpy little boyfriend as he pathetically pulled at her arm and looked up at her with his needy little face. With her eyes fixed on his, she tore his pants right off…

================================================

Thanks oodles to RiF for editing and help with the copy.

#growingintothejob

42 notes · View notes

helpimhyperfixating · 2 years

Text

Jealousy - Jotaro x Reader

This is an old draft I found and I actually really like it so I decided to post it :3

It’s a little unfinished but not distractingly so(I hope ^^)

Word Count: 1633

Sitting at the table, you were eating dinner with your boyfriend. Silence and casual conversation being swapped between the two of you until you remembered something, opening your mouth to talk.

“Recently one of my friends he... I dunno, I get the feeling he’s flirting with me? But he knows I’m not single.”

“Oh?” Jotaro questioned, raising an eyebrow. There was a hidden dangerous tone in his voice but you were too busy picking at your food to notice.

“I don’t know.” You sighed. “I’m afraid I’m picking up the signs wrong and jumping to a conclusion.”

“Y/N, do you have any idea how long it took for you to realise I was flirting with you? If even you are picking up signs, that means they’re definitely there.” Jotaro remarked dryly and you playfully gasped, reaching over the table to punch his shoulder.

“And what exactly do you mean by that, mister?” You gave him a playful warning look.

“That you’re dense.”

That earned him another slap, making the man chuckle before he caught your wrists when you went in for another, pulling you around the table and towards himself. You yelped as you fell sideways, your head now on his lap as he looked down at you, still holding your wrists captive with a smirk.

“You better accept it, cause nothing I do can change it.” Jotaro said and you struggled to once again attack him and defend your dignity, sitting up to try and do something with your elbow, but Jotaro was quicker, pulling your body against his own and pinning you to it with his free arm.

Your eyes were wide, not having expected him to act so quickly; all the while he had an eyebrow raised as he looked down at you, your chin stuck to his chest as you looked up at him.

“Parlay?” You asked with a pleading smile and Jotaro rolled his eyes before pecking your nose.

“Just shut up and eat.”

- - - -

“Sasha, I will fight you.” You threatened, only for Sasha to just simply burst out laughing, giving you a slight push and run away while you were busy stumbling. “Oi!” Your laughter rang through the air as you steadied yourself on your feet and went in pursuit.

“Your threats don’t work if you’re that slow!” Sasha mocked, pushing you to run faster with all intent to tackle her to the floor.

The two of you really were just large children, usually having the mom of your group around to keep you in check, but today she was staying back in the library, leaving you and Sasha to just nearly murder each other and cause mayhem.

“Sasha!!” You called out, playing ring around the rosie with her around the tree on college campus.

She giggled like a maniac before sprinting away while you were on the other side, making you curse as you stumbled to chase her.

She was running towards the exit of campus grounds where a large body of students was trying to do the same and you sprinted even faster, for, if she managed to reach there, she would slip away and win today. No way were you gonna let that happen.

Running your heart out, you reached your hand out to grab her, only for someone to suddenly stick out their arm, catching you around your waist and abruptly stopping your momentum, catching you as you let out an ‘Oof’.

The two of you spun once thanks to the speed you had been going at, but you were quick to grab their arm, yelling at Sasha to “get back here!” Said woman turning around and laughing at you, having stopped running while you were squirming to get out of the hold you were in.

Finally looking to your right, you came face to face with the last member of your friend group. “Lars, lemme go, I gotta get her back!” You yelled as you pulled on his arm around your waist, trying to get him to let you go while Sasha was laughing at you and pulled her eyelid down while she stuck out her tongue.

“And let you fall on your pretty face as you tackle her? I don’t think so.” Lars smiled down at you and you simply put your hand in his face and pushed it back.

“Shove off, you creep.” You laughed lightly while he tilted his head away from your grip with a chuckle of his own. As you brought your hand back down, Lars tightened his arms around your waist, holding you a little closer.

Now, you weren’t averse to physical contact or affection with your friends, not at all. But this was a bit too close, making you a little uncomfortable; mainly because of your suspicions about him recently. “Uh, Lars, I’m calm now, you can let go.” You cleared your throat with an awkward smile as you patted his arm.

“But what if I want to hold you?” He questioned with a pout but you squirmed slightly.

“No, please let go.”

“Aw, but-“

“Hey, what’s with this crowd?!”

Sasha was a godsend as she ran up, grabbing your hand and sending you a look as she pulled you with her out of Lars’ hold, rushing to the gates where there indeed was a small crowd gathered.

Lars followed after the two of you but you were already too engrossed about what was going on to garner such an interest.

The crowd seemed to be mostly female, in fact, it was nearly all female. And the answer to your question soon came as you rounded the crowd and got a good look of what had their attention. Or rather- who.

Standing there, leaning against his motorcycle and clad in tight black leather riding gear, stood your boyfriend. His helmet was off and resting behind him on the seat, his arms crossed over his chest and his head down as he seemingly waited with eyes closed. However, the moment you took another step forward, he raised his head and locked eyes with you.

Despite how often you had seen him like this, it never failed to make you blush cause damn, he looked so good.

You were nearly drooling but your surprised stupor at suddenly seeing him waiting for you like this was broken when Sasha wrenched her hand from yours and instead placed her hands on your back, forcefully shoving you forward and towards Jotaro with an evil grin.

You stumbled and nearly face planted right into his stomach if it wasn’t for his quick reaction to grab your shoulders and catch you.

Your face was aflame with a blush as he helped you get back on your feet properly, doing everything you could to not look into his eyes.

He had stood up the moment he locked eyes with you and now his arm suddenly curled around your hip, abruptly pulling you forward and in such a way that your stomach was pressed against his.

His left hand came up, placing one finger under your chin as he used it to bring your face closer to his, forcing you almost to make eye contact. “Hi.” He smirked down at you and you felt your heart just give up on keeping a regular rhythm.

“H-Hi.” You squeaked out. His face was just so close and you didn’t know what to do, just stuck in his hold as he held you in front of the entire crowd of students. You were always convinced he hated pda, so what was this?!

While you were inwardly freaking out, Jotaro glanced at something behind you very briefly before tilting your chin up even further and leaning down, abruptly pressing his lips to yours.

Your brain completely shortcutted at that moment, autopilot going on to kiss back while your hands gripped tight onto the leather jacket snugly fitting his torso.

You felt his hand leave your chin but were too flustered and trying to focus on keeping it together to even notice.

Unbeknownst to you, Jotaro opened his eyes as he kissed you, looking past your head and locking eyes with Lars as he raised his left hand towards him and stuck up his middle finger, flipping the dude off as he deepened the kiss, focusing back on you but never lowering his hand.

Sasha laughed loudly at this. She knew Lars had been making moves. She had been trying herself to dissuade him from doing so or ‘saving’ you during moments like the one before, but he didn’t stop, even having told her (it felt more like a threat) to keep it to herself. But it seemed like she didn’t even need to, Jotaro had figured it out himself somehow and clearly decided it wouldn’t stand.

Lars had a red hue to his cheeks in embarrassment, his jaw clenching while the whole crowd of students looked at him, wondering who the handsome man was flipping off and why.

As Jotaro broke the kiss, he hummed quietly, content, before leaning back and popping up the backseat of his motorcycle, grabbing the helmet he always kept in there for you and shoving it on your head while you were still dazed.

That seemed to snap you out of it and you let out a distressed noise, crouching down and shoving your hands onto the closed visor as you let out a muffled squeal.

The people around could almost see the blush appearing over the helmet as you were crouched on the floor.

You loved that man and had no problem showing some pda, but he couldn’t spring something like that on you out of nowhere!!

“Hey.” Your body was prodded by the tip of a shoe and you let out a groan. “Get up, it’s time to go, c’mon.”

#jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo #jjba #jojo's bizarrre adventure #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro kujo x you #jotaro x you #jotaro x y/n #jojo no kimyō na bōken

640 notes · View notes

loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 ao3

Joyce drops off Will, El and Mike with more homemade food after they’ve had dinner, which makes Steve smile.

“Tell your mom I’m not gonna have enough space to put all of this in the fridge.”

“You can just eat some of it and then you will have space,” El says, matter-of-fact, “like what Eddie is doing.”

Eddie pauses in his eating of Koogle chocolate spread straight out the jar.

Steve laughs loudly.

Eddie sighs, leans into the melodrama of it. “Damn, right for the jugular. Haven’t I suffered enough?”

El makes a show of thinking in response. Eddie watches her with infinitely growing fondness, how she fights to keep a straight face, unable to stop her smile from breaking through. “No.”

Eddie slumps against the counter like he’s just received a fatal blow.

“Hey, person without a cast,” Steve says dryly, “help put some stuff away, this isn’t a hotel.”

“I dunno, Harrington, you seem like the type to have monogrammed dressing gowns and shit.”

The tips of Steve’s ears turn a damning red.

Eddie pounces on the sight with a delighted grin. “Oh dear god.”

“Eddie—”

“Holy shit,” Eddie whispers, like he’s found the Holy Grail. “I was just talking out my ass man, but. You do.”

“Only ‘cause Robin—it was one joke Christmas present, all right?”

“Yeah, that’s what they all say.”

They all make short work of putting the food away, but the kids linger in the kitchen, like they don’t want to say goodbye just yet.

It’s funny, Eddie has distant memories of Hawkins characterising Will Byers as a quiet little kid when he went ‘missing’, but there’s hardly any of that shyness now. The only slight hint of uneasiness Eddie can discern is that every so often, Will’s hand will rise up as if to scratch the back of his neck, like he’s hardly aware that he’s doing it; he spots El catching his hand in hers once, gently pulling it back down—does it in such a way that it never draws attention.

If anything, Mike is the quiet one, which is tripping Eddie up; he’s so used to his vocal commentary at Hellfire. He can’t tell if it’s just general post-nearly end of the world exhaustion or—something else. He doesn’t know what.

From the way Mike is standing, shoulders occasionally hiking up to his ears, Eddie gets the feeling that he doesn’t want to be asked about it.

Will does the majority of the talking, spends most of the time making references to what went down in California that Eddie can barely follow, revels in teasing Dustin about Suzie—

“Wait, Henderson’s girlfriend is real?” Eddie says.

Dustin glares at him. “Hey!”

Steve nods seriously. “I know.”

Dustin spins around, pokes Steve in the side. “Hey.”

Bizarrely, this prompts Will into an enthusiastic rendition of NeverEnding Story, which makes Dustin groan as if he’s been plagued with it for centuries. But there’s a celebratory sound to all of it, to the way Will sings cheekily, even the way Dustin is rolling his eyes—like they can’t believe they can afford the time to just be silly.

Under the cover of the kids’ laughter, Steve leans forward in his seat, catching Eddie by the wrist.

“Hey, later could you—would you mind helping me up the stairs? I wanna…” He pushes back his hair, grimacing. “Got, like, a sink wash in hospital, but it wasn’t that great.”

There’s a self-conscious air to how he speaks, how he keeps fiddling with flyaway strands of hair.

“Yeah, man, no problem,” Eddie says, matching Steve’s lowered volume. Still look good to me.

They wait until they’re alone—Dustin leaves in Joyce’s car, too, with a firm, “I’ll be back,” flung over his shoulder; Steve snorts, “Sure thing, Arnie.”

Once they conquer the stairs, Eddie’s shoulder aching from Steve needing to lean on it, Eddie optimistically believes that the rest will be plain sailing from here.

Steve’s set up on a stool, and Eddie’s standing in the bathtub, about to see how far the shower-head can stretch.

Steve is in the middle of saying, “Oh, just watch out, don’t think I changed the temperature from when I last—”

Eddie’s elbow catches on the dial. He shrieks as he’s immediately hit with a blast of cold water.

“Jesus Christ,” he wheezes, finally managing to switch the shower off. His hair is sopping wet. “How am I the freak? What kind of monster takes a cold shower willingly?”

And Steve laughs so hard that he nearly falls off the stool, as if the light-heartedness of the kids earlier has lifted his spirits, made him giddy.

“You look,” he says, through a raucous fit of giggles, “like a drowned rat.”

“Excuse me? Oh, tread very, very carefully, Harrington,” Eddie says, raising the shower-head in warning.

Steve raises an eyebrow coolly. “You’re bluffing.”

Eddie is, in fact, not bluffing.

“Oh wow.” Eddie makes a low whistle, like he’s just discovered a rare antique. “Why isn’t this behind glass? This shit is history; it should be preserved.”

Steve blinks, gives him a sardonic look from where he’s lying on the bed, leg propped up with pillows. “Pretty sure I’m not the only person to own a Hawkins Phys. Ed T-shirt.”

Eddie scoffs, shaking out the shirt with a pointless flourish before putting it back in the closet. “Yeah, but you, like, wore it.”

“Oh, sorry, I misunderstood you, man. So I’m the only person ever to wear a Hawkins Phys. Ed T-shirt.”

“You know what I mean, asshole.”

Before Steve got round to actually washing his hair, they had spent a lot of time just goofing around, trying to soak the other. While attempting to ensure that it was a fair fight, that Steve didn’t overbalance on the stool, Eddie ended up nearly braining himself on the tub’s faucets—but maybe he really did suffer a head injury, he reasons, otherwise there’s no excuse for what he says next.

“You made it part of your whole thing, you know? Like, yeah, people wear clothes, but you wore outfits.”

Steve laughs, rolling his eyes. “Shut up. You’re making me sound like a sitcom character.”

“Oh, but you were,” Eddie says, grinning with the knowledge that he’s about to be very annoying. “Did you see yourself in the school corridors? You walked like you had your own theme music, man.”

“Says you,” Steve retorts. “I think a laugh track would’ve helped your cafeteria sermons.” And before Eddie can attempt a theatrical gasp of offence, Steve points at a baggy sweater in the closet. “Hey, gimme that one, it’ll do.”

Eddie actually puts some effort into properly aiming the shirt when he throws it, but Steve almost drops it. Eddie turns, ready to tease him, because Steve Harrington is hardly known for fumbling a catch, but stops when he sees the stricken look on Steve’s face.

“What is it?”

“I just—I just remembered,” Steve stutters out, eyes wide. “Shit, Eddie, I’m sorry. Your vest.”

Eddie stares, uncomprehending. “Come again?”

“Your vest. Damn it, I didn’t even think to ask for… they must’ve cut it off me or—”

“Oh, Jesus,” Eddie says, and the hair on the back of his neck stands on end. He shakes his head to try and clear it of the awful image they must’ve cut it off me conjures up then says, with fervour, “Steve. Don’t worry about it. Like, honestly, truly? Do not worry about it. I really can’t stress how much I don’t give a shit.”

Steve frowns, clearly still unhappy about it.

“I’ll just steal one of your polos and call it even.”

Steve smiles weakly; Eddie still counts it as a win. “Mm, I have it on good authority that the Phys. Ed T-shirt is highly sought after.”

“Damn, what idiot said that?”

Eddie turns while shutting the closet, glancing over at Steve as he does so. That’s when he sees it, sees Steve’s bare skin as he takes his shirt off, about to change into the sweater—

There’s no bandages wrapped around his middle anymore. They have healed faster than any normal wounds should, but that fact doesn’t diminish the way Eddie’s stomach lurches at the sight: the gouges in the skin from the bats, and several deep, ragged claw marks. There’s a sudden ringing in his ears; the wetness of Steve’s blood on his fingers…

He feels his knee slam against the bed frame distantly, like it’s happening to someone else. Then Steve’s hand is wrapped around his wrist, and he’s thrown back into his body, and he tilts—

“Hey, hey, you’re all right,” Steve says, and he pulls Eddie down to sit on the bed.

Eddie sways, tries to stand up again—but that just makes the sudden faintness worse.

“Woah, take it easy,” Steve murmurs, and Eddie blinks and blinks until his face swims into view, eyebrows drawn in concern. “God, you feeling okay? You went white.”

“You were bleeding,” Eddie says stupidly. He squeezes his eyes shut, tips his head down and just breathes.

And then he feels Steve gently guide his hand to rest over the wounds. Places it there, puts his own hand on top.

“Not anymore,” Steve says simply.

Eddie traces the marks. They don’t feel overly cold which helps. His hand rises and falls with every breath Steve takes.

Steve keeps his eyes on him, doesn’t let go of his hand until Eddie can stand again.

Steve has already drifted off to sleep on the couch when the phone rings.

Eddie picks it up with a quiet, “Hello?”

“E-Eddie?”

At first, Eddie doesn’t recognise the voice on the other end. It’s only when his name is repeated that the realisation hits.

It’s Mike.

Eddie has never heard him sound so uncertain, not even when he was first invited to sit at Hellfire’s lunch table.

“Hey, Mike,” he says, can’t stop a note of anxiety bleeding through. “What’s up?”

“It’s… it’s Nancy,” Mike says. He starts off almost reluctant, as if he’s worried about breaking some sort of sibling code by mentioning her, but the sound of his true fear quickly overrides that. “She—she left, and she told me she was gonna, um, call you, or something? I don’t know, but she… she’s not back yet and I… I don’t think she did. Call you.”

“She didn’t,” Eddie confirms, grabs a piece of his hair and pulls.

Mike’s voice pitches a little higher; he sounds very young. “I don’t know where she’s gone. Eddie, she didn’t even take her car.”

“Okay, okay.” Eddie’s eyes dart about the room, land on Steve’s car keys. “Hey, Mike? It’ll be okay, man. I’m gonna go get her.”

He heads for the door in a mad dash, one arm through his leather jacket. Before he goes, he takes the time to write Steve a note—if he wakes up, Eddie figures that there’s no point in him just sitting there alone, worrying, so he settles for something that will hopefully make him laugh instead.

Back soon. Totally not stealing your car. Cross my heart. On an unrelated note, I took your car keys. -E

He finds her at the trailer park, of course. Sitting right by his and Wayne’s place, in the spot where…

She’s hugging her knees, pressing the side of one cheek into them. Her boots are muddy again.

Eddie gets out of the car with more noise than is strictly necessary, so she’s not startled by his approach.

“This wasn’t the deal, Wheeler,” he says mildly, sitting down beside her.

She’s shivering.

Eddie tries very hard not to look at the trailer; it’s just a shell now, it’s just…

“Sorry,” Nancy says, too quiet. “I was… gonna call but. Lost track of time.” She sniffs, mumbles into her jeans, “Had enough of driving.”

“Why?” Eddie asks carefully.

“Because.” Nancy sniffs again. “I had to drive Jason Carver around town.”

For a moment, Eddie forgets how to breathe.

“What? Why the fuck would you even—? He could’ve—”

He stops talking abruptly as Nancy shakes her head, looking scarily calm about the whole thing.

“No. He would’ve killed you immediately. Not me; he’d have to think about it before he… It was… a calculated risk, I guess.”

Eddie barks out a sharp, fearful laugh—remembers Steve saying that him and Nancy were too similar and thinks yeah, no fucking kidding.

“Wheeler,” he breathes, “that was a stupid move.” It feels inadequate for what he actually means, which is some panicked stream of We’ve come too close to losing people, but the terror cuts down his words, makes them small. Stupid.

“He had a gun,” Nancy says, voice flat. She hovers a hand over her side, and Eddie doesn’t need to see it to know that there’ll be a mark there, from where the gun was pressed into her skin.

“Jesus Christ. Are you—”

“I’m fine. He didn’t…” Nancy sighs. “He didn’t do anything, really. I did most of the talking. Just… drove around. Stopped in a parking lot, right where one of the cracks… It’s still visible, only a little bit. Then I just. I asked him.”

“Asked him what?” Eddie says hoarsely.

Nancy’s smile is grim. “If he believed it,” she says. Her voice is as cold as steel. “If he could honestly sit there and think that a boy, that you could have done all this. And I could tell from his eyes that he didn’t, but that he was in too deep. Too cowardly to…” She seethes, spits out the next words: “I told him he could go rot.”

“Wheeler,” Eddie whispers. “God, please tell me he didn’t hurt you.”

She reaches for his hand. Squeezes. “No. I promise. He’s… everything’s being dealt with. It’s bigger than you,” she says, not unkindly. “Plus there’s—we’ve got some, um.” A tiny smile, a proper one. “Unique resources. It’s getting buried, Eddie, I swear, everything to do with you. I’m—we’re working on it. We just. The idea is to, um, replace one paranoia with another, that’s how we sell the—not a full lie, just…” She sets her jaw. “I don’t want you to be looking over your shoulder, ever again.”

Eddie has countless replies on his tongue, namely, What the fuck does all that even mean?

Is this why he’s hardly been given a second glance in the street?

Out loud, he says, “That… sounds like a helluva lot of work. You—you don’t have to—”

“I needed to.” Nancy smiles weakly. “That was the whole plan, right? Find Vecna, kill him. Clear your name.” Her smile falls. “I don’t like… I don’t like things being left… unfinished.” She sighs, repeats, voice small, “I needed to.”

It sounds different this time. Like if she didn’t have that objective, she’d fall apart.

It throws Eddie. How can he be that important? But he looks in her eyes and can tell she means it with all her heart.

“Eddie, I…” She looks down at the ground. Briefly presses the back of her hand to her mouth. “I need to apologise to Steve. To you.”

Eddie stares at her. “No, I’m… kinda confident that you don’t.”

“No, you.” Her hand starts to shake in his. “You don’t understand.” She looks at him, eyes filled with tears. “I saw it. I saw everything. When he—when Henry showed me… there was so much of it, and it was so fast, and I. I just convinced myself that I was wrong. But then, when I saw you driving. And Steve. There was… this look on his face. And I knew—I knew he was going to die, because Henry… he showed me what he was going to do.”

Eddie can feel himself pale. Nancy withdraws her hand, turns away from him.

“I’m sorry. I thought I could stop it, if I just kept it in my head, it wouldn’t… oh, God.”

“Wheeler. Wheeler, look at me.” Eddie waits until she does, her face wet. “It wasn’t your fault. None of it.”

She moves forward, trembles in his arms. “God, Eddie,” she says, distraught, “it was awful. The whole thing.”

“Yeah.” Eddie leans his head against hers, shuts his eyes. “Fucking sucked.”

“You wouldn’t stop screaming,” Nancy whispers. She jerks her head over to where Eddie parked Steve’s car. “You fell there, and I—I was so scared you wouldn’t get up again. I told you that you had to let h-him go, and it. It was like you couldn’t hear me, and a-all I could think was I’m going to lose them both.”

Eddie inhales. Exhales. She’d gotten him out. Time for him to return the favour.

“Nancy. Come on.” He gently guides her to stand up. “Time to go home, ‘kay?”

Mike’s waiting outside when Eddie drives up to the house; the headlights illuminate him, his too short dressing gown, his gangly teenaged vulnerability.

Nancy fumbles with the car door handle. Sighs through a sob. “Oh, Mike.”

Eddie watches them embrace, how they cling to one another. He sees Mike raise his hand while still holding onto his sister, sees him mouth Thank you.

Eddie doesn’t pull away until they’re both safely inside.

The fact that he’s driving Steve’s car helps him keep it together for the rest of the drive: the thought that he cannot be seen in public having a breakdown in it.

And then he’s back at Steve’s, and Steve is still asleep, thank God, and there’s an uncontrollable tremor to his hands when he sets Steve’s car keys on the table.

Shit, is he going to throw up? He might.

Oh no you don’t. You’re not waking Steve by upchucking onto the rug, get it together.

“You’re fine,” Eddie says, tugging harshly on his hair. “You’re fine, you’re fucking fine.”

He forces himself to breathe in and out as the wave of everything crashes over him, until he no longer sees the trailer park flash across his vision, like a ghostly afterimage.

When the worst of it is over, he perches on the arm of the couch, then carefully hovers his hand near Steve’s face, just so he can feel him breathing.

See? He’s right here, you’re not… not back there. Not anymore.

Steve stirs very slightly at the movement.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers, still catching his breath through the remnants of panic.

Steve makes a soft, questioning noise. And then Eddie feels a finger, tracing letters on the back of his hand.

OK?

Eddie smiles tremulously. “Yeah, I-I’m… I am now.”

Eddie stays up all night.

It’s not so bad, not when he gets to see Steve wake up for his early morning meds, taken so he can have breakfast with the upcoming dose in a few hours.

“Huh? You’re never…” Steve yawns. His hair is soft from being air dried last night, falling into his eyes. “Never up this early. Not normally.”

“First time for everything,” Eddie says, which is easier than my heart was beating too fast to sleep.

Steve doesn’t call him out on the obvious dodge, still drowsy, growing even more so after he takes the pills.

“You bored? Can put something on if you want, but Dustin might’ve left a… a tape in the, um…”

Oh, there you go, Eddie thinks fondly, and watches as Steve falls asleep mid-sentence.

Some time later, he’s not sure when, the sun starts to poke through the curtains. It’s a dull kind of brightness, but still bright enough to make his eyes blink a little more… and more…

He’s been moved to lie on the inside of the couch. Eddie turns his head, feels the warmth of someone next to him. Steve.

“Hi,” Steve says, looking down at him with a smile. “You want some breakfast? Dustin dropped off doughnuts.”

There’s sugar at the corner of Steve’s mouth, like glitter.

Eddie hums, low and lethargic. “Maybe later. Just… mm.” He goes to rub at his eyes, but his hand stills then falls away from his face, a lassitude to his movements. “Five more minutes. Gotta… rest my eyes, just for…”

“Sure,” Steve says, and there’s affection in his teasing when he says, “You go ahead and ‘rest your eyes’ for a few more hours.”

“Mm…”

“Nance called,” Steve says, soft as anything, like he doesn’t want to wake Eddie if he’s already fallen asleep, but still wants him to know. “She’s okay. She says thanks.”

Eddie reaches out, eyes closed, pats Steve’s knee clumsily. “S’good.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, quiet. Eddie can feel him smoothing hair off his forehead, tracing his finger down his nose—makes it impossible for him to even try opening his eyes.

He barely catches it, nearly drifting… But he swears he hears Steve murmur, as if to himself, “You’re so good.”

“You’re warm,” Eddie mumbles without really meaning to.

Steve chuckles, so gently. Keeps stroking that soothing pattern, from Eddie’s brow down to his nose. “Am I now?”

Oh, you don’t know, Eddie thinks, and everything’s fading now, the world going all soft and indistinct, like cotton wool. You don’t know what it was like. I never want to feel you be that cold again.

#the self sacrificial steve agenda #steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #nancy wheeler #eddie and nancy #nancy and mike #mike wheeler #eddie and mike #steve and nancy

343 notes · View notes

the-archetype-of-civilization · 10 months

Text

Fourth rewatch of ATSV, y'already know:

-SPOILERS AHEAD!-

The name of Gwen's band being "The Mary Janes" is cute. Kinda sad that we don't see any form of a real Mary Jane, though.

George lightly and gently punching Gwen's doorframe when he says they got a "breakthrough in the Spider-Woman case. I can feel it" is so realistically portrayed. A man that's driven by justice and wanting to do right by his daughter, the hand gesture kinda says it all, honestly.

I FINALLY FOUND THE FUCKIN' TRANS FLAG, JEEZ I CAN'T BELIEVE IT TOOK ME 4 SESSIONS TO FIND IT.

When Gwen lands inside the Guggenheim, she slides in and her left foot is on the tips of her toes like a ballerina. I can't believe I've talked it about so much IRL that I didn't point it out here. But yeah, really badass.

"Hey, who left this ATM on the sidewalk?!"

There's a food cart called "Mothershuckers," I think.

Jess and Peter are terrible mentors for bringing their babies (one of them unborn!) into fights!

The student councilor's calendar has a funky lil' dog on there with sunglasses (I think).

When Miles says "whatever" to his parents, Rio's face was FELT. And that head movement was so on-point. It's crazy how human this movie is despite it being animated.

A Puerto Rican friend of mine said that a lot of the food at the party was instantly recognizable. That and the fact that a lot of the older generation HATE being addressed by their first name, which works well when Rio calls out Gwen saying hers.

Jeff trying to fix that cat balancing beam in the councilor's office and seeing it fall each time kills me.

Miles twiddling his thumbs nervously when he almost reveals himself to Rio is so realistically portrayed, I love the hand motions in this movie.

Gwen's avoidance to answer Miles' questions directly, or even at all, really irks me, especially when Miles has some very personal questions ("What are you doing here? I thought I'd never see you again..."). STOP LEAVING MY BOY IN THE DARK.

Speaking of Gwen, it honestly really bothered me how Gwen acted in this movie when it came to other people (being so nonchalant to Miles' parents, that awkward and sudden goodbye to Miles before she goes to find Spot, etc), like she's acting like such a child. But now, I genuinely think that she's just socially awkward, which I should've probably put together already considering she barely has any friends in her world and (presumably) doesn't talk to many people except for other Spider-People that are (again, presumably) just as awkward as she is.

Like, WHY DID SHE CHOOSE TO REVEAL HERSELF TO MILES' PARENTS WEARING HIS HOODIE AND THEN BEING LIKE "Uh Miles is missing, I dunno where he is. Bye!" GIRL, THAT'S NOT HOW YOU DO IT. Her promise to them and telling them that Miles loves them was nice, though.

Rio cupping Miles' face in her hands during her speech and Miles chuckling and smiling breaks my heart, man. If that ain't a mom thing to do ❤️ And I would smile and laugh just as much if it was my mom, too. I still think about Rio's speech, even today. It's that good.

Jeff climbing up the water tower to meet "Gwanda" and bumping his head into stuff and hurting himself was hilarious and I can't believe I didn't notice until now.

Miles hyping up the empanadas to Gwen was adorable. And his hand gesture was cute, too.

Miles' goodbye to Gwen is even more heartbreaking because you can see the tears welling up in his eyes. WHY WOULD YOU HURT MY BOY LIKE THIS???

There was an interesting parallel (don't know if it was intentional) where Gwen was hit by Spot and was falling in Mumbattan, Miles catches her and carries her before he drops her and reaches to save her. But when Miles is escaping from the Spider Society, Gwen catches Miles and Miles intentionally breaks the web and free falls instead, shaking his head at her. Gwen trusts Miles, but Miles doesn't trust Gwen anymore.

Bro, Miles can't catch a break with the damn snitches (the students ratting him out to the guy's office in ITSV and that woman on the highway in ATSV). Glad he called her out, though. Though, if there was a big scary Spider-Man with claws and arm blades on my car, I'd probably do the same just to get him off and away.

Miles rubbing his cheek in embarrassment when Rio appears in front of Gwen was so good. And his face when he goes "MOM!"

Something about the way Miles says "You have to let me go" to 42 Miles is interesting. I can confirm I saw the acrylic stand of Miles Morales Spider-Man in 42 Miles' apartment. I wonder if 42 Miles looked up to Spider-Man or something, maybe there is some history that we don't know between him and Spider-Man in some way, which is bizarre since there is SUPPOSED to be a Spider-Man there but isn't.

I like how Mayday took a crap when Miguel held her heheh. He IS the establishment. "Yup, she's a Parker" says Peter. Lmao.

There's several scenes where Miguel is talking about the canon to Miles with everyone being pretty close to the center, while Hobie is the farthest from all of them most of the time. And he's kinda facing away from them with his head being turned to face Miles. Shows how he separates himself from the society, but is only looking out for Miles right now.

There's a really cool YouTuber that went really in-depth with Gwen and George's conversation when Gwen returns back to her world and it's really insightful. Shows her lack of communication skills in general (and that it, unfortunately, seems to be hereditary, as well). He even talks about the damn penguin. Crazy stuff. But he makes a great point that Gwen actually genuinely smiles after talking to her dad, more so than even being with Miles. It's really sweet.

I dunno why, but I feel for that guy running the food cart when Gwen and Miles take his hot dogs and just dips and gives them cash (letting him keep the change). Just feels inconvenient for him, despite making a profit. I dunno, the guy looked like he was really befuddled and I felt for him lol.

The current Prowler's theme (42 Miles) being Miles's theme in reverse is insane.

Someone else pointed it out, but Pav threading the damn needle through a broken poster was SLICK.

Speaking of threading the needle, Miles almost messing up when he dodges the truck and screams out is hilarious. It honestly sounds like a reused scream sound file that he did in ITSV.

"I don't believe in consistency!" "This guy's killin' me..."

I didn't point this out in my third rewatch but the "It's a metaphor for capitalism" line was completely lost to me until I heard it then. Fucking perfection.

Pav saying "I can do both" when he sees Inspector Singh in trouble while trying to rescue Gayatri is heartbreaking. Miles says the same thing to Miguel before being shot down by Peter ("Not always."). At first I 100% believed that there was no argument that could be made against Miles, but realizing that Pav said that when he (literally) had his hands tied with Gayatri and couldn't rescue Inspector Singh until Miles came in, I'm not so sure anymore. It doesn't sway me in the other direction (being that Miles is in the right), but now it's much more clear that it truly is "not always."

I can't believe that in an Indian dominated Manhattan (Mumbattan), they STILL allowed to have that British museum up.

"I wanted to be with you guys so bad...but this thing isn't what I thought it was." I can't tell you how much I love this boy and how I will kill anyone that hurts him like this. So fucking uncool, guys. UN-FUCKING-COOL!

When Miles is talking to 42 Rio, he says that he's "stronger now because of you [Rio], because of dad" and 42 Rio says something in Spanish that sounded like the equivalent of "oh, sweetheart..." lovingly. Shit hurts, man.

Miguel against the dark rainy night under the large "WELCOME" sign is peak cinematography, next to Gwen and Miles under the clocktower.

I had to cut down some stuff because the text limit sucks. I got others and all that, you know how it is.

Second rewatch.

Third rewatch.

Final act.

60 notes · View notes