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whatsk-poppinhomies · 11 months

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Pairing : Hwang Hyunjin x F!Reader & Lee Felix x F!Reader TW : For Hyunjin : reader has a broken leg ; reader gets hit by a passenger van ; mentions of blood ; Hyunjin isn't really an asshole, he's just upset ; it's really fluffy at the end though ; For Felix : reader gets stabbed ; reader is in the hospital ; reader gets stitches ; Word Count : For Hyunjin : 2.9k For Felix : 5.8k (In total 8.7k) Request : @slayhyunjin wants the Hyunlix version of this and that is what they will get!! A/N : I hope you enjoy this and I'm sorry for making you wait so long for it : ' (( WENT ALL IN ON THE FELIX ONE! PLEASE ENJOY!!!

Hyunjin

He was on a mini tour, at least, that’s what you called it when he had to perform concerts closer to home. He was still gone, but he was in the country and it meant that he’d be home sooner which was always exciting. It was the one thing, the only thing you loved about when he went away… The moment he’d come back and it was like he had been gone for an eternity instead of just a couple months.

You loved surprising him when he came home too, saving up all the money you made at your work to buy him little things to add to his art room. New paint sets, a new canvas, new sketch pads and pencils. Anything that would make him happy, and he always got excited over the smallest things, but seeing the way his eyes would sparkle when he saw the new materials on his desk made the wait for him worth it.

This particular trip you had saved up enough money to buy him a brand new watercolor paint set, something that you knew he had his eyes on for a while. Luckily the art store was only a couple blocks away and you enjoyed the walk from the apartment to the shop, always stopping by the little cafe on your way there to get an iced americano, it made you feel closer to him when drinking his favorite drink and picking up his favorite things.

Spring time was your favorite time to walk, the scents of fresh flowers blooming and new leaves budding on the trees. It also meant the occasional rain that you were always prepared for, your umbrella hanging from your wrist as you walked along fairly busy sidewalks.

You had been in the store when it started raining, and you were planning on waiting it out close to the entrance like everyone else was, but this particular storm decided to last much longer than you had planned, so you ventured out. It’s not that the rain bothered you, it was more so that you didn’t want the set that you had bought to be potentially ruined.

It was crazy how things can go from being so perfect so fucked in a matter of seconds. First you’re walking across the street because the crosswalk light tells you it’s okay, and the next you’re being hit by a passenger van that didn’t even have the common decency to stop and make sure you were okay. At least they didn’t continue straight through and just completely run you over. They had simply gone over your leg which was still excruciatingly painful, but it definitely could have been worse.

Now, a lot of people might be wondering, why not call Hyunjin and let him know what happened?! And while it’s a very good question, you knew how he was. God, his heart was so big, his love for you was so strong, he’d try to get home to you so fast that he’d probably make the journey on foot if there wasn’t a flight that would get him to the nearest airport available right then and there. Not just that, but he’d stop at nothing to find whoever it was that hurt you, he’d track them down to the ends of the planet just to yell at them for hurting his love.

He was busy, you didn’t want to bother him with the silly little accident, and what was important was the fact that somehow, by some miracle, the watercolor set had survived. After going to the hospital and getting your leg casted up and making sure that nothing else was broken during the accident, you got to go back home and place the set in the center of his desk with the giant bow on it, anticipating the moment that he finally came home and saw it.

What you realized while trying to perfectly set up the watercolor set and make it look pretty was that it was a pain in the ass to try to walk on your cast, although the doctor had already strongly advised you not to do that… You thought that it was just a general thing he had to say to everyone. No wonder they were so hell bent on making sure you had someone at home to help you around the house the first couple of days. You couldn’t do shit.

A surprise visit home, that’s what he was planning. He had been talking to the guys about it for a solid week, and now it was the day. He stood at the front door, taking a deep breath before letting himself in, only to be met with the apartment in such a state of disarray that he had to do a double take to make sure he was heading into the right apartment.

Following the double take he saw you on the couch, that’s how he was 100% sure he was at the right place, but it didn’t make any sense. There were bowls of food and empty cups and take-out bags everywhere around you, and you were just laying on the couch all cozied up like you didn’t care. When he first met you, you were so organized, so clean, and not to the point of needing everything to be absolutely perfect but you surely weren’t like this. Maybe it was an act, and maybe the house looked like this every time he went on tour. The only reason it looked so clean when he came back all the other times was because he had told you he was coming.

“It’s… It’s such a mess…” He muttered to himself as he stepped deeper into the apartment, his heart sinking as he thought about how he almost left Kkami in your care. “There’s just… Mess everywhere…” He continued to talk to himself as he continued to look around. It looked like there hadn’t been any sort of cleaning done in weeks. This is the house that he lived in… He just couldn’t believe it.

You had been sleeping so soundly, but he tripped over one of your crutches, causing it to fall over and hit the floor, the sudden noise causing you to jolt awake. “Hyunjin! You’re home! You wouldn’t believe the week I had.” You said, your smile bright as you looked at him over the back of the couch. How could you still be so cheerful when surrounded by such filth? You must be used to it… But he wasn’t. He couldn’t live like this, and he surely couldn’t be with someone who regularly lived like this, who pretended to be someone they clearly weren’t when around him.

“I was just leaving.” He rushed the words out as he walked back towards the door. “I can’t be here… It’s just… Disgusting… I have to go.” He excused as he quickly walked out, accidentally slamming the door behind him. That was the irony of it though, the fact that your crutches had been the item that he tripped on, yet his mind had been so fogged by the filth that he didn’t even think to question what they were doing there. He didn’t even second guess their presence considering everything else looked so out of place.

Truthfully, he wasn’t even mad… He was just upset. The person that he saw today in his apartment was not the person that he had fallen in love with, and surely not the person that he imagined a future with. It’s not that he expected you to be his maid while he was working either, he knew that you worked, you were just as busy a person as he was, but he just thought that maybe you’d want the house to be kept a little clean… That’s the type of person you made it seem like you were… He was upset that he had been wrong.

Your blanket had somehow managed to get wrapped around you while you were napping on the couch, it made it impossible to kick it off in time for you to get up or for him to even see the cast around your leg. Of course, it would have been nice if he would have just let you explain, but you could understand his irritation.

As you looked around the house, you finally took in just how unsightly it was. It looked like there had been parties going on since he left and you hadn’t cleaned up after any of them. It was disgusting, you hated it, and you yourself would have been just as upset if you walked into your house and seen it looking like this.

“Shit…. Shit!” You hissed, unwrapping yourself from the blanket before trying to get up. It hurt, but nothing would hurt worse than Hyunjin leaving you, so you dealt with it, gritting your teeth to muffle your cries of pain as you started to clean up, trying your best to shift the weight off your bad leg, but it was almost impossible considering the mess that you had to avoid to get to the garbage can.

You weren’t even sure how so much shit had accumulated, but there were pizza boxes stacked up on the coffee table beside the carry–out bags, and there were the discarded plastic bags piling around you from when you’d get out the shower and just rip them off and place them to the side, promising yourself that you’d throw them away later.

Damp towels laid on the floor beside the dirty clothes hamper, towels from when you’d pull them from off your head, tossing them and hoping they’d make it in only for them to land everywhere but where you wanted. Again, you had promised to get to it, but you never had. It truly was disgusting, and even though your leg felt like it was on the verge of falling off right now just from walking on it, it shouldn’t be an excuse for how disgusting the house had gotten.

Aside from walking… Everything else was also a pain in the ass. You couldn’t bend over to grab things off the floor, although you were trying your best, but the gravitational pull of the earth had different ideas and you ended up falling face first to the floor, managing to bust your lip and bloody your nose in the process. It wasn’t bad enough that everything was a mess, but now you were just as bad off as the apartment.

What’s worse is that you couldn’t even get up. There was nothing close enough to give you the leverage that you needed, and your good leg was in just about as much pain as the broken one from you trying to catch your fall and landing right on your knee. Your phone was somewhere amongst the pile of garbage on the coffee table and you couldn’t even crawl over there to get it, you were left on the floor, and you felt that that’s where you belonged, alongside all the garbage that you had created.

Hyunjin was quick to realize that he had been wrong… Not about you, but about the situation. Not as quick as he wished he had been, but he was back at the dorms and he couldn’t stop beating himself up about the way he had left you. He hadn’t been rude, not exactly, not the way other people would have been… But he wasn’t exactly nice either.

He had gone back to the dorms, and the rest of the guys were still back at the hotel in the city they had just performed in. He felt more lonely than ever and he knew that he needed to talk to you to apologize for the way he had been acting, so he texted you. He would have gone back to the apartment, but he was so nervous about how you’d react to him suddenly showing back up that he felt it would be better if he just texted you first to ask if he could come back.

There was no response, and that made sense… Obviously you’d be mad at him for walking out the way he did… And now he was playing back those moments in his head, the moments that led up to him walking out… And he couldn’t stop thinking about the crutches that he had tripped over. Why were they even there? They hadn’t been there when he left… But if something had happened to you that would require you to need them… You would have told him about it… Right?

But what if you hadn’t told him about it… And something really bad happened… And that’s why you weren’t answering his texts. He hoped that wasn’t what was wrong… For the first time since being with you he was hoping that you were just mad at him and ignoring him. At least in that case you would still be okay. That didn’t stop him from panicking though. He called a cab and waited impatiently outside for them to pull up, not even waiting for the car to come to a complete stop before climbing in the back and giving the driver the address.

As soon as he got to the building he ran up the stairs, bursting through the front door and it felt like he was about to die, his heart breaking when he saw you laying in the middle of the floor. You looked absolutely lifeless, a puddle of blood on the floor next to your face, and the cast that wrapped from your foot up to your mid thigh explained everything. “Help… Please…” Your voice weakly called from the middle of the floor, and the only reason any sound of relief came from his lips is because you weren’t dead.

“I’m here…” He whimpered, already crying as he rushed over to you and helped you off the floor, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist to help support you as walked you back over to the couch. “I’m so sorry for leaving you, my love… I didn’t even wait to hear your reason… I just left…” He was full of shame and guilt as he looked at you, the blood that had trickled from your nose now dried on your upper lip and your bottom lip busted open from where it hit the floor. “One second… let me get something…”

He rushed off the couch and to the kitchen, grabbing a towel and soaking it in cold water before running back and lightly wiping away the blood. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have let it get this bad. I would have been the same way… It just hurt so bad to walk and… I hate the crutches, they hurt my arms and… I’m sorry.” You mumbled, and he quickly pulled you into a hug, lightly pushing against the back of your head to muffle your words against his shoulder.

“I don’t care about the apartment, love… I care about you.” He whispered, repeatedly kissing the top of your head as he said the words. “Now… Tell me what happened… Please.”

You were right… Hyunjin had gone from crying profusely when he heard about the accident, his head shaking as he apologized over and over for not being there for you, although you repeatedly told him that you were the one that didn’t tell him. As soon as the tears stopped flowing though, he was angry, angry at the driver who so carelessly injured and could have potentially stolen away his love. He was so angry in fact, that he planned on having management go to every store with a security camera and demand the footage from the day that it happened so they could track down the person who did it.

After he had calmed down as much as he could, he called the guys to let them all know he wouldn’t be able to come back for the rest of the concerts, explaining to them that you needed him more than they did, and no, you couldn’t get him to change his mind, and none of the guys tried to get him to change his mind either. You were now stuck with a slightly overbearing and overly apologetic Hyunjin who didn’t leave your side at all.

“Why were you walking around down that way though? Your work isn’t down there…” He mused one evening, still unable to get over what had happened and trying his best to piece it all together although you had explained everything to him. You sighed softly, suggesting for him to check the art room, and he gently moved your leg from off his lap as he ran to the room, his squeal of excitement loud enough for not only you, but probably the neighbors on all sides of you to hear as well. “You almost got killed to get me this?!” He called from the room, and you giggled lightly.

“It’s the one you wanted, right?” You called back, as he came out from around the corner of the door, tears in his eyes as he clutched the box against his chest, his head nodding fast in response to your question. “Then it was worth it… I’m glad you like it, babe.”

“I don’t deserve your love!” You cried out as he rushed back over to the couch where you were resting, leaning over the back to catch your lips in a deep kiss. “I’m gonna paint your cast and make it look so pretty… You’ll be my canvas until it gets taken off.”

Felix

“You really can’t go with me this time?” Felix asked as he stood just off to the side of the TSA line at the airport. He had been asking the question since he found out he and the guys were going to Australia for a couple tour dates. Sadly your work schedule wouldn’t allow it to be done, and as much as you asked and practically begged for even three days off, they just couldn’t do it. You shook your head before kissing his lips softly, then doing the same to each of his cheeks, a salty taste clinging to your own lips from the tears that he had shed on the way to the airport. “I’m gonna miss you, angel… Be safe, remember to lock the doors, and look both ways before crossing the street… And don’t talk to strangers and don’t walk down alleys at night and-”

“Lixie…” You whispered, cutting him off for the sole purpose of, you knew he was stalling. He hated leaving you, and you hated when he left, but neither of you really had a choice in the matter. “You’re gonna miss your flight…” You reminded him, and he looked down at his phone that was open to his boarding pass, his bottom lip jutted out.

“So what if I did? Then I’d get to stay with you… Is that so bad?” He retorted and you truly wished it was that easy, but the both of you knew that it wasn’t, and the way that he said wasn’t the way that it would play out.

“The company would be pissed at both of us… And they’d just send you out on the next flight…” You explained, although he already knew that that’s what would happen. It didn’t stop him from wishfully thinking though. “Go on… I’ll be right here waiting for you when you get back. I’ll even have a big sign with your name on it… If management lets me.”

He chuckled, although the sound was more sad than anything else and he pulled you into his arms, squeezing you tightly as he took a deep breath of you, holding it in his lungs as if he was going to carry it with him the whole time. “Always wait for me, okay? I’ll always wait for you… I love you… I already miss you… Fuck… I have to go… I love you so much… So so much…” He continued to profess his love as he walked backwards into the line, his eyes squeezing shut every couple of seconds as tears rolled down his cheeks once more.

Every night he’d call you before you went to work, the joys of working the evening shift, and most of the call would be him just telling you that he loves you and how much he misses you and how much he wishes you were there with him. You’d tell him that it was going to be okay, that you’d be together soon and that you loved him too. The calls usually left you both crying, and you’d have to tell him that you’d be late for work if the call continued. Then he’d call you every night after work, asking you how your day went and once again telling you that he loved you, how he wanted so badly to be laying next to you in his hotel bed, holding onto you and burying his face in your hair, the smell of your shampoo filling his nose and helping him sleep better. He needed you, and you needed him too, it was only two weeks until he came back… It would be okay.

“It’s getting dark out, are you sure you don’t want me to drive you home?” Your boss asked as she stood at the door, leaning against it to hold it open for you. “I don’t mind it, I don’t want you walking out here by yourself.”

You hummed softly, shaking your head as you walked past her, adjusting your purse on your shoulder as you paused just outside the door. “I’ll be okay, I walk home all the time. I’ll see you tomorrow, drive safely.” You said cheerfully, anticipating the call that would come from Felix as soon as you got home.

The walk was always pleasant, the summer breeze that came with the hidden sun always felt nice when he blew around you, taking a deep breath and letting the fresh air fill your lungs… Until it didn’t. The breath that you tried to take now burned, the pain in your side wasn’t too bad, not until you tried to breath again and you couldn’t, it felt like your lungs were on fire.

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings, angel. You could get hurt.” You remembered Felixs words from a time not too long ago when you had started to walk across the street before the traffic had even stopped, so happy just being with him that you didn’t even take the time to look around. The words rang true as you finally looked down, noticing the knife that was still plunged into your side.

It was crazy how it didn’t start really hurting until you looked at it, and then, as if the world had been on mute for a couple minutes, all of the sound came back and you could hear bystanders screaming as they rushed over to you. “It’s okay! We’ve called an ambulance and the police! It’s okay! Just hold on!” You didn’t know who this person was, he simply caught you before you collapsed onto the ground, gently lowering you down, using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the blood from your mouth every time you opened it. The taste of copper was nauseating and you couldn’t help but retch when it would coat your tongue. “No no… Don’t do that… It’ll make it worse!”

The knife still hadn’t been pulled out yet, and you remembered reading somewhere that if it had been pulled out immediately that you would have bled to death… But god, the pain was worse than whatever death could possibly feel like. “The ambulance is on its way! Someone caught her! They’re waiting for the police!” You could faintly hear a woman scream, but the sound of your breathing, if you could even call it that, was much louder in your ears. The rattle of your lungs and the heavy wheezing was so annoying, but sadly you couldn’t mute that sound considering it was coming from you.

There wasn’t much that you could do, there wasn’t anything you could do really… Just laying there, listening to the rattle and the commotion and the distant sirens that you knew were coming for you. All you could do was dive into your own mind, try to think of something, anything to make this moment just a little more bearable. Felix. He was the only thing you could think of. The way his smile brightened even the darkest nights, the way he’d come back home after performing and you’d have the honor of wiping off his makeup, kissing along his cheeks as his perfect freckles reappeared from under the makeup. The way his hair would drip onto your face after a shower when he’d climb on top of you, his fingers tickling your sides as he smothered you with kisses. He was your happy place, he always would be, and even if you died right now, there was no heaven that would ever be better than the one you got to live on earth when you were with him.

“Woman in custody after random stabbing near Yangjae-daero. Eyewitnesses say that the woman was a crazed fan, screaming that the victim “didn’t deserve to be with him.” Although the “him” in question was never specified. The victim is currently in the hospital with no update on her condition just yet…”

Bangchan shook his head as he read over the report, tossing his phone to the side and running his hands over his face. “I never thought that people would go this far. It’s ridiculous, it’s scary. We need to keep our girls safe.” He said, and Felix nodded his head in agreement, having been the first one to read the news. He hated that it was so close to your place of work, and he tried his best to call you and text you, but he was sure that right now you were being questioned by police about what you saw and heard.

“She’s probably so scared…” Felix murmured, checking his phone once more, but there were still no texts from you. “I don’t want her walking home by herself anymore… God, what if it had been her?” And while he wasn’t even 100% sure it wasn’t you, he wanted to believe you were okay, so he did. He filled his mind with every single scenario other than the one where you were the victim.

“Try not to worry too much, we’ll be going home tomorrow morning and you’ll be with her.” Chan said, but Felix felt it was quite hypocritical since his girlfriend had been texting him the entire time while Felix was getting nothing but silence from you. “Just try to get some sleep, okay?”

And he tried, he tried his best, but he couldn’t get even a wink of sleep without hearing your voice before bed, so many nights spent just laying on the hotel pillow that brought him no comfort since it didn’t smell like you, but he’d hear your voice, his phone on speaker but the volume low so that if he closed his eyes it sounded like you were really right there. He needed that, he needed you to call him, he needed you.

He wasn’t even close to falling asleep, it had been 4 hours, and the vibration from under his pillow had him rolling over onto his stomach to look at the screen that was so blinding in the darkness. You finally texted him though, he felt like he could finally breathe, at least a little bit. “Sorry for worrying you. Don’t worry, I’m fine. These cops had more questions than I thought they would.”

“It’s okay, I just needed to be sure you’re okay. Did you get home? Make sure to lock the doors, and if you need to go to work or anywhere, text Chans or Changbins girlfriends, they’d be happy to help you.” He knew you wouldn’t though, even though you’d be much safer if you did, you hated burdening people and putting them out of the way even if it meant you’d be safe. “Try to get some rest, it’s so late. I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you.” He texted and your response came quickly, telling him that you loved him too, that you hoped he slept well and had sweet dreams, and now that he knew you were okay, he knew that he’d be okay.

It had completely slipped his mind to let you know he was coming home the next day, he had finally gotten to sleep at 4am and he had to wake up at 6am to get to the airport by 7. A 10 hour flight, and he hoped he’d be able to sleep a little bit on the plane before he got to you, he didn’t want to be exhausted when he finally saw you.

By the time he landed in the afternoon his stomach was full of butterflies, his smile unwavering as he thought about how it would feel to hold you in his arms again. Of course you weren’t going to be at the airport waiting for him, you didn’t know he was coming home early. Nobody knew, but after the report, all of the guys wanted to go home to be with their girlfriends, there had never been such panic felt by Felix as the guys raced through the airport to get to the cars to go to see their girls. Felix felt the same way though, and while he hated comparing his emotions to anyone else's, his panic was far greater considering you had been so close.

Now, Felix loved a clean house as much as the next person, but he didn’t like it to be so clean that it felt like a sin to even walk across the floors. He liked things clean, but he still wanted the house to feel like it was lived in, he wanted it to feel like a home, which is why when he walked through the front door and saw your hoodie balled up on the bench instead of hung in the closet he felt nothing but warmth in his heart. It was your favorite hoodie, it was his hoodie, and seeing it on the bench meant that he’d be seeing you soon.

At least, that’s what he thought, but when he walked further into the house he still didn’t find you, but he did find a mess. Dishes still sat in the sink, begging to be washed. Your lounge clothes were discarded carelessly on the floor in the bedroom, not even brought to the dirty clothes hamper beside the washing machine, and speaking of the washer, the clothes that were in there had gone sour from being left to sit dampened in the bin for so long. There was a very big difference between a house being lived in, and a house just being dirty, and right now, the house felt dirty.

“Look…” He started the text, trying his best to sound as understanding as possible while also getting his point across. “I know you’ve seen some shit, but that doesn’t mean you can just let the house fall apart. I mean… Leaving dirty dishes in the sink? Leaving wet clothes in the washer? That could cause vermin… It could cause mold to build up in the washer and in the clothes. I thought you knew better… I thought you were better than that. I love you, but I’m not gonna pretend I’m not annoyed right now. I’ll stay at the dorms right now… And I’ll come back home tomorrow to help you with some stuff but… I don’t want to come back home and see the house like this. It’s kind of upsetting.”

Why didn’t you tell Felix about being stabbed… He wouldn’t have texted you that if he knew… He would be sitting in the hospital with you right now and comforting you. Well, there were a lot of reasons actually… But the main one was that you knew he’d blame himself for what happened. You thought that you’d be out of the hospital and at least able to do a little bit before he got home, you never thought he’d come back home early, and the most shocking part was the fact that all of the guys did.

It was a miracle that you were still alive, a little bit higher and the damage would have been way worse… At least that’s what the doctor said. It was also a miracle that you were being let out of the hospital only two days after getting major lung surgery, props to the surgeons and the amazing medical equipment that’s out now. Still, it’s not like you could really do much, there was actually more that you couldn’t do rather than what you could do. You just needed to keep your activity levels at a low and then you’d be totally fine. It’s not like you were running a marathon, you were just gonna go home and clean the house so that Felix wouldn’t be disappointed in you. Perfectly fine.

You ubered home considering the fact that Felix was annoyed with you and the last thing you needed was an apologetic clingy boyfriend to spend the entire car ride home belittling himself for saying such things to you. It’s not like he knew what happened, and it was his honest reaction, and to be fair, he had a point. Nothing he said in the text was wrong, and it wasn’t like he was vicious, he just didn’t want mice or roaches to take over and he didn’t want to deal with mold. Nobody wanted that, you didn’t want that. His annoyance was valid, and you didn’t want him to feel guilty over something he had no idea about.

And to be quite honest, the uber driver's face was priceless when he had asked you why you were in the hospital and you nonchalantly told him you got stabbed and had to have lung surgery. If laughing wasn’t on the list of things to do, you would have cracked up, but truthfully, it was painful to laugh. Breathing in itself was still quite painful, and it was crazy how you had to retrain yourself on how to breathe so that you weren’t in as much pain.

Walking into your home was like a breath of fresh air, except you couldn’t take that deep breath and instead you had to do a little sniff and just walking up the front stairs had you winded and you had to take a five minute breather on the couch before actually starting any chores. Crazy enough, the dishes, although they were your least favorite chore to do, they had been the easiest. There was no heavy lifting involved, there was no bending over… You finally found a reason to love doing the dishes.

While you were working in the kitchen, you had restarted the load of laundry that had been sitting in the washer, and it was just about done thankfully. All you had to do was switch the clothes into the drier and then you’d be able to take a little break. It was supposed to be quick and easy, and for the most part it was… Until that one last fucking sock at the bottom of the basin caught your eye. Everything, every bone in your body, your mind, your heart, everything was telling you to just leave it… But you couldn’t, and you stretched over the side of the basin, and you felt the tear, but in the moment you didn’t care because you were victorious, you had got that sock and you threw it in the drier and now you could rest.

Except you… you couldn’t rest… Because the warm trickle that ran down your side finally caught your full attention, and when you looked down at your shirt you could see the dark red stain that completely soaked through the fabric. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if you didn’t start instantly panicking… But who wouldn’t panic when their stitches from a surgery like yours busted open? And there was so much blood… So much… You started hyperventilating and that hurt even more and you ended up getting light headed and falling to the floor. You truly felt like you were dying, and you knew that you needed to get to the hospital and sure… You could have called an ambulance, you could have called Felix… But he was upset with you and now there was blood all over the floor and for some foolish reason you thought he’d be mad about that, so you called the only other person you could think of.

Chans girlfriend was like a sister to you, and you quickly called her, and luckily she thought the same way about you and immediately picked up. You could hear the other guys in the background, you could even hear Felix… But you were more focused on the sound of Chans girlfriends voice, finding in it some will to keep from fainting at the sight of all the blood on the floor and the warmth that continued to pour down your side. “Hey, what’s going on? Do you need to be picked up from work?” She sounded so cheerful, her and Chan truly were a perfect match.

“No… I need… Hospital… Can you take me?” You gasped out, and the silence coming from her end was deafening. If it weren’t for the sound of the other guys goofing off in the background you would have just assumed she had hung up. “Please… Bleeding… I’m bleeding… Really bad…”

“Y-Yeah… Do you want me to bring him?” You knew exactly who she was talking about, but she was smart, she knew that there was a reason that you hadn’t called him, and whatever that reason was, you most likely didn’t want her to say his name to catch his attention… But she still wanted to be sure.

“Just you… Please… Hurry…” You mumbled, and it felt like you had used the last bit of energy to say those four words. Your arm fell limp at your side and you didn’t even end the call, it felt like the room was fading in and out and this… this feeling… it was way worse than being stabbed initially. At least then the knife held everything in. Now it seemed like you were bleeding out and you couldn’t even breathe without getting lightheaded. It was the absolute worst.

Chans girlfriend had rushed out of the dorms so fast, even Chan had no idea what was going on, and he had texted her non stop questioning where she went and what was wrong, but she hadn’t answered. With everything that was going on, it made him uneasy, and now Felix was the one telling him it would be okay, that is, until she walked back into the dorms. She was a completely different person, her eyes almost shell shocked, she looked like she had seen a ghost.

“What happened?” Chan had immediately rushed over to her, and she only shook her head, and Felix could see the tears in her eyes as she looked at him and then back to Chan, motioning for him to follow her into one of the empty rooms. It’s not that Felix was nosy, but the way she had looked at him had him questioning what the hell she had seen, and why she hadn’t looked at the other guys the same way. “What?!” Everyone froze when they heard Chans scream, and then the rushed out shushes from his girlfriend. “Why didn’t she say anything?! He doesn’t know! Is she okay?! Oh fuck!” There was a panic in his voice, a certain fear that no one had ever heard from their leader before. It was concerning, but everyone was frozen in their seats, stunned into silence as they listened to the conversation, which was more like Chans screaming and his girlfriend's incomprehensible whispers. “Well I can’t just not tell him! You know how he is! For fucks sake, what if she dies?! How do you think he’d feel?! I’m telling him!”

Everyone else pretended to go back to whatever it was they were doing beforehand once Chan came out from the room, everyone but Felix who had his eyes glued to Chan and his girlfriend who walked out behind him. They were both looking directly at him too, and it only made him more confused when they stopped right in front of him and now he was being motioned to follow them into the empty room. Why was this so secretive?

“You should sit…” Chan started once he had gotten Felix into his room, and that only confused him more as he slowly lowered down onto Chans bed. “Do you know… Fuck… How am I even supposed to tell him this?!” He looked back to his girlfriend who was leaning against the door, sniffling so quietly that Felix hadn’t even been aware that she was crying until now.

“Tell me what? Just say it!” Felix demanded, growing impatient with the back and forth of it all, and the urgency in their tones had him on edge and his knee was bouncing so fast that it was shaking the entire frame of the mattress. Clearly it was something important and it was meant for him… “Just spit it out!”

“Y/N is in the hospital.” Chans girlfriend blurted out and that was the first shot, it was more like a gut punch, it was unexpected, and while it was definitely concerning… It didn’t explain what Chan had said earlier when he thought no one was listening. “She was bleeding a lot and… Her stitches from the lung surgery… They ripped and… She was trying to do the laundry I guess… There was blood everywhere and… She was unconscious when I got to the house and I called an ambulance and followed them there but they wouldn’t let me in…”

Lung surgery… There was nothing wrong with your lungs, at least there hadn’t been when he had left for Australia. “She… She didn’t say anything… About that…” Felix stammered, his heart going a mile a minute and his mind reeling as he thought about what to do… What he could do. He felt helpless, there truly was nothing he could do right now to help you. “Why…. Why would she need lung surgery…. What happened?”

Chans girlfriend sighed as her head fell forward, her eyes sticking to the ground now. “She was the one… From the news report…” It took a couple seconds for him to finally get it, but once it clicked, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “She shouldn’t have been trying to do chores… Why would she do that? She’s crazy… That stuff could have waited until you got home to help her.”

It was his fault… Everything was his fault. His legs were shaking as he got up off the bed, and he almost fell forward, he would have fallen to the floor if Chan hadn’t been there to catch him. “Hey… Hey look… There’s nothing you can do right now… Just stay here, rest… I’m sure the hospital will call when they fix things… You’re not okay right now… Just lay down.” Chan urged, pushing him back onto the bed, and he couldn’t even get up, it felt like there was a thousand pounds against his chest, holding him against the mattress.

“It’s my fault… It’s all my fault… Mine…” Felix muttered to himself through tears, rolling over and curling up into a ball on Chans bed, violent sobs shaking his entire body. “I’m gonna lose her… I’m gonna… She’s gonna be gone… I can’t… I can’t live… Not without her… I can’t do anything… I need her, hyung… I really do…” He stammered, and the only thing Chan could do, the only thing anyone could do was try to console him, and they did their best, but he only got quiet when he cried himself to the point of exhaustion, his puffy eyes closing as his sobs turned to hiccups, then to shaky slumbered breaths.

“Damn… I’m back here again…” You muttered as your eyes opened to the familiar white walls of the hospital room. “Wanna go home… I’m ready to go home…” And you tried to move, but a familiar, yet strangely unfamiliar pain hit your side as you tried to get up, and when you looked down, you saw the long tube protruding from your side in the exact same spot that your stitches once were. “Now what the fuck is this?”

“Ma’am…” The doctor that had been standing in your room waiting for you to wake up finally walked over and sternly motioned for you to lay down. “Do you remember me?” Of course you did, it was the same doctor that had so happily discharged you before, and you quickly nodded your head before pointing questioningly to the lung that was poking out of your lung. “Well, you went against every single rule that was written for you to follow, and you tore your stitches, every single layer, and then during your panicked hyperventilation episode, you managed to inhale a lot of blood and now it needs to be drained.”

“I’m sensing sarcasm…” You mumbled, falling back against the bed since you had no other choice but to lay there. “So how long do I have to stay this time?” You asked, and the doctor rolled his eyes at your sassiness, tapping his pen against the clipboard that he was holding.

“Considering your lack of self regard and the fact that we have to make sure your lungs are properly drained and then we have to stitch you up again… It’ll probably be a good week before you’re out of here. Now… You said that you’d have someone there who knew what was going on when you got home… Why did the person who brought you in seem so confused? Did you lie just to get out of here?”

You sheepishly scratched the back of your head and then your face crinkled up as you nodded your head. “But, I was gonna tell my boyfriend! He just got home before me and the house was kind of a mess and I completely forgot about the laundry… You know… Getting stabbed kinda makes you forget about daily chores. I tried to do the laundry when I got home and then… Bam… Stitches popped. I blame the sock.”

“The sock? You blame the sock?” The doctor repeated, completely exasperated by your sense of disconcern for what was going on. “You could have just explained to your boyfriend that… you know… you got stabbed.” He mocked you, placing his clipboard under his arm as he shook his head. “I’m gonna assume your boyfriend is the dark haired freckled boy who has been loyally sitting on the floor by your door and crying his eyes out… Does that sound like him?” You pursed your lips, nodding your head slowly. “I’m gonna let him in now, okay?”

You barely recognized him when he walked in, his head hung low and his hair curtaining his face, but when the door shut behind him, he looked up at you, his eyes immediately focusing in on the tube in your side and then he was bawling once more. “Yah, why are you crying? I’m still alive and… painfully, still breathing!” You tried to laugh, but ended up hurting yourself in the process, wincing when the vibration of your chest caused the tube to shift.

“How are you still so happy?” Felix questioned, not even coming close to your hospital bed which was actually really upsetting considering the one thing that would probably heal you better than any surgery was one of his hugs and maybe one of his kisses. “Is it the morphine? Do you not feel anything?” He looked at the IV drip that was connected to your arm and then back at your face that was smiling so brightly, he’d think that you were in any normal bed just waking up from a nap…

“No, silly… It’s because you’re here.” You simply explained, holding your arms out to him. “Where’s my hug at? I’ve waited so long for one of your hugs, and you’re just gonna stand there and stare at me?” You pouted, looking down at the tube and letting out a quick sigh, it would have been longer and way more sassy if your lungs could have handled it, but they couldn’t, so a short bit of sass was all you could give right now. “I know I look like a lab experiment right now… but… A hug would be really nice.”

“You’re like this… because of me… And you still want a hug? You still want me close to you?” He quizzed, and your eyebrows lowered as you looked at him with such shock, your eyes looking around the room before landing back on him.

“Babe, I don’t know what you’re talking about right now, I just want a hug and maybe some kisses if you feel so inclined to give me them.” You motioned your arms out to him once more, a little more forcefully this time. “I’ll let you have a couple bites of my flavorless jello if you give me a hug… Please?”

He chuckled, although it sounded way more sad than usual as he finally walked over to you, carefully maneuvering his arms around the tube as he rested his forehead against yours. “You didn’t tell me…” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your nose before pulling back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew that you’d blame yourself…” You brushed his hair away from his face before lightly poking his freckles and smiling to yourself. “You’re still doing that right now though… Which is silly. I’m the one that decided to do the laundry even though the doctor told me not to. That’s not your fault.”

“You didn’t tell me you got stabbed, angel. I wouldn’t have gotten so worked up about the house if I knew that… And you could have told me to go fuck myself after I sent that text.” He scoffed softly as he finally, carefully, sat down on the edge of the bed. “We’re suing her… The whole company is… And we’re gonna make sure you and the other girls have body guards at all times. Nothing like this will ever happen again…” He took a deep breath, and then pursed his lips apologetically as he let it out slowly through his nose and you snorted softly.

“Don’t feel guilty for being able to breathe better than me, breathe deeply for me since I can’t right now…” You joked and he rolled his eyes, his head falling back as he groaned loudly, but you could hear his laughter although he was trying his best to hide it.

“God, you really are something else…” He murmured once he had calmed down, looking over at you with the softest eyes that held the whole universe in them, although you could only see your reflection in his pupils, but to him, you were his entire universe. “They tried to send my angel back home… I’ll never let that happen… I won’t let you go. If you go, I go… I love you too much to live without you here beside me.”

You sniffled softly, biting your bottom lip to try to hide the fact that you were on the verge of tears. “Damn…” You choked out before clearing your throat. “I love you too, Lixie… Don’t make me cry though… Makes it hard to breathe…” His eyes widened, and you knew he was on the brink of beginning to apologize again, and you knew that if he did he wouldn’t stop so you cut him off before he could begin. “You think we got time for like… a quickie before the doctor comes in to check on me?”

“WHAT?!” He shrieked, his cheeks burning a bright red as he glanced at the door and then back at you. “You’re crazy… God I love you so much…” He chuckled as he shook his head, leaning in to kiss you softly as he pet his hands over your hair. “Maybe at night though… I missed you a lot… You know…”

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penny00dreadful · 15 days

Text

Through The Valley - Post-Apocalypse AU - Part 1

AO3

Eddie rapped his knuckle against the metal three times.

“I don’t sell from the van, Harrington.”

He was parked in a dark corner of the cul-de-sac, blocking out any streetlight. The only reason he’d been able to recognise the artful swoop of hair was due to the residual glow from Tina’s Halloween Bash that had completely cleaned out his stock. It was going to comfortably pay his and Wayne’s electricity bill for the winter months ahead.

With maybe a little left over for a couple of new tapes if he was lucky.

If it had been anyone else he’d probably have been more careful in his approach but Steve never got physical in school. Even if he chose tonight to start throwing drunken punches, Eddie was pretty sure he’d be able to fend him off.

He wasn’t as strong as Steve but he was stone cold sober and knew how to take care of himself.

Eddie didn’t even really have to try to be mean and scary half the time, his look did it enough for him.

Steve had been leaning up against the side of the van with his head in his hands but Eddie’s approach must have been muffled by the thumping music coming from the house because the way he startled at the sound of Eddie’s knocking was borderline panicked.

A little over the top, to be honest.

Like he expected some monster to appear out of the shadows.

Steve glanced at him but just as quickly turned his back, swiping furiously at his face and Eddie got the distinct impression he’d interrupted something private. It immediately put him on edge.

These traditional masculinity jock types always got very defensive if they were caught being vulnerable. Like a single shred of emotion would shrink their dick.

“I’m not here to buy, I’m-” Steve sniffled again, wiping his nose harshly on his sleeve. “Sorry, I just needed a minute, I’m leaving.” His voice was thick from crying and he in no way tried to hide it.

Eddie frowned.

He didn’t really know what to do with that reaction, it wasn’t what he was expecting at all. But he figured if Steve could be gracious enough not to snap and spit at him, Eddie could be gracious enough not to make things worse.

“Don’t worry about it, man. If you need a minute, take a minute.”

Steve shook his head. “No, it’s fine-” he was cut off as he tried to step away but had clearly misjudged where the curb was in the darkness, tripping over it and landing hard on his back in the bushes.

He leaned forward, trying to pull himself back up but went completely slack again a second later.

“Well that’s just fucking typical.” Steve muttered.

Eddie tried hard to keep any hint of a smirk or smile off his face as he moved to hover over him, still trying to keep the mood light.

“You good?”

Steve flapped a loose hand in his direction. “I’m fine. Just leave me here to die.”

Eddie did smile at that and held a ringed hand out to him. “Dramatics are usually my job.”

Steve clapped his hand into Eddie’s and allowed himself to be hauled up to a sitting position.

Eddie considered for a moment before his curiosity got the better of him and he threw himself down onto the concrete.

The coldness of the curb immediately bit through his jeans. There’d probably be a freeze tonight. He could see their breath fog up in between them and the van they were now shadowed behind as he tapped out two cigarettes from his pack and offered one over.

Steve looked surprised for a moment, or Eddie guessed he looked surprised. They were both still drenched in mostly darkness, so Eddie couldn’t see much of his face.

Steve took the cigarette with a soft, “Thanks.”

Lighting up he took a deep inhale before rubbing at his eyes again with the heel of his hand, though it seemed to be more out of tiredness than continued tears.

He sniffed again and let out a heavy sigh.

“Are you going to ask about it?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.” Eddie shrugged. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. No. I don’t know-” Steve’s words died in his throat when he looked up, eyes sliding from Eddie’s face and landing over his shoulder.

Eddie twisted around and caught sight of Jonathan helping a stumbling Nancy out of the house with nervous hands and a worried brow.

“I’m guessing it has something to do with that?” He asked, turning back.

Steve tracked the two of them with his eyes before looking back down at the ground and saying quietly, “Yeah, something like that.”

“You’re not worried about someone else taking your very intoxicated girlfriend home?”

Steve shook his head inhaling another large drag from his cigarette. “No, not with Byers. She’s safe with him, she-” he sighed. “Don’t think she’s my girlfriend anymore anyway.”

Well it didn't take much more than that to paint a picture in Eddie's head of what had happened.

The whole town had known about the fight between Jonathan and Steve last year following the spray painting and subsequent clean up of The Hawk in which Nancy had very much not sided with Steve on it, though who could blame her.

People had expected him to drop her like a lead balloon after that but he hadn’t. He’d shocked everyone by starting up with her again, but now it looked like those issues had never really been resolved.

Eddie watched Steve’s silhouette carefully, ready for the moment he’d just up and start punching whatever was in reach like a good little testosterone driven toddler, but he just looked… defeated.

“You’re… handling it remarkably well.” He hedged, apprehensive.

“For now.” Steve tilted his head back to look up at the stars, his breath curling out white and foggy in the cold. “It’ll probably hit me tomorrow.”

Eddie wanted to reach a hand out, grip at his shoulder, offer a comforting touch but boys didn’t touch. And if they did, they only did it after reaching a certain level of friendship, which they were not at.

So he kept his hands to himself.

“Well I’d offer you something to take the edge off, but I’m afraid I’m all out.”

Steve shook his head. “No, you’re okay. Distraction and a cigarette is good enough for me. Plus you can’t just go around offering charity to anyone who crosses your path, people will try to take advantage.”

“You think I’d let people take advantage of me?” Eddie said with a smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

Steve snored. “No, I suppose not. You’ve got your whole,” he waved his hand in Eddie’s direction, “bad boy rough and tough… look.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows and laughed around his cigarette. “Hey, don't disparage the look, Harrington. It works.”

“M not disparaging, it’s a good look.”

“Oh, really? Didn’t think it’d be your type of thing.”

Steve glanced over at him, his eyes mischievous and ever so slightly hooded. “You’ve no idea what my type of thing is, Munson.”

Wait.

Was that a line?

Was Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington flirting with him? Him?

Maybe Steve had too much to drink.

He was obviously heartbroken by whatever was going on with Nancy so maybe it was just some kind of catharsis or a joke or-

A shrill ring cut through the air, sharp and splitting.

Eddie snapped his head up.

Steve didn’t react.

There was a rotary phone hanging off the side of his van, teal with a twisted cord.

And it was ringing.

Loudly.

It was like a spell had been broken, the shrill screaming of ringringring filled Eddie with a wild panic, a wild fear, shooting through his head and setting his blood alight.

He turned his wide eyes back to Steve who was now looking up at the phone with loose shoulders and a calm face.

The darkness didn’t matter anymore, he knew with exact, intimate detail what look Steve had right now.

He’d been back here often enough after all.

“Stevie, don’t answer it.” Eddie’s panic was edging into desperation.

His time was running out.

There was an overwhelming sense of loss inside him, mixed up with devastation, heartbreak and sadness.

He was slipping.

He was slipping away.

Again.

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t.” Eddie shook his head frantically, grasping Steve by the shoulders. “You don’t have to.”

He swung his leg over, sitting himself firmly in Steve’s lap and placed a hand at either side of his face, practically begging him. “Just a little longer. Please, baby, please.”

It was like he was imploring Steve to look inside at his beating, bloody heart, pleading with him to let them both stay. His tone was frantic and he could feel his soul cracking to pieces, clinging on as if he could keep Steve here just with his grip alone.

“It’s about Max.” Steve stated, matter of fact.

Eddie leaned forward and placed kiss after kiss in quick succession against Steve’s face. “You don’t have to answer it yet.” He said, a thick sob crawling its way up his throat, trying to change the inevitable.

His vision was starting to blur with tears and the lump in his throat felt like he’d swallowed a fucking golf ball. “Not yet. You can- you can answer it later. Please. Stevie. Baby. Sweetheart. We could-” He threw his arms around Steve’s shoulders, holding him as tight and close as he possibly could, as though his grip could keep them both here.

His tears were finally slipping free and his heartbreak cresting into complete and utter anguish. “We could go hang out with Robin or… or…”

“I haven’t met Robin yet, Eds. You know that.” Steve’s hand came up to softly cradle the back of his head as Eddie’s tears clung to Steve’s neck where they fell and he wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse. “I have to answer it.”

The next sob that came felt like it had torn his whole body in half, shaking him to his core, ripping him in two.

“Just a few more minutes.” He begged. “Please. Please don’t go.” He whispered, tremulous and defeated as the soft click of the receiver being picked up sounded around him and he awoke with a start.

Eddie took a few moments to collect himself, swiping furiously at his eyes with his bedsheets, hating himself for crying and trying to will the lump in his throat away.

His heart was aching and he knew despite his best efforts he’d be carrying it around with him for the rest of the day.

He didn’t have nightmares like Dustin or Nancy did. He didn’t scream or thrash or claw, no.

He had these dreams.

He wept in his sleep, crying until he was dried out and exhausted upon waking up but he wouldn’t trade them in for anything.

At least with these dreams he could still…

Nevermind.

It wasn’t important.

He had too much shit to deal with today to spend time mourning the past.

The past was dead and there was nothing he could do about it now.

He just had to keep moving forward.

For Wayne, for Dustin, for Mike and El and Will, for the Sinclair parents and the Buckley parents and Ms. Mayfield.

He tried to focus on the issues of the day.

Their food surplus was getting dangerously low and there hadn’t been a supply drop from the military in weeks, though their own vegetable crop was still growing strong.

Chester Hagen and his goons were still giving Nancy trouble.

They needed extra hands to get their fence back up again and those bandits were still out there.

They might have been scared away by Dustin and Scott’s genius and deadly electrical wiring but they weren’t going to stay away for long.

Their settlement was way too valuable an asset to have under their belts from a defensive standpoint alone and if Chester Hagen or the fucking bandits were able to seize control it could be catastrophic.

And that’s not even mentioning the fucking Ghouls.

Their bright red eyes were always the first thing visible through the darkness of the forest, followed closely by the smell of decay.

They kept to the shadows, unnervingly quiet considering they were the shambling corpses of those caught in the crossfire of the rifts opening up.

They were able to sneak up on even the most alert of people, getting close enough to strike, cutting a gnarled claw into their victims skin and paralysing them, ready to be feasted upon silently and unable to scream.

If someone was unlucky enough to die from a bite, rather than claws ripping their flesh from their bones and bleeding out, they’d come back a few hours later, dead and mindless, driven by the need to consume.

It was so incredibly fucked up.

Nearly everyone had had a run in with someone they had known once in life.

Hawkins had been a very small town after all and the Ghouls were drawn to their walls, the noise their small community made within their safe refuge amongst the trees like a shining noise beacon.

The creatures were easy to pick off though, high up in the communities man made sentry towers Eddie had suggested way back when, but the community could never get too complacent.

The Ghouls were still a very real threat.

The two bodies that had to be brought home and buried after the last trip to maintain the water tower made that clear enough.

Two more plots in their makeshift graveyard at the edge of what was once a golf course.

Fuck, they needed food. At least something more than the rationed out vegetables they were able to grow, something similar to the comforts they knew before everything went to shit.

Some sugar, some salt, even a bit of fucking meat.

They hadn’t been hunting too much lately, it was getting more and more dangerous to leave the walls.

Everyone was running on fumes and it was making them sloppy.

Their sentries were having trouble concentrating, their medical personnel had started to feel they couldn’t perform their duties safely anymore, their smartest minds were waning.

Eddie dragged himself out of bed.

No time to huddle in for warmth and wish for a different day than the one he was facing down, too many people were waiting on him, relying on him.

He did allow himself to drift a hand over the pillow he kept on the other side, though.

His side, though it had always been empty, ever since they first arrived at this estate, ever since Eddie first slept in the bed, nine months ago.

Fourteen months since the end.

Fourteen months since...

No.

Stop thinking about it.

Too much to do today.

He shook his head again, stripping down bare and stopping in front of the mirror.

He was leaner than he had been before all this began.

Fourteen months of surviving an apocalypse would do that to a person.

His hair was longer and still just as messy as ever. His skin was blocked out with more self-inflicted tattoos. Mostly the result of sleepless nights and downtime by candlelight when the memories sometimes got to be too much and he just had to get them out, get them onto skin, carry them on the outside rather than leave them to fester on the inside.

There was an illustration of Smaug from the books, done to the best of his memory on his right knee. Shitty interpretations of his guitar, a slice of pizza, a walkie talkie, trucker hats, mugs, guitar picks and music notes littered his arms. The old hellfire logo and the Corroded Coffin logo inked into his chest where his demon head and black widow had once been, now in the stomach of some long dead demobat somewhere.

Those had hurt like a bitch.

Almost as bad as the two quotes on the inside of his thighs.

I had not intended to love him on the inside of his left.

He made me love him without looking at me on the inside of his right.

Eddie scratched at his jaw in the mirror. He needed a shave but that could wait, he couldn’t be fucked dragging a razor over his face right now.

The shower was icy cold. He barely remembered what bathing in warm water felt like anymore. Positives and negatives to having a steady water supply from the reservoir on top of the hill, but no electricity.

At least they were all able to keep clean.

He barely bothered to dry off, dumping his towel in the laundry hamper he’d probably forget to bring down to their approximation of a laundrette, again.

He snatched up some clothes from his dresser, dark and sturdy, just how he liked them.

Dark jeans, dark top, high quality boots that he found in the abandoned house he and Wayne were now living in and though the July sun had been vicious and unrelenting, he needed the comfort of the familiar.

The only things of his own that had survived were what he had on him when they’d run. His necklace, his bracelet, his wallet chain, even though he hadn’t had need of a wallet for over a year, wasn’t even sure where in the world it was. But he added them too, feeling more like himself with every piece he put on.

He snatched up the rifle he kept loaded and tucked between the bed frame and the wall every night, slinging the strap over his shoulder and was about to head out of his bedroom when he paused, gripping the door handle tight.

He hated giving into the urge but if this was the day he died, he knew he’d regret not doing it.

With a put upon sigh, he let go of the door handle and turned back into his room, opening his closet door and looking at the only item of clothing hanging in there.

Reaching out, he brushed his fingers over the back shoulders, feeling the raised lettering of the name across his fingertips and ran a hand down the sleeve, gripping the cuff.

Before he could stare at green and white for too long and allow the sorrow to wash over him again, he let go and shut the closet door.

The house he and Wayne had managed to lay claim to was one of the smaller ones but that didn’t bother them.

Hell, it was practically Eddie’s own now that Wayne was spending most nights with Scott.

In any case the house was close to exactly who he wanted to be close to.

The Hoppers-Byers clan lived directly behind him, the fence blocking their gardens from each other long broken down by El. Dustin and his mother lived to one side of him, Nancy and her family on the other. Across the road lived the Sinclair parents, Susan Mayfeild and the Buckley parents, along with the various friends and family members of those that hadn’t been seen since before everything went to shit, trying to find comfort in their numbers.

They’d tried to convince Dustin, Mike, Will and El to join them in their support group but those kids weren’t the types to sit around and talk about their feelings.

They were the types to throw themselves into some new experiment or dig their way through The Void trying to find a new way forward.

But no such luck so far.

Eddie had stopped asking.

He trudged his way through the streets of what was once a very affluent gated community but had now become their own little post apocalypse village.

How quaint, he thought, sardonically.

He headed towards what was a rec centre once upon a time but had since been repurposed as their collective dining hall.

During the good times when food stockpiles were high people could come and go as they pleased, getting fed whenever the desire took them, maybe even being able to make a request of what they wanted to eat.

But in times like these, when the variety of food was dangerously low, mealtimes were strictly regimented to make sure everyone got an equal share.

As he waited in line, his stomach growling with the smell wafting from the kitchens, the people around him sent him warm smiles and friendly greetings, some even trying to engage him in small talk.

Crazy how an actual apocalypse can change attitudes.

“What’s on the menu today, Joyce?” Eddie asked when he got to the front of the line.

His smile didn’t feel as strained as it had been before. Joyce always managed to bring some light out in him.

“Only the finest potato stew for one of our fearless leaders.” She replied with a sneaky smile, pushing a bowl of watered down lumpy stew towards him.

Eddie glared at her but without much substance behind it, picking up his bowl. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

Joyce awed playfully, reaching over to pinch his unscarred cheek. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t pull such an adorable face whenever I do.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and turned away, calling back over his shoulder, “Bye Joyce.”

“Bye sweetie!”

He sat himself down at an empty table as far away from everyone else as he could, hoping to just be able to eat his meal in peace before the demands of everyone and everything started to surround him.

He only got about two bites in before a sour faced figure sat himself down across from him.

Eddie didn’t even bother to look up.

“I’m not in the mood, Hagen.”

Chester Hagen was a man who looked like he might have been attractive in his youth if he didn’t constantly have a sulk on his face and a sickening air of superiority around him.

“Just hear me out, Munson. I know you feel like you owe the Wheeler girl your loyalty-”

Eddie snapped his eyes up. “I don’t owe Nancy anything. She has my loyalty because she’s earned it. Something I’m sure you’re unfamiliar with.”

“Don’t you think this place could use some actual leadership? Not just some little girl playing politics.”

Eddie sighed heavily and continued to shovel his food into his mouth, trying to have this conversation finished as fast as he could. “And you think that’s you, do you? Might I remind you that everyone here,” he waved his hand around, “including you and your luddites elected her as leader, because she was one of the few who knew how to actually handle everything.”

“That was then. Now we’re starving. The military doesn’t respect her, why else wouldn’t we be getting our drops on time? The people are upset and they’re starting to talk. And need I remind you I was an acting town official for years. I ran for Mayor-”

Eddie lifted the bowl to his mouth, slurping down the last of his food. “And you lost.” He winced in mock sympathy, standing up. “To Larry Kline of all people. Ouch.”

He left to hand his bowl back over to be cleaned, praying that he wouldn’t be followed but that was apparently too much to hope for. He’d barely made it outside before he heard the heavy footsteps following him.

Eddie darted around the corner of the building, striding down the small gap between the dining hall and their makeshift medical centre, only stopping once he was sure Hagen had followed him in.

“Munson, if she has something over you that makes you think you can’t switch to the better team then you’ve got to know we can help you out. No matter what it is. You have a lot of respect in this community, we could use that. And you wouldn’t be stuck acting as some little girls guard dog-”

Eddie swung around, pressing the barrel of his rifle into Chester Hagan’s neck, backing him into the wall. Hagen immediately threw his hands up in surrender, his eyes wide with fear, looking like he was about to piss himself.

“What if I like being a little girl's guard dog, what then?”

Eddie and Nancy didn’t exactly see eye to eye. She still held onto some middle class, small town politeness and nothing Eddie said, trying to get her to accept the brutality of the world they were living in now would dissuade her.

But she was an effective leader. And she was one of the people who had kept him alive during the spring break from hell.

There was no way he was going to sell her out to Chester fucking Hagan.

Hagen swallowed, shifting the muzzle ever so slightly around his throat. “S- so is it a sex thing? Because I’m sure we could find-”

“For the sake of your own head I’m encouraging you to stop talking now.”

“Right, right. Yeah. I’m… I’ll stop talking.”

“Good. Now listen to me very carefully. Under no circumstances whatsoever will I be persuaded, coerced, bought or bullied away from Nancy’s side. This town voted her their leader and unless the majority no longer wants her overlooking things, it’s going to stay that way.” He pushed the barrel of the gun in harder, right under his jaw. “But if I ever get approached by you or one of your goons trying to get me to switch sides or go behind Nancy’s back for information again, I will not hesitate to put a bullet through your eye. We both know I’ll do it and I won't lose a wink of sleep over it."

"Th- pe- people won't like that."

"Oh, won't they? Tell me, who do you think the people will side with between the two of us? It's why you keep trying to get me to join your side. Because you know you don't have shit without my support. Like you said, I have a lot of respect in this community.”

“B- but you two fight, you fight all the time! We can hear it clear across the estate! We can-” Eddie dug the gun in just a little deeper. “Do not approach me again. Do I make myself clear?”

Hagen nodded, short and sharp and scared. “Crystal clear, Munson. Sir.”

“Good.” Eddie pulled the gun away from his neck and slung it back over his shoulder, walking down the rest of the alleyway before calling back, “Clean up, it smells like you shit yourself.”

“Can a girl get pregnant if she’s on top?”

Eddie dropped the metal sheet they were using to repair the hole in the fence, just barely managing to avoid crushing his toe. The noise clanged around them like a dinner bell. He and Dustin were outside the protective walls of the community for this particular repair and they both froze, tensing up and waiting to hear if the sound had attracted any Ghouls or roving bandits towards them. They were barely in danger, there were sentries posted on high platforms around the whole perimeter but it was still something they wanted to avoid if they could.

Speaking of, they could hear someone climbing the platform from the inside before Jonathan poked his head over the eight foot wall, looking down on the two of them.

“Everything okay?”

Eddie took one last glance at the dense woods around them and let his shoulders drop, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket and looking back up.

“Yeah, sorry about that Jon. The kid just jumpscared me is all.”

“I literally just asked a question.” Dustin frowned at him.

“A sex question.” Eddie pointed out.

“I think I’ll take my leave, have fun with that!” Jonathan disappeared back behind the walls before Eddie could even glare at him.

“Why are you even asking me? And who are you planning on sexing up? You’re too young anyway. You’re a foetus.”

“I’m sixteen. And seriously? I thought you’d be more… open minded about this.” Dustin pouted. “Plus who else am I gonna ask? Hopper, Jonathan? I can’t go to the library, they don’t exist anymore and I can’t ask-” Dustin swallowed, trying to keep his emotions in check and failing. “Steve’s not here.” He whispered.

Eddie’s heart gave a painful thud, like it always did whenever Steve was mentioned. Whenever Eddie thought of him, really.

It usually led to him trying not to think of him, which made him feel guilty, like he was trying to forget. Which then made him sadder and angrier and more hopeless all at the same time. Because ‘forgetting’ implied Eddie would never see him again. It implied that Steve was… gone.

And he just couldn’t accept that.

But trying to avoid thoughts of Steve often left Dustin in the lurch. He knew it did.

Who else could the kid talk to about this? Not Jonathan or Hopper or Joyce or Wayne or Claudia. None of them knew Steve like Dustin did. Not even Nancy had known him very well by the end.

Will and El had been the two kids who’d interacted with Steve the least when they were all together. Before. And Mike had too much ‘ex-boyfriend to his sister’ attitude about him to really talk to Steve back then, always assuming there’d be more time.

Maybe he could talk to Richard and Melissa Buckley. They were the parental connection Steve never had, Eddie knew that. Steve had told him that himself.

But there was too much of an age gap.

And the rest of their Upside-Down crew were in the same boat Steve was.

Not here.

They hadn’t been seen or heard from in over fourteen months.

Robin, Max, Lucas, Erica…

Missing.

Not gone.

Never gone.

Just… missing.

Dustin shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look, can we just talk about the sex like scientists? Not make it weird with squiggly feelings?”

Eddie smirked, but nodded, happy to avoid the subject of Steve for a little longer.

“Sure thing, kiddo. To answer your question, yes. A girl can get pregnant from literally every penis in vagina position. And she can get pregnant if she’s on her period. And if it’s her first time.”

Dustin huffed, throwing his arms out at his sides. “Then how is anyone supposed to have sex without getting someone pregnant in the apocalypse?”

Eddie snorted, picking back up his metal sheet. “Why do you think there's been so many babies born here since it started?”

“Unsafe practices?”

Eddie snapped his fingers and pointed at Dustin. “Unsafe practices.”

“Well…” Eddie could hear Dustin drumming his fingers against his baseball bat, apparently contemplating something. He took a big breath in. “What have you been doing?”

Eddie nearly dropped the sheet again. “Me?”

“Yeah? How have you been having sex without getting anyone pregnant?”

Eddie blew out a breath, busying himself with finally securing the sheet. He’d probably end up nearly dropping it again if he didn’t. He cleared his throat. “I haven’t been.”

“Having sex?” Dustin asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” Eddie closed his eyes, bracing for all the usual questions. “I haven’t been having sex.”

“Why? Are you celibate? Are you waiting till marriage or something?”

“No…” He shook his head. “I just…”

“You do like girls, right?”

Dustin’s tone wasn’t accusatory or derogatory, just curious.

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “You go around asking people dangerous questions like that often, Henderson?”

“No. I’m not an idiot. Didn’t feel like a dangerous question to ask you. You don’t feel dangerous.” Dustin scowled. “Are you?”

Eddie allowed the corner of his mouth to tick up. “No, kid. I’m not dangerous. And to answer your question…” he shrugged. “Yeah. I like girls just fine.”

Dustin watched him closely, eyes darting between Eddie’s own. “But you don't prefer them?”

Eddie nodded. “Correct.”

Dustin nodded as well. “Okay. So you're like Will?”

“Not exactly. I like people… but I tend to lean towards the more… masculine side of things.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, animals do it all the time right? Why would it be different for people? People are just animals with bigger brains and a higher endurance.”

“Debatable.”

“Scientific fact.”

Eddie sighed. “Suppose you’re right.”

“So… do you just not feel safe trying to find someone in an apocalypse or is there someone…?”

“From before?”

Dustin swallowed. Talking about pre-apocalyptic relationships was always heavy. Especially if they… weren’t here.

“Yeah.” He agreed. “From before.”

“Yeah. I had someone. Have someone.” Eddie couldn’t look at him, continuing to work on the fence, unable to stomach the pitying looks he’d seen people get, people who still had hope they’d be reunited with their loved ones even after all this time.

People like the Sinclair parents, the Buckley parents and Ms. Mayfield.

No one knew he was also one of those people.

And if he got his way, no one would ever know.

He didn’t need the fucking pity.

He didn’t think he could bear it if Dustin muttered out the dreaded, “I’m sorry.”

But as always, the kid was full of surprises. “What’s his name?” It felt very deliberate, to ask what’s his name and not what was his name. Present tense. Intentional.

Eddie smirked to himself. A small little private thing, just for him.

“Ken.”

There was the sound of shuffling as Dustin hummed. “I don’t think I know a Ken.”

“No.” Eddie replied. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

AO3

So…

Hello!

I am back! I am officially bring my break to an end and that is a terrifying concept but I'm gonna do it anyway! Updates on this fic will be a little more sporadic than my previous ones as I get back into the swing of things but I am so happy to be back and I hope you enjoy this story! 🥰

Fic title and lyrics from Through The Valley by Shawn James but it was this version by Ashley Johnson as Ellie that truly captured me.

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for the magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation.

@geekymagicalpotato

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #penny00dreadful #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #fanfic #pennys anniversary event #through the valley #post apocalypse au #dustin henderson

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queenshelby · 6 months

Text

An Illicit Affair

Part One: My Boyfriend's Father

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

It was 15 months ago when you first met the man who, unbeknownst to you, would eventually become the center of your disastrous life and that man was not your current boyfriend Maximilian Murphy, a twenty-two-year-old Irishman from Dublin.

You had been going out with Max for about a year when you met the man who changed everything for you and, whilst Max was almost an entire year younger than you, you had both met at London's top medical school after he had transferred from Trinity College.

Max was energetic, confident and intelligent. He was popular with the girls and, although you were drawn to him because of his sense of humor and easygoing nature, it was quite obvious to you that he was much less serious about life in general than you were.

After a year of non-serious dating, Max eventually told you that he was taking you to Dublin for his father's 46th birthday and it was then when you first laid eyes on him. Cillian Murphy, your boyfriend's father.

The name "Cillian Murphy" didn't ring any bells for you at the time as you had never seen any of his films, but now, 15 months later, you knew everything that there was to know about him due to the publicity his movie Oppenheimer had received in recent weeks.

You went to see the movie too with some friends and whilst you had broken up with Max about a year earlier, you happened to recall the weekend you shared with him and his family in Dublin.

Both Cillian and his wife Danielle made you feel welcome when you arrived with their son Max late on a Friday afternoon at their large Victorian townhouse near the coast, just outside Dublin.

The house was decorated with tasteful modern furniture and a collection of modern art hung on the walls. The living room featured large windows overlooking the sea with heavy curtains blocking the view when needed.

You spent most of Saturday relaxing by the pool with Max, swimming and sunbathing before enjoying a dinner prepared by Danielle for her husband's birthday.

As you sat down at the table, Cillian seemed distracted, and it wasn't until the second glass of wine that he asked you more about yourself and your aspirations.

"So, what do you want to specialize in?" he asked and you looked down at your plate and replied softly, "I haven't decided yet. I think I might enjoy working in pediatrics."

"Working with children can be emotionally demanding," Cillian said, "but I am sure it's incredibly rewarding," he then went on to say before acknowledging that Max had told him that you were at the top of your class.

"It sounds like you have a bright future ahead of you," he told you and your heart fluttered a bit as you heard his voice, deep and resonant, filled with warmth and confidence. It was a contrast to Max's playful teasing, something about which made you feel comfortable and safe.

Danielle, Cillian's wife, chimed in with a question for you, "What got you interested in medicine in the first place?" she asked. You paused for a moment, considering how best to explain such a complex answer.

"Well, my dad was a doctor, so healthcare was a part of our household growing up," you began thoughtfully. "But the real turning point came during high school when I visited a friend who was hospitalized with leukemia. Her doctors and nurses took such great care of her, and it really opened my eyes to the impact that medicine could have on people's lives."

Cillian nodded along, seemingly genuinely interested in your response.

"That's amazing," he murmured. "You are genuinely empathetic and that's a good trait to have, especially as a doctor," he went on to say with a smile and you couldn't help but blush slightly under his intense gaze. His piercing blue eyes seemed to look right through you, making you feel vulnerable in a way you hadn't felt before. But instead of feeling uncomfortable, you found yourself strangely drawn to him. There was something magnetic about him, something that made you want to spend more time with him despite the fact that he was twice your age.

The day after his birthday party, while you were lounging around the poolside, you couldn't help but notice Cillian looking at you intently from across the lawn. His eyes held a mysterious glint, a curiosity that seemed to grow stronger every minute.

As if sensing your presence, he approached you and started a friendly conversation. The topics ranged from movies to books, and even personal interests. It was a pleasant surprise finding out that both of you shared a love for Jazz before Max pointed out to you that Jazz music was for "old people", causing Cillian to laugh.

The sound of Cillian's laughter was soothing and comforting.

You felt butterflies in your stomach as adrenaline surged through your veins. You tried to compose yourself, focusing on the casual exchange of small talk, hoping to distract yourself from the strong attraction you felt towards your own boyfriend's father.

But no matter how hard you tried, those enchanting blue eyes kept drawing you back in. The subtle smell of his cologne lingered in the air, filling your senses with a mix of excitement and shame.

Luckily for you however, on Sunday morning, Max and you travelled back to London, leaving behind the memory of the lingering gaze that Cillian gave you as you boarded the plane while, in hindsight, you realized that Cillian's gaze did leave something behind - a seed planted between the lines of your otherwise innocent encounter.

In the months that followed, you found yourself thinking about Cillian more often than you expected and, unfortunately for Max, at the same time as fantasizing about his father, you became more and more annoyed by his immaturities.

And then, one evening, after another argument between you and Max over whether you should go clubbing or stay in and study, you finally snapped.

"This isn't working out anymore, Max," you told it him straight. "We need different things in life and we would be better off breaking up now rather than prolonging something that won't work long term," you told Max, sitting on the bed of his dorm room, causing his chin to drop.

"You don't mean it," he said, sounding shocked.

"Yes, I do," you said firmly as you looked away from him, knowing that he wouldn't understand why you couldn't go on like this.

"No, please, give me another chance. We can make this work," Max pleaded, moving closer to you, reaching out to touch your arm.

"No, Max, I've made up my mind," you said firmly, avoiding his pleading eyes.

You knew that it was only a matter of time before Max would come to terms with the truth, but you also knew that the process would be painful for both of you.

Max moved closer, grasping your hand gently. "Maybe we just need to communicate better," he suggested, his eyes full of hope. "I love you, you know. I am happy to try anything," he continued but you shook your head.

You pulled your hand away, fighting back tears. "I just... I can't anymore, Max," you whispered quietly. "We tried to make it work several times, but our expectations are quite different. I am taking university serious, but you are not. You have different interests and I think that you would be better of with someone else," you confessed, averting your gaze.

"But... but, what about the future? What about us?" Max stammered, desperation seeping into his tone. You remained silent, allowing the silence to hang heavily between you two. Finally, you took a deep breath.

"I don't want to lose you, Y/N," Max pleaded, his voice quivering. "We have been together for a year, surely we can find a way to make it work. I promise."

You shook your head sadly, unable to meet his desperate gaze.

"We are both still young and year is nothing if you are in your early twenties. I'm sorry, Max," you managed to whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I think it's best if we end things here."

He let out a choked sob, his face crumpling. "Please," he implored, clutching onto your wrist. "Don't leave me like this."

But you couldn't stand it any longer, pulling your arm free. "I need space, Max," you said sharply, rising to your feet.

"I need to focus on myself and my studies right now," you told him while, deep down inside, you knew that something was missing, something was holding you back from fully committing to your relationship.

And it wasn't long before fate intervened as, just over year after your breakup with Max, you ran into Cillian again at a jazz concert in London...

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction

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nicomoon69 · 26 days

Text

I’ve made up so much Bernard lore in my head so I’m just going to dump it here

so post Louis Grieve in my head Bernard transferred to an all boys boarding school his junior year (someone suggested Brentwood so I’m gonna go w that). his parents sent him there as a bit of a last ditch effort to straighten him out, get up his grades and push him out of his silly habits. this also included them making him buzz off his hair since they deemed his old hair unprofessional.

all of it was a huge blow to Bernard’s already fragile mental health and self esteem so at Brentwood he was kind of a mess. he wasn’t exactly a bad student but the people around him considered him even more of an outsider than he was before at Louis Grieve.

eventually Bernard did find himself with a small group of friends (might further develop them as ocs??) who were much like him outsiders. one of said friends also being the first time he fooled around with a guy, which led to several more though none of it was ever serious.

there was lots of denial at first but by the time his time at Brentwood ended Bernard had accepted himself as queer.

he applied for a few colleges, some outside of Gotham but he ended up settling for GU bc part of his couldnt handle leaving his city behind. he chose a double major because he thought that would make his parents most proud and bc biology and physics were the only subjects he enjoyed.

despite everything seemingly going well for Bernard he felt an emptiness that nothing could fix, that is until he found the Children of Dionysus. despite knowing the risks of joining a cult he did. he was in the cult for roughly eight months before he got kidnapped to get sacrificed.

that was a rough version of what happened in my head. I have some more details that I couldn’t fit smoothly into that word vomit so here’s some more

Bernard came out to his parents his first semester, which they took pretty badly and led him to getting kicked out and having to couch surf for a bit before landing on the apartment he was living in during TD:R.

to keep himself afloat with no support from his parents Bernard worked two jobs, one at a diner around the corner of his apartment and the other at a coffee shop closer to GU.

at Brentwood Bernard did a lot of experimental stuff with his appearance ranging from spiking his hair after it had grown out a bit to getting his ears pierced multiple times. a tongue piercing came along somewhere in his time at the cult and Bernard genuinely doesn’t remember getting it.

during junior and senior year Bernard joined the basketball team. he was surprisingly good considering he had never showed any interest in the sport and wasn’t particularly athletic before then. basketball somehow also led him to training himself in martial arts.

since I do hc the Children of Dionysus to have some more Dionysian practices I think Bernard developed both a distaste for wine and eating raw meat (omophagia).

Bernard has been refusing to get drastic hair cuts after the buzz cut and is unlikely to get one any time soon. he’s been taking kitchen scissors to his hair and freestyling it if he feels it needs more shape.

though he’s been out for a while Bernard hasn’t actually dated anyone long term before Tim. most people he’s been with were flings or were blocked after a few dates.

the way Bernard got into contact with the cult is through one of his high school classmates, who he’d seen talk about the ways that joining it had improved their life and how they were much more enlightened. he due to his circumstances was an easy victim after his initial skepticism

there’s just a lot of permanent scarring due to the cult, but Bernard doesn’t bother covering them up with make up or clothes. at least not post getting rescued.

Bernard actually goes to therapy after the cult and was also diagnosed with autism (let me project a teeny bit). it helped him make more sense of his life and gave him more direction.

his cooking passion came from his early childhood, being dimmed out in middle school and only returning after high school. he mostly enjoys writing his own recipes and experimenting with taste. there was ofc the added challenge of budget, but it was one of the few things that made him happy.

his conspiracy theorist side mostly calmed down until he was thrust back into it when he started dating Tim. this was due to odd behavior from Tim and until Bernard found out he was RR (which really didn’t take that long) he was balls deep on conspiracy blogs and threads. he didn’t really quite after putting the RR pieces together though, bc he enjoyed being able to subtly help Tim with his cases.

due to the two jobs and double major previously mentioned Bernard has a terrible sleeping schedule. he regularly stays up past three only to have a morning shift that starts at seven.

gonna quite rambling for now lol, might edit this post to add more in the morning but I’m sick of typing. sorry if it’s a lot, I just think abt him a lot……. yea..

#bernard dowd #tim drake #timbern #timber #td:r #dc #dcu #dc comics #my brain

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everlastingrandom · 9 days

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I’ve been thinking about “experiences” and pop-up events in general. You’ve got outright scams like the Willy Wonka Immersive Experience and you've got low-overhead, high-charging events like the Van Gogh Experience. They're shoddy promises of a temporary third space that provides diversion for people who can afford to escape the misery for 2-5 hours.

There are definitely pop-up events that give a damn (I've never gone to the Bridgerton experience but it looks genuinely thought-out and engaging), but I feel like those types are becoming less common as organizers try to cheapen out. It's bleak to think about. There are genuinely creative ideas that just don't get off the ground because of budget or greed.

Months ago, I saw a promotion for a “Moorish Ren Faire” that conveyed the idea of an Afro-centric renaissance festival. And that would slap and fuck for me, a Black person who loves regular ren fairs and would love to engage with something less Euro-centric. But the art and copy were all AI-generated.

I'm going to start biting.

Club meet-ups and community events and block parties are so important. Third spaces are important. Events are difficult and costly to organize, but I've volunteered at a lot and they can be way more fun and rewarding than paying $50 to walk around and stare at displays for two hours.

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sevenpoyo · 10 months

Text

school headcanons for because i only got 3 more weeks

margo’s is so long even tho she got like 2 minutes of screen time bc i love her so much and she’s my gf

Margo Kess, 1610Miles, 42Miles, Gwen Stacy, Pavitr Prabhakar

margo kess / spiderbyte

ain’t shorty on zoom in the movie?

my girl dont attend class, she once shut down the entire blocks power so she would have an excuse to not be in class

eats in class all class everyday, only shares with you

takes really good notes and never studies them

like???? ma’am??? share???

all her electives are programming related and she pretends to busy while playing centipede all day

sends you 50 links to stuff you might like while ur in math

she got papers that let her opt out of gym

no matter how much you beg ur gonna be alone in gym and she doesn’t feel bad about it

popular with no friends type

like everyday 50 ppl stop you both and say hi

she only knows like 5 of their names she can’t stand half of them niggas

empty ass backpack like she got one notebook and one binder

all a’s and b’s like bitch how

her memory is absolutely ass but she can remember every story you told her or stuff that happened when y’all hang out

don’t ask her what she did in her class

don’t ask her if her class also has a history test

she don’t know

she don’t care

but she do know that when you were 8 your cousin burned ur thigh while y’all were playing iron vs knife fight

(u were dumb as hell for picking knife everyone knows iron always wins)

i looked it up on her word everybody uses those virtual avatars

she’ll shit on your class choices so damn hard

she just likes making fun of your choices fr

like half of ur conversation go;

damn i’m tired

u was up doing stupid shit last night you don’t get to complain

stfu that’s why ur a bitmoji

that’s why ur granny beat ur ass for something your brother did when you were 9

i hate telling u shit

then stop telling me shit

(i have no clue how accurate this is to her character but i need to write about her i’m in love but damn it’s long)

1610 miles / spider-man 2 lmao

book bag full locker full but never has a pencil

writes notes assignments and homework in paint pen ink don’t ask this nigga for notes

(he gets nigga treatment but not my queen margo bc i got favorites)

he miss mad classes but somehow still solid attendance record???

somehow always present in the record he miss 40 days and get caught on like 6 of them

unless his mom make breakfast and lunch on her day off for him he eating the most random shit from the bodega closest to visions

like what do you mean you got a cosmic brownie and a cold chopped cheese from last night ? it’s literally 7 in the morning no i don’t want none

makes you hype him up every time he slap boxes people and he’s so ass at it

he be ashy with no lotion atleast 5 times every month it’s embarrassing

he calls visions his white people school to his parents and his friends

once he said it to gwen and they sat in literal complete silence for like 10 minutes

prolly took music theory because he thought it would be easy and switched out of that shit so fast

i’d be so mean to him for enjoying physics

like this nigga trying to make something of him self

lil einstein ass nigga

he understands color theory but can’t explain it

12 half full sketchbooks but at school he literally draw on computer paper he don’t let the sketch book leave his bag

i know he’s ass at watercolor, he always spills shit, the colors always end up brown

try’s to be interested in your class choices bc he wants to know stuff he can talk about with you

when you first meet he can’t take meaner jokes bc he thinks that you mean them

but one day he’s gets comfortable, and brutal

no one in your life is safe when he looses a video game

except your mom

rio taught him better than that

42 miles / the prowler

comes to school with no school related supplies in his bag unless you count art stuff

finds a pencil on his way to class

has a change of clothes, rat tail comb, 3 bottles of water, a camera, a flashlight, lotion and cocoa butter.

like bro ur going to Ap Art not a camping trip

once he pulled out a griddle and and pancake mix and y’all started making pancakes in class

forgets his metro pass every day and gets so pissed ab it

runs into people in the hallway bc he’s never paying attention

idk if he goes to visions but if he does he calls it his white people school with his full chest to anybody even if they’re white

he be leaving halfway through the day all the time like bro you miss algebra 2 every damn day

uncle arron always talking him out of school with some bullshit reason

bro’s had his tonsils out 8 times on the school’s records

He will get ur parents to put his uncle on ur pickup list and you will be out of there with him

he will YELL if someone step on his shoes no matter what the situation like the school could be on fire and he fighting in the burning building

also his uniform is so pristine

his pants stiff

that button down is bleached ironed pressed and allat

this mfer is an online shopping addict u just know he be on amazon in class

will offer you the weirdest food combos like no i don’t want to put tajin mangoes on my beef patty i’m sick of you nigga

not school related but he’s super good with kids (both miles fr) but he’s the #1 little cousin defender and apologists

he ride for them always one of ur little cousins could sucker punch u and he be like

‘they just want u to play with them’

he takes a preforming arts class for fun prolly

loves sports but doesn’t play one understands the stats well and would help if you played one

wakes up at the asscrack of dawn on weekends

SICK ASS COSTUME FOR HOLLOWEEN IK THIS NIGGA LOVE HOLLOWEEN

plans costumes for school spirit weeks but always checks to seen if he’s gonna be the only one wearing a costume for it

never eats lunch unless his mom makes it he be hungry all day and be complaining

his socks are never in uniform (yes some uniform schools have sock rules)

gwen stacy / spider woman / ghost spider

idk what to call her

she has every snack you could ever want in her lunch bag

hates her music theory teacher

she literally has the most pristine locker with a calendar and a mirror and all that shit will write down test for you and important dates for the both of you

goes to school plays and shits on the story, like she ain’t pay 5 dollars to be there

some of her teachers hate her

like ma’am ur beefing with a whole 16 year old rn

she hate english teachers but love creative writing teachers

she keeps all her books in her locker never brings them home never brings them to class

always comes through with an extra pad no matter what

she also always has hand sanitizer

in like 4 extracurricular after school things and complains so bad

ur starting to hate that shit to ur sick of hearing it like girl quit then

10/10 cameraman she has every fight and every drama in 10khd and she will share them if you ask

she chews her pens and nails

has her drumsticks out always teachers have banned her from taking them to their classes

can watch tv on her phone but look focused you think she’s paying attention but then you look over and she’s watching good luck charlie

pavitr prabhakar / spider-man india

always late for class never in trouble

always eating and sharing food and never in trouble

how is he blessed like this? it ain’t fair

eats from the school vending machines or begs other ppl to share

will always have and share the homework answers no matter what he’s an angel

his sock always have holes in them like sir please get that shit together

gym try hard ik goes insane in football/soccer

very encouraging for shit u don’t wanna do he believes in you

you him and Gayatri talk so much shit but are somehow all well liked

he tells you what teachers are dating (he can just tell)

he has toothpaste in his bag for some reason?? i can just feel this one

his aunt will let you come over after school she’s so sweet to you.

always got a job at school assemblies

he’s reading poems or shaking hand or leading in the school pledge or something

Pav’s is short because i have no fucking clue if school in India is different form america and Barbados

#miles morales x reader #42 miles morales #margo kess x reader #gwen stacy x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr my beloved #atsv x reader #atsv spoilers #spider byte x reader #the prowler x reader #42 miles morales x reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

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AITA for asking someone not to make my art about a ship I hate?

This happened a couple months ago, but I’m still kinda unsure if I handled it correctly.

Basic rundown of events: I posted some art of a character on their own in the evening, and when I woke up the next morning, someone had reblogged with an addition about a ship that’s a big notp for me. I messaged them to ask they delete it as politely as possible, because people had been interacting with that version of the post specifically and it made me uncomfortable. They responded by saying I was being immature and needed to learn not to police what other people do on the internet. We exchanged a couple more messages, and I tried to explain my position my throughly. Neither of us was overtly hostile or anything, but I felt extremely talked down to by their tone of voice. After our conversation, we both blocked each other, and that was that. They never did delete their addition.

Why I think I might be TA: we weren’t exactly friends or anything. Neither of us followed each other. I’d seen them around in the fandom, and they’d reblogged some of my art in the past, but I think messaging someone I didn’t know instead of just blocking them might have been a bit of an overreach. Plus the ship in question is canon, and not particularly controversial or anything, so most people in the fandom probably wouldn’t have minded.

On the other hand, the ship being so unavoidable is a big part of the reason it upset me so much. It’s hard for me to exist in this fandom without having to see it constantly, and I don’t even ever mention the other character in it for fear of this exact thing happening. I’ve had people be assholes on my posts about the ship I prefer, or go out of their way to interpret my romantic posts about them platonically, or add tags to my art about how they only like my ship as backstory and not endgame. I don’t want to have to put a disclaimer every single time I post about this fandom. I just want to enjoy the things I like without being negative all the time. Which is why I figured messaging privately was more polite than making a stink where everyone could see. I specifically mentioned that I knew they wouldn’t have known and wasn’t mad.

No one actually ended up reblogging their addition, which is also a strike against me, but I got a lot of likes on specifically that version of the post, which made me scared they were going to. I hated the idea of having to turn off reblogs on a piece I’d worked pretty fucking hard on because a version I found so upsetting was in circulation. If it was just tags, I’d have blocked, but it being an addition is different. I don’t think asking people not to make my posts about it is “policing what other people do on the internet”. You’re in MY house, on MY post with MY art I spent hours on. Making additions to art posts already seems somewhat rude to me, that’s just not something you do, but I guess that’s a matter of the corner of tumblr culture you’re used it.

Also, their response felt very aggressive and condescending. They implied I was, like, a kid, and I do think I’m somewhat younger than them, but the only information about my age in my bio at the time was that I’m an adult, so it felt like a rude assumption. My age doesn’t have anything to do with it.

Again, though, I do absolutely see how my initial message could read as entitled. During the rest of our messaging, I did lose my temper a little bit at one point; I said something about how I’ve had to deal with shit in this fandom before, and I don’t remember the exact words since, again, we both blocked each other, but I know I swore at them. That might’ve come across as more aggressive than I wanted, and probably didn’t exactly help deescalate. (Can’t say for sure, I don’t have their side of the story)

Like I said, this situation was a bit ago now, but it upset me pretty bad at the time, and I’m still not entirely sure who’s in the wrong. So, AITA?

(Also to get ahead of this: please don’t make this about shipcourse in the comments. It’s not about that. They and I have similar opinions on that discourse from what I’ve gathered anyway. Thanks.)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #ship discourse

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mistysblueboxstuff · 1 year

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people who support AI clearly don't understand art at all

like it's more than just paint and canvas and pixels???

art created by humans has feelings and thoughts and memories attached to it

like this for example - i made this when i first started painting so it's obviously not great but i remember painting it while my dad was in a hospital, in a coma, dying. painting it kept me busy and it brought me comfort

i painted these in the summer of 2019 on my mum's balcony, eating ice cream and being excited over people finally noticing my art

I painted these in the winter of 2019, at my kitchen table because i didn't have a study yet and the rest of the house was too cold to sit in. i painted these for the artbook for PQ he was supposed to get in February. i was happy and i was hopeful, painting until 2-3am while listening to My Dad Wrote a Porno and giggling to myself like a maniac

i painted these in the spring of 2022, in the painting corner of my bedroom while we were redoing the house and right before i finally got my own little study. painting these brought me out of the art block that's been plaguing me for months. i felt so much joy finally being inspired by something again

i painted these this spring, in my study, my heart aching over everything that's transpired over the past few months

artists leave bits of their souls in everything they make, there's a person behind every piece of art. A person with a life, with their joy and their grief and all of the little things and imperfections that make them human. even if AI can make the most perfect art in seconds, even if it absorbs everything there is to know about everything, it will never know what it's like to be human, what it's like to feel and to love and to hurt. its "art" will always be hollow and meaningless. and what saddens me the most is knowing that so many people are perfectly fine with that.

#anti ai #human art #long post #i have an opinion on everything always it's exhausting

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beekeeperspicnic · 10 months

Text

What I've been getting up to without my computer

Since I don't have any game updates at the moment I thought I'd give you a look at my very analogue Sherlock Holmes related project!

As you probably know, the Sherlock Holmes stories were mostly originally published in the Strand Magazine which came out as floppy monthly magazines with hardback collections every six months.

A while ago I spotted a really beaten up copy of the July to December 1893 book on eBay for £8. This book can sometimes go for £200 in good condition because it's the one with...

I immediately decided to make repairing it a Project!

You can see here that the text block has totally come away from the boards.

Along the spine I was really excited to see something a little familiar being used to give some structural support! My initial thought was that this had to be a slice of a cover of one of the floppy Strand magazines.

But when I got it loose and studied it, although the paper and ink colour is the same, it doesn't actually follow the layout format of the Strand covers. It's lots of little ads, and they run off the bottom like this is part of a larger document.

Scrap of paper on left, a Strand Magazine on the right:

So yeah, that's still a bit of a mystery, but it's cool to see this scrap of paper the printers had lying around. I had to remove it, but I'm going to keep it safe.

I did some gentle cleaning of the cover using a putty eraser, just gently pressing and rolling, never rubbing. It picked up a little of the grime.

The cover had got some paint splotches on at some point in the past, and I tried to gently remove these. Part of me wishes I'd left them as I think I was starting to effect the blue colour in the area.

(Original on the right, my attempt at cleaning on the left!)

I also reinforced some of the parts of the bookcloth around the spine that were very worn with Japanese tissue, which is very thin but very, very difficult to tear.

Now here's a fun part, with some help from my cat Miss Malkin!

The spine of the book had a few problems.

The fabric which wraps around it and helps attach it to the cover/boards which is called scrim (or mull, I've seen it called both!) had totally decayed and turned into gross dust, I knew I'd need to replace it.

Although the sewn binding was sound, I could tell that the glue wasn't doing its job anymore. It was old 'animal glue' that had turned hard and brittle. I knew I'd need to replace it with something else, like PVA.

I needed to get that glue off, so I tried out a trick I saw online. I made a paste/gel out of methycellulose, which is a substance that gets used as a thickener in lots of food products. Of course I keep mine in a fancy little jar:

The gel softens the old glue without getting it dangerously damp, allowing you to gently scrape it away. I have a really satisfying video of me doing it, but Tumblr only lets you upload one video per post, boo.

Look at all this gnarly gunk!

But look at how good the text block looks with its new scrim and glue!

I got the black paper from Shepherd's in London which is a specialist Art & Conservation Paper shop (they have a book bindery too but it's closed at the weekends.) Buying it was so fun, I got to look through lots of samples and pick something which matched the original paper.

I then had to get it home half way across the country on public transport. Yaaaaay.

I was trying to think what I was going to use to replace the Strand Magazine page on the spine. In the end I decided to leave a little note, for some future person who might take the binding apart someday!

So, here it is!

I have to admit that this whole project has been a real challenge, emotionally more than anything! It's required me to be brave about messing with an old book, and to acknowledge that even where I've made mistakes, at least it's better off then it was when It arrived at my house.

#strand magazine #book restoration #bookbinding #old books #vintage books #history

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brighterdaysarebeforeus · 11 months

Text

Soooooooo...basically a rewrite of Hobie's entire part in the movie? Except more awkward teenager and much, much more rambling. This does feel a bit all over the place so...enjoy, if you wanna.

Meeting Gwen for the first time wasn’t anything particularly memorable or anything like that, Hobie didn’t think. It was a simple thing, really; LYLA had found an anomaly, Miguel had reluctantly put Hobie on the case, Hobie had gone out of his way to ramble on about how he wasn’t a cog in Miguel’s system (man looked like he wanted to punt Hobie out of the office, and that just added more pleasure to his insubordination), and then Jess had sort of insisted that Gwen tag along to learn how to inter-dimensional travel and also how to deal with the anomalies as they occurred. Her exact words, if he remembered right, were “she needs to learn how to deal with these things in a team setting, and also maybe get some more friends her own age” or something similar that Gwen had immediately protested against.

He’d protested as well, as if it would change anything, as if these two would take him any serious. Hobie told them that he didn’t believe in teams, or in teamwork, and Jess put her hand on his shoulder, looked him in the eye, and told him very sternly to get over himself. Miguel was in the back, rubbing his hand over his face with one hand and waving the other at them in a motion that screamed ‘just go’. The mission itself was fine, easy job for a sole Spider let alone two Spider-People, but Gwen had been pricklier than he’d been expecting. He thought she was spunky, but particularly withdrawn for a Spider, and she’d snapped at him several times before the mission had ended. Afterwards, they’d gone their separate ways and he didn’t think too much about her, focusing on being the one and only Spider-Man (Spider-Punk, the newspaper headlines screamed, and he’d hated the name with a passion when he was younger, but found the title had grown on him over the years) in Camden.

Then they got paired together again. And again. And again. There’d been a genuine moment of concern that Miguel and Jess were punishing him for something, because they kept sticking him together with this small wisp of a child who looked like she wanted to bite his head off any time he asked her anything remotely personal, whether it be about her family or even her favorite kind of music. Hobie couldn’t even begin to figure her out, but decided that if he kept pushing, especially if they kept getting put on missions together, she’d have to crack eventually, right?

(It was worse when he realized she was actually older than him, even if it was only by three months. She held it over him for days, blocking his every question and prompt with “I don’t have to tell you anything, I’m older than you are.” Like a kid. Like a little kid, and how in the hell was she older than he was? It was unjust, it was.)

The sad part was, Hobie wasn’t even sure when things changed, with Gwen. Rather, he wasn’t quite sure why they had changed, though far be it from him to criticize someone’s changing of their mind. They’d gone on a mission, catching an inter-dimensional Doc Ock in some bizarre backwards universe made up of graffiti art that had her particularly subdued and snappish with him; she’d just given a thirty second rant that had cut Hobie deeper than he’d wanted to admit and they were swinging around searching for the Doc in a strained silence that had lasted until they’d found the fucker; at some point in the fight, the Doc had her pinned and Hobie’d yelled for her to cover her ears, and used his guitar to blast the scientist off of her at the last second, using his regular webs to yank her from where she’d been embedded in the ground; they’d, somehow, ended up victorious back at HQ and handed the Doc to Margo to send back to the proper dimension, went to Miguel and Jess to report their success. Hobie set his watch to his home dimension, the portal had opened up, and then —

“Hey, can I…” He’d half-turned to Gwen, eyes wide on his mask to showcase his paying attention as Gwen held her left arm tightly in her right hand, pointedly not looking at him and using the longer left side of her hair to cover her face. She’d taken off her mask, though Hobie had never really felt comfortable enough in the Spider Society to do so very often, and he could see the uncertainty in her face as she finally spit out, “can I…crash with you? For a bit?”

“Like, in my dimension?” Hobie’d asked, and she rolled her eyes so hard that her head followed the motion automatically. Something warm and pleased grew in his chest as she pushed past him roughly, muttering something sarcastic under her breath, and he didn’t even notice Jess watching them from behind as he nudged her shoulder playfully while they walked through the portal together.

Gwen started hanging around more after that, even when they had to keep moving from abandoned house to abandoned house in order to keep a roof over their head for the night. She didn’t stay over every night, but it was often enough to leave some of her shit laying around for him to trip over. He discovered she like playing drums and incorporated her into his band, more or less the only permanent member aside from him despite the inter-dimensional shenanigans. ‘Gwen’ became ‘Gwennifer’ (she threw her drumstick at him) which then became ‘Guinevere’ (he’d barely dodged the swing she leveled at him for that) became ‘Gwendolyn’ (she’d webbed his mouth shut) became ‘Gwendy’ (she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, but he’d caught the pleased look on her face for that one). Over time, she started opening up about her dad, her indefinitely on-hold Spider-Woman work in her home ‘verse, her Peter…

Miles.

The name lit up something at the back of his head, the first time she’d mentioned it, and Hobie couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was. It wasn’t until she mentioned something about a particle collider that it came rushing to Hobie; he was Miguel’s “original anomaly”, the one who had apparently weakened the multiverse apart enough for the Spider Society to be kept busy damn near constantly. Hobie could respect a Spider who could throw the multiverse into chaos like that, even if was accidental and wasn’t even his fault to begin with. He tried prompting her, through trial and error, into talking about Miles damn near constantly; it worked better than he’d hoped, and for a hot minute all she would talk about was Miles. What he looked like, what he’d say, the way he’d stuck his hand to her hair when he’d first gotten his powers and she’d had to cut it off on the sides (“and you kept the hairstyle?” “Fuck off, Hobart — ” “Ew, no thanks mate, ‘o the fuck is Hobart — ”). She talked about him so much that Hobie felt like he knew the damn kid all on his own without ever having met him.

And then Gwen got herself assigned to a mission in his universe. Not only that, but she was allowing herself to miss her friend enough to stop off to visit when she went, though she had a brief moment of panic before she’d left and she’d called him for ‘moral support’ or whatever it was she’d hissed at him when she called. Hobie felt proud of her for that, even though he couldn’t find his chucks the day she left and he nearly brained himself tripping over her damn jumper when he headed to the bathroom.

It was her first mission on her own, officially, and Hobie was pulling out damn near every trick in the book to keep him from worrying. He was sitting at her drum set where they had it set up in a practice warehouse, listlessly banging on the cymbals when his watch went off a second time. Heart jumping up into his throat, Hobie answered the call and whipped his way into Mumbatten, which was exactly where Gwen was not supposed to be at this current moment. He’d barely even taken the time to suit up, nearly forgot to grab his damn guitar, and didn’t even pause to take in the situation before strumming the thing and bursting through what looked like a barrier. He’d heard Gwen and Pavitr shout, but he’d landed with his back to them and then he’d gotten rushed by Pav the second he caught his breath.

Then he’d turned fully, pushed Pav off of him, and nearly swallowed his tongue when he caught a good, solid look of him, dressed in his black suit with pops of red; it had to be Miles, the Spider-Man-Who-Wasn’t-Supposed-To-Exist-In-Earth-1610-Specifically, which for some reason both was a surprise and yet was completely expected.

“This the kid from 1610?” He asked first, like he wasn’t fully aware of who Miles was to begin with. Gwen’s head rolled, a sure sign she was rolling her eyes, and he’d glanced her way briefly before looking back at Miles, who was complaining to Gwen. He’d gotten close enough when Pav thanked him for destroying the barrier in time to hear him (“I weakened it!”) and shot a quick demonstration of “use your whole palm, mate, not just your fingertips”, complete with hand visuals. Miles looked, low-key through his mask, like he wanted to strangle him. Gwen looked away, but Hobie could tell her shoulders were shaking from held-back laughter.

He wanted to crawl into a small hole for a minute. For a hot second, Hobie debated the pros and cons of potentially just jumping back through the portal and going home, there were three Spiders to deal with the Dalmatian over there, he wasn’t really needed for this, was he? He was distracted for all of two seconds before remembering there was supposed to be a fight going on, and he was supposed to be helping, and that Miles was standing in front of him.

So, naturally, once he was back online and fully focused, he opened his mouth and immediately put his foot in it.

“What’s up with his suit, is he bleeding from the armpits?”

“Wha-Who even is this guy?” Gwen introduced them quickly, Hobie talking even faster as they prepared to fight the Dalmatian-looking dude in front of them, and though Miles looked slightly lost (“I thought you hated labels?”), Hobie had hope that they’d be able to get along swell.

Then he stuck his foot in it again.

“Gwendy, you left your jumper ‘round my place.”

“What’s a jumper?”

“It’s a sweater!”

“How many sweaters do you own?”

And, because he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut to save his own damn life even as Gwen clearly tried to salvage that mess, Hobie continued.

“And your toothbrush.” He kind of wanted to die. What was the deal with this spotty dude? Hobie wondered if the dude would shoot him into another dimension if he asked him nicely enough. He hated asking nice though, and it was pretty obvious this guy happened to be the villain of the week (as it were), so his best bet was staying here. Shame, that. He was really fucking things up right about now, and he just knew Gwen was gonna give him shit for it later too.

Things happened…weirdly fast after that. They fought the Dalmatian, they lost the Dalmatian, Mumbatten’s AlcheMax began crumbling and they had to save the people. Normal Spider stuff, and Hobie was glad for the distraction — well, not glad glad, he didn’t want Mumbatten to fall apart and Pav was far too little a Spider to be dealing with this kind of cosmic mess — just because Miles took off with Pavitr and left him and Gwen to hold the building up. Even better, Gwen was all the way over there, so she couldn’t even give him shit for how he’d been acting the fool in front of Miles.

God, he just hoped it wasn’t noticeable. To Miles, at least.

Then after the building collapsing was the bridge falling apart, and Miles diving to save the Inspector. Hobie had skid to a stop next to Gwen, the both of them staring down as Pav tried to save the bus and his girl, and Miles tried to save the Inspector. Gwen’s eyes were wide, taking up the entirety of her face as she held onto the railing in a death grip with one hand, the other still outstretched; she’d grabbed Miles then, right before Hobie had gotten there, and for a moment he wasn’t sure why she’d done it.

“He’ll be aces, yea?” Hobie said to her quietly, eyes still on the bridge.

“It’s a canon event. He’s interfering with it.” Gwen said somberly, and Hobie scoffed with a roll of his eyes — she sounded just like Miguel, there, for a hot moment, and he wondered if he should begin extracting them both before the man’s ideals managed to get in any deeper — but Gwen didn’t seem to notice him. When the bridge finished collapsing, she didn’t hesitate to jump over the rail, yelling for Miles as she did so. Hobie followed after her, beelining his way to Pav first to help him with the bus. Once it was on solid ground, relatively speaking, the passengers disembarking and Pavitr trying to smooth things over with his girl, Hobie turned on time to see Gwen lift a giant piece of rubble to reveal —

Miles. Holding a small child, with the Inspector right behind him. Both were fine, probably filled with adrenaline but relatively unharmed, and Pav’s girl was rushing past them all to embrace her father. Hobie followed her, not to the Inspector, but to Miles; Miles, who had been facing Gwen, who hadn’t heard him approach and therefore wasn’t anticipating it when Hobie grabbed his shoulders from behind and shook him eagerly.

“Miles, my guy!” He said cheerfully, and even the city cheered for them (and wasn’t that just novel, that’s never happened to Hobie before), and then —

There was a hole, big and black and looking similar to the spots on the Spot, sucking in pieces of Mumbatten. There was Jess, and her team of Spiders trying to keep it contained (points to Spider Society!) and her just blatantly blowing off Miles in a way that made Hobie’s hackles rise and ordering them all back to HQ to talk to Miguel (negative points for their diligent leaders!). Panic spiked at that, briefly, for Hobie; he leaned on Miles and tried to get him out of it, get them both out of it, but Miles shrugged him off in order to practically run into the belly of the beast with his fist in the air like he’d won something. Hobie dropped his face into his palm, but followed along anyway. Just to see what was going to happen.

Miles looked slightly awed when he took off his mask, which was kind of an ego boost, if Hobie was being honest; his whispered comment was met with one of his own comebacks (“how are you even cooler under the mask?” “I was this cool the whole time.”) that made Gwen press her lips together as she repressed her snort of laughter. Hobie glowered at her slightly, and she rolled her eyes in the opposite direction. Even Jess looked somewhat amused, and Hobie grunted softly at both of them.

He tried, honest to god, he tried so hard to keep Miles from meeting Miguel. Once he’d realized that Gwen had met with Miles and yet told him nothing about the Spider Society, told him nothing about how he fit into all of this as the supposed “original anomaly” (he had ThoughtsTM about Miguel’s thought process, is all, ThoughtsTM that he didn’t necessarily have time to delve into at this specific moment) — he couldn’t let him walk in blind. Miles didn’t deserve the way Miguel was gonna treat him on a normal day, short-tempered and blunt as the man was, let alone a day where a mission was fucked up bad enough that the BBG got away and another dimension was in peril of nonexistence. There was just no time to prepare him, not right at this moment, and he’d completely messed up his entrance to begin with so it wasn’t even like Miles would wanna even listen to anything Hobie had to say, let alone believe it, so…Hobie stalled.

Easily reaching out and grabbing anything potentially useful, Hobie distracted Miles as best he could. Bet this don’t even do anything. Why’d you wanna join up anyway? (The scoff Miles gave him when Hobie told him to make his own watch was not cute, Hobie did not find it endearing at all, and he was shit at lying to himself) What’s your set up — loving parents? (He was thankful Gwen was walking ahead of them for that one and not paying them any attention; the way he’d leaned on that unused portal more or less broadcasted his interest, especially combined with the way he’d fallen through it. He was also infinitely grateful Miles was too preoccupied to notice that blatant display). Hell, he even planted himself in front of the damn kid, sitting in the chair and stretching his legs out onto the table top so that Miles wouldn’t advance anymore, and felt his heart flutter in his chest when Miles simply pushed past him without even stopping.

Then it stopped when Miguel showed up, acting more Miguel-ish than usual. Miles greeted him brightly, holding up the empanada he’d gotten from the cafeteria, but Miguel was having none of it at the moment. Hobie glared at him out of the corner of his eye when he threw the empanada, then dipped out of sight in order to steal more tech that he needed; he lost track of what was happening all the way up to the loud crashing noise, and he’d popped his head back over to see Miguel yelling at both Gwen and Miles. Sniffing irritably, Hobie opened his mouth and was cut off immediately by Peter Parker from Earth 616 making his appearance. Miles was happy to see him, Hobie could hear it in his voice, and against his better judgement he went back to what he was doing.

When Miguel trapped Miles, way before literally trapping him in a cage, Hobie made his way to Miles’ side while keeping a small distance from him. He kept his eyes on him, watching how he ranted against Miguel’s idea of ‘keeping to the canon’, how he fought against the idea of letting one person die just to save others, how he argued that as Spider-Man they should be able to do both. Watched how he turned to his original allies, Peter 616 and Gwen and even Peni, and how they all couldn’t look him in the eye for longer than a few seconds. Encouraged him when it seemed like he needed it (“Here we go.” “Hobie, you’re not helping.” “Good.”). Miles realized it was a trap a second too late, and once Miguel had him caged, chaos began to descend upon them all. His friends were yelling at Miguel, who was yelling back, and Miles was panicking. He couldn’t break himself out, and Hobie’d had enough.

“Oi, Peter Pan.” Hobie hissed at him, and Miles stared at him with wide eyes. He didn’t touch the digital net, all too aware of the fact that it would draw attention from the others, but he spread his hands out just in front of it. Hobie repeated his advice from earlier, complete with visual demonstration, without speaking out loud. “Use your palms.” Miles seemed to take a breath at that, his shoulders lowering from around his ears as he pressed his hands fully against the barrier, palms and all. Since Hobie was the only one paying attention, he knew to brace himself when electricity started crackling up and down Miles’ arms; when the barrier exploded, he was the only one who wasn’t knocked over aside from Miles, who seemed to freeze for a sec when he realized he was free. He chuckled, smiling proudly when Miles’ wide brown eyes met his again, without the barrier this time.

Then Miles turned heel and booked it down the corridor, where the door was wide open and awaiting his exit. Hobie sort of regretted that breaking the door so it would stay open meant that the other Spiders also had easy access to go after Miles, but they were still trying to pick themselves up off the floor and that gave Miles a solid four second head start. It was the best Hobie could do for him, given the situation, along with one last thing.

Miguel yelled for everyone to go after Miles, and they complied. Hobie activated his watch, creating a portal to his home ‘verse. Sneering at all the Spiders rushing past him, Hobie shouted “for the record, I quit!” and threw his watch off once he was safely in the portal.

He crash landed towards the edge of the bed in the room, close enough to where he was aiming originally. Sighing heavily, Hobie sprawled out on the bed and listened to the drones flying overhead, watched as their lights illuminated the room he was staying in currently. Gwen’s jumper was still on the floor where she’d left it, her shoes dropped carelessly two feet beside it. (Seriously, her shoes were right there, did she really have to take his?) With a soft sigh and a quiet groan, he pulled himself back up, stretched, and started pulling shit out of his pockets. He’d actually grabbed a lot more things than he’d needed, courtesy of trying to hold the door for Miles, and he tossed aside the things he didn’t need in order to get started. Several other watches dropped out of his pocket as well, the ones he’d made before staying on him for safekeeping — one for him, one for Pav, one for Gwen.

Just because Miles didn’t want to make his own watch didn’t mean Hobie couldn’t make one for him.

#punkflower #spider punk #spider gwen #miles morales #hinted punkflower #like just a taste of it #spiderman atsv #more hobie pov of his part in the movie than anything else #starts before the movie events

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