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pearlcigs · 6 months

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⋆ french girl

“have you ever seen titanic?” you asked, toying with the hem of ellie’s shirt. “yeah, why?” ellie’s eyes were closed, hand under her head, serving as a makeshift pillow even though she was laying on two already. “y’know that one scene? where jack draws rose.” you voice, inching your body closer to her. “the one where rose gets naked and asks jack to draw her like one of his french girls? yeah i’m familiar.” ellie chuckles, unsure of where you could be going with this. “watched that scene more times than i care to admit.” she continued, eyes opening to look down at you, your head laying on her chest. “draw me like one of your french girls, ellie.”

the off white colored sheets were now wrinkled under your nude body. the flesh of your skin plush against the cool fabric that was quickly warming up due to your body heat. nerves coursed through each one of your blood vessels, taking deep breaths and rubbing your thighs together. you hadn’t expected your fantasy to get this far. posed like a doll, afraid to move and ruin the whole image, though ellie wasn't too concerned. she had your body in this position memorized, each perfect imperfection on your body engraved in her mind. she didn't think she could forget, even if she tried.

the sharp sound of her pencil scratching the paper put you somewhat at ease. the melodic sound making you eager to see what your girlfriend's artistic abilities would bring this time. your chest heaving with each breath, though it felt like you couldn't get enough air. "you're doin' great, babe." ellie praised, tongue poking out her mouth just slightly as a form of concentration. her pencil drew every one of your curves. verbatim on the paper to what she was looking at with her own eyes.

“why don’t you spread your legs a lil’?” she asked, it was innocent, truthfully. she wanted to make sure this drawing was perfect, from each stroke down to the pose. your face heated up, bottom lip slotting between your teeth at her vulgar yet seemingly sweet request. “els,” you giggle, gently trying to inform her of what her words meant to you. ellie looked up at you upon hearing the serenade of your voice calling for her. “hm?” the scratching of the pencil slowing to a stop.

just looking at you and how flustered you suddenly looked, she realized just what she said. a light pink pigment blushing over her freckled cheeks. “i mean, ‘course only if you want to.” she tries to correct her mistake, though she’s not entirely sure if it was a mistake to correct— or even a mistake at all. “like this?” you mumble with bated breath, spreading your plush thighs apart just enough to let ellie see the start of your glistening cunt. she stares intently for a minute, trying to hold herself back from dropping her art supplies and crawling onto the bed to pleasure you the way you deserve.

“you look even prettier than rose.” she comments, offhandedly, as she returns her attention to the almost finished sketch. “can i see, els?” your voice is sweet, but full of eagerness. “you gotta wait till it’s done, babe. be patient.” she smiles with a cocky grin, liking the fact that even for just right now she’s the only one who’s ever seen this drawing. it prided her in more ways that one for reasons she couldn’t explain. “but ‘m not patient.” you complained, voice a borderline whine. “oh, trust me. i am well aware of that.” she shakes her head with a small laugh. “i’m almost done, alright? just hang on, baby.”

the few minutes it took her to finish the drawing of you that you were excited to see felt like hours. your body felt stiff, like you were turning into a statue to be a piece of art forever. ellie smudges a few of the harsh lines with her finger before putting her pencil down for the final time. she savors the feeling. of what? she’s not sure. “ready?” she asks, looking up at you and you’re already sitting up, enabling her to see more of your perfect body. she walks over to the bed, sitting next to you and somehow fighting back every erotic thought she had about you flipping the paper to finally show you.

you take in every sharp line that the pencil, that ellie claims is her lucky pencil, made. you looked at it so intensely that ellie thought maybe you didn’t like it, until you smiled. “you’re so talented, ellie.” you complimented, heart fluttering with adoration. ellie took the praise with a grain of salt, blush painting her bashful face. “couldn’t’ve made something this beautiful without the perfect muse.” she deflects, goofy grin on her face. ogling shamelessly at you body. she places the finished art piece on your night stand, hands caressing you body with a soft kiss to your lips. “come ‘ere, ‘french girl’.”

#🍄 ⋆ the last of us #🕰️ ⋆ birds and bees #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #the last of us #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #tlou #tlou x reader

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 ao3

Steve continues to trace letters onto Eddie’s palm—the only reason Eddie hasn’t called for a nurse, doctor, anyone is because Steve had fixed him with a stubbornly determined look when he went to do so, and Eddie didn’t need it spelled out to know what that meant.

Dude, let me finish.

“You’re fucking unreal,” Eddie had whispered.

Now Steve prods insistently, right in the centre of Eddie’s palm.

Eddie blinks; it takes him a moment to figure out that Steve isn’t writing a letter this time.

“…Me?” Eddie tries.

Steve’s finger drags down then up, stopping right underneath Eddie’s pinky. A checkmark. Eddie lets out a breathy laugh.

More letters. OK?

Eddie feels something within him crack. “I’m okay,” he says, tries to smile.

A circle now, sweeping round and round. Different to how Steve draws an ‘O.’ He repeats it a few times, perhaps noticing Eddie’s confusion, then spells out ‘OK?’ again.

Then it clicks and, smiling again—Christ, he hopes it looks reassuring—Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand with a sudden wave of affection.

“Everyone’s okay,” he replies, and he says it again, softer, when he feels Steve’s fingers tremble slightly. “Promise. Everyone’s okay, Steve. It’s…” He takes a deep breath. “I think it’s fucking over, man.”

Silence. No movement, no words. Just the two of them breathing, and if Eddie is feeling overwhelmed by that statement after just a week of absolute insanity, he can’t begin to imagine how Steve is taking it.

Then Steve abruptly launches back into activity, now tapping rapidly on the back of Eddie’s hand; and Eddie can practically hear the eagerness, the fucking exclamation marks in it. Tap, tap, tap!

“I’m literally right here,” Eddie says. His cheeks ache with the sudden force of his grin, but it’s a welcome kind of pain.

Steve’s finger returns to Eddie’s palm, lingers there.

Eddie laughs, reminded of the Lite-Brite and the impossible golden shimmers; thinking that he’d never feel such wonder again.

Steve keeps drawing the question mark until Eddie snorts. “Okay, okay, I get it! That tickles, man.”

Tap, tap, tap.

Eddie takes a deep breath. “I—uh. Shit, I don’t really know where to start.”

Steve smiles again beneath his mask. His eyes travel across the room pointedly, and Eddie can almost hear it. Start wherever. M’not exactly going anywhere.

So Eddie does. It’s a very censored version; he can’t bring himself to really talk about what happened right after Steve had… He skirts around it, says, “After you—u-um, you—”, then leaps hurriedly forward into how he stumbled across Steve’s song and all the playthroughs of it; his meeting with El, the news of Henry’s death; how the carnage caused by The Upside Down truly bleeding into their world (by Steve dying) seems to be healing, bit by bit.

He gets through all of that, and for a few minutes Steve does nothing; his eyes go a little glassy, but Eddie pushes back his initial fear—Steve’s just in deep thought, nothing sinister.

He sees Steve’s lips move ever so slightly, mouthing, “Wow.”

Eddie sighs, suddenly exhausted. “Yeah. Wow.”

Steve’s finger prods the back of his hand again.

OK?

Eddie frowns. “You already—I told you, I’m—”

But Steve doesn’t let up, his touch both gentle and insistent.

“Steve. I’m fine.”

Eddie scoffs. “I said I’m—” But there’s a familiar sharp tightness in his chest that cuts the words off, and Steve’s eyes look far too knowing, and suddenly more comes spilling out, no matter how much Eddie tries to stop himself.

While he still can’t address how Steve was… gone, he talks around the fear, talks about how he was somehow not arrested; the mythical like reappearance of Chief Hopper.

And then he talks about finding Wayne, and his throat closes up completely.

“Jesus,” he gets out eventually. “Just ignore me, man, I’m—”

Go.

Eddie stares. “What? Steve, I can’t just—”

Steve’s touch grows firmer. Go.

“No! I’m not fucking leaving you like—”

“Eddie.” It’s the weakest of whispers, Steve’s voice splintering with every syllable. “Go… see him.”

Eddie shakes his head. Tears bite at his eyes but he pushes them back, angry at himself, because he wants to go, wants to see Wayne so badly that it hurts.

“You’re n-not…” Steve lifts up the mask, gasps through a shallow inhale, but he raises one hand, as if sensing Eddie’s unease. I’m okay. “Li…sten. Not running. Go.”

“But—”

“Go.” Steve gives a feeble flick of his hand, as if to say non-negotiable. “Will… be here when you’re… back.” He puts the mask back in place. “P-promise.”

I’ll hold you to that, Eddie thinks, but he can’t even speak when he leaves, watching numbly as a group of staff bustle over to Steve’s room, clipboards in hand.

He’s alone. He’s alone in there, and I left him.

Perhaps Steve wanted it like this, but that thought is muted compared to the spiral of Eddie’s self-loathing as he walks away. No matter what Steve says, it still feels like running. Like a betrayal.

When he enters the hotel room, the first thing he sees is the harsh red glare of the alarm clock. 1:17am. Then, there’s Wayne, sat in the desk chair, clearly kept up by his usual working hours. He’s doing the crossword; Eddie can see where he’s sketched out answers in pencil first before going over them in pen when he’s certain of the word.

Maybe it’s the normality of the scene that does it. All Eddie knows is that he’s suddenly shaking, and he just lets his guitar fall to the ground when he’d normally cradle it, so Wayne is bound to notice something’s up, but Eddie can’t keep it together, and he doesn’t get it; he’s fine, so why—

“Eddie,” Wayne says. The chair is shoved back as he stands hurriedly, and he keeps Eddie upright with both hands around his forearms. “Sit down.”

Eddie sits on the bed heavily. There’s a distant roaring in his ears; he’s breathing too quickly.

“It worked,” he says, but he can barely hear his own voice. “I-it—”

“All right,” Wayne cuts him off not unkindly. “That’s enough. Just breathe, Ed.”

Eventually each breath doesn’t seem to burn, and Eddie can hear other quieter sounds filtering through—Wayne carefully moving the guitar, the slow creak of the bed as he sits down next to him.

When Eddie raises his head, he sees that Wayne is looking down at his hands; it’s only then that he notices the red marks on his fingertips, inflamed from pressing against the guitar strings.

“You gonna tell me?” Wayne asks.

Eddie closes his eyes. “I...” He grapples for words. “You… you can’t un-know it.”

Wayne sighs. For a moment, Eddie thinks he’ll drop it, and they’ll move on, and that’ll be it: this big, unsayable thing between them forever.

Then Wayne rests a gentle hand on Eddie’s head, rocks once. “Try me.”

Wayne doesn’t interrupt; he listens to everything in silence. There’s no disbelief in his face—the only change in his expression is that his brow becomes more and more furrowed. Eddie can’t guess what he’s thinking, but perhaps, after everything that’s happened, this horrific explanation is easy to accept. Or maybe it’s because they have promised, years ago, that they would never lie to each other.

Weary, Eddie finds that he tells the story disjointedly, keeps having to double back on himself and clumsily repeat things—and even when he says things twice, he knows it’s still vague: how Steve’s fate went from a friend died to we’ve got a plan to bring him back.

And because exhaustion is weighing him down, he realises with a sinking feeling that he’s told everything in the wrong order. He hasn’t mentioned Chrissy.

At first, he doesn’t think he can. But then Wayne must sense a change, something wrong in his breathing again, because he puts his hand on Eddie’s knee, and his meaning is clear. You can tell me anything.

Stopping and starting over and over, Eddie finally tells his uncle how Chrissy Cunningham died. How it was an awful death, a painful one.

A lonely one.

“I left her there,” he says, and it feels like that’s never going to leave him, the shame and guilt crushing his chest. “Wayne, I—I left her all alone, and then y-you had to see her like—”

“Stop,” Wayne says. His eyes are wide with dismay, as if realising that this isn’t something he can solve by just taking Eddie away from it all; like when he pulled him away from the doorway when Eddie was a child, urging him not to look.

“I sh-should’ve fucking done something, Wayne. God, I should’ve h-helped her—”

“Eddie,” Wayne says, far more gently than Eddie deserves, “son, she was already dead.”

The words land, rock Eddie’s foundations.

“C’mere.” Wayne puts his arms around him, pulls him close. “It wasn’t your fault. You gotta know that, you hear me?”

“I…” Eddie grits his teeth. “Wayne, I—”

“After I called the police,” Wayne says gently, “I talked to her. Just… just in case she… you know?”

Eddie inhales raggedly. “Oh.”

“She did cheerleading, right?”

Eddie nods.

“Yeah, I can picture her. She was always real polite… Remember that show you had in middle school? And you made me carry half the damn band’s equipment when I came to pick you up?”

Eddie chokes through a surprised laugh. “Yeah.” “She came runnin’ across the parking lot while I was waiting on you. She’d found your guitar pick left on the stage and she didn’t know where you were. Said, ‘Mr. Munson, I wanted to make sure he got it back, he said it was his good luck charm.’”

Eddie doesn’t recall this, but he knows the exact guitar pick Wayne is referring to: the one he now wears around his neck to stop him from ever losing it. And instead of thinking about how she looked on that terrible night, an image forms in his head of what Wayne must have seen, of Chrissy running over, ponytail bouncing. Her happiness.

Death cannot take everything.

He sniffs. “I-I didn’t know that.”

Wayne sighs. “Oh, kid. Don’t let it break your heart.” He presses a kiss to Eddie’s temple, repeats softly, “It wasn’t your fault.”

And Eddie weeps.

He sleeps right through until noon. There’s a note left for him on the bedside cabinet when he wakes: Wayne saying that he’s helping with the Red Cross at the high school. He’s added a post-script, as if he received more information just as he was about to head out the door.

Hospital called. Steve Harrington awake & asking after you, said if you were sleeping to leave you be. Said he’s sitting up more & can talk without mask.

Eddie flips the paper over. He writes on autopilot for most of it, says that he’s packing another overnight bag for the hospital—he’s using the last of his salvaged shirts at this rate—and notes down Steve’s floor and room number. He goes to write a thank you to end the message, but that seems too small for last night; he doesn’t know how to put it all into words. Instead he puts Wayne’s crossword underneath the piece of paper, solves the ones Wayne had missed.

It’s only when he’s walking through the hospital entrance that he realises that he’s instinctively brought his guitar along, too.

“Eddie?”

He turns. It’s Robin, apprehensiveness rolling off her in waves as she searches Eddie’s face. “They—they called and said…?” She trails off, like she’s hardly daring to believe it, like if she says it out loud, everything will be taken back.

“Yeah,” Eddie says quickly. He holds her gaze and nods firmly. “He woke up.”

She gasps, surges forward and practically jumps on top of him. He has to move just so she doesn’t end up with the body of the guitar knocking against her stomach, shifts his stance so he’s half holding her up by the waist.

“Holy freaking shit, Eddie, oh my God, oh my God,” she’s babbling. Her hair is tickling Eddie’s cheek, and then she’s planting a sudden, sweet kiss there, a little wet from her crying.

Eddie hugs her back, and he can’t help himself, jokingly complaining, “Gross, are you wearing lipstick, Buckley?”

Robin pulls back and laughs. “‘Fraid so,” she says in the tone of someone delivering grave news. “The glittery kind, too.”

As they let go of each other, a passing-by nurse catches Eddie’s eye, appears to give a knowing smile.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Eddie says once she’s gone, and he starts giggling. “Hate to break it to you, but she definitely thinks we’re together.”

Robin shakes her head with a wide grin. Then, barely missing a beat, she drops into an uncanny impression of Humphrey Bogart: “We’ll always have Paris.”

Eddie keeps laughing, as they climb the stairs two at a time to Steve’s room. “We’re so weird.”

Robin clutches his hand. “Yeah,” she says, her smile a tiny, secret thing, just for them. “I’m glad we’re weird.”

And it sounds like she’s saying much more.

Steve is awake when they rush in, sitting up with his pillows supporting his upper back rather than his head. There’s a reassuring colour to his cheeks.

When he sees Robin, his whole face lights up with the biggest smile. His lips are cracked slightly, marks of painful looking indentations around his mouth from the mask that have Eddie inwardly wincing.

“Oh, God, who let you in?” Steve asks Robin with a cheeky drawl; and his voice is strong, barely a rasp within it.

“Shut up, you moron,” Robin sobs.

She hugs him, mindful of the bandages around his stomach, just peeking out from underneath the sheets.

Steve holds her tight. Over the top of her head, he catches Eddie’s eye. “Is that glitter on your cheek?” He raises an eyebrow and smirks, and for some reason it suddenly feels like all three of them are sharing some private joke, especially when Steve adds, almost sing-song, “Should I be jealous?” and Robin promptly flicks his forehead.

It’s all so normal, and for a while, Eddie feels a physical lightness, as if there’s a bubble in the room filled with utter, complete happiness.

But when Robin pulls back, Eddie notices that there’s a subtle fixed look to Steve’s smile, there one minute and gone the next—like if the hug had gone on for a moment longer, his composure might have crumbled.

“You’re looking good, Harrington,” Eddie says quietly, and though it’s said sincerely, he offers it more as an out for Steve, even though he doesn’t quite get what Steve is trying to escape.

Steve’s face flickers with something like relief before he grins again. “Thanks, man. They’ve got me on the good stuff.”

Eddie nods absently. It’s not like that’s a lie; whatever miracle-working drugs Steve’s been given have clearly strengthened his lungs, allowed him to go from practically voiceless to talkative literally overnight. But there’s more to it than that, in the way Steve is sitting up as straight as he can, like he’s proving a point. It makes Eddie suspect that, as soon as he’d left, Steve had tried to speedrun recovery while no-one was looking.

“Had to sweet talk a nurse to get them to call you,” Steve says. “They said phone lines are crazy right now, keep going dead or engaged or…”

“I can try and get through.” Eddie stands. When he’d gone past reception, he’d seen that the lines for the limited phones available were already snaking round the corridors; it’ll be one hell of a waiting game. “Do you wanna call someone else?”

Steve nods slightly; his eyes flit to the side, and his expression turns sombre. He’s looking at Dustin’s walkie. “I’d better give this back to him, huh?”

“I’ll go,” Eddie insists.

Robin smiles at him with clear gratitude, moves her chair closer to Steve’s bed.

It takes just under two hours for Eddie to get through to Dustin; thankfully he’s the one who picks up. Eddie had half expected some kind of celebration on the other end, like how Dustin had been when Steve’s song was discovered, but instead the conversation is much more subdued and short-lived, as if Dustin wants to finish it as quickly as possible so he can head to the hospital.

“Henderson’s coming,” Eddie says as he walks back into Steve’s room. “Said he’ll be there as soon as…”

His voice fades away at the sight of Steve’s eyes being closed.

But just as he falls silent, Steve starts to speak, voice clear and alert.

“Not sleeping,” Steve says. “Just resting my eyes.”

And that really does seem to be true, because Steve’s face never once slackens into sleep.

Eddie looks at Robin, trying to voice a silent question in his eyes, but she just shrugs helplessly.

Eddie finds Dustin at the end of the corridor on Steve’s floor.

“There you are!” Eddie says. “Wait, dude, where’s your crutches?”

“I forgot them,” Dustin says, a bit shortly. “It’s not really a fracture, I’ll be fine.” He seems unaware that that’s not exactly reassuring.

“O…kay,” Eddie says. “C’mon, he can’t wait to see you.”

But Dustin doesn’t move. Eddie suddenly worries that he’s been standing right there for a while.

“Hey,” Eddie says. He sticks out a hand. “He’s really okay, Dustin.”

Silently, Dustin takes Eddie’s hand.

As they get closer to Steve’s room, they cross paths with Robin.

“Vending machine is calling my name,” she says breezily. She pretends to dive for Dustin like a football tackle, then ruffles his hair before he can dodge her. “Hi, genius child.”

“Get off,” Dustin says with an eye roll, a cocky grin, but his nerves are still obvious. When Robin leaves, when they face the doorway, he drops Eddie’s hand and walks through alone; and Eddie thinks that this, beyond anything, is one of the bravest things he’s seen.

He tentatively enters the room when he can’t hear any conversation going on. When he does, he’s just in time to see Steve startle at Dustin’s appearance, blinking like he’s been wrenched from a deep train of thought.

“Hey!” he calls. He shifts in bed, straightens up even more.

But Dustin doesn’t move. Eddie holds his breath, tiptoes over to stand beside him, not touching.

Steve is frowning, eyes on Dustin. “Oh, bud, what happened to your leg?” he says with dismay; and it says so much, that he can tell with one glance, without any crutches in sight.

Dustin’s hands are shaking, clenched into fists. Eddie can hear his uneven breathing.

“Dustin,” Steve says. One of his hands is braced against the mattress, like he’d be on his feet and running over if only he could. “Dustin, I’m so sorry.”

Dustin shakes his head. “No,” he whispers. “No, fuck you, you don’t get to—to say that.”

Steve’s face falls. “I… I get it, dude,” he says. “It’s—”

“No!” Dustin says, and he stalks forward despite his limp, and one of his fists comes up to beat against Steve’s chest, and Steve just lets it happen. “No, you—it’s not okay, it’s—”

“Hey,” Steve murmurs. He catches Dustin’s hand in his own, a gentle and protective hold. “Dustin, hey, it’s—”

“Shut up!” Dustin wails. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m—”

And as he’s speaking, he falls against Steve, and Steve’s arms wrap around him.

“I…” Dustin hiccups, gasps—cries without restraint, like a child. Because he is one. “I don’t hate you.”

“Shh,” Steve says. “I know, I know.” He presses a kiss to the top of Dustin’s head, then hugs him tight; and Eddie watches as Steve’s face briefly crumples, before he visibly pulls himself together. “Everything’s okay. Hey, shh, shh. We’re okay, we’re okay.”

Eddie steps out and silently closes the door behind him.

Robin pats a spot on the floor next to her, hands him a couple of candy bars.

“Has he… talked to you?” Eddie asks.

Robin sighs. “Nope.” She nudges him until Eddie takes a bite out of the candy, then adds, “You?”

Eddie shakes his head. He thinks back to the blur of last night. “He… just kinda got me talking without really...”

Robin nods sadly. “Yeah. He’s good at that.”

It’s late evening, and Robin and Dustin have long since left, when Steve’s determined resolve begins to fail him. His eyes drift shut in increasingly lengthy blinks, lulled by the dim light.

Eddie quietly draws the curtains. Then he exhales a little laugh when he turns back round to find Steve trying to keep his head up.

“For Christ’s sake, Harrington.”

“M’not sleeping,” Steve says, though he sounds halfway to dreaming as he speaks.

“Take the hint, man.” Eddie reaches over, gently guides Steve until he’s lying down properly. “You need rest.”

As he moves the pillows, he feels a warm puff of air against his hands, Steve’s breathing already slow and deep. “Don’ need to… stay if you don’…” Steve sighs, turns to the side, one cheek pressing into the pillow. “M’kinda boring.”

“Shut up,” Eddie says gently. And he stops himself from saying something stupid like You, boring? Think that’s impossible, because Steve has already fallen asleep.

Eddie doesn’t know what rouses him initially, just knows that he’s lifting his head up from the little couch he’s settled on.

He hears an indecipherable murmur in the darkness. Blinking blearily, he whispers, “Steve?”

“Dustin…? Dustin…”

Eddie sits up. “He went home, remember?” he says, tries to ensure his voice isn’t harsh, but is still loud enough to break through whatever Steve is dreaming about.

“Dustin…” A quiet, low moan.

Eddie rises, stumbles over. “Steve? Steve, wake up.”

Steve moans again. “Oh, God, no, no—”

Eddie clumsily switches on a lamp, revealing Steve’s face turning side to side, muscles in his neck strained, eyebrows drawn in distress.

“Steve, it’s just a dream, you’ve gotta—”

“He’s dead,” Steve says brokenly. “They’re dead, they’re all—oh, God—”

“Wake up,” Eddie says. He grabs Steve’s shoulders and shakes, uncaring if it’s abrupt; he just needs it all to stop now. “No-one’s dead, Steve, come on, you’re—”

Steve wakes with a start, breathing heavily. Eddie instinctively lifts his hands off his shoulders, but Steve looks even more panicked at that, so he immediately returns them, keeps his touch light but there.

“Hey, you with me? Just a dream,” Eddie repeats.

“Oh,” Steve says, like he’s been winded. “Oh.”

“Here, you want a drink? There’s some water on…” Eddie reaches for a glass, but Steve just says, “No,” and covers his face with his hands.

“I’m sorry, I’m—”

“Steve, you don’t have to—”

“Just go back to sleep, I’ll be—”

“Yeah, that’s not happening. You sure you don’t want a—?”

Steve’s hands fall away, and he bows his head. “Eddie,” he says. His voice breaks. “I can’t.”

Eddie perches on the bed. “Hey, all right, that’s—”

And everything he was going to say dies in his throat as Steve’s head comes to rest on his shoulder. A growing wet patch forms.

And he stays very still as Steve shakes with silent sobs.

Almost silent.

“S-sorry. I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry…”

Steve takes shallow, desperate breaths. Eddie can feel his lips trembling against his skin.

And then Steve holds onto Eddie’s forearm with a harsh grip, knuckles turning white.

Eddie suddenly remembers that awful moment, right before the end of everything. I can’t feel you.

“Hey. Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” Eddie murmurs. Gently, gently, he puts a hand on Steve’s nape, cradles the back of his head. Feel that? God, please let him feel it… “I’m here. I’m right here.”

#the self sacrificial steve agenda #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #wayne munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson

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npcemi · 1 year

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The long road of how starting a fight with superman over clone parenting eventually lead to Danny Phantom become God Part 2:Danny's happy talk with Superman that definitely starts everyone off on the right foot

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47818321/chapters/120907324

“It's not right, Dad. Conner shouldn’t be treated like that,” Dani insisted, her eyes glowing fiercely.

“I couldn’t agree more, Dani but I’m not supposed to ‘interfere’ with the matters of ‘mortals’.” Danny responded remembering the latest lecturer he got from the observants. An intro into being one of the most powerful beings in the universe. All it really summed down to was hands-off until absolutely necessary. Being the King was way more boring than he expected.

Danny looked at Clockwork hoping they would side with him. Not wanting to draw attention to himself. He was almost ready to begin his senior year. He didn’t want to go near the JL, they could cause a lot of problems for Amity Park and him personally.

“I think a conversation could be good for both Conner and Kal-El.” Clockwork shifted into their young adult form with a grin. Danny narrowed his eyes, he knew when the Ancient was planning something.

“I guess I can have a talk with him,” Danny sighed as Danielle jumped up thanking him with a big hug.

The main members of the Justice League were called to a meeting by John Constantine. He wanted to discuss a potential threat to the supernatural from the US government. The members were hesitant to come to the meeting, however, after some convincing from Bruce that Constantine’s issue was legitimate they all agreed to come. John started his slideshow.

The topic was an intro to the supernatural and how we should leave it alone. There was a collective mirth among the attendees because anyone who knew the man knew that he could not leave well enough alone. It could be said that Constantine preferred to poke at the supernatural with a stick until something interesting happened.

“As you all know, after a ghost single-handedly took out hundreds of US government facilities and went with The Pandora to the US Congress to get them to not nuke the Infinite realms. A measure which only barely passed and still left corrupt laws and the government organization that was going to Nuke the realms intact.”

“And then they learned not to start dimensional warfare and ideally leave those threats to us, no big.” The flash interjected. Constantine pinched the bridge of his nose. They had a long way to go.

“Mate, it’s a big deal. Out of all the special entities they could piss off, they pissed off the one who should not under any circumstances even risk irritating the tiniest bit.” Before anyone could respond a new unfamiliar voice sounded from the other side of the room.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt your meeting, but I need to talk to Superman.” Everyone turned to look at the source of the voice. They saw a teen whose age was hard to place. He looked like he could be as young as fourteen yet somehow at the same time as old as nineteen. He had a soft glow to him. He had fluffy white hair and Lazarus green eyes. On his left arm, he had Lichtenberg figures racing up his left arm that were eventually covered by a black T-shirt with a green NASA logo, blue jeans, and Converse-style shoes where the canvas was green like the boy’s eyes and the rubber parts were black. Everyone was too focused on the boy to notice Constantine drop the cigarette from his mouth. His eyes were wide, his jaw slack, and his hands shaking. Superman got up to greet the boy and walked up to him.

“How did you get in here?”

“Portal, but that’s not important. We need to talk.” Superman grossly misinterpreted the Boy’s reasoning for needing to talk.

“I see, well I’m Superman, but you can call me Clark.” The man of steel shook the boy’s hand.

“I'm Danny Fenton, Phantom, Danny Phantom.” Danny was pissed at himself for that mistake. He never let the secret identity slip, of course, it had to happen in front of his heroes. Unfortunately, that slip-up confirmed Superman’s misconception.

“It’s always good to meet a new hero, I would be happy to help mentor you, there’s even a team of young heroes around your age I can introduce you to,” Danny held his hand up in a full stop motion.

“I don’t need a mentor, look Clark we need to talk.”

“Look kid, I know it doesn’t seem like it…” Danny pursed his lips and Constantine let out a desperate sound somewhere between a groan and a croak.

“Not a Kid…”

“Look, I know you think you’re mature at this age, but a new meta like you….”

“I’m not a meta, I’m a ghost, ya know dead and everything.” As Danny explained, Superman once again misinterpreted Danny’s intentions, also thinking this was some grand test Constantine organized.

“I see, so how did you die, who killed you and how can we help?” Superman said with undeserved confidence. Constantine finally out of his shock muttered a small desperate “Aww fuck.”

Danny’s reaction was almost unnoticeable except for a small flash of green in his eyes. Internally he had a flashback. The feeling of the electricity burning its way through his body tearing it apart. The pain of all his muscles being forced to contract. The smell of his flesh burning, the echo of his scream, the feeling of the wave of ectoplasm that tore him apart and reconstructed him cell by cell. The memories and emotions. How betrayed he felt that his parents left the lab unguarded and basically allowed him to die. His anger at them for having the on switch on the inside of the portal. The worry about if the portal out right exploded and hurt his friends and sister. The despair he felt that his life was cut short, how he would never become an astronaut. Never see Space. He relived all of this in an instant.

Danny grabbed Superman and threw him through the nearest wall in frustration. He took a second to look at the damage he caused. Glad it was only one wall that he threw the man through. He had finally gotten the hang of his power level, thankful for this new base form that limited his power.

“Ope, sorry about that, but Clark we really need to talk about your son Conner.” Superman picked himself up angry that this untrained meta kid lost his temper over something so stupid as a question as to how they could help him. Now the kid wants to talk about that thing Lex created.

“You mean the clone, that thing?” Superman asked, wondering when Conner had time to even talk to this new kid he never heard of before.

“Excuse you?” Danny said with a wave of sharp anger. He called a clone a thing. He called someone like his daughter, the most important person in the world to him. He called them a thing. Bruce was perceptive enough to see Danny’s rising anger. He attempted to tell Danny he had been working with Clark on how to work with Conner. The dark knight’s attempt to placate Danny failed.

“What do you mean excuse me, look I was violated and that clone is nothing but an imperfect reminder of that violation!”

“And your feelings are perfectly valid, but that doesn’t excuse you for treating Conner like shit.” Danny ground out.

“But watch yourself when speaking about the Mirror Born in my presence,” Danny warned as his voice now carried an unnatural echo. The Man of Steel scoffed at the term Mirror Born, did this kid really celebrate, perhaps even honor such violations of genetic autonomy? Clark was about to speak up before being interrupted by Constantine.

“Supes, please just shut the fuck…”

“Mind your own business, Constantine.” Superman ordered before turning to Danny.

“Look, kid, you don’t need to use some fancy new term to placate the feelings of those things, none of them are here. I need you to understand, I do tolerate Conner.” Danny’s mind boiled with rage. It was clear that he wasn’t going to get through to the man. He couldn’t even start the conversation properly. No wonder his daughter seemed so out of sorts. He only had two words to use to respond to the supposed hero.

“Fright Knight!” His order echoed through the realms as the massive black armored knight appeared behind Superman and sent the soul shredder through his chest sending him to the nightmare dimension before disappearing.

The justice league didn’t know what happened. All they knew Danny did was something to Superman, so they all attacked. Well, everyone except Dr. Fate, Shazam, Constantine, and Zatanna. Danny casually evaded all of their attacks, not even the Flash using his speed could touch Danny despite the Flash feeling like he was still faster than the boy. Danny kept this up for ten minutes before ordering the Fright Knight once again.

Superman popped back into existence. Danny slammed Superman to the ground and released an ectoplasmic wave of energy that knocked all the other heroes back. With a foot on Superman's chest, he spoke his voice loudly echoing through the room. If anyone was paying attention they would have heard a second almost feminine voice layering in over Danny’s.

“Listen to me closely Kal-El, you need to realize that the mirror born have their own life. Their own hopes, and fears. They could even be progressively aged faster, however, they still seek the same things any of us do. Love, acceptance, guidance, a sense of belonging are all they ask for from us.

I suggest getting a therapist to work through your issues, however, I will give you one month to begin to repair your relationship with Conner.” Danny then pulled a bunch of various pamphlets on top of Superman. They ranged from, ‘so you’ve been cloned’, ‘how to forgive a clone who tried to kill you’, all the way to ‘how to raise your clone as your own child’.

Danny then turned to look at Constantine, “It looks like you just started your lessons on dealing with ghosts.” There was a distinctive change in Danny, his eyes were the biggest change. The sclera was bright green and his pupils were the darkest black that Constantine had ever seen. It was like they had absorbed all light leaving nothing behind. Like endless black holes.

“John Thomas Constantine, ̸̢̪̉t̵͉̩͊̌é̴͚a̴͔̥͆̂c̸̪̳̔͝h̷̖̞̃̎ ̶̢͔̅͐ę̸̘̈́̕v̸̝͙̈̊e̷̗͚͋ṙ̴̞̜y̸͕̤̒ǫ̸͕̉̔n̸̯̄e̵̥̠̓͗ ̷̢̧̄h̸̟͗o̴̺̩̅w̷̝͌ ̵͚̈́́t̷̖̍̀o̵̠͝ ̴͖̍͠ͅp̸̡̞̎̌r̸̞̝͋͘o̶̎̎͜p̵̰̉ͅę̶̛̔r̸̦̻̂ļ̷̳̏ÿ̷̭̺́ ̵͚̗̅͘ŕ̶͎̇e̷̛̯͊s̸͔̃̄p̸͘ͅe̵̢̘̍ĉ̷̺̜̄ţ̷͗̕ͅ ̷̩͉͆t̸̥͔̔̐h̸̻̊e̴̝͘̕ ̸͉́͂ ̸͓̱͌́a̴̢̓n̶̺̺͂̋c̸̗͋͜ị̶̀̀ḛ̷̭̀͊n̷̳͍̾t̸͓̭͠s̷̩͆͛.

I suggest you start with etiquette.”

There was definitely another voice layered with Phantom’s, it was a feminine voice that was exactly a perfect fifth above Phantom’s own. Danny tilted his head and looked at the occultist with a grin that looked like a feral saber-toothed cat before disappearing. Constantine turned to look at Superman who was being helped to his feet by Wonder Woman and Batman.

“Clark how the absolute fuck did you manage to piss off the King of the Infinite Realms before we even sent a delegation to smooth things over with him, you absolute wanker!”

#dpxdc #dpxdc au #dp x dc fanfic #dp #danny fenton #Danny Phantom #Superman is a dick #Constantine wants a new job

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aemiron-main · 3 months

Text

That Wasn’t Me, That Was Patricia: Split, ST, TFS, and Miss Patricia vs Patricia Newby

So, I remembered that “Split,” is on the S4 board- well, technically, the movie “Unbreakable,” is on the board, which is the third movie in the trilogy that Split is part of (Glass, Split, and Unbreakable), and what I’m talking about today is about the series as a whole/point is, that whole story is confirmed inspo:

And in Split, there’s a character named Kevin, and Kevin has 23 personalities (and then a 24th extra personality called The Beast, but we’ll get to that in another post), and one of those personalities is named Patricia:

And in TFS, not only is Patty’s full name Patricia, but Mr Newby also repeatedly calls her Patricia during the play.

And in Split, one of Patricia’s characteristics is that she sings- for example, she sings to one of the other personalities, Hedwig, which reminds me of Patty’s singing being such a core part of her character in TFS:

There’s also “that wasn’t me, that was Patricia,” versus TFS Henry “it wasnt me” in reference to the cave in Nevada:

Technically, this “that was Patricia” line doesn’t appear in the movie- HOWEVER, it was SUCH a huge meme/reference to the movie that I won’t be surprised if Henry’s TFS dialogue was written in reference to that joke as a way of referencing the whole Split/Patricia thing.

And also in Split, the question of whether or not two identities can coexist/front at the same time- and the answer is yes, which reminds me of the TFS scene where “Henry” is in the attic with Alice, and Alice asks “Where’s Henry?” and “Henry” responds with “he’s right here,” and Alice says “you’re not Henry, you’re not him,” and Henry was seemingly referring to himself in 3rd person- or, instead, he’s NOT HENRY, like Alice said, but with Henry being “right here,” it feels like this Not Henry guy is coexisting with Henry in a way that’s very similar to how two identities coexisting at the same time is described in Split:

And now, I’m wondering if Patty and Henry are somehow connected to Brenner’s mind or inside of his mind/have somehow been “absorbed” by him.

Especially with one of the Brenners in the NINA bunker talking about how 001 “absorbs” his victims versus all of the weird Brenner-001 stuff (including his line during TFS where he says “no ONE except for me Henry”), and the idea that the absorption abilities in ST could be very similar to Kevin’s multiple personalities in Split, as 001 canonically absorbs the memories, personalities, everything from his victims:

(Also, the point specifically about abilities getting absorbed is interesting re: Patty’s singing vs Patricia singing & the fact that Split brings up that certain personalities will have abilities that the other personalities dont have, despite all being in the dame body- it’s interesting, because TFS makes a point of showing us in the beginning that Henry is NOT good at singing whatsoever- and yet, at the end of TFS, when he sings to El, his singing has vastly improved. Almost like he somehow absorbed the skill from Patty, which would align with what I’m talking about here re: some sort of weird Henry-Patty-Brenner mental connection. Which also makes me wonder about Henry’s drawing skills in-show vs the fact that in-show Brenner is shown to not be good at drawing- are we going to get a weird version of Brenner that CAN draw because he’s connected to Henry/absorbed him/whatever???)

So, instead of a literal DID situation, it’s much more of a figurative one, I want to be super clear that I’m not saying that Henry and Patty are just the result of Brenner actually having multiple personalities- I’m saying that there’s weird connections between Brenner and 001 and the idea of Brenner somehow being 001, and the whole Brenner-Edward merge idea, and then the fact that 001’s canon absorption powers could appear similarly to Kevin’s multiple personalities, and that Patty and TFS Henry were real actual separate people, but may have gotten absorbed by 001/absorbed into the hivemind, and are now in some sort of weird Brenner-hivemind-simulation situation in TFS.

Hell, part of me wonders if that’s what’s going on with everyone in TFS- after all, basically all of the characters get referred to as “ONE” in some way at some point, and there’s all of the weirdness re: TFS being some sort of weird simulation and having all of these 1970s anachronisms, such as the Chuck E’s In Love reference & Rachel, Nevada not existing until 1978.

Anyway! Lots to think about!

#stranger things #the first shadow #patty newby

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goldenmorningglory · 2 years

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the idea of will sacrificing himself (not dying) to the upside down so the gates can be closed and being assumed gone for 2 years only to return when vecna begins his final move is something i can't get out of my head.

like imagine will can close the gates with touch. because his essense has vecna and the gates automatically close cause of that (idk the technicalities). imagine him realising that if he himself entered the upside down, he could essentially close every gate opened.

imagine him walking to a gate and mike, shaky with disbelief and drawing horror following him, trying to stop him. imagine will turning around and smiling, "i know how to save hawkins mike. I'm casting protection." imagine him teary eyed going, "I wanted you to know, telling you that el asked me to make that painting was the only lie i ever told you." imagine will turning around and slipping into one of the gates and all around the gates closing. mike collapsing to the ground as the party gathers around. mike silent with shock as nancy holds him. el's cries rending the air.

imagine two years later and the party's in a different place, but stuck toegther even then. separating feels risky even now, when the upside down has remained dormant for two years. max had awoken days after will's disappearance. will had saved her from vecna's mind by somehow piggybacking vecna's own mind and cloaking his presence. now she's well on her way to recovery, but the shadow of will stays.

so imagine the party everyday, going to school coming back, doing homework and having fun even as they all feel the loss everyday. mike is the worst hit. he'd still, 2 years hence, turn around and talk to will before he catches himself. mike takes one look at the painting that's still rolled up in his room and runs for the bathroom because the idea that till the end, he didn't know how will was so brave, makes him sick to the stomach.

so imagine mike coming down the stairs, sitting down to pretend he has any appetite for breakfast before school when he hears it.

"Reports of outages are coming in from various parts of Indiana. The people have been assured that it's the effect of the recent cloudbursts that have hit the state. In other news, 12 year old James Frank was found after an anonymous tip was called in near the place that marked the disappearance of Will Byers back in 1983. James told the police that the young man who called in the tip told him to not reveal his identity. He also said that he was saved from a "dark and cold place" by the young man. The search is on for the anonymous good samaritan. Meanwhile the residents of Indiana wonder if the town of Hawkins is having its curse revive."

Mike looking at Nancy and Nancy knows. Her brother won't rest until they're back. The radio is cackling with all their friend's voices. They all heard.

They come back to the town. Hawkins is as Hawkins has been, sleepy and cold in a way no place, even actual Polar regions could be. They stay at Hoppers Cabin that they maintained and visited every other month.

It's nighttime and the news meanwhile tells them of mysterious animal killings in the woods. Nancy and Jonathan have a hunch so they get out of the house, armed to the teeth. Sure enough they can hear the demogorgon growl and it's almost a familiar memory, the fear. This demogorgon is sharper though. It sneaks and prowls and before they know it, it's leaping out at their backs, mouth open with many more razor sharp teeth than before.

They're armed though and ready to use it when the demogorgon stops midstep and its head falls to the ground. In a second, the shadow that downed it has gotten out a lighter and burned the monster.

"Are you out of your mind? Don't you know how dangerous these woods are? You could have been killed!"

Jonathan brings his torch up from the burning demogorgon to the persons face. In the steady light of his flashlight and the flickering of the flames, Jonathan and Nancy gasp.

"Will...?"

His brother is older. His hair is a shaggier, unkempt version of Jon's own, tied at the back. The shock on his face doesn't hide the grime, the hardness in his eyes. But the hardness can't hide the kindness that has always been Will either. This is a Will who has seen and dealt with horrors on such a daily basis that it has changed him as a person but kept his soul the same.

"Jon- Jonathan?"

If nothing, the softness in his voice speaks to who he is.

Will was found again and that's where the final battle starts.

The reappearance of will byers.

#stranger things #stranger things s5 #stranger things theories #will byers #mike wheeler #byler #eleven jane hopper #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #stranger things spoilers

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sortasirius · 2 years

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No because I’m thinking about Steve coming to pick the kids up from the pool

And he sees Billy there, because it’s pretty hard to fucking miss him up in the tall chair, lounging like he owns the place, and even though he hates Billy’s guts he still has eyes, you know?

And Billy sees him and wiggles his fingers and winks at him, and Steve rolls his eyes and marches in the opposite direction, swearing to himself that he’ll avoid the pool in future. He has his own pool, after all, he doesn’t need to spend any time at the community one.

But he just…ends up there somehow, sometimes three or four days a week when he’s not working, and gets roped into sitting poolside waiting for the kids to finish in the water. And sometimes Billy will come down from his perch just to walk by him, his eyes burning through Steve even though they’re hidden behind his sunglasses.

And Steve starts to mind less, especially since Billy and Max have more or less called a truce on things, and he’s started giving her and El rides places when Steve’s working. Sometimes they’ll even make small talk when Billy’s shift ends and Steve is trying fruitlessly to herd Dustin, Mike, Will, and Lucas into his car.

“You ever go swimming, Harrington?” he asks one day, “You always look like you’re about to go for a round of golf at the country club.”

Steve looks down at himself. He has a point, he needs to just throw out all the clothes in his dresser, they aren’t who he is and they haven’t been for a long time. He looks up at Billy, at miles of tan skin and a wide, wicked smile that shows his teeth, and he smiles back.

“Tee off’s at three.”

Billy laughs at that, like a throw back your head, full throated sort of laugh, and it makes Steve’s stomach lurch in a funny way.

“I have a pool,” he continues, “I swim plenty in my own house.”

“Need a lifeguard?”

Steve looks up at Billy, who’s pushed his sunglasses up onto the top of his head so they’re really looking at one another.

“What, you think I’ll drown in my own pool?” he snarks, “I used to be a lifeguard too, you know?”

“I’d have loved to have seen that.”

“Are you making fun of me?” Steve stands, drawing himself up so he’s looking down at Billy, who doesn’t seem to mind the height difference at all.

“Not at all, pretty boy,” he leans forward, “You’d look good in red, I’d bet.”

Steve flushes at that. He’s still not used to the compliments that Billy pays him, even though he’s been doing it since they met. He used to think they were meant to insult him, but he doesn’t anymore.

“Whatever, I’m a good swimmer.”

“Sure you are,” he takes a step forward, so they’re only an inch or so apart, “But even the best swimmers need a lifeguard.”

It’s a strange thing, that all the noise around them, of the pool, of the gossiping mothers and unruly children and splashes of the water, became somehow dull, so Steve can hardly hear them at all.

The air between them is thick with tension, but not the tension he’s used to, not the tension that predicates a fight.

His eyes drop, almost involuntarily, to Billy’s lips, and his mouth curves into a grin, pretty and wild in equal measure.

It makes Steve crazy, which maybe explains why he says what he says next,

“You should come over tonight, make sure I don’t drown.”

He’d never thought that he’d be able to take Billy Hargrove by surprise, but considering the way his mouth falls open, he thinks he might have managed it.

“I guess that’s my job,” he finally says, looking at Steve for a sign of a joke, “I can do that.”

They stare at one another, each of them searching for a lie, but they don’t find one.

“I’ll see you then, Hargrove,” Steve starts to walk away, intending to herd the kids back to the car, but Billy catches his arm.

“Really?” he asks, and his face is softer somehow, like he’s afraid that Steve really is joking.

“Yeah,” Steve’s own voice is softer too, “Yeah.”

“Steve, come on!” Dustin calls him, and Billy lets him go, putting that sharp smile back in place, winking at him, and walking away.

But as Steve pulls out of the parking lot with four rowdy kids in the back five minutes later, he can still feel Billy’s touch on his arm.

#lifeguard Billy my beloved #harringrove #my writing #what the hell this turned into like a fic???

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sgt-morgan · 1 year

Text

High-Ho Silver 🛻

Summary: Joel and Ellie pick up a very interesting stray. Maybe Joel

Likes her, maybe he doesn’t.

Warnings: Violence of the cannon typical variety, death of a child, tears, but some fun stuff too.

A/N: man… I’m obsessed with this show bro.

Masterlist

Joel and Ellie picked you up in the middle of nowhere, riding solo in a ford F-150 without a care in the world. At first? They didn’t trust you, but after saving their asses, and shooting a clicker in the head to save Joel it made them a bit more amiable to the company.

You were a strange ray of unwavering sunshine. Nothing seemed to kill your vibe, and when Ellie told you they had guns and food? Well shit, nothing could have been more appealing. You liked traveling with them, you liked their bickering, their reluctant ‘Lone Wolf and Cub shtick. It was refreshing. It filled a void you hadn’t known you needed refilled. By way of the weeks you spent with them you learned that yeah, Joel had a soft side. He was soft for Ellie. Puns and gun safety seeming to be the way he expressed it. He just didn’t have softness for you, and while you would like softness, it wasn’t necessary, so you let Joel be.

Joel was about as welcoming as shit in a cake. He was abrasive to say the very least, and every move you made seemed to be the wrong move. It was more than likely because he didn’t trust you around the kid, which you understood. So you made nice with Ellie, which only succeeded in possibly pissing him off more somehow, but you didn’t care. If you weren’t gonna make two friends, you’d at least make one.

“So, you know our names, but you never told me yours!” Ellie said one day, happily munching on more canned ravioli while you munched walnuts you had stripped from a tree and roasted. Tossing one at Joel every once in a while to piss him off a bit, and to subtly share. You noticed he had eaten every one that had landed in his lap, so you kept doing it, cherishing the giggles it provoked from Ellie.

“Well darling little Ellie my name is- get this- Ellie.” You gasped very dramatically and nailed Joel in the forehead with a walnut.

“No… fuck you. No way.” Ellie chuckled.

“Yeah, it really is, it’s short for something.” You shrug, eating one more walnut and dropping them in Joel’s lap to go refill your canteen in the nearby stream.

“Well? What’s it short for?” Ellie scrambles after you to the lake, and you shake your head with a laugh.

“Oh no, you’re not getting that outta me.” You giggle again, and Ellie groans, flopping to the ground. “In the mean time, my name is El and you are Ellie.” You bop her on the nose with a finger and she snaps at you playfully. “Oh no zombie lips! You biting me may have unintended consequences.” You shove her face and she falls in the river and you laugh harder.

“Quit making a racket, you’ll draw attention to us.” Joel muttered from over near the truck. You rolled your eyes and helped the kid out of the creek.

“Alright you big dick, we’ll play quiet.” You smile at Ellie with a wink, and from behind you Joel rolls his eyes.

Everyday you seemed a little further from cracking Joel’s shell. He was like a brick wall. Tall, tough, and impenetrable without a way in. So you looked for a way in. From then on you cracked jokes with the kid, shared all your supplies, you share drive time. You do your best to reach him behind that terrible wall you saw him hiding behind, but he was an impenetrable fortress. You knew why too. Ellie told you, something about a little girl named Sarah, a woman named Tess. He had lost everyone. You knew the feeling.

“So, what about you inferior Ellie? You got a family?” Ellie asked one day, Joel was supposedly ‘resting his eyes’ but the snores told you he was sleeping. You were driving closer towards Wyoming, or wherever you were headed, and the girl was making small talk. This question though, shit, this one was almost too personal. You decided to answer it anyway.

“Uh, yeah. I had a family.” You nodded. “They were… everything. My husband and I were High school sweethearts. Me and Mikey? Oh man. We won prom king and queen and everything. Then boom, outbreak, what a way to end Freshman year of college huh? We made it though, we were doing ok on our own in a cabin in the mountains. Then we’ll, then I find out, I’m pregnant in the middle of the apocalypse. Terrrrrrrible timing for one of our condoms to be faulty, but things happen.” You shrug, taking a drink from the water bottle you had mixed with a coveted pack of powdered lemonade. “So we do our best, no plan B’s no doctors, my decision might have been different had I had those, but probably not. We decide to keep the baby, but that we’re not equipped enough for that, so we go for a QZ. In the meantime? We imagine our baby as a little girl who looked like Mikey, and we make our way to the QZ. We were almost there, making good time, picking out names, it was fine. Then, we’re attacked by a clicker in an abandoned building. To attempt to save my life, Mikey shoved me back and into a splintered shelf, it was an accident. I’m skewered through, losing a lot of blood, and most likely the baby right then and there. Mikey, uh. Mikey killed the clicker, then he marched us the last two miles to the QZ. they check me, I’m good, they check Mikey and… he’d been bitten.

They shot him directly in front of me. I, uh. I got patched up, and two days later I was certain my baby was gone.”

“Oh. Wow I-“ Ellie started and you shushed her with a smile.

“It’s ok kid. I’ve made peace with it for the most part. I told you cause- if it was a girl? I guess- I guess I imagined her to be a bit like you.” You pulled over and swiped a tear while she wasn’t looking. “I gotta take a piss. Too much of a good thing and all that.” You shook your bottle at Ellie and left the truck.

You were tracking towards the woods and Ellie stared in shock. Once he was sure you were gone, Joel’s eyes opened. He looked in the back towards Ellie, who seemed stunned. “Is she gonna be okay?” Ellie blurted, staring at your back as you walked away.

“I… I don’t know. I’ll go check. You go and scope the gas station for snacks. Maybe you can find something good.” He groans and trudges towards the woods. When he finds you, you’re staring the water blankly, there were tears streaming down your face, and you were rubbing at your side, at a scar he’s never seen and he can imagine what it was. He walks up to you and you swipe at your tears rapidly and go to stand.

“I-I’m sorry I woke you. Just needed a break. Figured we would grab some gas and keep going from the-“ you were cut off by him pulling you into a tight hug, and then you sobbed. You were there for a while, just letting Joel hold you. This hadn’t happened in a while, one of these fits. He held you the whole time though, telling you you’d be ok. Stroking your hair and holding you until the sobbing slowed and you were just sitting there in Joel’s lap. “‘M sorry.” You sigh, half exhausted.

“Don’t-“ Joel sighed. “Don’t worry about it. I get it. I get it.” He helped you to your feet and wet the end of his shirt in the stream, wiped your cheeks and led you back to the van. When you saw Ellie, Joel noticed you visibly brighten, you smiled and waved. Joel was once again completely astounded by your resilience.

“Well Ellie Belly? Find anything good?” You grinned ruffling the kids hair as you helped her put her new finds in the truck, including a highly celebrated over box of tampons. He didn’t get it but it made you both happy so he let you celebrate. Then you loaded up and started driving. To Joel’s surprise? You were good again, sunshine and rainbows, as if you really hadn’t just had a mental break in the woods, he thought it was for the kids be if it but you really were ok, but the most shocking of all was the hand that lay on his thigh. It rested there without fail, and he wasn’t sure anymore if he ever wanted you to move it again. You’d been on the road for a while, comfortably listening to Hank Williams for about the 100th time, when Ellie spoke up.

“Oh wait! I found another tape!” She scrambled at her backpack and pulled out a tape and handed it to you with a grin.

“Oh Ellie, my brilliant sweet summer child. You have found a masterpiece.” You kissed the tape she handed you and popped it directly into the tape deck.

“What is that shit?” Joel muttered, turning up the volume a bit.

“Oh baby, Joel it’s the Oakridge boys.” You laughed and suddenly he was subjected to what he considered the greatest concert he could have hoped for in the apocalypse. You knew every word, and it made him grin despite himself. Leaving Louisiana, Trying to Love Two Women, Bobby Sue, Y’all Come Back Now Saloon, all of it.

“Fucking shit, if I had known you were gonna be this annoying I never would have brought it back.” She was trying to huff, but the barely suppressed giggled were not selling it for him.

“Oh my dear girl, but it’s time for the best song of all, and I think I’ll finally tell you my name.” You laughed manically, then the song started playing and Joel cackled. Ellie looked stunned

“Oh shit you broke him.” Ellie laughed and then you started singing.

“Ellie? It’s nice to meet you, my name is Elvira.

Eyes that look like heaven

Lips like cherry wine

That girl can sho nuff make my little light shine

I get a funny feelin’

Up and down my spine

Because I know that my Elvira is mine!” He grins at your joy and starts mumbling under his breath.

“Elvira! Elvira! My heart is on fire, for Elvira!

Giddy up! Ooom poppa ooom papa mow mow

Giddy up! Oom poppa ooom papa mow mow!

Hiiiigh ho silver! Away!”

It went on like this until you and Ellie passed out. Joel sat for a bit after, watching you both breathe. The peace of it filled him with glee, made him smile. He kept driving, and enjoyed the calm that accompanied knowing everyone you care about is safe, then he thought to himself. ‘Hey, maybe this found family thing ain’t half bad.’

#joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel miller #last of us #last of us hbo #joel miller fluff #joel #joel miller fic #joel miller x oc #ellie the last of us #last of us game #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedrostories #pedro pascal #Spotify

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bluebugjay · 1 year

Text

stranger things characters, can they whistle?

Will: Yes! He learnt off Jonathan and was a natural. Sometimes he whistles and sings to himself whilst drawing without even realising

Mike: Yes but badly. And he worked for it. Nobody can ever guess what song he's whistling because it's so off-key but it's become a running joke so even if he did improve they'd still lie and say they didn't know

Lucas: Yes, he specifically set out to learn to whistle and wouldn't give up until he mastered it! He showed off to Max the day he finally learnt, pretending he'd always known how, she didn't buy it

Dustin: Not really, every so often though he'll whistle a perfect note and be like "See! See guys I told you I can do it!!" Doesn't matter though because he's more of a singer anyway

Max: No but she doesn't care. She ends up just blowing raspberries and Lucas teases her by whistling perfectly straight after her attempt so she rugby tackles him

El: She's getting there! She can whistle a few wobbly notes and almost string together a song. Somehow everyone can always guess which song she's whistling over whatever Mike whistles which she always finds funny

Erica: Yes and with ease. She whistles cartoon intros a lot (one time her and Dustin did a very off-key duet of the My Little Pony intro)

Steve: He can whistle with his fingers but not otherwise. He only really whistles to herd the kids around so he prefers it that way because it's louder anyways

Robin: It's a toss of a coin whether today will be a good whistle day or a bad one. Sometimes she can whistle a full song, no pauses with every note perfect and other days you have to put your fingers in your ears but either way she whistles with confidence

Nancy: Yes but she prefers not to because she can only whistle super loudly. She used to whistle to tease Mike when he couldn't but now prefers to just sing along to any song stuck in her head instead

Jonathan: Yes, pretty well too! Though he again prefers to hum to songs instead of whistle. Him and Nancy end up hum-singing little accidental duets whenever they're together

Argyle: Can whistle a song perfectly but if he tries to whistle a single note to get someone's attention or something it's the most off-key thing you will ever hear. It does it's job in getting whoevers attention though

Eddie: Yes but the louder he tries to whistle the worse it gets. He's used to quietly humming or whistling a tune to himself whilst trying to translate it to guitar chords and that's when it sounds good. But anytime he whistles loud enough for others to hear its bad and he revels in that

Hopper: He can whistle the odd common jingle or something he's whistled a lot before (You don't mess around with Jim chorus) but anything new sounds super wobbly

Joyce: She whistles whilst around the house or at work, it's not the best but sweet all the same. She can whistle the loudest "Everyone quiet and listen to me!" type of note which will literally silence a room

Murray: Yes he can do anything. He whistles at the most tense moments though because it 'helps him think' and everyone tells him to stop it because it doesn't help them think

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lovewithasideoffries · 2 years

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soullmate au with Peter with the writing on the arm thing. Like they write something and it shows up on their arm and when Peter and El escape (cause they both need good things in life) they end up meeting somehow?

Happily Ever After

hi anon!!!!! sorry i took so long i wasnt sure how to make y/n and peter meet 😭 tysm for the request ilyyyy

Summary: it's in the ask basically

Pairing: peter ballard x fem!reader

Warning: swearing maybe? at this point its not a warning

Word Count: 1k

As Peter sat with 011, he felt a strange sensation on his thigh. Strange but familiar. It was the feeling of his soulmate sending him a message. He was thankful that she had heeded his request of communicating to each other on only their thighs, because that was a spot that would surely not get exposed to Dr. Brenner, and Peter could not deal with getting punished again for simply talking to his one true love.

Did he truly believe that this random person he shared a connection with was his one true love? Of course not, but it was fun to humour the idea. He was excited to go for lunch break so he could see what she said.

But the feeling continued, spreading from one leg to the other. Peter checked the time. Oh, it’s because his soulmate is in biology class. He chuckled to himself. He had quite the artistic soulmate. She was always doodling over herself in pen, the simple drawings usually very good.

He complimented her on her skills often, he was impressed. His strong suit (which was still not very strong) in art was colouring, so it was interesting to him to watch small lines appear on his body to form something amazing.

As soon as his break started, Peter rushed to his room (more like a prison, really) and pulled his white work pants down enough to expose the black ink decorating his pale skin. Not only were there doodles and sketches, probably song lyrics as well, but a little note was left for him.

helloooo how ya been?

He smiled down at the now familiar, messy handwriting scrawled across his thighs. Peter quickly grabbed the black pen Brenner had given him for one of his birthdays, only because one of the children had asked him when it was and when the day arrived, some of the kids made a big deal of it and Brenner hadn’t wanted to seem like he didn’t care.

Not bad, and yourself?

It only took a couple minutes for her to reply.

i’ve been kinda stressed lately, just got a lot of homework

What subject?

ugh like all of them

You’re really not a fan of school huh?

gods no, the only bearable part is that theres this cute little cafe right by my school so i can go and get some coffee sometimes before or after school

And conversations like that occurred almost everyday. Messages by default stayed permanent until one partner made an effort to get rid of it. This meant that he had to make the effort to scrub off whatever was on his body before going into the shower room, a shared space with cameras in it, unlike his room.

He was lucky that Brenner wasn’t interested enough in what he did during his free time to install security cameras in his room.

But soon enough he wouldn’t have to worry about Brenner at all. Once his plan was in motion he’d never have to worry about stupid Dr. Brenner again.

“Peter, where will we go now?” 011 asked him as they walked out the back door of Hawkins Laboratory. It was absolutely crucial to his plan that the young girl never found out about that massacre. Somehow, after all this horrible place had done to her, 011 would still have felt some remorse for them. Certainly enough to persuade her not to join him.

“You needn’t worry about that Eleven, I have somewhere we can go,” Peter reassured her. He was lucky that his soulmate lived in Hawkins. They had arranged the meeting a couple weeks ago. He was aware that she might not take kindly to the fact that he brought along a child with him to stay at her house, but he’d cross that bridge when they got there.

Now that he thought about it, his soulmate would certainly have many questions for him. Questions he could not answer, not without revealing his powers. Was he ready to tell her about those? Not yet, but… maybe someday.

As he neared the shitty gas station close to the lab that he agreed to meet his soulmate at, he stopped and crouched down to 011’s height. “Okay, Eleven, there will be a girl in there that we’re going to meet. But she can’t know about our powers. Or anything about the lab, okay? So I was wondering if you had a name you wanted to go by? We can’t be calling you Eleven.”

“I need a new name?” 011 repeated, not sure she understood.

“Yes, it can be anything you like.”

“I… don’t know.”

“Well how about El, hmmm? Like the first part of your name, just without the even part.”

“El,” she said, testing out how she felt about it. “El is nice.”

“Wonderful, let’s go meet our friend now, shall we?’

The two entered the tiny variety store next to the gas station, Peter searched for whoever felt like his soulmate. It sounded stupid, but he had heard stories about the instant connection one was supposed to feel upon meeting their other half for the first time.

And sure enough, the minute he locked eyes with her, an intrusive happiness filled his mind, yet strangely he wasn’t upset about it. He hurried toward her, holding El’s hand and pulling her along.

“Hello soulmate, my name’s Peter,” he smiled at her, instantly amazed at her beauty. Her eyes seemed so bright and filled with joy, something he was not used to seeing.

“Hi Peter, I’m Y/n. And who’s your friend?”

“This,” he gently nudged El toward Y/n, “is my sister. El.”

“Hi El! I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” Y/n bent down, so her eyes were on the same level El’s were.

“Hello, who are you?” El asked, timid about meeting someone new. Especially someone dressed in such bright colours as the ones Y/n wore. It was strange. Good strange. But strange.

“I’m a friend. You and Peter are going to be staying at my house,” she smiled at the small child. Peter’s heart warmed at the sight. It seems his worries for El had been over nothing, Y/n was very welcoming to her.

“Speaking of, we should get going.”

Y/n drove the two back to her cosy little home on the edge of Hawkins, making conversation with the both of them.

“Well, here we are! Home sweet home.”

“Thank you for this, Y/n, really. I realise that despite the whole soulmate thing, El and I are complete strangers and I appreciate you letting us into your home.”

“Of course. We are meant to be after all. And that makes you and El my family. And I’d go to the ends of the world for family, so letting you stay over is nothing. Besides, we’re like… together now. Aren’t we?” Y/n smiled shyly at him, staring into his pretty blue eyes.

“If we are, does that mean I get to kiss you?” Peter asked, looking down at her lips.

Y/n leans in, pressing her lips softly to his. “Does this answer your question?”

#001 #001 x reader #peter ballard #peter ballard x reader #peter ballard x fem!reader #henry creel #henry creel x reader #jamie bower #jamie bower x reader #jamie campbell bower #jamie campbell bower x reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader #requests open #asks answered <3

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blackdragon-selfships · 1 year

Text

Name: Megan L. Morian

Nicknames: Meg (common name), Pequeña Roja (by Muerte), (more to be revealed)

Age: Late 20’s onward

Occupation: Various jobs she can’t hold down because of things out of her control

Backstory

When Meg was a little girl she went to visit her grandparents who lived in the woods. On the way there she ran into a friendly woodcutter, but since he was a stranger and she was in a hurry, she didn’t stick around long. She then finally reached her grandparents’ house and was ready for a pleasant time with them, only for the woodcutter from earlier to arrive.

It turned out he had followed the little girl to her destination. It also turned out he was an infamous killer whom she had not had knowledge of being only a kid at this time. He proceeded to brutally murder Meg’s grandparents and take their valuables, then as he was about to finish the little girl off as well he heard someone else approach. So in a panic he stabbed her in the stomach and left her to bleed out as he made his escape.

As she lay there, dying but not aware of this fact, she saw the blurry form of a large wolf person (due to standing on two legs) in black in the now destroyed entryway to the house. His red eyes taking in the scene before falling on her. She didn’t remember much of their exchange after this, but she recalled vividly his words to her:

“Run home now, Pequeña Roja. Run all the way back home to your parents. Do not stop or I will catch you, and you will never see them again.” He told her firmly. “Show me how much you want to live.”

She wasted no time after this, as his words hit her and she was filled with fear. She ran home to her parents and told them what had happened.

Later she would tell others as well, but it soon became apparent no one else cared as much…for another little girl in a red cloak had gone through a similar tale. One involving a woodcutter and a wolf and a grandmother that almost was killed. Because of this, her story was dismissed as something made up to be like Little Red Riding Hood whose story was made famous. Meg’s own story was considered old news by those that did believe, and fake by most others.

Because of this, her grandparents’ deaths were dismissed by all but their loved ones, and Meg grew up to despise the man that did this. However, she could not spend all of her time thinking about him and revenge. She had to make an income somehow, so ended up working various jobs as her family was too poor for her to pursue any meaningful careers.

She ended up working at one of the smaller pubs in Duloc because of this. This is where she met the wolf from her childhood again…and where her journey begins.

Fun Facts:

-Wanted to pursue a career in studying animals (non-sapient or fairytale ones) or baking, but neither were possible

-Her hobbies include drawing and reading when she has time

-Her outfit is common for the pubs she usually works in. She can be seen in a uniform if one is provided, but otherwise she wears this one.

-The knife at her belt is for self-defense at her pub jobs and while in shadier areas. She has had to use it before, but only once.

-She has a scar where the killer that attacked her stabbed her as a kid. Muerte didn’t take her life, but he couldn’t heal her either when he spared her.

-Has PTSD from the day her grandparents were killed

-Doesn’t know what “Pequeña roja” means for a while…when she finds out she is at first offended.

(Why I did this can be found under the cut. Warning: Small spoilers to the movie are in it.)

I saw Puss in Boots: The Last Wish and it was amazing. Unsurprisingly, Death/El Lobo/the Wolf/whatever we call him was my favorite part. Every time he was on screen I was grinning like a fool, he was just so cool and those fight scenes with him… 👌 Perfection. Plus his final scene, which was what made him a great antagonist but not a villain character.

Don’t get me wrong…I didn’t want Puss to die, but I could not get over how amazing they handled Death and his part in the movie. It was so nice to see an animated film not shy from darker, more real themes like this.

Spoiler alert: This is a romantic shipping story with Death from Puss in Boots: The Last Wish. I’m not the first, nor will I be the last, and if people can ship with Jack Horner happily, those of us that want to write romances with Death can too. This is just your warning.

And for those that have been here a long time: Aaravos is still my number 1. He’s the f/o that I imagine being with in my everyday life. Death the Wolf here is a character I’m writing and drawing for fun, not because I feel for him like I do Aary. But this is a good distraction for me while waiting for Aaravos’ source to come out with season 5…which may determine if I follow the series any further. :/

#puss in boots the last wish #puss in boots #Shrek #Shrek universe #self insert #s/i #selfship community #selfship #selfshipping #Meg #starlight’s art #reference sheet #(note: the bottom of the post may have been cut…if so I’ll add it in a self-reblog)

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