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stealingyourbones · 2 years

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Older Brother Danny Phantom

During the last year that Alfred worked as a secret intelligence officer for England, he was tasked to infiltrate and dismantle a fake ghost hunting branch of the US government. This fake branch that called themselves the Ghost Investigation Ward who was attempting to set up camp on English soil.

During his infiltration using a false identity and credentials, Alfred came across a boy named Phantom. He was the GIW’s “most prized catch”. Alfred’s heart ached as he saw the boy get hauled back to his cell day after day. With each day the boy sported more and more injuries from the GIW’s cruel “experiments”.l (Alfred knew damn well what they were doing to the boy was just short of torture and nothing more.)

Seeing the boy get hurt day in and day out, Alfred was more determined than ever to tear this place apart brick by brick. Soon enough, Alfred found enough evidence to prevent the GIWs from ever setting up camp on English soil ever again. After that, the British military invaded the place and took care of the workers while Alfred worked on freeing Dann, which the GIW’s files informed him was actually a boy named Daniel Fenton. The GIWs completely obliterated his hometown and reduced it to rubble. He had no home to return to and was expecting to just live in the ghost zone for the rest of his life. Alfred wouldn’t let that stand.

He made the rash decision to raise the boy as if he was his own. He later got hired by The Wayne’s after the butler Jarvis’s passing. Danny stayed in the manor with Alfred in the servant quarters. He wasn’t shown to the public and as far as the world knew, Alfred had no family.

Then the tragedy of The Wayne’s occurred on that fateful night. Martha and Thomas Wayne were murdered right before Bruce’s very eyes.

Danny helped Bruce learn to cope with his trauma and searched the Ghost Zone for his parents. (He came up empty handed. Bruce’s parents didn’t have a strong enough drive to become ghosts. Bruce appreciated the gesture none the less.) He and Alfred taught Bruce how to fight. He still went on his training journey all over the world but he knew a tad more before his travels than without his ghosty older brother.

Danny doesn’t really do anything as Phantom in Gotham. He’s done with fighting. The GIW capture convinced him that the only thing that would stop those bastards from hunting him was to destroy the Anti-Ecto acts and to dismantle the organization piece by piece.

Danny went to university and got a double major in computer programming and forensic science.

During the years that Bruce was away training, Danny was cracking down on the GIW and managed to successfully expose and fully dismantle the fake government organization.

Danny refused to premiere in Gotham as “Phantom”. He’s much rather leave his fighting days behind him and instead when Batman first came to the scene, he was the guy in the chair. Helping Bruce through an earpiece and assisting in putting the pieces of a crime together with the batcomputer.

He does help Bruce with the intimidation factor though. A slight spell to make him blend into the shadows a tad more than a normal person would, a small charm to make his movements seem twitchy and inhuman, a tiny incantation that made Bruce’s eyes glow a bright white, small spells to help make Batman less human and more a symbol of fear.

When the first Robin came around, Danny welcomed Dick with open arms as an uncle figure. Casting charms on Robin to let him glide and make chittering sounds that are impossible to make with human vocal cords.

He helps Jason and when the boy comes back, Danny immediately knows that something is off and collects the boy before he gets whisked away by the League of Assassins. He and Alfred teach Jason how to use a firearm at Jason’s request and non lethal rounds become Jason’s preferred weapon.

Danny positively adores Tim. He reminds Danny of himself when he was a teenager. Now in his mid to late 30’s, he recalls those years with a fondness that was definitely affected by rose tinted lenses. He takes him under his wing and teaches the boy about magic and how to integrate it into technology.

Damian instantly attaches himself to Danny the second they first make eye contact. Danny is obviously the most powerful person on the household and respects Damian in a way that surprises the boy. Danny knows Damian’s type well and he, along with Dick, help Damian adjust to the Bats code of vigilantism.

When Danny meets the League, it’s because Klarion summoned the Ghost King. Apparently The Ghost King was a Lord of Order but commonly evil aligned. They all are fearful with what’s to happen besides Batman. His shoulders relax when he hears what’s about to happen and informs the League to let Klarion finish his Ritual.

The League thinks that Batman has gone mad but Batman insists. They follow his orders and watch as Klarion calls the Lord of Infinite Realms to the mortal plane.

Danny appears in full Ghost King regalia. Danny positively radiates power in an absolutely terrifying manner. He notices Klarion and frowns. Looking around, he perks up when he notices Batman and Nightwing next to the various League members.

The League is extremely confused that this all powerful god of a being excitedly smiled and waved towards them. That confusion was nothing compared to a few moments later where the King of the Undead started talking to Batman about what was being made for dinner today. That and Tim finally managed to get the wrist portal to work. Batman is silent and simply silently nodding at the appropriate times but Nightwing is happily chatting back and forth with Danny as the Leagues jaws are on the fuckin floor.

Klarion doesn’t know what to do honestly. He thought the Ghost King was Pariah Dark, not this lanky inhuman looking figure who was sitting crisscross in the summoning circle and waving his hands animatedly to talk with Nightwing.

Klarion yells to The Ghost King to stop talking and to fight these fools. Danny then stops and the temperature drops a solid 30 degrees. He pauses for a few moments and oh so slowly turns around to Klarion. His eyes now blading with green fire, his limbs extending and gaining extra joints, his teeth growing more and more elongated and sharp. He looms over Klarion and tells him to kindly fuck off and to never talk to him, his brother, or his nephew ever again.

Klarion is fucking terrified as Danny just fully shifts into his true form and looms over the Witch Boy. Klarion hastily agrees and leaves in fear of getting fuckin evaporated by this being that is much more powerful than him.

The League is freaking out because “Nephew?!?!” “Brother?!?!” What?! How on earth was the fuckin ghost king related to Batman?

Flash asks Nightwing and Dick just smiles and goes “he was adopted” and that was that. The League sees Danny more often now. Be sometimes pops into the Watchtower to watch the stars, to help out during watch duty, to check in with the batfamily that is in the watchtower. Sure Shazam and John have an adverse reaction to Danny Initially but they eventually just accept that this all powerful ghost lord is just there to talk to his family.

#danny phantom #dc comics #dp x dc #dpxdc #writing prompts #bones writes #fic #guess who finally wrote another lil fic summary thingie :) me :)

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writer-room · 6 months

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I personally like headcanoning Peacemaker as still being just a little too similar to Darkstalker in some aspects. He's obviously still a good dude, in fact he's an absolute sweetheart, but there's still some...characteristics. You know what I'll list them for the good of my inner child

Kid gets big. And I mean big. He's nowhere near Darkstalker's size, but he ends up really tall and heavy for a NightWing, let alone one thats supposedly half RainWing, which are not overly big dragons to begin with. This leads to most dragons trying to convince him to move into professions that require big guys, but his strength still helps him plenty with farming. It does make some people ask questions, though

He's not as narrow as Darkstalker was. As Darkstalker grew, his features became noticeably sharper, more IceWing in body type. Peacemaker has softer features, however his face never truly changed. It's not as jutting such as in the jawbone or horns, but he has a much more defined face that seems to stand out on a rounder body. He's terrified a few dragons on accident who saw him from a distance or as a silhouette and thought he was Darkstalker risen from the dead. He never understood why everyone was so scared

Doesn't quite like the RainWing part of himself. As a kid, he was never sure why. Sure, some dragons weren't very nice about it, but his mom loved him plenty, he had some really nice dragons like Moon and Kinkajou who who were really sweet, so he never quite got why he was upset about it. Maybe he was still mad at the dad who wasn't there? He wasn't sure why he was upset about that, either. He got better after having a lot of talks with his mom and friends, but that little piece of self-hatred never fully went away, and he can't for the life of him explain why

Had a lot of imaginary friends as a kid. They didn't always have names, but they were usually dragons he made up in his head. Like a scardy-cat SeaWing all the other dragonets accused of just being Turtle, or an actually scary SeaWing, or a super smart NightWing who knew all the answers to everything! Sometimes he made up a new NightWing queen or played a pretend war with the other dragonets. Occasionally, he said his friend that week was a big shadow. He said the big shadow seemed kind of angry and sad, but his shadow liked to listen. He slowly stopped after a while. Some of his older friends started looking worried. Imaginary friends were for babies, anyway.

He still has Darkstalker's horns. Those never changed, for some reason. Maybe a little less pointy on the ends, maybe a little thicker at the base, but they were still very much Darkstalker's Horns. Hope & the gang silently freaked out about this, but when some dragon brought it up in earshot of little Peacemaker, he loudly proclaimed he liked his horns, they were all funky and looked kinda like mister Winter's horns! Mister Winter is kind of rude sometimes, but he seems nice, so Peacemaker doesn't mind looking kind of like him! Winter was tormented over this for months

Sometimes he'll just...say things. That sound a little too similar to what some other dragon was thinking. Or make random guesses that are very close to what will actually happen. It's never by much, usually finishing other dragon's sentences or predicting the next thirty seconds, but it's enough to make Moon twitchy. He just thinks he has good luck

Once asked Hope if he could ever have a little sister. He never asked again. He'd never seen his mom cry before.

#wof #wings of fire #darkstalker #peacemaker #foeslayer #hope #headcanons #ideas #text post #talk #rainwings #nightwings #icewings #memories #past memories #to this day i am so sad we dont get more about peacemaker

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friccafracc · 1 month

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DROP THE FIC OR IM COMING FOR YOUR KNEECAPS

ALRIGHT OK BUT I NEED IT TO BE KNOWN THAT I HAVENT WRITTEN ANYTHING SERIOUSLY SINCE HIGHSCHOOL OK

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Something is after me. I know it is, I’ve seen it. It looks like a man, but I know that it’s not. It…. It’s face is like a mockery of something human- like- like if you asked someone who has never seen a human to draw or model a person’s face, their smile. No… I don’t think any human would be able to get it that wrong.”

“And I’m not crazy, alright? God, y’all probably get that a lot here, don’t you? You people specialize in crazy. Not that I’m anyone to judge anymore, given the shit I went through before coming out here. I didn’t even know a place like this existed outside the Usher Foundation. I just…there’s some weird, crazy shit out there I guess, and when I heard about y’all, I figured I should probably pay a visit. At least let someone know before I die.”

“I know I’m gonna die.”

“I suppose I should start from the beginning. My name is Joshua Nelson, I’m originally from the States–Memphis Tennessee. Now, if there’s one thing you should know about Memphis, it’s that nobody in their right mind should EVER move there on their own accord, ‘cause you’ll either get mugged or stalked or both. I was born and raised there, so I never really got the choice during the formative years of my life. I’ve learned to live with it, though.”

“I worked retail in a gas station before…well, everything. It was a shithole. The kind of building where, no matter how hard you scrubbed and no matter how much bleach you used, the stains and smell of smoke would never leave. Instead just…mingled with the citrus of the chemicals. It paid the bills, though, and I was never witness to a robbery, so I couldn’t complain too much. The customers were docile and if I noticed anyone shoplifting, I kept it to myself. I wasn’t getting paid enough to give a damn.”

“We had regulars that would come in on a schedule and regulars that wouldn’t. People who were just passing through the city or visiting family or friends. You get all types in that kinda place, and if you’re placid enough to any asshole who’s having a bad day, everyone gets along just fine. There were a couple of regulars who were friendly enough, though, that I remember their names. Miss Kelly was an older woman, short and heavyset–she was one of the friendlier ones. We’ve got a lot of talkers in the south and boy did she make sure I knew every exact reason for what her kids were getting up to, or what was going on in a reality show she was hooked on at the time.”

“George Michael, a thin man in his 40s, maybe, always came in whenever he needed a new pack of cigarettes, I think he was a chain-smoker, cause he was in there a lot.”

“And then…then there was Hunter. Now Hunter was a younger man, maybe college age. A little older than that? Poor bastard was hooked on something, that much anyone could tell. He was gaunt, a little twitchy, you know, telltale signs of drug abuse. I could never tell what specifically he was on, but then again, it was never my business to know. I treated him the same as every other customer, we all knew he wasn’t gonna cause any harm, he usually came in for food, chips and hotdogs and stuff and he never caused a fuss.”

“I think… I think Hunter is dead.”

“One day he came in, I think it was a Wednesday or something cause it was slow that afternoon, and he burst through the door. Well–maybe not burst, but he came in the building like he was racing to get indoors first before someone else. The guy was usually jittery and, I’ll admit, a little shifty usually, but this was full blown paranoia. It startled me at first, his intensity, and he made a b-line towards the back of the store and ducked behind one of the shelves. Maybe not duck completely like ducking for cover, but it was obvious he was hiding. It almost made me expect the police or some drug lord to come storming through the door, but nobody else came.”

“Hunter stayed pacing in the building for a good 20 or 30 minutes, periodically lifting his head to crane his neck and peer out the window or the glass of the door. I checked once or twice as well, but if someone was out there, I didn’t see them. Eventually the guy calmed down enough to buy something and when he approached the counter with his bag of Doritos he looked almost like he was going to be sick.”

“I asked him if everything was alright, but he just shook his head and left.”

“I didn’t see him again for another week or two after that. Obviously I assumed the worst. I theorized that someone was after him and when he didn’t show up when he usually did it was more than enough to confirm my suspicions. Be it cops or some random person on the street, I couldn’t decide which fate would be worse, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel for the guy at least a little bit.”

“Hunter was almost completely out of my mind when I saw him again. I was surprised. By all accounts, it didn’t look like anything had changed about him. Maybe aside from the fact that his posture was way better than it usually was when I saw him, but other than that, nothing was out of the ordinary.”

“Business went on as usual and when he came up to the till with a liter of coke, I offered him a ‘Welcome Back’ and rang him up.”

“When I turned back to him, he was smiling. For some reason it was like a pit opened in the bottom of my stomach. I couldn’t understand why, though. It looked like Hunter–patchy, unkempt stubble, greasy hair, thin face, sunken eyes. His appearance had never bothered me before, so I was struck with confusion that mixed in with the undefinable, sudden sense of dread.”

“‘Thank you,’ he said as I handed him his change. And he walked out the door. It sounded like Hunter, too.”

“Hunter returned the next day, and the next. Each time he was polite and quiet, and each time he smiled when I rang him up. I counted his teeth. They were straight and flat. When I counted mine in the mirror when I smiled, I saw 17 or 18. Hunter’s counted 24.”

“Maybe he has a dental problem that I didn’t notice until now, I told myself. Human bodies are weird. Sometimes you have more teeth than usual.”

“The fourth day he came in a row, I saw his eyes and his pupils were…swollen, is the only way I can describe them. I know what people’s eyes look like when they’re high. This was not that. It was like they almost swallowed up his irises completely, and they were dull. Dull in the sense that the fluorescents overhead did nothing to cast any reflections onto them. It made me want to writhe and squirm whenever he looked at me.”

“I called in sick the fifth day. I knew Hunter would be back in that gas station to see me. I knew it was to see me. And I knew that thing. That..whatever it was. It wasn’t Hunter.”

“I guess a part of me was always dreading that day. I had always heard stories about people being stalked from friends of friends. It was only a matter of time before it happened to me, right?”

“I saw Hunter at the grocery store the next day, posture straight and face split open into that smile with too many teeth. I didn’t have the mind to be polite. I turned completely around and walked the other way, trying to fool myself thinking that he hadn’t seen me. I kept a pocket knife on me after that encounter. I probably should have been before, but hindsight is always 20/20.”

“Each time I saw him after that, it was worse. On the street to my apartment, his eyes were too wide and his grinning mouth was slightly agape. A crude facsimile of delight as I rushed past him. I stopped going into work when I started to spot him everywhere I went. Every destination no matter how far or random, he was there, grinning at me. He knew where I lived, that I had no doubt. So I went to a friend’s one night hoping to throw him off. Maybe I could move out and lose him. Lord knows I didn’t have the money to break my lease early, but I was desperate.”

“My friend suggested I call the police, but for some reason I was convinced that wouldn’t help. Cops usually only made things worse in that town, and I had a sinking feeling going that route would only waste my time.”

“The final straw was the second night I was crashing on my friend’s couch. I was exhausted, the past few weeks spent sleepless and paranoid and I was ready to finally pass out when I heard a light, rhythmic tapping on the window behind my head.”

“It’s just the wind, I thought to myself. A tree branch or something scraping against the glass. The exhaustion was completely gone, my pounding heart and pumping adrenaline overpowering any lame excuse that I would be stupid enough to be reassured by.”

“I didn’t move from where I lay. Tap. Tap. Tap. Came through the window once again.”

“I don’t know why I laid there for so long, unmoving, convinced that if I didn’t turn around, whatever it was outside would lose interest and leave. I really, really wanted it to leave.”

“I lay still for what felt like hours, every muscle in my body wound up and tense and ready to leap into action at any given opportunity. I was praying the opportunity would never come.”

“I don’t know how long it was when the tapping ceased, but it was long before I finally managed to relax. It seemed like my strategy worked. What an idiotic thing to think. Like I was a child hiding from an imaginary monster in the dark. Like the logic of not giving a stalker any attention so it would go away was sound. No. I think it was that false hope that landed me in this situation.”

“Because when that tapping came again, I wasn’t prepared to turn around. But I did. I turned around and what I saw in the darkness through that glass was… I don’t know what it was. I know it had eyes and teeth. It was grinning, but its teeth stretched well beyond what would be the borders of its face. God, I couldn’t see its face. I knew it was Hunter, though. It had those same lightless eyes that stared back at me every time I closed my own. Dead and dark and dull and staring at me–eating at me, wide and gleeful and spilling into the shadow that I could only assume was a part of the creature, itself. Its form took up nearly the entirety of the window, blocking the outside world. It didn’t move.”

“I screamed. I screamed and closed the curtains and I hid. This woke my friend of course, and she came stumbling out of her room, looking bleary but alert. I tried to signal to her not to go to the window or do anything or to call the police. Thankfully she got the message and the cops were there within the hour.”

“They didn’t find anything. Or anyone, for that matter. I left out the…the monster bit, because I assumed it might land me somewhere I really didn’t want to go.”

“They were about as helpful as I thought they would be. Told me to call them again if I noticed any suspicious activity.”

“I booked my flight here that very night. I wasn’t going to stay in that goddamn city with whatever the HELL that thing was. I don’t want to end up like Hunter. I don’t want it to wear my skin.”

“It will, though. I know it will and it scares me more than anything in the world. And I know I can’t escape it, either.”

“It followed me here. I saw it. It was still grinning at me and it was still. Wearing. Hunter’s. Skin. The shadow that was cast over it made it so I could only see the whites of it’s eyes....its teeth.”

“I don’t want to die.”

#txt #oc fic #tma sona #tma oc #avatar of the stranger #ITS BEEN SO LONG SINCE IVE WRITTEN FIC...PLS BE NICEYS

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turbulentscrawl · 6 months

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Identity(V) Headcanons: Frederick Kreiburg

Frederick's headcanons got a little more...medical than some of the others I've done so far. I'm no expert in this stuff, but I do my best to be comprehensible and respectful where certain disorders have to be mentioned. As always, hope you guys like it!

-Ashes of Memory states that Frederick was diagnosed with ‘psychasthenia’ at some point in his childhood, but this isn’t used as a diagnosis in modern medicine. Instead, it’s a term used to describe a collection of symptoms commonly associated with disorders like OCD. It includes anxiety, obsession, compulsions, depersonalization, nervous ticks, and can even affect one’s memory.

-Personally, I also think he has synesthesia. Frederick mentions colors in relation to music a lot (especially gold), and while this could just be something relating to his other condition, I prefer to take it as literal. It’s part of the reason he was enamored after hearing his father play, why he obsessed with music. Frederick grew up in an onslaught of overwhelming chaos, colors bursting and fading wildly across his senses incomprehensible in his day to day, enhancing his anxiety…but when the recital started there was only the song. One symphony of sound and color, appearing before him in a long, unbroken stream. It was peaceful. And he became obsessed with that peace.

-This also explains his “un-Kreiburg-like skills.” His music is not like what the rest of his family composes because he’s writing it to suit both sound and color. He can perfectly identify pitch and can play most songs entirely “by ear” after hearing them only once or twice, but he’s obsessed with the stream of colors keeping a certain rhythm to them, which doesn’t always lend itself to “traditional” Kreiburg music.

-Frederick’s personality is very affected by the above struggles/disorders. He’s a very kind person at his core, as well as very earnest, but he is plagued by fear, anxiety, and extreme self-criticism. He becomes overwhelmed easily. He is entirely aware of all his struggles, his failures, and wrestles every day with the knowledge that he’s a disappointment to his family. Sometimes his situation brings him to tears, sometimes to destructive wrath.

-Frederick has come to accept his need for appearances, that people mostly like him because of his looks and his familial relations. But on his worst days he can’t even rely on that much because his communication begins to break down. His speech becomes disjointed and frantic, he’s tense and twitchy, a look of horror sinks deep into his face. To protect what remains of his reputation, he hides away during these times.

-When he is with people, he behaves as a gentleman should, albeit a reclusive one. He’s terrified of being judged further, but craves understanding and praise, so he maintains personal distance while remaining remarkably enthusiastic about musical discussion. He’s never told anyone but his family about his diagnosis or his synesthesia. They are both sources of shame for him.

-When at his most anxious, he has a tendency to pull at his hair. Whole clumps of his long hair have been lost to the worst of his fits. He’s not particularly sensitive about any resulting bald spots on his scalp, but he does try to cover them with his normal ponytail style because he knows they would affect people’s attraction to him.

-He despises the sound of dogs barking. Which is a shame, because he does like dogs. Their barking is just burry, red fireworks right in the middle of his vision. It always startles him and makes it impossible to do or focus on anything.

-His love language is Gift Giving, and the “gifts” he gives are, predictably, usually songs. It’s his primary skill, of course, so as far as Frederick is concerned, he has nothing else worth offering besides music made in the name of his loved one. He’d be devastated if these musical gifts weren’t appreciated; Frederick can’t take much more rejection. His favorites Love Languages to receive are Word of Affirmation and Acts of Service. He’s secretly a bit desperate for praise, and any actions you take to support his work or help improve his reputation as a musician are better than gold.

-He likes to match his clothes to the primary colors he sees in the songs he’s performing. During his recitals, he changes coats often.

-He’s a picky eater with a powerful sweet tooth. If he could have it his way, he’d subsist mostly on desserts.

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #frederick kreiburg x reader #idv composer #turbulentscrawl

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somnambulic-thing · 1 year

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For your writers block cure/drabble prompts….

Playing Bitey with Eddie? hehehe 🖤

Okay so here we go. I'll love you until the end of my days for sending me this even if turned out I can't even really drabble when I am asking for drabble prompts. Guess I'll have to practice that some more. But I hope you'll like it!

CW: for biting and blood, in a kinky way | nsfw 18+

Eddie Munson x gn!reader with boobs 2.1k

You met Eddie on a warm summer night at a party neither of you had been invited to, in a town where no one knew your names because you were both just passing through.

A problem with the engine of your car - which also was your home - interrupted your travel plans and had you stuck here for who knew how long. With the prices of motels these days you opted for adventure; the night would tell you where to go.

It led you to the bottom of an empty swimming pool with a cold drink in your hand and an alright conversation with some guy who never introduced himself when something small hit the back of your head and made you whirl around.

“Hi,” he said, long legs dangling from the edge of the pool, smiling at you from above like a handsome, heavy metal Cheshire Cat.

“I’m Eddie and I bet I can hold my breath longer than you.”

He was all wild hair, twitchy feet and curious eyes, and some guy behind you was erased from your mind completely when the tip of Eddie’s tongue poked from the corner of his mouth as he awaited your reply.

“What’s my price?” you asked and Eddie’s smile became all teeth.

“Your price?” he rubbed his chin and hummed; voice oh so deep yet full of mirth. “How about some time well spent? The highest of all goods?”

You laughed, shook his outstretched hand and pulled him off the edge and into a rabbit hole of silly bets.

He held his breath in for a long time but you held yours even longer. Ten whole seconds longer and Eddie demanded two out of three because it had been such a ‘close call’ and when he finally accepted his defeat he pulled you up the ladder and out of the pool to find more silly things he could challenge you to.

Two wild hours later and you didn’t want this to end, but you were in a tie and Eddie declared the next one to be the deciding match.

“I have other plans before the night runs out,” he said and you swallowed a thick lump of sadness and challenged Eddie to stand on one leg longer than you.

“Ready?” you asked.

“So ready,” he said solemnly and his dark brown eyes were soft but wild and something else and you didn’t want this to end. So you balanced on your leg like the fate of the world depended on it and so did Eddie and you spent almost ten minutes like competitive bantering flamingos before that little shit started to sabotage you by trying to make you laugh. With success.

It turned out that Eddie had no honor, for he took this ‘win’ like it was an earned one and claimed your mouth in a heated kiss as his rightful prize.

“What about your plans?” you asked him when he pulled you into his van and your clothes off your body.

“Sweetheart,” he chuckled against your neck before he smiled down at you. “My plans are to make you scream my name.”

“Oh,” your voice broke and he licked his bottom lip as if he was about to eat you.

“I bet I can make you come at least three times before the sun comes up.”

You were glad he won this bet.

Eddie had been travelling east and you west when you collided and - after you sold your run-down car for parts to the shop you had left it with the day before - the two of you decided to head north for no particular reason, really, because the real destination was now sweetly wasting the days away together.

You kept up your little games. There was a competition in everything if you wanted to and since the winner got to have their way with the loser, losing wasn’t exactly the right word anyway.

So Eddie took it with as much grace and dignity as one could losing a milkshake-gulping contest with strawberry milk squirting out his nostrils because he knew that pity made you treat him extra nice, and you were totally fine tapping out after three seconds of whose feet are the most ticklish because Eddie immediately pulled you close to make sure you were a thoroughly sore loser.

Today, furious rain kept you inside the van that was currently anchored in the parking lot of a venue where you would see Metallica tomorrow night. Eddie had made sure that you arrived early, just in case. You love those lazy days in between adventures. It’s cosy inside this cocoon that was a jumble of your things, with the rain on the roof and Eddie’s warm skin always touching yours somewhere because there simply wasn’t enough room to move away that far on the mattress even if you had wanted to.

You keep a tally on the wall and right now the score stood 24 - 23 for you and you knew Eddie was itching to even it out again. You’ve been reading to him for the past hour and he keeps glancing at the thing, letting out a sigh every now and then. He was adorable.

“You know,” you say, his head in your lap, your fingers playing with his hair, “if you want to fuck, you can just say so.”

“No,” he draws his brows down, stifling a grin, “I want to earn it.”

You laugh, looking for the line where you just left off to resume reading when suddenly Eddie sits up, radiating this feral energy you’d fallen for so quickly. “You wanna play Bitey?”

“Bitey?”

“Yeah, uh, we bite each other at the same time, the loser is who can’t take it anymore and breaks it.”

Something is dancing in his dark eyes; excitement and also fear. The fear of a first rejection maybe, fear that he just crossed a line you wouldn’t follow him over. He couldn’t know that your mouth was already watering with the anticipation to sink your teeth into his skin.

“Alright,” you say, chucking the book somewhere on the mattress. “Let’s play Bitey.”

Eddie moves so fast his features blur as he grabs you and then the inside of the van goes hazy as he pulls you into his lap. You brace yourself with your palms pressed to his bare chest, eyes wide, heart pounding.

“Hi,” he says with a hungry grin that makes your spine prickle before he pulls the frayed Dio shirt over your head. You wear nothing underneath and you shiver when the cool air hits your bed-warm skin. Eddie soothes the goosebumps on your back with his large palms while he presses soft kisses to your left shoulder. “That spot ok?” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your skin not far above the point where your collarbone ends. “Not a lot of muscle there.”

Your breath hitches slightly as you brush Eddie’s hair to the side, eager to work on him. “Here?” you ask, licking a stripe along his shoulder; your whole body is thrumming.

“Hmmm,” he brings his hands further up your back, keeping you steady, mouth still hovering. “I’ll stop when you do. When it gets too much.”

“You’re very confident to win this one, aren’t you, Munson?”

“Maybe,” Eddie chuckles deeply. “Don’t hold back.”

“I won’t.”

“Ready?”

He opens his jaws wide, you feel how his lips draw back as the sharp ridges of his teeth press against your skin. You place your hands on his waist and your mouth on his shoulder; you take one deep breath, hold it and then you bite and so does Eddie.

It starts as a pinch and builds, builds, builds and turns into a sharp hot pain that surges through you as your skin is pulled up between his teeth and wedged together; he’s not holding back and neither are you. You let out a whine as the heat caused by his mouth pools inside your chest and rushes to your pelvis, thrumming fast with the rhythm of your pulse, quickening when a moan vibrates through your shoulder. Eddie feels so soft and fragile clenched between your jaws, and you taste salt on his skin, you feel saliva dribbling out the corner of your mouth and you clench some more, coaxing another pretty moan from your pretty boy who draws his arms tight around you before he gives you more of this sweet sting, slightly wiggling his head as if he wants to fit you in there fully, devour you whole.

You breathe in deeply. There are tears forming in the corners of your eyes and you feel a drop of sweat run down Eddie’s side as it catches on your finger. He presses out hot air past his stretched lips and slides his tongue over your skin, the soft sensation clashing with the violent delight of the bite. Eddie groans and shivers and you squint your eyes shut tight, spilling a single tear as he bites down just- a- little- more.

You’re trapped between too much and not enough and just when you think you can’t take it any longer—

Blood. You taste blood. Eddie’s blood.

Your tongue follows the faint trace of iron, laps at the spot where your canine pierced his skin and your head starts spinning as the rusty sweetness floods your tongue and—

— Eddie lets go of you and pulls away panting.

Your jaw goes slack, releases him but your head is too heavy to lift, the world still spinning when Eddie’s hands cup your face.

“Look at me,” he almost whispers as he gently lifts your head. “Baby, open your eyes.”

He’s blurry at first and you blink the tears away finding his cheeks flushed, his eyes shiny and dazed and wandering across your features as his thumbs caress your cheeks.

“You okay?”

Your gaze falls to his mouth as he speaks; it’s red, too red, a glossy wet red and your hand moves up, a little shaky as you slide your thumb over the soft full bottom lip and take the red away with you as you pull back to behold it.

“Oh,” you say. “Oh!”

Eddie catches your wrist and holds it holds it holds it while he holds your gaze, and you can see the question, the want, the need on his face, so you wiggle out of his grip and slide your thumb past his lips inside his mouth. His eyes roll up before they close, fingers digging hard into your thighs as his tongue takes a piece of you away with him.

His mouth chases you as you pull your hand away and you lean far back in his lap, the muscles in his thighs flexing, balancing your weight before you can slip away and fall and you laugh, you feel dizzy and drunk on him and you’re hungry for more.

“Look at you,” you rasp, words catching in your throat. You pinch his chin between your fingers and turn his head. A trickle of blood runs down Eddie’s shoulder, a dark red tear springing from the midst of angry pink marks, raw and sore and beautiful.

“Oh that’s perfect,” he says almost wondrous when he sees it, sliding his fingertips through the mess you made of him, staining them a pretty red. Eddie grins like a wicked thing inside your grip before he quickly drops his head and snaps his teeth, sinking them into the soft flesh between your thumb and index finger.

You hiss at the sting, but he’s just playing now, only bites down hard enough to keep you in place while he reaches out to run two fingers up the trace of blood running down your chest, adding yours to his own. Your eyes follow the motion, admire the crimson smudge he leaves on your skin before he opens his mouth to let you free, to make room to place his own middle finger in between his lips and sucks it clean, leaving the other one bloody.

Eddie shivers, groans, eyes dark under heavy fluttering lids and you have to have him now, lick into his mouth before the taste of your amalgamation leaves his tongue.

“Wait!” he stops you and you protest with a hiss, eager to ignore his orders but his palm meets the base of your throat and makes you. “My greedy little vampire,” he tuts and there is blood on his teeth.

“Let me taste you, Eddie…” you breathe out desperately as Eddie starts wiggling his hips beneath you and leans to the side, his hard cock pressing to the inside of your thigh and you imagine how pretty it would be if your lips left streaks of crimson on his shaft.

“I declare defeat,” he says and draws a bloody line through the last group of four on your side of the tally with the tip of his index finger. When he turns back to you, his eyes are black holes and his grin is sharp enough to cut yourself on. “You may claim your prize now. I’m all yours.”

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x afab!reader #Eddie Munson fanfic #cw biting #cw blood #cw blood kink #somnambulic-thing #my fic

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giggly-squiggily · 3 months

Note

Hello, Squiggly! Can I please request 🧡 Always and Forever: “Look how red you are! How cute!” with platonic lee! Kunikida and ler! Dazai?

Hello Anon! :D God I love this ajrjaekjrjaekrj Kunikida as a lee has me in a chokehold! I've gotcha covered! :3

Always and Forever: "Look how red you are! How cute!"

“Ooo, you’re blushing!” Dazai was grinning, sitting backwards in his chair as he pointed up at Kunikida. “You’re blushing! Someone’s got a crush!”

“Wha-D-Dazai!” Kunikida growled, his face burning more as the brunette laughed like a child, spinning around in his chair before hopping up. “I do not!”

“Yes you do! I know that look! You’ve got a special someone in mind, huh? What’s their name? Are they cute? Clearly they're cute- look how red you are! You’re a walking cherry, it’s adorable!” Dazai danced around the blonde, poking his sides and ribs playfully. “Tell me all the details, I wanna know!”

“Theheere’s nothing to shahahre! Droohohohop iihihiht!” Kunikida tried to sound firm, but Dazai’s endless pokes and prods left him twitchy and unable to hold anything but a smile. “Dahahahzai!”

“Do you write poetry about them? Their smile is like the sun, their eyes warm as the glowing fires I warm myself by when I long for their embrace- Oo, wait that’s pretty good; I’m keeping that one for Chibi- write your own poetry.”

“I wahahhasn’t ahahahasking for yohoohohu to maahahake ahahahny! Gehahahhaa, Daahhazahhahai!” The poet tried to wriggle away, but Dazai stuck like glue, drilling into the terrible spot along his lower ribs. “Cuhuhuhuuht it ohohohout!”

“Oo, does it tickle? Huh? You just gotta tell me who you’re in love with, then I’ll stop! Come on- confess your feelings! Let them fly to your lover- oo, that’s another good one! I’m on a roll today!”

“Plahahan your rohoohohmantihihic speheheeches laahahter! DAZAI!” Kunikida twisted out of reach at last, curling his arms around himself as he gasped for air. “Thehehere..yohoho son of a-”

“Whoever it is, I’m rooting for you Kuni.” Dazai smiled at him, something warm coming through it. “I hope whoever you’re in love with realizes how great of a guy you are.”

Kunikida blinked, not at all prepared for the sincere gesture. “Dazai..”

“Course, they’ll have to get used to competing with your love for notebooks. A love triangle for the ages! You might end up on TV!”

And there it went. “Dazai!” The brunette took off with a cackle, running away as Kunikida chased him down. Soon the office was full of laughter once more.

Send me a candy heart and I'll write a dabble for it!

#Candy Heart Valentine Event #chve2k24 #tickle #tickle dabble #bsd #kunikida doppo #dazai osamu #platonic #fluff #I love writing these dorks holy akjjkarjkeajkr

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softpine · 28 days

Note

📩 Simblr question of the day: Choose as many sims/ocs as you'd like for this question, What's something INCREDIBLY obscure and/or out-of-pocket about your sim/oc? Something that nobody (fellow sims and/or your followers and mutuals) knows 👀 (This could be things about their social skills, physicality and/or birth defects, or it could be something they vaguely remember, a dream they had that actually predicted the future, etc etc... whatever you come up with)

oooh i have SO many

shortly after caroline and beth got married, caroline got a tattoo of a bee for her. and well. it's a pussy tat 😌 she might have become less impulsive with time but she missed having someone's name on her, so she compromised. and beth loves it lmao (i actually did draw it and added it to her tattoo overlay even though you'll probably never see it)

mikaela is incredibly good at finding people's veins. whenever there's a patient who's scared of needles, they always have her do it because it'll be super quick and painless

casper didn't have a bedroom until he was like 6 and even then, he slept in his parents' bed until he was 12

coco was born with a broken collarbone but it's the only bone she's ever broken to this day (also, even with that, coco was the easiest birth her mom had out of 5 children, so... that poor woman has been through a lot 😬)

stevie likes going to concerts and musical festivals with the friends we don't see on-screen because they're irrelevant. they're older, so they're able to get her into places she wouldn't normally be able to go. she's taken elaine a few times and they had fun, but it's not her scene (and elaine is always worried about getting in trouble)

even when he was just starting out in the music industry as a teenager, danny has never gotten starstruck meeting celebrities. they're all just Some Guy to him. but if he met tony hawk he would literally lose the ability to speak

asa is perceived by strangers as just... a weird guy. he talks to himself under his breath (sometimes he really is talking to himself, sometimes he's talking to finn or another ghost), he's kind of shaky and twitchy because of the meds he takes, he gets lost in thought and can drift in and out of conversation, he paces around, etc. kids used to be really mean to him around middle school age, but as everyone got older they started to mostly feel bad for him and avoid him (it helps that stevie and elaine are well-liked and won't tolerate anyone saying rude things about asa)

#thank youuuu <3 i don't think i've ever gotten the simblr question of the day so this felt nice #asks #anonymous #nonsims #brandi answers

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starfxkr · 17 days

Note

How would TP!JJ react when TP!reader tells him off on how horribly he’s been treated her, she’s just so hurt by him that she just walks out of the trailer without looking back (it takes him about 2-3 weeks to try to get her back) I just need to see how much he actually loves her and how desperate he is for her to stay under the same roof as him.

she never quite tells him off when she left because she got tired of constantly asking and begging him to treat her right and when she chooses to just leave without saying anything it makes more of an impact.

once he stops moping though? he's in overdrive trying to fix everything, not only does he cut off all the women he was with he makes a big point of telling them to leave her alone, clearly it doesnt work automatically because he ends up having to go back and threaten them, but he does put in effort. every day he's going to her house tryna see her, messaging her on facebook, and he just turns into this desperate man.

it culminates in him getting the tattoo with her name and her kiss print and that clash with the guy she's dating. there's the i love you exchanged and the fucking but after its still tenuous.

and she tries to resist it but jj cannot live without her, he's not above cornering her to steal kisses or finding ways to bring her back to the trailer for dinner. and obviously she's wary about it but he seems so nervous and twitchy and she's noticing that he hasn't gotten rid of her stuff--on the contrary he has it all integrated with the rest of his things. and it's just a hot second of them building trust.

#✨.txt #jj maybank prompt #trailer park!jj

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morgana-artt · 8 months

Text

First Meeting (P x GN!Reader)

NOTE: So this is my first x reader, I've checked for mistakes but if there's still any I do apologise and I hope you enjoy it!

_________________________________________

You were sick of this, sick of everything that has happened in Krat. Everything had happened so suddenly with puppets murdering people and people becoming sick because of the petrification disease, you were just someone who visited Krat trying to look for work and yet you got more than you bargained for.

Trying to dodge the puppets and even people who tried to pull a fast one on you, you managed to finally get to the hotel that was supposedly a safe place. Upon entering you were enriched with how big this place was and even how clean it was despite the random luggage bags that were sprawled out in certain places within the hotel, probably from the sudden panic everyone would've been in during the attacks, poor sods.

Walking in you were greeted by an elegant looking lady in blue, she smiled and approached you "Hello, are you here for refuge?" she spoke, her voice as soft as she looked. You nodded,

"Y-yes...I heard that this was pretty much the only safe place in Krat, I hope I'm not barging in on anything I can leave if it-", she shook her head, "No, no! Please stay, Miss Antonia kept this hotel open so people could stay in. You're more than welcome" she gave a small smile. You softly chuckled and thanked her before taking a seat near what appeared to be the library, you noticed a woman in a wheelchair gazing at the painting in front of her, you greeted her as she did to and turns out that was thee Miss Antonia that Sophia mentioned.

With the greetings done you decided to take a look at the books which you weren't really invested in but it was something to pass the time with, you also noticed the piano, you yourself never learned how to play but you do remember your mother playing one a few times when she had the time.

About to sit down you heard the door at the back of the hotel open and footsteps approach, you heard the soft voice of Sophia talking with the person who just arrived, you peeked out from the library and noticed a person that was in blue attire and what you noticed mostly was the metal arm they had, 'A prosthethic?' you wondered before looking up at the back of the head of this person. Their hair was between black and brown you couldn't tell but the person turned around you swore your heart stopped a second, they were beautiful and certainly looked out of place wihtin the broken city of Krat. Upon seeing the two finish their conversation you saw Sophia point her head towards the library with a smile, the person, assuming they were a guy, looked towards the library making you jump and rush back inside the room, your face heating up out of embarassment and you went to sit down with the book you had picked.

Hearing foot steps come in you slowly peeked at the new person in the room, he looked at you and his stare was almost...puppet like? He was a bit twitchy and he just seemed odd. The boy approached you silently and tilted his head at you, was he greeting you? Was he mute? You decided to start the conversation, "Ah...hi? I'm (Y/N), I've just arrived and your name is?", he blinked silently before quietly saying "...P" "P? Thats...an unusual name, is it a nickname?" you asked as he just shrugged, "Wait...don't tell me you've been going out there?!" you exclaimed suddenly as you noticed the sword he had that was hooked to his belt, he nodded "Need...to do...a job", his monotone voice replied, "help...Krat" he said and became silent after. You blinked, "then you're extremely brave P, it's scary out there...everywhere you turn it's just violence and death..." you frowned as you spoke, "I can't even say 'I want to go home' because I don't really have a home to go to" you

continued, P just stayed quiet but you could tell he was listening very intently as he slowly sat down next you on the couch, "Home...what is home?" he asked softly, looking directly at you.

You frowned, what was home? Some people say home is where the heart is but for you your heart is just...lost. You never really had a stable life as you only had your mother who passed away when you were young and thus having you be moved around to different boarding schools which wasn't fun because being the constant newcomer had made you out to be an easy target. So no, you had no idea what the true meaning of 'home' is.

Hearing P tilted his head again, you turned to him and softly smiled before quietly saying, "I don't know...I wish i did but I don't, sorry P" you gave an apologetic smile as the boy next you blinked as you continued, "People say home is with the people you're surrounded with could be a family member, a friend or even a lover, thats one definition of home for some and for others it can be a physical building ha ha..." you chuckled dryly before going quiet. "There's...no need to be scared. I'm...going to fix this." you heard the boy next you speak up, "then maybe...you can find a place...or person to call home." he contiued making you softly smile, that was sweet of him even if you didn't fully believe him at least he was trying to make you feel better. "Thank you, P. But please be careful when you go out there...you seem like a good person and it would be a shame for you to get hurt", you said as he nodded. You two went silent as you looked through your book, noticing P moving closer and by closer it was his upper half while his lower half was still planted in the same spot, you snickered as you patted the side next you inviting him to sit next you. He took the invite and sat next you, you noticed his body felt firm and slightly cold but deciding not to comment you smiled at him. "Do you enjoy reading? I'm not really a big fan but it's a nice thing to pass the time with" you spoke, as P shook his head "I don't understand a lot of it...", "Oh? like you can't read?" you asked, "I can but...some words I don't understand..." he muttered, you gave a small smile "well...maybe I can help? Teach you the words you're not familiar with?" you offered, P looked down before looking up at you and gave you a small smile,

"I would like that, thank you."

#lies of p #p x reader #x reader #gn reader #reader insert #morganaawrites

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steddiecameraroll · 1 year

Text

Your Silence Gives Me a Migraine

ao3

“Ugh, that guy is coming in today.” Steve’s looking over his schedule to mentally prepare for his upcoming appointments.

“What guy?” Robin spins around on her stool.

“The sleeve, the guy that can’t sit still. Mr 80s wannabe metalhead.”

“Oh, you mean the guy you think is super hot?” She stops spinning and starts lobbing cotton balls over at him.

“No, I don’t. Stop it.” He swats at the flying objects.

“I know the Harrington attraction face, don’t try and deny it.”

“Whatever” She might be correct, but he won’t admit it.

“What time does he get here?” She scoots closer to him, sliding across the tiled floor.

“He’s my second appointment. I’ve got a quick one first. I’m hoping I can finish his arm today. He’s so twitchy.” He starts setting up his station.

“But then you wouldn’t get to ogle him anymore.”

“I do not ogle him. He’s frustrating, so you see annoyance, not attraction.” Maybe a little attraction.

“Uh-huh,” she smirks and rolls back to her side of the studio.

The duo joined the tattoo shop as apprentices around the same time. They bonded over hours of practice sketches and mutual frustration with the stringent rules on Japanese-style tattoos.

They’re now going on four years as best friends and full-fledged tattoo artists. Robin is a natural with Fine Line and Neo-Traditional, while Steve is a master at American Traditional. They’re both practicing their geometric style and hate doing watercolor.

They’re two peas in a pod, twins without being related. So Robin knows what she’s talking about when she gives Steve grief for his obvious crush on Mr. Metalhead. He can deny it all he wants, but she knows what he looks like when he’s smitten.

“You gonna give him your number this time?”

“No,” he rolls his eyes. “Technically, he has my number.” It’s on his business card, and every client gets one.

“He won’t text you if he doesn’t know he can. He’s your client; he’s not going to overstep.” She grabs the nearby disinfectant and starts wiping down her chair.

“Have you met that guy? All he does is overstep. He would text me if he wanted to. He probably even knows my Instagram. He’d message me there too. The guy has no boundaries.”

It’s true. This will be his third appointment. Each time before, he’s hugged Steve. Not just one of those side half-bro hugs, but full-fledged throws his arms around Steve and hugs him hugs. He invades Steve’s personal space. He talks too loud. He fidgets and taps his foot. He shakes his leg. He’s a bundle of energy and doesn’t care if it affects anyone else.

He would know if the man were even remotely attracted to him. The man is not subtle. He’s a bull in a china shop wearing a tutu. Steve’s not even sure he’s queer. Maybe, the guy is just really comfortable with his sexuality and doesn’t mind casual touch, even with another man.

“I’m just saying, you might wanna make it obvious.”

“Says the woman who refuses to text that girl in here last week.” He smirks.

“I’m working up to it.”

The woman in question had come in for her first tattoo. Something she’d planned and thought through for years before finally making an appointment. Robin was grateful at how prepared the woman had been since she was a little flustered and wouldn’t have been able to come up with a proper design.

Steve enjoyed watching that interaction. Robin stumbled over her words, was quieter than usual, and doted on her hand and foot when the woman almost fainted.

“What was her name?”

“Nancy.” Robin mumbles.

“Nancy? That’s a pretty old-fashioned name.”

“Ok, Steven. What’s lover boy’s name?”

“Eddie,” Steve grumbles.

“Like Eddie Vedder?”

“I guess. I don’t know.”

“Hey, Steve.” Lucy, their shop assistant, pops her head into their room. “Your appointment is here.”

“Cool, bring her in.” He grabs a pair of gloves and slides them over his fingers.

Steve fist-bumps his last client before she steps out of the studio when he hears the familiar stomping of Doc Martens coming down the hallway.

His stomach drops, and he slides his stool quickly in front of the mirror, checking his hair before looking away and acting as nonchalantly as possible.

“Stevie! My favorite tattoo artist.” Eddie stands in the doorway, filling the space with more than his booming voice.

Steve’s mouth goes dry when his eyes take in the man. So Robin is more than right about Steve’s attraction.

Eddie’s long curly hair is pulled up high into a messy bun. He’s wearing a threadbare black AC/DC t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, exposing his ribs. A couple of silver chains are wrapped around his neck, and his torn-up skinny jeans are shoved into his combat boots. He’s smiling wide, exposing two adorably sexy dimples that make Steve want to bite them.

The tattoo spiraling around his left arm is starting to look like it’s completing his look. Steve will be slightly bummed when they’re done with it. However, Eddie is a terrible client. He can not sit for shit. So Steve won’t be too bummed.

“Come in, man. I gotta clean up first. You can sit over there.” Steve motions to the guest chair near his station.

Eddie saunters into the room, spinning a little on his feet before collapsing into the chair. His limbs flop down as if someone had cut his marionette strings.

Steve tries to ignore him and focus on cleaning up after his last client.

“I’ve missed you and your cheerful face.”

Steve plucks his gloves off and tosses them in the trash while rolling his eyes at Eddie.

“Yeah, just like that.” Eddie’s smile widens into something more mischievous. “What are you gonna do with yourself when we’re done? Won’t have anything to look forward to.”

“I’ll have plenty to look forward to. You won’t be coming in anymore.” This is how Steve flirts, at least how he flirts with Eddie.

Most everyone else Steve flirts with gets a little charm, a smile, a wink, and a cheesy but workable pick-up line, but not Eddie.

This tennis match is an evident back-and-forth of who will break first. Steve’s cautious but optimistic about his chances. He’s had enough crushes on straight men to know when to toe the line, so he’s careful.

“I almost believe you.” Eddie sighs and pushes himself to his feet.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and starts meandering around the room. He first looks over Robin’s station, giving Steve space to continue clearing and setting up. Then he moves closer to Steve, looking to see him filling his ink for Eddie’s tattoo.

“You’re not gonna miss me?” Eddie asks while leaning in closer.

Steve pulls back a little and tries to hide a smile. “I think I’ll be all right. And if I do, I’ll just go hang out with my 3-year-old godson.”

“Are you saying I’m a toddler?” Eddie crosses his arms and leans against the counter facing Steve.

“I’m saying you’re loud and can’t sit still.”

Eddie scrunches his face and thinks about that for a moment. “Touche. Is this a favorite godson, at least?”

“The only godson.”

“So yes, the favorite.” Eddie turns around and leans his arms on the edge of the counter behind him, leaning back to look up at Steve. “I’m gonna miss you. I might need to start tattooing other parts of my body finally. Gotta come see my favorite tattoo artist and all.”

“We might not finish today, so calm down.”

“Really?” Eddie perks up.

“It depends on if you can sit still or not.”

“Hmmm, I guess we’ll see.”

Steve catches a glint of something in Eddie’s eye and doesn’t want to dwell on what it could mean.

“Hey Steve, is he here yet?” Robin comes to a skidding stop in their doorway.

She covers her mouth with her hand, and Steve’s eyes widen, warning her to chill the fuck out.

“Is who here?” Eddie beams at her.

“The-the mailman?” She presses her lips together and awkwardly enters the room.

“Are you not sure?” Eddie’s eyes track her as she steps around them.

“No-yes? No, I’m sure.”

“Mailman, huh? Sounds hot.”

Steve’s mouth falls open a little as he turns to look at Eddie. Robin snorts a non-secretive laugh to herself while Eddie casually looks up at the ceiling.

“I’ve always liked a man in a uniform. What about you, Stevie? Those tight little USPS shorts do it for you?” Eddie tilts his head, letting his eyes rake over Steve while he bites his bottom lip.

Steve can feel his face flush, and he tries to bring his focus back to his hands. “I don’t know, never thought about it.”

“What about you, Robin? You like a lady in a uniform?” Eddie turns his attention to Robin, and Steve feels he might be able to catch his breath.

“Yeah, I think I do. Our regular UPS driver is pretty hot.” Robin kicks her feet out and rests them on her stool.

“It’s the brown shorts, does something for asses.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters to himself.

“What was that?” Eddie spins back to Steve.

“Nothing, keep talking to Rob. Let me finish up.”

Eddie does as he’s told and saddles up to Robin. He grabs her stool, drops her feet off, and then flops himself down.

“I was asking Stevie here if he would miss me when we were done with my arm. You think he’s gonna miss me, Robin?”

Steve gives her a warning glare before turning back to his ink.

Robin waits until Steve’s attention is diverted, then looks directly into Eddie’s eyes, gives him a pointed nod, and then looks back at Steve, ensuring he didn’t see her.

Eddie’s eyes widen, and his lips part in surprise. He raises his eyebrows seeking verification. She gives him a small smile and nods again. Eddie’s shoulders drop, and the color in his cheeks washes out. Robin silently starts to panic and reaches for Eddie. She can tell he wasn’t expecting that and is now having a mini panic attack.

She doesn’t know what to do without drawing attention to them and then remembers she has a couple of wrapped candies in her pocket. She roots around, grabs one, pulls it out, and offers it to Eddie. He stares at her confused but takes the candy from her palm, unwraps it, and pops it into his mouth.

The sugar spreads through him, and he feels a little better. “Thanks.”

She nods at him and then grabs a nearby sketchpad and pencil in her cart. She flips to a blank page and scribbles out a note.

He thought you were straight.

Eddie reads it, and his eyes go wide. He points to himself in a ‘me?’ kind of way.

She nods and then sees Steve move. Slamming the sketchbook shut, she nervously tries to communicate silently to Eddie with her eyes.

“Why are you two being so quiet? It’s freaking me out.” Steve looks over at them, glancing between the pair.

“We were talking telepathically,” Eddie responds.

“That’s not weird. Ok, you ready?” Steve motions to his chair.

“As I’ll ever be.” Eddie gives Robin a wink and then skips to Steve’s chair, sliding in quickly. “Be gentle, doc.”

Steve sighs as he sits on his stool, pulling his gloves over his hands. “Are you going to sit still?”

“I will do my best. There should be some kind of ADHD accommodation or whatever for tattoos. It’s not my fault my brain doesn’t like staying put.”

“Isn’t that what fidget spinners are for?” Steve asks as he pulls his cart closer.

“Fidget spinners are for children and birds. I need a clicky pen but louder and requires more movement from both hands.”

Steve stares at him, trying to comprehend what he just said.

“I get that,” Robin speaks up.

Eddie snaps his fingers and points over to her. “See? Team neuro spicy?”

“Mhmm,” she smiles.

“Sweet,” he points to Steve, and she shakes her head. “Makes sense.”

“What just…?” Steve looks between the two.

“I told you, telepathy.” Eddie smiles wide and tilts his chin up. “You ready to spend the next several hours mere inches away from me, pretty boy?”

Eddie clocks the slight shift in Steve’s face to the nickname before he feigns annoyance.

“Yeah, I’m gonna grab the stencil.” Steve huffs and heads out of the room.

“You’re serious? He likes me?” Eddie whisper-yells over to Robin.

“He won’t admit it, but he does.”

“What do you mean he won’t admit it? So he doesn’t?” Eddie twists uncomfortably in the chair.

“No, no, he does. He just won’t say it out loud.”

“That doesn’t sound like he does, Robin.”

“No, he…” She shuts her mouth when Steve reappears.

“Alright, give me your arm.”

Eddie holds his arm up, and Steve slides his hand under Eddie’s elbow, holding it gently. Steve feels Eddie’s eyes on him. He looks up at him through his eyelashes.

“What?” Steve’s hand hovers over Eddie’s bicep.

“Nothin’.”

Steve glances past Eddie to look at Robin, trying to see if something has happened between them. She’s scribbling in her sketchbook, looking otherwise preoccupied. He turns his attention to Eddie’s arm and finishes laying the last stencil for Eddie’s outline. Most of the day will be spent coloring. Steve will soon know if Eddie’s skin takes the color well or if they’ll have to go over it again in another session.

“All right, all set. Ready?” Steve asks as he turns to grab his machine and get himself situated.

“Let’s do it.” Eddie pulls his phone from his front pocket and tries to get comfortable. He knows he’s going to be here awhile.

Steve clicks the machine on and pulls the pedal closer with his foot, putting it right where he needs it. He rolls his neck a couple of times and inhales deeply before dipping into the ink and moving to Eddie’s arm.

“If you need a break, let me know.”

Eddie nods but keeps himself focused on his phone. Steve feels something akin to disappointment but doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Eddie doesn’t usually pull his phone out for a couple of hours, only after he’s told Steve every possible weird story and anecdote from his life that’s happened since they last saw each other.

“Um, so how’s that one friend of yours? The one who broke his wrist?”

“Oh, he’s good. The cast is supposed to come off in a couple of weeks.”

“Cool,” Steve wipes Eddie’s skin waiting for any more of the story but not getting it. “Did…anything happen with the venue?”

“Naw.”

Steve sighs to himself and realizes he was being ridiculous earlier. He was correct; there wasn’t really anything between the two of them. That’s just how Eddie is. He tries to shove the pang of disappointment down and focus on the task at hand.

The thing is, this is the calmest Eddie’s sat for any previous session. Steve’s zipping through, finishing the linework. Maybe this will be their last session.

Robin heads out a little while later, leaving the two men alone for the first time in hours.

“We might be able to finish this today,” Steve says, sounding upbeat.

“Yeah?” Eddie’s voice sounds surprisingly less enthused.

“Maybe, this is the best you’ve ever sat.” Steve tries to joke again and get that friendly ribbing back, but Eddie doesn’t bite.

Steve pulls the machine away, releases the pedal, and sits back.

After a couple of seconds, Eddie notices and cautiously turns to look at Steve.

“Is something wrong?”

“Did I- do something?” Steve asks nervously.

“What?” Eddie stares.

“You’re… I don’t know. You ok?”

“Y-yeah, I’m good.”

While chewing on his bottom lip, Steve looks the man over. Something’s off, and he doesn’t like it. This isn’t the Eddie he’s grown fond of. He doesn’t know who this is. He’s not even the same man that walked in here earlier.

“No, I think we should be done today.”

“What? You said we might finish.” Eddie’s eyes go wide, and Steve thinks he sees panic behind them.

“Yeah, but I think I’m getting a migraine or something. My vision isn’t… I need to stop.” Steve feels terrible for lying, but their silence makes him nervous, affecting his work. “I’ll clean you up and get you wrapped up, and then you can head out. We can schedule your final appointment later. I’m sorry.”

Steve goes through the motions of cleaning Eddie’s arm and then carefully wrapping it in Saniderm. He avoids making eye contact the entire time. The pit in his stomach grows in size as each second passes.

This is incredibly unprofessional, and he’s kicking himself over it but doesn’t know what else to do.

Eddie doesn’t speak as Steve finishes up. However, his leg does start to jiggle impatiently, and Steve notices the motion. It looks more like Eddie, as Steve knows him.

“Ok, you’re all set. Um, sorry again. Next time we’ll be able to finish. Promise.” Steve scoots his stool away from Eddie and hangs his hands between his legs. He wants to curl into a ball and hide.

Eddie sits still for a moment. Steve watches as Eddie chews on his bottom lip, his brows pinched and clearly deep in thought.

“S-Steve?”

Eddie looks nervous, and Steve doesn’t like it. “Yeah?”

Eddie takes one last deep breath and then looks directly into Steve’s eyes. Steve’s breath catches in his throat with the intensity of Eddie’s eyes.

“Would you…? Can I…? Fuck,” Eddie looks away to collect himself, and it’s just intensifying Steve’s anxiety. “Ok, I’m just gonna say it…fuck. Do you wanna go out with me?” He rushes through it, ensuring not to chicken out again. “And I guess if you say no, you will have to see me at least one more time. Shit, I didn’t think this through. Wait, um…no, never mind. I don’t know what I’m talking about.” Eddie pushes himself to his feet and begins rushing to the door before letting Steve respond. “Shit, my phone.” He comes back and grabs his phone that was resting on the chair. “Just… I’ll call the shop later and schedule…for, I’m gonna go. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

Steve sits a little stunned at first, then realizes Eddie’s leaving. He stumbles to his feet, his stool sliding across the tile. “W-wait…Eddie, wait.” Steve rushes to the hallway and catches a glimpse of Eddie’s back as the door to the waiting room shuts behind him. “Shit.”

He races after him, grateful today was the day he wore his Converse. His hand slams against the door, pushing it open, almost running into another client.

“Oh, um, sorry.” He moves around them and looks around the room, scanning for the dark curly hair. He sees a flash of it as the front door shuts. “Shit.”

Steve hesitates, contemplating whether he should go after him or let it be. Eddie asked and then took it back so quickly; maybe he didn’t mean it at all in the first place. But it did prove Steve was right; they had been flirting. That means Steve can turn on his charm; if that’s the case, he’s not letting Eddie get away.

His feet start moving again, and he rushes out the front door looking down the street, trying to find Eddie. He sees him a ways away, his head lowered, and his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Eddie!” Steve starts running, weaving in and out around other pedestrians. He keeps his eyes locked on the man and kicks up his speed. “Eddie, wait!”

He sees Eddie pause, most likely hearing his name, and start looking around.

“Wait…Eddie!”

Steve’s closer, and Eddie recognizes the sound coming from behind him. He turns and makes eye contact with Steve, who’s racing toward him. Steve sees fear wash over Eddie’s face.

“W-wait…” Steve catches up and is panting hard, trying to catch his breath. “Wait.” He leans over, putting his hands on his knees and breathing heavily. “Shit, I should probably start working out again.”

Eddie stares at Steve, who’s wheezing, trying to catch his breath.

“You didn’t…” he pants a few times before being able to continue. “You didn’t give me a chance…to answer.”

“What?”

“My answer is you didn’t let me.” Steve stands up and puts his hands on his hips.

“Your answer? Please tell me you didn’t just run after me to make sure to say no to my face.” Eddie says bitterly.

“What? No.” Steve cocks his hip looking more like a disappointed parent.

“No?” Eddie crosses his arms over his chest.

“Will you let me talk?”

“Excuse me. Go ahead, your highness.”

“Your Highness? This is what you do.” He throws up his hands. “Every time. Just a train, barreling through and ramming into things.”

“What?”

“Just…you didn’t even let me answer. You just ramble and then run off like it doesn’t matter. Robin does that; it drives me crazy. You two are a lot alike.”

“Are we arriving at the point soon?” Eddie shifts his weight on his feet and stares at Steve.

“Fuck off… See, you don’t let me speak.”

“I won’t let you speak? Are you serious? I just sat in a room with you for hours in silence. You could’ve said anything at any time.”

Steve’s nostrils flare in annoyance. They both sat in silence. Eddie’s the one that always talks. So why was it Steve’s job today to fill the silence? He likes hearing Eddie talk. He hears himself talk all the time.

“I tried…to talk to you today. Remember, I asked about that friend of yours? I wanted to know what happened, and you-you gave me nothing.” Steve crosses his arms and huffs.

People are weaving around the two men, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, unaware of their surroundings.

“You don’t care. You’re just being Mr. Customer Serviceman. I know our positions here. I pay you to tattoo me. You have to be nice to me.” Eddie’s face shows no hint of humor.

“No, I don’t. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. I don’t have to be nice to you. I want to be nice to you. I like hearing your dumb stories. They’re insane and entertaining like you. I like- I like listening to you talk. Why didn’t you talk today?” Steve’s frustration slowly cools down as he sees Eddie’s face slipping into surprise.

“You like hearing me talk?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, a little quieter. “You have a nice voice. And I don’t have to say anything. I can just listen. Like a podcast…in person.”

A small smile appears on Eddie’s face. “A podcast?”

“Kind of,” Steve bites back a smile. “Yeah.”

Eddie takes one cautious step closer to Steve. “So, you’re saying you missed me talking today?”

“Yeah,” Steve rolls his eyes playfully. “Shut up.”

“So? If you didn’t race after me to say no….” Eddie continues moving forward, letting his eyes rake over Steve. “What did you chase after me to say?”

Steve turns his head to look away, uncomfortable under Eddie’s heated gaze. “I was going to say yes…now I’m not sure.”

Eddie grabs Steve’s chin gently and turns him to make eye contact. “Not sure?”

Steve would bet everything he owned that the contact between them generated a spark of electricity. He’s so sure he felt it against his skin.

“I mean, you were kinda rude to me.” Steve’s voice is a little breathy.

“Was I? I should probably make it up to you, huh?” Steve nods. “You busy later?”

Steve shakes his head. “No. I’m not busy right now, either. My appointment got cut short.”

Eddie smirks. “I recall something about a migraine?”

“Yeah, but false alarm, it seems. His silence was hurting my head.”

Eddie’s fingers trail down Steve’s chin and across his chest. “Good thing I’m pretty loud.”

Steve tucks a stray strand of Eddie’s hair around his ear. “Can’t wait to find out.”

“Ooohhhh, this is gonna be good,” Eddie growls.

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steve x eddie #stranger things #Steve is a tattoo artist #steve harrington #Eddie has ADHD #they’re giant dorks who can’t flirt #steddiecameraroll posts #my writing

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phoenixyfriend · 1 year

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hi, What do you Think a twilight starWars crossover would Look like¿

send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it

This ask meme is from over a year ago. Please don't send new prompts.

I think we ought to go full on intrusive crossover here. Couple of SW characters get dumped in Twilight via Weird Sith Temple. Somewhere midway through New Moon, after Edward leaves but before Bella starts clawing her way out of depression, some new people show up in town. "Ben," Anakin, and Ahsoka. (Obi-Wan quickly realized that his full name got weirder looks than the others, and Ben didn't, so he shifted.)

Ahsoka doesn't go out much, but fully disguises herself when she does. It involves a whole lot of tattoo-coverup foundation to disguise her marks, keeping her mouth mostly closed when she talks to hide her peculiar teeth, and wraps her lekku and montrals up in a weird way that ends up looking like a cross between horned hennin (the medieval veil horns, think "Disney's Descendants" Maleficent) and a hijab (deeply uncomfortable, because this is not her religion and, even if there are other religions that engage in similar coverage, she doesn't belong to any of them). It nets her a decent amount of attention, which she hates, so she usually stays in the small house they've gotten, or runs off to spend time alone or with Anakin in the forest. With the Force, she can stay warned of random hikers well enough to avoid running into strangers when she isn't in disguise.

Since Anakin and Obi-Wan are both too old for high school and do not have any interest in it anyway, and Ahsoka's definitely not going to do anything in that regard because she's not going out into public unless she absolutely has to, we do not have the usual Twilight crossover situation of running into people at high school. Instead, there are three separate incidents that lead to these lives intersecting: - Obi-Wan gets investigated by Charlie, because quite frankly people are concerned about His Daughter being such a shut-in and Charlie figured he'd check in personally before trying to get CPS involved. - Bella's old truck has a problem, and before she can take it to a mechanic or call Jacob (as suggested by Charlie), that Weird New Guy who's a few years older than her sees her staring under the hood of her truck with a look of pure confusion. - Ahsoka, who can usually avoid people in the forest, runs into one of the early pack members, who are much much faster than the humans she's been doing just fine circling around. Paul or Sam, probably.

Results: - Obi-Wan manages to talk his way out of trouble by being himself, but also by successfully explaining that Ahsoka, due to some bodily traits she was born with, finds herself very uncomfortable in public due to people staring at her, which does get corroborated by Ahsoka herself a few days later. - Bella, who gets 'this is a weird ass person who is very dangerous' vibes from Anakin, feels alive for the first time in months. She decides to seek him out for more of Danger Adrenaline Wakefulness to combat her debilitating depression. He handles this by deciding she should learn how to fight. It's not a great solution but it's... a solution? (Anakin would much prefer if she'd gone her canon route and started hanging out with Jacob instead. The only teen girl he wants to spend time with is his little sister. Why is this girl here? Anakin hopes she doesn't have a crush, he's definitely told her he's married in hopes of heading that off, which led to a very uncomfortable conversation with Obi-Wan.) At some point, Bella does start hanging out with Jacob, because their friendship means a lot to me, but also because Charlie's not exactly comfortable with Bella hanging out around that twitchy veteran who gets a far-off look in his eyes sometimes and is a few years older than Bella, just dashing enough that if she falls in love with a guy who moved in from out of town again, he's not sure she'll recover when he leaves. (Charlie's much less worried after Bella mentions, once, that Anakin's hoping to leave soon to get back to His Wife, whom he clearly loves a lot according to Bella, but Charlie's still much more comfortable with her hanging out at La Push.) - Ahsoka has some new friends, who are weird enough that she doesn't have to hide being weird too. Sure, she's a space alien with horns and fleshy tentacles and stripes, but they can shapeshift and are theoretically immortal, so who's counting?

Alice and Jasper show up a few weeks later, because 'being around Anakin' is actually not great for Bella's future being visible (because he's not actually 100% human, for Force baby reasons, so everything about him makes Bella's future fuzzy), and now they run into Ahsoka, and. That's not really great for anyone? Ahsoka isn't fast enough to run away from them without using the Force but she is tricky enough to trip them up and run off and trained enough to shrug of Jasper's emotional manipulations. She runs to the house and hides in her room after letting Obi-Wan know what happened. She's pretty sure these are the 'vampires' those shapeshifter guys told her about.

#Ahsoka Tano #Anakin Skywalker #Obi Wan Kenobi #Anidala #(mentioned)#twilight #star wars #the clone wars #crossovers #phoenix answers memes

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silverskye13 · 2 years

Text

An Interview in Hels

A tall man sits down at the desk. His blonde hair is a mess, and he seems oddly fragile without the horned helm on. It'd been a fight to get him to take it off. He scowls, all sharp edges, broken glass.

"Let's get this over with."

"My hermit?" She curls a strand of red hair around her pale finger. "Couldn't care less about her, I don't think. I've got my own stuff going on. Besides, she's already dead, technically. That means I've won, right?"

She raises an eyebrow condescendingly. “Right.”

"I thought we weren't going to interview me. I mean, I don't mind. I like talking. But I don't have a hels."

The man grins. His youthful features are new. The mischief in his eyes is not.

"Not anymore anyway. Not anymore."

"Ye be wasting my time with this." The man growls, because that seems to be the only tone his voice can take. It might be a side-effect of the axe, or it might just be his dramatic flair. "I don't care for my hermit. Why would I? The man's a coward. He made me, didn't he?"

"Welsknight. What a laugh." He sniffs haughtily, rolling his eyes. "The man's hardly a knight - unless his tenets of chivalry include being a pathetic mess and avoiding conflict like the plague. In which case he's the best knight around. And he has the nerve to think he's the stronger of the two of us? I was forged in flame. What's he made of? Fairy dust?"

She giggles. "Oh I fink she's adorable. You see all the pink she wears? Got a mean streak in 'er too, and a god named after 'er. You don't get much better than that."

She kicks her feet up on the desk nonchalantly, like she owns the place. Her boots are black and studded, as is the rest of her outfit, and her dyed hair. "I mean, not my style really, but I can respect it. I'm gonna be honest luv, I think she could do me in. But why would she? She's got too much goin' on, and we're a bit too different anyway, ain't we? You oughta be interviewin' them poor sods is fading out. They'll care more than I do."

She twirls a necklace in between her fingers, content to let her attention wander away from the interview.

"Yeah, I confronted my hels. We were a lot alike." He's given up the pretense of humanity and is floating on his back over the chair, making himself comfortable. A pair of blue vex wings flicker faintly, filling the air with the crackle of magic. His lab coat brushes the chair he's supposed to be sitting in.

"Well I guess really he confronted me. Scrawny kid. Nothing wrong with that but I had more experience. And the smarts. He was fast though. Taught me a thing or two about speed running. He thought fast too. I think he was more of the speed chess kind of person.”

"I guess I think he's terrifying?" He laughs nervously, and ice curls with his breath. "I mean, you've seen what he does with the ravagers, and the redstone farms and the death machines. I always kinda thought he should be the hels anyway, since he's got all the fire-ificatory stuff going on."

He runs his claws through his hair, and the air is chilled as he sighs. "Though I guess I would think that. None of us really thinks we're the bad guys here, right?"

"Okay fine, I'll answer your damn questions, but if the feds ask, I was never here. You got me?" He has square glasses and forest green hair, and there's a fresh burn scar showing underneath his shirt. It seems like the last of his concerns right now.

"Yeah I think he's a coward. He calls his dumb tweets social justice? I'll show you what justice is. Justice is a pipe bomb on an oil rig - and there's one in your mailbox next week if you breath a word, am I clear?"

He’s twitchy, and rightfully so. His eyes case the room, searching for hidden cameras and microphones, and anything else that could capture evidence he was here.

“I think he’s the hels anyway. You’re telling me we’re the dark mirrors of these people? I admit, I have a bit of uhh… avant-garde approach to justice. But at least I try. That man cowers in his builds every day, making the world better with stupid pretty things. Who’s that helping? Who’s that saving? If I’m hels, heaven’s pathetic, and if you’re sharing this with our hermits, you can tell him I said that.”

He stands abruptly and leaves, slamming the door behind him. He has places to be, and a long list of important organizations to infiltrate and burn to the ground.

“I shouldn’t even exist. None of us should,” he snarls, and he fingers the axe scar on his neck. “We do because they’re too weak without us. Always lookin’ fer someone to blame, that lot. Someone responsible fer all their fell woes. None of us asked for this, did we? Nay, we just picked up the messes they dropped.”

He chuckles, and the furred cloak on his shoulders bristles like the hackles on a wolf. “I was made by the point of a blade, and I’ll see him suffer by one, ye can count on that mate. He can run, but he cannae hide from the boogieman in his reflection.”

“Kill her? No way!” she laughs like you’ve told a joke. There is a moon-shaped doodle she’s made on her wrist, and she adds rays to it with a red pen she hid in her sock. The doodle looks a bit like an eclipse, or a blood moon, or some other moon-based astrological weirdness. She’s probably hiding more things. The pat-down on the way in hadn’t robbed her of much. “I mean I could, don’t get me wrong. But that kinda ruins the point of it all, doesn’t it? We’re not supposed to exist, not really. So what happens then, when you get rid of the half of you that is supposed to exist?”

She shrugs, and her smile is radiant. Her eyes are red. “Well I don’t know. That’s why I asked you. All I know is Doc’s hels disappeared one day, and I can’t even remember what he looked like. Same thing with Hypno and Cub and… well… a lot of them really. Best not to tempt fate if you ask me. I quite like being alive and remembered, you know.”

She rests her chin on her interlaced fingers. “Sucks though, don’t it? I bet she’d be a fun fight. I don’t think anyone else would be enough of a challenge.”

“Iskall? Yeah, we worked together for a little while.” the assassin has a red beret, and they’re cleaning the glass on the sight they keep clipped to their glasses. Their rifle is propped against the door - they wouldn’t do the interview without it. “I wonder how they’re doing now? No, don’t tell me. It’s best we stay distant.”

They shrug, “That’s why we broke it off, you know. I mean, I’d made peace with it. Death is inevitable in this line of work. I didn’t really think it was all that different from getting shot on a job. I mean, there’s no respawning from something like that, but if you’re off-world, or on a hardcore server, same stakes right?”

They give a reminiscing sigh. “They were the more soft hearted out of the two of us though. Sentimental. So they insisted when they found out, that we do whatever we could to keep me alive. I’d have preferred the friend. You don’t get many with this kind of job.”

They resituated their sight over their eye, and tapped a button on their glasses. Some redstone circuit remade itself, and a small electronic overlay flickered to life on the red glass of the sight. “We breached the topic once, on what would happen if it was them or me. I offered we go to a hardcore world, get it over with. I figured they’d win, honestly, and I think they thought so too. They wouldn’t do it.”

They smirk, “Most people call that mercy, I think. I don’t much care for it, but it wasn’t my decision to make.”

“What, couldn’t get Evil X here so you settled on second best? Hahaha very funny. Yes whatever, I’m his hels. Yes I hate his guts. Can we go now?”

The creature in the chair is a shadow, with bloodshot eyes that imply a lack of sleep.

“What do you mean you’ve got more questions? I don’t care about your questions. I’m supposed to be haunting that idiot right now. He’s sleeping. Every night at sundown. This is my only time to terrorize-- yes this is important. Do I look like I’m doing this for fun? My life depends on this! You wouldn’t understand. You’re not a hels. You don’t get it. Last time he thought I was tolerable, we both disappeared for-- for----”

He looks confused, like his train of thought left him abruptly. He shakes his head, “Do you think this is funny? There are lives-- my life is at stake here! Hurry up with your next question.”

“He needs to be taught a lesson. He needs to be strong. I need to be strong. I’m the only one looking out for us.” He doesn’t look nervous, he looks stern. He reaches to tuck a strand of his blonde hair behind his ear so it doesn’t fall in his face. “Look, I already know I’m not different enough. I’m not like EX, or Cleo, or Joe. That just comes easy for them. They’re their own people now, and that’s great for them. But what about the rest of us? Those of us who only ever became mirrors? Mirrors shatter.”

He sighs, and he interlaces his gauntleted fingers together.

“I’m a knight. I can’t be self-serving in this. It doesn’t matter what I want. I’m helping hels, and all the helsmits and evil doubles that get tossed in there and left until their other halves finally do something about it. If that makes me like him, so be it. This isn’t about me. I’ve made peace with that.”

“I always kinda wondered what would happen if a hermit lost.”

He’s playing with his vex magic in the air, spinning a ball of it on an outstretched finger, reveling in the fact that he can. “We always hear about how the hels are our other halves - inner demons, the worst parts of us, evil twins, whatever you wanna call it. And I get that’s scary for some people. But I’m a vex man.”

He shrugs. “I kinda wondered what would happen if I lost… just for the heck of it. And he really wanted to win, you know. He avoided me for a long time. And when we finally decided to fight it out, he used every advantage he had. But he was the half of me that wasn’t supposed to exist, you know. The universe favors us. It always does.”

He smirks and drops back to his feet, standing behind the chair. His vex wings flex. “I really wanted him to win. Maybe that’s why I turned out this way. It feels a little less like I took back over, you know? We’re halves. I embraced it. Sure I look a little different, and my blood boils a little different. But I made a new speedrunning record this year. Did you see it?”

Cub shoves his hands in the pockets of his labcoat and shrugs.

“I think he could do it faster. Absolutely.”

#the barking writer #Through Hels or High Water #helsmits #hermitcraft #uhm i'm not tagging all of them #there's a lot of them here #anyway this is very much inspired by theminecraftbee's interview with the dead as far as format goes #i thought it'd be fun to experiment with a bunch of the helsmits here #try and spot which ones are which #The Red King Hels

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sleepynegress · 26 days

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tbh i didn’t wanna sound racist by commenting like ‘guys be nice OP is black!’ but i also know a lot of black people with names that pronounce E’s like that and i instantly assumed that’s where you got it 😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️ coming from a brown sister: i’m so so sorry lmfaooo this is a very caucasian site and u deserve better.

Mentioning someone's race isn't racist, especially if it adds context or is a basic descriptor? I saw a skit on one of these shows where someone was trying not to be racist by describing a Black man by everything but the easiest most obvious attribute, -his shirt color, his shoes, etc... and *that did* come off racist. But yeah, Black American culture has its own tradition of names. I am proud of it and love that for us, so I am in no way ashamed. It was such a whim type of post, I assumed I would get like 6 likes? I didn't even bother to look it up to check. As for people being dicks... I do understand the twitchy trigger on this. People are funny about language. It is what it is.

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blushweddinggowns · 1 year

Text

Steve was having a mild crisis. And its name was Eddie Munson. His new best friend, only second to Robin, the guy that Steve was sharing a bed with ten times out of ten. Steve never imagined that he’d ever end up this close to the dude who sold weed behind the gym, but here he was, absolutely obsessed.

At first, it hadn’t even been his fault, how could he not be obsessed when Eddie was on life support for a week? When he had to go through hell to recover? Being planted at his bedside was only natural, especially since Steve was the one to save his life.

Then he got better, but Steve didn’t go anywhere. He was too attached by then, lost in the orbit of Eddie’s magnetic personality. He was hilarious, he was sweet, and he was a little weird. Besides the whole alternative look and nerd game obsessions, Eddie had some quirks. Like how he was obsessed with feeding the raccoons that lived behind the trailer park, or how he insisted on teaching Steve all about tarot cards, because, “If hell can live below Hawkins then these cards got a shot at being true.”

He was a little bit twitchy and fidgety, never fully able to keep still. He’d do little things without realizing it, fiddling with his rings while they walked, playing with Steve’s fingers when they lay together in bed, rapping his fingers against the wheel as he drove, he was always moving in some new way. Steve liked watching him do it, it was such a stark difference from those terrible days when he was still in a hospital bed, it helped to remind him that Eddie was here. He made it, he was safe.

He was sensitive, and Steve had caught him tearing up more than once at a sappy movie or one of his insanely long fantasy novels. But he was unapologetic about it, always saying that bottling things up was for people who haven’t almost died.

Steve didn’t mind any of it. In fact, he was kinda into it. He liked almost everything about the guy, and it was getting worse instead of better. The more time they spent together, the more Steve wanted it, craved it even. And Eddie was always more than happy to give him what he wanted and it was making Steve feel greedy.

Because Steve wanted more. And he was pretty sure Eddie wanted more too.

He knew what platonic love felt like, and whatever was going on between them wasn’t it. His heart didn’t start racing whenever Robin hugged him. He didn’t catch himself staring at her lips when she went on a rant. He wasn’t obsessed with her arms, or had daydreams about how those callused fingers would feel on his bare skin.

He also didn’t fucking lose focus and start fantasizing about her hands when he thought about her.

It wasn’t normal how he felt. It wasn’t even close to normal and Steve didn’t know how to feel about it. So he invited Robin over, because what else could he do? Talk to Eddie about his feelings and risk their friendship over his gay thoughts?

Yeah, no.

She was barely through his front door when he blurted it out, “How did you know you were gay?”

She plopped down next to him, sitting on his feet with a cocked head. She didn’t ask for any clarification, or an explanation on why he would even ask that, she just launched into the answer, another thing Steve loved about her, “I’d say I figured it out around the third time I made out with my Farrah Fawcett poster.”

Well that was…almost helpful, “So you didn’t know immediately?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, ignoring the question. “This is about Eddie, isn’t it?”

Steve groaned, staring up at the ceiling. Was it really that obvious?

“It’s pretty obvious,” Robin went on, like the weirdo could read his mind, “The two of you always look like you’re five seconds away from making out.”

“We’re not that bad.

She smirked, a small thing, “You’re right, you're worse.”

Steve kicked at her a little, but it only worked to make her laugh.

“But I’m not…” Steve paused, struggling for the words,” Like that. Am I?”

He didn’t think he was like that. It’s not like it was the first time he’d ever been close to a guy his age before, but none of his old friends or teammates had sparked anything in him. Eddie didn’t really spark anything either, more like…set him ablaze from the inside. In a way that no guy or girl ever had.

It felt like he had been smacked in the face with it completely out of nowhere. One day he’s hanging out with his best friend, laying on their bed while he waited for Eddie to get ready. He had just finished finding semi-clean clothes before turning his back to Steve.

“I’m gonna change, so close your eyes,”

Steve hummed, stretching lazily out on the bed. He was in no hurry, they were just going on one of Eddie’s deals and he spent most of the time waiting in the passenger seat. Not the most exciting night. He let his eyes droop, but not all the way, silently tracking Eddie’s every move. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t closed them, but by the time Eddie had his shirt off he had his full attention.

He had seen them before, admired them even, living proof that Eddie had made it. But this was the first time Steve wanted to kiss them. It was the first time his mouth went dry at the sight of Eddie’s back, admiring the muscles under the skin.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since, and it happened a freaking month ago.

Fuck, maybe he was gay.

Robin shrugged at him, “Having to ask if you like dudes is usually a sign that you like dudes.”

“But I don’t like dudes,” Steve whined, “I just want him. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Steve realized just how stupid that sounded the second the words left his mouth, but it was too late. Robin was already cackling, “Oh my god, you’re an Eddie-sexual!”

Steve kicked her a little harder, face red, “I am not!”

He absolutely was, but that didn’t mean he had to admit it. Robin wipes a tear from her eye, still grinning ear to ear, “If you want him so bad, why haven’t you done anything about it?”

Steve sighed, “Because what if he isn’t…like that?”

“But what if he is?”

“But what if he isn’t?”

Robin leaned in closer, her eyes going serious, “But what if he is? Steve, think about it for a second. Think about how he acts around you, are you telling me there’s nothing he does that shows he’s into you? Come on, dig deep.”

Steve pursed his lips, thinking. There were a few things that came to mind, “He…he likes to touch me a lot? I don’t know, it’s like little things, holding hands when we’re alone and stuff. Sometimes he’ll put his hand in my back pocket when we’re walking together, just to mess with me y’know?”

For a second Steve could swear he saw Robin’s eye twitch, “Go on.”

“And we um, kind of sleep together every night? And he’ll do this thing in bed where I’ll be against his chest right? And he’ll wrap his arms around me really tight and it feels so good and- Why are you looking at me like that?”

Robin stared at him, eyebrows up to her hairline, “Are you freaking kidding me right now?”

“What?”

“Steve, sweetie, that is beyond gay. That’s like…I don’t even know. The two of you are basically already dating, you realize that right?”

Steve could feel some hope building up in his chest, “You think?”

Robin scoffed. She looked like she was five seconds away from choking him, “Do I think? He gropes your ass while you walk and you’re seriously wondering if he’s interested? Babe, how did we get here? I know you're smarter than this.”

Steve laughed, confidence growing bigger by the second, “So you think I should do something?”

“If you don’t, I’ll be forced to kill you, I swear to God.”

Steve grinned. He sat up hugging Robin to his chest while she squealed at him to let go. He kissed the top of her hair, both of them giggling all the while, “I promise I’ll do something. God, what would I do without you?”

She smiled up at him, “You’d be a loser.”

Steve laughed, knowing that there was some truth in that statement. But it didn’t matter, his mind was made up. He didn’t know how he was gonna do it, but he was going to make that nerd his boyfriend by the end of the month.

An excerpt from an unfinished chapter of this fic

#steddie #robin and steve #being besties #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #you're honor is it gay to want to kiss your bestfriends scars #asking for a friend #i will add the ao3 version of this part will be a bit more dirty #robin buckley #you'll pry my insanely long posts out of my cold dead hands #stranger things fic #stranger things

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