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fancifulplaguerat · 22 days

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As I continue to scratch like a little beast at the concept of fate in Patho Mark Immortell unfortunately needs to be discussed. Specifically Mark in Patho Classic, because he’s just so……. What the hell is going on with that dandy Mephistopheles. I have to know.

Mark is clearly cognizant of Patho’s narrative to an extent, and seemingly represents another play on “lines” as a mechanism for prophesying in Patho. As Artemy knows the lines in viscera as a Haruspex, Yulia/the Mistresses know cause-and-effect chains/threads of fate, Mark knows the lines as in theatre. Eva describes Mark’s performances thus: “Staggering, prophetic performances! They predict fates. […] Two ritual Masks pick a volunteer from the crowd. Mark looks at his hands, then shows them to the Masks. They improvise. Without a word they play out either the nearest future or the whole life of the person—depending on the price. And it always comes true!” Notkin says, “They say they tell your fortune, right? Might be just a game, might be note; it does come true. I think though that it’s Mark himself who manipulates the events to align someone’s life with his ideas. […] I mean, [his predictions] do come true, though not every time, and if they don’t, he explains it away as a metaphor, or says they did come true but we didn’t notice.” Notkin differs from Eva’s depiction somewhat; at least, he complicates whether Mark’s performances really come true, and this reliance on metaphor to me is reminiscent of an idea in Patho where obfuscation, story-telling, or performance are the most efficient means to communicate truth (lovely Nina is an apparent exception but I am not talking about that right now <3).

For instance, a Town child tells the player, “Mark—he knows the truth and is afraid to distort it. That’s why he uses masks, puppets, and riddles.” This echoes Katerina’s line, “I can’t leave my smoke and mirrors be […] Because I cannot lie when it comes to details… My lips literally cannot enunciate something that is untrue. Riddles and vagueness leave me a degree of freedom.” Mark himself voices something similar: “Like any game, play-acting is a mere shadow of Existence, a tiny fragment of it, a semblance—not a hollow semblance, mind you, quite the contrary, filled to the brim! Play-acting is fuller than reality... since it’s smaller.” To me, this gestures to how storytelling and theatre—with their ability to exaggerate reality—allow one to address issues in a roundabout way which can be more efficient than clear-cut truth. Simplicity is absolutely a necessary tool, but can inevitably hinder necessary nuance, and I think that is what Patho is getting at here. Similarly, it’s suggested that people *interpret* these plays rather than the acts being clear depictions of future events, e.g. when Mark talks about the bull in the Bone Stake Lot incident: “Everybody started to talk about it, interpreting and reinterpreting the… act. Just like they do with our very own Mask Act here. The prophetic excitement is growing by the hour…” just as he later says, “No, I am no longer a mime show interpreter.” All this suggesting that Mark perhaps interpreted simulacra or semblances, and this is how he understood Pathologic’s narrative.

Characters further suggest that Mark’s Masks did not merely show the future, but enforced it. Daniil says, “You were a puppeteer. Your Masks foretold our future—or maybe imposed it upon us; in all honesty, I don’t see the difference.” Maria similarly states, “his performances don’t show a person’s fate, they impose it,” and Lara says, “Mark’s mime shows seem to incorporate us too… everyone’s playing along to avoid disrupting the performance, and that’s exactly how he’s manipulating us.” I interpret this from the meta angle, because obviously the Theatre demonstrates the game’s events, which the characters act out because. Well. They are characters. Even Mark doesn’t appear above it all, as Lara says “I think it’s the Masks who play him and not the other way around,” and Mark refers to himself as an actor, such as when he muses that “I’ve been thinking about leaving this place of the dead for a while now, but I get the feeling that this is exactly the place for me to fulfill my part…”

Though, Mark obviously more often references the player’s role as an actor, which again points to his understanding of fate. Namely when he tells Daniil “[The next performance is] for you to decide. You are part of the lineup. The playscript is not yet complete, you see. […] Your fate isn’t bound yet. It will take time, effort, and of course your direct participation. Come to see us every evening. We’ll show how you’re doing bit by bit.” This dialogue is obviously stepped in the meta: the playscript depends on our actions, as the game unfolds according to our choices in words and deeds. This reminds me of how the Mistresses and Simon’s fortune-telling all seems to juxtapose predetermination alongside some kind of free will. That is, while there is room for a player to subtly influence the narrative’s progression, it is obviously all set out for us in the end. It has to end in a particular way, and it feels like this is what Mark understands. Namely when he discusses the three families with Daniil, and when Daniil asks which will be victorious, Immortell says, “You don’t need me to tell you that; the answer is yours. They're so different... Which one do you prefer? […] It's up to you.” Mark knows that the player must inevitably side with one philosophy according to their choices: choice decides the outcome, but that outcome is obviously already determined.

Mark instead tells Clara that she is “against the rules” because she is “an imposter and a changeling.” Against the game’s rules, presumably as Clara is the only character capable of breaking her fate and so going off-script, as it were, in Mark’s performances. In the secret endings, the gamemakers say that Clara’s twin was a “gimmick of choosing one’s own fate” and that “She was indeed conceived as a disease, an instrument of the Law… but she was born a thief. At the very moment of her birth, she got a chance to become someone completely different. The girl came into this world, having stolen for herself the fate of a miracle-worker.” From a mechanical standpoint, Clara is obviously unique in that she has a choice—most people probably know that curing all the Bound allows you any choice, but that aside, Daniil and Artemy have only one decision. So setting aside that Clara obviously is still bound by a preset narrative, she is capable of choosing to oppose her predetermination and thus the capital-L Law, as fate/inevitability/the Law are closely intwined and often conflated. Breaking the Law is indeed ‘miraculous,’ which is referenced in a dialogue between Imortell and Daniil about the Polyhedron:

Mark Immortell: […] First of all, I also believe in lofty ideals—don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. […] But recently I came to realize something that has blown me out of the water completely and made me reevaluate my worldview. So... I believe in Vlad's transformation. Bachelor: What did you realize? Mark Immortell: That fate can be overcome. I’m so tired of all this... You know, many people consider my shows to be mere tricks—but I know that’s untrue. They are daily reminders of Predetermination reigning over us... it’s depressing. But now I see that a miracle is not completely impossible. Bachelor: Please, go on! What makes it possible? Mark Immortell: It’s the Tower. The only thing that leads the plots of my performances astray is the Tower. The Tower—and everything that has to do with it... those are the only things that cannot be tossed and turned and manipulated like puppets. A miracle overcomes the inevitable. The Tower can do miracles. It all makes sense. Bachelor: I’m not sure it does. Mark Immortell: You will still have an opportunity to ponder it. The Tower is an ambiguous phenomenon. There’s no need to rush to conclusions. I have, as you can see, fallen in love with it... I think of it as my safe haven. But you should keep a cool head.

I am gleeful about this dialogue btw there is so much to work with here. For one, it maintains the link between opposing fate and the miraculous found in Clara’s character, as Mark’s conviction that “fate can be overcome” derives from the Polyhedron’s capacity for miracles. Again, then, the miraculous is positioned opposite inevitability and fate. But what is Mark’s actual relationship to Utopia and the Utopians? I have always wanted to throw up blood over Daniil and Mark’s final conversation. When he tells Mark, “I thought that the whole point of the Utopians’ ideology was neglecting the laws of fate and the limits it imposes upon us,” to which Mark replies, “You are correct, oh the keenest of the astute! So what? I have cognized this side of Existence from backstage, so to speak; from where the strings go and the machinery is hidden—and yet I willingly swore allegiance to the Utopia. Does that tell you nothing?” That line goddamn haunts me. It always reinforced to me that there is an undercurrent in this game that people should strive for utopia, even if it’s a perpetually doomed endeavor, given Saburov and Eva’s statements to this effect. Mark appears sincere in this, given his “I also believe in lofty ideals” or how he gives his life to Maria; Katerina claims that Maria is the only one who can influence Mark, and indeed we see his collusion with Maria in the Changeling Route.

But Clara throws potential doubt on Mark’s allegiance to the Utopians when she reports to Katerina, “He’s not one to side with either the Utopians or the Humble. He stands apart.” [or] “Maria thinks he’s under her charms and in the ranks of the utopians. He’s playing along [with her]. But that’s not how it really is!” I think Mark could well be playing along with Maria, considering a dialogue with Andrey where he suggests that Mark “Claims that the local mimes can tell the future. As for me, I think he’s making fun of the Mistresses—and, by extension, of us all.” Maria herself says of him, “He makes me anxious; his performances don’t show a person’s fate, they impose it. I’d really like to see someone grab and pull the puppeteer’s strings. […] one day I shall tame this crafty imp—no matter what it takes.” “Makes me anxious”?? Maria of Scarlet Mistress fame ??? This reminds me of Mark’s voice lines “There is a great ability in knowing how to conceal one's ability,” and “It is sometimes necessary to play the fool to avoid being deceived by cunning men.” These lines need not necessarily be related, but imply a deceptive character that suggests he could be following Maria’s lead out of amusement.

Another suggestion that Mark is taking the piss is that he quotes Professor Pangloss from Candide, who represents the naïve optimism and theodicy Voltaire lambasts: “All is for the best in this best of the worlds” (Всё к лучшему в этом лучшем из миров/Tout est pour le mieux dans le meilleur des mondes possibles). The Utopians are not necessarily naïve optimists, but are dreamers who ascribe to the miraculous, even emphatically self-proclaimed rationalist Daniil. Theodicy also intended to vindicate divine justice, and Patho’s narrative involves its own ‘divine justice’ through plague; so Mark quoting Pangloss feels quite tongue-in-cheek to me.

Whether Mark is a sincere Utopian… As with everything, it’s open to interpretation. I think he is, given that dialogue with Daniil. Mark seems aware that he is only pulling people’s strings in that his performances reflect a predetermination that he is subjected to as much as everyone else. He appears genuinely intrigued by the miraculous (as in: fate can be broken) in his claim that he has fallen in love with the Polyhedron as Daniil or Eva. Likewise that he claims Clara is a “worthy opponent” as a miracle-maker, given that she defies fate and so overcomes the inevitable. I find it particularly notable that Mark considers the one thing that ‘leads the plots his performances astray’ his “safe haven;” but, I also think Mark is frankly cheeky about the whole affair because of his narrative awareness which also sets him apart from other characters.

#this one's for you Ruby #you understand my pain and suffering at being forced to think about Candide again #pathologic #mark immortell #patho.txt

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mndvx · 2 months

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I’m still her mum. I need to know she’ll be okay. CARLA SUNDAY and THE DOCTOR in DOCTOR WHO — Season 40 / Series 14 (11 May 2024)

#dw #doctor who #michelle greenidge #ncuti gatwa #carla sunday #14th doctor #dwedit #tvedit #scifiedit #doctorwhoedit #hohohho that's code for he's going to do something so bad that will fundamentaly change ruby one way or another #and nothing will ever be the same again for her and the people in her life HOHOHOHO #or you know. she's gonna die real bad

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hazel-callahans · 8 months

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are you gonna tell isabel?

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stevebabey · 1 year

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Steve hates to ask this of Eddie.

Really, it’s a last resort sort of thing. Robin’s gone for the week, some trip upstate with her family. And it’s fine, they’re close but Steve’s a big boy. He can handle a week without his best friend.

But, well, it’s just unfortunate for it to creep up on Steve when Robin’s gone. It being… shit, how did Robin explain it? She was so much better at keeping track of all those things than he was, all the terms filed away nicely in her head to be recalled as needed. Steve’s much messier— in his head, in his life.

Touch aversion, that’s what she called it. A by-product of the severe lack of touch in his childhood she had said; not enough hugs, hand holding, the works and now Steve’s grown to find it too strange. Something prickles under his skin, pulls in his gut all the wrong way, when someone’s too touchy-feely with him. Robin’s said it’s normal, and he believes her.

It just makes it harder when this comes by. That completely strange backward want that carves into his chest, creating a chasm that just aches. Suddenly, Steve wants to be touched, needs to be touched — like something behind his ribs is just begging for comfort in the form of touch, any way he can have it. Like some young part of him can still remember the hunger he had for it and it comes back in full force, a tender wound between his lungs.

It doesn’t happen that often — though, it’s more frequent than ever recently — but usually, Robin’s here. She can almost always tell before Steve works up the courage to ask. Twitchy fingers give him away. He hovers closer than normal, shoulders brushing more often.

She always gives him a smile, softer than her usual snark and says, “C’mere, dingus.” and stands on her tip-toes to envelope him in a hug. Steve can’t help but sink into it, gripping her close around the waist for as long as he needs until the hole in his chest feels a step closer to patching up.

Robin also tells him he can have as many hugs as he’d like but Steve is firm with himself; he only needs one, then he’ll be back to fine.

It what’s he needs now. One really fucking good hug. Still, he hates to ask, least of all from Eddie, because, well— okay, Steve has no reason to assume Eddie wouldn’t give him a hug.

He’s seen Eddie’s hugs before. Like everything he does, Eddie puts his everything into it- he hugs Robin til she wheezes, loves to lift Nancy off the ground, and the hug he gives Dustin is sweetest of all, a hand on the back of the littler’s head while he does some strange little sway. Dustin always laughs, playfully shoving him away by the end but Steve knows he loves them, that it helps in more than one way.

Steve is glad that Dustin has someone, besides his Mom of course, who can hug him, because Steve can’t give that to him. Maybe one day, but for now, hugs from Steve are a rarity — few and far in between. Maybe, he thinks, he doesn’t want to ask Eddie specifically because of that niggling feeling that comes up around Eddie, all gooey and soft. A feeling the swings too close to a crush that Steve has no fucking clue what to do about.

So, he hates to ask. Really. On the drive over to Eddie’s, a hangout organised before Steve started to feel the lack of touch creep in, he runs through any other options. Wait til Robin gets back? Steve’s not sure he’ll make it another 4 days. When left alone, it seems to consume him and make everything harder, everything heavier to deal with.

He’s still tossing it when he climbs the steps to Eddie’s trailer. Steve decides that he’ll see how it goes, see if there’s an opening to ask…semi-naturally or something. He’s not gonna spring it on the guy.

Eddie is wonderful company as always, devilish grins and god-awful comments about the film he picked. Steve feeds off it, drinking in the infectious energy. He tries to let it be enough; their shoulders pressed together, Eddie’s knee knocking his when he laughs, the way Eddie leans into his space to whisper even though it’s just them here tonight. Steve wants it to be enough. But even then, he can see the way his hands twitch in his lap, desperate for more.

Steve closes his eyes. Curls his hands up so tightly his nails bite into the skin. He tries to use it to wane off the feeling, the ache that sings out for Eddie beside him and it nearly works. Until—

“Steve? Y’okay?” Eddie’s voice pipes up, making Steve open his eyes in an instant.

“Hm?” Steve hums, hoping that his casualness will be enough for Eddie to skip over his peculiar behaviour. He blinks, tilting his head just a bit to show he was confused why Eddie was asking.

Eddie chuckles lightly, gesturing towards Steve’s lap, where his hands sit still clenched, white knuckled with his self-restraint. “You seem a bit stiff, that’s all.” Eddie rechecks. “You good?”

Steve opens his mouth and then closes it, forcing his hands to unclench in his lap. “I-“ he begins, then stops, unsure of what he was going to say. He did say he would look for an opening tonight. The way Eddie’s regarding him, open faced with his concern, is as good as he might get.

“This might sound a bit weird,” Steve starts, defensiveness already tingeing the words, his shoulders curling in just a bit. Eddie could say no. He’s allowed to say no. Steve really doesn’t want him to. “Like, if you think it’s weird, that’s totally fine and we can just, like, forget I said anything and—”

“Steve.” Eddie cuts him off, a linger of an amused smile on his lips. “I don’t think I’m going to find anything you say weird, sweetheart. Shoot. What’s on your mind? What troubles the great mind of Steve Harrington?”

God, it’s like a whole bunch of words designed to set Steve’s head spinning. ‘The great mind of Steve Harrington’ makes him want to scoff. ‘Sweetheart’ makes him want to swoon. He can’t decide which one he wants to do more.

“Can I-” Steve stammers, the words halting automatically. It’s too much of a habit to swallow them down. Coercing them out takes more work. He stares up at the ceiling as he grits his teeth, releases a harsh sigh, pulling himself together. “Can I… have a hug?”

There a moment of silence and Steve holds his breath.

“Oh,” Eddie breathes, and Steve takes his eyes off the ceiling to see just what that Oh means. Eddie’s smiling, a soft one gracing his pretty mouth, and Steve thinks, maybe, one day he’ll have the courage to ask for a kiss as well. Relief moves sluggishly through his veins— Eddie’s smiling, this is good.

“Well, of course,” Eddie grins widely and opens his arms, inviting Steve in. Steve hesitates for only a moment before he leans in gratefully, his arms tucking around Eddie’s midriff tightly. Eddie’s arms curl around Steve’s neck, pulling him in close. It’s the easiest thing in the world, sinking into it, so much that Steve tries his best not to immediately slump against Eddie. It feels a bit too pathetic, so Steve reels himself in. He can’t make his arms relax, trying too hard to take only what he needs and not a moment more.

“C’mon, Stevie.” Eddie’s voice teases beside his ear, his breath warm. “You call that a hug?”

He squeezes Steve a little tighter, pulling him even closer and Steve can’t help the way he melts into it— he slumps, leaning against Eddie properly and burying his quiet whine of relief into the juncture between Eddie's neck and shoulder.

“There we go,” Eddie murmurs comfortingly.

Eddie takes him wholly, gives a damn good Munson hug, all warmth and comfort. He smells like, well, Eddie — a lingering scent of weed, something musky, something Eddie. His arms around Steve’s neck shuffle and Steve worries he’s trying to pull away so soon, only for one of his hands to tangle in the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck. He combs through, light fingernails scratching at Steve’s scalp and shit, Steve really can’t control the noise of contentment that slips out his throat.

“Can’t believe you got so worked up just to ask for a hug,” Eddie tsks, tone coloured in disbelief. Steve makes a noise of protest, trying for a moment to wind it all back in but, like Eddie can sense it, he’s squeezing him tighter again. He begins to rock them, a soft sway side to side that lets Steve lean on him even more. He hums a tune Steve doesn’t know, low and soft.

“M’sorry,” Steve mumbles in reply, though he’s not entirely sure what he’s apologising for. For having to ask, for taking so much, for enjoying Eddie’s arms around him just a little too much.

“What the fuck for?” Eddie laughs lightly, one of his hands beginning to drum against the divots of Steve’s spin. It feels like he’s tapping pure delirium with each fingertip, shivers that make Steve’s chest glow terribly warm. It feels good, so good to be held and honestly, Steve could stay here all night if Eddie let him. Knowing Eddie, he would, because he’s that fucking nice.

That knowledge alone forces Steve to sit himself up, extracting him limbs even though so much of him mourns the warmth, the touch, that goes with it. He wants the touch but he’s had enough. Some scorned part of him burns bitterly to think Eddie would give him more just to be nice. Steve doesn’t want that— Steve wants Eddie to touch him because he wants to.

“Sorry, man, I just, uh, get like that sometimes.” Steve feels the need to explain, bringing a hand up to rub at one of his eyes. He does it half so can hide his embarrassed expression from Eddie— who’s looking at him so gently and still so so close.

“Just, aha—“ Christ, it wasn’t this awkward telling Robin. Steve’s hand moves to rub the back of his neck. “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile since,” He gnaws on his bottom lip, something alike to humiliation curling in his gut. “Since I’ve had some touch. Usually, Robin’s around but y’know.”

He waves a hand, huffing another awkward laugh. Eddie hasn’t moved much, just listening intently, his brows ever so slightly inching closer together. He looks outright concerned at Steve’s next words.

“It’s okay, I’ve— I’ll be good now.” Steve nods along, like the motion will help him convince himself as well as Eddie. He’ll be okay now. Usually, one hug is all it takes. He ignores the surging tidal-wave want that is still going, still aching to be held by Eddie again. It would be selfish to ask for more. Eddie didn’t invite him around to hug— it’s weird, and Steve shouldn’t- can’t ask for more.

“Sooooo,” Eddie draws out the word, an impish smile beginning to play at the corners of his lips. He opens his arms wide again. “You don’t want another hug?”

In his lap, Steve’s fingers twitch. Eddie’s eyes dart to them for a second, before fixing back on Steve. He does, he really fucking does want another hug. He can’t. He’s had enough, really, it would greedy to have more.

Steve shakes his head, forces himself to huff another laugh that accidentally comes out as a strained sigh. He smiles weakly, “No, no, I’m good, dude. It’s… I’m okay, swear.”

For a moment, Steve thinks he’s convinced him. Eddie studies his face, his mischief slipping away as he deliberates Steve’s words. His eyes narrow, arms dropping just an inch before he smiles brightly and says, “Okay, can I have a hug then?”

Which, okay, right, Steve didn’t think of that. People don’t ask him for hugs. He blinks, a bit dumbly. Eddie is waiting, face eager and for a second there’s an expression of almost smugness on his face — like he’s about to get exactly what he wants. Because he knows Steve would never be rude and say no.

“I mean,” Steve breathes, voice a bit tighter than he’s expecting. He clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah, you can have a hug.”

“Great!” Eddie replies and he wastes no time. He’s all up in Steve’s space, arms around Steve’s waist this time. The motion takes Steve by surprise, enough that because he’s not expecting it Eddie’s weight pushes him back so he’s lying on the couch.

If Eddie cares, he pays no mind, his head curling up into the crook of Steve’s neck as he hugs him closer. His hair gets in Steve’s mouth, making him splutter for a second, but Eddie just grins, wriggling closer until they’re pressed firmly against each other. Steve would go as far as to say this is closer to cuddling than a hug, with Eddie squishing him from above, his arms around Steve’s middle.

“Just so you know,” Eddie’s voice rumbles from where their chests are touching, his breath sweeping across Steve’s neck. Steve shivers without meaning to, feels Eddie’s responding grin even as he continues. “All hugs requested by me are automatically 10 minutes long. Hope you’re okay with that, sweetheart.”

Steve isn’t stupid — he knows Eddie is doing it for him, doing it because he could see right through Steve’s stupid facade, had peered his yawning hunger for touch right in the face and hadn’t blanched. Instead of feeling tricked or fooled, Steve just feels…warm. Comfortable. He works his arms around Eddie’s neck til their more comfortable and find the courage in him scrape his fingers through Eddie’s hair— like he had done to Steve. Eddie’s sighs sweetly and Steve thinks he could listen to that noise forever.

“I’m… I’m okay with that.” Steve murmurs lowly, yet he knows Eddie can hear him. Eddie noses closer, a borderline nuzzle against his neck, and further down, one his hands starts to stroke softly up and down Steve’s ribs.

Steve can’t help the way it makes him freeze, the breath in his lungs holding tight as he tries to relax, tries to ignore the prickly feeling under his skin. It’s a lot. A lot of touch that Steve just isn’t used to just yet, even if he desperately craves it.

“Relax,” Eddie whispers into his skin, a soft instruction paired with the motion, one soothing stroke up and down his ribs. Steve pushes the breath in his lungs out, forces the tension out of his body, trusts that Eddie wouldn’t be offering— wouldn’t tell him to relax if he wasn’t allowed to.

“That’s it.” Eddie praises, feeling the body beneath him settle and sink a little lower into the couch. “Now, watch the movie.” Eddie instructs, jutting at the still playing screen with his chin. Steve laughs a bit, but obeys, turning his head to see what part they’d gotten up to. They’d missed a big chunk in their hug. Steve nearly apologises for it, the words on the tip of his tongue, before he decides Eddie might smack him for it.

So, he doesn’t. He watches the film, let’s the gentle touch of Eddie on his skin relax him til sleepiness starts to fill each of his limbs, heavy like lead. Eddie’s hand stops moving eventually, when his breath gets heavier, lulled by Steve’s scratch in his hair. A snore starts up, loud and quite frankly, annoying, and yet, Steve finds that with Eddie’s arms around him, he has no trouble finding sleep.

It’s the first time in years Steve’s fallen asleep in someone else’s arms. And even if he doesn't know it yet, it’s certainly not the last.

now with a part two!

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sirazaroff · 1 month

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We are SO fuckin back

Original by @/soup-erb

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dontbelasagne · 5 months

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"I have the whole universe at my fingertips"

Ncuti Gatwa as the Fifteenth Doctor

#doctor who spoilers #doctor who #dw #ncuti gatwa #fifteenth doctor #15th doctor #millie gibson #ruby sunday #dr who #dr who spoilers #dr who special #the church on ruby road #okay i know its called season one but im still gonna call it series 14 #you cant stop me #i am OBSESSED with his doctor already #in with a fighting chance to beat my baby girl twelve as fave incarnation

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lulady030 · 1 year

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Gotta stay positive, right ?! Smiles all around !

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 9 spoilers #rwby v9 #Ruby Rose #my art #I'm only looking at V9 from people's posts whenever it trends on tumblr #but hey shoutout to Ruby last episode because I feel her. a lot.#I hope she gets to heal from this #Edit : wow you people really liked this one... thank you ;_;

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thatorangedrank · 1 year

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Little is Alyx 👎🏻

Little is Penny 👎🏻

Little is a reflection of Ruby in Vol.1 and is a physical representation of “healing your inner child” 👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

#like seriously Little reminds me more of Ruby than Ruby herself right now #I relate to Ruby so much in just needing to be ok for everyone all the time for things to be stable #when WBY is talking about how they bring her up by saying ‘we count on you’ and ‘you can do it’ and that’s basically what I heard growin up #my therapist once told me that you have to be the friend and caretaker for that little girl who always had to be ok #that she is still inside of my heart and that I’m the only one who can be there for her now #and something about… making sure my inner child feels safe reminds me so much of Ruby’s relationship with Little #also Little’s mannerisms are just … so v.1 Ruby it’s just uncanny #’I want to help even though I may not know how’#that’s blind Ruby optimism if I’ve ever seen it #rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby9 #rwby volume 9 #rwby ruby rose #rwby v9 #rwby volume 9 spoilers #rwby theory #ruby rose

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tumblingxelian · 6 months

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I really enjoy Whiterose as a ship, but I do wish more of the FNDM surrounding it weren't so invested in their V1 characterizations.

Ruby and Weiss have both grown so much and honestly its as they are now that I love the idea of a romance between them.

Weiss has become a lot kinder and wiser, while still being able to get a bit prissy and bent out of shape.

Ruby has had more burdens to be sure, but has also grown smoother and more confident in how she carried herself.

Both still have a lot of their original energy, when Ruby is in a good space she can be very bouncy and Weiss can be quite regal, but there's more to them than "Puppy X Tsudere" and I wish we saw more of that.

#RWY #Whiterose #Ruby Rose #Weiss Schnee #Not saying no one explores this #The screencap redraws for this scene alone show that #But still #It definitely feels like their V1 characterization dominates a lot #I see so many “You dolt!” posts XD

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sw4p-0ut · 11 months

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*I trip and this falls from under my jacket* Hello Oshi no Ko fandom I made silly little textposts.

#oshi no ko #akane kurokawa #aquamarine hoshino #aqua hoshino #ruby hoshino #kana arima #and one appearance of #ai hoshino #and #mem cho #theres a lot of akane in there but can you blame me. no you cant.#also some aquakane bc i cant resist them #and some implied kana/ruby but uuuh im the only one who ships that i think

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harryzroze · 13 days

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Happy Lesbian Visibility Week !!! cheers to the fav lesbians

Close up image, screenshot reference I used and image description under the cut below!

Ruby and Sapphire from the show "Steven Universe" in a forest scene, a redraw of the scene in the episode "The Answer" moments before they fuse for the second time. My drawing has more paint-like texture due to the brushes I used, with dark blue shadows of trees in the middle-ground and background to frame around the two characters. There is a darker tree shape in the foreground that frames the brightly lit forest scene. Streams of water are flowing around the two gems and rays of light are coming from above the forest shooting downwards to hit the streams of water, making the areas glow. There are soft pink lights spread out in these glowing areas. I also added 2 frogs in the bottom right corner as a nod to the moment in the episode where Ruby catches a frog when they explore the surface together. Sapphire and Ruby are holding each other before they dance in this scene. Sapphire has her left hand on Ruby's right shoulder, Ruby's right hand gently hesitating at Sapphire's left elbow. Ruby's left hand and Sapphire's right hand (their respective gem hands) are holding each others hands in the back of the drawing, filling the small empty space between them. Sapphire is leaning forward slightly with a soft smile and Ruby has her eyes closed in a content, happy-like manner.

If you haven't heard of these characters before, here's a general description of them:

Ruby is on the left side of the drawing, she has scarlet red skin with dark red shorts, and a sleeveless dark red shirt with a lighter red triangle in the middle of the shirt heading downwards. her hair is a very red colour (almost black) in a square like shape that frames her face. She has a thick build and appears bulky and strong. She has a ruby gem integrated into her left palm.

Sapphire is on the right side of the drawing, she has light blue skin and a bright blue dress that hides her legs and feet. The torso of the dress is a dark blue with a light blue triangle shape in the front going downwards and two smaller white triangles alongside this. Her dress has big white puffy shapes at her shoulders, and she wears white gloves that go to her elbows. She has light blue long hair (the colour lighter than her skin), that curls down to around her hip area, and she has a fringe that covers up her singular eye. Her thinner arms indicate she may have a slimmer build than Ruby, but they are the same height. She has a sapphire gem integrated into her right palm.

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ellesgreenaway · 2 years

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say that you miss me | eddie munson

summary: a birthday party brings eddie reluctantly back together with an old high school flame he hasn’t seen in two years.

word count: 7.7k

warnings: minors dni, smut, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie (?), swearing, afab reader, slight angst, hurt/comfort, reader initially doesn’t come off very well, use of drink and mention of drugs

a/n: i’m actually a little nervous about this one as it’s really the longest fic i’ve ever written and i haven’t really written like much in this way so please be kind to me! any feedback is really appreciated :)

“Du-ude!” Steve cries out in despair when he opens his front door, both voice and face riddled in disappointment. “I told you to comb your damn hair when it’s wet! What is this shit?”

Eddie blinks deadpan, standing frigid with a large box full of an assortment of black market priced alcohol (it was half spiced rum, clearly not much of a demand for it) with his little box of the good stuff buried deep. “I think you mean to say: Hey Eddie, thanks so much for bringing hundreds of dollars of merchandise to my party.” He replies, thick with sarcasm.

Eddie could barely hear himself speak. He had only arrived a whole twenty minutes after the said start time of the party that Steve had announced to the group (and repeatedly after for the last several days leading up to it), deemed by young person status as way too early, and yet Eddie could barely make out any other sounds apart from the dreaded sound of the popped-up excuse of rock that was overplayed on every radio station booming thickly through every wall of the (quite frankly) colossal hunk of a house Steve lived in. People were bustling in and out of rooms and collecting in rooms like it was New York City, and it immediately put Eddie on edge. He arrived early to make sure he could be scarce, not the centre of attention.

Steve rolls his eyes, taking the box of beverages from Eddie’s hands. He made sure his drug box was taken out before it was no longer in his possession. “I’m just saying man, you complain time and time again about how frizzy and knotty it gets, and when I offer you sound advice, you disregard it.” Eddie is following his friend blindly through the open plan grandeur of a home Steve finds himself lucky enough to live in, half not listening because he thinks he’s never seen a house this big before, let alone been in one. He bumps into person after person, recognising them all from high school, and it’s only a few seconds before the lump in Eddie’s throat grows ever bigger as he realises this was just an excuse to throw an informal high school reunion. It had only been months for Eddie compared to years for everyone else; he wasn’t sure he was mentally prepared for this to be thrust upon him.

“And you still don’t listen!” Steve quips harshly, and the tone gets Eddie’s attention after a long while, making the metalhead roll his eyes with minimal care.

Eddie shrugs lightly, an end destination in sight as Steve sets down the worn cardboard onto a spacious wooden table, placed against the wall where an assortment of other drinks have already been placed in their regiment.

People are looking, and aren’t really making it subtle, either. They were probably just as surprised as Eddie was - what was he doing showing his face in Steve Harrington’s home? - but it seemed that, by some miracle, they were friends, so it was a heckle-free zone. As much as Steve’s reputation had dropped since he left school, he was still much more well-known than anyone else in this house. The shouts of murderer and satan worshipper were hung up at the door for one night only.

It was packed beyond belief, but when Eddie looks around him, he notices the entire bottom floor of the house is rid of personal photos, glass and anything that exceeds the value of ten dollars. Apparently, even at the ripe old age of twenty-one, Steve is still deathly afraid of getting his ass handed to him by his parents. Eddie knows he wouldn’t want that from Wayne, even if he were forty.

“When’s Robin getting here? I rarely see her without you.”

Steve seems to relieve himself of some of the party hosting stress that evidently seems to have piled on top of him throughout the day at the mention of his best friend’s name. “She came from work with me this afternoon, she’s just running an errand for me.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, more in disbelief than shock, it was quite on brand for Harrington to get the whole gang involved for something so trivial as a party that will probably be filled with people he’s been dreading seeing since the day he graduated — everyone he went to high school with. Worse, people who finished high school before he did.

A small snort leaves Eddie’s nose, mindlessly fiddling with a small bowl of gummy bears that sat lonesome at the edge of the drinks table. It lay practically untouched, and he could only imagine that Robin had insisted some sort of food would be provided at the bash. Eddie was growing uncomfortable; he rarely spent time alone with Steve Harrington, and it’s never exceeded the point of awkwardness. It was teetering on the edge of such.

“I dread to think what you got that asswipe Henderson to do for this.” Eddie laughs, and it seems to have avoided the edge of that awkward ledge, as Steve chuckles along just as the door goes.

“He got home from college only last night and is currently hauling ass, borrowing speakers from Family Video to bring them here. Little dude can barely carry one of those things, will probably need Mike or some shit to help him.”

Steve opens the door to Robin, who looks annoyed as per with her friend, holding up several sheets of fax-printed paper. She walks through without even greeting the birthday boy, something that ignites a stifle of laughter from Eddie under his breath. That earned him his own greeting from Robin, throwing him a quick wave as she slams the paper down on the table.

“Did you print it all? That fax machine is crap at the best of times.”

She rolls her eyes, throwing a pointed look at Eddie as if she were asking for help. “Why did I just walk in with three sheets of paper, dingus? To hand in a college essay?”

As Eddie’s smirk gets wider, Steve’s scowl deepens, snatching the paper to his own hands, scanning it momentarily.

“Honestly, I don’t even know why you need a list to this stupid party, anyway. Everyone’s already here, this town hasn’t had a party in years.”

Hold up, now Eddie’s curiosity seems to be piqued. His head whips to where Steve stood on the other side of him, taking the paper for himself and carefully dissecting every name that was typed in several long columns.

His eyes stop tracking on one name, head whipping up to Steve. “You invited Y/N?”

Steve furrows his brows, taking a swig from a beer he had picked up from the table. “You, Eddie Munson, know Y/N Y/L/N?”

Eddie swallows thickly, eyes shifting to the floor, uncharacteristically nervous, the paper being shoved roughly back into Robin’s hands. Seeing that name gave him such an immediate rush of butterflies he thought he was going to barf, and he was sober.

“I need a drink,” Was all Eddie could respond to the question posed to him, taking the nearest liquor and pouring a quick shot. It was unfortunate, he realised as the liquid burns layers off his throat, that it was tequila, but anything to take the edge of what he was feeling right now.

Robin widens her eyes, shifting the tequila bottle away from her friend by a few metres, worried the whole bottle would be demolished before long if Eddie carries on like this. “How about we start slower, hm? Like a beer,” She replaces the shot glass with a can quickly.

Steve narrows his eyes suspiciously at Eddie; he knows his fair share of the feeling a drink could fix instead of facing a past flame, but the pairing of Eddie and Y/N doesn’t fit at all in his head. “When were you two a thing?”

Eddie screws his eyes shut; he knows he can’t really avoid this subject for long. “Senior year. My first one.”

A small but triumphant cheer leaves Steve’s lips, clearly already on the edge between tipsy and slurring, his hand coming down to clap proudly on Eddie’s shoulders.

“Didn’t take you for goody two shoes to be your type man, but then again, how I ever dated the smartest girl in Hawkins beats me.”

Cringing and deciding he was officially too sober to take part in this conversation about his past love life, he takes his belongings, eyes drawn to the garden door.

“Surely someone needs some weed by now right?” He asks rhetorically, but turns to Robin with pleading eyes, who just shrugs bemused.

So much for these new friends.

Thankfully for Eddie, half the people at this party who were already drunk and looking for a little boost to keep the night going had somehow remembered Eddie was the drugs guy, not the accused murderer guy, and a small queue had formed at the bottom of the garden as he got on with what he was used to doing the whole of highschool: living in the darkness dealing the bad stuff to the angels of society.

It was such a monotonous process, asking what was needed, sorting it out into the numerous small translucent bags, opening his hand and waiting as the exchange was made. His head stayed down the entire time, so over the game of which Hawkins sweetheart wanted an experience of the dark side. It also depersonalised it for him, made him feel less guilty for doing what he did. He knew the risks of these things, but he didn’t have a choice. Being working class and only having a minimum wage job at The Hideout meant he was the lowest of the low. Not many options are handed to a young man with no savings and only a highschool diploma to his name.

“I had always hoped that something better for you would come along apart from this, Eddie.” Lulled a sweet tone, almost dripping with it, dancing into Eddie’s ears. His head snapped up. The sweetness was all too familiar to him, something he had occasionally dreamt of in the last few years.

And yet, dreams don’t really amount to the feeling of seeing you again. Except, it wasn’t the exact replica of the young woman he had seen leave Hawkins for college. You were rougher on the edges, a cigarette balancing between your index and middle finger, the smoke of it wafting up into your hair and around your clothes.

Eddie stifles a chortle, and he can’t help the smirk line his lips like he was seventeen again, “And I had never hoped to see someone like you smoking cigarettes when you berated me for doing the same.”

You roll your eyes, flicking the thing out of your delicate fingers, letting it fall into the damp grass. It sits there on the ground for a few seconds, burning into the green until your boot comes to crush it. Now the cigarette lays limp and surrounded by the ash of its former flame.

“It’s social only. I’m not addicted.”

The adjective almost felt like a small jab at Eddie, but he brushes it off, deciding instead with a polite smile. It was all he could manage when the beating of his heart thumped heavy in his ears and throat.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” Is what he settles with, but the thing is he actually meant it. It was nice to see you, however belated it may have been. And while there was a roughness he seemed to have never seen in you before, he was pleased to see that you had finally grown into your character. You were the woman you had always strived to be in highschool: unapologetically yourself, and it almost made him swoon in admiration.

Your face softens at that second, the first bricks of the wall you had built up around herself removing one by one. It was then that Eddie sees that you hadn’t really changed, no matter how grown up you had become. That same excited and slightly naïve sparkle of your eye appeared, just as you whisper back, “You too, Munson. It’s been a while.”

A wide grin began to line Eddie’s lips, and just as he were to open his mouth again, ready to dive into a nostalgic conversation and settle into memories that he cherishes so dearly to his chest, you get a fierce tap on your shoulder - more of a jab really - causing you to turn around and face whoever was disturbing Eddie’s time with you.

Another girl, someone who looks familiar but not enough for Eddie to care, along with Nancy Wheeler, who flashed Eddie a knowing little smile, eyes shifting to you, bounced up beside Eddie’s ex, grabbing onto your shoulders enthusiastically. The move almost made you fall from the surprising weight added to her back.

The unknown friend speaks first, her jaw constantly moving up and down, a fluorescent pink piece of bubblegum the one to blame for the jarring movement smacking in Eddie’s ears. “Hey, we’re about to play some poker in the basement if you wanna join,” She whines, and Eddie sighs to himself quietly. He had only managed to have forty-five whole seconds of you to himself, and you were already in high demand for your attention. It was something that harkened Eddie back to when he was coupled with her all that time ago. The girl notices Eddie sigh, her sharp gaze shifting to him, scrutinising everything about him in just a split second. “Who’s he?”

Suddenly you grow bashful, your cheeks darkening across your cheeks and the bridge of your nose, averting your eyes down to the patch of grass where your cigarette lay lifeless. Your mouth opened and closed again, the speechlessness overcoming every sense in your body.

Despite the flash of hurt that pangs Eddie’s chest, he speaks up, “I’m just the drugs guy.” He informs her with fake sincerity, one she didn’t notice as her eyes light up slightly at the opportunity struck before her to turn the party up a notch.

You flash Eddie a grateful smile, turning to your friend. “He’s not just the drugs guy,” You begin, and a match of hope lights itself in Eddie. Just say we dated, say we were a thing, a fling, anything, he begs in his mind. “This is Eddie Munson. We…We um- We went to school together. His mom used to clean my house.” You say bluntly, and the match in Eddie dies out quickly.

Suddenly Eddie is reminded why he and you never worked out in the first place; not only did you ever manage to admit to one single person that you and Eddie were together, no, scrap that, in love, with one another, but it reminded him of a time more peaceful than what he’d been through in the years since you. His mother no longer being around was the hardest pill to swallow.

Seeing the disappointment fill Eddie’s eyes, you attempt to reach your arm to Eddie, and he’s letting you, showing no signs of resistance to the attempt of comfort, but you stop yourself just short of his bicep. The hesitation is all too clear all throughout you, body and face and all, and Eddie isn’t sure how much longer he can take this. He doesn’t need to be reminded by the first (and so far only) person he ever loved to tell him through everything but words that he wasn’t good enough.

Eddie lets in a sharp breath of the late autumnal air, the release of it creating a pillow of cold air that wisps around his face. “I best clock in a break, it seems custom has dried up for now.” He announces, as usual with an air of humour laced in with it, but as his eyes shift to avoid yours, he catches Nancy’s instead, who frowns with a level of concern that was equivalent to pity, and Eddie was certainly not in the mood for that.

“Hey Eddie, come play po-” You begin to ask, but Eddie was fast leaving the garden, which has slowly become unbearably stifling despite the chill creating thousands of small goosebumps underneath the leather protection of his jacket.

That drinks table was most certainly going to be raided.

You were glad to see Eddie again, you really were - you felt like after so many years being lost and bewildered, trying to find your footing in this weird world, seeing him again felt like she became grounded slightly again. You were really home now.

“So, that’s the infamous Eddie Munson,” Mused Wendy, a friend from college who’d come home with you for the weekend, sharing with you and Nancy an exciting wide smile, almost dying to hear the words that you wanted Wendy and Nancy to play matchmaker.

Wincing, you push her animated friend off of yourself, traipsing slowly back to the house where Eddie had well by now disappeared into. It would be near impossible to find him again in all this space with so many people in it.

Nancy pulls a puzzled face to the pair of friends, “Wait, you liked Eddie too? I just thought he had a massive crush or something.”

“Huh! Liked? The girl was in love with him, Nance. Spent her entire first semester in freshman year wallowing in our dorm for no reason until I finally got it out of her.”

Nancy was even more confused by the statement, and the journalistic instinct in her begged for more information, linking her arm through yours as they carried on their walk back to the loud wall of sound. “What happened between you guys?”

You sighed, looking down at a small chip that’s appeared in her nail polish since coming to the party. As much as it was nice to see Eddie again, reliving the mistakes of your past, and making them again wasn’t something that screamed 21st birthday to you, even if it wasn’t your birthday.

Still, you knew if you weren't going to say now, Nancy would be bugging you until she gave all the details and more. At least now she had control over how much you could reveal. You hadn’t even told Wendy everything, just the basics. “We dated in senior year. I was…concerned with how we’d look together. To everyone else. I knew it wouldn’t help my social status, basically.” You admit guiltily, and you knew that Nancy was smart enough to put the missing pieces of the jigsaw together, and her eyes widen with shock and a slight disappointment when she eventually does.

It made you sting. Yeah, you weren't proud of what you did either.

“And you just…what, haven’t spoken to him since then? Senior year of highschool?” Nancy exclaims out loud, and you try not to notice the sharp daggers Wendy points at the eldest Wheeler sibling, but you shrug it off, the guilt swimming in your lungs.

It was going to drown you.

Shrugging your two friends off your shoulders, you turn to them, a fierce look in your eyes, switching between them and the sight of the dozens of college students all crammed together dancing to whatever was playing. “Will there be lots and lots of booze at this poker game?”

Wendy smirks slightly, grabbing your hand and yanking you back inside the house, the once barely distant thumps of the music (you swore it was quieter before she came out into the garden) now distinctly deafening, feeling your organs jump with you in your body in time with the beat of the tunes. Nancy wasn’t far behind, more cautious than the impulsive actions of your freshman roommate and much more aware that there were other people attending too, but the busyness of the atmosphere has you not thinking straight.

That and the fact that Eddie Munson was at any given place in this house right now.

Approaching the drinks table where they earlier dropped off a polite bottle of wine (it had already been drunk), Wendy grabs three clean plastic shot glasses, reaching for the half-empty bottle of tequila standing nearest to her.

Nancy screws her face up, waving her hand in near total dismissal.

“Oh my God Wendy, you’re trying to kill me. I need a chaser if I’m gonna be forced to shot that.”

Laughing with an almost cynical undertone, Wendy raises the shot glass right under both Nancy and your noses. Both of you share the same look of dread.

“I know none of these small-town Indiana dorks apart from you two, so if I’m gonna have a good time, you’re gonna get wasted with me and we mess around, ‘kay?”

Well, you couldn’t really disagree with that doctrine.

Flinging back shot after shot, the music went from thumping and slightly unbearable beat of the music to danceable and you were even almost starting to enjoy it. You danced with your friends, well, it was dancing in their eyes, squashed among the dozens of people that amalgamated in Steve Harrington’s living room, and although the three of you were panting as you danced, the back of their necks collecting beads of sweat that eventually dripped down your necks, tickling your spines. It had been nice, for once, you thought as you waved your arms around in the crowd, grinning madly at your two friends, that you were able to fully enjoy yourself without consequence. Usually, you had practice in the morning, or study group, or you wouldn’t even be out, writing an essay until the early hours of the morning instead.

There was a slight sadness in your eyes as you danced, too. You might have been drunk and dancing like no one was watching, but she still felt the trickles of dread as the regret you had felt for the whole of freshman year for Eddie had returned in full force.

You were feeling small tears prick the back of your eyes; it came on suddenly, like a big wave at sea that looked small at first but was actually going to swallow you whole, and the dancing came too to a sudden stop.

You swallow thickly, patting your purse around your shoulder to make sure her cigarettes were packed away. “I’m um— I’m going to go for a quick smoke break, ‘kay?” You shout over the throbbing bass, and luckily your wave of emotion came at the right time, both Nancy and Wendy agreeing they’ll meet you in the basement game of poker Jonathan, Robin and Steve were at.

The lighter came in contact with the cigarette as soon as you had stepped outside, and you had never been so grateful to take a puff from something you tolerated at the best of times, walking over to a step at the side of the house, letting the cool air gently penetrate your burning skin.

When holding the stick of tobacco between your two fingers, your mind once again goes to Eddie. How he brought up the fact you told him off as much as you could whenever he smoked one of his own, and how much it was true. The memory brought a bittersweet chuckle past your lips, slightly curved from the nostalgia.

You heard the sound of feet dragging against the pebbles of the driveway behind you, and you weren’t very surprised to see Eddie approach you, his trademark smirk painting his mouth, but it was more subtle than usual.

You throw him a wobbly smile, suddenly feeling the need to put the cigarette out again, so desperately insecure of doing anything remotely bad around him. Eddie, of all people, but you knew it was because these were all things you never would have done in highschool.

He was going to walk past you, step over her tight-clad legs and carry on his journey to what looks like his van, just a few metres off in the distance, but a thought bubbles up in your mind, and you knew it would bug you forever if you didn't ask there and then.

“Do you have regrets?” You ask, just above a whisper but not quite talking at a normal volume. You were nervous to ask.

Eddie turned around, furrowing his eyebrows in curiosity at you. He likes to think he still knows you well enough to know that this isn’t brought on from random drunk thoughts, but he also knew he couldn’t just ask outright what got you asking questions like this. Not anymore, anyway.

He begins to walk back, standing over her just centimetres away, his eyes studying your face, which was turned down to the ground, your lips pursed desperately around the cigarette that was nearly out, looking at you drain everything you could out of it. He decides to perch next to you, leaving a big enough gap that it was considered appropriate. “Regrets about what? Mine are sorted into categories, you know.”

You smile, puffing out a laugh from your nose. “I dunno, like…Do you ever regret not going to college? For not passing senior year first time? All those little things that you could have changed, could have altered to make that slight little bit of improvement, but you just…didn’t?”

Eddie thought about your question, lighting a cigarette of his own while he pondered. “I could’ve, yeah. I could have done all that shit, got a degree, left this town, maybe studied something I knew I would be good at. But, ah, I don’t know. I don’t think there’s any point in wasting my energy on the what ifs. I have shit I gotta deal with now, today, and that takes up enough as it is,” He inhales deep, getting lost in his thoughts while looking at you. He had never seen you so troubled, not even when you two broke up. “I feel like I could have done better, a lot of times, but do I regret it? Rarely.”

You don’t really respond, just sniff and look away again, your hand drawing through your hair delicately, but it was like it was bothering you. Everything seemed to look like everything was bothersome in a way.

“My turn,” Eddie declares, feeling like this was the only way to find out what was wrong with you. He wasn’t even thinking about the fact that he hadn’t seen you in two years, or that forty-five minutes ago he wanted to be anywhere but around you. The need to act like your support dial had overwhelmed him like an instinct. This was natural. “You have never felt the need to feel regret once in your life, sweetheart.”

“Not a question.” You point out.

Eddie chuckles, holding his finger up to you, “Patience, I’m getting there,” And suddenly you turn to him, your body strong and straight, but eyes are full of worry for whatever he could possibly ask. He hopes you know him well enough to still guess it’s probably to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering you. “So you’re obviously regretting something, what is it?”

You huff heavily, and Eddie could sense your walls were going up, defending yourself from the vulnerability and insecurity you once gave herself willingly to with Eddie. You shuffled away one inch. “I haven’t seen you in two years, Munson. You can’t expect me to tell you all my worries and fears like we’re still together.”

Eddie feels the need to remind himself to be patient, swallowing thickly. He can’t help but trick himself into thinking this, looking at you, the moonlight twinkling in your eyes, making you look so ethereal with your beauty.

“You asked first, sweetheart, don’t pretend you don’t miss talking to me.” He replies, but it just seems to have frustrated you more. Eddie knows it’s not frustration directly at him, your frustrated with herself.

You look at him, eyebrows crossed, a crease diving the two of you. “So what? I— ugh! Everything is so fucking complicated!”

“With me?”

“Yes!” You cry, and you’re stood now, pacing up and down the little alley created at the side of Steve’s house. “But no, too. I…seeing you tonight has just thrown me off, that’s all. I…I can’t think straight.”

“Ah, so that’s why to your friends I’m still Eddie, a friend whose mom cleaned for your mom?” He asks, and it was petty, he knows, but the stings of pain just couldn’t help but trickle their way into the conversation. All he ever wanted from you was to just admit that you were both in love, even if it was once upon a time.

You crumple your fists as if you were containing all your anger in there, but when your head throws up to look at Eddie, who’s also stood up by now, your eyes are full of nothing but apology.

“Come on Eddie, you know I never meant that. And…And you always meant more than that to me. So did your mother. She was like family to us.”

Eddie huffs, and the dread returns to him like a bad sickness. He realises tonight, seeing you for the first time in months and months that really, he never got over you. You matter as much to him now and as you did when you were seniors sneaking around, but the insecurity fills his chest when he explores the thought that you could ever have felt the way he did.

Maybe he was too drunk. God knows you were too.

“I think I’m just gonna conduct business from my van for the rest of the night. Enjoy the party, Y/N.” He says defeatedly, walking to his van and expecting his old flame to walk in the opposite direction.

But you didn’t. You didn’t walk away, not this time.

“Well what do you want me to do, Eddie? Take back the past?! That’s impossible!” You ask as you follow him to his van, your hands flying around your face wildly. There were tears glassing over your eyeballs, and no matter how mad at you he is for hurting him, for making him feel every bit like he didn’t deserve to be loved, Eddie’s chest still tightened when he saw you like this. You run your hands through your hair again, practically ruining it, sniffing roughly. “I loved you, I loved you like I’ve never loved anyone else before…and yeah, I couldn’t say it out loud when I was seventeen, and I’m sorry, I really am,” You’re looking at him dead in the eye now, any hesitation or resistance he had seen earlier in the night now completely gone, and Eddie feels a change in the electricity around the two of you when he looks back, “but you can’t punish me forever. I’m done being punished, Eddie. If you wanna move on so badly, do it.”

He thinks you’ve said this because you know deep down that the daring words that drip from your tongue edge Eddie to stay, do the complete opposite of what you’ve offered him. You’re not dumb, you’ve probably noticed the way that ever since you asked him that question at the side of the house that he’s inched closer to you with every word shared between you, nice or not. You can probably smell the mix of musky wood from his cologne and the ashy taste of cigarettes that permanently linger in his mouth, just as he can smell the sweet floral tones of your perfume, a mix of flowers and soap.

You have seen to finally have given him an out. It should have felt relieving.

Yet Eddie just couldn’t back away. He hesitates a scoff, low and scowling, tired of arguing but he has no other way to talk to you right now without wanting to just take your face in his hands and kiss those plump glossy lips of yours. “You still couldn’t even admit we were even together. We’re twenty now. Hell, almost twenty-one. Three years on and you can’t admit it!”

You’re bashful, looking down to the concrete driveway. “I don’t want them to give any more excuses to constantly pick at you.”

“Them?”

“This batshit crazy town, Munson! What do you think people will do when they find out we dated, huh? They’ll tear you apart, think you corrupted me or put your bullshit claims of satanism onto you, and I can’t help you! I’ll be in Emerson!” You say, the tear falling loose from your eye and trailing down your cheek.

Eddie blinks at you, the act of anger slowly washing away on his features. “You heard about everything then, huh?”

“I think I spent my whole summer telling people to go fuck themselves for thinking someone who likes metal and plays a kids fantasy game was capable of murder.” You says with a nervous chuckle, and Eddie’s heart rises to a flutter, staring at you with contentment, and a reminiscent reminder of the way he used to look at you when you were together; with total infatuation.

Suddenly Eddie was stuck.

He was stuck because he had finally been given an opportunity to move on from you, try and forget your face as he lived your life and you carried on with yours in Boston, but he doesn’t think he had ever imagined a more beautiful thought than thinking about you telling a stranger making comments about Eddie the murderer to do one.

He stays stuck while looking at you, leaning against the back door of his van, head staring at the cold night sky, exposing your neck, your chest heaving up and down from the exhaustion of their argument. Eddie couldn’t stop staring, momentarily parting his lips and wetting them with his tongue.

He steps closer to you. It was only one small step, barely stretching his legs before your thighs touched his. You look down again to look him in the eye once more, but differently than before, you’ve noticed the change in air, too. You noticed the way Eddie has his lips slightly parted, his chocolate doe eyes are blown open, pupil swallowing the colour almost entirely. His hand is inching closer to your cheeks, and when his palm eventually comes into contact, you feel singes of his burning hot touch, almost like fire, and it alights a small gasp from your lips, a sound that roars Eddie’s determination to life.

His thumb lowers, tracing delicately down your cheek until it reached the corner of your lips, slightly chapped and the gloss drying in odd places, all the while keeping the fierce hold of your eyes that made you soften and pant harder in anticipation.

A small smirk quirks one side of Eddie’s mouth. He has you right where he wants you, ready for him to launch onto you and get back to what you used to do in highschool, but he wasn’t going to give it to you just yet. “I would kiss you,” He begins, voice low and grumbling a little with the whisper, “But you might not want everyone else to know your pretty little mouth likes kissing the freak of Hawkins.”

Immediately you roll your eyes, your own hand cupping Eddie’s cheek. You take the majority of the leap, their lips in contact but not kissing when you ever so slightly take your back off the van door.

“You kiss me right this second, Munson, or I tell everyone that you cried watching Grease.”

He stifles a snort, smirk only growing wider. “We can't be having that, can we? I have a reputation to think about.”

When their lips finally connect, Eddie feels like he’s truly on fire everywhere, the touch of your lips igniting a burn that’s travelled through every vein in his body. It’s like his body has woken up again after years of being asleep, a jolt of energy surging through his nerves, and he wasn’t going to waste it.

Eddie’s hands instinctively slide onto your waist as the kiss deepens, your mouths open, tongues playing with one another desperately. It was messier than Eddie had ever imagined, and definitely less romantic, but when you settle your arms around his neck, pulling on the hairs at the nape, any coherent thought about his dream reunion with you goes out of the window.

It’s possibly minutes before you finally disconnect, silently making out at the edge of a party like the teenagers they once were when you were together, but you never lose contact, your lips peppering kisses constantly on his lips and around them. Eddie is distracting himself putting his hands under your top, the cold of his hands against the warmth of your belly eliciting a high-pitched whine from you, and it’s a noise Eddie is familiar with.

It had been too long since he heard that heavenly sound.

You seemed to have kicked your thinking brain in, taking Eddie’s face between your hands and taking his lips off your neck. “Do we really wanna do this again? I…I don’t want you to beat yourself up for this.”

Eddie throws her a lust-filled smile, but the question of concern has his heart fluttering. “What did I tell you about me and regrets, darling?”

You throw him a grateful smile, but you still hold him with hesitancy. Oddly though, it’s a different kind of hesitancy than what he’s used to. He throws you a questioning look, and you sift his chocolate waves through your hands when you give in. “I want you to know that I always regretted the way I handled things with you. Because the love I felt for you…the love I feel for you, I never went about it the right way.”

Now the insecurity and fear has left Eddie, because as he looks at you, his hands enveloped in yours and flush against your sternum, trying not to think about those tits he’d missed so much swallowing half the conjoined hands as they squeezed together, he’d finally felt like he understood her side after all this time. You were just as insecure.

“Let me show you then, sweetheart,” He pleads quietly, pressing kisses to each corner of your mouth, “Let me show you how much I missed you.”

Happily relenting, you flush your lips against his, connecting once more, but this time it felt more comforting to the both of them, like coming home at long last. It wasn’t long before your mouths opened for one another, Eddie’s tongue in your mouth and sucking your bottom lip as you mewled in response. His cock twitches when he hears you make those noises, thinking he’d never hear them again yet here he was, against the back door of his van with his lips attacking yours, and your hips pressing into his crotch, making him grunt in response.

“Fuck Eddie,” You pant, already breathless when your lips aren’t on Eddie’s for three long seconds, and Eddie wants to throw his head back if it weren’t for your hands tangled in his hair. “As much as I’m happy to show everyone how much I love me a bit of Eddie Munson, this is a bit public for me.”

Eddie feels himself smirk into your neck, travelling down and he feels his chin touch the top of your tits, and he tilts his head down to kiss them gently. The traces of fingers and fiddling of clothes that so desperately want to be taken off but can’t in the open driveway with random people walking in and out of the house. Your touch feels like feathers along Eddie’s skin, and it makes him just want you more with every growing second.

He accidentally bumps your temple as he grabs onto the back door handle that stood beside you, opening it roughly. “Get in the back sweetheart,” He says lowly, taking his hands and putting them on your waist as he gently hoists you into the back. It was a place of small haven for the both of you, and the reason why Eddie always kept his van so clean compared to everything else he owned.

When you’re in you hold your hand out for Eddie to get in himself, giggling when he shuts it and takes hold of your waist again, finding it impossible to stay away from it, his fingers dancing delicately up your top, slowly making its way up your ribs and to the underwire of your bra. Your small gasp of surprise only encourages Eddie further, his hand reaching to the top of your bra and pulling your tits out, taking your nipple between his fingers and rubbing slowly, your head throwing back to the side of the van as you moan with more vigour, mouth open agape as you breathe heavily.

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re always so noisy for me,” He groans, pinching your nipple for a high-pitched cry, which you gave him with no resistance. His cock lays stiff in his jeans, and he’s not sure how much longer he’s able to wait before he cums in his pants, so his other hand snakes down to where your tights and knickers scantily cover your pussy, rubbing over your clit and hearing you cry out into the crook of his ear.

He does that for a few seconds, switching between making sure each breast sat peaked and awake for him while running your clit, the wetness of your pussy quickly bleeding through the thin layers that protected you, his hips rutting against your thigh as he groans in every rhythmic motion of his hips. Your lips are always on him somehow, and just as Eddie feels like he’s going to burst, feeling his orgasm starting to bloom, his hands travel to your ass, cupping your cheeks in his hands and squeezing before he huskily asks you to jump, your legs wrapped around his waist while you work on getting your tights off, leaving them stretch just below your knees.

Eddie drags his lip between his teeth when he looks down to your panties, the large spot of wet ever so distinct to him, even in the pitch black darkness of the night.

Finally deciding to relieve himself, Eddie uses the one hand he’s not using holding onto you to take his belt off and undo his zipper, moaning with volume as he takes his cock between his hands, squeezing at his base lightly, all the while staring at you, your eyes filled with intense arousal.

“Fuck me, Eddie, please,” You whisper, your forehead resting against his in a sweet manner of intimacy in the heat and sweat of the activity you were both partaking in.

He drags his cock slowly against the thin layer of panties, your moan making him twitch even in his hand.

“I— shit, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart, if you say that you miss me,” He says thickly, his fingers toying with the edge of your knickers.

Forehead still on his, you kiss his cheek gently, then his nose, then the corner of his mouth and then to his lips when you reply, that twinkle in your eyes returned and brighter than ever in the darkness of the back of Eddie’s van. “I miss you Eddie. Jesus fuck, I’ve missed you every day. Not one day I didn’t think about you.”

He seems satisfied with the answer, kissing gently on your lips while he puts your panties to one side, delicately prodding your hole with his finger, and you clenched around him perfectly, dripping wet and waiting for his cock to fill you up all the way.

You both moan loudly when Eddie ruts his hips up, thrusting all the way. He swore he’d never forget how perfect you feel, how you managed to always fit him just perfectly, the right fit for him, but with him inside you once again for the first time in a few tears, it’s like a memory that had come to life once more.

He thrusts with a consistent confident pace, your mouths conjoined to silence the sounds of panting and morning as the van rocked back and forth as he fucked you against the sound of the van, your hands occasionally pulling on his hair when he ruts deeply to your sweet spot.

When you throw your head to the side, your moans getting more pant-like and heavy, and Eddie remembers your queue that you were close, and he was determined not to cum until he had satisfied you entirely.

“Come on baby, I know you wanna come for me. Miss me—fuck, miss me so much you’ll be such a good girl and cum just for me, yeah?” He grunts, his speech coming in time with his thrusts, and your loud moan in response tells him you’re close, really close, his thumb coming to massage circles onto your clit once more.

You moan again, tugging on Eddie’s hair, “I’m gonna cum Eddie.”

He presses a sweet kiss to your cheek, “Cum then, sweetheart. Make me proud,” And it undoes your knot, your orgasm washing over you like a tsunami wave, Eddie feeling himself come undone just when he feels your juices drip down his cock and onto the thighs of his jeans, riding out his high with you by rocking gently, slowly coming to a stop when your moans run out and you tiredly hang your head into Eddie’s neck.

Kissing you once again when he pulls out, a whine of sensitivity leaving your mouth, he pulls your knickers and tights back up, stuffing himself back into his jeans before taking your hand and sitting you down on the small black loveseat he had bought for the band whenever they had practice.

Your head rest against his shoulder, hands mindlessly playing with the zip of his leather jacket while he strokes the top of your hair, pressing occasional kisses into it.

“I meant what I said, you know.” You whisper into the silent air, the van thick and muggy and smelling of sweat and sex that should have been enough to get Eddie out, but he was too tired to care. “I miss you everyday. And I-I fucked up, I know, but I wanna try again, with you,” You sat up now, looking at Eddie straight in the eye. “If you’d let me.”

Eddie smiles, full of love and adoration, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles as if they were made of gold. “I’d be stupid if I let the love of my fucking life get away from me like this again.”

tagging some people i love!

@will-on-the-internet @prettyboyeddiemunson, @benedictscanvas @indouloureux @lilacletter

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson ansgt #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x afab reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson x gn!reader #stranger things fic #ruby writes

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 10 months

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Robin landed on the roof next to him and Bruce could already feel the headache building. They were looking down on a young blond man with pointed ears and a large halberd on his backriding on a white horse. The guy looked like he had come straight out of a fairytale. He knew that if this was a new rogue Damian would argue about keeping the horse. Actually he would probably want to keep the horse even if he wasn't a rogue.

Deciding the guy had gotten close enough they swooped down to confront him. The man, startled, stopped his horse and pulled the large halberd off his back. He held it in front of him, as if in warning. The man looked wary of them but not afraid. They stared at eachother for a moment before the man spoke in a language neither Batman not his Robin knew.

---

Link was having a wierd day. He had literally just saved Princess Zelda a week ago (and for the second time) when he encountered some kind of demon in black and white. The Master Sword glowed in the demons presence which was all Link needed to know before chasing after the being. The thing, looking like a teen in odd clothing that reminded him of links own rubber suit, bolted into a green portal it had created.

Not hesitating he had his horse leap into it. And now he was in a strange place with no sign of the demon. After getting attacked by a man yelling in a language he didn't recognize, he switched out his sword for a halberd for that extra reach on horseback and continued on his way, leaving the unconscious man on the road side behind him.

This place was odd. Parts of some walls would light up, showing images of people and places he didn't know along with a written language he didn't recognize. He came across many people who looked at him oddly...or at least he thought they were people. They looked like Hylians but most of them were taller than the average Hylian and to Links horror they had short rounded ears. How could they hear thier gods with such tiny ears?

He was scared, but he carried on anyway. Eventually he gets confronted by someone dressed as a monster and a child. They manage to settle thier...dispute?...without violence so that was nice. He pulled a few apples and swift carrots out of his tablet-to the curiosity of the duo- and hands them to the child. The kid caught on quickly and raced off to feed his horse her favorite snacks.

Link will have to figure out how to overcome this language barrier

Bruce however, has discovered this was not a man, but a teenager lost in a foreign world and is set on adopting him.

#dpxdc #fanfiction prompts #prompts #danny fenton #danny phantom #batman #robin #damian wayne #imaging an au of this where one of the other bats spots him first #jason meeting a elf right out of a fairytale lmao #tim meeting a pretty blond elf boy: *mind blown*#ect.#link: *wanting human money of his own* how much do you thing this would sell for? *lays down piles of rubies each bigger than tims head*#batfam: :O #Link: *following Alfred and Jason around trying to convince them to teach him some recipes*#Link: happily cooking for the bats and helping Alfred #Link: *Teaching the bats how to read and write Hylian Gerudo and Zora languages while he leans english*#Danny: *is super lost in this fic and may or may not be leading a child gang in a gang war he didnt mean to start*

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hazel-callahans · 8 months

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idk what the hell she's talking about, but i'm so in love with her that i literally do not care

#meat. association.?#baby what do you do in your summers?????????????#idc #i need her #bottoms movie #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan #ruby cruz #lover!#my coloring #this is genuinely one of my favorite colorings i've done #gif #*mine #femalegifsource #userlgbtq #1k

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stevebabey · 1 year

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part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !

#at this point call this the 'can i' series #sweet boys asking each other for things they most certainly would be given <3 #but don't think they will <3 #tried to flip it and make it so even tho eddie is used to touch. the romantic touch? he's got none! that's where he's touch-starved #ALSO EVERYONE'S TAGS WERE SO NICE ON THE LAST ONE #trust i am. not feelin so bad nowadays (me saying this like 4 days later lmao)#but <3 thank u all #gay ppl in my phone.... you know what to do #ruby writes steddie #steve x eddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #touch-starved steve harrington #not rlly anymore hehe #does anyone notice that it ends with yet another 'can i?" question? HEHE #yet again stib gets kisses where ruby doesn't but alas <3 dis is way fluffier this time #nearly went the angst route! and went hmmmm naur #ok ok i'll be quiet now

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