#Now someone’s property

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

i think it would be funny if people occasionally arose from the dead. like if that was a real-life one-in-a-million but well-documented Thing That Sometimes Happens, and the entire legal system around death (laws on inheritance & marriage & murder etc) had to include caveats for the unlikely-but-scientifically-possible event that the dead person in question might spontaneously self-resurrect, even years or decades after death. it would raise so many inconvenient and absurd possibilities

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 324

Is Mermay Over? Yes. Is that going to stop me? No. 

So, Danny and Jazz might’ve run off to their uncle’s- they love their parents, don’t get them wrong, but even with at least one person in each generation of their family ending up a villain, they’re… intense. And they were getting that I’m going to destroy the government for this, look on their faces. 

SO! Off to Uncle Crane’s, the somehow responsible one of the family. Seriously, how the Gotham Rogue is somehow the responsible person is… well, it’s a story to be sure, but hey, he’s actually pretty chill. And sometimes you need fear to eat and survive, they get it, it’s a liminal thing and a ghost thing. 

Siren thing? 

Look, it’s something to do with how ecto interacts with the body of a living or partially living person, even if they’re all still baffled about the how and why. Then again, it’s not particularly important at the moment, they’re in Gotham now and vibing in one of their uncle’s homes. 

Honestly? They see why he didn’t move away after university, this place is pretty chill. Well, save for the fact the waters are horrible unless you’re used to it, but that’s what the tanks indoors are for. Even if Danny is the only one of them that has like, a proper fully aquatic form at the moment. 

But honestly, doesn’t really matter. They’re pretty chill, even if the local furry brigade keeps breaking into their warehouses? Like damn, it’s not like their uncle is even currently doing rogue work, chill. 

[oifaaa]

hey what the FUCK are the orange men this is the most ominous thing i've ever heard

Orange men are part of the Orange order a group of ulster prod conservatives committed to keeping Northern Ireland (and Scotland) part of the UK they're a bunch of bigots and I'm pretty sure Scotland even classifies them as a hate group but in the north of Ireland throughout July they celebrate the 12th which was a day in the 1600s where King William of Orange defeated the Catholic king at the battle of the Boyne they do this by marching throughout July and building massive bonfires (like 5 stories high) and burning flags associated with Ireland

[dirtytransmasc]

I need more selkie theon (and asha. I just think that would be a vibe. fuck the greyjoy sigil being a kraken for a moment and let them be seals) content.

like the opportunity to have theon's coat taken by ned when he's made his ward is right there and it is perfect and beautiful and tragic.

and you could build on that depending on the version of the selkie myth/story you're going off of (I personally love the song of the sea version of selkies for story writing). maybe he can't talk without it, maybe he gets sick, maybe his voice has magical properties of sorts.

I have this one concept in my head that I don't have the time to write, but it goes something along the lines of theon getting sick after years away from his coat and the stark kids have to find his coat and drag his slowly dying ass to the bay of seals (cause y'know bay of seals and theon's a selkie so he'll turn into a seal... I thought it was creative).

also, in a lot of versions of selkies, when they get sick, their hair turns white, which is on brand for theon. they're also pretty, their stories are typically soaked to the bone in tragedy, they're normally held captive/tortured, amongst other things, which are also very on brand for theon.

and maybe you get some selkie to selkie telepathy of sorts, so when theon finally enter the water a seal again, asha books it to come find him, cause its been years since she's been able to feel him (I'm soft for them, I will create the most improbable and ridiculous scenario's to bring them together and for them to have soft sibling moments).

all and all, theon being a selkie is something I need more content of, please and thank you.

[rudnitskaia]

yay a week until my 29th bday ✨🔥😎🔥✨

[yuri-is-online]

You know how some characters have parallels whether to their classmates or side characters,Yuu deserve the same treatment.

I've had this idea for awhile but imagine yuu wasn't the only one summoned to Twisted Wonderland but one of the few to survive.What if twst was like the back rooms only yuu got dropped to somewhere more "stable",think if someone else got like dropped to like Briar Field imagine how scared they be.

Like twst in the Novel has a translation spell on it but only on the campus.But an older Earthling that somehow survived all the madness and confusion of a new world,along with being lucky enough to find another person like them.

But they hate everything in this new world the magic, the system,their values they're done horrible things to try to get home.

Now yuu has to defend what they hold dear,the need to go home or the care for their new friends.'Will you do whatever it takes to go home"

NOW WE ARE COOKING WITH GAS, I LIKE THIS!!! So I was thinking about this for a good bit and I have two ideas, but I think we need a name for this hypothetical person. Since Yuu is supposed to be (you) this other person is (not you). The two names I can think of are Noh (a play on "no" and a type of Japanese theater where the actors wear masks, which this character metaphorically will be) or Kuroko (stage hands in traditional Japanese theater who wear all black to suggest they are "invisible" which this character again is.) Of the two I like Noh better, so I'll use it for this post but I am open to critique.

Firstly, in line with what you originally proposed, if Noh got dropped in the forest somewhere, unless they already had survival skills they're going to end up dead pretty fast. Or if they get lucky, and you have suggested Briar Valley, a place notoriously unfriendly to humans, I could see things going south very quickly for them. This could be a good place for them to start their journey... but I had another idea. A horrid idea.

What if Noh arrived in Twisted Wonderland a year before Yuu did, but at the Royal Sword Academy? I know we like to talk about how they would be more considerate of Yuu's magiclessness... but that could be isolating in a way couldn't it? Yuu is considered different but equal to the NRC boys in a way. Noh isn't, there's no reason to enroll them as a student so they stay a weird sort of assistant, stuck in limbo with nothing really to do with people who are so blindly focused on the positive that they don't fully comprehend the spiral Noh is in. Noh has seen no overblots; all they have seen is the raw, painful reality of life for people without magic in a world that is increasingly focused on people that aren't them. And how painfully ignorant even the "nice" mages are.

When Noh hears about Yuu, they track them down. Unwilling to trust them at first, they don't mention their plans or their true feelings. They just want to talk about earth... for now. Concrete plans can come later once you both know just how little these mages are on your side.

They just want to go home... just like you... right?

[twocutlines]

anyway

[sunmoontruth-stiles]

I need a completely rewritten teen wolf series with Derek Hale as the main character. I think it would heal me.

[vermillioncrown]

another tpac ch 11 snippet

...

“Stop looking up KVM switches, Korv—my setup is fine.”

“It’s for me,” Korvin insists. When no one believes him, he amends, “And it could be for you too, Barbie.”

“You don’t need that kind of setup,” Dick absently calls out as he enters the room, holding a couple of documents and envelopes under his arm.

Korvin ignores him. “Just thinkin’ it’d be really convenient: less of a rat’s nest, multiple interface points, rack mounting—”

“—I do not want to see you raccooning around my cables,” Babs says firmly. “Appreciate it, but no.”

Korvin’s mouth twists into a petulant scowl as he turns back to his assigned reading; Gotham Academy is reopening their campus for the spring. Tim’s due back in his dorm end of next week—meaning he’s supposed to be home for his dad to drop him off the day before—but he finds his motivation for school has reached an all-time low.

“Korvin Kwan—what the hell?!” Dick’s indignant question interrupts their peace. The large envelope he was carrying earlier has been opened, revealing three large 8” x 10” landscape photos on the table top. Each one is a blown-up snapshot, slightly blurry like through another layer of glass, of an urban intersection and focused on the first car at the stoplight.

If Tim squints, turns the photograph sideways, and backs up a few feet—it wouldn’t be so obvious who was seated in the front. At that angle, though, he—

Dick snatches one of the photos off the table, puts his face right to the print, and pulls back to stare blankly at Tim. The lack of expressed anger is a warning sign; Cass abruptly gets up and moves to stand next to Babs’s wheelchair. Meanwhile, the older vigilante looks back and forth between Tim and Korvin, jaw tight as he’s working through some internal debate.

When Dick finally decides to fixate on Korvin, Tim can't explain the little bit of affront mixed in with his reflexive relief.

...

[object-headed-characters-yes]

Day 7- Doubt

I find RGB’s interactions with the previous heroes fascinating, and I like to wonder what those interactions would be like when RGB is alone/between heroes. So oops, this turned into a longer one-shot with RGB and Click.

Additional note: I still think about that panel of RGB seeing Click in the Market and Click pointing and making the shooting motion at RGB. In this one-shot, RGB isn't aware of where Click's eyes actually are. Some tags/etc. since this is longer:

Angst, torment/pain via shooting, violence, RGB/suffering, taunting, RBG running his mouth doesn’t do him any favors with Click, musing over the concept of pain both physical and mental for RGB, reminding one of one’s failures with a similar departure, some hurt/comfort (a lil RGB/Madras if you squint), despair/resignation/acceptance when the same thing happens again.

~

RGB didn’t notice the Doubts gathering nearby as the futility of what he was attempting to accomplish began to feel like a huge waste of effort. RGB should just give up, instead of fighting, and finally accept what was fast becoming inevitable.

And yet…

RGB can’t stop now.

Despite the hurt that came from becoming attached to his previous heroes who had failed, RGB just couldn’t stop now. Not after all he’d done to find the loophole that he was currently taking advantage of. And he knew better, now, after a few heroes, to be a little more careful so he didn’t end up in another situation where he had to abandon his hero to their doom.

Once was enough.

Once was enough to make the guilt linger, even if RGB told himself that it was for the best.

Click had not been what RGB thought he would be as a hero.

RGB’s walk had slowed as his thoughts briefly dwelt on the failed (and abandoned) hero. RGB could only hope that the next hero (after Click, and the last few) would surely be able to go on longer and succeed compared to those who came before? RGB needed to shake off the malaise that was plaguing him before he could not even accomplish going to find a hero again and-

Ah.

That explained his current train of thought.

RGB had come across the field of Doubts.

What terrible luck.

RGB was soon surrounded by many of the creatures, no longer squabbling amongst themselves. The telly-headed monster staggered along, occasionally tearing away Doubts that began to cling to him.

Almost out of the field.

Just a little further.

Click-click-click.

That sound…

Click-click-click.

Now, of all times?

Click-click-click.

RGB unwillingly stopped in place at the sound, wondering if he’d had a shadow the entire time he'd been going back to the beginning.

“Click.” RGB greeted, not turning around just yet as he raised his hands up and away from his pockets. No matter how much he wanted to go for something that might give him time to get away from Click, and any possible hurt that came with his appearance. Unless, of course, Click had changed his view of RGB, yet that was-

BANG!

Pain flared through RGB’s left leg, making him stagger then collapse to his right knee, swiftly using the cane in his hand to bat away a few Doubts that had wiggled closer as his other hand braced in the grass.

A bullet clattered nearby.

“Not even a greeting, Click?” RGB questioned, managing to speak without obvious agony; like he was just having a chat with an old friend. An old friend understandably upset with RGB’s previous action. “I thought a little repertoire might happen before you shot me, though as you see, it went right through me.”

The sound of the weapon could be heard being repositioned.

RGB knew what had Click after him.

Click knew as well RGB that the television-headed monster had abandoned him to a doomed fate. And now Click was within range of his guide turned enemy, again seeking to remove that which caused his inevitable demise in this world.

“You know, I thought we had quite a good chat before coming to this world." RGB had yet to reach for his suit coat, and every passing second he stood there meant being overwhelmed by the Doubts, or shot. "Surely, we could have that civil a conversation again? I am on a bit of a schedule here; I’m sure you understand that.”

A few clicks, a gnashing of unseen teeth, despite the fact RGB was fairly certain Click had none.

Not anymore.

“Even if I know you’re not precisely, ah, pleased with my previous decisions and actions, I’m sure you know it’s a, well, unfortunate 'duty' of mine to continue to find new heroes, correct?”

Silence but for the ever-sounding click-click-click that accompanied the former hero turned a tin solider in this place.

“My dear fellow, I don’t suppose we could take this conversation you clearly insist upon having to a less hostile environment?" RGB wheedled, doing his best to figure out a way to defuse the situation, so to speak. "I do think we may have had some sort of misunderstanding when first we met, and I can’t help but think that this has carried over after your…change in appearance, and the incidents that followed thereafter.”

“As before, you speak too much.” A voice of three in one spoke aloud at last. Another click, as metal creaked and moved, changing shape. “And I think this field is fitting, for someone like you.”

“How do you figure that?” RGB batted away another Doubt with his cane, his other hand’s fingers digging into the ground with unease.

The muzzle of the rifle lightly pressed between where RGB’s shoulder blades would be.

“Your doubts about me…your doubts about the ability of this place to be saved; despite trying again and again…you abandoned me. Left me to die, and become what I am now, after you killed the 'me' before that." Click harshly grated through the three-toned voice. “You’ve doubted all previous heroes brought to this cursed place, haven’t you? Doubted their skill to keep up with you in this madness. For your heroes to understand the rules without being told, unless pressed with a question for an answer." Click’s voice became rough and laced with fury underlying pain. “Doubted their ability to do what you were unable to accomplish, leading us all to be pawns in your attempt to make things right that you yourself couldn’t?”

“I don’t know what you mean by that.” RGB couldn’t quite hold his unease over being called out like that, but he figured some of the previous heroes, and now Click, had figured him out, and saw through his facade. Though RGB's thoughts were dashed when the muzzle of the rifle lowered a tad.

BANG!

A bullet whizzed through where his right thigh would be.

The cane fell with a muted thump to the grassy ground as RGB’s hand joined his other in the grass. He held himself up, arms trembling as the agony of both the bullet wounds traveled through him unseen, the second stringing pain traveling through his thigh. RGB’s other leg was as about to shift to balance on his hands and knees to not topple over, when Click moved.

Click-click-click.

RGB wordlessly winced when Click stepped on his wounded left leg, grinding the boot now a rifle butt down as the rifle made from Click's own arm moved with the lifting of said arm. RGB briefly found his voice. “I don’t suppose we could-"

BANG!

BANG!

Twice more the rifle went off, one shot going through RGB’s left shoulder blade, while the second shot flashed through the upper arm of his right.

RGB’s voice became wrought with static as he gracelessly collapsed to the grass, just barely turning his television head to the side to avoid having the glass crack upon impact. Seeing as it was grass, there was likely no need to worry, but RGB wasn't going to tempt fate further that dat.

The 'boot' moved off of RGB’s leg.

Click-click-click.

BANG!

Another shot, this time through RGB’s lower back. Then, the rifle roughly pressed to the back of his telly-head.

“If you want target, might I suggest the rather abundant population of Doubts that are surrounding us?” RGB wheezed out through the speaker, color dripping excessively down from his screen, several emotions overwhelming him all at once. RGB tensed when he felt the barrel of the rifle shift, almost thoughtfully, to one of RGB's vents. “Taking on those Doubts might be able to help with some of that built up anger of yours.” The rifle moved again to roughly press back against the back of RGB’s head. “Or you could do this, I suppose.”

“Like I said before-“ Clicking and metal sound overlapped before a hand reached around RGB's shoulder to seize the volume control on the front of his television screen. “You speak too much, but for what I have in mind-“ Click cranked up the volume to its max setting. “I want you to be heard. To scream.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. As much pain as you could cause me and the 'hurt' that it brings won't make me ‘scream.’" RGB commented, his voice now very loud. Conveniently, the Doubts didn’t like it and had moved a little way away from him and Click. “More of a static feedback, I suppose? I’m not really one for screaming and all that. I can certainly talk more if you’re keen on that conversation and are done with shooting me.” RGB’s arms ache as he braced himself when Click irritably used both his hand and the one currently used as a weapon to roughly flip RGB over onto his back. Staring up at Click, the blank-faced soldier appeared cold and unwavering. This gave RGB pause. What was he planning and-

“I want you to feel helpless when they come for you.” Click’s otherwise stationary head tilted to the side, the gold buttons on his solid jacket shimmering. It was if they, too, were eyes that were giving RGB their whole attention as Click's arm turned weapon lowered from the center of his screen to his chest, just below the bow tie.

“Who do you-“

BANG!

A bigger, more painful flare of agony tore through RGB’s chest, dragging out what he thought couldn’t be brought out so easily. A scream of agony, despite knowing no real harm was done to something not truly there, or what was already gone.

Click-click-click.

The muzzle of the rifle moved to the side as Click awkwardly knelt alongside RGB, body shifting metal in order to do so as Click gripped a handful of fabric to yank RGB partly upright off the grass. For whatever reason, Click was leaning over past his television-head, Click's chest level with RGB’s television screen versus the toy soldier’s head. Maybe he couldn’t bend that far with what his body now was?

RGB’s screen was fuzzing and static, the technicolor smile slipping to a thin line of pure agony. But through this, and the jostling via Click’s hand, RGB could have sworn the decorative detail across Click’s chest formed into three sharp smiles, the buttons gleaming on either side of these. It gave off the impression of three faces gleefully enjoying the clear pain RGB was experiencing despite the lack of blood from any of the bullet holes in RGB’s suit coat and pants legs.

“The Fears.” Click responded to RGB's earlier question as he jammed the rifle point-blank against RGB’s chest, just to the side of the hole the previous bullet had made. Click leaned in close, those buttons are like eyes, piercing RGB, the imagined smiles twisting up in sadistic pleasure. “Scream, and suffer, like you made me suffer when you abandoned me to my fate in this place of make believe.”

BANG!

White-hot agony tore through RGB this time, barely noticing that he’d been let go of as the back of his telly-head roughly hit the ground.

Some other gunshots went off, as well as a loud blast, but neither of these were aimed at RGB.

The Doubts?

RGB felt a hint of doubt but it wasn’t as strong as before.

“Good luck getting to your next victim.” Click called out from a further distance. “The Fears have come. They sense yours rising.”

Ricocheting bullets scattered around RGB, dispersing of the remainder of the nearest doubts.

RGB could feel the fear creeping in, drawing in the Fears, the jagged lines of their bodies drawing nearer through the grass.

“Should you survive this, know I will always be around to find you again.”

The click-click-click-ing grew quiet, until it could no longer be heard.

Click knew better than to test a large crowd of Fears, or even a Grief, should it show up, knowing well he didn't want to be caught and overwhelmed like when he'd been a hero, and been abandoned by the one who'd asked him if he wanted to be hero.

RGB’s limbs trembled, but he couldn’t find the strength to get up. He was frozen by pain and the growing fear.

Click-click-click.

Wait.

Why was he coming back?

Why did Click-

SPLASH!

RGB let out a garbled static gasp, fear skyrocketing as he felt the water get into his vents and inside his television head and-

STAB!

The Fear!

RGB weakly reached up to grapple at the head of the Fear but his hands lost their strength, thudding limply to the ground. Other Fears closed in, while the Click-click-click of Click’s retreat could be heard, the tin soldier agreeing to be a hero and being abandoned by RGB, now abandoning RGB had him, and however many other heroes suffered a similar fate.

Another Fear stabbed into RGB’s body; as he lost his vision of the world as his screen went out.

A long blank of nothingness hung around RGB until, with an unnecessary gasping breath, RGB woke up in a different area. An area close to where he went through a door to go recruit a new hero for a doomed narrative.

How…had he gotten here?

Hadn’t RGB been overwhelmed by the fears, after being shot many times by Click, and then splashed water as an effort to ensure RGB might be taken out?

RGB placed the back of his hand across the top of his screen to stare up at the sky overhead.

Well, that had been quite an awful experience, even if Click did have justification to use him as target practice.

The aches remain, as did the bullet holes in his clothing. RGB would have to have the amour repaired or replaced. But that would take more time to go back to the Market and only give Click a chance to find him again, to try and take his revenge for what RGB had done to him.

Standing stiffly, RGB brushed off his suit and pants as best he could, adjusted his boater hat, and picked up his cane that had miraculously appeared with him, instead of being left behind in the field.

A question of how would have to be left for another time.

As much as RGB didn’t think it would be best to go look for a hero while sporting bullet holes in his person, RGB couldn’t dally any longer. Surely there would be at least one person interested in being a hero who wouldn’t be put off by the sight?

As it turned out, RGB had found someone to be the hero of the story. He brought them through a brief gauntlet before the two managed to get a little breather in the House of Paint.

The hero did, that is.

While the hero slept, RGB was subjected to Madras’ concern as she took her price of two pints in return for replacing all the items RGB had lost when Click shot him in the chest, shattering the glass vials hidden beneath.

RGB, once the pints were taken and the vials were stored, went upstairs and sat down, Madras joining him briefly to lean against his back, arms around his shoulders.

They remained there in silence until RGB broke it.

“Click shot me. Multiple times., at that.”

Madras’ arms merely tightened around him, encouraging RGB to continue.

“I don’t think he is interested in talking to me.”

“Would you, in his position?” Madras asked.

“After what happened?” RGB was quiet. His head hung a little. “No.”

“I’ve told you before to not get attached.”

“I know.” RGB’s voice was quiet, despite not turning the volume of the television down. Right, when had that happened? Wasn't it at high volume before?

“You can’t help it.” Madras said.

It wasn’t a question.

“Does that make me a fool?”

“It makes you vulnerable.” Madras poked a finger through a hole in RGB’s suit-coat. “It makes you hesitate.”

RGB said nothing as he turned his head in the direction of the door.

“Don’t get attached.”

“It’s like you said.” RGB’s right hand reached up to rest over one of Madras’ hands. “I can’t help it.”

Madras’ eye settled on a mirror in the corner of the room and saw the self-deprecating multi-colored smile stretching across the lower third of RGB’s screen as his other hand gripped the cane tight.

No more words were spoken.

RGB wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep, but when he woke, he led his newest hero from the House of Paint.

Not a day later, RGB lost them.

Click may have a point; whether or not RGB intended to, whether he left his hero behind intentionally, or did his best to keep his hero safe and well, something inevitably went wrong. This led to them being trapped within this world of make believe, resentful or hateful toward RGB, unable to go home even after the hero was no longer the hero of the story.

One of these times had to be different.

It had to be.

RGB couldn't keep doing this when he was unable to fully detach himself from the situation and he inevitably, in one way or another, became attached to the heroes he brought here.

[ladyswillmart]

Never have I ever been tempted to use any kind of AI-based generative text tool for any kind of writing, EVER.

...except for these bullshit cover letters while trying to find a job on Indeed, good christ

[suncaptor]

I think calling Feferi going to attack Eridan like that self-defense because he assaulted Sollux IS a bit of a stretch, considering, like, Sollux VERY much did, like, agree to duel him. Understandable revenge? The most logical thing she could think of because she took his whole "side to Jack" thing seriously? Not worth being murdered as a 13 year old over? All true. But self-defense. definitely perhaps a stretch! he did not go to attack her until she was coming at him with a weapon!

[mariocki]

Evil Dead Rise (2023)

"You don't look so good, Mom..."

"Oh, nothing a big old hug and kiss from you won't fix. Open up now. Like a good girl."

[tomboyfriends]

does anyone else want to not get married but just have like... a lifelong partner, or however long is appropriate

[liebelesbe]

somebody locked him into the garage and ever since we got him out he's always sitting right next to us 😭

[ID: A brownish grey tabby cat sitting right next to my legs. End ID]

[transvampireboyfriend]

"Eddie!"

Eddie hears the call coming from the kitchen all the way up in Steve's room, Steve's voice echoing in the eerily empty walls of the house.

A house Eddie knows that Steve hates.

The thought always squeezes Eddie's heart, but he reminds himself: this time next week they'll be settled into their new apartment where no walls will be empty if Eddie has any say in it, which he does, at least a third of a say.

And even if Steve and Robin don’t let him paper the walls with photographs, Eddie will do his damnedest so that Steve never hates their home.

 "Yeah?" Eddie calls back to answer Steve, the word a little garbled around the screwdriver he's holding in his mouth.

 "C'mere!" Steve replies. Eddie sighs.

He looks down at the very heavy wooden desk top in his hands then looks at the open door.

He balances the top of Steve's desk on his knee so he can hold it with just one hand, using the other to take the screwdriver out of his mouth.

"What is it, sweetheart? D’you need my help?" he asks, once his mouth is free, his eyes drifting towards the hallway as he waits for Steve’s reply.

"Come. here!" Steve demands. Eddie sighs again but Steve’s annoyed tone makes him hold back a smirk.

"I'm kind of in the middle of something, babe!" Eddie calls, he'd rather finish taking the desk apart first, if it's not too urgent.

"EDDIE!"

Eddie gets so startled, he drops the heavy slab of wood right at his feet. He's glad the floor is carpet up here and not the dumb precious hardwood floors of downstairs.

"Jesus Chris-" he mutters, dropping the screwdriver too, before running down the stairs, sliding in his socks down the hallway and grabbing onto the door's frame to haul himself into the kitchen.

He enters the kitchen a little winded to find Steve standing in front of the stove with a worried frown.

"WHAT is it, Stevie?? you scared the shit outta me!" Eddie accuses, heart hammering in his chest.

Steve at least has the decency to look sheepish while he just stares at Eddie for a second.

"I think I over seasoned the chicken" Steve says quietly after a bit.

Eddie rolls his eyes at him. His heart wants to give out and he kinda wants to strangle Steve. Not in a fun way.

He looks so worried though... it's kinda cute.

He gets kinda serious about cooking for them, whereas when it is Eddie’s turn, he takes it as an opportunity for chaos.

Robbie is more of a toss up, Eddie has noticed. She notoriously contributed to the legendary popcorn s'mores but then she also pinches Eddie really hard whenever he tries to intercede with soup night so it'll be interesting to see how they all work out once they split all meals among them.

Eddie sighs for the third time in five minutes. This time, though, the tension in his shoulders bleeds out with his exhale and he feels a fond smile appear in his face.

"I'm sure it's fine, baby" Eddie tells Steve, both a reassurance about the food and about Eddie not really being mad at Steve for scaring him.

Steve switches the sheepish look for a pout.

"No it's not!" he whines, dragging the words out, Eddie has to contain his grin, he’s so endeared "It doesn't taste right, come taste it" Steve demands, his hand reaching out and flexing his fingers like he wants to grab Eddie and pull him close. Eddie wouldn't be opposed.

"You know I eat anything, right?" Eddie comments, walking over to Steve, "I literally eat your sp-" he gets cut off by Steve's hand coming up to cover his mouth.

"No!! !" Steve declares, his eyes wide, "You are not finishing that sentence, Eddie, ohmygOD!"

Eddie snickers behind Steve's hand. Steve's clearly trying to chastise him but Eddie can't take his boyfriend seriously when he's red in the face.

Steve eyes him warily, but presents him with a small piece of chicken speared through with a fork. "Here," he says, and drops his hand from Eddie's mouth.

Eddie takes the offer and slowly chews on it, making a show of figuring out what it tastes like. He gets a light smack on his arm for his troubles.

He shrugs.

"It tastes fine." he tells Steve with his mouth still half full. Steve scrunches his face a bit.

"It's not too salty?" Steve insists. Eddie chuckles and circles his arms around Steve's waist to hold him lightly.

"No, baby, it's fine. It's good!" he assures Steve, and presses a kiss to his jaw for good measure.

"I feel like it tastes different than usual" Steve grumbles, pouting again, making Eddie want to kiss his face all over.

Instead, Eddie presses the back of his palm to Steve's forehead.

"You coming down with something?" he half-jokes. Steve chuckles and bats his hand away.

"M' fine." Steve protests, leaning his head to the side in an attempt to get away from Eddie's chasing hand.

He fails, and Eddie pinches both his cheeks in his hand, forcing him to pucker up.

"I've probably tasted it too many times" Steve explains, his words distorted by Eddie's hold and Eddie laughs, delighted with what he achieved.

He presses a kiss to Steve's mouth and Steve smiles against it.

"Sorry I interrupted your woodworking" Steve says when Eddie releases him. Eddie snorts.

"I'm just taking it apart" Eddie tells him, walking right into Steve's setup.

"Oh! Well," Steve starts, in a tone that lets Eddie realize what he's done, way too late. "To hear you tell it, baby, you had to go chop the wood and sand it down and build the desk so you can then start taking it apart-" Steve trails off with a satisfied grin when he sees Eddie's scandalized look.

He's helping disassemble the desk because Steve had given up on it in the first place, had even said he'd pay for the one moving truck they'd have to hire just because of it, since the damn thing didn't fit in Eddie's van.

So, Eddie had volunteered to do it himself, take it apart that is, and after the first try he had developed a thirst for vengeance against the thing and now here they are.

And Steve has the nerve to tease him about it.

"Stevie, they put that thing together in hell!" Eddie exclaims, pointing an accusatory finger out the kitchen door "and you didn't keep the manual-" Eddie turns his finger on Steve now. Steve chuckles and interrupts him to point out:

"It didn't come with a manual, my father had it built"

Eddie doesn't miss a beat.

"Well, whoever built it is a moron!!!" Eddie says. Steve loves hearing Eddie rant against every decision David Harrington has ever made, so Eddie appoints whoever took his money for that desk as his mortal enemy (one of many, needless to say), before he continues his rant,

"There are screws all over that thing! and I had to spend two hours just figuring out how to take it apart without doing irreparable damage to it- I can show you my notes!" Eddie makes to take the folded notebook out his back pocket but Steve extends a placating hand to remind him:

"You have,"

Eddie remembers now, and if that didn't tell Steve how big a deal this is, Eddie can tell him just fine,

"I'm telling you," Eddie continues, wildly gesticulating, and feeling like he's about to hop on the kitchen table, or at least a chair "I'm keeping a journal of how I'm taking that monster apart so I can trace back my steps when I have to put it together again,"

Steve is now covering his mouth to keep from laughing out loud, so Eddie turns it against him, "because you are certainly not gonna help me with it! Stop laughing! I'm so serious!!"

Eddie is not serious, at all. But Steve is full on laughing now and Eddie thinks if he didn't need to work for a living he'd choose to do this instead, spend days on end just making Steve laugh so hard he briefly loses his breath.

Eddie dons a put upon look that he knows is just absolutely ruined by the grin he's trying to contain.

Steve wipes at the corner of his eyes trying to take a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, baby," he tells Eddie, wrapping his arms around Eddie's neck, "I won't tease you about it anymore, I promise" he can't seem to stop smiling and Eddie loves it, wants it to last as long as it can.

"Empty promises!" Eddie answers dramatically, "you men are all the same" he earns a snort and another bout of laughter from Steve. Eddie shakes his head vehemently as Steve rides it out.

When he manages to breathe normally again, Steve places a kiss to Eddie's shoulder.

"No, but appreciate it, Eds. You know." Steve tells him honestly, pressing a sweet kiss against the corner of Eddie's mouth.

"Hmm" Eddie hums disapprovingly, making Steve huff.

"I love you" Steve tries, tracing the sides of Eddie's face lightly, playing with the ends of his hair a bit.

 "Yeah, yeah" Eddie says dismissive, while his heart tries to beat out his chest.

 Steve sees right through him and nuzzles against his cheek.

"Lunch will be ready in 20" Steve murmurs, and Eddie's always been helpless against the casual affection that Steve can inject into the most mundane things, he can't really contain himself any longer.

"I love you too." he tells Steve, before burying his face in Steve's neck. Steve chuckles a little and hums against Eddie's temple, clutches him tighter and runs his hands through Eddie's hair gently, making Eddie sigh contentedly.

"Should I set the table?" Eddie offers after a bit, coming back to eye level. Steve caresses his cheeks adoringly.

“No, no," Steve says, "you go fight that desk, honey."

Eddie snorts and crumbles into laughter, everything he had to hold back before, coming out in giggles as he bats Steve's arms away from him.

"I hate you!" he exclaims between laughs. He playfully flips Steve the bird and turns on his heel to march back up the stairs.

"Give it your all!" Steve calls after him, barely coherent in the middle of his laughing.

Eddie rolls his eyes but has the biggest smile on his face.