#(happy in its...creature-way?)

[hitlikehammers]

Kas!Eddie versus the Upside Down Steve Harrington

(it's still steddie though don't worry)

The plan was to send him through the cracks remaining around the gates, and simply let the beast in him, in this new resurrected version of him, do what it was bred for.

The flaw in the plan was believing that this creature was a novelty; that there wasn’t a beast inside Eddie Munson long before the bats had picked him clean.

It left certain things—little things, nothing so vital as to truly override his commands—but it left the man who was Eddie Munson certain capacities to control. Mostly idle ones, inane memories of being himself. He thinks it’s worse, that way.

Like how he remembers grabbing Steve’s arm in the woods, not knowing why, what his next move was going to be but his heart hand been pounding—so human, a scathing voice echoes in him now, taunting; patronizing—but he’d pulled hard enough to draw Steve’s bare and bandage chest to his only to freeze when their lips brushed entirely by accident and Steve had spoken without moving back an inch:

Later. Let’s make him pay first, then we’ll have time.

And Eddie had half-gasped on weak lungs: Im gonna hold you to that, baby, wholly missing salacious and sticking on squeaky-breathless with his tone, knowing he didn’t have the balls to follow through, if they managed to crawl out alive.

But it is why his parting words were what they were. Make him pay.

A coward’s way out to beg it: give us the chance in the after.

And Steve’s eyes had widened, dilated even in the dark and he’d nodded. He’d agreed. There was a future for them worth fighting for and—

Eddie remembers these things.

The beast in him, that’s he’s become more than any other thing, the creature whose master reference to ask Kas: that beast laughs.

The beats Eddie’s always carried in his chest, for all the wrong and hurts he’s already survived: those beasts long desperately to tear this Kas-thing to shreds.

But the Kas-beast holds the reins; the other beasts can seem to wrangle them free.

Which is how he ends up at this house. This window sill. Slithering up the siding to crawl inside.

His landing could be silent; Kas has the capacity. And the deed could be done instantaneously—Kas could do that but won’t.

Eddie’s beasts, and the heart with wishes beyond merely housing dragons; Eddie makes his landing hard, to draw attention.

The Kas-beast growls and vows a slow and painful show.

Eddie steels himself inside himself, bites at his tongue and hates that the taste feeds Kas as it repulses all that Eddie still is—bur Kas’s promises mean time.

More time. More time to try and grasp some control, some capacity to fail and not, not—

“Eddie?”

Eddie snaps his attention, turns toward the voice: he’d made noise to wake his prey on purpose.

He hadn’t expected even Steve Harrington to be so skilled as to know his shape even so altered, what’s left of the face of him under every scar and shift—impossible.

But Eddie’s breath catches anyway.

Weakness. Failure. He means nothing. Why hesitate, cretin? Atta—

“Eddie,” and Steve’s standing, his full height still matched to Eddie’s own, the Kas-beast had transformed his shape but he doesn’t tower, even if he’s broader—he’s built for speed now. An efficient tool, the Kas-beast was called by its master.

Eddie, for whatever he’s worth, for whatever what’s left of him could possibly be worth: Eddie shudders, feels sick when he hears that voice. Knows the touch of those vine-wrinkled fingers tracing his face and—

“Fuck, god,” and the hands on Eddie’s face—whole hands, warm and unhesitating, tracing his cheeks, testing his pulse where is slower, deeper, thunder-like except now it’s a tempest, like two different creatuely muscle vying against themselves inside one chest because Eddie’s human heart’s racing, Steve is touching him, is eyeing him like a muscle and it’s heady hit horrific Bevause Eddie didn’t come alone.

And the beast in control has no attachments; shows no mercy.

“I’d,” Steve blinks, when he moves his hand from Eddie’s neck back to his face, framing in both splayed palms but Eddie still whines at the loss of the feeling of a delicate touch at his throat—it comes out as a growl, menacing, and a piece of him wants only to cower inside himself; from himself.

Steve, though. Steve doesn’t even fucking flinch.

“I thought, Eddie, I couldn’t have even hoped, you were so,” and oh, oh, Steve almost looks like he’s going to tear up, he looks flat out fucking overwhelmed and Eddie wants to reach, he wants to reach out and hold but his hands are indelicate, and the claws—

“Are you in pain?”

Of course Steve sees the way he grimaces, the war inside him to reach but no, no because it will tear through flesh like paper and then the voice, ehe thunderous tattoo building reach, reach, end him—

You have your orders.

“Steve.”

Eddie realizes he hadn’t really bothered to try his voice above ground, hadn’t paid attention below. He should have. He sounds ragged, half gravel and half bat-screech.

Steve stills, then, but doesn’t back away. Doesn’t move his own hands from Eddie’s face. His own face softening, like, like…

Maybe he didn’t expect his first name, versus his last name. Maybe he didn’t expect Eddie’s voice at all, nevermind bastardized like this. Maybe he…didn’t expect Eddie to remember his name at all, maybe he sees the changes, maybe he...

Whatever he sees. He can’t possibly…understand.

“I’ve come to kill you.”

Eddie thinks he means it to come out pleading. The beast that’s not him wants it somewhere between a threat and a promise.

It ultimately lands flat. Almost tired.

Steve just tilts his head, the gorgeous moron.

“That’s what you’ve decided?” Steve runs a thumb across Eddie’s scared cheekbone; “or that’s what you were told?”

Eddie stills. Screams in his own mind. The Kas-beast snarls; writhes, howls.

“So much to tell you, now,” Steve leans closer, runs a thumb along Eddie’s lower lip, exposes the fangs Eddie knows are pointing lethal from the top; “so much, baby, we—“

Eddie’s hands move without his own conscious choosing; yet he Kas-beast doesn’t even seem to know what the body they share is aiming on doing as it pushes Steve into the nearest surface: the bed, folding Steve at the knees back onto the mattress and falling to straddle his hips, the claws drawing red lines on Steve’s skin, the glow of it almost precious, the dotting of stars Eddie can’t see down below; the temptation of it delicious, the beasts in him all ravenous, his own and the interloper alike just…

Different kinds of ravenous as Steve’s chest rises and falls beneath him.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Eddie whispers, sandpaper over ice, like the low pitch will hide the words from the enemy; “but he will end me if I come back without your head.”

Which ‘he’ Eddie means isn’t clear, even to himself. Which enemy is uncertain.

But Steve’s cheat just rises, falls. He doesn’t pull away from the dig of claws into the skin of his arms, the gloves of his shoulders—leans into it further, in fact. Like he wants Eddie to break, and the beast that isn’t his to win out, to fulfill its mission, its purpose but how could he? He can’t want to die—

The human heart left in Eddie’s chest skips: Steve did throw himself to danger. In the stories Eddie barely believed before and in the flesh of it all, here and now. What if, what if—

“Oh darling,” Steve coos, and it’s not, it’s not blind to the danger, or the horror. His hand reaches back to the spaces Eddie knows his wings burst free from in agony and traces the scarred-up lines: “you half-died there weeks ago,” and none of it, he realizes, sounds lamenting. Or hesitant.

It’s almost…patronizing.

Steve blinks, and his eyes don’t darken like Eddie’s ever seen before; his voice pitches in a way that forgoes what’s left of Eddie and speaks straight to the foreign beast:

“I’ve learned what it means,” Steve, or, or: maybe the beast that lives in Steve Harrington, that maybe always did, that’s piquing something in the Kas-creature for its timbre, something that makes it draw back for the first time. That scares it, in a way Eddie can’t be quite scared, not by Steve and yet he’s trembling anyway, and the Kas-creature isn’t even vying for the blood beading where Eddie’s new-grown claws dig into Steve’s flesh—whatever is dark in Steve’s eyes, sharper than usual in his features, and glistening when the kids of his gaze close the wrong fucking way, blink side-to-side as Steve seems to sense it, like whatever’s in him seeks to snuff out the Kas-creature for Eddie’s sake like protection, almost possessive even but beyond that like it’s sough out less as a threat and more like a nuisance as Steve bares his teeth and Eddie’s still straddling him, but he feels no sense of control, of power, here, as Steve circles a vice grip on Eddie’s wrists, their own sharp edges more like a firm caress somehow before Steve hisses again:

“I’ve learned what it means to live there,” and he sneers, and Eddie feels almost wholly himself, almost his human heart alone threatening to burst for the way it pounds when Steve’s teeth reveal themselves like the mouth of a whale, the soft sifting parts just razor sharp behind Steve’s lips.

And it really just feels like Eddie, then, above Steve but wholly at the mercy of him and his beasts alone, and maybe they were some of what Steve had said he’d wanted to tell him—so much baby, so much to tell you now—as Steve blinks wrong again and snarls, like life stripped raw:

“For years.”

🖤

For @medusapelagia, who requested 'Dark AU' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson

divider credits here

[skunkes]

suggested redraw

og

[possamble]

Thank you for writing the (messy but neccessary) farcille breakdown. You handled it so wonderfully aaaaaaaah!! Like the other anon I was wondering how far "rock bottom" could get (because chapter 4 already felt pretty rock bottom) but. Yeah. That's pretty rock bottom, huh. The tragedy of loving someone but the other person not understanding <- this applies to both of them.

I think it was really neat how you flipped the question on who's reaching out to who with the academy flashback and the final scene with Namari, because... Marcille clinging onto Falin really is just a reversal of their academy days, isn't it? To everyone who met them after they reunited, it was always Marcille chasing after Falin, but to those who were at the magic academy, it was Falin chasing after Marcille. From picking flowers and berries to eat together, inviting Marcille out to see a play, and generally monopolizing her free time... I'm sure any of them would say the same thing as Namari, but in reverse. No wonder everyone thinks Marcille is just another friend to Falin. They weren't there to witness her pining /j. Idk!! I was rereading the chapter and the academy flashback girl was like "why do you hang off of Marcille so much" and I screamed to myself, "hey wait. HEY WAIT."

[wis-art]

Hi, i will be rather busy on the weekend, i have drawn this quick little pin-up sketch of Wiki and i will leave it with you all

[pkmoth]

having swap au thoughts. *slaps roof of claus* there's so much mental illness in this guy. im gonna blow up everyone in the room and then myself

[jam-packed]

oughhh i have. something.....in the works. but i cant draw it till my new ipad comes in next week sigh :(

[mourningcttlfsh]

this is dj spookyswag she was born two seconds ago in a dark alleyway i found her drinking sewage and i hope she explodes

[blueshykitsune-blog]

Drew a very cute creature of happiness. (On a whiteboard)

Now happiness be upon thee!

For everyone who sees this post!

I may or may not send it directly to some people as its life purpose is joy.

So reblog to share the joy and happiness!

(Go and tag people if you want too. You get added happiness the more you see it.)

[galakianexplosion]

A little drawing for @startistdoodles ! Because Prisma is very cute and i felt like drawing her with my little sillies!

Also prisma is an interesting character 💜

I hope you dont mind too much!!

Im quite liking this style of drawing kirby characters line-less! [Also thanks for all the notes on my kirby cake party!! It made me really happy!! I might do big kirby pieces like that again!]

🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐🫐

[horridgoblin]

ok, serious lore implications aside. but why does tav look like theyre saying "he said no PICKLES"

[possamble]

ive been really really loving your fic work for awhile now and i saw u worrying about trans rep stuff the other day and i wanted to tell u that as a transgirl who has terrible BPD from being a lonely kid ive felt very connected with your intrepretation of falin. the whole inner dragon metaphor and the inner guilt of if its justified for standing up for yourself was so absolutely keen to some of the struggles ive had in relationships and seeing them written so well in a character that already means a lot to me is wonderful. also your smut is tremendous please keep doing the lords work <3

[skydigiblogs]

also sorry to double post but i'm going to be thinking about this rewatch for a while now lmao

i know there are a lot of resources that talk about the differences between the sub and dub but i'm kind of losing my mind at how much better the build up felt for apocalymon in the sub?

like specifically that's the thing that's been sticking with me among all the other little differences here and there

i don't remember anything in the dub about distortions being a rampant issue, for instance, but they're mentioned frequently around the etemon arc (and actually i have to wonder if the dark network core was intended to be an extension of apocalymon past the wall of fire)

it's explicitly told in the sub that the dark masters even used the distortions to rise to power in the way they did, reformatting the world in the process

and like i know the ruins on file island (which prophesize apocalymon's return) are commented on during that first arc, but also, that's in both sub and dub. the whole distortion thread doesn't make it into the dub at all from my recollection

and then at the end explaining that the fairy time shit (1 mn IRL = 1 day in the digital world) as consequential of apocalymon!!!

i remember when i first watched 02 i was so confused as to how that fairy time 1 mn / 1 day thing was just gone!! that's part of what always bothered me when watching 02, because it felt like such a blatant ignoring of pre-established canon and the explanation in-dub never felt right (idr if they even explained it)

ourgh anyways

sub apocalymon may not be making jokes about their existential crisis of an existence but i still wanna give the damn mon(s?) a pizza

poor thing deserves it

[opens-up-4-nobody]

This is my small Lucky Stone collection. Lucky Stones the ear bones (otoliths) of sheephead fish (also known as freshwater drum). Theyre characterized by the "J" or "L" shaped groove in the corner. You find them washed up on the shores of the Great Lakes, these came from Lake Erie.

[insufferableroach]

have some characters

yeehaw

also a version without the names yeehaw

the creatures

[blackvahana]

Favourite part of blurring the bond with Black is when my insides feel like they're full of. the worms.