#It’s so long I’m sorry

[welcome-back-home]

Hi! Noticed your asks are open, (and also, I love your recent work! The dynamic is so cute!!) and I want to request a wally x reader who is a popstar, I wanna see your take on it!!

Also, Have a great day! 💜💜

thank you so much! im so glad you liked my work! i really appreciate it ^^ you have a nice day too and happy reading!

link: puppet reader

note:this is a massive story im so sorry

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

the day started like any other...at least at first, wally does his daily painting routine at his favorite painting spot, underneath a tree with a easel in front of him. the painting he was making resembled a apple cut open with many colors inside in a lemony yellow backgound. he figured his beloved would enjoy it. no matter what personality, they always loved his work and almost immediately hangs it on their wall.

he then paused, mid motion of dipping his paint brush into red paint...now thinking about it, he hasnt seen you all day or hardly anyone for that matter. normally you would show up to say hello or he finds you during his journey to his painting spots, but he was so caught up in his own little world to notice that...time passed and you still haven`t shown up.

a chill goes up his spine at the thought of something wrong might`ve happened, getting a breif flashback of the time his beloved developed a daredevil like personality and they almost got themselves killed.

he looks at his painting as he set the tools down, "it can wait" he thought, as he ventures off to find you.

walking to your home he noticed the design has changed again, it was covered in colorful music notes and fake plastic vinyl records here and there and music is playing from inside. a pleasant musical theme. however over the music thats playing inside was the sounds of construction behind the house and friends talking. wally thought you where back there building something. so he walked behind the house to not see you, but sally, julie, and howdy. the three are apparently working on building a stage, it looked to be almost done as its firmly standing tall and decorated with star covered curtains and fairy lights.

the neighbors have been busy most of the day making a mini concert for you, a treat you 'the famous pop star' wanted to give to the community as a thank you for being great friends. of course you didnt ask them to make the stage, they offered to make it for you. the three of them was having fun putting the last finishing touches on the setup while frank gets chairs, barnaby gets snacks, and eddie finishing his final mail run for the day, poppy was nowhere to be found. wally wonders where both you and poppy could be...but he figures the both of you are busy with something else important for this setup. so instead he went to say hello to sally,julie, and howdy.

"hello friends!" wally greets the trio while he waves "wally! where have you been? you was about to miss the show" sally asks with a smile, a bottle of glue and a jar of glitter in her hands, she was making glitter covered shapes on the stages platform to give it extra flare "im sorry, i was caught up with my painting and did not notice the time" wally sighs as he confessed where he has been most of the day, embarrassment and a hint of remorse in his tone "thats ok silly! you`re here now!" julie speaks up, understanding that anyone can lose track of time when they are doing something they enjoy, "am i still able to help?" wally offers, even if its kind to late, howdy holds out a paintbrush to him thats coated with green paint "can you help me paint the rest of the stage?" howdy smiles, even if he had it covered already with his four arms, he would love to have some help.

with a grin wally accepts the brush and helps howdy paint the wooden stage. everyone else returned from their tasks and soon the set up was finished, poppy showed up after a while to sneak someone behind the curtains of the stage and took a seat with everyone else in the small crowd.

and then the show begins.

the curtains open to reveal you on the center of the stage, the fairy lights illuminating the stage and makes you shine brighter then anything in the world in wallys eyes. you was smiling, dressed in pop star getup, and face framed perfectly with the new hairstyle you have for the day. you looked like a angel standing on that stage.

"hello neighbors!" you said cheerfully into the mic thats on a stand in front of you "i wanted to give you something in return for the never ending kindness you've always given me since ive moved here" you continued, a spark of confidence in your voice "i`ve written this one for someone special, i hope you all enjoy it" you say as a song starts to play from the speakers.

as you began to sing the world practically stood still, your voice was so beautiful it practically made wally swoon. his heart sped up and his face grew warm as he rests his head on the palm of his hand, never taking his lovestruck gaze off of you. a song you have made for him you`ve sang with all the confidence in your very soul, each lyric and note he will forever know by heart. he has never fallen as hard as he did at this moment...

and even when the song finished he never took his eyes off of you or even stopped listening when you started the next song, he hung on to every word. just enjoying every second of your beautiful performance...

[vanillaarts]

Ek au Chapter one: A small but mighty ally

Archie stood in the shadows of the alleyway as Yumi stepped out of a bakery, holding a paper bag with a fresh loaf of bread. She turned to look at him.

“Why are you always hiding just out of sight here? You were fine the whole way here, and now you’re all jumpy.”

“I don’t want to know what would happen if Squid Coast, the place I ransacked, discovered I was here.”

“Understandable.” Yumi shrugged.

They walked out and barely got away from where they just were when they noticed a hero walk by. He was freakishly tall, at maybe seven feet, and was wearing all dark clothing. His eyes glowed lavender.

His unique looks attracted a lot of attention as he walked to the town square. He stepped up onto some crates as Archie heard whispering on the street.

“What are you doing…?” Some villager asked. A crowd was forming around the man. He held a pink orb in a sceptre. It was Karl.

He started to speak loudly, calling to the villagers in front of him.

“I need your people’s help. I’m on a quest and I need iron, diamonds, and gold.“

“Sir, we don’t have that here. We farm, gather, fish… but we done mine. None of us do.” A fisherman said in the midst crowd.

“You better get them for me. There will be negative consequences otherwise.”

“There are no caves for miles, and still, none of us will mine for you! Some people were forced to work in mines during the arch illagers reign, and won’t enter any cave again.” Another villager called out, “Sorry, but you just cannot get those things here.”

Karl sighed, drawing his sword.

“Well, you asked for this. Okay? This is what happens when you refuse me what I need.”

His hands and sword began to glow. He started to levitate, activating his powerful magic.

Karl smiled, feeling very powerful, and lunged forward, attacking the village. He was setting things ablaze, blowing other things up, and attacking any villagers that were in his range.

Chaos ensued immediately, and people began running around randomly, trying to hide. After shoving her way through the crowd, Yumi hid around a still-standing wall with Archie hiding close behind.

“What the hell are we gonna do?!” Archie asked from behind a crate, “Where can we go where he won’t notice us escaping?!”

“I- uhh…”She sighed, “I have no idea.”

Yumi looked to the tall hero with the orb.

Karl stood back from the flaming village, almost like he was proud of himself. He heard something like the crunch of a leaf from behind and swerved to the side just before a hero could hit him with her staff. Karl grabbed his sword off his back and instantly the two began to fight.

Karl initiated it by simply trying to swing his sword, which she dodged too easily.

Yumi noticed that he was distracted by the blue-clad hero and took it as an opportunity.

“Everyone come with me!!!” She screamed with more command than Archie expected. Upon seeing a leader with a way out, all the villagers that heard her ran with her.

They all understood there was no way to beat Karl like this. Fleeing was their best option. Archie also followed, but stayed hidden as best as he could as they entered the forest.

Meanwhile, back in the village, the battle was still going strong.

Karl repeatedly kept trying to hit the female hero, but all she would do is dodge, block, or fake an attack. She was very small, so dodging was easy.

“C’mon you coward! Fight me!” Karl yelled as he kept trying to fight her, as she would simply evade and block with her quarterstaff.

Karl realized something right then.

His arms were starting to burn. His movements slower and with less finesse. He was getting tired. Quickly.

The hero, unfortunately, noticed. She started to give small attacks, to make him fight back, and, after she could see clearly he was getting fatigued, attacked in that instant with the ferocity of a wolf.

Now Karl understood her strategy, and was not happy about it. She had energy and stamina on her side now.

He held his sword in defence but only managed to block one part of the pattern, letting her kick him hard in the leg. She started to aggressively attack, and Karl was having many issues defending.

He was starting to get very hurt when he heard the orb, speaking from the sceptre on his back.

‘Let me show you something.’

“Kinda busy right now…” Karl breathed so Quinn wouldn’t hear.

‘Do you want to make it out of this fight alive? You’re clearly losing. Let me help you.’

Karl thought for a second.

“Okay.” He said. “Do it.”

‘Let her face me.’

The hero was confused when Karl turned his back to her, which is always a bad idea in battle, but as soon as she saw the orb she realized what may happen. A blue beam shot out of it, hitting her square in the forehead. She collapsed immediately, unconscious.

“Jeez!” Karl said, jumping back, but wincing from the pain his injuries created.

‘She’s fine. It only knocks you out. We must leave. The orb said. Let’s go.’

Karl walked away from the scene, into the rising sun.

~~~

Back where the villagers were, they were running, but eventually slowed to a stop in the creeper woods.

“How many do we have?” Archie asked, out of breath. He stood behind the dense bushes, trying not to be noticed by the villagers.

“Around half. I have no idea where the others are…” Yumi responded. She walked away coldly, saying no more. Archie could tell even from when he found her again that she did not feel the same way to him. He did not blame her. He didn’t feel the same way towards himself, either.

After a couple of minutes, she came back. Archie peeked between the leaves of the bush as she began to command once again.

“It seems the hero is gone. I think we should go back to scavenge and find survivors.” Yumi announced, standing on a tree stump.

“And why should we listen to you, Yumi?” A farmer stepped forward. Salah. Another villager, much younger, tried to tell him something, but he quickly dismissed him.

“Not now, Axis. I have to deal with her first.” He whispered, “Now, Yumi, you tried to help that forsaken illager. Look where it got us. Now you think you have the authority to tell us what to do?”

“As the one who saved you from that hero, yes. Yes I do.”

“Well think again. Everyone! Let’s go back the the village, scavenge what we can and look for survivors.” Salah commanded. Everyone followed him back, leaving Archie and a very frustrated Yumi.

All the survivors of the village got back together, scavenging for remnants of resources and supplies and looking for survivors, just as Salah said.

Yumi slowly walked with Archie. She sighed, showing no emotions on her face. As they exited the woods, she looked to the field where Karl was standing and watching the village burn. He was gone.

However, there was something moving in the distance.

“Is there someone over there?” Yumi asked.

“Yeah. I see it too. Who is that hero?” Archie asked.

“Might as well ask. I’m pretty sure that’s who Karl was fighting was we ran away. Might thank them too for buying us time.”

So they came up to the hero.

“Hi! We’re survivors of this village raid and we were wondering if you could help us put a stop to that guy you fought earlier.”

The hero just looked at them, still coming out of her magic induced daze from when the orb knocked her out.

They stared at each other for a few seconds.

‘Maybe she doesn’t speak villager?’ Archie thought.

“Let me talk to her.” He said, walking up.

Archie spoke very slowly, using large hand gestures to describe each word.

“We… want… you… to help… us.” He said.

She gave him a puzzled look as she became fully aware.

‘Did she understand a word I just said?!’ Archie asked himself.

“Why are you doing that? You sound like an idiot.” She said in his language. Her accent was one he had never heard before.

He felt like an idiot.

Yumi just laughed. The lady smiled.

“Yeah, people never expect me to speak villager for some reason. Who are you guys?”

“I’m Archie, and this is Yumi.” Yumi came up to the two. She nodded her head.

“Hi.” She said.

“I’m Quinn.” She held out a hand and he shook it. She got up soon after. Archie was surprised to see that the hero reached just barely above his height.

She noticed how they looked at her.

“Don’t say I’m short. I’m well aware of that.” She said. The three stood in the field.

“So you said you wanted help stopping Karl?”

“His names Karl?”

“Yeah.”

“Well- yeah. You saw what he did. We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

[quotegender]

dognotnormalabouticecreamquoteic

a gender related to the quote “that dog is not normal about ice cream”

for anon

[ PT. dognotnormalabouticecreamquoteic end PT. ]

[ ID start: a flag with five (5) horizontal wavy lines, in the following colors: light blue, blue, pink, brown, and light brown. End ID ]

[chloesimaginationthings]

William Afton has top tier FNAF parenting skills

[watcher0033]

Y’all, the Archive admins are made up of VOLUNTEERS. And they have been working for 12-13 HOURS STRAIGHT.

I better not hear any complaints when donation period comes around. OR ELSE.

cosplay by @woahchriswoah on Twitter

EDIT: How do we show appreciation to the volunteers? For me reading these deep dives on OTW issues u guys apparently it's been said multiple times that one of their objective statements is to have paid staff for ao3 and there's a surplus of donations they haven't used up or the other community solutions that needs to address. For those more financially literate feel free to analyze, snipe me or add to the discussion etc. linked here by deepa. They’re cool and these yearly analysis they did aint no joke.

But Seriously what can we do for these volunteers? The probable burn out from this entire fiasco would be no joke. @ao3org

[kurooh]

You work is top notch 🤍

Could you maybe write the MHA boys being drunk and gropey with Reader?

DRUNK ‘N NASTY.

⟡ includes: aged up! midoriya izuku, bakugō katsuki, todoroki shōto, takami keigo.

⟡ warnings: 18+ content (mdni), f! reader, fluff & smut, alcohol and drinking, groping, car sex, denki&sero share an apartment in bakugo’s, breeding, dry humping.

⟡ notes: thank you so much <3!

— MIDORIYA IZUKU

when he’s been drinking, izuku gets clingy; he’ll grab you all over, cheeks pink as he looks at you with dazed adoration. but, he gets horny really quickly — he’s just sitting beside you, staring at your thighs and the way they squish against each other as you cross your legs and boom! he’s rock hard.

“izuku! are you seriously hard right now?” you slur before taking another strong shot. the sweetened vodka rushes down your throat, and you wince a little at the burn, back straightening.

“god,” he groans out of nowhere, and you turn towards him, crossing your legs on the bar stool.

“what, baby?”

“you’re just so..” he drifts off, grinning stupidly as he searches for the right words. “so beautiful! and you look so soft, i want to touch you so bad.”

he scoots his stool towards you, hands reaching towards your thighs; he rubs at your plush skin, digging his nails in a little as he feels himself get harder. “a-and, i really want you to sit on my face right now!”

“izuku!” you attempt to hush him when a few people turn due to the loudness of his voice. “you can’t say that, we’re in a bar right now!”

“well, let’s go then,” he suggests nonchalantly, stumbling when he hops off his barstool, “let’s go home.”

later, you’re sitting on his face, and right after you cum, he falls asleep.

— BAKUGŌ KATSUKI

when he’s sober, he’s mouthy and snarky, but when he’s drunk, he’s even worse. regardless of who can see him, or where he is, his lips are either on yours or all over your neck. sometimes he’ll realize where he is—around your shared friends—and he’ll whisk you away to somewhere more private.

“eww dude, we don’t wanna see all that,” denki exclaims, dramatically retching and gagging at the sight of katsuki covering your neck in needy kisses. his large hands grip the plush skin of your hips and then slowly slide upwards.

“shut the fuck up, ya damn extra!” katsuki snaps, groping at your tits before he finally grabs your hand and pulls you up from your seat on the couch.

your drink sloshes in your cup as you allow him to pull you along, and he whisks you away to denki and sero’s bathroom. before the door even closes, he’s on you, caging you against the sink. “katsuki!” you exclaim against his lips, voice caught between a gasp of surprise and a moan of excitement. the cup, half full of liquor, falls to the floor and spills, ice cubes sliding on the tile.

“all mine,” he grunts, his big hands squeezing at your thighs, spreading them before he angles his knee between them. he’s kissing you so hard you feel your head spinning, your pussy throbbing with need. katsuki hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and underwear, peels both away with an impatient grumble.

“fuck me hard,” you beg, dripping.

“when don’t i?” he rumbles into your neck, slipping off his pants and boxers. katsuki’s needy cock presses against your thigh, thickening even more when you wrap your hand around it firmly.

“that’s right,” he groans, squirming, “push my cock inside you—ughhh.. good girl.”

— TODOROKI SHŌTO

sho gets super happy and horny after a few strong shots; he’s intertwining your fingers with his, very sneakily trying to pull your hands into his lap. if you’re in an area where it’s possible, he tugs you close and sits you on his lap; he’ll spoil the intimate touch with some grinding or groping.

“sho!” your face burns as he languidly drags you against his lap, clothed cunt rubbing over his hardened cock.

shōto’s fingers intertwine with yours, his palms warm and just a little sweaty. a hushed groan escapes his lips, and he looks from where you’re sitting on his lap to your face, scrunched with pleasure.

“sho, quit teasing me, i—” he shakes his head immediately.

“mm mm, just a little longer.. feels so good.”

he wants you to be begging for him, soaked all the way through your clothes. through a few layers of clothing, you can feel his thick cock, even feel the ridge of his tip.

“s-shōto, faster,” you whimper, and he obliges, moving your hips on him but also thrusting up against you. it feels like the room is spinning when his cock thickens and throbs, and his head is pounding when he buries his face in your shoulder, cumming in his pants with a “mmmh, shit, i’m sorry—”

but you don’t care, moving with a pace that’s desperate yet brutal for his sensitive cock. cum seeps through clothing as you moan, practically riding him — a spot of dampness appears on his pants, where his crotch is, and yet he doesn’t even notice, too focused on the way you’re moving.

he moans, sensitive, and you swallow it with your kiss swollen lips. “shōto,” you whimper, pussy squeezing as your slick starts to soak through your thin panties, “bend me over and fuck me after this, okay?”

— TAKAMI KEIGO

oh god, the second the alcohol starts to affect him, he’s grabbing you all over before he eventually takes your hand and leads you out to the car. he ignores the other people at the bar who start to question why he’s heading to the car, only focused on you.

“ah! keigo, fuck!” drool drips from your lips as you stare up at your boyfriend from between your knees. looking absolutely enthralled by you, he pushes your calves further against your chest.

his wings are entirely spread out, taking up most of the backseat and blocking the windows. he groans, whiny and deep, “y-your pussy feels so fucking good, oh— ‘m gonna fill you up, need to so bad..”

tears fall from your eyes as you nod vigorously, clawing at his forearms in your eagerness. “inside me, wan’ it inside, kei!”

creampies always felt so much better when the two of you were drunk — he would always unleash this inner breeding kink of his, rambling on and on about filling you up until your belly was eventually swollen.

“y-yeah?” he asks, pushing deep as he unloads his cum inside you. “o-oh, fuck.. take it, baby, take it!”

keigo looks downwards, noticing the creamy ring around the base of his cock and the flexing of your cunt. the look of sheer bliss on his face has your eyes rolling back, legs shaking.

“oh, dove, you’re so pretty when you’re full of my cum.”

[cowardlykrow]

Stop light shenanigans

Extra:

[kelddaa]

mornings in the desert

[astearisms]

fionna and cake drawings before and after watching the episodes so far. it’s nostalgic and somehow cathartic and poignant and relatable and—it just started

[zzineedsleepzz]

I’ll just leave this here for now. X}

Reference ^^

[dclovesdanny]

Dead Serious

4/4

Danny had made peace with the fact he did not have a soulmate. He had! After several years of no response to the countless drawings and writing notes on his skin, he had grown resigned to the fact that he was part of the 5% who did not have soulmates. He was fine with that.

(Dash would tease him about how no one would ever love him, adding salt to an already irritated wound. His parents were soulmates, and he remembered when he was drawing on his father’s arms and watching as it appeared on his mother’s. Jazz had been drawing and writing to her soulmate for years. Her soulmates name was Jason, and she always talked about how he was with her. She was one of the few people who comforted him when he stopped drawing or writing to soulmate. )

Damien taught at an early age that there was no use for soulmates. They were only distractions. He knew grandfather had no soulmate, and his mother had never responded to her own. He never responded to the drawings on his arms notes the notes in English on his (and he didn’t try harder just because he wanted to read his soulmate writing that would be ridiculous.)

Damien never told his family about having a soulmate. Even as he slowly got used to the differences between them and slowly learned how his grandfather was he could never bring himself to respond to the slowly lessening drawings and messages.(He couldn’t bring himself to respond because deep down he knew he didn’t deserve a soulmate. He was a monster, a demon. He didn’t deserve it.)

Danny stopped trying so desperately to contact his soulmate at age 11(the age he held his sister as she cried, her soulmate’s last message scribbled in desperate frantic writing on her arm. He never resented his parents so much when they didn’t even leave the lab for two days, not paying any mind to their sobbing child on the floor above them.)(it was the first time he didn’t envy having a soulmate.)

He was fourteen when he started drawing on his arms again.(it was shaky, much more than the older drawings, but even if he didn’t have a soulmate, he wanted to leave them a mark, just in case, the same way Jazz wrote quotes from different books on her arms.)

(When he found out Vlad didn’t have a soulmate, he refused to acknowledge another similarity they shared. He refused to think about how Vlad’s desperation made Danny think of his own desperate writing for his soulmate. Soulmates were a topic he never spoke of, and Vlad must have known, must have found out about how Danny didn’t have one, but he never commented on it. (It was the only boundary that was never crossed.))

(Damian wasn’t disappointed when his soulmate stopped writing to him. he didn’t trace over his arms, wishing that he had the confidence to write back. He didn’t spend hours wondering if his soulmate was gone without knowing Damian had seen him. He didn’t trace over the drawings his soulmate made with awe after four years of silence.)

Damian always covered up, so he was the only one who noticed when his soulmate started writing to him again. Never sentences never notes like they were before, but shaky drawings appeared on his skin. They were less detailed than before, almost shaky, as if the person drawing them couldn’t hold a pencil, steady, but they were real. Damian never said a word.

It was October 15 when Damien saw something on his arms that made his blood go cold. A message that he read over and over while commandeering the plane and ignoring the rest of his family yelling for him to explain himself. He desperately calibrated the jet while staring at the words, praying to a God he did not believe in that he would not be too late.(Unaware that Todd was following going in the same direction with the similar message written on his arm from a girl that Jason had deemed too good for him.)

Dear soulmate, even if you aren’t there. Everyone in Casper high is writing on their arms and I might as well try to warn someone. I am from Amity Park, Illinois, and we are under attack. The GIW have cut all outside communication. We are currently hiding in Casper high school, barricading the entrances, but it will not last long.

According to the government, we are not legally sentient or human. The agents outside want to dissect us, citing that we are scum. I don’t want to see my classmates die at the hands of my parents. I don’t want to see my friends and my sister die.

I don’t know if you are there, or if I really don’t have a soulmate, but I don’t want to die (fully) without leaving some sort of note.

My name is Danny. I love you. I’m sorry.

[st4ngray]

Haven’t finished the game yet did this happen

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Fic: 1/3

-> Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

cw: lots of head trauma/brain injury/recovery stuff.

Steve wakes up in the hospital with someone snoring loudly on his leg, mouth open, drool getting soaked up into the scratchy hospital blanket over him.

Steve just stares.

It’s… Freddie? No, that’s not right... Eddie! Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson, known delinquent and drug dealer… resting his head on Steve’s lap.

What the hell…?

Steve reaches up with a wobbly, IV-ridden hand to clumsily pat along his head, but instead of meeting messy hair, he meets a thick wad of bandages. He flinches when he hits an especially tender spot.

It’s not much but it’s enough to wake Eddie Munson up with a jolt, and a random jumble of words that sounded something like, “the dice have spoken!”, but Steve can’t be sure. Not with the sharp ringing still going off inside his skull.

“Steve? Steve! Oh thank fuck, Jesus H. Christ, you scared the ever loving shit out of me.” Eddie stood and grabbed at one of Steve’s shoulders, shaking him enough to elicit another wince.

“Oh, damn, sorry. I’m like a fucking bull in a china shop here, man. There’s way too much expensive, breakable shit here. I’m not used to it. I accidentally ripped your IV out the other day... Fuck. The nurses hate my guts.” Eddie chuckles, eyes wide and solely on Steve, talking like they were old friends or something.

But that can’t be right. Steve doesn’t remember saying more than two words to Eddie Munson during the entire time he knew he even existed, and even then it was just to discuss weed prices.

“For real though, talk to me Harrington, how you feelin’, hm? Loopy? Gonna yak again? Apparently they got you on the good stuff,” Eddie flicks a liquid filled bag hanging above Steve and shakes his head, “but they keep cutting you back. Dicks.”

Steve’s eyes try and follow Eddie’s erratic movements but his eyes ache the more he moves them. He blinks against the harsh fluorescents and tries to open his mouth. And thank God, Eddie Munson seems to take this as a sign and shut up.

“What happened?” Steve finally croaks.

One of Eddie’s brows jumps. “You don’t remember?”

Steve gives his head a small shake. Did Eddie hit him with his car or something? Is that why he’s sleeping at his bedside and talking to him like they’re buddies?

“You fell, Stevie.” Eddie makes a whistling noise and mimicks something falling with his hands, then makes a crashing sound when his hand lands on Steve’s bandaged head. “Like a coconut out of a tree. Landed right on that big ol’ melon of yours. There was blood everywhere. It scared the shit out of me and the kids. Especially when you wouldn’t wake up.”

Steve’s throat feels like sandpaper, but he manages to swallow, his throat clicking as he did, and gets out, “The kids?”

Eddie seems to notice, even before Steve can ask, and reaches for a water bottle with a straw already in it, and half chewed. Eddie’s own, no doubt. Against his better judgment, Steve accepts it when Eddie offers it to him. He was just so goddamn thirsty.

“Don’t worry, they’re all fine. They were just shaken up. I’ll radio the little gremlins and give ‘em the good news in a sec.” Eddie’s smile falters a little, seeming lost for words. Like he wants to say something, but can’t quite get it out.

Steve finishes swallowing his few, meager gulps of water before he asks, “What is it?”

“Don’t freak out—“ Eddie begins.

And, okay, that’s exactly the thing you tell someone before they freak the fuck out. Steve’s stomach is subject to a growing, sluggish panic. “What? Dude, tell me—“

“It’s your hair.” Eddie seems genuinely pained at having to deliver this crushing of a blow to Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.

Steve can hear the beeping from the monitors he’s hooked up to begin to pick up speed as his heart begins racing. “My hair?”

“It’s okay! It’s okay, it’ll grow back! They just had to take a little bit off where the stitches went, you can hardest notice it—well, that’s a fucking lie, you could spot that landing strip from space—but I think if you part it to the other side it won’t look so… y’know.”

“No, dude, I don’t know.” Steve says, eyes wide, brows pinched.

“Like a drunk toddler took a pair of rusty kitchen shears to your mop.” Eddie says, huffing out a nervous sort of laugh.

Steve groans, half due to the bastardization that’s happened to his favorite feature, and half due to the migraine that’s looming on his horizon.

“You’re still pretty, Stevie, don’t worry.” Eddie grins, eyebrows raised, like he’s trying to be cute or something.

That weirdest part is, it’s kind of working.

Steve must have hit his head really, really hard.

The doctors eventually come in and perform all sorts of tests, and he tries his best to comply with them and jump through whatever hoops they make him jump through. He just wants to get the hell out of this hospital bed.

Unfortunately for him, Steve hadn’t exactly aced any of the tests.

In fact, he had failed most of them pretty fucking dismally. He couldn’t remember the date, who the president was, where he lived, couldn’t say the alphabet backwards… although, who the fuck can do that? He stands by that failing grade.

A couple of CAT scans later and it’s clear that Steve’s brain got smacked around a little more than they had originally thought.

Among a pile of other stuff, the thing that sticks out the most to Steve is his diagnosis of something called short term amnesia. They explain it like the past 2 to 3 years has just been wiped from his brain. The last clear thing he really remembers is getting the shit beat out of him by Billy, and then it all sort of gets jumbled. Fragmented. The doctors explain that this is pretty typical for head trauma patients.

He’s a head trauma patient, now.

It’s normal for memories of trauma to link, creating spiderwebs throughout your brain.

Which, that’s great. So when he gets beat up again, there’s always a chance his brain will try and erase his easy, happy years and revert back to a trauma default. Really helpful brain, thank you.

And the thing that sucks the most is that his years after the Billy beat down sound pretty great. Traumatizing, sure, but great. Once the Upside Down shit was locked up, with every scary nightmare fuel monster inside of it, life in Hawkins didn’t sound all that terrible.

He lived with Robin, who’s his best friend, (his ‘platonic soulmate’ even, as she explains it), he’s working a retail job, (also with Robin), and coaches the high school basketball team during the evenings. He’d even been talking with Hopper about joining the force.

Well, he was. Now he’s more or less useless, working full time at re-learning his life, along with a couple of fine motor skills that got glitchy after the fall.

And then there’s Eddie.

Eddie, who’s apparently also his best friend, only their soulmate link isn’t platonic at all.

The strange and weirdly exciting reality was that Steve Harrington had woken up from his 3-day medically induced coma with not only a full fledged relationship, but a boyfriend.

It’s a lot to digest, and part of him still doesn’t even know how to process it, but hearing the stories being told around him, seeing how Eddie is practically living in his and Robin’s two-bedroom apartment, and just… the way Eddie looks at him?

It’s with love—Steve can see it. Feel it. Eddie’s practically vibrating with it.

What’s even crazier is that when Steve looks at Eddie, he feels the exact same way.

It’s like looking at the stars. Steve’s heart skips a beat when those dark eyes of hit him, and Steve wants nothing more than to make Eddie smile—no, better than that, to make him laugh, just so he can watch Eddie’s adam’s apple bob up and down and hear that manic, unhinged cackle. It’s downright delightful. Steve loves being in relationships like this, where it’s all consuming.

Steve may not have the memories of falling in love with Eddie, but he has all the feelings.

No one talks about it with Steve, of course. Maybe they think it’s going to be too heavy for him to process that he’s into dudes now, but Steve isn’t a big dumb baby. Sure, he’s got a pretty severe brain injury, and yeah, alright, it takes him a minute to remember people’s names sometimes, and he has a harder time controlling his emotions, but he isn’t a complete invalid. Only a little bit of one. He’s working on it, dammit.

And Eddie is so painfully, frustratingly patient with him. He never pushes. He’s clearly letting Steve retrieve his memories before he makes a move, because despite his whole outward appearance, Eddie Munson is a goddamn gentleman. He never so much as reaches for Steve’s hands, but Steve can tell by the way their pinkies graze when they watch movies late at night that he wants to.

Steve can tell by the way Eddie teases him, the way he’s there with him through his recovery, that he doesn’t ever make Steve feel stupid when he asks the same questions over and over again, when he cries at the drop of a hat or when he gets sort of confused about the lay out of his apartment—he doesn’t care about that of that.

Because he’s in love with Steve. It’s so painfully romantic, it brings a painful lump to Steve’s throat every time he thinks too much about it.

The two of them are driving to one of Steve’s therapy sessions, Eddie in the driver's seat, Steve in the passengers, listening to a low racket of some kind of heavy metal music. Eddie always keeps the volume low now, for Steve.

He’s just been so intensely good about everything that Steve needs to try and do something good for Eddie in return. He needs Eddie to know that there’s a light at the end of this tunnel that they’re both currently lost in.

“I’m sorry about this, y’know.” Steve says when they finally pull up the building that has ‘Brain Injury Recover Center’ written on the front. So all the boys and girls with scrambled eggs for brains know where to converge.

“Don’t worry about it, man. I work the evening shifts, remember? My days are free.” Eddie explains, and Steve wonders if he’s had to be told this bit of information a couple of times now. Sometimes it takes a few times before something sticks to his brain now. His short term memory is still majorly flighty. But no, Steve remembers that Eddie bartends at a local bowling alley most evenings. He’s gone a few times. Not to bowl, of course—too much hand eye coordination involved—but just to hang out with Eddie. He’s pretty decent at Ms. Pac-Man though.

Steve shakes his head. He knows his mind must have wandered because there’s been a lull where no one’s spoken. Eddie never seems to care about that though. “I don’t mean about the drive. I was talking about… y’know.”

“Wha’dy’mean?” Eddie mumbles as he backs into his parking space, hand on the back of Steve’s headrest.

Steve sighs and decides to just come out and say it: “I mean having your boyfriend forget everything about you and your relationship. I just… that must be really tough.”

Everything in Eddie Munson comes to a jarring halt, hand frozen over where he’s turned to ignition off.

It’s sort of unnerving—Eddie is always moving, fidgeting. Damn near bouncing off the walls. But now it’s like someone hit the poor guy with a freeze ray gun.

Steve chuckles softly as he reaches out and touches Eddie’s arm, giving him a playful jostle, to loosen him up a little, “it’s okay, Eddie. I know. You don’t have to keep going easy on me. I’m gay! Or, bi-sexual. Whatever.” Steve shrugs, “see? Not falling apart. I can handle being in love with another dude. You don’t need to keep babying me.”

The side of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a downturned smile that he seems to be trying to hide.

“I know, I know. Not just any dude.” Steve rolls his eyes, a smile still firmly on his face. He takes Eddie’s hand from the steering wheel, and Eddie seems to watch it go in a detached sort of awe. Steve wonders if Eddie’s proud of him for being so cool with it all. “In love with you.”

“Steve, I don’t think—

“Wait, just let me finish.” Steve asks, and Eddie blinks and works on closing his mouth. Knows it’s important to let Steve get his thoughts out quickly, lest they be lost to the giant black hole inside of his beat-up brain now. “I know that I don’t remember any of the important stuff with us. Our first date, or our first kiss or, y’know, any of our other first firsts. So maybe it feels like you’re cheating on the old Steve with me? But… Eddie, I know it’s crazy but even though my brain forgot all of the specifics; my heart didn’t. I look at you, and it’s all there. I’m still so into you, dude. I can feel it, even though I don’t remember how I got here. I’m in l—“

“Steve! Stevestevesteve wait, holy shit—!” Eddie’s eyes snap up from his intense stare at the place where their hands are linked. “Steve—”

“Yeah?” Steve prompts when Eddie doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. He runs his thumb gently over Eddie’s knuckles. It feels so nice to finally be able to hold his hand again. They fit together so well, and Steve wonders briefly if it’s some kind of muscle memory.

Eddie opens his mouth a few more times before he remembers how to make the words come out.

“Steve. Buddy. We’re… we’re not dating.”

Steve’s face falls, and he can feel a lump form in his throat, but he keeps a firm hold of Eddie’s warm hand in his own. “Yeah, I know, I know. We haven’t had any time to be a couple. And it’s probably been torture for you, man. You’re so busy taking care of me and making sure I don’t freak out over everything that you’ve clearly been neglecting your own hierarchy of needs.”

Eddie raises a brow.

Steve chuckles, “Shut up. It’s a therapy term.”

Eddie laughs in his throat. “Steve, you gotta slow down and listen to me.”

He turns his shoulders so that he’s fully facing Steve while he reaches his free hand over and tugs at one of his earlobes. “Got your hearing ears on?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he nods just the same.

“We… we weren’t dating before your accident,” Eddie speaks slowly, his voice warm, gentle. “Hell, I didn’t even know you were, y’know, into dudes like that. Much less me.”

Something throbs dully behind Steve’s eyes. It’s the start of a migraine—the one that makes it hard to process much of anything. Steve squints, trying to make sense of what Eddie’s saying. “…you’re not my boyfriend?”

Eddie shakes his head very, very slowly. “No.”

Steve snatches his hand back like he’s only just now noticed how burning hot Eddie’s hand is.

He settles back in his seat, staring out the front window. The sounds from the outside world are muffled, and everything feels far away and sort of… Made up. Just like everything he’d imagined was going on between him and Eddie. Not real.

He feels painfully detached from reality. Unmoored. Maybe this was the disassociation thing the doctor mentioned might happen…

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, risking another glance over to Eddie, who hasn’t taken his eyes off him for a second.

“Pretty fuckin’ sure.” Eddie snorts.

“Oh, God. This is… I’m—sorry. I’m so stupid. Fuck, I gotta—“ Steve suddenly attacks the door handle with a clumsy fury that has his hand fumbling with the handle for way too long. Fucking busted up, bruised as fuck fucking brain-!

“Steve, it’s okay, dude,” Eddie says from behind Steve, but that’s easy for him to say; he didn’t just humiliate himself in front of his not-boyfriend, definitely-crush, possibly ex-friend—“Steve, wait!”

Steve flees the van on unsteady feet, not daring to look back.

[tubesock86]

the scoobies (plus faith and spike)

[timethehobo]

Manfred when [fill in your own scenario].

[certifiablyinsanez]

I am haunted by the detailed, completed map of Hell that Edwin took notes on. You don’t understand, it makes me sick. It’s one thing to have a basic layout, a vague idea, or a rudimentary map but it was meticulously detailed. Down to doors and what they do and where they go. Down to secret spaces in the walls. He even knew what ringing an innocuous bell would do. It can only mean one thing. We don’t know when Edwin began trying to escape, but assuming he started from the get go, it means that he spent all his decades in Hell trying to find a way out. He never stopped running. And that is assuming he never stopped. From his second trip, we could see he resorted to his old ways and ran. But he was eventually caught, reduced to pieces. Even when Charles showed up, he didn’t seem very optimistic about their chances. He could feel every second of those 70 years. There were likely many times he fell to hopelessness, trembling in the corner watching himself be desecrated knowing it was going to happen again and again. How long? How many times did he try to be so, so quiet, hoping he would have a few moments before the next round? How many times did he muster the ability to run, just one more time? How long did it take him to run, discovering the ends of each ring? How many times did he sprint up, down, north, south, east, west, trying to escape? And what happened when he finally escaped? How long did it take for him to be able to relax, even a little? Because he can never relax. He must always outrun Death and her constituents because he can’t count on them to be fair. How many times does he look over his shoulder, waiting for the monster to claim its eternal meal once again? His breath of fresh air, his first taste of companionship in ages not only keeps him company, but sticks by him. And then, in that blessing there comes a curse, because now you have something to lose. Because when you taste ambrosia how can you return to starvation? He feels safe with Charles. Happy and comfortable, but the threat always lingers. And he knows that Charles couldn’t fend off Death. He never considered he could fend off Hell beasts; after all, he’s just a ghost kid. He watches innocents be slaughtered on repeat, unphased by the level of violence but no less affected by it, because no one has even a clue what it takes to be this kind. Even at his most happy, he has so, so much to lose and he goes back to Hell when hope was dangled in his face like the fruit of Tantalus. When he returns, he’s subjected to Hell once again, sustaining through torture that obliterates souls, only to watch his best friend, his confidant, his platonic soulmate, die horrifically. This woman who gave him sea-glass courage, so powerful and yet so fragile. Allowed him to be himself, gave him permission to do so. Was the openness to his closed self, and now she is gone. And he retains his composure, his stiff, British posture because it is what has saved him from madness and Despair, protected him, and now the world is darker without Niko Sasaki in it. But surely he saw this coming. After all, humans are messy. And yet, he shows up for their souls, time and time again.

Edwin Payne is THE character.