#Tweaks Ficlets

[tweeksandturns]

Reminisce

Zedaph had convinced Tango and Impulse to join him for a new Zedvancement, one that he happily titled, “reminiscent of the past”, an idea that he had gotten from an old friend of his, someone that he had finally gotten in contact with again during the crossover. 

A part of the reason Zed created the Zedvancement was to help motivate himself to finally finish “The Hall of All” before another update affected the server and his completion anxiety got worse.

Zedaph thought that convincing Impulse and Tango to help would go along with the idea of the achievement, bringing back some friends from the past (and maybe get them to stop focusing too hard on their projects and forgetting to take care of themselves.)

The challenge they were facing was relatively simple, all they had to do was collect every single drop that came from suspicious blocks! Including the Armor trims-

He had yet to tell Tango and Impulse this.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true! The two of them knew that they were going hunting for ruins, they just didn’t know why, or what Zed was looking for.

Zedaph had been pondering for a little too long, it seemed, because when his eyes focused again and he had no thoughts to think, a pair of vibrant red and orange eyes were staring into his.

He bleated in surprise, jolting back, and scaring Tango, causing his hair to light on fire with the abruptness of it all.

On his left, Impulse burst out laughing, confused yet entertained by their antics.

“Are you okay Zedaph? We’ve been standing here for a bit and you didn’t notice.” 

Zed blinked, and that was when he realized he had gotten lost in his head. “Oh, sorry Tango! I got a little lost in my head there.” He giggled, and Tango started laughing as well. 

“You're fine Zeddy, I just didn’t expect that.” Impulse pulled out a water bucket and dumped it over Tango, who ended up yowling, and the three of them broke down laughing again.

It took another five minutes for them all to calm down, and breathe. And another one for Tango and Impulse to remember that they had been called there.

“Oh, yeah! Zed, why did you call us here?”

Zed’s eyes darted away from theirs, and his stance became shy. They both knew in an instant that Zed had an A) complicated idea, or B) an extremely silly and hard idea.

“So… you two agreed beforehand, you cannot back out now-” Tango looked concerned and scared. “You two know that we are hunting for ruins, well, i was trying to get myself to focus on The Hall of All, and i was missing a bit after the update, sooo… yall are helping me with gathering all the items from suspicious blocks that can be existified!”

“Wait, we are what?!”

“What?!”

Well they were taking that well.

— — — — — — — — — — — 

They hadn’t found one full pottery set after 5 ruins. 

Including the suspicious blocks that weren’t in ruins, they had gathered at least one of every candle, a few emeralds, some different colored glass panes, and a friend pottery shard alongside a Burn pottery shard and a Relic music disk.

They were working on the 6th ruin, and although they had been joking most of the time, it was still relatively quiet. 

It was Tango that changed that. 

“Hey, do you two remember when Skizz got himself stuck in a redstone contraption he was making for us?” 

Impulse snorted at the memory, turning his head towards Tango as he brushed the gravel.

“Of course I do. He messed up all the redstone in it.”

“Hey, Skizzle tried his best. Even if it was kinda failing-”

The three of them laughed, and quieted down again, but soon after impulse grinned. “Hey Zed, remember when you took some drowning damage at the beginning of hardcore hermits?”

Zedaph spun to Impulse, a look of betrayal painted across his face and Tango wheezed for breath.

“You- you traitoror! You- Heathen!” Zedaph stuttered, clearly at a loss for words, before he spun to Tango, and pointed at him.

“You have no right to laugh, Mister! I’m not the one who fell into his own mob farm!”

Tango let out a garbled wail, awfully reminiscent of a sound Impulse felt as though he had heard before. Maybe on a different server.

“Yeah, well I didn’t break a whole redstone contraption by forgetting to place one dust, huh Impulse?”

“Oh, you be quiet-”

They kept laughing, pointing out different embarrassing moments the three of them (and occasionally Skizz) had made throughout the years.

— — — — — — — — — — — 

When the three of them returned back to the hole in the mountain, they were still quite a ways away from completing a Zedvancement.

Tango and Impulse had had enough fun that they agreed to join Zedaph again, sometime in the next week. 

For Tango, it was because he hadn’t realized he needed an escape from decked out until he had it.

For Impulse, it was because he hadn’t taken time to just laugh with friends in a long while.

And For Zedaph, it was because of his Zedvancement, and being able to have team ZIT together again.

Zedaph found himself thinking, a few hours after they had left, that the title of the trophy had maybe had more of an impact then he had thought. Because although they had raided some ruins, found artifacts from whatever was here before, they had been reminiscing on their own pasts as they did it. 

Maybe Zed should start dragging more of his friends into these. 

And maybe he could use the ruins as an excuse to get a good photo of Tango and Impulse together.

He giggled at the idea, before grabbing a piece of paper, and started planning.

[fragilecapric0rnn]

[series now cross-posted to ao3! stay tuned for more! ] Have been watching a lot FRIENDS lately bc its one of my and my gf's comfort shows and, of course, i cannot stop thinking about Stranger Things-ifying the hell out of it. the vision came to me SO CLEARLY [PART 2]

Sitting around the coffee shop that is basically a second home to the gang.

Nancy sits on the chair across from Argyle, one leg tucked under her, legal pad balancing on the arm, a pen being held between her pointer and middle finger, tapping incessantly on the pad. The other hand tucked into a fist and holding up her chin.

Argyle sits with his legs draped over the arm of the oversized chair, flipping through the latest Steven King book, one arm perched behind his head.

Jonathan has the NYT crossword in his lap, Robin peering over his shoulder, making him nervous.

A normal Saturday afternoon routine for the group of twentysomethings. The rain from outside softly hits the windows nearby, complimenting the soft chatter and gentle clanking of dishes.

But Robin can only seem to focus on Nancy's damn tapping.

"Nance?"

"Hm?"

"I'm gonna need you to stop tapping. I'm trying to beat Jonathan's puzzle."

"Just take it," he hands the paper over to her, annoyed.

"No! It's more fun when it feels like I'm beating you."

Jonathan looks over at Nancy, who is staring blankly at the wooden support beam a few feet away.

"What's going on Nance?"

"Nothing." Her pitch high, grabbing the rest of the groups attention, so much so that they all inch closer to her chair.

"Sounds like a whole lotta nothing," Argyle pulls a nearby chair up next to hers flipping it around and resting his forearms on the back of it.

Robin sits on the ground next to her and Jonathan takes a seat on the coffee table right in front of her.

"Fine!" She takes a look over her shoulder, toward the front door. "I have a date."

"Why are we whispering?" Argyle asks, also whispering.

"Because you know who could walk in any second."

"Why are we whispering and speaking in codes?" Jonathan asks, still whispering.

And as an act of divine timing, the front door to the coffee shop opens, and they all turn their heads to see a slightly damp Eddie shake his hair out and shed his leather jacket in one fell swoop. His face fixed in the same frown that's plagued his face for the last two weeks.

"Hey," the group says in unison, not moving a muscle from where they're still crowded around Nancy.

"What did I say about that tone," Eddie whines, flopping himself down on the couch that previously held Jon and Robin.

"How're you doing?" Robin asks, shifting her body, still sitting on the floor, toward him.

"All of her stuff is gone which means that all of my stuff is gone."

No one says a thing. Not even when the sound of a ceramic coffee cup shatters somewhere in the distance.

"Eddie?"

"What?"

"I don't mean to sound insensitive dude, but shouldn't you be a little less depressed considering... " Argyle trails off.

"Considering what?"

"Considering you're the one that left her?" Robin finishes the thought that everyone is having.

"I didn't leave her." He scoffs.

"No, but when you tell your long-term girlfriend about recently discovering that you're gay, one might see that as you being the one to end that relationship."

"We've been over this." He balls up his jacket and shoves his face into the wet leather. The group share a look, Nancy gesturing to Eddie's state as if to say this is why I'm not talking about the date.

He chucks the balled up jacket at Jonathan, who kicks his feet out in surprise as he catches it with his chest. Eddie's hands are now on either side of his face.

"The love was there! I could've loved her if..."

"If she was someone else?"

He deflates, lets his arms slump down and his shoulders do the same.

"Eddie, my friend, my pal, listen up." Argyle moves seats for the third time, now squeezing himself into the space between Eddie and the arm rest on the couch, draping his arm over his shoulders.

"You have just entered a whole new world, my man. So, you're gay? We're in New York City, so is everyone! Welcome home! All that love you were ready to give to Michelle? You get to hold onto that and give it to someone else. Someone who makes your heart sing."

"But I knew her just as long as I knew you guys." He whines, again, gesturing to Robin, Nancy and Jonathan. "It was easy. It was safe. How am I ever gonna find romance with someone? Where we have an established - I don't know - thing! A connection! A history! How?"

Eddie stares at them like he expects them to answer, forcing the rest of the group to share glances, let the air settle with Eddie's words.

The front door flies open just as a roaring thunder booms overhead, making for a dramatic entrance.

Robin's the first one to swivel her head toward the ruckus, the only one who has a perfect view of the person who burst into the shop.

A man dressed in a tux, drenched, like, just hopped out of a swimming pool drenched. Fighting with his bow tie with one hand and running his other hand through the unforgettable head of hair that sends Robin right back to Hawkins, Indiana. Back to the summer before her senior year.

Huh?

Unable to move a muscle in her body, she watches him clumsily go up to the counter and ask for her and Nancy, by name. The sound of her name sends her up to her feet and pushes her toward the man. An air of chaos surrounds him, drawing an offense amount of curiosity out of Robin as she finds her words.

"Steve Harrington?"

He turns around, his face lights up, and he does the weirdest thing.

He hugs her.

She remains stiff as he pulls back from the hug, hands still on either side of her arms.

They were buddies that summer scooping ice cream at the mall. Nothing crazy, or maybe even that memorable, but they started the summer as acquaintances at best and left as friends.

But then he left for college and she stayed and they never spoke again. A few run-ins here and there. But nothing substantial.

"I knew I'd find you here, I remembered that the last time I was in the city I ran into you guys and you're here!" He sounds drunk, but also like he drank a vat of espresso.

Clearly, it was substantial enough for him to come looking for her. Dressed in a tux soaking wet?

"And you're here, overdressed." She says, taking him in, unable to unscrew the confused look from her face.

Is that a boutonnières?

Oh no. Oh fuck.

"Steve?" Jonathan and Nancy say in unison as Robin brings him over to the couch.

Robin thinks Eddie might have summoned the ghost of hopeless high school crushes past, the way Eddie looks like he's just seen a ghost.

[raayllum]

He has nightmares, afterwards.

Callum has always been a night owl, staying up too late in his office, and he'd been better at actually going to sleep on purpose once Rayla had come back, uncertainly settling in Ezran's old room across the way, but...

He wakes her up one night crying and sticks to the cot in the high mage study after that, neck damp from chilled sweat as he stares at where the mirror used to sit. She doesn't need this, and he knows if he tells her about the dreams, he'll have to tell her why they're happening, and how much she'll blame herself right when she was starting to get better, and—

Half the nightmares are about being possessed again, the snakes from Finnegrin's office ensnaring his wrists and hissing in his ears. Biting his neck with sharp pointy fangs and injecting poison in his blood. Turning him to nothing more than Aaravos' puppet all over again, but by his own hand.

You knew the risk you were taking, Aaravos' voice mocks, cold and deep, his upper lip curling in a sneer. The irony isn't lost on either of them. By setting yourself free.

The worst of those dreams is a carousel of his loved ones — Soren, Ezran, Rayla — strangled, bloody, him helpless to stop it, to stop any of it, the primal stone like prison smashed at his feet, the glassy shards piercing his eyes. He's played right into Aaravos' hands and lost everything, and—

The other half — the worst better half is when Aaravos doesn't need to possess him to get what he wants. There's the same fear, the violence, the same pool of blood collecting at his knees, the same result — Aaravos, out — and yet...

If you want her to live, little mage, you'll do as I tell you.

When he wakes up from those dreams, it's still with a cold sweat, but with a steadier heart. And he hates it — hates how it reminds him of all the parts of himself he doesn't want, the parts of himself that he doesn't like, that scare him. How could he possibly be that selfish? And yet, he knows... he knows—

The tides are true as the ocean is deep.

The ocean arcanum thrums alongside the beating of his heart. He wakes and looks towards the window Rayla had climbed through, haloed in light, and him unaware of the dark creature he'd found in the mirror. He swallows hard.

He knows which nightmares he'd choose to have come true, his fingers folding over his knees.

I would do anything for you.

He knows exactly what he'd choose, because at least he'd still have her.

And the worst part of it all is that he knows, somehow, in his bones, that Aaravos knows it too. Has known it for much longer than Callum has, anyway.

It's almost what scares him the most.

"Your bedhead's getting worse," Rayla says cheerily at breakfast, combing her fingers through it, a butter knife clasped in her other hand.

That's the best response I could think of to your stupid request. I'm not going to kill you!

Almost.

[twelvesblades]

Glamtober 24 - Dressed to Impress

Tentative Name: Rinascita Corsair

You spy an elegantly dressed blue-skinned woman in the Plaza of Lights and blurt out in relief: "Please tell me you are going to the gala? I am horribly lost!" and late.

She is perturbed at first and a wave of embarrasment threats you but then a bright smile lights up the woman's face and crinkles her gold-tinged amber eyes.

"Oh I know that feeling," she says with a bright tone, hopefully chasing away your approaching social anxiety. "No need to worry - I know where precisely where it is. I was simply enjoying the scenery. Follow me."

Asterra' Glamtober / the Prompt List

Location, DT Zone 6: Canal Town

Weapon, Samurai: Katana of Althyk, Sky Blue

Tigerskin Tricorne of Striking, Wine Red

Rinascita Jacket of Striking, Wine Red

Velveteen Halfgloves, Kobold Brown

Aug. Lunar Envoy's Trousers of Striking, Wine Red

Pagos Boots, Kobold Brown

I was gonna do this in sky blue once upon a time but... that wouldn't work with Hazusa obviously. she is blue lol

[ultimatespoon17]

Planning a First Kiss

Planing a First kiss│Craig Tucker x Tweek Tweak

Summary: Both Craig and Tweek want to have their first kiss. The only problem is when and how.

Word count: 718

Craig hadn't even realized he hadn't kissed anyone in his life. He didn't think about it before him. Now, all he's thinking about is kissing. It's unfamiliar and embarrassing. Why did he have to be so obsessed? He knew what he had to do. He had to have his first kiss with Tweek.

There had been moments where it nearly happened. They were at their lockers, about to skip class. He had spent the morning convincing Tweek to skip. It took some time but he eventually agreed. All he had to say was that they could play the new video game Craig had just bought. One that they both had been looking forward to. Craig made sure to not even open it before the two could play together. It's better to play multiplayer anyway.

The hallway was completely deserted. Perfect.

Craig had been too focused on looking for the best exit to notice Tweek extremely slowly leaning in. He was shaking using all his strength not to. He's sure he's sweating. Why would he want to kiss me when I'm all shaky and sweating. Get your act together Tweek! Eyes tightly shut and definitely didn't look like he was trying to kiss him.

He looks back at him,

"Let's go honey."

Completely failed. Tweek mentally facepalms over and over. That was stupid. He quickly forgets about his worries as Craig holds his hand. He can't help a smile.

Craig knew he couldn't plan the kiss but he could plan a moment to set it up. He couldn't do it in public, too many people screaming. Every day he wishes people weren't so obsessed with their relationship. It had started to die down a bit but a kiss?

That would definitely cause it to start up bigger than ever. He couldn't do it in an obviously romantic area either. Too obvious.

Maybe the moment would just come. Yeah. It would.

 

Tweek's many attempts to kiss Craig had failed miserably. He would always back out. He had started to feel comfortable with everything else about their relationship, especially when it came to admitting it was real. But kissing? It was too much! Kissing is like the big next step! A huge step. One he didn't even know Craig wanted to take. What if Craig didn't even want to kiss him? He did have pretty chapped lips and he hasn't even kissed anyone before. Craig wouldn't want that.

He does want to kiss him however. Craig did make him really, really happy. Tweek just had to keep trying. Who knows, made he would be the one to kiss him! He starts to blush at the thought.

 

"So, can I…. Can I kiss you?"

Tweek jumps at what he says. His face quickly filled with nervousness. Different from his normal worries, he couldn't be happier.

They were on the couch at Craig's. He finally managed to get a chance since all his family was out. Although maybe he could've been less direct about the kissing. It was totally, so romantic.

"I mean… Only if you want to. I don't want to force you to. No pressure."

Craig puts his hand on Tweek's arm and smiles. He looks into his eyes. He loved to do this but sometimes it would get a bit creepy. They are really pretty, he thinks. Taking a second to admire him, Craig doesn't realize how long it takes for him to answer.

"ARGH! Yes! I haven't kissed anyone so it might be bad."

"I'm sure it won't be."

Moving his hand from Tweek's shoulder, Craig puts his hand on his cheek. Tweek's breathing, normally short and fast, slows down. He's calmer than he expected.

Their lips touch and it's just how they imagined it, the good of how they imagined it. It's a bit weird at first both not knowing what to do for a tiny bit but they get the hang of it. It's a soft and gentle kiss. Tweek grabs Craig's shoulder and brings him closer. He didn't know what he was so worried about. This is amazing!

They continue for a few seconds. Both wanted to cherish this new experience. They do have to breathe, however. They break apart and open their eyes. Blushing, they smile the widest smiles they have ever done and continue.

[metalhoops]

Like a lesser hero in a fantasy tale, the night was cut clean in two by the dull glow of a flashlight beam, flanked by two boys. It was an odd pastime but a familiar one to them. They had grown at home in the strange dark places of the town, aware of what might be lurking in the shadows between the pines. 

Eddie, the first boy, with his hair and clothes as black as the forest floor, shook the silent woods with the intermittent clatter of his stainless-steel rings on the metal shaft of the light, his makeshift weapon. Each ring was a treasured yet well-worn possession. The ear of the pig ring and the temple of the skull were permanently scratched from the repeated action.

Steve, the other boy, was more prepared. He came brandishing a baseball bat, its wooden body a sister to the surrounding trees with a halo of gnarled nails, hinting at the more sinister air of their surroundings.  

Unlike Eddie’s fantasy games, the backstory didn’t matter. It was the reason the boys were there, of course, but it was also the imminent threat they didn’t wish to speak of. In their shared pasts, there had been portals to other worlds, monsters beyond human comprehension and near-death experiences that’d brought on the winter of Eddie’s life, and the spring of Steve’s. 

Eddie had spent the past month jumping at shadows in the corner of his new bedroom or in the woods beyond the trailer park. Steve, on the other hand, had bloomed beautifully and brutally before Eddie’s eyes. Before the Upside Down, he would look at Steve and all he’d feel was ire, righteous indignation and a small yet frustrating, pang of lust. 

When he looked at Steve in the yellow glow of the torchlight, he saw a man who’d come when Eddie called, in the middle of the night, with haste and a plan. He saw someone who believed in him or at least, cared enough about him to go willingly into the night when Eddie had reported seeing sinister shapes shift past his window.

It was enough to get Steve to leave the confines of his isolated mansion and slum it with the poor folk down in the proverbial trenches. Eddie now saw a man he very well might be in love with. Jagged shadows cast by stray branches sliced across his face, resembling the snaking vines of the Upside Down. The boys had barely escaped the place and every moment after felt as though they were living on borrowed time. 

“What’d you say we do one more loop past the old train tracks and call it a night?” Steve asked, at last, his body sticking close to Eddie’s side. He felt a pang of guilt for dragging Steve out of bed, again, just to find nothing. 

“We can head back now, I’m probably going crazy, man.” 

“No, I wanna check. Otherwise, it’ll bug the hell outta me. We’ve all been a little crazy after everything we’ve been through. I mean, I’ve almost died like ten times. Think the eleventh time might be the one that sticks- you know?” 

It reminded them of another night, in another world. It had been a quick yet intimate conversation with a stranger. If we get out of this, Eddie had thought at the time, I might actually want to get to know this guy. Months had passed. He still felt like he didn’t know Steve enough to say what he wanted to say, but Steve needed to hear it. 

“That’d be a real bummer, you know? If you died. I wouldn’t have anyone to go on long walks in the moonlight with.” 

The two boys had fallen out of step with one another. Steve had charged forward in the semi-darkness leaving Eddie a few paces behind.

“Nancy would come with you.  After the first time, when Will and Nancy’s friend went missing, she’d swing by my house, and we’d sit on the deck chairs watching the pool. Honestly, you might be better off with her. She’d bring a gun,” Steve spoke, tossing the jagged bat from hand to hand, with the skill of an ex-high school sports star. 

“Why is it you and I always end up in the woods trying to set each other up with Nancy goddamn Wheeler?” Eddie spoke disbelievingly as he jogged to catch up with Steve. He laughed, his hand bumping Eddie’s side as the two fell back into step. 

“She’s not my type, Stevie. You can have her,” Eddie tacked on, trying to defuse some of the tension that had arisen between them, skimming his light amongst the trees. 

“I don’t think she’s my type either. Well— not anymore. We tried it. It didn’t work out. We wanted different things,” Steve admitted.

Once they reached the train tracks, Steve surveyed the old wood and rusted metal. The place also had history. He could smell freezer burn and rotten meat on the breeze. When looking at Eddie’s profile he felt a sudden charge to the air like the calm before a thunderstorm. 

He thought of a conversation he’d had years before with Dustin on those very tracks. He knew with sudden certainty why he’d hauled himself out of bed in the middle of the night, once again to chase Eddie’s hunches. He and Dustin had been talking about love.  He gave himself the same advice he’d given the kid all those years before. 

Don’t fall in love. It’ll only break your heart.

“Right, you wanted that whole hoard of kids and an R.V. vacation thing? Three girls, three boys. A whole brood of Harringtons,” Eddie breathed, kicking up dirt and leaves with his shoes. Steve shot Eddie a perplexed glance, surprised he’d been listening and shocked he’d remembered the statement word for word.

“Right, yeah. I know, make fun all you want, dude. It’s crazy I know.” Once more, they fell out of step. 

Eddie stopped while Steve kept walking, playing the role of a funambulist, his hands outstretched as though standing at a great height as he walked foot over foot across the thin metal. 

“This might surprise you Steve but for once I wasn’t going to give you shit,” Eddie replied, walking beside Steve, jumping from wooden beam to wooden beam. 

The metal track gave Steve a good half inch of height, making it so that for once the two weren’t eye to eye. Eddie kept flicking the light between the vast track ahead of them and the empty woods behind. He still felt as though any moment something could burst through the cracks in the earth left in the wake of the quake and drag them back down into Eddie’s personal version of hell. He couldn’t help but think of Steve’s words. The eleventh time would stick. Eddie didn’t know what he’d do without him. 

“So, what do you want?” Steve asked, shaking Eddie from his thoughts. When his answer didn’t immediately present itself, Steve continued.

“I mean, you know what I want. Six nuggets, touring the country. What do you want?” 

The question startled a scoff out of Eddie. It wasn’t as though anyone had bothered to ask him that before. He didn’t know. 

“I’ve got no clue. I’m not like you. I don’t sit around thinking about the future. I’m just trying to get through today,” Eddie confessed, speaking more candidly than he’d intended. 

“Alright. You don’t know what you want to do with the rest of your life. That’s pretty normal, but having nothing? Dude. You’ve gotta have something. Let’s start small. What do you want to do tomorrow?” 

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t mind having breakfast with my uncle and spending some time with the kids and the band. Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll get to see you, hopefully under some better circumstances,” Eddie explained as Steve misstepped, almost falling from his perch. 

He corrected himself, placing an outstretched hand on Eddie’s shoulder for balance. Eddie tried not to preen beneath the other boy’s touch. 

“I like the sound of that,” Steve confirmed, daring a glance at Eddie. 

The storm within him continued to brew. Eddie’s plans for whatever small future stretched out before them involved Steve, which was more than he’d gotten from anyone else.

Nancy wanted a career in investigative journalism. She wanted to change the world for the better. It was a noble goal. One Steve had admired endlessly but he couldn’t help but feel like a small child asking for a seat at the grown-up table when trying to compete with the hopes and dreams of Nancy Wheeler. For her, he would’ve changed his dreams to play a small part in her life, but he’d come to realise that wasn’t a good way to love. 

Every relationship Steve had went to hell eventually. He didn’t want the same fate with Eddie. He wanted to continue walking the fine line between friendship and whatever awaited them on the other side of the electric storm. Steve didn’t know if he was ready for all the complications being in love with Eddie would entail. It’d wreak havoc on his sense of self and take a hatchet to his dreams of white picket fences. That was on the slim chance Eddie felt the same way about him. 

When Steve looked at Eddie he felt as though he were back at the bottom of Lovers Lake. To love Eddie was to drown beneath the crushing weight of possibilities. 

“You okay?” Eddie asked, a hint of concern in his tone. 

It was only then that Steve realised he’d stopped walking, his knuckles turning white as his fingers dug into the fabric of Eddie’s jacket. 

No. Steve was far from okay, but he couldn’t voice it without ruining everything. 

“I need a minute,” Steve muttered, stumbling back from Eddie, removing his hand as though he’d grabbed the wrong end of a hot poker. 

He’d moved on instinct, forgetting where he stood on his precarious perch. He tumbled ass backwards off the train tracks, trying to save whatever sense of dignity he had left by scrambling to his feet quickly. He heard his bat clatter to the forest floor as he headed off into the woods, unsure of his direction. He needed space to sort his head out. 

There were only two ways Steve knew how to face a crisis; two base and primal instincts, fight or run. Eddie wasn’t a wayward creature that devoured cats or a schoolyard bully. He couldn’t punch himself loveless and doing anything to hurt Eddie was worse than torture. 

Steve wanted Eddie to hit him. It’d shake loose some of the tension in his chest at the sight of the boy’s brown eyes; the eyes that reminded Steve of the deep warm wood that was fashionable in homes during his childhood. The familiar floorboards of the entryway where he’d lay with Tommy after hours of swimming, drip-drying on the wood, warping it to the shape of their bodies. 

Eddie’s eyes reminded him of home. Not the place he’d grown up in, but the sensation one felt when they recalled a fond memory, years removed from context and complications. Steve couldn’t imagine a future where Eddie would hurt him, even if that’s what he wanted. 

He did what he did best. He ran away. 

Without Eddie’s flashlight, the woods were a gaping maw of some unseen creature. Even the breeze on the back of his neck felt warm. Steve collapsed at the base of a tree and searched his pockets for a lighter. He didn’t bring his cigarettes but there was something soothing about the weight of the object in his hand and the repeated action of sparking the flint and extinguishing the fire with a twist of his wrist. 

Steve heard approaching footsteps signalled by the crunch of leaves underfoot.  He prayed Eddie wouldn’t ask why he’d run. If he asked, Steve knew he’d tell him. Then they’d both be screwed. 

Steve tried to spark the lighter again, but no flame would ignite. It was out of lighter fluid. Just his goddamn luck.  

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice echoed through the trees. 

The direction was all wrong. Eddie’s call came from a distance. The footsteps were close. Right goddamn on top of him. Fuck. 

Steve acted fast, fumbling in the underbrush, trying to find a weapon. He grabbed a stray branch with enough heft to wield. He was good at making use of what he had. He held the wood aloft, scrambled to his feet and fumbled with the lighter, desperate to get one last spark out of it. He knew how much the creatures hated fire. In a way, he was thankful that he knew what he was dealing with for once. 

The swiftness of the footfalls and the length of the shadows cutting through the blackness let him know within seconds he would be face to face with a full-sized Demogorgon. 

Steve felt the creature before he saw it. A sudden force collided into his body knocking him from his feet. He had just enough time to get the jagged end of the stick between himself and the creature. He felt the branch wade into the creature’s soft flesh. 

Eddie called his name once more, drawing the creature's attention away from him. Steve had an opening.

His trembling hands flicked the lighter again. This time, for a brief and brilliant moment, it sparked. He shoved the naked flame against the creature's wound. He wasn’t sure if he’d hurt it or just made it mad. It thrashed and writhed, grabbing at Steve’s body, and pounding him into the damp earth. Now Steve had its attention. 

He tried to strike out but this time the monster was too quick, its body bared down on Steve and before he knew it, he was face to face with the monster's strange unfurling flesh mouth and razor-sharp teeth. So, this was how he’d die. 

“Mother fucker,” Eddie muttered as two shifting figures caught his attention. 

Steve was pinned to the ground by something that looked fresh out of his nightmares. The others had told him there were more things out there than the bats and demonic, skinless hell-wizard they’d faced but Eddie’s mind had never been able to conjure a creature that would match the true beast before him. 

Steve was doing his best to keep the creature at arms-length. A rotted wooden branch cut at the palm of Steve’s hands and had gone straight through the thing’s body.  Eddie scoured his brain, trying to remember everything he’d been told about the creature. Heat. They hated heat. 

Eddie had grabbed Steve’s bat as he followed him. He’d wanted to be the kind of person who could give Steve space but every fibre of his being had told him to chase after the boy so he had. 

He dropped the flashlight to free up a hand and searched the pockets of his jacket, thankful he always had his lighter handy. He knew Steve would be pissed if Eddie torched his favourite weapon, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He’d rather have Steve pissed than not have him at all. 

He set fire to the bat, throwing more hellish shadows over the wicked tableau of the snarling beast and the desperate boy pinned beneath its grasp. The smell of burning wood and flesh hung heavy in the air. He had the element of surprise on his side. 

The flaming bat collided with the creature’s skull sending it reeling. It let out an inhuman whaling that scattered the nightbirds. Eddie readied the bat to swing again, expecting the beast to charge. Instead, it ran off into the blackness of the night. It’d finally happened. What they all knew had been inevitable. The Upside Down, and in turn Vecna was back. Though for now, he and Steve had brought themselves time. 

Eddie watched as Steve sat wide-eyed but seemingly unharmed. He guessed Steve Harrington had more lives left in him yet. Thank Christ. 

“Please tell me that looked as badass as it felt,” Eddie breathed trying to alleviate some of the tension between them. 

He dropped the bat, snuffing out what was left of the flame and moved unthinkingly to pat down Steve’s body, checking for wounds. He had a gash on his forehead and a split lip, but he’d live. 

“It looked pretty badass,” Steve confirmed and froze as Eddie’s hands raked through his hair. 

“You’ve got something in your...” Eddie’s voice trailed off as he pulled a leaf out of Steve’s hair, holding it aloft in front of his face. 

Steve’s eyes glanced from the leaf to Eddie before tentatively reaching out, his hands searching the planes of his body, dancing cautiously over the barely healed wounds that’d once littered his side. Steve was checking him over.

“I’m okay. You okay?” Eddie assured holding up a hand before reaching into the back pocket of his jeans. 

He pulled out his bandana and inched forward to wrap it around the gash on Steve’s head. The boy cringed beneath his touch. Eddie muttered an apology. 

“I’ll live,” Steve confirmed leaning back, trying to get some space between them. 

Eddie hadn’t realised how close they were. He shifted back, remembering with sudden clarity that Steve had practically begged Eddie to give him a second alone. He wasn’t willing to do that, given they’d already run into one hell beast that night. There could be others. He did something uncharacteristic. Eddie Munson sat with Steve in silence. 

They sat in stillness for so long that the birds and insects returned to the woods around them. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie spoke when the silence was too loud. He didn’t know what he was apologising for, but he couldn’t think of anything better to say. 

Steve looked up at the boy with alarm. 

“What’re you sorry for?” He asked, feeling as though he was caught in another echo of the past. 

He remembered a seemingly endless car ride to Nancy’s house, trying to find ways to apologise for some transgression he wasn’t sure he’d committed. He’d wanted to apologise because he’d loved Nancy and he’d been scared of losing her. 

He wondered what motivations were behind Eddie’s apology. He worried that The Upside Down’s strange relationship with time had leaked into Hawkins, that some pasts were destined to repeat. 

“I don’t know,” Eddie admitted after a breath, letting out a nervous laugh. 

“I’m sorry for doing whatever I did to make you go all space cadet on me. Tell me what I did, and I can tell you I’m sorry,” he continued. 

Steve was certain at that moment, Eddie loved him too. It was already too late to change things. They were trains on a track, their futures seemingly already locked in place.

“You know if you want someone to talk to about whatever’s going on in that head of yours, I’m here Steve,” Eddie kept pushing, unable to take Steve’s silence as an answer. 

His tone was so soft, sincere and unlike anything that Steve expected from the boy that he couldn’t help but speak the words out loud, despite his better judgment. 

“I love you.” 

Eddie had thought he’d been prepared for anything, but he hadn’t been prepared for that. It was then that Steve let out a strangled sound between a scoff and a groan. 

“And it's screwed now. I always mess it up.”  

Eddie could hardly hear the boy’s voice over the rush of blood in his ears. His heart was a high-strung choir, singing the same repeated tune, ‘Steve loves me’. When his common sense kicked into gear, he noted the panic in Steve’s eyes and knew he needed to say something. 

“I love you too,” Eddie managed, feeling both heavier and lighter. 

He’d never said it before. He sure as hell hadn’t pictured a world where he’d admit he loved a boy before they’d started dating. Steve was moving at a breakneck speed and Eddie was desperately trying to catch up. To his surprise, Steve hardly stirred at the confession. 

“I know,” Steve admitted sounding broken as his eyes met Eddie’s. He gave the boy a tight-lipped grimace. All of Eddie’s momentary joy fell just as it’d begun to soar. 

“Please tell me that was a Star Wars reference,” Eddie whispered, earning a real smile from Steve. It was soft and fleeting as freshly felled snow on a warm palm. He knew despite all of Steve’s posturing, he was a huge nerd when it came to science fiction. 

“Eds, my track record...” Steve’s voice trailed off. 

Eddie realised the thing Steve had been dancing around. They were still talking about Nancy goddamn Wheeler in the woods. 

“Stevie,” he breathed, for once at a loss for words. 

He was a storyteller, but he didn’t want to give Steve a story. He couldn’t promise him a world where everything was perfect. They lived in a land of blight and monsters, a time of trouble. The town was still after Eddie’s head on a pike and Steve was running out of goodwill with those that’d once called him king. He wanted to show Steve what they were. 

Damn the past. Kill all possible futures. All they had was the brief and infinite present. 

Eddie wanted to show Steve what they could be at that moment. 

He crossed the space between them, pausing for a breath, leaving room for Steve to push him away. When no such protest arose, he placed one hand on Steve’s cheek, the other cupping the nape of his neck. 

“I’m not good at this either,” Eddie admitted tentatively. 

He’d kissed guys before. It’d always been desperate and sloppy. He didn’t want loving Steve to feel like an afterthought as it had with the other men. 

“But I think it’s worth a shot,” Eddie concluded. 

He’d laid everything out on the table, all that was left was for Steve to pick it up or turn it down. 

Steve didn’t surge forward. Instead, he moved achingly slow. One hand landed on Eddie’s thigh, the other tangled in his hair. He gave a gentle tug to pull him that last inch closer. 

Eddie’s lips were wind-chaffed and cool, melting ice on bare skin, shocking and a good kind of painful. Steve’s face had the faintest hint of stubble, it was rough as the rocks, and forest foliage beneath their bodies. He smelled of wet earth, blood, and faded cologne. Their hands traced each other’s topography with fingers, lips and tongues, toppling over in the process. 

When they pulled apart the whole world seemed to hold its breath. The wind was still. The night was silent. An invisible audience waited with bated breath for a conclusion. 

“Christ,” Eddie choked, hand fluttering dramatically to his heart. It was a kick drum in his chest. 

Steve’s hand followed, sliding beneath Eddie’s shirt. 

“Christ,” Steve echoed with a goofy grin. Eddie loved him. The thought came easily. It was the only thought populating his mind. 

“We should probably, you know, shelve this and try to stop the world ending... again,” Eddie proposed, trying to think straight. 

“Only if you promise to take me on a date after,” Steve countered. He pulled himself to his feet and extended a hand to Eddie. 

“Me take you? You’re meant to be the ladies' man with the killer dates,” Eddie argued, falling into step with Steve easily. 

“Exactly. It’d be nice to be the one getting the flowers for a change. Technically you’re the one who wanted to give this a shot. I’ll get the second date.” 

Eddie scoffed disbelievingly. The cocky bastard.  He’d never picked Steve as someone who liked flowers. He’d give Steve a garden, a forest, a kingdom. 

“Alright, save the world. Buy you flowers. Go on a first date. Go on a second date. Seems like I might actually have a plan for the next few days down pact.” 

“And after that?” Steve prompted. 

“If you want me to say six nuggets and a Winnebago you’ve gotta buy me dinner first.” 

[cowboythighs]

thinking of steve driving miles and miles out of town to the nearest adult store to covertly purchase some toys and videos and not realizing until after he’s skulked around the empty store for far longer than he needed to that the cashier was eddie ‘the freak’ munson.

he nearly drops everything to make a run for it, not exactly keen on being seen in a sex shop, but then Eddie’s looking right at him and the damage has already been done- if Eddie was going to ruin his reputation, Steve figured he might as well get something out of it.

So he takes his selection up to the counter and tries his hardest not to make eye contact- holds out hope that maybe Eddie didn’t recognize him. After all, it’s not like they really knew each other. His face burns as Eddie inspects each item he’s picked out.

“Is this for you or a friend?” Eddie asks holding up the bright pink ‘Rabbit Pearl’. When steve doesn’t manage an intelligible reply, Eddie clarifies “If this is for you-or anyone without a clit- I’m pretty sure I can find you something better.”

Before he can protest, Eddie’s stepping out from behind the counter expecting Steve to follow. Asking him about what he’s looking for in a vibrator like he’s selling Steve a car. holding up item after item, explaining pros and cons not even really waiting for Steve’s replies- just reading the expressions on Steve’s face as if that’s sufficient to determine what he’ll like. He asks Steve how much money he’s looking to spend and takes his shrug as an invitation to pick out a few more toys he thinks Steve will like.

“You really don’t need to do this” Steve manages to spit out while Eddie is bent over a selection of vhs tapes.

“It’s no problem, man,” Eddie waves him off. “My pleasure.”

And god if that doesn’t go right through Steve. Having someone (excitedly) picking out all the tools he’s going to use to get himself off later. It felt a little like being taken care of. He’s not used to it; it makes something burn hit in his gut. He’s embarrassed; he thinks he likes it.

When Eddie was satisfied with his selection he went back to the register, Steve trailing behind. nearly dying of embarrassment when Eddie slid one of the vibrators out of its package, popped batteries in, and handed it to Steve.

Eddie read the question on Steve’s confused face. “You have to make sure it works. No returns. Store policy.”

Steve wondered if it was really policy to make customers turn on vibrators in front of the clerk, or if Eddie just wanted to make him squirm. He didnt think he minded if it was the latter.

“Go on,” Eddie encouraged. “Turn it on.”

Steves hands shook with nerves, but he managed to turn the knob at the bottom of the toy and nearly dropped it as it buzzed to life.

“Right on.” Eddie took the toy back, turning it off and placing it back in its packaging. Hands Steve the next toy to test.

Eddie acts professional as he guides Steve through a selection of lubes and cleaners in a way that made it feel more like a doctor giving out a prescription; take this amount and apply liberally and let set for 60 seconds before washing clean to properly disinfect. It would almost be boring, if Steve wasn’t so turned on seeing the toys he was going to use to get off in Eddie’s big hands while he showed Steve the best way to clean them.

Finally (finally) Eddie rings Steve up and slips the receipt into a bag far more full than Steve had anticipated. He waves Steve off with a suggestive “Have a good night!” as Steve all but runs out of the store.

Back in his car, Steve’s heart felt like it was about to hammer out of his chest from the thrill of it all, but it was nothing compared to the pace it set when he noticed the phone number written on the back of his receipt with a note-

“if you have any questions give me a call, king steve ;)

-your friendly neighborhood freak xx”

[honestlydarkprincess]

9 for the bed sharing scenarios? 👉🏻👈🏻

boyfriend duties || read on ao3

“So, how exactly does one break their dresser anyway?” Buck asked as he pulled into the parking lot of IKEA. Eddie let out a long suffering sigh as he tumbled out of Buck’s jeep.

“Listen, I don’t know what happened. One minute I’m grabbing a t-shirt to wear to bed and the next there was a weird sound and then the whole thing just…collapsed,” Eddie explained, looking dumbfounded. “I didn’t even know it was broken.”

Buck shook his head as he chuckled. “Oh well, we’ll get you a new one and it’ll be like it never happened.”

Eddie sighed again but he couldn’t help but smile when Buck look at him like that, a hopeful look like he wanted Eddie to say yes, your plan will fix everything. And it would. Eddie knew he was pouting for no reason. Dressers broke all the time and if he was honest, he’d never much liked the dresser he had had. Sometimes change was good.

They entered the wonderfully bright and endlessly confusing IKEA and headed to the start of the maze.

“They should have more shortcuts. You mean to tell me I have to walk through this entire store to get to the dressers?” Eddie grumbled, looking at the signs above them.

“It’s not so bad, we can look at all the cool things they have,” Buck said, bouncing on his heels as he looked around like a kid in a candy store. “Oh, that reminds me, Chris was complaining that his reading lamp wasn’t working anymore. I thought it might have just been a burnt out lightbulb but it didn’t work when I changed it. We should take a look at the lamps while we’re here.”

“Sounds good,” Eddie said, feeling warm at how thoughtful Buck was. He hadn’t even known that Christopher’s lamp was broken but now that he thought about it, he could remember there being a lightbulb box in the recycling.

They took their time walking through the maze, Eddie indulgently letting Buck look at anything and everything that caught his eye. They had time, Christopher was spending the weekend with Tía Pepa so even if they didn’t get everything done today they still had tomorrow.

Finally though they found the dresser Eddie wanted, got all the information and headed towards the warehouse section. They stopped briefly in lighting and Buck was quite happy with the reading lamp he found as a replacement for Christopher’s broken one.

Once they had everything, they walked back to the parking lot. They struggled a bit to get everything into Buck’s jeep but finally they were able to maneuver the dresser into the back.

“We really should have taken the truck,” Eddie mumbled, looking at the awkward way the dresser was jammed into the jeep.

“It just has to hold until we get home,” Buck said absently, making sure everything was tucked in as much as possible before shutting the door.

Eddie didn’t miss the easy way Buck referred to the Diaz house as home and it made something in his heart swell. Because it was. It was home for the both of them and Christopher.

“You’re quiet,” Buck observed. It was about fifteen minutes into their drive back that he finally spoke up because Eddie hadn’t said a word since they left the parking lot.

“Yeah, shit, sorry. I was just thinking,” Eddie replied, feeling his cheeks heat. Buck was going out of his way to help him today and here he was, getting lost in his thoughts and ignoring him. He shook off the weird mood that had settled over him like a cloud and gave Buck his full attention.

They chatted the rest of the way home and time just seemed to fly by as they set about getting the new dresser into the house and into Eddie’s bedroom.

The next few hours passed in a series of “Buck, it goes here, look at the picture—“ and “I am looking at the picture, Eddie, and it goes over here!”

Finally they had frame of the dresser built and all that was left were the drawers. Since it was nearing dinner time they decided to take a break and finish the rest afterwards. Dinner passed quickly along with a couple episodes of the new show on Netflix they had been watching together.

“C’mon, we should get back to it,” Buck said, clapping Eddie on the knee as he stood up from the couch and stretched, groaning as his joints popped.

Eddie sighed but followed Buck to his bedroom, taking in the mess of furniture pieces and the packaging the dresser had come in. Feeling overwhelmed by the mess, Eddie sat on the edge of the bed and flopped back so he was laying down.

“It’s not too bad, Eds,” Buck said, echoing his earlier words. “We just need to get the drawers finished and the knobs put in. We can move your clothes and things in tomorrow.”

“I should have just used the closet, why did I get another dresser? I don’t even like dressers, I hate folding clothes. God invented hangers for a reason.”

Buck laughed. “Let’s go, c’mon. Just a little bit longer.”

“I’m exhausted, babe. Let’s just do it tomorrow.” Eddie groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. When he was met with silence he groaned again and sat up, expecting to see Buck waiting for him to get up and help. But Buck was staring at him in shock. “What? What’s wrong?”

Buck was still kneeling on the ground, holding the instructions in his hand. “You, uh, you called me babe.”

“Oh,” Eddie blushed. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”

Buck cut him off with a kiss. Eddie froze the second Buck’s lips touched his and he stayed frozen, long enough that Buck seemed to wilt against him, pulling away.

“Fuck,” Buck gasped, looking stricken. “I’m sorry— I shouldn’t have done that. I thought— I thought you calling me babe meant— although actually now that I think about it, it really doesn’t mean anything. I mean, for all I know you call all your friends pet names. I’ve literally never heard you use a pet name before but who knows—”

This time it was Eddie who cut Buck off with a kiss. Buck groaned, shuffling closer to where Eddie was sat on the edge of the bed so they could kiss without straining their necks so much. Eddie tugged Buck up off the floor and onto the bed. They broke apart, breathing heavily as Buck sprawled out on the bed underneath Eddie.

Eddie wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, making out like teenagers but eventually the kisses got softer, less hungry and more languid. Eddie pulled back, taking in the flush on Buck’s cheeks and his swollen, spit-slick lips. He took a minute to marvel at the pretty picture Buck made, all kiss drunk.

And then Buck took the opportunity to completely ruin the moment. “We still have to build that fucking dresser.”

Eddie got off him with a groan, slapping Buck’s chest playfully when the other man does nothing but laugh. “Shut up, Buckley.”

“Or what, Diaz?”

“Or you’ll finish building that dresser all by yourself,” Eddie replied, looking smug.

“Isn’t it your dresser? Why should I build it myself?” Buck teased, even though they both knew that if Eddie asked, Buck would built it in a heartbeat without Eddie having to lift a finger.

“Boyfriend duties.”

“Oh?” And Buck looked so happy, smiling as bright as the sun, that Eddie couldn’t help but lean in to kiss the smile from his lips. Eddie found that he liked the taste of joy on Buck. When he pulled back, Buck said, “So, I’m your boyfriend?”

“I was hoping you would be,” Eddie replied softly.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Buck said, trying to joke but sincerity shined through. He really hadn’t thought Eddie would ever ask— that they would ever get to this point.

“Well, I’m asking now.”

“Yeah, Eds. I want to be your boyfriend.”

“Oh good, ‘cause I have your first official boyfriend task right here,” Eddie joked, nodding his head towards the half built dresser.

Buck laughed but went to move off of the bed. He was stopped by a hand on his wrist and then Eddie was tugging him back into bed.

“I changed my mind, the dresser can wait.”

“Good call, Diaz. Good call.”

[various-things]

Some months earlier, aboard the Defiant

(this is part of a fic I’m writing, but sharing it because it’s a very vignette-y story and I think this part works as a ficlet) Standing in front of a window in an empty lower level cabin, Garak watches Cardassia until warp blinks her away. Less than an hour ago he’d been standing on her soil, breathing the same air as former friends and colleagues (the surviving ones). He revisits the feeling of waiting at the Defiant’s transporter pad, of the ship’s interior dissolving into the soft warmth of the Paldar Sector at twilight. There’d been little time for distraction as they’d gained access to Ghemor’s home, but he’d thought of Palandine. Wondered if she was still in Coranum. He’ll see what news he can gather when back on the station. Where Palandine is concerned, it will likely be more of nothing. There will be talk of Ghemor. As a highly visible official, his departure from Cardassia and the Central Command will require some public comment, however minimizing. Garak had excused himself shortly after their return to the ship. He and the Legate hadn’t spoken, but he’d caught the man’s recognition of him. There was a time, Doctor, oh there was a time when I was a power. There’d been no protest to Garak finding a cabin with a view of his homeworld; it meant he was out of everyone’s hair, though there was a security guard assigned by Odo, Crewman Wells, following him around at a distance—currently out in the hallway. Garak had let him know he’d be keeping to these quarters for the rest of the trip. He sits on the floor, putting his back against the bunks. Cardassian air had touched his skin, filled his lungs. Traces of the planet on his shoes, perhaps between the threads of his clothes. He would hold on to it for as long as he could. 

[cosleia]

Ascendance

Originally written for a kiss prompt on Twitter. Yakkorat asked for V2, which was one person gently holding the other to their chest, one hand on the side of their head and the other at the back of their neck, as they kiss their forehead. Yakkorat also asked for benarmie, which I completely missed 😂

--

The elevator makes it to the throne room. With all the damage the ship had taken, Hux wasn't sure it would. He hurries across the platform, eyes catching on the viewports that are now visible. Outside, the Resistance is escaping. He looks to Snoke—and comes to a dead stop.

As he stands there, the top of Snoke's body sloughs off the throne and falls to the floor at his feet.

The Supreme Leader is dead.

Hux turns and his heart stutters. There, motionless on the floor, is Kylo Ren. Is he dead, too? Hux reaches for his blaster. Is there still danger?

Suddenly, Kylo gasps and pushes himself up from the floor. Hux hurries forward, weapon forgotten. "What happened?" he asks.

"The girl killed Snoke," Kylo says, looking up at him from his knees. His lips twitch into a grin, belying the statement.

"The Supreme Leader is dead," Hux says, clearing the rest of the distance between them. Kylo, still on his knees, nestles against Hux's chest. "We have no ruler," Hux says, and Kylo breaks, letting out a laughing sob.

Hux pulls him close, one hand at his neck and the other at his temple, and kisses the top of his head. "The Supreme Leader is dead," Kylo echoes.

"Long live the Supreme Leader," Hux says softly against Kylo's hair.

"And long live his Chancellor," Kylo answers.

Hux's heart swells. He glances back to Snoke's body and lets out a huffing laugh. "Finally," he says.

Kylo pulls himself together, stumbling to his feet. "We know where they're going," he says. "Let's get our forces down to that planet."

"Let's finish this," Hux agrees.

There in the middle of a burning throne room littered with corpses, Hux takes Kylo's face in his hands and kisses him properly. They march to the elevator together, hand in hand.

It's the first day of their new Empire.

~The End~

[tyrannuspitch]

i started writing this story in second person because there's *one particular passage* i definitely want to be in second person, but the longer it gets the more i wonder if i really need to do the whole thing that way... but then again, wouldn't it be more disruptive to switch person (and to switch from a very close one to a more distant one when the tension is meant to be getting higher)? hmm.

[tweeksandturns]

Last sunrise, A toast to the end.

(I wrote a ficlet)

Somewhere, on a planet far from the Homeworld, an Aquamarine and a Spinel are quiet in a base they built together, In a home that the Aquamarine had once refused to acknowledge, a place the Spinel felt they could be themselves. 

And they know that the next battle may be the last, now that neither side is holding back, now that some pieces of a shattered lapis lay in the desert sands. 

And Scott isn’t with them, but they know that the Sapphire is grieving, watched as he picked up as many pieces he could, and walked back to a flower valley the two of them had once called home.

The Flower Agate would not be helping them anymore, but Scott would, until his last shreds of anger had dimmed, until he felt as though enough damage had been done, for all the damage they did to him, and the Lapis. And that would have to be enough.

The gems of the Crastle would help, would fight beside them, searching for an end to the fight, a final end to the battle, and a new beginning for peace. The carnelian would fight with them, along with the Lime pearl.

The sun rose, and the two of them knew, knew that this was the last day, maybe their last day. 

And they danced.

They spun, in the elegant way that they had created for themselves. A goodbye from the Aquamarine, but a reassurance from the Spinel. 

Two gem’s that ordinarily wouldn’t have been compatible, inseparable by the time they spent together.

The sun rose, and the final battle would be today.

– – – – – – – – – – – 

On another side of their lively planet, an emerald and a Ruby thought of similar ideas.

They stood on an altar, and the ruby was scared, terrified of the thought of losing the gem they had fought so hard for. The gem that they had joined in betraying the homeworld with, both tired of the system that seemed so unnecessary to keep.

The Amethyst wasn’t with them, away in that swampy area, an area that the Ruby didn’t really enjoy visiting. The Amethyst was an ally, and that would have to be enough. 

The Bismuth was at the highest point. Maybe sleeping this last day away, or watching to see what their enemies may have been doing.

And The topaz staying with their Amethyst would fight against them, they knew, but the temporary peace, the singing birds around them, convinced them to refrain from doing anything about it.

Their last ally, the Blue quartz, stayed within sight, standing on the neighboring hill, and watching as the first rays of sunshine lit up their sky, signaling the end, what could easily be the last day for anyone.

The ruby and the Emerald spun, vaguely reminiscent of when the Emerald had asked the Ruby to cut him, to poof him. To leave the mark. 

And the Ruby only ever knew how to obey. Despite how much he hated it.

And the Red Diamond rose, just as the sun rose.

And everyone knew, no matter what faction, no matter what betrayals and traitors, no matter who was consciously aware or not.

They all knew.

This was the final Sunrise.

Their last Day.

________________________________

Original Au by @chrisrin! and also a massive thanks to @sixteenth-days for (unintentionally) giving me the motivation and idea to make this.

Damn, I love this au-

[mtchacffinz]

what a blunder!

prompt!!! Arlecchino personally deals with your unwanted marriage proposal in her own unique way.

content!!! fem!reader x arlecchino, SFW, impatient arlecchino, violence mentioned, marriage proposal, possessive arlecchino

note!!! "Farlahr" is a made up character for the sake of this ficlet. The Doctor here is NOT Dottore. something about arlecchino tweaking and losing a few screws is so hot to me so here you go girls this one is for my strap on arlecchino riders 🙏 im so normal

"He told me that if I consider him as my betrothed, I would be set for life." You smile up at her, albeit nervous. "Huh? Oh— Where are you going?"

Long empty corridors could carry even the faintest whispers. The moon peeks from the shadows, it's serene light softly caressing the harbingers figure— still, quiet, tensed. Her heels clang echoing all throughout the corridor, her gaze that was pinned straight forward seemed to pierce through the thick air surrounding the atmosphere.

Long empty corridors could carry even the faintest whispers, and Arlecchino failed to notice she started to hear her uneven breathing.

Peculiar. Truly peculiar..

"Right this way, Ma'am." Arlecchino set her gaze towards the head butler, greeted with the sight of a tensed figure in return. The head butler winces, stammering on his words. Was she glaring? She doesn't know. That's not important. She's needs to get through the door. "I- I will inform the Master of your arrival—"

"That will not be necessary." Her sultry voice cut through his words. "We have been long collaborators, a reunion shan't wait too long."

Her monochromatic figure heaves a soft breath, looking blankly towards the excessively pretentious door, it's sheer size looming over Arlecchino's figure— the entrance towards an office.

Eloquent and graceful, although her lips were painted with a polite smile, the person before her couldn't tell if the crimson woman was brewing something from within. The Knave was calculative and perceptive, an expert at keeping herself cold despite the scorching flames imbedded within her. The man kept his gaze at the floor, lacking the courage to even contest her gaze.

Those eyes, terrifying crimson hued crosses that could mess with your head tried to dare his optics to even catch a small gaze. Staring into them was ill advised indeed. The butler knew this for his heart was racing, and what added to the cold sweat undeniably trickling in his jaw was that Arlecchino stood unnervingly still— as if contemplating something under deep thought. Before anything could be done, Arlecchino firmly gripped the mansion door's handles in a few momemts, swinging it open with great force.

There had always been an air of nobility in Arlecchino's presence. As soon as she stepped foot into Farlahr's office, the doctor stood up in shock, startled.

"Please, excuse my abrupt visit, Doctor." Arlecchino deliberately spat out the title, a composed smile tugged at her lips. Farlahr's eyes widen at the sight of her monochromatic elegance painting his mansion floors with her presence.

"You're not too busy, I presume? Do let us catch up, I insist— I truly do." It was way beyond the wee hours of the night, the breeze was cold and unforgiving, and the doctor could feel it crawling up his spine. The Harbingers assertive words leave no room for arguments. As if there was an invisible wind from the room, forcing every bit of his movements to bend at her own will.

"I admit that it's quite off fashion to visit at this hour empty handed, Lord Harbinger." The man chuckled in an attempt to disperse the growing tension in the air. He swings his hands— decorated with glimmering stones to mask his nervousness. The woman quickly responded.

"I won't be empty handed for long."

"Pardon, Lord Harbinger?"

Arlecchino doesn't clarify any further, but directs her unwavering gaze to him. Dark, piercing. It was like a warning, a ticking bomb for the doctor to diffuse except there seemed to be no signs of dismissal any time soon.

His crisp smile quickly dropped.

"...I merely jest." Farlahr quickly followed up, as if it was the most amusing joke in the world. Arlecchino doesn't seem to share the same opinion, as her expression stood the same. Whatever The Knave came here for, he doesn't know just yet. And if he fails to catch on, Farlahr just might lose something. His head fell from the deep crevices of his panicked mind falling into one topic he suddenly could bring up as distraction.

With their history of collaborative partnership of 13 years, Arlecchino didn't have a single problem in regards to the business and it's contributions to the House of Hearth. Arlecchino didn't care for his obsessions with women and adulterous activities, the poised lady simply stood her ground due the information the Doctor withheld about the history of medical fallacies and treatments alike.

Arlecchino's rigid gaze quickly looked relaxed, unbothered. Her voice had voice lowered and her arms and legs sit crossed.

"I came here to offer a deal."

"And that is?"

It was no surprise to Arlecchino that Farlahr was a worldly man. Riches to riches, he has re-married at least three times and he's proud of that. Arlecchino didn't bother to comprehend his thought process. She believes that his brain was processed waste ideally converged with multiple nerves. His body reeked of metals, teeth gleaming brightly with silver. She kind of wishes she could rip it all out of his jaw..

"You will retract your marriage proposal." Arlecchino starts, "And I say this, your wealth, status, and people— all safeguarded as per usual."

Farlahr was taken aback by the sudden demand. He doesn't know if her statement stemmed from concern for his safety or a wake up call to his unethical hobbies. The opportunist in him say the opposite, it says that maybe you are some sort of leverage in this world— so valuable that even the 4th Harbinger of then fatui would personally come and abolish his plans of marrying you.

But the curiosity of his consciousness gnaws it's way out of his lips, asking one particular question.

"You disapprove of my wife and I?"

How disgusting. Utterly repulsive. Its almost an offense to your whole existence to be called a wife to someone as repugnant as him. The monochromatic grace managed to suppress her disgust by responding in a more poignant tone.

"Ah, forgive me." Arlecchino very slowly tilts her head, eyes unblinking. She effortlessly stands up from her seat, her coat elegantly swaying with her refined and poised movements, breath light as a feather— a shadow cast on her face.

"But I don't disapprove of your proposal, pig." In a moment, there was a switch in her tone. Her pointed high heels shoes dragged themselves against the expensive velvet carpet, dreaming to at least peirce through the back of a certain crisp, fragile cranium. With every step closer Arlecchino gets, the more Farlahr's heart pounds in his chest, daring to jump off.

She raises a hand and firmly places them on his shoulder.

"...I forbid it."

Serenity was all that could be described throughout the night. And you, as a person of idle leisure in the evening, appreciated the tranquil breeze that brush past your cheek. A soft sigh escapes your lips, falling into deep thought. What is there to do? With the last 28 hours you were given to decide on an answer, you're left quite bewildered. Tapping your fingernails on the terrace by muscle memory, your train of thought was disturbed when you head familiar foot steps behind you.

You turn around to see a sight of dignified beauty, standing before your sleepless eyes. Arlecchino's presence, despite the abruption, quickly calmed your disgruntled nerves down.

But something was wrong. Before you could ask about the residual crimson stains on her cheek and darkened hands, she speaks in a tone softer than any voice you've heard her.

"If I may ask, my dove, could you marry someone with an absent ring finger?"

Wow. What a random question. Completely uncalled for. Maybe the ungodly hours of the night got to her? Despite the conspiracies flowing through your mind, you try hard to think of an answer.

"Hmm. I should rephrase that. Could you marry a man with no fingers?" Arlecchino ponders out loud, "Despite a marriage contract, you must need a ring to put on his finger, right? Quite a shame, really.."

"No, I don't think so. Wedding rings are to be put on ring fingers, if I recall correctly."

"That's a relief." You raise a brow, completely lost. You gaze at Arlecchino, a subtle triumphant look paints her expression, her fingers play around with her numerous rings that sit comfortably on her fingers. Taking one out, she approaches your figure.

"May I embrace you, my lady?" Suddenly, the Harbingers sultry voice was sullen, sulking. My, what's up with this woman? A moment ago she shows up with (possibly) blood around her person, and now she's asking for sudden physical contact? After just a consonant of the reply 'Yes' was uttered, Arlecchino quickly took you in her arms, embracing you deeply— taking in your presence wholely.

"How I wish I could rid you the scent of that swine." She loosens her grip for a moment, putting a stray hair strand behind your ear. All this feels like a fever dream.. you remember that just mere hours ago, Arlecchino's face looked grim and unpleasant when she received news of your sudden proposal— her reaction left you perplexed. You thought it would be a good idea since Farlahr was a good business partner of hers, why the grim expression?

You pat her back comfortingly. Before you could say anything, Arlecchino quickly lets go of you, standing perfectly straight. Her face once again unreadable— she speaks in a calm and collected manner.

"That fool said that if you'd marry him, you would be set for life." She recounts, almost irritated. Arlecchino's crimson crosses gaze was away from you, but hands traced their way back to your arms, carefully holding them in hers. Her thumbs brush the back of your hands affectionately, with tenderness and care in her voice. Arlecchino's knee made contact with the floor, and her hands delicately handled yours as if they were the most precious thing in the world.

"You must marry me. All he could offer you, I could provide tenfold."

All of the sudden, the wind started to pick up, and the ethereal lady before you never looked so grand. Her monochromatic hair danced with the cool breeze, and her crimson eyes looked from above, transfixed on your figure. Your throat felt like there was too many words you could spit out in one go, and you were terrified that you'd ruin the atmosphere by stammering over your words.

"Marry me so you are mine to gratify. This is a promise I can keep, unlike that farce. Even at your grave, my everlasting flames will be buried with you in the dirt where you lay— in turn that you will never freeze from the cold kiss of death." The Harbinger adds, tenderly placing a peck on your knuckles. Her gaze could contest even the eyes of Archons at this very moment, possessing full confidence that upholds the standards of her capabilities.

Compared to her, what could a limbless man offer you?

my dumbass just woke up and decided to edit it a bit cus I was writing this at like, 3AM LMAOO, hello (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠) its me again, just dipping my toes in the water to see if I could still write 🤔

[harzilla]

Honestly can I admit I've been sitting on writing a full God!Yuu fic? I keep trying to turn game mechanics into God skills. I just wanna throw this out there. Sorta a ficlet? It's mostly my kind of stream of thoughts.

Imagine the guys are absolutely clueless that the "magicless" human is a god. Like a trickster god and whatever little thing that follows their amusement and they notice a weird little blip of magic one day and decides to follow where it leads.

they immediately shift into a vessel that fits the world and when Grim busts open the coffin the god realizes it's his magic they noticed. Oh? Interesting....

The dark mirror can't read their soul because the mirror is tuned into the souls of those born in Twisted Wonderland. The body? Yes. Their actual being? No. So for the first time the mirror calls a colorless empty soul since it's creation.

The god soon realizes they're in a school of humanoid mages and they can sense the different flows of magic from everybody. Allowing them to be able easily analyze what kind of magic it is, ties into the world/nature(aero, water, fire) and emotions(void/light)the self.

Our God realizes that things could get boring fast if they push their powers around and they decide to handicap themselves by only using intentional power to prevent somebody from dying. They're not particularly interested in seeing a bunch of kids die. Mortal lives are fleeting but full of fascinating things.

It turns out that Twisted Wonderland is very interesting if you're willing to see where things lead. But, they can still interfere if they do it within the limitations of a magicless mortal, right?

They also can also pick up on the emotions of mortals and the drips of blot they see are literal buildup of negative emotions starting to manifest in a physical world, very nasty little thing. But only they can see it at this point. They stick by Ace and Deuce because they know that the two will lead them to Riddle. The only one dripping blot at this point within their line of sense. They work with Ace and Deuce, so it's only natural they follow because they helped make the tart, right? They know they can only allow the overblot to happen because they limited their powers but the rancid magic wafting off Riddle makes them unhappy. Diving into Riddle's mind they gently pull through his memories and pull the threads of his thoughts in the right direction. Weakening the link to the overblot and allows Riddle's own mind to push forward and ask the question he needed to hear. This Allows Riddle to hit a breakthrough the overwhelmingly destructive negative feelings. It severes the link to the overblot completely, killing the overblot and allowing Riddle to live.

Riddle awakens and now our God slips back into the magicless human act. They know something is off and they're going to follow along because they want to see just what is causing the world to flow in the direction it's going.

The sticker system is them giving the guys blessing. Our God likes interesting things and the entire rewardable cast is their kind of fun. These stickers kind of create a pavlova effect where they feel positive energy/feelings when around the prefect. The emotions trigger the blessings they received that it boosts their magic. Thus the higher the friendship the higher the magic output

Honey? Candies? All the treats? More blessings. Increased lessons is the god blessing them with more lessons by tweaking the flow of time. They can't perceive the change unless the god wants them to.

They enjoy learning new things about everybody and seeing their progress. They like studying the different dynamics between everybody and are always curious about what's running through their head. A bunch of hormonal teenagers with way to much power at their fingertips always attracts trouble. But also they find them all endearing in their own weird ways.

Of course our god sometimes creates it's own trouble, oh my it seems the tsums felt the gods power somehow and they showed up at specifically Ramshackle? oh my how odd? The God permits it because, well it's interesting and the tsums are harmless if not as chaotic as their counterparts. Just the right kind of mischief they're looking for. Of course maybe our god might have felt a tiny bit bored, saw this adorable magical creatures by staring out into the infinite void of space, magic, and existence and was all "Visit this world please? 🥺"

I just have so many ideas for this I honestly feel like I should try to make a long fic of this idea. But I just want you to think about the absolute crisis all of them go through when they're revealed to be a god that has just let the guys do everything that has happened throughout the entire plot and events because they're amused?

But oh what fun they can have now! Now that they can mess with the guys openly. Only the ones they permit can tell anything is happening.

Pay backs fun now isn't it?

[lathalea]

Congratulations on your followers! 🎉✨🧚🏼‍♀️ I am so happy to see you on my feed that I am not sure what I could even request… Would it be ok to request an Aragorn x reader ficlet with

26. Hurt/Comfort AU and 

5. “You did this for me?” (Maybe Aragorn got protective of the reader and she takes care of his wounds… just a little suggestion)

I am really not sure if I did this right and I apologize in advance if I did something wrong or made you uncomfortable. Thank you for doing this 💜 I hope you have a wonderful day Take care <3

Thank you so much and thank you for your wonderful ask! I hope you will enjoy the story I wrote for you... and I hope you don’t mind I tweaked your prompt a tiiiiiny bit ;)

The Golden Hour 

The sudden battle with the Ringwraiths at Amon Sûl took a toll on everyone. Frodo’s wound was serious — more serious than you have ever seen. It was a Morgul-blade, after all. The other Hobbits were shaken, but unscathed. What a relief. But then you noticed Aragorn clenching his left hand and giving out a slight hiss.

“You’re wounded!” Instantly, you recalled that he held that burning torch in this hand, attacking the wraiths with it mere moments ago.

“It’s nothing, my lady.” He shook his head and examined Frodo’s wound. “This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs elvish medicine.”

“Rivendell?” Your gaze met his. There was a frown on his handsome face when he nodded in agreement.

“We have no time to lose,” he said, looking at Frodo's pale face.

“I’ll take him there,” you stated. Your bay mare whinnied in agreement. It would not be your first race against death, and the Ranger knew it well.

After you placed Frodo safely before you, Aragorn gave your hand a squeeze.

“Ride with the grace of Valar.” He spoke with a glint in his eye.

The coarseness of his skin against yours made you tremble a little, and you looked away. You did not want him to read what hid in your eyes. He was the Strider, the legendary Ranger of the North, and you were… well, just you. A girl from nowhere — or everywhere. You met on the trail a couple of months ago and since then you travelled together. Both of you seemed to enjoy each other’s company. You exchanged tales by the fire, sang songs under the stars, or simply rode in silence, admiring the beauty of the landscape ahead of you. 

Then four hobbits joined you in Bree and from their whispered remarks you understood that the Strider was guiding them somewhere. Wandering hobbits were quite unusual, just like their mission had to be, but you never asked any questions. You understood they had their secrets, and you respected it. In the meantime, you scouted the area, took night watches together with Aragorn, and made sure that Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin were safe. Now, you were about to do it once again — for Frodo.

And so you rode like the wind, day and night, night and day, fleeing from the black shadows trying to catch up with you. But you and your mare were faster, leaving the dull thudding of their ghastly steeds’ hooves behind.

You crossed the fast-flowing waters of the river Bruinen with haste, and soon you found yourself in the Last Homely House, Lord Elrond’s domain. He was glad to see you in Imladris again and took care of the barely conscious Frodo right away. Elrond’s healing powers were legendary, so you were almost certain that he would succeed. And so he did.

A couple of days later Aragorn and the three hobbits arrived, exhausted and hungry. You could not help but notice how he held his left hand, fisted and close to his chest. There were deep shadows under his eyes.

“Let me see to your hand,” you said, closing the distance between you.

“The hobbits first,” he spoke quietly. You knew his face well by now; it was pale. Too pale for your liking.

That was when lady Arwen arrived, welcoming the new guests. As soon as you exchanged a glance with her, she swiftly moved towards Sam, Merry and Pippin.

“Welcome to Imladris, dear guests. May I offer you a place to rest and something to replenish your strength?” she spoke in her melodious voice, turning to the hobbits. Only then did Aragorn allow you to take him to his quarters.

You rolled up his left sleeve when he sat on his bed, and then you examined his arm. It looked like a large part of his hand and forearm was covered with burns, probably when one of the wraiths attempted his final attack, his robes on fire. You worked slowly, meticulously, and as gently as you could. At the end, you covered his skin with an elvish ointment given to you by lord Elrond and bandaged the worst-looking wounds. It would take some time, but you knew he would be fully healed. 

When you were done with your work, he was already asleep. The only thing you could do was to cover him with a blanket and leave him to rest.

***

A few days later you decided to take a walk in lord Elrond’s gardens. Whenever you visited Rivendell, you liked to stroll through this magical place, but this time you were not alone. On the path ahead of you, you saw a familiar figure bathed in the warm light of the evening sun.

“My lady,” the Ranger bowed his head and you saw how differently he looked from the man you had come to know on the road. Gone was the tiredness from his face and the grime from his clothes. Now, he wore green elvish robes, and his freshly washed hair softly fell onto his shoulders. In the golden light of the setting sun he looked more like a ruler of an ancient realm than a travelling swordsman.

“I have been looking for you,” he added. “I would like to thank you for what you did: for saving Frodo’s life, and with him, perhaps even something greater. And for caring for me when I needed it the most.”

“I haven’t done anything unusual. This is what one does when their travelling companions are in need. How is your arm doing today?” You glanced at his freshly bandaged arm.

“It is better, thanks to you.” A small smile appeared on his face, reaching the grey pools of his eyes. There was something in his gaze that made you smile back at him.

“Tomorrow I will have to leave Rivendell and continue my journey,” Aragorn continued. “It is a perilous one, and I do not know when or if I will return. I would like you to have this as a token of my appreciation. Something to remember me by, perhaps.”

“A necklace? Is that a mountain crystal? You made this for me?” you blinked in disbelief, looking at the crystal glinting golden in the sun, and at the elegantly interwoven leather straps that held it.

“I began making it on the road. They call this kind of crystal the elvenstone. May I?”

“Of course.” You bit your lower lip as Aragorn placed the necklace around your neck. He stood so close to you, you felt the warmth of his fingers brushing against the sides of your neck, and there was that smell of herbs, leather, and pipeweed, one that you could recognize even with your eyes closed.

“So very beautiful…” you whispered, touching the glistening crystal with your fingers.

“Very…” added Aragorn, but his eyes were set on your face. You swallowed.

“I will wear it every day with pride.” You heard yourself say. “But it will not remind me of you because I will be by your side.”

“But… My lady, the journey ahead of me is full of danger, I cannot…” He began, taking your hand in his.

“We have survived quite a few dangerous situations together, haven’t we? I believe we will survive a few more,” you smiled at him, finding golden sparks of sun among the grey clouds of Aragorn’s eyes.

“I believe we will,” your Ranger agreed and you knew that at dawn, you would be riding out from Imladris together.

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging 💙

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[ritz-writes]

idk who needs to hears this, but dont force yourself to keep writing something if you aren't liking it.

i wasted days just staring at this cute ficlet that was supposed to be fun to write. i was only at 400 words and felt like i was drowning trying to continue. i still wanted to write it though.

so i scrapped it and started over. i tweaked it ever so slightly, just one little detail that changed smth. and now im excited to keep going. im only at 200 words, but ive written that in 20 minutes vs the 400 in 6 days.

so, if you arent liking how smth is going, start over. dont be afraid to scrap things. it can be scary thinking of just not using the words you wrote, but sometimes its what needed