#another soulmate au

[honora-antares]

This is a little sum-sum I wrote along with my last post, (you can find it under the "bere speaks" tag on my blog!) I'm not sure if it has potential, but here ya go!

“I don't even know your name.”

“It's Viktor.” He waited for recognition. For Jayce to turn to him with elation. He waited, but all Jayce did was snap his bracelet on his wrist. The same wrist that has Viktor’s name. Perhaps he wasn't heard right. So, he tried again, more assertively. “Viktor. With a ‘k’.”

He turned then, a look of confusion crossed his face. Viktor was beginning to think that maybe he'd not been heard a second time. But then those beautiful hazel eyes widened, and finally.

“Oh! Jayce, with a ‘y’.” Viktor’s excited smile faltered. Had he… miscalculated? Surely there's no other Jayce with the last name Talis in Piltover, is there? If Jayce doesn't recognize his name then… “I've never seen Viktor spelled with a ‘k’ before.”

“Yes, well, names in the Undercity are prone to differentiate from those commonly known up here.” He doesn't have Viktor’s name. If he did, he would've known of it since he first wrote it down when he was ten years old. Back when he and Sky had stolen a pen from a vendor's stool that was in decent condition. They wanted to have a sort of ceremony for when they first wrote down their names. Knowing that that was going to be inscribed in their Soul's body for the rest of their lives. They wanted it to be special.

Viktor wanted this day to be special.

Instead, he'd walked in on his Soul seconds away from jumping. His heart was in his throat, that he was able to sound so calm when he called out was surprising.

Jayce doesn't have Viktor’s name.

Viktor wasn't Jayce’s Soul.

help, it's angst.

[karalovesallthegirls]

Kara has always dreaded the day she’d meet her soulmate. 

There’s relief in knowing she has one, of course. The person meant for her didn’t die with Krypton. That’s something! Even still, it’s hard to feel excited for the moment they meet, because that’s the moment Kara will hurt them. She’s had their exclamation of pain inked into her skin for as long as she’s been on Earth. In some ways it’s better. Most people have phrases like “good morning” or “hold the door please” as their soulmate’s first words. They have to endure hundreds of almosts, breath held just in case that stranger really is the one. Kara won’t have to do that. Her words are far too distinct.

It's agony, thinking about how their meeting will go. She spends years imagining every possible scenario, each one more painful than the last, yet the day it happens she barely even registers it. The words wash right over her, drowned out by the loud crack as her hand makes sudden contact with a stranger's face. The telltale crunch of contact shocks her. She hadn't registered anyone was there during her dramatic retelling, otherwise she would have kept her gestures small. She wouldn't have flung her hand out with such force.

The woman she's hit is hunched over, clutching at her face. She gasped loud and sharp when it hit, and now she's just wheezily breathing in shock. Kara can see blood starting to drip down her wrist.

“Did you," the woman gasps, and her voice sounds wet. "Did you just break my nose?” Kara wants to die.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay? I am so sorry!”

People are looking at them and the woman keeps cursing under her breath and Kara really, really doesn’t know what to do. Her hands hover uselessly over the hunched figure, desperate to soothe but scared to touch in a moment like this. “I didn’t mean to – I was telling a story and I got too excited with my hands I guess, I didn’t see you there. Are you- can I-”

She looks to Alex for guidance, but she’s just staring at the interaction with a wide-eyed wonder. Typically her sister knows what to do in a scary situation, but now she’s looking just as clueless. They’re both barely awake at this point – it’s six in the morning and they’ve been at this airport terminal since midnight, miserably watching their red eye flight push into a mid-day departure. They’re both half-delirious, which is fun when you’re goofing off but less so when you’ve just broken a stranger’s nose. 

And then it hits her. The words she’s carried on her arm for so many years are tingling, she realizes, and they’ve been tingling from the second her skin met the girl’s. 

Did you did you just break my nose?

“Oh wow,” Kara says, dumbfounded. “It’s you.” The woman falls silent. She must be realizing too Kara thinks as she fumbles with her sleeve, pushing it up enough to show her inked arm. The woman's eyes drop to the tattoo that's brought such shame to Kara for so long. She feels her eyes like a touch. “I – I’m so happy to meet you! I’m so sorry it happened like this.” She laughs and it sounds strained. Her hands are shaking. The woman doesn't look up from her arm.

Even hunched over in pain, it's clear the woman is beautiful. Important, even, considering how she's dressed. She's dressed like she's en route to lead a business conference, her tight black skirt and matching blazer scream business professional. Though the effects are tampered a bit by the splattering of blood that’s dripped down her white blouse. Kara wonders how old she is to be dressed like that. She must be older to look like that. At nearly nineteen, Kara has never had anything more than a graduation to dress nicely for, and even then she wore her stained dress pants. This woman - her soulmate - must be much older than her, which feels strange to think. She looks Kara's age, maybe even younger. If not for how clearly tailored to her body her clothes are, she'd almost look like she was playing dress up.

Kara feels self-conscious then, sharply aware of how she must look to her soulmate. As smart as it felt to come to the airport in pajamas for her all-night flight, standing in rubber duck pajama pants while trying to have a conversation with her goddess of a soulmate did little for Kara's confidence.

When Kara’s eyes finally track back up to her face, she finds sharp green ones staring back. They're the prettiest eyes she's ever seen, and they don't seem interested in looking away. That's fine with her - she's more than content to stare right back.

It's only the soft plop of blood hitting tile that draws her attention back to her crime, and she can see the way the woman's hands have become covered in blood. "Oh gosh, here - let me…”  Kara fumbles in her backpack for a moment with no clear plan. All she knows is she has to do something to fix this. She fumbles about before pulling out a clean t-shirt. “Here. For the-” She holds it out to the girl and gestures at her own face. Slowly, like she’s scared Kara might grab her or something, the woman takes the offered shirt. She wipes the blood from her face and hands, dabbing beneath her nose. The bleeding seems to have stopped, at least, and the shirt helps contain what's escaped. Watching a stranger wipe blood on her high school band t-shirt shouldn’t thrill Kara as much as it does, and yet.

Kara laughs again, the sound nervous and high-pitched, before taking a step towards her. Her soulmate’s eyes go wide, tracking her movements, and Kara's heart clenches when she steps away. The rapid race of her soulmate's heart beats into Kara's ear - she can literally hear her fear. She holds her hands up in surrender, stepping back to where she’d been before. The last thing she wants is for her to be afraid. “Does it hurt?” she asks, and her soulmate shakes her head no. “That’s good. That’s good. I- uh." She has nothing more to say, and her soulmate's certainly not contributing. Kara’s palms are sweating. She hasn’t sweat since she was thirteen, but one look from this person has her rubbing her hands on her pajama pants like a middle schooler at a dance.

The woman finishes wiping up and lets her arms fall, blessing Kara with her first real look at her face. Bloodied and skittish, she’s beautiful in a way Kara can hardly comprehend, in a way she could never imagine. Kara's pretty sure she's blushing now for some reason, and she has to flex her toes to be sure she’s still touching the ground. “My name’s Kara,” she says, and then gestures over her shoulder. “That’s my sister Alex. We’re flying home for winter break. Midvale - Midvale is home for us. Where- where are you flying to?”

The woman stares and stares, and Kara's starting to panic thinking she'd given her soulmate a head injury that's muted her somehow, when at last the woman speaks just barely above a whisper.

“Home,” she says. It feels like her heart might burst just from hearing that one stilted word. Kara wants to hear a thousand more, wants to hear nothing else for the rest of her life.

“That’s awesome. W-where’s home for you?” The woman's lip trembles as she opens her mouth, closes it, and then opens it again.

 “I’m sorry,” she says, and then throws the t-shirt at Kara’s face. 

Kara fumbles catching it, distracted by the shock and gross factor of having a blood-soaked shirt hurled at her face, and it takes her far too many precious seconds to realize her soulmate is gone. Bewildered, Kara looks around before just catching sight of her vanishing around the corner, high heels and racing heart clattering away. She looks at Alex. Alex waves at her, frantic. “Go!” Alex yells, and Kara takes off.

Pretending to be a human has never been harder than it is while chasing after her soulmate. Normal human pace - especially what's acceptable at an airport - is not fast enough for this, not when the woman has already gotten so far ahead. Kara must look ridiculous, bursting into sprints only to trip suddenly into a walk over and over again, her ears locked on to the thudding heartbeat and faint whispers of her soulmate mumbling, “crap crap crap crap,” ahead.

Kara’s thankful they’re in an airport, at least. Her soulmate can’t just run outside, and Kara is fine embracing the romcom trope of following her love onto the plane. Her soulmate stops moving ahead and Kara speeds up, nearly wiping out twice tripping over luggage and small children. Her heart is in her throat as she clears the corner her soulmate is behind and pushes her way into the door she's passed through. All the wind knocks out of her lungs then when she sees her again. The woman looks up at her in shock, as if she didn't think Kara would chase her. As if Kara would just let her go. With a visible gulp, her soulmate flees around a corner and disappears out of sight. Kara manages a single step forward before a body blocks her way, and she looks up to see a massive security guard staring down at her.

“Membership card, please.”

Kara tries to peer around him. He steps in her way, cutting her vision off. Her soulmate led her into some private place you can't just walk into, she realizes, glancing around at the sleek appearance and exclusive atmosphere. “I- uh, left my card in my other bag,” she says, gesturing back over her shoulder. She can hear her soulmate’s breathing and it's all she can focus on. She’s right there. Just out of sight. Kara is so close. “I’m afraid you need your card to enter the fly lounge,” he says sternly. He starts pushing gently at her, trying to nudge her back out of the sliding glass door she’s come in. Kara almost forgets to let him move her. “I- I’m sorry, someone I need to talk to just went in there and I-” She stops in the doorway, hand firm on the wall. She can hear the way the guard huffs against her solid pressure. She’s not acting very human right now and she knows it.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, ma’am," he says, pushing more forcefully against her. Forceful enough that she knows she has to move even as all her instincts war against it. “Can- can I buy a membership? Like a day pass or something?”

The guard looks over at the front desk, making eye contact with a woman who looks like she would rather watch Kara be flayed alive than allowed another step inside.

“A day membership is $189 plus tax,” she whines out in a nasally voice, tone making clear she already knows Kara won’t be affording that. Which is accurate. Kara barely has enough to buy a meal. 

Looks like her soulmate is rich, then.

The man nudges her back again and a flash of panic echoes through her chest. For a moment, she envisions herself throwing him out the open door, tossing aside anything or anyone that tries to keep her from her future. But she’s already scared her soulmate enough for one day, so she smiles with forced bashfulness and allows herself to be walked back out of the lounge.

The frosted glass door marked High Flyers Club Lounge shuts her out mockingly. But it’s fine! Eventually her soulmate’s flight time will be here and she’ll have no choice but to come out and face her. Kara just has to be patient. (Kara hates being patient.)

She takes a seat against the wall across from the lounge entrance. Her glasses rest low on her nose as she stares her soulmate, soaking in every inch of her as she paces in the luxurious lounge. Her heart is racing, she seems on the edge of a panic attack, and Kara wants desperately to be in there with her talking her down. But she can’t, so she’s left to watch – at least until the girl steps into the private restroom. She stops watching after that. Instead, she settles down to listen to the comforting beat of her soulmate’s heart, closer now than it’s ever been.

Her mind wanders as she waits, mentally reviewing every moment of their interaction. Considering where she failed, where she succeeded. Making lists about what to say to her next. She never got her name, for one thing, and she still doesn’t know where her home is. There’s so much for her to learn.

Her mental meandering is so consuming that it takes her a bit to realize the heartbeat has moved farther away. At first she thinks her soulmate is just moving around the club, but no- she’s moving away from the airport.  A quick glance through walls shows her that her soulmate isn’t in the club anymore. The heartbeat is elevating, she realizes, and Kara runs to the glass wall just in time to see the plane - small, private, with an apparent access point from within the lounge – take off. 

Horror and confusion overwhelm her, bringing tears to her eyes. This doesn't make sense. Why would she just leave without saying a word? Why would her soulmate do that? It's almost unbearable, the pain of it. She doesn’t know how long she stands there, face pressed to the glass, listening as the heartbeat grows quieter and quieter before vanishing all together.

Kara learns a lot about grief after that. 

She knew a lot already – far more than any one person should ever know – but that grief carried a different weight. The loss of her people wasn't a choice by them. They didn't want to die. The loss of her soulmate is its own beast, sharp and cruel in her heart, because this time the person she mourns chose to abandon her. Her soulmate chose to leave. She saw Kara that morning and decided that one look was enough, that Kara wasn't worth any more of her time. She left her there with nothing but a bloody t-shirt and a thousand questions. Kara never even learned her name.

She goes through the stages – she feels her anger burning out in her eyes, feels the sorrow take hold. She denies it, she bargains with everyone, anyone. She calls the Flyer’s Club, tries calling the FAA. She tracks flight logs and makes cold calls and still finds nothing at all. She writes about it on soulmate websites and Medium articles, casting a wide net so that someday when – if, her mind reminds her. if if if - her soulmate ever looks she’ll be able to find her.  

Time dulls the sharpness, though, and the years shift that rejected feeling into a more muted anger. Kara doesn't care about the love lost. She doesn't care if the person is her other half. All she cares about is the anger. Finding her feels more like a hunt than a quest for love – she’s got a lot to say to the other woman when they finally meet again. She just wants one more meeting, that’s all. Just enough time to tell her exactly where she can go. Kara doesn’t need a soulmate, after all. Her life is full of love and joy and adventure, and she doesn’t need another person to complete her. She graduates college with a degree in English, minor in Journalism – her attempts to track down her soulmate really ignite the journalistic bug in her, and with Clark’s constant encouragement it feels inevitable. She moves to a big city despite her small-town fears and she gets a job almost no one survives. Kara is thriving.

It almost shocks her, then, the way her heart trips over itself when she sees her again.

They’re watching the trial, her and Alex, and Alex is halfway through a lecture on how she’d always known Lex Luthor was evil by the way he wore his pants – (“Good guys don’t wear their pants that high, Kara, it’s common sense.”) – when Kara's nerves jolt like a lightning bolt has rushed through her. Her gasp is so sharp Alex screams almost in sympathy. 

“What? What is it?” Alex yells at her, looking around for some danger lurking nearby. Kara tumbles to the floor practically crawling to the television screen. Someone new has taken the stand, someone she'd recognize anywhere.

“Alex,” she says, jamming her finger against the somewhat grainy image projected on her television. “It's her.” “What!” “My soulmate!" Kara knows it like she knows herself, even after all this time. She looks different. Six years of struggle sit clear in her hard gaze, her mouth twisted into solemn resignation. She looks almost casual on the stand, sitting comfortably despite the eyes of the world on her. Like it's just a regular conversation. Like she’s not about to help send her brother to prison for life. “Lena Luthor, sister of the defendant” reads the helpful banner beneath her grim face. Even after everything, Kara is struck by her. She's breathtaking. Kara kind of hates her for it. “Hold on, that’s- you barely even saw her when you met! You don’t know for sure.” Alex sounds desperate, which is fair. The younger sister of the man who tried to kill Superman is certainly not an ideal soulmate for someone like Kara, but it doesn't matter. It's her. “I’m sure,” she says, and feels the truth of it deep in her bones.

A giggle hits her then that's so inappropriate for the moment it makes her feel crazy, but she can't help it. As Lena Luthor begins to explain the piles of evidence she’s gathered against her brother, Kara giggles away. She feels almost drunk on it, smug and satisfied. “Found you,” she says, almost like a taunt. She drags her finger over the screen, feeling the static of her ancient television biting back at her as she caresses Lena Luthor's face. The anger that’s long settled inside of her seems to reignite with every charged word Lena speaks against her brother, with every glance she makes at the camera. She can feel Alex’s nervous energy behind her but she doesn’t care. The politics of this, the implications - none of it matters to Kara. What matters is she has a name, and she has a general location. She's so close she can practically taste it. “See you soon, soulmate,” Kara whispers, and for a second it feels almost like Lena is staring right back.

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main AU

Masterpost

Guys, I'm so sorry. But here's this!

~~~~

Danny blinks and he is somewhere else. He’s sitting at a dining room table, surrounded. There are so many people here. They’re all talking over each other, some yelling, some laughing. This scene comes as a great surprise to him, who -one blink ago- was trying and failing to do his homework at home in his room. Danny shoots up, his chair making a horrible noise as he pushes it away so fast it tumbles over. Everyone in the room turns to look over at him like he’s insane. 

“Oh my god, who are you people?” Danny did not mean to say this out loud, but at the sound of his voice he startles. Danny takes a moment to assess, and then, “Oh my god who am I?”  He is tall, and big, and this is certainly not his body, what is he wearing.

The boy sitting to the right of Danny, a little shorter than he is, with black hair and blue eyes (though now that he’s paying attention that does describe most people in the room),  starts chuckling lightly. “Uh, Jason? Are you good?” 

Danny turns to stare him right in the eyes. “What day is it?”

And he can tell the concern around the table is just ratcheting up every time he opens his stupid mouth.

“Did you hit your head on patrol?” The voice comes from the only blond and one of the only girls in the room, who's to the left of the person across from him. The person across from him is another boy with black hair and blue eyes who is studying Danny in a way that makes him uncomfortable, that under-a-microscope look that makes you feel like you’re failing at something.

“I have no idea if Jason hit his head.” Danny says. “I was just trying to remember if it was my birthday.”

And if he thought the room was busy when he first arrived here it is absolute pandemonium now. Everyone starts shouting and asking questions that he can’t even hear over the shouting. Someone with white hair in a suit just came through a door he didn’t even see earlier to stand by the only person not shouting, who -Danny would guess- is the only other adult in this room, witting at the head of the table. He also has black hair and blue eyes, and where almost everyone else’s reaction was panic, he froze instead. The person across from Danny also isn’t shouting, but the person next to Danny on his right has now fully stood up and looks like he might actually jump across the table to win the argument he ended up in. 

“Are you Jason’s soulmate?” is the main gist of the shouting that Danny can interpret but he’s more concerned with actual Jason at the moment. If they switched bodies... Then Jason might be in trouble…

“Hey, I forget, how long is this body swap supposed to last again?” Danny asks.

“Until you and Jason have physical contact. You have to actually meet.” The boy sitting across from him explains. He seems like one of the only ones that heard Danny talk, everyone else was still shouting. 

“Oh, that just seems terrible. What if we’re in different countries or something?” Danny complained. “Everyone in the world is just supposed to be able to drop everything and afford to fly across the world. The universe is really trying to screw people over now. Honestly, am I in a different country? Where even are we right now?”

“You’re in Gotham.” This voice was new, coming from the head of the table to Danny’s right. 

“Oh no. Nope.” Danny started backing away from the table, almost tripping on his overturned chair. “Absolutely not, no, how do I get out of here?” He starts earnestly looking for a door to get out of this place, but there are three doors he can see and he has no idea where any of them go, and doesn’t this room have any windows? What kind of a room doesn’t have any windows? Do they like to eat in a basement?

“Jason- not Jason. Uh, you need to calm down, everything will be fine alright, We’ll get you and Jason introduced no problem.” Danny swivels to track the voice and it’s the one who was sitting next to him, he’s walking towards him with his hands up and out in front of him. 

“I have to get home.” Danny breathes. 

“We can get you there, promise. Now, I’m Dick, can you tell me your name?”

“Your name is Dick? Who named you Dick?” Danny is so confused he’s stopped panicking. “How old are you for you to go by the name Dick?”

“Okay, rude.” Dick sounds like a petulant child so Danny’s estimations for his age are continuously dropping. “I’m 24.”

Danny snorts. “Okay.” The blond girl starts laughing over at the table. “I’m uh, I’m Danny.”

“Nice to meet you. Sort of. I’m Tim.” The guy from across from him had made it over to stand next to Dick. “There’s a lot of us here today so the one laughing like a hyena is Steph. That one there is Duke.” African-American, still with black hair but he has brown eyes and waves once introduced. “Damian is the short one next to him, and Cass was sitting across from Dick earlier. Our dad, Jason’s dad-” 

“Not my dad!” Steph interrupted. Tim waves her off.

“Everyone but Steph's dad, is over there, Bruce. Alfred, our butler is the one next to him.” Alfred gives a slight nod to his head. Bruce is just staring at him.

“So, names out of the way. You said you wanted to go home, where do you live?”

“Amity Park.”

[hopediamondart]

A blooming friendship.

masterpost

[jessicas-pi]

When Father breaks the news about the Jedi to Hera, she just stares up at him in bewilderment, then runs into her room and slams the door.

She doesn't come out for hours, and when she does, her eyes are dry---she hasn't cried. At dinner, she numbly remarks that they'll have to buy her something in white, because she's in mourning now.

From that day on, she wears no other color.

Hera never sheds a tear. She can't. Not with the Empire watching. But she wears white, and hears the people around her ask each other who Cham Syndulla's daughter is in mourning for--and sometimes, she hears other people answer.

It was her soulmate, I think. I hear he was a Jedi.

She wears white long past the time of mourning has ended. She wears it defiantly at dinner parties with Imperial Admirals. She wears it when she works on her mechanic projects and when she takes flying lessons and when she graduates at the top of her class. She wears it when her family goes on the run, and then she starts talking about him.

Caleb had eyes like the clearest sea, she says abruptly, one time, when some of her peers are gathered together chatting about their soulmates and she's sitting on the edge of the group, staring solemnly at nothing.

Caleb used to call me his little sister, she laughs in tragic commiseration, when her best friend is bemoaning his soulmate's habit of referring to him as her brother-from-another-mother. He didn't know I wanted him to marry me someday.

Hera talks about him freely. She tells how they met. She tells how they talked late into the night on comm calls until her parents started confiscating her commlink overnight. But she doesn't talk about her soulmark. Few people know where it once was, and no one has seen the place it used to be.

She wears long sleeves and keeps her right shoulder covered constantly, hiding the smooth skin that bore a three-pronged mark. She has to. If she doesn't, people will realize that she has been lying to the whole galaxy since she was nine years old.

Hera wears white because she wants everyone else to believe she's mourning her dead soulmate.

But the truth is, she doesn't mourn for Caleb.

She can't mourn for Caleb.

Her soulmark is still there.

Caleb isn't dead.

[ri-afan]

Soulmate au - first words on skin

“Woah, hey, you probably shouldn’t be doing that.”

“…Are you my conscience?”

Person 1 is a vigilante helping someone with a probable concussion after an attack of some kind.

Person 2 is a person who’s had many a philosophical debate on whether or not the words on their skin made them reckless or if they were reckless all on their own.

[metalhoops]

The Five Times Eddie Wondered Who His Soulmate Was  and the One Time He Didn’t Have To

1. 

The worst thing about knowing your soulmate was in trouble was understanding there was nothing you could do about it. 

As a whole, Eddie thought the concept of soulmates was bullshit. He thought all that fate and destiny crap was a scam to sell the idea of monogamy or co-dependence. If people were too busy fretting over when they’d meet ‘their person’, they’d forget that actual shit was going on in the world. Who had the time to care about systemic oppression when they were busy trying to work out if the cute girl across the corridor was their one true love? 

That being said, sometimes Eddie got curious about who they were. Not many people found their soulmates. It wasn’t as obvious as you’d think. When they were in pain, you would feel it. Two people could live across the world from one another, feeling each scraped knee and broken wrist but never meet. Hell, you could live across the street from someone and unless you were there to watch them get hurt and feel the same old pang of shared pain, you’d never know. 

It wasn’t like Eddie had never felt his soulmate before that day. They’d twisted an ankle when Eddie was twelve and sprained a wrist when he was fourteen, but he’d felt no pain from them so strong as when he was sitting in detention during his junior year. 

He was counting down the minutes left until he could get out of the high school, hell hole when a sharp and sudden pain flooded his jaw. He gritted his teeth and cradled it with his palm, feeling as though the wind was knocked out of his body. Eddie knew what being punched in the face felt like, and that was it. Just when the ache started to fade, another thud of pain to his cheek made his vision swim. From there, Eddie held his breath, waiting for the pain to end. He rested his head on his desk and felt his heart in his throat as the blows kept coming. 

He missed Mrs Click telling him to go home, too busy gripping the desk for dear life, his fingernails digging into the poorly carved desk graffiti, slicing a line through ‘RB 4 TT.’ He was elated when the pain finally stopped. 

Eddie kept his head down the whole walk home, trying to tell himself soulmates were bullshit, and that he didn’t care about his, but his thoughts kept returning to visions of them. He hoped they were okay. 

Eddie never wanted to know who his soulmate was until that moment. They’d had a hell of a day and Eddie wanted to be there with them, tell them he knew what it was like. He wanted to hold their head in his lap and tell them everything was going to be okay, that if it were up to him, no one would hurt them like that again, but he couldn’t. For all he knew, they could be a hundred miles away. 

2.

The next time it happened, Eddie was at home alone in the trailer. Uncle Wayne was working a night shift, and he was watching a horror movie marathon on the T.V. It was shaping up to be a good night, with him curled up on the couch watching a schlocky creature feature when he felt all the air knocked out of his lungs. 

For a moment, he was worried something horrible was happening to him. When Jeff had appendicitis, he’d reported the same kind of pain. Eddie rolled up the hem of his shirt, watching a black-blue bruise bloom and fade in the span of a second. Sometimes, if the pain was great enough, you’d get what they called an ‘echo’ of the injury. It only lasted a moment, invisible ink fading on pale paper. 

The pain had been so strong that Eddie hadn’t been able to tell if it was theirs or his. From there, it got worse. He felt a sharp pang crash over his head, then another series of blows to the face. It was always the goddamn face.

When it was over, Eddie was left feeling lightheaded. The sensation faded quickly, but he knew his other half would be stuck with the ache for the rest of the night, if not longer. 

There was a lot of conjecture when it came to soulmates. It was hard to conduct scientific studies on something based entirely on sensation, and any research that had been done was less than ethical. All the same, for the rest of the night, Eddie curled his arms around himself, holding his body in the hopes his person could feel it, that he could give them some comfort. 

“I hope you’re okay,” he whispered, burrowing his face into the crook of his elbow. 

Back at school, Eddie floated through the halls feeling less than himself as thoughts of his person swirled. The school was abuzz with rumours of a fight between Billy Hargrove and the former king of Hawkins High, Steve Harrington. Eddie couldn’t care less about some pissing contest for the highest rung on the social ladder, as he still felt the echoed ache of his soulmate’s pain throughout the day. 

He ditched gym, opting to hide beneath the bleachers and smoke. To his surprise, he wasn’t the only one with the idea. When he arrived, he found the overthrown king sitting cross-legged, cradling his still-bruised jaw. Eddie wasn’t a fan of the jocks, but they were the biggest contributor to his wallet, so he tried to play civil with them. Plus, Eddie wasn’t one to kick someone when they were down, and boy was Steve down. He sat beside the man, examined his face, and thought for a fleeting second. Maybe he was the one, but that was crazy talk. The Freak and the King. In what world? 

“You look like you’ve had better days,” Eddie noted. 

“I’ve had worse,” Steve replied. Eddie had a pit in his stomach. 

The two lapsed into silence, hiding out until the bell sounded for the end of gym. Eddie gave the boy a half-hearted salute as he stood.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie spoke before he left.

“You okay?”

Steve gave Eddie the ghost of a smile, all charm drowned out by Steve’s two black eyes. 

“I will be.” 

3.

Eddie had been worried about his soulmate before, but he’d never thought he’d lose them until the summer vacation after his failed attempt at senior year. He and the rest of Corroded Coffin had just finished their set at The Hideout. Eddie and the boys were carrying their instruments back to the van when the feeling hit. 

He fell to the asphalt. The whole scene sounded all the more dramatic as the hi-hat he’d been holding fell with him. He really wished his soulmate would learn to keep their head down and stay out of trouble because this was getting ridiculous. He got ready to hunker down and wait it out, having gotten morbidly used to their annual beatings. Only this time the pain didn’t stop. 

He was hit with wave after wave of agony. This time, it wasn’t just the face. He felt blows to his jaw, his stomach, and his side. He also felt a sharp spike of pain in his hand, as though someone was trying to peel his nails from his skin.

He could hear his friends around him, desperately trying to get something coherent out of Eddie, trying to work out if it was soulmate bullshit or if the guy was having an aneurysm. By the way he was acting, either seemed possible. When the pain subsided, Eddie felt foggy, like he was going through the worst goddamn high of his life. The neon signs of The Hideout and the street lamps danced before his eyes. Hundreds of little halos clouded his vision. He couldn’t think straight. 

He managed to prop himself up against the wheel of the van and pulled his knees to his chest. He knotted his hands in his long hair and tugged, trying to remind himself what his own pain felt like, though stopped when he realised he’d also be hurting them. That was the last thing they needed. 

“You okay?” He heard Gareth ask when the world came swimming back into focus. Eddie shook his head. Far from it.  

“Are they okay? Are they... alive?” Eddie hadn’t let himself entertain that idea until it was brought up. 

He felt the last flush of colour drain from his face. He could still feel them, but there was something wrong with the connection. Maybe he was dying. Eddie couldn’t help but think of his soulmate as ‘he’. He just knew. 

Eddie kept trying to tell himself he didn’t care about them, but the fact that he could die without Eddie ever having met him made his heart ache. People thought the reason you felt your person’s pain was to protect them, to know when something was wrong. Eddie had done a bang-up job at that. 

“For now, but it’s weird. I don’t... I don’t know how much longer-,” Eddie didn’t let himself finish. 

The rest of the band suddenly took on a sombre mood. Jeff and Grant finished packing up the van while Gareth offered to drive. The boys stayed at Eddie’s trailer for the rest of the night, holding their breaths and waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Eventually, Eddie dropped off to sleep and when he awoke hours later, he was relieved to realise he hurt all over. He was still alive, still waiting for Eddie to find him and god did Eddie want to. 

His uncle came home at the crack of dawn and let out an elongated sigh of relief at seeing Eddie and his band of merry men curled up together on the living room carpet. Wayne greeted Eddie with a tight hug that still hurt like hell.

“I was worried something happened to you,” His uncle stated in his gravelled tone.

“Why would something have happened to me?” Eddie asked, perplexed. 

“The mall burnt down last night. I was worried you were close by.” 

Eddie shook his head and let his uncle hold him as his mind ticked away. He wondered if it was possible his soulmate was in Hawkins. Eddie wasn’t sure he believed in coincidence.   

4.

Eddie started seeing spots during his lunchtime speech. By the end of his rant, the room had started to tilt. He felt unsure on his feet as he clambered from the top of the jock table to scamper back to the hellfire group. He must look worse for wear because he noticed one of his new recruits watching him.

“Eddie, you good?” Dustin questioned, sounding further away than he should. The lights in the cafeteria were too bright and his head was killing him. 

He felt close to throwing up and wondered where the pain had come from before realising the familiar distance from the sensation. It wasn’t his pain. Eddie didn’t want Henderson to butt into his love life any more than he already did, so he gave the kid a tight-lipped smile that more closely resembled a grimace. This wasn’t the first time he’d felt this sensation from his soulmate, but they were growing more frequent.  

Again, sweetheart? Eddie thought, knowing it was the second migraine that week. 

“Migraine,” Eddie hissed through gritted teeth. He could feel his band members' eyes on him. They knew exactly who the ache belonged to. 

To Eddie’s surprise, Dustin passed him a cool glass of water and barked orders at Mike, getting the kid to remove the ugly Hawaiian over shirt, before throwing it over Eddie’s head, blocking out the light. It wasn’t Eddie’s pain, so it didn’t help but he could appreciate the sentiment. 

“Did they teach you first aid at science camp, Henderson?” Eddie guessed offhandedly. 

“Nah. Steve gets migraines all the time. Helps to know how to deal with them.”

Eddie would never understand how a kid like Dustin came to know Steve Harrington, let alone worship the ground the guy walked on. Usually, Dustin had such good taste.  

“Eddie’s soulmate gets them too,” Gareth spoke unhelpfully. 

Even without looking, Eddie knew he was shooting him a shit-eating grin, knowing the rest of the afternoon Henderson would ask him about his soulmate. Just because the kid found Suzie, he thought the whole world deserved to find their one true love. Instead, Dustin came out with the most bullshit statement Eddie had ever heard. 

“Maybe Steve’s your soulmate.” 

Yeah, right. On what planet would that happen? 

5.

With everything that had happened to Eddie in the past few days, he hadn’t had time to think about his soulmate. He’d watched Chrissy die before his eyes, learnt the existence of another dimension and was walking through said dimension after witnessing Steve Harrington take a bite out of a demon bat’s tail. It’d been a weird ass day.  

He wished he’d been like Robin and Nancy, able to jump in and rescue Steve on a whim, but as Steve disappeared beneath the black water of Lover’s Lake, he’d felt his throat close and his lungs ache for air. It wasn’t a good time for a panic attack. Nevertheless, he’d managed to get his ass in gear and follow the rest of the group down into Watergate. 

He’d dropped back to walk with Steve and found himself complimenting the man. Steve was nothing like he imagined. He was not only kind, but as Dustin had put it, a total badass. 

Once the adrenaline faded, Eddie found himself lifting the hem of his shirt, examining his side. He felt a dull throb of pain. It’d be his luck to bleed out without noticing, but he found there was nothing there. 

“You good?” Steve asked.

Eddie couldn’t help but let his gaze settle on Steve’s bleeding side. He held his breath. He thought about pushing his hand against Steve’s wound, hurting him more just to check, but Eddie couldn’t hurt Steve. Not now. Especially if he was who Eddie thought he might be. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. You okay?” Eddie asked, gesturing to Steve’s side. The boy nodded.

“I’m fine, just a scratch. Can hardly feel a thing.” 

If Steve was his soulmate, he was full of shit. If Steve was his soulmate when everything blew over, they had a few things to talk about.

+1

Something was very wrong. Vecna was going down in a blaze of flame when Steve’s body started to ache. He felt the familiar sting of interdimensional bat fangs digging into dermis flesh. Robin and Nancy were cheering, wrapping their arms around Steve, whooping, hollering and panting while Steve was busy feeling like he was being torn apart. 

He was pulling away from the girls and turning on his heels before he had the chance to explain, running from the Creel House to the trailer park as fast as his feet could carry him. There was only one person this pain could belong to. 

Steve had spent his whole life searching for his soulmate, desperate to know who they were, and he’d been under his nose the whole time. The fact that Steve’s soulmate was a boy hadn’t surprised him as much as it should. That’d been a crisis bubbling away in the background of his brain since he’d gone to his first swim meet. He’d seen a boy in tight swim trunks, with tan skin and felt the familiar heart-pounding, crush he’d experienced on pretty girls he’d passed in the school hallways. 

By the time he got to Eddie, he’d hardly been able to fight through the pain surging through their connection. Dustin was wailing, holding Eddie in the wake of a bat graveyard. He looked up in alarm at Steve’s figure, noticing his pale skin and sweat-slicked brow. 

“Harrington?” Eddie’s weak voice came from Dustin’s lap. 

Steve was busy removing his clothes, trying to stop the bleeding. Dustin didn’t need to show him where the man was hurt, he could feel it. 

“I really must have got some brownie points in the end,” Eddie murmured. 

Both boys hissed as Steve shoved his shirt into a wound at Eddie’s side. That was when Dustin appeared to catch on, his eyes swelling wide as they darted between the two boys. 

“What’re you talking about, Munson?” Steve asked, trying to keep the guy talking. 

“Must’ve got into heaven after all,” He hummed, his deep brown eyes gazing beyond Steve at the distant red sky. 

“Hey. No. None of that. You aren’t in heaven because you’re not dying,” Steve hissed, using what little strength he had left to lift Eddie’s body. 

“Gotta be in heaven, if you’re here,” Eddie spoke, giving Steve a lopsided grin. Steve felt Eddie’s pain beginning to fade and panicked, not ready to let things end before they’d even had the chance to begin. 

He hoisted Eddie up through the portal and waited to do the same with Dustin. It wasn’t long before the distant sound of sirens once more surrounded the Munson trailer and Steve found himself passing out from the pain as red-blue lights swallowed the world whole. 

Eddie woke in pain, his whole body humming with a familiar dull ache that was unarguably his. It took time for him to make sense of the scene. He was in the hospital. Steve was slumped over at the far edge of the room, sleeping in an uncomfortable plastic chair, his head thrown back and his mouth agape. Eddie’s eyes trailed to his bedside, where he met Dustin’s. 

“Holy shit, you’re awake,” the boy gasped, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. 

Eddie cringed as he felt a rush of pain swarm through his body. He must have gasped, because Steve sprung to life, waking with a start as his eyes trailed from Dustin to Eddie. Steve’s eyes were a storm of quiet conflict, punctuated by deep purple bruises. 

“Eddie,” Steve breathed, standing to hover beside the bed, unsure of what to do next. 

He was surprised Steve was there at all. He wouldn’t say the two were close. Though Steve had probably found some way of twisting Eddie getting hurt into some fault of his, ever the damn hero. 

“Thought I was a goner for a second there,” Eddie admitted, trying to shake some of the strange tension from the room.

“If Steve hadn’t gotten there in time, you would’ve been,” Dustin spoke. Eddie watched as the boy’s hands trembled. He leaned over, fighting through the pain to ruffle the kid’s hair. Steve’s shoulders hunched over, doubling into himself. 

“I’ll get the nurse. Your uncle left for his nightshift, but he should be back in a few,” Dustin muttered as he made a beeline for the exit. It seemed strange the boy was extracting himself from the scene.

Henderson called over his shoulder. “I told you so.” 

And just like that, Eddie knew. 

He looked up at Steve with wide-eyed alarm, only to find his look mirrored.

“How’d you know we were in trouble?” Eddie asked, though thought he knew the answer. 

“After we killed Vecna, I felt... I could feel you. I knew you were hurt,” Steve explained. 

“How’d you know it was me?” Eddie pushed.

“Thought it was too much of a coincidence that it felt like my soulmate was getting eaten alive by giant bats. I’d call it an educated guess.” 

Eddie gritted his teeth and nodded. Surely, as far as soulmates went, he hadn’t been what Steve imagined. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, surprising Eddie. 

“For what?”

“Not being the person you wanted me to be, I guess,” Steve spoke so candidly, it made pain and panic swell in his throat. How could Steve think Eddie was disappointed that he was his soulmate?

“I’m not disappointed, Stevie. Why would I be disappointed?” 

“You had to have known,” Steve reasoned. 

Eddie didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, but it sounded like Steve had been overthinking every second of it. 

“You give me more credit than I deserve. I didn’t know it was you, sweetheart. Cross my heart,” Eddie admitted, surprised at how quickly the term of endearment he’d used for his soulmate slipped off his tongue when talking to Steve. 

He hadn’t worked out shit. He’d had hunches, as though his heart knew, but the logical part of his brain kept overriding it. In what world were he and Steve perfect for each other?

Eddie threw caution to the wind as he saw the genuine look of affection and excitement painting its way across Steve’s face. He looked hopeful. Eddie cringed, sitting up and trying to lean closer to Steve.

“Come here before I hurt the both of us,” Eddie grumbled.

Steve shuffled closer to Eddie’s bed, crouching down, so the two were at eye level. Eddie wanted to kiss the boy so damn bad, and Steve was sending him all the signs that he should, but there was something he had to do first. He took Steve’s face between his hands, running a thumb over the purple bruises beneath his eyes.

“No more playing hero, okay?” 

Steve nudged his face into the palm of Eddie’s hand and nodded, letting out a weak chuckle. 

“I think I can agree to that.” 

Eddie crushed their lips together and despite the pain, it felt like everything was right in the world. 

[weebsinstash]

Yandere Alastor having a huge alcoholic meltdown before deciding to take you back is making me crazyyyyyy because like. He sees you crying because you see him spiraling and takes it as confirmation you still love him and need him!!! Sure those scoundrels led you astray but you’re clearly miserable, he just needs to intervene more firmly this time for your his own good, no matter what you say.

One thing that really does it for me is the concept of, he's having an intense public breakdown for, WEEKS, MONTHS even, just spiraling spiraling spiraling, every time you think he's hit his lowest, you hear something worse: being drunk in public, starting fights over perceived disrespect, being extremely hostile and standoffish to those who try to speak to him, AVOIDING ROSIE, like....honey you destroyed this man

and then... all it takes to knock some sense into him is Vox showing you up on the big screen for Alastor to see, the Radio Demon watching you look upon his image with legitimate concern and PITY, like you're looking at a puppy being kicked or something. He hadn't seen your face (in person anyways) in what feels like AGES and then he finally sees his precious beloved beau again and you're. Crying, FOR him, BECAUSE of him. You're crying and that dirty nasty flat faced capitalist bastard is mocking you for all of Hell to see and THAT is something Alastor won't tolerate

Can you even imagine like. It becomes too much, you're crying and getting taunted by Vox and Alastor is like VISIBLY SHAKEN by the sight of you, amd, you just feel too much guilt, you run off absolutely sobbing and don't even see if Alastor manages to sober himself up enough to stand before you do. You just can't watch, it's torture. Which also leaves you completely unaware of how seeing your image seemingly renewed the absolutely WASTED Radio Demon's strength. You spend several days curled up in bed, refusing to watch TV or get on your phone, but, wait, doing your word searches and crossword puzzles or playing solitaire just makes you think of Alastor too--

Meanwhile he's like absolutely tearing through Hell personally tracking down every man you've so much as blown a kiss at behind his back and, well... you know what he's known for. These men might not have even known you were the Radio Demon's piece and are begging for their lives, but Alastor doesn't care. They've defiled you. They've tainted you. They've dirtied you with their disgusting grimey pig hands. There's no taking that back. If he can't exactly reach into their minds and remove their memories of seeing your exposed body, hearing your wanton noises, then, Alastor will just have to remove their minds from their heads entirely, won't he? Brain is such a tasty organ meat.

I just. The mental image of Alastor finally coming to fetch you and he finds you in like. the worst situation possible and I mean that. He's either finding you drunk in the gutter yourself because you started binge-drinking because of how seeing him Like That made you feel, OR, he's finding you getting railed in a sex club. I mean it. I want this man kicking down a door because he's finally coming to take you back and he thinks his precious boo is being tormented by gross men and you're like, a willing participant in a Czech reverse gloryhole. I want this man absolutely convinced you need him to survive and he walks in on you doing something that strikes him as so WILD that it instantly confirms WHATEVER INSANE THEORIES he had. I want a yandere Alastor who got cheated on because he never wanted sex (or, needed to become attached to you enough to want it and you lost patience before he reached that point) and he sees you cheat on him, dump him, and immediately run headfirst into the wildest kinkiest craziest shit to the point he thinks you're having a mental health crisis and, oh honey clearly this is HIS FAULT. He didn't... cater to all of your needs, so you sought out men who could. It's not YOUR fault these, DISGUSTING PIGS would take advantage of you, which is CLEARLY what happened!

But anyways, oh no no, don't worry darling! He's been doing a lot of self reflecting on himself and his feelings and --ignore the tentacle climbing up your leg -- and he's been thinking a lot about what to do about your... apparently very rigorous physical needs and --yes there ARE multiple tentacles starting to kind of grope all over you but you're not focusing on the conversation, dear-- and Alastor thinks he's found a solution that should.... DEEPLY satisfy both of your desires :) now, all you have to do is relax and allow him to show you the fruits of all the "anatomy research" he's been doing recently...

[thatoneneuvichiliauthor]

Angsty musing of the night : Aventio/Ratiorine Soulmate AU where Ratio is oblivious to the real identity of his soulmate because the name written on his wrist isn't Aventurine, but Kakavasha. Aventurine, on the other hand, is perfectly aware that they're soulmates, but stays silent about it because he is so damn scared Ratio will suffer the same fate as his family if he starts getting attached to him.

(Then Ratio discovers the truth, either through deduction or by learning Aventurine's birth name, and finds just the right words to convince Aventurine that it's safe for them to be together, because I cannot stand unhappy endings, especially when it comes to those two)

[edwardbabygirlteach]

I’ll always find you.

As pirates.

As creatures of the night.

As life long friends.

I promise that I’ll always find you, in any reality.

[bythepen98]

Doodles || Tomarry || Childhood friends/Growing Up Together au

(Ignore the not-so-time-period-accurate outfits)

Think of this as a timetravel au where Harry accidentally gets sent back to the past in Wool's orphanage at a young enough age where he barely notices the changes caused by the time displacement and thus grows up nonethewiser to his destiny as the Chosen One. Even when, objectively, his life at the orphanage could be considered worse considering the growing lack of food, his environment's state of decay and overall unrest happening outside the orphanage's walls, something about his situation felt right(?).

He'd always felt disconnected and out of place based on the few memories he still had from living with the Dursleys but now, it felt like he was home in a way. Like something finally clicked in his brain, his soul.

His instant connection to Tom helped cement that fact. It wasn't easy at first because the pull they felt when they first met was so strong that it scared Harry shtless and Tom, already half-full of resentment by this point, was horrified feeling anything to anyone that wasn't disgust. In the end, it didn't take long for them to meet halfway since they were still children and curiosity at the connection lured them in like candy; Harry wanted a special friend of his own and Tom convinced himself that Harry was worth his time because there was no way anyone ordinary could elicit such a soul deep response from him.

Tom has a mean streak and is more bloodthirsty than his charming facade would show but is honest about it with Harry. Although he doesn't have much to his name, Tom is serious about his self-imposed role as Harry's provider, giving him gifts (from the money he steals) during his birthdays and keeping him as warm and well fed as possible (by bullying the other kids into surrendering their share).

Sometimes, Tom....worries.....that his methods would eventually drive Harry - who has such an inherent goodness in him, so often kind to people who don't deserve it - away but what he fails to understand is that Harry's love and loyalty to the first friend he's ever made trumps any kindness he has for others. He'll never like needless violence and won't react if he was being targeted but all bets are off if he even a catches a whiff of plots against Tom. If he has to help hide a body or two in the future so that they won't be separated by something as inconvenient as jail or the law, then that's nobody's business but his own.

P.S. This Harry will probably go to Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin like in other fics. It just feels right. Probably should've drawn him wearing a yellow tie but only just got the idea as I'm typing this. Tom would rather eat slugs than go to the Hufflepuff common room but he's more than willing to entertain Harry at the Slytherin common room at every available chance. They have their own seat there and everything.

P.P.S. They also co adopt a tiny(??) baby snake when they realize they can both speak parseltongue and bring him along to hogwarts. Imagine being parents at the big old age of 10 to a possibly magical snake that may or may not grow past nagini-level size.

P.P.P.S. Future power couple in the making. Didn't think that far ahead whether I wanted Tom to go the political route or Dark Lord Voldemort style minus the horcruxes. Don't ask for me the details, just know that with Harry's help, Tom finds a way to prolong their lives without the consequences that come with using horcruxes. They may or may not discover that Harry is in fact a horcrux of Tom already but will never get the answer as to how it happened. Harry worries but Tom just chocks it up as the universe's way of paying him back for his shtty pre-Harry childhood. Ironically the type to believe in soulmates and destiny while Harry is a bit more skeptical on that front.

Alternatively, they could also decide not to do anything too significant -politically- at all and instead retire to the country side while doing research on as many branches of magic as they can. A bit laughable because of Tom's world altering ambitions and Harry's indulgent, enabling behavior but at the same time, anything's possible.

[hotluncheddie]

Memories of somethin' even smoking weed does not replace.

wc: 2.9k | cw: alcohol | rated: M | part: 1/2 | tags: pre s4 au, steve harrington centric, stobin soulmates, raised catholic steve harrington

part 2 | ao3

˚♱₊✩‧₊⋆｡‧˚♱⋆₊✩‧₊

8:32pm January 3rd: Steve’s car

‘God stop complaining! It’s one party!’ Robin says, her exasperation at Steve finally boiling over.

Steve rolls his eyes, hard, wants to make sure she sees it. He’s stressed and uncomfortable and wants to be petty and petulant and complain because this night is going to end in him embarrassing himself somehow, he just knows it. 

Robin makes just as much of a face back at him but then her eyes are full of concern. ‘You’ve just, been so mopey lately.’ she fiddles with her fingers, bites a nail even though that was her resolution. ‘and I know you say you haven’t been, but you know that I know, that you barely got out of bed on your days off over the holidays and that makes me sad.’ Robin laments, ripping his bitchiness off like a bandaid, seeing whats underneath.  

Steve signs, defeated by her big beautiful brain. She is right, but. ‘Robbie. it was between Christmas and new year, there was nothing going on. What do you expect me to do? it’s literally time made for relaxing.’ Steves own exasperation falling away into something that just sounds tired. He’s so tired. And he hates it when she worries, he’s not, he’s still not used to it. Someone who cares, notices when he spends three days in bed because the thought of getting up when his parents are downstairs makes him want to puke. And, he loves her for it, but, sometimes it makes his skin crawl, makes him feel like he’s not good enough, not hiding well enough. Pitied. 

‘But you don’t relax. You mope. You, like, wallow.’ She pokes his arm a couple times for emphasis, but her voice is softer, still a little sad. ‘And.’ she takes a deep breath. ‘I know you don’t want to talk about it. But I also know this time of year makes you miss Nancy.’ 

‘Oh God, Rob, please.’ Steve whines, desperate now. ‘Don’t start bringing up Nancy.’ He drags a hand down his face, that is the last thing he wants to talk about. Think about. Admit anything to anyone about. 

She’s not, entirely wrong but Steve still hates hearing it. He does miss Nancy, or, well, misses her in theory. He doesn’t really miss her anymore. But, he misses being her boyfriend, a boyfriend. Being needed, and being held, as pathetic as that sounds.

‘I know. Just.’ Robin says, twisting in her seat to look at him looking at the road. ‘I just. I want you to have some fun dingus.’

Steve squeezes the steering wheel. He nods. Glancing at her and giving her enough of a smile that she knows not to feel bad. It’s really not her fault that this time of year makes him want to sink into a hole, makes him think about purgatory and black vines, what he wants for his future if both can exist.

‘It’ll just be some band kids there, a few stragglers, no one’s going to care that you’re there too.’ Robin explains. ‘Plus, if they say anything I’ll be there to defend you.’ And Steve can hear that care again, but its lighter, said through the joke. He lets his shoulders drop and Steve smiles for real. He can’t help it. 

‘Yeah, yeah.’ he says, like she isn’t his everything. Glancing away from the road a second, Steve catches her smile. Happy she’s won but happier that he’s going to at least try and have fun.

‘And, don’t forget you promised to help me with seeing if any of the girls there are even remotely available to me.’ Robin sits back normally in her seat. Talking normally again, worry about her soulmate time over. ‘Plus, who knows, your new favourite customer might just be there too.’ She says into the window, head leaning on her palm. 

‘Robin!’ Steve near shouts, scandalised that she’d bring that up. 

Robin just cackles.

‘Man, you say a guys jeans fit him nice one time and then it’s all you hear about.’ He grumbles, pretending his cheeks aren’t flaming red. He really hopes any discomfort tonight has nothing to do with that. He almost prays on it. But monsters come out of walls so he stops himself. 

Robin wriggles around in her seat, delighted by his suffering. ‘Hey! Hey! No, okay you ragged on me over Tammy! I can make fun of you for making goo goo eyes at Eddie Munson!’

9:00 January 3rd: Kitchen

Steve shivers as the heat from the house mixes with the cold evening air he just walked through. Robin at his side but she’s quickly swept up in a little crowd to say hellos. She looks for him but Steve just waves her on with a scrunch of his eyebrows and a gesture to the beer he wants to find a sport for. 

The kitchen in strewn with bottles and cups and snacks, not a total disaster but people have definitely been helping themselves. Steve is a little laser focused on getting the cans set down so he can start on one, relax his nerves a bit, so he doesn’t even notice Eddie sitting on the counter until he nearly gets kneed in the crotch. 

He takes a hasty step back and gives himself a mental shake, get out of his own head. Eddies smile looks amused, his eyes able to look so sharp. Steve swallows, grateful for Eddies silence. 

‘Hey man. You want one?’ Steve offers Eddie a beer and makes a spot for them on the side. 

Eddie takes it, nodding in thanks, their fingers don’t brush, Steve would know. ‘You looking for anything stronger tonight? like King Steve back in the day?’ Eddie asks, taking a drink, hair framing the long line of his neck.

The old name makes bile raise in his throat. Eddie didn’t mean it like that, probably, wouldn’t have said it if he’d known how much that name feels like a brand on Steves skin. Itchy and scarred. Like ‘Harrington’, like ‘Bullshit’, like something that makes people think they know him, like his body and self isn’t his own.  

Steve looks away. ’Uh, nah, I’ll stick to the classics.’ Popping the lid and taking a long gulp, going for casual, slouching against the counter.

Eddie nods like it’s no big deal. ‘I won’t make this awkward by asking you about college. I know you know I’ve seen you at family video.’ 

‘Your late back on ‘Poltergeist’.’ Steve says without thinking. Winces, why is he acting like such a loser? ‘But uh, yeah. Thanks.’ He finishes lamely. No way any colleges wanted him on his concussion grades and zero extra curricular credits. 

‘Shit, so you do actually do your job.’ Eddie shakes his head, like Steve had deeply wounded him, sarcastic and mocking, pretty little glint in his eye. But it still makes some ugly, desperate little part of Steve rear up and want to take it back, beg for forgiveness. 

Steve drowns that thought and chugs the rest of his beer. 

Someone must motion something to Eddie from one of the other rooms because he nods his head up in understanding. But before he goes he leans in closer to Steve, smirking. ‘Oh, and, don’t thank me yet. I also saw you in that sailor get up at the mall.’ 

Steve chokes on his spit, coughing and spluttering like an idiot.

‘Thanks for the beer.’ Eddie says, patting him once on the shoulder before hopping off the counter and into the throws of the party.

Steve watches him go, skin of his shoulder tingling through his sweater. He feels an itch, like he’s being watched and turns his head to find robin staring at him from where she’s still by the door, talking to friends. Her smile wicked. 

Robins parting words from the car float back through his mind and make his stomach twist. ‘Lucky for you, Eddie makes goo good eyes right back.’ She’d said, quiet and teasing, and Steve hates her. her hates her. 

It’s going to be a long night. 

10:54 January 3rd: Staircase

It’s a little quieter at the front of the house.

It had been going pretty well and then someone mentioned Starcourt. A couple pairs of eyes flashed to him in recognition. Someone murmuring to another,  mentioning Hop. And then Steves eyes were prickling and his wrists were tingling and he had to excuse himself. Squeezing Robins shoulder for her not to follow. Just a minute alone to breath. Sip his drink to get the copper to wash from his lips. Get his teeth back where they’re supposed to be.  

Orange streetlights filter through the window of the front door. It catches the dust, makes it sparkle. 

He thinks about midnight mass with his parents, their one Christmas plan that he’s not allowed to get out of. Thinks about how the light filtered through the stained glass, made patches of the floor look red. Thought about the ceiling of Starcourt, the taste of red metal on his tongue as the world spun. 

Went up for communion and crossed himself. Looked up at the crucifix. Thought about how the gash that opened in Joyce’s living room was red. How somethings grow in darkness, in cracks and out of sinew. A nail bat ripping through skin. 

He looks at the drink Robin made him as a joke, its almost wine coloured, a murky, deep red. It makes Steves insides twist, she didn’t mean it, she didn’t. But blood of the lamb is making the back of his eyelids flash red and brown, flash lightning and ash floating through the air. His nose filled with mould. 

‘Yeesh what is that Harrington?’ Steve looks up, Eddie’s blocking some of the orange light, head haloed and face in shadow. 

Steve looks back into the cup, seeing it for what it is again. Remembering how her face lit up with laughter as she dumped in whatever she could find, knowing it would be awful but knowing Steve would still drink it. She made it for him, how could he not? 

He looks back up at Eddie, Steve can smell his cologne. It smells good. ‘Don’t ask, Robin made it.’ He waves his hand and tries to clear his head of red and black. The spirits mix with the beer and now his hands and feet tingle, he focuses on that, it’s nice.

Eddie eyes it warily. ’You wanna trade?’ and he holds up a beer, a different brand that the ones Steve brought, he has two, for some reason. 

Steve looks into his cup, ‘Its honestly not that bad.’ He swirls the contents around a little, there’s something floating in it. 

‘Seriously?’ Eddie asks. Steve looks up at him and his eyebrows have disappeared behind his bangs 

Steve smiles, his lips tingling. ‘No.’ and his smile grows at Eddie laugh, he has dimples.

He looks at Eddie and decides, then, to take. See what he gets given. He can confess later.

The alcohol made a couple of the awkward conversations he had tonight bearable and the couple less awkward conversations he had enjoyable. Maybe it’ll do the same for him now. Steve takes the beer and places his other drink carefully on the stair behind where he’s sitting, makes a mental note to dump it out when he moves. 

He shifts, sitting in a way he hopes looks casual, like he wasn’t just thinking about divine sacrifice. The staircase it wide and the carpet is soft, a nice place to take a break. A nice place to talk to a boy. A boy who makes his heart beat in his throat. Steve can confess later. 

‘You run Hellfire right?’ He asks, sipping his beer and cataloguing again how the orange light shines on eddies hair, over his shoulder. 

Eddie faces him fully, bobbing his head slightly to the music, Steve doesn’t recognise the song, he doesn’t think its one they play on the radio. ‘Yeah?’ 

‘Yeah. like X-men’ Steve says.  

Eddie blinks at him, but then the corners of his mouth curl and his eyelids droop and Steve feels too hot suddenly. ’Okay, I’m gonna need his majesty to explain how he knows about either of those.’ 

Swallowing, Steve goes for honest. ’Well first off you used to put new posters up every, like, two weeks man, kinda hard to ignore.’ Steve says, lifting up a finger. he paid attention, eddies doesn't need to know yet how much. But Steve paid attention. 

Eddie stays silent, looks at him, eyes roaming over his face, lip still curled. Steve feels his adams apple bob. 

‘Second, I babysit some of the dweebs who are current members.’ Steve lifts a second finger, takes another sip of beer. ‘And three, X-men is like super popular. And, like, super good.’ And Steve takes another drink, just because, just to help him be. 

Eddies lips curl into a full smile, all teeth and a little tongue. He sips his own beer, looking away from Steve then back at him a couple times, like he thinks he’ll vanish, change before his very eyes. He shakes his head. ‘What changed with you man? I never expected any of that to ever come out of your mouth, like, ever.’ And eddies sounds kind of delighted, voice musical and tinkling. 

Steve just shrugs, feels hot, Eddies voice too close to happy, words too close to praise. ‘Grew up a little, I guess.’ He crosses his arms, looks down at his shoes. 

‘Yeah? That why no more parties?’ and Eddies voice is soft, Steve can feel his body heat, his knee by eddies hip. 

‘I’m just not so big on, that much attention any more. That much noise.’ Steve says, looking back into Eddies face. Finds him staring, lips quirked in a little smile, softer, then before. Leaning his chin in his hands on the banister, leaning into Steves space.

‘So, you and Buckley, what’s that about?’ Eddies whispering now, like he knows it’s precious. The orange light kisses his cheek.

Steve clears his throat, whispers back. ’Summer job. We scooped ice cream and she, uh, scooped up my heart.’ he smiles, just from talking about her, thinking about them. 

‘Oh.’ Eddie says, drawing away just slightly, eyes hardening in a way Steve hates. 

He almost reaches out, something drastic, desperate. But he pulls back, fiddles with the tab on his can. ‘No, um. Not that kind of oh. I mean in, like, a friend way. Totally platonic oh.’ 

‘Right’ Eddie comes back, but it’s not quite the same, the moment lost. Steve feels a rosary between his knuckles. 

‘Seriously, platonic soulmates. It’s a thing.’ He tries to lighten, tries to make Eddie read his mind the way robin does. It takes a moment, but then Eddie lets his eyes drink in Steves face again. His smile unfurling, sweet and pretty and different than before. He nods once, taking a drink. Looking away, cheekbones flushed pink. 

Steve can confess later. 

Robin comes barrelling down the hall calling out for Steve. But she skids to a halt when she sees Eddie. Then her eyes find Steve and she looks at him with raised eyebrows and barely contained glee bubbling under its surface. ‘Munson.’ She greets, eyes staying on Steve. ‘You’re late back on ‘Poltergeist.’

Eddie laughs, big and delighted. ‘Hey Buckley.’ He says. ‘Looking for your boy?’ but as he said that he’s gone back to the same position, still leaning on his hands, still looking right at Steve. 

Steve feels his cheeks heat. 

‘Ugh, not my boy. You are definitely not getting out your late fee for that.’ And she shoves him out of the way to get to Steve and grab his hand. ‘They want me to play beer pong, you’re on my team.’ And she’s pulling him up and away. 

Steve cranes his neck back to give Eddie a little wave goodbye but he’s pushing off the banister, he’s following. 

He walks slow, lazy, almost sauntering. Looking right at Steve still, with that little smirk. He knows. He knows. Steve feels the eucharist on his tongue. ‘What?’ Eddie asks, innocent but his smile isn’t. ‘I wanna watch.’ And Steve just squeezes Robins hand tighter, lets her pull him into the kitchen. 

11:45 January 3rd: Kitchen

People cheer as Steve neatly sinks the ping pong ball into the final cup, Robin nearly jumping onto his back she’s so exited. The first couple games with Robin and some of her random band friends really weren't great, he drank a few times, helped Robin get through her shares, they barely won. But by the third game he basically played alone and won pretty easily. The crowd seem entertained, cheering for him and random people kept patting him on the shoulder. it’s weird, a little stale on his skin to be congratulated like that, over something like this again. But he’ll be that guy again for one night, if just to make Robin smile. 

He downs a cup someone offers him in celebration. Accepting a couple high fives from Robins band friends. Tries to not be weird, to not show how the praise makes him itch. 

Steve lifts his wrist up to wipe at his mouth. His eyes drawn to the far side of the room. Eddie is leaning against the wall, black jacket against stark white. He claps slowly once, twice, his eyes shining with something. Like Steve is something funny, something interesting. 

Steve’s hands and feet tingle, his lips a little numb. Feels warm. Doesn't think about churches or blood or monsters. Just lifts his eyebrows, sucks some of the sticky beer from the pad of his thumb, and winks. 

Eddie rolls his eyes and rolls off the wall, disappearing into another room. 

But Steve saw his smile. 

˚♱₊✩‧₊⋆｡‧˚♱⋆₊✩‧₊

part 2 | ao3

written for Lex’s Spicy Six Winter Challenge! run by @thefreakandthehair and using the prompt: 'spiked eggnog'. ty for putting this on always!! sorry im posting on the last day again lol xoxo

title from 'stick season' by noah kahan (edited slightly to fit better)

@pearynice and @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx ty for the kind words and guidance getting me unstuck with this fic <3 its alive now

lmk if you would like a tag for part two :)

[little-annie]

Just another @strangerthingswritersguild drabble.

G | WC 635 | Steve, Eddie & Robin

It was a typical Thursday evening in Buckingson home -as previously named by a very inebriated Robin and Eddie. Some random record playing on low, the small space lit by nothing but the orange glow of lamp light and candle flame.

To anyone it would sound like a peaceful night at home.

But not just anyone had Eddie for a live-in boyfriend and Robin for a best friend who also happened to be a roommate. And surely no one had the pair of chaos twins constantly bringing in stray animals to their home.

The first time it'd been a bird, some small feathery thing with a damaged wing that Robin carried into their home with her bare hands and made a nest for out of grass clippings Eddie had gathered in the park. They named the chirpy little thing Squeaker, and by the time it's wing had healed the small animal had been on several road trips and one memorable trip to the grocery store. He'd (?) joined the next migration and now every year since when his flock comes through the city, he'll perch himself on their balcony and chitter until Robin or Eddie come out to say hello.

Then there had been Bambi. A small abandoned fawn Eddie somehow managed to sneak past Steve and into Robin's room where the pair cared for the thing until a wildlife rehabilitation centre could pick it up. Steve didn't find out about that one until he answered the call from the rehab centre offering their update on the creature several weeks later.

There was also Bob the baby Racoon, Dorothy the dumpster cat, Roco the abandoned puppy and now, there was Pumpkin, apparently.

Steve had been in the kitchen slaving away over dinner when he heard the soft click of the front door and the insanely uncharacteristic whispers between Eddie and Robin.

And then there was a meow.

A wretched, croaky thing that sounded as if the newest addition to their home had the same nicotine problem as Eddie.

“Shhhh,” Steve could hear Eddie whisper as he continued to stir the pot of pasta sauce he was making, “Don't want Stevie finding out about you just yet.”

“We gotta bath you first baby,” Robin added.

Steve could only imagine the condition of this animal, let alone the event it would be for Robin and Eddie to bathe it.

But as he had a handful of times before, he pretended he hadn't heard a thing and let the chaotic two carry on.

Just the sound of them attempting to wash the cat was rather comical. Of course there was lots of swearing and one quite loud yelp from Eddie, accompanied by Robin's hushed placating. Funny enough they were still trying to be quiet, but Steve could still hear the murmurs of…

“Are you bleeding?”

“Of course I'm bleeding, Buckley. Did you see the claws on this thing.”

“Did you see the nuts on ‘em?”

“Unfortunately, yes. What the fuck?”

“Should they be that big?”

“I don't know. We'll ask Steve.”

“What do you think happened to his tail?”

“Probably froze off like his ears.”

Jesus Christ.

Twenty minutes, several yowls from the cat, one loud painful sounding yelp from Eddie later, Steve is introduced to Pumpkin.

He's a scraggly looking thing.

One eyed, half tailed and missing the majority of his two ears. The definition of a dumpster cat. Steve's sure the cat stunk before the bath the apparently three before him endured.

Robin and Eddie are soaked head to toe. Bloodied and bandaged. Hair in utter disarray. They look exhausted. But they also look to be just beaming with excitement.

The cat on the other hand, held tightly in Robin's arms looks less than thrilled.

“Steve,” Robin starts, joined by Eddie a moment later, “Sweetheart,”

“Meet Pumpkin.”

[starry-bi-sky]

ive been hesitating to ask this bc youve been on a roll with the clone^2au (which i am frothing over) but could i poke you for some childhood friend au? bc GOD i wanna see how danny reacts to reuniting w jason or how the rest of the batfam react to learning jason never told danny of his resurrection or wondering if dannys gonna put jokers dead body on a display/offering to jasons grave. i havent been normal about this since i first read it and was wondering. thank you for your writing.

RAAAAHHHH DON'T BE HESITANT I AM JUST AS FERAL OVER MY CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AU AS I AM WITH CLONE^2 I AM DELIGHTED BY THIS. Like.,,,, i literally love them,,, so much. I can't listen to The Crane Wives without thinking of them.

(which is my fault - the ao3 fic of them has literally only crane wives lyrics for each chapter title and summary (posted AND the ones not written) so of course im gonna associate with them.)

(if you wanna listen to some of their songs while thinking of cfau here are my recommendations: "Once & for All", "Here I Am", "Hollow Moon" is a Danny AND Jason song to me, this would be my go-to song for an animatic of CFAU if i had the skills for it. "Tongues and Teeth", "Curses" and "take me to war" is a heavy cfau danny song to me, and of course, "the moon will sing")

Like they're BEST friends dude, they're two sides of the same coin and when they were kids they would do this thing where their 'fingers crossed'/'double-crossed' was them hooking their index fingers in the fingers crossed gesture.

and i'm actually currently rewriting my original post into a more fic-like format, and when I'm done I'll post it on here under the cfau tag - with the original post still in tact. But its,,, gonna be so long dude,,,, the original behemoth was just over 9000 words,,, and I've written 3k words already of the new one and we haven't even reached Jason and Danny reuniting at the gala yet,,, i need to get back to that,,,

and then to answer your questions!! god im almost hesitant to answer because i dont wanna spoil the little fic i had planned for it but also like,, its not like im gonna spoil everything, right? and answering the questions isnt the same as writing the scene down so!!

i love danny and jason's reuniting, like i've thought about it SO much and I've thought about it happening after Danny kills the Joker. I know the reveal could have been before that, and it could have been equally just as dramatic but like??? Thematically, doing it after danny kills the joker is SO good. To me at least.

Because like?? Jason's been in somewhat denial about danny's plan to kill the joker for months. ever since danny told him that he wanted to at the gala. And from Jason's pov its not even technically a plan. He sees his best friend for the first time after five years and his best friend still isn't over his death. He hasn't stepped foot in Gotham since his funeral and now suddenly he's here.

And he's still so full of grief over his death that he tells a masked vigilante that he's going to kill the guy that did it, who lives in said masked vigilante's city. And danny's got that look in his eyes that Jason knows so well that means he's being serious. And yet he still doesn't know if he should believe him or not.

And then he does. Danny kills him. And Jason can't fucking believe it. And when he goes and sees Danny, Danny's hands are still covered in blood. And that reunion? God like a fucking firework show. Danny's so fucking angry, and pissed, and hurt, and so goddamn overjoyed that he's alive and here that he sends them both to the ground, and if he doesn't calm down he's gonna take out the power in a five block radius.

there's just so, so much yelling on Danny's end. And then so much crying, first from Danny and then them both. because god, you're alive. you're here. i've missed you so much. i'm never letting you out of my sights again.

and Joker's death! God I don't want to actually say too much about that, but the way I have it set up thematically makes me actually not want danny to take any part of the joker with him as an offering. and he may actually forego that particular ghost etiquette and offer something else as an offering to Jason in substitute to not bringing him the Joker's heart/head/ritualistic body part.

Because you know what the last thing a man whose been spending the last two decades of his life building himself up to be larger than life would want? A death that's unremarkable. :) and that's all i'll put on the matter for now.

and the batfam!! they technically already know that jason hasn't told danny he was resurrected, and plenty of them have mixed feelings on them. largely bruce and dick i think, considering they saw firsthand how close jason and danny were when they were kids.

Dick was honestly surprised at first when he found out that Jason hadn't told Danny he was alive - and on one hand he understands the reasoning for it, and on the other hand he isn't sure if it was such a good idea. Especially after he sees Danny again after he arrives back in Gotham and sees just how badly Jason's death was still affecting him. But it's not like he's going to try and convince Jason to tell him - he can make his own choices, even if Dick has questions about them.

Bruce has much the same thoughts as Dick, so there's not really much to add here other than he might bring it up once or twice to Jason like, vaguely. And then immediately drops it when Jason shuts him down. He might actually somewhat...?? prefer that Jason hasn't told Danny because that raises a lot of questions and could jeopardize their identities. However, again, Jason can make his own choices and there's not much Bruce can do about it other than disapprove from afar.

Tim who knew of Danny from stalking the Wayne family shares similars sentiments of being surprised that Jason didn't tell Danny, but again, yeah, understands the thought process to some extent. Doesn't bring it up ever.

Everyone else who hadn't seen firsthand how close Danny and Jason are don't really have much opinion on it -- Jason didn't tell his best friend he was alive, great, he also didn't tell them either so it's not like its that much of a surprise. It would've been more of a surprise to them if Jason had told Danny before he told Bruce and co. Damian may make a comment or two about Jason not telling Danny, but its not about how he can't believe he didn't tell him or anything like it.

[sulky-cabbage]

AU: Where Sukuna Wins

Part 1

Part 2 here

Imagine an alternate universe in which Sukuna triumphs, dominates over Japan, and endures a lonely existence for many centuries, while allowing some humans to live.

They hold a grudge against him, of course, and want to kill him. They train at Jujutsu High and have some great fighters that occasionally provide Sukuna with some entertainment. 

They are so desperate for salvation, they can only find solace in prophecies about a figure with powerful blue eyes that will defeat the king of curses and rescue Japan.

And do you know what Sukuna does in response to that? One might expect him to go full Pharoah mode and kill newborns, but NO!!

HE DOES THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE !!

Whenever he ravages a village and devours the women and children, he ALWAYS spares the blue-eyed infants.

All the curses know better than to kill an infant with blue eyes. The last time a curse did that, Sukuna made sure to make an example of it.

Killing a member of the Gojo clan is also off limits, as well as anything that could delay the reincarnation of this certain person.

These humans are not the only ones waiting for salvation.

Sukuna is also WAITING...for his wretched existence to end at the hands of this person.

The ONLY one worthy of having the honor to do so.

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Edwin, Charles, and Monty (Soulmate AU)

Monty looks up this ‘Pinocchio’ the next time he goes to the library. A puppet who wishes to be a real boy, whose nose lengthens when he lies, who can’t stop lying, who never gets to have a soulmate.

Sour crunches in his gut, heavy as a neutron star. He's not real. He doesn't get to be real. He may not be a boy made of wood, but he is a boy made of feathers. And either way, he doesn't get to have soulmates. He doesn't get to have a way out. He can no more fly away, no more escape, as a human than he could as a bird. 

So Monty doesn’t look at his arm, even when it tingles with new ink. He puts on a sweater beneath his jacket so he’s not even tempted to look. There’s no use in indulging in hope. Why should he look at soulmates that don’t belong to him, but rather to some boy that he has accidentally acquired an imprint of?

Wooden boys don’t get to dream of the stars. They don’t get to dream of soulmates.

Puppets only have their masters. They can’t operate without them. What use is it to dream of a world where their strings might get cut?

-aletterinthenameofsanity, i was born hungry (there is a dream and it sleeps in me)

Babe, there's something broken about this

But I might be hoping about this

Oh, what a sin

Innocence died screaming

Honey, ask me, I should know

I slithered here from Eden

Just to sit outside your door

-Hozier, From Eden

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