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http-shield · 26 days ago

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♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ It Will Come Back

Prologue: Don't Feed Me

~ bucky barnes x fem!reader ~tags/cw: angst, childhood memories, bucky as the winter soldier, eastern european/slavic heritage reader, does not follow the canonical timeline after bucky is arrested in romania, deviates from canon, childhood memories, child reader meets the winter soldier ~ wc: 2.5k ~ not proofread ~ a/n: this one is for all my fellow slavic girlies (I see yoouuu) basically just a self indulgent bucky self insert because who cares, right. ily thanks for reading (everything in a foreign language is immediately translated by another character)

Prologue: Don't Feed Me

There is a man, a monster who lives in the shadows. An abomination of science and human cruelty, an embodiment of the evil of humanity's desire for power. He waits in the dark, feeding off rats and mice as he sits and waits, waiting for his target to come home. He has no rules, no laws of man; there are no survivors. No women, no children, all those who enter his gaze do not leave, for they are trapped, frozen beneath the glare of the winter soldier.

1993 Nizepole, FYROM

Kolku pati trebam da ti kažam da ne ta ostavaviš hranata za kučinjata?

Sakaš volcite da dojdat?

Your father's voice reverberates through your brain as a sharp slap collides with the back of your skull. The pain thrums through your bones as you yelp and run towards the house, hands covering the back of your head to suppress the thump of the smack. Of all the places he hit you, it had to be in the same spot you had bumped earlier in the day.

"Don't leave food out! They're animals! They can find their own!"

Your mother's voice echoes from the kitchen.

"People have started seeing wolf prints in the snow. Soon enough, we'll have a whole pack on our door."

Your footsteps slow as you reach the small white-painted cottage. The terracotta tiles are stark against the blackness of the storm clouds gathering in the distance.

Thunder begins to rumble as you cross the threshold, your fingers trailing along the chipping red paint of the doorway. The house seems smaller than usual; the once great space had been taken up by your pullout bed by the window, the door to your parent's room left ajar, closing in the space further. Your skull throbs again, a lump undoubtedly forming from the double assault. A warm shower might help; the heat would soothe the ache spreading to your neck.

You kick off your shoes, tucking them neatly under the rack just behind the door, and follow the smell of freshly baked bread that begins to wrap around you like a hug. Your mother is in the kitchen, once white apron flecked with orange fleck from the ajvar you had made earlier, your hands a similar shade of apricot. She stirs the familiar-smelling stew, never taking her eyes off the copper pot as dinner boils and roils over the flames. You eye the burnt ends of bread on the counter, and while your mother is distracted, you reach up and snatch the ends, pocketing them before she can turn around. On tiptoes, you turn, praying that the floorboards don't creak beneath and begin stalking to the door, each step meticulous.

"What are you doing?" your mother asks without turning an inch towards her.

How did she do that?!

You quickly stuff your hands into the pockets of the skirt. "Nothing."

"What have you got in your pockets?" Mama's stern as she continues to stir, but there is no doubt that she has eyes in the back of her head. You frown and clench tiny fists, bread crumbling between them.

"It's just bread; wolves don't eat bread." your voice small, dejected. "It's just for the cats down the road, Mama, please."

Mama sighs and stops cooking, turning to face you with a sour expression that suggests either disappointment or deliberation. You hope it's the latter.

"They're so little, please." Tears begin to well in your eyes, hot and prickly, as they threaten to spill over your round cheeks.

The bread in your pockets feels heavy, as though it has turned into rocks, as her mother stares. It is just the end bits, burnt to a crisp that no human would eat, so why let it go to waste when it can feed a few cats and dogs?

Your mother sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.

You're going to lose this battle.

You know it.

Why would she let you waste precious food on strays? Another sigh, tsking at both you and her decision as she nods towards the door.

"Put it somewhere your father will never find it," she says, heavy with resignation. "This is the last time you hear me?" But you don't. You're too busy running out to the shed, skirt pockets full of bread.

"You better be listening to me! I said no more!" her voice is nothing but a whisper in the wind.

---

"I think the cats are leaving me presents." you marvel at the bottle cap between your fingers, the way it glints in the afternoon light. The words inscribed are not ones you have seen before, a brand you know is not in your home. "I keep finding little presents wherever I leave the food. Do cats do that?"

Your mother turns to you, brows furrowed as she examines the trinket in your palm. Her eyes flit over the company logo, noting the way scratch marks across the faded gold and shrugs.

"Cats don't do that, but crows do. Maybe you're feeding crows." She turns back to the TV, invested in the program as it broadcasts the nightly news. The words are too fast and jumbled for you to keep up, so you tune it out, focusing on the gift left for you.

You've heard that crows are smart, like shiny things, and can be friendly to humans, but you've never seen one. If you haven't seen something with your eyes, it can't exist, right?

A heavy sigh leaves your mother as the TV cuts to a commercial. She shakes her head and mutters something just too quiet for your ears to hear, but from how she scowls, you can tell it is not good. She only wears that look when you've done something wrong or your father comes home too late.

"I'm going to start dinner. Start washing up; we need to leave hot water for your father." She jerks her chin towards the bathroom door. "And throw that away; I don't want rubbish in my house."

You clench your fingers around the gift. The ridges dig cold spikes into your warm skin.

---

More and more offerings began to appear.

Ranging from smooth, shiny rocks to dried and crumbled-up flowers arranged neatly on the chipped plate reserved for the animal scraps. All laid upon the small stool in wait for your arrival. It was not an everyday occurrence, for all the times you left food out within the past five months, there had been three rounds of gifts. Each morning, you scrambled out of bed, eager to see if your bird friends had left you anything behind, adding it to the collection on your window sill. So far, you have two bottle caps, three small river stones rounded into perfect pearls of tiger eyes and cornflower blue. A crushed daisy that had not been so bent out of shape when you found it; only after almost being caught by your mother did you clamp your small fist around it, smooshing the petals into broken lines. The last gift had been a shell. A swirl of cream-coloured wonder you had not seen in person, only on television and in books. There is no beach near you, your landlocked country only offers lakes, and there were no shells like this the last time you visited. It was gorgeous and perfect, and you really could hear the ocean if you held it up to your ear.

---

"If you keep feeding them, they'll just keep coming back." your mother's words echo in your mind as you arrange your latest offering. A handful of roasted peppers, a piece of bread and tiny morsels of meat you had managed to sneak into your napkin at dinner. You shouldn't be pretending to eat food, especially meat, as the winter rages around you, but you were full, and crows eat meat more than grains and vegetables, so why shouldn't you share the protein? You sit back on your haunches, skirt pockets damp with extra sauce that had leaked from the napkin and smile at the design. Hopefully, they will like the latest offering of a well-rounded meal.

---

It is well past your bedtime.

The clock on the wall chimes past two am with a soft ping, but you can't sleep. Not knowing if the crows had accepted your small gift or if they had sated their hungry bellies for just one more night. You turn towards the window, curtains pulled tight to avoid any light from the street flooding in, but you have to look. Want to look? So you do.

With a quick glance at your parent's bedroom door, you wait with bated breath for any sound to indicate they are awake. The seconds tick by with heavy strokes, and you count the seconds between snores before deciding they are both firmly asleep. You can indeed open the blind and check.

Peeling back the heavy cotton drapes, your heart hammers as you peer into the night, expecting to see nothing but darkness engulfing your front yard. But as you peek out from behind the material, a warm glow from the barn catches your attention.

The oven!

A shaky breath fills your lungs as you push back the drapes; birds and meat are long forgotten as you squint into the night at the ember of flames emanating from within the shed. You swear you put it out. Poked at the embers until they dulled and cooled, yet it still glows well into the night. Despite the freezing temperature, the fire risk is high, and too many flammable items are tucked away to risk letting the fire burn itself out. You scramble out of bed, slipping into thick winter boots and haul on the heavy coat draped over the end of your bed to keep your feet warm. It will not be pleasant stepping out into the building snowstorm, but this is your mistake; you must fix it before the barn burns down or your father finds out; each outcome is just as terrifying.

With tentative steps, you sneak into the hallway, avoiding the creaking floorboards with expert precision, but the floor will not be the challenge. The lock on the front door is old and heavy, often having to be tugged roughly to even unlatch, and your small arms do not have the strength of either of your parents. Freezing metal warms quickly beneath your fingers as you twist the bolt, your heart pounding so loudly that you almost don't hear the deafening click that echoes through the hall.

You wait, eyes trained on your parent's door for any sign of movement. One. Two. Three. Not a sound. No sigh, no creak of mattress springs, not even a snore in reaction to the metal ping. Perfect.

The door swings open quickly.

Wind whips around you in a flurry of snowflakes, frigid air biting at your exposed skin as you hastily reach back for your hood. The thick fur does little to soften the assault on your face, but it'll have to do so as you step into the night. On quick feet, you scurry out into the yard. You must look like a thief had you been seen by someone, head darting around to the house as you sprint to the barn. The boots are thick and heavy, catching on rock and pocks in the earth, but you don't fall; they only slow down a fraction.

With two hands, you slam on the door. The old hinges creak as they swing open, the wood biting into your soft, frozen palms. A warm glow catches your attention, the fire in the oven still burning, brighter than you had initially had it. Your stomach sinks, terrified that you had almost been the reason for a house fire, that you could have been the culprit to the end of your life, but as you step in, the dirt crunching beneath your padded feet, your stomach sinks for an entirely different reason. Crouch before the fire in a man.

Shadows wrap his body like a cloak of night, shielding him from possible identifiers. You step back, scream caught in your throat, chest aching to make a noise, but there is no air left in your lungs.

The creature rises, his height taller than anyone, anything you had met before, and takes a step towards you. Ice-cold heat rushes through your veins, pumping through your heart, and it begins to thump harder than it ever had. Paralysed with fear, you watch as he moves closer, each step sluggish as though he were wading through mud. He stops a few feet from you, crouching back down to your level and holds out a hand. In the low light, you see the glint of a bottle cap.

“Is it you leaving the food?” His voice is muffled, and what you thought were shadows is a mask.

You nod. Too afraid to speak.

"Do you know who I am?" another question.

This time, you shake your head. The man nods and stands to his full height again.

"Go back home, I'll put out the fire." he instructs, turning away from you and stalking back to the oven. "Go!" the instruction is firmer, and hostility fills his words as he crouches again and pulls open the small door.

Silver flashes in the dim light like he was made of metal, and you're sent running. You want to scream for your mother as you run, but your lungs are too busy gulping down air to push your frozen legs faster. You smack against the front door, bursting through the entry and slam it closed. Frigid fingers work quickly with the lock before you turn and book it for your parent's bedroom. The screams escape you then. Shrieking about the man in the night, the creature who sat before the fire cloaked in darkness. Your parents try to calm you down, your mother's hands stroking soothing circles down your face as you bawl, trying to convince you that you had had a nightmare and it was nothing but a dream within sleepwalking. Even after your father goes out to the barn and finds nothing, not a single ember in the oven warm, does your heart stop beating out of your chest? Despite their protests to your stories and their adamant refusal of what you had seen, they let you sleep between them for the night, promising to recheck the barn in the morning despite finding nothing upon first inspection. This does something to soothe you. That your parents were not scared of the possibility of a man living in your barn that if they were not horrified, it could possibly have been a genuine, horrifying night terror. It was nothing more than a dream. Nothing more.

---

The morning reveals the truth.

Left behind on the empty plate is a bottle cap. The very same one the man had held out to you earlier that night. You scream and run out of the barn, confusing your parents further as you demand to move away, to leave the house in fear he might return.

But he never did.

There was never another gift left waiting for you.

---

~ a/n: this one is for all my fellow Slavic girlies (I see you). It's basically just a self-indulgent bucky self-insert because who cares, right. ily thanks for reading

find me on ao3!

#http shield ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ #✮⋆�� bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #winter solider x y/n #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes one shot

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aspens-apothecary · 1 year ago

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Mabon Celebration Ideas!

As some of you know, this Saturday is Mabon, the celebration of the Autumn Equinox. Some also refer to it as the "Pagan Thanksgiving", as you celebrate the bountiful harvest and are thankful for the earth and its many gifts.

Mabon marks the time of equilibrium, where the days and nights are of equal length. During this time, it is good to set intentions that involve decrease, such as ending unhealthy habits, self-destructive behaviors, or bad relationships.

Decorating for Autumn

This a great time to decorate for the coming autumn and spooky seasons leading up to Samhain! I like to open the windows and then cleanse my space(usually a simmer pot and smoke cleanse) and after, i actually physically clean the house.I then close the windows and stir my simmer pot, while setting new intentions for the household until the spring equinox. I then collect the things I want to decorate with(the usual fall decor; pumpkins, pine cones, leaf garlands, gourds and an autumn wreath on the door) and then decorate to my hearts content!

Release and Move Forward

Another thing I usually spend time on is meditation, centering myself, letting go of past baggage from the year and setting new personal goals and intentions until spring.

Find a nice spot outside, where you feel connected to the world around you. Take a journal with you, and meditate. Write down what you want the next few months to bring into your life. Set those intentions in any way you choose.

Have a nice Hearty Meal

Who doesn't love a good meal with great people? You can make a roast, hold a potluck Mabon dinner ect, I usually host a bonfire night and everyone brings their own dishes to feel the group. During covid, I made a pot roast for my fiance and I! You could also do a picnic!

Fall Activities

Apple Picking, Corn Mazes, going to a Pumpkin Patch, all fall activities that are fun for the whole family, as a cute date, or great solo fun!

Honor Persephone and Demeter

If you are one to honor deities/spirits during the holidays, Persephone and Demeter are two that will definitely fall into Mabon.

According to the myth, Autumn is the time where Persephone must leave her beloved mother and travel to Hades, to fulfill her role as the Queen of the Underworld. Each year she lets go of the concerns of the upper world, and willingly descends to guide the souls of the dead over the threshold of Life and Death.

Creating an altar, and leaving offerings for them in honor of their sacrifice is an amazing way to celebrate.

Other

Other things you can do include cleansing ritual baths, Divination for the new few months, hiking, offerings for the local nature spirits, make a gratitude list for the last few months and thank the earth for her gifts

Mabon Symbols:

Cornucopia (horn of plenty), pinecones, seeds

Colors: Orange, red, yellow, brown, copper, dark yellow, dark green

Foods: Corn, beans, squash, apples, pumpkins, cider, root vegetables, pomegranate, wine

Herbs: Yarrow, rosemary, sage, mugwort, rosehips,

Stones: Amber, citrine, cat’s eye, aventurine, sapphire, jasper

Flowers: Sunflowers, thistle, marigolds

Deities: Mabon, Green Man, Demeter, Persephone, Morgan, Pomona, Inanna

Animals: Owl, stag, blackbird, salmon

I hope this gives you a few ideas! Add your own ideas to this list! These are just the ways I like to celebrate!

#pagan witch #witchblr #witchcore #witchcraft #beginner witch #witch tips #witchy vibes #mabon #mabon 2023 #autumn #autistic witch #autumn equinox #witchcraft spells #witchy #witchcraft supplies

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zoesblogsposts · 10 months ago

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o 625 words to know in your target language o

There is a really interesting blog called "Fluent Forever" that aids foreign language learners in tricks, tips and techniques to guide them to achieving fluency "quickly" and efficiently. One of the tricks is to learn these 625 vocab words in your target language, that way you have a basis to start delving into grammar with ease as you can understand a lot of vocab right off the bat. Plus this list of words are common across the world and will aid you in whatever language you are learning. Here is the list in thematic order

• Animal: dog, cat, fish, bird, cow, pig, mouse, horse, wing, animal

• Transportation: train, plane, car, truck, bicycle, bus, boat, ship, tire, gasoline, engine, (train) ticket, transportation

• Location: city, house, apartment, street/road, airport, train station, bridge hotel, restaurant, farm, court, school, office, room, town, university, club, bar, park, camp, store/shop, theater, library, hospital, church, market, country (USA,

France, etc.), building, ground, space (outer space), bank, location

• Clothing: hat, dress, suit, skirt, shirt, T-shirt, pants, shoes, pocket, coat, stain, clothing

• Color: red, green, blue (light/dark), yellow, brown, pink, orange, black, white, gray, color

• People: son, daughter, mother, father, parent (= mother/father), baby, man, woman, brother, sister, family, grandfather, grandmother, husband, wife, king, queen, president, neighbor, boy, girl, child (= boy/girl), adult (= man/woman), human (# animal), friend (Add a friend's name), victim, player, fan, crowd, person

• Job: Teacher, student, lawyer, doctor, patient, waiter, secretary, priest, police, army, soldier, artist, author, manager, reporter, actor, job

• Society: religion, heaven, hell, death, medicine, money, dollar, bill, marriage, wedding, team, race (ethnicity), sex (the act), sex (gender), murder, prison, technology, energy, war, peace, attack, election, magazine, newspaper, poison, gun, sport, race (sport), exercise, ball, game, price, contract, drug, sign, science, God

• Art. band, song, instrument (musical), music, movie, art

• Beverages: coffee, tea, wine, beer, juice, water, milk, beverage

• Food: egg, cheese, bread, soup, cake, chicken, pork, beef, apple, banana orange, lemon, corn, rice, oil, seed, knife, spoon, fork, plate, cup, breakfast, lunch, dinner, sugar, salt, bottle, food

• Home: table, chair, bed, dream, window, door, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, pencil, pen, photograph, soap, book, page, key, paint, letter, note, wall, paper, floor, ceiling, roof, pool, lock, telephone, garden, yard, needle, bag, box, gift, card, ring, tool

• Electronics: clock, lamp, fan, cell phone, network, computer, program (computer), laptop, screen, camera, television, radio

• Body: head, neck, face, beard, hair, eye, mouth, lip, nose, tooth, ear, tear (drop), tongue, back, toe, finger, foot, hand, leg, arm, shoulder, heart, blood, brain, knee, sweat, disease, bone, voice, skin, body

• Nature: sea, ocean, river, mountain, rain, snow, tree, sun, moon, world, Earth, forest, sky, plant, wind, soil/earth, flower, valley, root, lake, star, grass, leaf, air, sand, beach, wave, fire, ice, island, hill, heat, nature

• Materials: glass, metal, plastic, wood, stone, diamond, clay, dust, gold, copper, silver, material

• Math/Measurements: meter, centimeter, kilogram, inch, foot, pound, half, circle, square, temperature, date, weight, edge, corner

• Misc Nouns: map, dot, consonant, vowel, light, sound, yes, no, piece, pain, injury, hole, image, pattern, noun, verb, adjective

• Directions: top, bottom, side, front, back, outside, inside, up, down, left, right, straight, north, south, east, west, direction

• Seasons: Summer, Spring, Winter, Fall, season

• Numbers: 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 21, 22, 30, 31, 32, 40, 41, 42, 50, 51, 52, 60, 61, 62, 70, 71, 72, 80, 81, 82, 90, 91, 92, 100, 101, 102, 110, 111, 1000, 1001, 10000, 100000, million, billion, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, number

• Months: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December

• Days of the week: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday

• Time: year, month, week, day, hour, minute, second, morning, afternoon, evening, night, time

• Verbs: work, play, walk, run, drive, fly, swim, go, stop, follow, think, speak/say, eat, drink, kill, die, smile, laugh, cry, buy, pay, sell, shoot(a gun), learn, jump, smell, hear (a sound), listen (music), taste, touch, see (a bird), watch (TV), kiss, burn, melt, dig, explode, sit, stand, love, pass by, cut, fight, lie down, dance, sleep, wake up, sing, count, marry, pray, win, lose, mix/stir, bend, wash, cook, open, close, write, call, turn, build, teach, grow, draw, feed, catch, throw, clean, find, fall, push, pull, carry, break, wear, hang, shake, sign, beat, lift

• Adjectives: long, short (long), tall, short (vs tall), wide, narrow, big/large, small/little, slow, fast, hot, cold, warm, cool, new, old (new), young, old (young), weak, dead, alive, heavy, light (heavy), dark, light (dark), nuclear, famous

#second language #language #learning #rory gilmore #smart #tips

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atbussysparks · 5 months ago

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Last Scout headcanons I prommy 🥺 LETS GET IT BITCH 🔥🔥🎉💯🗣️🗣️

He believes that theater is cringe. EXCEPT ROCK OPERAS. he flips the fuck out when they do anything.

He needs his tonsils out so bad. Genuinely a medical anomaly how decrepit they are

He pushes his body too far occasionally and has some pretty bad joint pain. Most of the time when he's off the clock he uses forearm crutches

He sleeps on a bunk bed. Top bunk. No one else sleeps on the bed with him.

If someone walked into his room at home the only decoration would be a magic eye wallpaper

Sharp canines

He doesn't remember anything from the troubled teen's camp bc he was dissociated the whole time

He found out how to make things explode with a rock covered in copper wire and a power line

Every time he talks about what's wrong with him he says it like it's completely normal. It's never normal. Your bones shouldn't go squishy.

He's a dog guy, but he has a kitten that he treats like his own baby. They have very similar actions. The cat is orange

If he was a teen in the 2000s he'd have an edgy wolf OC named dragonspark

He bought an "illegal firework" that was just a straight up pipe bomb

He gets stuck in a well regularly and pyro has a hard time communicating with others to help him

Favorite mode of exiting a room? Jumping outta the window!

Scout doesn't think that moles are real. The animals.

Unrelated but Medic uses a wheelchair because he was serving in the American army in WW2. That's how he got his citizenship! He'd lived in America for two years before that. He caught shrapnel in his knees during a battle and they pop out of socket. He also has joint pain. Just like me!

#this is the last one because i have no more headcanons!#i believe all this is true and gospel.#i dont think naked mole rats are real at all. clothed mole rats however...#shitpost #shitposting #memes #headcanon #team fortress 2 #tf2 scout #evil and fucked up #team fortress two #tf2 medic #disabled #valve games #disability #forearm crutches #sparking list

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gourdlycatgen · 3 months ago

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The head defender clan cat named Goralstream is a silver amab cis cat with a broken tabby coat and a mostly white body. The pronouns this cat uses are all. This cat has medium, straight fur and copper orange eyes. This cat loves mice, and loves rain. The cat is honest and battle-hungry. The cat is the best fighter. This cat has moderate scarring and a substantial body.

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saturnselkies · 8 months ago

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Thanks for the tag @i-mybrunettelady!!!😊 I did it for both my commander and wayfinder & if you're reading this and want to do it, you're tagged (and please tag me in your post! So I can read).

-- B A S I C S

name: Penelope Starbinder (formerly Ry). age: 34. She was born on November 1 (Season of the Colossus/Scorpio. I picture her with an Aquarius moon and an Aries rising!). race: She had two mothers, one is Canthan and the other was a Mist Being with draconic blood. gender: NB femme (she/her). orientation: Lesbian. profession: Holosmith and Commander/Champion of Aurene.

-- P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

hair: Currently a copper orange. eyes: Right now her eyes have a purple and yellow hue which is impossible in-game, but that's the kind of shade. skin: Tanned. tattoos/scars: She has a tattoo on the base of her neck, it's supposed to represent her title of Starbinder. I haven't designed it yet because I haven't had the opportunity to draw her back AJKFJSF but yeah. Scars: one on her left breast/shoulder from when Bangar shot her.

-- F A M I L Y

parents: Mimi Ry (deceased) and Nvaa (deceased). siblings: Her twin sister Deanna Starlighter (formerly Ry). grandparents: Unknown. Her human mother had no family of note. in laws and others: Jormag - not officially married, but… honestly they have 6 children together so. It makes the Elder Dragons family ig. LMFAOOO. pets: Starry shiba inu.

-- S K I L L S

abilities: Proficient in engineering and holosmith skills; on the same level of Canthan engineering. She would be classified as a genius (she just doesn't use it like asura do, so it's never really commercialized). Great eye for strategy and making small talk with just about anyone. Good at solving things quickly and has a stellar sense of direction. She can't cook good food or sew or anything like that; that's Jormag's thing lol. She doesn't have a hobby or other skills that aren't related to being a commander and she should rethink that. The burnout is real.

-- T R A I T S

most positive trait: Easygoing, extremely loyal, dependable. most negative trait: Martyrdom, impulsiveness, speaks without thinking at times.

-- L I K E S

colors: Purple, gold, cyan. smells: Lavender, coconut, beach. textures: Soft fur/hair, warm skin, weighted blanket. drinks: Energy drinks, cocktails, fizzy soda.

-- O T H E R D E T A I L S

smokes: Not usually, but she has. drinks: Yes. drugs: Nope. been arrested: Well yes, canonically so. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

-- B A S I C S

name: Badri the Starstorm (alter ego: The Starfall Ego). age: Unknown, but definitely over 150. race: Unknown. gender: Cis lady (she/her). orientation: Lesbian. profession: Wizard and Wayfinder. Chronomancer. (Alter ego: crazily powerful elemental cosmic magic).

-- P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

hair: Mousy blonde, very soft and shiny. (Alter ego: very light lavender/iridescent). eyes: Pale with a golden sparkle. skin: Pale purple-blue. tattoos/scars: None.

-- F A M I L Y

parents: Unknown. siblings: Unknown. grandparents: Unknown. in laws and others: Isgarren is her father figure and Peitha is her toxic yuri. Isak and her share a pretty strong sibling bond even if they are not related at all. pets: Her moth skyscale, Belle, is very much like a cat to her.

-- S K I L L S

abilities: Learned chronomancy from her teacher Basira & her skills are pretty good. She learns any kind of magic pretty easily and with efficiency. She can cook, sew, dance, play instruments, sing, and many other stuff. She's like a swiss army knife of skills. She devoted most of her time to hobbies and reading because she wasn't allowed outside the tower.

-- T R A I T S

most positive trait: Cheerful, tooth-rotting sweet and attentive, caring. most negative trait: Selfish, passive-aggressive, sheltered.

-- L I K E S

colors: Jade, lipstick, periwinkle. smells: Strawberry cake, peppermint, scented candles. textures: Velvet, encrusted gems, embroidery. drinks: Green tea, cocoa with chunky marshmallows, smoothies.

-- O T H E R D E T A I L S

smokes: Nope. drinks: Nope. drugs: Nope. been arrested: Nope.

#guild wars 2 #gw2 #Penelope Starbinder #Badri the Starstorm

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corneliaavenue-ao3 · 2 years ago

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When Harry Potter was born, he knew nothing of prophecies or horcruxes. The name Tom Riddle meant absolutely nothing to him. He knew of a woman with long, copper hair and green eyes and a tall man with messy, black hair. He knew of three pairs of hands that were the hands of his uncles. He knew what snuggles were and he knew what it felt like to have a body with only one soul.

When Harry Potter celebrated his first Halloween, he knew nothing of trolls in the dungeons or Death Day Parties. He knew nothing of petrified cats and words written in blood by a girl who has no control over her own body. Goblets of Fire meant nothing to him at this time and what the consequences could be if his name were to ever come out of one. Instead, he only knew of the orange costume his mum put him in that made him look like a pumpkin, and the painted face of his dad that made him look like a skeleton.

When Harry Potter celebrated his first Christmas, he knew nothing of coal in stockings and shoelaces as presents. He didn’t know what it felt like to watch his cousin open up his 25th present while he cooked Holiday brunch in the kitchen. He didn’t know what a belt was or how it could be used as a punishment if the bacon came out a little too crispy for his uncle’s liking. He only knew of stockings filled with toys, and 25 kisses from each one of his parents. He only knew of his mum’s (off key) singing of muggle Christmas carols as she helped his dad cook Christmas brunch.

When Harry Potter played with the big black dog, he knew nothing of the grim. He did not know the scared feeling of being chased by bulldogs owned by his uncle’s sister. He knew nothing of magical prisons and unjust criminal systems nor was he aware of The Ministry of Magic and the secrets that lie within its walls. He didn’t know how thin the dog could become after being starved for 12 years. He knew only of piggyback rides and wet, slobbery kisses.

When Harry Potter celebrated his first birthday, he knew nothing of letters addressed to a boy who lived in a cupboard under the stairs. He was not friendly with spiders and their cobwebs littering his bedroom. He did not know about drawing birthday cakes in the dirt with eleven candles on them. He only knew of toddler sized broomsticks that he could chase the family cat around the living room with. He knew of a big cake baked by “Ma” that ended more on the floor and his face than it did his own mouth.

When Harry Potter woke up on his second Halloween, he knew nothing of death. The name Tom Riddle still meant nothing to him, and he did not know that green flashing lights were a sign of evil. He did not know how devastating a betrayal from a best friend could be. Most importantly, he did not know the sound of his own mother’s screams. Instead he only knew the bright colors his dad would shine above his crib as his mum told him a bedtime story. He only knew “Pea” as a surrogate uncle, just like “Serus” and “Reem.” Most importantly, he only knew the sound of his mother’s laugh.

When Harry Potter was left on the doorstep of his aunt and uncle’s house, he knew nothing of abuse. He knew nothing of his cousin’s fists or the silly, little game called “Harry Hunting.” He knew nothing of negligent teachers who ignored the obvious signs of mistreatment. Instead he only knew the stars that twinkled like the bearded man’s eyes and the flying motorcycle in the night sky. He only knew the faint cheers from wizards and witches all across Great Britain celebrating the death of the man he now shared a soul with.

He knew nothing yet of what was to come.

#so on my hour drive home today i started to mentally write this & somehow when i sat in front of a keyboard it didn't all fly out of my head #harry potter #hp #please notice how i had to slightly mention ginny because i love her #also note how this isnt technically a fanfiction because i can't find a taylor lyric #would probably be from safe and sound though even though this boy is neither safe nor sound

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insane4fandoms · 8 days ago

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Hey, friendo! Hope you’ve been doing well!

It’s been a while since our collab, but I think I just realized a cool little detail on both our parts! (By which I mean that I TOTALLY meant to put said detail into my writing. It DEFINITELY wasn’t a nice surprise-coincidence or anything…)

So, before the story’s climax, ending, and epilogue, you helped me decide to have Ness wear a leather jacket, since duh, he’s an Egopat. Well, that in turn made me decide to describe the leather as cyan because of irl Matt’s blue jacket.

I was watching some of the FNAF Musical blooper-reels last night. When Matt came onscreen, I finally noticed how, in every single installment, he wears a bright blue T-shirt under Mad’s bear suit. The collar is pretty much always sticking out. Just one more thing for the awesome doppelganger scenario you cooked up, lol.

And while we’re on the subject of weird parallels…

You always draw Mad with orange eyes. The color orange has plenty of positive symbolism, but it still has just as much negativity. It’s often seen as the color of arrogance, impatience, and wrongful pride. Now, if all that stuff doesn’t sum up Mad’s personality, then I’m not sure what will.

Now, on another side of the coin: it’s been scientifically proven that the brain associates the colors red and yellow with hunger, since both colors can be symbolic of warmth and energy. Just seeing them can actively increase your appetite. And who exactly has some sinister cravings and was designed with a jacket similar to Matt’s iconic red leather?

…Yeah, I guess I’m just saying that I could totally see Caliban’s eyes flicking to yellow whenever he gets into his feral mode, only to change back when he’s able to chill out. (Which, now that I think of it, could also reference how, unlike Mad, he's still got a little humanity left despite being so unhinged.) I’ve always loved the concept of unnatural eye colors in human characters.

Lol, sorry for rambling. Not trying to pressure you into anything since you’re probably busy; I just figured I’d share what I noticed and expand on it a little.

Sorry for seeing this late 😔 trying to bring myself to keep drawing since art block slammed into my gut.

Anyways, I also thought of Ness’s jacket being cyan to correlate with that damn blue shirt always peaking out of Mad’s onesie.

I’m so glad that someone saw Mad’s eye color has a meaning, lol. Other than using orange as a default for Mack as well, Mad’s color was definitely used to symbolize his arrogance and unearned pride. Bro thinks he’s all that, when his many plans crashed and burned without having a backup plan.

Cal and Mad are two sides of the same, rusty, and corroded coin. One has the sliver of copper that still shines brightest when sunlight reflects, and the other barely even shows a spot of light.

Cal still has a sense of humanity, because even with his upbringing and cannibalistic tendencies, he still has family, friends and a partner, something Mad most definitely doesn’t. Cal may still be a deranged killer, but he’s one who still sees the few people (mainly kids) that has nativity and innocence from the shit world. Mad… not so much.

Lmao also imagining those mfs having their eyes shine like cats when you shine a light their faces. Just as scary ngl

The concept of Mad having Ness as his “clone” having what he can’t, happiness, and Mad having Cal as someone who an “equal” to his murderous traits also having what he can’t, family. Two characters who are a parallel to Madpat in so many ways, only connected to what little similarities he grasps onto to justify to want to take away everything, it makes me into a crazy person.

#caliban #madpat #fnaf ness

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paperbackribs · 11 months ago

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A Tarnished Copper Boy (3)

Previous | Next Last chapter, Steve fell through time from 1986 to land at Eddie's feet in 1984, patting him down for injuries, and asking for a ride to Dustin's place.

Chapter 3: A Sound of Thunder

Before anyone can speak to Steve’s insane declaration that he’s a time traveller a short curvy woman appears behind Dustin with a warm smile. In the open entranceway of her home, her face is round and welcoming with lovely blonde waves that fall to her shoulders. “Dusty, are these your friends? It’s Steve, right? You’re dating Mike’s sister?”

Steve’s back straightens and Eddie snickers, wondering if this is Preppy Steve returning from under the rugged version that had appeared on his trailer floor.

“Mrs Henderson, it’s good to see you. Yeah, I know the kids and I have a science question for Dustin.” He unleashes the full Harrington smile, which Eddie has to admit is somewhat charming. “He’s so smart, I just knew he’d be able to help me out.”

Mrs Henderson beams and shoos them through the door with a beckoning hand, “Of course, my Dusty is very clever. Mr Clarke—that’s his science teacher—always says that he has the most unique questions in class. Come in, come in.”

Eddie looks curiously around the wide entranceway that curves into the living area and sees that his initial impression of a hobbit home continues. The inside is tidy and orderly with furnishings in earthy tones and photos scattered across the walls full of smiling people. It’s warm and inviting, Eddie thinks, much like Mrs Henderson.

However, even she falters as she finally gets a clear look at Steve, gaze flickering between mud-flecked combat boots up to the dirt-smudged around his face. He smells faintly like gasoline too, if Eddie’s being honest, so he can understand her hesitation.

He leans over, slinging an arm around Steve’s shoulder who jerks slightly before relaxing into his hold. “We’re just coming back from a camping workshop; you know, crawling through the under-bushes and whatnot. Steve has a question about…” Eddie scrambles to think of what one finds at a camping site, but Steve smoothly jumps in. “An animal we found,” he says, smiling. “We’re not sure if it’s a marsupial or not.”

“Oh, of course,” Mrs Henderson shakes off the frown that had started to form and walks ahead, clearly expecting them to follow. Steve makes wide eyes at Dustin who just shakes his head at the older boy, not understanding his wordless message.

Eddie leans across Steve’s chest, his arm still draped around his shoulders, and says quietly, “I think he wants to have this talk in private.”

“Ohhhh,” Dustin says noisily and with no hint of tact.

Steve turns to Eddie, shooting him a covert look of disbelief with a scoff and, for a moment, time stops around him. Arrested by the familiarity and comradery in Steve’s dark eyes, Eddie can only stare. It’s an expression that speaks of a personal connection between the two of them that he has no point of reference for. It’s strange and oddly tempting.

Steve’s gaze sharpens and his mouth opens, but whatever he’s going to say is lost as Dustin loudly interrupts to inform his mom that they’re going to talk in his room instead. Eddie lets his arm drop heavily away as he follows Steve’s retreating shoulders into the deep of the house.

In Dustin’s bedroom, autumnal sunlight pours through long, narrow windows high up the walls and the warm yellows and browns of Mrs Henderson’s design continue to shine through.

However, the kid has put his own spin on it with a working space dedicated to science and science fiction: scattered across it are half-open wires and batteries of all sizes with a scenic-looking ant farm, resting against a silver ham radio are two black walkie talkies, and a R2-D2 sits in the middle of an empty terrarium.

An orange and white cat is curled on the pillow of his bed, but it shoots Eddie a dirty look and saunters away after he collapses onto the single mattress, arms propping him up from behind and feeling the intense need for popcorn to watch this unfolding train wreck.

The sunlight streaming into the room kisses Steve’s hair, making him almost glow as he paces in the short space.

Dustin frowns over at Eddie’s relaxed form, “Who’s he?” Eddie blithely grins back, finding it hard to be concerned in the face of a ridiculous claim like time travel.

However, his smile briefly dips as he remembers the pained gravity in Steve’s voice as he said it hasn’t happened yet and not the right place or the right… time, Eddie belatedly fills in for Steve. Not the right place or time.

Steve throws a careless hand between them, seemingly impatient now that he’s closer to talking about the root of his issue. “Dustin, this is Eddie. Eddie, Dustin. Now that you’ve been properly introduced, can we circle back to my problem? I’m not from around here.”

“You’re a time traveller,” Dustin repeats doubtfully with a hint of scorn.

“Hey,” Steve points a finger at him, “Don’t take that tone. I’m not out of my mind; I’m from 1986 and this is…” He glances towards the bed for confirmation, “1984?”

Eddie nods, but even as he wonders why he’s entertaining Steve a part of him can see the edge of uncertainty, of vulnerability, to him when he’d looked at Eddie. He thinks that maybe Steve is not as okay as he appears.

Dustin darts a glance at the bed before leaning closer to Steve and hissing in a whisper audible across the room, “Code Red?”

Steve nods grimly, “Code Red. I was coming out of the Upside Down in ’86 and I landed in Eddie’s trailer in ’84.”

Code Red seems to be important to Dustin because the kid looks more willing to believe Steve now, but he still hesitates. “And you’re not just…” Dustin waves a hand to encompass Steve and his party reputation, “I don’t know, drunk or something.”

Eddie barks out a laugh despite himself, “That’s what I said, kid.”

Dustin narrows his eyes at the moniker but is distracted when Steve huffs, crossing his arms and looking like he wouldn’t mind following it with a stamp of his foot. The frustration on his face is a little cute. “I’m not high. I’m not drunk. I’m in an Upside Down situation and you have to tell me how I can get back to where I’m supposed to be.”

Dustin squawks, “I’m not H.G. Wells, Steve. I don’t have a time machine in my basement, ready for you to go on a little trip back to the future. Wait.” He holds up a hand that is surprisingly commanding for someone so small, “Did you say you were in the Upside Down? Like Will last year? Easy then. If you came through a portal, then you just have to go right back through it. Bada boom.”

“Easy he says,” Steve mutters, pacing away before turning back to Dustin in irritation. “It’s not easy because the gate is gone. Vamoosed.” He shoots his hand up like it’s a rocket flying out of space. “Out of here. It’s supposed to be in Eddie’s trailer, but there’s nothing there.”

The two lock gazes and Eddie decides to interrupt before they start tearing each other’s hair out. “Did you say that other people had come in and out of this Upside Down? What about one of those?” He ventures while telling himself that playing along doesn’t mean that he believes this story.

It’s just that nervousness is starting to thrum so strongly in Steve that the air is almost palpable with it, and he doesn’t want Hawkins’ golden boy to completely lose his faculties.

“No,” Dustin sharply rebuts, “That would only mean he’s travelling through to the Upside Down in the present. They’re not time machines either.” He squints at Eddie again, turning to Steve to ask, “What’s so special about this guy’s place? Why’s a portal there.”

Eddie wouldn’t mind knowing why Steve chose his trailer of all places too and turns eager eyes to him. However, Steve barely opens his mouth before Dustin lets out a startlingly loud sound, hurrying forward to slap his palms against Steve’s mouth.

Steve recoils, dramatically spluttering, “Dude, gross.”

“Don’t say it!” Dustin shrieks. Eddie winces at the piercing tone.

“What?” Steve asks, looking as bewildered as Eddie feels at this abrupt about-face.

Dustin steps back to a low bookcase and pulls out a thin book with a yellow cover, on it is an icon of a half sun and moon with The Golden Apples of the Sun printed in bold black text underneath. He waves the book at the two of them as if that will make them catch up any quicker, “You’re going to step on a butterfly!”

Steve dutifully looks down at his feet and Eddie stifles a laugh, “I think he meant that metaphorically, big boy.”

Steve’s head whips towards him and an odd expression crosses his face before he reluctantly nods. Turning back to Dustin he says, “Use your words, man. What the hell are you going on about?”

“It’s a Ray Bradbury short story. This guy goes back in time, like all the way back to the Cretaceous period as a tourist, with a tour guide and everything. But he steps off the designated path and kills a butterfly and when he returns everything is different. One small change and the future is nothing like it was.”

Steve shrugs carelessly, doubt furrowing his brows, “Is that so bad? So, what, there were less butterflies or something when he returned.”

“No, Steve, it wasn’t just butterflies.” Dustin rolls his eyes, swatting the book through the air again as if waving away the thick fog he clearly thinks fills Steve’s head. “Before he went back in time, they had narrowly defeated a fascist who was trying to become president. But after that one minor change, the fascist wins and everyone’s acting differently. Who knows what you could do if you start telling us what happens in the future? You’d be stepping on butterflies left and right.”

Steve blinks rapidly, his face whitening to a chalky complexion, “This bad guy… he won because the time traveller changed a few small things? It was his fault?”

Dustin nods eagerly now that Steve’s getting it, “Directly his fault. They fall into a dystopia because the time traveller messed with the proper timeline, and it led to catastrophe!”

Steve wobbles, stepping back like he’s suddenly lost his footing. Eddie shoots forward to hastily grab him by the elbows, trying to stop Steve from falling on his ass. He gently shifts him over to sit on the bed and Steve falls heavily, looking down at his open palms for a long, silent minute.

Dustin raises his eyebrows in concern over Steve’s head to Eddie but Eddie just shrugs: this is their show, he’s just here as the ride and for the sad lack of popcorn.

Looking like he’s about to hurl, Steve finally speaks. “So… I can’t say or do anything or the worse outcome could happen. And I don’t have a way out of here either.” His voice is terribly hollow, vacant and distant like a cold star. “I’m stuck.”

The anxiety that had radiated from Steve has disappeared, but in its place is a tangible loneliness like a child abandoned in the middle of an empty field. It stirs unhappy memories, and greasy shame builds in Eddie’s chest. He shouldn’t be finding any amusement in Steve’s pain, whether it makes sense or not.

He reaches out a hand to Steve’s shoulder, jostling him in a friendly manner. “Hey, at least it’s only a couple of years. Lay low and before you know it, this will be all over.”

“Where?” Steve laughs without humour, still staring down at his hands. “Set myself up in Dustin’s basement? Sneak me 3-Muskateers and keep me like a pet.” He shoots his hand up to wave it in a frantic gesture at Dustin, “No, better yet, let’s rope your mother in. Just add me to Sunday dinners, please!”

“Mom’s roast is the best,” Dustin protests, more form than substance as he eyes Steve, obviously baffled about how to talk him down from his meltdown.

Eddie shoots the kid a warning look but Dustin blusters ahead, “But yeah, we could do that for a little while. It’s a very, very bad idea to introduce you to yourself in the present, so it’s not like you can stay in Loch Nora. That’s less a butterfly and more like a pterosaur.”

Steve’s anguish momentarily subsides in minor confusion and Eddie concurs. They both look up at Dustin blankly before he explains, “Flying dinosaurs. Jesus, what the hell do you study in high school?”

“Or you could stay at mine,” Eddie surprises himself by offering even as he hastens to add, “You know, just for the night or until this resolves itself. The trailer is small but maybe that portal will come back, and you can walk right through it back to your time?”

Eddie can already feel the guilt that will bury its hooks into his flesh if he leaves Steve to wander off today and later hears that he got in trouble or, worse, injured because he’s a little confused.

Steve blinks in surprise before a small smile graces his face, the lines between his brow softening slightly. “That’s really kind of you, Eddie. I think…” He turns to look at Dustin uncertainly, “I think it’s best if I stick around where the portal could reappear. Give it some time and, if it doesn’t, I’ll figure out what to do then.”

He ruffles his hair in a way that Eddie is quickly coming to recognise as a nervous gesture, “Maybe I’ll leave Hawkins after all. Get out of here and do my own thing.”

Eddie wonders why Steve sounds so sad as he says that. Isn’t the prospect of getting out of the hell that is small-town America a good thing? As soon as he gets that diploma, he’s out of here, only looking back because where Uncle Wayne is then Eddie will always circle around to. But only for short visits. Hawkins can suck his sweaty balls.

While Eddie has watched Steve, feeling helpless to do anything but bear witness to his distress, Dustin starts picking up energy in the background. Bouncing up and down on his toes, he mutters something before pouncing on the wireless radio on his desk.

“The guys are going to go insane,” he says, looking up with shining eyes. “I won’t say who or when, I promise. But this is going to blow their minds.”

Steve’s eyes widen in alarm and he bolts off the bed, shooting forward to quickly pluck the black plastic out of Dustin’s hands, holding it above his head. “No,” he almost shouts, startling the younger boy with the energy behind it. “No, Dustin,” Steve says more quietly, although an urgent undercurrent still thrums through his words. “Nothing can change.”

Dustin regains his composure enough to scowl, glancing at the radio that Steve’s playing keep-away with, “I’m not going to change anything. It’ll just be a theoretical, and it’s not like you’ve told me about any future events. I’ll make it into a story,” he decides, obviously off the cuff and thinking that the short, unconvincing excuse will fool Steve.

His curls bob as he darts forward to take back the radio, but Steve dodges back, shooting him a dirty look and pitching it in a soft underhand throw to Eddie.

Surprised, Eddie fumbles the device but thankfully—when he inevitably drops it, and he does—it falls onto the soft covers of the bed rather than breaking to pieces on the floor.

“Steve,” Dustin whines, “It’ll just be this cool story that I make up. I won’t even use your name, relax.”

Steve shakes his head, a grave mien falling around him. He hunches over the younger boy, hands on his shoulders and deadly serious. “You don’t understand how important this is, Dustin. We won something. It was terrifying and it was hard, but we won.” Eddie shivers at the awful sincerity in Steve’s tone even as he continues. “You can’t say anything to the guys, not even the smallest hint.”

Dustin’s face crumples, Steve’s words starting to penetrate his resolve. Steve nods sympathetically as he sees that he’s getting through to him, “You’ve got to forget this ever happened and just… keep being you. You’re brilliant and I know how hard it is for you to let go of something when it’s a puzzle, but if you talk about this then maybe that is the butterfly and maybe we don’t win. Maybe…” He swallows hard, the sound audible across the room. “Maybe even more people die.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, momentarily stunned by even more, but he thinks that Dustin doesn’t notice the slip at the end of Steve’s speech because he only nods in defeat, mouth moving into an accepting grimace. “Okay,” he mutters.

Steve eyes him doubtfully, “Not Mike or Lucas or even Will. Never, ever even think of dropping hints in front of me. Just forget that today ever happened.”

The youth that shines through in Dustin’s short stature and baby-faced features falls away to a maturity that Eddie hates to see in someone so young. “I won’t say anything and I’ll try to forget this ever happened,” he promises.

Dustin’s lips firm suddenly in determination, “In fact, I can’t believe you, Steve. Trying to trick me with such a stupid prank. You really are a— a—” For once his voice fails him and Dustin lamely concludes, “A complete douchebag.”

Steve smiles down at him with pride, relief loosening the tightness in his shoulders. “That’s right. It’s 1984 and I am a complete and utter douchebag. Thanks, Dustin.” He tousles his hair over the baseball cap, a gesture that looks well-practised.

Dustin smacks his hand away with a scowl, youth returning to his features once more and Steve laughs lightly, stepping back. “Be good, you little butthead,” he says before departing without fanfare, striding away.

Yet, Eddie sees the pain that flashes over his face once his back is turned to Dustin. Steve swiftly exits and, in the hallway, he begins to thank Mrs Henderson, politely declining the offer of a snack before they leave.

Thinking about that expression, a bearing full of repressed anguish and responsibility, Eddie doesn’t realise that he’s stood rooted to the spot until Dustin interrupts.

“He’s not that bad,” he says to Eddie, lips pursed like he thinks he doesn’t want to follow after Steve. “He helped out with the Upside Down last year, but he didn’t have to. He’s just Mike’s older sister’s boyfriend. Jonathan told Will that he even helped kill a demogorgon with a nail bat.”

His smile is gap-toothed and sweet, “That’s pretty badass.”

Eddie doesn’t think that Dustin literally means Steve fought a demon lord from the infinite depths of the abyss, but he makes a note to ask Steve about it later anyway. He’s also reminded that Steve said this kid would join Hellfire in the future. Even that he’d like him. And Eddie thinks that maybe he can see why, because, for all of his loudness and tone, Dustin seems to have a big heart.

“I’ll look out for him,” Eddie promises while slightly exasperated at himself for once more allowing a rise of sympathy to push him to watch over Steve Harrington who, on a normal day, would be perfectly fine taking care of himself.

Saying his goodbyes, Eddie steps from the earthy warmness of the Henderson home out into the bright afternoon light, feeling like he’s crossed through a portal himself. As if those moments in Dustin’s bedroom were an event outside of his own space and time. He shakes his head against the fanciful thought, striding over to his van where Steve is leaning against it.

With his foot propped behind him and a pensive expression sitting heavily on his face, he looks like Marlon Brando about to broodingly ask Eddie for a light.

For a moment, Eddie indulges in the thought of leaning in with a flickering flame pressed to a cigarette hanging on Steve’s soft-looking lips. Wonders what he’d do if he leaned in slow and close, all big eyes and heavy lashes.

Eddie shakes his head again, waving away the thoughts like smoke in the air; now is not the time. Ha. He jerks his head at Steve to get into the van, “Come on, let’s go back to mine.”

Distracted, Steve turns and hoists himself up. Eddie flips the stereo off as they reverse out of the drive, letting silence fill the air as they barrel down the back streets of Hawkins. He figures that maybe Steve has a lot running through his head right now and the thunderous roar of Judas Priest may be a bit much for him.

“Are you sure this is okay? Me staying for a few days?” Steve suddenly asks, turning to watch Eddie intently. “You don’t exactly know me. We’re not friends or anything right now.”

Eddie feels a sharp sting like an unexpected prick from a sewing needle, drawing the tiniest drop of bright red blood. He frowns at the sensation. If he’d been asked two hours ago, then his swift evaluation of Steve and him would be that they are not friends.

But this Steve, Rugged Steve, he seems cool. He’s sort of funny, a little sweet, and has a swathe of emotions running so deeply under the surface that Eddie wants to know what else he’s hiding.

“What about in the future?” Eddie asks instead, “We friends then?” He glances over at Steve, but the front seat is empty.

Eddie slams his foot down, the squeal of the breaks echoing loudly on the empty road.

They had been driving at 40 miles per hour down an asphalt road. Either Eddie didn’t notice the obvious movement of Steve clambering into the back of the van (unlikely) or he opened the door, rolled out onto the road, and magically closed the door shut afterwards (very fucking unlikely).

Or Steve disappeared into thin air, Eddie thinks with a racing heart.

Urgently twisting, he confirms that the back of the van is empty with only an amp and a blanket taking up one lonely corner. Falling out of the driver's seat in his haste, he stares out at the silent road. He looks left, right, and behind him, even stupidly glances up to the top of the van as if Steve’s climbed up there like an escape artist that’s about to do jazz hands and call out ta-dah.

Steve disappeared in a moving vehicle, leaving no trace behind.

Like a motherfucking time traveller.

Eddie’s knees buckle and he falls against the van, the asphalt hitting his backside painfully.

It was true.

It was all true.

Steve was from the future and now… has he gone back? He supposes? At least Steve won’t be trapped in his past, Eddie reasons, trying to find the bright side to this bizarre twist. He won’t be stuck on Eddie��s couch before heading out to travel America like some lonely, honour-bound samurai.

And if Eddie feels a small pang at not getting a chance to know Steve more… well, that’s between him and the empty road, because there’s no way he can talk to Present Steve, as he suddenly decides to call him. In no normal world would Eddie ever approach the king at school, other than to heckle the jocks tossing balls into laundry baskets.

No, upsetting the natural order stinks of butterfly carcasses.

Yet the regret hangs with him as he eventually pulls himself off the dusty road and into the van, driving home. It keeps him wide-eyed and awake through the night, thinking about what ifs.

The pang drives in a little harder as he spots Steve in the halls of Hawkins High; they even have history class together today and Eddie sees that, yes, he is assigned the seat directly in front of Steve.

He can’t help but look at him anytime their paths cross; Eddie once again the metal filling to Steve’s lodestone, a magnetic draw that he tries to keep hidden as he covertly stares. He sees it now too, that this Steve looks younger and smaller.

Maybe it had been the leather jacket and boots that Future Steve was wearing, but his shoulders had seemed broader and legs longer. Perhaps it was the grime around Steve’s face, but Eddie thinks that he loses some of that baby fat around his jaw in the next two years, becoming more defined.

He sees Steve one last time at the end of the day, sneaking up on Nancy Wheeler before grabbing her from behind with a cute little shout. Nancy laughs but Eddie thinks her heart’s not quite in it, her smile fading quickly as she turns back to her locker, grabbing the rest of her books.

Steve’s smile dips for a moment before he shrugs it off, moving to gently take the heavy bag from her. He catches Eddie’s eyes as he turns and stops to cooly raise a brow as if daring Eddie to comment.

That’s right, Eddie reminds himself around the pang, not friends.

He blindly turns, heart beating faster than the moment warrants and strides away. But it’s all so confusing and yesterday has become a moment in his life defined by before and after Steve. As if once Steve landed, groaning into his living room carpet, Eddie had become a different person.

He feels like that in those lost minutes yesterday he had started to make a friend. Someone interesting and possibly important to Eddie’s future, talking as if were an action hero, trying to save people in some unnamed war. But Eddie can’t discuss it with anyone; he knows he’ll be doing Dustin and Steve both a disservice if he goes back to talk to the kid.

He’s just going to have to swallow the awkwardness, Eddie decides, slamming the building’s door shut behind him to cross the parking lot.

He blocks out the sound of Steve’s laughter as he exits shortly after as well, closing his ears and stomping on any other fragment of unwanted feelings in his body.

He’ll see Steve when he sees him in the natural order of things. Until then, he’s persona non grata. Just a jock and Eddie will continue to be the freak.

No interaction whatsoever.

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Tag list:

My tag list is always open, so let me know if you want to be added. Likewise, if you want to be removed, let me know. :)

@bookworm0690, @child-of-cthulhu, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @finntheehumaneater, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @hallucinatedjosten, @just-a-tiny-void, @ledleaf, @littlewildflowerkitten, @manda-panda-monium, @mightbeasleep, @nburkhardt, @newtstabber, @stillfullofshit, @tartarusknight

#steddie #time travel #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #a tarnished copper boy #paperbackribs writing

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