#eheh goobers

[theendlessoblivin]

Uh erm doodles of some goofy goober OCS of mine

Names: Bag Of Stars (will this stay I dunno

Orb Ring thing doesn't have a name, honestly a skill issue for them tbh

[stevebabey]

you thought it would be all sweetness??? nooo u got to have a little miscommunication angst before anyone gets any hickies. but they will. in time >:) part one. part two. this is a part three :)

Steve blames it all on the clock.

That stupid cuckoo clock on the wall of the Munson trailer. It's an absolute horror of interior design that would make Steve’s mom shiver if she ever laid eyes on it. It’s probably why Eddie loves it — and the god-awful cuckoo! noise it makes when it goes off.

Because the moment Eddie utters that delightful question, asking for a hickie, the nerve of him, Steve loves it — and Steve is more than ready to oblige him — the stupid clock goes off.

It gives them both a fright, Steve more than Eddie. He gives a whole-body twitch that shifts them both, his head snapping to the wall, a breath forced out of his lungs at the sight of the mustard-coloured bird. Shit. Stupid fuckin’ clock, Steve thinks.

But it seems to break the trance over the room. The sweet tension of their shared closeness is sucked out of the room in an instant. Steve is suddenly aware of the time the popping out bird is announcing. It’s late. Far later than Steve intended to stay over, especially considering work tomorrow.

Without meaning to, the prickle under Steve’s skin rolls through his body. It steals away the comfort that he usually feels with Eddie, tenseness filling his body. Steve hates it — hates how he can’t stop himself from tensing up beneath Eddie.

Eddie notices. He's quick to to retract himself from Steve, pushing up and back, giving Steve his space. He sits beside Steve on the couch, still close. Not close enough to touch.

It helps. The rigidness of Steve's body relaxes just a bit but Steve doesn’t want that. He wants Eddie back on him. Wants his hands gripping Steve’s side. His breath fanning over Steve’s face, cheeks cherry red and pupils blown wide. Steve doesn’t say any of that and he sure is shit isn't brave enough to ask for it.

Instead, he croaks, “It’s late.”

Steve reluctantly pushes himself up from his slumped position, eyes already searching for his scattered shoes. He misses the way Eddie’s face falls, the way he tries to tug his hair in front of his face to hide the hurt. It takes another second to school his expression.

Steve hears a cough and then Eddie agrees with a murmur. “Yeah, sure.”

The words ache. No part of Steve is relieved to have Eddie agree with him. He’s not sure what he wanted; for Eddie to egg him to stay just a little while longer? To prove that their kisses hadn’t been a heat of the moment impulsivity? There's nothing to prove they weren't.

No, it was Steve who said he had to go. It is late. But then again maybe, Eddie wanted him to leave. But, no— Eddie just asked for a hickie, he wouldn’t—

“Don’t you have work early tomorrow?” Steve’s spiral cuts short at Eddie’s voice, tinged with… irritation?

O-kay. Now Steve’s not sure what to think. What had been the source of immense joy because Steve had asked for a kiss and Eddie said yes is suddenly… tilted.

The beginnings of embarrassment begin to cling to Steve like a thick fog. He’s done it again. Been overly eager. Asked for too much, too soon— fuck, that had been Eddie’s first kiss too.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, standing and shoving his foot into the one shoe he can find. He spies the other one under the table and wiggles it out with his toe. He can’t find in it to look at Eddie, not just yet. “Yeah, uh, I should get going.”

It’s all wrong. Steve shouldn’t be leaving — not on these terms. Not when he can’t look at Eddie for fear of what he’ll find. Regret? Steve’s not sure if he could face Eddie again, not if there’s even a trace of it on his face. It would feel like Halloween all over again, a bludgeon on Steve’s too-soft heart. It’ll crumble, he just knows it.

Steve wants to stay. He really wants to. He wants to ask for another kiss, ask for a dozen more kisses. Wants to give the hickie Eddie asked so nicely for and receive one back; matching love bites, like a gentler version of their matching twisted scars adorning their sides.

But he’s always asking for more. Steve always needs more. It’s greedy. It’s embarrassing how much he wants it, how he’s already gotten patient touches from Eddie but it’s not enough. Eddie had sounded a pinch annoyed — even aggravated at Steve.

It doesn't cross his mind that it might be for any other reason. Really, Steve thinks he’s doing Eddie a favour.

“Um,” Steve clears his throat, takes the wobble out of his words. Nods to himself and chances a glimpse at Eddie. The older is staring down at his lap, locks of hair trapped between twitchy fingers. They should talk about it. Steve’s not brave enough to risk his heart tonight.

“Well, g’night.” He says quietly, letting himself out the trailer door. He closes it behind him gently, shoes tapping against the stairs on the way down. It feels wrong, it feels wrong — but it would be selfish to turn back.

He repeats the sentiment over and over, raspy whispers beneath his breath as he climbs into his car. It would be selfish. The engine turns over and he hesitates for just a moment, hoping to catch a silhouette in the kitchen window. It’s empty. Of course, it’s empty.

Of course, Eddie is not chancing for a glance at him on his way out because Steve just asked for more and more and more, and he took Eddie’s first kiss and then— He whispers it to himself again. It would be selfish to turn back.

When he thinks about it on the drive home, Steve’s sure it all comes back to that stupid fucking clock.

-

Eddie stares in the mirror.

He’s not sure why he was so convinced there would be some radical change in him upon popping his make-out cherry but… well, here he was. Staring in the mirror like he had this morning. Except 10 hours earlier, he had been unkissed.

Tonight, the difference shows. His lips are rosier than usual, a swell to them given by hasty sweet kisses. It’s the only evidence of his spit-sharing moment of passion with Steve on the couch. The rosy colour is already beginning to fade.

Eddie sinks his teeth in. He doesn’t want the only physical proof that he even got to kiss Steve to be gone so soon. Even if that fact seems terribly bitter now.

“What the shit did you do, Munson?” He murmurs to himself in the tiny bathroom mirror.

It’s got toothpaste specks splayed across it. Eddie stares past them. Stares into his own face, reading every change in his features as emotions inside him churn. It’s heading for a distraught expression, the upturn of his brows and quiver in his lips giving him away. He always was a crier. Eddie really wishes he wasn’t.

“Idiot!” He pairs the word with a bang on the wall beside the mirror, frustration leaking out. The toothbrush on the sink shudders in its cup with a clink.

Eddie hates the welling in his eyes. He hates that he ruined the first fuckin’ good thing to happen to him in this town. Loathes that he drives away the first person who actually knows him and still wants to kiss him.

Well, wanted to kiss him.

Eddie’s pretty sure Steve scampering out of the trailer is more than a big enough sign. It’s a blazingly bright neon sign — light up words that say ‘This was a mistake!’

Except, it hadn’t felt at all like a mistake to Eddie. It had felt wonderful, better than anything he had thought, the soft curve of Steve’s lips, the grip on his hands on Eddie’s face, the heat in his face, the— Eddie growls, wiping his hand down his face to shake the thoughts. Too good to be true was what it was.

It’s because of what he said. Of what he asked for. It had to be that. But— but Steve had looked eager and almost excited and then the stupid clock had gone off, scaring the shit out of them both. Maybe it was then that Eddie’s words had sunk in and Steve realised what he’d gotten into— and who he’d gotten into it with.

“You had to ask for more, huh?” Eddie scolds himself angrily, wiping his cheeks harshly when a tear streaks free. Another follows, just as fast. Eddie wipes roughly at his face to clear them. Doesn’t care about the streaks of red he leaves on his cheeks. Another trembling reprimand comes out. “You just had to push it, huh? You fuckin’ idiot.”

Eddie can’t stand his reflection anymore. He tears his gaze away as he spins and heads straight for his room.

The button on his stereo is sticky and it takes a few forceful clicks to turn it on, but when he does, he cranks it. It’s loud enough he’ll surely wake some neighbours. Eddie can’t find it in him to care, not even when the neighbours dog starts off with its incessant barking. Anything to stop hearing himself cry.

-

“Something’s up with Eddie.” is the first thing Robin says when she comes in the front door.

Steve’s mid-yawn when she does, a result of a night of tossing and turning, and he somehow manages a strange choke at her words. In a haste to shut his mouth, he chomps on his fingers covering his mouth — then hisses, pulling it away from his face. He ignores Robin’s perplexed expression, shoving the hand deep in his pocket. His ears feel a tad hotter.

“What? Why? What makes you think that?” Steve asks the questions in rapid succession. Very chill, he chides himself. At this rate, Robin would have him all figured out 10 minutes into their shift.

And it’s not like— well, Robin’s advice is usually great. A bit cut-throat, sure. She doesn’t have a problem trodding on his feelings on her way to tell him the hard truth. Usually, it’s fine. Steve could probably do with a bit of ego-bruising.

Today, he’s… It’s different. That’s what Steve tells himself. This thing with Eddie, he wants to fix it himself. And with too much meddling from Robin’s advice, even if it was with the best intentions, might mix things up too much. It’s hard enough keeping his half-baked apology that’s been brewing since last night in proper order in his mind.

Thankfully, Robin doesn’t comment on his odd demeanor. She just bustles into the back room — there are a couple sounds of her dumping her stuff. When she comes back out the front, she’s fixing her Family Video vest. It looks perfectly straight to Steve.

He checks his own — it’s sitting askew, part of the collar flipped over. He hastily fixes it, running his hands down the front to smooth it a bit.

“Just,” Robin starts, talking as she sits in front of the computer, beginning to take a crack at the admin she managed. She likes doing things as she talks, Steve knows. Helps keep her from letting words run away from her.

Steve’s thankful for it now because she isn’t looking at him when she says, “I think he might have had a bad nightmare last night, or something of that sort. I don’t know. Maybe I’m way off — you know how I am with trying to read people, Steve. I’m not good at it! But when I saw him, he just seemed…”

Robin seems to take an extra moment to deliberate her word choice. Steve’s really glad she’s still facing the computer so she can’t see the myriad of emotions that show on his face.

“…Off.” is the word she decides on.

Which means bad. Steve feels like he’s swallowed a stone. It sinks deep into his stomach. It burns, sour and scorned, twisting up his gut. It means Eddie is bad — it means disappointment, means he regretted it. That Steve had been right; that he’d been too eager, too soon. Too much.

Right. Of course, this happens again. Really, Steve had brought it on himself by asking for so much. It had been one thing to ask for a hug — who actually has to do that? — and then to expect he might get Eddie to kiss him too? What a overstep. Christ, he's an idiot.

“That’s not…” He hears himself say, still lost in his thoughts. It's only when Robin turns on the stool, brows raised, that Steve realises he hasn’t finished his sentence. “Good. That’s not good. To hear.”

Steve turns and starts shuffling around the films on the returns cart, picking them up at random. He stares at a copy of ‘The Princess Bride’ in his hands, a new release, and forces out a causal question.

“What made you think that?” He asks, shoving the film into an empty slot, like he was arranging them. He’s relieved when Robin’s clicking on the keyboard resumes, along with a dramatic sigh.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I can be trusted to read anyone’s emotions correctly at any given time, honestly. Remember that old lady? I thought she was being sweet that whole time and then you told me she was being rude! And I couldn’t even tell…”

Robin’s ramble is comforting and helpful to Steve in a way he didn’t know they could be. He presses the cart out, finally getting a move on with it, but delivers a quick nod to Robin when she’s looking to let her know he’s still tuned in. He listens to her get distracted by another topic and leaves Eddie’s name in the dust. It’s a silent relief.

It’s a task to multi-task, listening and devising a plan, but Steve has all shift to find the balance. It’s sometime between finishing re-stocking the action section and starting the romance that Steve decides he should apologise. He should go over today and apologise.

Eddie’s a big boy but Steve’s fairly certain now, if he regretted it, Eddie had probably felt obliged to kiss him back. Probably hadn’t minded the first kiss but- but— Something sticks in his brain; it was Eddie’s first kiss.

It makes Steve feel worse. It doesn’t matter, really, Steve should say sorry for all of it. God, he’s such an idiot.

By the time he’s clocked out, it’s all set in place. He’s got a dozen different apologies running in a loop in his head, reciting the words in time with his anxious tapping on the steering wheel. It’s not a long drive out to Forest Hills Trailer Park. The drive is well-known now. Steve tries hard not to wallow in what he might be losing today. What he lost because he’d been too greedy with want.

The sight of a brown van parked roadside yanks him from his thoughts. Eddie’s van. Steve’s stomach turns, nerves gnawing faster. He slows, trying to catch eye of the other boy as he rolls to a stop behind the van. The sun is beginning to dip closer to the horizon, the temperature going with it.

At the same time, they see each other; Eddie’s head popping around the raised hood to see who had stopped, right as Steve pops his door. Eddie retreats in an instant. Steve's chest grows a bit tighter.

Gravel crunches underfoot as Steve takes a few wary steps closer. It doesn’t take more than a couple before Eddie calls out. He doesn’t bother poking his head out again.

“Go away, Steve.”

Steve swallows thickly. Yeah, okay, he deserves that. He deserves probably worse than that. But more importantly than that, Eddie deserves to hear this. And Steve... needs to not lose Eddie.

“Can I… can we talk?” Steve asks, taking a couple steps closer. A car whizzes by on the road, hidden from Steve's view behind the van. He still keeps his distance, hovering. His hands clench nervously at his sides. Steve shoves them deep in his jean pockets, wiping the sweat off them as he goes.

“What part of ‘Go away’ isn’t clear enough for you?” Eddie snarks back. He still doesn't stick his head out, still won’t look at Steve. It stings.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Steve starts, another instinctive step forward taken. “I-I just, I shouldn’t have left like I did last night. I wanted to apologise.”

There’s a clattering from behind the hood like Eddie’s dropped a tool. He swears. Steve wants to take another step, wants to see Eddie — wants to read every emotion and apologise for causing any of the ugly ones.

“Well, apology accepted,” Eddie responds. There’s a bite in his words. His next words are grumblier, quieter. “And message fuckin’ received.”

What? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That—” Finally, Eddie steps away from the van, rounding the hood to march up to Steve. His arms cross over his chest, a wrinkle set between his brows that pull his face into a glare. Robin was right; he is off. This isn’t normal Eddie. Fuck, Steve had fucked up bad.

“That means message received, Steve.” Eddie seethes. He uncrosses his arms to gesture wildly. Steve misses the wobble in his bottom lip. “Message received loud and clear! I get it!”

And all Steve wants to ask is: get what? He doesn’t ask that. He should know what. That would be an idiotic question, would make Eddie more irritated. Lord knows, Steve has been enough of a fool in the last day. So, he doesn’t ask.

“Look, I just…” Steve starts, words a bit weak. They die in his throat as he tries to recall a single apology he had practiced all day and comes up empty. “I’m just- I just wanted—look, I’m sorry I took your first kiss!”

It’s not exactly what he means to say, but Steve certainly is sorry for it. Eddie’s expression wavers, some anger slipping away. Confusion takes its place.

“What?” Eddie says with a tone of bafflement. “What are you talking about?”

“And I’m sorry I kept… kept asking for more.” Steve continues on, pulling on the thread inside him, connected to the terrible stone he swallowed earlier. He tugs it. Hopes pulling it will unravel the guilt sitting heavy in his stomach.

Steve scrunches his eyes shut and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I know, okay? I know that I can be a lot.” He sighs and drops his hands.

“But I didn’t mean to… shit,” He wrenches his eyes open. Eddie’s a bit wide-eyed now, brown eyes watching him intently. Steve doesn’t know what expression he’s wearing, can’t tell if it’s good or worse. He continues, soft words scraping out his throat.

“I didn’t mean to be like that with you.”

Eddie searches Steve’s face, eyes darting and wild. He licks his lips. His hands are in motion, fingers twisting rings, quick and fast. It’s a nervous action.

“What do you mean by ‘like that?’” Eddie asks, voice gentler. It's lost its snarl from before.

Steve blinks, a scrape of teeth worrying his bottom lip. He murmurs his admittance lowly, just one word, “Selfish.”

Eddie doesn’t try to hide his surprise; it ripples across his face in a wave. Confusion melts away into something closer to, Steve hopes desperately, relief. Steve can feel his own heart thudding hard inside his chest — can feel the beat it skips when Eddie steps closer.

“Steve?” Eddie says, sounding unlike himself. Steve’s never heard his voice that small. He nods, wordlessly. Eddie searches his face once more — wide brown eyes scanning and devouring. Steve can’t help but do the same.

He drinks in the details of Eddie’s face; the soft scruff along his top lip, the darkness of his lashes and the way they kiss in the corner that Steve adores. The pink of his lips. The familiar ache to kiss Eddie surges up within him, still as violent and strong as it had been the night before.

Steve should really stop looking at Eddie’s lips. He’s supposed to be apologising. He drags his eyes up and meets Eddie’s gaze full-on, prepared for whatever he might say. Except, he’s not expecting him at all to say;

“Can I... try this again?” It comes out a ragged breath, Eddie's scared eyes conveying the weight behind his words.

And this time Steve doesn't even need to ask what because he knows. Because Eddie's hands are reaching up and holding either side of Steve's face so gently. Steve can't recall a time he's ever been held so softly. His own hands come up slowly, draping around Eddie's wrists to hold them, to keep them there.

Eddie's thumb traces. It draws a sweet line of that familiar fire beneath Steve's skin along til it's settled on Steve's bottom lip, resting. The blood under Eddie's thumb thrums, gloriously warm, aching with want. Yes. Steve thinks. Yes, yes, yes.

"Yes, please." Steve breathes, so sincere the words comes out as a kiss against Eddie's thumb.

So, Eddie kisses him.

now with a part four !

tags below! sry if i tagged u and u didn't want it just tagging everyone who replied <3 @they-reap-what-we-sow @impeachy @anaibis @resident-gay-bitch @ediewentmissing @newtstabber @original-cypher @invisibleflame812 @hunterbow04 @leather-and-freckles @dracoswifeandlokispet @foolofentirelytoomanyfandoms @lfaewrites @sundead @call-me-big-eyes @the-redthread @goblinmanifesto @etaka @bishopextractions @ketterfuck @persephone13 @beckkthewreck @maya-custodios-dionach @autumnal-dawn @yourstrulyjoko @gleefully-macabre @princess-eddie @savory-babby

[shima-draws]

THIS IS EVERYTHING ACTUALLY

[omnicviolence]

GHOST FAN SPOTTED ‼️ terzomega matching graphics ? OR raindrop stimboard ???? please n thank you :-)

stares at u autistically im not just a ghost fan you silly :3 im a fictive of one of em >:) ill do both!! you'll have to check later for the terzomega graphics though :)

-- Raindrop (Ghost Band) Stimboard

-- Creds ;

x x x || x x x || x x x

[salted15]

do not mess with chilly in a snowball fight @matchamiel​

[hivepixels]

.

[citrusreseedarling]

hi!!! hello!! :0!!

HIII LIV!! Feel free to leave anything for any of us!! :D

[leftovers11]

School is turning me into mush so I'm trying to get back into drawing for funzies :)

These goobers are literally my favorite I loved their dynamic throughout the series ehehe >:)

[bluu3berry]

Ink and error

WANTED TO POST A 3RD DRAWING! js didn't know where to post it EHEH,, so uhh ya! I posted these goobers:3

Love how I drew ink, and error in this kinda likee those scribbly eyes but not to much!

@anon-coke @scramble-eg @skeletonsboring @thelunarsystemwrites @the-second-reason

[drawbauchery]

people calling Hajime a slut as if they're not the ones who hear "We're at a beach let's take off our clothes" and undertsand "Let's get naked" instead of "Let's get in our swuimsuits"

I'm calling out the sdr2 class!!! they're just like Hajime! Goodbye despair more like Hello whor- *gets runover by the bus*

um, eheh, no way.

look at how polite, wholesome, and pleasant these goobers were before hajime. they're even praying.

and now look at what happened AFTER HE SHOWED UP!!

he introduced them to adult topics and drugs. they are literally GLOWING RED WITH DEGENERACY. DISGRACEFUL.

[justydrawz]

LUUUNNAAAARRRRR a very silly goober my favorite ehehe (his character development is actually top tier)

[visinox]

What is your favorite ship and why?👀👀👀

Ehehe what a question :) I'll answer this for iterator ships! I do have favorite slugcat ships as well but those will come with my slugcat design post.

I have two favorites actually, that would be trafficlight and lilypad! Both of which are present with my version of the iterators.

Trafficlight is appealing to me in a way I haven't really found a way to articulate ahah. I just think Hara and Suns' personalities provide excellent contrast, I always am a sucker for the charismatic bold type and shy nervous type falling for each other. With the added layers of Suns making mistakes at times and Hara having the guts to tell them how it is.

With how I portray trafficlight, they realize their feelings at the exact same time but have absolutely opposite responses. Hara accepts it and begins to watch if Suns feels the same, while Suns is absolutely petrified AAHAH.

My version of Suns is quite cynical and tends to overthink, they also feel obligated to not go against the ancient's wishes lest something terrible happen (at least they think something might). They feel if they were to love Hara they would become tethered to life, which obviously they aren't supposed to be. So they fear angering the ancients spirits or whatever.

They are also aware they are absolutely head over heels for Hara, and they also fear loving him too much- Like they won't know how to move on when something bad inevitably happens.

Meanwhile, Hara has none of this existential dread LMAO. He doesn't care what the ancients think, and he has accepted they will all meet an end at some point, so they might as well enjoy things while it lasts. It takes Suns time to calm their anxieties, but they do eventually.

My version of Lilypad, meanwhile, is queerplatonic! That's why I kind of struggle tagging it as specifically lilypad- But y'know AHHWFUIIHFW. I will probably in the future though just with the addition of queerplatonic tags :) I'm still a bit new at this Tumblr buidness

But mine at least, they have an incredibly intimate friendship, they love each other very much, they know each other better then anyone else, they are besties 5 ever

If Suns is Hara's romantic soulmate, Moon is Hara's platonic soulmate. They are the oldest in their local group so they have a very particular "old friend" dynamic, something they call each other frequently. They're just a couple of geezers, they've always been a constant for each other through thick and thin.

I love this because they're just two goobers who love each other and I love that for them! They're mellow, like to have a good laugh, a very comfortable ship indeed. When things aren't going to hell that is.

And that's the post!

So sorry it was a bit lengthy, but thank you for asking this, and thank you for reading! It was very fun to answer aha. And both include Hara, alas he has two hands for a reason <3.

[anonwrites2233]

As promised… a little bit of lee Veneer ;3

Velvet is embarrassed and big mad at Veneer so he pays the price for it lol

Velvet was ANNOYED.

And Veneer had been incredibly annoying all day.

So she wanted to seek out some revenge.

Especially for what he pulled earlier that day.

Velvet and Veneer had an interview again, and Veneer was being a cheeky lil shit, and tickled her and caused her to squeal and laugh pretty loud during the interview and it made her highly embarrassed.

Kid Ritz couldn’t help but laugh at the two siblings, and Orchid (who had been watching was absolutely squealing and fangirling at this info about Velvet LOL) but after the interview a very red in the face Velvet had shoved her brother down on the couch in the dressing room.

“VENEER! How DARE you embarrass me like that?!”

Veneer couldn’t help but laugh nervously.

“Eheh… I-I was just playin Vels… s-sorry??”

“You WILL be sorry for what you pulled on me back there!!”

She wasted no time in digging her fingers into his sides and causing Veneer to squeal and bust out laughing.

“EEEAHAHAHHAA VEHEHELS!! IHIHM SAHAHAREHEEE!! MEHEHERCEHEHEE!!”

Velvet was enjoying torturing him already and just kept at it, making sure to get his ribs as well.

“I don’t think you’re sorry enough yet!”

“IEHEHE AM HEHEHHEE!! NOHO WAHAHAHIT-!!”

Veneer was very much so a drama queen when it came to this and was whining in between his laughs. You can tell he didn’t mind it though, he enjoyed just goofing around and playing with his sis, and he definitely knew he had it coming!

Velvet smirked and just kept teasing now scribbling along his stomach.

“Don’t think you didn’t have this coming! I’ll decide when you’ve had enough.”

Veneer just kept giggling like the goober that he was, honestly he was having fun despite how torturous it was for him. Veneer also just wanted to let his sister let out whatever steam she had on him. He could take it, or could he? He screamed when she went for his armpits.

“AAAAHHAHAAHA WAHAHAHAIT!! ANOOHOANOTTHEHEHERE!!”

Velvet grinned in satisfaction and just kept at it.

“Can’t take what you dish out huh baby bro~? You knew what was going to happen if you kept provoking me didn’t you?”

Veneer was red and absolutely in hysterics. Yeah ok, he did know what would happen! Maybe he just liked bonding with his sister and seeing her happy, and getting to play and have affection given to him. It kind of felt nice. Even if it tickled so badly.

“NYEHEHEHHEE—!! IHII SAHAHAID I WAS SAHAHAREEHEE VELHEHELS!!”

Velvet scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Like I believe that.”

She then went to his hips and squeezed, causing Veneer to squeal and jump.

“AHH—!! OHOKAKAHAY IHIHI GIHIVEEE!! PLEHEHEASE!!”

Velvet shook her head.

“Let’s see, not only did you tickle me at this interview, but last I checked, you CONSTANTLY bug me and get ALL my spots, I think it’s only fair I do the same to you for being the bratty little brother that you are!”

Veneer snorted and smacked at the couch, kicking wildly as Velvet went for his thighs.

“VEHEHEHLHEHEHE!! IHIHI WOHOHONT BOHOTHER YOHOHOU ANYMOHORE!!!”

Velvet snorted a laugh.

“Yeah right!”

Veneer kept trying to plead his way out but it obviously wasn’t working, so he just threw his head back and kept laughing his head off. He was in tears now and just let his sister continue on.

He screamed when she went behind his knees.

Velvet smirked as her brother smacked the couch wildly and kept cackling like crazy.

“This is what you deserve~”

“AHAHAHA VEHEHEHELS!! PLEHEHEASE— OHOHOGOHOD—!!”

She immediately went for his feet straight after, causing him to snort and smack the couch even more.

“OHAOHOKAHAHAY IHIHI GIHIHIVE!! PLEHEHEASE VEHEHELVS!!”

Velvet kept going.

“Hm idk… whats in it for me~?”

Veneer snorted and tried to bargain.

“IHIHILL LEHEHEAVE YOU BEHEHE AHAHAND WEHEHEE CAN GOHO SHOPPING AHAHAFTER THIS- IHIHIL DRIHIVE UHUHS— HEHEHE!!”

Velvet looked intrigued and immediately stopped.

“Ooo that sounds fun actually! Let’s go now!”

Veneer panted and laid there trying to catch his breath.

“O-ohakay… p-please give me a sec… oof…”

Velvet was already running out the door shouting at Veneer to hurry up, and Veneer, lightheaded stumbled onto his feet to go after her. Living with Velvet was a handful. But he loved his sister dearly and would do just about anything for her, even if she was a lil brat at times.

Veneer would definitely give Velvet a break for now though.

[sixpossumsinatrenchcoat]

Memories of Touch — Part 2

Just a comfy lil In Stars in Time afterword! An epilogue to the epilogue! Some cozy postgame fluff for those of us who are still choking on our own emotions! Spoilers abound for the entire game, so... you know. You've been warned.

Isabeau has shared a bed with Siffrin a million times before. It’s normal. It’s totally super normal. That must be why he feels so crabbing normal.

[You can read part one here]

The night after the world doesn’t end, the whole party camps out in the Clocktower. It’s the sleepover they were supposed to have yesterday, except that Sif was too busy having a really unkind manic episode. (Not that Isabeau can blame them. It sounds like the past two days have been a really stressful year.)

There are only three beds in the loft, but that’s okay. Siffrin’s never minded sharing.

…Though things are a little different now.

###

“Ehehe,” Siffrin giggles to themself, when they see the bed.

Isabeau can’t help grinning, too. “What, d’you think of a new joke? Lay it on me!!”

“Oh. Um. Not exactly. It’s just… you tried to confess here, too.”

Oof. “Just ‘tried,’ huh?”

Sif nods.

Rrrright. Of course he did. It probably shouldn’t come as a surprise. “Guess I didn’t pull it off, then, huh?”

“It’s okay,” Sif tells him. “It was. Um. Cute. I think it kept me going, the first few loops. When the King still killed us every time.”

(Cute.) “Siiiiif! I don’t wanna be cute!! I wanna be cool and tough!!!”

“You’re cool and tough,” Sif agrees easily. “You can be cool and tough and cute.”

“It’s too many adjectives!!!!”

Sif shakes their head. “Never enough.”

###

Isabeau has shared a bed with Siffrin a million times before. It’s normal. It’s totally super normal. That must be why he feels so crabbing normal.

Even with his eyes closed, he can feel the space between them like a hole in his chest. He keeps catching himself counting their breaths, each one another moment’s reassurance that Sif is still here, alive, with him. Every little rustle of motion pumps the bellows on the fire in his belly. Kindling catching and sparking and curling.

…Aw, crab, he can’t help it. He has to see them.

When he opens his eyes, his breath catches. Sif is awake. Their huge bright eye is open wide, locked onto Isabeau’s face with the single-minded focus of a cat watching a very transfixing speck of dust. Isa opens his mouth to say something normal but nothing comes out. Nothing about this is normal.

“Isa?” Siffrin whispers.

(Be crabbing normal.) “What’s up, Sif?”

“You still won’t touch me.”

Isabeau freezes.

“So. I guess I wondered… Why?”

H-Haha! Ha ha ha!! What an excellent question!!! Why indeed!!!!!!!

Isabeau is— It’s just that he’s!!! It’s not an easy habit to break, okay???

Isabeau has always been a touchy person. It’s the best way he knows how to love someone. Touch is a universal language, one of the few that translates between the geekiest of geeks and the goofiest of goobers. And it feels nice!! It makes everyone feel nice!! Why wouldn’t he hug the people he loves when it feels so crabbing nice!!!

That’s why, when Siffrin joined the party, Isabeau had to work so hard to keep his hands off them. Especially because they were so silly, and so cute. Like a fluffy little kitty in a big floppy hat.

But whenever anyone stepped too close, Sif would flinch like a dog waiting for a kick.

Isabeau isn’t stupid. He can read a room. And he’d rather die than make anyone uncomfortable. So he learned to keep his distance. To bite his tongue and keep his hands to himself and, and—!!!

—and that’s what hurt them the most, in the end. Isabeau never tried to touch them, even though he touched everyone else; so of course Sif noticed, and they just figured he hated them. This whole time Isa was watching them, sitting on his hands and choking on all the things that he was too afraid to say to them, and Sif thought he was keeping his distance because he didn’t care.

“I’m sorry,” Isabeau whispers. “I guess it’s a sort of habit. I—um. I had to... try really hard, to not touch you.” This part is embarrassing, but he has to say it, because otherwise Sif won’t understand. “B-Because I wanted to so much. So it's… I guess it’s hard to stop being careful.”

“Is that why you pushed me away?”

“Huh?”

“In the loop where I kissed you.”

OH, WELL IF THAT’S ALL.

Fireworks. Cataclysm. Continents splitting and colliding. Sif might as well have wrapped both hands around Isabeau's lungs and squeezed.

Isabeau’s eyes burn. His palms itch. Even just hearing it is almost too much. To know that Sif wanted to be closer, too… That they wanted it badly enough to reach out and pull him down by the collar and— Oh, crab, he really can’t think about that. He can’t bear to think about it. He can’t think about anything else. “Um??”

“You pushed me away, after,” Sif explains. “Right after. Like you were. Um. Disgusted.”

“Huh???” But—no. He wouldn’t. Why would he…

Sif looks a little embarrassed. “I… didn’t really warn you. Or ask if it was okay, or anything. I was just… I guess I got impatient.”

Isabeau’s chest aches. The thought of Siffrin yearning for him, burning for him, is a little more than he can think about right now. “Ehehe, umm… Hehe… Y-Yeah. I guess that’s probably why.” He feels a pang of sympathy for his past self. Poor guy must've totally blown a fuse.

“But you want to.”

“To… touch you?”

Sif nods.

“Ehehe,” Isabeau giggles helplessly. “Um. Y-Yeah. Yeah. Yes. I… think about it. A normal amount. Which is a lot. I tried not to, but I… wasn’t very good at it. But I didn’t want to scare you!!”

Sif’s stare sharpens into a glare. “I’m not scared.”

Well, that makes one of us. “Hehe. Yeah. I’ve been getting that impression.”

Sif pouts. It’s cute. Obviously. Everything Siffrin does is cute.

Isabeau beams at them. “Aw, Siiii~iiff. What do you want me to do? Anything. Just say the word.”

“You say that,” Sif mutters. “You always say stuff.”

Isabeau gathers his courage. He can do this. It’s not like Sif is asking for a hug or anything. He’s just got to start small. “Um. Here, um… G-Give me your hand.”

Sif blinks at him. Then they lift one arm, leaving their hand half-curled on the pillow between them.

Move, Isabeau. For crab’s sake, it’s holding hands. You’ve been holding hands for as long as you’ve had hands. This is baby-tier intimacy. So just do it. Do it. MOVE!!!

The tips of his fingers brush Sif’s.

Isabeau can feel it like a wound. A lightning-strike straight to the brainstem. Siffrin’s hands are so small, like raccoon paws. They almost never take off their gloves, so there’s something painfully exposing about seeing them like this. The pale, untouched skin of their palm.

Sif takes an unsteady breath. “Oh,” they whisper. “I see.”

Before Isabeau can remember how to talk, Sif is already moving. The pads of their fingers skate down his, tracing a line down his palm with the most tentative, featherlight touch, like he might break if they don’t treat him gently. Isabeau can feel it like a brand. Sif is touching him. On purpose. They’re touching him and they’re doing it on purpose, because they want to, because apparently they always wanted to. Oh, crab, it feels like his heart is going to burst.

“Warm,” Sif mumbles. “Are you always so warm?”

“H-Haha. Um. No.” That would be his circulatory system totally blowing a gasket.

“Hm.” Two fingers slide down his wrist, climbing a few inches up his shirtsleeve before slipping back down to his palm. Isa’s hand closes on reflex. Habit almost makes him flinch, but he can’t trust Sif not to come to the worst possible conclusion. He holds his breath and forces himself still, waiting for Sif to pull away.

…Sif doesn’t pull away.

Isabeau lets out a shuddering breath.

Sif squeezes their eye shut for a second, their face scrunching in the way it does when their feelings get a little too big to hold. Then they look up at him, frowning. “You’re very warm. Are you sure you’re not sick?”

“H-Haha!! Um!! Not… physically?”

Siffrin gives him a blank stare.

“Um,” Isabeau rushes to explain. “Y-You know, like. ‘I’ve got a fever, and the only cure is—’”

“I’m going to try to kiss you,” Sif says flatly.

Isabeau’s heart stops.

“So.” Sif clears their throat. “That’s your warning. So you can stop me if you want. But—preferably with your words. Um. Now, please.”

Isabeau doesn’t even breathe.

“Okay,” Sif whispers. “Okay. Then, um…” He frowns a little, gathering his resolve, before shifting just a hairsbreadth closer.

Probably Isa should close his eyes—contrary to just, like, everything about him, he does in fact know how this works—but he can’t make himself look away, not when Sif is burning so bright with resolve. Their hand is still trapped in his so he can feel them trembling, shaking all over like a ship in high seas, but they’re being so brave and it makes the fire in his chest flare even hotter. Sif takes a deep breath and that seems like a good idea, so Isabeau does it too, but it must only work for Sif because Isabeau can’t seem to get any calmer.

Sif leans in—

—and then they just. Stop.

“Oh,” they say quietly. “Hm.”

“S-Sif?” Isabeau squeaks. “You’re kinda killing me here.”

Sif looks faintly amused, which might be infuriating if it wasn't so cute. “Sorry. It turned out I couldn’t do it.”

“Why not????”

“Too scary.”

Oh. Yeah. That makes sense. (Not that Isabeau can relate or anything.)

“And it’s probably… rude?”

Ohh. Right. There are three other people asleep on the other side of the room. They're all so exhausted from fighting the King that they could probably sleep through several earthquakes and a hurricane, but it's the principle of the thing. Isabeau isn’t being spineless. He’s just being… principled. Probably.

“And there’s… time, now,” Sif says softly. “So. I can always try again later.”

Isabeau can’t suppress a flinch. Right. Because of course it's all on Siffrin. They already know that they’re sharing a bed with the biggest coward in the whole stupid country. Isabeau already kept them waiting for an entire year of the same stupid day. “Um. Sif?”

“Isa?”

“Am I a huge loser?”

Siffrin snorts a laugh. “No.”

“How do you still like me after seeing what I’m really like???”

“I like that you’re a coward,” Sif says simply. Matter-of-fact. Like they’re just remarking on the weather, and not blowing a smoking crater through Isabeau’s whole worldview. “It just makes it cooler when you decide to be brave.”

Isabeau’s head feels light. “…I really love you, okay?”

Sif nods.

“No, but like. Really.”

Another nod. “I know.”

Of course they do. They’ve been watching him try to say it for an entire time-stuck year.

…Crab, but he’s pathetic.

Isabeau can hear his pulse thudding in his ears. His heart is battering at his sternum like it's trying to fight its way out. But he’s already kept them waiting so long. Sif has done so much for him, so much more than they could ever know, and this is— This is something he can do for them.

Tentatively, with excruciating gentleness, he brushes their bangs to one side and presses his lips to their forehead. He can hear Sif’s breath catch and it’s just encouragement enough for Isabeau to will his arm into motion, carding his fingers through their hair before his hand comes to rest at the nape of their neck. Siffrin smells like ash and moonlight. Like sugar and silver and salt.

When he draws back to read their reaction, Sif’s face is violently flushed. Their pupil is blown wide, like a cat that saw a squirrel. Or like someone who’s been waiting on a total coward for an entire year of the same shitty day.

“Wow,” Isabeau whispers.

Sif nods vigorously. Then they tug on the end of his sleeve. “Take this off.”

(UM????) “Sif???”

“Isa.”

“A-Are you going to ravish me?”

Sif chokes on a laugh. “Stars. You can calm down. No one’s getting ravished.”

…Aw.

“I just wanted to see you. More of you. I guess I want…” Sif looks away, letting their hair fall over their face. “…Never mind. It’s stupid.”

“I bet it’s not.”

“You’ll think it’s stupid.”

“I bet I wo~on’t.”

Sif rolls their eye. “I wanted to. Um. Memorize you, I guess. So I can’t forget. So even if you’re different later, or… you Change into someone who wants something else… I’ll still know you were real.”

“Siiiif!!!!” Isa wails, as quietly as he can manage while totally losing his mind. “You’re gonna make me cry!!!!”

Siffrin looks baffled. “What? Why?”

“And why would I think that was stupid????”

“Because it… goes against Change?”

“Loving someone doesn’t go against Change!!” Isabeau says indignantly. “Love, like, is Change!!! You’ve already changed me so much!! You change me all the time!!!!”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh huh!!!!”

Sif rolls their eye. “By—upsetting you, or making you anxious—”

“Nnnnnnnope! By being the funniest guy I’ve ever seen! And being totally stupid-cool in a crisis! And only always doing what you want!”

Siffrin huffs a laugh. “You have no idea what I want.”

“So tell me!!!”

“I—” Sif hesitates. “I just mean. Everything you think about me… It’s just because I got to decide what happened, for a while. I’m the only one who had the script, so of course I could say all the right lines. But the whole time, it was all just—”

“Sif!!!!” Isabeau cuts in. “You were so mean!!!!!”

Siffrin’s eye widens.

“I don’t love you ‘cause you got god-powers for two stupid days! Which you spent being really mean, by the way! And going off on your own! And being reckless and thoughtless and scaring the crab out of everyone!!!”

Sif looks painfully regretful.

Isabeau curses himself. Why can’t he be better at this? “Nonono, I don’t mean— I just meant!! I don’t love you because you time traveled!! I love you ‘cause of all the stuff before!!”

Now they’re really confused. “What? No. But I wasn’t—”

“You were!! Super lovable!! The whole time!!!”

Sif gives him a critical squint. “That… doesn’t seem right.”

“But it is!!!”

“…Huh,” Sif says. “Um. Well. No accounting for taste.” He tugs on Isa’s shirtsleeve. “So take this off already.”

Isabeau flushes. “You—um. Are you—”

“We just did this,” Sif says impatiently. “No one’s getting ravished. I just want to look.”

Isabeau heaves a sigh. “If I take off my shirt, do you promise to stop thinking that I fell in love with you because you ‘tricked me,’ or anything stupid like that?”

“Yes.”

“Sif!! That was too fast!!!!”

Sif shrugs.

“Pffff,” Isabeau sputters. “You’re a real piece of work, do you know that?”

Siffrin’s face darkens. “Yes.”

“Aw, come on, I didn’t mean—” But that’s when he notices the spark in Siffrin’s eye. “Sif!! Are you messing with me???”

“I’m not sure,” Sif says archly. “I haven’t decided.”

###

When he wriggles out of his shirt, Siffrin’s eye gets very wide. “Oh,” they whisper.

Isabeau cringes. Right. Sif didn't join the party till the weather had already started to turn, so of course they haven’t seen his scar.

Body Craft has made a lot of advances in the past few years. If he wanted, Isabeau could have got rid of the scarring. But he kind of likes it. It makes his Change feel more… personal? Like a grave marker for his old life, stamped right on his chest. Or like an exoskeleton or something. Armor that grew around his former self. "…Is it weird?"

Siffrin shakes their head fast. “Pretty.”

Isabeau flushes. “Aw, you’re just saying that.”

“I’m really not."

“It’s okay if you—”

“No,” Sif says quickly. “It’s not like that. It’s just. Um.” They trace the scar with the tip of one finger, point by point by point. Isabeau can feel all the hair on his neck stand up straight. “It’s… like a star.”

“You don’t… mind?”

Sif huffs another laugh. “Isa. I’m— You’re. It’s not… You really shouldn’t like me like this.”

“Why the crab not???”

“I’m not like you,” Sif says grimly. They flash another smile, but this one doesn’t reach their eyes. “I’m—um. Well. It doesn’t matter, because you’re just going to disagree. But I’m really not how you think. I was just pretending so people would like me. There’s nothing really true about me. I’m… not good. Or honest. Or even really real.”

“And I am?”

“...Obviously?”

“Hah. C’mon, Sif, you should know better. You’re the one who said it.” All the stuff that Siffrin said before running off to fight the King alone… Of course it stung. It still stings. But it only hurt so bad because Isabeau knew that they were right. “You’re, like, the only one who knows that I’m a total fake. I only Changed on the outside. Underneath, I’m the same spineless loser as always.”

“You’re not—”

“Sif.”

Siffrin falls silent. Of course they know the truth of it. They’ve seen Isabeau try to be brave a hundred different times, in a hundred different lifetimes. And they’ve seen him weasel out every. Single. Time.

Isa smiles unhappily. “So… you know what I’m like. And you still wanna… um. Be around me, or whatever.”

“…Uh huh.”

“S-So get bent, Sif!! You don’t know anything!! You’re not doing any worse than me!!!”

Sif quirks an eyebrow. “I think I’m doing a little worse.”

“You’re not!!! You’re just—” But it's pointless. Sif has already made up his mind. “Oh… It doesn’t matter!!! No one is more real than anyone else, is all I’m saying!! We’re all just trying not to suck!!!! And sometimes being sucky is our first instinct, but we still have to try!!!"

“Oh,” Sif says quietly. They chew their lip for a moment, like they’re actually thinking about it. “Is that true?”

“Huh? Yeah! Of course!!”

“…Oh.”

“You didn’t know?”

“I didn’t know.”

Pfff. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I know,” Sif says seriously. “It’s my best quality.”

“It soooo isn’t.”

“That and my pun-derful sense of humor.”

“…Okay, that might actually be one of your best qualities.”

Sif nods sagely. “Why be actually wise when you can crack wise instead?”

Isabeau stifles a laugh against his pillow.

“No wonder I could solo the House,” Sif says airily. “I don't even need Piercing Craft to leave 'em in stitches. Ehh?"

“HAH!!!” Oops. That was definitely too loud.

Sure enough, a half-second later, there’s a blur of white. Siffrin doesn’t even look. His arm flicks out and swipes the pillow right out of the air. “Sorry, Bonnie.”

“We’re sorry, Bonbon!!!”

“Not yet,” hisses Madame Odile, with audible murderous intent. “But you will be soon if you don’t shut. Up.”

“Oooooh!!” Bonnie cackles. “Dile said a swear!!!”

“‘Shut up’ is not a swear, Boniface.”

“So I can say it too???”

“No.”

“You guys,” Mirabelle says pitifully. “Please… I didn’t beat the King just to die of sleep deprivation…”

“Sorry sorry sorry!!!” Isabeau wails. “We’ll be quiet!!! We’re being so quiet!!!”

Sif nods his agreement. “So quiet, you can hear a pun drop.”

“Siffrin,” Madame Odile hisses. “One more joke, and you won’t live to see tomorrow.”

Siffrin’s eye lights up. Oh, crab, they definitely just thought of another one.

Before they can draw breath, Isabeau clamps a hand over their mouth. “Good night, you guys!! We love you!!! And your merciful nature!! And also our continued survival!!!”

“Hrmph,” Odile huffs.

“Gross!!” Bonnie giggles.

“Love you guys so much,” mumbles Mirabelle, already half-asleep.

Isabeau raises his eyebrows at Sif, like, Are you going to be good?

Sif wrinkles their nose at him, then rolls their eye. Fine. But only under duress.

###

Sif passes out maybe two seconds after the room goes quiet. Isabeau can’t say the same. How is he supposed to get sleepy with Sif’s back pressed snugly to his chest? With his arm wrapped tight around them and their little hands still clutching onto his, like even in sleep, they’re trying to get closer? How is he ever going to fall asleep when he's living out his giddiest, most far-flung fantasy in real life?

But when he opens his eyes, it’s already morning.

###

They’ve both shifted a little in sleep. Siffrin’s wrapped around him like a climbing vine, half-awake but still dozing. When they feel him stirring, they give him a crooked smile.

“It’s—” Sif hesitates. “Do you… um. Or. We… don’t have plans to fight the King today, do we?”

Isabeau shakes his head. “You’re okay, Sif. It’s done.”

He watches them take that in. The light in their eye is wondering, reverent. “…It’s really tomorrow?”

“Really really.”

Sif lifts one hand to their chest. They take a deep breath in… and out. “Wow,” they whisper. “Cool.”

Then they tuck themself into the crook of his arm and go back to sleep.

I don't have any particular plans to write more, but I am subject to my own whims, so.... if you wanna find out if I do, feel free to swing by ao3 & subscribe to the series!

[basilpaste]

hello there basilpaste, owner of the of stitches in sequence isabeau. silly question first, isabeau really DOES see alternate siffrins and falls for them because he's a goober, isn't he? secondly....... does bonnie still die to the king? or is it siffrin?

hello tumblr user pixxyofice, one of two writers of bound through time, bonded through love and time loop support group extraordinaire. yes he does :D

and. ehe. ehehe....

(surrounding text cut for secrets reasons).

isa never trusts the king. he approaches the encounter differently. what was different this time? was it something he said? it must have been. this had never... happened before.

its all his fault.

its all his fault.

[ananasdoodless]

some bloodborne oldies I found ehehe silly goober