#little more than strangers

[son1c]

If Shadow had died instead of Prism, what would have happened?

Sorry for the random question, just insanely interested in how u play character arcs in your AU

an entirely different story, probably! definitely! sonic is hurt by prism's death, but losing him is nothing compared to how it'd feel to lose shadow. and that's because deep down, sonic knows the shatterspace versions of his friends... aren't his real friends.

sure, sonic isn't UNAFFECTED by prism's death, but if it had been shadow in his place? he would be changed.

[puppppppppy]

this place is so fruity

[so-i-did-this-thing]

A great shot of my Mysterious Stranger by dtjaaaam over on insta!

Leatherwork by me, mask by @feralworks

[ghost-proofbaby]

kissing lessons

summary: you and robin have already shared several firsts as best friends: your first time holding hands, your first time cuddling someone, your first time flirting. so what's a little platonic kissing?

pairing: robin buckley x fem!reader

warnings: lots of sapphic pining, yearning, etc. assumed unrequited love. hopeless crushing. doing romantic things and claiming they're totally platonic when they very much are not. mentions of reading trying to conform to the 80s standards by dating a boy. reader is explicitly female (which should be given since robin is canonically a lesbian)

wc: 3.4k+

a/n: this one was a long time coming. it's based off of my own first kiss, loosely.

part 2

Being best friends with Robin Buckley has always been about growing – together.

Life has a plethora of lessons for young souls to learn in time, and some of those lessons were simply hard. The first time you picked up a musical instrument and attempted to play your very first note, and it sounded atrocious. Nothing like the movies, more difficult than you could have ever imagined. The first time you walked the halls of your high school, and the terrifying first wave of panic at the realization you’d need to learn the map of the lands in order to navigate that maze for the next four years. The first time you walked into a classroom all of two minutes late, and the first shatter of embarrassment in your chest as every eye in the room turned to you. The first time you trip over your own laces on your way to Chemistry, the first time you impulsively cut your hair with the kitchen scissors, the first time a boy asked you out as a joke, and the first time someone asked you out genuinely only to fumble over every single word. Your first school dance, your first time cooking pasta from scratch, your first time attending a concert without a chaperone. 

Firsts, firsts, firsts. Life is simply full of them, and they never get any easier or kinder, but having a best friend at your side certainly makes it all bearable. 

Robin Buckley was that rock for you. And you, for her. 

It’s sort of how you got into this mess to begin with. 

“It’s going to be weird, isn’t it?” 

“It’s not going to be weird unless we make it weird, Robin.”

“How can I not make it weird? Where would my lips even go?”

You’re both lucky that no one is home to hear all the shrieking currently occurring in your small bedroom. Only the posters on your wall and your teddy bear you’ve had since you were five are witnesses to the current predicament occuring. 

Robin had been the one to suggest it, in all fairness. Graduation was next week, and there had been a lot of reminiscing flying about. All the firsts, all the hopeful lasts, and all the fatal moments you needed to drag by the hair to the backyard and bury six feet under. 

The topic of conversation had veered pretty erratically, turning left towards that one stubborn B left on Robin’s postcard as a result of her refusing to attend her assigned tutoring for Geometry last year, and then sliding right as you’d huffed about that one girl who had been an absolute menace towards you sophomore year when you’d botched your improv solo at a band concert. But in the last five minutes, it had finally straightened out – it had finally begun to follow the trail of a line of remembering that no one else would ever be allowed to know outside of you and Robin. 

You’d brought up the first date you’d ever gone on. A ridiculous milkshake outing with some guy in your freshman English class that had left you feeling more confused than starry eyed or lovesick as the books promised. 

The date that had caused Robin Buckley to offer to hold your hand at random, in private moments, the week leading up to it. Just so you’d know how it felt. Just so you could figure out how to best intertwine your fingers with someone else’s without feeling terrible foreign about it all. 

It had been platonic. You both swore it had been, shrugging carelessly as you’d let your palm meet your best friends. 

And you’d felt more every time your skin brushed hers than you had the entire night with that boy. Spent the entire date wishing it was Robin’s knuckles bumping yours when you’d reached for that damn strawberry milkshake. 

“Against mine, I’d hope.” 

The dissection hadn’t ended at the hand-holding. Next, the two of you had wistfully recalled the sleepover in which you’d first decided to learn how to spoon one another. Robin had read about it in a magazine, you’d never had firsthand experience, and it just felt right to suggest. Robin had rambled for a good five minutes before you’d tugged her back into her bed and commanded her to just lay there as you figured out where you arm should go as your body curved along the back of hers. 

It had been nice. Really nice. 

You’d never gone out on another date after the Great Milkshake Catastrophe, as the two of you had called it. Robin claimed none of the boys at school could handle her eccentricism. Both of you, young girls fumbling about the world, starving for touch completely unaware. You told yourselves everyone cuddled with their friends. You told yourselves it was normal. 

But then, you’d switched positions, Robin being the big spoon as the teen magazine had described, and you swore your heart had burst when her arm wrapped around your waist and her fingers slotted between your own against your abdomen. 

You’d fallen asleep in that position. Awoken to Robin’s face pressed right into your chest as you’d spread out on your back. Ignored the flaky drool stain left behind on your skin when she’d finally joined the living once more. Pretended like you both hadn’t had the best rest of your lives as you’d clung to one another through fading dreams and subtle snores. 

It was normal, right? It had to be, because it was nice, and it had become a part of your normal sleepover rituals. 

Friends used each other’s boobs as pillows all the time, as Robin had defended. 

“Yeah, but, well-” Robin cuts off in her current stricken rambling, throwing her hands out around the air between you two, “What about when it’s more than just pecking? You know? All that gross shit, where tongues get involved and spit is exchanged and, oh God, should we be sucking on some mints right now or something? Oh my God, what if you’re allergic to my chapstic-”

Gross shit. 

The not-so-clever code word the two of you used whenever describing any sort of romantic interactions. Kissing, making out, sex. The things all of your peers were regular experiencing, sometimes even displaying in public, that the two of you only turned your noses up to. 

You didn’t want to suck the face off of Connor in your fifth period pottery class. The only person you could imagine on the receiving end of that that didn’t make your stomach turn was sitting right in front of you now, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as she clearly panicked. 

“I’m not allergic to passion fruit Lip Smackers, Robs.”

The switch to a passion fruit flavor was new. Robin had been using the strawberry flavor religiously prior, but had recently offered it to you with the excuse of your obsession with strawberry flavored things. 

And now, you’d been using it daily. Trying not to think about how many times her lips had been on it prior to yours. Trying not to think about how many ways you could twist it into some sick secondary kissing metaphor, to have your lips slick with the same sticky substance as hers had been so many times before.

Tried not to think about what Robin Buckley’s lips tasted like, period. Easier said than done when the thought crosses your mind every time you lick your lips moment after application, getting the faux sweetness all over your tongue. 

“You could be. And how would we even know? I can’t even drive! If you start to have an allergic reaction, I can’t even take you to the hospital! We don’t have a c-” 

You can’t do it anymore – any other day, you relish in the sound of Robin’s voice as she’ll squeal on and on about everything and anything. But not today. 

You cut her off with a kiss.

The very same kiss you’d both timidly agreed upon when you’d both realized graduation was next week, and neither of you had had your first kiss. 

The same deal as the cuddling. The same deal as the hand-holding. The same deal as all the pick-up lines and flirting you’d try out on each other, the same deal as all the sweet ‘love notes’ you’d write for one another and slip into backpacks and binders alike. 

The same deal as that fluttering in your chest every time she looked up at you at the local pool, eager to see if you’d witnessed her flip beneath the water. The same deal as all the nights you’d cried into your pillow after being pestered about if any boys at school caught your eyes, because you knew they hadn’t and they never would. Your eyes were already too busy, completely captured by the sight of the brunette now pressing her lips against yours. 

None of the boys at school could ever compare. 

Passion fruit and strawberry mingles within the short peck, freckled cheeks and nose smashing against yours in the most awkward fashion possible. It could be weird; it should be weird. 

It’s not. 

When you pull away, Robin is completely stunned into silence for quite possibly the first time in her life. And her lips are shining with some of your residual spit, and her cheeks are the perfect shade of rose that no actual flower could capture.

Mother Nature herself could never replicate the girl in front of you. The girl you’d been best friends with for six years now, the girl you’d pined relentlessly for for just as long. 

Only you’d just recently realized it. Somewhere between the lip smackers exchange and the movie night in which you’d intertwined your legs on the couch and felt the weight of her between your hips as she’d passed out. 

Looking at her now sort of feels like realizing it all over again. Sort of like looking out over a precipice, and taking a deep breath, because you know you’re leaping off the cliff. No scared looks over your shoulder, no hesitation as you throw your foot out into mid-air. 

The kind of rush you’ve never felt with a boy, and never will. 

“Was that…” she whispers, voice hoarse before she clears it, batting her gorgeous lashes and taking the shakiest of breaths, “Was that good?”

“I dunno,” you lie, “I think we should try again.” 

It’s like a dance, you soon realize. Following her steps, guiding her with your own. She slides her way up closer, and you press your back against your headboard. Her hands are shaking when they brush your outer thighs, and your blood is racing as you tug on her elbows to guide her to straddle your lap. 

You both had said, after all, you needed to learn to be better kissers. That you couldn’t leave high school without having shoved your tongue down someone’s throat at least once. Your words, not hers. 

Your desperate attempt to make sure that someone was Robin Buckley. Your pitiful attempt to have the one thing you don’t think you’ll ever be allowed to hold. 

The weight of her on your lap is nice. The feeling of her lips returning to yours is nice. The way neither of your hands know where to go as you let your lips linger together a few seconds longer than the first time is nice. 

It’s far nicer than Connor from English could ever make you feel. It’s far nicer than that poor boy at the diner ever was, though he tried his best. 

You’re the brave one, when it’s all said and done. You’re the first one to let your palms settle at her hips, squeezing ever so gently to feel the softness beneath slot perfectly into your hold. You’re the first one to timidly include tongue, parting both your lips, trying to ignore the shivers running up your spine as all you can taste now is passion fruit lip smackers. 

Even with your own lip balm, you know your lips are horribly chapped. Dreadfully thirsty and desperate to absorb all the love you know isn’t yours to claim at this moment. Chapped lips, quivering hands, shaking breaths. Unsure movements and the ringing question in the back of your head of am I doing this right? 

Is she feeling what I’m feeling? 

Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t. But she’s kissing you back. Her tongue is meeting yours in movements that are nothing like the movies, shy baps that you both will probably laugh about later. Kitten licks to test the waters. 

And then there’s the retreating. The rock of her body as she settles her weight closer to your knees, and her tongue is put away in favor of just letting her lips slot between yours in slow and lazy movements. You can feel every deep breath she takes through her nose between the kisses, you can smell her perfume seeping into your psyche every moment she spends so close to you. 

The only lesson being learned right now is that you were an idiot. You were an absolute fool, and you are absolutely in love with your best friend.

“Better?” she questions when she pulls away entirely, and you try not to whimper. Try not to show her how badly you want this, need this. 

You hate the silence and you nearly wish she’d start babbling again. You wish she’d give you a reason to kiss her and shut her up, if for nothing more than to taste passion fruit and yearning all over again.��

You’re quiet for a few beats, staring at her as your chest heaves and your heart begins to twist up into terrible shapes. “I… Yeah. Yeah. I think we’re getting the hang of it, don’t you?” 

“Oh, absolutely,” her nervous smile breaks, and you wish she wouldn’t continue the thought, but she does, “You’re gonna be a pro in no time, breaking boys hearts left and right when you kiss them like that.” 

You don’t want to break a boy’s heart. You want to break hers – you want to entirely implode her heart the way she has yours, and have the honor to know it was mutual. A mutual destruction you both dove into headfirst. You only want to kiss Robin like this, forever. You only ever want to know how right her hand feels in yours, not some guy who can’t even choke out the right words to invite you to the cinema. 

You want, and you want, and you want. 

And just as you bite your tongue, decide against pouring out all your affections all over your bed sheets and pulling her right back into you again, desperate to share air with her and only her, you can hear your front door slamming over. 

Robin has never moved so quickly in her life. Jumping off your lap, leaping to the edge of the bed as a feverish blush overtakes her entire body. As though she might be embarrassed, as though she might be regretful. 

You still haven’t moved from your position, back sticky with sweat against the headboard, when your parents walk past your open door and say hello. 

They probably don’t even hear your sad and quiet excuse of a returned greeting, too enraptured by Robin’s own excited quip of saying hi. 

Your parents love her. Adore her in a way parents should care for their child’s closest confidant. They treat her like their own daughter, and Robin’s parents do the same for you. Once a month, your mothers meet up for mimosas over brunch and probably giggle about how lucky their girls are to have one another. 

You get it. You love her too. But certainly not in the way you should love your best friend. 

They finally leave, and Robin is quick to turn to you, eyes shining with all the stars and sunshine the Universe could have to offer, “That… um, thank you.”

“For what?” you laugh breathlessly, finally shifting forward, looking down at your thighs that had served as a temporary home to the girl who holds your heart, trying to swallow down any shame and all that rapid longing. 

“For… you know,” she smiles, a secret for the two of you to only ever keep, never sharing with the world. Selfishly, you almost enjoy the sentiment, “I’m sorry I was acting so weird about it before. You were right, it didn’t have to be weird unless we made it weird. I’m lucky to have you as my best friend, you know? And like I said, if you’re…. You know, doing that with boys, you’re going to be a certified heartbreaker. The world isn’t ready for my best friend. Besides! Another thing checked off the list, right?” she pauses, and you swear the smile has gone sad, but you can’t risk the projection, “Now we can both say we’ve done… that… before graduation! And-”

You speak before you can think better of it, interrupting her entirely, “I think I need more practice.” 

She stops in her tracks, eyebrows raising wildly and eyes turning to saucers, “What?”

“I think…” your head reels, desperate to come up with an excuse to kiss her again. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. “I think I need more lessons, yeah? Like, I don’t know. More practice,” Oxygen evades you in desperation, giving your best puppy dog eyes, system in overdrive as you stare at her lips and your voice drops to a careful whisper, “My parents are out of town next weekend… Maybe we could try again then? Same time?” 

You swear her smile shifts, and you hadn’t even noticed the ingenuity in it previously until she dazzles you with one that must be real. As if you’ve just made her year, lightened her load, offered over your first born to the darling girl. 

“Well….” she moves her eyes across the room, focusing on a polaroid photo of the two of you pinned to the wall above the desk, “I mean, we did say lessons, plural. I can see if Steve will cover my shift on Saturday night if that works?” 

Am I doing this right? 

“That definitely works.”

Is she feeling what I’m feeling?

“Perfect. It’s a…. date, then.” 

“It’s a date.” 

It’s not. Only to you, never to her. 

But it’ll be enough. It’s enough to know next Saturday, she’ll be back here, in your bed and in your lap, getting that passion fruit chapstick all over your lips and shaking your chest from the inside out until it’s ready to burst. 

One day, you might be the brave one, when it’s all said and done. You’ll tell your best friend all the ways she feels so nice, and all the ways you want to capture that niceness in a bottle for the rest of your days. You’ll tell her the way you have no interest in the boys at school and how you’re cursed to forever be the heartbroken, never the heartbreaker, and only ever at her hand. The very same one clasping yours as she stands at your front door, thanking you vaguely once more, grinning ear to ear as she gives you three tight squeezes that are completely lost on you. 

Today’s not the day, though. Today is the day where you spend the night in your self-made cage, face buried in the pillow, noises somewhere between desperately muffled screams of frustration and dry sobs of torture leaving your lips as you picture the way she’d looked after the kiss. Her eyes softly shut, her lips still puckered, her neck entirely exposed as she tilts her chin back to look at your ceiling through her eyelids. Picturing the way that next time, you’ll try to convince her the two of you should learn the art of neck kisses. Picturing the way that next time, maybe you’ll grab her hips a little harder or let your hands wander a bit farther to her thighs. 

Tonight is the night you have no idea amongst your pity party, that Robin Buckley is on the other side of town, experiencing the exact same turmoil as she longs for the girl who tastes like her gifted strawberry lip smackers – the very same one Steve Harrington berated on her to get rid of when she’d vomited out all the ways she hates fake strawberry flavoring, but you love it, and she’d convinced herself if she bathed herself in enough of it, you might just want her the way she wants you. 

Tonight’s not the night, though. 

One day, the kissing lessons will simply be kisses. One day.

ghost's taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @figmentofquinn @bebe07011 @barbedwirebats @ayooooo0

@neverlearnedcivility @munson-enthusiast @digwhatudug @wow-cam @daddysmodifiedprincess2

@cancankiki @gothmingguk @nix-rose @thesesuggestedblognamesbegreat @chevelle724

@madaboutjoe @take-everything-you-can @josephquinnsfreckles @thebanisheddreamer @water-loos

@dailyobsession @whenshelanded @happy-and-alone @alwayslindie @royale1803

@onegirlmanytales @whyamiheresomeonehelp @mrsjellymunson @live-love-be-unique @hazydespair

@gothvamp1973 @kennedy-brooke @kittydeadbones @hollysleeps @hellojameshowyadoin

@munsonzgf @browneyes8288 @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @siriuslysmoking @mandyjo8719

@d64d-n0t-sl66p1ng @acenby-weirdo @hazydespair @royale1803 @batkin028

@ninejlovebot @charliewb1996 @imwaytoolazyforthis @definitionwanderlust @idkitsem

join my taglist!

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

I'm gonna be honest at this point we deserve for them to make Buddie friends-to-fiancés like yeah we missed out on canon with the shooting and season five and who even knows what the fuck was going on in season six we're like three seasons behind now chop chop just skip it all and have Eddie desperately propose in the rain. I need it. It would cure me. More importantly it would be the most in-character way you could possibly get these codependent desperately abnormal idiots together.

[citrusandrottefruit]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Steve probably should have had surgery after Vecna ​​died, because Hanahaki's roots seemed deep, but he chose to alternate between Max and Eddie's hospital rooms. There was no time to waste on his own health.

His parents were back this time. They had sold their house and bought a huge apartment for Steve, who wanted to stay in the city. His parents didn’t even question it, they just demanded his time for a week before leaving with a big hug and the promise of a trip somewhere nice that summer. If he had been a little younger, Steve would have been happier, but after so many years of neglect, all he could think was that this was as far as he was going to get.

A side note, an afterthought. They cared about their son, just not as much as they should have.

Steve's new apartment had four bedrooms, more than he needed, but he was glad his parents tried so hard to make up for it, because it meant he could offer Robin a room when she graduated and there would always be room for the kids. And Eddie and Wayne, who stayed with him while the government found them a new place to live.

Eddie made a joke about Steve's parents being more powerful than the government, for being able to find Steve a great place to live so quickly in a broken city while he and Wayne had to wait.

Wayne was usually around, and despite being a somewhat taciturn man, it was easy to see the love that overflowed for Eddie. It made Steve think of his mother, who had loved and suffered so intensely that she had developed Hanahaki.

And yet, she was not with him.

The cough got worse.

One day, Steve woke up in the middle of the night, struggling after yet another nightmare of torture. Some days, it was easy to forget about Vecna ​​in favor of that hour beneath the Mall, with his life in someone else's hands. On days like these, Robin was needed more than ever, but her parents didn't want her away so much, so sleeping in his new apartment was hardly an option. Calling her wasn't a good idea either, because all it would do was stress her out and they'd end up up all night on the phone. So he resigned himself to taking medication and going out to the balcony, longing for the fresh, clean night air.

He would turn on the TV or music, but he didn't want to wake Eddie, so he just stood outside with his eyes closed and imagined being alone again when Wayne and Eddie left, then tried to imagine what the trip with his parents would be like, if it were to happen. Steve still wasn't sure if he wanted to go, but it might be nice. Maybe he'd get something out of being away from Hawkins for a while. Maybe the coast would make it easier to breathe.

As lost in thought as Steve was, after years of trauma it was impossible not to be aware of the sounds around him, so when Eddie opened the bedroom door and started walking down the hall, he heard it. He stayed silent, not wanting to disturb Eddie.

Of course, Eddie didn't care and showed up a few minutes later with some tea.

For your cough, man.

After that, it became almost a ritual between them. Eddie was always there when Steve woke up startled, and Steve reciprocated. They always had nightmares, so who went to who depended on which one of them woke up first.

Sometimes they would stare at the stars in silence, other times they would talk. Most nights, they would end up in Eddie's bed, in one of the spare bedrooms, without touching each other.

Steve's room, which was definitely his and not a temporary arrangement, felt too intimate.

At the same time, Eddie began asking more and more about Steve's throat, about his shortness of breath, if he was okay, when he planned to go to the hospital. The questions became so frequent that Wayne noticed, too.

The feeling of being cared for was too much. Feared and desired in equal measure.

Eddie shouldn’t even be doing all this, because he was still bandaged, still covered in pink scars, still had a long way to go in physical therapy.

For the second time in his life, Steve felt suffocated by love.

This time, Steve almost hated it. Because he was in love with Eddie, because Eddie didn’t know the things Robin knew. Even if he loved Steve back, how could Steve demand that Eddie take care of him?

Mr. Harrington had reasons to stay with Mrs. Harrington. Although no one talked about it, Steve was sure that his father had been the trigger for his mother’s Hanahaki. And maybe if she had never left, chasing her father across the country, trying to be happy with him to stay alive, maybe… Just maybe, Steve wouldn’t have been alone and maybe he would have been healthy.

Neither Eddie nor anyone else had a good reason to pursue any kind of happiness or emotional stability with Steve.

In addition to the burden of living with a chronic, progressive disease that would possibly become terminal at some point, being emotionally involved with someone with Hanahaki was very complicated. It required loyalty, responsibility, patience, a willingness to accept endless arguments and a desire to reconcile.

Communication was essential. Making sure the other person felt good and loved, comfortable and safe. All of this was too much work, too demanding.

Loving Steve was a prison.

I'll try to post part 3 soon. I've already written the ending, but I'm thinking about how to connect this part to the ending, which will be happy.

[solarmorrigan]

I have a lot of thoughts about Steve who craves physical affection, who thinks of his worth in terms of what he can do for other people, and who got very drunk at high school parties. This is one of them

CW for heavily implied past dubcon (not between Eddie and Steve). Please take care

-

Eddie has never seen Steve drunk.

At least – not up close. There had been a few high school parties back in the day where Eddie had passed by the “Keg Stand King,” but since he’s come to know Steve personally (intimately), Steve has barely touched alcohol.

He’s told Eddie the story of being drugged against his will and how he doesn’t want to repeat the feeling of losing control, and how he doesn’t like not being able to drive if he needs to, and how the hangover would probably just trigger a migraine anyway – and, really, he just doesn’t drink much anymore.

Yet tonight had been a special occasion: Robin’s birthday. She herself isn’t much for alcohol (for at least some reasons that match up with Steve’s), but drinking, she said, feels like a part of the birthday experience. She’d somehow gotten Steve to match her beer for beer, for “emotional support,” and it hadn’t taken long for the both of them to become entirely inebriated.

Time has apparently greatly eroded Steve’s tolerance.

Eddie had distantly expected him to be kind of a bitchy drunk—and he had become a bit cattier, for sure—but mostly he’d just become affectionate. There had been hugs for nearly everyone, and he’d spent the latter half of the party slowly migrating into Eddie’s lap, plying him with constant kisses on the cheek and giggling ridiculously at nearly everything Eddie had said.

It had been sort of adorable (not that Eddie will tell him that; no, he’s going to sit on that information until it benefits him).

It’s a little less fun now that he’s trying to cart Steve up to his room and into bed. Steve is a bit wobbly, and a lot heavy, and is much more interested in trying to cling to Eddie like a koala and bury his face in Eddie’s neck than he is in actually walking anywhere.

“Y’know, we could cuddle to your heart’s content if you’d just let me get you to bed,” Eddie points out when he and Steve have stalled out partway down the hall, leaning against the closed door to the bathroom.

Steve hums vaguely, tightening the grip he has on Eddie’s t-shirt. “But you’re out here,” he mumbles, nuzzling into the crook of Eddie’s neck.

A shiver travels down Eddie’s spine at the feeling of Steve’s warm breath ghosting across his throat, but it doesn’t go much further than a gentle, dying flutter in his gut. As affectionate as Steve has been, as hungry for contact as he’s acted all night, there’s been nothing sexual about it. It’s been all hugs and sweet kisses, not heated embraces and sloppy make outs.

Besides– Steve’s drunk. Eddie’s not going to take advantage.

He wedges a hand between himself and Steve and gently pushes Steve back.

“I’m coming to bed with you, you colossal dork,” Eddie says.

Steve blinks at Eddie, slightly unfocused. “Oh.” He finally heaves up and away from the wall, grabbing Eddie’s hand to tug him along as he weaves unsteadily down the hall. “Well why didn’t you say so?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, all affection. “Where else would I be going?”

Steve stops when they get to his room, apparently pondering the answer.

“Away?” he finally volunteers, half-questioning, as if he’s hoping he’s wrong.

“No, baby,” Eddie assures him immediately, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. “I’m staying. Gotta make sure you don’t choke on your tongue after you pass out, anyway.”

“’m not that drunk,” Steve says; he rolls his eyes and then immediately seems to regret it, reaching out for Eddie’s shoulder to steady himself.

“Uh huh,” Eddie drawls. “Okay, time for bed, big boy.”

Grumbling, Steve releases Eddie to shuffle over to the bed, where he flops down on his back with a sigh, jeans and all.

“Alright, not exactly what I meant, but I can work with this,” Eddie says, kneeling on the bed by Steve’s hip.

They’d managed to ditch their shoes in the entryway, but they’re otherwise fully dressed, and Steve is going to be uncomfortable if he tries to spend the whole night in his belt and jeans.

Steve squirms a bit when Eddie reaches for his belt buckle, as if he’s not quite sure whether to move away or not.

“Eddie…” he groans – an exasperated sort of groan, rather than the usual way he groans Eddie’s name when he’s squirming on the bed.

“Just hold still,” Eddie shushes him with a quick pat to the hip.

He gets as far as pulling the tongue of the belt through the buckle before Steve’s hands shoot out and grab Eddie by the wrists. His grip is surprisingly strong, considering how uncoordinated he’d been tonight, and Eddie stills immediately.

“Steve?” Eddie looks up to see Steve staring down at him, wide-eyed and apprehensive; hell, if Eddie didn’t know any better, he might say Steve looks… sort of frightened.

“Not– not tonight,” Steve says, enunciating carefully, and Eddie’s confusion only increases.

He doesn’t want his belt off tonight? Is that what he’s worked up about?

In the wake of Eddie’s baffled lack of response, Steve only grows more insistent, tugging Eddie’s hands away from his waist.

“Not while I’m–” Steve breaks off, licking his lips nervously. He shakes his head and adds quietly, “Please.”

Brows furrowed, Eddie stares at Steve a second longer. “Not while you’re…?” Then the penny drops, and Eddie jerks away from Steve so quickly that Steve barely has time to let go. “Oh shit, no. That’s not– no, I’m not– Steve, fuck, no, that’s not what I’m doing.”

Steve stares up at Eddie, the anxiety he’s a little too drunk to mask still lingering in his eyes.

“I promise, I was only trying to get your belt and pants off so you’d be more comfortable. For sleeping!” Eddie says quickly. “But you can keep them on if you want. Hell, put on more layers. Do you want a jacket?”

Distantly, Eddie realizes he’s rambling and tries to stop; it doesn’t seem to be helping.

“I– I know I was kissing you,” Steve says, then glances away with a grimace, seeming a bit more sober now. “Practically throwing myself at you. ’m sorry, I just–”

“Don’t be sorry. Don’t be,” Eddie says firmly. “Even if you were throwing yourself at me—even though you weren’t; like, I can tell the difference between cuddly you and horny you, okay?—but even if you had been, you can still say no. You can always say no. But I swear, Steve, I was only trying to get you comfy, that’s all.”

For a moment, Steve just breathes, processing Eddie’s words as carefully as his sloshed brain will allow.

“Are you still going to stay?” he finally asks. “Even though I don’t want to have sex?”

“Of course,” Eddie blurts, some dizzying combination of baffled, anxious, and incensed. “I’m only gonna leave if you tell me to.”

And even then, he’d only go as far as the couch downstairs (just in case).

Slowly, Steve nods, then reaches for his belt to pull it off in a series of determined, clumsy movements. He drops it on the floor when he’s done but makes no move to remove his jeans.

Eddie, following suit, resigns himself to an uncomfortable night. He strips off his jewelry and his own belt but leaves his pants on.

All the lights go out, save for a small, dim lamp on Steve’s desk, and then Eddie crawls on top of the covers with Steve, pulling the blanket from the end of the bed—a gift from Claudia—up over both of them.

A little of the churning, anxious mess in Eddie’s chest eases when Steve immediately plasters himself to his side, resting his head on Eddie’s chest (and Eddie just knows there’s going to be drool there come morning, but he can’t bear to move him). All the same, even as he hears Steve’s breathing even out into sleep, Eddie can’t get his mind to rest.

What has he done to give Steve the impression that he’d try to fuck him when he’s too drunk to really say yes? What has he done to make him think he’d leave if Steve doesn’t put out?

Nothing.

Genuinely and truly, Eddie can’t think of anything. There have been plenty of times they’ve hung out, even shared a bed, and they haven’t had sex. Sure, they’re active, but they do actually do other things together.

There have been other nights where sex has seemed like a sure thing, only to be halted by an apologetic look from Steve and the start of a migraine. There have been times Eddie’s called it off because his anxiety has reared up and bit him in the ass. There’s never been anger over it.

That leaves two options: it’s either an imagined scenario stirred up by anxiety and insecurity and alcohol, or… it’s based on a different experience, in a different time and place.

All things considered, Eddie has a terrible, sinking feeling that he knows which one it is.

[tiredgaycrisis]

i see these guys literally everywhere i look so it is not hard to make text posts for them lol

[ruporas]

pre-trimax

[findafight]

RE the posts about Nancy and Jon just kinda leaving the kids to their own devices; I find it very telling that in season four that despite Steve complaining a number of times about being the babysitter, none of the kids raise any objections to him being the babysitter, despite what it implies about them. It’s Nancy who reminds him “they aren’t babies anymore”.

I used to find that kind of funny, the idea that they might kind of like being babied a bit by Steve (for whom indulging younger kids is still a novelty). And it’s fascinating to me how Mike in particular, despite regarding Steve with utter disdain, feels entitled to Steve’s time and attention. Even *months* after Nancy has broken up with him, and Mike could just follow her lead and not have anything more to do with him, *Mike’s* the one ringing the service bell until Robin shouts for Steve.

The kids are maybe a little bit clingier than we or the characters give them credit for, eh?

(This reading gets really interesting when you consider that out of all the teens/adults, Steve’s probably worked/fought alongside them the most and knows full well what they’re capable of.)

I think Steve being someone the younger teens look up to as both a friend and as a leader is probably key. The age difference between them is enough that it makes a difference in how they look up to him and small enough that they'll be functional equals given a few years, but that they'll still defer to him. They like Steve! I think they like knowing that there's someone older willing to call some of the shots and take the heat y'know? Even if they also want to contribute to the decisions it's nice for them to know he has their backs.

Tbh I think Mike and Steve butt heads for the bit. Like they biker and groan about each other but Steve still thinks of Mike as maybe kind of annoying (as are. All fourteen year olds 🫡) one of his (mildly ungrateful) little friends. Of course it would be Mike ringing the bell repeatedly, he and Mike show friendly affection by being obnoxious motherfuckers to each other.

Sooo correct that what makes it different than Nancy and Jon, was that even though they've all gone through Upside Down stuff, Nancy and Jon went through it together, while Steve went through it, starting in S2, with the young teens. They see him and even though they stop Billy from killing him he saves them (specifically Mike!!) In the tunnels. It sort of establishes Steve as someone they KNOW is going to take charge to help them. They can and have! Mike knows he can rely on Nancy, probably, but he doesn't have the same...proof? I guess? That he does of Steve.

I think it's natural for them, even as they get older, to defer to Steve. He's sort of invincible to them, and they trust him. Does this make sense? They can call their own shots but I think maybe they'll also go "right, Steve?" Even if just in their brains.

[canisalbus]

I see Vasco has a thin tail. My parents have a lab/terrier mix dog that also has a thin tail except I think she's numb on it cause she whacks it on absolutely everything and doesn't react at all. Like she hits it on every surface imaginable but still keeps on wagging. Does Vasco ever whack his tail really concerningly hard against things but acts like nothing happened?

As a dog man person who grew up with the tail he has, he probably has enough spatial awareness to be mindful of it. Even if he's bound to hit it on things occasionally, you'd have to be wagging pretty vigorously for it to bother you in any meaningful way. Hitting your funny bone hurts more.

[wandixx]

Date in the Ghost Zone

@seamistagle

Sorry it took so long, I've cjaged ideas, like, five times along the way because my dating expirience is almost none existant. To make up for that, I decided to write them kissing (i also have no expierience in that) but anyway, I hope you'll like it

“Hi starlight!” a voice rang from her ceiling. At this point, she didn't even startle, too used to Danny's dramatics. Popping out of nowhere, halfway through solid objects was so low on the list of shenanigans that she didn't even respond until she finished a scene of the “Hello, Megan!” episode she was rewatching. That's what he got for not using the door and knocking like civilized humans should.

“Hello sunshine“ She leaned back in her chair and smiled at her boyfriend “What brings you to my humble chamber?”

“You're busy this weekend and it's not a question. We're going on a date” he said, determined and anxious in a way that usually translated to ‘I have an unconventional date idea and I hope you like it’. Her smile widened. She loved Danny's unconventional ideas.

“Sure love, do I need to bring something with me?” She started slowly flying up, careful to not be fast enough to bring Danny's attention to it. He took a moment to consider her question but eventually shook his head.

“I'll get everything ready. Just come to Amity on Saturday morning and let everyone know we will be offline whole weekend”

Her smile got a bit softer. Whole weekend with Danny sounded like a dream, especially after a period when life stuff kept them apart for almost a month.

“Alright,” she just needed to stall a little longer. “Can I make cookies though?“

Just a bit higher, less than two feet.

Danny visibly brightened, looking every bit like an angel from an old painting. 

“I'll never say no to your cookies”

“I know,” she said and kissed him. His lips were cold and dry as if he spent just a bit too long on the snow, like always when she made out with him as a ghost. She loved every millisecond of the experience. 

Obviously, she also loved when he was human, warm and soft and breathing.

She just adored every bit of her boyfriend, okay?

She let go to take a breath, relishing in a way Danny blushed and spluttered. He was an adorable mess every time she so much as smooched him. 

(She said, as if she wasn't exactly the same).

“I love you. See you on Saturday“

“Yeah… See you”

***

Danny carefully stared at M'gann when he phased blindfold off her face. It wasn't as much of a surprise as he wished it could be, there wasn’t many places where could he go to from his house, especially ones that she didn’t see already. But he wanted to give her just this little thing, so he lead her in a little bit further.

She seemed to like it, if his reading of her emotional projection was correct. Apparently he should know it instinctually but he was just tad too alive for the instinct to kick in. From what he knew about M'gann, she liked it. Maybe.

“It's… really green”

Danny blinked. How was he supposed to respond to that?

They both snorted the moment they caught each other's eyes.

“I mean… you warned me but wow–” she said, clearly suppressing out right laughter “–even air is green”

“That's Ghost Zone for you! Green over green with green undertones”

That won him a laugh. Ancients, there weren't many things more beautiful than this laugh and he was willing to do far too much for it. 

“Alright, let's go, I have so much to show you. We won't be able to get to Martian sector now, but if you want, we can save more time next–”

“Later. Show me around now, please”

“As you wish”

He grabbed her wrist to lead the way.

***

Danny didn’t stumble when landing on the snow, he didn’t. He just kinda slipped and almost ate dirt or well, ice. M’gann of course was graceful as if she was born in the air. Actually, for all he knew, she could be.

This was not a moment to think about it.

“Welcome to Far Frozen, literally and figuratively the chillest place in the Ghost Zone” he said with a cheeky grin, trying to sound like and overenthusiastic tour guide. They both quite enjoyed when he was in this role.

“This is the Yeti part, right?”

“Exactly! And the main prize goes to- oh!”

Something small and fluffy hit him in the stomach, tiny hands wrapping around him and forcing breath out of his lungs.

“Phantom!”

“Icefang! It’s great to see you kiddo!” he said, hugging little yeti back. “And you guys too!” he yelled, so group running up to them could hear him.

There was something incredibly funny in a fact that there was group of ghost children who treated him as this cool older friend. No way anyone on the living side could ever consider him that.

“Who is that?” one of them asked, pointing at M’gann like there was anyone else they could mean. She smiled and waved at them.

“This is Miss Martian, my girlfriend!” Ancients, they were together for months and being able to call her that still made him giddy “I’m giving her a tour through coolest places in the Realms”

“It’s nice to meet you all, Phantom talked a lot about you”

He wouldn’t say he talked a lot about them, but he certainly mentioned them from time to time… Like the time when he spent half an hour excitedly explaining how Snowstorm managed one fight move he thought them or how Snowdrop made him really cute drawing or… okay, so maybe this counted as a lot.

“Hi, what is girlfriend?” Icefang asked, cocking his head to the side while other kids stopped behind him and also peered curiously.

“Did you say girlfriend?! It’s a special friend with kissing and saying dumb things!” Snowstorm yelled running up to them, clearly winded. Danny hoped they were late because they had to finish dinner or something instead of getting into yet another trouble. They were magnet, really, Fenton Luck wasn’t as bad as- “Like Snowflake and Frost Junior!” nevermind, little shit could be in all the trouble they found. These two were famous among his little group as an embarrassing teen couple and equating him and M’gann to them was an untrue insult, thank you very much.

Kids giggled, because of course they did. Danny rolled his eyes. M’gann seemed to catch enough to realize the weight of the ‘they’re just like Snowflake and Frost Junior’ insult.

“I’d say that Snowstorm is lying but I know you won’t believe me. Sorry I won’t play with you, today I wanted to just walk around with Miss Martian. We will play extra long next time, alright?”

M’gann leaned on him a bit, projecting tiniest bit of playful possessiveness, as if she tried to tell kids ‘mine now’ and barely stopped herself from laughing. Icefang looked up, up, up at her, eyes narrowed and mouth twisted, like she was most hated person in the whole world. Maybe she was actually. From kids perspective she was someone, who was taking away his cool friend.

“We should put her through Trial of Ice” he almost hissed, like it was the worst thing they could do to her. It certainly wasn’t, but he still would prefer to not go through that.

Danny cursed inwardly, because he really should’ve remember about that when he decided to bring M’gann here. It was supposed to be calm pretty date not… that.

There was quiet ping in the back of his mind, a warning that the Mindlink was established.

“Am I supposed to be scared?” she asked, without an ounce of fear.

“You’ve certainly fought harder battles, but they probably won’t leave us alone unless we do it”

“Isn’t Trial of Ice a family thing?”

“Have your family done that?” Snowstorm asked, in this truly condescending way that only preteens managed to access.

“Well, they haven’t met her and they’re human so…”

“You see? We’re picking up their slack. Now, enough yapping, Phantom go over there, to your place”

“We can evacuate if you don’t want to indulge them”

It certainly wouldn’t make kids happy, but he didn’t want to pressure Meg into anything.

“Why would we?”

Well, who was he to disagree with all of them. He walked over to the place Snowstorm pointed.

“How will it look like?” she asked out loud, leaning down a bit to be closer to kids level “It’s probably obvious to you, but I don’t know the rules”

She looked at them like it was genuinely important to her, like it was almost life and death and Danny was once again reminded why he loved this girl so much and that he could and would commit great crimes for her.

Icefang perked up like an overeager puppy. If there was one sure way to buy his favor it was by letting him share his knowledge. Or have cookies, cookies also worked.

“You have to prove your decli- degi- deti-”

“Dedication”

“Right, that, thank you Briarheart, and show that you’re worth being Phantom’s special kissing friend. To do that, you need to get through us and kiss him while we will do all we can to stop you, mostly by throwing stuff at you. You can use your powers but if we hit you ten times you loose and can’t be Phantom’s kissing friend anymore”

“You can’t fly out of the throwing range for more than ten seconds and can’t phase through the ground”

“Alright, I get it. I have one question. One of my powers is that I can move things without touching them, can I just use it to move Phantom to me?”

“No, he has to stay were he is”

“That’s what I thought, thank you”

Snowdrop tugged at small bit of Snowstorm’s fur and started signing rapidly. Danny was learning Yeti Sign Language but it was slow going, mostly because of everything else he had to get done at the same time. But he was learning when he had time! He even understood a few signs! Not enough to actually catch what she was saying but… Yeah, no, he should do better.

“Good point Snowdrop”

“I didn’t see what did she say?”

“You can just say you can’t read yet Icefang. She said that we should put Phantom through Trial of Ice too. It’s always to ways thing”

“Aw, thank you sweetheart”

“We won’t be good for the task though” Briarheart Junior pointed out, always the rational one “Phantom is our friend so we won’t put up good fight against him. Someone else needs to do that”

Yeti kids all started nodding with various levels of enthusiasm. Snowstorm seemed to already think about logistics and candidates since, again, it was Snowstorm, their involvement could only mean chaos.

“Give us two weeks, we’ll be back with candidates by then”

M’gann looked like she tried to hold back laughter. Instead, she nodded and thanked them again. Snowstorm told everyone to move to their positions, with M’gann exactly one hundred twenty three ‘big steps’ away from him. Then Icefang got to use new trick he learned and made wall around Danny. It was less than one feet high, but they really didn’t need anything higher. He was sufficiently praised for it, which made him smile brightly enough to rival the sun.

For all it’s worth, Trial of Ice was pretty boring when he was the prize. Don’t get him wrong, he was proud of the kids whenever they did some trick he thought them and M’gann ‘fighting’ was one of the hottest thing he could imagine, but still. He itched to join.

Or maybe not. He liked what he was seeing. M’gann changed her clothes into something resembling her night suit, just in white and pale blue to better match surroundings. It looked good on her, emphasizing lines of her body and how they changed in the movement, in such way that he couldn’t drag his eye away from her. He didn’t often get the chance to admire her like in action, to look at the way she was in the air, when she evaded attacks, all grace and power and precision. Usually he was right next to her, or if sidelined, too stressed for her life to ever really look.

He could appreciate this chance.

It made him once again wonder how he managed to get someone as amazing to date him. Like, really, how did it happen?!

This train of thought was abandoned when after last refined loop M’gann descended right in front of him. He looked at her face, maybe bordering on staring but how could he not? How could he not stare at her freckles highlighted by the teal blush from all the exercise? How could he not stare at her perfectly shaped lips, now that he knew how they felt against his?

Damn it, he wanted to kiss this girl five minutes ago.

M’gann leaned forward, close enough that puffs of their breaths mixed together.

“You realize I can still hear all of your thoughts?”

He did, actually, not realize that.

“Good thing, I’m not thinking about anything you shouldn’t hear then”

She finally did kiss him after that, though unfortunately it was just a quick smooch (he said as if it didn’t leave him just a little bit brain scrambled for a moment and wait did she use blackberry lip balm? It was hard to tell when their lips barely touched). Then she grabbed his elbow and dragged him up and away before he fully caught up what was going on. Mock noises of disgust turned into open protest when kids realized they were getting away.

Danny and M’gann kinda laughed as they were sprinting away before kids could caught up to them. It took him a moment to calm down enough to scrap whatever he knew about Far Frozen, so he could point them somewhere where they could hide out until kids got distracted (about half an hour at most).

They dipped into some small ice cavern and curled up next to each other, still slightly shaking from giggles. There was enough room to sit straighter and keep personal space but they didn’t want to.

M’gann laid her head on his shoulder.

“This is so weird, you know? Nice, but weird. Like uncanny valley but without uncomfortable part. Or at least not as much of uncomfortable part”

***

M’gann wasn’t sure why she kept talking after Danny hummed with small projection of curiosity. It would probably just sour the mood, but it was maybe a little too late now that she started.

“It’s just… you know, it’s all so similar to M’arzz. Which is great! Don’t get me wrong, I loved it! I missed it, even if I didn’t realize it! But you know, it not the same,” her voice broke a bit, and she felt an arm circling her back. She took a moment to gather herself “They were all so emotive and loud, I almost started reading their minds because it couldn’t not be deliberate. But it was. Kids didn’t look to different from my peers back home, I could certainly imagine them playing with shape-shifting and testing this type of form for longer time. It’s colder than Earth but too cold to actually be M’arzz. Everything is going on above the ground which isn’t dangerous here but I was raised knowing it was not safe. We also have this thing about proving our worth but it’s with heat instead of ice and right before the wedding instead of right from the get go. It’s all just kinda itching.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah”

“Um, sorry. I haven’t thought about it. I should. Do you want to go back? We can chill in Amity if you want to. Or, you know do something else on the living side”

“No, no, no it’s fine, I like it. It’s nice. It’s familiar, but in a good way. There isn’t really a way for me to just go back and it’s nice to have it even if a little bit”

Danny shifted a bit, as if he tried to look at her, but she kept her face buried in is arm. She shouldn’t have said anything. She should’ve swallowed nostalgia and just keep going. It was such a great time before too.

There was nudge at her mind, clearly deliberate even if clumsy. Absolutely incomprehensible, like Martian’s babies and toddlers did it.

Another nudge, more defined but still unable to carry any ideas more sophisticated than vague invitation to connect.

“Danny?”

“Do you want to talk telepathically? To make it better?”

Oh. Oh.

“Sure. Thank you,” she took a deep breath, trying to collect herself once again “Are you trying to make me cry today? You’re lucky I don’t wear make-up or it would be all ruined”

“You would be stunning anyway. I don’t think there is anything you could do to not be, let’s be honest”

“And now you’re trying to sweeten me up, you dork” She roughly dried her eyes against his suit. It’s absolutely useless to this purpose but she wanted to hide for a bit longer.

“I am not sweetening anyone up, it would have to be untrue for it to be that’

“Oh shut up”

“Never~”

“It’s not even my true form”

“M’gann, Meg, my starlight and love of my Afterlife. When I saw your true form I was so enamored my brain ceased higher functions. I watched ‘Hello, Megan!’ because you liked it, but the main character was just… kinda meh in terms of looks. Do you understand? I think you’re beautiful because it’s you, not because of anything else. No matter what form you’d choose to be in, I’ll love it and want to be as close to you as you’ll let me”

M’gann finally raised her head and with small startle she realized that between their faces were only inches. There was still small blush on his cheeks and his eyes were almost hipnotizing, with the way they focused on her like she was only thing that mattered. His hair was ruffled from wind, just asking to run finger through it. Once again their puffing breaths were mixing but this time they were alone. They could savor it, they could-

“Great One? I was informed you came with your suitor?”

Of course. They couldn’t even kiss in peace.

Thankfully, encounter with Frostbite, even if awkward, was quite short. She didn’t have anything against the yeti, really, she couldn’t even begin to tell how much she appreciated help he extended to Danny but still…

It was not the type of moment she wanted to be interrupted on.

Thankfully older ghost caught it, despite both of them trying to be subtle, and didn’t seem to be too angry about it, so soon they were on their merry way to ‘'one more place’ Danny wanted to show her.

He even brought back up the blindfold, which made her stomach do funny things. She was excited to see what Danny wanted to show her, but also…

There was something really intimate about flying blind, not in a way even their deepest kisses were, but in the absolute trust she had to have in him. In the Ghost Zone she couldn’t even navigate with her telekinesis and telepathy like she could try on the living side. In the Ghost Zone, she had just Danny, and this made something as simple as getting off the ground, into the air all more electrifying in the way that would be almost scary, if she was with anyone else.

She got a little worried when instead of lightly holding her wrist like he did before, Danny caught both of her hands and grasped her like he didn’t plan to let go for the rest of eternity.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course”

And then they were off, faster than she’d ever dare when blind, faster than they usually did, faster than they sometimes went when racing even. Danny kept her close, practically clinging.

Then they were falling and twisting and turning like on some crazy roller coaster and it was breathtaking in both best and worst ways because they were close and it was exciting but she had no idea where they were going or when were they going to turn. Her stomach was doing funny things. Actually, she liked that. She liked that a lot. Especially when Danny slowed down a bit and brought her to his chest before kicking off again.

This was electrifying.

She let out a little yelp when they stopped abruptly and gently landed on the snow. For a long moment they both just stood, panting with soft giggles, getting of off adrenaline high.

***

Danny’s breath caught in his throat again when M’gann grasped sides of his face. It was a bit clumsy, with fingers getting on his mouth and ear but it just made it all more… more.

After few months in relationships he should probably get better at handling all the times she did things like that. As it was, he was barely able to focus on anything other than fingers in his hair and cold hands on his cheeks.

“It was amazing”

He shuddered when she whispered in his mind. It used to terrify him beyond belief, the idea that someone could hear all his thoughts, could touch his very being, made him rebel on the most instinctual level. Now, when M’gann did it, when by just being next to him she rewrote his brain to associate her with mind-reading, it was intoxicating.

“I know, you’re welcome” he managed to stuttered.

She leaned closer, obviously aiming for his mouth and it took all of his will to not meet her midway. They stayed just close, with Danny’s eyes fluttering each time warm puff of air hit them.

“Never do it again”

Instead of answering, he put his hands between her shoulder blades to bring her closer, reached up to cross the remaining distance and kissed her.

Oh, it was definitely blackberry lip balm. He loved it. He loved it all so much.

He loved the way her lips felt brushing against his, cold and smooth despite the time they spent in cold. He loved the way he could almost feel her heartbeat, pressed slightly above his own heart, how he could hear it above his own blood rushing in his ears, faster that it was when they were flying moments ago. He loved the way her hand moved through his hair to press against the back of his head, a wordless command to get closer. He happily complied, adjusting slightly and almost locking on her closed mouth. One of his hands moved lower as he rammed forward, kissing her with enough fervor that she had to arch back a bit. Like that he couldn’t reach her without climbing to his tiptoes, but he didn’t mind.

Her mouth opened slightly, so he took invitation for what it was and started to devour what she had. As he was, draped across M’gann’s chest, with her hands barely holding on his neck, her lips against his and her tongue brushing against his teeth, the whole world could disappear and he couldn’t be bothered. Being this close, with her, was all that mattered and all that could fill his brain.

It got sloppy, when hand laid on the small of his back, full body shiver making their teeth clank. Before he got himself at least a little bit together other hand appeared in his hair. It yanked him back on just the right side of painful, while the arm around his waist pressed him forward and all at once he couldn’t find his footing, bend back so much that if his hand didn’t grasp the edge of M’gann’s cape they could probably touch the ground. Other one by miracle stayed on her neck.

He was fully at her mercy and there was nowhere he could rather be, hanging in her arms all nice and docile. He was stuck in almost addicting cycle of telepathic projection of his excited-eager-confident and M’gann's giddy-greedy-restless response and how it made him all fervent-dizzy-thrilled and how much he could feel it, how intimate this type of closeness was, how kiss dissolved whatever it was that made sensing emotions so much harder and more muted at any other time.

He let himself be handled and adjusted sometimes grasping her hair when he felt too much, in the best way he could imagine, but frankly he forgot about everything else after that.

They had to let go at some point, to catch breath if nothing else but they stayed close. Close enough that he could smell the lip balm that by now was probably mostly on him. Close enough that their noses would touch if they turned their heads just right. Close enough that he could count her freckles and connect them into little constellations, as if her skin was map of the space that gave her to him.

It wasn’t rare, for them to be this close, but it never changed the fact, that when he caught her eyes, half closed but striking, sparkling in the cold blue-green light in the way that was almost iridescent, he couldn’t help but think he wouldn’t be mad to get lost in them. He wouldn’t be mad to be trapped forever, like mosquito in amber with which her eyes shared color.

“Okay, you can do that again”

He needed a long moment to realize why that would ever be in question or what she was referencing, or were they were and what they were doing before. By the time he scrambled his brain again, M’gann’s eyes were closed and she was going for another kiss. He tilted her by the chin just slightly away, because they came there for a reason and he wanted to fulfill said reason before he totally forgot.

M’gann looked back at him, slightly dazed, straightening just a bit. She brought him with her, so his position was just a touch less parallel to the ground, which was also nice.

“I have nothing against round to but before that, I wanted to show you something”

He waited for a moment until she full caught what he was saying. It was overwhelmingly exhilarating to see that she was affected by it just as much as he was. When she nodded, he turned her chin to the left, slowly so she could fully admire the view.

He didn’t turn. He knew what she could see, the breathtaking spectacle of Far Frozen, the wonderful mix of futuristic and traditional, shining in the Ghost Zone’s lights like under aurora. He knew this view well.

Arms around him went almost lax, so he slipped and fell on the snow. He could catch himself or stay were he was, close enough to smell her ever changing shampoo, but he preferred it that way.

“Oh… it’s… It’s beautiful”

He propped himself up on his hands and looked up at her, at the curves of her face and shape of her nose and the little scar she could shape-shift away but just didn’t want to. He looked at her hair, the way her red contrasted with Zone’s ambient green and snow’s reflected cold white and how disheveled it was from flight and the kiss and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to brush his fingers through them until they were neat again or ruffle them even more during another kiss.

He looked the golden clasp of her cape, slightly greener ever since they learned he could be summoned and figured out how to make M’gann always have this chance. He looked at the red ribbons crossing on her chest, only thing she kept from her ‘true’ form, only symbol she let herself keep from the home she could both hate and miss. He looked at her fingers, covered in freckles like the rest of her, short and slender, grasping at the improvised railing now that they weren’t holding him. He looked at the way her back curved as she leaned forward to see better. He looked back at her face, at her slightly opened lips and wide opened eyes and her raised eyebrows. He looked at her open, almost child like delight over something he, at this point, seen as almost mundane.

“Yeah, beautiful”

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

For a while now I’ve desperately wanted down bad s5 Mike Wheeler who panics whenever Will is too closer, or when he accidentally touches his arm or nudges his shoulder, or when they make eye contact for longer than usual and and

Well, I have changed my mind. Yes, let him be down bad. But… okay this part is difficult to say, because Will is my baby and I want his suffering to stOP already, but I know that to do the last season justice Will will have to suffer a lot this season. And I don’t want him to suffer, but I really want him to suffer.

Let him suffer again, which leads to Mike suffering because Will is suffering, and when he realises that Will might not make it out alive (I mean, none of them have a guaranteed survival rate, but Will might get Vecna’d or something), he… well, he panics. As he should.

And suddenly, Will Byers finds himself constantly in the company of Mike Wheeler. Mike keeps seeking physical contact, he refuses to leave Will’s side, he starts saying the most affectionate things that could easily be taken in the wrong way, that’s how sappy they are. And Mike keeps sending him strange looks, too, and this is when Will realises that it’ll be veeery difficult for him to hide his feelings for Mike, for the first time in a long time. He’s gotten good at it, pretending as if the feelings aren’t there. He accepts them and acknowledges their existence in his own head, but hes done everything to not let them show. And now…

Well, it’s gonna be more difficult now, with Mike following him around like some lovesick puppy… which is frankly ridiculous, because if there’s anyone who’s lovesick of them two it’s Will. And Mike is straight! He is!

[cangelgifs]

BTVS (2.02) & ATS (3.18)

#GROWTH

[bitchfitch]

I had a shrink appointment today and while I could not see it I knew my doc was going through the five stages of grief while I explained my fool proof strategy for doing my t shots despite a crippling fear of needles: By abusing my vastly more crippling fear of being an inconvenience.

My mother and I play phasmophobia together every week. she usually has a pretty limited time to do this bc she's like. a doctor and a college professor whos always busy. So I asked her to just. hold me to doing them. We don't start playing until the shot is done. so my needle fear doesn't matter because now it's Wasting™ her time and I have to do it quick. Using one neurosis to defeat another.

It's a horrible coping mechanism because it's feeding the inconvenience fear, but it is definitionally a coping mechanism.

[trensu]

have another snippet of stasis in darkness! just 'cuz i'm bored tbh, and kinda stuck on all my wips i'm currently working on.

The seventh night:

“Has he spoken to you yet?”

“How could he when you’re here yammering my ear off every night?”

“He’s a god, I’m sure it wouldn’t be that hard for him to shut me up.”

“Even gods have their limits.”

“Oh, har har. The warrior’s got jokes. You didn’t answer my question.”

“...not yet,” Steve said stiffly. 

“It’s been how long now? A week?” The man hummed in a falsely thoughtful manner. “Maybe he’s just not that into you, man. Maybe he’s letting you down easy.”

At his words, Steve involuntarily curled his shoulders inward, slightly, ever so slightly, in defense. He'd been wondering that same thing earlier that day. Steve had toiled hours in the sun to fix up the shrine; to make it welcoming; to encourage a divine visit. 

He had stopped wearing his armor to free up more time to work. Putting it on and taking it off took too long, and he didn't have to maintain it as much if he wasn't wearing it regularly. He stuck to only his chainmail. He'd kept his shield stored away, too, so it wouldn't get in the way while he worked. Though, he made sure to keep his sword nearby.

He’d taken his knife and traced over the etchings of stars in the alcove that served as a backdrop to the statue. His knife had been ruined but it didn't matter. The Lord of Night would probably want the stars of his dark sky with him, he reasoned, and these had worn so thin. Sadly, it was the only detail he could bring out of all the stone. The statue’s face was so crumbled that Steve couldn’t even begin to guess what it had originally looked like.

He had discovered that the vines he chose to keep were moonflowers. They had blossomed every night since he’d removed the other more invasive plants. He'd draped them carefully so they lay across the statue's shoulders, wrapped lovingly around its torso and clung to its waist before the ends of the vines trailed off at the knees. 

The strange man might have made himself a nuisance during his visits but he never stayed the whole night. Steve had been able to get a few hours of makeshift prayers at the shrine every night. He’d done all this, yet dawn broke every day without a single sign that the Lord of Night had been listening.

“Warrior?”

Steve broke out of his reverie. He refused to look at the man. He had to clear his throat roughly before he could speak.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been rejected by someone I love." Steve tried not to dwell on his father's perpetual scowl and his mother's infinite disinterest. "I’m pretty used to my devotion being one sided by now.”

“That’s a bummer,” the man said. His sympathy was meant to be teasing, Steve could tell, but it came out surprisingly sincere. “Good thing you have a whole pantheon! Strong guy like you? Any god would take you to be their warrior in a heartbeat.”

“What are you talking about? No, I’m nowhere near done with his shrine,” Steve said determinedly. “I know a silversmith and a stone mason who’d give me a hand, and Dustin and Robin have been dying to come up here to bring him offerings. The only reason they didn’t come with me is because I had to do the pilgrimage on my own if I wanted a shot at earning his blessing.”

The man spluttered.

“Are you insane? A god rejects you and you’d come back? What kind of stupid–were you dropped on your head as a child?

“A couple times, but that doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Are you sure? Have you checked? You should go to one of the gods of medicine. Owens, maybe. Have him take a look at your head,” the man huffed in frustration. "For stars' sake, why would you want to come back?"

He ignored the insult to his intelligence. For stars' sake. Steve murmured the words to himself, letting them settle in his mouth to get a feel for them. He'd never heard of that one before. He liked how it rolled off the tongue, natural as anything. 

The man waited for his response. Steve took a moment to try to sort out his words. He kept his head bowed towards the shrine as he ruminated.

“People barely remember my god,” Steve finally said. “And when they do, they remember him as something he’s not. Even if he doesn’t believe I’m worthy of carrying his crest, he shouldn't be forgotten.” 

The man said nothing. Steve took a shuddering breath before the quiet could take over. 

“Having someone forget you is…it’s very lonely. Which is the worst feeling. I…I guess I don’t want him to be lonely anymore.”

The silence that followed his statement stretched long enough that Steve started falling into that meditative state he’d learned during his many nights at the shrine. It helped dull the twisted up, unsteady sensation that lingered from the man’s prodding at his every self-doubt and fear.

“He hasn’t rejected you yet, though,” the man broke Steve's musings awkwardly.

“He hasn’t reached out to me either. It’s fine. I’ll keep coming either way.”

Another silence. It was around the time the man usually left Steve to his worship. He didn't hear retreating footsteps. Instead, the man cleared his throat, and when Steve looked up at him, the man turned his face away, shrouding it in gloom.

“Maybe he’s nervous. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t contacted you yet.”

“Nervous? No way.”

“He sounds like a godly weirdo,” the man said. “Maybe he’s never had a holy warrior before and doesn’t know what to do.”

“He’s the good kind of weirdo! And there’s no way he’s not had a warrior carry his symbol. He must’ve had loads back in the day. I probably don’t meet his standards,” Steve smiled lopsidedly, playing off his insecurity.

“I’m serious!” the man exclaimed. “It’s possible! Some gods never get warriors. Some never want them at all!

“Look, even if I was the first to offer to be his, he’d know he didn’t have to be nervous,” Steve insisted. "I’ve never served a god before either! I wasn’t sure I could have faith at all until I learned about him. So like, if he’s new to it then so am I, and we’d figure it out together.”

“...you really mean that, don’t you? You’d let him make it up on the fly if he took you on.”

“Well, yeah,” Steve shrugged.

“You’d keep coming back even if he rejected you?”

“Yep.”

“But why? That’s so stupid. Nobody would do that!” The man sounded frustrated.

“I’m not really known for my smarts,” Steve said matter-of-factly. “Robin and Dustin had to translate the only book we found about the Lord of Night because I definitely wouldn't have been able to. It was a tiny book but it still took them ages to do because the language doesn’t really exist anymore. So they told me it’s possible it’s not accurate. It felt true, though, to me. 

“There was this quote, I can’t recite it word for word, but…it was something about how monsters don’t always look monstrous, and the monstrous aren’t always things to be feared.”

“That sounds ridiculous,” the man protested. Steve shook his head.

“No, it’s true! Like, I know I’ve got a pretty face and really great hair,” he smirked when he heard the man scoff, “but I was such a fucking asshole when I was younger. I went around hurting people on purpose, tearing them down for no reason other than I was hurting too, and that’s the shittiest reason to hurt anyone. I had to get some sense knocked into me by the people I call friends now. 

“My friends are the greatest people I know, and I’m really lucky to have them, but to everyone else? My friends are losers. They’re rejects because they don’t act right or they don’t look right; they talk too much or too loudly. People treat them like shit because they're different. 

“And after I noticed that, I started seeing it more even if I don’t always pick up on it. And I still mess up sometimes. I'm not a god, I can't change the world but…in the stories Robin and Dustin translated, the Lord of Night helped people like my friends because it was always the weak and rejected that try to hide themselves in the dark. I want to help those people find him again so they know they’ve got someone holy in their corner. They should know someone loves them enough to protect them.”

Steve didn’t really know where all those words came from; he wasn’t a wordsmith like Robin and Dustin. He always had a hard time verbalizing his thoughts, and he usually messed up the words. Nonetheless, these words had almost burned to be said. 

When the speech that flowed from him finally reached a natural end, he felt…lighter, cleaner. He felt like his shield and sword when they were polished to a shine. But when he turned to see his audience’s reaction, the man had gone. Steve felt strangely dejected instead.

–

The eighth night:

“Hey, it’s me again. My supplies are low and I don’t know what your thoughts about hunting on your land are so I’d rather not…I don’t want you to think I’m disrespecting you. I might have to leave soon to get more supplies,” Steve swallowed nervously. “Which isn’t an ult..ultimate…? No, damn, what is it called? I’m not trying to force you to talk to me before then, is what I mean. Not–not that I could! With you being a god.” 

Steve scoffed at his own blundering. He should’ve had Robin help him make speech notes. Cards with conversation starters. Something! He took a deep breath and tried again.

"But I'm coming back, I promise. I meant what I said about fixing up your shrine. I’ll commission a new plaque and I’ll talk to the stonemason about replacing your plinth. I don’t know a lot about sculpture, but I’ll get you the strongest type of stone and get something nice carved on it. Your flowers? Or cats? Cats are cute. Maybe your bats would be better…?” Steve trailed off.

It was quiet save for the faint rustle of leaves in the cool breeze. The full moon illuminated the area more than ever before. The shrine must have really been a beautiful sight back in its heyday. The thought of it sent a pang of longing through his soul.

The hour came that the strange man usually showed up. Steve steeled himself for another round of questions, another jab at his faith. The hour went by with Steve alone in the clearing. Steve frowned.

“Do you think he’s okay?” 

Steve’s question went unanswered.

After another hour without seeing his stranger, Steve had finally convinced himself to round the perimeter for a quick check in case the man was nearby or in need of assistance. When he found nothing, he checked again in case he missed something. 

Still nothing. Uneasily, Steve gave up his search and returned to the shrine. He knelt before it again, head bowed. He cleared his throat.

“Lord of Night, I don’t know his name, and I know he’s been rude–annoying–but could you please watch over the man? Please keep him safe from harm for as long as the stars shine tonight. Thank you.”

He received no response, but Steve had faith. He knew he was heard. He knew his god wouldn’t let an innocent come to harm if he could prevent it.

ps: i do not do those reader tag list things. if you’d like to keep up with my stuff, follow my writing tag: trensu tells stories