#my fix it fic ideas

[ratatattouille]

If Vi just committed to killing Jinx and Caitlyn just killed Isha, cementing the enmity between sisters (instead of that time-wasting Vander plot) and building up to a finale where the focus was a battle between Piltover and Zaun, and Jinx wanted to avenge Isha as Vi wanted to avenge Vander/her girlfriend's mom--

If Viktor becoming an apex hex-tech man made him "evil" not because the arcane "corrupted him" but because the council considered him a weapon Zaun would leverage against them and if Jayce, now a councilman and puppet to Mel, went on a mission to disable Viktor for Piltover instead of "humanity", thus cementing his deviation from the dream of helping people they had both shared in the beginning--

If Jayce and Vi had the realizations that they loved Viktor/Jinx more than their perfect/peaceful worlds and lives in the midst of a devastating battle where everybody lost--

If Jinx and Viktor had once again difficulty choosing between the person they loved most in the world who was threatening to kill them and the glorious revolution that had been thrust upon them and their crushing sense of responsibility--

If the writers had just committed to one idea instead of trying to do everything in a season that already shouldered a lot of weight, if they'd just finished what season 1 started . . .

[bunnieswithknives]

Obsessed with his brain

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (steddie fic)

saw this post and was inspired to write something angsty <3

The first thing Eddie is aware of when he wakes up, before he even opens his eyes, is the dull, aching pain throbbing through pretty much his entire body. The second thing he’s aware of is that someone is holding his hand. 

“Eddie?” The hand in his tightens its grip as Eddie begins to stir; the voice it presumably belongs to sounds immeasurably relieved, yet only vaguely familiar. 

Eddie groans. His eyelids flutter, blinking awake, and he groggily rolls his head to the side to get a look at whoever had spoken. 

The voice sighs again, “Oh thank god-” 

“Harrington?” Eddie’s eyes fly open wide now as they land on the mystery man sitting beside him on the edge of the bed - a man he most definitely is not close enough with to be holding his hand, and a bed that is most definitely not his own. He snatches his hand away. “What the hell are you doing? Where am I?”

“Ed-” Another man’s voice, this one just as relieved and infinitely more familiar. It fills Eddie with relief too as he looks to his other side to find his uncle Wayne rising from a nearby chair to come up next to him. 

“Wayne, what-?” His surroundings are becoming more clear. “What happened? Why am I in a hospital? And why the fuck is King Steve at my bedside?” Eddie tries to sit up only to gasp and wince in pain as the dull ache in his sides sharpens to near agony at the movement. 

“Take it easy, son.” Wayne’s hand lands on his shoulder, gently but firmly pushing him back down onto the pillows. “You were hurt real bad.” 

“Yeah, I got that,” Eddie grumbles out. He sucks in a deep, intentional breath and exhales slowly, the pain beginning to dull again now that he’s settled. His questions are still largely unanswered, though. Blank mind reaching desperately for any logical piece to this bizarre puzzle, he turns an accusing glare to Harrington. “Did you land me in here? Is that why you’re here, some sort of weird guilt thing?” 

Harrington’s looking at him like a kicked puppy. “What? No, I-” he falters, takes a shaky breath and swallows painfully like he’s trying not to cry. “You don’t remember?” 

“I don’t remember what? Will someone just tell me what happened?” Eddie’s confusion is rising more and more into agitation with every second he remains without an explanation. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Harrington asks quietly.

“I was driving home from school, just found out I wasn’t gonna graduate again.” Eddie frowns as he thinks back, still trying to put pieces together. “Did I crash my car? Is that it? I was emotional and not paying attention and got into an accident?” 

Yet again, he receives no answers. 

“Eddie, what month is it?” Wayne asks instead, his tone dangerously measured and serious. “What year?” 

“May…” Eddie says warily, “1985.”

His words hold a weight he doesn’t understand, landing heavy on the others in the room and thickening the air. It sends a chill of dread down his spine, the way his answer etches concern deep into the lines of Wayne’s face, the way Steve Harrington seems to take it like a blow to the chest. 

Harrington exhales sharply as if he’s been punched, standing abruptly and taking a few stumbling steps back. Wayne says, “It’s April of ‘86, Ed.”

Eddie’s blood runs cold. “No. No, it can’t be.” 

“I’m gonna go tell the nurse you’re awake,” Harrington mumbles, his voice strained and his eyes glassy with barely held-back tears. 

“I���ll go,” Wayne offers, pushing himself away from Eddie’s bed. He gives Harrington a meaningful look, though what that meaning is, Eddie can’t decipher. 

Harrington turns his devastated gaze to the older man. “But, Wayne, he doesn’t-” 

“I know, kid.” Wayne gives a sad smile and places a sympathetic hand on Harrington’s shoulder as he passes by. “Just talk to him.” 

Eddie is thrown off by this familiarity between them. Since when were those two close? He feels like he’s entered some sort of parallel universe where everything is just ever so slightly wrong. It leaves an itch beneath his skin, uncomfortable and out of place, like he no longer quite fits in his own body, in his own life. He’s lost 11 months, apparently, and this world is no longer his; he doesn’t know where he fits into it anymore. 

Wayne leaves the room, and Eddie wants to protest: Don’t leave me here with this guy I don’t know in this time I don’t know, please, you’re the only thing that feels safe and familiar! Anxiety is crawling through him like a thousand tiny bugs in his veins. He wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants to run. Anything to shake this feeling loose. But he’s confined to this bed, trapped both by his pain and by all these machines he’s hooked up to, and he sure as shit isn’t going to have a breakdown in front of Steve goddamn Harrington. 

Instead, Eddie resigns himself to this situation and casts a sideways glance at Harrington who very much looks like he’s also trying not to have a breakdown. “I’m freaking out, man,” Eddie says finally, hating how shaky and pathetic his voice sounds. “I swear to god, Harrington, if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on…” 

Harrington worries his lip between his teeth as he hesitates. “It’s a lot to explain.” 

“Yeah, I bet,” Eddie scoffs out a humorless laugh. “I’m missing nearly an entire year, of course it’s a lot to fill in. Unless I’ve been here this whole time?” 

“No.” Harrington shakes his head. “No, you’ve only been here about a week. I- I don’t know why you’re missing so much time, the whole Vecna thing only started like a week before that-” 

“Vecna?” Eddie interrupts to question. “What does any of this have to do with the D&D campaign I was planning? And, also, how the fuck do you know about that?” 

Harrington closes his eyes for a second and takes a breath, like having this conversation is the most painful thing he’s ever had to do. “I’m not talking about D&D, Ed. Vecna was a real-life monster from a real-life alternate dimension we called the Upside-Down. The kids only called him Vecna because we didn’t know who he was at the time and he, like, cursed people before he killed them, but he was actually Henry Creel, which is a whole other fucked up story.”

“Okay…” Eddie doesn’t know who ‘the kids’ are and he’s skeptical of the way Harrington talks so factually about monsters and dimensions and curses existing in the real world, but he does remember his uncle telling him stories about the demonic tragedy of the Creel family, which is the only thing that makes any of this even halfway believable. It still doesn’t explain how Eddie wound up in the hospital with his entire body feeling like it’d been run through a blender, though, or why the former king of Hawkin’s High was hovering over his sickbed. He gestures for Harrington to continue. 

“I never wanted you to get involved in all this Upside-Down shit,” Harrington’s voice breaks. He steps closer to Eddie’s bed again, and he looks so so sad as he stares down at him that it makes Eddie’s own heart ache, just a little bit. Harrington’s hand twitches at his side as if he means to reach out for Eddie but then thinks better of it, running the hand through his hair instead as he continues, “I tried to keep you from it for so long, I really did, but then Vecna killed Chrissy in your trailer and the whole town blamed you and you were just a part of things then, there was no getting around it. You helped us fight him - Vecna. You kept his army of bats off our ass while we weakened his body and El weakened his mind. If it weren’t for you we never would’ve defeated him and we certainly wouldn’t have all made it out alive.” Harrington’s gaze softens, as does his voice, his next words almost a whisper, “You were a hero, Eddie.” 

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Eddie says, like that’s the least plausible part of Harrington’s story. And, really, it is. He can wrap his mind around a lot of things: a murder in his trailer - sure, Forest Hills always was a shady place; the whole town accusing him of being a killer - yeah, of course, that tracks; even an evil wizard from another dimension with an army of bats - fine, okay, why the hell not. But Eddie Munson is no hero, and he’s definitely not any sort of fighter either.

“No, you never did think so, did you?” Harrington mutters with a sad sort of fondness and the barest trace of a wistful smile. “But it’s true. Dustin was in danger and you didn’t even think twice. You ran right into the fray without a second thought, sacrificed yourself so that the rest of us might survive. Those bats nearly killed you, b-” he breaks, choking on whatever word he was going to say. His eyes swim with yet more unshed tears. “I almost thought they had killed you, you know. I thought you were dead when I carried you out of the Upside-Down,” he admits shakily, choked up and barely managed, “and even when I brought you here and you were stable, I was still so scared you wouldn’t wake up…” 

Eddie doesn’t know how to react to any of that information or to such a display of emotion. His own hands twitch now with the urge to reach out and comfort him, but he too denies that instinct. He tries for humor instead, something lighter, cracking a grin and teasing, “Aw, Stevie, I didn’t know you cared.” 

Harrington makes a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. “Oh, Ed, you have no idea.” 

“We were friends then, weren’t we?” Eddie guesses now, carefully. It’s rapidly becoming the only possible explanation for the guy’s behavior around him. “Before all the Vecna stuff?”

“Yeah,” Harrington manages, forcing a small, sad smile as his eyes finally overflow and streak his cheeks with tears. “Yeah, we were good friends.” 

~

Wayne reenters the room then with a nurse in tow, and Steve quickly turns away and rubs his hands over his face. He needs to pull himself together; he can’t break down right now, not yet, not here. 

He listens, distantly, as the nurse asks Eddie a bunch of questions and then tells the rest of them that she needs to take him in for some tests to determine the cause and prognosis of Eddie’s amnesia. He watches, numbly, as she wheels Eddie’s entire bed out of the room. 

Steve can barely hear, barely see, his emotion clouding his eyes and roaring in his ears. He stares blankly through the open doorway and struggles to swallow down the ever-rising lump in his throat. 

Wayne’s voice rumbles from somewhere beside him, but he can’t quite make out the words. “What?” 

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Wayne says, the sound reaching Steve’s ears a little clearer now. “I asked if you were alright.” 

Steve shakes his head. His voice comes out coarse and raw, “‘Course I’m not alright.” 

“Right, ‘course you’re not,” Wayne echoes. He follows Steve’s mournful gaze to the door Eddie had disappeared through. “What did you tell him?” 

“Told him he was a hero,” Steve croaks, “...and that we were good friends.”

“Ah…” Steve’s vision is so blurred behind a thick layer of tears he can’t see the sympathetic frown on the old man’s face, but he knows it’s there. “At least he’s alive, kid,” Wayne tries to be comforting. “You can always start over.” 

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t- I don’t want to start over, I just want-” Steve chokes back a sob. He just wants Eddie.

It’s a horrible thought, but Steve almost thinks that this just might be worse than if Eddie really had died… Because how is Steve supposed to handle the fact that his boyfriend of 9 months no longer knows him? How is he supposed to cope now that the love of his life looks right at him and no longer sees him?

He closes his eyes, presses the heels of his palms into his eyelids, inhaling a shaky breath and exhaling an even shakier sigh. Steve whispers, “It feels like I’m losing him all over again.” 

(part two is here!)

(also on ao3)

[andhumanslovedstories]

chapter eleven of what feels like the most soap opera ass fic I've ever written and then just a bunch of thoughts about writing it, which contains vague spoilers for my plans:

The inception of the fic basically went like this:

haha lol i'd be fun if sqq got real mad at the state of education

what would need to happen in this fic that doesn't happen in canon to motivate him to do something about it

oh shit he didn't unlock OOC so he has to figure out how to be his coddling indulgent self (which he's in denial about) while also being shen jiu

But the thing that really made the story get so much bigger in scope was when I was reading a fic with yqy coming clean to sj, and sj being like, "GASP. I forgive you." And I was "I simply do not believe that this is how it would happen." And I would have moved on with my life, but then I thought, "but like how would it happen." And more importantly, how could this conversation happen within the canon timeline but still involve Shen Jiu, the person this information affects.

The OOC idea and the need for Shen Jiu to be present in this fight scene came together to be like "what if sqq got sj's memories so he could rules-lawyer his characterization more accurately, and ends up being furious on sj's behalf?"

(This, btw, is why I knew I had to get much fonder of YQY and get a much better understanding of his character. When a pillar of your fic idea is a character getting ripped into for his choices, it is sooooooo easy to for it to come off as the author yelling their personal opinions or for it to be completely flat character bashing. Neither are interesting to read or write! Hence the crash-course in YQY appreciation, so now he gets his own emotional arc too. Everyone gets a goddamn plotline.)

Meanwhile I was also thinking about the implications of downloading another person's life into your head. If you have their memories and their body, are you them? What makes you not them? I didn't know! I sort of just kept writing and posting with the assumption that I'd figure something out, which I've finally nailed down btw. That's a relief! Also kinda the fun of WIPs where you're building the railroad track as you're on the train. I end up fanficing my own fanfic. Once stuff is posted, that's the canon, and I look at it and think, "if this was a book I was reading, what is the way I would extrapolate what's there to make a new but coherent story?"

That's why my outline becomes pretty useless after a while. The big picture doesn't change too much--I know roughly where all the major characters are going to be emotionally by the end of the story--but I discover the path I'm going to take there. Which usually means adding stuff. Liu Qingge wasn't going to get a POV, and now every chapter I'm like "fuck am I building a throuple". Ming Fan will have waaaay more a story line than I originally conceived. Early on, I was like "eh I'm not going to go too far into the brothel stuff," and can you guess what is going to be coming up prominently in the next few chapters? God help me.

Actually, there's only one major part of the outline that I cut: Shang Qinghua. He was originally very prominent early on, but turns out having the literal Word of God in a story about slowly discovering backstory is difficult to reconcile. So sadly, he doesn't get a real role. If you're curious, the original plan for him was that SQQ would realize he's a transmigrator much earlier in the canon, but the System would be like [shen jiu would not tell shang qinghua he is a transmigrator. ooc] which would lead to this series of SQQ trying to figure out how he can communicate around this. SQQ at a peak meeting being like, "do you think these DEMONS are PROUD of having made their WAY to us IMMORTALS?" while SQH is like, "AM I HAVING A STROKE?"

What's some other stuff about this fic? I've got a lot of thoughts bottled up, in part because I'm kinda snobby tbh in how I post. I'm like "*pushes glasses up my nose* the author's takes on the story should not be unavoidably present when reading the text" so I don't like to use ao3's author's notes. It's ridiculous and not a standard I hold anyone else too, but whenever I find myself wanting to address something in the notes, I know I must feel insecure about that part of the story. So either fix it or don't draw attention to it. But this is fine, you have to come here for this. This is DVD commentary.

My favorite part of writing this fic has been balancing Shen Jiu's character. As I'm fleshing out his sad backstory, I've been wary of essentially woobifying him. Reducing him to just someone who greatly suffered is so boring and flat. He NEEDS to suck. Or more accurately, he needs to be a very imperfect victim. Exasperating at his mildest, despicable at his worst. (Truthfully, I do think I can and should make him worse. Luckily this story is nothing but flashbacks to him at his worst so there's plenty of opportunities.)

This whole mental breakdown section has been an interesting balancing act because it's explicitly about how bad Shen Jiu's life was and now how bad Shen Qingqiu's is. It's the point at which I had to decide how torturous his time at the Qiu manor had been (me and Shen Qingqiu really discovered that together). On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the absolute worst saddest brutalist ideas I had for this era in his life, I'd say I settled on about a 7. Most of it is backstage in my head, but once I locked that down, I could start figuring out how much was bleeding through.

Anyway, it's been fun writing the angstfest of the last few chapters, but oh my god am I ready for a tone shift. There's usually jokes in my works, even the saddest bits, but jokes relieve tension which is the opposite of what I was going for. I didn't want any humor in the YQY conversation, then you have to keep not joking for a while to get the point across. There's still a lot of planned emotional shit, but I'm happy to not be wallowing for a while.

AND GOD AS MY WITNESS THIS STORY WILL NOT BE LONGER THAN 20 CHAPTERS. MAYBE IT'LL EVEN BE LESS!! IT IS DEFINITELY NOT GOING TO BE A WHOLE CANON REWRITE. PROBABLY!! IF TIANLANG JUN HAS ANY SIGNIFICANT SCREEN TIME, PLEASE KNOW THAT I HAVE FAILED.

[magicpiano]

I have seen a few DCxMarvel dimension travel fics, and quite a few of them are of them are Peter Parker post-blip. Which gives me a crack fic idea: everyone who got snapped ended up in the DC universe. Yes, all of them.

The current world population is around eight billion, so half of that would be 4 billion... Yeah that would cause so so so many problems. But the DC universe is used to crazy shit.

Obviously there would be a sudden influx of "new" heroes and villains but with absolutely no context it is hard to figure out who is who.

Batman immediately trying to make contingency plans for all these new heroes and villains as well as figure out their civilian identities but this is very difficult because literally no records exist yet.

Magic users from both worlds team up, but I think they were still unable to fix it, the infinity stones were just too powerful. Also I think Dr. Strange and Constantine can't stand each other.

While I am at it, Wonder Woman and Loki would probably hate each other too. DC is more Greek but it has had their own version of Norse mythology, so maybe they are the same and have beef?

They would struggle to feed and house that many new people, but getting them jobs and integrating them into society would be hard too. And good luck proving anything anyone says. "You swear you have a law degree from Harvard? Okay I guess."

Do doubles exist? Yeah a lot of people probably don't have an alternate universe double, but it stands to reason some do. How do you deal with having a new kind-of twin? Or a dead friend or relative coming back, but different? Or even someone you never knew/doesn't exist in this world insisting they are family.

Some au double ideas I have seen people toss around are: Dick Grayson as Richard Parker, Kara Danvers as Carol Danvers, Steve Trevor as Steve Rogers, and Slade Wilson as/being somehow related to Wade Wilson, but I am sure there are other fun ideas out there too.

The snap didn't just affect humans/earth! So other planets are having the same problems.

Then randomly, five years later, just when people were getting used to the change, they all disappear again without warning. This causes as many problems as the original appearance did.

[fullbattleregalia]

I’ve been reading a lot of Star Wars prequels time travel fix-its, and I really want one now where it’s Anakin and Trilla (aka Second Sister), who get sent back. Anakin from right after he finally kills Palpatine and Trilla from right after Vader killed her. Just two semi-kinda-maybe reformed sith jammed back into their teenage bodies and being like, “Well, that was an absolute shit show - let’s not do that again.” Only Anakin had just started his redemption arc when he died and Trilla had only just gotten the closure to maybe consider a starting a redemption arc when she died, so they have no idea what they’re doing. Aside from killing Palpatine - that is the one thing they definitely agree on. How? Not sure. Still working on that.

Anyway, Anakin is around 17; Trilla is almost 14. They’ve snuck out of the Temple and are on the run on Coruscant, so that they can complete their plan of “Murder the Supreme Chancellor with Extreme Prejudice” and also because Trilla maaaaay have reflexively kidnapped an initiate on their way out of the Temple. Listen, teeny Initiate Cal Kestis was right there, and he’s the one thing Trilla has roundabout positive associations with at the moment, and the sudden reintroduction of teenage hormones is hell on impulse control. So she’s keeping him. This is her tiny initiate now. Cere can’t have him. Neither can Anakin - go kidnap your own initiate if you want one so bad.

Cal thinks this is all an exciting adventure, though he doesn’t quite understand why Padawan Suduri and Padawan Skywalker keep arguing over whether just blowing up the entire Senate building is worth the effort. Maybe it’s an inside joke?

[ofcrowsanddragons]

Davrin/Rook concept, a Crow Rook in the "Thrill of the Chase" stage has been taking Lucanis and Davrin out on missions together after Weisshaupt.

Davrin and Lucanis are sniping at each other, occasionally in earnestness as they try to understand what the fuck their ally's life is. Lucanis is asking pointed questions about the blight and how Davrin feels about eventually dying to it. Rude, Lucanis, when Davrin is still dealing with the idea of not throwing his life away against the biggest, baddest monster at his first possible opportunity.

Rook is mostly content to let them dig in each other's sore spots until they've figured each other out.

It's getting concerning, though, as Davrin peppers the master assassin with questions. "How do you sleep at night? You'll kill literally anyone for money? No, but you'll just accept that your Talon is right when they say someone deserves to die?" Like men at arms don't do exactly the same thing under a lord.

Rook calls for a break when they recognize the feeling of resentment creeping into their gut.

"Lucanis, can you give us a minute?"

Rook catches a flash of understanding and maybe guilt on the assassin's face before he nods and makes an appropriate excuse. He retreats some distance away, staying just in sight and setting up as a lookout.

"Davrin—" Rook starts.

"I'm not going to apologize to Lucanis for not trusting him," Davrin says, firm. He could take the break to clean the muck out of his weapons and armour, but Davrin generally eschews distractions when there's something important at stake, and he's good at sensing when that is.

"I am going to leave that between you and him," says Rook. No one is going to just get over Weisshaupt, Rook thinks but doesn't say, and the assassin and monster hunter have chosen to blame each other over the mess out of a mixture of genuine suspicion and veiled defensiveness. "But Davrin, do you have anything to ask me?"

He looks at them in that cautious way he might use to assess a monster's nest.

Rook tries humour. "Am I a raging insomniac myself or do I sleep like a baby?" the mask cracks. "Do I trust my Talon when he says someone deserves to die?"

Davrin sighs and approaches them, reaching across and touching the back of his gauntlet to the outside of Rook's arm. "It's not like that."

"I'm an assassin, Davrin," Rook says, catching his eye and holding it, steady. "I'm not telling you not to ask these questions. I think you should." Rook catches his hand with their own and squeezes lightly.

"You're not like him," Davrin insists.

"I'm not possessed and I haven't rid the world of enough high-profile blood mages to get a title out of it," Rook says lightly, "But you haven't asked what kind of bloody work I've had to enact myself, on less deserving people."

Rook lets his hand go and Davrin steps away.

"Keep asking, Davrin. You need to know what kind of people we are."

[nandermoenthusiast]

The coffin lands with a crash, Nandor already out of it gracefully as his vampiric nature grants him.

“Have you survived the fall Guillermo, are you allright?” he asks haughtily and with a barely concealed predatory grin at the yelping heap of limbs and clothes that is Guillermo right now. Of course he was never truly worried for his well being, Guillermo might be human, but he is no regular human, if his van Helsing blood has anything to say about that. Nandor just likes to tease.

“Yes master, im fine, i just wasnt prepa-“

Nandor offers him a hand out of the coffin, the way Guillermo has done so many times before for him. Nandor looks at him curiously, Guillermo looks all flustered right now, hes cute. Hes always cute of course, but damn. He hasn’t even realised the obvious parallel yet, just took his hand absent-mindedly as he was rambling about something. His hair is all mussed up too. Cute.

Probably the moment registers into Guillermo’s mind as Nandor hears his muttering protests suddenly cut short. He’s looking at their gingerly intertwined hands and kinda looks like hes about to swallow a frog, or maybe like he’s about to start crying again. This fucking guy. Always a theatrics with him. But Nandor has learned to lean into his little guy’s moods. He leaves him to his maybe horny maybe emotional thoughts and finishes helping him out of the coffin.

The air is thick between them now. He can sort of hear Guillermo’s heartbeat from this distance, the little guy probably has a concert thumping in his ears right now. Nandor enjoys playing with his food, always has, and today is no different. He takes a step closer. Guillermo takes an infinitesimal step back. There is a wall very close to his back. Right where Nandor wanted him.

“You know as i was saying about the cameras, Guillermo…” he starts feign-casual as he very not casually hovers over him, black eyes boring into him with the fire that only very rarely comes out in front of the crew. Guillermo looks like he’s a mixture between disbelieving and like he’s gonna pass out from hyperventilation at a moments notice. It’s an endearing mix.

“Y-yes, you -were saying something about your hair…” Guillermo couldn’t physically look away from Nandor if his life depended on it right now.

“And other reasons”, very seriously.

“- Yeah”, an exhale.

Just look at his eager little eyes. Should he put the guy out of his misery? Well come to think of it, should he put himself out of his own misery? He’s been in love with the guy for the better part of a decade now. Of course he’s not about to say that now. Let him play the part of suave vampire for his Guillermo, let him fullfill any fantasy he’s ever had, at the very least this very first time they do this dance. There will be time for the mushy stuff later. Come to think of it, what is Nandor doing?? Acting on years of pent up sexual and romantic tension, of course, but what is he setting himself up to? Heartbreak.

Violent, earth shattering heartbreak. Maybe not today, maybe not in 10 years, but soon. Soon to a vampire anyway. No- you don’t know that. If Guillermo loves me, he might find a way to not leave me like he always does. He always does leave. But then he also always comes back. Doesn’t he? Nandor loses himself in these thoughts for a moment, and Guillermo seems to notice his mind is suddenly somewhere else.

Oh, to be known so completely. Oh, to have a worthy partner, a partner who knows everything about you, a Lazlo to your Nadja, a Charmaine to your Sean, a Sire to your Baron. And to have to lose it in a matter of years. Just his luck. But also like Colin Robinson said, dont be sad cause its over, smile cause it happened.

Nandor’s eyes keep searching Guillermo’s as he draws closer and closer, eyes intensely registering every microexpression on his beloved’s face, the little crinkle between his brows and the small nervous smile that’s forming around his lips. His hands land seamlessly and delicately on either side of Guillermo’s face, and he feels his breath hitch. He really doesn’t give a flying fuck if he’s gonna suffer for a thousand years, Guillermo is here right now and he looks like he’s gonna break under his touch. One hand goes to cradle his head, thumb delicately swiping over Guillermo’s ear and pulse point, as Nandor brings their noses together and they breathe the same air for a moment. The other hand is held gently across his cheek, just there, a reassuring weight. “I’m going to kiss you now”.

And Nandor kisses him.

[scribbly-artist]

Too Hard on Yourself

Summary: You’re working on an assigned project at Piltover Academy, and while most of the time you pick up new things quickly, this time, you haven’t. You’re frustrated with yourself, crying at your workbench. However, you old friend Jayce Talis is here to make you feel better.

Author’s Notes: Thanks to the anon for submitting this request!! They had asked for ler!Jayce and lee!reader platonically, and I was happy to deliver. This was my first time writing for Jayce, so I hope he doesn’t sound super OOC. :) I locked in so hard writing this one which I’m surprised with, as I’m dead tired from travelling this weekend. I hope you enjoy! If you’d like to see a fic from me, feel free to send in an ask request and I’ll see what I can do!

Words: ~2,000 | AO3 Link

A very long, exhausting day looks like it will end in tears for you as you lay your head straight down on the workbench, droplets escaping from your eyes that you couldn't control. 

Why did everything have to be so hard? You were trying your best, but things just weren't going your way lately. 

You've been enrolled into the Piltover Academy starting this year. It took everything within your mind and body to pass the exam to even get into it in the first place. You wanted to push yourself to do better, for yourself and for your city. For the most part, you enjoyed being here. The classes, the people, the teachers. 

Though, sometimes, information and topics went way over your head, making tasks a lot harder than they should be. Usually, most subjects and instructions just clicked with you - you thought of yourself as a fast and efficient learner. But when you really didn’t get something and tried hard to combat the issue, your failures and lack of understanding really, really upset you. This project you were assigned was one of those difficult times. 

Your class was handed blueprints to build this device. From the visual alone, it was quite complex, even for your class to handle. Some people started their tasks effortlessly, some had stayed back to try to get as much of it done before they left for the day to try again tomorrow.

Except for you. 

The sun was setting, the orange glow bouncing off the walls and the pieces of machinery some students had left on their work benches. Fragments of light ricocheted off the countless shiny pieces of metal in just the wrong places, blinding you as you raised your head up to wipe at your eyes. 

There were a lot of delicate and small parts concerning this device. You didn’t want to break anything accidentally, or screw it up at all. In your mind, everything had to be perfect. If it didn’t turn out perfect, to you it meant that your skills were severely lacking, bringing your self-esteem and self-worth way down. 

Your mind was foggy, it was hard to think. Your anxiety was at its peak, you were so frustrated with yourself. Your head felt like it was spinning as it pounded, your eyes hurt from being wide open for so long, and you were so, so tired. Reaching up to your face, you rubbed your eyes, trying to will the tears away so you could attempt to calm down. 

However, there was an echo of footsteps coming from the entrance of the room. You quickly attempted to clean yourself up, swiping the tears on your face and whipping your head around to see who it was. 

It was Jayce Talis, your long time friend from way back when. Oh no. He was fast approaching with a smile on his face, as usual. 

You didn't want him to see you like this. Despite knowing him for so long, you don’t want him to think of you as weak. You snapped your head back around, picking up the blueprints in front of you so that you could maybe use them to hide your face, or make yourself look busy. “Hi, Jayce…” you managed to croak out, trying to not let your emotions spill over. 

“Hey, I see you're burning the midnight oil,” he commented, sauntering over to your bench, placing a hand down on the edge as he leaned his weight against it. His head craned over, trying to get a look at your face. “What do the professors have you doing this week?”

“They've just assigned us to build this thing…” you muttered, not engaging much in the conversation. You hoped that maybe if you were stand-offish enough that Jayce might leave, as awful as that sounded. 

But Jayce noticed.

You never acted this way around him, you could light up a room with your presence and charm. Jayce knew something was up. “Is everything okay?” He quizzed, concern laced in his voice. 

At first, you didn’t know how to respond. You were never one to really open yourself up when you had problems - you absolutely never wanted to bother or worry your loved ones. You wanted to stay silent, but from his question, emotions already started boiling like a pot on a stove inside you. “It’s fine, Jayce, really…” you mumbled, holding the blueprint close to your face, the paper nearly touching your nose. “I just need to brute force through this, I’ll get it eventually…”

He raised an eyebrow in suspicion, not believing your words. Then his expression softened as he saw your face. You were holding back tears, the liquid pooling right along the edges of your eyes. They looked red and puffy, same with your nose, he got the hint that you were probably crying way before he came into the room. He frowned at the sight, shifting his weight so he was now standing up, crossing his arms over his chest.

“There’s something obviously wrong,” he started, placing his hand on the back of your chair. His voice was soft as he spoke. “You can tell me anything… you know that, right?” 

That was the moment your tears started to spill, flowing down your cheeks. You dropped the blueprint back onto the table as you buried your head down into your hands.

“I don’t get how any of this works, Jayce - I’ve tried so h-hard to understand, I… I should know how this works…” you breathed out between quiet sobs, muffled from your hands being latched to your face. Jayce placed a comforting hand on your shoulder as you shook. “Maybe I’m not cut out to be here… I should have just gone into the family business like m-my parents wanted…!” 

“Don’t say that!” Jayce cut in, quickly going to another bench and pulling up a chair so he could sit next to you on your level. He placed his hand back on your shoulder. “It’s okay to not understand things - I know you pick new things up quick, but it’s okay to be confused. You can’t be a perfectionist at everything, no one can.” 

You slowly turned your head to look over to him, the sight of your tear-stained face breaking his heart. “If I can’t get this right, then what’s t-the point? Everyone else seemed to know w-what they were doing… I don’t want people to think I’m stupid…”

“You’re far from stupid!” Jayce’s eyebrows furrowed together at hearing your words. “I’ve seen what you can do - all the amazing things you managed to make when we were kids! You impress me so, so much with your skill and creativity! There’s some things even I can’t do that you pull off effortlessly! Hell, you’re probably one of the smartest ones here!” 

You sniffled and wiped your nose with the back of your hand. You opened your mouth to speak, but Jayce spoke up once again, your mouth snapping shut.

“I won’t allow you to beat yourself up - you have so much potential! I know you do, because I’ve seen it first hand! Sure, sometimes things won’t click straight away. But I’ve seen how hard you work. If I believe in you, I know you can do it. You’ve got a brilliant mind you need to use for good!”

Silent at first, you weren’t sure how to take all of this in. Your eyes looked up at Jayce’s face, he looked so confident in his words. While you didn’t one hundred percent believe what he was saying just yet, his little speech did make you feel at least a little bit better. But only just a little bit.

“Thank you, Jayce… and, I’m sorry for ugly crying in front of you,” you let out a cough as you sniffled, using the back of your hand to wipe your face. “I think I just bottled up the frustration and it just… exploded.”

Jayce released his hand from your shoulder and pulled out a white handkerchief from his back pocket, bringing it up to your face to swipe at your eyes and cheeks. “I can’t bear to see you pull yourself down like that - you can do so much, and I want to see you do your best. You have so much potential you haven’t acted on yet.” The handkerchief was embroidered on its edge, the frills fluttering gently against your skin. The soft touch was starting to feel ticklish on your face as you scrunched up your nose, leaning back in your chair. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle.

“Jayce, seriously - I can clean myself up,” you spoke as you waved a hand in front of your face in dismissal, but Jayce’s face started to light up with a happy grin. You could see the gears turning in his head. “No, no Jayce, don’t get any ideas.” You warned, but your tone wasn’t serious by any means. 

“Sorry, it’s a bit too late for that.” As soon as he spoke, his hands darted to your sides, ticklishly wiggling into your skin. You let out a loud laugh, hands gripping onto his wrists to stabilise yourself. 

When you got upset when you were younger, tickling you was always Jayce’s way to make you feel better. He would tickle you silly, until you couldn’t even recall what made you upset in the first place. Though, he hadn’t had to do it in a long time - since you’ve just been letting everything negative emotion bottle up inside you.

His fingers continued their onslaught on your sides, scribbling up and down, up and down. You cackled as you threw your head back, hitting it against the back of the chair. Jayce let out a laugh of his own, a bright smile on his own face. “You needed this; I just know you did.” He teased you as he switched things up, one of his hands moving to prod at your stomach. You burst out with more laughter.

“Jayce— ahahaha!! Quit it!!” You exclaimed through your laughter, your cheeks growing red. Jayce just shook his head with a smirk etched on his face.

“Not until you’re feeling better. After all, isn’t laughter the best medicine?” Jayce commented as his wandering hands switched things up once again, managing to slip between your arms to attack your poor ribs. Your grip on his wrists tightened, nearly digging into the skin with your nails. You shook your head about, you were extra sensitive on your ribs.

The laughs that Jayce drew from you started to grow hiccupy, making you sound similar to a hyena. Jayce couldn’t help himself and laughed alongside you. But you were hitting a limit, and Jayce could tell, as tears — tears of happiness and joy — started rolling down your face to replace the tears of sadness that stained your face mere minutes before. “I-It’s— hehehEHEHE! Too much, Jahahahayce!” You begged through your laughter.

Jayce didn’t want to push you any further than what you were comfortable with, so he slowed to a stop, placing a hand on top of your head to ruffle your hair. You reached up with your own two hands to place on top of his, groaning with a laugh. “See, what wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Ugh, shut up,” you mumbled as you pushed his hand off of your head, standing up from your seat, Jayce doing the same. “Well, staying here anymore won’t do me any good.” You spoke up, getting an idea as you looked at Jayce. “If I still can’t figure this out tomorrow… would you maybe come and help me if you’re not busy with your research?” 

Jayce’s eyes crinkled up with joy as he nodded his head. You very rarely ask for help, so knowing you’re coming to him of all people for assistance made his heart swell. “Of course - I’m glad you’re asking for my help,” he placed a hand on your back, and with a little push, you both started to walk towards the room’s exit. “Hey, let’s get something to eat before we go home. My treat.” His shining smile beamed down onto you as you looked up to him.

“Sounds like a plan.” You responded with your own small smile and a laugh as you both walked out. You felt much better already, you decided you’d ask for help much more often. It felt better to let everything out.

[homehauntsyou]

i think a lot about the idea of sam’s relationship to sh (both the widely recognized types and the more subtle types). in my mind it would start as a sort of self-punishment (pre-series after a hunt that doesn’t go well and he finds the pain of an injury grounding / reminding) and then continues it as a combination of punishment & cleansing until s7, where it would transfer over into pain as a connection to reality / control over his body (he’s getting scars from hunting but he’s getting more scars from himself so that means more in the end). s8 would kind of be a movement back into the cleansing state of mind (embracing & valuing the pain from the trials) but post-09x10 would very firmly be about re-finding security within his body. anyways the sam in my head has sh scars

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

it’s only three days late! here’s my entry for @thefreakandthehair's summer fanworks challenge!!

pairing: steddie | word count: 3,677 | rated: M | on AO3: it's a date

“These are the days where I miss when you worked at Scoops.” Eddie complains for the nth time that afternoon.

It’s hot, okay? Immensely so.

It’s so fuckin’ hot that it’s seeping into Family Video despite their normally pretty okay A/C.

He’s laid out across the front counter, one arm hanging loosely over it onto Steve’s side, and the other is holding his hair off his neck best it can.

Of all days to forget a hair tie.

Steve scoffs, “Yeah, you miss it, but that place was hell on my hair and therefore, on my game.”

“I still don’t understand that, who could resist Sailor Steve?” 

“Apparently every person that came in could.” Steve pauses for a moment, “Except moms and grandmas. They all loved me.” he grumbles, leaning back on the far counter along the front window, arms crossed.

Eddie opens his mouth to respond with some sort of smart-alecy quip, but is interrupted by the chime of the bell above the door.

On instinct, Eddie peels his sticky skin from the green linoleum counter and slumps off into the aisles.

The government and Hawkins Police may have completely cleared him as a suspect for the spring break murders, but his presence in town is still not exactly welcome.

So, Steve goes into full-on ‘Prince Charming’ mode when the bombshell of a blonde approaches to ask about something, and Eddie meanders over to the horror section, trying his best to ignore the soupy jealousy in his gut for the girl at the counter, getting to be the center of Steve’s attention like that.

Eventually, she leaves, and from the way Steve’s eyes track the girl out the door and the droop of his shoulders once the door closes behind her, he struck out once again.

“I can’t believe I got to see the Harrington charm in action, live and in person!” Eddie says in imitation of a showman as he approaches the register, “And it failed! Where’s Robin’s board, huh?”

Eddie hefts himself half over the counter in front of him to hang over the other side of it, searching in vain for Robin’s famed ‘You Suck / You Rule’ board.

“Ha ha ha, Munson. You’re hilarious.” Steve pushes Eddie back to the floor with a hand to the face. “And I didn’t fail.”

He shows him a slip of paper with 10 whole digits written on it in a loopy hand, then promptly crumples it tight and tosses it into the nearby trash can.

Eddie somehow manages to keep his face from grinning at the action. ‘Just because he’s tossing her number doesn’t mean you have a chance, asshole.’ his brain tells him.

He puts on a confused face instead, to which Steve shrugs and says, “Not my type.”

Eddie lets out a low whistle. “Well that just sucks for her then. Never see how great a date with the esteemed King Steve would be.” Eddie says, clapping a hand to his chest in a half-swoon, straightening up again while Steve laughs, tacking on a: “Lord knows I’d want to.” in a low mumble. A guy can dream right?

“Would you now?” Steve says, still smiling.

Shit.

“‘Would I now?’ what?” Eddie manages to say before his mouth goes dry, tracking Steve’s movements as the other man steps forward to lean on his forearms next to Eddie at the counter. 

His warm, toned forearm presses along Eddie’s, and he’s only half embarrassed that he doesn’t mind the added heat.

“You want to know how a date with me goes, huh Munson?”

Eddie gulps “Oh…y–yeah, sure; lay it on me Stevie, I’d love t’know.” 

He had managed a facade of a cocky grin by the end of his response, but his throat dries right back up and clenches shut at what Steve says next.

“How about I just take you out tomorrow night and show you,”Steve says, then he’s leaning further into Eddie’s side, and whispering, “Maybe you’ll see how a date with me ends.” into Eddie’s ear.

Eddie slowly rears back to blink at the (beautiful) smiling man beside him.

Oh.

He’s fucking with him.

Of course.

Eddie rolls his eyes and shakes his head with a smirk. “Ha ha you’re really funny. You got all the jokes today huh?”

Steve just chuckles at him.

“I gotta run though,” Eddie says, pushing himself off the counter and heading to the door with a wave over his shoulder “Good luck with the babes, Steve-o!”

“Sure, Eds. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six?”

He spins to face the counter again, “Oh yeah, sure you will, Big Boy. Sounds like a plan.” he agrees sarcastically, walking backwards out the front door.

Eddie goes through his normal routine the rest of that day and night; scrounge up some food, smoke a little, write out some of his campaign or song ideas, end up falling asleep around 9 am, waking up when Wayne leaves for his shift the next evening and deciding “Meh, might as well shower.’’.

So he does, and has just barely stepped out of the tub when the phone in the hall rings.

“Munson Residence, what’d’ya want?”

“Are you ready?”

“Hmm…ready for what, mysterious caller?” Eddie asks, shifting the phone to his other shoulder so he can continue scrunching the water out of his curls.

“For our date.” the caller (Steve, as he can now tell) says as if it’s obvious. “I’m about to head over so make sure you're ready.”

“Steve? Our date–wha?” he starts, but Steve’s already hung up.

“He can’t be serious..” Eddie looks at the clock. 5:30.

Oh shit.

There’s no time to panic about what to wear, Eddie just goes on instinct. He pulls on his one (1) pair of un-ripped jeans, the one (1) semi-nice button up he owns (both thankfully clean), and has only just managed to finish his eyeliner and put on his rings when he hears a knock from the living room.

Eddie scrabbles down the hall and nearly falls flat on his face when he trips on one of his discarded towels from earlier. He kicks it off his foot while trying to put his still damp hair up in a bun.

He exhales a shaky breath at the door, before finally opening it.

Steve stands there on his doorstep in plain, light wash jeans that look like they were painted on, Eddie’s (now, decidedly) favorite navy blue polo, unbuttoned all the way, and his gray Members Only jacket 

“I didn’t think you were serious.” Eddie says, breathless.

“I know.” Steve grins, passing him a bouquet of roses, “You look great, Eddie.”

Eddie balks at the roses in his hand for a smidge too long, because Steve says, “So are you good? We’ve kinda got a timeline here...”, pointing to his watch.

Eddie feels his eyes widen even more (if that’s even possible), but quickly gets the roses shoved into the tallest glass of water he can, and follows Steve to his car, locking the door behind him.

Steve asks him about his day, and there’s nothing much to tell, but they continue to chat idly as Steve drives them through town.

“I thought you said we had reservations.” Eddie jokes as main street flies by outside the window and morphs into the darkening woods outside Hawkins.

“Never said reservations. Someone just assumed.” he says, looking over at Eddie with a smirk.

“Is that not what ‘We kinda have a timeline’ means?”

“Not always.” he smirks, then immediately follows it with: “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, Steve.”

“Good, close your eyes.”

Eddie raises a brow at the other man.

“Please?” Steve chuckles, and Eddie obliges, covering his eyes with his hand for good measure.

He feels the car pull off the smooth asphalt of the main highway, and the motions of their new winding path jostle him softly back and forth.

“And here the lovely people of Hawkins thought I was the ritualistic murdering satanist. You taking me out to the woods to sacrifice me Stevie?”

Eddie can hear Steve’s jacket shift against the leather seat when he shrugs. “We gotta make sure the upside down stays shut somehow.”

“Ah, so I’m this year’s unfortunate virgin?”

Steve’s responding snort of laughter is the best thing Eddie’s ever heard. “Yeah, I seriously doubt you’re a virgin.”

“Hmmm…I dunno Steve, you really think I have people clamoring over each other for a shot at all this?” he gestures down himself with his free hand.

“You know what? I hope not; I’ve been in enough fights already, I don’t think I can take an elbow to the face.”

Okay, of all things Eddie thought might happen tonight, Steve admitting he’d legitimately fight for a chance with him (HIm! Eddie Munson!!) wasn’t on the list.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just grins down toward his lap, cheeks burning.

The car pulls to a stop then, and Steve says “Keep your eyes closed!” before he can even think about opening them.

Eddie’s seat sags a bit without Steve’s weight on the other end to balance him out. He hears him shuffle out and shut his door behind him, and doesn’t even get to ten whole seconds before his own door is opened.

“Give me your hands, but keep your eyes closed.” Steve says, grabbing both Eddie’s hands in his.

Steve helps him out of the car and leads them forward about 10 paces before pulling him down to sit beside him on something soft.

“Okay, you can open them.”

Eddie’s immediately blinded by the bright orange glow of the sun, just starting to set on the far side of the quarry before them.

“So no, not a restaurant...just didn’t want to miss this.” Steve says, a smile in his voice that pulls Eddie’s attention away from the blooming pinks and oranges of the sky.

Steve’s already smiling at him when he turns, then he gestures down at the blanket under them.

An honest-to-god picnic basket is set between their outstretched legs, a bottle of something leaned up against it. “So. We’ve got grapes, cheese, sandwiches, chips, pop, and even some wine.”

Holy shit. “What, no chocolate covered strawberries?”

Steve holds up a finger, flips open and digs into the bottom of the basket, retrieving a flat white box. He opens it with a “Ta da!”; a dozen chocolate covered strawberries.

“Damn Harrington, you really know how to make your dates feel special.” Eddie’s throat clenches around the words, as if he’s suddenly remembering this isn’t really for him.

“That’s the idea,” he winks

Eddie flushes red immediately, of course, stammering out a “So this is the King Steve Special, huh?”

Steve glances up at him while he unwraps some of the sandwiches. “Nope, this is the Just Steve Special.” He passes Eddie a bologna and mustard, his favorite (What the fuck??) “King Steve wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble. Would’ve just snuck in a window, made out in some random bathroom at a party.” he shrugs and picks up a ham sandwich for himself (Gross..), taking a bite. “Just Steve is trying all the things he probably should have been doing all along.”

“Well..I enjoy Just Steve’s choice of venue.”

“Even though it’s not a fancy restaurant?” There’s a glob of mayo on his lip (which Eddie thinks is‘Still gross, but also somehow super fuckin’ endearing.’)

“If you were at a fancy restaurant, you couldn’t touch the other person as easily.” Eddie proves his point by knocking a knee against the other man’s. “Also you’d have to wear stuffy fancy clothes.” Eddie shudders for emphasis.

“Says the guy who got dressed up in his nice shirt tonight.”

“Shut up… you’re not supposed to know this is my only nice shirt.”

“If that’s your only one, what are you going to wear on future dates?”

"Only need the one shirt." Eddie shrugs. “I wasn’t kidding earlier, Stevie. Breaking news! Local freak doesn’t go on dates regularly.”

“That just sucks for them then.” Steve places his hand over Eddie’s knee, “Never see how great a date with the Eddie Munson would be.”

Eddie’s face feels hot, but he can’t hold back the grin that climbs up his cheeks.

“Well then aren’t you a lucky guy then, huh Stevie?”

“Yeah Eds, I really am.” Steve is smiling back and holy shit, is he leaning closer?

‘Oh fuck, I am too…ShitShitShitHolySh–’

The klaxon alarms ringing in his head stall out immediately, when a firefly decides to light up the shrinking gap between their noses.

“Ah! Fuck!” Steve flails backwards, throwing himself away from the harmless little bug.

Eddie can’t help but laugh, “Oh come on, you can’t really be scared of a little lightning bug?” He cups his hands in front of the bug’s lazy flight path, catching it in one of his palms.

“Fireflies are weird as shit, man. And yes, I do mean even more so than the demo-whatevers.”

“C’mon Steve, just look at him!” He pushes his hand forward into Steve’s space and giggles a bit at his reaction, somehow unwilling to leave their picnic blanket, but wanting to get away from Eddie’s hand just as much has him practically laying all the way down on his back with his legs still crossed in front of him.

“I’m serious Ed, get that thing away from me!”

There's a hint of a laugh in his voice, so Eddie continues his teasing, sitting up on his knees to get closer. “OOOH what if I put it in your haiiirr..”

Steve’s laugh sounds hysterical, “No! Don’t you fuckin’ dare! Asshole!” he yells, batting at Eddie’s hand.

“Awe come on Stevie! What if he loves yo–and he’s gone.” the little guy flying away when Steve’s hand pulls at Eddie’s extended arm.

Eddie flops forwards onto Steve’s stomach with an “oof!” watching the little thing blink away from them.

“Oh thank god.”

He looks down and holy shit.

Steve’s smiling softly up at him, his hair all mussed from Eddie trying to grab at it and Steve keeping Eddie from grabbing it, but goddamn is he still beautiful.

Also: ‘Holy shit I’m laying right on top of him shitshitshitshit..’

Before he can do something stupid, like lean down and kiss the fuck out of Steve’s beautiful face, Eddie rolls onto his back and looks up at the sky instead, head pillowed on Steve’s arm.

They talk for hours like that. Lain out under the darkening sky. It’s the longest date Eddie’s ever been on.

By the time Steve says “I should probably get you home,” the other fireflies that had danced around them as the sun set have disappeared, the previously clear sky is rolling over with thin clouds, blocking the stars.

The strawberries are gone, the cheese is gone, half the sandwiches, and most of the pop. They hadn’t touched the wine.

Eddie sighs in disappointment. “Yeah, probably.”

They pack up the basket, tossing it and the blanket (wrapped around the unopened bottle of wine) into Steve’s trunk and head back to the trailer.

The ride back is a comfortable quiet.

Windows down to the cooling late summer air, Eddie’s hand dipping and diving on the air currents that fly by, radio playing whatever station Robin had left it on last time plays at a low volume..

Too soon, the wheels of Steve’s trusty beemer crunch over the gravel pad that is Eddie’s driveway.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you to the door.” Steve smiles, slipping out the driver side with a hand clasped on the roof.

Just to be a little shit, Eddie doesn’t move. Letting Steve get all the way around the hood of his car before realizing he’s still sitting there.

He stares at him in confusion, so Eddie clarifies. “Oh, I have to get the door myself this time?” he questions, opening the door to another loud laugh from Steve, “You might wanna remember to get the door for your next date, Stevie.”

“Sure Eds, I’ll remember.”

Eddie nods, walking past him and up the steps to the front door with Steve on his heels.

“So? What did you think? How was it?”

Eddie looks up to the ceiling of the porch while he pretends to think about it. “Hmmm…I’m kinda disappointed, actually.” he looks back at his friend, who’s already sporting a kicked-puppy look. “I thought you said I was going to find out how a date with you would end.”

Steve chuckles as Eddie heaves an over-exaggerated, put-upon sigh.

“I said you might, doofus.”

Eddie sighs again, “I didn’t even get a goodnight kiss..” and turns his back to Steve, pulling his keys out of his pocket..

He’s stopped from doing so, however, as Steve hooks a hand above his elbow and pulls Eddie back to him.

His other hand comes up to Eddie’s cheek and Steve leans forward, planting a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips.

Eddie blinks owlishly at him, sputtering as Steve pulls back, eyes blown wide.

So of course this is when he decides to panic. To run.

“So..” Eddie carefully pulls himself free of Streve’s grasp. “Thanks for taking me out tonight.” he manages to say, focusing on keeping his voice even while he turns away to unlock the door.

“Eddie–”

“Any girl would be lucky to go on a date with you.” Damn doorknob always gets jammed.

“Ed–”

“And I would know! I was just on that date, it was great!” Ugh, finally! The knob unlocks with a thick clunk. 

“I don’t want anyone else!”

Everything around them freezes.

Eddie turns slowly to face Steve again. “...What?”

“I don’t want to take anyone else on any more dates! I don’t want the same awkward first date questions, I don’t want the kiss goodnight and that be it, I want something real with someone who knows me. 

“I want you, Eddie.”

Warmth blooms in Eddie’s chest. Hope and affection that’s so damn close to that scary four-letter word already…he pulls Steve in for another kiss without even thinking about it.

Steve kisses him back, soft and slow, before Eddie pulls back enough to whisper “Would you care to see how a date with me usually ends, Stevie?”

Steve doesn’t need to know he’s talking straight outta his ass; Eddie hasn’t had a date that ended at his doorstep like this. No dates at all, in fact, but when Steve gives him a wide-eyed nod, he hauls him inside and down the hall.

Eddie all but throws Steve into his bedroom, slamming the door behind them.

He sidles forward to the perfect being in front of him and places both hands on his shoulders, spinning them both and pushing Steve backwards onto his bed.

“You wanna know what I’d want someone who took me out for a picnic at sunset to do to me?” he asks, already climbing into Steve’s lap.

“Yeah…yeah,” Steve’s voice is all breath, his hands coming up to rest under the hem of his shirt. “Tell me what you want.”

He leans in close to Steve’s ear, his heart clenching when Steve automatically wraps his arms tighter around him, “I want you to fuck me.”

Sex with Steeeeeve Harrington is something Eddie won’t soon forget.

The feeling of Steve’s hands on him, first his waist, his back, his chest…softly caressing his jaw. The feeling of Steve’s lips on his skin, his length sliding against his own, the feeling of fullness from Steve’s fingers, his cock.

The pace he took, one of a lover and not of just another hook-up. Listening to him, checking in with him.

Eddie silently hoped to whatever being out there that this wasn’t going to be something he’d have to subsist on by memory alone. That this was something he could have for a while to come.

Speaking of…

“Ah! Aw fuck—Steve, please..faster…”

“Fuck—yeah? You want it faster, baby?” 

“Yes! Yes, just like that—oohhh fuck me.”

“You got it darling.” Eddie can hear the smirk in Steve’s voice even though he can’t see it; his head thrown back on his own pillow in pleasure. He can feel the muscles in Steve’s thighs move faster, harder, beneath his.

“I’m cu—oh fuck…Steve, I’m—”

“Yeah, yes, fuuuck me too, Eddie—shit—Eddie, Ed——

…die! Eddie!!”

“Wha–What?”

Eddie blinks. 

They’re back at Family Video.

They’re back at Family fucking Video.

“You okay man? You were zoned out for a second.”

“Y-yeah,” Eddie clears his throat of the weird mix of sadness, arousal, anger, and embarrassment in his voice, “I’m good.”

“You sure? I showed you that girl’s number and you like, completely zoned out.” Steve waves the very much not crumbled and tossed little slip of paper around in his hand while he talks.

“Yeah, I’m good. She just looked familiar somehow, I couldn’t figure it out though.” Eddie lies.

He can’t quite make himself look his friend in the eye, so he only sees Steve’s shoulders sag slightly in relief out of the corner of his vision while he picks at a hangnail. 

“I thought you got Vecna’d, dude. Was about to call a code red over the walkie.”

“Nah, I’m all good Stevie, promise. So where are you gonna take her? Maybe a picnic down at the quarry? Could be cool at sunset..”

“Dude, that's a great idea!” Eddie can hear the excited smile in Steve’s voice.

He risks a glance to the other man’s face and feels his insides screw up in shame. The heat that shoots through him at the sight of those kind eyes he just recently saw hovering over his own is too much to handle. Time to make excuses.

Glancing away immediately, he says “You’re welcome man, have fun.” before pushing himself off the counter and, in the strangest case of deja vu ever, heads to the door while waving over his shoulder. “I gotta run though, good luck with the babes, Steve-o!” he calls, cheerily as he can, not able to look back at the man that will never be his.

i hope you enjoyed lex!!! all i have to say is 😈

now with a pt. 2!

[mixtapedoh]

wonwoo + uni concept cause you know i’m a slut for what we’ve created

⋰˚☆ jeon wonwoo x university! au . . .

he feels overwhelmingly shy when you're close to him like this — bodies nearly touching as you lean closer to him on the campus shuttle. the football game being held that evening accounted for all of the people on the bus and the unusual proximity you were faced with now, as there were more people than accommodations the shuttle could account for. you murmured an apology as your shoulder knocked into him, and your hand brushed against his, electrifying warmth in contrast to the heatless railing. "we should have left earlier to beat the crowd," you suggested, but as wonwoo watches the softness of your lips shaping the almost conspiratorial commiseration and feels heat creep up the back of his neck, he can't help but think he'd like to be in a thousand cramped busses on a thousand crowded campuses just to be this close to you again, near enough to see the blemishes on your cheeks and the myriad emotions swirling in your eyes.

he cleared his throat, but his voice was still deep in his chest when he spoke. "i don't mind."

the comment was enough to pass his shyness to you, a triumph wonwoo would quietly revel in for the rest of the evening, as the both of you made it to your building, and at the hallway where you would part ways to make it to your respective dorm rooms, said a lingering farewell.

"we're still on for a study date on wednesday, right?"

a date. wonwoo still gets a particular kind of rush from you calling the mutual study sessions the two of you had a date, juvenile as that might sound. the ambiguity of it let him read into it what he would, and he rather liked to think that you enjoyed the vagueness of it, too, and that's why you insisted on calling them such.

"yes, of course. and, umm..." wonwoo wasn't sure what confidence spurned him on, but you took a step closer at his words — reaching back into his personal space just like you had on that campus shuttle, though there was no need for your proximity, now, other than that which you made for yourself. "coffee? after? only if you still want to, then, and it's not too late".

which it would be, of course. the both of your course and work schedules meant you only ever got to study together late in the evening, finishing only when the night came in close to blanket you both in sometime quiet and still. coffee at that hour would be laughable. the only thing more ridiculous than coffee after studying all night would be the impulse to consider asking if he could kiss you, or hold your hand, or listen to you ramble about your course load, or the professor you were warring with, or the every minutia of your life that wouldn't amount to much of anything, in the end, but the feeling that he was collecting little pieces of you that he could hold dear for as long as you'd allow.

but you were smiling something beautiful, the corners of your perfectly transfixing mouth stretching upward, cradling all the joy you were capable of holding as you agreed, "yeah... let's do it. coffee. i'd really like that."

send me an idol + a concept & i’ll give you a little moodboard & blurb

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 97

Part 1 Part 96

Perkins and Barb are already there when Eddie wakes up. Perkins hushed laugh grates at his brain, shredding it like cheese until he has no choice but to open his eyes. 

“What the fuck?” Eddie murmurs, rubbing dust bunnies from his eyes.

They’re sitting huddled together at the side of Steve’s bed, Wayne at their side in his own chair. 

“Mornin’, boy,” he says, sipping at his shitty cup of free hospital coffee as he looks down his nose at Eddie’s prone form. “You done hogging your friend's sick bed?” He puts a weird inflection on the word ‘friend’ that has Eddie’s cheeks blooming.

“Shut up, old man,” he hisses. 

The bed’s a tight enough fit that he can feel Steve’s warmth radiating all up his back and up his ribs where his arm’s partially wrapped around Eddie. He tries to shuffle free, movements slow and furtive so as not to interrupt his sleep. 

It doesn’t work. Steve’s arm tightens, the metal splint on finger painfully into Eddie’s ribs as he mutters, “where you going Eddie?” but he slurs it altogether and trails off so it comes out more like, “wherego, Ed.” 

Eddie smiles, helpless and aching with it as he settles back onto the hospital's shitty cardboard mattress.

“You’ve got visitors, angel.”

Steve’s hand leaving his waist feels like a loss. His elbow digs into Eddie’s back as he props himself up enough to be able to see past Eddie’s wild hair to who’s sitting beside his bed. 

“What the fuck?” 

Wayne huffs. “Mornin, kid, reaching past Eddie to ruffle Steve’s hair. “How ya feelin’?”

“I’m fine,” Steve lies, voice turning distant and small as he asks,  “Carol?”

Unable to stand not seeing Steve’s face for a second longer, Eddie shuffles within tight quarters to lever himself up, back plastered to what passes as the bed’s headboard. Steve’s still propped up on his elbows, arms shaking as he tries to hold himself up.

Eddie reaches over, pulling with all his strength until Steve’s settled upright beside him. Steve doesn’t turn his way, but he reaches over and takes Eddie’s hand like it’s instinct, and that’s even better.

Steve’s eyes are big as he looks over at his best friend. “What–” he starts, word cracking dryly in his throat.  “What are you doing here?”

Eddie reaches over to grab the pitcher of water on Steve’s bedside table, glowering when Barb beats him to it. She pours it into one of the hospital's flimsy paper cups, holding it out to Steve like an offering.

He takes it, gulps it down, doesn’t look away from Perkinsl’ washed-out face. 

She’s not wearing any make-up, and her hair’s gone all greasy and flat. Most damning, she’s wearing one of Steve’s Hawkins swim team hoodies that Eddie knows for a fact was folded up in his own dresser at home. It swallows her, hanging past her hips until she’s shapeless.

She looks worn down and tired. Still, she rolls her eyes as Barb settles back down beside her. “What, you think I was gonna miss the show?” she asks. Her lips are quirked up playfully, eyes glossy.  “It was like King Steve all over again” 

Eddie looks away from her to watch that land on Steve. Steve who has always somehow been more and less than those around him make him out to be. Steve who’s always been more than a simple high school king. He furrows his brows the way he does when he knows there was a joke but the punchline hasn’t landed for him. 

“Wha–”

“You know because you were out of your mind and lost control?”

Eddie whips his head around, ready to strangle and snarl, rend flesh from bone. Barb sighs, dropping her face in her hand. Perkinss just sitting there, biting her lip on a laugh as she keeps her gaze trained on Steve. Like she hadn’t just said the most insensitive fucking thing Eddie’d ever heard come out of her mouth. 

Eddie feels Steve’s whole body tremble where their pressed hip to overlapping hip in the small bed. The rage boils inside Eddie until he’s shaking with it.

Behind him, Steve Harrington laughs. Eddie turns. Steve’s shoulders are shaking as he bites his own lip against his own helpless laughter, eyes shining as he looks over at his morbid, fucking up best friend. 

“Personally, I think this is an upgrade,” Steve says because even in this, these two are fucking freaks about everything.

“Beer pong to dropping bodies?” Perkins asks.

Eddie can’t help the way he gasps, clutching at his chest like he’s a suburban Mom that just caught sight of some ruffian in the grocery store. Perkins shifts her eyes over to Eddie, and somehow looking at his beat up face is what gets her crying.

It’s less that she stands up and more than she tries to stand, lunges forward, knees hitting the metal edge of the bed with a thwack as she crawls over the safety railing and falls partially on top of both their mangled bodies. 

Eddie tries to squirm out and away, but she’s got her face buried in Steve’s shoulder, arms wrapped around both of their necks. “I’m sorry I got lover boy's face beat in!” she warbles.

Steve snorts, snotty and wet. “That was you?”

They’re both messy, crying and laughing, refusing to let Eddie off this fucking bed and away from whatever the hell has infected it. He raises his head in desolation to meet Barb’s resigned gaze. 

She shrugs at him, chin cradled in the palm of her hand as she watches the two idiots in the bed lose their shit over something that should’ve never been funny. 

Eddie squints at her. She looks so ready to accept fate, like of course Perkins would be like this, and of course she’ll stay anyway. Somehow, after such a short time, they’re already a package deal.

Well, she could do worse. They both could 

“Carol, you–” Eddie starts before stalling, staring with wide eyes at Barb’s amused face. He clears his throat, starts over even though it’s too late. Names hold power, and now Carol’s gonna have ownership of his soul. Or however it goes. “Perkins, you’re a fucking freak.”

Carol sniffles and snorts, like a pig in a bog before lifting her head from Steve’s neck. Her face is covered in snot and saltwater, eyes puffy and ruined, but she’s smiling when she flings her arms around Eddie, rubbing her face into his own shirts despite his protests.

“Takes one to know one, darling,” she says, hugging him tight. 

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb @rainwaterapothecary @practicallybegging

Part 98

[weebsinstash]

more valentino PLEASE 🙏

How does the saying go, "i want this man in ways that are concerning to feminism"?

I was thinking of how Angel used to live in V Tower and, how fucked up would it be for him to receive a good morning text from Val to head up to his room, and AD is thinking it's a booty call, but it's ACTUALLY Valentino being a manipulative piece of shit

Angel comes into the room and Valentino is already half or fully naked but like, he's not hard or anything and Angel is confused? The moth is just, chilling naked smoking with this satisfied look on his face? And Valentino just, gives him some menial command to run him a favor, and he pauses mid-sentence to turn and call out YOUR name before regarding his Fizz Bot, "Kitty, why don't you make my baby a drink?" and you're just like, slinking out from under the covers, ashamed that Angel now knows you slept with the Overlord, let alone someone you know uh, treats him pretty fucking poorly (although I imagine not like, the entire entire brutal extent of it, also, Angel Dust using Reader as a shield against Val because they're both calmer when you're around)

Could you imagine some scenario, platonic romantic it doesn't matter, where like. Angel is talking to Valentino and he sees you in the corner of his eye and he just stops mid sentence, does a double take, looks at you half naked in his boss' bed, and Val forces him to focus and carry on the conversation while he's crying. Angel is just all but sprinting out of the room by the time he's dismissed and Valentino may even play fucking mind games to make him like, MARINATE in how horrible this makes him feel. Valentino is dragging out the conversation and putting on his nail caps or doing his skincare routine at his vanity and making Angel sit there and wait as he's deliberate dragging on his sentences and constantly pausing but if Angel moves to leave Val snaps IMMEDIATELY. So Angel is just. Forced to stand there.

VALENTINO TALKING TO Y O U, MAKING YOU ACKNOWLEDGE ANGEL AND THE REVERSE. Valentino being manipulative and awful and shitty and doing shit like "so Angel baby, I was gonna take a trip to the spa tomorrow, mhm, and also hey you're coming too *looks at you* so Angel what do you think we should get my other amorcito over here done?" the evil bastard is making you two talk to each other, about each other, when you're both like, IN TEARS

Angel, trying to hold on to the last shreds of his sanity: s so... h have you... ever had a facial before

Valentino pausing from doing his mascara with the biggest shit eating grin on his face: oh yeah, someone just had a really, really BIG one

Reader, happily getting drunk off the drink Kitty brought you because it helps take away the pain of this entire interaction: a. .. a massage or something might be nice

Valentino, doing his contour: but baaaabe, I thought you told me you were shy about who puts their hands on your body. Are you trying to make me jealous?

Angel, desperately trying to ignore Val blowing you a kiss and you clearly having bites and hickies alllllllll over you like there wasn't a single inch of you the moth didn't put his hands mouth or otherwise on: uh huh! Cool! So! Guess we can! Decide later right! :)

Valentino, doing his nails: wrong 💅 I also need you to

And the mf is just doing that shit for like 20 minutes straight which doesn't SOUND like a lot but when you're standing there just talking and waiting and, especially having a moment like THIS, it's just DRAGGING ON, and when Angel finally leaves, you're crying, and here's Valentino, "awwww, pobrecita, come here, what's wrong?" and hugging you and you need the comfort and you're drunk and, now maybe you're just a little scared he's the only person you have left....

Also. Bonus round for the angst. Can you imagine. Angel runs off and it's you sleeping with Valentino that finally hurts him so much he's finally RUNNING running away, meeting Charlie, having another place to live. He's still working under contract but the second his shift ends he's out of the studio without another word because... he can't protect you anymore. He feels like this is his fault. He failed Molly and now he failed you and he's worthless and trash and an addict loser-- meanwhile you're beating yourself up because you've lost your only friend down here and also your biggest supporter and Valentino all but lovebombs you (and the worst part is, it's genuine and if you reject ANYTHING, he's getting Offended Bigly)

Ugh. Ok. I'm sorry. Finally finishing the post with one more thing. Valentino is definitely the type to give you expensive gifts and he doesn't actually care about the amount of money he spends on you BUT, will use the fact he's spent so much money on you to manipulate you IN A HEARTBEAT

And also. You're not allowed to reject gifts because it sets him off in like 5 different ways. "Oh so my gifts aren't good enough for you?" "Do you have any idea how much I spent on this?" "I TOOK THE TIME to get this for YOU" God forbid if it's something custom. Could you imagine he offers you something and he doesn't immediately tell you it's custom, like he's got sketches in a notebook somewhere, this is MADE WITH LOVE ableit his creepy obsessive love, and you could literally have a very polite "oh my gosh I couldn't that's so expensive I, I don't deserve it, wow" where you're obviously very happy but just shocked and feeling guilty, like a FLATTERING rejection that is obviously an insult to YOU, NOT him, and he's just. The switch fucking flips. His head tilts. He lets out a hum as his smile pulls way too tight. Lashes out within seconds. Grabs you. takes that jewelry or watch or expensive thing he bought you and literally forces it onto your body, and he's not screaming or raising his voice, he's getting right up in your face and growling out the deeeeeetails of how he got this for you until you're crying and apologizing for your ingratitude

Ugh he's so cunty and mean and awful UGH WHY WOULD I LET HIM HIT, he would use that heart shaped belt he has to put heart shaped welts on your ass and then set your cute bruised heart covered butt as his phone wallpaper and your icon in his contacts and save your name as Ropebunny or something rhfkcsbfkhdxkfh

[driedlillies]

Tma AU where Jonah fucked up his ritual when transferring to Elias’ body and still exists but is like. On the backburner unable to control the body. Because he’s a loser. So OG Elias is able to hear everything he thinks but Jonah can’t do anything. And so he learns the evil plan to end the world and immediately decides nope that’s NOT happening.

And since James Wright appointed him as the next Head of the Institute he has full control over everything he destroys every single bit of Jonah’s carefully laid masterplan. And Jonah suffers seeing everything he’s build fall like a house of cards. At the end Elias just goes and kills Jonah — there were concerns that it may also kill him, but he was ready to sacrifice himself — and comes out alive and free from voyeristic georgian men.

Elias establishes something of a truce with Gertrude after explaining the situation and also perhaps maybe telling her that Jonah mentioned one of her assistants is of the Web and what does that mean? Also what are the rituals and why does Jonah keep saying they don’t work unless you— (Gertrude cuts him off before he says it out loud. Walls have ears. You never know who might be listening).

Michael doesn’t die. Neither does Gerry, because after he faints for the third time at the Institute — Elias doesn’t have spooky eldritch eye powers, but he has office gossip, and that’s basically the same thing — Elias personally goes down to the Archives and tells him to go to the fucking doctor dude. Gerry smokes weed with him after a few months and thanks him for potentially saving his life

By the time Gertrude dies, which is post Stranger ritual (not shot by him, but still probably not peacefully, knowing her) Sasha becomes the next Archivist, and her role in the overall world of the Fears — Elias is not an avatar, doesn’t want to be, but has some leftover traits from Jonah’s inhabitance in his body, and knows a lot — is explained before she signs any contract. Also you’re not tied for life, fuck that. There’s a mandatory Entities 101 for every employee, no matter what department they work in; the vast majority of them come here seeking answers for what really ruined their lives, none of them deserve to die because nobody tells them what they’re actually fighting against. Tim — very much alive — goes to the Archives with Sasha, Jon stays in reaserch and eventually becomes Head Researcher. Martin goes to college part time at some point. Life is good

[bidisasterevankinard]

As Tommy has a cancer trope is popular, let's mix it with mpreg Buck like that:

Tommy ignores and blocks Buck's number during treatment, and he has his bell ceremony in the hospital, where Buck would be rushed bc of some problems during labor.

Consider: Tommy leaves the hospital with a smile, thinking he starts new, cancer free life, maybe even thinking about going to Buck and explain everything, when he sees love of his life, getting wheeled into the hospital with huge belly, unconscious with all his pants in blood. Eddie runs behind the paramedics, screaming everything they need to know before, he sees Tommy. He grabs his hand and drags Tommy with them.

Screaming, in whisper bc you know they are in a hospital, Eddie says all he thinks about Tommy, while Buck is in OP. He lets Tommy explain eventually, and Eddie calls him an idiot, but shows him all the ultrasounds that Buck kept in his pregnancy binder. Eventually doctor comes to them and tells that twins are absolutely fine and are ready for skin to skin with their other parent,and Buck is fine too, but he sleeps bc he lost too much blood

Eddie sends Tommy to his kids and Buck. Buck wakes up when Tommy is with a nurse, who shows him how to feed his kids

They talk. They know they are not even close to be fine, and now they need to think about kids first, and they agree to take in slow. But still try again. Because they need each other. They love each other