#return to the second dimension doesn’t count

[authenticcadence18]

Oh my God hold on hold the phone hold ON.

AYA is very overt about not showing Perry and the boys interacting at all. I’ve always thought they did that just in case they made more episodes and wanted to tell a “the boys find out his secret again” story without conflicting with the canon.

WELL AFTER YEARS OF DELUSION AND HOPING FOR NEW CONTENT WE ARE GETTING TWO NEW SEASONS OH MY GOD IT COULD HAPPEN

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 14

Azriel x Third-oldest-archeron-sibling!reader

a/n: small note because it’s a bit confusing, but az’s pov and reader’s pov are 24 hours apart—az is on the third day of her absence while reader is on the fourth :)

Word Count: 7,296

-Part 13- -🎇🎆- -Part 15-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

He knows he can withstand pressure. It makes no difference whether the weight comes from time ticking on, or the tension that coils beneath the icy bite of steel—he has withstood it all. But it’s been three days, and she hasn’t returned to her lonely room in the House. No light has flickered beneath the door’s frame, no soft taps of cotton-wrapped feet padding quietly through the halls, the corridors smelling blandly of wood and pine, lacking the sweetness he’s become accustomed to.

Maybe she’d run scared.

He should have kept a closer eye on her, especially after the fortnight had passed. Would it really have been so bad, he has to wonder. Hadn’t the years in Prythian shown her how wonderful magic could be? Why shy from it? The potential brimming from her fingertips, cauldron-gifted magic ripe and ready for use. He wonders how she sees it. It’s clearly something less appealing, if she’d taken to hiding.

Azriel stretches out, wings splaying taut at his back as sturdy muscle shudders with relief, shaking out the tightness of his shoulders, getting to his feet. He glances once more over the report Cassian had written from Day, still no closer to what they were looking for. Restlessness threads through his bones, jittery and in need of preoccupying. It’s only a matter of time before the tingling static sparks. The others may be managing on their own, but after everything that’s happened in such a condensed span of time, now with a baby to worry about—Rhys doesn’t need this too. None of them do. They may hide it well, but they all can sense that crackling undercurrent, hushed snicks of a second hand ticking down.

And now he’s scared her off, too.

For the third time in as many days, he makes the pathway to her door, spelled to keep sound trapped within, but also preventing it from seeping out. He’s no longer able to hear soft, even breaths when his shadows pass by, not even the crisp rasp of pages turning, nor the rustle of clothing as it’s moved about. He knocks thrice on the door, not bothering with calling out—the wards prevent that. He wonders not for the first time if she can even hear the knocks, he does’t know where the magic lies—if it cuts out the thud of wood. So, as usual, he slides the note under the door.

He has no idea if she’s so much as peeked at the others, has no idea if she’s even actually inside. With the noise cancelling of the wards, and the magic nature of the House, she could very well be remaining curled up in the room, eating what the House gives her, flipping through pages in her own world. He doubts it—he surely would know if she occupied the space behind the door, but remains unsure to the extent of the magic lining the dimensions of the room. It feels too quiet.

Scarred fingers raise to the handle, turning it with ease, and the door opens, left unlocked. He hears no words of protest after announcing he would be coming in, so opens it wider, revealing what he expected: she isn’t here.

The room is emptier without her sat at her desk, without the clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor and bed, without the stacks of book normally set beside her mattress—everything left neat and tidy. Hazel eyes flick to the desk, noting the absence of the bound volume, instead spotting a piece of parchment abandoned where the book would lay. He walks over but leaves it upon the surface, untouched, simply scanning the sparse note.

At Bas’.

I’ll be back shortly.

His brows narrow, at last raising the paper from the desk, inhaling lightly. The faint scent of gardenias clings to the edges, likely where her skin had brushed over the parchment, but it’s already fading. She probably wrote it that night, three days ago.

Azriel sighs, discarding the paper and turning for the door, scanning one last time over the room before leaving. They catch on the dusty red box, untouched and sealed, ribbon still wrapped surprisingly neatly over the rectangular box of the jigsaw puzzle, poking out from beneath her bed. He pauses then, eyes wandering over its form, thoughts passing idly. Then they’re shifting with purpose, glancing again to the desk, this time marking the purple and silver bookmark set aside at the edge, beside the ink pot. It’s been placed facing down. A small painting of starfall rendered in blues, yellows, and oranges in place of the irradiated greens and iridescent golds, positioned adjacent. The pendant he knows his brother chose—admittedly with a little guidance from Nesta, but no less meaningful—laying atop the bookmark. He hasn’t seen her without it since before she had it.

Some dried flowers lay separately.

His eyes shift warily to the singular shelf that’s normally holding borrowed books from the library, now only keeping the weight of one—a short romance, one he’s seen Nesta reading multiple times over. She must have returned them all before leaving to Bas’—but she would have no need to.

Turning to the closet, he pulls open one of the doors that holds a full-length mirror, smudge marks near the edges, and he notes the couple of crudely drawn smiley faces. A curved line and two dots, drawn with the tip of her finger. Inside the cupboard are the neatly folded clothes, all set tidily, and he marks the small bottle of crimson nail polish, still sealed. Beside it is the bright pink lipstick, and his shadows wrap around it, removing the lid. It looks like it’s been used a few times, though he’s never seen her wearing it. He closes the door heavily, returning the gift to its place.

That would leave only his and Elain’s presents unaccounted for, but this time he moves toward her bedside table, shadows once again in use as they lift the lid from the box, successfully locating the glimmering metal of the orrery she’d fawned over. Covered to keep it safe from dust. All signs pointing to her being gone for more than a little while.

Hazel eyes return to the underside of her bed, dipping down in search for the blue box they’d come in. The coloured ribbon that had been suggested, and remained unaltered. Instead he finds brown paper bags, and like almost everything else, they seem untouched. Left to themselves, as if trying to be forgotten. Shadows spool through the handles, neatly lifting them from the floor and carrying them out. Inside are some books, and a short glance at the first page reveals they’re owned, not borrowed. His lips push into a thin line—things from her trips with Mor.

Still no sign of that small, blue box.

He wouldn’t blame her if she’d found a way to return them. It would be better if she had, than if she’d chosen to hold onto them. To hold them dear. His jaw works, returning the bags to their selected place, standing to his full height, once again sweeping the room.

He hopes that she doesn’t treasure them. She doesn’t deserve that indignity.

Gloves lay atop her pillow, and he picks them up, once again inhaling incase they hold a more recent scent. Instead he pulls them away sharply.

The sweetness of flora soured by the damning scent of copper.

The metallic tang that’s impossible for him to forget, so soaked into his skin.

Something sharp tightens in his gut, instincts recoiling and he makes the walk to the windows, opening them to clear the stuffiness from the room. Clearing the smell, starting afresh. Right now, his next task is seeking her out, luring her from whatever burrow she’s found for herself, likely with the male she’d mentioned in the note.

Whatever happens, he tells himself she’ll have to return with him. What’s at stake is too important to risk, he’ll have to handle it delicately.

Make sure she doesn’t run at the first sense of him.

————

The silver bands gleam beneath the crisp afternoon light, crisp breeze fluttering through the free strands of hair at your cheek.

Twenty minutes, he’d given you. Glancing up at the clock tower, you can see you have closer to fifteen left, but it should be enough to at least look. You hardly understand what you’d been thinking, coming here on your own. Possessed by a abrupt urge to walk, and to move. To remind yourself of your ability to chose, the autonomy you have over your body.

Eyes run over the rings, a wonderful display of craftsmanship, intricate little designs human eyes might struggle to pick out. One band has tiny wings welded to the sides, feathers brushed with pearl wrapped around the ring. Another is encrusted with gems that glimmer beneath the watery sunlight, winking and swirling as people move at your back.

Your attention shifts to a new section of the jewellery, rings with raised platforms, holding small engravings on their perfectly smooth surface. Soft creatures bundled together, initials carved into the metal, icons carefully indented upon the ring’s canvas. Almost instinctively, as if guided, your eyes find those of a fox’s, its long fur blowing elegantly in a light breeze, snout raised to the air as it takes in what are likely the last few rays of sun for the day. It’s eyes are closed in concentration and pleasure, leaning into the wind as it wraps about the animal, tall grass swaying with the airways.

“It’s a precious one, that,” the welder says, breaking you from your examination. “Aside from its beauty?” You ask, meeting their gaze—heavy and tired. A faint smile gleams in his eyes, twinkling at the reply, nodding. “Did you make all of these yourself?” You question, re-examining each piece briefly. Again he nods, and you blink. “All of them?” You repeat, watching with furrowed brows. His features drop to displeasure, thick arms folding over a robust chest. “Think I stole some?” He retorts gruffly. “These are all mine. Not a single one you’ll find elsewhere.”

“I’m sorry,” you say hurriedly, “I didn’t mean to…” But he’s already waving his hand dismissively, “I didn’t think you did. Not the type to.”

Not the type to?

“I…thank you.” He nods his head sharply, roughly, and you wait to see if he’ll say more. When he doesn’t, you awkwardly return your attention to the ring, wondering how he managed to capture the moment so perfectly. How much time he must spend simply observing to be able to recreate it with its own sense of life—how he’s managed to contain that energy in cold silver.

“I’m sorry, but are we…I mean, can I…can I look more at it? Pick it up?” You ask the welder, anxiously tiptoeing. Again with a gruff nod. “Guards’ll be on you before you clear the yard, so no running,” he warns. “Fae have lost fingers over these pieces.” You blanch, and he chuckles at the expression, making you unsure of the claim’s truth. You have no idea whether he’s lying or not.

Either way, you swallow, plucking the flat-surfaced ring from the display, wondering. It slides down easily over your knuckles, hanging loosely from the base of your middle finger. Hopefully large enough.

“Bit big for you.”

You fumble, nearly dropping the ring as you remove it from your finger. “Careful,” the welder remarks, eyeing you warily. Blood pumps through your chest, skin warming as you hold the band carefully in your palm. “How…how much is it?” You ask, nerves squirming beneath your flesh, aware of how your throat is sticking together. “3,800 gold marks,” he responds, and your heart drops. “Oh,” you mumble, crestfallen. You guess it’s out of the question, then. “I’m just pulling your leg,” he chuckles gruffly, “it’s only 500.”

“Oh,” you laugh faintly, forcing the smile. It’s still far too much than you could possibly afford. What had you been thinking?

Your eyes drop to the carving, the fox, free in its lands. Wild and beautiful. At peace.

“I…” You lick your lips, setting the ring on the table to show you won’t steal it. “I don’t suppose…I mean, do you trade?” You manage, words bumbling out clumsily, heart stumbling in your chest, breathing a little jagged. The welder pins you with a hard look, bushy brows narrowing in inspection. “What about those rings of your own?” He asks, pointing a meaty finger to you.

You blink, gloved hands wringing together. “What…rings…?” You ask, unsure of what he means. The welder gives an impatient look, and your shoulders tense at the expression. “The rings on your ears. Those look valuable.” You blink, lips slightly parted as you thumb gently over the gold and pearl slotted into the lobes. “Would these work?” You question, a shade quietly.

The welder opens his palm, beckoning. “Let me have a look.” You swallow, but manage to unhook one from your ear without tearing, keeping the trembles to a minimum as you set it in his palm. He raises it to the light, examining it carefully, performing a series of some unknown tests. “Hand over both, and it’s yours,” he offers clearly, the gruffness faded, all business now, returning the earring.

You take it, peering at the tear-drop pearl that you’d treasured. Teeth pull at the inside of your lip, glancing at the flat-topped ring. It’s about time you made some choices of your own, even if they might be bad ones.

“Okay,” you say, a little breathlessly, mostly to yourself. “Both of them. That sounds perfect.” You unhook the other earring, pressing both into his palm a little shakily, heart pounding with exhilaration and uncertainty. But it’s done now.

The welder nods his head in confirmation. “It’s all yours then. Good doing business with you,” he says, scribbling on a small piece of card before handing it over. The title of the piece, the price, and the craftsman’s name inked upon it. A nervous smile makes its way onto your lips, and you take the ring. “Thank you, good doing business with you too,” you say, “have a nice day.”

And with that you pocket the ring and card, giving one last smile to the welder before turning back the way you came, heading over the neat cobbles. Feeling a little lighter than before, breathing easier as you make for the agreed meeting spot.

A strange feeling of pleasure tingling in your chest. Something like satisfaction; pride, and the smile stays with you for a little longer.

————

He knocks thrice on the door he knows belongs to the male, looming before it as he waits.

A latch clicks, and golden eyes pierce out from the relative darkness, marking who’s darkening his doorstep, pupils tightening warily. He opens the door a little wider, shoulder leaning into the thick, wooden frame, ankles crossed, propping his weight on one leg, foot keeping the door from opening any further—also preventing him from barging in. Deceptively casual while remaining cautious, defensive.

“I need to speak with her,” Azriel says, straight to the point, shadows peeking in through the lower windows from the garden. “She’s preoccupied,” Bas informs, unblinking as he takes in the Shadowsinger’s menacing silhouette, great wings towering at his back, capable of shattering bone with a single hit, if stood too close. “It’s important,” Azriel counters smoothly, “family business.”

“I can’t help. She’ll be ready by the end of the week, no sooner.”

Shadows sneak up the vines that have crawled over the light brick walls, but his curtains have been drawn so Azriel has no way of finding her or even catching a glimpse of her condition. “I said it’s important,” he repeats calmly, lowly, eyes flicking over his shoulder to the rest of the house—or what he can see. Bas tilts his foot, not-so-subtly bringing the door to a tighter close, blocking out the view. Bastard.

“And she’s still busy,” Bas repeats, unfaltering. “If it’s so important then I can pass on a message, but she’s staying until the end of the week. You can come back then, if it’s that serious.” Displeasure has his lips pressing together in a pejorative fashion, angling his head in a way that serves as a warning, more warrior than fae, staring down at the male despite there being a mere inch between them. “What’s keeping her busy?”

Bas keeps his expression casual, but replies with surprising adamance, “something important.”

“What?” Azriel repeats, warmth vacating his features, becoming hewn from rock. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” Bas remarks idly, golden eyes running with provoking analysation over the male. His mouth sharpens a little, as if finding something funny, and Azriel briefly considers the merits of roping his brother into this mess. Just by name, of course. Rhys doesn’t need the extra stress of knowing about this.

So the Shadowsinger matches the expression, cool amusement passing through cutting hazel eyes. “Would you be willing to explain her busyness to your High Lord, then?” He remarks.

Azriel doesn’t miss the tension that stitches the male’s shoulders tighter, a faint beat of pleasure echoing through his bones in response to the obvious discomfort. “It’s private,” Bas deflects, thick brows narrowing as his emotions begin to surface. “We’re her family,” Azriel reminds, “you’re an acquaintance.”

A wicked grin raises Bas’ lips, the taunt of instigation gleaming in his golden eyes. “Very well acquainted,” he drawls, peering at the Shadowsinger provocatively.

It’s enough to have Azriel pausing, considering the male before him, examining him. And then stepping forward, intruding into personal space.

Bas doesn’t yield an inch, and it has the Spymaster considering what a brawl with the male would look like. Whether blood would spray as easily as it did the last time he saw the golden-eyed male.

Bas stiffens beneath the look, pushing up from the door frame into a more secure stance. He doesn’t like the look in the warrior’s gaze, how he’s being sized up.

“Tell me why she’s busy,” Azriel commands softly, lower than a whisper and sweeter than silk, yet it has the hairs at the nape of Bas’ neck rising, warning him against something even fae eyesight is unable to detect. Instinct calling for him to back away from the fight.

The Shadowsinger marks the roll of the male’s throat keenly, attention cutting him down to size.

“She’s on her cycle,” Bas bites out at last, after a resentful glare directed his way. “So she’ll be staying here until she feels good enough to move again.”

“Do not,” Azriel whispers, “lie to me.” He steps forward, leather boots pressing hardly even an inch over the threshold, but he knows the male marks it, the blatant disrespect. The Shadowsinger’s nostrils flare delicately on instinct, as every fae’s do when entering upon a new area, and the scent of charcoal and freshly tilled earth enters his senses, along with the faintest hint of sweetness. A floral note hidden beneath the male’s scent.

Very well acquainted, the male had proclaimed.

Azriel’s features turn to ice, any previous amusement or satisfaction draining swiftly away, leaving deadly neutrality. “Find her. I need to speak with her.” Cold hazel runs over the male’s frame. “Promptly.”

“She doesn’t want to speak with you,” Bas replies sharply. “Whatever it is can wait until she’s ready. By the end of the week.”

“And I’ve told you it’s important, so either bring her down here or move aside.”

The very air crackles sharply, a pulse of magic thumping across the landscape, felt in the skies as it shocks through the land.

Gold and hazel blink at the same time, having both felt the shift, skin tingling faintly, like their limbs had fallen asleep. Pressure splitting as ears pop, feeling briefly disorientated.

Bas swallows, eyes returning to the Shadowsinger’s. “I think the fact alone she’s chosen to come here over staying with her family is enough. And I will tell my High Lord the same if you bring him.” Neither of them address the odd shift in atmosphere. “She’s come here, to my house, because it’s where she feels safe. Not with you, yeah?”

“She hasn’t spoken about you,” Azriel states coolly, staring down at the male. “So I have to wonder how honest you’re being.”

“That says more about you than it does about me,” Bas replies lowly. “Because she’s told me a lot about you.” The way he says it makes it clear exactly what he thinks of what he’s heard—and he is not impressed.

Hazel eyes narrow down on the male, pupils tightening with focus. “You’re meddling in Court affairs,” he says lowly, ice hardening his features, “bigger than you could understand. So I will ask you one more time to bring her down here.”

Rhys would have bitten into him then and there had he heard the command in his voice.

Fortunately, Rhys doesn’t have to know how his morals took a sharp turn around the time of the first war. Fortunately, Rhys believes them to still be mostly intact, not half disintegrated and little more than dust upon the cold, dark, cell-stones of his mind. There’s too much at stake for him to waste time with smooth words and idle talk, too much pressure gathering in the skies, a storm on the way at a pace none of them are able to gauge. He doesn’t need this inconvenience—not when his very life might depend on handling her correctly. As if she isn’t a clock ticking down to detonation.

The visions don’t lie, and he has heard what Elain saw, straight from the seer’s mouth. About that flash of vibrant, pale green light, then his body bleeding out on the floor. Fate exists, and there must be a reason for her magic to only now be making an appearance. There must be a reason for his death.

(There must be.)

And yet, as usual, it doesn’t feel like there’s enough time.

“Come back with someone else to verify that, and I’ll consider it,” Bas snaps lowly, hand resting on the side of the door, poised to shut it in the Shadowsinger’s face. “Until then, you keep your hands off her.”

The door shuts, and Azriel’s forced to take a step back, caught off guard. Had she told him about what happened in the library so long ago? Was that a comment about his warped palms?

Frustration burns through his blood but he knows how to temper it, attempting to calm himself despite the hurried tick of his heart. There isn’t time for this, every second is precious. He should be sending a message back to Cassian, discussing these new events with Rhys, filling the rest of them in on the vision and her magic.

Gods, he shouldn’t have allowed her those two weeks on her own. He should have put his foot down then and forced to tell her sisters at the very least. Fuck, he should have done it himself. But he’d let himself be swayed by her emotions, the deep-rooted fear he doubted she was even aware was in her eyes, shifting her scent. But it had been his own shitty way of trying to apologise, allowing her the time she needed, time Elain had insisted she needed.

He sighs roughly, hands flexing at his sides as he turns from the home, already instinctively making his way to the River House. He can’t wait until the end of the week, there’s already enough he has to deal with between her abrupt absence and having to keep monitoring everything, within other courts as well as his own.

He shouldn’t have been so lenient.

He should have pushed more.

Then she would have been able to see there’s nothing to fear.

Then there would have been more time.

————

“Like this?”

“Try it.”

Your brows furrow, but you reach forward, fingers hardly even brushing the rope before his hand is roughly gripping the nape of your cloak, yanking you back hard enough that you choke as something whistles through the air. You gasp, running your palm over where the material had dug in, oesophagus feeling swollen and large within your neck.

“Do you have a death wish?” He snarls, fingers still painfully digging into the material, inadvertently having gotten your hair tangled in his fist, making you wince, eyes prickling with heat. “Eris, ease up,” you grit out, wincing, “you’re going to strangle me.”

He releases you roughly, not missing the sharp tug he gives beforehand. “I should strangle you for being so stupid,” he mutters harshly, stepping back to let you get to your feet, take in what just happened.

You blink, heart pounding from the abrupt turn in attitude, breathing a little faster than before as you turn to peer at the ground a few steps away from the snare he’d shown you how to set—the arrow that’s lodged firmly in the soil.

“You said to try it,” you accuse, aghast at how close the projectile had come to slicing you open, spearing into your flesh. It might’ve gone straight through bone, piercing your skull.

“With a stick,” he snaps, “using a stick. Not your bare hands.” Flame blazes in his eyes, brows slightly narrowed, lips pursed in a terse, pissed-off line. “I thought you were pretending when you said your youngest sister did all the hunting,” he mutters, shaking his head lightly as his groups his long fingers over the bridge of his nose. “I can see why. You’d have likely shot her through.”

Your lips part in slight shock, a look of hurt and dismay marring your features. “Maybe if you were a better teacher that wouldn’t have happened,” you retort, getting to your feet, briskly brushing off the dirt that’s gotten stuck to the back of your cloak. “I didn’t know it would fire automatically.”

“It’s a weapon made to do exactly that,” he snaps, beginning to calm himself, though you can still make out the irritation in his gaze. “You aren’t stupid, despite what your actions suggest. It’s common sense to use a stick.”

“I didn’t know!” You reply sharply, feeling unfairly judged, walking over to where the arrow is lodged in the dirt, pulling it out with some difficulty. “Just because I wasn’t raised to kill…” you mutter.

Keeping your back to him, you pretend to examine the arrow as you wait for his reply, wondering if the comment will have gotten under his skin. But instead you’re met with silence.

“It’s common sense to use a stick,” he repeats lowly, intonation shifting. “Why didn’t you?”

You scowl at him, gripping the arrow as you fold your cloak tighter against the chill breeze. “I’ve never hunted before,” you remind him, sharply, “I didn’t even know it was called a crossbow until today.”

His gaze slices into you, feeling more invasive than usual. Like he’s discovered an opening you’d somehow missed, carefully concealed yet revealed in a subconscious lapse.

Eris stands straighter, angling his head. Cutting amber eyes pierce into you with a weight that’s unsettling, hairs rising at the nape of your neck. He’s made it easy to forget he’s as much as a warrior as the others are. As deadly.

“Do you have a death wish?” He asks quietly.

You snort, rolling your eyes, returning to the crossbow, making to reset it like he’d shown you.

The silence stretches, and you blink, spinning to face him. “Of course not,” you exclaim disbelievingly, staring at him with slight horror. “What on earth would I get out of that?” You mutter, returning to the bow, trying to remember where to fit each part, what lines up where.

“You’ve never thought it would be easier?” He says from nearer by, still in that slightly hushed tone. You frown, peering up at him sidelong. “What would be easier? Engineering my own death?” You ask humorously.

“Yes.”

You blink, hesitating. Fingers pause on the crossbow, attention shifting elsewhere.

“I suppose absence would be easier,” you murmur idly. “But the effort of ending myself would ruin things. I wouldn’t know the first thing about it.”

“About what?” He asks, moving to the other side of the bow, clicking back a part, allowing it to stretch, able to fit the arrow. “About how to do it the right way, I suppose,” you answer, slotting the small projectile in with a satisfying click. “How to keep it clean, or keep it painless. Probably trying to minimise the horror of whoever finds you—if you pass in place you’d be able to be found.”

“Sounds like you’ve given it some thought,” Eris remarks. “I’m giving you a comprehensive answer,” you retort, meeting his gaze. “Do you want me to take you seriously or not?”

“You need to close that up,” he says, nodding to the latch that will secure the arrow in pace. “Here?” You ask, clicking it down and pulling it back, tension rigid across the bow. “There,” he says, and you watch how he ties the rope to the trigger, setting it so the slightest tug will set the arrow free.

Eris steps back, and you peer at him. “What should I aim for this time?” You ask. He thinks for a moment, before a creature made of small flames appears above the rope, hovering—it looks like a deer.

“Anywhere on the main body would do, though the heart or the throat would be best. Equally through the skull, but that’s a smaller target,” he answers, and you grimace. “The legs would suffice this time, since the snare would keep it place. Though without it you’d have to go to the effort of tracking it down, which if you’re having to resort to a crossbow, I don’t imagine you’d want to waste time over.”

“So I just have to hit it?” You ask dryly, giving him an unimpressed look.

His eyes gleam, corners of his mouth sharpening, “if you can.”

————

“Would an arrow have worked on the…” you fumble, not sure what to call it, wrapping your cloak tighter to keep out the autumn chill. “On the creature…? Two days ago?”

“You’re not serious,” Eris muses from your side, piercing amber eyes darting from stall to stall, walking out through the market to get to the main shopping district. “A no would have sufficed,” you reply, laughing a little. “You don’t have to always put things in their coldest form, you know.”

“I thought I’d make you aware of what an idiotic question it was,” he remarks, pausing to glance at a table, lovely silks draped over various racks and hangers. “Weird how I don’t know about something I know nothing about,” you huff, pulling the fabric tighter. “It’s almost as if I’ve never hunted before.”

Eris rolls his eyes, and a faint smile tugs at your mouth at the open show of irritation. “Have they not even taught you how to fight?” He asks disapprovingly, tracing his fingers over the stitched hem of a scarf. “Why would I need to know how to fight?” You reply earnestly. “The war’s over.”

His fingers pause, and he glances at you sidelong. A beat stretching between you as he quietly stitches things together. “Indeed it is,” he says at last, gaze sliding back to the stall, though his attention doesn’t fully shift.

Your brow furrows at the odd exchange, before glancing elsewhere, wondering if you’d be able to spot the welder’s table from here. You peer about but don’t recognise anything, instead gorging your eyes on gleaming jewels and dazzling finery. Is this all second-nature to him? Does any of it amaze him, or will everything inevitably lose its potency when digested continuously? Would even perfectly soft beds, and heated slippers become part of the relentless drag of life?

You can’t imagine ever being unhappy with warm slippers, though. Maybe it’s a poor comparison.

“Take your hood down,” Eris instructs.

You blink, reluctantly lowering the fabric, shivering as a cool breeze bites at your collar bones; the tops of your shoulders. He pushes the scarf into your hands, already in motion as you start to keep in step. “Now put that on and stop looking so feeble,” he mutters. “Something as simple as the cold shouldn’t be bothering you so visibly.”

The silk is surprisingly warm beneath your fingertips in spite of its thinness, and you fumble for a second before neatly wrapping it over your shoulders, concealing the little skin that’s been left unprotected against the harsh chill of autumn.

“Thank you,” you say a touch faintly, almost scared to brush against the delicate fabric wrong, though it’s undoubtedly tough enough to hold up against your hands. As long as you don’t spark up, that is.

“I know I said I wasn’t surprised you hadn’t the foresight to think ahead, but not even a scarf?” He mutters under his breath, glancing down at you distastefully. “If you’re so easily affected by the weather you should have taken precautions. Why didn’t you bring something heavier?”

“I’m never accepting anything from you ever again,” you mutter back, tucking the end of the fabric beneath your cloak. “Especially if you’re just going to use it as an excuse to tell me everything I’ve done wrong. Surely by your logic it would be better to let me freeze as a way to learn the lesson.”

“I don’t need an excuse to tell you everything you’ve done wrong, but it’s embarrassing to have you shivering so obviously at my side,” he replies.

You stare at him for a moment, a little offended. “What do you mean, everything—”

“I mean, everything, because it’s a lot,” he says, cutting you off. “Really, had you even tried accessing your magic before coming here?”

“Of course I had,” you snap, sobering up a little as you remember the attempts. “But it’s a little hard to keep morale up when the results are so…” you trail off, subtly gesturing to your hands, ashamed to have them connected to your wrists despite the gloves you’d brought with you.

“Of course you’d bring gloves but forget a scarf,” he murmurs under his breath, making you grit your teeth against a scowl. “I didn’t forget a scarf, I don’t have any,” you snap at him. “Don’t have any?” He asks, doubt in his voice. “I find that hard to believe. Doesn’t Rhys keep you fully stocked on everything you could ever want?”

Eris marks the way you avert your eyes, head lowering a little as though there’s an invisible weight around your throat. “He does,” you reply quietly. “But none of that’s mine.”

“I’m pretty sure if he’s paid for it, and had it put in your wardrobe, that means it’s yours.”

You look up at him then, an indecipherable expression on your face. Conflicted.

“It wouldn’t be right, though,” you mumble, looking away again, shifting back to step in his footsteps. “Not when he’s done so much for us. Kindly given us a place to stay, and made our lives so much better in ways I hadn’t even dared to dream of before.” Your hands wring together, and he catches the slight flinch as you accidentally graze over what’s probably a new bruise or bump. “Especially not when he probably wouldn’t even… Not when I’ve…”

“…run straight into the enemy’s arms?” Eris finishes dryly, a wry look on his face. “Your words not mine,” you shoot back, before once again quietening. “But yes. It would be like spitting on his kindness, and I can’t…I can’t do that.”

He listens to your breathing, a little uneven. You feel quieter after that dive into your thoughts. “Good to know you’re fine if it’s my money being spent,” he remarks flatly, continuing forward. Really, you practically shrivel up and die whenever he brings any of them up. Maybe there’s a reason you’re so clueless to the larger picture.

“But I don’t owe you anything,” you murmur, hardly louder than a breath, and he’s so caught up in examining that angle he almost misses your reply. Possibly the root of all your problems. If not the foundation, then certainly the stem.

“Something tells me he won’t be charging you for every piece of gold you take up,” Eris replies, glancing back at you, slowing his paces to remind you to keep up. It’s plainly odd to have a conversation with someone trailing at your back.

“He doesn’t need to, but that doesn’t mean everything’s forgiven,” you counter, pulling the cloak closer, arms folding over your body, tucking in tight. “I can’t just accept everything he’s done—everything they’ve all done—and pretend like we’re all happy and equal. There’s a debt.” And it’s been a struggle to even keep your head above the water.

“So that’s what convinced you to come to me? So you can learn how to become useful?” He doesn’t seem particularly impressed, and something simmers in the pit of your chest. “A reason is a reason, isn’t it?” You reply lowly, brow narrowing. “Why not work with them? Save yourself the grief of having to face them when you return?” A faint smile sharpens his mouth, but it’s not of the ones you’ve become accustomed to. This one’s cold, the look in his eyes hinting at something vulpine lurking just beneath his skin. “I can’t imagine any of them being particularly pleased with your choices.”

“Is this another one of your tactics?” You ask abruptly. “Trying to make me anxious and tense so that I might lose control again and spark up?”

“We’re in the middle of a marketplace. I would hope not.”

“Then why are you bringing it up?” Again, that slow smile that has the hairs at the nape of your neck rising. The glint in his eyes as he guesses at the reaction—pleased with it. “Simply gauging the distance,” he muses, forging on ahead as you step to be at his side, pushing away from his trail of footsteps.

“Why? You’ve never show any interest in my relations before,” you point out, keeping an eye on him in your peripherals, now beyond the palace’s borders, moving for a road that will lead to the larger shopping district. “Haven’t I?” He remarks, something to his tone that makes you question yourself. Has he done any prying without you noticing? Your brows bunch a little, small worry lines creasing between them.

“You wouldn’t get anything, anyway,” you say defensively. You don’t have anything to give. “Don’t you think it’s strange how out-of-the-loop you are?” He asks, making you pause.

“No. I don’t.”

“You have no interest in the inner workings of your group?”

“I… Should I?” You ask, questioning yourself as you peer at him. Cutting amber spears into you, surprisingly intense as he pauses outside the defensive walls of the Palace.

The wind dies away, and you become aware of how still and silent the surrounding forest is, as if enchanted by something not entirely good. The world seems to slow to a eerie drag, black pupils contracting as they pierce into you, cold and experienced. You’ve never really considered any of them old, at least in the sense you’d grown up with, but now, as he’s stood before you with such horrific stillness, such an indecipherable look on his honed features, the sheer difference might have begun to dawn on you.

“Events happen in this world—it’s a condition of life. Of nature. Instinctive or otherwise, everything will naturally fall to chaos if left unchecked. Keeping yourself distanced, pulling away from the events of your life will not force them to remain a constant but instead facilitate that inevitable shift towards chaos.

“You have the potential for control yet choose to discard it, choose to avoid it. You allow things to happen to you, to sit back and put yourself at the mercy of external forces in being so complaisant. I don’t understand how anyone could be so content with inaction, and I don’t think you truly are, yet your choices suggest otherwise. You stay in your House, reading your life away, all in the pursuit of discovery, yet hardly seem to apply those interests to yourself.

“That’s not—"

“Shut up.” Pure ire blazes within his irises, and your mouth snaps shut of its own accord.

“You are idle and resigned. Too quick to accept what happens to you, and it’s pathetic.” The words smack across your skin, cracking down like a whip but he forges on. “I have told you before, and I will only tell you once more: you do not have the luxury of inaction. So don’t waste my time with a pretence of ambition when in the end you’ve already chosen to lie down and die.”

His words ring in the overwhelming silence of the forest, blaring through your world, resonating with a frequency that stirs cogs and sets wheels into motion, synapses sparking with powered charges as they snap and crackle.

“Use it,” he commands lowly, taking a step forward.

You blink, uncertain about what he means.

“Use it,” he repeats, rougher this time, gripping your wrists and holding them up. Thumbs slipping beneath the gloves, then turning them to ash.

“Eris, no— The last time—”

“Was for less than a second,” he says lowly. “Sustain it.”

“I don’t know how,” you grit out, hands bunching into fists.

“Use it or I’ll send you back.”

The fight drains from your body quicker than a millstone dropped in water. “What?”

“You heard me,” he says calmly, an intimidating ferocity underlying his words. “It’s been nearly a week, cygnet. I’m not going to parent you forever. Stand on your own two feet now.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Birds aren’t born knowing how to fly.”

You stare at him, wide eyed. Breathing shallow and stuttering. Hands shaking. But he does nothing without considering some sort of benefit. You’ve known from the beginning he’s manipulative; self-serving. Have been warned about his nature countless times.

He’s by no means foolish. Why place a bet if he thought he would lose?

You place a bet to win.

In his own way, he believes you’re capable of showing strength. Or at least harnessing it. With little to no faith in yourself, you’d never be able to make the leap, but with the trust placed in someone else, someone who has never pretended to be something he isn’t to you. It’s worth something, right?

Teeth bite together, pain creaking through your bones, groaning how furniture does when it’s on the verge of breaking. Aches sing through your palms, blossoming through your skin as pale green light flickers at your fingertips, irradiated and glowing. Gold shimmers at its edge, looking so familiar yet not. Like Starfall, but…more.

Either way, it’s enough for now. You’ve reached the bar he’d set, and can’t help but gaze in wonder at the view you’re presented with. How colour flickers and floats around your palms, glowing and waving with an unheard heartbeat.

“So you can summon it if you put your mind to it,” Eris muses, a hint of smugness to his voice that you would glare at if the cockiness wasn’t earned.

“You were trying to make me anxious,” you accuse.

“And it worked,” he counters, making you want to roll your eyes. “It seems to spark up in response to whatever imagined ending you think is coming along. An act of resistance before the fall.”

A faint glint of amusement sharpens his mouth, eyes gleaming. “Almost like a death surge.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya

[hopelesslydimwitted]

some fun facts from my portal reversal au with fiddlestan

fiddleford’s first gift to stan was a keychain, complete with fuzzy dice and a bottle opener

ford keeps said gift, along with all of stan’s things, for thirty years until he returns

stan’s not a very good gift giver but fiddleford doesn’t mind. he keeps all of stan’s gifts anyway

stan’s the little spoon. always

fiddleford was taller than stan for the majority of their time together. only recently has he shrunk

stan does most of the maintenance on fiddleford’s robit arm, even tho fiddleford can do it himself

ford used to wear contacts, but stopped once stan and fidds disappeared. he didn’t like looking in the mirror while wearing them

stan has saved fiddleford’s life (in various ways) a total of 60 times

fiddleford has saved stan’s life a total of 71 times (but he’s not counting)

they used to have an alien pet. it looked like a fish but could survive in the open air. they named it gilliam (RIP frilliam)

they have friends in as many dimensions as they’re banned from. fiddleford’s southern charm works even in different realms

before the portal, fiddleford tried to teach stan how to play the banjo (he wasn’t good at it)

likewise, stan tried to teach fiddleford how to box (fiddleford already knew, but let stan teach him anyway)

after weirdmaggedon, fiddleford’s second proposal included the line, “will you let me fall in love with you all over again?”

[goodfish-bowl]

A Unicorn Hair Rope

Danny Phantom x Gravity Falls Crossover

Part 1 (Read for this to make sense)

Masterpost

DP Crossover Angst Week Day 7 - Captured by the characters of a different media

Summary: Dipper and Ford give chase, intent to take Danny down before he can hurt anyone else.

Warnings: near panic attack, it/its pronouns used for Danny by Ford

Notes: I've decided the story takes place between the GF episodes “The Last Mabelcorn” and “Dipper and Mabel vs. The Future”, so Bill is a known and acknowledged mutual threat, but not yet able to start Weirdmageddon.

Word Count: 3109

AO3 link

Grunkle Ford was on a warpath, and Dipper was helpless to stop it. The mad dash from the gas station to back to the Mystery Shack was enough to leave him breathless for several minutes, and gave Ford enough time to devolve into a frenzy of preparation and catastrophizing. Dipper could barely keep up with Ford’s ramblings, the very little of it that made sense to him at least. There was too little that made sense, and his Grunkle was not giving him any sort of explanation or at least letting him mentally catch up. 

“Grunkle Ford!” Dipper shouted, finally both catching his breath, and Ford’s attention. “Explain what’s going on!”

Ford paused for a minute, before taking in a deep breath, as if he hadn’t been breathing, before leveling a tense, worried glance at Dipper, before returning to work at a much more controlled pace. 

“That boy, or well, what’s possessing him, is dangerous beyond belief,” Ford started, sinking into one of the chairs scattered about his lab. 

“There are many beings across many different dimensions, but there are some that exist between dimensions. Spirits, ghosts, even gods. But they can’t exist on the physical planes very long, due to the amount of energy they need. If this one has been here for months, then something is very wrong. I honestly doubt there’s much left of the boy it’s been using as a vessel. We need to find it, and exorcise it before it can cause more damage.”

Dipper blinked owlishly, processing for a second before it hit him, “You want to exorcise a god?” 

“I doubt it’s actually a god, more likely a spirit of some sort, or simply a powerful ghost. Either way, the same methods will work no matter what it is. Though I fear it’s too late for the boy, he’s as good as dead,” Ford explained while answering nothing. 

“What?!” It was Dipper’s turn to panic. 

“They’re not meant for this plane, they need a host of some sort to stay for any extended period. No wonder that boy looked ill enough to be confused for a vampire. But with the way their blood has been mixed, there’s no separating them now. Best get it in its current vessel, while it’s weakening.”

“If… If there’s no separating them, then why do we have to go after him?” Dipper asked. 

The… spirit guy hadn’t done anything. Dipper already felt horrible about the entire situation. There were plenty of magical creatures already living in Gravity Falls, he didn’t see why they had to go after this one in particular. 

Ford gave Dipper a look that was likely intended to be sympathetic. “After this vessel fails, it will go after another, it has to. Even if it ‘doesn’t do anything’, that doesn’t mean it’s harmless. It’s already taken at least one life, best not let it get another,” Ford paused, taking out the machete, scraping the multi-colored blood into a vial, and into one of the many machines on his workbench, before discarding the machete into a corner. 

“There’s no guarantee of this, but there is a non-zero chance that this spirit is working with Cipher. We can’t take any chances that he could get his hands on the rift.” 

Dipper frowned, unable to picture Danny, worn and looking more exhausted than Dipper did after two all-nighters, working with someone like Bill Cipher. But he knew how manipulative Bill could be, the chance was non-zero. Danny looked like he’d do it for a decent sleep. 

“Fine… I… I don’t like this. But, fine,” Dipper gave in. 

The machine beeped, and Ford connected a different, handheld device to it. 

“But… how are we even supposed to catch something like that?” Dipper asked. 

Ford gave a confident smile, pulling the handheld device off the other after it gave a small ‘beep’, showing it off. “This device will allow us to track it based on its unique energy signature,” Ford explained. “From there, trapping it shouldn’t be too difficult, especially since we have some leftover unicorn hair from Mabel.”

 Dipper swallowed the uncomfortable feeling in the back of his throat, before putting on a nervous, tense smile. 

“I guess we’ve got a ghost to catch, then.”

Danny Fenton had not expected to encounter ghost hunters in nowhere, Oregon. In fact, he had run as far as he practically could to and from any and all locations that could potentially have ghost hunters. Gravity Falls, as odd as it was, was supposed to be safe. It was only be coincidence that it had just enough ambient ectoplasm in the air to keep him going. The veil was worn thin here. 

Gravity Falls was supposed to be safe, and it had been, Danny supposed, for all of 2 months. He had only managed to get the nightshift at the only gas station in town because no one else had wanted it, too scared of whatever metaphorically haunted the night. Sure, the gnomes were weird but they were paying customers, and he had to occasionally chase Old Mac Mcgucket out from under the dumpster, but this was the closest to normalcy Danny had experienced since getting chased from Amity Park. Gravity Falls was just weird enough that Danny was able to fly under the radar. 

There were also the kids. Mabel and her gang of girls who dragged her twin brother around. Then the group of teens (who were not always paying customers, unlike the gnomes, but Danny was not a snitch), but he didn’t have any problems. At least not until the brother had decided he was a vampire charming his sister. He had thought the kid had been joking, and Danny had laughed him off, claiming girls were just ‘like that’ sometimes. (Danny did not want to think about Paulina’s Phantom Phan Club and their treatment of him anytime soon). The kid was apparently serious enough to find someone who believed him, and Danny’s cover was blown clear out of the water. 

The silver was expected, the machete and the solid iron cross were not. Danny didn’t know he reacted to solid iron until it burned him, and that old man tried to lop his head off. He was lucky that the camera’s in the store were dummies, otherwise Danny wouldn’t be surprised if the GIW made a grand appearance. No one other than the kid and the old man had seen him use his powers. He hadn’t expected them to actually be competent vampire hunters. 

Danny had fled back to the old hunting shack he’d been staying in. No one had been there in years before Danny had decided to haunt the place, so he’d figured it would be safe enough. He clutched at the cut on the side of his neck, forcing whatever energy he could spare towards healing it with gritted teeth. That old man had tried to kill him, full and in earnest. 

After two months of being a normal human being, Danny had forgotten just how much a look like that hurt him. But at least it was from a stranger this time (even if he was vaguely familiar). It was worse when it had been someone he knew. It was worse when he knew they intended to draw out his suffering for the crime of his existence. The old man was practically merciful in that regard. But merciful or not in comparison, he had still tried to kill Danny. He probably couldn’t go back to work then. 

Danny started the process of packing, fitting the few belongings, some newer than others into his backpack when the hairs along his neck raised. It was nothing compared to his ghost sense, but Danny knew better than to ignore any sense of danger he could. He dropped his things and clicked off the battery powered camping light he used to light the space. He locked the door and closed the curtains in the same second, hunkering down, pushing his hearing as hard as he could to hear whatever was approaching the cabin, fingers crossed it was just the multi headed-bear again. 

There were voices, very quiet, and Danny couldn’t pick up what they were saying from so far away, but there were two of them, one old and the other young. Danny hunched even deeper into the corner cabin, as far from the windows as he could. It was likely the same pair from the store. Danny didn’t think they could find him this quickly. It had been, what, maybe a few hours at most? They must’ve found a way to track him. Images of all of his parent’s ghost tracking devices came to mind. He hoped, with all he had, that they hadn’t gotten one from his parents. Either way, he would have to run, run far and fast as he could to get out range of the tracker, and mark another location off as uninhabitable. 

Danny gathered what energy he had to spare, letting it buzz just underneath his skin, and finished tossing the absolute necessities into his bag before transforming and launching himself into the air. 

Danny collided hard with what he had almost assumed was the wall of the cabin. He blinked the spots and stars out of his vision, feeling a tingling, pins-and-needles sensation burn over his skin. He was still about half a foot from the wall, he hadn’t run into it. Danny slowly reached out to touch the wall, and was met with a shimmering barrier several inches from the wall, sending pins and needles at contact. He pushed against it, sending more sparks over his skin, until the sensation became painful and repulsed him away. 

Danny painted against the threadbare carpet, more panic building under his skin, joining the burning of his ectoplasm. Danny traced the barrier, hoping for a hole. It curved around the single room of the cabin in a lopsided circle, leaving only the path the door free from obstruction. That wasn’t an option. Danny watched the barrier cautiously. It wasn’t ectoplasmic in nature, he would’ve had a much stronger reaction to running into it if it was but… it moved, shocking him in the process, pulling in tighter, still leaving the door as the only exit. 

Danny cursed a vile string of words across a smattering of languages, living and dead. They weren’t going to give him a choice, they intended to drag him out, slowly tightening their noose of a barrier until he was forced outside. Danny hissed at the invisible barrier, before taking a steadying breath, and becoming human again to try his typical escape tactic. It wasn’t one of his parents' barriers, he should be able to get out like- it zapped him again. Danny couldn’t get out. He was going to die here. 

Danny screamed, desperation, frustration, and fear spilling from him all at once.

Dipper’s knee’s almost buckled at the sound of whatever was screeching inside. The whole cabin shook with the force and power behind it, shattering the remaining glass in the windows. Dipper did his very best to swallow his fear, looking towards Grunkle Ford for reassurance. 

Ford had something between a grimace and a grin on his face. “Looks like we made it mad.” 

Ford continued pulling in the end of the rope that he had Dipper run around the cabin. He had said it was some kind of unicorn-hair laced rope, completely slipping through anything non-magical, and only snagging the supernatural. It also made a decent portable, if makeshift barrier as well. He had hammered the end of it, tied up in a slip knot in the end, slowly pulling the rope in. Dipper stayed carefully behind Ford as the barrier closed in. 

Dipper jumped when the door to the cabin creaked open, but nothing seemed to be there. Ford just continued to pull the rope in, eyes not leaving the space just above the rope. 

Ford dropped the rope standing further back from their oblong barrier, which now had less than two yards of diameter inside. 

“We can wait here all night, you’re not going anywhere. Might as well show yourself,” Ford growled. 

A figure flickered into visibility, vaguely reminding Dipper the ghosts haunting the only convenience store, and the ones from Pacifica’s party. It was Danny from the convenience store, looking several times more exhausted than he had earlier that night, with burns up and down his arms. His eyes blazed that same bright green that Dipper had only managed a glimpse of in the store. He was curled into himself, glaring at the rope, sharp teeth bared. His eyes seemed to linger on their tracker, glazing over Dipper, before settling venomously on Ford. Something in Dipper’s mind couldn’t seem to connect the earlier shriek to the person… to the spirit in front of him. 

“Well?” Danny rasped out. “You’ve managed to drag me out. What now?”

“Release the boy you’re possessing, spirit,” Ford demanded. 

Dipper held his breath as something in Danny’s expression shifted, mouth closing into a frown. 

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?!” 

Danny did not break eye contact with Ford, and Dipper was grateful to be ignored. 

“I’m not possessing anybody. This is my own body.”

“If that was true, then you would’ve dissipated a long time ago, spirit. Your kind can’t stay on this plane very long,” Ford argued. 

Danny huffed. “Know something about ghosts, don’t you? Normally you’re right, but not in this case. I’m as physical as you are. This has been my body since the day I was born.”

Dipper glazed up at Ford, finding his brows knit together. “That’s impossible. You’d either have to be possessing your own corpse or-”

“Of not fully dead. Bingo,” Danny confirmed blandly. 

“That’s impossible,” Ford denied. 

“Impossible things happen sometimes.”  

Dipper was actually able to see the resignation on Danny’s face, and his own guilt resurfaced. Ford was beginning to look conflicted too. He had wanted to end the ghost because he was a threat, and could possibly leave people hurt. 

“That depends, spirit.”

Danny’s gaze actually landed on Dipper, recognition filling the other’s gaze before drifting away. 

“Depends on what?” 

“First, what are your intentions here in Gravity Falls?”

“Nothing, really,” Danny seemed to respond earnestly. “I don’t want any trouble, just to lay low for a bit.”

Ford’s eyes narrowed. “What reason could a spirit have to stay low?”

Danny looked away. “Are you familiar with the GIW?”

The name caught in Dipper’s ears, completely unfamiliar. 

“They’re government goons. A bunch of idiots chasing things far above their understanding.” Apparently not unfamiliar to Grunkle Ford. 

“And what do you think they would do to someone like me, who they believe is completely non-sentient, nothing more than an echo of consciousness over energy?” Danny asked back. 

Something about how Danny described spirits and ghosts didn’t sit right with Dipper. A good collection of the monsters were sentient, and Dipper couldn’t imagine how people could see someone like Danny and claim he wasn���t. 

“Running from the government,” Ford huffed. “A lackluster reason. Fine,” Ford practically spat the admission. “Then secondly, how are you possibly getting enough energy to stay here? Your kind need massive amounts of energy, just to stay physical.”

Danny crossed his arms. “Eating food. You know, like a person. Other than that, the veil is thin here. There’s enough ambient energy that I’m doing just fine.”

‘The veil is thin here’? Dipper wondered if it was due to the portal. From the look on Ford’s face, probably. 

“You haven’t been feeding off of anyone?”

Danny just look straight up confused this time. “No, I thought we already cleared the ‘vampire’ charges?”

Ford looked a bit miffed at that response, and Dipper was beginning to let relief fill him. Danny really wasn’t hurting anyone but…

“Lastly, are you working with, for, or alongside the dimensional being known as Bill Cipher?”

Dipper could see genuine confusion on Danny’s face, more so than the ‘feeding’ question. “No… no. I have no idea who that is.”

“None at all?” Ford pushed. 

“None,” Danny confirmed, crossing his arms. 

Things fell silent then, Danny staring at them, while Ford seemed to try and fit things together. 

“So, what are you going to do now? Still going to take my head off with your machete?” Danny asked. 

“Machetes don’t work on spirits,” Ford retorted back. 

“Okay… your point?”

Dipper suddenly had an idea, probably not a good one, but, “Hey Grunkle Ford?” Dipper tugged on Ford’s sleeve to get his attention. 

“What if we enlist Danny’s help against Bill… or something like that? Some kind of, um… agreement so he can’t hurt anyone, but we could also use his help? Aren’t spirits really strong?” Dipper whispered. 

Ford frowned, leaning down towards Dipper so Danny couldn't hear, “It's… not a terrible idea. He would be bound by it under the right circumstances, but those things are tricky.”

“We would have to make one with as few holes as possible. Even then… Danny doesn’t seem the type to try and twist the deal. Mabel and I have interacted with in him plenty of times before, and he always seemed… kinda nice. Wendy and the older teens like him too. I just…” Dipper trailed off. 

Ford sighed. “If we’re doing this, then we’re doing it right. He can’t do anything from inside the circle, and I’m not letting him out without some assurance. He’s definitely a threat, but you’re onto something to get him to help us against Cipher…” 

Ford leveled a hard, stern look at Dipper. “This is your idea, so you’ll have to take responsibility for it, got it Dipper? We have no idea how strong this particular spirit is, so your deal has to be airtight. Can I leave that to you?”

Dipper gave a resolute nod. “Yes, Grunkle Ford.”

“Then I’m going to get the necessary items out of the car. Work out your deal.” 

Dipper nodded, and watched as Ford shot a glance behind himself, leaving Dipper alone with Danny. 

“Is the old man going to get a non-machete weapon to take off my head with?” Danny joked without an inch of humor. 

“Oh…uh…no. I… I don’t think so,” Dipper hesitantly answered.

“Okay,” Danny seemed just as uncertain as Dipper felt.  

Dipper took a deep breath, solidifying his will for this. He could do this. He had delt with more terrifying things this summer already. 

“Danny,” Dipper started, fully gaining the spirit’s attention, who seemed shocked at his own name being spoken, like he hadn’t expected to be addressed by name at all. 

“I want to make a deal with you.”

[imagionationstation]

so I would like more ideas on the whole “2012 Donnie ends up in prison dimension” au thing.

if you don’t have any it’s completely okay!

just maybe…how are the 2012 turtles (and Splinter) holding up? And how would the 2018 turtles react when 2012 Donnie has to go back home? Does he? Or does he stay? I think it’d be fun if their were two alt endings. One where 2012 Donnie stays in the rise universe and one where he doesn’t. Idk

Srry I’m yappin’ lol

Oh, don’t worry. I’ve been poking at this AU all day.

I have, like, five scenes overlapping each other. Because I’m normal.

*ahem*

“So what if instead of merely erasing him, she decided to put him somewhere that no one could ever reach him? A dimension from where things are known never to return? A place where April could never get him back without her assistance?”

Lil’ miss overpowered demon would have wanted April to know that she shipped Donnie off somewhere instead of outright murder. Then, she could hold it over her head you need me to get him back to prevent her from ever shattering the Crystal. But considering that’s blackmail and April knew that the longer that freak was in her brain, the more likely it was that she’d obliterate New York- well, she was determined to find Donnie back without her help.

And so April assures that brothers that he’s alive. And they immediately begin a search ✨

I’m sure that there would be a lot of tension, fear, and worry, but they KNOW he’s alive out there somewhere, (probably suffering if Za-Naron’s vague taunts were true), so they’re going to get him back, and the sooner the better. *Insert car chase music*

And the best part is that the 2012brothers have never actually been separated for more than a few hours. Like, in any episode.

Imagine days apart not knowing if Donnie is even alive.

At least they have each other. Donnie, on the other hand…

I think how the Risebrothers react to their arrival to bring Donnie home would depend highly on how long Donnie remains with them. However, it’s not through an “we adopted him” standpoint.

Remember, Leon and Donnie were stuck in a crippled dimension for weeks. They were barely surviving, avoiding Krang at every turn, convinced that they’d never see their families again. Leon would have told Donnie about the prison dimension’s purpose and how no one could ever risk coming. How his family had to see to it that no one ever came through for the sake of everyone in his dimension.

They had to live with that knowledge for a time period that probably felt like an eternity.

A seed of doubt was planted and they coped in different ways.

Donnie, keeping them both alive and his flickering hope burning through each passing moment, holds to the stubborn belief that if they wants to make it out, he only needs to, “Try harder.”

And Leon, willing to fight for Donnie but unwilling to surrender to the pipe dream of getting freed, assists the fight with a timid, but unbudging, “It’s not about me.”

Then, when they get out, their perspectives will be entirely different.

Leon will be home, but a part of him, the part that was counting down the minutes ‘till he dies, will still be in the prison dimension.

Donnie will be safe, but everything in him, every minuscule cell in his being that prayed for release, will be yearning for home.

So, we have two options. And no, I do not believe one of them involves him permanently living in the Rise verse. (Many apologies.)

Option one: Angst ending (They find him fast.)

Okay, so, if the 2012brothers were to arrive within days of Donnie getting free, I have no doubt that a desperate Donnie would go home without a second of hesitation and Leon would lose his anchor. He’d be stricken at the thought, aware of how much Donnie needs to leave, crippled under the looming weight of that sacrifice. He only suffered lived so Donnie wouldn’t be alone in that hellhole nightmare, and now Donnie is abandoning him leaving.

He’d be stiff, silent, barely managing a weak “okay” when Donnie shares the news. The conversation distracts anyone from really noticing his state of mind. It’s only once the 2012 gang leave the room that Raphael makes the mistake of touching his shoulder. After they barely calm a flash-back induced panic attack that leaves him wheezing and pale, crying and bleeding on the floor where he’d attempt to flee from them, the Risebrothers decide that they can’t let Donnie walk out. Raphael and Michael are torn, because Donnie needs the familiar sights of home as much as Leon needs Donnie, but Don has no such limitations. I almost want to say the same for Lou. He sacrificed the world for his kids. This is nothing.

As you can imagine, family fights for custody never go well.

Option two: Happy Ending (Finding him takes time)

If the brothers were to arrive several weeks/month or so into the future, long enough for Leon to readjust to society and no longer need Donnie as a reminder that he’s home and not completely delulu in the brain, it would go much smoother. Obviously, Donnie would be more desperate than ever to get home. The kind of desperate that leaves him broken in their arms when they finally appear, promising through sobs that he tried so hard to get back to them he did he swears he never stopped he tried-

And considering the Risebrothers don’t have a single cruel bone in their body, they wouldn’t hesitate to let him go home. He’s welcome any time, of course, and Leo makes him promise to find a way back during one, big goodbye squeeze, but they accept that right now, he needs to go. Donnie kept their brother alive and helped truly bring his scattered brain home. Why shouldn’t they return the favor?

[dysfunctional-doodle]

What If Rise Mikey Became Trapped in Dimension X?

Lots of info dumped below on this AU:

A few notes for my fanfic ideas personified with rushed pencil drawings which try and relate to the image. I’m really bad at any bg so apologies.

What if, indeed?

Day 494: The last time Mikey cries for the help of his brothers. After this, he focuses more on surviving and begins to see that escape is impossible.

Day 562: Mikey stops keeping a tally of the amount of days he’s been there. After this day, he loses count. Built for war, Mikey continues to survive and thrive in this hell. He becomes desensitised as he forgets to hope for his brothers’ return.

Day ???: Fight. Survive. Goals have been reduced to two, thoughts faded into basic instinct. His mask is lost. He can’t remember a time before this.

For universe 2012, his brothers were only gone for a few seconds and it became months in dimension X. Rise Mikey’s accidental portal into dimension X was unseen, unknown. No one knows where he is. How long will he wait?

Will they ever find him? He doesn’t remember who he is waiting for.

[moonyheartbot]

jonny travels dimensions

The first place Jonny goes to is close to home - well, his home, anyway.

His house, and everything in it, look the same; so much so that he doesn’t even notice anything is off until he walks downstairs and finds a small child sitting at the breakfast table. 

He’s halfway to the pantry before the morning fog clouding his mind dissipates long enough for him to whip his head hard enough for it to hurt and blurt out a few select choice words, forgetting to censor himself. It’s his house! He can cuss around an intruder, no matter how old they are.

The little fair-haired kid blinks at him and then his face starts to crumble, just a little. 

Jonny doesn’t do kids - let alone kids he doesn’t know. He starts looking around the kitchen as the child quietly cries at the table, hoping he can find some clue as to let him know he’s dreaming. He even counts his fingers, and leans heavily on the pantry door while his mind spins.

“Hey, what’s going on? Are you just going to let him cry?” He hears a voice behind him, half-teasing and so, so familiar. “Jon? Are you okay?” 

He turns around, half-expecting for everything to shatter in the millisecond it takes for his eyes to connect with Patrick’s, but nothing; it’s him, aged up a little and holding the kid in his arms, now slightly consoled. 

“Am I… Did I get high last night?”

Patrick steps closer, and like this Jonny can see the evidence of age even more clearly; the deep crows feet and that little line between his eyebrows where he furrows his forehead constantly in concentration. He doesn’t even hear the light slapping of another pair of feet on the ground before two clammy arms wrap themselves around his leg. 

A dark-blonde girl with the second bluest eyes Jonny has ever seen stares up at him and grins, toothlessly.

He registers Patrick talking to him, but it’s just background noise below the piercing ringing in his ears, and he only feels a slight twinge of pain as he hits the ground before passing out. 

When he wakes up, it’s night time. He stares up at the ceiling, blinks hard, and turns over to cough. His hand comes away wet, palm sticky with blood and saliva, and he takes himself to the bathroom to wash his mouth out and stare at himself in the mirror.

He’s himself. He knows this much; his face is his, and this house is his, and he can’t hear anything. He can feel the memory of the dream fading away as he stands before his reflection, and when he returns to his bed with the right side rucked up and his socks on the ground, the pillow his scent of cologne and the blackout curtains drawn, the memory’s fully gone.

I love writing Jonny losing his mind. This story is going to be huge, if I can finish it. <3

[jq37]

Twice Upon a Time - Neverafter Ep 7

Trouble in Tuffeton

Hoo, boy. Welcome back to Dimension 20 where we have for you today, 3/4ths of a normal episode and then the wildest 25 minutes of your entire life–but more on that second part later.

For now, we’re where we left off–with our intrepid and slightly monstrous heroes just having brought Little Miss Muffet back to mostly normal. She’s still sporting a spider head, but she’s no longer feral. In fact, she’s pretty scared to be in a spider’s web. Which is ironic cause she wrapped everyone in her village up in spider silk cocoons. Awkward!

Before they head out, the group decides to search for the magical artifacts they were told Muffet was amassing, and Ger does best. Here’s what he finds:

A LOT of dead people that he instantly lies escaped to protect the children and especially Muffet

A velvety black cloak with stars embroidered inside 

A ghillie suit/cloak that can disguise you as a pile of grass and leaves

A golden bridle (my mind jumps to the taming of Pegasus)

A mirrored, obviously magical sword with the word “Veritas” on it. Siobhan–resident Latin understander–translates that to “truth”

When Ger uses the sword to test it out, Brennan makes him do a Wis save. He gets a 13. With that, Brennan asks if he sees himself more as a frog or a human at that point. Ger says that him being a frog is what’s getting him through this awful experience alive so, right now, he’s actually feeling pretty froggy. And, likewise, he sees his reflection as he is–slimy and amphibious.

Puss checks his spider ring and sees that it’s pointing towards the entrance. As they follow it, they see a lot of spiders are returning to the cave now that Muffet has been taken care of, including Itsy Bitsy who drops off his stuff then goes to try and climb the water spout again. 

They follow him out where it’s still raining and Muffet looks up sadly to the hill where she used to eat by herself every day. Everyone says they’ll gladly eat with her and as she smiles, the rain stops falling. It’s the first sun they’ve seen the Time of Shadows began.

And, much like in the fairy tale, with the sun out, the Itsy Bitsy spider gets to the top of the spout. Time goes to record his story and asks if he wants to be put into the book. The Spider, in what sounds like a clear “Pay Attention You Guys, This is a Major Theme” asks if it’s such going to be all sunshine all the time in the book. Because while he likes the sunshine more than the rain, he likes his resilience in the face of the rain and maybe he should bring some rain with him.

The Spider, as he’s very small and he thinks he’d be more helpful as a story, is about to choose the book when Tim (and really Ally it feels like lol) slams the book, to Brennan’s surprise and is like nooooo you have so much value out here! Let’s work on your self-talk. So the spider tags along but, because his story is in the book, Tim gets a new spell that is too high level for him to access yet.

(Btw: Brennan and Ally explain that Goose gets a new spell when he writes down someone’s story. So far he has the spell he doesn’t have access to yet, Jump (I assume from the Cow), Expeditious Retreat (from Jack), Lesser Restoration (from I believe King Cole), and Calm Emotions (the only other person I can remember him sending to the book is the Dish? Or I guess it could also be Muffet since he did write her story. Edit: Cindy too but does that count since it was second hand via an object?)

After this, Tim goes with the rest of the group to distract Muffet while they search the town for cocoons. Tim spots them then leads Muffet away so she doesn’t have to see any of this. 

The group takes down the cocoons which are stuck up in the rafters and crack em open. Inside, are the citizens of the town–blessedly alive but VERY freaked out. Our heroes try to claim that this is all the result of a platonic adult sleepover gone wrong (Ally: Roll for Gaslight) to mixed results. 

Meanwhile, Tim is trying to give Muffet a pep talk while the screams of her victims ring out in the background. She’s not super feeling the pep. Tim asks how it felt when she became the spider monster and she says it was weird. She was on the hill and then the spider showed up but it was bigger than it should have been. She says that things have felt weird, but she doesn’t know why–a common refrain of citizens of this world. Then, she starts to get a little meta. She says that it struck her all of a sudden that the fact that she’s scared of spider is the only thing anyone knows about her. Maybe the curds and whey thing also. It felt like she was only one thing and not even really that. And that felt messed up. Sounds like someone being cursed with the burden of meta awareness to me. 

Back with the townspeople and the rest of the party, everyone is about ready to start the Mob Song from Beauty and the Beast and form a spider hunting party but Pinnochio casts suggestion on the mayor of the town (Mayor Harold Hopps) and gets him to back up the adult sleepover gone wrong version of events. With that sorted, it’s now party time!

The sun sets and the stars come out. There’s a call for perception checks that doesn’t seem to yield anything (highest roll was a 17). The townsfolk bring out alcohol and curds and whey for all in their party location–the Golden Chair tavern. 

Ger and Red have a sidebar because Ger is NOT loving Red’s self talk. He says she’s not a monster and, while she appreciates the sentiment, she’s like, come on, you know what’s it like to feel like a monster or else you wouldn’t be trying to turn back into a prince. Ger concedes she has a point but when she asks if he still would still have loved Elody if she had a spider’s head, he thinks he would have. He didn’t just love her for her beauty. He loved that she was rebellious and fascinating and love him as he was. He thinks that maybe once he became handsome, he stopped trying so hard to be anything but that. Red says that it’s strange that Ger is kind of leaning into the non-prince thing because all the best stories are about princes and princesses and Ger–really leaning into the meta vibe of this ep–says that stories usually end once you become a prince or a princess. Roz, who is going through it, pops in to chime in that true love isn’t real–something she as a full adult at 18 would know–and we jump to Tim.

Tim hears writing in his book and sees that Scher is writing to him. She says thanks so much for helping. She and her companions escaped the cave, picked up some new allies, and found a handy doorway to take them all to a new world. She asks if Tim knows of a place called the Land of Beasts and Birds and when Tim says no, that confirms to her that it’s another realm like the Never After and the Endless Nights. (My guess is it’s the Aesop world since he’s all about animal fables.) She tells them to sit tight and, when she can, she’ll open the doorway to them. Tim messages this info to Ger because he’s the only other real adult in the party and everyone else is dancing.

Pinnochio, specifically, is pole dancing using his nose as a pole.

(Puss: Slay Pinocchio, slay.

Roz: Oh, she’s vogueing.)

Anyway.

Tim then goes to Muffet to talk to her magical spoon which we learn is the one that the Dish ran away with (I wonder if that’s what Brennan always had planned or if he just did it because that’s what they figured was going on and why not?)

The Spoon says that yes, she had a tryst with the Dish but it was a mistake and she doesn’t wanna go into the book. Everything in the rhyme is true, but she doesn’t want that to be her whole story. Again, like I said, this ep gets very meta, and we’re not done. 

Pinocchio mentions his time at the Land of Toys (aka Pleasure Island in the Disney version) and when Muffet marvels at how long his story is, he says that the story is basically about growing up and actions having consequences and everything being very black and white. Everyone else starts thinking about their stories and Roz thinks about how she has little agency in her story. Puss thinks he doesn’t have much to do in his story once it ends. 

Tim wonders if he can do anything to change their stories–he is a writer with a magic book after all. He writes in the book that Pinnochio is free and able to have fun and the book throws a fit. The ink shakes and shudders and is swallowed into the page. Then it starts raining. Tim tells the rest of them what happened and says maybe this is something he can do in the future, but not yet. Pinnochio is like, thanks but I think this is the path I need to be on right now. After all, it’s where his mom wants him. 

Speaking of, Tim wonders if Pinnochio’s stepmom has anything to do with the rain starting up again–defeating Muffet was supposed to stop that. 

Roz tries to put her spindle into the book to see what happens and the book accepts it, writing her story as it is in this reality–with 7 fairies. But, like Cinderella, her story is interrupted (though not at Happily Ever After, at falling asleep) and then there are two blank pages and an illustration of the spindle. Strange. 

Puss goes to the bar and sees two burly men he doesn’t recognize from freeing the townsfolk. He sees them whispering to each other then going upstairs. He follows them and a lot happens to I’m gonna go to bullets.

He hears two cloaks being put on the bed.

He hears a tearing sound and then the noise of something heavy and almost wet hit the ground. 

Then he hears thin hollow voices and the lighting of a match.

It was dark when they walked in and now light is seeping under the door. 

A voice asks why the rain came back and the voices (who call this person “mistress”) say that they saw a witch writing in a book and then the words freaked out. 

The voice is like “Hmm, curious,” and asks what was being written about. When they say a wooden boy, the voice recognizes that it’s Pinnochio. She says that what happened is “dangerous” and they should stop him from writing more, kill him, and leave the book.

Puss hears a wet noise like something sharp and angular straining against something “slick and horrifying”. Then he hears cloaks being picked up from the bed.

Puss runs like hell and finds Tim. He gets Tim to message him and is like, so funny story, these men want you dead. The message is disseminated amongst the group and they all get into position. Tim goes outside to lead them out and everyone else follows or goes to an upstairs window to get a high vantage point.

As soon as they’re in position, Puss attacks without waiting and misses, but Ger’s ability lets him get another hit in and he aces it with a Nat 20 that causes a full death blow. First of the campaign! As he kills this dude, he realizes that it’s a twig and wood skeleton under a flesh skin. Gross! The plant matter inside these guys is familiar to Roz as the brambles she’s familiar with. So it seems like these guys are some kind of plant constructs and the weird sounds Puss heard were them taking off and putting on their skin suits. Again, gross!

They don’t seem to be human and the rest of the party is able to dispatch the other one in short order. Puss explains what he saw and they go to the room to check it out.

OK, so, this is when the last fourth of this ep kicks in and it turns into a Whole Other Thing. You have been warned. 

They go into the room and it is destroyed. The only thing that looks OK is a small table with a silver platter on it. In the silver platter is a small amount of water and a blood red candle burned most of the way down. It’s perfectly centered in the water.

Ger puts the truth sword over the candle and the reflection shows the candle is lit, even though it doesn’t appear to be. Tim’s 20 arcana check tells him that the candle is a spell somehow. 

Roz smells petrichor and iron and rot. It smells like the bad fairy–which is interesting because iron is usually fairy bane. Maybe the iron is blood?

Ger blows out the seemingly unlit candle and it lights the torches on the wall. They realize that the candle being lit probably somehow impedes other light sources. 

Pinocchio casts Faerie Fire to suss out if anyone invisible is in the room and no one is revealed but the spell lights the candle and casts the room in a shimmery light. Pinocchio has a weird feeling, like one of his strings attaches to the candle.  

The candle asks who he wants to speak to–everyone hears this and sees his string by the way. Pinnochio knows that his mom has his strings and wonders if this candle is somehow connected to his mom.

Roz, in a throwaway line that is actually the turning point of the episode, asks if they can talk to PInnochio’s mom. Pinnochio is like, uh OK, yeah. Sure. You guys can meet my mom. And the Roz is swiftly shoved into a closet by Tim so she’s not seen. Which is very funny considering that this was her idea and it goes…

Uh…

Interestingly.

“You watch as something terrible unfolds” Brennan says, which I have to add to the same list as, “I’m about to describe something heartbreaking” from Sophomore Year. 

The candle sputters and Pinnochio hears a garbled voice say, “I did not summon you to speak to me.”

Roz and Pinnochio see the face of the bad fairy they both recognize in the candle flame. The door to the hall flies open and Pinnochio sees the silhouette of his mom in the doorway–everyone else sees this for the first time. If feels wrong to see and I’m just gonna quote Brennan because I can’t do these lines justice in summary:

“You are seeing something you absolutely should not see–the face of a divinity you don't worship, the smile of a devil you never believed in.”

AHHHHHHHHH.

Pinnochio is standing in such a way that he’s blocking the fae in the flame from his stepmom in the door and he has to choose if he wants to look at his mom or keep blocking the fae from her. Also, because of the lighting conditions here, it seems like he’ll actually be able to see her and not just her shadow.

He chooses to look at his mom.

As he does, Ger tosses him the truth sword. Light reflects on the sword and fully illuminates the stepmother. As this happens, the room grows strange. It doesn’t feel like they’re in the inn anymore. It’s like they’re in a place out of place. 

The wicked fairy sees the stepmother properly, screams HORRIFIED, and does a full Oedipus–no, not that part, the other part. She PLUCKS HER EYES OUT. The candle goes out.

Brennan asks who wants to look at the stepmom after that. 

All of the adults are like FUCK NO but the kids–Red and Pinnochio, choose to look. 

(Note: Muffet is also there wildly and doesn’t look. Ally: Where has this bitch been in initiative?)

Anyway, both kids have to make a Cha save. They both get the help action. 

Red fails with a 6–unsurprising since the AxMurph dice pool has been rolling *garbage* this episode (Murph, repeatedly: This die is RE-TI-RED!)

Pinnnochio passes with a 21. 

Red gets three red tokens. Three. Dying gives you one. Looking at this person gives you THREE.

Thanks, hate that!

The stepmom in her full glory is an eldritch abomination made up of shifting visions of malice and spite. Brennan describes her sneer splitting off into a second mouth so she can sneer further over and over almost fractally. Beneath her skin are hundreds of beings crawling–countless stories and people she’s eaten. 

Brennan asks whether her mom or grandma is who comes to mind first. Emily, fully knowing she’s about to get hurt, says in Red’s good natured casual tone that Grandma is always on her mind. 

She suddenly sees her grandma appear and Pinnochio’s stepmom grabs her, and bites her head and shoulders off, and swallows her. She asks if this is real and Brennan says it feels real in the way that a nightmare feels real. “Grandmother,” she says. “Close enough.”

Pinnochio sees something trying to burst from his mom’s cheek–a woman in a crown–but she licks it back up with her tongue and swallows. First of all, awful. Second of all, giving me Kronos eating his kids vibes. Third of all, is this maybe the queen from Snow White? We know there’s some connection between Pinnochio and/or his mom and this Queen because of the Mirror conversation. Anyway, enough analysis, back to the horrific event already in progress. 

The stepmother is furious that Pinnochio called her rather than waiting to be called.

“You don’t open a door to me. I open a door to you. I was not ready to speak with you, impudent boy. Now you have truly outlived your use.”

Everything has been happening in bullet time. Brennan finally asks for a check to catch the thrown sword. Pinnochio gets the help action from Ger and picks Acrobatics as the check.

He rolls a Nat 1.

*AND* a Nat 20.

God, the dice love a story. Y’all. 

The stepmother throws the Pinnochi’s strings back on to him and he’s flooded with pain. He grabs the sword–the sword of truth in the hands of the boy known for lying–and he cuts his strings. 

Ṙ̶̞̀͑̓̎̏̊̈́͛ě̸͔̟͙͕͕͙͕̱̩̟̩̻̐̉̐̈́͠͠a̴͕̘̭̺̯̮͉̩͙̳͇̰̼͓͌̈́͋͋l̵̡͚̬̞̙͉͕̩̬̘̐͊̈́̇̒̿̌̍̈̓̌̽̃i̵̛̝̓̽̑̽̔͗̆͝t̴͕̠̠̖̲̻̼̜͊y̴̡̮̺̪͍̠̭̫̱̲̖͕̣̠̾̇̉̔͜ ̷̢̤̞̺̙̱̞̝̽̆̆͠Ş̴̡̳̭̱͚͇̗͈̈́̏͗̃͗̈́̓̕͜͠ͅh̸̜̻̫̙̳̘͔̬͔͆̈́̈́̽̌̕͜ǡ̷͔̩̎̽̇̀̚ţ̸͍̮̟̼̘̊͑͗̎͌̈͗͗̏̓̅̽́̎͂͜t̴̘͇̯̳̞̮̓͗̅͆͒́́̾̏̿̑̕̚e̶̢̧̡̖͕̻̟̪̯̭͆̈̿̑̈́̚r̴̡͖͉͍̾̎͛̆̃̍̏͊̽̊s̶̡̨̺̦̰̳̯̠̅́͗͑̈́͗͗̉̽̑̄͛́͘͜.̴̨̳͍̹̪̮̩̦̥̩͉̘͕̣͍̈̏́͋̌̾̇̀

The editing goes insane. 

The heroes are freefalling through pages of their stories, all on fire. The stepmother is screaming and chasing after them. It reminds me a lot of Coraline being chased down the hall by the Other Mother. 

Pinnochio’s strings are returned to him (which, I am curious about considering he’s a warlock–we’ll see how that goes). 

“Worse than death, worse than the end of stories!” the Stepmother howls. 

She sucks in, inhaling all the pages in a weirdly Big Bad way, but before she can exhale, a golden door opens from Tim’s book. 

A golden rope is lassoed around them, they are pulled into the door, and it shuts. The stepmother is gone. 

On the other end of the rope is Scher plus SInbad and his crew.

“What the fuck was that?” Scher asks.

BITCH, GREAT QUESTION. 

And we’re gonna have to wait until next episode to start further unpacking this because I’m barely getting it in under the wire. 

In conclusion, AHHHHHHHHHHHH. 

[jonathankatwhatever]

The drawing I make of a bT with the 3 midpoint lines is called a complete quadrilateral. It’s 20 Jan 2023. I’ve seen that before. I can now say something about that identification. It manifests basic processes. One is Irreducibles and another is Regularization. In other words, this is one of the places where these processes appear in their most basic or primitive states. Which is why they can be forms.

What do I say? I feel very odd. And that’s another process: the winding of Triangular counting. By winding Triangular, we generate literally everything because that feeds into any of these 1Segments as 1-0Segments, meaning directed to undirected, countable to uncountable. The Ends accept connections from other dimensions.

Oh, I just got a big vision of dimensions: internal to each Object and internal to a Thing put different boundaries in place so there is always a transition from Object to Thing to Thing where that second listed transition includes that Object to Thing to Object is also occuring. 1-0-1 being realized in dimensions! A lot makes sense in that vision.

It’s as simple as that when you put together D3-4 Objects, you make a Thing that has more dimensions, and those dimensions relate across the D4-3 threads. And that fits solutions, meaning whatever they fit to at the depth to which they can fit in the context which determines the available threads. So, a combination of D3-4 Objects are Thing and Things, and that invokes higher dimensional interactions at the appropriate dimensional level, meaning say that D6 or D24 or Dwhatever relates to an Object, to a D3-4 Object, what we think of 3-dimensional objects in 4 dimensions, by constantly fracturing into those states. That again is why Conformity becomes such an important idea.

Note that quantum fluctuations are on the order of trillions per second. This is why that happens. Takes a lot to make reality calculate.

Now for the other side. When D3-4 Objects combine, the dimensionality of the enclosing Thing of the combination can be thought of as many Things, each associating across different aspects because that pairs and pairing is the heart of involution. That is a good spot to describe the Counter, because involution over a pair requires a Counter. We now have a way of supplying that a bit more rigorously: the Counter is not only the Irreducible, but the Regularization of the Irreducible.

Need to take a break before tackling that mountain.

———-

I’m afraid Regularization - can I call it R’ing because it’s too long to write out each time? - is not the peak of the climb. R’ing is a consequence of the fluctuations, of the windings of the Triangular. You may be able to visualize this as a series of segments, each with an orthogonal through the midpount, that all connect End to End, 1-0-1. If you see this from above, from higher dimension, you see that it spins because 1-0-1 doesn’t always take you to the same place each cycle; it requires cycles to return and then all those cycles are wound between. Take 4. Simplify to a square, which I need to get to, and count from S to E over B and that counts either 2 chains of 1-0-1 or a single chain of 1-0-1-0-1. Each 0 is an End, so that is the tip for all the dimensions coming together at that End.

This is why a square: the processes balance in a square as opposed to some other quadrilateral. The sides set by the R’ing of the sides, and thus by the intersection of the Irreducibles, which in the other grid squares layer is the Bip, meaning the location of the pole which represents the relation of higher dimensions into and out of the Thing which associates to those grid squares at the gs(n) layer and to the gs(m) layer that connects the Bips of each gs(n) to make a combination level Thing.

That was difficult to get out. Needed. Good work.

In Triangular itself, we wound by counting 1234. That is, return wraps so the related counts wrap. This is an aspect I don’t think we’ve drawn out: the Triangular counts wrap the minimum. That is, if you count 2 as 1, then you either stop at the first 1 or continue to label 2 as 4. Then you count 3 as 1 and that means 2 is 3 and 3 becomes 4. So the initial gap of 1-4 has shrunk in the sense that the original value is now only 1 away from its current label. The next step is to go back to the original and count 1 and 4 as 1 so they become 7 and 4, meaning the difference between held count is up to 6 if held to the original and down to 0 if held to the last iteration.

I focus on the count up to 3 at each End, where each takes on the value of 1 as start, because that counts around 1234 if we return and when we do that all the current counts around the bT are also by 1 from the original. It counts by 1 in each of those directions or dimensions.

So that configuration or pathway or process represents winding around in the current label count and winding around in the old to current label count. That produces spin because the next iteration takes the current count back to original 1 while making the old to current label count larger. Lay this out again: 1234 at each spot means at label 3, it’s 3-1-4, at 2 it’s 2-1-4. Makes 1-4, 2-1-4, 3-1-4, then 1-4-1, etc. 2-1-4-2, etc.

Maybe I can clarify by saying the idea is that when it counts by 1 both up and around (and thus down and other way round), those continue as a form. If you draw a bT and count around, then when you put a 1 at original 3, that count winds by 1 more than the count that starts from original 1.

Look at a line instead. You cross over a Counter with a line. Triangular extends that line orthogonally

I’m having a bit of trouble getting this to simplify.

——-

I keep forgetting that you can’t count to the Continuum from countable, that enabling the Continuum, meaning the 1-0Segment is the shift to bidirectional or undirected 1Segments. To take the simple winding 1234, that counts 1 up and across is also true in the other direction. So as the count winds, it not only contains how it rewinds but all the other directional windings which match, from the exact match to a partial.

R’ing is fundamental to understanding the generation of the 1-0Segment. It takes the Observer and Counter and divides and joins the 1Segment so it becomes a 1-0Segment. The winding around the Triangular, which easily extends through a Triangular and Hexagonal sheet, slides the midpoint line along the 1Segments as they wrap around and over Ends. As in, midpoint to midpoint is a 1Segment with a midpoint that happens to be an End of a bT. So there’s the form of a bT and then the counting or SlideOver along and around a bT. This is where gs process really helps: say your End is at ¼ on a 1Segment and thus ¾ plus ¼ to the next 1Segment End. The bT is stable as a form because all the processes which place that relationship elsewhere also connect it here in a bT. So count 1 and it will count in any way, straight or bent all over, and if straight there are forms which fit.

There’s a missing idea or connection in here because I switched to R’ing, which invokes a Counter, which is the midpoint line, which is the Irreducible, so I’m back to where I was at 6AM: say more about the Irreducible. I’m doing the best I can.

————

I think I’m trying to find a way to say this from the higher dimensional perspective.

———

Approaching that as an algorithm, as counts of Extents that pass along what might, in another circumstance, be called metadata for a file. That is a set of attributes which unites and which acts as the centralizer for a Thing. I hesitated for a half-second before typing Thing, and in that time I realized we describe Things, not Objects. So inside an Object, sure, because then we examine the internal Thing. Outside a Object, sure, because then we examine the Thing the Object is in. That’s amazing when you think it through because it means this is another reason why physical reality, the constructed Conformal reality we’ve discussed, does occur: it is in each instance and aspect where the Thing reduces to the boundary of the Object, where the D4-3 touches the D3-4, where Dimensional Enclosure connects and passes over. That last is very hard to grasp. Keeps slipping away. It means that you can see hurt on another’s face as well as you can see joy. That which is internal meets that which is external at the boundary where D3-4 meets D4-3. You experience this boundary all the time: you try to read something in bad light and get it wrong, or you can’t see a step and have to grope among the possibilities, or you reach for something, anything at any time, and miss, maybe.

Back to algorithm. If I count 1 and then divide that and divide that and divide that and so on, then I’m always counting that big 1 and then each piece as 1 and each bundle of each piece as 1. That same Object-Thing-Thing layering.

Took a break and played piano like I want to play it more often. It’s difficult for me to slow down to the level of simplified melody. I keep wanting to go faster and to do more with tonality. That’s because the dimensions there play faster, while the dimensions of melody, of basic la-di-da-di-da require shifting what is playing at a faster pace into spaces, into not being heard, so you can hear this specific song-like arrangement of that space, with the silences not just shaping the notes but representing the dimensionality you don’t hear. It is that which gives music its flavor.

I’m pretty sure I can connect this to chromodynamics, but I may be talking through my non-existent hat.

Back to Irreducibles. Yes, you can see them in Hexagonal, which is D6. And note that D6 isn’t simply the idea ‘D6’ but the manifestations of it in Hexagonal, like the 6 around, the 6 inside, and other versions in which you count 6 sides as part of the larger Hexagonal picture. Key point is that you can make the Hexagon as big as you want by counting the 6 sides as Extents.

Oh right, so that gets me back to the old idea of flicker, that there are states and these flicker. We’ve proven that there are states and they flicker because counting means that structures develop and identity test within identity spaces.

I need to calm the words down a bit, but I think this is actually what I was looking for.

——-

That led me back to Irreducibles as flicker states within the larger dimensional meaning of D6, which is correct.

Can I get the shift of the pole? It from Hexagonal box to D4 square by tilting from the corner, typically perceived as the front or lead corner of a tilted box to the center of any face, so to the center of the adjoining 3 faces, which shifts to the midpoint of each of those hypotenuses, leaving apart the other 3 because those from the front edges so the midpoint would be on the front edge. That is, when moving to the midpoint along the hypotenuse, that hypotenuse actually connects to the back corner. Oh, I remember, we did this a long time ago.

So the movement along the hypotenuse that actually connects to the back edges is a movement along the pole, and that is the movement that maps. That is what makes it the Bip: in each turn, the front corner always relate to the back over the pole, and the point or End made by the intersections of the pole through each face are at the Bip midpoint of each and all.

You see how a shift of the pole takes away 2 dimensions in the projection, and also how it crucially enables 2 dimensions in 3 orientations or dimensions. This is an old key to R’ing: the enclosure of n-1 dimensions within n dimensions.

Try it this way: the actual movement might be top front corner to lower front corner to back left corner to back lower corner connected over the pole to the top front. That draws three 1Segments to connect over the pole which isn’t visible in Hexagonal, except as a necessary part of the projection of the D3 box. So the path to the Bip from top front End is 2 and ½, while the count from the top front End over the 1Segment toward the back left coner, which is a connection in Hexagonal, is ½. 5:1 and 5+1. Five to one, baby, one in five. No one here gets out alive.

———-

I see the D5 now. Been looking for it. So we have D5 inside D6 as it shifts to D4, which was needed. There all along in exactly the place where it needed to be.

So, it appears we just solved two of the biggest problems outstanding by using the dimensionality of D6, of Hexagonal potential, if you will, manifesting D6 in various ways. One is the issue of the Irreducibility and the other is how we can picture D5 in a D6, meaning an actual structural reason why. I have an obsessive need to motivate each piece. Oh, we also tackled motivation again by going through winding in Triangular, which also then counts in Hexagonal, which counts in many dimensions beyond D6. Winding spins the count. You can argue that there is a static count, but that static count is a Regularized ideal form.

This again gets to the essence of number theory being about 1’s.

So, we got to Irreducibles as flicker states within D6. That works at both the Hexagonal and the bT level. If I can think of any holes in that or clarifications, I’ll add.

But my mind is getting tired. It’s lousy out: what Sonny Elliot would call light snain, snow+rain.

[boldlyvoid]

find me at midnight.

Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Summary: Steve finds himself in a wanted man

Warnings: first times, sexuality questioning, blow jobs, anal fingering, anal sex, top eddie, bottom steve, falling in love at the worst time

word count: 4.3k

Lying to Robin isn’t something he’s good at, he’s never been able to because he didn’t like to lie to her. So when she asks where he’s going at midnight, all alone, when there’s a murderer from another dimension on the loose. 

“I’m just going to get myself some new clothes and things from my house, maybe even shower— you stay here with Nancy,” he points at her knowingly, “you don’t need to come with me, I’ll be fine.” 

She sighs. “Fine, but can you also bring my sleepover bag back with you?” 

That’s the least he can do. 

He slips out into the night, driving the empty roads to his house first because he can’t come back without robins things… that would make it weirder. He showers quickly, changes into something comfortable, and grabs a new pair of underwear and a shirt for Eddie if he wants it. Cause that’s where he’d going... to Eddie.

He throws her things into the backseat of his car and takes a deep breath, he promised Eddie he’d come back to Rick's house so he could actually get some sleep tonight. It took a lot of guts for the big brood to ask for help but from the look in his beautiful doe eyes… Steve couldn’t say no. he didn’t want to. 

He wanted to go protect him. 

It takes him a lot longer than he thought it would, he doesn’t turn onto Lover Lane until 12:23 but when he does, he turns his headlights off. He drives slowly so he doesn’t alert anyone in the neighbourhood and draw attention to the house in the back… it was supposed to be abandoned while Rick was in jail.

He parks about a block from where he’s going, he grabs everything he needs and quietly makes his way around to the backdoor that Eddie broke open. He reached through the broken glass and twists the door open, he kicks off his shoes and squints as he looks around. He can’t turn the lights on, obviously, and he didn’t bring a flashlight…

“Eddie?” He whispers as loud as he can, walking through the backroom and into the kitchen. 

“You’re late.”

“Fuck,” Steve drops everything he’s holding to grip his chest, “you’re a menace.” 

“That I am,” he hops off the counter and helps Steve pick everything up. “What’s all this?” 

“In case you wanted to change or got cold,” he explains, feeling stupid now that he said it out loud. 

“Thanks, I needed new underwear and socks… Rick only wears tighty-whites,” Eddie complains, holding up the dark blue checkered boxers that he thinks are black from how dark it is inside. 

He disappears to change leaving Steve in the living room, the big windows overlooking the lake. The moon and the stars are mirrored in the water, glistening and distorted from the current. It looked cold yet lovely. Inviting, even… he hasn’t gone on a spring swim in years. 

“Whatcha looking at?” 

“Jesus fucking christ,” Steve jumps out of his skin for a second time. “Can you stop it?” 

Eddie snickers, places his hand on Steve’s shoulder, and smiles, “sorry, it’s too easy.” 

“You’re handling this a lot better than I thought you would,” Steve compliments, returning his eyes to the lake. It’s easier to talk to him when he’s not looking at him. “Not that I thought you were weak or anything just when I first saw everything I lost it.” 

“but you fought,” Eddie sighs, feeling like a loser for running. 

“Oh, I ran,” Steve gives him a glance, watching his face light up. “I ran to my car and I stood there while the lights flickered and Nancy screamed for the thing to get off Jonathan and I— don’t tell anyone I said this, but I thought about letting it get him and then realized I’m the biggest cunt int he world, he was trying to find his bother not steal my girlfriend… so I went in and helped.” 

“And then he stole your girlfriend—

“You can’t really steal something that didn’t belong to me,” Steve cuts him off. He takes a deep breath and sighs. “Nancy is well, she’s Nancy. She belongs to herself and she knew what she wanted and it wasn’t me and I had to accept it. And honestly, as much as it hurt, I’m kinda glad it threw me into this shit, I can’t imagine if I wasn’t there what would’ve happened to Dustin.” 

“I always wondered why Dustin adored you,” Eddie admits, moving to take a seat on the couch, leaving Steve by the window. 

“He doesn’t adore me,” he laughs it off, joining Eddie and sitting on the recliner opposite him.

“He loves you like you’re his cool older brother who lets him tag along all the time,” Eddie smiles. 

And it’s a beautiful smile. His eyes glisten even in the dark. 

“Well… I mean, I kinda am?” 

“He adores you,” Eddie assures him. “I get it now… at first I thought it was a pity thing like you felt bad for being a dickhead for so many years that you wanted to join the big brothers/ big sisters of Hawkins… but this makes a lot more sense.” 

Steve's stomach turns remembering all the shit he put every kid through just to be cool. “Can I just say—

“Don’t,” Eddie waves it off. “It’s fine, you weren’t too bad to me, it’s all old news anyway.” 

“Still sorry,” Steve slips it in any way. “You’re the kind of person I should’ve been friends with, not Tommy or Carole. They were so fucking mean for no reason and it was like I didn’t have a personality until after they left, and I’m still trying to find all of me, but I know I would’ve preferred having you and Robin and Nancy in my life sooner.” 

“God permitting… we can be friends when all of this is over?” Eddie suggests. 

Steve wants that too, “why can’t we start now?” 

Somehow they feel too far away from each other, so Steve moves over to the couch, they face each other with their knees bumping, staring at each other's lips in the dark, “I don’t really want a friend tonight…” 

Steve feels his heart in his throat, he knew this is what he meant when he said he hadn’t found all of himself yet… and he has a feeling he might find it here. With his lips pressed against Eddies. 

So he leans in. 

Eddie’s hand meets his cheek first, holding him back from the kiss, he runs his thumb over the skin, “don’t do it out of pity.” 

“What if I do it to show you what there is to live for?” He whispers. “Cause if I find a piece of myself right here, right now, I’m not throwing it away after.” 

Eddie doesn’t mind being an experiment, not when he doesn’t know what tomorrow looks like for himself. So he leans all the rest of the way in, eyes closing as his lips meet Steve's. There’s a buzz, a small electric current that rips through their bodies as the kiss lingers. 

It’s Steve who comes in for another, and another and then they don’t stop. Steve's hands are in eddies hair as he pushes them back against the couch, hovering over him as their tongues make acquaintance with one another. He tastes like honeycombs and cigarettes, he smells like Irish spring and something woody… his hands are soft, his lips are softer. The sharp chill of eddies rings slides down his cheek, brushing his neck and then Eddie’s hands on his sides, pulling Steve down flush against himself.  

One of eddies knees slips between Steve’s, spreading his legs so he can rest against his thigh… it makes Steve’s knees weak. He’s never usually this desperate after a bit of kissing, but there’s something about Eddie that gets his motor running and he doesn’t ever want it to stop. He grinds against eddies thigh, sucks on his tongue and gets the sweetest sound out of Eddie as a reward.

His hands slip under Steve’s shirt and his lips move to Steve’s neck, he sucks right on his pulse point which makes Steve’s eyes roll back while he holds in a groan. He was embarrassed to be loud, but it was starting to feel too good to care. 

“What are we doing?” Eddie mumbles between kisses all over his neck and under his ear. 

Steve redirects his face to look at him, stealing a quick kiss that becomes two and then three and he has to pull back with a smile, “I want you.” 

“Yeah?” He smiles, taking a hand out from under Steve’s shirt to brush his hair back. 

Steve nods, “is there a bedroom here?” 

“There is,” he says, pulling Steve down into another kiss only for him to kiss eddies cheek and tug his head to the side so he can kiss his neck this time. He hums, tilting his head back as much as he comfortably can so he can get as many kisses as Steve wants to leave. 

His hands roam Steve’s back over his shirt, over his jeans and into his back pockets where he gives his ass a squeeze. His lips feel so good on Eddie’s neck, he closes his eyes and gets carried away in the feeling, rock hard under Steve as he grinds down against him. 

He lets out a sweet little moan of encouragement, “Steve…” 

“Yeah?” He breathes against his neck between kisses. 

“You feel so good, baby,” he praises and taps his ass a few times to signal he wants him to get up, “but I’m not giving it all to you on this couch, come on.” 

He groans but sits up, the two of them doing everything in their power not to stare at the others bulge in their jeans… but the moon shines in perfectly over the light blue fabric and makes Eddie’s mouth water. He takes his hand and all but drags him down the hall and into Rick's room. 

He pushes Steve down against the bed and drops to his knees on the floor between them, hands on Steve's thighs to steady himself. Then his hands go higher, towards his belt, all while he keeps his eyes on Steve’s. 

He nods, “it’s okay,” he whispers. “Do it.” 

Eddie’s quick to take his belt off and unzip his jeans, he pulls them down to his ankles and palms over his underwear, “I’ve never done this…” 

“Oh,” Steve’s honestly surprised. “It’s pretty self-explanatory… just imagine what you’d like done and do it I guess… oh shit you’ve never had one either?” 

He shakes his head, “no, but I get the gist…” 

His fingers play with the elastic hem of his boxers, he’s nervous but not enough to die a virgin. His eyes widen as he takes him out and sees just how much of Steve he had to work with. And Steve notices, he runs his fingers through Eddie’s hair and leans forward, “so pretty when you drool over me.” 

“Shut up,” Eddie can’t help but laugh, he wasn’t drooling… but he wipes his mouth anyway, stroking over Steve’s length gently. 

He bites his lip and rests back on his forearms, giving himself enough leverage to watch as Eddie leans in and drags his tongue from base to tip. Steve hisses as his tongue flicks over the head of his cock, and then Eddie places a kiss on the head, it's gentle and soft to make up for how he immediately taps his cock against his tongue. 

It's fucking sinful.

In one fell swoop, Eddie takes him into his mouth and attempts to go as far as he can, jerking off what he can't fit in his mouth, he starts to bob. Steve drops flat against the bed with his hands at his sides, gripping the sheets like his life depended on it… Eddie's hot mouth is too inviting, if he doesn’t hold the sheets he’s going to grip his hair and thrusts into his throat and he knew this wasn’t about him… Eddies exploring just as much as Steve is.

He pops off his cock with just a trail of spit connecting them, he works his hand over his length and takes one of his balls in his mouth. Spreading his legs a little bit more, he presses two fingers against the skin behind his balls, making him incredibly nervous he was going to touch his hole… but he doesn’t. He applies some pressure, playing with his prostate from the outside. 

It’s such a new feeling, Steve makes the most whorish moan as his back arches, “ed- Eddie, holy fuck,” he panics, reaching out for him, “I don't want to cum yet.” 

“Okay,” he smirks, standing up with the crack of his knees and a groan. “God, I feel 800,” he complains, reaching for his belt and working his way out of his jeans. 

Steve rips his shirt off and kneels on the edge of the bed, reaching out for Eddie as soon as his jeans are off. He takes his shirt by the hem and helps him out of it, pressing their naked chests together, he places a hand on Eddie’s cheek, “you’re so handsome.” 

“You really think so?” He asks, and Steve can tell it comes from a place of deep insecurity. 

He nods, running his fingers through eddies hair and holding the ends up with a smile, “I watched you grow all this, it took forever… the first time I thought you were really cute it was no longer than mine but super curly.”

“That was in freshman year,” Eddie’s shocked, “really?” 

Steve nods with a sly smirk, “oh yeah… mullet Eddie was hot too, but I think this is my favourite version of you— and not just cause of the hair, you’re really cool. Like the coolest and you’re nice, and Dustin loves you, and you know about all this, so everything about you is everything I’ve wanted.” 

“Don’t get sappy on me, Stevie, I still want to fuck you,” he teases. 

“O-okay,” he melts, the idea making his stomach flip and his cock twitch. 

Eddie smirks, “really, you want that too?” 

He nods slowly, “I mean, I’ve thought about it before— not you, I mean, sometimes, but just like the act of being fucked itself, I’ve thought about that.” 

It makes him laugh, “you’re really cute when you’re nervous… I didn’t think I could ever make king Steve nervous.” 

“Don’t call me that,” he begs. “Not when we’re going to do this…” 

“I’m going to have to work you open, you know that right?” Eddie assures him, “or do you want to do that part?” 

“You can,” Steve is quick with his reply. He really wants him to. “I uh, I kinda showered before I came for this exact reason…” 

Eddies practically growls with excitement, “oh, Stevie, you’re like a dream come true.” 

“Do you think there’s lube here?” He asks, voice timid and shy. 

“Definitely,” Eddie laughs, breaking away from Steve to look in the night table beside the bed, but it's too dark in the room to see anything. He searches for his pants, digging out his lighter he flicks it open, infighting the flame and lighting the way. 

Besides a pack of condoms and lube there’s a pack of a dozen tea light candles too… “these wouldn’t cause too much light right? No one will see these?” 

Steve looks around the room, “I don’t think anyone could see into this room anyway?” 

“Thats enough for me,” he shrugs it off and lights a few candles, handing them to Steve to place on the other night table and on the dresser across from the bed, it lights the room up quite nicely. 

If either of them dies at the end of the week, this is one hell of a way to go out. 

With lube in hand, they crawl back into bed together, Eddie straddles Steve’s thigh and wraps his arms around him and pressing their chests together. Steve smiles at him, brushing his hair back behind his ear. He runs his fingers through his hair, gripping it slightly as he pulls Eddie back in for another kiss. 

There’s a lingering saltiness that Steve recognizes as himself, he loops his tongue around eddies and sucks on it gently, making him buck his hips against Steve’s with a moan. Steves one hand trails down his back to hold his lower back and cradle his head as he flips them over to be on top. 

Eddie lays back breathless and surprised and incredibly turned on by how Steve was able to do that. He runs his hands over Steve’s thighs, admiring his beauty in the candlelight, “you good?” 

He nods, “are you sure you still want to do this?” Steve asks as he reaches for the bottle of lube

“More than you know,” he replied, pulling him in for another soft kiss. 

Eddie took the lube from Steve and popped the cap, running it across his fingers before reaching between his legs. He spreads his cheeks with one hand and circles a lubed-up finger around his rim. Steve tossed his head back at the feeling and gripped Eddie’s shoulders for support, leaning in more to press his forehead against Eddie’s and stretching his ass out.

Eddie pushed one finger in past the rim, making him cry out in pleasure with hot breath against Eddie’s face. He pumped in and out of him, over and over making Steve feel more euphoric than he has with anyone else. He added a second finger after a minute and a third, till finally, he pressed against his prostate, making his hips jerk and his breath hitch. He grips eddies hair tighter, moaning in his ear, it's so fucking hot Eddie could cum just listening.

He pulled out and wiped his fingers against the fitted sheet on the bed. Steve sighs and pulls away enough to grab the condom and rip it open, he moves back enough to roll it over Eddie’s leaking, glistening cock with a smile. He lubes him up, grips him at the base once more and leads him inside. He pushed in, inch by inch till he bottomed out, sitting lightly on Eddie’s hips. 

It’s so intense, Eddie’s mouth opens in a silent gasp and his eyes widen at the feeling. His grip tightens on Steve’s hips, helping him stay in place as he adjusts. Steve looked him in the eyes once more, the beautiful brown orbs that he was beginning to love so dearly, stared back at him softy. He tilted Eddie’s head up and leaned into another kiss before moving his hips slightly.

Eddie moaned against his lips, they weren’t really kissing anymore. The more he moved his hips, the more Eddie moaned causing Steve to press his open mouth against him as they panted together with the friction. 

Eddie finally pulled him close, gripping his back as he flipped them over, pushing Steve’s legs up to his chest and fucking into him deeply. Eddie fucked into him again and again, hitting all the right places as he did so. 

The two of them moaned together, chanting words of praise and appreciation for the moment. “My god,” Eddie moaned into his ear, “oh fuck, you feel so good Steve.”

Steve moans right back, holding him so tight so the moment never ends. Just then, Eddie slows his thrusts and leans in gently to kiss Steve on the forehead. He abandons his grip on Steve’s thighs, letting his legs fall to the mattress before Steve wraps them around his waist. 

He reaches forward for Eddie, gripping onto his back. “Please?” 

“Please what?” Eddie smirks, thoroughly enjoying the way Steve was completely wrecked for him. 

“I uh,” he swallows sharply and doesn’t know how to say it. “Can you change the angle a bit?” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course, baby,” he stops completely and reaches up for a pillow, slipping it under his hips quickly and thrusting in a few more times. “Like that?” 

Steve bites his lip and closes his eyes, nodding as he relaxes into the pillow, “mhm, fucking amazing.”

Eddie leans back down, hovering over him as he keeps thrusting. He kisses Steve’s cheek, his jaw and then down towards his neck again. Holding him close, he reaches between them to grip Steve’s weeping cock and jerk him off, matching the speed of his thrusts. 

Steve knows he’s close but all he can say is the word please, he grips Eddie’s back and trembles under him. His legs quake, and that iron-hot feeling in his gut spreads through his body as he releases into Eddie’s hand and all up his chest. Eddie’s hips sputter against him, thrusting in one last time with a guttural moan in Steve’s ear. 

The both of them are breathless, chests heaving in the wake of their orgasms. Limbs go limp, and Eddie gets heavier, but Steve likes the weight on top of him. He runs his fingers over eddies back gently as he starts to calm down, and leans his cheek against Eddie’s forehead. 

Content, not a single regret in him, this is all he wanted. 

“You okay?” Eddie whispers. 

He nods, “perfect.” 

He sits up slowly, pulling out which felt so weird and emotional which left him feeling empty and self-conscious. Even more so when Eddie gets out of the bed and runs off into the other room for a few minutes. He can hear the faucet running, he takes a few minutes and then returns with a facecloth in hand. 

With a shaking hand, he sits on the edge of the bed and makes careful eye contact with Steve. He sits up a bit, nodding cause he knows what he wants and so Eddie leans forward, wiping the cloth over his messy chest to clean him up. “There, all pretty again…” 

Steve takes a hold of Eddie's wrist before he can pull away and uses it to pull him back in for another kiss. Meeting him halfway, he cups Eddie’s face in his hand and holds him there. Breathing him in, he hopes every feeling he had transferred over to Eddie without words because he wasn’t even sure he could find the right ones for these feelings. 

He rests his forehead against Eddie’s as the kiss ends, coming up for air, they don’t move. They don’t talk. They just stay like that. 

Eddie pulls back first and kisses Steve on the forehead, “thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me,” Steve doesn’t want to think about it… why they did do it. “Do you still want me to stay while you sleep?” 

He nods, “if you want to?” 

“Yeah, come here,” he pulls back and the two of them hurry to get under the comforter and cuddled up. 

Steve rests his head on Eddie’s chest, lightly drawing his finger over his tattoo in the near darkness. He wants to talk, he wants to ask Eddie a million and one questions but he doesn’t know how to… and Eddie’s in the same predicament. He stays quiet so he doesn’t say anything stupid. 

But it’s not stupid… it’s love. 

Eddie falls asleep eventually, Steve watches his breathing change and feels his hand still on his back before it slides off with his weightless slumber. He doesn’t snore, not necessarily, but he has this cute little whistle sound he makes when he breathes. Steve smiles as he listens, he’s somehow the happiest he’s ever been when he knows it can’t last long. 

—

He slips out of bed just before the sun starts to rise, he carefully gets dressed and kisses Eddie on the forehead before he sneaks out the back door. His sneakers slip on the dewy grass, it’s absolutely fucking freezing compared to being under the covers with Eddie, he shivers his whole ride back to the Wheelers. 

He gets back into Nancy’s house through her window, he peaks his head out her door and listens for her Fathers snoring… and it’s there. He quietly tiptoes past Holly’s door and takes the stairs just as cautiously. They creak a bit, but nothing too bad. He slips past the kitchen and down the basement stairs to see everyone asleep and Max at the workbench, still awake and writing. 

Well, he thought everyone was asleep… Robin grabs him by the scruff of his neck and hauls him into the laundry room, away from the sleeping kids, “where were you?” 

“None—

“Is that a hickey?” She points at his neck, “you left in the middle of all this shit to get laid? Are you fucking kidding me, Steve? Max is in real danger, you know that right?” 

He’s not sure why he starts to cry but tears well behind his eyes as he nods, “yeah, no, I know… but it’s not what you think… or who you think.” 

“What?” Her demeanour changes when she realizes he’s upset. 

“I uh, I went to see Eddie and let him sleep a few hours without having to be on guard,” he admits and then swallows sharply. “And you remember what we talked about? About different sexualities and shit?” 

“Steve,” she softens, “oh my god?” 

“We can’t let this ruin his life, I can’t lose him already,” Steve cries, the feelings he’s been holding onto for the last few hours just tumbling out of him. 

Robin pulls him into a hug, rubbing his back, “we won’t let that happen.” 

He cries it out with her in the laundry room, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.” 

“cause you found yourself,” she whispers, proud as ever. “Hi Steve, I’m Robin, it’s nice to meet you.” 

He laughs, wiping his tears off his cheeks and gives her a small smile, “hi, Robin… thank you.” 

She pats his arm, smiling back, “always, buddy.” 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @wroteclassicaly @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @eddiemunson-rp 

Steddie

@nosaladallowed-ao3 @maya-custodios-dionach @wifeyreid @girl-with-an-orange-cat

[har-rison-s]

i'd fight hell to hold you

eddie munson x reader with she/her pronouns

a/n: hi. another eddie piece. the obsession has begun. my god... idk if i’m ready for friday. it’s going to be absolutely insane. my irl st bestie will come over & we’ll watch together while eating pizza... i am so not ready. my head is empty rn because i’ve speculated on who’s gonna die and what’s gonna happen so much but i just can’t bring myself to do that anymore. i need to stop thinking about it, and i want to just watch what happens yk. idk... anyways. here we are. this one-shot is inspired by kiss’ song “i’d fight hell to hold you” which is 1) in my eddie playlist 2) a listening recommendation for reading this fic :) i think this one’s gonna be longer than my previous eddie one-shots, but ofc i shall see. i just have a premise that i need to write, something in the script i have to modify for this certain scenario and yeah. all in all, i hope you guys will like it :) oh also! i’m graduating my art high school on saturday :))))) i can’t believe i’ve come this far. insane. anyways. happy reading babies!

masterlist

stranger things masterlist

word count: 6.8k

song rec: i'd fight hell to hold you by kiss

tags: mentions of nausea, throwing up, the upside down

(a/n: my babies :( if anything happens to either or both of them in vol2, you will pay, duffers, and greatly ) gif credit goes to owner!

“nancy, no!” robin had managed to scream out a mere second before nancy, deemed the leader of the group, delved into the deep, dark water. clearly not following out on robin’s unspoken advice to not go where steve was just forcefully pulled into. eddie doesn’t know what to say, because his warning to nancy didn’t work, so why would words work? he looks to y/n slowly, wondering what’s on her mind as their next move. before he and robin can take the next shaky breath, though, y/n delves head-first into the dark water, right after nancy and steve. “y/n!”

“y/n! noo!” eddie can only muster in complete shock and hopelessness at what’s just happened. he can’t believe his eyes. he can’t believe his ears. he knows y/n well enough to know she would do anything for her friends, but this is putting her life in danger. and more than that, if there’s such a thing. eddie knows there’s only one thing he can do. to save her, to protect her, to guard her, to make sure she’ll be okay. his fighting abilities are pretty decent, but he doesn’t know what he’ll be facing. to hell with that. he’ll protect her no matter what they’re up against. so eddie looks at robin, gripping the boat’s side, takes a deep breath and jumps in after y/n, not caring what awaits him down in the depths of lover’s lake.

what awaits him is a glowing red portal that isn’t very inviting. but he sees just y/n’s converse-clad feet pulling through the portal to the other side, and he has no choice but to follow. it’s not like he would have sat in that boat with robin and waited until steve, nancy and y/n returned. it’s not like he wouldn’t go into another dimension, to the ends of the world, right into a monster’s arms, to save her. just to make sure she makes it out alive. screw everyone else, screw eddie himself, he won’t let anything happen to her.

the crawl through the gate isn’t pleasant—eddie could use many experiences of his own to describe how squeezing through that really felt—and what’s on the other side isn’t pleasant, either. a dark world. no sun, no moon, no wind. disgusting vines that resemble poisonous snakes crawling everywhere. and eddie’s best friend and new friends in peril. nancy and y/n taking on—flying bats?—together, with each their own skills and found weapons. it seems steve has a handful of them to fight himself, now that the girls have got a portion of the bats off him. he looks badly wounded.

and y/n looks as attractive as ever. yes, they’re in another dimension, yes, she’s wet and slimy and killing bats—but perhaps that’s the exact reason. she’s fighting for her friends, fighting for herself, fighting for who eddie is pretty sure is the unrequited love of her life. and she’s doing great. eddie even makes a mesmerized smile at the sight of her in his stupor, his eyes forming into hearts in the midst of this battle, suddenly amnesia-like to his own situation, his current reality. it’s a bat that swings onto his shoulders that breaks him out of that trance.

eddie’s quick and agile, and grabs one of the oars laying around, and begins attacking the bat. so it’s not only keen on steve, but on the girls and eddie himself, too. it might be stupid, but what really motivates him and gets him through this terribly gross fight with the bats is the thought that he might look at y/n maybe just one more time after it. he might talk to her, might embrace her, might have her at all after this. she’s the reason he keeps a clear head and has a clear target in this fight.

when no more bats seem to be coming, yet there’s still sounds of a struggle, the group turn to watch steve taking down a bat one on one without any sign of mercy. even though eddie’s fascinated himself, he can’t help but think that y/n might find this the hottest thing in the world. a guy taking some demon bat down with his bare hands? pulling its head off with nothing but his hands and feet? it’s the most metal thing eddie’s ever seen, and quite the epic ozzy move, as well. it’s what eddie wants to be.

yet he’s no hero. he’s not like steve, who isn’t afraid to check out danger, who isn’t afraid to jump into dangerous waters first, who doesn’t hesitate to take down demon bats in an alternate dimension. eddie got scared. he saw proper traumatizing shit and ran. he wishes he was different, and that he’d have more guts. he wishes he was more like steve, who y/n undeniably likes. eddie sometimes wishes he had everything that steve has. and that’s why, regrettably, his eyes turn sour towards steve.

but after the last bat has been taken down and everyone’s coming to it slowly, eddie doesn’t hesitate to run straight towards y/n. he’s pleasantly surprised to find her also moving towards him, and he practically cradles her like fragile china in his arms. though he already let his tantrums get the best of him beforehand, he keeps chanting jesus h christ(though his religion is, quite frankly, the opposite of that) as he embraces y/n, his best friend, with shaking hands. “jesus christ,” eddie mutters and then pulls away, his hands on y/n’s cheeks now. he knows they’re off limits to each other in this sense, but he can mask his loving ways to her with care, can’t he? eddie inspects her face, searching for bruises or cuts or whatever else that might need quick attending-to, “did they hurt you? have you been bitten?” he asks in a super quick voice.

y/n shakes her head firmly. “no, no, i’m not hurt,” she tells him surely and rests her hands on eddie’s wrists. he realizes that might be a sign to draw back, to pull his hands away, to get out of that zone, so he begins lowering them, “are youhurt?” she asks in return, her eyes looking over eddie’s form. he shakes his head, too. though he’s sure that out of the shock and fear he’s feeling, he could very well not have felt if a bat has bit him.

“no, no, i’m not hurt... terrified out of my mind, though? traumatized? oh yeah,” eddie says, and y/n weakly smiles at his attempts to address the situation with humor, “you scared me, y/n, you really did. back there...” eddie shakes his head, his hands now on his hips as he looks down, very obviously hiding tears that he’s always trying to hold in, “i thought you... i mean—i—you went so—"

y/n puts her hands on eddie’s chest, one of them sneaking up to his neck, knowing that it’s always the place she needs to touch to get eddie to listen to her. “i’m sorry,” she tells him, “wasn’t thinking it through. acted like a dumb horror movie character there,” she admits, and eddie can manage to make a smile at that half-joke, “couldn’t let them go down here alone, could i? we’ve gotta figure all of this out. can’t leave my friends to certain death.”

eddie’s quiet, but he nods. friends. she definitely looks at steve as more than a friend, he’s sure, but he’ll let her words stay that way. eddie nods again. “i know, i know,” he tells her, and then they both hear more bat screeching from the forest. if you can call that a forest... eddie’s head shoots straight up, fast, rabid-like. he reminds y/n of a bunny—they’re perpetually anxious animals and jump at every and any noise around them. eddie seems to have taken a role of one for now.

y/n moves her hand up to eddie’s cheek, trying to make him look at her. she knows she often has the power to ground him. not often, but always. and slowly, with his head going into this and that direction first, he does turn to her. complete submission, as well as fear and anxiety, in his eyes as they connect with hers. y/n can only imagine what it’s like to be eddie. what he’s seen in the last forty-eight hours alone... and now to be jumping into a completely alien, dangerous world to find the monster that’s responsible for deaths in his hometown... fighting demon bats along the way... it’s no surprise eddie’s eyes are filled with tears now, at the sound of those bats, at the thought of y/n in danger. he’s a step away from sobbing, and y/n can see he’s slowly taking that step. but they don’t have much time for crying or letting it all out right now. eddie’s a straight-forward person with his emotions and has to deal with them right away, you know that. but there’s no time.

“the woods.” nancy huffs as the group of five all see a cloud of bats approaching. “come on,” nancy leads the way into the woods, which is totally not where y/n or eddie would go if they could choose, but they can’t choose at the moment. they both trust the people who have dealt with these monsters, with this whole world under hawkins. from what nancy has said, she’s the one most familiar with this dark, scary world.

and when she tells the group she has guns in her house—yes, plural, as eddie so pointedly emphasized—y/n and eddie can’t help but trust her even more. sure, nancy’s image deceives her true nature, and y/n is even glad to learn that it does, but the girl knows what she’s doing, and she knows what she’s dealing. the earthquake that comes to shake this world while the group are making plans around skull rock surprises even nancy—what could be causing something like this?

y/n immediately clings to eddie, who can’t help but be clung to by two girls—y/n and robin—at once, as she loses her balance. they crash to the ground in a mess of limbs, yelping in surprise and then grunting in pain almost immediately after. eddie’s holding both girls to him, one to each side, one for each arm. a strong arm, y/n must admit, eddie’s always been seemingly harmless from afar, but his arms hold the most strength in his body.

the shaking of the ground beneath her and everything else around her makes her nauseous, so she just closes her eyes and prays that the earthquake ends as quickly as it started. she didn’t know an earthquake could make her nauseous—they happen close to never in the state of indiana—and she hopes she doesn’t throw up now from that nausea feeling. ugh, and her mints are in steve’s car, she forgot to take them with. they might have helped against this nausea, but she could never have predicted she’d need them. this really sucks.

eventually, the terror of this earthquake ends, and y/n can breathe a deep sigh of relief. she still clings to eddie’s forearm, even when it’s past a few seconds since the earthquake ended. “so guns seem like a really good idea right now,” eddie says, fully backing away from his disbelief of nancy having guns in her bedroom, sure that the girl is telling the truth, and it might be the only solution to this situation right now.

y/n snaps her eyes open, though stays where she is for the next couple of seconds. in some way, she waits for another earthquake to start. it can’t be over yet, can it? “yeah, me too,” robin agrees with eddie and is the first to rise from the ground. eddie absentmindedly wraps that free arm of his around y/n’s frame now, too, and bends his head down next to her, their faces side by side. she feels tense against him.

“you alright, sweetheart?” he gently whispers into her ear. she gives him a shaky nod.

“for the most part,” she squeezes out, “i just feel very nauseous.” y/n informs him and takes deep breaths in and out again, hoping it will help that horrible feeling. eddie nods.

“sorry, i think i lost my gum somewhere in this... hellhole.” he tells her, checking all the pockets he can with one of his hands. y/n’s lips curl into a small smile at that response. eddie, ever so kind and considerate.

“it’s fine,” she says in a huffed breath and gets ready to stand up on her two feet, “as long as i don’t throw up, or another earthquake doesn’t happen, i’ll be fine.”

eddie nods again. “you just let me know, okay? i’ll do whatever i can.” he offers and is the first to stand up, pulling his legs away from under y/n. he offers her both of his hands, out-stretched and firm, before he thinks to do anything else, “come on,” eddie quietly urges her on before y/n takes his hands and is being pulled up by eddie. she feels faint, and ends up standing closer to him than she anticipated.

eddie notices right away how her eyes travel to steve—he doesn’t notice that they stick onto robin and nancy, as well, he’s blind as a bat to that—and how before they did that, as well. when nancy was tying that piece of fabric around his stomach. when they were all crouching around skull rock. eddie notices all of that, but he doesn’t see, now that y/n’s turned her back to him, that she’s not looking at steve at all anymore, but instead at this world they’re in behind him, around him, surrounding them all.

eddie shrugs off his denim vest and throws it at steve without a warning or word uttered. everyone looks at him, y/n included, and she sees a weird expression on eddie’s face, a strange look in his eyes she can’t quite recognize. “for your modesty, dude,” eddie explains to steve in a voice of mock-disgust. steve nods thankfully, but is too out of breath to say anything more. firstly, eddie wants steve to cover up a bit so y/n would stop literally gawking at him. secondly, steve’s much more vulnerable in this unpredictable place with a bare torso than with a covered one.

“come on,” nancy urges the group, breaking out to be the leader among them again as she heads deeper into the woods, “no time to waste. let’s go!” she commands her group of friends, and they follow her without another thought or protest.

y/n feels just nauseous enough to not be able to talk without feeling like she’ll barf, so she doesn’t walk side by side with anyone. she’d love to be walking with eddie, but the tension between him and steve, for some reason, could be cut through with a knife, and she doesn’t want to be in the middle of that.

she couldn’t handle it on a regular day, much less on a day she feels like vomiting any next second. she doesn’t wanna give the boys the delight of having vomit on their shoes, so she simply walks after nancy and robin, and in front of steve and eddie. she tries not to think of what the vines could be, tries not to think of where or what they could lead to, she simply keeps her head up and hopes this nausea will fade away soon. preferably, sooner than she has calculated.

eddie doesn’t protest, doesn’t request her beside him. nausea can be a tough time, and he understands if she doesn’t wanna talk to him at the moment. he walks solemnly with steve, some good few feet behind y/n. he tries not to look at her as much as he usually does, since he’s in front of steve now, but his eyes do wander to her, he can’t help it.

“eddie,” steve addresses his walking partner. he’s glad for it to be someone closer to his own age, a change of pace from his usual buddy, dustin. he does miss the kid, though, even if he’s been away from him only some fifteen to twenty minutes now. the long-haired brunette turns his head to steve with curious, oblivious eyes, “hey, uh... i just wanted to say thanks for, uh, saving my ass back there.” steve tells eddie, and gives him a respectful nod, lips pursed and eyes looking into eddie’s. much similar to his own—big, doe and brown.

eddie nearly snorts. “shit, you saved your own ass, man,” he tells steve, shaking his head slightly. steve’s lips make into a subtle grin, “i mean... that was a real ozzy move you pulled back there.” it’s everything i’ve wanted to be. especially for her. steve quirks an eyebrow.

“ozzy?” he echoes. like the wizard of oz?

“when you took a bite out of that bat,” eddie elaborates, but steve still gives him a clueless look, “ozzy osbourne? black sabbath?” he offers to steve, but he’s already shaking his head and turning away. awh, y/n would have gotten the reference. “he bit a bat’s head off, on stage, once.”

steve shakes his head again. “i don’t... i don’t know,” he tells eddie.

he shrugs. “doesn’t matter,” he dismisses, and guesses that the right person gets this reference, “it’s very metal, what you did. that’s all i’m saying.”

steve chuckles dryly. eddie doesn’t blame him. here he is, steve harrington, nearly bitten to death by bats he took apart with his bare hands mere moments later, and the weirdo of the school is trying to feed him a metaphor for it. plus, he’s bleeding while walking around some big monster’s lair. “thanks.” steve tells him.

eddie nods along. the man seems pretty unsure of himself as of now. “henderson told me you were a badass.” he continues. “insisted on the matter, in fact. y/l/n over there told me that, too.”

“they said that?” steve asks in disbelief, and eddie gives another nod in response. both guys now look after y/n, climbing over suspicious vines ahead of them, clearly oblivious to their conversation.

“oh, yeah, shit, henderson... worships you, dude,” eddie elaborates. he knows someone else who worships steve besides dustin, “like, you have no idea.” steve chuckles, a bit more lively this time. “it’s kinda annoying, to be honest. i.... don’t even know why i care what that little shrimp thinks, but, uh... i guess...” it gets difficult for eddie to say what he wants to say next, “i guess i got a little jealous, steve.” he doesn’t guess that, actually, he knows it. eddie just doesn’t want to fully admit it, but he is jealous of steve. for many reasons. y/n. dustin. “guess i couldn’t accept the fact that... steve harrington,” he makes a little dramatic pause, “was actually... a good dude.”

eddie sees steve’s head hanging lower. out of embarrassment? out of the good words? but there’s a smile on steve’s lips, as well. eddie can’t help his jealousy, his envy. of steve’s looks, of his character, his personality, his reputation, his brotherhood with dustin, with lucas and max, his close relationships with three (and maybe even more) smoking hot ladies. steve’s hero character and mind-set, on which he acts. he protects the kids and his friends any way he can, always being the first to test out dangerous waters—quite literally in the most recent situation. he’s not turning his back to a dangerous situation, he’s standing up and doing something about it.

“rich parents, popular, chicks love him,” eddie lists off, a certain chick he knows well popping up in his mind as he says the quality, “not a douche? no way, man, nooo way.” steve’s smile grows wider. “that, like, flies in the face of all the laws in the universe, and... my own personal munson doctrine.” steve chuckles now. eddie leans closer to him. “still super jealous as hell, by the way.” of everything you are, everything and everyone you attract, everything that you can so easily have. unlike me.

steve pulls back a little, laughing now, “okay.” he tells eddie, and the boy grins.

“it’s actually why i, uh... would never have jumped in that lake to save your ass,” eddie admits, “sorry to say. no offense, of course, dude, but uh... not under any normal circumstances.”

steve shakes his head. “i get it, man, i get it,” he tells eddie, “nothing about this is normal in any way. it's insane how we can even think what to do next, after everything...”

eddie feels that shame he’s bound to talk about creep up his spine like a spider with sharp claws, “yeah, well... outside of d&d, i am nooo... hero.” his eyes fall onto y/n again. “well, okay, there is one exception.” eddie says, and a short sigh full of longing escapes his lips as he looks on the girl. steve follows his eyes, and makes a smile at the connection. something that is so clear to see. “one person i’d follow anywhere. other than that,” eddie shrugs, “i see danger and i just turn heel and run.”

steve pats him on the back, still that knowing smile playing on his lips as he does so, “give yourself a break, man,” he tells eddie, “witnessing and being a part of anything like this is very, uh... it’s not anything normal. and you’ve seen enough. cut yourself some slack.”

eddie shakes his head as a nervous chuckle passes through his lips, “yeah, well, see,” he starts to say, slowing him and steve both down in their path, “the only reason i came in here was ‘cause that little strong lady jumped in straight after you.” eddie gestures in y/n’s direction with his hand. “well, okay, not after you, but after nancy—they practically jumped in at the same time.” eddie explains. “now, i would have been too ashamed to be the one who stayed behind. but as soon as she disappeared underwater, that all changed. i couldn’t stay behind.” he starts his and steve’s walk forwards up again. “surprised myself, even, doing that, but...” eddie shakes his head and inwardly punches himself at what he’s about to say, “i would literally pass through the gates of hell for her.” steve smiles again. “not sure she’d do the same for me, cause... she literally just proved that she’d do that for someone else. but i don’t know... maybe if i wasn’t such a chicken, things would have been different.”

“why do you think she wouldn’t do the same for you?” steve asks. clearly, he doesn’t know eddie as well as he knows y/n, and not nearly as long, either. but he knows they’ve been best friends forever, probably since they wore diapers, and he knows y/n’s dedication to her friends. to eddie.

eddie glances at steve momentarily, slight fear in his eyes. “well, ‘cause it’s clear there’s someone else she would dive after—literally,” eddie says, “this popular dude who babysits random kids when he’s not working shifts at family video.” eddie finally says—it took a lot in him to say that out loud, much less without getting all emotional about it—and huffs quietly, turning his gaze away from steve. he doesn’t wanna see his boasty, self-centered reaction to the clear fact eddie’s just stated.

but steve shakes his head with a scoff that he only wants to sound like complete disagreement to what eddie’s just said. “you think she’s after me?” steve asks eddie in a quieter voice, since there’s a possibility y/n could hear them both. as steve looks at eddie, the metalhead nods.

“it’s clear as day!” eddie argues. “you’re all she talks about, who her eyes are glued on all the time, and no doubt who she thinks about all the time, too.” he crosses his arms over his chest like a little kid. steve chuckles again.

“your radar is way off, dude,” steve says, but receives no reply from eddie, meaning he’s not convinced, but he’s on the way there, “it’s not me she thinks and talks about all the time, i guarantee you that. a hundred percent,” he assures.

“who is it, then?” eddie inquires, clueless as any next person. steve shakes his head.

“it’s you, dumbass,” steve breaks him the news and looks at eddie while he does so to make his point more sure, more firm. at first eddie just stares off in the distance, his arms still crossed over his chest as he ponders on this, “trust me, i know when a girl is, as they say, smitten. and she’s not smitten with me.” steve gulps. “you are all she talks about, she gushes about you, dude. rambles, if i may say that. you are her every waking thought, no doubt, everything that we do, everything we see reminds her in the weirdest of ways of you.”

now eddie just thinks steve’s playing a prank. making all that he said up, pulling it out of thin air. “how can you be so sure? how can you know that?” eddie inquires further. now steve laughs and shakes his head at how clueless eddie really is with girls. sure, he can treat a girl right, and he can love her to the ends of this earth, but he can’t catch her drift for the life of him. he can’t read women at all.

steve gives eddie one last shake of his head and leans in closer to the boy. “just... tell her how you feel, prove your feelings to her in some way, any way, or at least try to,” he advises eddie, “and you’ll see. i guarantee you, there will be promising results.” steve says, and his last words make both boys giggle.

“thanks, harrington, really,” eddie tells him genuinely, and steve nods. eddie thinks on this advice steve has given him. if what he’s said is true about y/n, and if his advice will prove that, why should eddie waste any time? no time like the present, right? who the fuck knows what’s next in this dark dimension. vecna might come after any one of them any second. so why not tell y/n how he feels right now, while he’s still here, alive and breathing, while they both are? “i’ll see about those promising results and get back to ya.” eddie says to steve as he begins to skip ahead, so he’d be in one step with y/n. steve gives eddie an encouraging nod, and even a true smile. he hopes it works out for those two. and he hopes eddie won’t chicken out.

y/n notices him next to her with the corner of her eye as she still tries to stifle her nausea, her nose as high in the air as it can be. “hi, eddie,” she says quietly in an exhale. eddie gives her a kind smile, his hands fidgeting with his jacket in his crossed-arms position.

“hi, sweetheart,” he tells her, “how you feeling?” he genuinely inquires. y/n sighs.

“still nauseous,” she responds, “though it’s going away slowly. the stink of this place doesn’t help at all.”

eddie chuckles at that revelation. “i bet it doesn’t, yeah,” he agrees, “listen, uh... wanted to, uh, tell you something. just hear me out, nothing else, no obligation to answer or... anything.”

y/n furrows her eyebrows, but then realizes what this could be about. eddie’s great at argumentative monologues, you know that. he always has backing reasons for whatever he wants or needs. “you can use my garage for band practice, eddie, i don’t mind,” she tells him in a slightly annoyed voice, “dad’s at work on saturdays, anyway.” she makes a hard sniff with her nose. though it’s probably not the best idea right now, since there’s... particles flying around in the air. who knows what they contain?

“it’s... not about that, actually, but... i’ll definitely keep it in mind,” eddie says and makes a nervous chuckle. y/n furrows her eyebrows even more. what else could this be about? “listen, uh... i’ll try my best to say this straight-forward. god! i’m so nervous,” eddie shakes his head. y/n finally drops her head to a normal level and turns it to look at eddie properly. what on earth could he be nervous about? he keeps his eyes ahead of him, “i’m gonna sound like a pussy saying this, but there was really no other reason that made me jump in that damn lover’s lake, except you.” eddie finally begins, and y/n is in a slight state of shock, so much so that she listens without any interjection. if it had been any other setting, any other situation, she would be arguing already, or asking a million questions. “you, who i’ve known since we were building sand castles in the playing ground’s sandbox. you’ve, uh, been my best friend ever since you threw that box of acorns down on my head.” they both chuckle at that memory. y/n can tell this is something serious, something really important to eddie that he’s talking about. ��you’re the most amazing, badass girl i know. my mother would have loved to see you grow up.” eddie shakes his head softly. “and, fuck, i feel so... not me with this, but i also feel like the best version of myself ever since i...” y/n furrows her eyebrows again. “i’m not makin’ any sense... it’s just, you know i hate clichés, right?” eddie leans closer to y/n, looking into her eyes. she, as clueless as a by-passer about everything that he’s saying and the point he’s trying to make, nods at eddie. “yeah.” he nods. “i never expected my cliché of choice to be falling for my best friend, so... that’s two surprises in one. well, it’s not like i chose to—which i would have done, anyway, but...”

y/n is in utter shock. she just looks at eddie with wide eyes, watching his lips twist and turn as he tries to say something. something more, something different—whatever. it’s all out of stress, he can’t stand her not answering or responding in any way, so he immediately feels like he has to make up the silence with something, anything. but what can y/n say? she has been bamboozled totally and utterly.

neither of them can get a word in to save their lives, because the ground starts shaking again, starting up another earthquake. y/n falls to the ground helplessly, and eddie falls right after her, reaching for her hand. he might have dropped a complete bombshell on her just, and is still waiting for a response, and she might not want him near her now or later or ever, but he has to make sure she’s at least on a support system throughout this earthquake. “here we go again!” eddie whines as he pulls y/n into his arms, her back against his chest. she holds onto his hands, but faintly. then she nearly pulls away completely.

“i’m gonna be sick,” she exclaims awkwardly, holding her stomach, as she gets up on her shaking legs, on the shaky ground, and makes away from eddie, heading towards a near-by tree. eddie worries, shoots an anxious look towards steve, who’s a few feet behind them, also on the vine-covered ground, holding onto his flashlight for dear life, clear signs of struggle on his face. he nods at eddie, as he knows what he’s thinking. eddie just shakes his head, closing his eyes.

he tries his best to get up while he still wobbles and everything around him is rattling and shaking, and he follows y/n. after he takes a few steps, the earth settles and the earthquake slowly ends, and he makes an exhale of relief. his ears aren’t filled with the horridly loud noise of the earthquake anymore, but he does hear the sound of retching. that must be poor y/n, puking out her insides and whatever it was she ate last. eddie frowns, waits for it to end, and approaches her around the vine-wrapped tree.

he hears her spitting, and then she’s steadying herself against the tree, her back somewhat straight. she notices eddie two feet away from her, and he sees her face is exhausted, pale, nearly green. poor thing. “well,” she starts to say in a breathy voice, “i guess my nausea got worse.” y/n admits, and tries to make a smile. it barely works, and it makes eddie laugh. full-on laugh, with his hand on his stomach. y/n wipes the corner of her mouth and her chin with the sleeve of her jacket, wrapped and tied around her waist. ugh, the thought of there being sick on her skin, on her clothes—which there definitely is—nearly makes her sick to her stomach again.

“you alright to walk?” he asks and glances around at their team-mates. they’re just getting ready to get up themselves now. eddie looks back at y/n.

“i’m good,” she answers with a nod of her head, “looks like i really needed to empty my stomach to function normally, but uh... can we stay here? for just a moment longer?” y/n requests. eddie raises his eyebrows and gives her a nod.

“sure,” he says, and now that the conversation of her nausea and the earthquake has dissipated, he feels the awkward silence of their conversation before enter the atmosphere again. he awkwardly looks around as y/n still heaves with heavy breaths.

“that’s quite a bombshell to drop in another dimension, in the midst of the world ending,” y/n tells him, referencing his previous confession, “i, uh, actually thought you liked someone else all this time. didn’t know who, but... i had a feeling.” she breathes out deeply. “how long have you known?” y/n asks him, their eyes finally connecting again.

eddie purses his lips and then huffs. “well, since, uh... sophomore year, i guess?”

“so since we both hit puberty,” y/n clarifies, and eddie nods, though he is slightly ashamed to, “me first, though.”

he scoffs. “obviously,” he says, “i was seventeen, and you were, well... you were just a dream. i told you that every chance i got, thinking it’s gonna go somewhere, but clearly, it never did.” eddie admits.

now y/n makes an amused scoff. “i wanted it to go somewhere, too, but,” she shrugs, “i always thought it was just you, you know, complimenting me because you’d done that countless times before. you did all the time, actually,” she tells him, “never thought there was something more behind it. i never would have thought you, eddie munson, my drop-dead-gorgeous metal-head, nerd best friend would have the same feelings i had—have for you.” she admits and shakes her head subtly. that catches eddie off-guard completely. scratch the fact that he just admitted him being in love with her, this... this is something else.

promising results.

“didn’t wanna appear as delusional or, uh—or greedy for something i clearly couldn’t get,” y/n continues, “i mean, you’re just way out of my league. always have been.”

eddie steps closer to her, his breath stuck in his throat—he’s not sure he’s breathing right now, but it’s not exactly what he’s focusing on right now, either—and he looks dead into her eyes. “no, you’re out of my league.” he argues to her, and now y/n straightens her back and stretches her muscles with an easy laugh.

“no, you are,” she argues back, “two can play at this game, munson, and we both know i’ll—”

“can i kiss you right now?” eddie interrupts her characteristic snap-back at him, catching her off-guard now. he’s sure she’s never been more beautiful, more herself to him than she is now. she’s the hottest girl in school, has the best personality—also deemed one of a pirate—, is eddie’s best friend in the entire world, challenges him on the daily and has the same feelings for him as he does for her? out of this world (that’s where they are right now, though). unbelievable. unreal.

he’s been waiting for the chance to ask her that, he’s been waiting to kiss her since forever, and there isn’t a more perfect moment than now. y/n has wanted the same thing for years, as well—they’re both in quite the same boat—she’s wanted eddie to just take her face in his hands and kiss her until they both suffocate since she can remember. but she’ll disagree with him about that best moment aspect of this whole thing. “eddie, i literally just threw up,” she says in a coarse voice, “my breath stinks and i’m covered in sick.” y/n tells him, looking him back dead in the eyes. “i don’t think you’re gonna want to kiss me right now.” she says with a shake of her head, and a gentle smirk playing at her lips. eddie narrows his eyes at her.

“you don’t know what i think,” he says with a slight shake of his head, keeping his eyes narrowed at her, “can i level with you?” he asks her, and y/n gives him a nod. their faces are close as ever, sure, they’ve been that close before, but never in this context, “we’re in an alternate dimension, where monsters powerful enough to break into people’s psyche rule with their miles-long vines crawling all around. we’re about to go to nancy wheeler’s house to get guns she’s hiding in her bedroom,” eddie says, getting ever so closer to y/n with nearly each word he speaks, “to kill that very monster. there’s earthquakes left and right, and probably monsters, too—who knows? we might get attacked any next second,” eddie’s voice gets lower and huskier as he talks, and y/n can’t help but admit that it’s making her lower belly tickle. not with nausea this time, though, thankfully. with something much more pleasant, “now i’ve just told you i’ve been in love with you since i was seventeen, and you’ve told me you have those exact same feelings. but now you’re telling me i won’t want to kiss you? just because you’ve thrown up?” y/n has to admit he’s made a point. “come on, sweetheart. not the worst thing i’ve seen you do in all our years of friendship.”

y/n can name a few memories he’s referencing with that already, and she blushes while a giggle escapes her lips. “stop,” she simply says, looking away from his strong, captivating eyes.

“point is, don’t tell me what i want or don’t want to do,” eddie continues and moves even closer to her, “another point is, this might be our last conversation ever,” he says and looks down at her as he stretches his back again, y/n looking up at him with a grin slowly stretching her lips, “so just stand on those tippy-toes of yours and let me kiss you, ‘kay?” eddie’s already moving a hand into her hair, about to cradle the back of her head as he requests this one sacred thing from her. he might die, she might die—they both might die any next moment. and he doesn’t want to go without having kissed her, ever. his whole life would be wasted then. “please,” eddie breathes a whisper. his big, doe eyes hold that plea in them, as well. she’s never been able to resist them. well, with great discipline, but only sometimes.

and to his much pleasant surprise, y/n nods without a word uttered, and does as he’s so sweetly requested of her. she stands on her tippy-toes, grips eddie’s shoulder for support and stability—both of them uttering breathy giggles at that little intermission—and leans her face even higher up, closer to his, their lips now just an inch apart—

“hey, lovebirds! we got a monster to kill, wrap it up!” a very annoying call from the hair king himself disrupts y/n and eddie’s enviable moment of intimacy. they both shut their eyes and huff out deeply. then they laugh, because they did both of those things in complete unison, and it just shows how close they are. y/n’s head rests momentarily on eddie’s chest, and she still holds onto his shoulders as the both of them look at steve past their closest tree. he’s gesturing for them to come quick, and the pair shake their heads.

“always with the great fucking timing,” eddie mumbles under his breath, and rolls his eyes at steve. and though they might not have yet had their first kiss, eddie makes sure to hold y/n’s hand in his, or to have an arm around her shoulders as some level of visual affection between them. if there’s really no time, then there really is no time. nevertheless, even if the both of them are in hell, eddie will fight every monster it takes to hold y/n to him again and forever. he’ll always fight hell to get to kiss her. he’ll fight hell to hold her.

permanent tag-list: @gabiatthedisco​​​​​​ @v0idbella​​​​​​ @works-of-fanfiction​​​​​​ @ur-gunna-h8-ths​​​​​​ @betweenloveandfire​ @but-legendsneverdie​​​​​​ @deardeacy​​​​​​ @thewinchesterchronicles​ @mavieesttriste16​​​​​​ @intrrverted​​​​​​ @the-freak-cassie-131​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @gasbomb69​​​ @xoxobabydolls​ @corallyink​ @rottenstyx​ @d4td7ewmachine (if anyone wants to be added, let me know! i'm also thinking of making an eddie taglist, so :) hmu)

[kingstylesdaily]

‘Your World Is Waiting’: On ‘As It Was,’ Harry Styles Reemerges Different But Wiser

Styles' lead single and first video from upcoming third album 'Harry's House' finds him facing down gravity and impermanence and arriving at what comes next.

By Larisha Paul

Try as he might, Harry Styles is no match for the perpetual motion of change. The 28-year-old musician is currently in a state of transformation himself, leaving a fresh bouquet of flowers at the grave of his sophomore era Fine Line and returning home to breathe life into his next artistic endeavor: Harry’s House, his third solo studio album, out May 20th.

The singer has been teasing the visual and conceptual landscape of the record through YouAreHome.co – the cryptic website that has been trickling out album easter eggs for the past two weeks. The site features an ivory colored door with a gold handle, unveiling a different image every day – from obscure snapshots of Haruki Murakami’s The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle to the Cavallini & Co. 1,000 piece mushroom puzzle and the neatly inverted Harry’s House album artwork. As the content hidden behind the doorway shifts daily, the accompanying You Are Home Twitter account shares brief, poetic messages with existential undertones. Two days before the new musical era launched with Styles’ first release in two years, a simultaneously freeing and anxiety-inducing note appeared: “Every place you’ve ever been will never stay the same, and neither will you.”

Whether threatening or comforting, the statement holds truth: On Harry’s House lead single “As It Was,” he tries his hand at coming to terms with feeling stuck within this very notion of impermanence, draping his musings over shimmering synths and thumping percussion courtesy of producers Kid Harpoon and Tyler Johnson.

“Holding me back/ Gravity’s holding me back/ I want you to hold out the palm of your hand/ Why don’t we leave it at that?” Styles questions in the opening verse. “Nothing to say/ When everything gets in the way/ Seems you cannot be replaced/ And I’m the one who will stay.” Throughout “As It Was,” the singer presents a brightly dressed account of loneliness, fighting to unbind himself from the position he’s been affixed to while the world shifts around him. In the chorus, he sings: “In this world, it’s just us/ You know it’s not the same as it was.” How isolating must it feel to know that the only constant you can count on is inconsistency?

In the Tanu Muino-directed music video for the single, which appeared as today’s offering from behind the enigmatic door, Styles finds himself quite literally chasing a release. Sheathed in a long red coat, he steps through a doorway and emerges on the other side in a ruby sequin co-ord custom designed by Arturo Begero. Moving to the rotating platform in the center of the room, he brushes hands with a woman in a matching blue set – the first of many instances in which the intimacy he yearns for is just out of reach.

The endlessly spinning platform was directly inspired by “Celui Qui Tombe,” a theatrical, illusory performance piece created in 2014 by French director Yoann Bourgeois, who choreographed “As It Was.” The living presentation – which translates to “He Who Falls” or “The One Who Falls” – places a cluster of performers on a rotating stage where they run forward in hopes of fighting the perpetual motion, only to find that they consistently remain in the same place they started.

Bourgeois positioned Styles in this same conundrum. Whenever he embraces the woman in blue – wrapping his arms around her or shrinking his body into hers – it doesn’t last beyond the beat of a second. They go on and on in this cycle, running in circles until, eventually, she slips away completely. “As It Was” spotlights a different dimension of physical intimacy than the lustful scenes of Fine Line singles “Lights Up” and “Watermelon Sugar,” where Styles is enveloped in the heat of bodies. In order to obtain lasting comfort and warmth through embrace here, he must first reveal himself.

“I’m trying to generate empathy from the audience,” Bourgeois shared in a 2020 interview with NR Magazine.  “The essential question is one of relationships. I’m considering the idea that, as beings, we are about relationships. A performance is something that only exists through the relationships of the present; it exists only here and now… And it’s here that the poets have their role to play.”

Once he’s on his own, we briefly return to Styles sheltered in his red coat as he remembers a damning phone call: “Harry, you’re no good alone/ Why are you sitting at home on the floor?/ What kind of pills are you on?” He begins to strip down to his briefs, one article of clothing at a time, and without hesitation, those around him follow suit – barring the woman in blue. It’s only then, after he’s fully revealed his most vulnerable state, that he’s able to pull her tight against his chest for longer than a moment. He’s done his part, but it doesn’t last. As they’re ultimately pulled apart by forces outside of their control, Styles falls back into the spinning platform’s endless routine.

He’s a couple rotations in when the camera catches a shift in the singer’s eyes – the freeing second when he realizes he can choose to end the futile chase. It happens as Styles is rattling off the sprawling bridge of “As It Was,” his mind moving at a mile a minute: “Go home, get ahead, light-speed internet/ I don’t wanna talk about the way that it was/ Leave America, two kids follow her/ I don’t wanna talk about who’s doing it first.” It’s a moment of resolve, like a gleaming lightbulb blinding his every cyclical thought about what lasts, and what doesn’t, in the face of the unending impermanence he could never control.

Maybe it wasn’t just gravity holding Styles back: Detangled from his thoughts, he dances his way outside while unraveling in the chiming bells of the final chorus. Bringing “As It Was” to a close, the singer demonstrates the kind of authenticity often reserved for the comfort and warmth of a home. The way that he launches his body into the air and glides across the floor, all unabashedly flailing arms and legs, reverberates the familiar freedom of the safe space that his live shows represent for his fans. On tour, Styles fosters an environment of liberation and exclusivity with his fans, one that encourages them to spend 90 minutes being the person they’ve always wanted to be, and which feels as though no one else is invited to view that untethered version of himself but them.

In the final moments of “As It Was,” Styles bursts through the short gates separating him from where he was and where he’s heading next, wherever that may be. He even leaves them open for any curious wanderers to follow suit, leading them forward with a heartening smile. The singer’s silent encouragement echoes the sentiment of the final message shared from You Are Home just ahead of launching the official Harry’s House era: “Your world is waiting.”

via Billboard

[maroonmusings]

Before We Go [s.r]

Fandom: Marvel (Endgame-centric) Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 1,698 Warnings: nope :)

A/N: this is a repost/touch-up from an account I don't post fics on (it's literally the only one I'd posted on there lmao). just a cute little romp before all hell breaks loose in endgame 🙃

Cold water trickles down your face, a refreshing intoxication to your system. It does wonders for the nerves you’re going to expertly conceal when you’re surrounded by the team. Authority doesn’t work without confidence and a solid game plan. That’s how you always felt about it, that is.

After drying your face and cutting off the faucet’s water flow, you take in the new suit adorning your body. Primarily white with black accents and red trim. A smirk crosses your lips. While your knowledge of quantum physics was as limited as the percent of malevolence in Scott Lang’s psyche, you knew its kinetic fibers would protect you in your attempt at time travel. The concept had always frightened you, as you harbored a genuine fear for the unknown, but those stones have to be located if it means bringing back your friends. Your family. 

Besides, you looked good. Who would have thought that red and white complimented each other so perfectly?

Exiting the bathroom, you nearly run into the aforementioned Ant-Man. Not because you weren’t looking properly, but because Scott looked to be light-years away. It’s as if he had already traveled to another dimension without you.

“Lang,” you greeted with a tilt of your chin, thinking the sound of your voice would be enough to break him from his mental reverie. Based on the way he continues to wring his hands and paw at the back of his neck, legs carrying him from one end of the hallway to the other, and back again, you’d say you failed. You press further. “Scott.”

Startled green eyes meet yours, jaw popping open for a fraction of a second before he composed himself. You rose a brow in disinterest as he straightened his posture, puffing up his chest to appear more self-assured. “Hello, fellow Earth’s mightiest hero. Yep. It is I, Scott Lang: an emotionally stable who could definitely defeat Thanos in his sleep. I deemed it selfish of myself to go it alone, hence, I came to you for help. I’m very strong.”

“Scott—”

“Like, embarrassingly so.” He continues. Oh my God, he’s broken. “As in, I went to pick up my coffee mug this morning, and the whole thing just shattered.”

“Hold on—”

“Like, a million pieces.” Laughing nervously, he throws in a passive, “My muscles are so big.”

“Dude, cut the crap.” You demanded half-heartedly, gaze softening. “This will work, okay? You’ll get to see Hope again, and we can get rid of that purple bastard for good.”

“I know, I know.” He returned, almost sounding defeated before the battle had even begun. “I guess I’m overwhelmed by, just, everything. So much is happening all at once with so much at risk. One wrong step, and I could ruin this for not only myself but everyone.”

“Scott Lang, you are the toughest Ant-Man I know—”

“There are other Ant-Mans?!”

“—and you’re not gonna screw up anything, because we’re all gonna be covering each others’ asses out there. We’re a team. A family. We’re all in this thing together.”

“She’s right, Scott.”

Ignoring the tremor that ran through your body at the sound of his voice, the corner of your lip curled upwards as Steve Rogers, Captain America, joined the two of you. He met your eyes briefly before focusing on Scott, his cheeks now carrying a faint pink hue. “We are a family, and families stick together. It won’t be any different for us. We’re gonna go back in time, get to those gems before Thanos, and bring back our friends.”

“God, you guys are good together.” Scott uttered before giving much thought to his words. The compliment caught you off guard, as you choked on your breath while Steve’s face became a deep shade of red. Scott’s eyes widened as he attempted to save himself. “Oh, I didn’t mean it in that way, of course! I was just trying to say that you’re really good at those motivational speech things. You knew that, right? God, maybe my superpower should be ‘knowing when to shut up.’”

“Yeah, why would we—”

“How about we just get back to the others?” You suggested, sending a tight-lipped smile to convey your need to evade this conversation topic.

“Great idea!” Steve agreed a little too enthusiastically, the excitement in his tone making you jolt in surprise. 

Shaking off what may have been the worst interaction in your life, you led the two men back to the rest of your friends.

“We ready to do this?” Natasha wasted no time for pleasantries as she lifted an eyebrow in question. “I know I am.”

“Sure, why not?” Scott returned, nervously, but you could tell from the newfound determination on his face that he was ready.

“Let’s do this.” Bruce said.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.” Clint stated, a hard look in his eyes from all the pain he had endured due to Thanos.

“Hell yeah!” Rocket cheered. “Let’s get this dirtbag, once and for all.”

Thor tipped his head back to chug the soda in his hand before crushing the can and releasing a belch that caused even you to crack a smile. “I’m with the Rabbit.”

“Well, majority rules.” Tony pointed out, an edge to his tone that hid his true levels of excitement to be working with the team again. “Let’s go save our friends, and, hopefully, the world.”

Natasha guided the temporary remaining members of the Avengers to the Quantum Portal. Your friends followed her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same. Something was holding you back. Or someone.

“Actually, Steve,” There was a waiver to your voice, and you silently cursed yourself for waiting so late to do what you were about to do. The man stopped in his tracks and looked back at you, brows furrowed in question. You sighed shakily, suddenly hating the way feelings made you feel. You spoke quietly so as to not alert the other seven people who will definitely tease you about this once everything is back in order. “Can I talk to you about something for a second?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Everything alright back there, you two?” Tony shouted, but the dryness in your throat made you unable to speak above anything more than a whisper. 

Steve took note of this, probably because he’s never seen you in such an emotional state before, and answered for you. “Yeah, we’ll be over there in a minute.”

“Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven, fi—ow! What the hell, Iron Moron?!”

“Stuff it, Build-a-Bear, or I’ll stuff it for you.”

“Yes!” Thor says jovially. “Because Build-a-Bears are made with—”

Steve shuffled into your line of sight, his calm and reassuring baby blues giving you the motivation to catch your breath. His voice is soft and gentle, matching the grasp he has on your forearms. “Hey, what is it?”

In a terrifyingly accurate Lang-like fashion, an avalanche of words tumbled from your mouth before you could organize your thoughts. But first, you try to back out. Naturally. “Um, well, it’s a lot, so if you’d rather just talk about it later, actually, I wouldn’t mind.”

“No,” he assures, timbre more soothing, if that was even possible. “You can tell me. We have time.”

Nice try, you guess. Cue the Lang ramble. “Okay, well, there’s this thing that has kind of been bothering me. Well, a lot of things bother me, as you know. But, um, this thing revolves around the two of us. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it for a long time. As in, practically since the day we met. Obviously that never happened. Probably because of these stupid walls I put up to block out anyone who I find myself the sligh—”

Hands sliding up to your jaw, Steve pulls you closer. Your eyes find his, clouded with something that made them sparkle. Like glitter sprinkled in the sky. His words are quiet, insistent, and only meant for you. “I love you, too.”

Steve’s lips were soft and warm, like a field of flowers on an enchanting summer day. His touch was gentle yet persistent. Kind yet urgent. Loving yet determined. His hands held your face in such a way that anchored you to him. The two of you became one as he drew your body in closer, your hands finding a place to rest on his chest. Every emotion running through your bodies could be felt within the embrace. 

The urgency of the mission.

Fear for its outcome.

Hidden doubts, tucked away to appear strong.

Ambition to bring back your lost friends.

All while keeping the found ones safe. 

Love stored in a deep heart department that only he could reach.

As you parted for air, your eyes remained closed. After pushing back the desire for any chance of happiness for yourself, you had finally fought those inner demons to find love. You finally had him. You wanted to bask in this moment of self-glory in his arms for eternity, but even a couple more seconds would suffice. 

Rowdy cheers and applause were what forced you to open your eyes to the genuine smiles on the faces of those you loved. Seeing them celebrating in a time such as this lightened the weight on your shoulders, as living a life like yours required you to seize every moment of laughter that you could. 

Steve’s smile widened upon seeing your happy expression. He brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, before slightly shaking his head in bewilderment at the sight before him. His eyes had never been clearer. “You ready to go restore humanity, doll?”

“Always,” You kissed his pink cheek, your smile falling the slightest bit as you said your next words. “Just don’t die on me, Rogers.”

“And you be careful.”

“When am I not?” You winked, poking his nose.

The two of you rejoined the team in the Quantum Portal where you would be sent back to the past. You locked eyes with Tony across the way, who flashed you a quick thumbs up and a wink.

From that point forward, you all began the mission to save your friends, and, hopefully, the world.

[dappledpaintbrush]

Blumiere and Dimentio are the same person and I’m tired of the plot trying to pretend theyre not.

Y’all I love this game and all but why were Mimi and Chunks not only still loyal to Blumiere but also said not one bad thing about him after finding out he was going to kill them despite the fact they were trying to help him this whole time and were the only mfs that cared about him- but Dimentio did the exact same thing and they hit him with a car

Like this is a genuine question I’ve been a fan for over a decade and I’m still like huh😭 about their logic. “We won’t let dimentio get away with this!” Or whatever she said- MIMI SWEETHEART BLECK DID THE EXACT SAME THING

Like if Bleck wanted to die whatever but it would’ve done so much for his character if he was like “hey the people who genuinely care for me and are trying to help me destroy everything and think they’re going to be spared? Huh! maybe I should actually spare them and create a new world for them but I still croak” unless he couldn’t create dimensions at all and was lying? But didn’t Dimentio do it with only the power of the chaos heart or am I stupid. So could Bleck have done it too? Idk maybe we could’ve had a scene where like “hey dimentio master of dimensions LOL I was kidding btw I cant do shit. Make a world for y’all whatever but I’m gonna die” and I’m pretty sure dimentio would’ve been like alright (lying, still wants a world just for him) but idk. Anyways Nintendo having Count Bleck still trying to kill his minions after everything they did for him really messed up his character and went against the writers intentions of trying to make Bleck a tragic villain but Dimentio purely evil and accidentally made them the EXACT SAME person and I just wish they could’ve handled it better because his arc could’ve been nearly perfect.

Not ONLYYY that, but he wanted to kill all worlds because he lost Timpani. Yet. There she is. Right there. And he KNOWS THAT. YET. HE KEEPS FIGHTING. KNOWING THAT IF HE WINS THE WOMAN HE WAS TRYING TO END LIFE FOR BECAUSE SHE DIED IS ALIVE AND HES JUST GOING TO ACTUALLY KILL HER. But then after they beat the shit out of him he says “kill me and stop the void- if you’re alive, it gives me peace” WHY DIDNT YOU SAY THAT THE SECOND SHE FLEW INTO THE ROOM. Maybe he was in a state of madness. But idk I’ve never seen anyone else talk about it

“But dappledpaintbrush, at least Bleck had the motivation of his one true love dying and Dimentio was just a bitch” *twitches finger back and forth while going AH, AH, AH, AH, AH* We have the very high possibility of Dimentio’s whole family fucking dying and his sister turning into like a demon according to Carson. So in game canon there is a POSSIBILITY (cause that story can be interpreted a lot of ways) that BOTH of them had tragic backstories that POSSIBLY was BOTH of their motivations to destroy all worlds. Yet Blumiere gets treated like a poor little meow meow by the characters and the clown doesn’t. Then again I don’t think the clown ever talked about it. Maybe it’s just my own experience, but I feel like the writing still tried to push the narrative that Bleck is less terrible than Dimentio.

And hey let’s say Dimentio is only a descendant of the Pixl Creator and he’s doing this for no reason other than for lols. Both of them STILL tried to destroy all worlds and only Bleck had a change of heart after Tippi returned… yet still tried to enable the Void after finding out she’s alive? Both of them lied to, betrayed, and tried to MURDER their ENTIRE TEAM. Earlier, I said “(the writers) trying to make Bleck a tragic villain but Dimentio purely evil and accidentally made them the EXACT SAME person” and this can go two ways- the first option, or making both of them tragic characters. If the writers genuinely thought this through and genuinely wanted us to pry into the lore to conclude Dimentio and Bleck are not that different, sending one to his dream world with his dream girl and the other to actual super mario hell doesn’t help their intention

And Blumiere is such an amazing concept for a character and he STILL IS, but wow the writers could’ve done so much more. Even a cutscene of him deciding the spare the minions could’ve meant SO MUCH and it really sucks nothing ever happened. With or without the “both had a tragic backstory” interpretation, there isn’t much that puts a clear line between Dimentio and Bleck’s characters. The game tries to make us think the line is there, but it really isn’t. At least not in my own interpretation of the writing. Idk lol. End of rant

[atolua]

🔔 ... ATEEZOFFICIAL UPLOADED: ATEEZ (에이티즈) 2022 TRICK OR TREAT WITH LUA !

EDITION ..  for the first time in her life, lua’s going trick or treating! dressed in a look similar to orphan’s esther, what’s in store for her? 

CW(S) .. mentions of foods and pranks

MONA SAYS ..   and here we have my first reactions post ever— i’m still new to this kind of format so please bear with me! oh, i also made the thumbnail which is why it looks hideous (not handong though, never handong)

SEONGHWA !

lua's only been with him for one minute and she already wanted to run away. it's like having her mom there, which is ironic because seonghwa was snapping plenty of pictures to show mama zhang. she endured his cooing some more before she held out her bucket, waiting to see what he had for her. of course he gave her some sweets.. right after she did one more pose for the camera.

HONGJOONG !

she actually had to call the leader after waiting outside his studio, knuckles shaded with a light red tint from knocking so much. when he finally opens up to build a snowman to greet her, he laughed at the sight of the human doll who quickly shifted her pout into a cheerful smile. then it turned into a pout again when hongjoong put a few fruit bars in her bucket. hey, at least she had something healthy to balance out the mountain of sweets he knew she'd definitely get later on.

YUNHO !

knowing him, she kept her bucket safe by putting it aside before greeting him with the famous phrase. it's a good thing too, since the treats he gave her were a warm hug and cheeks that were pink from being pinched to match with it. of course, when he asked if she had anything for him in return, she handed him the cup of instant cook ramen which was, in fact, the only treat she'd brought for her trip. you know, just favorite member things.

YEOSANG !

lua is yeosang's favorite. everyone knows that—the members do, atinys do, even non-fans can see it. but that doesn't mean he can't play a small trick on her from time to time. so when it was his time to shine, he gave her a packet of jelly belly's bean boozled. actually it wasn't less of a trick and more of a weapon that she can use against wooyoung once he pulls another prank on her.

okay yeah, lua is definitely yeosang's favorite.

SAN !

on the count of one, everyone act surprised that he gave her a treat. gasp! he thought of playing a trick on her; really, he did—uh huh, sure—but backed out last minute and gave her a lucky cat lamp that he caught her eyeing last week. atinys definitely enjoyed watching this section of the vlog, seeing as how the two bickered over whether she should receive it or not. in the end, san kinda won, kinda lost—he got treated to a kiss on the cheek.

MINGI !

honestly wasn't expecting it, this one was such a plot twist. everyone knows that the girl hates slime, she's made that clear on several occasions before. but seeing as how it's the day of spooks, mingi thought it'd be a good idea to let her dig in a box for her treat. she only took one second to process what she was touching, then another to yank her hand out of it, causing the box to fly away.

mingi's victim list now looks like this: lua, and a poor convenience store worker.

WOOYOUNG !

she gave him the benefit of the doubt, okay? seeing as how he plays tricks on her every once in a while, she thought that day would be one of those where he would be nice. but wooyoung doesn't know what that word means, and she ended up using the camera stick to defend herself from the “monster” that had snuck up on her while she was roaming through the company. even though he just made her soul jump into the next dimension, she still gave him a treat—not.

JONGHO !

so technically, what jongho gave her is a trick. i mean, who likes receiving apple slices on the one day of the year where filling your stomach with as much sugar as you can is excused? but lua saw it as a treat because he took the time to peel the fruit and remove the seeds before cutting it up. she didn't even let the members know what she was going to do for the special day, so how did he prepare? (spoiler alert: hwa told everyone right after she left him to meet joong.)

either way, it's a treat in lua's books, and that's that.

BONUS: STRAY KIDS !

in hindsight, lua should have messaged inka to let her know that she was going to visit. at least some of the members were home, she supposed she could work with that. and it actually did work great: bang chan had the same reaction as seonghwa when he saw her, jeongin requested—on behalf of himself and jisung who still acts too starstruck to speak up—to get some pictures with her, and felix gave her a mini bag of his famous brownies.

uh huh, she definitely had to visit the skz dorm more often.

❑ TAGLIST  ..     @stealanity @ateezivy

[yn-ymn-yln]

Christmas Turned Upside Down

Steve Harrington x reader 

Summary: Christmas dinner at the Byer’s house had seemed liked such a good idea, until Y/n arrived. 

Warnings: PTSD, anxiety, flashbacks (If I need to add any others feel free to let me know!)

Word count: 2346

Staring at the lights strung from the Byers house, Y/n can’t help but picture them plastered to the interior walls of the home, frantically blinking as her Jonathan, Nancy and Steve try to kill an interdimensional creature. When she closes her eyes, she can still hear Joyce rummaging around, bundles of colorful bulbs wrapped around her hands, hysterical over the flickering of the strands.

“What am I supposed to do? She thinks Will is talking to her through the lights.” Jonathan’s body shakes as unwanted tears leave his eyes.

“I don’t know Jon, I’m sorry.” Y/n’s comforting hand does nothing to soothe the anguish still simmering beneath the boy’s skin, though he knew she was trying and that would have to be enough. “I’m not going anywhere though, no matter how bad things get.”

That promise had been a mistake.

She’s forced back to reality by the icy breeze that brushes against her skin, the opening in her jacket allowing it entry.

“Y/n?” Standing at the front door is none other than Dustin Henderson, toothless grin on display in full glory. “You, made it!” She watches the boy wordlessly for a moment before he speaks again. “You coming in?”

“Yeah, sorry I think I forgot something at home, I’ll be back in a minute.” She smiles despite the dread clawing at the back of her throat, or was that nausea? To her surprise the curly haired boy doesn’t argue like she predicts he would, rather he re-enters the home, closing the door loudly behind him.

She takes the moment of peace to breathe deeply and settle her rolling stomach. It was just a house. She only had to stay for an hour at most, she could make it one freaking hour. With another calming breath she returns her gaze to the obstacle before her. Admittedly from where she stands the Byers home looks beautiful, shrouded in a multitude of colors, those cursed lights paint the yard and surrounding surfaces in a cheerful glow.

It was all so unassuming to those who didn’t know the secrets of another dimension, or the beasts that lurked there.

Fifteen minutes later, she stumbles through the front door, her hair in slight disarray from the wind. Although her mind is still bogged with unpleasant memories, she doesn’t miss the strange looks everyone sends her way.

“Hi Mrs. Byers, thank you for having me. I brought snacks.” The undeniable tension that followed her into the warmth of the home settles over the group like ash. The kids don’t seem to feel it, or they ignore it in favor of continuing the campaign they were currently playing through.

“You didn’t have to do that Y/n, but thank you.” Joyce gently takes the offering from her grasp, embracing the girl, before disappearing to the kitchen.

“What’re you guys doing?” Although Y/n knows the answer, she chooses to investigate further over acknowledging the searing gazes of Jonathan and Nancy.

“We were about to take on the mind flayer, wanna watch?” Wasn’t once enough?

“As interesting as that sounds, I’ll pass.” Leaving her coat on, she settles onto the couch opposite of the other living room occupants. Had it been long enough? Would it be rude to leave so soon?

“So, kid, what have you been up to these last few days.” To her surprise it’s Hopper who asks, the sight of him outside of his police uniform a welcomed change. Immediately she begins picking at her fingernails.

“Uh, nothing really. Just work.” Lies. She hadn’t been able to show up for any of her shifts all week, the thought alone of that day, a year and a half ago, sitting terribly in her subconscious.  

“Any fun plans for New Year’s?” It’s Nancy that speaks this time, both her and Jonathan looking in Y/n’s direction expectantly.

“Not that I know of, though knowing how things go around here that could change at any second.” It’s meant to be playfully sarcastic, though she doubts it sounds that way with the sad tone in her voice. The silence that follows her statement is unsettling, but truly she would rather the silence than divulge any more well-crafted lies. “Excuse me for a second.” Retreating to the bathroom down the hall, Y/n quickly closes the door behind her, eyes catching her reflection in the mirror. They sting with the threat of tears as her mind wanders yet again.

When had life gotten so out of hand? When had her priorities shifted from New Year’s plans to would she even live through the next year?

She’s so taken with her thoughts she doesn’t hear Nancy enter the bathroom until their eyes lock in the mirror.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Frantically she wipes the moisture from her face, only stopping when Nancy hands her a tissue.

“Hey, it’s alright, were all a little on edge.” Nancy’s voice aims for reassuring but misses the mark, while the nausea Y/n had narrowly avoided makes a secondary appearance at the thought of emerging from the bathroom.

“I don’t know how they do it.”

“How who does what?” It’s quiet, an eerie creaking from beneath their feet the only disturbance in the small space.  

“Those kids, they act as if nothing ever happened.” Nodding, Nancy shifts her gaze to her finger tips, raking them over in hopes of a distraction from the awkward air surrounding the two of them. Its then that Y/n is reminded that her and the oldest Wheeler sibling weren’t really friends, hell they had barely spoken three words to each other their whole lives. “No offense, but why are you here?”  

“Jonathan wanted me to check on you.”

“Oh, well thanks for checking in, I guess.” It’s a pity, she can tell the brunette would rather be anywhere other than stuck in a bathroom with an old high school classmate. “I think… I should leave.” Panic over takes Nancy’s features at that statement, her demeanor shifting instantly.

“Y/n-”

“It’s okay, I just- this was a bad idea.” gathering what little courage she had left she exits the bathroom, making a beeline for the door she had entered not ten minutes ago. The cold air that greets her is less abrasive than it had been, her body burning with the need to be away from the source of her anxiety.

“Y/n, wait!” Jonathan’s shout only causes her feet to pick up speed, refusing to stop her quest to make it to her front door.

She’s halfway down the street when a hand wraps around her forearm.

“Woah, hey, what’s going on?” The voice of Steve Harrington brings her spiraling world to a dead halt, memories of their unceremonious bonding time killing demo-dogs playing in her mind like a slide show.

His face was beat to hell, the pink band aid on his forehead standing out against the reddish-purple bruises littering his skin.

“You look like shit.” She hadn’t meant for her voice to crack, the stress of the night putting whatever strain it could on her body.

“Yeah, well you sound like shit.” She shoves him as a scoff leaves her lips, she wouldn’t deny that at this hour neither of them was fit to be criticized. “You doing okay?”

“Define okay. We almost died, for the second time might I add. How am I supposed to be doing?” The truth in her confession has the Harrington boy placing his hand over hers, gently squeezing it in reassuring manner.

“I have no idea.” At this she full belly laughs, hands covering her abdomen as she doubles over. The ridiculousness of the last twelve hours the cause of her momentary hysertia. When she finally recovers from her bout of giggles, she gazes into the warm brown eyes of the boy who had selflessly saved her, and a group of random kids. The corner of his mouth is lifted in a way she’s sure is painful, the cracks in his smile breaking her heart, but he’s never looked more beautiful. Even bruised and bloody, she can barely fight the need to run her fingers through his hair.

In the spur of the moment, she connects their lips in an innocent kiss, one that Steve doesn’t retreat from but doesn’t respond to either.

“Oh god, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that.” Confused and pleasantly surprised a beat passes before he alleviates her worry with his words.

“I…That was… Nice?” A long-drawn-out groan is her immediate response, her hands shielding her face in embarrassment.

“Let’s just pretend that never happened… okay?” Staring into his eyes, she swears she sees disappointment, though its gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

“Probably for the best.”

“I’ll see you around Harrington.”

“Yeah… see you.”

“Y/n?” She hadn’t expected around to be at the Byer’s house for Christmas dinner, though Dustin’s obsession with his new idol should have been a clue.

“Steve? What are you doing here?” Ignoring her question, he glances back and forth between her eyes, his confusion turning to concern rather quickly.

“Are you crying?” forgoing a response she brushes past him, her hands digging further into her coat pockets, attempting to hide herself however she could. “Wait!” Once again, he’s at her side, his persistence admirable, yet annoying. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Determined to end this interaction without reenacting her encounter with Nancy she once again tries pushing past him, only stopping as he sounds off once again.

“You want to talk about it?” By the way his fingers comb through his hair apprehensively, she can tell he’s floundering, unsure how to calm her down but unwilling not to try.

“I just want to go home Harrington, I’ll be fine.” Please don’t leave me alone.

“Want me to drive you?”

“It’s a five-minute walk, I think I can make it.” Though she may have looked disheveled, she manages to lift the corners of her mouth in a semi-convincing grin.

“Come on, it’s freezing!” Dramatically Steve gestures towards the warm interior of his beloved car, his gaze shifting from her to said car and back again. “Please?”

“Fine. You win this time Harrington.” That signature smile breaks out across Steve’s face, and sends her heart fluttering. Idly she wonders how his hands would feel in hers. Would they be calloused from his years spent playing sports? Or soft, the care he takes with the rest of his appearance trickling down to something as senseless as his hands.

“Y/l/n, you coming?” Soft. They would be soft.

“Yeah.”

~~

Driving through winter flurries had always seemed so useless in movies, the scenes looking beautiful but not feeling practical. Now however, Y/n can feel the subtle nuances through the chilled pane of Steve’s car window, her eyes raking over the pleasant scenery passing with each roll of the tires. It was all so… Romantic.

Could he feel it too?

“Can I ask you something?” Steve’s hesitant voice breaks through the calm that had enveloped Y/n’s being, his gaze unwavering from the road.

“Sure?”

“Why’d you kiss me?” Of all the things she thought he would bring up in that moment, their spur of the moment kiss wasn’t one of them.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I guess with all the shit we dealt with that night, I wanted one good thing to come out of it.” It was the truth, she had needed to see the light in the dark, and Steve had been the brightest light she had ever seen. “I know it was kind of sudden and weird, I shouldn’t have done it-”

“I’m glad you did, and for the record, I didn’t think it was weird.” Once again in the face of a serious conversation she can’t help but smile, Steve’s ability to diffuse the unwanted tension never ceasing to amaze her.

“If it wasn’t weird then what was it?” She watches the boy before her, his eyebrows furrowing as he contemplates his next words carefully.

“It was nice.” As the last of his sentence is spoken, he glances in Y/n’s direction, their gazes locking. She hadn’t noticed they were parked outside of her house, or how long they had been there, but with each passing minute she spent staring into his eyes she cared less and less.

“Do you want to come in?”

“I should probably get back to the Byer’s, but maybe I can swing by after?” Instantly she deflates.

“Right, yeah sorry I forgot. You don’t have to stop by, I’ll be okay.” They both feel the shift, gone is the friendly atmosphere, in its place a stiff conversation between two acquaintances.

“Yeah… okay. I’ll see you around?”  

“Sure.”

The cold outside of Steve’s heated car is unforgiving, Wind whips bits of collected snow, tossing them into the air while they spin rhythmically back to the earth. The sullen scene matches the mood of yet another dodged opportunity.

It was definitely time to stop trying. Harrington didn’t want her. He deserved something perfect, and she was far from perfect.

Twisting the handle to her front door she pauses at the quietly muttered shit that sounds from the yard. To her surprise, Steve is marching towards her, a look of determination painting his pretty face.

Standing before her, his mouth opens but shuts immediately upon looking up. Placed deliberately above the entry way is mistle toe, inconspicuously hidden but utterly visible from their current position. Their gazes lock once again, but this time Steve speaks before she can.

“Can I kiss you?” Nodding eagerly, all prior hesitation either of them had was gone with her simple confirmation, their lips finally connecting as the world slipping past the pair seems to stop. The holiday stress melting away just as quickly as the freshly falling snow.

“That was-”

“Nice?” Without missing a step Steve rolls his eyes before leaning in close to her again, his hands reaching up to caress her face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll expand my vocabulary tomorrow.” She smiles into his kiss this time, her senses completely overtaken by the beautiful boy in front of her.

“Merry Christmas Steve.”

“Merry Christmas Y/n.”

Tagging: @band--psycho