#shrunken bones

[maryjosedh]

Amazing Spider-Man v3 . Annual 001 (2014)

Spider-man silent 🕷✨️

[donnatroyprincessofthemyscira]

Art Edit Credit to Roberto Coltro

[merrymarvelite]

Cover of the Day: Defenders #33 (March, 1976) Art by Gil Kane, Frank Giacoia, and Danny Crespi

[onlylonelylatino]

The Defenders vs Orrgo the Unconquerable and the Headmen by Ron Frenz

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

I love the Headmen so much.

THIS IS THE BEST BONUS STORY MARVEL HAS EVER PUBLISHED!!!

[doctorslippery]

Somewhere out there in the Marvel Universe is a gorilla head with Arthur Nagan's body. Whenever I see Gorilla Man in comics, I wonder what the rest of him is up to.

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Stapler for Arrin from the tiny whumpee prompt list?

from this list, i think!

Content Warnings: demon whump, tiny whumpee, shrunken whumpee, tail whump, pinned down, staples as restraints, smothered, broken bones, rescue, caretaker briefly accidentally hurts whumpee

----

Alex doesn't spare a moment to ask who did this or how when he finally finds Arinn.

He nearly misses the familiar voice feebly calling his name. The desperate sound comes from a fallen stack of paperwork, shoved aside in Alex’s frantic search of the office.

He was being kept in the musty old mansion somewhere, Alex knew it. But he didn’t expect to find him here, and definitely not like this.

Alex drops to his knees and carefully removes the strewn items one by one, following the sound of muffled, ragged breaths. Finally, near the bottom, he finds a manila envelope that has crumpled under the weight of the pile.

Inside lies Arinn, smaller than a doll. He’s sprawled on his back with his hair a mess around him. His small form heaves as he gasps for air; his skin is flushed from the heat of being smothered so long. Above his head someone has written Specimen 27 in black sharpie.

Who and how can wait. Alex curls his hand carefully around Arinn’s little body and pulls him up from the paper, too quickly. He lifts only a couple inches, something pulls taut, Arinn screams.

Horrified, Alex lets go of Arinn. His shaking hands nearly drop the folder in the process, so he quickly sets it on the stable surface of the desk and sits in the chair.

Arinn is writhing in pain and Alex’s stomach lurches to know he caused it. Not now, he tells his despondent mind, you can beat yourself up later.

As gently as he can Alex turns Arinn onto his side and - 

oh.

Of course he didn’t budge. Not with his tail, more vulnerable than ever in his shrunken state, stapled to the inside of the envelope.

Three staples - one at the base that has fractured the largest tailbone, one in the middle that has broken that bone entirely, and one at the end, which is so fragile that the staple has left it bent at an unnatural angle.

“Oh, babe,” Alex breathes. He can’t begin to imagine the pain Arinn must be in.

While Arinn catches his breath again Alex finds a pair of scissors and carefully cuts away all of the cardstock except the sliver attached to Arinn’s tail. It does nothing to relieve the pain, but at least this way he can scoop his boyfriend’s trembling body into his hands and cradle him to his chest. It rumbles beneath him as Alex says, over and over,

“I’m here. I’ve got you.”

The sound of his voice and smell of his shirt soothe Arinn almost instantly. The gentle touch of Alex’s thumb rubbing his back gives the touch-starved incubus the energy to open his eyes.

No sooner has he opened them than they blur with tears at the sight of Alex’s warm brown eyes looking back. He truly believed that Alex might never find him - that he would die like this and be discarded, and Alex would never know...

Arinn curls up against Alex’s chest, solid and warm and right above his beating heart. It’s the safest place Arinn has ever known. He sobs into the worn cotton of his t-shirt and lets Alex pour comforting words and touches over him. It’s too much touch at once and he knows it; he lets it overwhelm him until he blacks out, finally escaping the pain.

-

Arinn wakes tucked into Alex’s jacket pocket, loosely wrapped in a microfiber cloth. One of Alex’s keychains - a squishy sauropod from the natural history museum - is in his arms. He squeezes it tight.

-

He wakes when his tail is jostled as Alex carries him up the steps to their apartment. Alex is slow, cautious, nothing like the way he usually charges up them, taking them two at a time. But any movement is too much movement for his ruined tail.

- 

He wakes in agony when Alex manages to remove the staples. Careful as he was, there was no way to do so without hurting Arinn. He mumbles apologies and as soon as Arinn’s mangled tail is free he smooths something cool onto it with his thumb. It quickly numbs, leaving Arinn shuddering. Alex’s kisses his head, tells him he’s brave.

-

Arinn wakes splinted, bandaged, and bathed, lying on Alex’s bare chest and covered by a soft, clean hand towel. He rises in falls in a soothing wavelike motion from Alex’s slow breathing. The days of searching have finally caught up to him; he is sleeping soundly.

Though his tail still throbs dully, Arinn is at ease, too. For now he can’t be bothered to think about the days of painful healing to come or the matter of returning to his usual size.

For now it is more than enough to be home, where he is safe and loved.

[aureentuluva70]

Something I find fascinating about Melkor's character as a villain and how he fits as the satan-figure of the Tolkienverse is that he's ridiculously powerful and strong, he's brought kingdoms to their knees and marred the earth and yet...he's totally pathetic.

This guy is second in power only to God Himself and yet he's a complete coward and a loser. It's almost laughable, the sheer levels of pure lameness Melkor is able to reach. This is the dude who once went to the ocean just to scream curses at it in one draft; who was practically peeing his pants at the thought of having to fight Fingolfin; who put the largest bounties on the heads of thieves despite Melkor being a thief himself, with the evidence of it burned into his very flesh. He wanted to rule the world but then the moment he realized it could never be his and only his in its entirety, instead of admitting defeat he decided that throwing an eternally long temper tantrum about it all the while destroying everything and everyone around him was a much better idea.

And its so, so different compared to other fictional depictions of demonic/satan-esque characters I often see in the media, where they make him into this cool, attractive noble suave guy. It's honestly kind of refreshing, finding a fictional depiction of a Satanic figure who is none of those things whatsoever.

Can I see Melkor as an attractive, charming guy at the beginning? Sure. But at the end of the war of wrath, when he has wasted so much of his power and fallen so incredibly low? When he's in constant pain all the time? When he's just so incredibly awful that even his most devoted servant comes to hate his guts? No way.

Especially when Evil in the Tolkienverse is often associated with physical and mental deterioration(think Gollum), Melkor was bound to be a complete and utter wreck, a sad pitiful shell of the once great ainu he used to be, by the end of it all. Because that's what evil does to a person. It destroys them from the inside out until there's practically nothing left.

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

The Headmen are such amazing villains. They REALLY should have fought the Agents of ATLAS so we could have had Gorilla Man vs Gorilla Man.

<3 The second best presidential candidate the country has ever had <3

Right after Mr Nobody

[shrunkenheadsbook]

Authentic shrunken heads.

SHRUNKEN HEADS

Out of the Dark, Into the Light

by McGinty

[trashogram]

He Chose You (End)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated Explicit.

(There will be a short epilogue after this, but we’ve basically reached the end! Thank you so much to everyone who read, liked, commented and reblogged this fic! I had so much fun writing it!!!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

“ADAM!”

Light from below your feet rose, blinding you as the glassy exterior of Heaven’s floor dissolved into nothing. 

     The collective screaming, gasping, shouting made your ears ring. It was so loud that you had no choice but to drop the ax to muffle the sound with your hands. Lucifer called for you, but you could do nothing as your senses became overloaded with the sights, the sounds — the smell and taste of angel blood that you couldn’t describe, though it fizzled on your tongue and made your lips pucker. 

Falling reminded you of diving into the deep end of a pool as everything around you started to dull just as soon as it reached a fever pitch. 

      Adam’s corpse bled out, gold dripping into the firelight that swallowed you up. 

      Sera stood head and shoulders above the rest, shrunken pupils flashing upon you. 

      Thunder rumbled over your skin. 

Your sight returned, revealing a billow of darkened clouds above. Lightening rippled through them here and there, but you found yourself unable to do so much as shiver at the close proximity. Something was keeping you paralyzed, hands still clasped over your ears and legs still stuck flexing as they had when you decapitated Adam. 

     Eyes flitting about, the only things free from the forced stillness, you saw that the light that overtook you had expanded, surrounding you like a forcefield. 

   This wasn’t a fall. Not really. Whatever this was was yanking you down with a strength that rivaled gravity.

You can never come back!

              You can never come back!

                              You can never come back!

Sera’s voice was immediately overtaken by your name, shouted out from above you. 

Feathers thrown in disarray, raining on and all around you before you caught sight of Lucifer racing toward you. The frightening sound of a boom like the aftermath of a bomb dropping followed his propulsion, rattling your bones and shifting the energy that cocooned you. 

      He circled round and round the energy field that you could not escape, until he was right beside you. 

Lucifer slammed himself against the barrier between him and yourself. Determination set in his eyes that were now completely normal, totally focused on getting through to you. 

     You tried to communicate the fear you felt with your eyes. It was steadily consuming you as you remained frozen while color and light changed every few seconds. Everything outside of your comet’s tail was growing darker and harder to define. 

     When darkness swallowed up the Devil, you weren’t able to scream. 

“I got ya!” 

Lucifer’s voice broke through before you saw him, crashing into the barrier once again. The light shattered like glass, but you felt solid arms wrapped around your body. Familiar hands gripped you around the shoulders and back, beneath your frozen wings. 

      You gasped, inhaling greedily. 

The blond took your desperate bid to wrap your arms around his neck and press him as close to you as possible in stride. 

      It was a struggle to speak. “I couldn’t breathe!”

“I know! I know, I know, I remember it being like that.” Lucifer said, hand running through your hair. “But it's gonna be okay! The pain won’t last for too long after you hit the ground.” 

You looked at him with watery eyes, lungs burning. “Oh god, Lucifer. I’m so sorry!” 

You hugged him with renewed vigor, tears streaming upward. He clung onto you with equal if not more fervor. 

      “You’re sorry?” He asked. “What d’you… why?” 

When you pulled away, Lucifer was staring at you in concern. 

“I’m sorry you have to experience this again.” You said. “I didn’t even think about it. I-I-I just, I got so desperate and I just wanted out and I wanted to be with you! I didn’t think—”

The devil instantly shook his head, hand cupping your cheek. “No, no, no. It’s okay, don’t apologize. There’s no reason to—hah…” 

     Lucifer was also in tears, giving you a wobbly smile. “I’d fall every day until the end of time for you.” 

You fell into him then, sobbing in earnest as he kept up with you serenely. You were both careening down through the ether, free falling now that your body had been freed from whatever was initially binding you. And you didn’t have a single thought aside from staying with this perfectly wonderful being that had had the audacity to actually love you. 

.

        .

                .

                        .

                               .

“We’re headed right for the portal.” Lucifer told you eventually. “We’ll pass right through and into Hell.” 

     He kept his hold on you, but you couldn’t help noticing that Lucifer had maneuvered himself to be beneath your body in the order of your descent. 

“Will we hit the ground?” You asked, the image of making an impact on the hard ground coming unbidden. 

The image of Lucifer taking the brunt of the trauma set your heart racing. Your wings twitched. You willed them to start flapping as they had in Heaven but there was only the vaguest feeling of their roots flexing. 

    Fuck’s sake. 

         You felt panic bleeding back into your body again and you fruitlessly attempted to pull Lucifer ‘up’. The King started to speak, but the adrenaline was filling you up. 

“Lou—!”

    A sudden shift from black to red (and warmth, sensation, clouds!) and the sound barrier breaking silenced you.

Lucifer’s full set of wings extended before you, arching back to make a powerful sweep upward before he rolled the both of you right side up again. 

     You were back to clinging onto him, squeaking. You heard him chuckle in your ear at the same time you realized that that powerful force-field of light had disappeared. 

“Sorry sweetie.” Lucifer murmured. “I didn’t mean to scare you!” 

     He hovered in the air with you in his arms, patient as you worked up the courage to pull away and look around. 

     Hell’s sky was a deep, deep red. Clouds of a softer shade floated past, little pinpoints of light that might be stars pricked the sky, and a large black moon sat adjacent to the teeming mass of light that you and Lucifer had just fallen from. 

Below you, slices of angular, beaming light zigzagged in a mildly familiar shape. When your eyes adjusted, it clicked instantly that there was a pentagram poised a little ways from you, and under that…

  The pentagram was bright, but through it shone bright lights from the city underneath. Your eyes widened, taking in the chaotic, clashing architecture of the Pride Ring. It was harrowing and strange, the sounds of screaming and laughter somehow audible in spite of the distance. 

     Amidst the sensory overload you found yourself comparing it to Las Vegas. 

           Lucifer nuzzled your cheek, bringing you back to the present. Head lifting so that you are able to look at him fully, you couldn’t help but smile. 

“Helluva a welcome.” You teased, earning a grin from the blond. 

“Ah!” Lucifer startled when you tugged him bodily in your direction. Your wings fluttered quickly with the return of feeling in your muscles, and you glided back with the Devil in your arms.  

You spun him round, twirling in mid-air, until Lucifer laughed with you. The two of you danced together over the glowing pentagram as though it were a stage.

——

There was no need to further tire yourselves as Lucifer conjured up a shimmering portal into his castle. You could feel the exhaustion of all that had transpired weighing you down before you were led into what would soon become your new home. 

    The opulence and splendor of the Devil’s palace could not be understated. It was gargantuan. His personal restroom alone rose higher than high and would have been roomy enough for everyone that had lived on your floor in the Donner apartment. 

     However, the most you could offer after the day’s events was a drawn-out yawn and a mental note to be amazed at everything later. 

Lucifer half-led, half-dragged you toward one of the sinks in his private bath. He left you only long enough to grab a number of towels and washcloths that piled so high in his arms they obstructed his view. 

      You giggled softly at the sight of rags being rushed over on a pair of short legs, and feebly offered your help. 

Ooh. Not rags — these towels were pure silk. 

The blond positioned you to face him and began to clean you up, scanning your face for any cuts or bruises. You admired him drowsily, trying to do the same. He simply pecked your fingers when they wandered over his cheek, but otherwise stayed focused to tend to you. 

      Silk slid over your face, wiping away the stain of angelic blood from your chin and down the side of your throat. Lucifer passed the cloth over you with utmost care, all while you stared at him silently. 

     It was only when he became aware of your intense staring that you gave into the urge to kiss him again. 

The Devil seemed to have the same idea, mouth already parting for you. Your stomach flip-flopped at the telltale slip of his forked tongue against yours.                    You breathed him in, lips moving against his in between brief inhales, desperate not to part for even one second. 

     Lucifer whined into your mouth, hands rushing to dig into your hips and pull you in. He ran his hands over you, petting at every inch of your body, heavenly wardrobe catching on your hips, over your breasts, around your thighs. It drove you mad, wishing that the damn clothing was off and away. Memories of Lucifer buried inside you, smothering you into the mattress could not compare to the real thing just within reach. 

      You bent over to follow him, teeth clicking against each other as you continued to devour him and his noises. Another whine had you gripping the base of his skull, newly-formed claws digging through his hair. The flush that Lucifer inspired under your skin ran hot; so hot that the feeling of his cold hands against your bare skin shocked you. 

      Glazed-over crimson eyes met yours when you broke away from him abruptly, confused and yearning while you fought to calm yourself down. He too was flushed… in gold. Golden blood. 

“Lucifer…” You swallowed. “We need… we need to get Charlotte…” 

The King hummed, slow on the uptake. But soon his darkened gaze lit up with recognition. 

“Ch… Charlotte!” He exclaimed. “Right! We gotta get our baby!”

You snorted at the theatrics, fondness settling deep down inside your chest. 

———

     Lucifer let you squeeze his hand as tightly as you pleased while the flames licked over you both. You fought not to manhandle him again, wanting to be brave. At least the change from ornate, colossal palace to inside of the old Donner apartment fireplace was over in a flash. 

     The firebox had warped, growing in size until it was large enough for you and Lucifer to walk through. Briefly you wondered why you had never noticed such a thing happening during Lucifer’s countless visits, but perhaps it was a trick that humans didn’t pick up on. 

Or perhaps Lucifer was short enough that the large fireplace hadn’t had to change so much for him alone. 

     (You didn’t know how to feel about being at least a head taller than Lucifer now. It was another thing filed under ‘To Address Later’ in your mind.) 

Mr. And Mrs. Farrow were not waiting for you when you stepped into their home. They were nowhere to be found. 

But a baby’s cry was coming from further back in the apartment. 

     You dashed toward the noise, with Lucifer at your heels. It led you to the outlet where you’d been only once before, and you were happy for small miracles because so much of this unit was unfamiliar to you, courtesy of your desire to avoid the kooks that had initiated you into their bizarre dealings with the literal Prince of Darkness. 

When you arrived at the spare room, it was practically pitch black. Tea candles had been re-lit here and there, but they barely distinguished the silhouettes of two very frantic, knee-high toys-turned-sentient. 

     The little creatures moved like phantoms in the dark. One was steadily pushing the baby bassinet from side to side, attempting to soothe the crying child within. 

The other was levitating at the edge of the bassinet, staring worriedly at the baby, clearly agitated before it realized that someone had entered the room. 

     Your eyes had already adjusted to the dim little room — purposefully avoiding the cot that lay on the opposite side of Charlotte’s cradle. There was no possible way to prepare for seeing your own corpse, if it was still there. You had chosen to banish the possibility from your mind, and hadn’t dared to bring it up to Lucifer lest he grow agitated if the thought hadn’t already occurred to him. 

You focused on the present. On your child. And the goat butlers that your Love had spontaneously breathed life into. 

“You really are alive.” You said softly in awe. 

     The little goat that had been watching Charlotte from above seemed to recognize you. He floated back down, and allowed you to run your hand over his head as you stepped up to the bassinet, momentarily feeling the fuzz of his red fur. His brother followed, and they bowed, both for you and Lucifer as well as out of your way. 

     Had you been less single-minded in getting to your daughter, you might’ve laughed at the look of relief on their faces. Taking care of a newborn without thumbs couldn’t be easy. 

When you pulled back the little curtains of the pram, you felt as if the wind had been knocked out of you. 

     Your beautiful baby. Your little Charlotte — she was reaching up, crying to be taken out and held. 

Without a thought, you obliged her. 

“It’s alright. It’s alright now.” You whispered, fingers smoothing over her porcelain forehead. “Mama’s here. Mama’s got you.” 

It was stunning to be able to actually touch your child, caress her soft skin and feel her yellow hair on your fingertips. She was truly like a tiny doll, with two dollops of pale red on either side of her cherubic cheeks. 

     You pushed down the compulsion to cry. Everything has happened so fast that you hadn’t had time to recognize what you would be missing upon your death. If you hadn’t done what you did, you wouldn’t have gotten to hold Charlotte ever again. 

You could feel Lucifer’s presence just behind you before he was at your side, solid and comforting. Whatever regrets you may have entertained about leaving Heaven vanished then and there. 

     Charlotte’s cries were dying down, turning into minute whimpers and hiccups. Her eyes opened in the middle of your slow rocking back and forth, focusing on you. 

You beamed. “Hello baby.” 

    She gurgled, barely a blink before a wide, gummy smile of remembrance animated her formerly tear-stricken face. A laugh stuttered out of you, thick with emotion while Charlotte wiggled in her swaddling blanket. The spade of her tail poked out of the confines and tapped against your forearm with delight. 

Charlotte looked from you to Lucifer as he leaned in, having shuffled around so that he was able to embrace you, Charlotte nestled safe and snug between your bodies. She squealed with happiness, eliciting more laughter. 

“Let’s go home.”

****

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[latimeria-fell-from-heaven]

⌗︙・⚠︎ nanook snatching you away and "destroying" you ⚠︎ ♡⸝⸝

To catch the gaze of an Aeon was something like a one-in-a-million chance—hell, it was practically an impossible task that even the likes of Herta would have difficulty completing. You're not sure if her Simulated Universe really counts, but given the number of times that Caelus had informed you of the Aeons he'd encountered, you guess that counts for something.

But when the gaze of Nanook swept over you, you felt anything but happy. It does not feel good, it feels wrong. Just seeing their molten gold eyes in all of their destructiveness focus solely on you made you feel things. Words like fear or dread were not enough to fully encapsulate what you felt at that very moment. You try to convince yourself that it's simply because Nanook is the infamous being of destruction that has made it their goal to eradicate all life within the universe. It's natural to be wary of the very being that wants to snuff out you and everything you have ever known.

But with the lasting impression that their eyes alone had left on you, it's pathetic to think that they had glanced at you with anything good in mind. Especially when they had not so graciously kidnapped you, vision filled with nothing glowing gold and black as it surrounds you——

——

————

——————

————————

————————————————————————————ah—.

You don't know why Nanook had taken such a liking to you, nor why they had taken you away from everything you had ever known and into the silent void of the universe. Hell, you don't even know how you're even alive and breathing in a place where that shouldn't even be possible, and yet here you are. Their once imposing and near galactic-sized body has shrunken down to what you can assume is their attempt at forming a mortal body, but they still tower over you. Even when they have made the attempt to look somewhat normal, they are still intimidating, and their very presence makes your skin crawl.

You don't want to look them in the eyes. But of course, Nanook grips your chin and forces you to look them in the eyes, not even a word leaving their lips. Behind those cold eyes, burns an infatuation that a human like you could never possibly fathom.

When they embrace you, it is awkward and cold, and you try to squirm out of their grip and push them away, but Nanook does not take well to rejection. Their already less-than-amicable expression bleeds into something even more unpleasant as their hands squeeze your wrists so tight you can nearly feel your bones shatter from the pressure. Your cries and pleas fall upon deaf ears, and they only let go when they are seemingly satisfied. When they try again, you do not resist their advances, fearing that they may not be so lenient the next time you were to be defiant.

So when they force their lips upon yours, destructive hands sliding up to come and grasp onto your neck, all you can do is close your eyes and hope that whatever their planning will all go by quickly.

Nanook truly lives up to their name as the Aeon of Destruction, that much you can say for sure. They've destroyed your happiness, isolating you within the very confines of an empty and expansive part of the universe for only their eyes to see. They've destroyed any hope and chance of possible escape, making it very clear when they forced you to watch as they destroyed yet another planet like it was nothing and making it clear they could very well do the same to you if you resisted again.

They're destroying your body, rebuilding it into something that desires them just as much as they desire you. Nanook repeatedly embraces you in this strange mortal body of theirs, seemingly viewing frequent copulation as the only possible way they could ever make you, a puny and ignorant human, understand their twisted infatuation. Their huge muscular body completely dwarfs you; you've never felt as weak and small as you do now.

Nanook is destroying your resolve to escape—

"N-no.. not there, s'too much, 'm gonna die—ughk..!" It's becoming harder and harder to breathe and stay focused, no thanks to Nanook's hands squeezing your throat from behind relentlessly. Their hips snap aggressively into yours, cock reaching places that trigger nerves that make your head spin and vision fade in and out. They're too big, too heavy—they fill up your lower belly with their cock, with barely any spare room left for anything else except for the copious amounts of their cum that they pump into you. They have to fill you with them—over and over again—until your mind can just barely grasp and comprehend their overwhelming love for you.

They're utterly ruthless, fucking you through orgasm after orgasm and never stopping to give you any breaks in between. Even when you've passed out because of how intensely they've fucked you, they still continues. Nanook only stops when they wants to, your pleas and cries for them to at least slow down, falling upon deaf ears. But sometimes if they're in a generous mood, they'll comply. Their stoic expression hardly ever changes, save for when they spill their seed inside you and lets out a few grunts and hisses. You're left gaping open, creamy white oozing out from your ruined hole as you try to piece together your pleasure-shattered mind.

Nanook is destroying your resolve to escape—

"Nanooknanooknanookna—" All you can fathom to do is cry out their name, the only plausible thing in your foggy brain. There is nothing around you to hold onto, nothing to at least stabilize yourself while Nanook blows out your backside and ruins whatever coherency you have left. But you can't even cry out their name, as you feel the grip on your throat move to your chin, letting you gasp for a brief moment before even that is destroyed. They're kissing you, drooling into your mouth as they grind their hips up into your ruined hole and groan against your lips as you squeeze and pulse rapidly around them.

Must feel nice, to copulate with and embrace such a destructive and cosmic being like them so frequently. No longer having to worry about mundane troubles anymore, like whether your next paycheck would be enough to support you for the rest of the month or whether the groceries you had just bought were about to expire the day after you bought them. All you have to worry about now is whether or not you'd pass out in the middle of sex because it's all too much or if your gaping hole would be oozing Nanook's seed and they'd have to scoop it all back in. You just have to be a pretty little thing and accept their affection in all of its palpable forms.

Nanook has destroyed your resolve to escape—

© latimeriafellfromheaven

[mizgnomer]

Behind the Scenes of The Christmas Invasion (Part 41)

Excerpt from the Radio Times, 17-30 December 2005, interviews by Nick Griffiths

The first alien that Tennant encounters is a killer Santa Claus. Actually, "there's more than one," he says, "and these are not out-of-work actors in Harrods for the Christmas break. They're from another place. There's always something disturbing about the very familiar when it goes off-centre. Like clowns - they can be very scary." Quaking in your Christmas stockings yet? Tennant continues: "That's what's great about the show - it brings the universe to a very domestic level." But the Santas are just a sideshow, it turns out. "They're a kind of trailer for the real big baddie." That'll be the Sycorax Leader. Six and a half feet of towering bone and muscle, dripping the spoils of victory: shrunken heads, victims' kneecaps, that sort of thing. Oh, and clutching a broadsword. And Tennant has to fight him. Gruelling stuff? "I suppose," says Tennant. "Filming for the new series lasts 38 weeks. It's relentless, certainly, but it's not like a real job. Daily, it's incredibly exciting because it's so mind-expanding and bonkers!"

For more, see [ part one ] of the Christmas Invasion Behind-the-scenes posts (although [ part two ] appears to be the most popular one in this set…), or click the [ #whoBtsCi ] tag or the full episode list [ here ]

[corysmiles]

Tiny Viktor shrunken from accidentally plugging in a Rune combination when he’s experimenting w the Hexcore early on in s1 scenario is currently what my brain is cooking.

Jayce coming to the lab later and he thinks Viktor is gone but noticing his walking cane & the knocked over stool doesn’t realize Viktor is teeny tiny size of gemstone under said stool…

Runes and Ruin

Arcane G/T Fic

Notes: YES THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK. This ended up being a whole lot longer than I anticipated but I hope you like to. I’m obsessed with these two fuckasses, and I would love to write more g/t stuff with them. :>

————————————

It had been at least two days since Viktor had last slept properly. Occasionally, he’d nod off, only to snap up again when his head thunked against the desk, but that was only ever for a few minutes at a time. At this point, his hands were starting to shake, and every time he blinked his eyes stayed closed for just a second too long, like his body was trying to force him to bed, but still, he resisted. They had work to do. He had work to do.

And Jayce was gone again, which meant Viktor had to pick up the slack somehow. Even with his body giving out more and more everyday, he had to complete his work. There was no time for rest.

Viktor hummed thoughtfully, fighting back a yawn as he spun through the runes attached to the Hexcore. His vision was starting to get hazy and as he glanced over his notes of the combinations he had tried already, he found it was hard to decipher anything. It felt like he was looking through perpetually dirty glasses that he couldn’t clean off no matter how hard he tried.

With a sigh, he haphazardly plugged in a new set of runes. Probably haven’t don’t these yet, he thought, or at least, he hoped.

Pulling his goggles down, he leaned back into his chair, his pencil twirling between his fingers as he got ready to write down another failure. With a quivering hand he reached out to activate the core, but this time, unlike the past hundred from his previous trials that day, the Hexcore didn’t fizzle out.

Viktor’s eyes widened as a bright bolt of blue-purple light arched out at him, searing hot and blinding. He gasped, heart racing as its power raced through his bones, electrifying the blood in his veins into a fiery molasses. He tried to pull away, jerking back from the light, but its tendrils of glowing heat pulled him back to it.

He was fairly sure that he screamed before he collapsed, the pain too unbearable for the few seconds he was still awake to feel it.

Hours later, when he woke back up his heart was still racing. He half-expected to find himself in a hospital room once again, his partner looking at him with that sad kicked-dog expression. But he was still in the lab…or what looked like the lab.

“Shit,” Viktor groaned as he gripped his head, trying to stop the pounding against his skull.

At least it wasn’t a failure, he supposed, it must have done something to have that much backlash. Instinctively, he went to grab his pencil to jot down notes of the occurrence, but when he finally got a good look at his surroundings his excitement dulled to a dim horror.

He was several feet below his desk. And not only that, while sitting, he was shorter than his chair. With quickened breaths he looked around for his crutch. He wrapped his arms around the leg of his chair to pull himself up, and when he readjusted, he spotted it. Just where he left it.

The crutch was leaned against the desk where it was easily accessible for him… and now it towered over him.

“What…” Viktor groaned as he stared up at it, “This can’t…”

He felt fine, or as fine as he could given his deteriorating state, but as he looked around the lab he was met by a similar sight. Everything towered over him. He couldn’t even see the top of the couch he’d fallen asleep on more times than he could count or the blackboard he and Jayce had used to scribble down new theories. And to his horror, he could see a screw, long forgotten under the desk, that looked to be roughly the same size as himself.

The scientist part of his brain raced through the possibilities- what this could mean for Hextech, what they could do knowing the Hexcore could not only shrink matter but seemingly leave it fully functional. But the much larger, more animal part of his brain was terrified.

He had to fix this.

But the first step would be getting back to the Hexcore, and staring up at the top of his desk, now towering above him like a mountain peak he could never hope to climb, he knew that would be a Herculean effort. Not even to mention the fact that his whole body was still shaking from the effort of staying awake.

“Alright, okay,” Viktor said under his breath, trying to steady himself as he came to terms with the situation. With a deep breath, he reached his arms up the chair leg as far as he could. The adrenaline coursing through him helped as he pulled with all his might, trying to climb it, but even with the mounting panic inside him, he only could get a few inches up before falling back down to the ground. His leg exploded with pain as he collided with the floor, and he doubled over at the new flaring heat in his joints.

“Shit,” Viktor groaned as he reached down to hold his shaking leg, “Shit shit shit.”

He’d just have to wait then, he supposed. He knew the lab like the back of his hand, and he could find somewhere to rest before he had to try again, even though he hated the idea of staying like that any longer.

His head whipped around as he studied his surroundings. He was fairly sure he wouldn’t be able to pull himself far with his leg flaring with pain and his crutch one hundred times his size, so he settled on the space underneath one of their tool drawers. His leg cried out with pain as he shuffled over to it, and once he was fully hidden he leaned back against the wall, his face tight as he grimaced though the sharp heat in his leg.

He’d have to sleep there. He had no choice if he wanted enough strength to even attempt to climb the desk again.

It was difficult to find the will to sleep, with the adrenaline still coursing through him, but his body was so exhausted from several sleepless days, that when he shut his eyes he was out within moments.

When he woke up next he would be able to try again, and everything would be fine. No one had to know.

The only problem was that in his exhausted state he forgot about the one hinge in this plan.

“Viktor?”

Viktor had never woken up faster in his life. His head shot up, smacking against the wall behind him painfully, but luckily the sound didn’t seem to draw Jayce’s attention. The only problem was that his partner was only a few steps away from the drawer he was hiding under. He could feel the vibrations from the man’s now gigantic shoes every time they hit the ground, like small earthquakes against the tile floor.

“You in here?” Jayce called out again, as his feet stopped close to Viktor’s desk.

Meanwhile, Viktor sat frozen. Eyes wide at the sight of Jayce’s boots. He recognized them of course, he’d been there when Jayce had purchased them for a meeting with some potential investors. Then, he had offered them to Jayce, a soft smile at how happy his partner was to dress up.

Now, even the wooden heel of Jayce’s boots was taller than him. His breathing stuttered at the thought.

“Hey, Viktor?” Jayce asked again, his voice pitching up at the last syllable of his name.

Viktor knew that tone, of course he did. Jayce was worried, as he was more often than not nowadays. His voice tightened and raised in barely hidden concern. Ever since the day in the hospital Viktor had come to hate that tone.

Viktor’s brain worked through options of what to do. Best case: Jayce would leave, and he could fix the problem on his own. But as he watched Jayce’s boots from under the drawer he started to fear that wouldn’t be the case. After all, Jayce had gotten into the habit of meeting Viktor late at the lab every night.

Guilt burrowed deep in his chest at the sound of Jayce’s concerned voice as he looked around the lab. He could tell him, he thought for only a second before he shut down that train of thinking. That was dangerous. It didn’t matter if he trusted Jayce, if he’d be careful; he was too small and it was too risky. And he still couldn’t quite calm down his rapidly beating heart at the sight of someone several hundred times his size.

So he waited, barely breathing as to not give his partner any clues to his presence as Jayce leaned over his desk nearby. A few minutes passed with only the sound of ruffling papers above him before Jayce made an odd sound, a small questioning murmur as he reached out to grab something beyond Viktor’s sight- his crutch.

And right as Jayce shifted, something toppled to the ground from the desk above with a loud thunderous crash.

Immediately, Viktor jumped up. His leg ached at the movement as adrenaline roared in his blood. His heart pounded and his whole body tensed up, ready to flee if needed. It took him a moment to even process what had fallen with how loud it had sounded in his ears- a screwdriver, his screwdriver, now easily three times his size.

He didn’t even realize he had made a sound until the boots stopped right in front of the drawers he was under. Jayce mumbled something to himself that Viktor couldn’t quite make out, but he didn’t have any time to think about it before Jayce’s knees hit the ground.

The moment Viktor realized what was happening he froze. Jayce had heard him.

He could try to run, but without his crutch he couldn’t get far, and he’d likely hurt himself even more. Desperately, he shuffled back into the corner, pressed between the wall and the leg of the cabinet, hoping and praying Jayce just wouldn’t notice.

But Jayce was a scientist after all, he didn’t get far without being perceptive.

Viktor held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut as Jayce’s face finally came into view, brows furrowed as he looked under the cabinet. His large hazel eyes glanced around as he grumbled again something about mice, and for a brief moment Viktor thought he was safe before-

“Viktor?”

Viktor’s mouth went dry, his eyes flying open to meet Jayce’s own, now staring intently at him. For a moment the world around him froze. His heart beat so fast he thought it would jump right out of his chest.

Gods, Jayce was massive.

Before he could do anything Jayce’s hand was under the cabinet, reaching for him, and suddenly Viktor couldn’t breath.

“Stop, wait,” Viktor gasped as he held his hands out in front of him, “I…I’m fine.”

Immediately, the gigantic hand in front of him froze. Jayce’s fingers still twitched like he wanted to reach out, but they didn’t move any closer.

“Viktor, what?” Jayce shook his head in confusion, “I…apologies, but you don’t look fine. What happened to you?”

Viktor took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, “The Hexcore…I just… it did something.”

Jayce tilted his head in thought, his lips tightening as they always did when he was presented with a difficult problem. His eyes narrowed like he wanted to ask something before he sighed, the expression dropping from his face completely.

“Well I can see that…How long have you been like this?” Jayce asked, voice much softer than it had been moments before.

Viktor stilled himself, wrapping his arms around his aching leg as he met Jayce’s eyes, “I eh…I’m not sure. I tried to get back up to the Hexcore, but couldn’t make it…so I decided it was likely best for me to uh…stay here for a bit.”

Jayce’s eyes flashed with something again that Viktor couldn’t quite put a name too before he sighed. His hand retracted and before Viktor could stop him or say anything, Jayce was standing again.

“You know you don’t have to hide from me,” Jayce said, his voice booming from somewhere far above, “I can help you.”

Viktor sighed, and shrugged his shoulders even though he knew Jayce couldn’t see him anymore. He knew he was referring to something else…to the rift between them that was growing larger and larger each day, but that argument was the last thing he wanted at the moment. And he was too far away from Jayce to even warrant giving him a response…it wasn’t like he would hear it.

“I’m going to move this okay,” Jayce said, after a few moments, the drawers above Viktor shaking a bit, “Make it a little easier to talk.”

Viktor braced himself against the wall as the world around him shifted. Again, he found himself wishing he could run, to get as far away as he could from Jayce’s gigantic form that could reduce him to nothing with no effort at all. But he couldn’t. So all he could do was sit as the ground underneath him vibrated, and the cabinet was shifted away from Viktor, until he was completely out in the open.

“There you are,” Jayce said with a tilted brow and a small careful smile, “Now do you want help or no?”

Viktor scowled as he looked down at the floor, anything to avoid the dizzying sight of his partner looming above him that was starting to make him feel sick, “I don’t need your help, councillor.”

It was a low blow and Viktor knew it, but staring up at Jayce, the frightened animal-like part of him wanted nothing more than to snap- to prove he wasn’t weak. And thankfully Jayce didn’t seem too hurt. The man sighed and offered Viktor a sad smile as he oh so slowly bent down to sit on the ground next to Viktor.

“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want,” Jayce said slowly, “But I also can’t leave you here like this. You know that right?”

Viktor prickled at the man’s tone, “I don’t need your pity or your help, Jayce.”

“Then how exactly did you plan to get back up to the Hexcore?”

Viktor met his words with a scowl, “I would’ve found a way.”

“And how long would that have taken?” Jayce asked, voice firm.

And to that, Viktor had no response.

The adrenaline that had been rushing through him was starting to die off, and he truly didn’t want to argue anymore. The instinctual need to make sure people knew he was able to do things on his own warred against his own logical reasoning. This was different. He really couldn’t do this on his own. This wasn’t Jayce treating him like he was broken like he was so used to from everyone else.

Jayce never did that.

After a few moments of strained silence, Jayce cleared his throat and tilted his head towards Viktor, “Really Vik… just let me help you, it’s no problem. And I don’t want you to get hurt like this.”

A million different emotions warred in Viktor’s head before he finally gave in. His shoulders slumped forward as he let out a sigh and tilted his head up at Jayce, “Fine. Just… get me up to the desk.”

Like a dog, Jayce immediately and visibly perked up. His eyes softened as he bent down closer, his hand slowly reaching out again.

This time Viktor didn’t stop him, although his heart still jackhammered in his chest in fear at just how large Jayce was.

“Can I pick you up?” Jayce asked cautiously, his fingers hovering a mere breath away from Viktor.

Viktor stood frozen as he stared at Jayce’s hand. His eyes widened as he fully took in the size difference. He was maybe the same height as Jayce’s pointer finger, if even. The vast different was enough to make his head spin.

“Yeah, yes. That is fine Jayce.”

A soft approving sound was the only warning Viktor got before the fingers reached forward and gently wrapped around him. Viktor had to hold his breath to not jump at the contact, but after a few moments he relaxed. Jayce always had run warm, and his palm seemed to be the same. It was almost nice in a way Viktor would never admit.

After a moment, the fingers wrapped around him more securely, Jayce’s grip tight but not painful as he lifted Viktor up to his face to get a closer look.

“You’re so small,” Jayce laughed softly as he tilted his partner around in his hands like he was another experiment.

“Jayce!” Viktor grumbled as he hit one of Jayce’s ridiculously massive fingers, “Stop twisting me around like I’m a Hexgem.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jayce apologized quickly, “It’s just so odd. And everything feels okay?”

Viktor shrugged, silently cataloguing his body, “Aside from the usual, yes.”

A nod from Jayce, “Okay…okay. We can work with that. That’s good. We just need to figure out how to reverse the runes and you’ll be fine until that.”

“What do you mean until that,” Viktor frowned, responding a little harsher than he really intended, “We flip the runes and fix it now.”

Jayce swallowed nervously and shook his head like he was thinking, “This isn’t…Viktor…we can’t just wing it. This is your life! We have to try to recreate this first. What if we flip the runes and something worse happens. I- we can’t.”

With his last words, Jayce’s expression hardened as the familiar look of worry filled his eyes. However, as much as Viktor hated it, Jayce was right. They already knew the arcane worked in strange ways, and there wasn’t even a guarantee the same runes would work to change Viktor back.

“Jayce,” Viktor sighed, his head leaning to rest on Jayce’s thumb which was wrapped firmly around his chest, “I can’t walk. I can’t work. I can’t even go home like this.”

Viktor waited for Jayce to understand what he meant- for him to realize just how big of a problem this was- but Jayce’s expression just softened in response.

“You stay with me then.”

“What?” Viktor asked, eyes wide with shock, “Absolutely not. I will not burden you for some mistake I made. And I can’t just…I can’t just sit in your apartment all day until you decide it’s time to come to the lab.”

Jayce’s lips tightened in response, and subconsciously his fingers moved to rub gently across Viktor’s back, “It’s not a burden to have my friend around more often, Viktor. And you won’t. You’ll come with me, I wouldn’t feel right leaving you anywhere like this anyways.”

Meanwhile, Viktor felt like he’d been slapped in the face. Jayce’s expression was earnest, but it made no sense to Viktor no matter how hard he tried to comprehend it.

“You’re my partner Viktor,” Jayce nodded, brows raised at his tiny friend, “I’m not making you go through this in your own. Hextech is both of ours, so its mistakes are too. Besides, it’ll be nice having you around, maybe I can actually make sure you sleep for once.”

At that, Viktor flushed red in embarrassment, wanting nothing more than to hide away from Jayce, but it was nearly impossible when he was firmly stuck in the man’s hand.

Jayce laughed softly at Viktor’s clear embarrassment and brought his other hand on top of Viktor, covering him completely. “I’ll have to hide you while we go to my apartment, but I’ll get something set up for you there. We can rest tonight at least, and start looking into the runes tomorrow.”

It was hard for Viktor to fight the urge to argue that they should start now, but the all-encompassing warmth of Jayce’s hands was making a nap sound really really good.

Before Jayce even got out of the academy building Viktor was asleep. He was worried about his partner, he always was, but the sight of him so small in his hands made something soft bloom in Jayce’s chest. As they reached the cold streets of Piltover, Jayce gently dropped Viktor’s sleeping form into his breast pocket.

It would be difficult dealing with this, but if it meant Jayce could be closer to Viktor then he supposed it wasn’t too bad.

[1800titz]

FETISH | Spanko!Harry x Neighbor!Reader

The one where you and Harry are neighbors in an apartment complex, he's got a bunny called Snuggles, he makes softcore porn spanking people (it's a REALLY LOUD HOBBY), and you have definitely called the police for a domestic disturbance next door continued

preview

You flail your hand out, down, awkwardly to catch a fistful of jeans. And when you snag it, you squeeze. It’s coarse between your fingers. So unlike the feather-soft weight of the atmosphere; this dreamy locale in being.

The hum over you sounds like it’s rolling straight from the foramen his ribs are hugging. A throaty, low sound, that drenches you in searing heat. 

“Ah, ah. Keep your hands to yourself—“ is a murmur saturated thick in command, and your chin snaps at the familiarity of the lilt—

But the motion is stifled when the hand that was knotted in your hair wraps around and cups you under the chin. By the throat, nearly. A garbled, wet sound brews in your neck when his thumb presses into the soft bit of space beneath your lower lip, between your chin and your mouth. It grazes the corner. You recycle the gasp again, and let it blister between your breasts. 

Harry, over you with your jaw in his palm, feels like a debauched lesson in discipline. This— an unyielding sense of control, unbudging resolve hewn in his voice, is a pure juxtaposition to bunnies and soft curls, hanging damp straight from the shower. The rubescent smear across the tops of his ears when you stare for too long; the roseate burgeoning along the bridge of his nose, nipping at the apples of his cheeks. Your mail in his hand, standing at your door. A pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips, a white tee shirt that’s been washed too many times. The kind that nearly looks shrunken, stretching across the hulking breadth of his shoulders.

You gnaw into your lower lip. Scratch out at the sheets when he hits you again. His eyes are glued to you, glued where the thick of his palm is swatting. You can’t see it, but you know. And the heat courses up to your throat. Bleeding warmth under the firebrand of his hand (a collar, notched)—

“Just been begging to go over my knee, haven’t you?” he coos. 

No— no— you screw your eyes. 

Yes. 

The shame fades into the heat, and it’s the worst between your legs. You don’t know what’s worse— the revelatory shudder that wracks your shoulders, reluctance tapering, thawing into hedonistic want, when you finally, finally just let yourself sink into the melted deluge. Or the way he caresses one cheek in his big, big hand, and you rock forward, knees inching apart. The way—

“What’s this, mm?” he rumbles, fingertips coasting up your inner thigh, and prodding—

The gasp that got tangled at the back of your throat prickles. Comes alive all over as a wet, scratchy hiss.

“You’re all wet,” he tells you, like it’s a revelation you need to hear. But it’s drenched in condescension, and it makes you feel white-hot, like a scorching layer stripped straight off the surface of the sun. 

There’s snagging depraved desires and burrowing them between your ribs, like dirty secrets locked in a cage of bone. Rolling around on your sheets with your hand between your legs. 

And then there’s squirming over his lap, with your panties dangling at your ankles. 

It feels like retribution. Being broken in, in the form of a seamy, old-fashioned penitence for being a bad girl, thinking those nasty thoughts.

(The partition between punishment, you think, and outright manifestation, is paper-thin. And that’s the bliss of an overlap— a perfect stretch of limbo. You mewl when he smacks you again.)

He chuckles, and it sounds dark. Rich. Intoxicated on the slick he smears onto the back of your hot thigh. The little noises crawling out of you that taint the air. The view of your ass, spattered in handprints. “You are such a naughty, little girl.”

He breathes through his nose. The exhale makes your bones feel like they’re settling into place, and you sag with it, “Aren’t you?”

[lihhelsing]

The Adventures of Bat Eddie

Written by @devondespresso & @lihhelsing for the Upside Down/Right Side Up Challenge from @strangerthingswritersguild ❤️ Steddie | Rated T&Up | 5k words

Summary: Eddie wakes up on the Upside Down and quickly realizes he's a bat. Now his best hope lays in the hands of two dinguses.

CW: Mentions of Blood, Mild Body Horror

Read it on Ao3 Or keep reading it below the cut

Eddie wakes up to pain.

Sharp, gnawing pain around his middle, something deeper and hollow—hunger—and the heavy ache of exhaustion fucking everywhere. 

His mouth tastes sweet, like blood, and it isn't as distressing as it should be. He breathes, short, heavy and desperate, scabs pulling skin with every movement.

Eddie opens his eyes and sees a murky red sky.

He should be dead. He knows, instinctively, that he's lost too much blood for any person to have survived.

He died.

But his stomach still hurts, a lot, and he could see the red sky and he’s fucking starving, and in all honesty he imagined hell to be a lot worse than regular pain and regular hunger and regular, upside down reds.

So, somehow, he isn't dead. And he’s still in the upside down.

Eddie takes a breath—and it’s short, but he manages—and moves his hands—

Eddie freezes, and sucks in another too-short breath. 

He could feel between his arm and side. He feels movement, dirt and skin brushing skin, where he shouldn't feel anything.

Eddie looks down.

Dark gray fur coated in jagged red scabs, moving up and down from quick, heavy breathing. Thin folds of skin connected to long, thin bones.

He bends his arm—the motion to bring his hand to his face—and the boney arm bends at the same time. Bringing a pointy claw and boney long fingers, skin webbed in between to form wings, up to his face.

It's him.

There's skin between his fingers, between his arm and his side, his thumb is a claw and his breaths are small because his lungs and whole body is the size of a–

He's a fucking bat.

Eddie looks around, even as moving and twisting pulls at the scabs on his middle painfully, ripping new wounds.

He's a bat. Still in the upside down. Alone.

He needs to cry. 

Somewhere in his brain tries, emotions welling, feeling too much, too different, too pained.

Too alone.

He doesn't cry. He brings his boney hands up sideways, claw-thumb-thing up, and rubs at the skin around his eyes in a way that almost feels human, but it doesn't work. 

Apparently, bats can't cry. 

Eddie is a bat, alone, and he can't fucking cry.

He moves his thumbs to the top of his head, finger-wings spread out almost like  a blanket shielding him. He scrunches his legs in awkwardly—hurting his scabs again, but fuck it—and he screams.

He screams from his gut, but it’s high-pitched, and that just makes it worse. He screams harder, as hard as his shrunken fucking lungs let him, stopping for breaths more often than he feels like he should.

He can't cry, but he can press his claw-thumbs into the skin on his head, he can force his eyes shut tighter and tighter, and he can scream his lungs out, hard and painful until he grows lightheaded.

He has no idea how long he sits there, screaming. 

Eventually, he becomes too dizzy, nearly numbed, and he collapses back down. Looking at the red sky, he tries to figure out what the hell he's going to do now.

_

Flying is easier than Eddie expected. So is leaving the upside down.

That’s a bad sign, probably, but he decided to forgive himself for focusing on other shit at the moment.

Like how all the lights were off in Max's trailer and Harrington’s house—and he doesn't want to think about what that could mean—or how he doesn't know where any of the others live, besides Wheeler, who just had to live goddamned miles away.

He’s pretty sure he won't make it that far.

He'd only just passed Harrington’s house and his body is already aching, arms heavy and stomach in pain, maybe bleeding again, maybe just really fucking hungry. Eddie watches the ground attentively, hoping he could somehow guess where Henderson or Sinclair lives. 

Then, he spots a Beemer. The Beemer.

Eddie dives down immediately, landing roughly on the hood. It’s parked at a house that definitely isn't Harrington’s, but at least it explains the lights out at his own house.

Eddie takes off, finding a window with the lights on and heading towards it, not really thinking about his plan until it’s too late.

Eddie slows down, but he’s not used to these wings and it’s a little more complicated to aim when you’re a bat. He was hoping to land safely at the windowsill but ends up going straight through it and only stopping when he slams on a wall with a painful thunk.

He slides from the wall to the floor and he doesn’t want to call anyone hysterical, but there’s a lot of screaming happening around him. 

When his eyes finally focus on the scene in front of him, he finds none other than Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley, holding on to each other with matching horrified expressions directed at Eddie. 

Eddie wants to tell them they probably saw worse things than a bat on the Upside Down but, well, he can’t speak. And it would probably freak them out even more. 

“Do you think it’s… alive?” Robin says, frowning and then yelping when Eddie manages to move a little on his spot. He knew the sound he made when he hit the wall wasn’t good, but from the pain that shoots through him with the smallest movement he figures he probably broke something. 

“Definitely alive,” Steve says and he takes a step towards Eddie, but Robin holds him back.

“Don't poke him!” 

“I wasn’t planning on that! Just wanted to get a better look,” Steve defends, but he stays where he is. Eddie can see Robin is holding him tightly enough to bruise. 

“It’s kind of gross. You don't think he has rabies… right?” She asks.

“He might.” Steve deadpans and the two take a step back together. 

Eddie tries to fly away unsuccessful and ends up causing another comotion. Robin pulls Steve back and the two of them trip and fall on the bed. Steve lets out a low grunt and moves his hand to his stomach, where Eddie can see a small dark spot, like he’s bleeding.

“You’re bleeding,” Robin says and Steve grunts in response. “Have you changed your bandages today?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer and gets up, a frown in between her brows. 

“I’m fine. We should figure out what to do about that first,” Steve says, pointing at where Eddie is.

“It doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere, Steve,” she says, looking at Eddie and wrinkling her nose in disgust. “I’ll get bandages and the rabies book, and you can read it while I patch you up.” 

Before Steve can even agree, she’s out of the room and then Steve and Eddie are alone. 

Despite his injuries, Steve looks… curious. He gets up from the bed letting out a low grunt and moves towards Eddie. Eddie tries to move away, but one of his wings is definitely busted and he flaps uselessly with the other, managing to bump into Steve’s dresser. 

Steve keeps moving and that’s when Eddie realizes he wasn’t curious about him, but about something else. With slow and clearly painful movements, Steve crouches down and picks up something from the place where Eddie initially fell down. 

Eddie watches as he analyzes it and it looks like a piece of clothing. Was that stuck on him and he hadn’t noticed it? Probably. 

“Robin!” Steve yells and then proceeds to put the thing close to his nose and smell it. He wrinkles his nose and grunts, “Disgusting.” 

Robin shows back up on the door, heaving with a big book and a first-aid kit clutched in her arms. She’s looking alarmed as if she thought she was going to find Steve on the ground and Eddie feeding from him or something. 

“You ok, dingus?” she asks and Steve gets up, offering her the piece of clothing. 

“Yeah. This just fell down from our little guy there and guess what… it smells like the fucking Upside Down.” 

Robin’s eyes widen and Eddie lets out a small noise because he’s a little shocked Steve knows what the Upside Down smells like. 

“You think this came from there?” she asks, dropping the things she was carrying on the bed so she can take the thing from Steve’s hand to inspect it herself. 

“I think he came from there,” Steve points to Eddie, still on the floor. 

Eddie flaps his good wing and hopes they read that as a yes. 

“Seems like he agrees,” Robin says and gives the piece of clothing back to Steve. “Let’s patch you up and then we’ll figure out what to do with him.” 

Steve sits on the bed and Eddie watches, in mild amazement, as he strips down from his clothes. Steve has never cared for his modesty too much, Eddie knows it, he just didn’t think he was going to get another chance to look at his pecs again. 

And there’s something else, as Robin gets to work. Eddie can smell Steve. No, not Steve. His blood. And it makes his mouth water in a weird way. 

She takes off the old bandages and from their color, they are definitely soaked in blood. Eddie moves again, something inside his gut telling him to get close. Steve glances at him and then back at the piece of clothing, as if he’s looking for an answer. 

“You know what Dustin told me?” he asks, hissing as Robin presses a gauze on his bat bites. “I was lucky I got half-eaten by UD bats because they don’t carry diseases like regular bats do. Something about them being undead creatures or whatever. Sure, I could’ve bled to death and those are going to scar, but at least…”

“No rabies!” Robin concludes, her eyes shifting to where Eddie is. 

“No rabies,” he agrees. 

They both turn their eyes at Eddie and it’s kind of scary to be a target like that. Before he can do anything, Steve is on his feet, still shirtless for fuck’s sake, and he bends down and cups Eddie in his hands, bringing him up. 

One of the hands under him retracts and a shaky finger comes out, lifting one of his wings out carefully.

“Oh… yikes,” Robin says and Eddie looks up to find her looking over Steve’s shoulder.

“Yeah.”

Eddie glances down at the scabs—which look even worse in proper lighting—as Harrington lowers his wing back down gently.

“Let’s get him cleaned up. And then we’ll figure out how the fuck he ended up here,” Steve says, taking Eddie with him to his en-suite, followed by Robin. 

_

Adopting an Upside Down bat wasn’t on Steve’s bingo card for that year, and still… that was what happened. 

The bat had crashed through Robin’s room window a week ago and they had decided to figure out what he meant–or what he wanted, depending on how sentient the thing was– before calling the party. 

After figuring out the bat couldn’t give any of them rabies or anything like that, Steve had given it a bath and had cared for its broken wing, and the bat seemed to be very grateful. 

Robin still felt a little… disgusted by it. And Steve didn’t blame her. But maybe being half-eaten by bats had made him a half-bat or something because, for whatever reason, Steve felt a connection with him. 

And, truth be told, Steve was feeling extra lonely lately. Robin had quickly found another job and she was still trying to convince her manager to hire Steve as well. Steve’s parents had vanished and he was still trying to figure out if they were alive or if they had just abandoned him and he wasn’t sure which one would be worse. 

So yeah, maybe it was pathetic that his best friend right now was a wounded bat, but Steve had weirder things happening to him. 

Besides, the bat was proving to be good company. 

Steve grew accustomed to bringing him along to anything. The bat would just happily sit on his shoulder and keep him company whenever Robin was out. Steve was dreading having to go back to his parents, scared of finding out what had happened to them, and having the bat with him made things easier. 

Even if he was left with no answers, still. 

It’s a Thursday afternoon, and Steve’s hungry so he decides to get a snack. He’s not sure what kind of food the bat eats so he mostly gives him fruit and water and he seems content about it. 

Steve gets himself an apple and the bats patiently wait as he eats. Soon enough Steve knows he’s going to be talking to the bat and he’s not sure he’s worried about it. The bat came to him after the Upside Down so it means the bat knows something, right? 

The connection was still unclear and Steve is not in any rush. Things have been pretty quiet after their last encounter with Vecna and Steve is really not looking forward to things heating up again. 

He grabs a banana and unpeels it. He tried a few different fruits, but the banana seems to be his favorite. Easier to eat, probably. The phone ring at that exact moment, so Steve says. “Hang on, let me take this,” and answers it before giving him the banana. 

On the phone, Robin called just to check-in on him. She’s worried and Steve knows it. She’s worried he’s isolating too much. She’s worried that Eddie’s death has affected him more than he’s willing to admit. 

It’s not like he hasn’t said it out loud. He misses Eddie. So fucking much. But Steve’s trying to be practical about it. Him crying or sharing how much he misses Eddie is not going to bring him back. No matter how much he wants it. No matter how many times he’s dreamed about it. 

And, there’s something else. Something he hasn’t been able to admit to Robin yet. 

Eddie seems to have woken something up in Steve. The way he talked and the way he walked and how Steve’s stomach fluttered every time Eddie touched him. It probably meant nothing. But without Eddie, Steve was left to figure out for himself what it all meant. 

There’s a part of him that knows Eddie has changed something inside of him. Steve’s just afraid that acknowledging it will break something irreparable inside of him. What’s the use of having a crush on a dead guy, right? 

“Dingus, you still there?” Robin says over the speaker and snaps Steve out of his thoughts. “And what’s this sound?” 

“Yeah, I’m just feeding him while we talk,” Steve says and he moves his hand to give him the last of the banana. 

The problem is, he’s not paying attention and the poor thing might be hungrier than he imagined because he’s taking a bite and the next thing Steve knows is pain shooting through his body from his finger. 

He keeps the scream down, doesn’t want to alert Robin or scare the bat, and tells her he has to go. 

“What? Did something happen?” 

“I forgot cookies in the oven!” Steve lies and hangs up before Robin can ask any more questions. “Fuck.” 

He moves back to the kitchen and puts the bat down with the little piece of banana left. He washes his finger on the sink but the bleeding isn’t stopping and there’s a moment where he just scrambles to find a paper towel to wrap his finger around it. 

When he finally does, his heart is beating like crazy in his chest and he has to take a second to catch his breath. He sighs, feeling his finger throbbing. The bat didn’t mean, obviously, but fuck that hurt. 

He looks up to find the bat… licking the counter. 

His first thought is that he’s underfeeding him and he feels instantly guilty. But when he looks closer he sees the little red dots sprinkled everywhere on the counter. And the little guy just licking all that he can find, cleaning every spot of Steve’s blood. 

And then, it dawns on him. 

“Fuck.” 

_

Steve has thought this through.

He considered waiting for Robin but what if he’s wrong? What if this was just a weird coincidence and the bat is really just hungry and going for anything with any taste? 

There’s no indication the bat would know the difference between a banana and blood so maybe he just thought it was nice and he was still hungry. 

So Steve tries to offer him another banana. And then an apple, some berries, cashews and even cereal. No deal. He just blinks those huge black eyes at him and waits. 

He waits and waits and waits and Steve feels like he’s going crazy. He’s also running out of time, so he figures no harm in trying. 

Steve picks up a knife and presses his thumb on the blade. It needs a little bit of force, but then the sting spreads through his body and he watches as thick, red drops drip from his hand to the counter. 

The bat squeaks and it would be cute if he wasn’t literally excited for Steve’s blood. 

“Let’s see if this works.” 

The bat moves on the counter and licks it clean again. He waits as Steve’s thumb drips blood and he licks again and again and again. 

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters under his breath. He picks up the knife again. “Hopefully you won’t need too much, huh?” 

The bat makes a noise and Steve’s not sure if he’s agreeing with him or not, but he still presses the knife on his palm and cuts it. It’s a longer cut and it hurts more. Steve bends down and presses his hand with the other, feeling his eyes welling up. 

The bat starts to flap his wings around and Steve doesn’t want to alarm him, so he just shushes him. 

“I’m ok. Let’s get you properly fed.” 

He picks the bat up and brings him to his chest before placing his hand in front of him. The bat eyes go wide and he puts his tongue out, licking what he can reach. Steve walks to one of the kitchen chairs and plops himself down, hoping the bat won’t need enough to make him dizzy, but still, better be prepared. 

“You were really hungry, huh?” Steve says and then he moves his hand and the bat seems to read that as an invitation so he sinks his tiny fangs into the meat of Steve’s hand. 

Surprisingly, the pain isn’t bad. It seems like his hand is a little numb and the bat lets out a content sigh as he sucks on Steve’s hand. 

It doesn’t take long for him to retreat and Steve is thankful for it. He’s not feeling dizzy, but he reaches for some water and drinks long gulps as the bat uses his tongue to clean every last drop. 

They survived, which is a good sign. Steve is not really surprised that the bat feeds on blood, but he knows it’s going to be a bitch of a conversation to have with Robin when he finds the words to do it. 

Which probably won’t be tonight. 

_

Steve’s a coward. He’s fine admitting that. 

He might not be a coward in the general sense of the world because he doesn’t have a good enough instinct of self-preservation. As in, he’s ready to jump in front of danger whenever. 

Creatures from the Upside Down coming for them? Steve’s ready to fight them with his nail bat. Russian military using truth serum? Sign him the fuck in. 

Having hard conversations with Robin about how their adopted bat from the Upside Down apparently feeds from human blood? He’d rather face Vecna again. 

That’s how he finds himself doing their night routine, lips sealed as if his secret might spill at any time without warning. 

They brush their teeth together while Robin complains about jackass customers she had to deal with today. Says she’s almost cracking her manager and maybe Steve should come in later in the week to seal the deal. 

“Whadidyoudotoyourhand?” she asks, mouth full with toothpaste. Steve’s glad he’s known Robin long enough that he can figure out what she means. 

“Burned my hand trying to get the cookies from the oven,” Steve lies easily and Robin spits in the sink before filling her mouth with water. 

She spits and looks at him through the mirror, “can’t believe you burned cookies. You’re really not the same, Dingus.” 

Steve laughs. It was a harmless lie to explain the bandages he wrapped around his cut hand and the lack of any cookies because he wouldn’t have time to actually bake them before Robin got home. 

“I’ll try again tomorrow,” he promises and she pats him on the shoulder, moving to the bedroom and getting in bed. 

After everything, Steve doesn’t like to sleep alone. At first, he tried sleeping in the guest bedroom but he would eventually wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, heart beating a million per second. 

Now, he just crawls in bed with Robin, no more preambles. They have no idea what her parents think about this, but Robin doesn’t worry enough to offer an explanation and they also don’t worry enough to demand one. 

Once he’s settled, Robin gets her book. She usually reads out loud at night, to put both of them to sleep. It’s nice to sleep with her voice echoing inside his head, even if he misses parts of the story because he usually sleeps first. 

The bat snuggles next to Steve’s chest. He usually slept on the floor, in a pile of Steve’s clothes, but today he whined until Steve put him in bed. He has no idea if it’s the blood sharing or just a natural change of things, but he doesn’t hate his presence in bed. 

Robin looked weird at the two of them but she said nothing. Again. Not the weirdest thing to happen in their lives so far. 

Steve falls asleep pretty quickly, the cadence of Robin’s voice all he needs to muffle everything else inside his brain. It doesn’t stop him from dreaming, though, and tonight’s dream features Eddie. 

He hasn’t dreamed about Eddie in a hot second and he’s not sure if it’s better or worse. Dream Eddie is alive, but it makes Steve miss him even more. He has that same lopsided smile and he’s looking at Steve as if he had answers to all his questions but he won’t share. 

“Stevie,” dream Eddie says, looking at him. “Wake up.” 

Steve blinks at him. The scene changes from the Upside Down to the boathouse but Eddie stays the same. Battle vest and bandana on his head. Ready for the fight. 

“Wake up,” he purrs this time, and Steve closes his eyes. 

How can he wake up? 

He senses his heart rate spiking the second his brain starts to second-guess his dream. Is it a dream or is he walking into a Vecna trap? He can’t know for sure. But he knows Eddie’s death is traumatic enough to make him vulnerable. 

Robin knows his song. He’s sure he told her the second they figured out how to save Max. Why isn’t she playing the song?

It must be a dream.

He tries the next best thing and pinches his arm willing his brain to wake up. He opens his eyes and sees more than hear dream Eddie mouthing ‘wake up’ 

Then, he blinks awake. 

Everything seems normal. His eyes are adjusting to the dark room and there’s a weight on his left arm that he figures it’s Robin. She might deny it, but they both know she will attach herself to anything when she’s sleeping. 

There’s a mop of hair covering her face and part of Steve’s, almost getting in his mouth. He doesn’t remember when her hair got so long, but time passes in a weird way nowadays. 

He sighs. He should go back to sleep. But then his brain supplies him with something else.

Robin is lying right where the bat was. 

“Robs, psst,” he whispers, trying to be gentle. He doesn’t mind her cuddling him but his arm is starting to cramp. “Wake up.” 

In his peripheral vision, he sees something moving on the far end of the bed. Which is… weird. Robin is pressed against his body so she can’t possibly also be on the far end of the bed. 

“Robin, wake up,” he says a little louder and there’s movement again. But not close to him. “Robin!” he says and then Robin gets up. 

The problem is that Robin is still on her side of the bed, book draped on her chest because she fell asleep reading and forgot to put it down. She lifts herself up by the elbows and watches Steve with a confused expression. 

“What happened?” she says, voice filled with sleep and eyes barely open. 

Steve realizes then that whoever is sleeping next to him it’s not Robin. She seems to notice the same thing at the same time because her eyes widen as she looks at the figure still glued to Steve’s side. 

“What the–” Steve starts to say, but then the person turns and the hair flips to the other side revealing none other than Eddie Munson. 

_

Everything happens way too quickly. 

Steve jumps out of the bed at the same time Robin yells and Eddie just stares, wide eyes completely horrified. 

He’s also completely naked. 

Robin covers her eyes and Steve feels his back hitting the wall as he repeats to himself wakeupwakeupWAKEUP. 

He tries pinching his arm and it doesn’t work like it did in the dream. He stays there, panting on Robin’s bedroom and watching a dead Eddie Munson pulling on the covers to hide himself. 

“Am I dreaming?” Steve sputters out, and Robin says a categorical NO. 

“Never heard of group dreaming,” she says and it’s probably meant as a joke but she’s dead serious. 

Eddie turns his head from Steve to Robin and back to Steve. He looks as scared as them, which makes Steve relax a little. 

“Is it really… you?” Steve asks, but when Eddie’s eyes lock on him all the doubt vanishes.  

“I… think so,” Eddie says, raising his hands as if he’s inspecting them. As if he’s scared he’s going to find something else. 

“How the hell did you get in my room?” Robin asks. She has her back to the window next to her bed. 

Eddie looks at her and shrugs, “through the window?”

Robin starts to argue with him, saying it’s impossible because he would’ve woken her up if that were the case, and then she goes on a tangent asking him why didn’t he wake them up, but Steve’s brain is buzzing in a different wavelength. 

“Wait,” Steve says but they don’t seem to hear him. 

He moves closer to the bed while Robin tries to find a logical explanation for Eddie to be sitting in her bed and starts patting, looking for the one thing that’s missing. 

And he knows he’s not going to find him. 

“The bat,” Steve says and that seems to finally catch Robin’s attention. She looks at him and raises a brow.

“He must be hiding somewhere. I probably scared him with my scream,” she says and Steve nods, but his eyes go from her to Eddie. 

“You definitely did.” 

She follows his line of sight and frowns. “I don’t underst–”

And then, she does. 

_

Three Months Later

“Do we have to tell them today?” Steve asks, pouting. Eddie chuckles and nods. 

“Yes, sweetheart, we do have to tell them.” 

Steve sighs. He knows it’s time. 

He might’ve been shocked at first, with the realization that not only Eddie was alive but he was also, somehow, not human anymore. But even that wore off quickly once he understood what that meant. 

He got to have Eddie back. 

The discussion was probably shorter than it should have been, but even Robin, who was scared at first, accepted it pretty quickly. Her and Steve hadn’t talked about it yet, but he had a feeling she already knew.

Obviously, it would be hard to explain to her parents why the town’s satanist was hiding in her room, so Steve moved back to the Harrington’s with Eddie in tow. And maybe that was a mistake but he didn’t regret doing it. 

Being around Eddie was easier than anything else. 

If Robin was jealous, she tried not to show it too much. Went over whenever she could to movie nights and dinner, but it was mostly Steve and Eddie. Just the two of them. Together. 

Steve decided to also keep to himself the fact that Eddie needed human blood to live. That was a longer and trickier conversation that he could have once he figured out a way to tell his best friend he was in love with a guy. 

With Eddie, out of all guys. 

It had been surprisingly easy, if he was being honest. Eddie was easy to love. Even this undead, non human version of him. Underneath the blood thirst and the constant nightmares, it was still Eddie. 

“Five more minutes,” Eddie says in his ear, face buried in his neck like he loves to do these days. 

“Five more minutes,” Steve agrees, humming satisfied. Eddie is bad at denying Steve anything he asks for, and Steve kind of loves it.