#well-rich guy but y’know what I mean

[emphistic]

hi emm! Since it’s prom season could u make basketball sukuna reacting to someone from the team asking you out for prom?

A/N: hii! i actually received a vv similar request a long time ago and i deleted it because i didnt know how to write it, so maybe this is a sign from God — my redemption time, LMAO

PS: sorry to all my readers who are actually jelly lovers, i am not one of you

“So,” Gojo started, while shoving fries into his mouth, “have you got a date yet? Prom’s comin’ up real quick, y’know?”

The basketball team had just won their last game of the season, and all the players were eating out together in celebration. Sukuna was planning on just spending the rest of the night celebrating with you, like usual, but Gojo dragged him away and you only gave a thumbs up in encouragement. What a girlfriend you were, Sukuna scoffed, handing off your dear boyfriend to Gojo Satoru.

“Why do you care?” Sukuna grimaced at Gojo’s messy eating habits. How could one dare to speak while stuffing their face? Sukuna thought Gojo grew up wealthy, and, hey, aren’t rich people supposed to be, like, super into decorum? Where is this man’s etiquette?

“Sheesh, sorry for asking. I just wanted to know if my friend here,” he nudged Sukuna with his elbow, “needed some help getting a date. No need to be ashamed, Captain. I could hook you up with one of Utahime’s friends.”

“Yeah, no. But since you’re so curious, Satoru, I do have a date, actually.”

“No way, seriously? The big, bad, captain of the basketball team, has a date? For prom? I have to tell Suguru this.” Gojo whipped out his phone and, with his sauce-covered fingers, started typing like a madman.

Sukuna cringed, looking away and biting into his burger. This did not taste as good as your cooking. Why oh why did you let Satoru take him away? he thought. Sukuna would much rather be with you right now, even if it meant having to sit through one of your godawful rom-coms. Any of those would be better than Gojo fucking Satoru.

“I cannot believe he is missing this because he’s sick. Sick! That’s actually sick of him. Haha, get it?” Gojo leaned back in his chair, and Sukuna wished he would slip and fall backwards.

“There’s nothing shocking about me having a date, Satoru. I’m not some kind of loser.”

“Yeah, well. Yorozu’s not attached to your arm right now, so I thought—”

“I told you, I don’t like her like that. I don’t like her at all, matter of fact.”

“She’s, like, obsessed with you, dude.”

“I know,” Sukuna ran a hand down his face. “Just wish she would leave me alone, I’ve been trying my best to avoid her. And I haven’t seen her as often, so I think it’s working.” If Yorozu didn’t take the hint sooner or later, Sukuna would make your guys’ relationship known to the whole campus if he had to. Hell, Gojo didn’t even know yet. No one did, actually.

“Damn, so cold. You just gonna ignore her and break her heart?” Gojo laughed, but that quickly came back to kick him in the butt when he started choking on a fry.

“If you’re not joking, that fry will be the last thing you eat. I swear on your life, I do not want anything to do with that bitch.”

Gojo continued coughing and choking and shaking, but when all subsided and the white-haired man regained most of his posture, he posed the question, “So, you’re not gonna, like, ask me?”

“Ask you what? Ask you to prom? The fuck?”

“No, no, no. I mean, unless you wanted to,” Gojo tucked an overgrown strand of hair behind his ear, a stupid expression on his stupid face. “But, I’m talking about what I asked you. So, you gonna ask me if I have a prom date?”

“I don’t give a fuck if your lame ass has a date or not,” Sukuna spat out.

“Have you any idea how hurt I am now, because of you? Ehuhwaaa,” Gojo let out the fakest ugliest cry Sukuna had ever heard. “You think my ass is lame? Do you know how many would pay to see even a glimpse of my tush?”

“No. And I hope it stays that way.”

“I—how dare you.”

That night, Sukuna had to run away from Gojo in the parking lot of an In-n-Out. Otherwise, Gojo would’ve probably never left him alone. And, you might be thinking, Gojo is a fast runner. How did Sukuna get away? Well, it may or may not have been because Gojo had scarfed down three double-doubles prior. And he could barely stand upright without having to lean against Sukuna.

But, fear not, Sukuna did make it home, into your arms. And even though he did have to sit through your stupid rom-coms, he was so fucking glad to finally be away from that white-haired idiot.

Unfortunately for Sukuna, that peace and tranquility was short-lived. The next morning, he was woken up by your overly obnoxious doorbell. Seriously, when were you going to replace it?

Sukuna groaned, whispering into your hair, “Didn’t know you were expecting visitors, babe.”

“Hm?” Your voice was muffled; your face pressed impossibly close into Sukuna’s bare chest.

“Visitor, sweetheart. Someone’s at your door.”

“Huh?” You stuck your head up from your human pillow, and though missing the warmth, you were quite confused. Visitor? Since when?

It’s safe to say you were even more surprised to see Gojo Satoru outside when you opened your door. But you weren’t the only confused one, not for long, at least. Gojo raised his brow when he saw Sukuna emerge from behind you in all his glory: shirt nowhere to be found, hair unruly, and sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

“Captain? What are you—?” Gojo cleared his throat, “Whatever. Anyway, will you, Y/N, do me the honor of being the jelly to my peanut butter and going to prom with me?” Gojo flashed a smile so bright Sukuna almost fell backwards.

“Uhh, I’m sorry—”

“She doesn’t even like jelly, dumbass. And what’s with this horrendous sign? That’s seriously the best you’ve got?” Sukuna gestured with his chin at the poorly drawn and colored peanut butter jar and jelly. Not to mention, Gojo was also dressed as a sandwich, with two slices of bread on either side of his body.

“What the hell? How would you know if she liked jelly or not?”

“Because I’m her prom date.”

“And—and, what are you doing at her house?”

“I’m her boyfriend.” Sukuna glared at the white male, and slung an arm around your shoulder, out of spite.

Gojo paused, finally putting the puzzle pieces together. “Ohhh. So that’s why you didn’t want to come eat with us yesterday. And that’s why you were so desperate to go home. And that’s why I haven’t seen you with another girl in months.”

“Uh huh.”

“Anywho,” Gojo turned back to you, shoving his sign all up in your face. “Will you go to prom with me?”

“Dude.”

Taglist: @beyond-your-stars @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @taiyakii @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside @kelerina-ballerina @emikokomura

[vampireimiko]

i loved your most recent steve work! i was wondering if i could request an eddie work similar to that where the hellfire club just doesn’t believe that he could have a gf

Full of Surprises

warnings, none! note, this was fun to write !! also i didn't include the whole hellfire club i didn't feel like writing the extras in💔

"Eddie, you expecting a call or something? You keep staring at the phone like a maniac." Mike pointed out.

"You noticed too?! I didn't wanna say anything but holy shit, every few seconds he stares at it." Dustin agrees.

Eddie rolled his eyes, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah I'm uh, just waiting on my girlfriend to call." he muttered, his tone nonchalant, but the room instantly fell into a stunned silence.

Mike’s eyes widened. “Girlfriend?”

Dustin snorted, crossing his arms. “Sure, Eddie. And I’m dating Madonna.”

Eddie shot them both an annoyed glance. “I’m serious.”

The skepticism in the air was palpable. Lucas raised an eyebrow from across the room, tossing a pencil onto the table. “Eddie Munson... with a girlfriend? That’s rich.”

"What's that supposed to mean?" Eddie asked, defensively, leaning forward.

Dustin shrugged, an innocent grin on his face. "C'mon, man. If you had a girlfriend, we would’ve heard about it by now."

"And met her," Lucas added.

Eddie groaned, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Not everything revolves around you guys, y’know. Some relationships are private."

Dustin, Lucas, and Mike exchanged skeptical glances before bursting into laughter. "Yeah, right! What, does she go to another school or something?" Mike teased.

"Yeah there's no way in hell Eddie Munson gets bitches." Dustin laughed.

"Well news flash, Dusty boy! I do infact gets bitches. Not that my girlfriends a bitch or anything." He said adding that last part very quickly. Even though you weren't there, he'd never disrespect you like that or in any way for that matter.

Dustin raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "Okay, okay, so you get bitches. Prove it."

"Yeah, let’s see some evidence," Lucas added with a smirk. "I mean, it’s kinda hard to believe when we’ve never even seen her. Is she invisible or something?"

Eddie huffed, tapping his fingers on the table, clearly annoyed but trying to keep his cool. "She’s not some trophy I need to parade around, alright? She’s busy. She’s got... a job! School stuff too."

"Uh-huh, and I’m guessing she also lives in Canada and only writes letters?" Mike quipped, earning a round of chuckles from the others.

Eddie sighed dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. "Fine! You wanna meet her so bad? She’ll come by Hellfire next week."

Dustin raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Oh, really? Can’t wait."

"Yeah yeah, I'll believe it when I see it. Now enough about his imaginary girlfriend, I'm hungry." Mike interrupted.

The next week couldn’t have come fast enough for the Hellfire boys. The anticipation was thick in the air as they sat around the table, pretending to focus on the campaign, but their eyes constantly darted to the door. Even Eddie, who usually basked in his Dungeon Master role with enthusiasm, seemed a little distracted, checking his watch more than usual.

Dustin nudged Lucas under the table. “You think he’s actually gonna pull through? Or are we about to witness the most embarrassing bluff in Hellfire history?”

Lucas smirked. “I dunno, man. He’s been pretty confident. It’s either the truth, or he’s about to go down in flames.”

The whole week leading up to this very moment, Eddie talked about you to the guys. They obviously did not believe him one bit. Eddie had told them about some of your hobbies, favorite movies, he was even close to telling them where you worked but quickly decided against that.

They always asked him to just give out your name, but then they'd know who you were obviously. Eddie wanted to keep a little bit of mystery surrounding your identity. News flash, you were a quite known person at Hawkins High.

"Can't wait to see him squirm either way," Mike added with a grin.

Eddie, sensing their whispers, glared across the table. “You know, you guys are real supportive friends.”

“We’re just preparing for disappointment, Eddie,” Dustin shot back, hands raised. “Don’t take it personally.”

Eddie opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, there was a knock on the door. The room fell silent, and all eyes shot toward the entrance. Eddie’s cocky grin returned as he stood up, walking over to the door with a confidence that even had Dustin second-guessing his skepticism.

He swung the door open, and there she was—you. Dressed casually, you gave Eddie a warm smile before stepping into the room, completely unaware of the stunned expressions plastered across the faces of his friends.

“Hey, babe,” Eddie greeted you, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Told you I wasn’t making her up.”

The room was deathly quiet, the boys blinking in disbelief as you walked further into the room.

Mike was the first to break the silence. “Holy shit. Y/N Y/LN?

You laughed softly, glancing at Eddie before turning back to the group. “I take it he’s been bragging about me?”

“More like we didn’t believe you existed,” Lucas admitted, still wide-eyed. "Much less did we expect the girlfriend to be you?!"

Dustin was still frozen, mouth hanging open in shock. “Eddie... how?”

Eddie grinned smugly, draping an arm around your shoulders. “Told you, Dustin. I get bitches. Not that I'm calling you a bitch." He quickly clarified, knowing you didn't tolerate any type of getting called out of your name.

You playfully elbowed him in the side. “I know you'd never do anything like that."

Eddie chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Noted.”

"Anyway, nice to meet you guys! I've seen you around and Eddie talks about you guys all the time." You exclaimed cheerfully, extending a hand to the nearest person to you, which happened to be Mike.

Mike, still in shock, shook your hand cautiously, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. “Uh, nice to meet you too…”

Lucas stood up, still blinking. “Okay, I have to ask—how the hell did Eddie Munson land a girlfriend like you?”

You laughed, glancing over at Eddie with a playful smile. “What can I say? He’s full of surprises.”

Eddie grinned proudly, leaning against you. “See? Told you guys. I’m not just some lonely metalhead.”

Dustin finally regained his composure, shaking his head. “This has to be some kind of cosmic glitch. I mean, Y/N Y/LN... and Eddie Munson? Something isn't right."

Lucas nodded in agreement, still processing. “Seriously, I gotta know—what did he say to win you over?”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “Well, he didn’t try too hard, if that’s what you’re thinking. Eddie’s actually... kind of sweet once you get past all the theatrics.”

Eddie gave a mock bow. “Thank you, thank you. Theatrics are part of the charm.”

You giggled and gave him a loving look.

Mike snorted. “Yeah, we’re still trying to figure out what charm you’re talking about.”

Eddie shot Mike a look, then turned back to you, clearly soaking in the validation. “See what I deal with?”

You shook your head, laughing. “They’re not so bad, Eddie. Just a little... doubtful.” You glanced at the group, your expression softening.

Dustin nodded. “You’re like, Hawkins royalty compared to... well, Eddie.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving Eddie a curious look. “Royalty, huh?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but you could tell he secretly liked the sound of it. “They exaggerate. A lot.”

You smiled warmly at him. “Well, royalty or not, he’s good to me. And that’s what matters.”

Mike finally cracked a grin. “Alright, alright. Maybe you’re not completely full of shit, Eddie.”

Dustin laughed, pointing a finger. “Still can’t believe it though. You lucked out, Munson.”

Eddie smirked, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Told you, man. I’m full of surprises.”

additional note ! my requests are open if you wanna have me write something<3

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[drunkenkissesatdusk]

MORNIN’

pairings — jason todd x fem!reader

warnings — mentions of scars (tracing healed ones), talk of marriage, being a normal mundane couple, VERY domestic romance (i crave!!), mentions of having children but nothing actually happening!!

summary — moving from gotham into a more rural and quiet area was the best decision you two had made, because it turned out perfectly.

━━━━━━━ WAKING UP TO YOUR side empty was normal, but still scary, for jason. he knew you were safe, he could smell the breakfast you were cooking downstairs. still, a part of him forced him up. he continued the same routine he’d normally follow now that you’d moved from Gotham together.

your marriage solidified your hopes of leaving Gotham behind. finding the house was the final straw, and Jason jumped at the chance to buy the house. thank god he’d been adopted into a rich family, since neither of you two had to work.

occasionally, you had part time shifts at a bakery in the small town nearby. you loved it, and Jason loved coming in to see you with flowers. the longer you two lived out here, the less people that cared how Jason was related to Bruce Wayne.

your lives had become a very mundane manner, your stomachs filled with a consistent warmth that eased you into the knowledge of safety. Jason no longer kept a gun under his pillow — you agreed to him keeping it in the beside table.

downstairs, Jason met your face in the small soft yellow kitchen. you’d painted over the original white color, in hopes of creating a very fairy-like cottage. it was working out, and you spun around to face your husband.

“hey, Jay.” you extended your arms, gathering him into a soft hug. Jason smiled into your neck, spinning you around. he peppered your face with kisses, muttering a greeting into your body.

“hey baby.” he said.

“y’hungry? i made pancakes.” you motioned your head to the plate on the table. there sat a plate of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and fruits. Jason felt the warmth bubble, and an indescribable feeling of pure love towards you filled him. he didn’t know how else to explain it, he stared lovingly at you as you plated up your own plate, pouring two cups of coffee and handing one to your husband.

together the two of you fixed up your coffees before walking together to the rocking chairs on your back porch. there sat a small table between the two chairs, and you both set your things down.

you jogged back inside, turning on your guys’s favorite cd — a collection of love songs from the 60s. the familiar Skeeter Davis song flowed from the open windows, setting a calm mood over you two.

you both began drinking from your cups of coffee, as well as taking portions of your carefully prepared breakfast.

“i’ve been thinking, y’know.” you spoke after taking another sip of coffee. Jason looked up, intrigued. you met his eyes, hesitation crossing your features for a second — you never had to be afraid of saying anything to him.

“‘bout what?” he spoke, taking another bite of bacon.

“i think im ready, for a kid. i talked to my manager, i can get the time off when it happens.” you reached for his hand, and he happily took it. this statement by no means meant the two of you would try to rush it, you were both ready, and wouldn’t want to rush through this cherishing moment.

“really?” he was smiling brightly.

the rest of the day was spent relaxed in the bedroom you two shared, his head on your stomach and your hand crossing his back across every one of his old scars.

he didn’t mind, you wouldn’t cause them to reopen. ever since his old scars had died out, you noted how calm he was, how serene this entire portion of your life was.

“im so grateful. i love you so much.” you muttered, running your hands through his hair.

“i love you too, baby.” he rose up to kiss you gently, rubbing your jaw with his hand.

this was all you ever wanted.

masterlist — reminder that my requests / inbox is open

[modelbus]

can i request a reader (with sbi and also separate) who’s rich rich like she was born with a gold spoon and whenever she gives them gifts or treats them food they feel bad BAHAHAHA but it's just readers love language

can this be a drabble or whatever you can do :DD

I got your other message saying you wanted headcannons, so here you go! No wilbur for obvious reasons.

Included: Cc!Tommy, Cc!Phil, Cc!Techno, + all of them (platonic)

Rich Reader Headcannons

Tommy

Unapologetic about using your money.

He cares at first, and even when you say you’re paying he’ll order cheap things from restaurants, but after you give him the go ahead he will be a menace

Expect to lose all your money to Legos, his one true addiction.

“I could stream building this one, but this one would look so good in my room…” Tommy mumbles, squinting at two Lego boxes. You’re starting to regret letting him talk you into stopping by the store for what he said would be a quick visit.

It’s been two hours.

“Just get them both, Tom.” You finally sigh.

He lights up, no better than a kid on Christmas Day. “Fuck yeah!”

He’s money conscious, and will still note the price of things, but after he gets used to it he’s fine with you paying.

Doesnt blink twice at gifts.

You get this man anything and he will GOBBLE it up. Give him an Apple Watch? Great, his forever, he’s already wearing it. Give him a toothpick? He’s using it, perfect.

Won’t ask you to pay, and is very willing if you don’t want to, but let’s be real you always do pay.

He’ll say “thank you” at least. Five days later, maybe, when he finally remembers, but he says it!!

Talks you into buying things that you don’t need.

”I mean, you have the money. Y’know. Just saying.”

Phil

This man hates it, change my mind.

It’s a competition to see who can pay first with this man, and he does it out of pure spite.

Actually, he does it because he wants you to feel normal and not like you have to pay because you’re rich.

“I have the money, Phil!” You insist, holding your card.

“And I don’t care. I already gave them my card, I’m paying.”

When you make a stupid financial decision and buy a $1,000 lightsaber (blame Tommy), he just kinda sighs at you.

If you approach him for financial advice, he will genuinely tell you helpful things as if you weren’t incredibly rich.

He accepts your gifts, but always makes sure to somehow give you one in return.

maybe not of equal value… he isn’t as rich as you… but of equal love <3

Techno

Have you SEEN this man’s setup? He is in NO POSITION to decline gifts.

Will secretly be desperately in need of literally anything and just. Wont get it. So you end up buying it for him…

You order him food online to have it delivered to him and man just won’t say thank you. He’s rather awkwardly send you a photo of the food on his desk, entirely eaten.

Or he’ll just drop a photo of his new setup in discord for you.

He will “anonymously” acknowledge you when he streams/records a video on his new gear though.

“And if you’ve noticed this video came much faster than normal, it’s because of a new PC which runs at light speed.” He zooms into the face of his Minecraft character. “It’s not a toaster guys! Praise the rich gods!”

He literally can’t afford to buy you gifts in return.

Well he COULD but that man sees the shipping and is horrified.

His gifts in return are those photos of whatever you give him.

Techno genuinely is VERY appreciative though!! Like you are practically saving this man’s life by buying him shit.

He won’t ask for anything, you’ve just got to use your gut instinct to figure out what to give him.

All

Having all three to spend money on is a DREAM for you.

Phil forces Tommy to say “thank you” every single time. Repeatedly.

Techno sends his photos in the group discord, and Tommy will jokingly rage that he didn’t get a new PC or something that Techno did.

Paying when you all go to eat is a competition of speed between you and Phil. He started getting sneaky and approaching the waiter/waitress before they even brought the bill.

So you had to compromise and agree to give your cards to the waiter and let them pick a card at random.

(you win most times because you’ve got a fancy ass card)

For your birthday they tend to kidnap you from your bed and take you to do a surprise so you can’t find a way to pay or something 😭

They’re all in awe of your house, meaning you love having them over!!

Best vlogs occur at your house, let’s be honest

[piratefishmama]

Finders Givers | Part 5

“So why’d you freak out?” Eddie expected the grilling, the second they left that extravagant building, he expected the grilling. “I mean, they were both super nice, I mean… Robin was… wow, I mean did you see her? I just—” he also kind of expected that, with the way Chrissy had just frozen at her entrance? Yeah. he expected that. “Wowzers y’know? But Steve was really nice too! He’d have probably offered us those jobs Eddie, we need jobs! Just cause rent is frozen doesn’t mean we don’t need jobs, we could save up our wages and use it on like, a holiday or something, we could go to Hawaii an be dumb white people tourists like in Lilo and Sti—”

“Did you not feel the vibes that guy was giving off?” Eddie didn’t usually interrupt her, she could go on a tangent, and the tangents were usually pretty cute so he’d often just let her go on with herself until she ran out of topics, allowing her to feel comfortable to just talk without feeling like she shouldn’t, but this time… he couldn’t hold it in.

“Steve?” She didn’t seem to mind though “yeah, I almost offered to let you two have some alone time, he was giving you serious bedroom eyes—”

“Chrissy no, nope! Not that! No he’s—he’s weird.”

“Weird in a hot way? Cause in my humble opinion he was working that suit. Do you think that tan was natural because oo-wee was it working for him.”

“Well yes, we both have eyes, but also no, dangerous weird, y’know? Something felt wrong about him, Chriss.” He felt like he was drifting in open waters and Steve was a huge leviathan type thing just waiting in the depths beneath him to drag him down away from light, away from life.

“You’re just saying that because he’s the boss of this big multimillion dollar company. Next you’ll be saying he’s capitalism personified or something, rich man buys out the neighbourhood, blah blah I can’t do your infamous table speeches, but listen, Eddie, he’s… he seems nice, maybe he is just nice.”

“And maybe he’s the mafia.”

“Eddie…”

“HE COULD BE! We don’t know that he isn’t.”

“This isn’t a movie, Eddie, c’mon let's just go home, maybe we can call up later about those jobs, yeah? It couldn’t hurt to work at a place you play at. Lenny wouldn’t give us the time of day when we tried applying for jobs there before, maybe we can get one now, it’s like… fate! Maybe Steve and Robin will come in one night and we can wow them with our fancy bartender skills, which we’ll of course learn through extensive trial and error, maybe a training montage, I’ll get my very own uptown girl an you’ll get your own hot rich man who’ll buy you fancy things and pamper you like I know you won’t admit you like but I know you’d eat that shit up.”

“Thought you just said this wasn’t a movie.”

“Some movies are based on real life stories! It could happen! It’s more likely than the mafia, c’mon.” Well… she had a point, they did need jobs, and Steve had… well he’d been nice hadn’t he?

There could be so many ulterior motives to what he was doing but why would it have to negatively affect them? It could just negatively affect some dude called Phil who lived two states over, it didn’t even have to involve them, really. Besides getting them a new job, right?

Right?

“…Fine, but you can send over our resumes, I don’t want anything to do with this! If the handsome rich devil man decides to give us the jobs, and comes into the bar, and I HAPPEN to serve him, and impress him then I will concede that the universe would like me to have a nice thing happen, but I will not go looking for fairytale endings, okay?” He knew better than to get his hopes up.

Steve Harrington had looked at him like he was dinner, he’d done the whole stuck staring stupid bit, and it’d been endearing, cute, surprising considering holy shit Steve was like… way out of his league, but… if the universe wanted it to happen then the universe would make it happen!

Eddie would have no part in the process of it happening! He’d just… indulge a little in the end result.

“Someday, Eddie. Someday I’m going to convince you to go and find good things for yourself, and you’ll see just how easy it is to make yourself happy.”

“Someday perhaps, but today is not that day.”

“Be honest now… what did you think of him?” It wasn’t a common thing, Steve sat in front of Robin’s desk, in the chair opposite her big floor to ceiling windows, with Robin looking pretty menacing in her high backed chair, shadowed, her hands steepled at her chin, thumbs pressed into her own throat in thought, her silence stretched long enough for him to tack on “think from a non-lesbian standpoint.”

“I think he looks like a passel of Opossum in a trench coat. A domesticated raccoon, a wet rat that some cruel individual permed for some reason.”

“Well that’s mean, and definitely not from a non-lesbian standpoint.”

“That’s from a person with eyes standpoint.” Steve rolled his own eyes and slumped backwards in the chair like a petulant teenager, arms crossed over his chest. “He looks like he’d scamper, Steve.”

“What’s wrong with scampering?! It’s cute to scamper!”

“It’s reserved for tiny critters, not fully grown adult men.”

“Men can scamper if they want to, don’t you impose your weird masculine rules on us, Robbie, it’s problematic.”

“I swear to god if I catch you on twitter—” shook her head, hand lifted to cut herself off “Steve… is this guy really worth all the money you’re throwing at this?” It was a lot of money, a lot, and they wouldnt get any of it back.

“I mean… I don’t know, but then I didn’t know if Jane would be worth it, or if she’d get any use out of the bakery I bought for her, I didn’t know if paying Nancy’s debts off would be worth it, I didn’t know if any of you would be worth the effort and money I put in to bring you all in and keep you all healthy and safe, and I still did what I did for all of you, so… why is this guy any different?” So far he’d been a spectacular judge of character. “Plus!!! He comes with a very cute blonde!! I’m sure you noticed the very cute blonde.”

“Aren’t you worried that they might be dating?” It was a very good point, and one he hadn’t actually considered. But then—

“If they are then they are, it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t give them a chance like I gave all of you guys a chance.” Anyone who’d knock the shit out of their manager for their friend or partner was alright by him, it showed a loyalty that laughed in the face of authority, he LIKED when people laughed in the face of authory. Authority figures needed to be laughed at sometimes. And punched other times. Robin’s shoulders slacked, her expression shifting to one of soft amusement. “Yooooou wanted me to say that didn’t you?”

“Maybe a little. Just making sure you’re not thinking entirely with your dick. They’re not dating by the way… she’s not even a little bit his type.” Eddie had been quite open about his own sexuality, on purpose or just as a spur of the moment thing, Robin didn’t know, but it was nice to know Steve’s interest wasn’t entirely a lost cause.

“I was wondering why you dropped my relationship status in there.”

“Mmm… I did notice the very cute blonde… she seemed nice.” Bubbly, cute, like a cheerleader “and only because Chrissy seemed very nice… only because I would very much like to see her again… am I going to agree to go along with this nonsense without further complaint.”

“You cant agree to go along with something without complaint while calling it nonsense.”

“Watch me, Dingus.”

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Steve-O X Bimbo!Y/N HC’s!

Steve-O X Fem!Y/N

Warnings: Suggestive content, crude language, drug use, alcohol, lingerie, dick size jokes

An: Thank you for sending in requests! At the moment, my inbox is as dry as a desert, so please keep them coming! While writing this fic, the dynamic i had in mind was sorta similar to Michał Wiśniewski and Mandaryna if that makes sense :) I really love writing for Bimbo!Y/N so if you have a requests regarding that, feel free to send them my way!

The two of you couldn’t be more different: you, a multimillionaire heiress, and your boyfriend, the guy on tv who sets himself on fire and shoves stuff in his ass for a living.

To break it down, the dynamic between you and Steve is that of a rich woman and the little dog she keeps in her purse

And because of that, you really couldn’t be a better match for each other!

He’d never been one for the whole party girl, heiress type, but he was surprised at the fact that a girl as normal as you was brave enough to go for him in the first place, disgusting antics and all

But there was something about his edgy, manic bad boy image that you were all over!

Unlike what usually happens with celebrity couples, it was you dragging him around to every party in LA and showing him off to the paparazzi

I mean, how couldn’t you? Your boyfriend knew all these fun tricks!

Steve couldn’t complain about all the newfound attention and free flowing drugs, pulling out all the stops to impress you and your rich friends.

A couple people tucked dollar bills into his mankini as he shook off charred bits of hair from his last stunt while preparing for his next,

“Alright! Does anybody gotta stapler around here?”

Respectively, you tagged along to every Jackass premiere, wearing your sparkly little kitten heels and cute sequined mini-dresses while Steve stumbled in with one hand on your waist and the other gripping a fourty,

Likely shirtless, wearing a pair of sneakers and baggy jeans that sat a good couple inches below his boxers.

Still, that didn’t stop the two of you from going all out with the PDA in front of the cameras…

The rest of the jackass guys were shocked when you showed up, having written him off every time he mentioned that he was dating that Beverly Hills party girl from all the tabloids

Blinking in surprise at the two of you, an amused smile spread across Johnny’s face, “Wow…when you said you were datin’ Y/N, you really wernt kidding, O…”

Eagerly shaking Knoxville’s hand, you gushed about how excited you were to meet him,

“Ohmygod! This is sooo crazy! Stevie’s told me all about you guys!”

From out of your line of sight, Bam shot a glance at Ryan and made some comment about what street corner Steve picked you up on.

Your everyday life was so vastly different from his in so many ways!

Take the day you met at a cafe for lunch- one of those fancy places that he could barely believe he was eating at,

“Y’know, I’ve been livin’ off’a cold cereal and Hungry Mans for, like- forever…”

Unlike most girls in your position who’d find that a turn off, you just saw it as him missing out on good food, “Really?” You leaned in close next to him, pointing to a few items on the menu,

“Well, if you ask me- I think you should try this, ooh! Or this- and this is really good too…”

Steve’s etiquette isn’t exactly up to standard, so while you nibbled away at your fancy French pastry, he drank directly from his bowl of soup.

The paparazzi loves your relationship. Or really, really hates you- you couldn’t tell

“Y/N slumming it with Steve-O in West Hollywood Cafe!” One tabloid headline read, printed in bold red text above a photo of the two of you,

But what they didn’t show was the second that followed- you giggling and reaching out to wipe the corner of his mouth, and him smiling in that cute, boyish way he always did.

After a while of you gushing over him like he’s just the most perfect man, like- literally ever, his buddies began teasing him about you

Whether it was about how Steve didn’t smell like Newports and ass anymore and that the world must be ending or how, for lack of a better word, civilized you were making him.

Hell, even Knoxville got on him about his fancy new clothes you paid for,

“Well, it’s like she treats you like her toy or somethin’. I mean, she’s a beautiful lady- don’t get me wrong, but…”

Of course, this led Steve into a long, drunken rant about all the kickass hollywood parties he’s been going to- all the booze and drugs and bad behavior you could stomach,

(Not to mention the wild sex you had)

He vividly described the time he got so horribly drunk at Carson Daily’s place that he nearly took his eye out with his bidet

“And if you think that’s bad, you don’t even wanna know what I did to Nick Lachey’s sheets, dude…”

On the weekends, you’d usually drag Steve around a couple boutiques or the mall even though he couldn’t buy you fancy clothes given he was dead broke

But he couldn’t complain about his smoking hot girlfriend asking his opinion about what underwear she should buy at Victoria’s Secret,

“Ooh, look at this!” You held up the most gaudy cheetah print bra known to man, “Now we can match!”

Well, he wasn’t about to argue with that…And he knew the value of a woman who could appreciate cheetah print.

While you were in one store or another, you ran into an old friend and told your boyfriend that you’d be right back as she pulled you aside

“Y/N- what in the world are you doing with a guy like that?”

Well, you liked him- a whole lot in fact, but you knew that answer wouldn’t satisfy her. So, you thought of the next best thing,

“Well…” Leaning in conspiratorially, you whispered in her ear, “He has got the biggest cock I have ever seen. I mean- massive.”

Yeah, she can tell that to the tabloids…

When Steve later asked you about what the two of you were chatting about, you told him the truth and you could’ve sworn you saw him blush, “Wait…But I don’t-“

“Yeah, I know you don’t! But she doesn’t...”

[arlequinelunaire]

Verthandi in the Middle Ch. 1.1

SV Next>

CW: The first couple of chapters involve a serial killer.

_ _ _

Because I’m the one who gets stuck with the serial killer, aren’t I?

…Okay, guess I should back up. Long story short, short-ish anyway, I go by Vera Norin, well down here I do. I’m one of the three owners, okay, one of the only three employees of the Wyrd Sisters Agency in Stockholm. Says a lot that my older sister Ruth told us we’d all have equal say, but then named the agency after herself. Er, after one of her alternate names.

Put simply, we control fate. No, we don’t just see your fate like a fortune teller, and unlike them we’re the real thing. Control it. Wanna go from rags to riches with us as your fairy godmothers, send someone you don’t like from riches to rags, or avoid your appointed death? Arranged all that and more thousands of times, and big sister Ruth even gets to control the past. Because of course she gets everything.

Er, guess I’m not being much of a saleswoman here, am I? Hey, I’m still the best of my sisters in that department, probably. Like Ruth would just tell you a bunch of flowery mythic-mystic bullshit before getting to anything important, while my little sister Svea would just prefix everything with ‘SUPER-’, ‘AWESOME-’, and ‘EPIC-’ and add a whole bunch of exclamation marks and a digi-cyber-guitar solo. Wait no, not epic, nobody says epic that way anymore, unless they start doing that again in the future when it’s retro. Huh, you’d think Svea of all people would know the actual meaning of the word ‘epic’, given we were there when the old sagas were being written. Then again, the past is Ruth’s domain- oh shit, I’m giving too much away, aren’t I?

Right, I take it you’re thinking if we’ve got power over fate itself, why are we letting mere humans have a say with this agency? Er, fellow mere humans, I mean. Simple, come the 21st century, someone as stuck in the past as Ruth has finally learned about democracy, and not just the barely-counts Ancient Greek kind. If we’re gonna hold this much power over people’s lives, the least we can do is actually give those people a say in things. That’s part of why I’m sharing this with all of you. Not that there aren’t conditions and restrictions of course, we’re still judge and jury, been doing this for millennia- ah, for years after all. Though I assure you, Ruth’s just as strict with us as she is with you, way more so. She’s had thousands of years to hammer into us “You can’t do that”, “Such is unbefitting of us”, “No using your power for your own gain” and on and on.

Okay, what’s this about me getting assigned a serial killer then? It started when a bunch of teens, you know the type, pimply, dour-faced, arms perpetually crossed, would’ve worn baseball caps backwards in past decades, lurched their way right into our office. “Wait, this is the place? Thought a ‘fate-writing�� place would be all dark and spooky, y’know all haunted castle. But this looks like where my parents work,” one of them whined.

“Fate-weaving, kid,” I muttered. Actually, we were still renting this basic white walled, brown carpeted office, and this kid reminding me of that got him on my nerves even more. Granted, freedom to decorate would give Ruth full reign to make everything all lacey and doily-draped and Svea to put spikes everywhere and drown it all in black paint. I shuddered at the thought. But speaking of her, “Svea, you know these guys?” I called out, since they were about high school age. Not that there’s only one high school in Stockholm, but eh, no harm in asking.

“Awesome, you guys saw my flyers!” Svea’s voice rang out all through the room. Which at least showed I was right, even if my ears throbbed. She ran up to them dressed in the exact opposite attire your standard office would demand. With her black hair uneven, leather coat clearly too big for her, knee-high combat boots ringed with spikes, it showed restraint that she didn’t enter the room to a guitar riff. Of course, I showed up to work in my usual anorak and jeans, and Ruth normally arrives in full Victorian garb, so we’re hardly any better. “Alright, so what can Verth and I do for you guys? Anything fate-related, that’s us!” Svea said with an ear-to-ear smile and both thumbs up.

“…Yeah, knew the loudmouth to be behind this. The handwriting on that ad was so bad, couldn’t be anyone but her,” one teen said, rolling his eyes. Huh, since when did stroppy teens care so much about handwriting? Oh yeah, as an excuse to bully Svea they do, though it looked like that remark only got a twitch out of her, on the surface anyway.

“So, if you people really can control fate,” another of the teens began as a smirk crept across his face, with me facepalming at what he said next, “Prove it by making the hottest girl in class fall desperately in love with me.”

“Not happening,” I wasted zero time in telling him. There was no way I’d risk Ruth coming into the room and hearing that one of her biggest rules was in danger of breaking. “We can weave what a person does or what happens to them into their fate, but not how they feel about it. Emotions are a person’s own domain.” It’s a testament to how much Ruth drilled those words into us that I could repeat them on the spot.

“Pfft, sounds to me like you can’t ‘weave fates’ after all,” that teen had to say, his smirk somehow even wider. “Or that hearing about hot girls reminds you how plain and drab you are, anorak,” he snickered like he thought I couldn’t hear, I then winced as Svea snickered with him. The little shit was so lucky that I was in a professional service environment right now and so couldn’t just deck him. Though any more talk like that, and he may find fate has decreed for him quite a few fists to the face. Or worse, decreed for him a life in retail.

“Hey, we can still do a whole bunch of stuff. Like with my domain, I get to decide who lives and who dies-” Svea began, before I put my hand right over her mouth.

“Oh no, you’re not putting that power in these losers’ hands,” I hissed in her ear. And on top of… the obvious, did she have to use the term ‘domain’? I then turned to the brats and told them, “How about sticking to your own fates, okay?”

But then one of them, an even more morbid type who’d been slinking in the shadows so far, had to ask, “What if you fated someone who really deserved it to die? Like a serial killer.”

Now that had me thinking. Obviously there’s been debate after debate on if killing someone can ever be justified, even the oh so brutal Viking Age still had Althing meetings over this sort of thing. On the other hand, like I’d shed the slightest tear over the death of a serial killer. On the other other hand, I was in no mood to become a bunch of snotty teens’ own assassin for hire, let alone foist that on Svea.

So I wussed out and went the rehabilitation route, how Scandinavian-justice-system of me. “How about we just fate it so that they never succeed in killing anyone again?” I offered. Naturally, I said that before knowing who and how bad this serial killer even was. Of course, Svea promptly frowned right at me.

“Fine. Just as long as, y’know, you actually do something involving fate already,” the first teen said. “Oh right, and that you don’t charge too much, we’ve been here long enough.”

Long enough? Since when’s a few minutes ‘long enough’? Not that I can’t sympathise with being strapped for cash, as Ruth won’t let us fate-weave ourselves rich since we ‘can’t use fate-weaving for own advantage’. But at the same time, who the Hel’s this kid to tell us how to run our business? Still, a compromise came to mind as I smirked back at him, “Our price is the satisfaction we get when you all concede that we really do control fate. How’s that?”

“Deal,” the teens said in unison, their faces still sour. Hey, I’d be happy to get this whole thing over with too. The one in the shadows then kept scrolling on their phone until they went, “Yeah, this guy looks like the right candidate.”

“Wait, you mean you didn’t have an actual killer in mind till just now?” I asked them, mouth agape. Just when I thought these teens couldn’t annoy me more. And they flat out ignored what I just said and held the phone up to my face. “Anastasios, surname unknown, the ‘Scarecrow’ killer,” I read. So named for his scrawny, nigh skeletal looks and the way he ties up his victims. Main stalking ground is… all the way down in Athens? These kids were absolutely sure they didn’t pick this guy at random? Then again, a serial killer’s a serial killer, and I like to think I’m more principled about death than Svea. “You got it, this guy’s killing days are done for. Check the news for any more reports on him if you don’t believe us,” I said with a smirk of my own. “Oh, and when that happens, make sure you tell all your friends just how wrong you were about us. Now scram.” Not the best thing to tell your customers, but Ruth wasn’t around, so as if I cared at this point.

“You mean you’re not gonna let us see your actual fate-writing, weaving, whatever process?” one of them had to blurt out.

This again. “Look, a nuclear plant isn’t gonna let you hang around radiation, we’re not gonna let clients hang around the destiny threads. They’re the whole of a person’s time on this Earth, maximum caution required. Now scram,” I said as I shoved them one by one out the door. Hel, ‘scram’ was me holding back, my first instinct was to tell them ‘Fuck off’. Then again, scram is what you say to kids, too Sesame Street reminiscent, while fuck off is what you say to adults, and I didn’t fancy treating them like that.

Then the second I’d dusted my hands of them, I turned around to see Ruth as prim and proper as a 19th century nanny staring right back me into my soul. Oh come on, I didn’t even hear her come in. Well, that’s typical for her, why announce your presence when you could make your sisters fear you’re always watching? “Vera,” she said looking down at me, like that word was all she needed to say.

“Hey, it’s just us three now, you do know you can use my real name?” I said first, then actually replied to what she’d implied with, “And I’m doing my job. I kept putting up with those kids till we reached an agreement, and now we’re gonna change fate per their request. What more do you want?”

“For you to start treating our customers with respect, to begin with. It would not do for our business to be saddled with a bad reputation,” Ruth said as she loomed closer over me. She then placed a hand on Svea’s shoulder as she kept chewing me out, “And in addition, you insulted the very customers your little sister invited. Think about how she must feel, after she put in all the hard work of advertising.”

I was about to point out to Ruth that, had she not shown up at the last minute, she would’ve heard these kids insulting Svea too. But as the future’s not my domain, I’d failed to foresee that Svea would betray me. “Oh yes, Verth was really mean, and to me too. She kept telling me no when I had any idea about how to give our clients what they wanted,” Svea said as she ‘cried’ at Ruth.

“Because Svea wanted to let teenagers order a guy’s death,” I hissed. Don’t know why I did, because if Ruth didn’t ignore me, she probably would’ve manufactured some excuse to defend Svea. Anything for the ‘baby’ of the family. So I then said, “Hey, we’re the only fate-weaving business on Midgard, in all the Realms even,” …as far as I knew, “We’re the last people who need to be worried about customers leaving for the competition.”

Ruth sighed down at me. “We know that, but they do not. To those more superstitious, any charlatan with cards and a crystal ball could be just as valid as we. To those more skeptical, we could be yet more quacks. We cannot afford to drive away clients, Vera. And even if we could, such behaviour would still be utterly unprofessional,” she said through gritted teeth. Then she softened her voice and used my real name, “Verthandi, as the past is not your domain, I don’t know how well you remember this. But in the Eddas, in all the Sagas too, any time our names were said, it was in fear or hatred, and that was when they chose to acknowledge us at all. The last thing I want is for that same fear and hatred to follow us into the 21st century. And that is why manners matter,” she huffed as her voice shot back up to its normal volume.

“…I know,” is all I said to her about our, well, past infamy. I seethed at her thinking all those things said about us didn’t still hurt me. I mean I get it, if you hear someone else controls your fate, it makes sense you’d be resentful of them. But I never asked to be shat on just for doing my job.

Though now she mentions it, if restoring our rep’s so important, doesn’t us using aliases defeat the whole point? Especially when they’re so paper-thin anyway, though I was at least grateful not to get stuck with the proposed ‘Bertha’.

Oh, and since Ruth had just ‘wrecked’ me, Svea of course had to stick her tongue out and pull down an eyelid at me. Yeah, that’s ‘manners’. And how is Svea going ‘killing is totally awesome’ not as harmful to our reputation as me saying a swear word to some kids? “Let’s just weave this fate already,” I settled on.

Guess it’s no use still trying to hide who we are, huh? Even Ruth’s gone and used my real name. Right, I’m Verthandi, Norn of Present Time. And if you’ve so much as squinted at a Norse mythology book, I take it you’ve figured out Ruth’s Urth of the Past and Svea’s Skuld of the Future. Told you our aliases were flimsy. We’re the Nornir and we’re, er, hard to describe, and that’s coming from one of them. We’re not goddesses, let’s make that clear, even if we do have to hang out with them. Urth tells us we’re Jotnar, which gets translated as ‘giants’ despite her only being six foot four, Skuld being a shrimp, and me being average as always. Yeah, you can argue the exact difference between Jotnar and Gods is pretty flimsy, but trust me, you really don’t want to compare the two to their faces.

Of course, my domain being the Present and not the Past means my memory’s kinda hazy, so I only have Urth’s word for it that I even am a Jotun. Hel, I don’t even know my own parents, think I heard Dad’s someone called Mogthrasir? He’s a real deadbeat, whoever he is. But I guess Urth’s telling the truth, like what would she have to gain from saying we’re Jotnar specifically?

Anyway, the fate-weaving. The three of us walked over to a corridor as bland and unfurnished as the foyer, till we came to a door no mortals could see. Or at least, they better not see, if all the runes we scribbled on it are working right. Our local fate-weaving room… how to even describe it? Have you heard of a tesseract, you know, a four-dimensional cube? Picture a whole cavern of four-dimensional spiderwebs, where each dewdrop reflects a moment from someone’s life, from big things like birth, graduation, and death, to the smaller stuff like that one time traffic was real bad, or it rained when the forecast said it’d be sunny. These webs of fate are also this room’s sole light source, with a person’s past shining white, their future shrouded in hazy black, and their present a smushed pallet. Or so it looks like to me anyway, if my sisters see their domains differently they’ve told me squat. Though I think Skuld wouldn’t want her domain to be any other colour than black, like her soul~.

While we didn’t have any super strong leads, knowing some basic information on this killer did help in tracking down his specific thread of fate. As Skuld and I approached the threads, our hands as usual morphed themselves into instruments akin to a spider’s pincers. Yet another reason we don’t humans watch us fate-weave, they’d be sent screaming seeing us turn semi-arachnid. Still, it’d help a lot if I could actually use an opposable thumb for all the tricky, obnoxiously precise bits.

I got to plucking out all the murders the Scarecrow killer ever would’ve committed from this point; I suppose I should’ve felt disturbed seeing them but well, I’m thousands of years old. I may not have the best memory, but the seriously bleak things from the past are all too good at sticking in the mind. Meanwhile, Skuld got the even more laborious job of lengthening all the threads of his future victims, now their fated deaths had changed. And all the while, Urth just… stood in the corner. Watching us do all the work.

“We are tampering with the web of fate enough,” Urth told me as soon as I glared at her, “Were I to get involved and rewrite the fates of his past victims, we don’t know how drastically we would complicate the web.” Which yeah, was exactly the response I expected. Again, alive for thousands upon thousands of years, I can’t fathom how many times she’s told me that. Although, makes sense we couldn’t show those kids we’re the real thing if the killer never even got to kill in the first place. “Not to mention-”

“The gods of the dead don’t like us taking those who’ve already died back from them, I know,” I said. Though it wasn’t like those three could afford to lose a soul or two, especially Odin. I then dusted my hands and said, “Anyway, we’ve got all these fates sorted. Let’s hope our next client asks us for something more pleasant.” And has more money to throw around.

“Oh no, we are not done yet,” Urth said as she looked right at me again. “You’re to watch over this Scarecrow to see how he reacts to having his capacity to kill taken away.”

“What? Why?” I asked, as I instantly assumed she was having me do this out of spite. “We know he’s not gonna kill any more, so what’s the point?”

“Yeah, and how come Verth gets to meet a serial killer and not me?” Skuld had to ask.

“Because Verthandi, you should know by now that the consequences for reweaving fate are nothing you should ignore. And seeing the reweaved in person is to remind you that these are fates of people we deal with, not dolls,” Urth told me, then turned to Skuld and said, “Skuld dear, I will absolutely not let you meet a serial killer. It simply isn’t healthy for you.”

“Why isn’t it?” I actually found myself coming to Skuld’s defence for once. “We can’t weave ourselves into his or anyone’s fate, but even then he still can’t kill her. Can’t kill the future after all. Not to mention some gods she’s met are way worse than serial killers,” I felt the need to keep my voice low for that line.

“Yeah, so lemme meet the killer. Why does Verth get all the fun?” Skuld kept whining.

“Verthandi, this is your little sister you are talking about!” Urth snapped at me. She then steadied herself with a deep breath and said, “Besides, while he may not be able to kill her, there are still plenty of awful things, physical and mental, he could still try on her.” Then she turned around and went, “Skuld, why don’t you and I go out for ice-cream instead? Maybe we can bring your hoverboard to the park?”

Oh, so suddenly those ‘awful things’ are okay when I’m the one in the crosshairs, are they? Yeah, Skuld’s stuck in permanent adolescence, but she’s still been in existence since, like, forever. Though I could immediately imagine Urth replying to that with ‘as have you’.

But if I said all that, it turned out Skuld wouldn’t have my back anyway, as she instantly said, “Ooh, ice cream!”

By the way, if you wonder why we make Skuld go to school even though she’s an immortal, well, one part that permanent adolescence, her being future potential embodied, but also Urth’s whole ‘gotta know the people’ thing. Everything I’d heard about school just made me glad Skuld got stuck with the Future and not me.

With me left with nothing but to groan, I followed Urth out into the scrubby patch that passed for our backyard. There, she picked up a rune-adorned old clay jug of water and held it aloft in the air. Everything shook as a massive, twisting root came down from out of the sky to drink from it. That’s our other job, attending the World Tree Yggdrasill. Well, ‘Yggdrasill’ is just what it’s called now, after Odin hanged himself from it. Its real name is… huh, I don’t think I even know. Maybe Urth does, but if she did she’d probably find some excuse not to tell me.

Anyway, even a root this size was still a minor root for Yggdrasill, nowhere near the three big ones, but it’d do for my assignment. “Ah, the Norns, what can I do for you today?” the tree’s personal squirrel chirped as he scurried his way down the branch, his alien green eyes letting you know this wasn’t your standard red squirrel. Well, that and the little reporter's hat and jacket he was wearing. And the voice thing.

“Nornir,” Urth had to correct, as if the fuzzball at all cared.

“I just need a lift to Athens, Ratatosk. That’s all,” I told him quick. I was about to tell him not to dump me on the outskirts, but knowing my luck that would probably be where the killer’s hiding.

“Why, you three already bombing in Stockholm?” he had to say. Him being the only one amused, and then having to dodge a can thrown by Skuld, he followed with, “Okay okay, your ride to Athens is ready. All aboard.”

I then took hold of the end of the root, and with that was pulled through creation all the way from Europe’s north to its south. Nothing I hadn’t done a bunch before, but I could only imagine how terrifying the experience would be for a regular human, especially for their arm.

And now you know all about how I got assigned to babysit a former serial killer. Here’s hoping he won’t be too much of a headache to deal with in person, I could use less of those in my life.

[slamminslamminmcgill]

*me convincing you, like how a jester would entertain a king, into writing more boypussy insert fics about any hot dilf in your roster* “how is thou feeling now sire?!”

im feeling like i wanna get fucked in the ass so you’re getting joel and butt stuff have fun

warnings: anal, rimming, dp, ass to pussy (do not try this at home), toys, ass to mouth, poppers, daddy kink

anatomical terms: cunt/pussy

joel miller is an absolute buttslut

HOWEVER

only as a top. he will take any chance he gets to take his partners ass: with his tongue as it’s slipping and sliding all up and down your dripping slit, with his thumb as he takes your cunt doggystyle, or even with his own cock busting you open for him

but he will never let you reciprocate. you can beg all you like,

“man, it’s not fair, this is bullshit. how come you can play with my ass but i can’t play with yours?”

“because i’m a top and you’re a needy little cocksocket.”

welp. can’t argue with that. the more you tease him about it, though, the more time he thinks it over. he doesn’t like rewarding brats, but eventually he gives.

“y’know what? fine. you got five minutes. make ‘em count, cause y’aint touchin’ my ass again.”

that turns out to be a lie bc uh oh surprise surprise it feels good

and from then on he loves it and will take the initiative.

you’ll be on your knees getting throatfucked by him and then he rips you off, spins around, and shoves your face in his ass with no warning. you try to push back bc you’re caught off guard, and he says,

“what? ain’t this whatcha wanted, boy? you’d been begging me all this time to lick my ass. well, now i’m givin’ it to ya. c’mon, whore. do your job. stick your tongue up my ass.”

you start licking, lapping at his rim like a dog, and he lets out a rich gravelly, rumbly moan from deep in his chest

“yeeaaahhh, that’s it… good boy… oh, you dirty fuckin’ bitch…”

pegging him is still a bridge too far for him. BUT i think he’ll let you try out beads/plugs on him. also fingering him during a blowjob will have him going crazy.

i know in my heart that this man is PACKING meat. DISRESPECTFULLY hung. which means getting him in your ass can be a bit of an ordeal. but, being the caring, attentive guy he is, he’ll take his sweet time prepping you. he works you open with his fingers (or maybe a plug) and lots of lube. you’re Very slippery once it’s go time. still, though, it’s gonna be tough to get him in.

he hands you a bottle of poppers and tells you,

“take as much as you need, pumpkin. it’ll help open you up for me.”

once you huff enough, he’ll ask, “ready?”. you nod, and he starts pushing in. you wince, naturally, but he’s there to talk you through it.

“i know. i know, baby. it’s okay. you can take it. you can take it… let daddy in, yeah, there you go… look at you, you’re takin’ it so good. daddy’s so proud of you, little guy.”

he’ll start slowly, letting you adjust to the feeling of him in your ass, and once you relax enough, maybe after a few more popper hits, he’ll really get going. he’ll spank you, shove a few fingers in your pussy for some dp action, the works.

sometimes just for shits and giggles, he’ll pull out, spin you around, slap your face with his cock, and say,

“clean your ass off my cock, slut.”

because he has to use a lot of lube on you, you’re VERY slippery. it’s entirely possible that he’ll slip into your pussy on accident. you yelp, and he stops immediately.

“shit. sorry, darlin’. should i-?”

you know it’s bad. you know better. but, fuck, your cunt is clinging to him, crying for some of the attention that your ass has been getting… fuck it.

“i-it’s fine! it’s fine, just-… just keep going, please!”

having been given the greenlight, he’ll just switch back and forth. one thrust in your pussy, then your ass, then your pussy, so on and so forth. it’s wrong. it’s nasty. you know you shouldn’t be doing it, but fuck, your head is swimming in pleasure, both holes a sloppy mess as you cum all over yourself over and over. whatever. you’ll just take some cranberry pills and hope tomorrow doesn’t bite you in the ass.

joel WILL finish in your ass. that’s non-negotiable. if you let him in your ass he’s GOING to breed it. he may also plug his load in you and have you sleep with it in. or go about the rest of your day depending on what time it is.

once he’s done though, he’s hugging you tight and stroking your hair. aftercare god.

“good boy… did so good for daddy… ‘m so proud, baby…”

eventually you have to nudge him off so you can go pee (it’s called harm reduction 😌) but when you’re done you settle back into his arms and it’s like you never left 🖤

[waitingandwishing]

Army Dreamers pt. 7

(Cross posted on tumblr and AO3)

Prev - Next Chapter

"The first 200 floors of Heavens Arena are divided into classes, 10 floors per class," A lady told the three.

They were on their way to the fiftieth floor and had to turn in their tickets, when she started explaining everything. While they were waiting in an elevator, a small kid was standing behind them.

 "Which means a fighter who wins on the fiftieth floor goes on to fight on the sixtieth. If they should lose, they automatically drop down to the fortieth floor.”

"But Killua, why're you starting on the fiftieth floor? Aren't you stronger than us?" Y/N asked him curiously.

"They were originally going to place me on the 180th floor, but I wanted to start off slow," He told her, answering her question.

“I heard that once you get to the hundredth floor, they comp you your very own room!" The kid behind them said, his voice full of excitement.

He had bushy eyebrows and a more buzzed haircut, and he wore a traditional martial arts uniform. A black turtleneck was underneath his uniform and a red belt tied around. How was he not sweating? It was surely stuffy and overwhelmingly musty in the arena.

“I'm sorry, that was impolite of me," The kid spoke again. He seemed young, but that was just based on his height. Getting into a more firm stance, the boy shouted, "Osu! My name is Zushi, and you are?”

"I'm Killua."

"My names Gon."

"Y/N," Y/N smiled, introducing herself as the elevator dinged soon after and the guide ushered them out quickly.

Walking on the tiled floor, Zushi continued talking. "I watched your fights earlier. You guys are really amazing!"

“What're you talking about?" Killua asked, looking at the kid. "You're here with only one match as well.”

“He's right!" Gon said.

"No, no," Zushi held up his hand. "I still have a long way to go. By the way, what discipline do you practice?" He asked. "I study the Shingen-Ryu technique," he brought his fists up to his chin, before forcing them to his lower side.

“A discipline? Don't have one,” Killua told him.

“Yeah, don’t really practice discipline.” Y/N shrugged.

"Nope," Gon said.

"You're kidding!" Zushi jumped back, apparently surprised. "You three are that strong without any training? I am humbled to be in your presence.”

“No need to be humbled by a couple of kids.” Y/N smiled awkwardly.

After that, Y/N heard a quick clapping from behind him. Looking up at who was making it, she saw a man with jet black hair, glasses, and an untucked button up shirt. "Zushi," he said to the boy, "You did well.”

“Thank you, master,” Zushi said, looking back at him.

“I'm very happy to see that you stuck to my teachings,” the man said, giving a close-eyed smile.

“Osu! I am honored,” Zushi said, doing the previous action with his hands. "But master, your shirt's untucked,” he pointed out.

The man awkwardly laughed while tucking his shirt in, "Sorry about that," he looked up to you three, "Who are they?" He asked.

"Oh," Zushi looked at them, holding his hand out. "This is Killua, Gon, and… Y/N."

"Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, my name is Wing," Wing said.

"Osu!" All three of them said, copying Zushi's actions. It was the proper way to greet a master.

Wing smiled, "I really wasn't expecting to see any kids here, other than Zushi. So, what brings you here?" He asked.

"Uh, we- Well, we want to become stronger,” Killua answered. "But, we're also broke so it seemed to make sense to come here."

“Why are we here if your family is rich, Killua? Why didn’t you just steal money from them?” Y/N ask.

“Well… it never really crossed my mind, y’know?”

“Wait, so you knew we needed money and the chance we actually have to get money you just… forget?” Y/N sighed, “Maybe we should’ve listened to Leorio and sold your face for millions.”

“Wait, what?”

"Nothing!"

“Oh yeah, Killua has been here before sir," Gon told him, looking up at the man.

"Is that so? You must be quite talented,” Wing complimented. "Or else you wouldn't have made it to this level. Even so," Wing held up his index finger, "Be mindful of your opponent's body and your own."

"Osu!" The three of them said again.

Once Wing had walked up, Y/N walked to the registration desk to enter the fiftieth floor. "Killua, Gon, Y/N, and Zushi," the lady typed into the computer, "There you are. Hand me your tickets please." 

All four of them laid out their tickets in front of her. Her hands grabbed them and typed something into the computer again, before handing back four envelopes. "Here, this is your prize money from your fight earlier.

Thanking her and walking away, Y/N opened up the packages. A hundred coin, fifty coin, and two one coins fell out. "152 Jenny," She said, counting it up.

Y/N looked up and saw Killua working the vending machine nearby, "On this floor, you make just enough for a juice, whether you win or lose," he cracked it open, "But on the other floors, a loss gets you nothing. Winning on the fiftieth floor will earn you fifty thousand.”

"That's a lot of money!" Gon yelled, a smile on his face.

“I actually don’t think my wallet is prepared for that much money.” Y/N joked with a smile.

“I think you earn a million on the hundredth floor,” Killua said, taking a sip from the can. "And past the 150th floor, you get ten million.” 

"Ten million?!" Zushi and Gon both exclaimed.

“Maybe I should’ve gone here when I was younger…” Y/N muttered to herself before realizing something, "Um, but Killua, didn't you make it to the 200th floor?"

"Really? The 200th floor?!" Zushi asked.

"How much do you get for winning on the 200th floor?" Gon asked, as Killua was taking a long sip from his drink

"To tell you the truth, I don't actually know," Killua asked, when he was done. "Because I quit just as soon as I qualified for it," he told them. "But when I won on the 190th floor, I had about 200 million in total.

“Where's that money now?" Gon asked as Zushi went into shock.

“That was four years ago so it's long gone by now. I spent all of it on snacks," Killua casually admitted.

“That much on snacks for four years?" Y/N asked.

Zushi looked at Gon and her and asked, "What kinda snacks were they?"

“Chocolate probably.” Y/N snorted.

Instead of answering Zushi’s question, Killua threw away his can. Pointing an index finger to the ceiling, He said, "We should go up to the waiting area now. We got through our matches unscathed on the first floor, so they'll probably give us another match today.”

The three of them nodded and started to go to the waiting room. When Killua opened the door, there were a few intimidating figures that were in the room. One of them had weapons similar to Kurapika's wooden swords.

Y/N felt a pair of eyes staring at her, she stared back at the figure before he turned away before quickly following after Killua, Gon behind her, and Zushi behind him.

"Well, if these guys are our opponents," Killua sat down on the bench, his legs crossed, "Then this'll be a cinch."

"Really?" Gon asked.

“Killua, quiet they can hear you," Zushi said, uncomfortable with sitting next to a stranger.

“It's fine Zushi, Killua was just reassuring us that we would win," Y/N gave him a small smile, “At least, I think so.”

"2054, Mister Killua," the intercom went off.

"Looks like you're up," Y/N looked over at him.

"And 1963, Mister Zushi. Please head to Arena A on floor 57," the intercom finished. If Zushi wasn't uncomfortable before, he definitely was now.

"Okay," Killua said, not worried at all.

Zushi stood up and did the sign of respect from before, "Osu! I am honored to face you!"

"I bet," He stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets. Killua seemed rather confident that he could win. "Well, you can't win ‘em all... Better luck next time, alright?" Walking past Y/N and Gon, "See you later guys.”

"Best of luck to both of you guys," Gon said, his hands resting on the seat in between his legs.

"Don’t get too cocky, Killua! Try not to hurt ‘em too bad.” Y/N said, shooting him a smile.

“I’ll just quickly knock him out, he might end up with a headache but that's about it," Killua waved me off, "I'll meet you guys on the floor above, yeah?"

"Kay!" Gon yelled. Killua gave a goodbye and you and Gon returned it, before he and Zushi left. "Jeez, he didn't have to act like it was such a done deal,” he turned to me, a bashful smile on his face.

"Yeah, he definitely could've said it softer," I sighed, a small smile on my face from it, “He’s cocky. But I guess confidence is key?”

About half an hour later, Y/N was called up to fight. "2056, Miss Y/N and 2011, Mister Itami, please proceed to Arena B on floor 58," the intercom said.

Breathing in a deep breath, she stood up. Waving a goodbye to Gon and with him wishing her luck, she walked down the hall to the elevator.

‘I got this,’ Y/N thought before slightly frowning, ‘Do I though?’

[babiebom]

yeah me too! my friends and I actually do have some plans of streaming together, so that should be fun... if we ever stop procrastinating 😆

a whole week?? wow that's some top notch commitment 👏

props to you guys lmaoo

I hope to see the fnaf movie soon, but the 5 of us can't settle on a date so it's tricky :/

hopefully soon we can actually watch it tho lol

unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be a romance mod for Mr. qi yet 😕 😞

im half tempted to attempt making my own, but I dropped coding agess ago lmao.. don't know where I'd start 😅

altho I think if i were to make one, he'd not move in w the farmer. idk he just doesn't seem the type. he's got the vibes of rich hubby on vacation who sends you stuff.. that might just be me tho lol

speaking of, may I request nsfw mr. qi headcanons with an ftm! reader?

tysm :]

-🔮

A/N:omfg? Idk how I didn’t see this until now I’m no sorry! I hope you’ve gotten to see the movie by now especially with how many spoilers are on EVERY app. If you ever do make the mod let me know! I wanted to get back into coding but then remembered that I actually hated it so unfortunately I can’t. I do wanna try to make a game in itch.io(is that the website for the games?) that is the choose your own adventure fic that I’m writing but I don’t know how i would even do it. Also agree with the rich hubby thing. I don’t think he would ever actually settle down ANYWHERE. like he’d be home like 2 days out of the week at most.

Tw:Sexual content! Cursing

ALSO idk if this should go under warnings, but I would also like to say that I am not trans myself, so if I write something that’s inaccurate or offensive make sure to let me know, I’m trying my best to write from that pov I just wanted to….warn? Let you know? Like I do not mind writing this at all(no transphobes allowed) I just want to make sure that I’m writing/understanding well!!

Wc: 30 bullet points

Sdv Masterlist

Also fucking and making love are two DIFFERENT things

I 100 percent believe that gender identity doesn’t matter to Mr.Qi at ALL.

I also think he doesn’t care about bottom/top surgery at ALL

Like he is a fan of mystery, of the unknown that’s what he likes, and he likes people that also have those interests, or people that make him interested in a similar way.

(I think he would be pansexual? Demisexual?)

So in his mind he knows that you have nothing to worry about. He also knows that emotions don’t follow logic half of the time and that your nerves can’t be dispelled just by him saying that you have nothing to worry about.

So he shows you.

Depending on if you’re a romantic/sentimental person or not he does different things

Like would set up and entire display with roses and everything, music playing and snacks to make you feel loved and comfortable

but if you’re not the type of person to like that sort of thing he would probably do something more chaotic like a scavenger hunt for you throughout the day(which arguably could be seen as more romantic) that leads you on a wild goose chase and allows him to set something up at home(your home but like whatever)

Making love to him is very sweet. He tries to keep the teasing to a minimum

By minimum I mean he only teases in the beginning, and not how he usually would. Would probably edge you for a little just to make your first orgasm mind blowing then would get on with it.

He does slow his pace down for love making because it’s more…spiritual(?) like it’s an exchange of love and it’s not only for pleasure y’know. It’s literally to express how you feel for each other.

NOW FUCKING IS A WHOLE DIFFERENT THING

I do think he would be on the more dominant side, preferring to tease and take control, coaxing out things you didn’t know you had within you

Will let you take control though

He is a man of curiosity

Wonders how you will behave when given a dominant position

Doesn’t refuse anything you want to do, but is mischievous the entire time. Has a stupid smirk on his face that makes you think that you have absolutely no control.

Idk if it’s magic or what but always does SOMETHING to make everything more sensitive.

Is VERY into blindfolding

Wants genuine reactions without self consciousness getting in the way.

Good/smart/naughty boy are a part of his vernacular and he will use it only when you’re too fucked out to react to him saying it in any other way than incoherent whining.

Probably into shibari and likes to be tied up and tying you up.

Blindfolds + shibari is a normal night ngl.

The glasses stay on during sex idc

He makes sure by the end of it that both of you are sweaty and out of breath

Likes having sex in different locations with a tiny bit of risk. Like he doesn’t want the two of you to get caught

But he wonders what would happen if you did…

The sexual experience with him is always a good one somehow even when he wants to try out weird kinks.

[everwitch-magiks]

a rich and complex tapestry

When Alex first hooks up with Henry, he's expecting a fun one-night-stand and maybe the occasional booty call. He does not expect to get so completely pulled into Henry’s orbit that it forces him to reevaluate everything he thought he knew about his sexuality. And he's not sure if it makes it better, or way worse, that Henry is actually a professional at all this stuff — what are the odds that Alex would hook up with the one guy on campus who hosts his own radio show about sex? 'Sleeping With Henry' is about to gain one devoted listener.

This was such a satisfying fic to write! It was genuinely one of those that felt like it wrote itself - and I don't know about y'all, but that's not how it usually works for me. Right from the start, I felt so certain of what I wanted this to be: I wanted to write one that really dug deep into Alex's bi realization. That's a theme that features in a lot of RWRB fics, including my own, and of course it's also a vital part of the RWRB canon. With this fic, I wanted to explore that deeply, to really take my time with it and write it in a way that felt vulnerable and heartfelt and very, very real.

I'm bi. And whenever I write about Alex being bi, I am writing a little bit about me being bi - never completely about me, but y'know. It's one of the things that really drew me to Alex's character in the first place, the way his bisexual realization was handled in the book. That realization is something I almost always include in an AU as well - but oftentimes in a oneshot, the timeline for any type of emotional character development can become quite condensed. And while I immensely enjoy both reading and writing oneshots wherein Alex's bi realization takes place over the course of a few hours - in fact, that can be so fun! - in this oneshot, I wanted to let it take quite a bit of time.

Also? I very desperately wanted to write Henry as an irresistibly confident sex guru on late-night radio. What's not to like about that?

In the excerpt below the cut, Alex and Henry have just had sex and Alex is about to tell Henry that actually, he still sort of thinks he's straight. Mostly.

Henry slumps down against him, but he doesn’t immediately pull himself off. It gives Alex a few moments to assess the feeling of his dick in Henry’s ass in a more technical sense, without the burning urgency of an impending orgasm. And it’s… well. It’s nice? He shifts his hips a little, biting his lip when that makes Henry groan slightly.

Suddenly, he’s infinitely curious about the opposite side of the experience.

Henry nips at Alex’s throat, possibly in retaliation to his wiggling. “You alright?”

“I’m fantastic,” Alex drawls. Except then Henry starts to pull off, and Alex instantly palms at his shoulders. “Hey, could you… stick around? I’m having a moment.”

“Is that so?” Henry wonders. He sounds mildly confused, which is way better than put-out. Alex will take it. “If you’re suggesting another round, I’m going to need a bit longer.”

“I mean, we could do that,” Alex says quickly. It’s a great fucking idea. “I was just kinda taking it all in.”

He feels Henry go still against him. “What do you mean?” Henry asks softly.

“Um.” Fuck. It’s possible Alex should’ve mentioned this earlier. “I’m, y’know, mostly straight? Like, about ninety-six percent or so. Historically it’s been a hundred, but recent data suggests otherwise.”

Henry makes a noise Alex can’t quite decipher; it’s both startled and a bit weak, but when he speaks there’s distinct amusement in his voice. “Christ, Alex. I'm not sure you're aware you're saying that with your cock still in my arse.”

“Fuck right off.” Alex couldn’t fight his dumb grin if he tried. This is exactly why he and someone like Henry, regardless of gender, could never work out for real; Henry is way too good at cutting through Alex’s bullshit. Alex wouldn’t stand a fucking chance.

Read 'a rich and complex tapestry' on AO3!

[1moreff-creator]

DR:OS CH1 Part 2 First Impressions

More DROS!!! 25 pages this time, cool. Wonder what will happen :D

CW: Here

“Aidan: Yeah, yeah, cool, whatever. Anyways, who ordered poison?” Well, that was quick xD. Someone’s already taking advantage of the anonymous Customer Service Desk (CSD) requests, huh?

“Aidan: Someone anonymously ordered poison and some other stuff. The other stuff is less obviously lethal, but…” And I can only imagine how important the “other stuff” is gonna end up being. My bet’s on “almost more than the poison” lol. Anyways, look away for a moment.

Non-Canon Note: CSD Request List. Aidan discovered that someone ordered poison and “some other stuff.”

Wonder why that’s not a canon note lol. Probably because there’ll be more and it’ll only become a note or a truth bullet when it’s all there, if I had to guess.

[Cass proposes “neighbourhood watch”, Jeff is somewhat reluctant, Grace thinks it’s a good idea] Classic CH1 “absolutely won’t go wrong” plan :v

[Taylor FTE Start] Wooo! Taylor FTE!!! I like them :D

“Taylor: Is there anyone you think is particularly fun to be with?

Ellis: You, of course~

Taylor: Huh??

They look surprised.

Taylor: Really?” Is that some form of insecurity or am I just insane? Remember when I talked about Taylor maybe not thinking they’re good at anything but impressions back in talent show? Yeah that.

“Who should I really be thinking of as “my friends?” I mean, I hang out with so many different people in a month that it’d be hard to consider all of them at once. Who comes to mind as the ones who’re closest to me, or that I spend more time with…? [...]

Ellis: They, uh… they’re wild, and crazy! Always down to party. Super rich and popular, too.” Ellis has no friends does he.

“Ellis: Y’know, Romeo didn’t go to the Capulets’ party to find Juliet.

Taylor: Didn’t he go because he’d just had his heart broken…?” This is the second literary reference in CH1. Do you people want me to go through the LGI thing again or…? T_T (/j)

“I know the plot of Romeo and Juliet! I remember those SparkNotes like the back of my hand!” Pfft-

“The more I think about it, the more I think Taylor has a point. They really aren’t like anyone that I usually spend time with. I mean, maybe back in high school, I could’ve run into the quiet, nerdy type, but since graduating, I really don’t see much of that anymore. Is that why I’ve felt more inclined to talk to them? Variety?

Eh, whatever. No matter what the reason is, I shouldn’t get too attached. Not when people are ordering poison and throwing out mastermind candidates. I should just enjoy watching this movie and making Taylor blush a little. Then it’s out of sight, out of mind.” Well, there’s some fun analyzing of Ellis to be done… if we ignore that the real reason Ellis went to Taylor is because accirax was presumably interested in them lol. And their whole “I’m not gonna care about anyone ever” schtick is just as fun to see as always, knowing damn well it’s not gonna last very long :)

Fun FTE! I kinda wonder what Taylor’s second FTE would be like. With Aidan and Jeff, I at least got the sense of what aspects of their characters could be developed further, but this FTE almost seemed more focused on Ellis than on Taylor. Not a bad thing, just an observation. Then again, given venus and accirax’s cool FTE strat of doing one FTE of each character before choosing one to go all in on, it’s kinda unlikely we’ll actually see Taylor’s second FTE lol.

“Once the movie ends, I start to head back to my room, and Taylor… follows me. Heh, good job Ellis. You truly are such an engaging conversationalist that cuties will blindly follow you back to your room, just so they can finish discussing the movie with you on the way back.” Man Tayllis shippers are gonna have fun with that one (?).

“Robert: We’re taking some time to relax! This book here is a real page-turner!” Between this and the poem reading, this guy seems like he likes to read! See? He’s not completely un-unique!

“Ellis: Ooh, got those [earbuds] from the Service Desk?

Noah: Yeah. If we’re gonna be stuck for who knows how long, why wouldn’t I want to get music?” Makes sense! Now don’t look.

Non-canon Note: Noah’s earbuds. Noah has earbuds.

Best to cover all out bases, no? Anyways, you can look again.

“Robert: I love “Hey Soul Sister” by Train!” … Robert’s gotta be studied, man. And by that I mean that his music taste should be studied for being so PEAK (translation: the song sucks and I love it).

“Ellis: I’m a Ke$ha stan, myself. Now that’s music to party to!

Noah: Hell yeah! I listen to lots of party music too, but I also like classic rock, like AC/DC type of stuff.

Taylor: I tend to like softer music. Think, like, Taylor Swift’s “Love Story.”” Well, all those music tastes track :p And Taylor liking Taylor is funny from a naming scheme lol.

{Bro the color scheme how has it happened again}

“Ellis: So you’re interested in a love story, huh Taylor?” Never lets one go does she? That’s why we love her xD

“Harper: Can I get anything for any of you? Tea, a blanket, or anything?

Ellis: You can get your butt on this couch. Isn’t what you’re offering what the staff is for?

Harper: Well, I’d hate to make them do all the work. We don’t know anything about their working situations…” Aw, ve’s so nice!

“Noah: You wanna do something, or… something? You seem on edge.

Harper: Oh, apologies. I suppose I’m not used to not doing anything. I’ll go grab my quilt.” I get the slight feeling this might come up later.

“Ellis: Wait–do they show live sports on that thing?

Suck it, apocalypse theorizers!

Vanessa: No, this was a replay of a big game from… 2005, I think.

Goddammit.” Yeah sorry Ellis but the world’s cooked :v

“Antonia: It’s very charming, how excited she gets. It reminds me of my younger sister. She was always a ball of energy.

Mark: You mentioned her at the talent show, too…

Vanessa: Toni’s really sweet and caring when it comes to her sister, from what I’ve heard. And she sorta acts like a big sister to me, too!

Ellis: Sisters…?

Those two have formed a sibling-like bond already? That’s just weird. Everyone should be here to flirt, shouldn’t they?” Yeah right? This makes me kinda worried Vanessa’s gonna get backstabbed by Antonia, but I’ll trust that it’s a wholesome friendship they got going on and that there’s no murderous intent anywhere. And I’m curious what exactly Vanessa means when she says Antonia’s like a big sister.

Also love Ellis’ shipper mentality. “Every positive relationship must be romantic in a killing game” is pretty classic fandom behavior (/affectionate, I like shipping) xD

“Antonia: It’s only natural to take comfort in the things that remind you of home, isn’t it?” I mean if you say so queen.

“Ellis: I got two step-siblings, both younger than me. They’re alright.

Antonia: Family relationships can be complex, so I understand your stance.” LOOOORE!!!

“Antonia: No worries, Mark. It’s only natural.

Mark: Why do you say it like that…?

Antonia: Oh, I’ve just never been fond of using nicknames. But, in your case, I suppose it can’t be helped.” ??? Can I ask??? I mean it’s a funny quirk but what xD

“Ellis: What do you plan on calling them, then? Mx. Question Mark? Gorgeous?

Antonia: I may simply have to use Mark for now. Though, I don’t exactly hold back on my words either, darling~

I smile at Antonia, amused.” Remember the shipping comment? Cuz yeah the tension between these two hasn’t exactly faded since the prologue lol.

“Ellis: Hmm. Maybe you need something fun and engaging to catapult you into reality!

Mark: Maybe…?

Vanessa: Did you have something in mind, Ellis?

Ellis: Rager, duh. Or, an encore of my talent show performance…

Antonia: A party is… something we could consider, though I do wonder where we would hold it.” Not even mentioning the talent show, huh? Lol.

“Vanessa: I mean, for open space and lighting, the Casino, right?

Antonia: …I would rather not.” … Why does she get more confusing the more she speaks. I love this about her lol. Why is it that you don’t want the casino, huh?

{… She’s not planning murder at the party and doesn’t want to do it in a casino out of sentimentality or something, right? That’s not what’s happening, right?}

“Mark: Are we… actually doing this…?

Antonia: Well, if it makes these two wonderful people happy, then I don’t see what the harm could be.” Parties don’t tend to end well from my memory of these killing games… But I’m sure nothing will go wrong! :’D

“Like, “let’s make the most of the night like we’re gonna die young!” Ah, Ke$ha. Always a brilliant philosopher.” This is a true statement.

“Even if the punches… are poison.

Yeah. I’d probably sleep it off. NBD.” I love Ellis’ “Nah, I’d win” attitude towards everything it’s so funny.

“Kennedy: Someone missing in a killing game? Of course we should be concerned!

Aidan: Can it, Rey. It’s Jeff. If he doesn’t wanna be here, he’s not gonna be here. End of story.” Are these two gonna fight every scene they’re in? ‘Cuz I’d be down for that, they’re great xD

“Cass: I’ll message [Jeff].” Yay message feature! :D

“Cass: If people act recklessly, there’s nothing we can do to prevent it. Jeff was already talking about not wanting to be contained. If he’s been making himself an easy victim…” “Contained” is such a funny word to use. Is Cass the Ultimate SCP Agent what is this xD

“Cass: No cause for alarm. They’re in their room.

Ellis: Smart guy.” I mean. Yeah.

“Ellis: I know I enjoy being blessed by the faces of angels first thing in the morning.” Never lets one go.

[Mark FTE Start] Wee Mark FTE!!! How many of these were in a chapter again? By taking the statement that “any character that makes it to CH3 will have an FTE if you go one by one” from the FAQ, that would mean each chapter would average at least 5 FTEs, which is actually quite a bit (yay!) Doesn’t mean CH1 absolutely has 5, though, so who knows.

“Mark: Hi. I’m Mark. I’m not sure what my Ultimate talent is, and, uh, I guess I’m using they/them, for now, at least. It’s nice to meet you.

Ellis: Nice to meet you too, Mark. I’m Ellis Ortiz, your Ultimate Lucky Student, and… the man of your dreams~” Aw, I like the re-introduction! And Ellis never lets one go as usual.

“Mark: It must be nice, to know for sure what you’re good at. I’ve been trying to see if I gravitate towards anything, to see if that gives me any indication, but…

They shake their head.

Mark: Sorry. I’m thinking too hard again, I guess.” Mark is cool.

“Ellis: Well… if you want, maybe you can argue for your elimination, then.

Mark: Elimination? From what, the killing game?

Ellis: Yeah. And, hey, I don’t mean in terms of dying! I meant that, I dunno… they could just let you back out on the streets again or something.” You know, that’s actually an interesting idea. It’d be really funny lol.

“Ellis: Hmm. Well, I guess you’re probably right about that. Y’know, for being so worried about your thinking, you seem to be pretty good at it.

Mark: Am I…?

They look down, observing one of their gloved hands.

Mark: I guess that’s one thing, then.” Progress!!! Also, it’s funny. If this story was formatted differently, I could see Ellis’ observation being some kind of foreshadowing to Ultimate Philosopher or something, but Ellis’ player didn’t know what Mark’s talent was at that moment, so that’s impossible lol.

“Ellis: Seriously, though, I think you should lean into the many distractions life has to offer. For example: me.

Mark: Yeah?

They look back up at me with a half-smile on their face.

Mark: Got any suggestions, then?” Mark is cool :)

Very neat FTE! It must be hard to write an engaging FTE for a person that doesn’t know shit about themselves, but this was done really well! :D

“When we get to the Casino, there are already three others there: Antonia, who deals cards for Paris at one of the card tables, and Cass, who’s hovering nearby, looking serious as usual.” I’m loving all the Antonia content this episode, but is it me or are we getting a lot of Cass? I’m starting to get worried for their safety. Considering what she said in the Bonus Scenes, I kinda doubt she’d go too early, but who knows.

“Distracting the opposition gives me a greater chance to score– both in the game and by Cass’ metrics.” Bro.

“Paris: Sure babe. Ask away~

Cass: Well, I mostly meant the other three–

Paris: Excuse you?!

Cass: –because I wanted to know more about their potential relations to our situation. I doubt you, as the Ultimate Gossip, have any particular connection.” Paris was so offended lmao xD And yeah, Ellis-Antonia-Mark is like the jackpot (pun intended) of all the sus talents in this killing game lol.

“Ellis: I’ve never heard of this place before, nor do I have any relations with it. However, I’d like to have relations with someone… and that person is you.

I blow Cass a kiss. They appear unfazed.” Never. Lets. One. Go.

“Antonia: Other than the fact that our location seems to be in Las Vegas, due to the apparent weather outside and the overall style, I’m not sure. I’d find it likely that the mastermind, whoever that might be, may have simply renamed an existing casino, but in that case, they must have renovated it beyond recognition. Not even the floor plan is at all familiar.” Kinda what we’ve heard before, but you know, more in-depth, so cool.

“Ellis: Maybe it’s, like, a rival casino owner trying to incite a scandal. That sounds like something that could happen in a cartoon.” It really does, that’s some Scooby-Doo shit right there xD

“Antonia: I assure you, the real dynamics between different establishments are far more complex…

Cass: Do you have insight into the dynamics, then? Do you know anyone who might hold a grudge?

Antonia: With all due respect, my dear Cassidy, are you trying to determine if one of us is the mastermind?” Man Antonia dodged that question, huh? Makes perfect sense with her position regardless, but the shift is sudden. And it’s interesting to note that Antonia does, in fact, have insight on these things, out of curiosity if nothing else.

“Cass: I’m learning what I can about the situation.

Ellis: You can call me Master all you like, but I’d prefer not mastermind. Bold to do either in public, though…” Never. Lets. One. Go. xD

“Cass: Who said I was accusing anyone?

Antonia: It’s clear from the questions you’re asking. And, more than that…

Antonia smiles coyly.

Antonia: From what I’ve determined, you may be the one hiding the biggest secret here, Cassidy.

Cass: I’m sorry?

Antonia: I know a liar when I see one~” Ooh… Antonia’s fun. Yeah, Cass has some weird stuff, we kinda knew from the Bonus Scenes that she has some extra plans and stuff, but I could see this “lie” being more killing game related. Also funny Antonia and accirax kinda sussed the same person judging from accirax’s prediction game lol.

“Antonia: I’m not sure what. You could be the mastermind, or the possessor of the poison, or any number of things. All I can tell is that you’re guarded. There are things you don’t want us to learn. Isn’t that right?

Cass: …I can’t reveal everything so easily. My clients have sensitive information, and my trust with them is more important than getting to know any of you. If I feel distant, that’s all it is. [...]

Antonia: Say whatever you’d like. But, as of right now, these three are my clients. If you don’t wish to join them, I’d appreciate it if you don’t toss around careless accusations at my table.” Ooh… I like this beef… Antonia content :O

“Antonia: Apologies for that. Now, Paris, darling, it’s your turn.

Paris, who’s been quiet for a while now, smiles.” She has been, hasn’t she? Absorbing the gossip I see…

“It’s weird, seeing the differences between different contestants. On one hand, Mark appears to know nothing, and therefore (if I believe them) has nothing to hide. On the other hand, there’s Cass, who seems to have been thinking about nothing but secrets, and Antonia, who’s ready to call others’ out.

What exactly would Cass have to hide…? And, alternately, what could Antonia be keeping from us? I know that I’m not the mastermind, but accusing Antonia of being the mastermind just because she has a connection to casinos is stupid… right?

And then, there’s Paris. For someone who loves being in the spotlight, she was worryingly quiet. What might she have to say about Cass or Antonia when we next convene? Do I want her to say anything?” I’m copy pasting this because it echoes a whole lot of my own thoughts. So much secretive bs is going on, it’s really fun. And I also feel like these insightful inner monologues is one part where the format really shines, you can really tell Ellis is being played by someone with fantastic character analysis and critical thinking skills, and that makes reading their thoughts very fun ;)

“...I run into Noah, Jeff and Grace. What a weird group.” It really is, isn’t it? What does this trio have in common? Lol.

“Noah: I was thinking something pretty easy, like Never Have I Ever or something.” Aw hell yeah. I love these kinda icebreaker games in killing games, and Noah proposing it is fun given his talent.

“Noah: I can! Uh, let’s see… never have I ever… had a sleepover, in the classic sense? Like, other than party nights that went too long or whatever…” One thing I like to do when these games show up is guess how each round will go. And you know what? I’m gonna say that either no one drinks, or only Grace drinks.

[Ellis drinks] Ah, close! Well, I guesses Jeff didn’t, and was half-half with Grace, so. Makes sense though.

“Grace: No. My parents didn’t want me to participate in any “risky behavior,” so I never would have been allowed to.” Excuse me? A sleepover is “risky”? What? Anyways, uh, LOOOORE.

“Ellis: Well, you can all sleep over in my room, if you’d like~” NEVER LETS- (xD)

“Noah: Never have I ever attended a high school graduation ceremony.” Wow, gottem. Yeah, I can only assume all of them (bar Jeff obvs) are gonna drink. I don’t think it’s common practice to skip graduation ceremonies unless you’re the Ultimate Absentee lol.

[Ellis and Noah drink] Oh, not Grace?

“Grace: I got my GED shortly after I turned 18.

Noah: But, like, why…? I feel like if you’re already 18, unless you’re gonna need to repeat the year, you’re already so close to graduating…

Grace: The remainder of high school felt like a waste of time. So, instead, I moved forwards with my life and my career.” Interesting, and is a very neat bit of characterization! Cool!

“Grace: Never have I ever… played a sport on an established team.” Imma be real, the only one I can see drinking here is Noah. My guess is he will…?

[Ellis, Noah and Jeff drink] Oh all of them? I could have expected Ellis, but I’m surprised Jeff ever wanted to commit to being on a team. Interesting. Anyways:

“I only played organized soccer for, like, one year. And only ‘cause my dad made me!” LOOOORE.

“Jeff: I played soccer, like, once when I was twelve! It’s not like I actually ever wanted to play a team sport…

Ellis: Woah… dude. Dude. Me too. Like, the exact same thing.

Jeff: Huh. Weird.” Weird indeed. But tracks. And yeah, indeed, Jeff didn’t want to be there, as expected.

“Noah: I played basketball in high school.

Grace: That makes sense. You’re tall, and you seem like the type.

Noah: …Thanks?” LOR-

“Ellis: Uh… never have I ever… been to an amusement park!” I’m surprised Ellis has never gone on one of those, but uh… Grace definitely won’t drink (if sleepovers are “risky,” there’s no way amusement parks aren’t), Noah probably will, and I’m kinda 50/50 on Jeff, leaning on no.

[Noah and Jeff drink] Let’s call that two and a half points xD (there is no scoring system if you’re wondering).

“Grace: My parents weren’t fond of places like that, so we never went. I’ve never been particularly inclined to go myself, either.

Ellis: Yeah, and when I was a kid, we, uh… never made the time to go, ‘cause, we were too busy doing other, cooler things instead. And then, as an adult, even though I’m obviously totally rich and successful… I dunno, never really ran with the right crowds. There aren’t any strong drinks or sexy dates at Disney, y’know?” Yeah, the Grace thing tracks. And I’m curious about what exactly Ellis’ childhood was like if he’s so… defensive? About having done cool stuff back then.

“Noah: Guess someone’s never had one of those nights where their group rents out Disneyland and does whatever they want…

Ellis: Wait, you can do that?

Noah: Yeah? My frat did it once.

Ellis: Iiiiiiinteresting…” Lol.

“Noah and I easily drink the most, with Grace barely touching a drop and Jeff somewhere in the middle.” Yeah tracks.

The ending bit is also really fun. Again, always interesting to see Ellis’ thoughts… and the complete inability to stop thinking about stuff they claim they’re gonna stop thinking about, like the poison xD

-

Really fun stuff as always! Greatly enjoyed the surplus of Antonia, Mark and Taylor content in this one, almost feels “taylor”-made (heh) to me. And of course, everyone else was super fun, too. Tensions are rising, poison’s been ordered, and there’s a party in the horizon! I imagine next part will probably include the party being announced to everyone, followed by the fifth FTE of the chapter (possibly sixth too if there are that many?) and my bet’s on the murder happening during the party because. Well. That’d just be typical lol :p Maybe I’ll be wrong, but that’s for future me to worry about! Anyways, hope you enjoyed my usual insane ramblings, thanks for reading! See ya’ later!

Canon Notes:

Staff Members

Customer Service Desk

Monoquin’s Hands

Killing Game Explanation

Personal Notes:

Clockmaker’s Intuition

Kennedy’s Spiked Rings

CSD Request List

Noah’s Earbuds

[blood-mocha-latte]

I’ve just finished obsessively going through your mwdttau tag and I just wanted to say oh my god it’s wonderful and I’ve already teared up multiple times from it. I would love it if you wanted to share a snippet or just anything about it!

this is so so sweet <333

the mwdttau is one of my most insane wips for Sure, lmao. i'm hoping to completely finish little talks by autumn and start posting the mwdttau by winter/late fall, so she's on her way for Certain

might i offer????? a snippet??? for you????

---

“How are you still cold?”

“I don’t know.” Web says, and it sounds almost like he’s complaining. “Just… turn up the heat, okay? Please.”

Joe sighs, but does so. “Shoulda grabbed your jacket out of the back at the restaurant.” He mutters, anyways. Web snorts and pushes against his seat. It’s dark out, now, and the occasional light streaks his face in orange.

“God, you sound like my father.” He says, and Joe would point out the incredibly clear connection there if he wasn’t certain that Web’s almost half-asleep. As it is, he just hums.

“Then your dad sounds like a smart guy, ‘cause you shoulda.” He says. Web hits at his arm with the back of his hand, shifting against the seat again, like he’s trying to get comfortable.

“They’re always saying that.” He mutters. “That he’s a smart guy. Smart guy this, smart guy that. Well, fine, he’s a smart guy, doesn’t mean he’s good at anything.” Joe keeps his eyes on the road, but is almost paying more attention to Web.

“Well, he did something right.” He says, gesturing vaguely with the hand not on the wheel. “Not you, per se—” Web snorts a laugh, “—but, you know, business things. I mean, he and your ma have, what, two houses?”

“Four.” Web mutters balefully. “One in New York, one in Maine, one in Florida, one in Washington.” Joe blinks.

“Whoa.” He says.

“Yeah.”

“Christ. Well, they all must be nice. And you must know, since you’re visiting ‘em, and all.”

“Yeah, well. I’m only visiting them for my mother. My dad doesn’t give a shit what I do. He’d probably be happy to never see me again.” Joe huffs. That seems slightly more dramatic than it needs to be. 

“I mean. All parents and kids have differences.” He says, and almost thinks of his own dad. He doesn’t, but it’s a close thing. When he glances over at Webster, mostly out of habit, the other has his cheek pressed to the headrest, eyes watching Joe blearily.

“He…” Web starts, and trails off, waving a hand absently. “Disapproves of my… my ‘choice of lifestyle’.” He makes air quotations, wrinkling his nose. Joe frowns.

“All parents are like that.” He says, almost supposed to be comforting. “When I told my ma I was movin’ out east, you would have thought I’d murdered her dog.” Web huffs.

“Yeah, well.” He says, and is quiet for a beat. “Y’know, he once told me that I would’ve died of AIDS in the eighties, not because of my ‘preferences’—” again with the air quotes, “but because I slept around so much.”

Joe blinks. “Christ.” He says.

“Yeah.” Web says, again. He drops his hands into his lap. “Creative, right? I was almost tempted to actually catch it, just out of spite. Still am.”

Joe snorts, in spite of himself. “You’ve got problems, Web.” He says, and Web huffs.

“Doesn’t everyone.” He mutters, maybe to the headrest. “Still love him, though. That’s the problem. I still want him to be proud of me.”

Joe sighs. He doesn't think he signed up for this. 

“Yeah, well.” He ends up saying, after a beat. Web’s cheek is still pressed to the headrest. “Plenty of time to get back at him, if you want. I guess.” He tightens his grip on the steering wheel and loosens it just as quickly. “Going down to… to Florida, or whatever. Rich people revenge.” 

Web hums, and it's like a laugh. “He likes Henry. I think that's probably part of my problem.” Joe snorts.

“Oh, that's definitely part of your problem.” He says, and Web waves him off.

“But it doesn't matter, anyways.” He says. “I'm only going down there for the ocean.”

And he says it in a way that's such pure, unadulterated Web that Joe can't help but smile. “Of course you'd be an ocean freak.” He says, amused, and Web sighs at him.

“I just like it.” He says, as if in defence. “The colours, the way it moves, the tide…” He trails off, and Joe’s tempted to laugh. 

“I grew up next to the ocean.” He says, and thinks of California. “It’s not all that great, believe me.”

[gravedigest]

From @just-a-vibing-sock

Lol yeah, no, that world is hell.

Spoilers for the first part of Doing Something? If anyone is going to the fic from here, IG.

The cops are more interested in cosmetics than discussing the guy that just got shot in a high end restaurant, traumatizing an entire dining room of people.

I mean it’s a bunch of rich people, they can go have the event scrubbed from their memory by some highly trained professional. It’s fine. They probably have insurance for that.

And if they don’t, they can go sell that memory for big dollars because hey, wanna see Nevada’s Most Wanted get nuked by some scrawny security guy?

But with your other tags, yeah. If Victor were anyone else, Deimos would probably have wound up like Tricky, failing in an alleyway. Just some dumb jackass who was clearly messing with unregulated hardware, the only people that look into that kind of thing are the conspiracy theorists and other hackers who dance around the deaths of one of their own like crows investigating a dead bird, “How’d that happen? What caused it? What limits were hit and how do we avoid that?”

Maybe Victor being just kind of an unmodified dude lets him be more aware of his surroundings, has a bit more empathy ‘cause he’s not logged into anything. Still sees Deimos as a guy to be sort of envious of despite everyone else looking down on him for running so poorly, just imagine what he’ll be like when they can afford to fix him up.

Like, until Deimos is doing some serious IRL y’know. Crime. Like. Yeah.

But before that, he’s Victor’s dumb but well-meaning roommate who has some problems.

Maybe he’s an annoying little dickhead sometimes, maybe the absolute worst shit comes out of his mouth, but those aren’t the things Deimos gets judged on when he’s outside, that’s what Victor gets to see from actually living with him. Victor gets to be fed the fuck up with Deimos because he has to sit and debate the man on the merits of watching Sports. It’s fun to watch, Deimos. Shut the fuck up. No, don’t go Pepe Silvia on me, get off the Big Entertainment forums you chronically online gremlin and let me watch the nu-olympics in peace. … Unless you need something, okay?

They’re both doin’ their best.

[ask-vance-phillip-lotf]

“Oh! You want to know about the others? Uhm- Well I actually have this other group that’s separated from Ralph and his lot because me and them are teenagers and they don’t want to associate with ‘a bunch of babies’ as Wrath says…But I don’t really care. I kind of just switch in between locations, sometimes I’m on Ralph’s side of the island, sometimes I’m on the sin teens side; it really depends on the day, the sins side is cooler in the morning, so I sleep there. Anyways I have a nice opinion for most of you guys, at least I think so. Ralph’s somewhat clingy towards me, but he’s nice. Jack’s a bit of a brat…I suspect he’s a rich, spoiled kid. Roger’s uhm…something. He throws rocks at me. Simon’s a nice kid, he’s very quiet and kind compared to the others, although he’s a little batty. There’s the twins, Sam and Eric, I think they’re nice, Sam’s a little bit of a menace, but he means well. Eric’s my favorite twin, don’t tell Sam. They get a pile of aspen leaves and throw it on me, sometimes they make a ‘crown’ by poking the leaf stems through my hair. That ‘Piggy’ boy is a little too talkative for my liking, but I’m not going to tell him to shut up, that’d be rude. Maurice is an absolute menace, but y’know in the jokester sense. Oh! I’m 16 by the way— So are the sin teens- Sloth’s so nice and sweet and- Oh I’m sorry I’m rambling…”

“I tend to ramble a lot, my apologies.”

-Ryder Emerson

"you talk so much. but it's nice, i guess."

"what- babies!? i will not take such disrespect. i'll have you know that i'm the tallest in my class back home, so i'm no baby."

"also.. the sins? who're those?"

"yeah, ralph's not bad. he built the shelters, so he's cool. but jack's such a brute. that's not proper, you know, running around half-naked and shouting like a savage. roger... so long as he doesn't throw rocks at me, i don't mind him. but he's much too quiet. it's scary..."

"but simon? batty!? you take that back!"

"sam AND eric--squishing their names together is so childish--are fine. making aspen crowns sounds quite nice... and i'm not too familiar with maurice."

"sloth? what a strange name."

"oh, and piggy? i can tell him to shut up for you, don't worry."

- vance phillip attenborough

[desiccatedwithering]

we live in troubled days (oh, my friend, we have the strangest ways) — ch 4/6?

(5.4k || read on ao3) (ch1 || ch2 || ch3)

He cannot do this.

It was bad enough trying to hang out with just Harrington, but Robin’s presence adds a whole new layer of weirdness.

It’s like this is a game of tri-dimensional chess, except instead of playing, he’s a rook. Or probably a pawn. Certainly not someone with a high enough vantage point to actually understand anything happening on the board.

For example:

Robin announces that they both have to watch her hang her new Rudolph ornament—dubbed Rolph—on the tree, and they dutifully follow her. While she and Harrington discuss the best location for him, Eddie takes in the tree, which is decorated with a baffling mix of perfectly matching glass ornaments and what can only be described as a middle school art room explosion. The number of painted light bulbs and cinnamon stick snowmen and paper snowflakes is truly staggering. Not at all what Eddie would’ve expected, given the rest of the decor in this atrocious house.

“There,” Robin says, finally placing the ornament on a suitable branch. “I think that’s good. You?”

“Yeah. Here, I’ll turn on the lights to make sure.” Then Harrington flips the surge strip on, and—

“Sweet! I love bubble lights,” Eddie says.

Robin replies, “Steve thought his parents’ rich person white ones were boring.”

Harrington nods, says, “But I can’t do normal colored ones because of, y’know,” makes a vague hand gesture towards the ceiling, and leaves the room.

Eddie’s subsequent attempts to communicate, What the fuck, that was weird, right? with his eyes fail spectacularly as Robin gets lost watching the bubbles.

He leaves her to stare at the lights and returns to Harrington’s side like a dog to its master’s heel. Honestly, this whole thing is starting to get pathetic. How has he failed to find any concrete evidence? He really thought he would be better at this whole investigation thing.

Should he just try to seem less nerdy so that Harrington loses interest in killing him? What do normal guys talk about? Better question: What do popular guys talk about? Big parties? But Eddie’s never been to one of those without dealing—and talking about hard drugs right now would probably start an international incident, based on the way Harrington reacted to weed.

Cars are out, since he doubts Harrington wants to hear about his van’s many and varied ailments.

Which leaves… sports? Yeah, Eddie can—probably—fudge a decent amount of Sports Knowledge, based on gym class and osmosis from the times Wayne’s watched a game in the trailer.

“Balls.” Nope! Immediate disaster! Being murdered right now would be a blessing, honestly, but Eddie rallies and says, “Uh, I mean. Basketball.”

Harrington stares at him for a moment, then says, tentatively, “…Yes?”

Eddie nods, trying to look like someone who’s voluntarily played a sport before. “You played in high school, right?”

“Yeah,” Harrington says, sounding like it’s the stupidest question he’s ever heard. Then he clears his throat and continues, less bitchily, “Well, not my senior year, since I was benched after Hargrove tried to cave my skull in with a plate, but. Before that.”

Eddie tries not to wince. Hargrove is probably a sore topic. Time to redirect. “Swimming!” he declares.

Harrington stares some more.

“You were, uh, captain, right?” What’s the least nerdy way to stand? Should he lean on something all cool and casual? Or will that make him look sickly, like his muscles aren’t strong enough to keep him upright?

“Co-captain,” Harrington corrects.

Eddie nods vaguely. “Right. Cool.”

“Cool,” Harrington echoes. He continues to watch Eddie with an unreadable expression, and Eddie desperately hopes that his nerves don’t show and he passes whatever jock visual test is happening right now. “Are you actually at all interested in sports?”

“Nope.” What the fuck! Jesus, he needs to find a brain to mouth filter.

Harrington snorts and turns back to the stove. “You don’t have to pretend to like sports for me. Just talk about your nerdy shit, or whatever.”

Yeah, he’s not doing that while trying to seem less nerdy, thank you very much. Eddie leans against the island—in a very athletic way, because you never know when your future murderer might glance over—and says, “Robin told me the kids were on their way?”

Harrington nods and calls, “Hey, Rob, did Dustin give you an ETA?”

“No, he just said—” Robin cuts herself off, and Eddie glances at the doorway to find her frowning at him. “Oh, Jesus Christ, Steve. What have you done to Eddie now?”

“What?”

“Just look at him.”

Harrington turns to look at his, again, totally normal and athletic leaning and says, “Shit, are you ok? Why are you slouching like that? Do you need painkillers or something?”

Eddie straightens up, pulling his hair in front of his face. “No, uh. Just. Stretching.”

Harrington eyes him for a moment longer—looking for weaknesses to exploit?—before turning to Robin and asking, “Hey, Rob, can you go set the table for me?”

“Ugh. Seriously? I’m a guest. I shouldn’t have to do work. You’re being a bad host.”

Harrington scoffs. “You practically live here. You don’t count as a guest anymore.”

“Why didn’t you do it while I was asleep?”

“Because I was cooking?” Harrington pointedly stirs the pot of… whatever he’s making now, then nods in Eddie’s direction. “And entertaining Eddie.”

“Oh-ho. Entertaining him, huh?” Robin leans back against the counter beside him with a wide grin. Her eyebrows wiggle around like seizing caterpillars.

Eddie has died and gone to hell; he’s sure of it.

Harrington’s cheeks flush red, and he takes a halfhearted swipe at her. “Get off my counter and make yourself useful.”

“This is cruel and unusual torture,” Robin laments, even as she opens up cabinets and starts pulling out glasses.

“I can help,” Eddie offers, not really keen on being alone in a room with Harrington after the joke Robin just made, even if Harrington hadn’t reacted badly.

“No, you’ll mess it up,” Robin says instantly, scowling at him like he’s committed some heinous crime. She grabs the stack of glasses and swans out of the room.

Before Eddie can figure out if he should be offended that she apparently thinks him incapable of setting a table, Harrington says, “She’s very particular about the place settings.” He raises his voice a bit and continues, “Which is why it’s stupid that we have this argument every single time.”

“You get extra bitchy if you don’t have regularly scheduled pointless arguments. They’re enrichment for your inner mean girl,” Robin calls back. “And I maintain that I shouldn’t have to set the table myself; you should just do it correctly.”

Harrington visibly bites back a response to that and turns to Eddie instead. “I forgot to ask earlier: Did you like the cake?”

And like an idiot who’s apparently incapable of not making every situation worse for himself, Eddie says, “I didn’t eat it.”

“Oh.” Harrington’s face falls. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How is he doing that with his eyes?

“My uncle ate it!” Eddie blurts. “Before I had a chance. Said it was delicious.”

Which is all true, technically. Sure, it leaves out the fact that Eddie had absolutely no intention of eating it himself. And it omits the near panic attack he had when he realized that Wayne had eaten it.

“Oh, um. That’s—”

“What’s the deal with that anyway?” Eddie asks, too loudly, desperate to redirect the conversation. “The whole ‘leaving a slice of cake on someone’s doorstep’ thing, I mean.”

“Oh, it’s something I read in an article about how to have a gay Christmas.”

Eddie is possessed by a demon. That’s the only explanation for why he immediately replies, “I’ll show you a gay Christmas.” God, and in a flirty tone? Was he just flirting? With King Steve? The man planning to murder him? Genuine question: What the fuck is wrong with his brain?

Harrington blinks at him for a second. His eyes darken and Eddie braces himself for a punch, but instead Harrington just sidles close, close, way too close and says, voice low, “Oh yeah?”

Eddie is saved by the bell. Or, in this case, a familiar knock immediately followed by the children throwing open the door like they own the place.

“Take your shoes off!” Harrington orders instantly, stepping out of Eddie’s space and heading for the door. Eddie trails after him like a duckling. Or a masochist.

“We know, Steve,” Dustin complains. Eddie loves the kid, but Christ, his attitude sometimes.

“If you knew, you would just do it without me having to remind you—”

“Happy birthday, Steve!” the kids all chorus over his bitching as he steps into the foyer.

Harrington sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I’m sure that joke will just keep getting funnier every year.”

“It’s not a joke, Steve!” Dustin gasps, hand to his heart like the drama queen he is. “Why would we joke about your birthday? We’re all proud of you for managing to survive another year.”

“And forty’s a big milestone,” Mike says with a shit-eating grin.

“Haha. You can turn right around and go home, Wheeler.”

“Nancy’s long gone.”

“You have legs. I’m sure you can use them.”

“Wait,” Eddie says, before Mike has a chance to start whining, “it’s your birthday, and you still told me not to bring a present?”

“It’s not my birthday. Apparently the 26th is Saint Stephen’s Day, and someone felt the need to share that information. So now the kids think they’re being cute.”

“In my defense, I thought you picked the day on purpose,” Lucas calls from down the hall.

“Back up. You didn’t bring Steve a present, Eddie?” Dustin asks, extremely accusatory for a kid who literally ordered Eddie not to bring anything.

“You’re the one who told me not to!”

“Yeah, ‘cause Steve was all weird about it and told me to give you the message! But I didn’t think you’d actually listen. Who doesn’t bring something to a party?”

“For your information, I did bring something.”

“Oh yeah? What was it?”

Hmm. The kids must know that he’s a drug dealer, but Harrington was already weird at the thought of weed existing in the same house as them, so he probably shouldn’t bring it up. He scoffs. “None of your business, pipsqueak. It’s for adults.”

“Porn?” Dustin screeches.

“What? No!”

“Who has porn?” Robin asks, turning the corner to join the conversation at literally the worst possible moment.

“Apparently Eddie brought Steve porn for Christmas,” Max says, gleefully.

“Ewww.” Robin wrinkles her nose and eyes him suspiciously. Is he going insane, or does she linger on his hanky? He fights the urge to hide it in his pocket. “What kind?”

Eddie slashes his arms through the air. “No! Jesus Christ, I didn’t bring him porn! It was just weed.”

“Oh,” Dustin says, deflating. Then he puffs up again, like an angry rooster. “Wait, you brought Steve weed? Like, marijuana? That’s worse than not getting him a present at all! You know he’s been sober since the summer.”

Eddie stares at him. “How the fuck would I know that?”

“Because I’ve talked about it before? Do you not listen when I—”

“Wait,” Harrington cuts in, turning to Dustin with his hands on his hips, strangely severe for something that literally doesn’t matter. “You’ve talked about it?”

Robin lets out a low “oooh,” like she’s just heard a classmate be called into the principal's office.

“A passing mention!” Dustin says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t go into, like—” he covers his mouth and then continues in the loudest whisper Eddie’s ever heard “—classified details, obviously. Though the papers we signed aren’t even legally binding—”

“Maybe not for you little shitheads, but I’m over eighteen—”

“Excuse me,” the tiniest child—who Eddie is pretty sure he’s never seen before—says abruptly. “I see that Robin is eating a cookie right now, and if I don’t get one in the next thirty seconds, I’m calling CPS.”

Harrington immediately abandons his argument with Dustin and whirls on her, slamming his hands onto his hips. “You know where the kitchen is, Erica. And what the fuck would CPS do?”

Erica scoffs. “Uh, protect me? I am a child, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, is what you are,” Harrington mutters, running a hand through his hair and looking extremely harried for someone who supposedly hangs out with these children regularly. “I’m not your parent? CPS can’t do shit to me.”

“Uh, CPS is part of the government,” Erica says, in that classic middle schooler How stupid can you be? voice. “And the government owes me free dessert for life.”

“Wasn’t it just ice cream?”

She rolls her eyes. “It changed to all desserts when I nearly died multiple times and had to rescue your useless ass.”

“Language, shithead,” Harrington says absently.

“Wait. Since when does the government owe you that? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but none of us are government agents.” Robin gestures—bizarrely—between herself, Harrington, and Dustin. “And besides, the deal was null and void when Scoops burnt down.”

“The deal with you losers was void. But I negotiated a better one with the government. If they want me to keep my mouth shut, they have to give me something in exchange.”

“Shit, we could do that?” Lucas asks, walking back into the foyer and handing Erica a cookie.

She sighs. “You know, for a bunch of nerds, you’re all real stupid.”

“Hey! I just got you a cookie, and you’re calling me stupid?”

“That’s the only reason I’m not being meaner.”

“How does free dessert from the government even work?” Eddie asks. Everyone turns to stare at him, like they’d forgotten that he was also in the room for… all of whatever that was. Super cool vibe. “Do you have some sort of coupon signed by the president? Do you have to keep every receipt and report it on your taxes?”

“How should I know? I’m eleven.”

“But—”

“Damn,” Robin says loudly. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize we could extort the government. Then I could use my money from Family Video for something fun, rather than just saving it for college.”

Ok, yeah! Just talk over him; that’s fine. Also, what? Eddie’s, like, eighty-seven percent sure this has something to do with that “top secret” D&D campaign that the boys think he doesn’t know about, but why were Harrington and Robin involved? And why would Family Video be included? Maybe he was wrong about the D&D aspect. It could be some other game system, set in modern day for some lame reason and all about boring real life problems rather than cool shit like fighting monsters and—

“What?” Harrington asks, frowning. “Rob, all of us have ‘tuition funds.’”

“Since when?”

“Uh, ‘84 for most of us, and ‘85 for you and Erica?”

“That cannot be true.”

“Did you actually read any of the paperwork you signed?”

“Sorry, are you telling me that you did?”

“Obviously? I mean, sure, maybe I missed something, since I’ve gotten a concussion literally every time this shit goes down, but I wasn’t going to sign something without reading it? Especially not since the last two times were, again, legally binding for me. That’s, like, the one useful piece of advice my dad has ever given me.”

“So I have a bunch of money lying around that no one told me about? What the fuck. Where is it?”

“You don’t get access to it until you turn eighteen, so parents who don’t know about—” He gestures vaguely around at the group, points at the ceiling then the ground, and then spreads his fingers wide, palm facing out. Which Eddie interprets as The sacrifices we give to our gods, committed in my basement. Single jazz hand. Roughly translated, of course. “—don’t get suspicious.”

Robin opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, Mike loudly declares, “The minister’s cat is an awesome cat.”

“What?” Eddie asks, frowning.

“Oh!” Lucas says. “The minister’s cat is a big cat.”

Dustin heckles him as Erica jumps in with, “The minister’s cat is a cute cat.”

“What the fuck,” Eddie mutters under his breath. Is this some sort of spell? A curse they’re casting on him? Maybe all of Harrington’s victims were actually just turned into cats for… some reason. And the caskets were just buried empty or with fake bodies inside. Though why Harrington’s cult would want to turn people into cats is a mystery.

Damn, he should’ve asked when Harrington got Carmilla. Maybe she’s actually Barb. If Eddie were suddenly turned into a cat, he’d definitely bite hard enough to draw blood.

Carmilla meows, horrifyingly following the pattern. Yeah, this is definitely the casting of a curse.

“Oh good choice, Keys,” Harrington coos.

Dustin says, “The minister’s cat is an eloquent cat.”

All eyes turn on Eddie expectantly, and he takes an instinctive step back. “I don’t understand what’s happening here.”

“You gotta pick a word that starts with f,” Dustin tells him.

“Fuck.”

Harrington snorts.

Eddie crosses his arms and glowers at him. “What? He said a word starting with f.”

“You have to describe the cat. Y’know, like, fancy or something. But not fancy because I just gave you that.”

“...Why?”

Harrington’s brows raise. “Because it’s the rules of the game?”

“You’ve never played The Minister’s Cat before?” Robin asks.

“Obviously not? What the fuck is The Minister’s Cat?” Eddie flails his arms to encompass this whole situation.

“It’s a Victorian parlor game,” Robin says. “Everyone goes through the alphabet and says an adjective for their letter. If you repeat a word someone said in a previous round or take too long to pick, you’re out.”

God, the Victorian era must’ve sucked if this is what they did for fun. Eddie lets out a sigh. “Ok, sure. The minister’s cat is a ferocious cat.”

“The minister’s cat is a glamorous cat,” Robin says.

They continue through the alphabet until:

“The minister’s cat is an excellent cat,” Harrington says, scooping Carmilla into his arms.

“That doesn’t start with x,” Eddie points out helpfully.

The impact of Harrington’s bitchy look is diminished by the cat purring like a motorboat in his arms. “Oh yeah? I’d like to see you think of an adjective starting with x.”

“Hey, it wasn’t my turn. And I failed senior year twice, so—” He cuts himself off, head whipping around as Robin starts honest-to-god bawking like a chicken. He tries to stare her down, but she just gets louder. He throws his hands up. “Ok, fine! The minister’s cat is a…”

Fuck. Are there any adjectives that start with x? All he can think of is various ex- words, which obviously don’t work. The smirk slowly growing on Harrington’s face is definitely not helping the situation. “Uh…”

Harrington practically oozes smugness as he says, “Yeah, not so easy is—”

“Xenophobic!” Eddie shouts. “The minister’s cat is a xenophobic cat!”

“Woah,” Robin protests, frowning at him.

“Gosh, Eddie,” Max says, shaking her head slowly. “I can’t believe you’d make the cat a bigot.”

“It starts with x!”

“Yeah, but you could’ve just gone with xanthic,” Dustin says. Eddie turns wide, probably manic eyes on him, and Dustin raises his hands in surrender. Still, he sullenly grumbles, “Just saying.”

“Yeah, you had other choices,” Lucas pitches in, grinning. “Pretty offensive to call someone’s cat bigoted, if you ask me.”

“It’s a fake cat!” Eddie shrieks, steam probably coming out of his ears at this point.

“Alright, shitheads,” Harrington interjects. He supports Carmilla as she clambers onto his shoulder, then makes a shooing motion at the kids, herding them towards the living room. “That’s enough tormenting Munson. Scram. Go entertain yourselves until dinner’s ready.”

“We didn’t even finish the round,” Dustin protests.

“Well, I’m out, so go finish it on your own.”

Max grabs Carmilla off Harrington’s shoulder. “The minister’s cat is a zesty cat. There. Round finished.”

Dustin huffs. “You’re all just being sore losers, ‘cause you know I’d win.”

Max rolls her eyes. “Sure, whatever you need to tell yourself.”

“Hey, Steve,” Mike says, “can I switch your depressing old music?”

Harrington frowns. “It’s not depressing—”

“I love you, but this song is literally named In the Bleak Midwinter,” Robin says, patting his shoulder.

“Whatever.” Harrington rolls his eyes and turns back to Mike. “You’ll have to ask Eddie. I said he could be in charge of music when he arrived, since he wasn’t happy with my choices.”

“You opened the door, and Last Christmas was playing. Wham! makes my ears bleed. Sorry for wanting to spare you that sight.” Eddie doesn’t even realize his mistake until Harrington turns on him, brows raised and a wide grin on his face.

“You recognized a Wham! song?” he asks, leaning closer.

Eddie takes a step back and crosses his arms over his chest. “The radio’s played it constantly for the past two years. Obviously I’ve heard it. Against my will.”

He vaguely registers Mike saying his name, but he’s more focused on the way Harrington still looks way too excited about Eddie’s slip.

“Obviously,” Harrington agrees, taking a step forward. “But you—”

“Everyone shut the fuck up!” Mike hollers.

“Christ,” Harrington breathes, just loud enough for Eddie to hear. He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“El recommended this album because she likes the song about the bear, so everyone is going to listen to it and enjoy it,” he says, holding up a cassette.

“Or else,” Max adds, glaring directly at Eddie for some reason.

“El has never done anything wrong in her life—” Robin starts.

“And her taste is impeccable,” Harrington cuts in.

Robin nods. “So I’m sure we’ll all love it.”

The other kids chorus their agreement, which seems to mollify Mike somewhat. He still shoots everyone a dirty look as he starts the album, though.

Eddie waits until he’s sure the kids aren’t paying attention, then follows Harrington back into the kitchen. He keeps his voice low as he asks, “El? Mike’s California girlfriend? She’s real?”

“Yep.” Harrington glances over at him, lips quirking up. “Don’t tell me you thought Suzie was fake, too.”

“Dustin’s super genius girlfriend who he met at summer camp and lives in Utah?”

“Don’t forget that she’s hotter than Phoebe Cates.”

“Of course. Super genius and hotter than Phoebe Cates. Yeah, I definitely believed in her,” Eddie says, not very convincingly.

Harrington snorts. “Well, she’s real, too. I’ve talked to her a couple times. You should see the radio Dustin built with her. Kid calls it Cerebro.”

“Like from the comics?”

Harrington stares at him blankly. “Sure.”

“You know, Professor X, Charles Xavier—”

“Oh!” Harrington snaps his finger and grins. Then he raises his voice a bit and calls, “Hey, Dustin, Cerebro’s from the G.I. Joe comics, right?”

“You know it’s not, Steve!” Dustin howls.

Harrington’s grin grows even wider. “Hey, don’t blame me. I’m just repeating Eddie’s question.”

“Oh, you motherfucker,” Eddie hisses, mere seconds before Dustin appears in the doorway, tragic and waif-like.

“You don’t know about the X-Men?” he asks, lip full-on trembling, as if Eddie not knowing something nerdy is genuinely the worst thing that could ever happen to him. If the kid is a secret agent planning his brutal murder, he’s a remarkably good actor.

“No, obviously I know the X-Men. Harrington’s just messing with you.” He whips his head around to glare venomously at Harrington, expecting him to fold like his players always do in the face of his fury.

Harrington makes the most exaggerated Who, me? face Eddie’s ever seen, and Dustin infuriatingly falls for it. Unbelievable. The kid’s literally in a club that got its name from the Uncanny X-Men.

“We have to fix this. Right now,” he announces, attaching himself to Eddie’s arm like a limpet. “So, the first X-Men comic was published in—” Aaaand he’s off, monologuing at breakneck speed with, frankly, encyclopedic knowledge of the X-Men comics, as he drags Eddie from the room.

Eddie twists around and mouths, Screw you, at Harrington, who just grins and wiggles his fingers in a little wave.

————

Eddie finally manages to escape Dustin’s clutches and creeps out of the room. He bites back a curse as he nearly bumps into a cabinet right outside the door. Who the hell has a display of fancy plates right next to a doorway? That’s just asking for a disaster.

Eddie eyes the bowl of fruit on top of the cabinet warily.

It was definitely a mistake not to eat before coming, but he’d been so worked up, he probably wouldn’t have been able to keep anything down anyway. Is it safer to wait and eat the dinner that Harrington serves him? Or should he eat an apple and hope it tides him over (and that no one asks why he isn’t eating)? Harrington wouldn’t have poisoned fruit in a bowl that anyone could eat from, right? Besides, how would he even poison an apple? He’s not a witch (probably).

Eddie plucks an apple from the bowl, inspecting it carefully. There aren’t any blemishes, nothing that makes him think it was somehow tampered with.

Though if Harrington did manage to poison them without leaving any evidence, would it be all of them? Or just the top ones? Or—realizing that Eddie would obviously be suspicious of him—just the bottom ones?

Jesus H. Christ, he sounds like Vizzini. He should just eat it.

Before he can rethink his decision, Eddie closes his eyes and sinks his teeth into it. Now he just has to figure out how—

Jesus H. Christ, what the fuck is wrong with this apple?

How the hell is it so dry? And waxy? And— Wait.

Eddie freezes, eyes slowly falling to the apple in his hand with a sinking feeling in his gut. Yeah, that’s definitely not a real apple.

He spits the lump of wax into his palm with a grimace. There’s no salvaging it, so he moves a few of the other apples out of the way and buries the evidence of his terrible choices. He carefully returns the other apples to the bowl, making sure that everything looks the same as before—thank God all the apples were the same color—and nods to himself. There. Now no one will ever know what happened here.

Honestly though, this is Harrington’s fault. Like, who actually owns wax fruit? Between this and the Victorian game, it’s like Eddie’s been transported back in time.

Oh, shit, is Harrington a vampire? Actually… Eddie honestly wouldn’t be that mad if he gets eaten by a vampire. That’d be a cool way to go. Cooler if Harrington didn't kill him and just kept him around for smaller periodic feedings, rather than a giant annual meal. That way, he could tell the boys. And there’s always tension between a vampire and their blood donor, so maybe—

“Smooth.”

Eddie yelps, whirling around to find Erica standing in the doorway. “Jesus Christ, how long have you been standing there?”

“Since you first picked up that apple.”

Well fuck. So much for nobody knowing.

“I bit it on purpose,” he tries. “I… eat wax sometimes?”

“Uh huh. If you like eating wax, why’d you spit it out instead of swallowing?”

Eddie will not make inappropriate jokes in front of a child. He won’t. He has a modicum of self control. “Ok, fine,” he says instead, shoulders slumping. “You caught me. What do you want? I should warn you that I’ve got, like, twenty cents to my name.”

“I don’t want your money,” Erica scoffs. “I have Steve for that.”

“So we’re good? You won’t tell anyone?” Eddie asks, cautiously hopeful. That seems too good to be true.

“I didn’t say that.” Her lips curl in an impish smile. This whole house is filled with demons.

“Are you going to tell me what you want, or—?”

“Dustin!” she says, glancing over her shoulder. “Come here.”

Eddie bites back a scream.

“I’m a better DM than you,” Erica tells him, apropos of nothing.

Eddie blinks at her, entirely at a loss for how to respond because, like, he shouldn’t fight a child, right? Especially not one who’s blackmailing him. Even if she is unequivocally wrong. “Uh…”

“Just the facts,” she says, punctuating the statement with a loud pop of her gum. Jesus, is this toddler cooler than him? Granted, it’s not a high bar to clear and there are probably lots of children who are objectively cooler than him, but he’s never had to interact with them before. “Just ask Dustin. He said so himself.”

Now hold on. Eddie can’t in good conscience fight a middle schooler, but freshmen are absolutely fair game. He glares at Dustin the second he steps into the room and drops his voice to his patented villain growl, “You said Erica is a better DM than me?”

“That is not what I said!” Dustin cries, holding his hands up defensively. “She’s totally misrepresenting the situation!”

“No, I remember you saying that, too,” Max calls from the other room.

“No you didn’t because I never said that!” Dustin shouts back. “I was just talking about Scoops Troop and the Party. Nothing at all to do with Hellfire.” He turns back to Eddie with wide eyes, hands clasped in front of him. “You have to believe me.”

Eddie briefly entertains the idea of making him grovel more, but he’d rather figure out what Erica’s plotting. He points to the door. “Get out of my sight.”

Dustin opens his mouth, then seems to think better of it and scampers away.

Eddie turns back to Erica, raising a brow. “What exactly was the point of that?”

“Admit that I’m a better DM than you.”

“No,” he says immediately.

“I guess Steve will just have to hear what happened in here, then.”

“There must be something else. I’ll do whatever you want. Anything but that.”

Erica’s eyes light up. “You’re my personal servant for the night.”

“Fi—”

“And,” she says, holding up a finger, “you’re going to stop being shitty to Lucas because he likes basketball.”

Eddie splutters. He hasn’t been shitty. That’s absurd. What, she thinks that just because he doesn’t like sports or jocks that means— Oh. Hmm.

“Deal,” he sighs.

“I knew you’d make the smart choice.” She holds out her cup. “Now go get me more juice.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Eddie catches the tail end of Robin’s sentence as he walks to the kitchen, her voice shrill: “—gross. Dingus, I am begging you to pick literally any other topic of conversation now.”

He presses his back to the wall right outside the kitchen, waiting to see if they’re talking about something incriminating.

“Fine,” Harrington grumbles. “So, how’re things going with—?”

“I’ve actually changed my mind. No more talking at all. I’m gonna stick my head inside the oven instead.”

“Oh, come on. Rob—” Whatever he says next is too low for Eddie to hear, but he catches Robin’s reluctant sigh, and then Harrington saying, “—and I mean, aside from certain unmentionable events, I’ve never really dabbled in anything like S&M, so—”

“I really don’t think torture counts, since it wasn't consensual or sexual... It wasn’t sexual, was it? Steve, you would’ve told me if—”

What the fuck? Harrington tortures people? God, Eddie thought that at least his murder would be quick.

“Jesus, Robin, obviously I—”

“Hey, nerd!” Erica snaps, drowning out Harrington’s voice. “You said you were going to get me more juice!”

Eddie bites back a rude comment because he did agree to be her servant, even if it’s inconvenient when he’s trying to eavesdrop. “Right away, Lady Erica.”

He steps into the kitchen. Harrington and Robin’s heads snap towards him in eerie unison. He offers them a weak smile, hoping that his face isn’t screaming the word torture, and holds Erica’s cup aloft.

“I’m on a perilous and harrowing quest.”

“That so?” Harrington asks, a grin tugging at his lips. “What is it?”

“I have to obtain more juice for Lady Erica.”

Harrington laughs and pulls the bottle out of the fridge, sliding it across the counter to him. Eddie almost doesn’t catch it—because he has bad coordination, not because he was distracted or anything. He’s not sure if Harrington noticed the fumble, but he doesn’t look up to check. He just has to pour a glass of juice without making a fool of himself. Easy-peasy.

“How’d you get roped into getting it for her?”

“Just following the code of chivalry,” Eddie says. He caps the bottle and slides it back—well, slides it part way across the counter. Good enough.

Harrington grabs the bottle and puts it back in the fridge. “Well dinner’s ready, so you can take it into the dining room. Robin can show you where Erica’s sitting.”

Great. Dinner.

This is going to be a disaster.